#Pour Over Camping Coffee Set

[drinkw]

Exploring the Best Gear for Outdoor Coffee Enthusiasts: Titanium Coffee Cup and Pour Over Camping Coffee Set

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[felinecyan]

Wide Awake

[Shoto Todoroki x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: When you take the couch due to your inability to sleep, unfortunately, you get the scare of your life.

WC: 1737

Category: Fluff, Slight Comfort

Finally finished the fic 😴 I apologize it took me so long 🙏

『••✎••』

You couldn’t remember when you found your eyes closing or when you had dozed off. With your favorite blanket and pillow in hand, you had moved to the sofa down in the common room from your room and set up camp for the night. You couldn’t remember why, either. All you knew was that you were exhausted, and it was easier to fall asleep downstairs without the light that poured in through the hallway.

As you laid on the couch, you found yourself somewhere between being asleep and awake. The world was quiet. It was late. And everyone had long since gone to sleep for the night. Even Kaminari, who had a hard time winding down after dark, had passed out before you. The silence was peaceful and the darkness was calming. The world seemed frozen and at ease.

Your mind was, too, finally, after racing all day. A million different thoughts had been bouncing around in your head like a ping-pong ball. They had been loud, distracting, and almost made you feel sick. But they had quieted now. You could barely even remember what you had been thinking about. Your body was heavy, relaxed, and finally, ready to drift off into a deep sleep.

So you did. You fell back asleep as your body relaxed.

But then, an odd feeling washed over you. A chill ran up your spine. Goosebumps prickled over your arms. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up. Your heart rate picked up slightly.

Something was wrong.

Your eyes cracked open slowly, and you blinked as you peered around the dark common room. No one was there—at least, not that you could see. Your heart was beating a bit faster. What was going on? Was it just the exhaustion that was making you anxious?

It was probably just the exhaustion, you decided. After all, the world was quiet. Everyone was sleeping. There was no reason for you to be on edge. You were just tired. That had to be it.

Closing your eyes again, you rolled over to face the back of the sofa. But as you did, the feeling only grew stronger. Your heart was pounding against your ribs.

Something was definitely wrong.

This time, when your eyes opened, they stayed open. Not because sleep had left you but because a set of mismatched eyes had suddenly appeared right in front of your own. You screamed at the sudden intrusion and shot backward, but you didn't get far. You had forgotten that the arm of the sofa was behind you. So, instead, you simply fell back against it with a gasp and scrambled back to where you had been, clutching your chest and breathing heavily.

For a moment, nothing happened. Your wide eyes remained locked with those mismatched ones, staring at you with nothing more than curiosity. A single brow rose. A moment passed, and then another. But then, those eyes broke from yours. A voice sounded low and soft.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

You nearly choked. "S-Shoto?! Wha… What the hell are you doing?! Why are you staring at me while I sleep?!" You had recognized the boy's voice almost immediately, even with how soft and hushed it was. It wasn't hard to do. He wasn't exactly the most talkative person.

Your eyes were finally adjusting to the darkness, and you could make out the bowl of soba and the steaming cup of tea in both his hands.

"Contemplating if I should’ve woken you or not," he answered as he stood. "I almost sat on you."

You could only stare at him as he placed the tea and noodles on the coffee table next to your book. The panic and adrenaline were starting to wear off, and your heartbeat was beginning to slow. "What are you even doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep. Decided to eat."

"You couldn't sleep, so you’re eating soba at… What time is it, anyway?"

"A quarter past 3."

Your jaw dropped. "A quarter pa—" You were cut off by a yawn, which forced your jaw shut again. Shaking your head, you ran a hand over your face and looked up at him. "Well, are you done?"

Shoto's brow rose again, confused. "With the soba?"

"What…? No." The amount of sass in your voice was a testament to how exhausted you really were. "With sleep. Attempting to, at least."

The boy shrugged. "Not really. I usually don't fall asleep until after 4. Why? Are you going back to sleep?"

You gave a sigh. "Well, yeah. I was trying to."

"Should’ve tried your actual bed then." He took a sip of his tea, eyeing you as he did. "I’m surprised Tokoyami didn't wake you."

You blinked. "Tokoyami?"

Shoto nodded. "He’s always reading in the dark down here. I don’t think he’s slept since the Liberation War. Hawks’ injuries must’ve really hit him hard."

That was right… you remembered seeing him more and more often downstairs as the days had passed. It was rare to ever see him upstairs anymore. It was just something you had gotten used to. "I should probably check on him."

"Probably."

Another yawn pulled at your lips, and you couldn't help but smile a little. "If he's up, can I get some of that tea?"

"If you want." Shoto turned to sip his tea again, eyes drifting from yours. But when he turned back to look at you, his eyes were wide, and his expression was filled with disbelief. "Wait, you fell asleep here?"

You were already snuggled back up under your blankets. "Uh, yeah? Did you already forget why I screamed in your face?"

He paused, his face unreadable. "I don’t remember you being an insomniac. Are you unwell? Shall I bring some medicine for you?"

"What? No, I'm not sick."

"It’s rare for someone who is well to sleep on the couch."

You sighed. "You just said you don’t go to sleep until later."

"But you don’t come down here at all."

"Because it's not normal for people to hang out downstairs at this time!"

"Tokoyami does."

"Yeah, and you said that's because you told—" You were interrupted by a yawn and shook your head. "Never mind. You're impossible."

"Me? Impossible?" Shoto's brow rose yet again, and he almost sounded amused. "You're the one who's choosing the sofa over your bed."

"I didn't choose the sofa; it chose me."

"Is it a sentient being?"

Sometimes, you couldn’t tell if he was serious or not.

"No, Sho. I just— I couldn’t sleep in my room. And I don’t know why." You sighed and rubbed your temples, the frustration from earlier that day beginning to resurface. "There was a lot on my mind, and I couldn’t shut it off, but it was fine. And then I fell asleep, and I felt better, but then I woke up and—"

"And what?"

You shrugged. "I don't know. I don’t think I can go back to my room tonight."

The two of you fell silent, his mismatched eyes peering into yours. There was something about the way he looked at you. It wasn’t a glare or a scowl, but it wasn’t a smile or a smirk either. It was just him watching you.

Then again, that’s all he ever did. He didn't say much. He didn't smile often. He was quiet. But, if you were being honest, that was probably what you liked about him. He didn't judge. He just listened.

Finally, he spoke. "I know the feeling…" His voice was soft, his gaze distant. "I used to sleep on the floor because I thought I didn’t deserve a bed. I grew out of that, but every now and then, the thought still comes back."

You blinked. "Really?"

"Yeah," Shoto responded. "But my room isn't really home. The dorm is. This is. So when I feel like that, I come down here."

"…Is that why you’re down here now?"

"No. I just wanted soba."

His bluntness made you laugh. You shook your head and smiled. "I forgot you're always hungry."

"Not always."

"Always. It's 3 AM, Sho."

"Yes, and?"

"And? You don't think it's a little weird to eat soba at 3 AM?"

"Weird? You were sleeping down here. That's weirder."

"Hey! I—!" You were cut off by yet another yawn, and you could only look at him as it faded away. "I can't argue right now."

"I'll win anyway," Shoto stated matter-of-factly. "Go back to sleep."

"You can't just tell me to go back to sleep. It's not that easy."

"Sure it is. Close your eyes. Count sheep. Pretend you're dying. Anything works."

"Roki, that's the worst advice I've ever heard."

"And yet, it's still better than any advice Kaminari or Sero would give."

Damn. Tired or not, he still kept it real.

"I’ll wake you up before Aizawa gets here."

"He checks on us? Since when?"

He shrugged. "Certain days. Since that time when Midoriya and Bakugo snuck out to fight, he likes to make sure no one else is trying to do that."

"Oh. He wouldn’t be mad, though, if I was just down here."

"Him being concerned is worse than him being mad."

"I don’t think that’s…" You were cut off by another yawn, and when you opened your eyes, you saw him staring at you. His expression was blank, but his gaze was intense. "Okay, okay. Fine. I'll try. Just don’t watch me sleep again, or I will throw a pillow at your face."

"I wasn’t— okay."

"Okay, you will stop?"

"Okay."

"Good."

You laid back down and rolled over, facing the back of the couch again. You could hear Shoto shuffle a bit and the clink of his chopsticks, but everything was quiet once again. Closing your eyes, you pulled the blanket closer to you. You had to admit, you were a bit more at ease than before.

"If it helps," Shoto's voice suddenly said, "Goodnight."

A smile tugged at your lips, and you shook your head. "Night, Roki."

As you drifted off to sleep, finally, without any worries or intruding thoughts, your smile didn't leave your face. You had expected it to, and yet it didn't.

Aizawa also never came to check on you or the students. You realized this because Ochaco was waking you up in a panic, yelling something about being late for class.

It was a chaotic morning, but at least you were well-rested.

[not-neverland06]

𝙲𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚝𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚜

Pairing ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

Next Part - Hell Hath No Fury Series

A/N: my stupid poor-people photo editing app stopped working so now my cropping is all off and I'm sad. My aesthetic 😭

Summary: Something brews between you and Arthur, but as always, the camp comes first. Despite the growing tension, Arthur must leave to rescue one of the gang who'd been separated in Blackwater. Jealously brews as a loud-mouth Irishman returns to camp and sets his sights on you.

Micah’s cough echoes through the camp and you wince at the sound. “He needs to see a doctor before he gets the rest of us sick.”

Arthur shakes his head and sighs, “Caught somethin’ from the Downes fella in town.” He passes you some coffee which you take eagerly. It’s part of a strange morning ritual you’d begun with him a few weeks ago. Just after the hunting trip, you’d taken to having breakfast with him if he happened to be in camp that morning. It’s become your favorite way to start the day.

You smirk slightly and nudge his side. “You’re welcome.”

He laughs and shakes his head at you, “I’m sorry?”

“Well,” you start with a teasing tone. “If I hadn’t needed a gentlemanly escort into town for some shopping, it would have been you calling in on those loans.”

He opens his mouth to argue but it stays hanging as you see the cogs turning in his head. He snaps his jaw shut with a reluctant sigh, “Suppose you’re right.”

“I always am,” you tell him like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Arthur just laughs, passing you some bread. You hear a familiar set of footprints pacing outside the tent and roll your eyes, turning towards the entrance. 

Sure enough, Mrs. Grimshaw paces around the perimeter of Arthur’s tent like a cougar. She sniffs when she catches your eye and turns her nose to the air, wholly pretending she hasn’t been stalking you. 

“Shoo!” Arthur shouts, waving her off. 

You let out a bewildered laugh, smacking his arm. “Arthur, stop,” you hiss, but you don’t sound very stern as you giggle at Mrs. Grimshaw’s affronted look. 

“Go on,” he keeps going, pushing her further. “Get,” he snaps like he’s talking to a wild animal. Mrs. Grimshaw says something you can’t quite catch and stomps her foot once before running off. 

You press a hand over your mouth, fingers pinching your lips to try and stop yourself from laughing. Arthur looks at you for approval and you only shake your head. “Come on,” he tries, “she’s been botherin’ us all mornin’. What was I supposed to do?”

“She’s not a dog, Arthur.”

“You sure ‘bout that?” He teases and you swat at his arm again. 

You shake your head, letting out a heavy sigh. “I truly think she hates me,” you whisper, pouring yourself a little more coffee. 

“She don’t hate you,” he reassures. You tilt your head with a deadpan look and he chuckles. “Well, maybe just a little.”

You sigh and shake your head, “Just because I married rich doesn’t mean I had an easy life.”

“I know that,” he objects. 

You look up from your mug and furrow your brows. “Do you? You think I don’t see the way you look at me? You see the same softness they do. I just can’t figure out whether you like it or resent me for it.”

The playfulness of the morning is long gone. You seem to have a knack for ruining the moment. This question, though, has been haunting you for a while. Dutch is passive in his disdain for your upbringing—snide comments here and there but nothing quite so obvious. 

A few of the girls question you about the privileges of being a lady a little too long for comfort. Then, the conversation will end with one of them sniffing and saying, “Must have been a nice life. Too bad you’re stuck with us now.” 

There are always small moments like that to break the ridiculous idea you’ve got in your head, that you belong. No matter how hard you try to tell them, they don’t seem to understand that this freedom is better than anything money could have bought you. Your life hasn't been your own since the moment you were born. Sure, being on the run from the law and fighting for every penny wasn’t fun. But moments like these with Arthur would never happen if you were back at your estate. 

With the others, it’s easy enough to see their resentment. But Arthur’s better at keeping his cards close to his chest. It took a while for you both to settle into something easy like this. Most of the time you don’t spend more than half an hour together a day. You don’t have a good enough read on him to determine whether or not he holds your past against you. 

Sometimes, you think you might see just a hint of bitterness when he catches a glimpse of the smooth skin of your palms. But you never know if that’s real or something your paranoid mind has conjured up. 

Arthur swirls his mug in his hand, a bit of the coffee splashing over the edge as it does. You squirm uncomfortably in your spot beside him. The sun has begun to heat up the canvas tent, but you know that’s not why you’re sweating. 

He gives you a gentle smile that eases some of the dread building up in your chest. “I don’t care either way. And you shouldn't give a damn what the rest of these fools think. It’s what you’ve done with your life, with your money, that matters.”

You chuckle and shake your head, “You mean my father's money, and then my husband’s money. It was never mine. That’s why I care what they think. I’m dealing with their judgments every damn day and they know nothing about the truth of it all. I was a commodity, practically cattle to those men.”

Arthur’s brows furrow in that familiar way they do whenever you talk about the men of your old life. It doesn’t bother you to talk about them because you’re used to it and they’re gone. But you know it makes Arthur angry to think about it. 

You’ve grown comfortable with each other, but it’s still a cold shock when he casually touches you. You glance down, eyes wide, as you see his palm covering your own. You look back up with a soft smile. “You’re smart, Arthur. Smarter than half the people here give you credit for. And far kinder than anyone I’ve ever met. " Your heart kicks up a beat when you see the way he refuses to meet your eye. 

You’ll compliment him a million times a day if only to get him to start believing you. And maybe so you can keep watching that pink flush on his cheeks. 

“That’s enough of that,” his voice is gruff with something you can’t quite name. Having enough sense to know when to stop you hold your hands up in surrender. 

“Only saying the truth,” but you never can seem to stop yourself from pushing just a little bit further. Arthur shoots you a sharp look and you bite your lip to keep from laughing at him. You can see him start to wind up and prepare yourself for the brief scolding you’re about to receive. Once he’s done with that, maybe you’ll do what you’ve wanted for so long and ask him to accompany you to Strawberry. 

You’ve been trying to work up the nerve as your last two outings haven’t gone wonderfully. You’re hoping a redo might help the both of you grow just a little closer. Besides, being away from camp seems to be beneficial to you both. 

Approaching footsteps bring your conversation to an awkward halt. They’re not the heavy foot of Mrs. Grimshaw. This is someone else, someone much more welcome. You turn and smile at Charles as he hovers at the entrance of Arthur’s tent. Arthur scoffs and mutters something under his breath that you don’t quite make out, but it makes Charles grin. 

Charles gives you a brief nod but his intentions are meant for Arthur. “Whaddya want?” Arthur snaps impatiently. 

“Trelawney came back,” Charles answers shortly and your face pinches in confusion. Trelawney? You roll the name around in your mind but you don’t think you’ve ever heard anyone in camp mention him. 

Arthur’s head perks up, the frown on his face softening just ever so slightly, but it's replaced by something more bitter. Curiosity or nosiness, you’re not sure, but rather than give in to the rules of common decency you don’t leave them to finish their conversation alone.  

You try to lean back, pretending you’re not there so they’ll keep talking. “The hell did he want?” Arthur barks, tone still rudely short. You wonder what happened between him and Charles, they seemed to get along well enough a few weeks ago. 

Charles's gaze darts briefly to you but he continues, “He’s got news about Sean. Says he knows where to find him.” Now, that name you know, if only through vague mentions. You know Karen does her damndest to keep a mention of Sean out of everyone’s mouths. And that he made it out of Blackwater alive but got separated from the rest of the gang. Other than that, you don’t know much about him. 

Arthur gets to his feet and Charles backs away a few paces, leaving the two of you relatively alone again. Arthur looks down at you, something like disappointment on his face. “You need to go,” you assume before he can say anything. 

He nods and you give him an expectant smile, “Then you better get moving, cowboy. I’ll be here when you get back.” He lingers for a moment like there’s more he wants to say. But your mornings together have always been short, you can’t imagine why that would have changed today.

He sucks in a sharp breath before nodding and heading towards Charles. You watch him go, your plans for the day being tucked away. You’ll ask him to town another time. As long as it’s anywhere but Valentine. 

A prissy throat clears behind you and your head sinks between your shoulders with a heavy sigh. “Time to get movin’,” Mrs. Grimshaw commands, with far too much glee in her voice. 

You’re sitting on an overturned bucket, running someone’s pants across the washboard. You hate doing this, especially in the brisk of the early morning. Your fingers have already pruned up from the frigid water and you can barely feel them anymore. 

Your gaze drifts to your right, where the heaping pile of laundry lies, and you consider running off with Lady. You know whatever other chores Mrs. Grimshaw would come up with in retaliation would be a million times worse, but it almost seems worth it at this point. 

You dismiss the idea, deciding to honor the unspoken rule of ladies staying in camp, and continue scrubbing. You think this might be Arthur’s blue shirt. You notice a few fraying edges and holes and make a note to fix them up for him once it’s dry. You only hope you don’t stumble across Uncle’s clothes while you’re doing this. That man has got stains in places that make you want to throw them in the fire, rather than wash them. 

“Never gonna get used to a sight like this,” Sadie calls out as she walks up behind you. She kicks a crate over and throws herself down beside you. 

“You will soon enough,” you let out a bitter chuckle and shake your head, “Mrs. Grimshaw’s got some vendetta against me.”

Sadie shrugs and picks at some dirt under her nails. The sun seems to crest just perfectly over her head, almost making her blonde hair glow. She seems to be getting better. She’s put some space between her and the O’Driscolls and has found a place in camp just a little easier than you. 

Still, you know she’s struggling. She wants the freedom that your friendship with Arthur and Charles has granted you. You know she’s feeling cooped up here at camp. You’ll have to invite her for a ride sometime and see if that will help ease some of her anxiety. 

“Nah, it’s not just you. That old hag hates me too. She thinks I’ve got ideas above my station.” You and Sadie turn, glaring at the back of Mrs. Grimshaw who is fussing at Lenny. You shake your head with a huff of laughter and turn back to the laundry in hand. 

“I miss Jake,” Sadie suddenly blurts out. You freeze, hand still partially submerged in water as you debate how to approach this. Sadie’s always preferred the blunt way of going about life. You don’t think she wants simpering sympathy right now. 

“Which parts of him do you miss?” You ask, trying to keep your tone light as you toss the shirt into the basket beside you. 

“The non-controlling parts.” Sadie nudges your side with a laugh, “Relax, I’m not gonna start cryin’ on ya. I just miss runnin’ my own house, not being bossed around by a son of a bitch like that,” she says, motioning vaguely towards Mrs. Grimshaw. 

“She’s not much better than my husband was,” you grouse, trying to drown out the woman’s voice. 

“Ooh,” Sadie groans, tone laced with long-held resentment. “Forgive me for sayin’ it, but he was a real pain in my ass.”

You can’t help the grin that curls at your lips as you straighten up, momentarily abandoning the laundry. “You’re not my employee anymore, Sadie. Say whatever you want.”

“Right,” she shrugs, “He was a real bastard and I hope he became wolf meat.” Your lips pull back into something resembling a smile, but it's not fully there. You imagine the blood of your husband on your hands and it doesn’t fill you with the usually stifling nausea. Instead, it’s like a distant ache. You’re either growing numb to it or finally accepting that you’ve done the world a favor. 

You suck in a deep breath and nod, “I hope the same.” Sadie lingers for a little while longer, not helping with the clothes, but keeping you company. You don’t talk about anything of much substance. Mainly her irritations with everyone in camp and you echoing the sentiment. She doesn’t like Pearson always trying to force her to cook with him and you hate being his taste tester. It doesn’t matter how much seasoning he adds, he doesn’t know how to make even half-decent stew. 

When Sadie eventually leaves to finish her chores and you’re left all alone with your thoughts, you realize just how painfully slow the day passes by. You almost find yourself dragging the laundry out just to provide you some distraction from waiting for Arthur to come back. 

You’ve both been lingering on the edge of something. You need to see if it’s all in your head or if there might actually be hope for the both of you yet. 

You glare down at the basket of laundry at your feet and let out a heavy sigh. You reach for another shirt and begin scrubbing, keeping a careful eye on the camp’s entrance. 

It’s not until the sky is illuminated with glowing swirls of orange and pink that Arthur and the others come riding back into camp. You’d run out of chores a long while ago and had just been restlessly pacing since then. Every time you so much as approached Lady someone would come by and distract you with some meaningless task. 

You’d been sitting in the tent for the past hour, barely reading a book as you pray time moved faster. You stand now, hearing the cheers and whistles of the others. You move around the canvas, smiling when you see Arthur leading the men back into camp. 

There’s a man on the back of Diablo, a loud-mouthed redhead that you’ve never seen before. You can only assume this is the infamous Sean they’d been after. Judging by the look on Arthur’s face, you imagine he’s been running his mouth the entire time since they rescued him. 

He looks about ready to put a bullet in the young man as he drives him into camp. You see the others all taking notice of their return, Dutch being the loudest of them all. “Sean MacGuire!” He approaches Arthur’s horse, giving the boy a hand down and grinning widely. “Welcome back, son!”

His thick Irish accent catches you off guard, “Oh, ‘appy to be back, Dutch! ‘appy to be back,” he responds eagerly, a large smile on his face.  

You hesitate by the fire, waiting for Dutch to finish before you go darting off towards Arthur. “I do think a return like this requires a celebration!” Dutch calls out to the rest of the gang. They whistle and cheer for him, Bill already rushing off to break out the alcohol. The gleefulness of the moment catches up to you, it eases away some of the anxiety balling up in your gut and you find yourself cheering along with the others. 

Dutch keeps Sean tucked under his arm and begins to parade him through camp. You know this is a win for all of them. Even if someone here hadn’t liked Sean, getting one over on some bounty hunters is always a morale booster. Whatever your opinions on Dutch may be, you have to admit that he knows how to lead his people. 

Even if you happen to think manipulate is a better word for what he does. 

You watch Sean interact with everyone in camp, drawn into the boisterous energy he wraps himself in. It’s clear some of them are already beginning to find him a little annoying. But even his smart comments can’t seem to put a damper on the spirits of the night. 

Your mouth ticks up slightly when you see Lenny slug him in the shoulder, yelling at him for letting himself get caught. You divert your attention away from the interaction, looking for Arthur. You feel a little bit of the giddiness give way to disappointment when you realize you’ve lost sight of him. 

He’s no longer by the horses, Diablo having been hitched long enough to already start grazing the grass. You peer around the women’s tent and then take a few steps towards Arthur’s but he’s nowhere to be found. 

Just as soon as you let yourself be disappointed by this, you also chastise yourself for becoming so infatuated. You’ve always had a bad habit of getting in your head and boosting your hopes up over something mundane. You’ve only just begun forming a friendship with the man and already you’re starting to fret over him. You’re not a schoolgirl anymore, you’ll have to grow out of this at some point. 

You rub a tired hand over your face and suck in a deep breath. The aromas of camp rush over you in a wave. You can still smell the remnants of burnt morning coffee amidst the ever-present scent of the campfire and the fragrance of laundry that lingers on your hands. You can no longer tell if the mingling of odors comforts or irritates you. 

You look up to the shining stars above and pray for a semblance of sense. Wrapping your shawl tighter around your shoulders you resolve to get over this infatuation with Arthur and just enjoy the night. If anything is meant to happen, it will do so naturally. 

Dutch walks towards you as you begin to head towards the domino table. You force yourself to stop when you see the expectant look on his face. Sean trails along behind him now, already seeming to have found his way into some of the liquor. 

 “Mrs. Rowe!” Dutch calls out loudly, you give him a polite smile and he motions towards Sean. “I don’t believe you’ve met my good friend, Sean MacGuire. Mouthiest gunman in the west,” he adds with a smarmy grin.

You shake your head and hold your hand out to the boy. “Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure. And please, no need to be so formal.” You give him your name, and he perks up. Stumbling forward and attempting to shake the drunkenness off, he turns your palm and kisses the back of your hand instead of shaking it. 

You can’t help but laugh a little at his performance. Molly suddenly calls for Dutch across camp and the three of you turn to face her. “Dutch, over here for a moment!” She waves him forward and Dutch lets out a long-suffering sigh with an easy smile. 

“Duty calls, I believe the two of you can entertain each other for a little while.” He turns towards Molly, arms wide as he calls out, “Now, Miss O’Shea, what ever can I do for you?”

Sean quickly snags your attention again and you realize that he’s yet to let go of your hand. “Not a missus, eh?” He asks, his eyebrows waggling with what his drunken mind must think is seductiveness. 

You stifle a giggle and shake your head no. “‘Fraid not. He’s not been gone long, but I’m happier for it.”

“Oh, and so am I, fair lady.” You shake your head with amusement. He’s nearly charming with all of his limitless swagger. “Now, I’ve just been cooped up in a camp with about fifty men with mugs nearly as ugly as these,” he motions towards the gang and you let out another unbidden laugh. “Would you care to dance with me?”

Your brows furrow, a disbelieving smile on your face. Leaning in, as though you’re sharing a secret, you tell him, “There’s no music.”

He pulls a little bit back from you, meeting your eyes as your breaths mingle with proximity. “Are you sure?” He asks, a mischievous look on his face. 

You find yourself frowning in confusion, and then, almost as though they had planned it, Dutch puts a record on. It’s scratchy on his worn player, but the music fills the camp as he leads Molly into a sway. 

Your lips part in astonishment and you forget for a moment just how close the two of you are. If anyone else saw, they’d think you were going to kiss. “How did you know he was going to do that?”

He waves you off and leans back. “Magician can’t reveal and all that,” he dismisses. “Now, a dance?”

You’re charmed by him, as much as you hate to admit it. Perhaps he doesn’t have quite the same effect on you as Arthur. But he’s handsome in his own way. Besides, who are you to deny a magic man a dance?

You let him lead you towards the fire and he draws you close. You’re surprised when his hand stays firmly on your waist and he keeps a nearly respectable distance between you both. You’re still what modern society would call a scandal, but this is nothing for a gang of outlaws. 

“I’m sure I’ve never met you before. Where did they find you?” Sean spins you out and then twirls you back into his arms with a flourish that makes you breathless. You almost ask him where he learned to dance before you remember to answer his question. 

“Up in the mountains. Some O’Driscolls came through, killed my friend’s husband, and kept us in a cellar.” You’re no longer surprised how easy it is for you to admit something like that. You’ve become desensitized to situations like your own the longer you’ve been in camp. 

“O’Driscolls,” Sean’s face twists up with distaste and he shakes his head. “Nasty business.”

You scoff, “You’re telling me.” Sean’s gaze drifts behind you and the little color on his pale skin drains. It makes the freckles speckling his cheeks stand out remarkably. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Cutting in, MacGuire,” a rough voice calls out from behind you. Your feet still from where they’d been following Sean’s lead and you risk a glance over your shoulder. Arthur paints a fearsome portrait against the night sky. Impassioned by the sight of him, with the brim of his hat tipped low and the fire casting shadows across him, you hastily drop Sean’s hands and step back from him.  “I’d go find your lady if I were you,” Arthur instructs Sean.

Confusion swirls through you before you spot a very angry, very drunk Karen walking past. “Rotten Irish bastard,” she mutters under her breath, shooting both you and Sean a nasty look. Sean chases, taking quick steps towards Karen without another word to you. 

“Karen, it meant nothing, sweetheart. I only wanted a dance!” You let out a loud laugh as you watch him scramble after her. 

“He’s a damn fool,” Arthur says through a chuckle, walking closer towards you. You smile, turning around and flicking the brim of his hat up so he doesn’t seem so imposing. 

“You stole my dance partner, Mr. Morgan.” You accuse lightly, pretending to be cross with him. 

He rolls his eyes with an attitude you rarely see from him. “I did you a favor. You don’t want to get involved with Sean.”

“No,” you tell him, “of course I don’t. I was only dancing. Can’t do that anymore now, can I?”

Arthur’s mouth opens and closes before he lets out a huff. “Well, you two seemed awful close. I thought that-” he cuts himself off and you frown. 

You were only teasing him. Had he actually thought you were interested in pursuing Sean? You’d barely known the boy an hour. You pause, taking a step back and really getting a good look at Arthur. His shoulders are tense, though, not as tense as they had been a moment ago. The anger on his face, when he approached, had been real and not just the fire playing tricks. 

The pieces connect one by one and you find yourself astonished. Arthur Morgan had been jealous over you. 

That had to mean something. You couldn’t be reading into something like this. You might be a little desperate, but you weren’t a fool. You feel a flutter in your stomach and swallow down nerves. “Dance with me?” You ask, in a breathy whisper, sounding much more confident than you are. 

His eyes widen and he grimaces, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know, sweetheart. I’m no good at stuff like that.”

You bite down your smile and lean forward, taking his hand in your own. They’re rough against the smooth surface of your palms but you relish in the feeling. “Neither am I. It was the one class I never managed to get the hang of in finishing school.”

You coax him forward slowly, drawing him into you and guiding his hand a little lower on your waist than you should. He takes your other hand in his own and leads you into a slow dance. It’s barely anything more than a sway, but you still feel exhilarated. 

Even with the warning, it’s still a little surprising how awful you both are at dancing. “Even if you're stepping on my toes Arthur, I’m still much happier to be dancing with you,” you tell him, sincerity coating your throat like honey. 

He looks away from you and sighs. “Don’t have to say that.”

Your brows furrow and you tilt your head, catching his eye. “Why would I lie?” He doesn’t respond, caught off guard by the question. 

“Well,” he starts slowly, finally facing you again. He laughs a little at himself and shakes his head, “I don’t know why you would.”

“Because I wouldn’t,” you retort. “I don’t want to dance with anyone else, Arthur.” You know that sometimes he doesn’t always catch the hidden meaning, but you’re hoping he understands this time. You don't know if you could be any more brazen than you currently are.

His brows furrow and you can practically see the dots connecting when you begin to hear it. Low grunting noises, something almost like a whimper, slip out of the closed flap of John’s tent. You both pick up on it at the same time, movements slowing until you come to a complete stop. You stand, tucked into Arthur’s chest, and listen to what seems to be two people having a lot of fun. 

“Is that-”

You’re cut off by a very loud, “Sean!” You gasp, hand covering your mouth as your eyes widen. 

“Oh, Karen,” he sounds on the verge of tears and you practically have to bite your tongue to not laugh. You bury your face in Arthur’s chest, feeling it shake as he lets out a loud chuckle. “I’ve missed you so much!” You hear him begin to cry and force yourself to turn away before they hear you both laughing at them. 

“Oh,” Arthur’s face screws up with disgust but he’s still laughing. “That’s just awful. Come on,” he keeps your hand in his, tucking you under his arm as he leads you away from the tent. He snags a bottle of something off a nearby crate as he guides you toward the trees bordering the camp. 

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere we don’t have to listen to that,” he mutters, nodding back toward the sinful tent. You clench your eyes shut, trying not to picture what the two of them are doing. 

You feel your feet sink a little, mud lifting around the edges of your boot. You reach to lift your skirts, out of instinct, before you remember you’ve got your new pants on. It makes you smile a little, living without the weight of your old clothes. 

“Arthur,” you stumble into his back as you trip over a branch and he quickly rights you. “Were you jealous?” You don't give much lead-up, hoping to shock the truth out of him. 

He pauses and turns back to look at you. You smile a little impishly at him and he lets out a long-suffering sigh. “This way, woman,” he grumbles, tugging you towards a thinner patch of trees. You find yourself squeezing his hand absentmindedly, liking the comfort of holding it.

The moon illuminates your path forward and you feel your heart jump up to your throat. He’s led you to a small cliff face, a spot just large enough for the both of you, that feels incredibly intimate. The moon almost creates a halo around the area, lighting it up more than anywhere else in the forest. 

Arthur lets go of you to tug off his coat. He places it on the ground and motions for you to sit. So used to fending for yourself and always being the last priority, something as simple as that has your heart skipping. “You didn’t answer my question,” you tell him as you take a seat. 

He sits beside you, knee brushing against your thigh as he pops open the bottle of whiskey he’d swiped. He twirls it around in his hand for a moment before he places it down beside himself. Your stomach dips when he turns towards you, eyes intensely meeting your eyes. 

You almost want to look away, the blue of them too intense to face. There’s honesty in his gaze and an intention you can’t recognize that forms a lump in your throat. “Yes. I was.”

Your lips twitch and you shake your head, slightly bewildered by how easily he admitted that. “I’m jealous every day I don’t get to call you mine,” he adds.

You used to be someone else’s. First, you were your father’s toy and then your husband's. When they called you theirs it was always with the intention of owning and using you. But it feels different with Arthur. It feels like handing him your bruised heart and knowing he’ll keep it safe. He says those words, and finally, you know that someone other than yourself is looking out for you. 

His hand comes up, gently brushing some hair off your cheek and drifting down to the nape of your neck. You lean forward, following his guidance, as his head dips down. Your lips meet, and the warmth emanating from him makes you realize this is truly happening. 

Cold from the stone below you seeps through his jacket and chills your legs. The feeling only further intensifies the startling realization that this is real. This isn’t one of your silly little fantasies. He’s kissing you and you aren’t doing anything.  

You sit before him, stiff as a stone, not kissing him back or showing him any sign you’re enjoying this. He picks up on that and you can already taste the apology on his lips as he begins to pull back from you. So you dart forward, clumsily pushing your lips up against his before you completely ruin your chance. 

He laughs against your eager lips, but you feel his relief in the way his shoulders slump and he relaxes back into you. One of his hands drifts down towards your waist, tugging you slightly closer, and you could melt into the feeling of him holding you. 

He tightens his hold around you, drawing you back ever so slightly, his forehead resting against yours. “You sure you want to get involved with me? It ain’t gonna be easy.”

Unwilling to part for so long, you close the distance between the both of you and finally, let yourself give in to the sensations of this moment. His palm drifts into your hair and he tilts his head to deepen the kiss. 

Perhaps due to his gruff outlaw exterior, you’d had the misguided notion that he wouldn’t be a good kisser. Men like himself seem like the type not to enjoy something as simple as a kiss. They’re used to just getting right to the point. You’re happy to discover just how wrong you were. 

Those romance books Mary-Beth devours always describe something fleeting. There’s always fireworks going off as the two people you’ve been reading about finally kiss. This isn’t like that, there isn’t a spark that reignites a cold heart. You feel safe and comforted, like you’re finally coming home. This feels real, not like some passionate moment shared between two people that will never last.

Arthur pulls back, reluctantly, and you both catch your breath. “We should probably head back soon,” he whispers, eyes trained on your lips.

You nod your head, “Probably.” Neither of you goes to move, instead you tighten your hold on one another, basking in the moment of finally having what you’ve been coveting for so long.

Next Part end. — I do not own the characters or the game Red Dead Redemption 1/2, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2025. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

Hell Hath No Fury Taglist: @buckysblondie @littlebirdgot @heloixe @summerdazed @committingcrimes-2047

@m1stea @pokiona

[lizzaneia-elizalde]

Yandere! Male! idol x manager! gn! reader

WOOOH finally able to update. I got busy due to working for a summer reading camp. Woop tee doo... At least I got money for a new phone LMAO

And we finally, FINALLY finished the second set of yans! For now, no new yans will be done, and will be focusing on the boys!

Song featured: Too Sweet by Hozier

EDIT: I FORGOT THAT I MADE ELIAS THE SIBLING OF THE YAN! IDOL AND ALREADY NAMED HIM ZAYNE! I'll probably just change Zayne's to Tae-Joon.

Yan! Idol name: Raven/Tae-Joon

The deafening lights and cheers of the people in the gigantic stadium rang around the building. They kept cheering, almost shaking the whole place from their energy.

As the band started playing the intro song, the cheers suddenly amped up in intensity with the focus going back on the stage. Each and every lightstick glowed red, flooding the whole area with a scarlet hue.

The bass pumped, the music riffed, the vibe electric.

The stage fogged up, covering the whole place before the cheering got louder when a appeared in the fog.

Then, there he is.

"HOW'S IT GOING CITY OF [redacted]!"

A charismatic, boyish smile, with pearly white teeth that blinded the secret paparazzi in the crowd, with a tall and lean stature that encompasses talent and discipline in one body, and facial features that make people swoon even in just his photocards.

"RAVEN! RAVEN! RAVEN!"

The man, the idol named Raven, started to sing. His voice was smooth and low as the romantic yet also sensual lyrics pour out of his pink lips.

It can't be said I'm an early bird

It's ten o'clock before I say a word

Baby, I can never tell

How do you sleep so well?

He goes up to the edge, swinging around the mic stand as if it was a dance partner. One can hear the passion going off in his tone as his messy hair got flipped upward.

Don't you just wanna wake up, dark as a lake?

Smelling like a bonfire, lost in a haze?

If you're drunk on life, babe, I think it's great

But while in this world

He gets on the middle of the stage, and the pedestal raised as the spotlight went to him.

I think I'll take my whiskey neat

My coffee black and my bed at three

You're too sweet for me

You're too sweet for me

Everyone was seduced, everyone was mesmerized. Raven gave off seductive energy that they held their breath every time his gaze penetrates them. And some even assumed his gaze was on theirs, making them squeal.

It was truly a night for everyone in the stadium.

After almost two hours of performing, Raven, with sweat pouring out of him but still managed to look amazing, descended down on the stage hatch.

But the once shining star back in the stage suddenly threw his beret on the ground.

"FUCK! What was that buzzing sound in the dance break?!" Raven yelled. "Are you serious?! I thought we went over this!"

The people in the back started to groan inwardly. There he goes again.

"Ah... Tae-Joon..." The director said, "We made sure to reprimand the lights and sounds..."

Raven, or rather Tae-Joon off stage, clicked his tongue in anger. "Whatever. Bring me my coffee! I need a break."

"But you can just go home after the cleanup. Do you still want coffee?"

A naive voice said, obviously new to the scene as she juggle with her box of wires.

She's a big fan of Raven and pulled a lot of strings just to be there. A bit bold, she decided to be the concerned type of staff and berate him of his beverage choice.

Yet she absolutely cannot see the pale faces and the dread sticking on the visages of the people around her. She's in too deep in her tunnel vision of Raven to notice his microphone cracking. Another thing to add to the casualties.

"You... What's your name?" Raven glowered. The fan can feel her heart rate pick up as she told her name. "Oh. You're new. All i could say is..."

Raven got up to her and glared at her much smaller form "You're fired. Get out! Nobody gets to dictate what I damn drink!"

The woman was too stunned to speak as she got dragged out of the venue.

This is Raven. Or in real life, Tae-Joon. A charming man in his own right, in front of the public, he's a gentleman with a seductive touch. Talented, with a handsome visage, he's an international idol.

But in reality, he's one hell of a spoiled brat.

"I WANT MY COFFEE NOW!"

Somehow, because of his sheer dumb luck and his reputation, nobody from his staff decided to expose him for what he really is.

He's full of himself and loves to gloat about his own achievements. And one thing he makes sure to take advantage of is his looks.

He brushes his hair back, shaking off sweat (ew) yet somehow looks so ethereal as he clicked his tongue in annoyance, mesmerizing his staff.

He even went as far as to feed his delusional fans and stans.

He's that far gone.

"Where the hell is my coffee!"

"AY COFFEE!"

He's awful to everyone.

Except...

"Tsk. Tae-Joon... If I hear you yell one more time!"

Raven cowers a bit, pouting as he slithers towards his manager.

"But manager~!"

As if he's a new person, Raven clung to you. His head on your shoulder as he played with your left hand.

"I want my coffee and none of these incompetent people are giving me my coffee!" He whined like a child complaining to his parent. "Scold them for me pwease!"

The staff, used to it, sighed in relief as your deadpan look didn't tolerate Raven's rudeness. On your right hand is his coffee that you handed to him.

"Manager! Thank you so much!" His eyes wide and appreciative, he sips on it and sighs in relief. "Ah... So good... This is why I love you, manager."

Goodness. He's putty in your hands.

Tae-Joon was once a trainee. He's naturally good looking already so he's being pulled left and right by companies to be in their side. He's an uncut gem, a diamond in the rough waiting to be polished. They saw his potential and wanted a slice of his being.

The once sweet boy, hardened by the harsh training, became a gloating hardhead from the way these people fight for him. After all, he was just a quiet, ambitious guy in highschool. He wanted more, and he got it through hard work and natural charm. And now, years later, he's about to reach his dreams.

Yet once he got in the company of his choice, his demands were... Too much.

"I need to share a dorm with others? No way!"

"Ugh the mattress is too stiff."

"Seriously?! You want me to train for five hours a day?! Two hours! Just two hours!"

"What are these clothes?! These are not branded!"

"No way that I'm performing in that small stage. I don't care if I'm pre-debut, that is ass!"

"Trash beats. Next."

The company was exhausted. He's not even raking money in, yet he's too demanding for his own good.

Desperate, the company opened their doors for a babysitter manager that has a "calm and pleasing personality", "trait that can work in high stress situations", "adaptability", "great leadership skills and authoritative", and can "teach those who are under them". Aka: someone who can tame the damn bird.

That's where you came in.

You were just a fresh graduate in desperate need of a job. Nobody was hiring you since you're new, and needed more experience.

The hiring process was intense, to say the least. You had to herd rowdy children and change them to upright good kids in 10 days. You somehow did it and even got gifts from the grateful parents. Next, you had to juggle schedules and ridiculous demands. Then, you had to endure being yelled and insulted at.

Your mind, heart, and body are now made of steel from that hiring process and you're the only one who rose to the top.

"Congratulations. Here's your care. His name is Tae-Joon, stage name Raven." The head said, nervous and hopeful that you with Tae-Joon will change his attitude.

Tae-Joon raised an eyebrow and sneered. "Ugly."

You were flabbergasted. This is a supposed to be future idol?

But you can only manage a twitch on your lips.

It was hell with him. You thought the hiring process/training regimen was bad, but this was something else.

A explosive personality, he's sassy and mean to a point of wanting to face palm through your head. You had to physically reel him in at some point just because of a hater.

But unlike the others who cowered and tolerated his behavior, you were stern with his behavior and lectured him most of the time.

"You can't just yell at miss Park just because she messed up your order!"

"Get the hell up! You're going to be late to your training!"

"Who the heck do you think you are, ripping up clothes like that huh?!"

You were feisty in your own right and constantly butt heads with him.

But even then, even just with you around, he's just a growling beast cowering from your lectures as you yelled at him.

Yet, even if as you yell at him, your caring hands wiped his sweat off and gave him his water. If somebody actually messed with him, you would lecture that guy. And there are some times that you laugh at his antics and shake your head.

You treated him like an actual human with feelings, rather than a ticking time bomb.

Slowly but surely, Tae-Joon clung to you. You were his only ally in this godforsaken industry and the only one who understood him. You also didn't tolerate his personality and shaped him to be somehow decent.

And, as his manager, you cared for him like nobody did.

Your lectures became less frequent, and he had more instances to see where you smile at him proudly as he finally had his solo debut. More time to talk to him normally, and had small, intimate moments that fuels his social needs.

And as his fame skyrocket, you were always there, waving his lightstick and being his number one fan.

Understandably, he fell for you.

He started to be openly affectionate with you, constantly confessing his love to the point that management had to tell him off to stop being so open with his affection since paparazzi can take a video or picture and ruin his reputation.

He honestly doesn't care. But with you raising an eyebrow at him, he pouts and only becomes clingy in private.

He'd rather hold it in than nothing at all.

And hell be damned if someone took you away from him. Because he may be somehow tolerable now, but that's only because you're there with him.

Raven just got back from practicing for his new song, and was totally exhausted. He dragged his feet, clearly irritable especially that you weren't there with him.

The staff knew he's not in a good mood so they steer clear of his way.

"Have you seen my manager?" Raven asked a staff who only shook their head. "'kay..."

He looks so depressed that the people around him took pity on the guy as he trudged towards the head.

He passed a meeting room and he heard your voice.

"Another Tae-Joon?"

Another him? What?

He decided to listen in and he heard the managerial head clear his throat.

"Yes. Since Raven is calmer now, we think he needs to move on to another manager. You, on the other hand, will be training another... Hothead."

You held your head, feeling a headache incoming.

"No way. I'm not going through that again. I went through hell with Tae-Joon before. I'm not repeating that."

Ouch. Tae-Joon held his chest, a bit saddened by your words. Well, it was true but it didn't mean it didn't hurt.

Yet... You're not going to be his manager anymore?

Strangely, he felt the numbness creeping up his nape.

"No buts, y/n. You're going to be transfered."

"Did you ask Tae-Joon about this?"

"... Yes, Raven gave the thumbs up."

Liar. LIAR!

Tae-Joon wanted to rush in the room and shake the managerial head until he faints. He didn't give the thumbs up at all!

But he's strangely rooted in place as he heard you sigh.

"Okay. Where's this guy?"

"His name is [redacted]. He'll be here by Monday so be prepared."

When you finally finished the meeting, you went out of the room yet felt a lingering warmth by the wall.

Meanwhile, Tae-Joon rushed towards the trainee building. Eyes cold yet body tense. He wanted to see who the hell is this [redacted]. Nobody, as in nobody will be yours. Only he can be yours.

The trainees were flabbergasted as they saw Raven in the flesh, gawking at his presence and bowing in respect.

Tae-Joon didn't care. He wanted to see where this [redacted] is.

Room 5, and he bursts open through the door.

"What the hell- Raven?" The guy was slack jawed, starstruck. "I'm- I'm a big fan--"

Tae-Joon grabbed his collar and looked him in the eye. It was filled with unbridled rage yet at the same time, bone chilling coldness.

"Fix your fucking attitude." Tae-Joon warned. "Don't be over your head, worm. You better be goddamn nice or else I'll lob your head off."

[redacted] felt like it wasn't just a baseless joke, so he swallowed his saliva and nodded.

"Now. I better see you demand a transfer to the group idol department. You hear me? You aren't debuting solo." Tae-Joon tightened his grip. "Understood?"

It reached the ears of the head that Tae-Joon threatened [redacted]. But don't know what. All they know is that [redacted] pleaded to debut in a group and was suddenly meek and quiet when he transfered departments.

Yet, they somehow knew it had to do something with you, as he clung to you desperately for a week after that.

Then and there, they knew to never, ever try to separate you from him. If they don't want to let go of their greatest asset and set him off.

So, despite how dangerous Raven has become, they forced [redacted] to be quiet by... Not so savorable means.

"You're not leaving me, right?" Tae-Joon whispered, looking exhausted yet satisfied as he hugged your waist.

You, who just realized how deep Tae-Joon is in his affection, sighed and rubbed his head. "I'm not."

And it better stay that way.

[quotidian-oblivion]

So I woke up today and found the house empty. Turns out, my dad was at work, my siblings were at Islamic summer camp classes and my mom was out shopping and no one would be home for a few hours.

I was left unsupervised for several hours straight at home.

And so, in all my teenage rebellion glory, I decided to have chocolate milk for breakfast. Because you know this girlie pop loves her choccie milk.

And so I quickly freshened up and eagerly leapt to the kitchen for my delicious breakfast. I didn't wanna go all the way to the store and purchase a choccie milk, so I decided to make my own.

I got the milk, sugar, cocoa powder, drinking chocolate powder, ice and blender. All the basic ingredients cuz we didn't have much at home (which was why my mom was out shopping).

Now the thing about the blender is that my mom often refers to it as her precious gold. The blender is sacred in this household and whoever so much as even sets it down too hard, invokes the wrath of my mom. So, in order to preserve my life, I took great measures to make sure nothing happens to it. But while pouring the milk, I paused.

I knew that the blender had a minimum capacity for it to do thr blending, but I didn't know what. So I just poured it till the first measuring line. I made my chocolate milk, meticulously measuring each ingredient with my soul and even adding some coffee to it.

And then, it was done! But with everything blended together, the choccie milk had somehow risen in volume even though all the ingredients were milk and powders. So I grabbed the biggest glass in our house and that thing is HUGE. It's as big as my water bottle.

But even after filling the glass to the brim, there was still, like, half of the contents of the blender left. I shrugged and plopped an ice cube in, resolving to drink the other half after I did my chores. So I drank the first glass and since I was hungry, it didn't take long. I was chugging the glass like a man who had just gotten through a breakup, paid bail and had staggered into the first bar he found.

I did my chores and stuff then poured the rest of the blender contents. It filled the entire glass yet again. Fyi, half the contents were not foam. The foam took overall 4% of the space, the rest was pure chocolate milk. Idk how my quarter-blender chocolate milk turned into a three-quarters-blender chocolate milk, but I'm starting to think now that there is a reason why my mom loves that blender more than her husband and children and the reason might be that I think the Spirit of Chocolate Milk decided to cross over from the Spirit World and take the mortal form of Blender (I recently started watching atla).

Anyways, it took me a while to chug the entire chocolate milk. And when I did, I fell sick.

Now, you might ask me, "Quo, why didn't you just share it with your siblings when they got back?" The answer is: If I had to trade chocolate milk as ransom for my siblings, I would shoot them myself.

(For legal purposes, this is a joke, but the seriousness is there)

And I couldn't very well share it with my parents because they're recently started talking about physical health and gyms, enhancing my gym-phobia and increasing my desperation to start a badminton club myself because the only physical exercise I find comfortable is taking a racquet and beating the shit out of cocks. Shuttlecocks. So if they found out that I had, most likely, roughly a litre of chocolate milk for breakfast, they would freak. So I had no choice but to finish it.

Anyways, as soon as I finished the huge ass glasses of chocolate milk, I started to feel the consequences of my unregrettable and unsupervised actions.

My stomach became sentient and decided to master water-bending and bend the water inside itself to torture the shell that held it. I felt like puking my breakfast out, but no way in hell was I gonna let my stomach get in the way of my one true love. So I refused to puke out the chocolate milk.

I endured the attack of the Puke Nation and finally prevailed. And of course, lamented to my friends about it because I'm a dramatic bitch.

I quickly washed the blender and the glass and cleared everything out just in time as my mom and sisters came home.

And guess what she brought for me. No, guess.

She got me chocolate milk. She went to the store, saw a bottle on clearance, and bought it. And if I don't drink it today, it will expire.

Anyway, it's been 6 hours, that's enough time to give my stomach a break from a litre of chocolate milk, right?

If I don't update, you can correctly assume that I committed death via chocolate milk overdose. Drink on, soldiers 🫡

[josephquinnswhore]

the devil is real and he’s a besotted outlaw - micah bell x female reader

summary: Micah bell can be a twisted man, and you’re complacent in his actions.

word count: 1.7k

content warning: micah bell, LOL. micah uses a gun to get reader off, p in v, raw sex, creampie, f and m orgasm. use of degrading words. Karen slander (just for the plot I swear I love her.)

At this time in the evening, generally everyone around camp had retired to their tents, the sun had set many hours ago. But the orange hue from the fire burning around the empty campfire still flicks embers into the sky, you watch them disappear.

Your boyfriend had been stoking the fire every so often before tossing the stick with his usual carelessness beside the seat he had leaned backward in to find a comfortable position. As comfortable as he could with you sitting on his lap, cradling the warm metal mug in your cold palms, sipping occasionally.

“Shouldn’t be drinkin’ that right before bed,” he chastises softly, but there's no real scolding behind his words.

“It don't seem like you're gonna head to bed anytime soon.”

Not now that he’d picked up one of his twin revolvers. The custom piece featured a unique dark grey steel frame, one that had been polished only the evening prior. The grip was also custom created, black skulls engraved and delicately painted contrast against the red grip.

He pours some gun oil onto a cloth, and wraps his arms around your hips to your front as he begins his chore of cleaning the weapon, movements precise and meticulous. After a few moments, he feels a strain in his neck trying to gaze over you, so he simply rests his chin on your shoulder, stopping the task for but a moment to press a delicate kiss to the exposed skin.

A small hum escapes you, and he gets back to his task at hand. One thing you liked about him, he didn’t favour small talk, he preferred these moments of tranquility with you where there were no peering eyes and stout whispers.

When you finish your cup of coffee, your attempt to stand was intercepted by Micah’s hands gripping onto your hips. “Where do you think you're going? Weren't you stayin’ up with me?”

“I am, just going to Pearson’s wagon to clean my mug and I’ll be back.”

You let out a noise of surprise when he pulls you back down onto his lap, taking the mug out of your much smaller hands to set it carefully on the ground beside him. It was sweet, seeing how he cared for your things with a delicacy that he held private for the things most important to him.

“Ain’t goin’ nowhere without me, an’ I ain't ready to get up yet.” His tone is quiet, but you know better than to disobey what he asks when it's not reasonable. The mug could just be cleaned later on.

A small yawn escapes you, regardless of the mug of caffeine you’d finished moments before, and Micah sets aside his guns at the noise. “Tired?” The soft murmur against your skin created a demand for goosebumps on your neck. Coarse hairs of his moustache tickle your neck as he begins to kiss the raised skin.

“Partially,” you reply in a quiet murmur.

“Well, I best wake you up, hm?” Pulling away from your neck, all of your attention is now drawn to his large hands on the skirt of your dress as he bunches it at your waist to expose your legs underneath. “Now ain’t that a sight?”

“Micah–” a soft protesting whine is about to deny him, and he interrupts.

His hands trail upward, making you forget what you were about to scold him for, fingers trailing up your thighs over the sheer material of those pretty drawers you always wore. His thick digits were moving the piece to the side delicately to get where he wanted without much resistance from you, to his delight.

“Christ, girl, ain’t fair keeping this all to yourself.”

A protestful noise escapes your throat when his hands pull away from your need, causing you to rut your hips in search of his thick fingers. “Tsk, so impatient,” he chastises.

But it's not his hand that returns to caress your swollen clit, it's cold, and you flinch backwards against his chest. When you look down to see what it was that he was using on you–a part of you stills, perhaps in curiosity, fear or need. You weren’t entirely sure what you felt.

Before you could say anything he runs the already oiled up clean gun against your sensitive nub, causing your back to arch further, head resting on his shoulder behind you. “Oh.. Micah..” you trail off, unable to deny the pleasure from the crude act. “This.. is so twisted.”

His chuckle is deep and causes another demand of goosebumps to rise against your hot skin, rubbing the sleek barrel of his revolver agasint your clitorus at an agonisingly slow pace. “I don’t see you pulling away from it, girl.”

The sensation is incredible, ending up in you resorting to seeking more friction by rutting against the weapon sloppily, the increased pace makes your thighs tremble against his own. “Seems like my desperate girl is just as twisted as I supposedly am.”

Unable to control yourself, selfishly ravishing his weapon for your own sake, the orgasm you experience has you crying out softly into the still air of the evening, a smirk plastered on Micah’s face as you tremble against him. Your hips finally still from your greedy seeking ruts.

Micah partially lifts you off his lap, unzipping his cream coloured jeans before lowering you back down onto his hard cock. Your hole was perfect, the kind of pleasure that a man would seek salvation in. His hands are guiding you in a repetitive motion, a low groan coming from Micah that only allows his cock to slide easier into you.

“Micah..” there's not much more you can think to utter other than his name. Completely unable to make any sense after that absurd orgasm he caused moments before.

There's one thing about him, his impatience, the need for you. In his greed, he tires of slowly guiding you down onto him, and prospers to drill into you harshly as he raises his hips to thrust into you. No coherent words leave your lips, merely the strangled sounds of pleasure as you struggle to catch your breath against his cock pummelling into you. Hands sliding underneath the bodice of your gown to grasp roughly onto one of your breasts.

With a few harsh and desperate deep, sloppy thrusts he is spilling into you, pulling you closer to him as he bites down into your neck. His breathing is uneven and hot against your shoulder, giving your breast one last squeeze he removes his hand, and a wince of overstimulation he pulls his cock out of you.

Offering one of his hands, he helps you to stand, fixing your dress and helping smooth it out at the bodice. You're still in a daze, confused and your entire body feeling the aftermath of the explosive intimate encounter.

You didn't say anything as Micah led you to his tent, a hand resting on your lower back to guide you, but you didn't need to. “You did good, girl. Real good.” At his praise, your skin warms, flushing with your entire body at the sweet sentiment.

Of course you're having troubles the next morning, because why did you think that no one heard your performance with Micah last night? Karen is the only one with enough gall to confront you, the look of pure disgust she gave you, and the way she tried to stand over you like she was trying to intimidate you. “You’re disgusting, Micah of all people. You must really be some desperate kind of whore.”

This infuriates you, they didn't know micah like you did, how sweet and consolable and caring he really could be. “No, I guess you don't understand, do you? You’re being sour toward me because you know no man wants you at all!”

The blonde woman saunters closer to you, with a tone of threat. “What did you just say?”

Micah hears the commotion and intercepts, changing his course as he starts walking towards the scene.

“Oh look, it's the sack of shit himself.” Karen gestures towards Micah and you sneer at her.

You’re quick to lash back to defend Micah. “Get back on the bottle, you miserable cow.”

Things are heating up between the two of you, Micah standing tall beside you.

“Back off you drunken wench,” Micah snarls, finally stepping in front of you.

But Karen does not allow this to deter her rampage directed at you, looking past Micah to spit drunken insults. “I mean seriously, sleeping with Micah Bell? You’re making a damn fool of yourself. Micah is the last person you should trust. He’s no better off than the devil, you’d do best to stay away if you had any mind!”

“I didn't ask for your goddamn opinion, now shut the hell up!”

“You stupid little girl,” she spits, pointing a finger at you. “You think you're safe with the likes of him?”

But this had gone on long enough and Micah had finally had enough of Karen and her drunken tirade against you. “Enough outta you.” Glowering down at Karen, “say another word that insults her, and I promise I’ll make use outta that gun I cleaned last night, y’hear me?”

“Now back off.” He threatens, standing tall in front of you, creating a barrier between the women as he protects you from any further in slew of insults.

Finally, karen gets the message, albeit muttering as she walks away from the scene she had created.

“You alright? She didn't touch ya, did she?” He murmurs softly as he glances at you, inspecting you to make sure you are unharmed.

“I’m fine. I.. I mean I’m not hurt.” You correct yourself.

He grips onto your chin softly. “Don’t listen to her nonsense, y’hear me? I ain’t about t’let her get in your head.” A frown forms on his face at your silence. “It don't matter what she, or any other folk think about us. You trust me, don’cha?”

“Course I trust you,” you utter in promise.

“Good.” His murmur is soft, meant for only your ears. As is his gentle caress as he runs his thumb over your cheek, his frown fading into a more neutral expression. “Then don't you pay no mind to what folk say about me, especially when it comes to my involvement with you. They don't know the first damn thing about me, none of ‘em.”

His words sink in, and a crack of a smile finally reaches your lips, to which his expression mirrors your own. “There's my pretty girl.”

Yeah, it was worth it.

[thelikesofus]

starting our forever, baby

9-1-1 on ABC | Buddie | 2.1k words | s7 spec, prev bucktommy, getting together, love confessions, love is stored in the kitchen

Eddie wakes up to a surprise visit from Buck and they finally talk about forever.

Read on AO3

Eddie wakes up to the sound of pans clanging in the kitchen and the smell of pancake batter and hot butter. Neither of these things is cause for alarm nor out of the ordinary but he is ninety-eight percent certain he went to sleep in an empty house. 

He rolls out of bed, shrugging on a sweatshirt and grabbing a pair of soft socks out of his drawer on the way past and to no surprise finds Buck in the kitchen.

“Hey! Eddie,” Buck smiles brightly at him as Eddie cautiously perches himself on a kitchen stool. “Good morning.”

Buck is bathed in sunlight from the kitchen window behind him, a halo of gold filtering through his soft curls, gel-free and touseled on the top of Buck’s head in a way that Eddie wishes he would let them be more often. “Morning, Buck. You’re here early.”

Buck bustles around the kitchen, pulling milk out of the fridge and grabbing a mug from the top cupboard, his body moving around Eddie’s kitchen as if it has been programmed with an innate sense of where to find anything and everything. He could be convinced that Buck knows his way around Eddie’s kitchen better than Eddie does. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m sorry. It’s just–it’s been a while, yeah? And I feel like I haven’t seen Chris in ages–I miss the kid–and I figured he was probably, if not missing me, at least missing my pancakes. I hope he hasn’t been letting you make them.”

Buck pours coffee from the pot into the mug, tops it off with the precise amount of milk that Eddie prefers, and sets it in front of Eddie before turning to the frying pan and flipping the pancake. “I know you’ve been improving in the cooking department–I can see it, Eddie, and I’m proud of you,” Eddie’s heart squeezes in his chest. “But pancakes are my department.”

“I wouldn’t want to steal your thunder.” Eddie quips and Buck whips around to wave the spatula at him.

“Exactly!”

“Buck,” Eddie presses carefully because there’s a frantic energy fizzing beneath Buck’s skin, he can see it in the way he moves, the line of his shoulders, and the exaggerated way he swings his arms. “Christopher isn’t here. He’s on school camp until Friday.”

“Oh, right, I knew that.” Buck’s whole body joints to a stop like a record skipping on a turntable and then just as soon he’s back in motion again. “That’s okay! I brought lemon juice for on your pancakes, we can save the bacon for the weekend when he gets back.”

Eddie’s heart grows three sizes in his chest, threatening to burst out all over his kitchen and cover Buck and the bench top in a flood of emotions he’s spent the last month and a half trying to fold smaller and smaller until he can safely tuck them away beneath his ribs where it can’t hurt anyone but himself. 

“Buck?” The other man glances at him before turning back to the stove, giving a soft hum in response. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Buck grins at him again but it doesn’t reach his eyes this time. 

“You’re buzzing, and not the good kind.” Eddie stands and rounds the counter, he leans against the other side while still giving Buck as much space as he needs. He presses again, softer this time. “Buck? What’s going on?”

Buck deflates and turns the stove off, removing the pan from the element and leaning against the other counter opposite Eddie. “Tommy and I broke up. I broke up with him, or we broke up with each other, I guess.” 

Eddie isn’t sure what to say. As far as he knew Buck and Tommy’s relationship had been going smoothly. They were a good fit, even Eddie could tell, as much as it sometimes pained him to admit. But he was happy for them. Seeing them dance together at Maddie and Chimney’s wedding had filled Eddie with a sense of pride even when it also left him feeling like he was walking with a permanent rock in his shoe—a phenomenon he could finally put a name to after a few long talks with Frank and an enlightening if not nervewracking night at a bar called the Peacock that Hen had suggested he visit for ‘research purposes’. 

“I thought you really liked Tommy?” Is what he finally manages to say once he unsticks his tongue from the roof of his mouth.

“I do,” Buck says. His arms are still full of static as he gestures with his hands in that way that Buck does when he’s nervous or overwhelmed and he’s not looking Eddie in the eyes. Buck shakes his head. “I did. I did, and Tommy is wonderful but I think we both realized that it wasn’t going to last. He got offered a job, down in Mexico.” Buck pushes away from the bench, pulls two plates out of the drawer, and starts dividing the stack of pancakes between them.

“After the whole fiasco with the cruise ship, the LAFD decided they wanted someone on the ground down there as a sort of link between the Los Angeles rescue helicopters and the team down in Mexico City. They’re going to put him in charge of his own team and he’s been working towards some sort of promotion for ages so he’s really excited about it.”

“He didn’t ask you to go with him did he?” Eddie can’t help but let the question burst out of him. The thought of Buck leaving already feels like tearing out a lung but he also knows he’s in no position to ask Buck to stay, certainly not for Eddie’s sake. 

“He did, sort of.” Buck shrugs. “I think he already knew I wouldn’t say yes. L.A. is my home, I couldn’t leave the 118, I couldn’t leave Maddie and Jee-yun. Christopher, the thought of being anywhere that kid isn’t is just—and I know he’s not—but I still couldn’t. I won’t. Tommy knows that. He also knew that I wouldn’t leave you.”

“Me?” Now Eddie has to swallow down a lump of surprise. Eddie doesn't think that little of himself, he knows he’s important to Buck, they are important to each other, but important enough to be the reason Buck stays in Los Angeles while his boyfriend moves to another country?

Buck turns to place two plates, carefully stacked with fluffy, golden pancakes, each drizzled in lemon juice and sprinkled with sugar—Eddie’s favorite—on the kitchen island, and then he’s facing Eddie again only feet away in all his early morning glory and Eddie dares to hope.

“You.” Buck rests one hip against the counter and turns the full power of those bright blue eyes on Eddie as he finally makes eye contact for the first time all morning. “Yes, you, Eddie. Tommy is lovely and sweet and he has been so, so good to me for the last two months, we’ve been good for each other, I think.”

Eddie breaks the eye contact, he’s heard all about how wonderful and lovely Tommy is for the last two months and while he has been so happy for Buck, truly, it has also been agony. But then Buck is stepping up into Eddie’s space and gripping his elbow. Buck ducks his head until he can catch Eddie’s eyes again and follows his gaze until Eddie gives up on trying to hide from him. 

“But it was never going to work long-term, I don’t think it was ever meant to. He’s very sweet and we get along well but it never got any deeper than that. We made better friends than anything else.”

“Okay, so you ended it on mutual terms and he’s moving to Mexico?”

“Not for a few months but eventually he is yes.”

“A few months?”

“Next February.”

“February? Next year? Buck that ages away, why break up now if he’s not leaving until–.”

“Because it was time.”

“Time for what?”

“To stop lying to myself, to you.”

Eddie almost bites his tongue. “Lying to me? Buck, I am so confused right now. Did you hit your head? You do remember coming out to me right? You’ve been dating a man for the last two months. You brought a man to your sister’s wedding. Honestly, I am still living off of the high that I got from seeing your mother’s face when you kissed Tommy on the dance floor, that was—.”

“Eddie!” Buck laughs around his name and it’s the sweetest sound Eddie has ever heard. “Would you let me finish talking? Please?”

Eddie nods. “Right, yes. Sorry. Proceed.” He swings his arm out dramatically and Buck pinches the skin on the back of Eddie’s arm and rolls his eyes. 

“Eddie,” There’s a seriousness to Buck’s tone that Eddie doesn’t hear often. “I don’t want to presume anything okay, so if I’ve been reading this wrong then please tell me because I don’t want to make this weird, the last thing I want to do is hurt you or make you uncomfortable but—.” Eddie watches the tick in Buck's jaw tighten. “There’s something here, right? You and me?”

“Do you think there is?” Eddie whispers into the space between them, barely getting the words out past where his heart sits in his throat. 

“I dare to hope there is,” Buck whispers back. “I would like there to be. Eddie, you’re my best friend, you’ve been my rock for years and I love you more than anything but I also—I also think I might be in love with you, and I think I have been for a long time.”

“You think?”

“Like pretty God damn certain actually.” 

“Good, good.” Eddie nods, barely keeping the grin from breaking across his face. He can feel his lips twitching with the effort to suppress it. “That’s good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He steps into Buck’s space and leans forward until he can press their foreheads together. Buck’s arm slides from Eddie’s elbow to around his waist and Eddie rests his palm against Buck’s chest, sliding it up until he can wrap his fingers over the swell of Buck’s shoulder and press his thumb into that divet in Buck’s throat where Eddie can feel the heat of him and the pulse of his heartbeat beneath the pad of his thumb. “Because I am definitely in love with you.”

“You never said anything.”

“I didn’t know and then I did but you were with Tommy and you were happy. I was happy for you.”

Buck breathes deeply and Eddie reveals in the way it rushes past his cheek. “What about you?”

“I’m happy now,” Eddie says and it’s true, and realizing that only multiples the happiness tenfold. “I’m so happy I could burst.”

“Happy that I got dumped again?”

“You didn’t get dumped, you said it was mutual.” Eddie squeezes his shoulder. “But yes, happy that you might finally be mine, that I might finally get to be yours.”

Buck leans back and when Eddie opens his eyes he finds Buck’s eyes glassy and brimming with tears.

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted,” Buck says and Eddie pulls him into his arms until they are chest to chest, chins hooked over each other’s shoulders and wrapped up in each other so completely that Eddie could not tell you where one of them ends and the other begins and it feels so right, so right to have Buck so close to him, for them to be one and the same. They breathe together for a long time, squeezing each other closer whenever the micro fraction of an inch between them begins to field like football fields of distance.

“We take this slow, we do it right,” Eddie says carefully, pulling back just far enough to cup his hand around Buck’s cheek and hold his gaze. A niggly part of his brain tries to remind him of everything that could go wrong, of everything they have to lose, but a bigger part of him can only hope for everything that could go so beautifully right. 

“We have the rest of forever, after all.” Buck’s smile is soft at the edges and it smoothes the jagged parts of Eddie’s worry. 

Eddie leans up and presses one gentle kiss to the corner of Buck’s mouth, allowing himself that much for now. The rest will come, he is in no rush for the rest of his life. On Friday Christopher will be home and they can make pancakes again. At the end of the month, Buck’s lease will expire and Eddie will finally have an excuse to never let Buck leave his house again. In February they will wave Tommy off at the airport and Eddie will get the chance to thank him properly. Soon enough they might get to dance at another wedding, maybe their own, definitely together, for the rest of forever. 

“Forever and a day.” He promises.

[wileys-russo]

for the tiktok with Jule and lena you posted earlier - Lucy bronze and reader!! as friends or lovers

the video for reference: https://www.instagram.com/reel/CuT31-8uhwf/?igshid=YmM0MjE2YWMzOA%3D%3D

could be seen as friends or lovers, open to interpretation!!

the downpour II l.bronze

if there was something that went together better than jam on toast, it was england and rain, and today was no exception.

your heart yearned to return to the predictably sunny skies of barcelona, glancing down towards your tanned arms with longing, aware that after this next camp the brown color would be gone and only seemingly a fleeting figment of your imagination.

you conversed with your friends as you all returned from a late afternoon team walk together, coffees in hand and spirits still quite high despite the dark grey storm clouds which hung above.

this hadn't stopped lucy and leah shoving you to step into every puddle they could find, and though your socks were damp your mood was not, refusing to let them break your consistently bubbly attitude.

it was as you returned to the grounds of st georges park that you spotted it, an almost perfect opportunity for revenge. though it had only drizzled lightly with rain this morning, it had torrentially poured down last night, which meant that there was a strong stream of water pounding down like a waterfall from a hole in the gutters above you.

leah was too far ahead, having already passed the downpour, sipping on her hot chocolate.

but lucy was unknowingly in prime position, walking right beside you as she zoned out, in her own little world as tooney talked your ear off to your right.

stopping the girl with a nudge, you nodded to the man made waterfall and then subtly towards lucy as ellas face lit up into a grin, nodding enthusiastically and falling behind you, probably to pick her own victim.

you held your breath as the two of you marched closer and closer, silently praying lucy would remain on course. slinging an arm over the girls shoulder she checked back into reality, looking up and sending you a small smile.

it was then, in this moment of unknown weakness from the defender, that you made your move.

you tightened your grip around her, attempting to pull her underneath the downpour of rain water, only your trainers lacked the proper grip and you stumbled. lucy quickly catching onto your plan let out a scoff, grabbing at your hood and trying to now drag you under the steady stream of water.

"you cheeky fucking-" lucy grumbled, unimpressed with your attempts to dowse her as the two of you wrestled for dominance, both trying to push the other under whilst keeping enough balance not to allow it to happen.

but then, your luck returned. lucys footing slipped and without you even needing to push her, the girl stumbled backwards into the downpour, letting out a shout as she was suddenly self water-boarded.

you didn't even take a beat to relish in your victory, quickly sprinting off in the other direction as lucy dropped her backpack and chased after you. your team mates cheered, some for lucy to catch you and others for you to make a successful getaway.

you heard yet another scream as ella made her own move and shoved an unsuspecting alessia into the downpour, the blonde too caught up in laughing at yours and lucys situation to realise the similar one she had unknowingly entered.

"tooney!" the striker seethed and set off chasing after her, shouting about how she'd just had her hair done. it then appeared your luck had once more run out, lucys strong arms wrapping around your waist and effortlessly hoisting you over her shoulder.

"no no no no come on luce please! you already wet my trainers and made my socks soggy this is unfair!" you begged as you struggled in her hold, flipping off mary as the girl cheered lucy on from behind you with a rowdy clap.

you struggled to yank your hood over your head and tie it tight before your entire body was plunged into the cold, you struggled to breathe as the water filled your ears, nose and eyes. "okay fine enough! enough, lucy!" you smacked desperately at her strong tanned arms which held you firmly off the ground, feeling her body vibrate with laughter as it pressed against you.

finally she dropped you, though of course you didn't land on your feet as your shoes gave way from the lack of grip and you tumbled backwards onto your bum.

you let out a deep sigh of defeat as once more the water rained down atop your head, lucy leaning in to pull your hood down as your hair now copped a battering, the loose strands which had fallen out of your messy bun sticking to your forehead and slicked down the back of your neck.

with a triumphant smirk she offered you a hand which you begrudgingly accepted as she pulled you up to your feet, hands grabbing at your shoulders to steady you as you stepped away from the downpour and almost slipped again.

"you need new trainers." the girl murmured teasingly in your ear before letting you go, you shot her a glare as you undid your hair, ringing it out before wrestling it back into a ponytail, at least you had already planned to wash it tonight.

most of your team mates having disappeared inside to avoid meeting a similar fate, you watched as from not too far away jordan grabbed at her stomach, doubled over in laughter at the two of you.

one brief gaze shared between you and lucy was all it took, a curt nod and you'd silently agreed.

"oh jorddyyyy, how about a hug?" you grinned, opening your arms teasingly and taking a few steps toward her. the midfielders eyes widened and she tried to bolt but not before you'd already launched yourself toward her, jumping on her back as lucy joined in, hugging her tightly from the front.

"aw no come on!"

[orchid-and-bone]

"I'm Yours" ||

Arthur Morgan x GN!Reader

Rating: None

Length: 1.3k words

Asked by @yyiikes IN LOVE WITH THIS SO MUCH ?? we need another part when he finally says it back

Part 2 of "Here With Me"

Oh, I can absolutely do that for you! I adore this man so much and he's been occupying my mind a lot, so I'm glad to have you guys enjoy my writing! I'd love to do more!

*

‘It's been a few weeks. A few weeks of my silence and their patience. I don't know what else I could possibly say to them that I already haven't written or thought here, it's… it's obvious, ain't it?’

*

Arthur stared up from his leather journal as he leaned further back against the tree in camp, the cover of the shade made it easy to stare at you across the camp as you did your usual chores, completely unaware of the set of eyes on you. The brim of his hat offered that extra layer of protection from being caught, but even if he were caught, would he even deny it?  No, he wouldn't, and he just chuckled at himself at how obvious it had been to probably everyone, excluding himself until recently.

Yes, he truly did have feelings for you, whether he cared to address them or not. He would have just chalked it up to loyalty to those in the gang, but you were a different case altogether. When he was faced with you being injured, it struck a nerve with him, and the urge to protect you outweighed anything that required any sense of logic, his instincts just took over, and that wasn’t just caring for a fellow gang member, there was something more in the depths of his gut. Arthur’s eyes flickered back down to the page and there you were, sketched carefully across the page like you were a carved statue. He hadn’t realized just how much he’d focused on such little details of you face, how he paid that much attention to those small things that made your face so…you.

He’d been thinking of you so often now, his mind full with so many ways to get you alone to have a talk, but no matter what he did, there was always someone wanting his attention, a day’s work was never finished. Today, it was a day of peace, or at least he’d hoped it would be, it was early and there were people who were barely awake. Arthur had let out a sigh and slipped the journal back into his satchel, then pushed himself from the ground and got to his feet. Instead of making his way straight to you, he went to pour himself a cup of coffee to calm his nerves, the warmth of it in his hand made him focus when he couldn’t. 

You’d been petting the horses after feeding them, and his eyes barely wavered from you for more than a moment, the intensity would have worried onlookers if it weren’t the people he’d known for years, but they knew how Arthur was. ‘He keeps his walls up’, ‘he’s not much of a talker’, all those things that were said about him weren’t necessarily a lie, but there was more to it than that. He did feel, he felt more than he let on because things of that nature were much more complicated. The one person in camp that he felt he could really talk to,besides yourself, was Charles, and even he had given him the best advice he could. 

“Talk to them,” he said bluntly. “Don’t be ashamed to tell them, they obviously put enough trust in you to confess. So, even if you don’t feel the same, it’s best to tell them exactly what you feel.”

Charles was always smart, incredibly intuitive, and Arthur was always the second guesser, but overall, his friend was right. He had been so wrapped up in thinking that he didn’t notice you going for your own cup of coffee right beside him. Arthur stood beside the fire and stared out at the water, the trees along the horizon brought him comfort in serene moments like this, but as if his body was reacting, he turned to see you staring up at him.

“You okay there?” You asked, a small smile on your lips as you brought the cup up, taking a small sip. 

Arthur cleared his throat and nodded as he brought his own cup to his lips, his eyes darted from you to the water again. “Been thinkin’ is all,” he said gruffly. 

You nodded in reply and hummed. “Yeah, I felt bad bothering you, but I wanted to be sure.” You had wanted to reach out to him to offer your support, or any comfort he might take solace in, but you decided against it. 

What you were greeted with though was Arthur beckoning you toward the large rock that sat by the shoreline. You would follow him, of course, and looked around curiously as he motioned for you to sit on the rock. As much as you wanted to question him, you kept your mouth shut and waited, patience was a virtue with this man. He then removed the journal from his bag and flipped more than halfway through until he stopped on a page, and then handed it to you with little to no hesitation while you balanced your coffee in one hand with the journal in the other. 

As you were about to ask, your eyes caught the drawing on the left, it was you, and it was sketched so beautifully that you were at a loss for words as you stared at it for a while. Arthur cleared his throat after a moment and chuckled as he tapped the other side of the journal, which was filled with words written in neat writing. You’d never seen his journal before, so all of this was a lot to process, the fact he trusted you with it in the first place showed how important you’d been.

Wordlessly, he stood there as you read the page. 

‘It's been a few weeks. A few weeks of my silence and their patience. I don't know what else I could possibly say to them that I already haven't written or thought here, it's… it's obvious, ain't it? Of course I love them, I have for a while now and it scared me. I’ve loved in my lifetime and yet, whenever I had, something bad always followed, like a curse upon my heart. But if there’s one thing I’d been told that really stuck with me, it was to take a gamble on love. It’s ridiculous to be afraid of something so natural and yet it’s been the hardest thing to admit. But I admit it, I love them. And I ain’t gonna regret it, not this time.’

When you finished, you stared up at the gunslinger with large eyes, you were struck with disbelief, dazed at the fact that this man was so articulate with how he felt and how he saw you… Your eyes went back to the pages and you stared for a long while, unable to truly say how you felt. 

Arthur shifted and took a large drink of coffee, then looked back at you. He then chuckled to himself and sighed. “Is this how you felt when you told me all that stuff and I said nothin’?” He asked you. “Because now I get it, that’s… agonizin’ to wait.” He offered a wide smile and continued to sip his coffee. 

“Arthur… I…” You couldn’t do it, you couldn’t say it, this man had your tongue. Quickly, you stood up with his closed journal, then threw your arms around his bulky frame, which almost caused him to drop his coffee, and most definitely spilled a majority of yours.

He laughed and looked down at you, your arms around him as you hid your face in his jacket. Arthur patted your shoulder gently at first, then he pulled you in with one arm and hugged you in return. This ain’t so bad, could get used to this. 

The sun was finally beginning to rise in the sky, the colors like a watercolor painting as the pinks and purples slowly faded with the hues of gold, and staring out at the sky while you were wrapped around Arthur was more of a dream than you could have ever imagined. His hand placed gently on your shoulder, allowing you to just remain with him, taking in the comfort of his scent. 

You could get used to days like this.

[gwiyeounsonyeon]

Hate Me? So Do I.

Pairing: cis!Simon Riley x Male Reader

Summary: Simon is angry and takes it out on his boyfriend

Words: 666😳

Warnings: Depression, drinking, angst? (not too bad)

Notes: sorry it sucks and how short it is, I'm tired and I got back from camping the other day, originally I wasn't going to write anything but I figured that I should if I'm trying to make this a habit. i figure that if I work up quantity over quality while I try to get into the habit of writing and work myself out of writers block then maybe later ill be able to focus on quality

The weather had been gloomy all day, not for even a moment had the sun shown through the rain-heavy clouds. To say it had put a damper on y/n’s mood was an underestimate, the young man had woken up with an off feeling that followed him around for the rest of the day, not giving him any rest. Simon naturally hated that his sweet loving boyfriend had to feel like this and even more, he hated that there wasn't anything he could do about it.

Simon hated feeling helpless like this, he’d tried to cheer Y/n up but none of his attempts were successful and he was beginning to get restless. Simon’s boyfriend was in their bedroom bundled up in the covers with the lights off, unable to get out of bed. Simon sat on their couch in the living room, staring solemnly out of the window. He knew he should be in there with you but he couldn't do it, It killed him to see you like this, you were so sweet and understanding, and you did so much for him, he should be able to do this for you.

That’s what Simon thought, he was terrified, There was so much he could do and all of it was so easy, but he couldn't make himself get up and face you, so he kept his distance and sat in silence listening for you to make any sounds or call for him or get out of bed. Simon sipped on his whiskey and looked down at the liquid, swirling it around in the glass before deciding ‘fuck it’ and knocking back the whole thing, it burned on the way down, he looked over at the bottle debating on pouring himself more but he hesitated.

He couldn't help thinking he was pathetic, sitting here wallowing and drinking while his boyfriend was in pain. There's a soft thud from the bedroom and Simon's ears perk up to listen, he looks up at the open doorway into their dark bedroom expecting you to finally come out. Minutes pass and nothing happens, Simon sighs and sets the glass down on the coffee table with a harsh thud. The anger building up in his throat wasn't toward you, it never was, but it was using you to make Simon more irritable, angrier, Simon stands up from the couch and saunters into the bedroom, he flips the lights on aggressively and stares down at your covered body.

Simon knows he's not angry at you, not for something like this but in the moment he can't help it. “Are you just going to sleep all day? 5 in the evening” His tone was harsh and cold, There was a small movement from under the covers that Simon recognized as a flinch, he wanted to feel bad but you’re lack of response only worked to fuel his frustration. “Y/n!” Simon knew there was absolutely no need to raise his voice, but he hadn't realized that was what he did until after, You flinch harder, his breath catches in his throat as you finally fold the comforter back to look up at him for the first time that day, your eyes red and cheeks tear-stained.

Simon's heart tugs in his chest “fucking-” His voice is soft, Simon can't believe how fucking stupid he is, he moves in and gets into bed next to his boyfriend and tugs you to his chest regretting his senseless anger. “I'm an idiot Y/n…” He whispers, tucking his face into your hair, You shake your head and turn to clutch onto Simon, not wanting him to blame himself, You press your face into the older chest and inhale his comforting scent. “I shouldn't have yelled… You didn’t deserve that” Simon’s voice is soft, he holds you to his chest and rubs circles into your back soothingly ‘You don't deserve me’ Simon doesn't say it out loud, saying something like that would only cause you more grief.

[dazed-and-confused23]

Dear Hearts and Gentle People 19

Summary: While in Goodneighbor, you find out that Cooper was a famous actor before the war, and ask him to tell you about some of his favorite ones. Much to the amusement to you and Hancock.

Pairings: The Ghoul | Cooper Howard x Female Reader , John Hancock x Female Reader

Warnings! Drinking and Drug Use. Movie references. Fluff and Domestic Fun.

Masterlist

The three of you are drunk as a skunk, high as a kite, and having the time of your life in the old state house that John calls home. You sit curled against the mayor, watching Cooper, who, in his delightful mood, had decided to regale the two of you with movie quotes and scenes that he'd done back before the war. It had started after he'd made a comment about being a better actor than the one they'd been watched on the fuzzy TV screen.

You had laughed and demanded that the ghoul show you a scene or two from the movies that he'd stared in.

Cooper stands across the living room table, a crocodile grin on his face as he quotes one of his films, his accent thick with a southern draw, "You ain't never heard of Wellenbeck prisoner of war camp, West Virginia?"

You shake your head, playing along with the ex-actor, and John snickers beside you, his laugh smokey and rough from the hit of jet he'd just had. Cooper continues, strutting around the room as he tells his story.

"Oh, Major Marquis did more than bust out. Major Marquis had a bright idea. So bright you hafta' wonder why nobody never thought about it before."

He skips over the other dialog, unable to remember half of the other men's lines, and continues. He gives you and John a look under the brim of his hat, "There was a rookie regiment spendin' the overnight in the camp. Forty-seven men... burnt to a crisp. Southern youth, farmers' sons, cream of the crop."

You gasp dramaticly, eyes wide as you clutch your imaginary pearls. Coop had told you a bit about the movie, set sometime just after the first Civil War back in 1877. You wish you could have seen Cooper back then, but this was just as good. The bounty hunter sets the scene, a small pit stop way up in the mountains.

He suddenly switches up, expression becoming a bit feral at the edges as he gives you and John a mean grin. He explains that Major Marquis has them all lined up against the wall after two men died from poisoned coffee. His voice is sarcastic, disbelief coloring it.

"So you finally decided I'm tellin' the truth 'bout bein' the sheriff of Red Rock, huh?"

He steps away from the wall, turning dramatically and stalking forward, hand under his chin as if he is pulling his thoughts together, "John Ruth was one mighty mighty bastard. But the last thing that bastard did before he died was save my goddamn life."

Cooper pauses and points at you, "You didn't. You were sitting there all quiet like when I poured that cup."

He spins on his heel, his duster flapping and his spurs jingling as he paces the room, "Both of you. Just watching me, waiting, waiting for me to drink myself to death. So what was the plan, Joe Cage? I drink the coffee, OB drinks the coffee, and John Ruth drinks the coffee? And you two sit around and laugh while we roll around on the ground, holding our bellies, screaming in pain?"

You and John are hooked after the speech, eyes wide as the two of you watch Cooper stomp across the room, grab a chipped coffee mug, and stalk over to them. You jump when he slams the cup in front of John, a nasty smile on his face.

Cooper pulls out all the stops, reaching for his side arm and aiming it at John, who looks more than a little nervous at having the hand canon pointed at him. The ex-actor mimes pulling back the hammer and then swings the barrel of his gun at the coffee cup, a snarl on his lips as he glares down at you and Hancock.

"Drink it."

Cooper keeps the scene going for several long seconds before breaking character and stepping back, shoving his side arm back in his holster and spreading his arms, a grin on his face, "Well?"

You burst into laughter and clap, snickering at the look of relief on John's face and the self-satisfied one on Cooper’s. The ghoul across from you bows before loping over to the couch and plopping down between you and John. He sits back and lights up a cigarette, smug as can be.

"Told ya, I still had it."

Ps. I own nothing here.

[bomber-grl]

Hellooo I've already requested like 2 Leo fics because I love him he's my little blorbo 🥺 my bad !! Anyway uh. I have a request for Leo Valdez 😁😁 number 20, angsty? Maybe something of his just went horribly wrong and he's stressed about it, and to give him a break you make him food and he's so happy he just bursts into tears? Thank you so much your writing style and work is amazing I love it so much 😭

Prompt #20: making them food they like

Recently Leo has taken to making new inventions non-stop. It was his passion, so the obvious reaction was to openly support it.

But, when you heard the obvious sound of something exploding from the other side of camp, you knew it was trouble.

And trouble it was. You saw Leo and began running to him to ask what was up.

Once you got closer his face and overall vibe told you everything. He was covered in sweat and soot(?) from the invention that exploded.

Most of all he seemed genuinely upset. You waited a bit to talk to Leo as he was discussing something with another camper.

Then he noticed you and began walking over

“Hey Leo” your tone was light and happy, his, not so much.

“Hey” he practically mumbled, not to mention how he dragged his feet when walking over.

“Leo, I hate to do this but I’m grounding you” you tried making your tone teasing but it was spelled out loud and clear. You said it with no room to object, you were serious.

“Why??-“ you knew this would come and quickly interrupted “you’re overworking yourself, cmon”.

You took his hand and began walking towards where arts and crafts would usually be but was currently occupied with other campers form different cabins.

They were all cooking and baking, and it was a surprise to Leo.

“Hey, what’s going on here?-“ you pushed him down to sit and went on your merry way to cook something up.

recently campers had been wanting to start baking/cooking just for the sake of making some good food for others. Especially self made rather than using the enchanted plates at the dining pavilion.

So, to cheer up Leo who was hard at work (now, having a bad day) you prepared something for him to enjoy.

It was something he told you he enjoyed from his childhood, paired with a drink he liked and a desert you wanted to share with him.

Thankfully Will who was there took out your meal once it was ready while you were occupied with Leo.

Now, it was time to go to your cabin.Regardless of whether or not it was full most days, today it wasn’t.

No one was in sight and so u snuck Leo in.

He sat down on a bean bag and you dragged some coffee table look alike and placed it in front of Leo, then placed the food.

“Here, eat up. Sorry we haven’t been able to meet recently and also sorry that your invention went haywire but I just wanted to show you some love and this little workshop proved to be a good way. Oh! I also made the dish you told me about, remember?-“

Your voice trailed off as you finally stopped your rambling and took notice of Leo’s face.

He was surprisingly silent as tears blurred his vision and ran down his cheeks.

“Leo..?” You couldn’t manage to say anything else and as soon as it happened his tears dried up.

Mostly from him hurriedly wiping his face to not make you feel bad, but still.

“Leo? Why’re you crying ?” You leaned in closer and placed a hand of yours on his shoulder.”

“Sorry it’s just that it’s so frustrating” He didn’t say anything and so you asked “what is?”

That’s what set him off.

“This is, this invention was supposed to be big and amazing, I’ve been working non stop just for all my hard work to be poured down the drain. I guess I felt so stressed I forgot I had someone who still cared.”

He finally looked you in the eyes and realized what he had said, so he continued “I’m just trying to say that this made me happy, I guess this little action was really my last straw, huh? Even if is was stupid…”

Knowing Leo felt this way really hurt you, and how could he?!?! You latched onto him and pulled him into a much needed hug.

“I’m sorry that you feel that way about your work lately but I feel the exact opposite. Even if it did end in an unwanted way you still learned, right? Not to mention how insulting it is that you don’t think your emotions are valid!! I’m happy you enjoyed this, it makes me feel appreciated. And I’m sorry I haven’t made you feel that way too.”

Leo pushed you away and turned on the waterworks. He was crying once more and although you knew he was stubborn he ultimately settled on an excuse.

“K, just let me eat your food before it gets cold.” That was the last thing he said before happily shoving down the food you made him.

A bonus was that although he was still crying, at least he was happy now.

-

A/n: I’m glad you love my writing sm it makes me happy! Hope you enjoy this one too :)

[cricket-reader]

Sick Day

Masterlist | A03 | Wattpad | Recommendations | Inbox

Summary: Matt isn’t very happy when he comes home and discovers that his girlfriend had kept her sickness from him. He makes sure she is well taken care of before they go to bed.

Warnings: language, sickness, pet names, Matt being an overprotective simp, fluffy

Word Count: 960

Prompt: Sickfic, headache, cold/fever, blankets, hot drink (except I changed it to hot soup)

A/N: day 5 of March Trope-A-Thon by @amonthofwhump

Today had been horrible. She awoke to see that Matt had left early to go to work. On top of that, she felt like shit. Her head was pounding and she was burning up. Her nose felt stuffy, and her muscles ached.

She got up and took her temperature to see that she had a fever of 100.7 degrees Fahrenheit. She called into work and made her way over to the couch, not wanting to get the bed all disgusting from her sickness. Matt would still sleep there, after all. He didn’t need to come home to a bed that smelled like sweat and sickness. Whatever the hell “sickness” smelled like.

Matt frowned as he entered his apartment. He could hear the coughing as soon as he entered the complex. He could hear shifting on the couch, telling him his girlfriend was camped out in the living room with some blankets.

“Sweetheart?” Matt questioned, setting down his cane. He heard a groan as he walked over to the couch. “Why didn’t you call me to tell you that you were sick?”

“Didn’t wanna bother you,” she mumbled, sniffling a bit. “I know you’ve been busy lately.”

“I’m never too busy for you, love. I would have come home earlier if you called.”

She sighed. “I know, and that’s why I didn’t.”

“Well you should have,” he admonished her. She always did this. Her needs were never one of her priorities. She put everyone before her, and it bothered the ever-loving shit out of him. Because Matt knew she deserved the world. No, she deserved more than that. The universe, maybe.

She just huffed in irritation, knowing that there was absolutely no way she was going to win this argument.

“Have you eaten today?” Matt questioned as he leaned against the armrest of the couch. She cursed how well he knew her.

“No, I didn’t wanna get up.”

Matt just shook his head as he got up to make some soup. He glared in her direction when he heard her shift, knowing that she was trying to get up to help him. “Don’t you even try, young lady.” He put a pot on the stove.

“I just wanna help. You’ve been at work all day while I’ve just been sitting on my ass!”

Matt turned his head in her direction and gave her an incredulous look. “You’ve been sick!”

“That’s no excuse!”

“What if I was the one that was sick?”

“That’s different,” she pouted, crossing her arms as she watched him pour a pre-made homemade soup into the warm pot. She blew her nose with a tissue, her nose already red and raw from blowing it so much.

“And how, pray tell, is that different?”

She rolled her eyes. “Because it’s you!”

“Your logic is lacking, hun.”

She just groaned and flopped back onto the couch dramatically. A cold spell made her shiver. She grabbed one of the blankets and furrowed into it. She had been having hot and cold flashes off and on all day. She couldn’t wait for it to be over.

Turning off the stove when the soup was finished, he put it in a bowl before moving over to the couch. Setting it on the coffee table, he noted that her breathing had slowed; she must have been asleep.

“Sweetheart?” Matt gently shook her awake. He felt horrible for disrupting her, but she needed to get food in her system if she wanted to get better. She groaned, turning to bury herself further into the couch. “Baby, you need to get some food in your body. Then we can cuddle and get some sleep, okay?”

She blinked awake, groggily lifting her hands to rub at her eyes. “Cuddles?”

Matt’s heart melted hearing her soft little voice. It’s moments like that when he falls impossibly deeper in love with his precious girlfriend. He never thinks it’s possible to love her even more, but somehow he does manage. “Anything you want, baby.”

She smiled and took the soup from him. Matt scooted closer to her body and she snuggled against him as she began to blow on the soup.

The soup was hot in her mouth, but it felt good, warming her insides. “Thanks, Matty. You’re the best boyfriend.”

“It helps to have such a great girlfriend,” he flirted with her, loving the skip of her heart whenever he would. She blushed as she lifted another spoonful of soup to her mouth.

When she finished the soup, Matt made her drink some more water. She just huffed in exasperation. “I thought you said after soup I’d get cuddles.”

“Sorry, hun, can’t I just take care of you?”

She shrugged, taking a sip from the glass. “I’m just not really used to it.”

“Which is exactly why I’m making sure you get the best treatment now,” he stated.

“You’re too good for me, Matthew,” she sighed, leaning her head against his torso.

He just chuckled, “I’m pretty sure you got that sentence twisted.”

“Let me win for once, please,” she pouted. Matt sighed and agreed to let her have that one. It was the least he could do after she had asked him so sweetly, after all.

When she finished the tall glass, she set it on the table, making sure to exaggerate the sound of it being empty. “Snuggle time!”

He laughed as he was ambushed by her. Wrapping his arms around her, he picked her up to bring her to bed. She protested, hating being picked up, but Matt just shushed her as he lied her down. He undressed and crawls in next to her. She burrowed closer to her boyfriend, and he could hear her sigh contentedly, smiling against his warm skin.

She really couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend.

[readychilledwine]

Early Mornings

A/N - Happy Surprise Saturday, my loves ❤️ I've had Azriel pieces, an Eris piece, a Rhys piece, and a little love for our baby bat, and it only felt right to ensure our favorite General had sometime to shine. Enjoy this grumpy/sunshine or orange cat bf/Doberman gf piece.

Cassian and his mate are well matched in almost every sense. He's a powerful Illyrian general, she is the last of the Valkyries. He loves their family, she is devoted to them. The only thing they never seem to agree on is mornings.

Warnings- Swearing, mentions of alcoholism and mental health struggles, mentions of trauma, alludes to interesting behaviors between Nesta and our unnamed female oc, unedited by an outside source

✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️

Cassian stood in front of the coffee maker. His arms were crossed as he watched each drop of liquid fall into the pot he was brewing for his mate, himself, and the two other fae living in the house. His mate finally entered the kitchen, flipping him off as he offered her a smile before sitting down.

Cassian adored mornings. He loved watching the sun as it began its ascend over the mountains. He loved the crisp chilled air. He loved breakfast. The sound of the birds greeting each other at first light. His mate, however, adored their nightlife. She was the last to rise out of bed. The last to leave the table at Rita's with Mor. The last to head to bed. She loved dinners, the stars reflecting on the Sindra. She loved the way music felt in her bones as she danced into the early morning. She loved quiet walks home with her heels in her hand after Cassian would inevitably show back up to retrieve her. She worshiped the moon, and he, the sun.

The one thing the two truly shared in common though, was their love and need for coffee. Cass was approachable before his first cup, chipper even. He glanced over his shoulder where his mate sat, her wings wrapped tight around her. Her hands held her head. Her long dark hair was falling over her shoulders. "Almost done, babe."

"Fuck. Off." His mate? Not so much. He chuckled lightly at her response before grabbing their matching coffee mugs. "Why the fuck did you wake me up?"

"You promised me you would go on a morning run with me. Remember? Setting an example for the females? Helping them by seeing one of their own training? Helping Nesta see-" She groaned loudly, rubbing her temples. "I'm sorry baby, I'll be quiet until coffee is done." He leaned across the counter, kissing her forehead.

His heart melted at her smile, it didn't reach her hazel eyes yet, but he knew it would only take a few more kisses and some coffee to change that. "Why are we being quiet?" Cassian laughed as his mate turned, grabbing the nearest object to her before throwing it at a laughing Azriel. "Awe sis! Are you grumpy this morning?"

"Go shovel pig shit, Azriel." His brother moved behind her, kissing the top of her head with a soft "good morning" while rubbing her back lightly. "Why the fuck are you two always so happy in the morning?"

Azriel shrugged. "We go to bed at a decent time."

Cassian nodded. "We are used to early morning routines."

Azriel continued. "We don't drink until we black out. Anymore."

"Training in the morning starts the day right."

"Training in the morning is eas-"

"Shut. The. Fuck. Up." Cassian and Azriel laughed quietly. "Where is my coffee?"

"Just finished, beautiful." Cassian was pouring the hot liquid into the third cup a shadow had handed him, giving it to Azriel. Then he filled his mate's and his own. "Sugar or cream, sweetheart?"

"Both, please?" Cassian nodded, fixing her coffee to her liking, before moving to sit next to her. "I love you," she whispered to him before kissing his jawline. "How long is the run?"

"Only 5 miles," Azriel said softly. "We cut in half after you decided to drink half the camp under the table last night. Wonderful job stealing Devlon's most expensive whiskey, by the way." A smirk graced his face as he peeked at her. "Has anyone dragged Nesta out of bed yet? Is she getting ready?"

The illyrian female rolled her eyes before looking at the pot with 4 cups of the morning magic still resting for the oldest sister. Her head leaned to rest on Cassian's shoulder. "I haven't tried yet, and we'd know if Cassian did. If you think I'm grumpy in the morning, Azriel, have you tried speaking to her in the mornings? She puts me to shame. You should go try. She likes your pretty face after all." She was sniffing her coffee, waiting for it to cool down with a small smile on her face.

Azriel took a long drink of his coffee, nose scrunching from the bitter taste. "No. That's your job. She actually likes you more."

He took her mug, a very quiet "oh fuck," came from Cassian's direction. He backed away from his brother and mate. "Fight fire with fire. Get at it." He forced her out of the chair, smacking her on the ass as he pointed up the stairs. "Go on. Earn your coffee by doing something other than my brother."

"Fuck. You. Cassian, get my coffee back." The General looked between his mate and brother. "Babe!" Cassian just shook his head and inclined it towards the stairs.

"Get Nesta up and I will get you your coffee back." He knew deep down his mate would be the perfect weapon against Nesta. He and his high Lady's sister had butted heads since she had been made and even before then. Az cared for Nesta, but his patience with the female only went so far. His mate's no bullshit, no prisoners attitude seemed to be one Nesta respected. The two got along really well.

Almost too well at times.

He'd find her and Nesta cuddled on the couches in the House, Nesta between her legs with her back against her chest, a blanket thrown over both of them as Nesta read romances and his love read thrillers or reports.

He would find them giggling in the library, his mate holding Nesta's face in her hands. She'd be whispering to Ness, whose face would be flushed, while she smirked at her. Their bodies would be close together. Nesta's hands would stay locked on his mate's hips.

He even found Nesta in their room once, waiting on their bed, staring at his wife's body while she was finishing her makeup. Just to tease Nesta, he had walked behind his mate, slowly lifting the hem of her short dress while staring at the oldest sister. His mate had stopped him quickly, but not before he watched Nesta pull her lower lip between her teeth.

The final sign that his hound of a mate liked the Archeron happened just yesterday morning. She had made Nesta coffee and breakfast, something she only did for him and his brothers. They were speaking to each other quietly, not realizing he and Az were watching. She had pulled out her special mug, the one Rhys had paid good money to have made for her, and given it to Nesta so she could tuck one of her cold hands into the little nook built into the stoneware while his mate held the other one.

He knew something was brewing between the two of them, and Cassian was more than happy to just watch through the bond, or in person, when it finally happened. He sighed softly. "You might be the only one able to get her down here and on that trail."

"You are joking, right? Nesta is a grown female. She is allowed to make her own choices and heal at her pace. You-" he cut her off with a kiss. She leaned into him with a soft hum. He couldn't tell if it was due to the bond or just due to the lingering taste of coffee on his lips.

"Go." He kissed her gently again. "We just have to get her training babe. Rhys is-"

"I know. I know how he is. This isn't his first go round with a female who is… like that." Cassian flinched at the reminder. His mind flashed back to the screaming matches between his mate and Rhysand after the first war. The journey she had undergone to heal was ugly, rough, and long. But the 4 of them had gotten through it together after she had overdrafted an account by close to 1000 gold marks.

Rhys had wanted to kill her, but what she had overdraft the account on was the ultimate sign she needed help and was silently crying out for it. The only way she knew how. Her pride ran deep due to her independence as an Illyrian and a female. The only daughter and first grand daughter of a long line of camp Lords who were forward enough to see value in their girls and ban clipping.

The oldest sister of 5 brothers who looked up to her and followed her guidance. An oldest sister who felt she failed those brothers as she found them dead one by one on the battlefield.

Leader of the valkyries. All of whom she also felt she failed as she watched them all slaughtered. She was the last of her kind, at least for now, and that had ate at her. It spun itself into guilt, addiction, rage.

Cassian and Azriel both remembered Rhys sitting her down in his office as they blocked the doorways. They remember her just silently nodding as Rhysand lectured her, having calmed down significantly when he realized she was so impaired that she wouldn't remember a single thing. They remembered her crying and Rhysand moving to hold her.

Azriel finally broke the trace the three had fallen into. "The only difference is you accepted help. You let all of us help you heal, get you new hobbies, and teach you how to safely partake in activities with us. The only sign of your issues you still have is how big of a bitch you are in the mornings and how you are literally Mor's "scary dog privilege," whatever the fuck that means, when she wants to stay out too late," Azriel mumbled. "I think Nesta wants help deep down. I just think she is too scared to face what getting help means and what she will have to face."

Cassian watched as his mate sighed and nodded. "There's a lot of trauma there. I was over 200 years old, Az. She's barely in her 20s."

"I know."

"Then be kinder." The two had a stare off, beginning a silent fight between the spymaster and the last Valkyrie.

Cassian grabbed her chin to refocus her, chuckling at the glare and sleepiness still in her eyes. "Get her out of bed and on the training field, and I will reward you later."

Azriel rolled his eyes as her wings fluttered, attitude suddenly leaving her body, and she leaned into Cassian, their noses touching. "What kind of reward?"

Cassian smirked down at her. "Whatever my sweetheart would want."

His mate smirked, shutting her eyes softly as he leaned his forehead against hers. "Even if it's just coffee?"

He nodded, kissing her forehead. "Even if it's just coffee."

[redheadspark]

Hello 🤗 can I please request the #15 may prompt with azriel ?

A/N - HOW CUTE FOR AZ! I love this! Thanks for requesting this, dear friend!

Next

Summary - You and Azriel are ready, but the ball was in your court.

Warnings - Just some cute fluff and a HINT of smut at the end

"Okay, I think it's ready,"

You looked at the plate in front of you, seeing how carefully placed every portion was and how it looked flawless. You had to think it was flawless at this point, spending a few hours and plenty of practice in the kitchen at the townhouse. Thanks to the coaching and gathering of the ingredients you needed, you were at Rhysand's private cabin for your plan.

The next step in your relationship with Azriel: finalizing your mating bond

You had tips from Mor and Elaine, both of whom knew what Azriel loved to eat and what his favorite snacks were. You asked them both at the very beginning of your friendship with Azriel, just to help him get through rougher days and stressful nights. He was grateful that you cared for him, which of course resulted in him courting you and your bond being discovered soon after.

Azriel preferred savory over sweet, though that didn't deter him from having a sweet tooth every once in a while. He wasn't into hearty meals like Cassian, nor was he picky or high maintenance with his food like Rhsyand. Azriel liked a home-cooked meal, filled with organic ingredients and the great taste that it came from the earth below his feet. He wasn't a bad cook himself, but there was something about your cooking that always lifted his spirits and brought him joy.

It made sense to make his favorite meal for him, to make the mating bond official.

You two talked it over and made a plan for it, which made sense since Azriel was more of a planner than going out on a limb. He knew you two would need to have your own space for this, since immediately after accepting the bond and the meal, things would go a bit haywire. He asked Rhysand if you both could use the cabin.

"Sure, and good planning on using the cabin. You're gonna need the isolation," Rhysand joked with him as Azriel hung his head in embarrassment and Cassain laughed.

The plate you had ready was piping hot and ready to eat, and your stomach was doing butterflies. You then moved to get a small crystal glass ready, pouring in some of Rhysand's personal and private whiskey a quarter of the way up in the glass. Sure Rhysand might be mad, but you weren't thinking about his own opinions on his favorite liquor. You were thinking of Azriel and what he would want in this kind of meal.

He loved having a dark coffee early in the morning before he flew to the Illyrian training camp, a warm tea at night when you two were curled up with a book together in bed, and sometimes a small glass of whiskey when he was with his brothers or during an intense meeting.

Everything looked perfect and felt perfect, including the fork and knife you had next to the plate with a folded napkin. Then looking at your watch, a gift you got from Azriel at the very beginning of your courting, you saw that he was going to be back any second.

Azriel had to go back to the Illyrian training camp for a few hours to deal with some of the new recruits being too rowdy, and leaving Cassian to deal with it on his own was not what Azriel wanted. He felt back leaving you since you two were planning on this getaway for some time, but you reassured him that it was fine.

As if on cue, the soft sounds of wings were heard outside the cabin, then s set of boots landing on the front porch gently. Your heart quickened and your palms were getting a bit sweaty as you walked out of the kitchen and over to the front door. Why was this excitement scaring you? You both knew each other so well and loved each other deeply, so this mating bond came so naturally.

It felt good to be bonded by him, to be loved by him, and to have that affection and devotion all to yourself. It also helped you two were best friends before you evolved into a romance, so you two knew each other far too well. This was no fling, or one-night stand that was filled with lust.

This was you two loving each other in the best way possible.

You opened the door, seeing Azriel in front of you in comfortable clothing and not his leathers. You were shocked to see him in such a way since you knew he left in his leathers to go talk to Cassians and deal with the new recruits.

"You changed," You voiced, Azriel looking down at his purple shirt and green flannel before he looked back at you. The new scent on his shirt and along his skin was very inviting, calming, and cool and set stirring that fire in your belly. Even his hair looked a bit disheveled.

"I didn't want to come back in my leather since I know you don't like them," He reminded you as you could tell he seemed a bit uncomfortable in how you voiced his attire, "This okay?"

You sighed and took his hand in your own, feeling how warm his skin was and it calmed your nerves just a pinch as Azriel was mostly focused on you and what you wanted. You loved him for that, placing you before himself in any choice he would make. Some saw it shocking, to see the Spymaster be willing to follow a common high fae to the ends of the world, but the Inner Circle only saw him as someone who was in love.

"More than okay," You replied with a sigh, seeing him grin as you tugged him inside, "I have something for you,"

He closed the door behind him as you tugged him along, you both walked together side by side and with your joined hands in the middle. You were once again trying not to be nervous, no matter how sure this was and how you both wanted this. Why would there be a possibility of Azriel not wishing to go through with your mating bond? This was his idea, to get away for a few days and have you all to himself before going back to the real world all over again. Yet with every step you were making to the kitchen, you felt your nerves hitting you all over and you wish to make it right.

Once you made it to the kitchen, Azriel stopped and saw the plate and the drink there ready for him. You stopped too, looking from the perfect plate over to Azriel to see his reaction. A small amount of shock was evident, his eyes going a bit big and his hand that was holding yours clutching a bit tighter now as you cleared your throat.

"Here, come sit," You said to him, gesturing to an empty stool in front of him. He went willingly, sitting down and releasing your hand. Once he was on the stool, you moved and grabbed the plate in one hand, then the drink in your other hand. You stopped before you went back to Azriel, closing your eyes and taking in a long breath.

It's just Azriel, the love of your life and now your mate. Get it together.

Finally, you opened your eyes and turned to see Azriel watching you. He had the softest smile on his face, and his shoulders were calm and relaxed as he was watching you with just love and affection. You never thought you would see the Spymaster, the Shadowsinger of Velaris and Night Court himself, would ever look at you as if you were the one who hung the three stars above the high mountain peaks that overlooked Velaris. The devotion in his eyes, the kind of devotion that was both gentle and kind and yet possessive and deep simultaneously

You placed the plate in front of him, then the glass of whiskey on the side, and lastly his fork and knife with the napkin. Azriel looked at the plate of food, his eyes still soft and pure as you fiddled with your fingers. Before he could even lift a hand to grab the fork, he reached out with his other hand and took your hand in his own.

"Sit with me, please," He said to you, his voice beyond soft and with a hint of depth to it too. You sat on the stool right next to him, seeing him raise your joined hands to kiss the back of yours willingly and with no hesitation. His eyes never left yours, you looking into the two hazel pools that made you think of the soft sunset over your own little home you two shared.

"I love you," He said against your hand, you grinned widely from hearing him say those three words. He was willing to take the bite, to take the leap for you, and to make you his.

"I love you too," you murmured, seeing him grin against your hand before he then looked at the plate you made for him. Released your joined hands, he scanned the plate before he took the fork in hand.

"Your favorite," You reminded him, "And some of Rhysand's whiskey."

Azriel had to chuckle from seeing the whiskey in the glass, "I'm sure you didn't tell him, right?"

"It won't hurt him in not knowing," You reassured him. Azriel, taking the fork in hand, scooped a good portion of his meal and then took one large bite from it. Watching his facial expression, you could feel how the taste was overwhelming him and his eyes closed for a brief moment. Maybe you were worried that you did it wrong, but a millisecond later you felt it too.

The tug on your bond, the pull towards Azriel, it finally snapped into place permanently.

It overwhelmed you, making you place your hand on the counter to not collapse on the floor from the overwhelming sensation of being connected to Azriel. It was under your skin, wrapped in your bones, humming against your heart and fogging your mind. You could feel his intense love for you, you felt it all, and it made you cry.

Azriel immediately stopped eating, reaching over to pull you into his arms and hug you close as you both sighed and cried in relief for finally having this bond be permanent and planted. Its roots sank into you both at the same time, and all you could do was hold on since you have the intense sensation of needing him under you, over you, inside of you, all of it.

"I got you," Azriel said to you as you two were clinging to each other like a lifeline. You felt his fingers along your waist and along your neck, his breath a bit labored near your cheek and jawline as you were clutching his flannel in your fingers, "I have you forever, it's just you and me,"

You felt that truth in the bond as you leaned up to kiss him. He kissed back just as swiftly, keeping it soft and beyond gentle with you as you both were kissing along the countertop. His half-finished plate was long forgotten, all you two were focusing on was each other and that sensation beginning to take over.

Azriel abruptly stood up, towering over you as he held you close and trapped you in his arms, his kisses getting hotter and deeper with every passing kiss. You were letting him take over you in such a way, like a rolling wave as you were pulling him even closer by his flannel. Inside of you, you felt the frenzy begin and you were letting it. Like a massive wave crashing over your head and pushing the rational side of you to the back.

"I need you," he said against your lips as you then felt him his tongue carefully trace your lower lip, "Cauldron I need you, now. Please, please let--"

"Shut up and take me," You growled against his lips as he pulled you up from the stool. Within a swift lift of his arms, you wrapped your legs around his waist and had your fingers in his dark hair. He stopped abruptly, moving away from your lips as you whined. he chuckled from hearing you, but you grinned as he took the whiskey glass and drank down the liquor in one go.

Goddamn

You gulped and felt flushness on your cheeks from seeing him down the drink abruptly as he leaned in to kiss you again. Tasting the whiskey on his lips made you moan as he walked you to the bedroom, one hand on your ass and the other attempting to strip off your shirt.

You sent a thank-you gift to Rhysand two weeks later. One, for letting you use the cabin to your heart's desire. Secondly, for you and Azriel drinking the rest of the whiskey during your frenzy.

The End

May Prompt Session

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