#and i’m too ashamed to even show it to anyone

[markleessodalite]

Empty: p.js

content: you bring your bf!jisung to dinner with your parents, which ends up going horribly wrong (yet exactly how he expected). fem!reader x idol!jisung

warnings: lots of arguing, y/n has lots of family issues (particularly mommy issues), very moody jisung, y/n is kind of lowk not that smart, not a heartwarming moment at any point in this lol

wc: 2.4k

a/n: this kind of fic is pretty out of the realm of what i usually enjoy writing (angst and over 1k words lol) but after watching a particular show for the gazillionth time i was inspired to write this (try and guess what show to get nothing)

You fidget with the hem of your skirt before lacing your fingers together in your lap, forcing a smile as you make awkward eye contact with the sour frown worn by your mother. Her eyes move to the floor as she takes a sip of her wine. You look to your father, who returns an equally forced and awkward smile to you. 

“I’m sure he’ll be here any second…” you try to brush off the rigidness of the moment, this setting, the same rigidness you’ve always felt growing up in this rigid house with your rigid parents, but the slight tremble in your voice gives your concern away. Jisung was supposed to meet you at your parents’ house tonight to meet them for the first time– after you begged him for hours on end until he reluctantly agreed. 

He had heard plenty of horror stories straight from your own mouth about how cold and unforgiving your parents were. How they never uttered a kind word to you, or placed a comforting hand on you. Rarely looked at you unless they were scolding you for not sitting properly or for talking too much or laughing too loud. Jisung’s jaw was on the floor when you told him that you couldn’t even recognize your father until you were 8 years old because he was always at work or in his home office, and you could only recognize your mother out of fear instinct. You told him how they were ashamed when you couldn’t hack it at your expensive private high school, disappointed when you graduated from a trade school instead of an ivy league university, and how any success you experience that you share with them is met with condescending confusion and passive-aggressive comments about your wasted potential. 

So Jisung was more than completely lost when you insisted that he come with you to dinner at your parents’ house. But after you explained that they’re still your parents, and this was important to you, and so on and so on, he promised you he’d be there. 

But he didn’t mention that he would be an hour late. 

Surely he remembered you warning him about how easy it is to leave a bad impression on your incredibly high-strung parents, right? You told him the exact time he’d be expected there, and even watched as he set a reminder on his phone. 

Your father looks out the window, the white blankets of snow seeming a lot warmer than the stiff couch you were sitting on. “He’s probably stuck in this awful weather. I swear, it snows the tiniest bit and suddenly everyone in the area forgets how to drive.” 

“A little bit of traffic wouldn’t cause anyone with a working brain to be an hour late.” Your mother sets her wine down, the clink of the glass on the coaster making you wince. 

“I’m sure he’s rushing to get here, mom.” You rummage through your purse, looking for your phone. “Maybe I should call–” 

“Do not call him, y/n,” your mother scolds you, “if he is driving, you should not distract him with a phone call. It’s dangerous.”

“Sorry.” You place your hands back in your lap. You then remember that he’s taking the subway anyway, so you could call him if you wanted to. But you decide it’s not worth trying to correct your mother.

“Honey, I’m starving.” Your father pours himself another glass of wine.

“We are not eating until y/n’s guest arrives, that’s rude.”

“He’s already an hour late, so I’ve already been hungry for an hour more than necessary.”

“We do not begin eating a meal before the guest arrives, dear.” 

“Well I certainly don’t want to wait another hour!”

You ignore your parents bickering and pull out your phone, just to double check if Jisung texted you or tried to call, but it's just the same vague message he sent before.

Practice ran long, frustrating day, might be late

Just as you toss your phone onto the couch, you hear the doorbell. You ignore your father’s muttering and your mother scolding you for rushing to answer (apparently, a lady never rushes). 

You open the door to see your boyfriend, although you almost don’t recognize him with the deep eyebags and uncharacteristic frown he’s sporting.

“Ji? What’s wrong, are you okay?” 

“I just wanna get this over with.” He walks past you without another word, or even a glance in your direction. 

After you get over a few seconds of being stunned by your boyfriend’s behavior, you shut the door and walk with him towards the living room. “Jisung, what’s wrong, honey?” No response. You lace your arm in his, which is usually a surefire way to get a smile from him. But now, nothing.

“Ji.” You pull him against the wall before your parents spot you. “I know you had a bad day, and I’m sorry about that, but just… take a deep breath and refocus, okay baby? Because you definitely can’t meet my parents looking this pouty.” 

Jisung sighs, then plasters a lazy, disingenuous smile on his face. “Okay.”

~~~

After uncomfortable introductions and Jisung offering an apathetic apology for his tardiness, you were sat at the dinner table across from your boyfriend, who clearly would rather be anywhere else right now and was too exhausted to hide it.

“So, Jisung,” your father breaks the ice, “y/n says that you’re a dancer.”

“No, dad, I said he’s an idol.”

Your father just stares at you.

“He’s an idol, he’s not just a dancer.”

He keeps staring at you, now furrowing his brows as if you’re speaking a foreign language. 

“So he also sings, and raps, and goes on tours and a whole bunch of other stuff, dad.” 

“I do dance, though. So I can be considered a dancer.” Jisung finally contributes, although it feels more like he’s correcting you than chatting with your father. 

“That’s nice. I’ve always admired dancers. I, for one, don’t have a rhythmic bone in my body.” Your father laughs at himself. 

“Well, it's nice for a hobby.” Your mother’s fork scrapes across her plate, and you see Jisung’s eye twitch at the grating noise. “So what are your career plans?”

Jisung looks over at you, silently pleading for your help. “Uh, what do you mean?”

��You do have a career in mind, don’t you?”

“Mom–”

“Well, my idol career is going pretty great, and I don’t see it ending anytime soon.” Jisung tries to smile, but it bounces off your mother’s tight-lipped grimace. 

“Yes, but dancing–” she says the word as if it's a vulgar swear– “isn’t really a career. Surely you have an actual prospect lined up.”

“Mom, we just had this conversation. He does a lot more than dance, it's not just a hobby.” 

“Does he make decent money?”

You look at Jisung, noticing how he’s consciously refraining from rolling his eyes. “Yes, he does, and that is a totally inappropriate question, mother.” 

“It certainly is an appropriate question, y/n,” your father scolds you, “if this man is intending to be serious with you, then we must make sure he is good enough for you.” 

“Good enough?” Jisung echoes your father, not breaking eye contact with you.

“It's no offense to you, Jisung, you understand. She’s our daughter, it's our duty to ensure she has a stable, comfortable life.”

“And that’s worked out well up to this point, hasn’t it?” 

Your breath catches in your throat, completely shocked at the sarcasm dripping from Jisung’s voice.

“Well we certainly tried, but she was never exactly receptive.” Your mother’s tone is just as condescending as ever, but you’re too busy staring at your boyfriend in disbelief to notice. “We gave her everything she needed growing up, yet still, she was always getting into trouble. Staying out past curfew, skipping school with those hoodlum friends of hers, bringing home substandard boys…”

“Mom.”

“Clearly that hasn’t changed.”

“Mom! Stop!”

“Substandard. Wow.” Jisung laughs under his breath. 

“Oh, excuse me one moment–” your father rushes to answer the phone ringing in his study– “I need to take this call.”

“How could you make a comment like that, mom? You don’t even know Jisung!”

“I know your type, y/n.”

“You know him? You asked him a single question, refused to understand his answer, and you somehow decided that you don’t like him? You know nothing about him!”

“I don’t need to, I know you. You always go for these types, boys who have no manners, don’t know how to have a conversation, and haven’t put a single thought into their future.”

“That is not anything like Jisung!”

“Isn’t it? He shows up an hour late with no warning or explanation, he sits there pouting as if he doesn’t even want to be here, and he lets you do all the talking for him, when he’s not muttering to himself like a moody child.”

“It's been, like, 10 minutes, and you’ve already decided you don’t like him. I think that’s a record, even for you, mom.” 

“Honestly, y/n. Don’t you see how this is embarrassing for us? For our daughter to keep making mistake after mistake, constantly making a fool of herself, acting as if she’s had no discipline her entire life?” 

You turn to look at Jisung, and that’s when you finally realized he snuck away at some point unnoticed. “Mom, I don’t care. I’m leaving.” 

“For once, y/n, you should think about how your decisions make your father and I look!”

You ignore your mother’s ranting as you gather your coat and purse, walking out the front door without a goodbye. You step into the driveway to see Jisung, leaning against the hood of your car, hands in his jacket pockets, snow melting into his hair. 

You approach him, rubbing his arm gently, but it elicits no response from him. 

“I’m so sorry, Ji. I hate that they treated you that way.”

He looks you in the eye, but doesn’t say a word. His eyes meet the ground again.

“I really… I don’t know. I thought after all these years, after them always trying to decide things for me, and me always going against it, I thought they could finally see something good happen to me and just… be happy for me, you know?”

He still doesn’t say anything. Just nods, so little you almost miss it. 

“I really am sorry. I had no idea they would do that to you–”

“Oh come on, y/n, yes you did!” Jisung tears your hand from his arm, moving away to stand tall next to your parents’ tacky topiaries. “I didn’t even want to come to this stupid dinner, but you insisted, and you just let them treat me like I was too dirty to even enter their house or something!” 

You stand still, your legs feeling like they’re made of lead. “Why are you yelling at me? It's not like its my fault–”

“It is your fault! God, just think for a second, y/n! You were the one warning me about how horrible your parents are and how they’d never accept me, you can’t act shocked when they behave the exact way you knew they would.” He runs a hand through his hair, now refusing to even look in your direction, or at anything other than the asphalt under his feet. “And I told you that I would probably be tired after practice today anyway, but you still made me come here. And I had a really shitty day, practice ran late because of me being an idiot and not getting the choreography, and then I had to rush in the stupid snow to get here and listen to two people I don’t even like tell me how inadequate I am. As if I didn’t already know that.”

“Jisung–” 

“I think I’m gonna stay at my parents’ house tonight.”

You cross your arms, trying to swallow back the sobs that were forming in your throat. “You’re not coming home?”

He shakes his head. “No. I don’t really wanna face you right now. I don’t wanna face the guys either after I ruined their days too. I just need to be alone I think.” He finally looks at you, his jaw tight, eyes glossy. “Can I leave now?”

You nod, which shakes a few tears loose from your eyes, but Jisung turns around too fast to notice.

“Ji, let me give you a ride, its freezing.”

“Its fine. I survived taking the subway here, I can do it again.” He calls back to you, without even turning to look at you. You just stare at his back as he walks off, his steps looking heavy on the icy sidewalk. 

You hear the front door open behind you. “He’s leaving?” Your mother’s voice has never sounded so ugly to your ears. “He throws a fit and leaves. How fitting you would find a boy so similar to yourself.” 

Before you can retort, she hands you your phone, which you didn’t realize you had left on the couch in your rush out the door. “You better get going, the snow is going to get worse. I’ll tell your father goodbye for you.” 

Your phone feels like a brick loosely held in your hand, now freezing from the gentle attacks of snow flurries. Your mother shuts the door while you watch Jisung’s shadow walk further and further out of reach. You climb into your car, adjusting the hem of your skirt as you sit in the driver's seat, noticing just how empty it feels without Jisung in the passenger seat. How empty your home is going to feel when you enter without him. How empty your bed will feel when you try to sleep without him. How empty the home you grew up in always was, no matter how many people were in there. How the night you met Jisung at your friend’s house party, and you talked in the empty backyard alone for hours and hours, was the first time in your life you didn’t really feel empty anymore. 

Your mouth feels dry. You grab the water bottle in your cup holder, but it's empty. As you drive the long way home, you contemplate if you should make a stop to buy some water or just wait until you get there, when you spot Jisung walking down into the subway. His posture exhausted, his expression completely empty.

[kirathegreatfoxandkingofeyeballs]

Have you ever been so inspired to make something, but lack the technical skill to make it, or for some reason or another have no way to externally express this like pent up need to make SOMETHING, and it feels like a gazillion thoughts running through your head and you get so restlessly frustrated because you NEED to make something, but for some reason or another, be it personal or technical, you just can’t? And then you end up giving yourself an anxiety attack and heart palpitations and it feels like you’re going to explode?

[hyperions-light]

Someone was being a fucking hater on my explicitly positive DATV post AGAIN (u all know I can see your tags right. They get delivered to me express mail style) so here’s an essay about how I thought the Grey Warden plotline was great:

First, it was extremely lore-consistent. I don’t know how to tell people this, but the Grey Wardens simply are sort of shady— it’s part of their charm. In DAO alone we found out they:

- kill anyone who refuses the joining

- are definitely using a blood magic ritual to induct people

- tried to usurp the throne of Fereldan

In DA2 they:

-Forced Malcolm Hawke to perform a blood magic ritual against his will to contain Corypheus, by threatening to kill his family

- Built a giant prison in the mountains they didn’t tell anyone about and that someone could wander into and not be able to escape

- the entire Corypheus thing. They didn’t even tell the other Wardens like what he was or how dangerous he was.

DAI:

- the demon army thing was pretty bad

And that’s not even mentioning any stuff from the books or comics or shows! That’s just stuff in the games!

So they’re shady. It’s okay! They’re my little woobie guys, idc if they’re sort of shady!

But the plot in DATV is about all of those previously established issues coming back to bite them in the fucking ass, as they should! Knock knock, it’s the consequences of your actions, baby! The chickens are home to roost

(Which is just good storytelling. Like if you set up a bunch of issues and then never pay them off or anything that’s bad.)

Destroying Weisshaupt was inspired! Firstly bc Davrin is Weisshaupt, metaphorically (bulwark against the darkness, etc, I already made a post) so it serves his character arc. But also because it strips away the pageantry and the grandeur from them; no more castle for you! No more myth!

Davrin explicitly tells you that the First Warden is a traditionalist; he represents the historical attitudes of the Wardens. They do not accept help, they do not give up their secrets, they are standing alone against the dark. And it doesn’t work! He’s fucking wrong (and very punch-able). Being secretive and isolationist is a mistake that costs them nearly everything.

But also, and I’m not sure how many people experienced this on the first go-around, the game does ultimately come down on the side of the Wardens always trying to do the right thing. You CAN talk the First Warden down, because in the end he’s a Warden, and he might be stubborn and curmudgeonly and miserable but he CARES about the world. He came to do good. He admits he was wrong and he helps you. Because the heart of the Wardens is about selfless service to other people. In Death, Sacrifice.

Stripping away Weisshaupt and the glory and pageantry leaves the Wardens at their most vulnerable and forces them to return to their fundamental principles: helping people. That’s what Lavendel is about. Helping individual people and preserving every life possible even if it doesn’t feel that glamorous or heroic. Lavendel isn’t a significant place; it doesn’t matter, but it matters so much.

And then, the Cauldron.

First off, do not at me about Last Flight. I don’t think people should have to read external materials to play this game and understand it. If the information is vital it should be presented to the player in the text.

The Cauldron is the repository of the Wardens’ secrets; it’s where the keep the bones of the Archdemons, the secret to the Joining, ancient and dangerous weapons, as well as the bodies of the griffons, which represents their most shameful errors. Isseya is the avatar of the Wardens’ mistakes; she’s been hurt by what they made her do, and her pain was never acknowledged by them. They buried her story and her suffering like they bury everything they don’t want to deal with and are ashamed of. They left the bones of the griffons, whose deaths they directly caused, to rot because they were too sad to acknowledge them.

But it was wrong to walk away, it was wrong to bury it. Isseya makes sure that they can never do that again, that they have to own what they did and take responsibility. By discovering who she is and by restoring her personhood to her, by reminding her of her love which drove her to her anguish in the first place, Davrin saves her and he saves the griffons. He doesn’t do it using violence, because another sin of the Wardens is just assuming that they can kill their way out of their problems, which the game disproves by revealing the origin of the Blight. You can kill as many darkspawn as you want, you will never fix it! The Titans’ dreams do not need to be slain, they need to be healed.

Isseya is in so much pain because of her incredible love for both the griffons and the Wardens, and because of her guilt. Look what she builds! An alternate Weisshaupt, a distorted reflection of her home. She entreats both Davrin and Assan to join her, because she doesn’t think she’s trying to destroy anything. She’s trying to save them! She wants them to come home. “I am their mother,” she says, and she’s right. She saved them, then, and she ends up saving them now! Because she made Davrin and the other Wardens look, unflinchingly, at what they had done, it will never happen again. She was going about it wrong during the game, but she was ALWAYS trying to save them.

Davrin, Antoine and Evka represent the Wardens’ commitment to being different. They let Flynn undergo the Joining without becoming a Warden, they reveal secrets to non-Warden Rook, they offer to help the Viper without asking for anything in return. They ask for help and offer it freely. If the Wardens are going to persist into a world without Archdemons, they HAVE to change. They can’t be what they were anymore. The game is asking what a Warden is when they have to be more than their oath, when they have to live. It’s a great exploration of and expansion on previously established lore.

Anyway, my advice if you hated the plot and the game and the characters is to a) make your own post b) don’t bother me about it, because I have the time and I will be loudly positive in response!

[messrmoonyy]

- The Forbidden Fruit

Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader

Request- I NEED ARTHUR TO STEAL DUTCHS GIRL AND SHOW HER A REAL MANS LOVING. FILTHY PASSIONATE LOVING. WORK YOUR MAGIC

A/N- I got incredibly carried away with this. Is basically prawn with no plot honestly. And far softer smut than I think you intended it to be but. Here we are. Enjoy.

Warnings- 18+ | implied toxic relationship ( reader is in love with Dutch van der Linde what can you expect here ), smut: affair, Arthur being desperate to please!!!, fingering, oral ( reader receiving ) , unprotected p in v and he accidentally finishes inside oops, like the tiniest amount of cockwarming ( WC-8.9k )

AO3 | Masterlist - requests are open :)

Arthur didn’t involve himself in Dutch’s relationships. He stayed polite to whatever young woman he had hanging off his arm at the time, but that was about it. He’d seen too many girls come and go- usually in floods of tears at being dismissed by the man that had seduced and charmed them into loving him. Just working his way through shiny new plaything to plaything, hiding his unending sorrow for Annabelle under the skirt of some new girl. 

Unfortunately you were no different. 

In your defence, he supposed, you had lasted far longer than the rest. The only real exception to that being the famed Annabelle herself. But as was almost inevitable, your time in the honeymoon phase was slowly crumbling down around you. 

Arthur did wonder if it was simply because of the current stress levels in camp. They had all been on the run for longer than he cared to try and count, but after the mess in Blackwater they had reached new heights of being hunted. It had never been this bad. Nothing had ever gone this wrong. Because before everything had gone to complete shit, he’d actually seemed quite taken with you. In truth Arthur actually had begun to consider the idea that Dutch really did love you. Had finally been able to move on from the weight on his heart of his dead lover. 

But no. 

Arthur was observing the same pattern as always, it had just taken far longer with you. And that just seemed to make it all the more cruel. 

He barely even looked at you most days now. Barely uttered a few words in return to any question you asked. 

And the arguing was growing ever more fierce. It was practically everyday. 

Arthur didn’t like it. Didn’t like the way Dutch treated you. Didn’t like the way Dutch was treating anyone lately. But you in particular had never been anything but nice to him, kind. Sweet. Incredibly naive but sweet. To Arthur too. Some of the girls Dutch had strung along had been vile, rude and entitled and stuck up. But you? You were a genuinely nice person it seemed. And maybe that was your greatest flaw, for someone like that did not belong with Dutch Van Der Linde. 

In fact Arthur had come to like you from a distance. The times he had spoken to you you had been interesting, intelligent. Far cleverer than him and he had always liked that in a woman if he was honest. 

But still you clung to Dutch. Though your patience with him of late seemed to finally be wearing thin. 

Dutch had never really been one to be ashamed or afraid of airing his dirty laundry within the gang. Whether that be packing on the PDA in camp in a way that often made Arthur want to vomit up his breakfast, or the even more puke inducing sounds of the two of you making up all night long. So arguing was no exception to that either. 

And today was no different. 

“ you barely even look at me! I’m right here! I always have been, I’ve always been such a good girl haven’t I? I do as you say. And look at how you repay me! “ Arthur sighed as he dropped a stack of bills into the box, successfully recovering yet another of Strauss’ debts for him. You were both screaming at each other again, the tent flaps pulled down as if that would over any form of soundproofing. It was the camp's regular ambience now it seemed. 

He did feel sorry for you, he really did. You’d left everything you had for Dutch. Some beautiful, intelligent, well spoken girl. Heiress to her daddy’s mining fortune up north, used to the finer things but seeking some adventure. And Dutch had offered you both. Drowned you in jewels and gifts- though unlike the ones you had once owned the ones he gave were not his to give- Shown you off like a shiny new toy on his arm. Expressly informed Miss Grimshaw that you were not to be lifting a finger, that you would not have to earn your keep with chores like the others. 

You earned your keep by looking beautiful beside him, by boosting his ego with your constant devotion to him, by letting Dutch use you for his own source of pleasure and by the sounds of things- that Arthur truly had no choice but to overhear- not getting very much back in return. 

“ You know I don’t think I’ve ever met a more selfish woman in my life! “ Arthur sighed and sat down on his cot, debating whether or not to make some attempt to get the sleep he had been planning the entire long journey back to Clemens Point. But his tent was but a stone's throw from Dutch’s. 

“ I have needs too Dutch Van Der Linde!” Everyone else in camp didn’t seem to mind it though, most of them preparing to settle in for the night. Whether that be passing out on their bedrolls or drinking by the fire. But Arthur wasn’t sure he could put up with another moment of the damn yelling. 

“ oh? You have needs? “ Dutch’s voice was condescending. Mocking “ I give you everything! You are acting like a spoiled child”

“ a child? A child!? “ Arthur stood back up again, deciding he’d fare better trying to sleep on the damn ground rather than next to the likes of you and Dutch. So he headed out towards the edge of camp, hiding himself in the woods by the water. He slumped down against a tree with a heavy sigh and wished he’d thought to pick up a bottle of beer on the way. 

But it was no matter. He was far enough away that he couldn’t hear the fighting anymore, but close enough that if he was needed anyone calling his name would be heard. 

He looked out across the water, enjoying his rare moment of peace. It was a clear night and a full moon, the reflection bouncing off the water in the most beautiful way. He pulled out his journal and started to sketch it, wishing he could capture its beauty better. 

‘ Dutch and the girl were arguing again. Got out of earshot for a bit to try catch some sleep. Thought the water and the moon looked mighty pretty ‘ 

He scrawled underneath when he was done, tucking it back into the satchel discarded at his side. Javier's guitar had silenced back in camp now and he figured everyone had gone off to bed. But he was quite content there by the water, so dropped his hat over his face and settled in to try and catch a few hours himself. 

He was just dozing off when he heard the sound of boots marching quickly through the undergrowth, snapping twigs as they went. And then the soft sound of someone mumbling to themselves. He silently hoped whoever it was would keep well away from him. But the boots grew nearer and came to a halt not so far away. The crackle of a match being lit and a heavy sigh. 

“ thinks he can talk to me like that? Bastard. Bastard he is. I’m a lady I deserve better than. Than that “ 

You. 

He cleared his throat lightly to inform you that he was there, but unfortunately still seemed to startle you. 

“ Christ! Gave me a damn heart attack Arthur “ he placed his hat down with his satchel with a sigh and looked up at you. In the light of the moon reflecting off the water he could see your cheeks were tear stained, the glow of the end of your cigarette illuminating your face further and showing your makeup in streaks. 

He couldn’t lie that it made his heart ache for you. He didn’t particularly have any solid feelings for you, but he did feel sorry for you. It was hard not to feel sorry for the woman seduced by Dutch. 

And you truly were a cut above the rest in his opinion. Beautiful as the early morning sun and, when you weren’t screaming at Dutch, as kind and warm as it too. But maybe that was fitting. Because much like the sun you could bask people in warmth, but burn them too. Beautiful and bright but scalding and he found he couldn’t look at you for too long, no matter how many times he wanted too. Simply blinding his eyes with your flaming beauty and having to turn away. 

But maybe he was just getting caught up in his metaphors. 

“ shouldn’t be out this far from camp “ you simply shrugged, taking another drag of your cigarette “ ain’t no one nice lingerin’ in woods at night miss” even if no Lemoyne raiders were sneaking around the trees, there were plenty of species of wildlife that would happily do a number on you. Chew off a leg or bite you with poison fangs. You didn’t know how to take care of yourself. You couldn’t handle a gun, didn’t have a single survival instinct in you. 

Dutch had quite made sure of that, he’d heard you ask once or twice. And had been denied. Charming you with some string of words about how you were far too delicate to be handling a gun. To leave it for the men. 

“ you’re lingering in the woods aren’t you Mr Morgan? “ he chuckled and shrugged. 

“ and I ain’t that nice. Point proven lady “ 

“ not like Dutch would care if someone took me anyway. He’d probably be thankful “ your voice was hoarse from the shouting and he couldn’t tell if you were going to cry again or not. You took a long drag of your cigarette before seeming to suddenly remember something, dipping your hand into the waistband of your skirt and pulling out a pack “ sorry my manners. Want one? “ he took one with a nod of thanks “ can I sit? “

You sat down carefully beside him then with a long sigh, tucking your legs beneath you, and leant forward so he could light the cigarette between his lips with the end of yours. 

“ thanks “ you both sat quietly for a short while. Smoking and watching the ripples in the water. He didn’t mind it actually, as much as he had been slightly annoyed at you disturbing his attempt to sleep. You were decent company. 

You rarely strayed from Dutch’s side, but on the odd occasion you had and Arthur had stumbled upon you having a moment to yourself at the edge of camp it had been quite nice. So he didn’t mind sitting there with you, company. For you both. 

“ I think you’re nice. By the way “ you said to break the silence, refrenching his previous comment of bad men lingering in the woods. 

“ No offense to you Miss, but you’re in love with old Dutch. I don’t think you’re particularly qualified to be sayin’ whether folk is nice or not “ he said it teasingly in some hopes of making you smile. And it did. A little. 

“ maybe not “ he watched you bring your cigarette to your lips again, glancing at your hands. Nails perfectly trimmed and not a single speck of dirt or sign of a scar. Hands that had never had to lift a finger. Ever. It was an interesting contrast to his own. Calloused and scarred and bruised “ but Dutch he… he…Can I ask you something? “ 

“ Sure “ he said and flicked his cigarette away. 

“ Do you think I’m beautiful Arthur? “ you asked meekly. Your face was sad. Lingering innocence yet to be wiped away by life somehow, the kind that only remained because you had lived a life so sheltered. Even with Dutch you were as sheltered as could be “ and don’t lie. Please “

“ I think you’re beautiful, sure “ you turned back to the water again, tossing your own cigarette before promptly lighting another. 

“ Dutch doesn’t. Not anymore. Barely even looks at me “ Arthur ran a hand over his face, not entirely sure what he was supposed to say to you in the situation. At all “ I know I know I don’t expect you to agree. You two you’re…you’re like two peas in a pod aren’t you? “ you said with a small laugh, but it held no humour. You took a long drag of your cigarette. 

“ me and Dutch it’s… we go back a long way. But… I will agree the way he’s been treatin’ you. Ain't nice. Not when you done nothin’ but be loyal to him for so long “ you turned back to him again and gave a small smile. It was like a wave of relief had washed right over you. 

Someone was finally listening. 

“ I think he’s got his eyes on Mary-Beth “ you mumbled, red stained lips wrapping around your cigarette again. Much like how he had found himself admiring your hands he now found himself admiring your lips. Soft and plump and stained red in the way they often were. 

He blamed it on his fatigue. 

“ he’d be a fool to give you up. You’re kind, loyal, hell you might jus’ be the most beautiful woman I know. He’s in a weird place right now. He’ll snap outta it, be back to readin’ you Evelyn Miller in no time. You’ll see “ maybe the last part wasn’t entirely true. But the first part was. And you seemed to bask in his compliments. He wondered when the last time Dutch had said something nice to you had actually been. 

“ Thank you “ you looked as though you might cry again. And he really hoped you wouldn’t. He didn’t like to see you cry. And he really wouldn’t know what to say to you then. Once again you turned your attention back to the water and gave a small sigh “ maybe I chose the wrong outlaw “ you said with a small laugh “ always have thought you were quite handsome “ 

He nearly choked on his own saliva, clearing his throat in hopes to pass it out smoothly. He didn’t know if it had worked. 

“ Really? “ 

“ Hmm “ you mused, tilting your head inquisitively to the side “ but you were oh so hung up on that Mary girl when I found Dutch”

“ Yeah well. Mary she’s- that’s all done with now “ maybe Mary was the reason he seemed to sympathise with you so. Because he too had had a broken heart. Though he was sure his was not as brutal as yours. 

“ Guess we both have bad taste don’t we Mr Morgan “ he chuckled and nodded. 

“ That we do miss. That we do “ he placed a gentle hand to your shoulder and squeezed in some form of comfort “ don’t worry bout Dutch though. Really. He’ll come to his senses and if…if he don’t then. Any man would be lucky to have ya “ you sniffled and he figured you’d started crying again “ I didn’t mean to upset- “

“ No. No I’m fine. It’s just…you mean it all don’t you? All these kind words? “ he shrugged and then nodded. 

“ Sure I do. You’re a beautiful woman. Inside an out “ something seemed to flash across your face, a million and one things whirring away behind your eyes. He’d never been that good at reading people, never one for knowing what people were thinking. And the look on your face was the most confusing he’d ever seen. 

The next part happened far too quickly for him to process it. Maybe because he was tired, maybe because he truly hadn’t even slightly suspected you to do it. You flicked away the butt of your cigarette and leaned forward, one hand to his leg and the other to his neck. And kissed him. 

He was taken aback and you pulled away before he could make any attempt to figure out what you’d just done. 

“ Sorry “ you sighed in slight annoyance, seemingly at yourself, sitting back beside him again. Like it was no big deal. Just something that had happened and had no real consequence “ shit- sorry “ Arthur scratched the back of his neck awkwardly and shrugged with a small laugh. Attempting to play it as cool as you clearly were. 

Maybe he’d finally cracked and entered some weird fatigue induced psychosis, hallucinations and hearing voices. And kissing Dutch’s woman. 

“ S’okay. No harm done “ he was bewildered. Trying to process the last 30 seconds and coming up completely blank. 

“ Just the way you talk about me I- Lord forgive me “ he was certain he must have looked half dense. Still completely confused at what on earth was happening with you. And maybe, just maybe, a tiny bit flustered at having a woman like you kiss him. Even if you were begging the Lord for forgiveness right after it “ no one’s spoken to me like that in a long time and…and I wish they had. I want to be told I’m beautiful again. I want to be kissed. I want I want…I want a lot of things “ 

Maybe Arthur was a stupid, idiotic fool. Maybe too many gunshot wounds and bumps to the head had finally caught up to him. Maybe he too wanted to act on his ever growing annoyance with how Dutch was behaving. But he found himself reaching out, fingers tucking under your chin to turn your face to look at him. Your eyes were so beautiful up close. Practically sparkling in the moonlight.

Oh he was such a fool. 

“ could’a jus’ asked “ a small smile tugged at your lips and you laughed a little. 

“ Yeah. Of course. Because you’d have said yes Arthur? “ he shrugged. He didn’t know if he would’ve actually. But now the thought was in his head “ alright “ you whispered and shuffled a little closer to him “ indulge me “ 

His thumb was absentmindedly brushing over your jaw, looking at you in the light of the moon and wondering how on earth Dutch wasn’t constantly begging for your attention. If he had a woman like you constantly hanging off his every word he wouldn’t know how to act. Would be like a mangy dog trailing around after you for food.  

“ I might’ve “ you gave a roll of your eyes but you were smiling still, a beautiful, tempting smile.

You were a temptress. A siren. Luring him in with your beauty to do something terrible. And you were vulnerable. Sad and seeking appreciation. And he was truly debating it. 

“ Well…“ you started quietly, looking up at him through your long lashes in a way that made his chest go tight “ there is… still time for you to say yes “ 

“ we ain’t gonna tell no one bout this y’hear? This it’s… it’s jus’ between me and you. Okay? “ your eyebrows furrowed for a second looking up at him intently, as if trying to figure out if he was joking or not. If he was serious. He wasn’t entirely sure himself, needed you to agree or disagree to put the thought to rest.  His thumb continued to brush along your jaw tenderly and your eyes fell closed for a moment. 

How long had it been since someone had touched you with such care? That something as simple as that seemed to mean so much to you. 

“ I understand “ you whispered, eyes flickering down to his lips again. He pulled you in close, barely an inch between your lips and then spoke again “ you’ll give me what I want? Don’t treat me like him “ 

“ Anythin’ ya want. You got it. I’ll give ya what you deserve “ you let a shuddering breath escape and gave a small nod before closing the gap between you both again. 

He hadn’t kissed anyone in a while, but he sure found his footing quickly. You kissed him like he was your source of air, climbing your way into his lap and slipping your hands into his hair. You tasted of cigarette smoke and something almost sweet. Whatever it was, it was an intoxicating mix. You were like a siren singing your call in his ear, drawing him in and taking him for your own. The weight of you in his lap was almost familiar, welcoming. Just… nice. 

He had almost forgotten just how fun it was to kiss a woman. How so many men seemed to shun it as boring, pointless- Dutch obviously included. But Arthur had always loved it. Had spent many a night as a youngster sneaking his way into Mary’s room just to kiss her. To spend hours kissing and talking and kissing some more. 

Kissing you was something else. Addictive. Intoxicating. 

Eventually he had to pull away, his lungs screaming at him for air. Your hands slipped out from his hair and down to grasp at the collar of his shirt, resting your forehead on his. 

“ Anything I want you say? “ you asked quietly, breathless. 

“ Anythin’ “ you smiled and lifted your head, a quiet determination settling over you. Your lipstick had smeared and he wondered how much of it was now on his own face. 

“ okay… undress me then “ you softly commanded, shifting slightly in his lap “ please. Dutch never- he makes me do it myself, barely even looks I- Please “ 

He almost laughed to himself about now he immediately thought getting you naked was entirely too risky. As if the entire situation alone wasn’t risky anyway. But he didn’t want to think too hard about that, instead simply channelled his recent annoyance towards Dutch into his actions. Tried to tell himself he was doing a good thing, taking care of you. 

You watched his face carefully as he gently untucked your shirt from where it was tucked into your skirt, some silky soft thing that probably cost more than everything he owned in his clothing trunk put together. He undid every pearl button slowly, eyes darting up to your face as he did. Your chest was heaving in long, heavy breaths. You were nervous. Or excited. He couldn’t tell which. 

You shivered lightly when he pushed it from your shoulders, now only the soft cotton of your chemise between his hands and your chest. Your nipples had hardened, from the slight night chill or lust he couldn’t say. But he found himself unable to resist the sight, leaning forward and capturing one between his lips through the cotton. You gasped softly, a sound so beautiful it made him groan. You sounded delicate. Innocent. You’d never made such sounds when he’d overheard you with Dutch. In fact a majority of the time you almost sounded in pain. 

But this sound wasn’t that. This sound was beautiful. And he wanted to hear more. One hand pushed at your back to bring you closer, the other palmed at your neglected breast in hopes you’d make the sound again. And you did. Gentle, soft gasps as his tongue dampened the material of your chemise, teeth tugging at you gently through the material. Your hand found his hair again, raking your fingers through it and arching your back into his touch. 

He couldn’t imagine why Dutch had never wanted to do such a thing. How could he not want to hear you make those pretty pretty sounds? How could he not want to feel you writhing in his lap and yearning to be touched. Maybe Dutch was more of a fool than he had originally thought. 

“ Need you to touch me- properly I- take this off “ your sentence was choppy, like you weren’t focussed enough to truly articulate the words you wanted to say. But he understood, pulling your chemise over your head and dropping it to land with your shirt. 

He took a moment just to look at you, not even entirely because he knew you’d want him to. Just because he wanted to. He’d be a liar if he said he hadn’t wondered what was hiding under your expensive clothes once or twice. How could he not when he had to try sleep through the sounds of you and Dutch of a night. 

“ God damn “ he said softly, hands soothing over your waist as you basked in his admiring stare, taking in the feeling of finally being looked at. Properly. 

“ like what you see Mr Morgan “ you asked, voice sultry and low in a way that made his cock twitch in his pants. 

“ Dutch is a damn fool “ is all he could say, leaning forward to kiss you again, his hands moving to grab at your chest. You moaned into the kiss as he squeezed and massaged your breasts with his large hands, seizing the opportunity to dip his tongue into the warmth of your mouth. Your fingers in his hair, twisting strands around your fingers and tugging lightly. He felt like he was on cloud nine. Certain he’d somehow taken a stumble through the veil and ended up at heaven's gates. 

He wasn’t a particularly religious man, but the way he was prepared to worship and praise you could truly be considered blasphemous. 

He couldn’t resist the temptation of getting his mouth on you again much longer, dragging his lips from yours and wrapping them around a pebbled nipple instead. You rolled your hips against him, those beautiful soft moans still falling past your lips. This was what you had wanted from him. To be worshipped. To be looked at as the beautiful temptress of a woman you were. And not merely glanced at and then used like some two dollar whore in a saloon. 

He wanted to nip at your skin, bite and soothe it with his tongue. But he knew he couldn’t. Couldn’t risk Dutch seeing it if he felt the need to stop ignoring you for a short while for his own needs. But oh how he wanted to. To mark up your smooth skin with reminders that you were desired. That you could look at as they faded and be reminded that you were wanted. 

“ I need more “ you whispered “ Arthur please. Give me more “ another roll of your hips followed by a small whimper told him enough. 

“ I know I got ya “ he murmured against your skin, pressing kisses up your sternum and your neck. Nose brushing at the underside of your jaw and working his way back to your lips again “ stand up. Lemme get you out of these damn clothes “ he caught the smile on your face as you stood up, he stayed seated and ran his hands over the fabric covering your hips. Something seemed to blaze in your eyes as you looked down on him. He realised it was most probably you that was usually being leered down on, but not now. 

Not with him. Not with Arthur. Arthur looked up at you like the goddess you were, looked up at you with what he knew was a silent pleading in his eyes. Dutch would never ask he knew it. Dutch took. Stole. Used. Arthur didn’t. Wouldn’t. 

“ I like how you look at me “ you said quietly, hand soothing over his hair “ you make me feel beautiful “

“ Cause y’are “ he murmured, hands reaching to the ties of your skirt. He wanted to see more. Wanted to see all of you. 

You helped him with the slightly tedious task of getting your skirts and undergarments off, but all so slowly. Taking his time. Making sure he appreciated every single layer of clothing you removed for him, right down to unlacing your boots and holding your leg gently to help you out of them. Until you stood there as naked as the day you were born, illuminated by the moonlight on the water. 

“ well ain’t you a sight “

Your skin was so smooth. Soft. Not a single scar that he could see. The skin of a woman who had never had to lift a finger. Had never known the hardships that he had. The only true blemish on your skin was the almost completely faded bruises on your hips. Fingertips. Dutch. 

He soothed his hands up your legs, pressing soft kisses to the pillowy flesh of your thighs as he went, and stopped as he reached them. 

“ He can be a little rough. It’s how he likes it “ you answered before he could even ask. Arthur too had been known to have his rougher moments. But he could never hurt you. Never mark you in anyway other than that of affection and care. 

“ I ain’t like that “ 

“ I know. That’s why I want you “ he pulled you back down into his lap, his large hands splaying over your hips as he took yet another moment just to look. To admire. To thank whatever stupid damn God may exist for placing such a heavenly body in his presence “ I feel a little like the odd one out here though “ you said with a small smile, tracing a finger down from the open top buttons of his shirt to his pants. 

He’d been far too occupied with you to even really notice the fact that he was ridiculously overdressed in comparison. 

“ Can’t have that now can we darlin’ “ your smile grew and you made quick work of the buttons on his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders with a gentle sigh. You ran your fingers through the hair on his chest, nails scratching lightly at his skin and peppering lipstick stained kisses as you went. Littering his collarbones, his sternum.

“ much better “ your hands kept roaming and your lips kept kissing. Hands seemingly wanting to touch him all, scratching lightly up his sides and over his waist, his stomach and his ribs. Slowly moving to slide over his shoulders and loop around his neck. You rolled your hips against him again and whined softly. He was so hard it was growing painful as he stayed restrained by his pants. But he wasn’t selfish. Not like Dutch. And he wasn’t about to seek out any form of pleasure himself until he had you seeing the stars you deserved. 

“ tell me what y’want “ he murmured, peppering soft kisses across your jaw. 

“ touch me “ you sighed blissfully “ please touch me “ 

His hand slipped down in between your bodies, brushing past the soft curls between your legs and couldn’t contain the groan of a sound that left him when he felt how warm and wet you were. 

“ Christ “ he muttered as your head dropped to his shoulder with a shuddering breath “ he ever touch you like this? “ he asked lowly, already knowing the answer. Why would he? He didn’t get anything out of it. 

But Arthur did. Oh Arthur did. 

“ no “ you whispered “ no never…please. More “ he tested the waters, pressing lightly against your clit and revelling in the squeak of a sound that it caused you to make. 

“ or like this? " You shook your head again, breathing shakily as he dragged his finger through the wetness and drew light circles around your entrance. 

“ Arthur “ you moaned his name in the most delicious way as he pushed his finger inside, burying it to the knuckle 

“ yeah and what about this darlin? “ he again knew the answer. Dutch didn’t care about your pleasure. Didn’t care about wasting time on something as simple as making you whimper and whine for more “ he touch you like this? “ 

“ no “ 

“ think ya can take one more for me? “ you nodded again and he withdrew his finger, gathering your slick on his other before pushing them both past the resistance of your entrance “ that’a girl “ he pumped his fingers in and out steadily, curling and probing at your velvety soft walls to test what you liked. 

“ This is so… oh god. This isn’t proper at all “ you laughed slightly, melting into a soft moan. Arthur chuckled, lifting your face up so you’d look at him. 

“ Ain’t proper at all? It’s damn right filthy darlin” your cheeks were aflame and you closed your eyes for a moment, grinding yourself against his hand “ look at ya. Drippin all over ma fingers like that. Ain’t proper. Not one bit “ you smiled, a cheeky, devious smile that made him lean forward and kiss you again. 

You were so wet it was obscene. He couldn’t tell where the sounds of you kissing stopped and the sopping sounds of his fingers began. You continued to grind down against his palm, practically riding his fingers, his whole hand wet and sticky with you. 

And he wanted to taste it. To taste you. To flood his mouth with the slick, liquid gold covering his fingers. It was an almost primal desire, like a desperation as strong as needing air. He needed to. He had to. 

“ Darlin’ “ he murmured, lifting your head from where it had fallen to his neck again “ gotta let me taste you. You gotta “ the look on your face only made him want it more. Your skin flushed and eyes blown out with nothing but pure lust and desire. He’d never needed anything more. Nothing else mattered, not the painful hardness in his pants, not the realisation that you were very much Dutch’s girl. He didn’t care about any of that. He just needed to be between your thighs. 

“ really? No one’s ever- oh god. Yes. Yes. Please Arthur “ he withdrew his fingers making you whimper and quickly grabbed his discarded shirt and lay it down on the ground. Then he kissed you again as he wrapped his arms around your waist, gently turning you to lay back on the shirt. It still couldn’t have been particularly comfortable. But you didn’t seem to mind, tugging at his hair and lifting your hips up against him as he hovered over you. 

He took his time moving down. Leaving a long and slow trail of hot, wet, kisses on your skin. You writhed underneath him, whining softly and twisting your hands in his shirt underneath you. He took extra time with your thighs. Kissing up from the inside of your knee and stopping before he could place his mouth where he really wanted to, then repeating with the other. 

“ Arthur “ you whined, still squirming around and desperate. 

“ I know. I got ya. Gonna make those pretty sounds for me again yeah? "You nodded, pushing yourself up onto your elbows to watch him as his head sank lower, spreading your legs wider to give him full access to the centre of you “ that’s a good girl “ he spread you open with his fingers, in awe of the way you parted for him. Like petals on a flower, dripping with the morning dew. 

But you were far more delectable. A forbidden fruit begging to be tasted. 

And oh was it pretty. Even in the dark, in nothing but the light of the moon on the water, it was pretty. Begging to be tasted, touched. Admired. 

The sound you made as he dragged his tongue from your weeping hole to your clit was like music to his ears. He didn’t know how he managed to not come in his pants just at the sound of it. 

You still kept it quiet, but loud enough for him. 

His own, deep, guttural moan escaped from his chest as he licked again. Your taste flooding his mouth in a way so so much better than he could’ve imagined. 

He ate you like he was starved. Like a savage predator that hadn’t seen meat for days, like a man ready for the gallows enjoying his last meal. His arms wrapped around your thighs, keeping your legs apart for him as you bucked and squirmed against his face. It was visceral. Carnal. You made him feel like his grip on his own composure and control was weaker than ever, that he was holding on to it with nothing but his fingertips. 

“ Arthur “ he dipped his tongue into the welcoming warmth of your cunt, his eyes falling closed for a moment as he felt you clench around him, desperate for more. Desperate for him. And he would give you more, would give you anything you asked of him. But not until he made you come first. 

He let go of one of your legs and brought his fingers back to their previous position, wanting to feel you again. To be inside of you, as close as he could get. To make you see stars. 

The flat of his tongue found your clit again, certain he could feel you pulsing against him. Desperate and full of desire for him. He felt honoured, privileged. That you were so loyal to Dutch, glued to his side. Never even batting an eye at anyone else. And yet you had broken that for him. Had sought him out because you knew he would treat you well. 

Your back arched off the ground as he sunk them back into you, slipping in with a welcome ease. His thick fingers pumped into you at a steady pace, his tongue diverting all its attention to your clit. Lapping and sucking and letting you press his face harder against you as you tugged on his hair. 

“ don’t stop please dont- Arthur “ he had no intentions of stopping, none at all. In fact he simply honed in on his ministrations, working harder to push you closer and closer to the edge of the orgasm he knew you had been craving for weeks. 

“ Not gonna stop darlin. Ain’t stopping until you come for me. Taste so good, so good “ he murmured against you, curling his fingers and hitting a spot that made you gasp and your body shudder “ there we go, right there “ 

He flicked his tongue over your sensitive bundle of nerves, looking at you as best he could to gauge your reaction. You were pulling a little painfully at his hair, squirming and rolling your hips against his face. He let you do it. Let you be the one using a man for your pleasure, rather than being the one used for once. 

Your sounds were sinful. Melodic. He took it all in. Basked in the noises you made for him, the delicious taste of you on his tongue, drunk on you. On your taste. Your smell. 

“ Arthur- Arthur please I- “ you babbled, a slightly smug smile working its way onto his face as he watched your prim and proper facade melt away “ don’t stop “ 

He hummed an assurance that he wouldn’t, your hips bucking against his face as he did. You were so unbelievably wet, dripping out around his fingers and soaking the hair of his beard. He would never have thought it of you. The way you held yourself around camp, so poised and prim. The accent when you spoke that made everyone else around you sound so common. And yet there you were. On your back in the woods, chasing an orgasm being offered to you by an outlaw. Repeating his name like a mantra. 

And not even that of the outlaw you were in love with.

“ Arthur- “

Only seconds later it happened. You held a hand over your mouth as your orgasm hit you, muffling your choked moans, back arching off the ground and walls clamping down on his fingers as he worked you through it. Tongue still working diligently at your clit until you pushed your hand at his head, squirming away a little. 

He almost didn’t want to stop. Could’ve happily stayed there a while longer, but moved back, an obscene wet sound in the late night silence as he withdrew his fingers. 

He took his fingers to his mouth, sucking the remnants of your climax onto his tongue. Unable to control himself. You watched him do it, mouth slightly agape and eyes half open with some desperate undeniable look of utter desire. He could almost see the way it made you feel, could see you unable to contain the overwhelming feeling of realising you were desired. Wanted. 

“ God. You are unbelievable “ you whispered, pushing yourself up onto your elbows and grabbing at his arm. Your fingers looped around his wrist and tugged his hand towards your own mouth. He shook his head with a chuckle, slightly in awe as you took those same two fingers between your red lips. 

Your tongue swirled between his digits, plush lips wrapping around them and sucking. Your eyes locked on his as you did. It made his cock ache. He wanted your lips on him, wanted your tongue swirling around his length and milking him dry. He could imagine it if he thought hard enough. The way you hummed slightly in appreciation as you sucked his fingers clean, sent vibrations straight through his bones. Rattling him to the core. But he would never ask that of you. But the thought was one he would hold onto. It made him shift slightly. 

“ you ain’t so prim and proper lady “ he murmured as he withdrew his fingers, a string of saliva connecting his fingertips and your lips “ This ain’t very proper of you miss “ Arthur said with a small smile, teasing “ rollin’ around in the dirt with the likes of me “ 

“ Oh to hell with being proper if it means I get to feel like this “ you said with a small laugh and he kissed you again for what felt like the millionth time. He wondered if you could taste yourself on his lips, smell the heady delicious smell of you on his beard.

He would’ve been more than happy to leave it at that. No matter how badly he wanted to sheath himself inside you and stay there for eternity. His goal had been your pleasure and he had achieved it. 

But as he kissed you your hands began working at the buckle of his gun belt, opening it with a skilled ease that made him pull back. 

“ Darlin’ you ain’t gotta do that- “

“ shush “ you pushed at him lightly so you could sit up and went to work on the buttons on his pants next “ I want to. I- Arthur take them off “ he made far quicker work of his own clothes than he had of yours and you leant back on your elbows to watch him. 

You looked like a pinup girl. Like something he’d seen drawn come to life. Your eyes seemed hungry as you looked at him, dragging down his body and lingering on his rock hard cock. He was practically throbbing with want, the tip an angry shade of pink and leaking precum slightly embarrassingly “ come here. Please. Back down here “ 

He did as he was asked, crawling back over your body as you eyed him greedily. 

“ We really don’t…I mean, If y’don’t wanna- “ his words stuck in his throat as your fingers wrapped around the length of him with a small sigh. 

“ I want you to I just…can I ask one thing? “ he couldn’t get the word yes to escape his mouth, your fingers squeezing him softly in a way that made him see flashes of white in his vision. So he simply nodded “ don’t fuck me. Dutch fucks me, make love to me “ you seemed a little embarrassed at the request. But he didn’t think it was embarrassing. In fact he had had no plans to use you as brutally as Dutch. He was almost a little offended you thought he might. 

“ Told you, anythin’ you want. You got it “ you smiled softly and pressed another kiss to his lips before laying back down again. He positioned himself over you, caging your head in between his arms. And it truly was incredibly intimate. He wondered when the last time you had had such intimacy was. If you’d ever received such a thing from Dutch. 

He spat on his hand and grabbed a hold of his sensitive cock, stroking himself a couple of times to get himself slick. Not that he really needed to, you were already wetter than he’d ever known a woman to be. But the last thing he wanted was your discomfort. He lined himself up with you, eyes trained on your face as he dragged his weeping tip between your folds. You gasped as he caught your clit, still sensitive and alert from your first orgasm. 

“ Arthur please “ you whimpered rolling your hips up against him, so desperate to have him inside of you. 

“ So God damn wet for me “ he murmured “ such a good girl ain’t ya? “ you whined in answer, fingers wrapping around what you could of his bicep and digging your perfectly trimmed nails into his skin “ gonna make you feel so good I promise darlin’ jus’ like you deserve yeah? “ you whispered out a yes and brought your other hand to the back of his neck. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you, still running his cock along the length of your slit. Teasing. 

“ Keep looking at me. Please look at me Arthur “ he continued to do as asked. Again. Though his eyes had barely strayed from your face anyway “ I need you so badly “ Eyes locked on yours, he finally pushed into you, he took it slow. Letting you take it inch by inch, watching the look of ecstasy wash over your face. Your eyes fell closed. 

He fought to retain his own composure, overwhelmed by the tight, wet, warmth of your walls enveloping him. He could feel every unique ridge and bump that made your cunt oh so perfect, feel every muscle stretch and contract as you adjusted to him. 

“ god- oh god “ 

“ shh shh easy there. I got ya “ he paused once he was seated inside of you, grabbing at your hip with one hand to angle your hips better. Allowing you to comfortably take all of him in. He waited, let you adjust to his size, not daring to move before he got the go ahead from you “ there you go, look at you, takin’ all of me like that. So good f’me “ you basked in his praise, a dopey kind of smile spreading across your face.

“ so much bigger than him “ you whispered with a small laugh and Arthur couldn’t help the smug smile on his face. Kissing you and touching you and making you come on his tongue had been one thing. But having you like this? Having his cock buried to the hilt inside of you, so unbelievably close together. And to then be told that? To know he was about to do you better than Dutch ever had. Ever could. It felt like the biggest fuck you to the man that had been not only mistreating him of late, but also the goddess of a woman beneath him “ I’m good. You can move. Please move “ 

He didn’t need telling twice. Pulling out almost completely and thrusting back in in one smooth motion. The pace he fell into was just as you’d asked. Loving. Tender. But hard and deep, making sure his hips were flush with yours with every stroke. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulled his face back down to kiss him again. 

If anyone had spotted you they’d have easily mistaken you both for a lovesick couple having a private moment to yourselves. The entire thing intimate and passionate. No one would assume it was an affair in motion, hidden away in the woods by the shoreline in fear of your lover finding the pair of you there. 

But it was what you wanted. What you had needed. And he felt privileged to provide. 

He pulled back from your lips to watch you again, enthralled by the way your face relaxed and twisted in the pleasure he was providing you. You continued to spill those angelic sounds from your throat, growing breathier and higher pitch as he continued to drag his cock against the sopping, sensitive heat of your cunt. He had to focus hard not to finish in seconds. So much build up paired with being practically celibate for months was truly doing him no favours, but he focussed. He wasn’t letting this end until you came once more. You deserved it. 

“ Keep those pretty eyes on me “ he murmured as they fell closed again “ that’s it darlin’, look at me there ya go “ everytime he spoke the slightest word of praise you practically beamed, so desperate to hear it. To be told you were good. Beautiful. So different to Dutch constantly yelling at you about how annoying you were, how much your mere presence bothered him these days. So he kept it up. 

“ Doin’ so well for me. This pussy it’s perfect, ain’t that right? C’mon tell me “ he urged, still fighting off his ever looming orgasm. The sounds alone was enough to make him want to burst. Sweat slicked skin on skin, the wet sounds of your cunt dripping around the swollen intrusion of him. And those sweet sweet moans of yours. 

“ yes “ you whimpered “ it’s perfect “ 

“ That’s a good girl “ he increased his pace ever so slightly and your hands slipped from his arms to his back, dragging your nails down him to try to pull him impossibly closer to you. 

He moved a hand down between your bodies, rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts, grunting and choking back his own moans as you squeezed him. Like your body never wanted him to leave, gripping his cock with your cunt and making it ever more harder to hold back. He couldn’t help but have a look, glancing down to see the way you stretched around him, mesmerised at the way you took him in so deep. 

“ tell me I- oh. Tell me I’m beautiful “ you whimpered, sounding almost like you might cry. From pleasure, from upset. He didn’t know. But he continued to do as asked. 

“ you’re beautiful “ he murmured picking up his pace a little more, his sweat slick skin slapping against yours. He was desperate to see you come again. Wanted to see your face up close this time, watch your eyes roll back and your kiss swollen lips part in ecstasy “ so beautiful darlin. Doin’ so well f’me, takin’ me so well “ 

“ don’t stop, don't stop “ he dropped his head to your neck whispering every word of praise he could think of into your ear, your body arching up against his and whimpering and whining with every word. 

“ ain’t ever looked prettier than this “ he whispered, his own voice becoming breathless with the effort “ shit- look at ya, takin’ my cock so well. So pretty darlin’ “ 

Your second orgasm seemed to shock you as much as him, clawing at his skin to hold him close as your body trembled beneath him, biting at his shoulder to muffle your moans. 

He didn’t mean to finish inside of you, had fully intended to pull out. But the way your cunt had squeezed him, the sounds you had made as he pushed you over the edge for the second time.

He muffled his own groan of pleasure in your neck, fingers digging into the dry earth beneath you, spilling load after load whilst fully sheathed inside of you. His entire body tensed, a pleasure he hadn’t felt in an incredibly long time. His heart was hammering in his chest, blood rushing loudly in his ears as it seemed to drag on forever. 

And then he came to his senses. 

“ m’sorry. Shit. Sorry “ he panted as he tried to compose himself and pushed himself up onto his hands to pull out. But you yanked him back down, arms wrapping around his back again and legs tightening around his waist. 

“ no. Please. Stay. Stay right there. Just a moment would you “ he had come to realise in the past.. how long had you two even been out there? However long it was, he’d come to realise he was terrible at saying no to you. Could never possibly even dream to deny you of anything you wanted from him. And so he slumped back down onto his forearms, dropping his head against your shoulder for a moment. Your chest heaved beneath him and you caught your breath, fingers tracing gentle strokes along his spine. He felt he could stay there for hours. 

“ You doin’ okay? “ he asked, pressing a light kiss to your jaw when he had composed himself a little more. 

“ marvellous Mr Morgan “ you whispered with a small smile “ truly. Marvellous “ he couldn’t help but kiss you again, the long lingering kind meant for two lovers. 

After a few minutes you both finally moved, re dressing in silence and then sitting back in your original position against the tree. He handed you a cigarette, lighting it and placing it between your lips. 

He wondered what he looked like. Wondered what evidence you had left on him. Had he sweated off the lipstick prints on his chest or were they still there? He knew you had scratched his back up good and proper and would have that reminder there for a few days at least. 

“ Thank you. Mr Morgan '' you said quietly after a few silent moments of smoking, blowing out a long stream of smoke “ I mean it I- i'm not sure what I’m supposed to say “ 

“ Don’t say anythin’ “ he said with a small wave of his hand, appearing as blaise as he possibly could but in reality knowing he wasn’t about to forget that night anytime soon “ its fine. Really. Anytime y’need me, for anythin’, you know where I’ll be “ you smiled and he watched your body relax a little more. 

“ you know, i might just take you up on that “ 

He sincerely hoped you would. 

Update: I currently have ZERO intentions to ever write a second part to this. I have been asked so many times since uploading this originally that I’ve lost count. But I have absolutely no ideas or inspirations for a second part at any point in the near. Or far. Future. It was always meant to be a stand alone like all my one shots are. But tysm for the love <3

[katsu28]

maiden wins & secret meet-ups

pairing: oscar piastri x verstappen!reader

summary: cons of being in a secret relationship—oscar wins his first race, and you can't celebrate with him outright like you want to. (1.9k)

warnings: secret relationship, max’s younger sister but no descriptors of reader so imagine whomever you want!

a/n: oscar piastri grand prix winner sounds like music to my ears <3 better decisions definitely could've been made on mclaren’s end, but still over the moon for oscar!!! 

You have mixed feelings as Oscar zooms past the checkered flag. 

Your brother is pissed. Max has been furious the entire race, at the car’s capabilities, at the team’s strategies, and more than likely at himself too. He’s hard on himself, but that’s the way you have to be to maintain a razor sharp edge like the one Max has.

You’re a little upset too, what with sibling solidarity and all, but you really have to fight the truly massive smile threatening to overtake your face as you watch the broadcast from Red Bull hospitality. 

It’s not everyday the guy you’ve been secretly seeing for the past five months—your boyfriend, as much as it still feels weird to say that—gets his maiden Formula One win. He’s worked hard, as everyone involved with all the teams has, but you’re biased.

Oscar’s win, although marked with some not so great strategy calls on McLaren’s end, even you could tell, is one for the books. 

You’re buzzing with barely contained excitement, even hours later, itching to find Oscar and pull him aside so you can give him the love he deserves for everything that happened today. 

It seems like Oscar’s thinking of you too, because your phone chimes with a text right then. 

Oscar: Hey, what’re you doing right now? 

You bite your lip to hide the giddy reaction you still get whenever Oscar texts you as you tap out a reply. Nothing. What’s up? 

Oscar: Behind the RB hub. Can you sneak out? 

You: Be right there <3

You look up, glancing around to see if anyone who’d go running straight to Max was around, and gladly coming up empty. You’re glad for it, because you’re not sure you could’ve stopped yourself from hightailing it towards the back exit of the motorhome even if you wanted to. You haven’t seen Oscar after the race yet. There hasn’t been a good time to sneak out and find him. 

Oscar’s pacing back and forth when you emerge, stopping only when he hears the soft click of the door closing behind you. For a moment, all you can do is stare at each other, unmoving.

You can’t help but look him up and down too, because you’re definitely not immune to how sexy your man looks post race.

Race suit tied off around his waist, showing off those snug black fireproofs that cling to his chest and arms just right, messy hair tucked into that special black OP1 cap—you’re not ashamed of your ogling. 

Then he smiles adorably, and now you’re grinning like a maniac too, letting out a gleeful, albeit quiet giggle as you close the gap and throw yourself into his arms. 

He catches you easily, arms winding around your waist as he hugs you tightly. You’ve got your cheek squished against the hard plane of his shoulder, and the zipper of his suit digs into your hip sharply, but you’re so happy for him, so happy that it doesn’t even matter. 

“I’m so proud of you, Osc,” You sigh contentedly. “I narrowly avoided cheering at the top of my lungs in the middle of the hub. Would not have been a good look for me, would it?” 

“Probably not, no,” Oscar laughs, setting you back down on your feet. His arms stay in their place around you, as do yours where they’re looped around his neck.

You take him in fully now, flicking the bill of his new cap playfully. “Nice hat.” 

“You think so?” You nod wholeheartedly and he swipes it off his head, blowing the previously champagne soaked confetti off of it before securing it on your head. It’s a bit sticky and even more sweaty, but the gesture itself makes you beam. Then he leans in to sniff it and makes a weird face. “Yeah, maybe I’ll just get you a new one.” 

“That'd be great, actually. I want you to keep this one to remember your first win—champagne, sweat, and all. But I’ll keep it as collateral until you cough up the clean one.” 

“Deal,” He replies, smiling fondly at you. “D’you have any dinner plans? If not, maybe we can order in, or find a nice restaurant?” 

“A nice restaurant?” You tease, walking your fingers up the sleeves of his fireproof. Muscles pull taut under your fingertips like cords as Oscar shivers at your touch. You’re grinning like the cat that’s got the cream now, always enjoying the reaction you can get out of him every single time, no matter where you are. “Are we celebrating something, or…?” 

Oscar shrugs nonchalantly. “We don’t have to. It could just be a casual dinner, if you want.” 

“Oscar Piastri, you need to learn to be more selfish. Of course we’re celebrating your first win,” You huff, smacking him on the chest lightly. His lips quirk up into a smile again. “You did amazing. Seriously. McLaren is beyond lucky to have you on the track for them.” 

“Thank you,” He murmurs, squeezing your hip tenderly. “It means a lot coming from you.”

You lean in to kiss him, finally, but then—

“Your—erm, your back pocket is buzzing,” Oscar says awkwardly, chin up as he averts his eyes to the sky. You groan, letting your forehead fall against his chest, fishing the offending device out of your pocket again to see your brother’s face filling the screen. 

Max is calling you. You love him to bits, but he always has the absolute worst timing. 

“Hi, Maxie. What’s up?” 

“Where are you?” He demands. 

“I’m great, thanks for asking. Yes, I did enjoy watching you race, thanks for asking,” You encourage, leaning back to shoot Oscar a look as if to say, can you believe this guy? 

“Right, yeah. Sorry. I appreciate you making the trip out to watch. Better?” 

“Much better.” 

“Good. So where are you?” 

“Uh…just getting some air, why?” 

“Outside?” 

“No, in your stinky driver’s room. Yes, I’m outside. Again, why?” You roll your eyes at Oscar, who merely chuckles silently. Max sighs loudly. Dramatically. “Are you alright, Max?” 

“Yeah, fine, fine. Are you free for dinner tonight before you fly back to London in the morning?” He sounds uncharacteristically hopeful, but still a little stiff, like he’s still pissed. He probably is still pissed. 

How are you supposed to tell Max you already have dinner plans with someone else when he knows for a fact you’re not close enough with anyone else in the paddock to get dinner with them, without letting him know who it is? 

The answer is you can’t. 

You look at Oscar hopelessly. 

It’s fine, he mouths, shaking his head. You get the message. He wants you to be there for your brother, even if it means missing out on spending some much overdue time with you. 

“Yes, of course. Anything for my darling big brother,” You say airily. You’ve always loved to push Max’s buttons. 

“You’re not funny, you know that?” Max deadpans. You can almost picture the flat look he’d be giving you if you were in front of him. But then he sounds a little happier when he adds, “I’m almost to the paddock. I’ll meet you outside the team hub as soon as I can.” 

Knowing Max, ‘as soon as I can’ gives you about five minutes to gather yourself. “Okay. I’ll see you soon then. Love you.” Max parrots the same back to you before hanging up. You look back up at your boyfriend, lips pressing into an apologetic smile. “I’m really sorry, Osc. He—you know how Max gets after a frustrating race, I—” 

“It’s alright. Really.” Oscar shakes his head, shrugging. “Family first. He needs you right now, I get it.” 

“We’ll celebrate your win with dinner as soon as we both get back to London, alright? I promise. Maybe I’ll even cook for you.” 

His eyebrows nearly fly into his hairline at that, and he tilts his head, letting out a thoughtful noise. “Maybe I should win more often if it means I get a home cooked meal for it.” 

“Maybe you should. Winning looks good on you anyways.” 

“Does it? I’m still trying to wrap my head around it, believe me. Feels good though, even if it wasn’t exactly smooth sailing.” 

“You did great,” You say firmly, punctuating the fact with a sharp nod. “Own it.”

Oscar blinks a few times, as if he’s digesting the compliment. “Thank you.” 

“Alright, you need to go before Max gets here, because he’ll probably try to fight you if he sees us together.” 

“Your brother likes me.” 

“We’ll talk about why that may or may not be true another time. For now, go.” You give his chest what’s meant to be one last tap before you go. 

Oscar, however, has a different idea. He grabs your hand as you move to pull away, tugging you back towards him and pressing his lips against yours, firm enough to knock the wind out of you, but not hard enough to bruise. 

You’re fully aware that you’re technically in public, where anyone could turn the corner to see the two of you wrapped up in your own little world together. Specifically, any Red Bull employee that would definitely rat you out to Max. It doesn’t really matter to you though, because all that’s running through your mind right now is Oscar, Oscar, Oscar—

He pulls back too soon for your liking, dotting a quick kiss to your cheek before stepping back. “Alright, I’ll be off then.” 

“Real funny, Piastri!” You call after him. He just shoots you a haphazard thumbs up behind his head, though you suspect if he turned around he’d be grinning like a little shit. 

“Don’t forget to hide that hat!” is all he says in response, and then he’s out of sight. 

You slip back into the motorhome through the door you came through, hiding Oscar’s hat until you get to where you’ve stored your bag and stuffing it in as best you can, before hurrying out to wait for Max out front. 

He materializes by your side only seconds after you’ve managed to make yourself a little more put together, startling you with his blunt words. 

“Why do you look like that?” He asks, squinting at you in confusion. 

“Wow, thanks. You look absolutely stunning today too.” You roll your eyes at him, to which he just raises a judgy brow. “Why do I look like what?”

“Like you’ve just been hit over the head with a frying pan.” 

At that moment, a flash of papaya catches your eye from over his shoulder—Oscar, walking off back towards the McLaren hub like he hadn’t just kissed the daylights out of you behind his competitor’s temporary sanctuary. If you look dazed, it’s all because of him. But you can’t exactly tell Max that. 

“Oh, um, I dunno. Just tired, maybe. Long day. Intense race.” 

Max blows out a sigh, slinging an arm around your shoulders and leaning on you heavily. “Tell me about it.”

You pat him on the back sympathetically. “Sorry for the way it turned out, Maxie. You’ll get the win next time.” 

“Yeah I know. But Oscar—he’s not that bad, as far as drivers go. What do you think?” 

What do you think of Oscar? 

You think he’s one of the best things to ever come into your life. You think he’s got the potential of becoming a World Champion one day. You think he’s truly something special, both as a driver, and to you. 

Instead, you shrug. “He’s pretty good. Don’t really know him all that well, but he seems like a solid guy.” 

You want Oscar to be your little secret for just a little longer, even if it means telling your brother a tiny white lie.

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[urdreamydoodles]

X-Men x Reader (Part.1)

They accidentally hurt you (Part.1)

You're accidentally hurt during a moment of loss of control by your powerful partners

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers, Erik Lehnsherr, Bobby Drake, Wade Wilson, Warren Worthington III, Jean Grey & Rogue

Logan Howlett (Wolverine)

It happened so fast you barely registered the pain. One minute you were training with Logan in the Danger Room, sparring as usual, the two of you enjoying the playful back-and-forth of dodging each other's hits. Logan was holding back, as he always did, but that wild intensity still gleamed in his eyes—a part of him that would never fully shut off. You loved that about him. But then, in a split second, something shifted. His movements were too fast, too fierce. Before you could react, his claws were out, and the sharp edge caught your arm.

You gasped as a searing pain shot through your body, clutching your arm as you stumbled back. Blood dripped down your skin, the deep cut immediately soaking through your sleeve. For a moment, Logan just stood there, wide-eyed, his breath caught in his throat. The claws retracted instantly, and you saw the horror in his face as he processed what he had done.

“Darlin’… oh God, no. I didn’t mean—” His voice was rough, like gravel, choked with disbelief and panic. He was on you in a second, dropping to his knees beside you and gently taking your arm in his hands, careful not to hurt you further. You winced at the touch, but the pain wasn’t what hurt most. It was the look on Logan’s face—like he had broken something irreplaceable between you.

“I’m fine,” you whispered, though your voice was shaky. “It was an accident.”

But Logan wasn’t hearing it. His hands trembled as he held your arm, his head lowered like he was ashamed to even look at you. “I should’ve been more careful. Damn it, Y/N. I never should’ve… I should’ve known better.”

You reached out with your free hand, cupping his rough, scruffy cheek to make him look at you. “Logan, it’s okay. You didn’t mean to. I know you’d never hurt me on purpose.”

But the guilt in his eyes didn’t fade. His jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might pull away, retreat back into that place he went when he was ashamed of himself, afraid of losing control. But instead, he leaned into your touch, closing his eyes as if drawing strength from you. “I can’t lose you, Y/N,” he muttered. “I can’t… I couldn’t live with myself if I did.”

You smiled softly, despite the throbbing pain in your arm. “You won’t. I’m right here, Logan. Always.”

His eyes opened, and in them, you saw the raw vulnerability that he so rarely let anyone see. He pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you carefully, protectively. “I’ll fix this,” he whispered into your hair, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll make it right.”

And in that moment, as you leaned into his embrace, you knew he would.

Remy LeBeau (Gambit)

It started as a typical night in the mansion—Remy was showing off as usual, flicking cards across the room with that charming grin of his, teasing you with sly winks. You sat on the couch, amused but unimpressed, knowing his routine far too well by now. But you loved watching him in his element, loved the way his eyes lit up with that mischievous energy whenever he was around you. It was intoxicating.

“Y’know, chérie, if you keep lookin’ at me like that, I might have to take you out for another round of cards.” His voice dripped with playful flirtation as he tossed another charged card into the air.

You rolled your eyes, leaning back on the couch. “Remy, you know I always beat you.”

He laughed, and in that moment, he flicked his wrist to toss another card—except this time, something went wrong. Maybe he misjudged the charge, or maybe it was just bad luck, but the card shot towards you too fast, too charged, and before you could react, it exploded with a small burst of kinetic energy right in front of you.

The force knocked you off the couch, sending you tumbling onto the floor with a sharp yelp of pain. Your arm burned where the blast had hit, and you groaned as you tried to sit up, clutching the now-aching limb.

“Y/N!” Remy’s voice was filled with panic as he rushed to your side, dropping to his knees beside you. His hands hovered over you, unsure where to touch, as if he was afraid of hurting you more. “Chérie, I’m so sorry, I didn’t—God, I didn’t mean to do that.”

You winced, blinking back tears as you pressed a hand to your arm. “It’s okay, Remy… just a little burn. I’ll live.”

But Remy wasn’t having any of it. His normally cocky expression was gone, replaced with genuine worry as he gently helped you sit up. “Let me see,” he said softly, carefully pulling your hand away from the burn on your arm. His fingers were gentle as they inspected the damage, his eyes dark with regret. “Merde, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’d never hurt you, you know that, right?”

You nodded, offering him a small smile despite the pain. “I know. It was an accident.”

But he still looked haunted, his jaw tight as he gingerly cradled your arm. “Still… I should’ve been more careful. Should’ve been payin’ more attention.”

You placed your other hand on his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath your palm. “Remy, really, I’m okay. It’s not that bad.”

He let out a shaky breath, his shoulders slumping with relief, though the guilt still lingered in his eyes. “I don’t deserve you, chérie,” he muttered, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “You’re too good to me.”

You chuckled, wincing slightly at the movement. “You better believe it.”

But even as you tried to make light of it, Remy’s hands never left your skin, as if he needed to feel that you were still there, still with him. And in that moment, you knew that no matter what, he would always be there to protect you—even from himself.

Kurt Wagner (Nightcrawler)

You had always loved watching Kurt move—the way he seemed to dance across the air, teleporting with ease, his body a blur of grace and power. You were training together, and though you weren’t nearly as agile as him, you tried your best to keep up, determined to prove that you could hold your own.

But then, in a blink, Kurt disappeared—teleporting just out of your reach as you swung your fist. You spun around, ready to block him when he reappeared, but you miscalculated, and before you could react, his tail whipped out, striking you in the ribs with more force than he intended.

The air was knocked out of you, and you stumbled back, clutching your side as pain radiated through your body. You gasped for breath, wincing as you sank to the ground, your chest heaving.

“Y/N!” Kurt’s voice was frantic, and in an instant, he was kneeling beside you, his golden eyes wide with panic. “Oh mein Gott, I didn’t mean—are you hurt?”

You couldn’t speak for a moment, too focused on catching your breath, but when you finally looked up at him, you saw the sheer horror on his face. He reached out, his hand trembling as he gently touched your side, where his tail had struck you. “I’m so sorry. I should have been more careful.”

You tried to smile, though the pain made it difficult. “It’s okay, Kurt. You didn’t mean to.”

His brow furrowed, his eyes filled with guilt as he gently helped you sit up. “I never wanted to hurt you. I’m so sorry.”

You leaned into him, resting your head against his shoulder as you caught your breath. “I know. It was an accident. I’ll be fine.”

But Kurt shook his head, his tail curling around your waist in a protective gesture. “I should have been more gentle. I forget how strong I am sometimes.”

You chuckled softly, wincing at the pain in your ribs. “I think you forget that you’re not the only one with superpowers.”

He smiled weakly, his hand cupping your cheek as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “Ja, but I’m supposed to protect you. Not hurt you.”

You sighed, leaning into his touch. “You do protect me. Every day.”

Kurt’s golden eyes softened, and he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. “I will never let anything happen to you, Y/N. I swear it.”

And as you rested in his embrace, the pain in your ribs forgotten for the moment, you knew that no matter what, Kurt would always be there for you—his love for you stronger than any force in the world.

Scott Summers (Cyclops)

The sun had just started to set, casting an orange glow across the grounds of Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. You and Scott were outside, sparring as part of your usual training routine. Scott was always serious when it came to training, which you both admired and found frustrating at times. He had such control over his abilities, never letting his optic blasts get out of hand—except today, something was off. He was more intense than usual, perhaps trying to push you to your limits, or maybe his mind was somewhere else.

You dodged a series of his blasts, your body fluid and graceful as you maneuvered across the field. You were teasing him lightly, enjoying the way his focus made him that much more determined. “Come on, Summers, is that all you’ve got?” you called out, your smile playful, though your heart raced with the thrill of the challenge.

Scott’s jaw clenched in response, his visor glowing red as he prepared to shoot another blast. You saw the energy build in his eyes, felt the air shift around you. But something went wrong. The blast was too powerful, larger than any you’d seen him use in training, and before you could react, the beam struck you hard in the chest, sending you flying backward across the field.

The pain hit you instantly, searing through your body as you hit the ground with a force that knocked the wind out of you. You gasped, clutching your chest, the world spinning around you as you tried to process what had just happened. You could barely breathe, the shock and pain overwhelming your senses.

“Y/N!” Scott’s voice was filled with panic, and within moments, he was by your side, falling to his knees as he reached for you. His visor dimmed as he tried to assess the damage, his hands hovering over your body, afraid to touch you in case he hurt you more. “I’m so sorry, I—God, I didn’t mean to. Are you okay?”

You tried to respond, but the words caught in your throat, a sharp pain running through your chest with every breath. Scott’s eyes were wild with fear behind his visor, his face pale as he gently touched your arm, his fingers trembling.

“I lost control,” he whispered, his voice thick with guilt. “I wasn’t paying attention. I didn’t… I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You managed to shake your head, your breathing shallow as you tried to reassure him. “I know… it was an accident, Scott.”

But Scott wasn’t listening. His hands moved to your shoulders, carefully pulling you into his arms, cradling you as if you were made of glass. “I should have been more careful. I should have… I could have killed you.”

Tears stung at your eyes, both from the pain and from seeing him like this—so afraid, so broken. You reached up, placing a hand on his cheek, feeling the stubble beneath your fingers. “I’m okay,” you whispered, though the words came out weak. “I’m okay, Scott.”

But he shook his head, his grip on you tightening slightly as if he was afraid you would slip away from him. “I can’t lose you, Y/N. I can’t… I won’t let anything happen to you again.”

You smiled weakly, resting your head against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear. “You won’t. I’m still here.”

And as he held you close, his heart pounding with fear and love, you knew that Scott would never forgive himself for this, even though you already had. He would spend the rest of his life making sure you were safe, even if it meant holding back from the one thing he feared the most—losing control.

Erik Lehnsherr (Magneto)

The battlefield was chaos, metal flying through the air as Erik used his powers to dismantle the enemy’s weapons, tearing through their defenses with a fury that left you breathless. You fought alongside him, your movements sharp and precise as you took down opponent after opponent, the two of you moving like a well-oiled machine. But in the midst of the battle, something went wrong—something that neither of you saw coming.

Erik was focused, his hands outstretched as he bent the metal around him to his will. You were too close, though, too caught up in the fight to notice how close you had drifted to his range of control. Suddenly, a piece of sharp metal flew toward you, faster than you could react. It struck you in the side, tearing through your skin with a force that knocked you to the ground.

The pain was immediate, white-hot and searing through your body as you gasped for air, clutching your side where blood had already begun to pool. You tried to move, but the pain was too much, your vision blurring as you struggled to stay conscious.

“Y/N!” Erik’s voice cut through the noise of battle, filled with a panic you had never heard from him before. In an instant, the metal around you dropped to the ground as he rushed to your side, falling to his knees beside you. His hands hovered over the wound, his face pale as he tried to assess the damage. “Oh, no… no, no, no. I didn’t mean to… I didn’t see you.”

You groaned, the pain making it hard to focus as you looked up at him, his face twisted with guilt and fear. “Erik… I’m fine,” you managed to choke out, though you knew it wasn’t true.

He shook his head, his hands pressing down gently on the wound in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding. “This is my fault,” he muttered, his voice thick with self-loathing. “I should have been more careful. I never should have let you get this close.”

You winced, reaching up to touch his face, your fingers brushing against his cheek. “Erik… it was an accident.”

But he wasn’t hearing you. His eyes were dark with regret, his jaw clenched as he tried to control the rising panic in his chest. “No,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I should have protected you.”

Tears stung at your eyes as you watched him, the man who had always been so strong, so sure of himself, now broken and afraid. You could see the fear in his eyes, the fear of losing you, of not being able to save you this time. “You did,” you whispered, your voice weak. “You always do.”

He shook his head again, his hands trembling as he continued to press against the wound, his heart pounding in his chest. “I won’t let you die,” he muttered, his voice filled with a desperation you had never heard from him before. “I won’t.”

And as you lay there in his arms, the pain slowly fading away as darkness crept in at the edges of your vision, you knew that Erik would move heaven and earth to save you. But in that moment, all you could do was hold onto him, knowing that no matter what happened, you were loved.

Bobby Drake (Iceman)

You and Bobby had always been a team, whether it was on the battlefield or just in life. His easygoing nature balanced out your more serious demeanor, and together, you were unstoppable. Today was no different—you were fighting alongside the X-Men, taking down the latest threat to mutantkind with the precision of a well-practiced team.

But in the heat of battle, accidents happen. Bobby had just formed an ice slide, using it to send an opponent flying across the battlefield when he lost control for just a split second. The slide shifted, sending a sharp shard of ice flying toward you. You didn’t see it coming until it was too late.

The ice struck your leg, cutting deep into the muscle and sending you crashing to the ground with a cry of pain. The cold immediately numbed the area, but the pain was still there, sharp and unrelenting as you clutched your leg, trying to stop the bleeding.

Bobby’s heart stopped the moment he saw you fall. “Y/N!” He was at your side in an instant, his face pale with shock and guilt. His hands hovered over the wound, his breath coming in short, panicked bursts. “I didn’t—God, I didn’t mean to. I’m so sorry.”

You winced, trying to push through the pain as you looked up at him. “Bobby, it’s okay… just an accident.”

But Bobby wasn’t listening. His hands were shaking as he tried to freeze the wound, slowing the bleeding with his powers. “I should’ve been more careful,” he muttered, his voice thick with guilt. “I should’ve been paying more attention.”

You groaned, your leg throbbing as the ice numbed the pain. “Bobby, it’s fine. It’s not that bad.”

But Bobby wasn’t convinced. His blue eyes were filled with fear as he carefully wrapped his arms around you, lifting you off the ground with ease. “I’m taking you back to the mansion,” he said firmly, his voice trembling slightly. “We’re getting you patched up.”

You didn’t argue, the pain too much for you to resist as you leaned into his embrace. “Okay,” you whispered, your head resting against his chest as he carried you away from the battlefield.

And as you drifted in and out of consciousness, you could feel the guilt radiating off of him, the fear that he had hurt you, even though you knew it was an accident. But in that moment, all you could do was hold onto him, knowing that no matter what happened, Bobby would always be there to protect you.

Wade Wilson (Deadpool)

You’ve always known that being with Wade came with a certain level of risk. Sure, he was fun, witty, and had a charm that kept you laughing no matter what—but he was also chaotic, reckless, and had an unhealthy obsession with danger. You loved him for all of it. Even the crazy stunts that had your heart in your throat. But this time… things went too far.

It was supposed to be a simple mission. Wade had assured you of that when he convinced you to join him. “Come on, babe, it’ll be a piece of cake,” he’d said with a grin. “Just a few bad guys, a few guns, and then we’re out. Easy peasy!”

Of course, nothing with Wade is ever “easy peasy.”

You were both knee-deep in a firefight, bullets flying around you as Wade expertly sliced through enemies with his katanas, making sarcastic comments with every swing. You were holding your own, taking down attackers with precision, trusting Wade to watch your back like always. But as the fight escalated, so did Wade’s recklessness.

He was laughing, spinning through the air with a grenade in hand, yelling something about “making it rain” before tossing it toward a group of enemies. Except… it wasn’t just the enemies in the blast radius.

You saw the grenade land just a few feet away from where you were crouched behind cover. Time seemed to slow as realization hit. The explosion was deafening, the force of it sending you flying backward, crashing hard into the concrete wall behind you. Pain exploded through your body, a sharp, burning sensation spreading from your side where the shrapnel had torn through your skin.

The world around you blurred, the sounds of battle fading as you gasped for breath, clutching your side as blood seeped between your fingers. You could barely move, your limbs heavy, the pain overwhelming every sense.

“Y/N!” Wade’s voice cut through the haze, suddenly filled with panic. Within seconds, he was kneeling beside you, his usual carefree attitude gone, replaced with genuine fear. His hands hovered over you, shaking as he tried to figure out what to do. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit… babe, I… I didn’t… I didn’t mean to—”

You tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come, your chest tightening with every breath. Wade’s face twisted with guilt and fear, his mask pushed up just enough to reveal the raw emotion on his face. He pressed his hands against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding, but he was shaking too much to be effective.

“Don’t you die on me, Y/N,” he muttered, his voice trembling. “Don’t you dare. I swear I’ll kill everyone here if you—if you don’t…”

You reached up, managing to brush your fingers against his cheek. “Wade…” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “It’s okay…”

“It’s not okay!” Wade shouted, his voice cracking. “I—God, I’m such an idiot! I should’ve been more careful! I never should’ve—”

Tears stung your eyes as you watched him, the man who never took anything seriously, now completely falling apart because of you. You knew he blamed himself, even though you didn’t. It was an accident, a risk that came with being with someone like him. But seeing him like this, so afraid of losing you, broke your heart.

“I’m sorry,” Wade whispered, his voice barely above a whisper now. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

You squeezed his hand weakly, managing a small smile through the pain. “I’m still here, Wade.”

And as the world around you faded into darkness, you held onto that small bit of reassurance—that no matter how reckless he was, Wade Wilson loved you more than anything. And he’d fight to the ends of the earth to keep you safe.

Warren Worthington III (Angel)

Flying with Warren had always been one of your favorite things. There was something freeing about soaring through the sky with him, the wind rushing through your hair as you clung to his warm, muscular frame. His wings, beautiful and powerful, were like an extension of him—graceful, protective, and strong.

You trusted Warren implicitly. He’d never let you fall before, always keeping you close to him when you flew together. But today, something went wrong. It was supposed to be just another evening flight, the two of you escaping the chaos of the world below to find solace in the clouds. You had no idea it would end the way it did.

You were high up, the city below you nothing more than a blur of lights. Warren held you close as he flew, his arms wrapped around you, his wings beating rhythmically as you both enjoyed the peaceful moment. But suddenly, there was a shift in the air, and Warren’s hold on you loosened.

You gasped as you felt yourself slip from his grasp, your heart lurching in your chest as you plummeted toward the ground below. The wind roared in your ears, and for a split second, you thought this was it—that you were going to die.

But then Warren was there, his arms catching you just before you hit the ground, his wings flaring out as he desperately tried to slow your fall. You hit the ground hard, pain exploding through your body as you landed awkwardly on your side, your breath knocked out of you. The world spun around you as you groaned in pain, clutching your ribs where the impact had been the worst.

“Y/N!” Warren’s voice was filled with panic as he knelt beside you, his wings folding back as he reached for you. His hands hovered over you, unsure of where to touch without hurting you more. “Oh God, I—are you okay? I didn’t mean to… I lost my grip, I… I’m so sorry.”

You winced, trying to breathe through the pain, but each breath was a struggle. “Warren… I’m okay,” you managed to choke out, though the pain said otherwise.

Warren’s face twisted with guilt, his usually calm and composed demeanor shattered as he looked at you. “No, you’re not,” he muttered, his voice thick with self-loathing. “I should’ve been more careful. I never should’ve… I almost…”

Tears stung at your eyes as you watched him, the man who always seemed so invincible, now broken and afraid because of what he’d done. You knew he blamed himself, even though you didn’t. It was an accident, something that could’ve happened to anyone. But seeing him like this—so shaken, so vulnerable—made your heart ache.

“I’ve got you,” Warren whispered, his voice trembling as he carefully pulled you into his arms, cradling you against his chest. “I’m not letting go again. I swear.”

You leaned into him, your body aching but your heart full as you listened to his heartbeat, strong and steady beneath you. “I know,” you whispered, closing your eyes as the pain slowly began to fade. “I trust you, Warren.”

And as he held you close, his wings wrapping around you protectively, you knew that no matter what happened, Warren would never let anything hurt you again. Not even himself.

Jean Grey (Phoenix)

Being with Jean was like being wrapped in warmth and light, the love you shared radiating between you in ways that went beyond the physical. Her telepathy meant that she always knew what you were thinking, what you were feeling, and that connection made your bond stronger than you ever thought possible.

But sometimes, her powers were unpredictable. Sometimes, when her emotions got the best of her, things would slip.

It had been a stressful day for Jean. The team had just come back from a difficult mission, and you could feel the weight of it bearing down on her. You tried to comfort her, to be there for her like you always were, but Jean was lost in her own head, overwhelmed by the flood of thoughts and emotions around her.

"Jean," you called softly, stepping closer to her as she stood in the center of the room, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. "Talk to me."

She didn't respond at first, her eyes closed as she tried to quiet the noise in her mind. You could feel the tension rolling off of her in waves, and you knew something was wrong. Before you could say anything else, though, Jean's eyes snapped open, glowing faintly with the power of the Phoenix that lived within her.

"Y/N, I—" she started, her voice shaking, but before she could finish, a surge of telekinetic energy burst from her, slamming into you without warning.

The force sent you flying across the room, your body colliding hard with the wall before crumpling to the floor. Pain shot through your spine as you gasped for breath, struggling to make sense of what had just happened. Your vision blurred for a moment, the edges darkening as you fought to stay conscious.

"Y/N!" Jean's voice was filled with horror as she rushed to your side, her telekinetic powers immediately pulling you into her arms before you could fall any further. "Oh God, I didn’t mean to—I didn’t—"

You groaned, clutching your side where the pain was the worst, but you forced yourself to look up at her. Her face was pale, her eyes wide and brimming with tears, her hands trembling as she held you.

"Jean…" you whispered, your voice weak as the pain pulsed through you. "It's… it's okay."

She shook her head violently, tears spilling down her cheeks. "No, it's not! I hurt you! I—my powers—I lost control and—" Her voice cracked as she choked back a sob, her grip tightening around you. "I’m so sorry, Y/N. I didn't mean to…"

You reached up, brushing your fingers against her cheek. "I know. I know you didn’t mean to."

Jean closed her eyes, her tears falling onto your skin as she leaned into your touch. "I can’t… I can’t lose control like that," she whispered. "I can't risk hurting you. I love you too much…"

You smiled weakly, your thumb gently wiping away her tears. "Jean, I trust you. You’re the strongest person I know. And I know you’d never hurt me on purpose."

She opened her eyes, looking down at you with so much love and pain in her gaze that it made your heart ache. "I’m scared," she admitted, her voice trembling. "What if I can’t control it next time? What if the Phoenix—"

You shook your head, cutting her off. "We’ll figure it out. Together. You don’t have to do this alone, Jean."

Jean let out a shaky breath, her arms wrapping around you protectively as she held you close, her forehead resting against yours. "Thank you," she whispered. "I don’t deserve you."

You smiled, your hand resting against her chest, feeling the steady beat of her heart beneath your palm. "Yes, you do. You always have."

Rogue (Anna Marie)

Loving Rogue was like holding a flame in your hands—beautiful, intense, and dangerous. But you had never feared her. Not once. Despite her worries about her powers, despite the distance she tried to put between you for your own safety, you had never doubted that you could make this work. You loved her, and she loved you, and that was all that mattered.

Still, Rogue was always afraid that one day, her powers would get out of control. And today, her fear became reality.

You were in the training room, helping her practice her control, something you did often. It wasn’t an official Danger Room session, just the two of you. Rogue had been getting better, learning to control her skin’s power-draining abilities, learning to hold back. But it was still a work in progress.

You’d been sparring, teasing each other with light-hearted jabs, when it happened. Her glove slipped during a fast block, and her bare hand grazed your wrist.

The sensation was instant. You felt the strength drain from your body, your energy slipping away like water through your fingers. Your knees buckled, and you crumpled to the floor, your vision darkening around the edges. You could hear Rogue’s panicked voice, but it was distant, muffled.

“Y/N!” Her voice cracked as she rushed to your side, pulling her gloves back on with trembling hands. “Oh God, oh God, Ah didn’t mean to! Please, wake up, sugah, please!”

You blinked, the world coming back into focus as the wave of exhaustion began to fade. Rogue knelt beside you, her hands hovering over you but not touching, her green eyes wide with terror.

“Ah hurt ya,” she whispered, her accent thicker than usual, her voice trembling. “Ah didn’t mean to, Ah swear! Ah was bein’ careful, Ah—”

“Rogue…” you croaked, reaching up weakly to grab her wrist. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

She shook her head, tears pooling in her eyes. “No, it’s not okay! Ah coulda killed ya. Ah almost did!”

You struggled to sit up, and Rogue immediately helped you, her hands steady but her eyes full of guilt. “You didn’t,” you said softly. “You didn’t, and that’s what matters.”

Rogue’s lower lip trembled as she looked at you, her usually strong demeanor cracking. “Ah can’t keep riskin’ your life like this. Ah can’t control it, and Ah don’t want to hurt ya again.”

You cupped her cheek, your thumb brushing away a tear. “You’re not going to lose me, Rogue. I’m not afraid of you.”

Her breath hitched, and she leaned into your touch, closing her eyes as a tear slipped down her cheek. “Ah love ya too much to lose ya.”

“And I love you too much to leave,” you whispered, pressing your forehead to hers. “We’ll figure this out. Together.”

[shrimpybbq]

a timeline of rafe cameron and obx actress!reader’s character’s relationship (+ their real life one) pt 1

anon request: do you think you could do little headcannons or like a timeline of each season of their relationship or her character’s involvement in the show? i’m OBSESSED💜

season 1: the set up

introducing, the pogues. all the usual suspects are shown, but the second episode of the season introduces iris. a pogue somewhat mixed up in both sides. she was three years older than the rest of the group, but knew them well as she was jj’s neighbour, and luke always made her babysit jj as a kid, even though she had no clue what to do

iris went to kildare academy on a scholarship and she was always treated awfully for it. she took on a job at a men’s boutique in town too, needing to help pay the bills at home. she also worked as a waitress at the wreck during summer

she’s beautiful though, and as much as she hates the attention, it helps her get extra tips at work

rafe was in her year at the academy, but often got suspended (before ward paid the school off), and the pair never really talked - except for one time

rafe was having a coke-induced panic attack outside the school, crouching down and clawing at his throat as he was convinced no air could get through. he barely even comprehends when iris crouches next to him, soothingly telling him to breathe, allowing him to follow her in-out breathing pattern. he doesn’t realise it’s her until the attack begins to subside and he’s so embarrassed, but mumbles a thank you anyway. he rudely demands she not tell anyone and to his surprise she nods and says “Why would I tell anyone, Rafe? Everyone struggles sometimes and they shouldn’t have that held against them,”

that’s the only proper conversation they have

however, rafe did think she was super hot, but made himself a promise that he’d never stoop so low as to fuck a pogue, and so refuses to give her any more of his attention

after high school, everyone expects iris to go off to college on a fancy scholarship, but her mom gets sick and she stays on the island, doing her best to take care of her. she’s working almost full time at the men’s boutique, which is where she starts to see rafe more and more

the pair strike up an odd relationship - they’re amicable but never too friendly. she just views rafe as an old (overly classist and rude) classmate, but to rafe’s chagrin, he begins to develop a small crush on her

her role in the first season is almost adjacent to the rest of the pogues, with her not doing much as part of the main plot until midsummers. rose hired her to attend the party and supervise wheezie the whole night, so that’s what she’s doing until jj runs into her. as she watches him being chased, she follows the boys down the hall only to see the kooks beating on jj. rafe is surprised that he finds himself ashamed of her seeing him acting like this,

“Come on Iris, get out of here! You don’t need to watch this shit!”

“Let him go, Rafe! What the hell!”

rafe also finds himself gawking at the sight of iris all dressed up, unable to tear his eyes away from her

after that debacle, she’s joining the pogues at the lighthouse once wheezie goes to bed, sighing when she hears of their antics. they don’t ask her to help them, but she tells them to let her know if they have any clues they need solving - she misses using her brain

there’s a scene between iris and rafe once he’s been kicked out, with iris going to barry’s trailer to buy painkillers for her mom. he’s all pathetic and desperate but he doesn’t want her to see him that way, lying that he left home. she doesn’t believe him, but the pair share somewhat of a moment before she goes,

“Stay safe, Rafe… he shouldn’t treat you like that,”

“What?”

“Your dad. He’s not right about you, I can tell. Don’t let him get to you,”

she’s 100% with the pogues when they go to pawn off the gold, jj claiming that she is a good negotiator and they need her skills. barry curses to himself when he notices she’s with them as he holds the group hostage, knowing she’s too good to be stuck in this situation

barry and iris have struck up some sort of weird friendship over the years. they've definitely smoked weed together more than once

when barry rants to rafe about the hold up, he doesn’t notice the way rafe tenses up at the idea of her (and his sister) being hurt

she’s not there on the tarmac when rafe shoots peterkin, but he does come across her at the boutique when he’s hunting john b down. iris hadn’t been told anything by the pogues yet though, so she talks with him as normal, stating that the younger boy couldn’t have murdered the sheriff. she's known him for years

rafe tells her to stay safe and watch out, hoping somehow that she won’t get caught up in all of the drama. he even demands her phone, putting his number in it for her to call if she needs help

“Just, y’know, reach out if something doesn’t feel right, ‘k?

she does use her car to drive the pogues to the warehouse upon request from jj to help get the phantom ready, only for the group to be intercepted by rafe and barry. it’s there she learns that it was in fact rafe who shot the sheriff, and he doesn’t take her reaction well

she’s shocked and horrified, staring at rafe frightened, trying to stay far away from him. he doesn’t notice the concern that filters through her expression, her knowing that there’s more to this story. she knew rafe - not well, but enough to know he wasn’t eagerly and ruthlessly murdering people

she’s still frozen and staying far away until he’s beating her friends once more. only then does she try and pull him off of them, but she doesn’t stop pope from hitting him

rafe is losing his grip as he realises iris has left with the pogues, and probably hates him now. he finally had found someone he thought understood him, and now she had been poisoned against him

iris ends up at the tent with the younger pogues, watching hopelessly as sarah and john b drive into the storm. it's her and jj who console each other as kiara and pope cry with their families. jj has always felt like her little brother, and so iris and jj cry against each other

season one: behind the scenes

season 1 has drew and obx actress!reader living in the same building, next door to each other, for the duration of filming. it’s covid times and so the cast spend a lot of time together, resulting in strong bonds

from the start, it’s clear that she and drew just mesh well together. obx actress!reader and madelyn cline are immediately best friends, and the three of them hang out together everyday. those ig lives are literally just the three of them chit-chatting and talking about everything and nothing, but it’s where fans first start to think drew and obx actress!reader would be cute together

drew constantly features in her instagram stories, and once they can all go out again, all the fan pics posted have the two sat next to each or walking side by side (literally always to be point where it can’t be a coincidence anymore)

the fans don’t appreciate that drew hasn’t reached his peak hotness yet (which is criminal bc he was so hot in season 1), and so a lot of fans ship obx actress!reader with rudy for a while

drew doesn’t want to acknowledge he’s somewhat jealous, but it’s simmering under the surface

the pair don’t share any actual romantic scenes in season 1, but it doesn’t stop them from sharing a tipsy kiss one night at a bar for jd’s birthday. they both really liked it, but pretend that it didn’t happen so as not to ruin their friendship

there’s an absolutely iconic pic of drew and obx actress!reader dressed up for midsummers, posed together like a couple going to prom, and fans still share it at the time of season 4

ya know that short concept film that rudy, drew and elaine did? miss girl obx actress!reader had to do her best not to drool over drew as he filmed that. she helped out with some of the scenes and was barely holding it together at the sight of his biceps

obx actress!reader is 100% the driving force behind the greasy bangs. drew mentions he needs a haircut and so she does it in her apartment bathroom for him, demanding he let her style it too. she had a vision and once she saw it come to life, she sent a pic to the directors and suggested it as rafe’s new look for the second season

drew took obx actress!reader back to his home for the holidays too, not wanting her to be stuck in charleston alone. she spends the time with him and his sisters, hanging out and by the time the pair leave back to resume filming, she has the whole family on instagram and they're all planning to catch up again. his parents love her and invite her to come back with him next time too

the pair go to the gym together too, helping and spotting for each other. obx actress!reader deeply enjoys watching drew get more buff

they do a few interviews together with the rest of the cast after season 1 airs and even there, the cameras pick up on the flirty vibes. soon, their chemistry has fans spiralling and everyone is so eager to see them in season 2

ps. this is the style of photo they post for the bts midsummers photo

[blackenedsnow]

I would love it if you did some werehog sonic for spooky season. Maybe he doesn't want reader to know it's him but they find out anyway and comfort him (idk I just need more werehog sonic in my life)

moonlight

WARNING: None

PAIRING: Sonic the Hedgehog x Reader

NOTE: Thanks for sending in this request! I had so much fun writing this guy. Let’s keep the spooky season going!!!

SUMMARY: Sonic never wanted you to see him like this. He had been doing everything to hide his Werehog form from you.

You hadn’t seen Sonic in almost two days, and it was starting to worry you.

Normally, Sonic would pop in to check on you, even if just for a quick chat before zipping off to wherever his next adventure called. But lately, his visits had become scarce, and when he did show up, it was always during the day—never at night.

Something was off, and you could feel it.

You asked Tails about it, and he told you that he still saw Sonic around until the evening, which he found odd, but he never questioned it.

Now it was late in the evening, the sun having set hours ago, leaving the landscape bathed in shadows. You stood by the window, staring out at the full moon hanging in the sky, the eerie light casting long, dark silhouettes across the ground. A shiver ran down your spine, but you weren’t sure if it was the chill in the air or the nagging feeling that something was very wrong.

“Where are you, Sonic?” you muttered to yourself.

A sudden noise from outside caught your attention—a rustling in the bushes near the edge of the clearing. You squinted, trying to make out what it was, but the shadows were too thick. Then you saw it—a large, hulking figure darting behind a tree.

Your heart jumped. It was too big to be Sonic—or anyone else you knew. But something about the shape seemed... familiar.

Grabbing a flashlight, you headed out into the night, determination outweighing the fear gnawing at the back of your mind. You had to find out what was going on.

As you made your way through the trees, the sound of heavy breathing reached your ears, low and raspy. You stopped in your tracks, heart pounding, the beam of your flashlight sweeping across the dark woods. Finally, the light landed on a pair of glowing eyes—bright, green.

There, crouched in the shadows, was a massive, wolf-like creature. Its fur was dark and shaggy, its body rippling with muscle, and its sharp claws dug into the ground as if it was ready to bolt at any second.

But those eyes... you knew those eyes.

“Sonic?” you whispered, the flashlight slipping from your hand and falling to the ground with a soft thud.

The creature flinched at the sound of your voice, as if caught, and slowly stood to its full height. There was no mistaking it now—the familiar cocky stance, the slight tilt of the head, even in this monstrous form, you could see the hints of the Sonic you knew.

But Sonic didn’t say a word. He took a step back, as if trying to retreat into the darkness, away from your gaze.

You stepped forward, undeterred. “Sonic, I know it’s you.”

He froze, shoulders tense, his clawed hands curling into fists as he kept his eyes lowered, refusing to meet your gaze.

“I—” His voice was different, deeper, rougher, but it was still unmistakably him. “I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his tone. He had always been so confident, so sure of himself, and seeing him like this—scared, ashamed—it was a side of Sonic you had never seen before.

You approached slowly, careful not to startle him, but determined to close the gap between you. “Sonic, why are you hiding from me?”

He let out a low growl, though it was more frustrated than threatening. “Because... look at me!” His voice rose, and for the first time, he looked at you fully. “I’m not... I’m not me. Not like this.”

Your eyes softened as you took in his appearance. Yes, he looked different, but underneath the fur and claws, he was still Sonic—still the same hero you had known for so long. And the fact that he was trying so hard to hide this side of himself from you broke your heart.

“You’re still you, Sonic,” you said softly, stepping closer until you were just a few feet away.

He shook his head, turning away again. “I’m a monster.”

“You’re not,” you insisted, reaching out slowly to touch his arm. His fur was coarse, but warm, and you could feel the tension in his muscles as if he was expecting you to recoil. But you didn’t.

Instead, you gave him a gentle squeeze. “You’re not a monster, Sonic. You’re still you, no matter what you look like.”

Sonic was silent for a long moment, his body still trembling slightly under your touch. Finally, he sighed, the tension in his shoulders easing ever so slightly. “You’re not... scared?”

You smiled softly. “Of course not. Why would I be scared of you?”

Sonic let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. The relief in his eyes was evident, though he still looked unsure, as if he couldn’t quite believe you weren’t running away from him. “I didn’t want you to see this,” he admitted quietly. “I thought you’d think I was... I don’t know. Dangerous?”

You stepped in front of him, forcing him to meet your eyes. “Sonic, you’re the least dangerous person I know. You’d never hurt anyone—especially not me.”

His ears twitched, and he finally met your gaze fully, the glow in his green eyes softening. “Yeah, well... I guess I’m not as good at hiding as I thought,” he muttered, a small, sheepish grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

You laughed softly. “No, you’re not. But I’m glad I found you.”

Sonic huffed, though it was more playful this time. “You always were too smart for your own good.”

There was a brief pause before Sonic shifted awkwardly, still not quite comfortable in his Werehog form, but no longer trying to hide it from you. “So, uh... now that you’ve seen me like this, I guess you don’t mind hanging out with a big ol’ werewolf looking thing, huh?”

You smiled warmly. “Not at all. In fact, I think it suits you.”

Sonic blinked, surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, you’re still fast, still strong, and now you’ve got extra muscles and claws. It’s like Sonic... but enhanced.”

Sonic chuckled, the sound more like a growl in his Werehog form. “Huh, never thought about it that way.”

You reached up, gently brushing a stray tuft of fur from his face. “You don’t have to hide from me, Sonic.”

For the first time since his transformation, Sonic seemed to relax completely. His broad shoulders slumped in relief, and the anxious edge that had been lingering in his eyes disappeared. “Thanks,” he murmured, his voice softer now. “I guess I needed to hear that.”

You smiled up at him. “Anytime.”

[silvermarley]

can u do Sanemi or giyuu fucking reader stupid because she said his scar or eyes were beautiful

Love this idea 🫶🫶 this seems more on the Sanemi side of things, so I’m gonna do him!! :)

Beauty in Your Scars

Sanemi x Reader

Warnings: smut, rough (but passionate), cursing, unprotected sex, fem!reader, modern-ish but demon slaying is still a thing, a hint of a breeding kink, dirty talk

WC: 2.8k (I got carried away)

Sanemi isn’t the type to receive compliments often, as his appearance intimidates most resulting in him not getting used to them. Even when he got with you, he became a flustered mess.

His scars were something that pushed most away. He was by no means ashamed of them, but he didn’t exactly find them the most appealing either.

Sanemi did like the fear that came with them though, and how even some demons would hesitate to attack just looking at them.

You two have been together for over a year, and you hadn’t yet talked about his scars. You didn’t know if it was a touchy subject or anything, so you never pushed.

Even so, you couldn’t help but admire the way it makes him look so much more masculine. Something about them never failed to attract you more. That being said, it wasn’t good seeing new ones when he would come home from a particularly difficult mission.

You were a retired demon slayer, so you understood getting injured comes with the job, even if it wasn’t ideal. Although, it’s not too often he gets injured because of his immense power and skill in wind breathing.

You were “retired” because after Sanemi had gotten attached to you, he quickly began insisting you leave the corps. Saying “it’s for your own good,” or anything he could think of to get you to leave. Eventually, you did. And he couldn’t be happier (he would never tell you that though).

Now, he gets to do the dirty work while his beloved stays at home and greets him when he comes back. Although you two have been together for a long time, he still struggles at expressing his love, so he can come off as strong sometimes. Not that you mind.

One afternoon, he comes home after a stressing mission. “I’m home.” He calls out as usual.

You peek from around the corner of the hallway and walk to him. “Hey, ‘Nemi! How did your mission go?”

He grunts, placing his katana in its place on the wall. “Fucking stressful.” He sighs, his voice laced with frustration.

Though, he couldn’t stay upset when he was finally home. When he finally gets to see you. The one who then kiss his cheek in response, “Ah.. sorry to hear that. Do you want me to make your favorite?” You grin.

The corners of his lips turn up ever so slightly as he nods. When he’s upset, he becomes more quiet as to avoid saying something he would regret to you. If there was anyone he would never want to hurt with his attitude, it’s you. He finds his way into the living room and with a (what felt like a) heavy body, he plops onto the couch.

You happily go into the kitchen to gather the materials for ohagi. You knew the recipe like the back of your hand at this point. It was your favorite thing to do for him after his missions.

After making it, you place them on a plate and make it look presentable. You hum to yourself, before carrying it to where Sanemi was sitting.

“Here you go!” You hand it over to him and then sit yourself next to him.

He quickly takes a bite and sighs contentedly. He can’t help his small but noticeable smile as he chows down on the food. You just cuddled up next to him, occasionally looking up to admire him. The show on tv wasn’t all too interesting to you now as you were enamored by his beauty even while eating.

Once he finished his meal, he placed the plate to the side table. “It’s always good.” He remarks as he moves his hand to your waist, pulling you closer to his side.

“‘m glad you think so.” You manage to snap yourself out of it as you reply.

He looks down at you as you stare at him. “Something wrong?” He asks.

You shake your head. “Just admiring you.”

His cheeks turned a rosy hue. “..Is that so?” He cleared his throat.

“Mhm,” you say as your hands trace some of the scars on his arm, “I was just thinking about how beautiful these make you look.”

There’s silence from him for a moment. As you glanced up once more to see if you said something wrong, you see something in his demeanor had changed. “..’Nemi?”

His grip tightens on your waist. “Don’t say things like that all of a sudden..” he muttered.

You caught on to his tone, how it was warning you, not just telling you. “Why? It’s true.. they’re pretty.” You assured.

He mumbles a “Fuck..” as he is suddenly on top of you, breathing heavily with a prominent blush on his cheeks. “I warned you, didn’t I?” His eyes were cloudy as he spoke with a sensual voice. Hearing your praise for his scars did something to him.

With a bite of your lip, you stare up at him. “Mhm.. but I really do think so.” You shuddered as his rough palms grazed your sides.

His lips quickly met yours in a heated kiss. Your tongues danced with passion as he pushed his hips into yours. Your words were playing with fire. He wanted to hear them over and over. Something about you saying that made him feel hot all over.

As soon as you part for breath, his lips are latched on your neck. Dark hickeys were made in every spot he kissed. After properly marking your neck, he makes quick work of your shirt, to which he takes the new exposed skin into his mouth to make more marks. While doing so, his hands glide to unclip your (f/c) bra. You lifted yourself slightly to allow him to so.

He groans at the sight of your perked up nipples. He throws your bra across the room, turning his attention back to you. “Perfect..” He murmurs.

His tongue swirls around one nipple, before sucking and repeating the process. Then he pays some attention to the other. The stimulation just from this made soft gasps escape your mouth. That only fueled the ever growing fire.

A few minutes pass, and he pulls away from your chest. His fingers skillfully pull down your pants with haste. His cock twitches in his pants at the sight of your panties, and the patch of your desire that was making it stick to your pussy.

“You drive me fuckin’ crazy.. you know that?” He inquires with a lustful stare, but he wasn’t expecting an answer. Especially when you know it.

His thumbs rub your waist as he studied your already dazed expression. He hums, as his gaze falls back to your clothed core. He’s hit with the urge to taste you, to make you come undone with his tongue. And he’s not a patient man. He takes what he wants. And right now, he wants nothing more than to taste your essence.

He was already patient enough to take everything else off of you, but he couldn’t stop himself from tearing the panties you still had on off of you. He wouldn’t hear the end of it later, but he didn’t care. As soon as your wet pussy is exposed to him, his tongue begins to explore it.

Just the taste of you has his mind reeling. He licks and sucks at your clit messily. Pulling whine after whine from you. It was almost like he wasn’t doing this for you anymore. Your hands tug at his wild white hair as you mewl in pleasure.

“Just l-like that ‘Nemi—ah..—feels so good.” You moan, slightly bucking your hips up to get more friction. From the stimulation of his tongue alone, it has your back arching.

Soon, he pushes a thick finger into your entrance, pumping it in and out in tune with his actions on your clit. You couldn’t control your voice as it increased in volume, especially not when he adds another. His mind felt fuzzy as he lapped at you and fucked you with his fingers.

Sanemi still had your compliment in mind as he brought you to cloud nine. He didn’t care how messy he would get from this, he just wanted you to cum on his face. Your sweet moans only encouraged him to bring you to the brink faster.

Your pussy tightens around his fingers as you feel yourself coming closer and closer to the edge. A few more movements of his hands had you cumming all over his face and fingers. He greedily licked you clean as you twitched in overstimulation.

He lifts himself up once more. You see the bottom half of his face covered in your juices and his own saliva, causing you to blush more from embarrassment. He notices, smirking at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Still think I’m beautiful?” He questions. You look away from him, in a sudden sense of bashfulness. His eyes never leaves your face as he demands an answer. “Look at me. Tell me baby, do you think I still look pretty?” His breathing quickens once again at his own words.

Your eyes slowly return back up to his as you nod. “Mhm.. so pretty.” Without a doubt, he was prettier in your eyes now than before. Even with the bottom of his face still glistening with your essence.

He mutters a few curses before undressing himself as fast as he could. You ogle his well built figure, scarred and sculpted from years of slaying demons. No matter how many times you see it, you’re still just as enamored.

Normally, he would poke fun at you for staring at him, but he wanted to be in you, and he wanted it badly. He hovers over you again, peering down to grab hold of his leaking cock. He rubs himself against you a few times, until he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He needed to feel the warmth, and he needed it now.

He slips inside you, which is made easy by his prep and the wetness seeping out of your cunt. He lets out a husky groan as he slowly pushes in. The delicious stretch as he filled you up made you squeeze around him. He hisses, and grips tightly underneath your knees to gradually push them to your chest. This only made him push deeper into you, almost making you forget to breathe.

A mutual moan is shared as he bottoms out. After a moment, he pulls back his hips to slam into you again, knocking the air out of you once again. Your hands frantically move to his shoulders.

“Fuck.. pussy’s squeezin’ me tight..” he groans. His mind felt foggy from lust and the feeling of you around him. Never has he felt this pussy whipped. Did your words have more of an effect than he originally thought? Of course it did. Such a compliment coming from your pretty lips; Moreover about his scars, had him reeling from the start.

He continues to thrust deep into you, hitting places you didn’t think he could reach. Everything felt.. different this time. You’d never seen this man act like this over something so simple.

Each thrust had you letting out whines and moans, and you could feel every bit of his cock as it slid in and out of you. Each movement was deep and fast. As if he was a dog in heat. As if he were in a rut, and you were the only person who could help him through it. The pleasure you felt from it was almost too much. Your nails dug into his scarred shoulders, earning a grunt from him. His lip was tucked under his teeth, though he wasn’t going to let you hear just how desperate he was. But god, did it feel so good.

“K-Keep going.. plea—ah! Please, ‘Nemi!” You whimper, your back arching more as you felt yourself get closer by the second.

“Yeah? Just like this?” He smirks as he was loving the sight underneath him. You losing yourself in pleasure, face contorting into an expression he adores after a long day like this.

“Fuck! Y-yes..” you respond in broken moans, clenching on him.

He bit his lip harder. It wasn’t normal for him to get close already. But your pussy was gripping him like a vice each and every time he hit that one spot that had your eyes rolling back.

Before you could warn him of your incoming release, you saw white as you made a mess on his cock. Sanemi growled and let out a few low moans as he pushed into you a few more times before cumming himself. He kept his dick in you and bent down to catch his breath on your shoulder. “Shit..” he says between his scattered breaths.

The orgasm you both felt was powerful. And he wanted more. He wasn’t going to be satisfied with just one round. He craved to feel that again. Your hands fell to your sides as you recovered from cumming that hard.

That was, you were recovering from it. Because now, he was pushing you over on your stomach. You knew what he wanted so you braced yourself on your forearms and knees. You arched your back temptingly, which wasn’t missed by him. He slaps your ass, you were just too tempting and so pliant just for him. And he couldn’t wait to plunge into you again.

His cock forces its way into you again, and he wastes no time in fucking you again with conviction. He was once again fast and desperate in the way he moved his hips. “C-Can’t get enough of this..” he murmurs into the back of your neck just as he pushes the top of his torso against your back. This, in turn, made him go further into you. His voice, still occasionally cracking from the intense overstimulation, continued to murmur dirty sentences into your ear.

You were still feeling sensitive from your last orgasm, and so was he, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to keep going. Your drenched and quivering hole sucked him in so perfectly, almost like it never wanted him to leave, so why would he stop now? “Fuck.. I can never control myself with you—shit— you’re fucking addicting..” he nearly whines in the back of your neck, as he sucks a purple hickey into it.

His words only helped to sink you further into euphoric depths of desire. It seemed like that little comment earlier took away any filter he usually had when you two fucked previously. Something about this really was different. More eager, and full of need along with an overwhelming sense of desperation.

Sanemi’s sloppy but deep thrusts, in addition to you already being sensitive, pushed you surprisingly quickly to the brink. To the point you couldn’t even warn him about it, just like before. He growled loudly as he felt you cum again. His mouth spilled out endless curses and downright nasty words as he bucked into your twitching pussy.

“T-Too sensitive, ‘Nemi!” You practically screamed as he kept hitting the same spot that has been making you see stars.

“Just a b-bit more.-agh..come on baby..” He leans further down on you, his firm chest hitting your back completely. His eyes almost rolled to the back of his head as he rolled his hips into you wildly. Your eyes watered, feeling his hips stutter in their thrusts until he bursts inside you for the second time. It warms your insides as it fills you to the brim, and then leaks out down your thighs.

The both of you catch your breath for a few minutes until he pulls himself out. This causes more of his seed to drip out from your hole at the emptiness. You fall flat on your stomach out of exhaustion. Meanwhile, his eyes were enraptured by the view of it all. He was tempted in that moment to go again, but he held that back for now. Maybe at a later time would he do it, but jesus, was it tempting..

Sanemi’s hands rub your lower back and ass comfortingly, which he then stops after you speak. “..I take it you like what I said earlier, huh?” You chucked breathlessly, watching as he laid beside you.

“Maybe a little too much.” He murmured, and you could see a hint of a blush on his cheeks. Totally different from the man who was just rearranging your insides.

You lips meet his in a short and gentle kiss. “Who knows, I might just say it more often..” you suggest playfully when you pull away.

His breath hitched for just a second. “I suggest you be careful with what you say..” his voice tinged with a teasing but demanding tone.

You giggled, your head moves to lay on his chest. Even with his attempted serious expression, his hands told a different story. They weaved through your hair softly. It was then that he wished this could last forever, a peaceful time where he’s not out there fighting. No demons, no annoying slayers to bother him, just the two of you in post-sex clarity and tranquility. And he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

[glossykissies]

i think this was like one of the first scott fics u posted but reader was in college for like fashion design? i think 😭 but anyways reader got a bad grade in one of her classes and scott says she cant touch him cos u cant reward bad behavior!!!

it’s funny because scott thinks he’s handling it the right way.

it’s how he was raised — it’s why he ended up in the working environment he did. his mother was a sweet woman, but his father was hard, never impressed, always pushing scott to achieve more. of course there were times he resented him for being so cold and unyielding, but he supposed he had him to thank for everything. now as a grown adult, scott saw himself in his old man, rearing his ugly head when least expected.

you’d come home to scott, all wired up and manic looking for a distraction. the project you thought you’d been slaving over ended up bringing you your worst grade yet. it wasn’t failable, and you knew you’d be able to pull yourself back — but it was certainly a wake up call. you felt ashamed.

you’d mentioned it in passing to scott as you were toeing your shoes off, thinking that if you treated it as a casual thing, it would be less damning. you were known to work hard, and you’d hate if scott thought any less of you. if there was anyone who’s opinion mattered to you over your professor, it was him.

“— and i’m gonna have to retake that class because i flopped so hard, anyway i had icecream for lunch—”

“hold on.” scott frowns, arms folded over his chest as he leans a shoulder against the wall, narrowing his eyes at you. “retake the class? explain.”

he makes note of the way you swallow and avoid his eyes as you gather up an excuse. “its fine, i failed the class. its fine.” you shrug a shoulder, and scott stares before shaking his head with a sigh.

“look — i told you, if you’re gonna be here all the time you can’t let it interfere with your projects. i think — i think it’s best if you start spending some weekends from home so you can get back on top of—”

“no!” you bark, eyes wide and desperate, which actually silences him in surprise. you are incredibly quick to adjust yourself, releasing a tense chuckle to let it be known that you were on your best behaviour, smile straining your cheeks and not quite meeting your eyes. “scott it’s not that serious, i swear. i’m passing all my other classes, this happens to everyone atleast once.” you figure your tone is reassuring enough, especially as he doesn’t follow you into the kitchen to make your daily green tea.

you spend a little longer than usual in the kitchen as you sip away at your drink, giving your boyfriend time to hopefully forget about the bad grade you received so you could potentially start the evening over, feeling things were a little chaotic. the hot liquid seems to soothe your nerves momentarily too, aiming to leave the day behind as you eventually slink out into the living room, eeking out your distraction as you join scott on the couch.

he’s watching some kind of documentary, naturally manspreading with that concentrated frown like a man much older than he was. you let a mischievous smile slip as you wriggle up to his side, stroking at his arm. this was nothing unusual from your usual behaviour, so scott doesn’t react — continuing on with his show.

“scotty.” you breathe in his ear, beginning to dot kisses gently along his jawline.

“hm?”

“missed you. needed daddy all day.” you pout as a manicured hand rises to rest on his broad chest before sliding slowly down his stomach toward his belt. you nearly jump out of your skin when he grabs your wrist and moves it away.

“no.” he hums, voice low. you blink your wide eyes at him in confusion — maybe you were just spoilt, because it wasn’t often you heard that word so firmly.

“huh?”

it’s only then scott looks at you, raising his eyebrows. “you think i’m gonna reward you for failing a class? you know, if i had been you — i’d already be at the desk with my laptop out, getting to work so i don’t fail my class again.” he’s stern, and whilst you’re used to his blunt ways you’re stunned by how cruel he was being. to him, he wanted the best for you and this was how he showed it in the moment, but to you it was the ultimate rejection.

it’s unnoticeable to the human eye, but he softens when you’re so quick to submit without argument despite his words, bashfully climbing off the couch to silently grab your bag and head to the bedroom where scott’s desk was. he watches you go, arms crossed — before he sighs, closing his eyes. that wasn’t him, it was his father. you didn’t deserve that.

he thinks up what to say to you, standing up to retrieve you approximately seven minutes later. he finds you at the desk where he suggested, laptop open on an empty document, crying quietly into your hands. scott closes his eyes for a moment, taking a breath before starting towards you.

“hey. hey.” his voice is quiet as he scoops you off the chair, replacing you with himself as he cradles you on his lap. “c’mon.” he whispers, feeling you wrack with another silent sob into your hands.

“i’m sorry.” you squeak.

“you don’t have to be sorr—”

“you’re disappointed in me. i’m disappointed in me too i just wanted to forget for a few hours.” you cry like a baby, stripped down to your most vulnerable self and his jaw clenches, mad that he was the one to upset you like this. this relationship shit was harder than it looked.

“hey i’m not, okay? i’m not. i was… hard on you because i think you can be great. okay? i think you are great. most talented girl i know. i don’t wanna get in the way of that, you know?” his large hand slides up your back to pull you closer and he feels you nod.

“i know. i’m sorry i get so upset about stupid stuff. i tried to be a big girl about it. i tried to… start—” you pull away to gesture to the empty document and he breathes out a chuckle, pulling you back to his chest.

“i know. i see… and it’s not stupid. i was mean. you should have kicked my ass.” he shakes his head but hears you giggle against his shirt, likely staining it with tears and mascara.

“next time.” comes out muffled.

“great.” he sarks before pulling you back to mop up your face, trying not to grimace at any snot or drool as he swipes it away with his thumb. “look. get started on… all this tomorrow. i’ll help in any way i can. what do you need right now? hm?” he jogs you on his lap with his knee once to signify that he wants a verbal and decisive answer. you press your lips together, glancing down at his belt once more. “oh yeah?” he confirms in that deep voice that makes between your legs ooze. “still after that?”

you nod, and he squeezes you hip. “alright. i think i can provide.”

[neptuneh0rn]

morning reflections | fire lord!zuko x reader

(gif not mine)

warnings: fluff, one kiss, tears (very brief), advisors being mean :(, fire lord zuko ;)

summary: trying to get zuko out of bed leads to unexpected confessions.

word count: 0.6k

A/N: this is a very short drabble that's been sitting in my drafts for way too long, so enjoy! English is not my first language, so I apologize for any grammar/ spelling mistakes. feedback is appreciated.

“Honey, let go, we have a meeting with your advisors in 30 minutes.”

In answer, Zuko grumbled, tightening his arms around your waist and drawing you closer to his bare chest.

“Zuko,” you exclaimed, giggling, “we have to be there! You’re the fire lord, remember?”

“Exactly. I'm the fire lord, therefore I get to decide whether or not I attend the meeting,” he replied smugly, “and right now I’m deciding that I want to stay in bed with my beautiful wife.”

“Flattery isn't going to work, Zu. Don’t even try. Besides, your advisors have finally agreed to allow me to attend this one. I can't be late. That would hardly provide for a favourable first impression."

You had not been looking at Zuko's face when you said that, but you felt him stiffen at your words. All sense of playfulness eviscerates from the air.

"What," Zuko enunciates.

You shift your gaze back to his face, perplexed at his tone. "What?"

"What do you mean, 'my advisors are finally letting you attend this one'?"

"Oh," you replied sheepishly, "just forget I said that."

Zuko gave you a pointed look and sat up straight, resting on the headboard of the massive bed. You followed suit, suddenly taking an obstinate interest in his warm hands, fiddling with his fingers. He took one of his hands from yours and raised your chin with his index finger, urging you to make eye contact with him.

"You want to inform me," Zuko spoke softly, "or should I ask the advisors myself?"

"It's nothing," you started, "it's only that… every time I ask if I can attend the meetings, your advisors refuse. They tell me that these are not affairs that concern me."

Zuko always thought you didn't join meetings simply because you weren't interested in these affairs. His visage distorted into one of rage, and you felt compelled to calm him down, fearful of what he would do to his advisors.

"But it's truly not a problem! It makes no difference to me, honey. As a result, it should not concern you." You ran your hand along the nape of his neck, tenderly running your fingers along the hairs resting there.

"Why didn't you tell me? I could've handled it," Zuko inquired, his voice concerned.

"What would it look like if I came to you with all of my problems? I need to show your advisors that I'm capable of being the fire lady you deserve; that the fire nation deserves," You muttered solemnly. Your head bowed low as if you were ashamed to admit this.

Zuko's heart ached at your confession. How long had you been feeling like this? It's been a year since Zuko took you as his betrothed, and it angered him to just find out now.

"Sweetheart," Zuko started, taking your hand and placing a kiss on your knuckles, "you don't need to prove anything to anyone. You are already the fire lady that I deserve and that the fire nation needs. Your presence and input in these meetings are valuable to me, and I want you there by my side. I should have made that clear to my advisors from the start."

You looked up, tears forming in your eyes, "Really?"

"Of course," Zuko replied, wiping away a tear with his thumb, "I'll speak to my advisors and make sure that they understand your importance in these meetings."

You leaned in, pressing your lips to his, revelling in the softness of his lips. Zuko deepened the kiss, his arms wrapping around you tightly. You felt relieved that you no longer had to hide your frustration and disappointment about being excluded from important meetings.

"Thank you, Zuko," you whispered, "you always know how to make everything better."

Zuko chuckled, holding you close, "That's what I'm here for, my love."

likes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

[sourszt]

𝐕𝐈 | oral + risky sex

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 — vi x fem!reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — nsfw, oral sex (f!reader receiving), risky sex, in the bathroom, mentions of drûg dealing (reader is a dealer), fighter!vi, make-up sex, angst if you squint lol, slight exhibitionism (?) reader has to be quiet, think that’s it

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 — im in love with vi. i need her bad, so this came to be. not proofread, minors DNI!

the arena was packed for a tuesday night. it made you nervous, pulling your hood tight over your lowered head while you shuffled through the dense crowd.

seemed like everyone in the undercity had gathered to watch tonight’s fight. it was suffocating. voices and unwanted touches coming from every direction, you remembered why you never came to these things.

hell, the only reason why you even bothered to show up had yet to make an appearance. it took you nearly an hour to find her and by then over half of the crowd had gone and left.

she was sat at the bar counter by her lonesome in the corner, cradling a glass of something amber-colored. her face and biceps were decorated with blossoming bruises and dried blood, though most of that stained her bandaged knuckles.

a few bar goers patted her on the shoulder as they left, congratulating her on her victory.

but she paid them little mind. she kept lifting her head to scan the few people slipping through the door until she finally spotted you.

despite your face being shielded, vi could always recognize you. being so good at blending into crowds, she was one of the few people able to do that.

she waited until you were sat next to her before speaking, her voice kept low. “i didn’t think you’d come. thought i’d have to go to yours.” the rasp in her voice was thicker. she probably took a few hits to the throat this time.

you watched the front of it bob as she downed the rest of her drink with only a tiny wince. silence followed for a while, and it was palpable.

“how much do you want?” you asked almost exasperatedly. neither of you were particularly fond of small talk and you didn’t plan on starting now.

a twinge of hurt flashed in vi’s glossy eyes when she turned to look at you. “is that how you’re gonna be?” she scoffed under her breath. “i thought we were past it.”

you gulped at the implication, your eyes instinctively shifting around to see if anyone was listening. it wasn’t that you were ashamed of your history with vi, far from it. you just couldn’t risk word getting out that you accepted any other forms of payment for what you dealt.

vi was the only exception. it started a few months ago when she found you after a fight, banged up and desperate for something to take the edge off. everybody knew that you sold a few minor drugs — it was no shimmer, but you had your ways — and she wanted some.

it was so cliche. she wanted drugs, but she had no money. it didn’t help that she kept eyeing your lips and that she was just so enticing. next thing you knew, her head was in between your legs and you had your hand clamped over your mouth to keep from a noise complaint.

that was how things went for months until you decided to end it. she was beginning to grow on you a bit too much and too quickly. it worried you because you knew she didn’t feel the same way. you were only a means to an end to her.

today was the first time she spoke to you in over a week. the small talk was unnerving.

your jaw clenched, but briefly. “i’m not being any way. how much do you want?”

vi’s eyes narrowed. “how much do you have?”

you blinked, knowing she was just trying to be an asshole. she always got the same thing. and you pulled it from your coat pocket and plopped it in front of her.

vi licked her lips as she examined it, but she didn’t reach for it yet. “that’ll do.” she murmured. but then her posture stiffened slightly, like something was caught in her throat. “but i don’t have anything left for it.”

it was your turn to snap this time. “what do you mean? i thought they pay you for winning fights.”

“you watched the fight?” she turned her head a fraction. the corners of her lips lifted slightly.

“no, but have you ever lost?” for some reason, you felt guilty about the reply. how cold it sounded.

her little smile dropped as quickly as it formed. you huffed, finding the situation uncomfortably tense. you reached for the bag in front of her folded arms and started to pull it back towards yourself.

“look, i don’t know why you called me down here if you—”

“come on, baby,” her hand quickly grasped your wrist. the way the nickname rolled off of her tongue made your brain momentarily halt. suddenly it was hot and your jacket was far too heavy. “i need it.”

you wanted to question exactly what it meant: you, the drugs, or the sex. but you found you were working in autopilot when you pocketed the weed and told her to follow you.

—

the bathroom was tiny with only a sink and a singular narrow stall, and was covered from top to bottom in colorful graffiti, but it made do. vi had you pinned against the door, one wrapped hand resting on the curve of your hip and the other twisting the lock shut.

you’d nearly forgotten what it felt like to be in this position. how tiny you felt under her dark eyes, how much bigger her frame was compared to yours. how badly you wanted to kiss her.

“is this the last time again?” she asked lowly.

you could only scoff. “shut up and show me how bad you need it.”

vi didn’t hesitate. the force of her lips against yours drew a groan from your chest and your knees wobbled, forcing you to grab her thick arms. like a moth to a flame, you found yourself melting into her.

her fingers dug into your hip and she pulled away only to say, “fuckin’ christ, you still got it.” you could feel the rumble of her voice in her chest when she pressed her body against yours. her hands slipped underneath your shirt, strong and calloused fingertips bringing goosebumps to your skin.

you moaned when her palms found your tits, lifting your top up. “fuck, vi,” you whined, head tilting back against the door. the redhead’s lips found your throat, pressing eager kisses from your jaw to your collar.

vi pushed your jacket off, not caring how it fell onto the bathroom floor in a heap, and then peeled your shirt off. as much as you protested, suddenly feeling too bare for where you were, it was all drowned out the moment vi’s fingers laced into your hair and pulled your head back to give her better access to your throat.

the motion alone made your head spin and a pitchy cry tore from your throat. vi pulled away with a cocky smirk. “you’re gonna have everyone knowin’ what we’re doin’ in here.” she mumbled before dragging you away from the door.

she propped you up against the sink, taking a moment to take in your breathless demeanor. then she was back on top of you. her hips pressed against yours, eventually easing you onto the sink’s cold edge and slotting in between your thighs.

one of her hands began toying with your breast, rolling your hardened nipple between her fingers. she liked the way your body arched into her touch, testing the limits a little further by sliding her other hand down to your thigh.

you whined, trying your best to keep your voice down. “vi, please.”

her eyebrows furrowed with faux confusion. “please what?” she asked. but her desperation was getting the better of her and she was already moving to unbutton your pants.

the brief glare you gave her only lasted a second when vi pressed the top of her thigh against your core. “don’t fuck with me if you’re serious about that weed, red.” you said through gritted teeth. “please fuck me.”

“yes ma’am.” her voice bounced playfully but she complied without hesitation. she yanked your jeans and panties down to your ankles in one swift movement, lowering herself to her knees.

she pressed gentle kisses to your stomach while her fingers toyed with your pussy. “you’re so wet already.” she mumbled against your skin. your head fell back out of slight embarrassment when vi snapped, “eyes on me.”

she waited until your glassy eyes were back on hers before sliding a finger inside of you, humming at the way your mouth fell open in a loud moan. “that’s it.” vi whispered. she didn’t wait for you to adjust before slipping a second digit in.

your hips bucked against her hand and your legs tightened around her shoulders. “oh god, vi,” the back of your hand pressed to your mouth to keep your whines in when her thumb found your clit.

over time, she got to know what made you really tick. and being the asshole she was, she never failed to use that to her advantage. so when she curled her two fingers up into that sensitive spongy part inside of you that forced a cry from your throat, she was quick to scold you. “baby,” she taunted, “didn’t i tell you to keep it down?”

vi was never one for warnings. before you could fully recover and tell her to bite you, she ducked her head between your thighs and ran her tongue up your slick folds. you choked on a moan and laced your fingers into her hair. instinctively, you tugged on her locks, guiding her to where you needed her most.

a deep groan rumbled in her throat and the vibrations made your hips roll into her face. her blue eyes found yours and they screamed at you not to stop. she always liked when you told her what you wanted.

she hoisted your leg onto her shoulder and continued on, her tongue diving into you. “fu-fuck, feels so good,” was all you could manage.

with the arm tucked underneath your leg, she reached up and splayed her hand against your ribs, her fingers digging harshly into your flesh. you didn’t mind the pain from her strength. rather, you welcomed it with a muffled whine.

you balanced yourself against the bathroom mirror behind you when your body started to go numb. a sign that your orgasm was coming. and quickly. “vi,” you called out to her. “vi, don’t stop.”

she shifted upwards to wrap her lips around your clit, relishing in the way your sensitive body writhed against her. your hand weakly grabbed at her disheveled hair while tears pricked at your eyes. by then you no longer cared about how loud you were, her name echoing off of the bathroom walls.

you two were bound to get kicked out any moment. so she hurried and slipped two fingers back into your dripping cunt, working up to a relentless pace.

“fuck, vi,” your voice cracked and trembled, “‘m so close, please don’t stop!” your body arched into her touch, aiding you through that all too familiar wave that crashed into you.

it took you a few seconds to remember where you were, the solid coldness of the porcelain sink you sat upon finally beginning to set in. the faucet dug into your back and left it sore when you shakily got to your feet. vi helped steady you, still knelt on the floor while she held your hips.

her mouth glistened provocatively and she swiped at it with her wrapped hands. she grabbed your jacket and shirt from off the floor, searching both of them until she found that small bag of weed she was after to begin with.

she only tossed your jacket back to you once your pants were up and buttoned. “i was wondering where this shirt went.” she commented with a half smile. “i know you said we couldn’t do this anymore because it felt too transactional, but…” she trailed off, averting her eyes from your curious gaze, “maybe it doesn’t have to be. you know where i am, princess.”

she tossed the nickname at you sarcastically before sliding out of the door, leaving you with your scattered thoughts.

#needthat highkey. dont know if this is slightly ooc or not because i am an avid caitvi shipper but yeah. i love buff masc women.

[divinecrimson]

I LOVE EMO BOYS! HAN TAESAN HC

WARNINGS: position switching, moaning, slapping, kinks, mxf, taesanxreader, choking, public sex, mentions of assault, squirting, creaming, sub! Tae, dom! Tae, pet names: pretty boy, love, mama, princess, darling, baby. Degrading, praises, unprotected sex, male ejaculation.

MDNI BELOW THE CUT ~|~ HEADCANNONS

PT.1 HERE <<<<<<<————————————-

Emoboy!taesan!——>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Emoboy!taesan! Who doesn’t pull your hair because he knows how much effort you put into it or just because he doesn’t want to harm you in anyway but he does push your head into the mattress.

Emoboy!taesan! Who has such big hands that he already hits the spot when his fingers slide in your hit cunt. “oh right there mama?”

Emoboy!taesan! Who can’t stop touching your waist which always leads to his cock fucking you deep. He loves how his huge hands fit you perfectly.

Emoboy!taesan! WHO gasps once the tip enters your tight pussy. He would breath in through his teeth, eye closed, brows furrowed, hair hanging in his face.

Emoboy!taesan! Who will use a line from the song he wrote about you right when your about to cum because he knows how much you love his voice and what he says. “Such a pretty girl…for me.”

Emoboy!taesan! Who giggles when you struggle to take his cock. He will give you a few seconds and then it’s over he’s pounding you so hard and deep you forget you were even trying to adjust to him anyway. “You can take it princess. Show me how well you can baby”

Emoboy!taesan! WHOS favorite positions are missionary, mating press, riding, and backshots. He loves to see your face more than anything but something about watching you fall apart from your back side in backshots gets him. “Stop running baby…I’m right here.”

Emoboy!taesan! Who loves to press down on your throat as you take his cock. To feel it pressed in your throat always makes him moan. “Hold it.”

Emoboy!taesan! Who always hits your g spot and then going back to normal thrusts and then switching it up on purpose because he knows you’ll cream on his cock if he hits you where you need it. “There it is…yes~ good girl let it out f’ me”

Emoboy!taesan! Who loves to hood your hand as he gives you harsh thrust because he knows how much it becomes for you before you cum. Especially when you squirt he feels your walls squeeze so tight to where he whimpers.

Emoboy!taesan! Who doesn’t like the idea of public sex because he wouldn’t want anyone to see you. He’s not ashamed of how pussy drunk he gets but he’d rather not be seen in such an intimate manner.

Emoboy!taesan! Loves when you jerk his cock and call him your pretty boy. He’s never ashamed to be a sub for you since he’s a switch but something about the way you fuck him with your hands makes him cum too early.

Emoboy!taesan! Who prefers to speak to you like your a queen. With that being said he’s more on the praise side but sometimes when he’s fucking you so deep he can’t help but feel your sloppy pussy and he babbles degrading words. “S-shit…letting me fuck you like a whore…mmmh you nasty mama”

Emoboy!taesan! Who doesn’t mind using a condom. If you asked him too he’d wear ten of them. Something about knowing he can make you cum even though he has rubbed on his cock makes him Fuck you like no other. Yes he likes to go raw more but he respects your choice.

Emoboy!taesan! Who shoves his thumb in your mouth when your about to cum so he can watch you slob on his fingers. Like I said before in pt.1 he likes it messy.

Emoboy!taesan! Who loses himself inside your pretty cunt that his legs start to shake after he finally cums. The way he will hold his cum in until you finish Atleast three times and when he lets it out he moans so loud.

Emoboy!taesan! Has to grip something when he cums. He always cums so hard that he gets snatched up in the moment, abs flexing, hips stuttering, arms locking, mouth open, eyes squeezed shut. He will even choke on his own moans.

Emoboy!taesan! Who can’t help but buck up into you whenever your on top. Yes he wants to be a good boy for you but he can’t help but melt when you sink down on him.

Emoboy!taesan! Begs to cum inside after the first time you told him he could. The feeling of your walls sucking his cock deep and squeezing while fluttering on him sent him into a frenzy and now he needs it.

Emoboy!taesan! assaults your pussy after you cum. He can’t help it. His body just chases an orgasm that will be so strong. He needs to cum and fuck you like your a doll after you cum.

Emoboy!taesan! Can help but whine when you edge him. He isn’t too vocal but he doesn’t hide it either. The main reason he doesn’t moan too much is because he loves hearing you and the sounds your pussy makes.

Emoboy!taesan! WHO gasps when he looks down and sees his cock pounding your red pussy. The way your liquids spill around his cock makes him moan, hands gripping your sides.

Emoboy!taesan! Who loves your boobs, the way the bounce above his eyes when you ride him, they way they move from the force of his thrusts when your below him, he just loves them. Loves to squeeze them, cum on them, suck them. He’s such a whore for your tits.

Emoboy!taesan! Will never cum on your face, he thinks you look good covered in his cum but he doesn’t like covering your pretty face in his cum. It’s something about the way it drips and smothers in your face that he doesn’t feel too fond of but he’d cum everywhere else but your face.

Should I do leehan? Or poly gongfourz?….

@jeongbuns I made this 4u ⭐️

[secretress]

❝𝐏𝐀𝐂: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫.❞

What are some things that your fs/lover adore about you?

Subliminal channel | Masterlist

Tips | Paid Readings

Not a tarot card reading, only based on my intuition.

18+ intuitive readings

Authors note,

Pile 2 has one bullet point that is a little 18+. If you’re uncomfortable, skip the second bullet point.

Divider

Pile 1:

🦋 Your eyes and the way you light up at the smallest things. Perhaps when a butterfly flies near you or when you do well on a test, you become very happy.

🦋 The way you cook something. At times it doesn’t come out as you hope, you don’t let it affect you—you keep at it until the next day or the next time you cook something hoping to do better than before and you actually do much better. They absolutely fricken love this about you.

🦋 You don’t compete with anyone but yourself, you don’t have an ego and you focus on improving yourself all the time.

🦋 The small kisses you give them, small gestures like kissing their cheeks or eyes, even eyebrows. Not to tease them, but a small gesture of your appreciation for them.

🦋 (This is a cute one). The way you caress their cheeks when they try to express their feelings but they cannot. In a way you reassure them as their ex lover couldn’t, I’m feeling as if this small gesture is what made them fall in love with you.

🦋 When you bake them a dessert and wait patiently for them to try, and at times you wish you could tell them, “I’m your dessert” and wink at them, but you’re too shy. They can tell and they love that part of you. Your shyness is the cutest thing for them and they would want that instead of you trying to be someone you’re not. (“So don’t change your personality and stop being ashamed of that part of yourself. But if you don’t like that part of yourself, then change, but don’t be harsh on yourself.” From my intuition).

Pile 2:

🌈 Your whole personality give me rainbow vibes, happy sunshine vibes but gloomy and grumpy when raining—so your person loves those mood swing because they feel needed when you want to cuddle or show love to them.

🌈 They like it when you twirl your hair or play with your hair when you’re in the mood, makes them tight and excited.

🌈 They absolutely adore it when you draw them something small, even if you aren’t the best artist, the way you think about drawing them makes their heart do backflips

🌈 They like that you’re a thinker, that you think deeply and a lot; you have so many ideas in that head of yours and you always share it with them. At times you don’t think they’re listening, but they are.

🌈 They love and absolutely adore it when you ask them for a high five, it’s a cute gesture for them and when you first asked them, they were shocked. Like what? I think now it has become a habit for the both of you when you do something you’re proud of because you blush when you get praise so this is another way you for to earn your praise without being a blushing mess.

Pile 3:

🎈 They love that you enjoy horror movies and gore (for some of you for the gore part). So I see them liking this because they used to be a horror lover but they were shame for it so they pushed it away and decided to go with the crowd. You seem to help them open that part of their life they closed.

🎈 This is a cute one, but I hear they like when you smile at them. Even if you assume you don’t have a cute smile and such, they completely disagree. If they were going through a bad time, smile for them and they will be happy for that whole day. “Your smile is contagious.”

🎈 They like that you take care of yourself as a hobby and that you prioritize yourself above others. For them, this is the hottest thing ever and I hear some of you feel slightly insecure about it, you shouldn’t, it’s natural and a good thing:).

🎈 I also see they like that you’re this troupe “I hate everyone but you.” You seem to show a lot of love for them despite not enjoying other people presence and sometimes it melts their heart because you chose them. You could’ve chosen anyone but it was them. It’s a slight ego thing, but at the same time it makes them very happy !!

Pile 4:

🦖 I see them enjoying when you speak about dinosaurs, Star Wars, colossals (I’m guessing something to do with aot), space and technology, the stereotypes of a “nerd”, but anyways they love it and I hear (if you haven’t met them yet) they will tease you about being a nerd but it’s not in a malicious nature

🦖 I see the both of you watching television and cuddling together on your couch with a huge blanket that is draped over the both of you, with popcorn on the coffee table. They love when the both of you spend quality time together, which is your love language or at least one of them. Anyways, they love it when you snuggle with them or put your head on their lap/shoulder, they love taking care of you and it makes them feel loved.

🦖 They like it when you ask them for help even when it’s the smallest things. They don’t think you are someone who’s stupid (some of you feel that way when you ask for help hence here is the reassurance), they love it because their love language is acts of service. They feel needed and wanted, as well as it makes them happy. Actually, I’m getting their whole vibe might Sanji from One piece, if you haven’t seen it, pretty much he is a hopeless romantic who is a chef on a pirate ship. He is always helping around but also ogling at other girls and giving them special treatment. Now, your lover won’t ogle at others, my intuition is aiming at them just giving you special treatment more than others even before you started to date.

[sabrinasopposite]

star of the show; clark kent

even the brightest star

with the spotlight on her

felt like a sad girl

since the moon wasn’t there.

angst, drama, theater kid!

romeo and juliet, the tragedy of a love story. they were called star-crossed lovers for a reason—famous for it, hated for it, yet their tale became one of the most influential love stories in history. a love that barely began, but the heart had already been pierced by a dagger.

yet not every love story is a tragedy, or so y/n believed, because that’s how she felt. she was living in a romantic comedy, as she would describe her love life with clark kent—the golden retriever lead in her movie.

he was pure, the missing star in her orbit, yet now he was finally with her. clark was the kind of guy anyone could fall in love with. his charm lay not just in his smile, but in his heart—a heart full of goodness and care, the kind of heart you’d want to shield from any dagger.

y/n had always been in love with clark, ever since their middle school days together. he had always been a great friend to her, until one valentine's day, when she gently placed a soft kiss on his cheek, along with a love letter.

their love had always been there, growing with each love letter that became a confession of their feelings. then one day, clark stood in front of her, holding yellow flowers and his heart, ready to offer both to y/n.

that’s how their love story continued, until it began to crumble like stones falling apart. high school wasn’t the issue—it was that the rom-com paused at a moment when the lead character went missing.

clark often disappeared, acted strangely, or seemed to know too much. at first, y/n didn’t think it was a big deal, but it kept happening—and it never stopped.

she started to see him less and less. y/n was distracted with her theater group while clark was always gone. he’d say the torch magazine was keeping him busy, but the office was usually empty. sometimes chloe was there, but clark? he wasn’t.

one of those nights, y/n finally had him in her presence. it had been weeks since she’d seen him, but now he was there. they sat in his barn loft, one of their favorite places.

y/n sat in front of him, holding her script in hand, her eyes meeting his as she laughed softly, happily. clark read the lines of romeo, helping her prepare for tomorrow night. it was a school play—romeo & juliet—and y/n had the role of juliet.

it made her smile to have her own romeo in front of her.

clark burst into laughter. "how can you take this seriously? the words are so old, i can barely understand what they’re saying."

y/n chuckled, placing her hand gently over his. "sweetheart, you should pay more attention in english class. haven’t you read the book?" she teased him.

clark rolled his eyes but smiled. "no, maybe i should have, since my girl is juliet. i’m ashamed i won’t understand you tomorrow."

y/n chuckled, but a thought slipped out before she could stop it. "as if you’ll be there tomorrow."

clark’s smile faded, his brows furrowing in confusion. "what do you mean by that?"

"well... you’re never there," she said softly, her words tinged with hurt. "you always miss my school plays. there’s always an empty seat reserved for you." it pained y/n every time she didn’t see him in the crowd. she would wonder if he was just out of sight or waiting backstage for her, but he never was.

clark’s heart ached. he quickly grabbed her hands, holding them tightly, afraid her warmth might slip away like her heart. "love, i’m so sorry. i promise i’ll be there tomorrow, with a big bouquet of roses."

y/n chuckled, rubbing her thumb across his hands. "you know i like yellow flowers."

clark smiled softly, looking deeply into her eyes, which now held a shade of blue, reflecting his sadness and regret. "yellow it is, then."

the truth was, clark had never told y/n about his true self. it wasn’t fear that held him back, but his instinct to protect her. after everything he’d seen, all that had happened around him, and what his destiny would demand, his only thought was to keep y/n safe—safe from everyone and everything. she was his heart, and that was the part of him he couldn’t bear to risk.

she was the sun he needed.

yet, like in every romantic comedy, there’s a breaking point where the lovers reach a moment of hurt.

for y/n, that moment came as she stood on stage, the spotlight shining on her, but her eyes glistened with unshed tears. the seat reserved for him was empty again.

the star had missed her orbit once more.

the city was shining, but not for her.

it shone for superman.

pt. 2 is out!

much love!!!

ps: if u have watched romeo&juliet (1968) pls say it in unison that tom welling could be benvolio or romeo.

[mythicmanuscripts]

Hi! I love your blog so much. I'm literally obsessed! I've wanted sub aemond content for so long and your account is like an oasis in the desert.

I was thinking about aemond and how for so long he felt unwanted and unloved, like he didn't have a place among his family. Because of this I think he'd really like reader telling him "Your mine", even more so than being told "im yours". Not in a aggressive or possessive way (although I do think he'd like reader being protective of him) but in the sense that someone loves him so much that they would openly claim him as theirs. That they aren't ashamed of him or for others to know he's all theirs.

I also think it provides him some sense of security. Like he feels so safe knowing he belongs to you so he doesn't have to worry about anyone else.

Idk if this makes sense, hopefully it does😭I just can't stop thinking about this, I've had it on my mind for a while now.

Oh my god I love this!!! This is so perfect everything you wrote here is incredible.

There’s nothing explicit in my answer but it is very clearly sub!Aemond and has some suggestive tones so I’ll hide it under the cut just in case :))

So I think Aemond really struggles with the idea of being anyone’s first choice? He grew up as a second son, always teased and mocked and never taken seriously. He didn’t expect you to be any different.

The first thing you do that really shows Aemond how much you care for him is just how loyal you are? I’m thinking of a situation where you and your family are at the red keep to look for a husband for you, and obviously your family are trying their hardest to secure an betrothal from Aegon because he’s king.

But then Aemond catches your eye? You end up having a very simple conversations with him, and you know pretty much instantly that he’s the one you want. Aemond wants you too of course. He hasn’t felt this accepted in his life and he absolutely loves talking with you. You and him sit together at the far end of the table every dinner, taking amongst yourselves and Aemond doesn’t even acknowledge anyone else. He takes every scrap of your attention that he can, especially because he’s so certain that your parents are angling for Aegon and that once the betrothal is announced he won’t be able to spend time with you like this again.

You put a spanner in the works. After a few weeks at the red keep you tell your family in no uncertain terms that you want Aemond and Aemond only. Your family is hesitant, both because Aemond is the second son and because Aemond is known to be violent and cold.

But you insist.

When your parents go to Aemond to tell him that you have expressed your desire to marry him instead of Aegon, the poor lad just about feints. He says he would be honoured of course, and then the moment they leave he’s sprinting across the castle to your quarters.

You’re confused to see him knocking on your door. You know you shouldn’t open the door because people might see and rumours may start but you couldn’t care less. He is here, so you will let him in.

At first you actually think he looks upset? When you ask what’s going on he just softly asks, “Do you really want me? Did you mean it when you told your parents I was your first choice?”

You don’t even get to finish the word “yes” before he’s barrelling forwards and pulling you into a tight hug. He buries his head in your shoulder and clings to you. He’s so overwhelmed to hear that someone actually chooses him, never mind it being someone he already wishes he could marry.

You hug him back of course, and then when you try to pull away he just grips you tighter. It's like he's afraid if he lets go of you that you'll disappear. You end up having to just rub his back and whisper that you mean it, that you aren't going anywhere.

Aemond truly doesn’t even know what to do with himself when you tell him that you never even considered Aegon, from the moment you saw him no one else came close.

This is definitely where the possessiveness comes in, because there’d be a period between expressing this and actually having the betrothal ironed out and announced.

Until then, all the other male suiters try to get your attention and win your love and it drives Aemond absolutely insane. You actually have to watch him very closely or else he will lure a suitor into the gardens and kill them. He’s threatens to plenty of times.

A big part of this possessive comes from the fact that he honestly is just waiting for the other shoe to drop? He’s so certain that one day you'll wake up and realise what a terrible decision you've made and beg for the betrothal to be canceled.

So every time you talk to another man, he's so so convinced you'll prefer them and tell him that you don't want him anymore. Which is why he absolutely hates seeing you with other people because he thinks every time he's losing his chance.

And so every time you walk back to him and tell him that you can't wait for your parents to officially announce the betrothal he nearly starts crying. He's watching you choose him over and over again and he truly cannot believe it.

As much as he's very traditional and respectful, I think he kinda just falls apart when faced with the fact that you genuinely want him? He tell himself he'll do this the right way, the way that's expected of him but he can't control himself when he's faced with the reality that you actually genuinely want him.

I don't think you two would be able to wait until marriage for that exact reason. He cannot stand the thought of another even considering being with you and honestly he can't even sleep thinking about it.

He ends up knocking on your door most nights and spending hours with you. He can't get enough of you, and he especially can't get enough of hearing you say you love him and want him. How could he ever be expected to spend the night alone knowing that a few floors down there's a woman he absolutely adores who will open her door and let him cuddle her and hear about her day?

He cannot be expected to spend the nights alone and to watch you speak to others and to wait patiently until the betrothal is announced. He never expected to find someone who makes him feel loved and safe and now that he has found you he will never ever let you go.