#comfortable temperature. (sarcasm)

[tcypionate]

concerning amount of symptoms related to RA have been showing up for the past 3 years or so and im like 90% certain my new doctor wont take my concern seriously since it's seen as an "old person disease" despite the fact that all the cases in my family present before 30

[clownfangs]

-

[crescenthistory]

hi! i have this really cute idea for regulus x fem! reader. so reader is a animagus and it’s winter time so sometimes she’ll shift into a their animal form, preferably a cat, and goes seek out warmth. but reader is also besties with remus and knows he’s a werewolf, his body temperature runs a lot warmer then anyone else so she goes to room to cuddle. when that happens, regulus immediately knows they reader is with remus and, begrudgingly, goes to gryffindor to steal reader back.

when he gets there, sirius is pouring and complains to reggie that “your girlfriend is stealing my boyfriend” and regulus snaps back by saying “well your boyfriend is stealing my girlfriend” and reader and remus are amused but their bickering but don’t care.

anon. anon. i am giving you the BIGGEST kiss, you don't even know. this is perhaps the best idea i've seen in a while and so i love you. i will be thinking about this throughout all of winter, thank you.

Words: 3k

Warnings: not proofread, fem!reader, references to previous black brothers angst, disgusting amounts of fluff, best friends can cuddle platonically regardless of gender i will fight you on this, background rosekiller and wolfstar, childhood best friend!remus, implied gryffindor!reader, sirius pretends to be jealous but is not

Note: read more about cat!animagus!reader's shenanigans with regulus, wolfstar and james in Sweet Like Honey; Karma is a Cat & Padfoot vs. Whiskers

When Regulus accepted Sirius’ attempt to mend their relationship, he had expected to get his big brother back in full and no more. The person who understands him best, the boy he needed to lean on – it was all he wanted to get out of it. Perhaps he expected to have to grown tolerant of his brother’s friends, but that was something he dreaded, if he at all thought of.

What Regulus had not expected was to be introduced to and fall head over heels in love with you.

Remus’ childhood best friend, the more reserved one of the bunch that he had always seen floating around with them, but whose voice he had never had to roll his eyes at, thus never interacted with. It bewildered him now how he once upon a time barely thought of you, regarded you.

Now he knew you were delightful, and Regulus was positively smitten.

It had been exactly what Regulus had never thought he would get – an easy love. Like your friends, you were open and honest and loyal to the bone, and it spilled over like honey into your relationships with those around you. Once you caught a glance of his clearly lovestruck eyes, you melted, and the puddle was caught delicately in his hands.

Since then, that is where he has held you. In the palms of his hands, close to his heart. He learned more than he perhaps wanted to know about himself during the process of opening up to you, and you showed him a patience he still is not entirely certain he deserves. But you gave him your time, your moments, your touches and your lips, and he received and received without complaint.

When the two most important people in Regulus’ life – one a fervent, natural devotion, another a sassy, passionate rivalry – were in the same hazardous circle of loud-mouthed Gryffindor friends, he eventually had to capitulate that he could no longer just tolerate them. They were family.

God, what love has cost him.

Regulus walked into his dorm room where you have spent more days than not for the past few months, and sighed defeatedly when all he finds there is Barty laying on top of Evan in some odd position that cannot possibly be comfortable.

“Hello to you too, Black. Thrilling to see you.” Barty’s voice was laced with sarcasm, but there was no menace there as of yet.

“Yeah, yeah,” Regulus grumbled as he threw his bookbag onto his bed and sat down. “You seen Y/N lately?”

“You mean since you were all snuggled up this morning? Nah.”

Regulus rolled his eyes painfully hard at his oldest friend, murmuring a soft sod off before tossing whatever was closest – his pyjama t-shirt – in Barty’s general direction, missing by a good metre. He is a seeker and not a chaser for a reason.

“What of it, Reg?” Evan mumbled, but it was distorted by Barty’s elbow being more or less shoved into his mouth. He could never sit still.

“Just figured she’d be here, ‘s all. She finished class before me.” Regulus falls down onto his bed, curls spilling onto the emerald sheets as he stares at the ceiling, picturing you there and then immediately kicking himself for being that down bad. Then reminding himself with the therapy-speech Sirius has been teaching him, love is a strength not a weakness, it’s good to feel your feelings. Yada yada. "It's been a long day."

“Maybe she got tired of your sorry ass.” Barty laughed at his own joke only to be smacked by Evan’s finally-freed hand.

“Or yours, you sod.”

“Nah, Treasure absolutely adores me.” Barty propped himself up to flash you both a grin. “See, unlike you, I’m fun.”

“Interesting word to substitute insufferable with.” Evan said, leaning his face up from underneath Barty, as if to intimidate him.

“You love me,” Barty drawled before kissing the blond soundly.

“Would you guys please stop flirting?” Regulus’ voice was closer to a groan than anything else. He pressed the backs of his hands to his eyes, seeing stars and thinking of you. Stupid poetic feelings.

“Just because you can’t keep track of your girl doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy ourselves.” Barty pointed an accusatory finger at Regulus. “I would classify that demand as rude.”

“Bite me.”

“Only if your girlfriend says yes.” This time it was Evan’s turn of tuning into Regulus’ torture.

“And she would.” Barty winks at him.

This time it’s a pillow Regulus throws at them, and it lands perfectly, smack in the middle of Barty’s face.

“Oi!” He calls as he throws it back. “Either you quit it, or you throw me your jumper, it’s freezing in here.”

“You’re literally in bed, Barty.” Regulus looks at him, unamused. “Just–”

He trails off, gaze falling from Barty to the wall behind him as he pieces the puzzle together and realisation dawns on his face. The other boys seem to have caught on as they both cock their heads curiously at him. 

“Of course,” Regulus whispers, first in marvel and then it morphs into something between exasperation and disgust. “Of course.” At last, he gets a determined look on his face, slapping his palms on his knees as he sits up from bed and grabs his jumper to go.

“Excuse you, what just happened?” Barty says, increasingly louder throughout his sentence as he realises Regulus is headed for the door, thick wool jumper tucked under his arm. “Hey!”

Regulus throws the boys a look over his shoulder, smirking at them and shaking his head before shutting the door and walking off. He barely catches Evan’s “shush, you baby, I’ll warm ya” before he is out of earshot.

A man with a purpose and half a plan stalks off, beginning the treacherous journey from the Slytherin dungeons to the Gryffindor dormitories.

What is the single thing Regulus knows can keep you from him when you’re otherwise attached at the hip? The cold.

What is the one person you go to for anything and everything, especially dealing with the cold? A certain ragged boy with a wolfish smile that he knows is to be found only behind the portrait of an increasingly annoying woman.

“Password?” The Fat Lady asked, quirking a brow ridiculously high as she regards Regulus with a mutual disgust.

“Catulus leonis.” Regulus does not bother holding back the eyeroll at the ridiculous passphrase.

She looks at him a moment or five longer than she needs, almost as if considering not letting him in despite his answer being perfectly correct, before she finally swings open the door wordlessly.

Regulus mutters a harsh thank you, Pureblood upbringing having knocked some politeness into him he is just not able to forego, no matter how severe his beef – as Sirius says – with the woman is.

When he finally approaches the offending dorm, the door opens fast enough to knock some wind across his face, and he is met with a set of black curls and a superfluous frown that both match his own.

“Regulus. Thank Merlin.”

“Good to see you too, Siri. How'd you know it was me?”

"Recognised your footsteps. Now, c'mon."

Regulus pushes in past his brother and his eyes immediately find Remus Lupin’s bed. To the unaware, it would just look like the scrawny boy was innocently laying on his bed, head propped against a mountain of pillows and reading another one of his paperbacks.

However, Regulus knew better and could see the perfect girlfriend-shaped lump underneath Remus’ jumper, shielded by his arms as he held his book over his stomach.

Or, at least shaped like this rather specific form of his girlfriend.

“Hello, amour, I’ve been looking for you.” Regulus’ voice is addressed to the bump on Remus’ chest, but he looks up at him with a quirked brow and a smug smile tugging on the corner of his lips.

“Didn’t know we were on a pet name-basis, Reg. Good to know.” 

“Absolutely not.” Sirius and Regulus chorus at the exact same time, and Regulus fights back the wince at how painfully similar they are in this moment.

“Reggie,” Sirius finally whines. “Your girlfriend’s been stealing my boyfriend for the past two hours. Do something!”

Despite having a very similar sentiment settled in his own chest, Regulus gives his brother a pull yourself together look as he comes up to stand beside him, near the occupied bed. “I’m fairly certain your boyfriend has stolen my girlfriend equally as much,” he tuts.

“Whatever, just do something.” Sirius waves his hand towards Remus’ still very relaxed state with something a bit too close to a pout forming on his face.

“There’s no need to be jealous, Pads, the poor girl’s just cold,” Remus chides, with a teasing glint in his eye that clearly shows he knows his boyfriend is being dramatic for the bit and not actually upset. "Gotta help 'er out."

“‘M not jealous. I’m needy.” Sirius’ deadpan stare is not affected by Remus’ laughter nor Regulus’ barely-contained snort.

“Glad you admit it,” Regulus says slyly, patting Sirius on his shoulder twice, who immediately shrugs his hand off with a scowl.

“Like you’re any better, you slithered all the way up from the snake pit to fetch her. At least I’m open about it.”

Before Regulus has the chance to retort, Remus puts his book down in his lap and reaches out a hand for Sirius, which he immediately takes. “I told you you could come lay in the bed with us, love,” Remus murmurs and swipes his thumb over the back of Sirius’ hand.

If he did not feel the same way, Regulus would have given Sirius hell for how he seemed to absolutely soften in the sunlight of his boy. “Yeah, I know, Moons, I’m just being theatrical.”

Remus laughs once more, and this time his chest rumbling results in a distinct prrrt! coming from the inside of his jumper. Up through the collar, cheek smashed against Remus’, comes the tentative head of beautiful grey-and-white fur and slow-blinking yellow eyes, still riddled with sleep. 

“Good morning, amour,” Regulus coos, ignoring Sirius’ snort as he drops down to squat beside Remus’ bed so his face is lined up with yours.

You pur, stretching beneath the fabric, a single paw escaping beside your head through the collar as you roll over onto your back. Your eyes remained trained on Regulus, and though he knows cats can’t actually smile, he swears you were smiling at him.

“Sorry to wake you, princess,” Sirius drawls as he looks down at you from where he is leaning on the bedpost beside Remus. “But have you seeped up enough warmth for me to get my boyfriend back yet?”

You make a faux hissing sound before ducking your head down, so it’s just barely hidden by the collar.

Remus laughs heartily, setting his book completely away this time so his hand can come up to rest on your cat-form, petting you through his jumper. “It’s alright kitten, take your time.”

The exposed paw lightly hits Remus’ cheek in retaliation, and this time it is Sirius and Regulus’ turn to laugh at his expense. “Ow! I share my warmth with you and this is what I get in return?”

From the movement beneath the fabric, Regulus assumes you’re nuzzling your head against his chest in apology.

“Amour, I brought your favourite jumper of mine and promise to make you so much hot cocoa if I can steal you back. We can be in your dorm room instead of mine, it’s warmer in there, right?” A smile remains consistent on Regulus’ face as he talks to you.

Sirius pats him on the back, murmuring something about you’re so whipped that he doesn’t bother to pay attention to. 

More movement beneath the fabric, and then suddenly your ears are poking out of the neckline again – because why would you make it easy for yourself and use the big exit, when you can squeeze your way through a tight opening? You’re a cat after all.

Remus seems to be thinking the same as he laughs while you attempt to climb out beside his head, soft fur brushing against his skin and making up for the occasional claw you use for traction. 

Regulus attempts to bite back the coos as he sees more and more of you, recognising your movements as sluggish with sleep, no doubt coaxed into it by finally being comfortable.

“Thanks for today, see you again tomorrow, same time?” Remus teases, head turned towards you as you headbutt him lovingly, finally fully escaped from his jumper and standing on his shoulder. He nuzzles you back and scratches your head in goodbye.

Another prrrt! escapes you in greeting as you saunter your way across Remus and plop onto the small strip of mattress on his side where Regulus’ hands are open and ready to receive you. 

“Hi, sweetie,” he whispers as you allow him to scoop you up into his arms while he’s still squatting beside the bed. He holds you like an infant, tight to his body and securely supported. You immediately begin to purr loudly, nuzzling your head even further into his neck and shoulder.

Regulus does not bother to hold back the slight giggle as your caresses tickle him. 

“Good gods, are you two sappy,” Sirius groans, but when Regulus looks up, there is a wide grin on his face. A slightly teasing one admittedly, but a grin nonetheless.

Then, Regulus recognises where Sirius is grinning at him from – properly cuddled up besides Remus on the opposite side of the bed, arms beneath his jumper, soaking up the leftover warmth from you.

“Wait– how did you get there so fast?” Regulus’ voice is almost incredulous, stopping his greeting of you – earning him a harrumphing meow – to narrow his eyes at his brother. “I didn’t even notice you move from beside me.”

“What can I say; I am a dedicated man.” Sirius nuzzles into Remus’ cheek, not much unlike how you were mere seconds ago, albeit his involved a tad many more kisses.

“You’re weird, that’s what you are,” Regulus laughs as he stands up with you in his arms.

You turn around to look up at him with those big, slitted eyes of yours. When you extend your neck further towards his face, Regulus lifts you higher so you can give him the cat-kisses you so evidently wanted, his lips curling at your touch.

Sirius lifts a brow at the two of you. “Yeah. I’m the weird one.” 

Regulus scoffs at him, but when you continue to caress your furry cheeks against his lips and chin, it is difficult for any menace to remain serious.

“Thank you for your deviant supernatural warmth keeping my girlfriend alive, Lupin, but I’d like to steal her away from you now.” 

“By all means, Black, you’ve already stolen her from me once,” Remus harrumphs, pretending to be some scorned faux older brother but his eyes betray his facade; he is happy for you.

Regulus chooses to ignore it nonetheless.

“Brother.” He nods at Sirius. “Soon to be brother-in-law.” He nods at Remus. “We bid you goodnight.”

“Try not to undo all of Moony’s hard work by freezing her right back up with your freakishly cold feet!” Sirius calls after him as he heads towards the door. He then promptly gives out a soft yelp that indicates Remus corrected him in some physical way.

“Goodnight love, goodnight Reg,” Remus calls instead.

“Yeah, bye, doll!” Sirius adds, whispering more to himself, “he’s mine again now.”

You give out a tired meow that is so cute it makes Regulus’ heart clench with endearment. You cuddle properly up into the crook of his neck as he carries you out, softly closing the door behind him with a smile.

He shifts you in his grip so he can look down at you more carefully. “You are so unbelievably predictable. And even cuter than that again, which is saying something,” he murmurs to you and you respond with quiet meows.

He looks at you curiously. “Are you going to remain in cat form the whole night?”

Your tail twitches teasingly, your only other response is a quiet prrt as you close your eyes into the warmth of his neck again. He laughs, covering your feline body with his hands as he carries you, to keep the warmth in.

He sneaks into your dorm – thankfully often unoccupied as Marlene is with Dorcas and Mary is with Pandora – and settles you down onto your plush mattress and pillows. He undresses and gets ready for bed, while you’re resting your head on the pillow, observing him, but just before getting under the covers, he slips on his jumper.

“It’s so soft I could cry, Reggie,” you had whispered to him when you cuddled up to him when he wore it around you for the first time. “I fear I can never let you go now.”

Regulus slides under the blankets with a knowing smile, opening the hem, allowing you to creep under, chest against chest with your head poking out of the collar to rest at the bottom of his neck. 

“I'm no werewolf, but I’ll keep you warm with my love, amour,” he whispered to you in the dark, one hand combing through your fur protectively underneath his own jumper.

He swears, he could hear the little cat snort against his skin.

Regulus fell desperately deeper in love.

[missaengg]

Between Two Villains

Day 26 of Kinktober: Visions of Temptation hosted by @xxsycamore found here Featuring: Ikemen Villains | Ellis Twilight x Jude Jazza x f!reader Tags: mdni, smut, pwp, threesome - f/m/m, oral sex, spitroasting, cum swallowing, p in v sex Prompts: Spitroasting | “Oh, you'll regret letting me know that you like this.” A/N: I’ve been wanting to write this ever since the Between Two Villains event. While I don’t think Jude would be willing to ever have a threesome, especially with Ellis, it doesn’t hurt to dream about being sandwiched between your two villain faves, right? 🙃 ao3 link here.

They’re so close… You can feel the sweltering heat of their bodies smothering you like the stifling humidity of a hot, muggy summer day.

The bed’s wide enough to fit three adult bodies comfortably, but Jude insists on sleeping in the center of the King size bed, there’s no way he’ll scoot over to give you more space, and Ellis is acting like your bodies are glued together.

You groan, feeling your body temperature rise from the heavy comforter and the two men pressing into your sides. While the mission has been completed successfully, the assassination on the Queen’s life thwarted and those involved taken into custody, it’s the middle of the night. All that’s left to do is sleep, but…

Do they have to insist on sleeping in your – the Queen’s – bed?!

The heat is suffocating, though some of it may be due to the proximity of the two men sharing your bed.

“So damn warm… Feels like you’re burnin’ up with a fever,” Jude grumbles from next to you.

You want to scream then move, but you refrain because knowing Jude, he’ll just shove you further into Ellis – who’s curled around you like a clingy cat nuzzling his sweet, innocent face into your shoulder – and take up more space like the twisted villain he is.

“She’s warm, and she feels good… Hey, why won’t you hug me back?” Ellis asks.

Even if you want to, you can’t move, sandwiched so tightly between the two of them you can’t even properly breathe. You keep your eyes trained on the ceiling because if you turn either way, you’ll be embarrassingly nose-to-nose with one of the two members of Crown.

Your cheeks flush from the relentless heat and the absolute ridiculousness of your current predicament.

“Heh… What’s with the red cheeks? What kinda indecent thoughts are ya thinkin’?” Jude jabs you with his elbow, and though you can’t see him, you just know he’s smirking that sadistic little smirk of his.

Trust Jude to find a way to make this even more awkward.

“Aren’t you the indecent one, climbing in someone else’s bed?” you shoot back.

“Not me. What kinda villain’d do such a thing, huh?”

Ugh.

“Oh, do you want to do something indecent? Sure, what would you like?” Ellis eagerly jumps into the conversation having completely missed Jude’s sarcasm.

“What?!” Your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets. Out of all the Crown members who are likely to even make such a lewd suggestion – aka almost all of them – you never expect Ellis of all people to make it.

Ellis looks at you earnestly as he asks that outrageous question, but your look of disbelief and bewilderment is lost on him as he continues.

“Maybe you’d prefer doing it just with Jude? Or with both of us?”

You can hardly believe what you’re hearing, what he’s suggesting. It’s the first time you’re hearing him suggest something so immoral, other than insinuating he’ll kill you when you’re at your happiest, which honestly just seems like a side effect of his Curse.

“Oi, quit draggin’ me into this mess,” Jude says. “If ya wanna do it, go ahead. I’ll just watch. That’s what you’re into anyway, ain’t it?”

“Really? Hm, if you insist,” Ellis hums.

Your face is growing hotter and hotter as the conversation progresses. Not only do they barge into your bed after catching the assassin, now they’re talking about such illicit things like you’re not even present!

“Would you please get out of my bed and sleep in your own rooms?!” You want to hide under the covers from the awkward humiliation, but also to conceal the strange flutter of excitement stirring within you, especially from Jude.

“But I’m too worried to leave you alone,” Ellis sweetly protests, as Jude quips, “Bed here’s comfy so I’ll pass.”

Technically, Jude is right. The Queen’s bed is the most comfortable bed you’ve ever slept in. The mattress is plush, stuffed with the highest quality down, and the blankets are soft, made of the highest quality fabric, but…

“Ugh, honestly!”  You’re too tired to deal with this… blissful indecency and arrogant selfishness, and you decide to give up on trying to get them to return to their rooms. “Fine, just stay here then. Good night!”

You pull the covers up all the way over your head blocking them from view. It’s clear they won’t leave, and you have no choice, but to try and get some sleep – if you can get any sleep, the tingling sensation taking residence in between your thighs likely to keep you up for some time.

“Oi, why’re ya tryin’ to sleep like a damned corpse?” 

“She’s hiding, now I’m sad…”

Jude scathingly grumbles, and Ellis whines. Ellis shifts away, finally giving you some space, and you sigh in relief, but your relief is short-lived when Ellis joins you under the covers.

“Hey, this mission was hard for you, right? I can make you feel good, if that’ll make you happy.”

Ellis’s suggestion is tempting. So very tempting. Your thighs rub together unintentionally, trying to relieve the tension that’s building from what his soft, melodic voice is whispering in your ear.

You realize the movement isn’t lost on Jude when he clicks his tongue and mutters, “Knew it. Nasty woman,” under his breath with a hint of what sounds like amusement.

Great, just… great.

It’s so dark under the covers, you can’t see Ellis, but you feel his large hand slip under the Queen’s silk nightgown you’re wearing, reaching until he’s cradling your bare breast in his palm.

“You’re so soft,” he whispers.

He kneads the soft tissue, brushing his thumb against your firm nipple. His other hand comes behind your head, guiding you to him, and he gently captures your lips in a series of feathery kisses.

Your head protests at how inappropriate this is… You’re in the Queen’s bed wearing the Queen’s nightgown, but Ellis’s kisses are so sweet and so tender your body’s betraying you, and you’re melting into his tall frame.

“The covers are too heavy, aren’t they? I’ll remove them for you.”

Your eyes snap wide open. Pushing the covers back will mean Jude can see what Ellis is doing, what you’re doing, how exposed you are with the nightgown bunched around your chest. Before you can even speak, Ellis is already lifting the covers, and you can feel Jude’s piercing amethyst eyes boring into the back of your head, judging the living fuck out of you, but your mind goes blank when Ellis recaptures your lips with his. His fingers are doing things to your breasts that make you shiver and moan and want more, more of his honeyed touch.

Jude shifts from behind you, and you realize with a start he’s groaning – groans you assumed were coming from Ellis – and… Was he stroking himself?! 

The idea of Jude getting off on watching you and Ellis is thrilling. You throb at the thought, thighs clamping tightly together, rousing tremors vibrating throughout your hot, bothered body.

A cold hand – which can only be Jude’s as Ellis’s burn – slithers up your quivering thigh. His hand is like ice on your flaming skin, a welcome respite from the inferno you’ve turned into. His finger hooks into your underwear and pulls it down in one swift movement before probing your slick crease and circling your aching clit.

Your hips violently jerk when he slips two fingers in.

“Naughty princess,” Jude snickers. 

Your cheeks burn, but Jude curls his fingers, and the moment he does you’re moaning. His fingertips caressing that heavenly spot has you arching your back and curling your toes, and you’re writhing from the hot and cold hands exploring your wretched body. You reflexively push your hips back against Jude, silently begging for him to go faster… deeper… Between Ellis and Jude, you’re losing control, caught in an overwhelming whirlwind of lips and digits and limbs. 

Ellis notices Jude’s entrance and pulls away from his quest to conquer your lips. “Oh, Jude. Do you want to go first or should I?”

“Tch… I’m already down here, ain’t I?”

Jude snakes his arm around your waist and fluidly pulls the two of you up until you’re bracing yourself on all fours. Ellis warmly smiles, slipping out of his clothes and re-positioning himself by your head.

His erection stares at you imploringly.

And what a pretty erection it is… His cock looks just like him. Tall, slender, pleasantly safe yet enticingly manly. 

“I want to feel you. Can I feel you?” Ellis innocently asks, and you’re so mesmerized by how alluring he looks, you lick your lips and part your mouth, curious as to how he’ll taste. Ellis takes that as an invitation and pops his twitching member into your waiting mouth.

He tastes salty. Pleasant. His fragrant musk overtakes your senses, and you swirl your tongue around his smooth tip, eagerly bobbing lower and lower down his shaft until he’s tickling the back of your throat, and Ellis is closing his eyes with a blissful, dreamy sigh.

You hear rustling from behind you – Jude removing his clothes. Something long and firm slides through your folds, probing your inner lips and coating itself in your syrupy arousal. He sinks in without warning – not that you expect anything less from him – and you lustfully whimper as Jude buries himself to the hilt. 

“Foolish lil bird…”

He’s stretching you deliciously open, the friction of his cock in you electric. While Ellis is allowing you to take the lead, Jude is bullying your dripping cunt, grasping the sides of your hips in a bruising, vice-like grip. He callously pounds into you like a madman, almost as if he’s punishing you for your depravity, and the dichotomy of their demeanors muddles your hazy mind into a torrential, dizzying spin. 

“Ngh… you feel so… so nice…” Ellis breathlessly rasps. His fingers tangle themselves in your hair, jerking uncontrollably as your mouth works its sinful magic sucking along his full length.

The room fills with the sounds of your desperate moaning, Ellis’s ragged gasping, Jude’s angry grunting, and a degenerate, wet squelching, a cacophony of debauchery.

You’re drowning, caught in roiling, turbulent waves violently crashing against the shore of your inflamed body, but you want – no, need – more. You can’t tell up from down, but it’s not enough, and before you know it, your trembling finger is reaching for your clit.

“Whaddya think yer doing, huh?” Jude growls. “If ya wanted me to torture ya some more, all ya had to do was ask.”

There’s a dark, twisted edge to his words, and he forcefully shoves your hand away. His arm wraps around your waist for leverage so he can continue furiously rutting into you while his other hand finds its way back to your swollen pink nub. His movements are rough, but they only add to the storm brewing in your center. Jolts of lightning course through your veins.

You’re teetering on the edge, one tiny push of pleasure away from falling.

“Mmm… I–I’m close… I…” Ellis tenses in your mouth. His breathing is labored, needy whimpers humming in his throat.

Ellis looks absolutely breath-taking. A rosy flush covering his cheeks. Sweat beading along his brow. Unruly, wavy hair sticking to his forehead. Twilight eyes fluttering closed. A pretty, pouting mouth dropping open.

He’s beautiful.

“Catch me in your mouth, okay?” Ellis’s voice cracks as he pleads achingly, and before you can make sense of what he’s asked, he pulls taut, passionately crying out your name and feverishly convulsing, spilling onto your tongue.

You swallow rapaciously, milking every last drop out of his spasming cock. He tastes bitter, salty, and sweet, and you don’t want to miss a single drop.

The taste of him… the sound of his ecstatic cries… the daze of his glazed-over eyes push you over the edge, and you fall, careening into a deep abyss. Your fingers curl desperately into the sheets, your vision explodes with stars, and staggering shockwaves rip through you so ferociously, you’re blinded. You tremble and quiver and shake, and you clamp down around Jude so hard, he hisses savagely.

You don’t know whether you should scream ‘Ellis’ or ‘Jude’, but your mind is so addled, it doesn’t matter, and you’re only capable of deliriously mewling instead.

As the tension leaves your body, you dissolve into a puddle of rapturous exhaustion. Your arms can no longer support you on their own, and Jude’s hold around you is the only reason you haven’t crumpled into an unraveled mess.

Ellis soothingly runs his slender fingers through your hair, delicately stroking your scalp with his fingertips, mumbling sweet nothings in your ears while Jude nips your neck and sneers…

“Oh, you’ll regret letting me know that ya like this.”

You barely register the promise of torment laced under Jude’s sinister words or Ellis gently pulling out of your slack mouth and switching places with Jude, your trance breaking only when Jude looms inches away from your face. Something wicked gleams in Jude’s eyes, complementing the arrogant smirk splayed on his lips.

“Hope yer ready, Princess, cause I ain’t gonna be so gentle with ya.”

You shudder. The threat of his words aren’t lost on you, and as Ellis slowly slides into your abused cunt and Jude abruptly shoves his cock between your parted lips, only one thought runs through your mind…

It’s going to be a long night.

[ak319]

Haii!, I really like your Arthur Morgan series and I've also read it several times and it's not boring at all!🫶🏻

Can I make a request? If so, can you make the reader jealous because Arthur is close to Mary Beth?🫶🏻 (Arthur and the reader's relationship is not platonic!)

(AN: Tsym! Remind me why we making Y/n suffer again? PS: I'm terrible at writing jealousy shit ngl and I legit dunno why. AND THATS LIT WHAT YALL KEPT ASKING FOR-😭☠) Hope yall enjoy reading lol)

Warnings/MDNI: None, just angst and then fluff to soothe your asses-

You were by the lake, lazily washing clothes. The day had you feeling sluggish, and the pleasant weather didn’t exactly help motivate you. The water was just the right temperature, cool enough to refresh but warm enough to keep you rooted in place. You should really pick up the pace, finish up, and grab some tea--or coffee--or a well-deserved break.

The faint hum of camp activity behind you was oddly comforting, a soothing backdrop to your thoughts. That is until you heard footsteps crunching on the gravel, quick and impatient, followed by a sharp curse.

“Dammit! I’ve been lookin’ everywhere for you, girl.”

You glanced over your shoulder, grinning as Molly stormed up to you, her face a mix of exasperation and something else you couldn’t quite place.

“For God’s sake, Molly, you know my Tuesday routine by now,” you teased, tossing a wet shirt into the basket beside you. “It’s not like this camp is big enough to lose someone. Honestly, I think you’re just bad at looking.”

She didn’t laugh. Not even a crack of a smile. Instead, she stood there, arms crossed, her expression tight with barely-contained frustration. You paused mid-scrub, a curious eyebrow raised.

“What’s gotten into you? You look ready to murder someone.”

“Oh, sure,” she snapped, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Leave it to ever-so-clueless (Y/N) to not notice a damn thing going on around her.” She gestured wildly toward the camp as though you were missing some grand spectacle.

You blinked, thoroughly confused. “What the hell are you on about?”

Her eyes narrowed, and for a moment, she hesitated as if debating whether you were even worth the explanation. Then, with a dramatic huff, she took a step closer, glaring down at you like you’d personally wronged her.

“Let me spell it out for you. Do I even bother tellin’ you what’s happening? Or should I just assume it won’t make a difference because your ‘dearest cold heart’ won’t care? Or worse, you’ll just laugh it off like you always do!”

Your hands stilled in the water, the soap slipping through your fingers. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

"Y’know, what I just heard and saw?” Molly huffed, throwing her hands in the air for emphasis. “Mr. Arthur Morgan, having a chat with Mary-Beth. Mary-Beth! That same snake who’s all over Dutch, and now, apparently, your man, (Y/N)!”

Her voice rose with each word, and you blinked, caught completely off guard. She leaned in, her eyes narrowing as if trying to gauge your reaction. “I swear to God, she was asking him to buy her another one of those silly romance books for her lovesick brain. I mean, why Arthur, huh? Why doesn’t she go pester Kieran’s ass instead?”

Hearing her rant, you stood up, gripping the damp shirt in your hands as you processed her words. “Wh--sounds like a friendly chat to me, Molly,” you said, trying to brush it off with a shrug. “I mean, Arthur brings stuff for everyone. He goes out the most, doesn’t he? And, well, Kieran… he’s not exactly allowed far from camp neither he can afford anything right now. They still don’t trust him, y’know. And Arthur, he’s like a brother to Mary-Beth-"

“Don’t even start with that ‘brother’ shit, (Y/N),” Molly snapped, cutting you off. “It's just a facade.”

Your mouth fell open, heat rushing to your face at the implication. Uncertainty clawed at your chest as you tried to stammer a response, but she wasn’t done. Molly’s jealousy toward Mary Beth only seemed to fuel her fire, her words coming quicker now, sharp and biting.

“And don’t act like it couldn’t happen. You think she doesn’t see how kind he is to you? How he looks at you when he thinks no one’s watching? Oh, she sees it. And she’d snatch him up the moment she gets the chance.”

You clenched your jaw, her words making you shift uncomfortably. Sure, you trusted Arthur, but the venom in Molly’s tone, the way her words seemed to twist around your insecurities, left you feeling just the slightest bit unsteady.

"Did he even say goodbye to you before he sprang into action?” Molly pressed, her voice softer now, almost pitying. “And the other day, weren’t you telling me you needed some cream for your hands? You even told him, and look, just look at your hands.”

Her gaze dropped to your chapped and reddened fingers, and you instinctively tried to wipe them dry on your skirt, as if that would somehow make them better. Her words were digging deeper now, clawing at something vulnerable in you. Did he forget to bring it? Or worse, did he not care enough to remember? Had your wishes, his woman’s wishes, stopped mattering to him altogether?

“This is bullshit, you should have run away with that pen pal of yours, to be honest when you had the chance,” Molly muttered, crossing her arms. “You didn’t listen to me when I told you she’s after Dutch. And now she’s after both! I swear, those books she reads must be teaching her these tactics. Manipulative little-"

“I--y’know what?” you cut her off, your voice suddenly firm as your gaze drifted to the camp, your eyes narrowing.

“What?” Molly asked, surprised by your sudden shift in tone.

“Let’s just go,” you said, your voice laced with resolve.

“Go where?”

“Town.”

Without waiting for her to argue, you kicked the bucket of soapy water, sending it tumbling into the river, the suds spilling out and disappearing downstream. The laundry lay abandoned on the grass as you turned and marched toward the stables, Molly following close behind.

Damn everyone, then.

❀˖°

Arthur returned to camp, expecting to find you in his tent as usual. But when he stepped inside, the familiar space felt oddly empty. A frown tugged at his lips.

"Hey... um, Sadie?" he called out, spotting her near the campfire. "You seen (Y/N)?"

Sadie glanced up from sharpening her knife. "Oh, yeah. She and Molly went to town."

"What?!" The word escaped him before he could stop it, his voice louder than he intended. Clearing his throat, he muttered a quick, “Thanks,” and walked back to his tent, feeling heat rise to his face. He slumped down onto his cot with a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair.

You know how he felt about you going far from camp without him, even if you were with one of the girls. It wasn’t a matter of trust, it was fear.

And still you did.

There were too many dangers out there, too many things that could go wrong, and the thought of you out there without him stirred a storm in his chest.

It was 5 p.m., the time when you two usually sat together to talk about your day over supper. The time he looked forward to most whenever he was at camp. And now? He sat there, staring at the flap of his tent, the minutes ticking by painfully slow.

But what bothered him more was why you’d gone. And with Molly, of all people. It wasn’t that he didn’t like her, he didn’t have a problem with her, not really. But something about the way you two were together always set him on edge.

He’d told you how he felt about it once. About how Molly seemed to lean on you a little too much, how her sadness and drama sometimes seemed to pull you down with her. But of course, you’d defended her, saying you couldn’t just turn your back on your best friend. That Molly found her only comfort in your company.

And you were right. He knew you were. But that didn’t make it any easier to sit here, waiting, imagining where you were and what could happen.

Arthur let out a frustrated sigh, his appetite gone. Instead of heading to the campfire for supper, he threw himself onto his cot, pulling his hat over his face in an attempt to block out the growing worry gnawing at his chest.

But even with his eyes closed, he couldn’t shake the unease. Images of you and Molly wandering through town, far from the safety of camp, flickered in his mind. He trusted you, of course, but the world out there? That was another story entirely.

“Damn woman never listens to me,” he muttered under his breath, his voice tinged with equal parts frustration and concern.

Sleep didn’t come easily, and even as he tried to rest, he knew one thing for certain, when you came back, this was a conversation he wasn’t going to let slide.

❀˖°

Arthur woke with a start, roused by Bill’s loud guffaw somewhere in the camp. With a groan, he rubbed his face, taking a moment to shake off the haze of sleep and piece together his scattered thoughts. Then it hit him, the memory of you leaving with Molly, and the worry twisted sharply in his chest again.

He pushed himself up with a sigh, his body stiff from the restless nap. Moving through camp, he glanced around, hoping, praying, to catch sight of you. But there was nothing. No sign of you or Molly.

He considered asking Dutch, but dismissed the thought just as quickly. Dutch would likely know even less than he did, and Arthur wasn’t in the mood for meaningless chatter.

Back at his tent, he sat on the edge of his cot, pulling out his journal in an attempt to distract himself. The flap of the tent was open, giving him a clear view of camp, but his eyes kept flickering toward it, waiting for you to appear.

His stomach growled, but he ignored it. He wasn’t going to eat, not until you came back, served the meal, and sat down beside him. That was how it went. That was how it had to go.

He was about to get up and go to find both of you himself when-

"Um, Arthur?" Abigail’s voice broke through his brooding. She appeared by the flap of his tent, holding a coffee pot. "There’s some coffee left, and I’ve got to wash the pot, would you like a cup?"

He shook his head, barely sparing her a glance. "Why’d they go to town?"

"Molly and (Y/N)?" Abigail tilted her head, her tone casual. "Oh, they’ve been back. Got back about half an hour ago. They’re in my tent, just hanging out."

Arthur blinked, first in shock, then confusion, which quickly morphed into anger. Half an hour? You’d been back for that long and hadn’t even bothered to come see him? Not even a word after being gone all day?

He shut his journal with a snap, the sound echoing his rising temper, and stood. The muffled chatter coming from Abigail’s tent grated on his nerves as he stalked toward it, each step heavier than the last.

What the hell was going on with you?

He cleared his throat outside the tent before pushing the flap open, only to find you and Molly sitting cross-legged, enjoying supper.

"Where were you? I was waiting for you."

You swallowed your bite, not bothering to look up at him. "Needed a few important things from town, actually, so I had to go."

Arthur’s jaw tightened. "Can you come with me? I want to talk."

"I’m already talking to Molly," you replied, your tone curt, still avoiding his gaze.

Damn it. Why the hell weren’t you even looking at him? That gnawing frustration in his chest boiled over. He had enough of this.

"I said, Come. With. Me." he demanded, his voice low but firm, the tone sharper than he intended.

Your head snapped up, eyes glaring at him with such intensity that, for a moment, he regretted using that tone. Hell, he’d be lying if he said it didn’t scare him just a little.

"Oh, excuse me, Mister. Don’t you dare order me around like a maid, alright? I sit, talk, and walk when I want to. And right now? I don’t want to. Now go away, we’re busy."

Arthur ignored Molly’s taunting scoff, still fixated on you. Something about this--about you--just didn’t sit right.

"I’m sorry, okay? I’m just hungry. I was waiting for you... Can we eat now?" Arthur’s chest tightened, guilt creeping in. He rubbed the back of his neck, his anger softening. "...I was just worried as hell."

Hell, I still am.

But you didn’t let it go. "I’ve already eaten, and I didn’t ask you to wait for me. There are plenty of people around here you can share your meal with, Arthur. Plenty."

You turned your attention back to Molly, flashing her a rueful grin with your hair covering your face but he definitely caught it.

The Irishwoman gave you a knowing smile, her voice full of mischief. "Oh, girl, there’s always someone around."

This is how it's gonna be huh?

His first instinct was to walk away, but no. Arthur wasn’t the type to run from problems. With one swift movement, he grabbed your arm and dragged you out and behind the tent, just past the tree line. He stared down at you, his expression a mix of annoyance and desperation.

"What the hell is that all about?! And you know I hate it when you go out alone-"

"I don’t care! I don’t care anymore!" you snapped, your voice shaking with anger. "I hate going out for some petty stuff too, which, by the way, I clearly asked you to get, and you forgot! I guess books are more important than me, huh?."

Arthur’s chest tightened. He rarely saw this side of you ever since you both got together, the frustration, the hurt, the coldness. "See, this is the problem," you continued, your voice rising. "When men find someone vulnerable enough to control, to fix, they get bored. Then they move on, find someone else to repeat the same damn cycle. Am I right?"

His mouth went dry. The words cut deep. But what hurt him the most was the thought that maybe... maybe you believed that.

He wasn’t asking for much, was he? Three meals with you, a cup of coffee, that was it. Simple things that made him feel like you cared. That made him feel loved. But you didn’t... or did you?

The silence between you two was deafening as he tried to process what you said.

"What are you talking about?" Arthur started, his frustration mounting. "See, this is why I don’t like when you and Molly-"

"Oh, no, no, no. Shush. Don’t you dare," you interrupted, your voice sharp, but there was a deep hurt behind it. "She’s always been right, Arthur. I was the dumb one. I’ve been working my ass off for you, and you didn’t even bother to say goodbye this morning, huh?"

Arthur froze, guilt beginning to gnaw at him. He wasn’t ready for this. "You know, I had a chance to leave this life, you know exactly who I’m talking about. But I didn’t. I chose you. But if I’m just gonna be sidelined like this? Nuh-uh. My ego doesn’t allow it. Nobody gets to disrespect me like that."

You took a deep breath, eyes blazing. "If you don’t want me anymore, then say it. Don’t play these stupid-ass games with me. I’m not Molly, not when it comes to this."

Arthur’s stomach dropped as the weight of your words settled in. He could feel the hurt radiating off of you, the betrayal that had built up. And now it made sense. Molly had probably warned you, just like she always did. He could almost hear her saying it a dozen times in the morning,

'Don’t let him treat you like that, they are all shit.'

"There is NOTHING like that, woman!" Arthur snapped, his voice rising in frustration. "Is that what this is about? You’re ready to just forget, hell, even think like this over a misunderstanding?"

"Call it whatever you want," you replied coldly, not backing down. "But not gonna lie, the pattern makes sense now, Arthur."

He took a step back, trying to steady his breath, forcing himself to calm down. "Don’t say that... c’mon. You know it’s not true! She’s like a sister to me! For God’s sake, how can you even think--"

Without another word, you grabbed his satchel, the leather creaking in your grip, and flipped it upside down. A book slid out and thudded onto the ground.

Arthur froze, his eyes darting to the book, then to the scattered contents of his bag. He watched, his heart sinking, as you threw the satchel aside in disgust. "Bravo," you muttered, the bitterness in your voice sharper than a knife.

"Don't even bother explaining. I’m tired." You began to walk away, but before you could get far, Arthur grabbed your wrist.

"Don't you dare, no way you’re... sleeping away from me." His voice started strong, then faltered into a desperate plea, but you didn’t turn around. With a sharp jerk, you freed your hand from his grasp and continued walking.

Arthur stood there for a moment, his breath heavy as he watched you leave. With a defeated sigh, he bent down to gather the scattered contents of his satchel. Tilly approached, offering to help, but he shrugged her off with a tired wave and handed the book over to Mary-Beth, who was standing a few feet away, her face filled with guilt and sadness. His hand lingered in his pocket for a moment, pulling out the cream he had meant to bring you, adding it to the pile with a sharp scoff.

His posture was slumped, his movements slow and burdened. He didn’t need to say anything, his body language alone was enough to tell Tilly, Mary-Beth, and anyone else watching that this sulking would last for days, and you... you weren’t someone who accepted apologies easily.

❀˖°

And that’s exactly what happened. Arthur waited every day, hoping you would just come, sit with him, and listen. He longed for you to let him explain, to sort things out, so he could hold you in his arms again. Dammit. He missed you at night like a child misses their favorite doll.

But you weren’t just any doll.

You were his doll.

And when it came to you, he was nothing but a man-child.

Everybody knew his routine, the gang enforcer's routine. Simple, predictable. Come back, chat a little, handle his business, talk and eat with you, then the tent flaps closed, just the two of you, a world away from the chaos of the camp.

But now?

Come back, brood in one corner, pace to another, sleep with the flaps wide open.

Arthur’s mood soured every time he saw you doing something that wasn’t just being with him. Chores, errands, anything that took you away, even for a moment, made him restless, agitated. He needed you with him, in the tent, with the flaps closed, where he could hold you, even if it was just in the silence of the night.

Every night, he asked you to come with him. But you ignored him. Yet, he kept asking, unable to stop the desperate hope that you’d return, that you’d see it the way he did.

"Damnit. Damn stubborn ass woman." He grumbled for what? The millionth time? Sighing he petted his horse as it trotted at a leisurely pace, just a few meters from camp. How the hell had it all gone so bad? What was even the point anymore? Are you happy now?

His horse huffed as if sensing his despair, nudging him gently, but Arthur barely acknowledged it. The familiar sound of the camp in the distance only served to remind him that nothing was the same anymore, not the meals, not the quiet talks, and certainly not the comfort of his cot. That's it. This ends tonight.

He is going to carry you over his shoulder if that takes you to talk to him. To hell with your protests and stubbornness.

You were crouched down, sorting through vegetables with Abigail, your hands busy with the task at hand.

It wasn’t long before you saw Molly moving quietly, eyes darting back and forth, heading toward the girls' area.

You knew Molly. You had spent enough time with her to understand that when her instincts kicked in, she often acted before she thought. There was an impulsive streak in her, a tendency to let her emotions guide her steps, and that could be dangerous. Especially now, when tensions were already high.

Without much thought, you excused yourself from Abigail, your voice quick and unsteady. “I’ll be right back.”

You left her with the vegetables and slipped away from the campfire, your steps light as you tried to stay out of sight. Moving quietly, you found a small, hidden spot behind a tent, where you could just make out the faint sounds of voices, though you couldn’t yet hear clearly what was being said. Your heart pounded in your chest.

"(Y/N) and I were so close, in fact, like sisters, but you ruined that too! I don’t know what you told her-" Mary-Beth’s voice cracked, and for the first time, it wasn’t the usual calm, polite tone she carried. There was raw emotion, maybe even a hint of fear, but more than that, it sounded like heartbreak.

"You did it! Just like you're trying to ruin my relationship with Dutch."

"Are you in your senses, Ms. Molly?!" Mary-Beth gasped, trying to defend herself. "How can you even think that?!"

The past few days, you couldn’t help but notice her glances at you, brief but meaningful. It was as if she was caught between wanting to reach out and not knowing if you’d welcome her presence. Her eyes would meet yours across the camp, filled with a mixture of concern and hesitation, as if she longed to approach, to console you, but the fear of intruding, of making things worse, kept her frozen in place.

You understood her hesitation. She was a kind soul, someone who cared deeply for those she loved, and in these tense moments, you knew she wasn’t sure how to navigate the space between you both. And neither did you try to clear the air.

"You and your pretty face are going to be your downfa-"

"Molly, enough." You stepped in, your voice firm. Molly turned to you, arms crossed over her chest, her face filled with frustration.

"(Y/N), don’t tell me you’re under her spell too, for God’s sake. She needs to get a reality check-"

"Molly," you interjected, stepping forward and gently taking hold of her arms. You guided her a few steps away from Mary-Beth, the tension between them thick. "Let me handle it, alright?"

"Don’t pity her, let me make that clear. Otherwise, you’ll be the one regretting it." Molly threw one last angry glance at Mary-Beth, shaking her head before storming off, muttering under her breath.

You stood there, a heavy sigh escaping you as you rubbed your forehead, watching Molly retreat. Turning back to Mary-Beth, who sat on the ground, you softened your expression. "I apologize on her behalf..." You couldn’t help but feel the weight of the situation. You knew you’d have to work hard to get Molly to let go of her anger, but that's for later.

"It's... alright, (Y/N)." Her voice croaked, and you didn’t miss the tremble in it, nor the quiet tears she tried to hide. Your gaze shifted to the book resting on the makeshift table in the corner. The one she had requested. You swallowed hard, a knot forming in your throat.

"You’re not reading it?" you asked, your voice gentle.

She looked up at you, shaking her head slowly. You could see the weight of her emotions pressing down on her, and it hurt to see her like this.

You walked over, picked up the book, and sat beside her. "Why not?" you asked softly. It caught her off guard, and for a moment, her eyes softened. She hesitated before returning the smile, albeit faintly, her sadness still lingering behind it.

"I am sorry... (Y/N), if you... if you misunderstood my actions, but I swear it’s nothing. There’s nobody else, except Mr. Morgan that we feel comfortable enough to ask for things... but if you mind it, then we won’t--"

"No. No. You can ask without hesitation, and I am sorry. I was quick to jump to... conclusions," you interrupted, your voice soft with regret. You hugged her, and she gladly returned the embrace. The warmth of her arms around you soothed the tension in your chest.

You placed the book gently in her lap and shifted your body closer, not wanting to break the moment. "I just... y'know... when I love someone, I do it fully. And I don’t tolerate when that gets disrespected, y'know? That’s one thing I will never forgive." Your voice trembled slightly, the depth of your feelings evident. "But anyway, do read it, and then we’ll have a chat about it. You know I love hearing you yap about your books more than reading them myself."

She chuckled softly, her eyes lighting up with a glimmer of her old self, and you watched her face brighten as she held the book. You stood up, feeling a sense of relief, but also a lingering desire to stay.

"Definitely. But for now, I must go work too, don’t want Susan to bury me alive."

"You better." As you were making your way back to the kitchen wagon, a figure stepped in your way.

"Am I forgiven too?" His voice was teasing, but his expression was genuine. You deadpanned, folding your arms.

"Ummmm... let me think about it," you replied with a mock thoughtful expression, your gaze narrowing slightly.

He mirrored your posture, folding his arms with a smirk. "Not fair, woman. Not fair."

"I never said I was." You gave him a pointed look before turning to walk past him.

As you continued your walk back to the kitchen wagon, you felt a lightness in the air, a shift that felt... right. Arthur, still a few steps behind you, watched you quietly with an almost childish pout. There was something about the way his gaze lingered on you that told you he was waiting, waiting for you to acknowledge it all, to say what neither of you had dared to say yet.

You stopped for a moment, as you placed the cutting board, and turned to face him. The sunlight caught the edges of his hair, giving him a softer, not to mention the dark circles, giving him a more vulnerable look than you’d seen before. There was no teasing now, no masks, just Arthur, looking at you like he was seeing you for the first time again.

"I’m sorry, too," you said softly, your voice almost a whisper. "For the things I said."

He took a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "I don’t like it either. I swear, I’d rather fight a hundred men than have you angry at me. But..." His hand reached out hesitantly, as though unsure whether he had the right to touch you, to pull you close. "I don’t know what I’d do without you. And I apologize too...for making you feel that way. But I swear it wasn't in my intention."

A warmth spread through your chest at his words. It wasn’t the grand gestures or flowery promises that touched you. It was the simplicity of it, the honesty in his voice, the vulnerability he rarely let show. "Well then let me tell you that," you whispered back, a soft smile tugging at your lips. "I’m not going anywhere."

With a relieved exhale, Arthur stepped forward, his arms wrapping around you firmly, pulling you into his chest. It was as though all the tension from before melted away, and in its place, there was just the comforting rhythm of his heartbeat against yours. "I love you," he murmured into your hair, the words so familiar now, but somehow more precious each time.

You nestled into his embrace, letting your worries fade for the moment, feeling a sense of peace settle over you. "I love you, too," you replied, your voice barely above a breath, but you meant it with everything you had.

"Y'know darlin'...I was very close to shootin' myself if I had to sleep on the cold bed any longer. It took strength to control myself and not drag you out-" You rolled your eyes and pulled away.

"Right, now go away, I have work to do."

"Absolutely not. To hell with these damn chores. You are coming with me."

You shot him a skeptical glance, hands on your hips as you paused in your tracks. "Really?" you said, raising an eyebrow.

A grin tugged at the corners of his lips as he stepped closer, his broad frame encroaching on your space. "What do you think, darlin'?" he teased, his hands coming up to cradle your face, nearly squishing it with playful force. He gave your head a gentle shake, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "It’s been too damn long. You’ve had me sleeping like a corpse for days. You cruel woman."

You tried to hold back the laugh that bubbled up in your chest, but his determination was infectious "Fine," you muttered, giving in more to his presence than anything else. He grinned, his hands reaching for you, pulling you effortlessly toward the flap of his tent.

"Atta girl." His voice held a triumphant edge, but it was softened with affection.

And finally, after days, the enforcer's tent flaps were closed at night--and so was the distance between you two.

(AN: Req/asks closed for now, guys :/ do keep in mind ur ideas and send once I'll announce them open)

[jamal127]

Something in the rain

Gojo x reader, academic rivals

Word count: 2.2k

Authors note: Based on this request! Not proofread

In a bustling street corner of Tokyo, a young woman named Y/N sat at a small, weathered café, sipping her hot matcha latte. Her eyes were fixed on the pedestrians passing by, each one a story waiting to unfold. She had always loved people-watching, finding comfort in the anonymity and predictability of the city life. The smell of freshly baked bread wafted from the next-door bakery, mixing with the aroma of sizzling yakisoba from the food cart across the street. A soft breeze played with her hair, hinting at the approaching spring.

Y/N was an ambitious academic, her nose always buried in a book or her laptop. Her field of expertise was the psychology of human relationships, specifically the complex dance of attraction and repulsion that often existed between rivals. Little did she know that the very subject of her latest paper would soon walk into her life in the form of Gojo Satoru, a fellow scholar and her new neighbor.

Their first encounter was less than ideal. Gojo, with his piercing blue eyes and unruly white hair, sailed through the café door like he owned the place. His tall, lanky frame was a stark contrast to the cozy, intimate setting, and his arrogant demeanor was palpable. He scanned the room, his gaze lingering on Y/N for a brief second before dismissing her and claiming the table next to hers. She felt a twinge of annoyance at his presumptuousness but tried to focus on her work.

As she typed away on her laptop, the sound of his voice grew louder. He was speaking to the barista, a young girl who looked visibly intimidated by his overbearing presence. He was arguing about the specific temperature at which his coffee should be served, his voice carrying an undertone of condescension. Y/N couldn't help but roll her eyes and sigh, her fingers pausing mid-sentence. She had always found it fascinating how certain people could command a room without even trying.

Their eyes met again as he settled into his chair, and she felt a strange mix of irritation and intrigue. He took a sip of his coffee, grimacing at the taste before slamming it down on the table. She couldn't resist the urge to smirk at his dramatic display. "Your coffee not to your liking?" she quipped, her voice a sweet blend of curiosity and sarcasm.

Gojo looked up, his eyes narrowing at her. "It's lukewarm," he grumbled, not bothering to hide his disdain.

Y/N couldn't help but laugh lightly. "Maybe you should've specified that when you ordered?" she suggested, her voice teasing.

Gojo's eyes flashed with something akin to surprise before a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Maybe I should've," he conceded, his voice smooth as silk. "But where's the fun in that?"

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Their rivalry began in earnest at a local academic symposium, where both had been invited to present their research. Y/N had spent weeks preparing a paper on the psychological underpinnings of rivalry and its effect on collaboration. Gojo, on the other hand, was known for his cutting-edge work on the cognitive patterns of the elite. As they took the stage, the tension between them was palpable, a silent challenge that electrified the air.

Their presentations were flawless, meticulously crafted to showcase their intellect and prowess in their respective fields. As they stepped down from the podium, the room buzzed with anticipation for the Q&A session. The first question directed at Y/N was about the potential for growth within a competitive framework, and she delivered a well-reasoned response. Her eyes flicked over to Gojo as she emphasized the need for mutual respect and understanding.

Next, Gojo was asked a question about the limitations of his research. Without missing a beat, he acknowledged the criticisms and presented a compelling rebuttal that had the audience nodding in agreement. Yet, as he spoke, his gaze remained on Y/N, a silent challenge in his eyes. When it was her turn to ask a question, she stood and approached the microphone, her heart racing. She knew this was the moment to establish her dominance.

"Your work on cognitive patterns is fascinating, Gojo-san," she began, her tone cool and composed. "However, I can't help but wonder if there's not a darker side to such intense focus on individual superiority. Does it not risk stifling creativity and collaboration?"

Gojo leaned back in his chair, his smirk widening into a full-fledged smile. "Ah, Y/N-san," he drawled, using her surname in a deliberate power play. "Always eager to dissect the human psyche, aren't we?" He took a moment to gather his thoughts before delivering his response with the grace of a seasoned debater. "While I appreciate your concern for the collective, my research suggests that true innovation often arises from a clash of ideas between equally matched adversaries. The drive to outperform can be a catalyst for growth."

The crowd murmured, clearly torn between the two academics' differing viewpoints. Y/N felt a spark of frustration but knew she had to keep her cool. She took a deep breath and stepped up to the podium once more. "And what of the emotional toll such a cutthroat environment can take?" she asked, her voice steady. "How does that affect the individuals involved?"

Gojo's smile didn't waver. "Emotions are merely data points in the grand scheme of things," he said dismissively. "They can be managed, just like any other aspect of the human condition."

Y/N felt a surge of indignation at his cold analysis of human feelings. She knew firsthand the pain that could come from academic rivalry, having sacrificed much of her personal life for her career. "Data points?" she echoed, her voice rising slightly. "You're speaking as if people are nothing but numbers on a page!"

The room grew quiet, the tension thickening. Gojo's smile remained, but there was a glint in his eye that suggested he was enjoying the intellectual sparring as much as she was. "Aren't we all just complex algorithms, Y/N-san?" he countered, leaning forward in his chair. "Our emotions, our choices, all of it can be broken down and understood if we're willing to look closely enough."

Y/N's eyes narrowed. "And what happens when those algorithms malfunction? When the desire to win overpowers the pursuit of knowledge?" she shot back.

Gojo's smile grew into a full-blown grin, revealing a set of perfectly straight teeth. "Ah, but that's the beauty of it," he said, his voice low and mesmerizing. "It's when we're pushed to our limits that we discover what we're truly capable of. Without challenge, we stagnate."

Their verbal sparring continued, with each point met with a counterpoint and each question answered sharply and insightfully. The audience watched on, captivated by their dynamic. As the session came to an end, the thunderous applause was a clear indication that they had stolen the show.

After the symposium, they found themselves unable to avoid each other. Their paths crossed in libraries, at academic socials, and even in the quiet corners of the university where they often sought solace. With each encounter, the rivalry grew stronger, their banter more heated, and the lines between professional competition and personal attraction began to blur.

One rainy afternoon, Y/N stumbled into Gojo's office, seeking refuge from the storm. She was soaked to the bone, her hair plastered against her face, and her glasses foggy with condensation. Without looking up from his paperwork, Gojo gestured to a chair across from his desk. "Take a seat," he said curtly. "You're dripping everywhere."

Y/N complied, shivering slightly as the cold air of his office hit her damp clothes. She watched as he neatly arranged his notes, his hands precise and methodical. "Thanks," she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper.

Gojo looked up, his expression unreadable. "For what?"

Y/N took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. "For not letting me drown in my own pride," she replied, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.

Gojo's eyes flicked up to meet hers, a glimmer of amusement in his gaze. "You're quite welcome," he said, his tone dry. He paused in his work, his eyes lingering on her. "But don't get too comfortable. I don't tolerate distractions for long."

Y/N leaned back in the chair, crossing her arms over her chest. "Well, I'll be quick," she said, her voice a little steadier now. "I just wanted to thank you for not letting me embarrass myself at the symposium. I know we disagree, but I respect your work."

Gojo studied her for a moment before his gaze softened slightly. "Your paper was intriguing," he admitted, his tone less confrontational. "It's not often someone challenges me in such a... compelling way."

The air between them shifted, the tension of their rivalry giving way to something more nuanced. Y/N felt a warmth spread through her chest. "I didn't mean to challenge you," she said. "I just wanted to understand."

Gojo leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "Understanding is the key to all things, isn't it?" he mused. "But sometimes, it's the journey to that understanding that reveals more than the destination."

The rain pattered against the window, casting a soft glow into the room. Y/N felt a strange sense of peace in the middle of their usual battleground. "What's your story, Gojo-san?" she asked, the formality of their rivalry slipping away.

He raised an eyebrow, a hint of surprise flashing across his face. "My story?" He paused, considering his words. "It's a tale of ambition, much like yours, I suspect."

Y/N nodded, curiosity piqued. "You're right, I am ambitious," she admitted. "But what drives yours? What makes you so... intense?"

Gojo leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking beneath him. "Intense?" He repeated the word as if tasting it. "I suppose it's the pursuit of the untouchable. The thrill of unlocking the human mind's secrets before they're lost to time." His eyes took on a distant look, reflecting a passion that burned brighter than the neon lights outside.

"But that's not all of it, is it?" Y/N pressed, her voice gentle. She had a knack for drawing people out of their shells, for finding the humanity beneath the intellectual armor.

He sighed, his gaze returning to hers. "No, it's not." For the first time since their rivalry had begun, Gojo's guard slipped. "My family... they've always been the most brilliant minds in the academic world. The pressure to live up to their legacy is immense. It's like I'm fighting against the very fabric of who I am, trying to carve my own path while carrying the weight of their expectations."

Y/N felt a pang of empathy. She knew all too well the burden of living up to the shadows of greatness. "That's a heavy load to bear," she said softly. "But you're doing it. You're making a name for yourself."

Gojo's gaze remained fixed on hers, a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. "It's never enough," he murmured. "There's always someone ready to knock me down, to prove that I'm not as great as everyone seems to think."

Y/N leaned forward, her own burdens momentarily forgotten. "You don't have to prove anything to anyone," she said firmly. "Your work speaks for itself. You're brilliant, Gojo-san."

He gave a wry smile. "And you're not so bad yourself, Y/N-san."

The rain had slowed to a gentle patter, and the room was filled with the sweet sound of silence. They sat there, neither one willing to be the first to break the spell. The air was thick with something new, something unspoken as if their rivalry had been a dance and they had just discovered a shared rhythm.

Gojo took a deep breath and stood, walking over to the small bookshelf by the window. He pulled out a book titled "The Psychology of Rivalry and Its Impact on Human Behavior." Y/N's heart skipped a beat as she realized it was one of her earlier works. "You've read this?" she asked her voice a mix of surprise and pride.

He nodded, turning the pages idly. "I have," he said. "Your theories are... intriguing. But I have to admit, I never thought I'd see you in the flesh."

Y/N felt a blush creep up her neck. "You've read my work?" she asked, trying to keep her voice even.

Gojo nodded, his eyes never leaving the book. "I have a... keen interest in understanding my adversaries," he said, his tone teasing. "And you, Y/N-san, are quite the formidable adversary."

Y/N couldn't help but laugh at that. "Is that what you call it?" she teased. "Adversaries who share an umbrella and discuss philosophy in the rain?"

Gojo looked up from the book, a hint of a blush coloring his cheeks. "Well, when you put it that way..." He trailed off, his gaze lingering on her. "Perhaps we're not as different as we thought."

The rain had almost stopped, leaving a gentle hush in the air. Y/N stood, feeling the weight of their conversation settle in her chest. "Maybe we're not," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe we're just two people who found themselves on the same stormy path."

Gojo looked up, his eyes searching hers. "Perhaps we should walk that path together," he suggested, a tentative note in his voice. "Collaborate, instead of compete."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat. The idea of joining forces with Gojo was both thrilling and terrifying. "I... I think that could be interesting," she said, her voice wavering slightly.

©jamal127 ✧ all rights served. || 2025  (≖ᴗ≖✿)

@gojobiggestslut

[leoascendente]

Astro observations part 4🌛

🪐 Aquarius moons usually have their mother an another mother figure that also fits in the nurturing mother archetype, like they have their mum but also an aunt or a grandmother that takes that role intheir lives too.

🪐 Neptune in the 6th house, be careful with being scammed with health products, Neptune in the 11th be careful of being scammed online

🪐 Hey my Aries/Scorpio moons out there, do you like your showers at the temperature of hell too? or it's just me??

🪐 Capricorn Mercury= Masters of sarcasm, Aqua/Sag Mercury= You'll laugh until your tummy hurts

🪐 Pisces lilith can be the most charming people in the world but their defense mechanism is victimization and make you feel bad for what you've done

🪐 Libra mars has the title of being undecisive but have you met any Libra mercury?

🪐 Cancer rising/ 1st house moons are the best making people feel comfortable and safe at their presence

🪐 Mercury square/opposite Pluto usually makes the native highly aware of other people's mindsets

🪐 Not all people have it easy to fit in their rising sign because the rising is our vehicle to embody our sun sign. It can be even harder if the ruler of the rising is bad aspected with pluto or mars. Ex: a libra rising doesn't have to feel comfortable in formal relationships or socializing, even they can run from commitment if Venus is bad aspected but if their sun is in capricorn, they'll need these social interactions to embody capricorn's energy

🪐 Water/earth Mars are the best at kill them with kindness, they'll be the nicest persons in the world with you while they wait until you get what tou deserve, they'll be warching but won't bother enough to get involved

🪐 Libra and Capricorn Venus are the most elegant people I've ever met, they give off this old money aesthetic

🪐 Mercury on air signs have it easier for learning about sciences, Mercury on Gemini or Sagittarius are great learning new languages

🪐 Earth Mars are awesome working under pressure, they have the gift of keeping the focus no matter what

🪐 Virgo mars are awesome plastic surgeons

🪐 8th house deals with mysticism and the occult arts, 9th house is about religion and giving meaning to our existence, 12th hpuse deals with spirituality and the ethereal realm

🪐 Always trust your Cancer friend when they tell you someone gives them bad vibes

🪐 Pisces/taurus/cancer venus are the sweetest people ever

[cherub-berry]

⋆˚࿔ Dating Porco 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ | Attack on Titan

Pairing: Porco Galliard x gn!Reader

Summary: Want to know what dating Porco feels like? Well, no worries, old chap! I've got the fic just for you!

Content: fluff with a bit of angst, mention Of YumiHisu, mention of Marcel, No beta we die like Bert, bad grammar

Word count: 1k

Notes: I'm trying a different theme for my fics (you could say this is like a test fanfic)

Porco is known to have a sharp tongue and very brash attitude. He's never one to hold back on insults, and call someone out on their bullshit. Whether it's his fellow warriors or a soldier, he can come across as arrogant, dismissive, and downright rude. However, with you, he's a completely different person. His tough exterior melts when you're around and he becomes unexpectedly protective and preceptive. 

He still keeps his edge—his sarcasm and stubbornness are still there, but it's reserved just for others. With you, he’s surprisingly gentle, his cruel remarks no longer meant to hurt but rather to tease in a playful way. His action speaks louder than words, he will wrap an arm around you in public, especially in a crowded area, so you won't get lost or get separated from him.

At times, Porco's possessiveness becomes clear, especially when you get close to the other Warriors or random soldiers. He may act distant or frustrated, not hiding his irritation when he notices their attention on you. While he doesn’t openly admit it, his protective side kicks in, and he subtly keeps an eye on you, ensuring that no one gets too comfortable. 

Porco’s love language is physical touch and acts of service, and he shows his affection through these in subtle yet meaningful ways. He enjoys touching you often, whether it’s a hand on your back or a gentle squeeze of your hand. When you’re walking together, he’ll instinctively hold your hand, guiding you to your destination with a firm but gentle grip. It’s his way of keeping you close and making sure you’re never lost, both physically and emotionally. Porco's acts of service comes through in the ways he quietly takes care of you without making a big deal about it. He wants to make your life easier. For example, he will take the initiative to handle tasks you're too tired or stressed to deal with. Whether it is housework, errands, or even just opening a jar of jam he will do it without you asking. To him, showing love through action is more genuine than anything else, he takes pride in being a reliable boyfriend. 

Porco runs hot, both literally and figuratively. He has a naturally warm body temperature, which often makes him sweat more than others, especially during training or in stressful situations. It's not uncommon for him to feel uncomfortably warm after a long day of fighting or sparring, and he’ll often complain about it, grumbling as he wipes sweat off his brow. When you cuddle with Porco, his body heat is more than enough to keep you warm—so much so that you won’t need a heater during the winter. His naturally warm temperature makes him the perfect source of comfort on cold nights, and as you snuggle close, you'll feel the heat radiating from him, instantly soothing the chill.

Porco’s biceps are a point of pride for him, though he doesn’t always show it. As a warrior, his training is intense, and his muscles reflect the hours he’s put into honing his strength. His biceps are particularly noticeable when he's wearing his uniform, the fabric of his sleeves stretching just enough to highlight the toned, powerful muscles beneath. Though he acts nonchalant about it, he’s secretly proud of the work he’s put in.

He’s also the type to lightly tease you about his strength, perhaps making a show of flexing his arm when you’re near, just to get a reaction out of you. Though his arrogance comes through, it's also a playful gesture—a way for him to boast without saying it outright. When he catches you glancing at his arms, he might smirk and give a cocky remark, all while secretly enjoying the attention, even if he won’t admit it.

Porco’s flirting style is sharp, teasing, and often wrapped in sarcasm. He’s not the type to be overtly sweet or romantic, but he knows how to push your buttons in the best way possible. His flirtation often comes through as playful banter, with just the right mix of confidence and arrogance. He’ll throw a quick remark like, “You know, I usually don’t put up with anyone, but for you, I might make an exception,” or “Try not to get too distracted by my good looks.”

Porco is surprisingly shy in his own way. While he may come off as tough and arrogant around others, with you, he’s a more reserved and bashful man. He struggles to express his vulnerability, so whenever you show him affection in private, he becomes flustered. He’ll blush and quickly respond with a snarky remark to cover up his feelings, but deep down, he absolutely loves it. Though he finds it difficult to admit, those moments of tenderness mean a lot to him, even if he tries to hide it behind his usual tough exterior. 

Porco wants to keep your relationship private, but at the same time, he has a strong desire to show the world that you’re his. He’s afraid that people might perceive him as weak because of his love for you, even though he doesn’t believe love makes someone weak. He doesn’t want anyone to think less of him, especially not his fellow Warriors or his late brother, Marcel. Deep down, he fears that Marcel, in particular, would be disappointed in him for allowing his emotions to show, even though Porco’s love for you is something he treasures deeply. This internal conflict makes him more guarded about your relationship, trying to balance his desire to protect you with his fear of what others might think. 

Every time Porco experiences a vision of Ymir showing her affection for Historia, he feels a deep sense of envy. He envies how Ymir was never afraid to express her love, regardless of what others thought. Unlike Porco, who hides his feelings out of fear of judgment, Ymir was fearless in her love for Historia, even when it put her at odds with others. To Porco, Ymir’s ability to love openly, without worrying about how it would make her appear to others, stands in stark contrast to his own struggles. He wishes he could be as strong and unafraid as Ymir, who, in the end, found courage and conviction in her love for Historia, even in her final moments.

In conclusion, 10/10 would date, fuck, marry

[royal-chandler]

temporary/maybe permanent title is winter interlude. written for the lovely @caressthosecheekbones ✨

--

Henry is certain that he's only just fallen asleep when he’s nudged awake, Alex’s soft scratched voice at his ear and his hand giving Henry’s wrist a slight squeeze. Henry’s answer to his name is a long groan. 

“Hen, baby. Can you wake up for me?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Please?”

Henry groans once more and burrows further into the pocket of warmth that’s been conjured from sleep, their thick cloud-like duvet, and Alex’s arms. He keeps his eyes shut and silently, drowsily wishes for Alex to concede. And of course, no such luck.

“I’ve got an amazing idea.”

“That for some ungodly reason can’t wait until morning?”

“It’s uh,” Henry feels Alex slightly shift away, imagines that he’s checking the nocturne glow of their bedside clock, “one thirty-six right now so technically...”

“Don’t even bother finishing that sentence.”

“Come on,” Alex draws out. He shakes Henry some more, as if he can transfuse enthusiasm through vibration or using Henry like a ketchup bottle that’s been sitting too long. “Come on, we’re losing starlight. Let’s get a move on.”

“Christ, Alex, what for?”

“It’s stopped snowing. We should go sledding.”

Henry snorts, incredulous in the quiet. “Fuck off.”

Clearly Alex has gone bonkers because there is no way on earth that Henry is dragging himself out of bed to charge down a hill of snow on a plastic death trap in freezing temperatures in the middle of the night. 

*

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Henry says, trudging through snow that’s at least twenty five centimetres deep at the rear of the White House. 

At Henry’s side and tugging him and his sledge the last bit to the crest of the hill, Alex says, “It'll be fun.”

“Ah, yes.” Henry nods. Editorialised with bone-dry sarcasm, he continues, “Whenever I think about fun, frostbite is the first thing that springs to mind.”

“It is nowhere near cold enough for that.” Alex brings up their joined hands. “Plus, you’ve got your little cute gloves on. You’re good.” 

The Aztec patterned gloves are secondhand from Alex, dug out of a closet cubby as he had pointedly made sure to mention that they were a gift from his abuela when he was thirteen and no longer fit. 

Alex had also emphasised that Henry didn’t need to give them back. That it was a transfer of ownership. And they are very nice, the fingerless sort that convert into mittens. The yarn stretches comfortably and the pouches slip over Henry’s fingers just right. 

“Everything will be fine,” Alex promises. He reaches out and clicks on Henry’s headtorch. His already lit grin is brilliantly illuminated. “Trust me.” 

“There’s no question of that,” Henry returns. “I only ask why this couldn’t wait for the daytime? You know, how it’s normally done.”

Alex simply shrugs, his grin gentling into something flagrantly affectionate. “Because right now it's like the world is just us.”

And fuck, what is Henry supposed to argue against that?

*

“How are you winning?!” Alex drags his sledge behind him with one hand and wildly gestures with the other. “You didn’t even want to do this. I did not plan on you winning.”

Above him and at the top of the hill already, Henry props an elbow on his now vertical vehicle that’s planted in the snow, watching Alex with amusement. His boyfriend is exceptionally precious when he pouts. “My being reluctant to sledging doesn’t mean I’m not skilled at it.”

“Best of seven,” Alex huffs upon arrival. 

“You have a problem. The terms were already agreed upon.”

“You scared?” 

Alex then proceeds to emit the noises of a fowl.

“Resorting to primary school tactics, are we?”

Alex only lifts his brow, his expression dancing with challenge.

“I'm going to need some proper motivation, darling,” Henry says, sliding on a smirk.

“I could be a victim of clichés and offer mind-melting sex if you win but you get that all the time anyway.”

Henry breaks into helpless laughter and agrees when he finds the cold air to do so. 

“So, instead, how about the next time I’m at the palace I take you up on those horseback lessons finally,” Alex says. 

“Truly? You’ve always seemed—uncomfortable around them.”

“Well they are huge, intelligent beasts that can buck me off and launch me god knows how many miles an hour into the air.”

“Dramatic." He pauses, shaking his head. "Really, Alex. You don’t have to.”

“You love it and it’s something we can do together. I’d like to try it out,” Alex says and he sounds sincere. “If I don’t enjoy the experience, I won't be shy about it.”

“And if you win? What do you want?”

“Here’s where I do get pervy."

"Of course."

"I win and you let me buy you a pair of cowboy boots and a Stetson and you wear them for me.”

“Nothing else, I’m assuming.”

“Anything else would get in the way, Henry.”

“You’re on.”

*

Minutes and minutes later, victory is Henry’s and he graciously accepts Alex’s request for a final run, plopping down on the front of Alex’s sledge when he makes a grabby motion for Henry, his legs open. Their combined weight rips them downslope, easily the record of the night. They’re a powdery pile at the bottom when they come to a stop short of the treeline with a sharp turn and tumble off the sledge. 

“You alright?” Henry asks. 

“I should be asking you. You’re the one who cushioned my fall. Am I smothering you?"

“It's all fine for now, love. You’ll be nursing my aching bruises later.”

“Obviously.” Alex animates the line of his brow. “Just call me the love doctor.”

“Won’t be doing that, thanks," Henry comments. Using his teeth—due to most of him being trapped under Alex—Henry yanks back the pouch of his right mitten. He assesses the snarled wreckage of Alex’s hair that’s been freed of the headtorch and clumsily combs through it with chilled fingers. There’s a small scratch by Alex’s temple. Henry thumbs away the paper-cut thin trace of red and finds Alex’s perfect eyes. “You didn’t let me win, did you?”

“Me? Never. I lost,” Alex insists, sweetly leaning his head into Henry’s touch. His adoration is spotless if not his honesty. “Life rolls on.”

Henry considers calling Alex out but a shiver distracts him, stalls his tongue. 

Alex’s arms around him tighten and with their physical arrangement, it’s plenty awkward. It’s also loving. He ridiculously presses a kiss to Henry’s wintry-wet palm. “Cold?”

Spellbound, Henry murmurs, “A bit, yeah.”

“I’ve got a way to get you warm,” Alex shares quietly. 

*

Henry moans and licks at his lips, chasing the flavor off his mouth. “This is sinful.”

“I know,” Alex says after a long sip from his UT mug. “Nothing beats Mexican hot chocolate.”

“And the amaretto? Ugh, chef’s kiss.”

“Discovered that little addition four Christmases ago.”

Henry smiles at him and eats another mini marshmallow. “The man’s a genius.”

“Yeah, my ideas aren’t all shit that will have us needing Icy Hot the next day,” Alex replies, his gaze dropping to where their sock feet share the spindle of a kitchen stool.

Henry lightly kicks him. Kicks him again to get his full attention. “Tonight wasn’t shit.”

“No?”

“No.”

Alex sighs, abandons his drink to rub at his stubbled jaw. “Snow felt like—like a fresh start. A renewal, I guess. Getting rid of yesterday. I know it’s not that easy, that it doesn’t work like that and it’s fucking stupid—”

His heart sore and swollen, Henry closes the distance that parts them, hushes Alex’s doubt with a slow and open kiss. He kisses past the cling of sugar and spice, until it’s clean. 

“I love you,” Henry says. His words are only a fraction of what he means but he knows Alex can read the spaces between. Thank you. It helps. You help.

“Love you still. Love you always.” Alex curls into him, his hand over Henry’s knee. 

He’s there. He’s there, Henry knows because he can read Alex’s spaces just as well.

--

please forgive any mistakes. i read over it but it was written very quickly. also, i’m fairly sure there are no hills behind the white house. the grounds are pretty flat but for some reason this fic insisted on being there.

[iceunhie]

wriothesley babbles

yeah yeah wriothesley fics are cute and sweet and all but current thoughts are of tea lover wriothesley x coffee lover reader wherein wriothesley never seems to get enough of your passionate arguments about why coffee is the all-cure to every working fontainian's life. let's toss in a side of enemies to lovers in there but it's one sided because this man is a menace and you CANNOT tell me he wouldn't find amusement in your words and constant glares whenever he says that tea was much better than 'that bitter substitute for adrenaline'. is he purposefully doing this to rile you up? you don't know. what you DO know is that you cannot stand this man.

let's ramp it up a bit by tossing an utterly down bad wriothesley, who just loves hearing the way you talk about something you're passionate about (even if he knows you find him dreadfully haughty by his remarks) and doesn't even care about the topic at all, just watching the way your lips move and your heated words, all the while listening intently about how you talk about your day and how exhausted you are from work.

thinking about wriothesley, who just wants to kiss away your words whenever he engages in your (not-so) friendly banter. who humors your exchanges with barely veiled flirting and sarcasm (which makes you give him the BIGGEST eyeroll, not complete without a slow heat creeping up your face, the cherry on top to his entertainment) and yet is the first person who helps you with your tedious work despite the man saying that he wasn't too interested in the overworld's affairs.

wriothesley who may seem indifferent to any news about you, hiding his slight affection for you under that sassy tone of his — but is quick to tell off any convicts attempting to get close to you due to his (very obvious) favoritism. who breaks his composure when confronting lyney, light blue eyes immediately darkening in warning at the magician's threat to go after you.

wriothesley, who's just deeply enamored with you, wanting more than just mundane discussions over 'how the temperature of tea and coffee determined the depth of their flavor' and the occasional solemn talk about work with you. he just wants to be the one to take away your troubles, hold you in his arms and plant comforting kisses all over your face and lips, tasting the hint of coffee he knows you definitely had.

wriothesley, who's questioned by clorinde about why he keeps asking her about any news for you while you're away from the fortress over tea, with the champion duelist only sighing before telling him that yes, you were fine and no, you weren't facing and troubles. cue wriothesley changing the subject when clorinde brings up the way he always seems to linger on you, to dote on you. and she's appalled, to say the least, when she sees him drink his tea in one gulp, a slight flash of pink crossing his cheeks.

idk man this man is growing on me

[nackrosor]

~ Childhood Sweethearts ~

[Part 2 / ?]

Leon S. Kennedy x bestie!Reader

PART 1 ✨ PART 3 💫

warnings/tags: friends to lovers, slow burn, pining, eventual romance, eventual smut, depressed/traumatised Leon, angst with hurt/comfort

series synopsis: you and Leon have been friends since you can remember. You've always been there for him, especially through the bad times. He's in a bad place again and he needs you. You're the only light in his pretty dark life.

word count: 3,8k.

The hours passed slowly as you sat there, watching over him. Thankfully, only the occasional twitch of his brow and unconscious babbling disturbed his otherwise peaceful rest.

You treated his fever by placing a damp and cold cloth over his forehead until you could feel his skin had cooled considerably. Even so, your gaze never left his form, not even to rest your eyes for a moment. You remained vigilant the entire time. The events of the previous hours, as well as conjectures about what had led your best friend to his current state, lingered in your mind, pestering it for hours, although at least they ensured you stayed awake.

Eventually, the first signs of morning appeared, and the darkness outside your window faded into faint hints of light that trickled through your curtains. You thanked the sky for providing you with a clear and sunny day after such a dark and stormy night.

Only a few moments later, Leon began to stir and struggle to open his heavy eyes.

You swiftly moved to his side, kneeling by the bed. Your hand instinctively moved to his forehead to gauge his temperature again, and you breathed a sigh of relief when you felt his skin cool to the touch, just like the last time you had checked.

You stalled for a moment, waiting for his eyes to fully open before speaking.

“Good morning, Leon... How are you feeling?" You asked him softly, brushing his blonde locks of hair off his temples.

"I'm tired... Thirsty..." he complained in a raspy voice. He sounded more coherent than the previous night, although he was still struggling to articulate sentences. His throat must have been sore and his mouth pretty dry.

You were ready to stand up and fetch him a glass of water, but before you could move a finger, he reached out his hand to cup your cheek. His gaze met yours for the first time since he woke up, and you nearly gasped out loud. He flashed you that knowing look he always gives you when he acknowledges something you did before you could even tell him. His thumb brushed delicately over the bags under your eyes, as if he meant to wipe them from your skin, and you stared at him in awe as the angles of his lips twisted in a small smile. 

"You look awful…"

Your face immediately broke into a grin. There he was. There was the Leon you adored. The familiar sarcasm in his tone provided an instant balm to your fretting heart. He was clearly feeling better. At the very least, he sounded more like himself.

"Look who's talking…" you snapped back jokingly, like you always do. You two would always go back and forth, taunting and poking fun of one another until the stupid jokes had you both in stitches. It was kind of like your love language. And you'd missed it. You had missed it so much.

Smiling knowingly at him, you gently patted the back of his hand and then pulled it away from your face.

"I'll be back in a moment with some water." you announced, standing up and walking to the door. "Don't move, mh?" you teased him, arching your brow as you turned to leave the room.

As you walked away, Leon let out what sounded like a scoff, leaving you grinning even harder. And you smiled all the way to the kitchen and back to the bedroom, holding a full glass of water in one hand. You couldn't help but feel like the worst was over and things could only get better from here.

When you returned, Leon had already managed to sit straight and lean his back against the bed's headrest. He turned to look at you as you approached him again and sat down next to him.

"Thanks..." he rasped as he took the drink from you. You silently observed him as he drank the water, recalling how you had to assist him with the same task last night, when he struggled to even rest his lips against the rim. He was doing it by himself this time, with little to no trouble.

"Water should help you with your hangover..." you stated softly, taking the empty glass from him. A mischievous gleam flashed across your eyes. "But I don’t know, you're the expert..." 

Leon appeared to notice the veiled jab in your words, but instead of engaging in banter as you assumed he would, you watched as his face fell and his gaze darted to the opposite side. Your chest clenched, and you immediately felt guilty about what you'd said. Perhaps it was too soon.

"Did I... Did I cause you trouble?"

He sounded and looked ashamed as he spoke. His gaze shifted from yours to the sheets, his brow furrowing as if he was remembering or attempting to recall what had occurred the night before.

You huffed a soft giggle through your nose, aiming to lighten the situation. You couldn't bear seeing that look on his face.

"You puked all over my sink, drenched my carpet..." you began, with a humorous tone. "You took my favourite side of the bed, my clothes..." you added, gently nudging him with your knee. You were hoping to ease the tension and make him smile again.

"I guess I did cause a bit of trouble..." he conceded. You had managed to get him to crack a little smile, albeit an exhausted and short-lived one.

He cleared his throat, rubbed his palms over his face and then took a long breath. 

"Are you angry with me?" he finally asked. 

His question left you stunned for a minute. It wasn't something you'd heard from him before, and you realised it must have required a lot of courage for him to bring it up. You frowned at his serious tone at first, but you quickly offered him one of your big smiles in the hopes that it would instantly reassure him and leave no room for doubts.

"Do I look like I'm angry to you?"

Leon seemed to relax at the sight, although he still looked concerned. 

"No... No, you don't," he said quietly, glancing down then back up at you. "I really mean it, though... I really am sorry for last night. I shouldn't have..."

You gave him a puzzled look as he paused and glanced away, evidently caught up in his own thoughts. 

"Do you... Do you hate me for this?" 

Your frown only deepened in response to his question. Hate? Was he seriously afraid you'd despise him for what had happened? You hadn't expected to hear him talk like that. 

"If I hate you for coming to me for help when you needed it?" You pressed him, your tone somewhat reprimanding but also understanding, as if you were trying to reason with a hurt child.

“No, Leon. I do not hate you. I am not upset with you. Why would I be?"

You couldn't understand. Was he recollecting his dizzy thoughts from the previous night and feared that he might have done anything to jeopardise your friendship? Or was he just feeling ashamed to have let you see him in such a miserable state?

"I'm sorry... I should've..."

He paused again, seeking for the right words which hesitated to come. Finally, he sighed and rubbed his eyes with his palms before fixing his gaze on you. Your chest tightened as you saw his lapis lazuli clouded with sorrow. 

"I... I'm just... I'm just tired. Tired of everything," he admitted with a shaky tone. "Tired of being alone." The corners of his eyes and the angles of his mouth curved into a faint, sad smile as he added in a whisper, "I wanted to see you..."

You felt a pang in your heart after hearing his admission. You grabbed his hand impulsively and squeezed it in a reassuring gesture. That must have been the reason he started drinking again, as well as the cause of his state last night. Only the thought of him staggering through the streets in the pouring rain, completely inebriated, with the sole intent of coming to see you is enough to cause a lump to form in your throat.

You had no idea how severe his loneliness was. He had never spoken about it so openly, so bluntly, actually stressing the words out loud. He had always mentioned the nightmares, the memories, and the emotions they brought back, but never how lonely he felt. Or maybe he did. Maybe he gave you the signals but you failed to pick them up. That awful notion crept into your muddled head, leaving you doubting yourself. Could you have done more for him? Could you've been more present? But you were always there for him when he needed you...

"Leon... You're not alone." You addressed firmly, despite the fact that your voice was quivering with emotion. "I'm always here for you, you know that."

He softly clasped your hand back. The melancholy in his eyes intensified, but there was a certain tenderness in the way he gazed at you.

"I know," he responded calmly, and you were soothed by the straightforward response. "I just... I just wish I wouldn't have to rely on you so much."

He took a brief pause before continuing to speak. "I know it's not easy to be around me, to help me through this."

Did that mean there had been instances when he chose not to bother you even though he needed someone? Even though he needed you to be there? The thought caused you to desperately shake your head, your frown deepened and your heart clenched. 

He looked across at your face again, his expression anguished, and before you could voice your protest, he declared, "You don't deserve all of this..."

You couldn't bear to look at his face nor listen to his self-deprecating statements. In a rush of affection, you drew in and wrapped your arms around him, resting your head on his chest. 

"Stop that nonsense." you groaned, squeezing your eyes closed. "You're my best friend, Leon, and I care about you. I want you to rely on me... You will never be a burden. Never."

As you held him, he buried his head in your shoulder and wrapped his arms around you as well. He just hugged you tight and for a couple of moments he seemed unable to say anything else.

You could feel his heartbeat against your cheek. It was erratic, thumping rapidly just like yours, yet mixed with the warmth radiating off his body, it somehow managed to soothe you, even if only a little.

"I want you to know..." he began, his voice trembling noticeably. You could feel his warm breath tingling the sensitive skin of your neck. "When I have nightmares... When I wake up in the middle of the night... or  whenever those feelings resurface... The first thing I think of is that I wish you were there."

Your stomach clenched at his confession. It both devastated and touched you to hear him say that, and you were unable to convey the conflicting feeling into words. You simply hugged him closer in response, momentarily failing to speak.

"You always know how to make me feel better... Just you being there for me, being present… helps."

You sealed your eyes shut so as to keep the tears at bay, but the more he shared, the more he opened his heart to you, the harder it proved to refrain from crying. 

"I wish..." he whispered, burying his face further into the crook of your neck, "...that you were there all the time..."

He paused. The pain in his voice forced him to swallow.

"I wish it was always just you and me..."

You were truly fighting off the sobs as he gave voice to such a heart-wrenching wish. You couldn't hug him any tighter and yet you tried anyway, hoping to fully convey to him how much you cared about him, cherished him. To really make him feel your love, which was boundless.

"I wish I could always be there for you..." you managed to blurt out in answer, your voice muffled by the growing lump in your throat. You kept your cheek pressed against his chest, seeking shelter in the rhythm of his heartbeat and the warmth of his body.

One of his hands crept to the nape of your neck, slipping between your hair and cupping the back of your scalp in a panicked yet affectionate motion, pulling you closer to him.

"I wish... I wish we could go back to... The good days..."

The mounting anguish in his voice rendered it all the more challenging for you to remain strong for his sake.

"Before..." he said slowly. "When... Before..."

At the end, his voice trailed off; he seemed to be struggling with letting the words out.

You knew all too well what he meant to say, even if he failed to say it out loud and at that point it all became too much for you. A first sob escaped your lips without you could do anything to prevent it.

You raised your head from his chest, your hands moving upward to cup his cheeks in a firm but loving manner, just to make sure he looked directly at you. The sight of his glossy eyes momentarily delayed your speaking.

"I know... I know..." you mumbled, feeling your voice falter as the first tear fell from your eye, "But we can't go back. We can't. We can only move forward and do it in the best way we can. You had me beside you during the good days... You had me beside you during the bad days... You'll have me, always. I won't leave you alone."

His jaw clenched and his nostrils flared, as if he, too, was trying his hardest to hold back the tears. Leon opened his mouth to speak, but froze and closed his eyes, looking as though he was trying to summon the courage to share what was on his mind. His pained gaze met yours again as he reached out to brush his thumb on your cheeks to wipe the tears away.

For some time you stayed like that, just gazing at each other. The air between you buzzing with a mixture of emotions, your faces almost touching and yet no one dared to close the gap. You could have. You could have kissed him right there and then, showing him just how much you meant those words, showing him just how deep your love ran for him. But was it the right time? With Leon in such a wretched state? Wouldn't that have been like taking advantage of him? Oh, you couldn't do that to him, to your special friendship. No, that wasn't the right time… and yet, everything in you was urging you to lean forward.

His gaze travelled from yours to your lips, and his thumb followed the same path to brush away a tear that was sitting at the corner of your mouth. His stare lingered there on your lips, and you practically stopped breathing, caught in a daze. His jaw clenched again, his fingers tensed, his lips parted... But then he drew his hand away and pulled back, breaking the spell. You could hear your heart, too, shattering a little.

"Do you think..." he started but stopped right after to clear his throat. "Maybe we could..."

He attempted to get the words out again, his brow furrowing and his adam's apple bobbing hard in his throat. He eventually gave you a little smile to mask his struggle, but you could see right through it.

"Never mind... It's a stupid idea… forget it."

You blinked back the tears and tried to still the ache in your chest. Whatever he meant to say was clearly all but a stupid idea, you could feel it. 

"We could… what?" You encouraged him softly, touching his arm to reassure him and give him the courage to speak up.

Leon looked down at your hand for a brief moment before slowly returning his gaze to your face. He took a big breath to calm himself down before trying again.

"Maybe we could... Maybe we could..."

His words seemed to catch in his throat once more, and he groaned defeatedly, but you gently rubbed his arm and stared at him patiently until he finally managed to continue.

"Maybe we could... Live together... I mean-"

His eyes widened, as if he couldn't believe he'd actually said it aloud, or perhaps out of fear for your reaction. Either way, he promptly tried to downplay his own words. "I told you. It's a stupid idea, really..." 

"Live together?" you echoed his suggestion, a stunned look on your face. Your palm left his arm, nervously clasping the other hand in your lap. "You mean... like roommates?"

You thought you saw pain flash across his eyes for a split moment before he quickly concealed it under a solemn expression. 

"Yeah, like..." He took a deep breath and tried to compose himself. "Like roommates..."

You could see a mix of emotions flickering in his eyes as he held your gaze; dread, hope, shame, trepidation... Then he looked away and ran his shaking hands through his hair. 

"Look, I-I know it sounds silly..." he continued, his voice filled with frustration and urgency. "I just..."

His intense gaze met yours again, and you could see desperation written all over his face.

"...I just don't want to be alone anymore. At least for a while.

He was growing exceedingly restless and nervous by the second, and before his state could get any worse, you grabbed his hands and squeezed them tight to interrupt his spiral of negative thoughts. A tender smile playing on your lips.

"There's nothing silly about it, Leon... Actually, I believe it's a good idea.” You reassured him in a soft yet resolute tone. "I could keep a constant eye on you that way," you observed, a hint of playfulness returning to your tone.

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

"You mean you'll..." he began, but stopped mid-sentence. He blinked and frowned, seemingly taken aback by your response. "Really?" he asked. "Are you sure? You don't have to... It's a lot to ask-"

"It's not a lot to ask!" You interrupted him with a soft chuckle and a squeeze of your hands. "We're best friends! And we used to spend a lot of time together, didn't we? It will be just like in the old days... when we were younger. Except this time, instead of separating at the end of the day, we'll be sharing a house." You mused, a hint of mirth in your voice. "You can move here even right away. I'm absolutely fine with it. More than fine. I'm thrilled."

Leon remained still for a minute, his eyes drawn to your hands holding his. You swear you saw the corners of his lips twitch in a moved smile, but it vanished all too quickly, leaving you wondering if you had imagined it.

His hands slipped out of your grasp, only to wrap around yours and squeeze tightly, like if he was holding on for dear life.

"I... I just don't want you to feel like... Like you have to..."

He looked up at you again.

"Are you really okay with it?" He asked with a hint of a smile, hope shimmering like a white wave across his blue eyes. "I won't bother you?"

He evidently needed a bit more encouragement, so you smiled even bigger and declared, "It's decided!" to dismiss any further doubt. "You'll move in with me. The guest room is not as big as my bedroom, but I hope it's comfortable enough for you-"

"It's perfect!" he replied in a hurry, perhaps with too much enthusiasm, not that you would hold it against him. "Just for the simple fact that it's here with you."

You couldn't help but feel a flutter in your stomach upon hearing his remark, although you tried your best not to dwell on the feelings that it evoked inside you. All that mattered was the joy that was clearly returning to your best friend's face. And seeing him smile was all that you needed.

"Thank you, Y/N," he whispered, closing his eyes and raising your clasped hands to his forehead. "Thank you so much." 

The sight made your heart skip a beat and your cheeks flush; the way he cradled your hands and nuzzled his forehead against your skin was almost too much for you to bear. Yet you tried your hardest to hold your emotions at bay. 

"Now…" you cleared your throat and gently pulled your hands back before you could say or do something dumb. "Do you think you can make it to the kitchen for breakfast? Or do I need to bring it here? 

His lovely eyes met yours again, and for some reason, this time they sent shivers down your spine.

"I'm sure I can make it to the kitchen," he replied with a smile. "Go ahead. I will be there in a minute or two."

You smiled back at him and nodded before standing.

"You know... I think this will actually do me a lot of good..." he added, causing you to halt, "I won't have to spend so much time alone." He paused, then pointed out, "You won't have to worry as much either."

"Yeah... I guess this truly is the best option for us both." You confirmed with a smile, despite the growing apprehension that was clawing at your stomach. It would be so much harder to hide your feelings from him while living under the same roof 24/7…. But you'd have to make do somehow. Leon seemed overjoyed at the prospect of moving in with you, and there was no way you could take that away from him. No way.

With one final lingering look at his serene face, you turned around and walked to the doorway, only to stop at the last minute.

"Don't take too long, or I'll eat all the croissants," you teased him, snickering at the sight of the grin that instantly lit up his face.

“You wouldn't dare…”

You merely shrugged and disappeared down the hall. 

Leon huffed an earnest chuckle as you left the room and shook his head in amusement. With a sigh he fell back down on the mattress and closed his eyes. A wave of relief washed over him as he replayed the last portion of your conversation in his head. 

"Finally..." he whispered to himself. "I can't believe it's finally happening. Now... I can begin to find my peace again..."

For the first time in years, he felt an overwhelming sense of joy and hope for the future. 

"Thank you," he uttered, raising his hands to cover his face as the tears he fought so hard to suppress began to prickle his eyes. This time, he did not hold them back. 

"Just... Thank you."

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[foli-vora]

the sun will shine again

joel miller x f!reader

A/N: just a little self indulgent something I wrote for comfort when I needed it, but maybe it can be a little reassuring hug for someone here as well? If you're struggling, please reach out to your local helplines, friends, family, doctors, teachers, coworkers - you're worthy of your existence on this planet, and you're not alone ❤️

Word count: 2k

Warnings: heavy themes. Depression, thoughts of suicide and intent, mentions of a weapon (gun), Joel struggles with feelings but he gets the message across, Ellie is Ellie with a little needed comic relief, hurt & much needed comfort

You don't want it anymore. Any of it. You just want peace. You want to be able to wake without the lingering presence of something heavy weighing down on your heart, your soul. You want to be able to smile, and feel it curl on your lips knowing it's nothing but true, and it's not there hiding the ugly thoughts and feelings stirring in your mind. You just want to be happy.

Is that even possible? Does happiness even exist anymore? The world had been torn apart long ago - there is very little to smile for now. Maybe it wasn't worth the effort. Maybe this is all there is.

No.

No, this isn't all of it.

You're sure you feel happiness, even if it doesn't manage to make it across your features most of the time. You feel the tender warmth of it in your chest, the blissful ease of the never ending pressure threatening to crush you under its weight.

It happens now, despite the horrific events that seem to follow your footsteps. Ellie's a sweet thing. She hides it behind her stubbornness and sarcasm, but you spy a slight comfort building within her as time rolls on—a peace.

Joel mirrors it, and he fights it - God does he fight it. Of course you know why he keeps her at arms length, why he desperately fights to keep that void present, but lately, it's wavered. He smiles, laughs even. It's beautiful to witness. He deserves it all and so much more.

You on the other hand? The shadows have seemingly only grown outside of the QZ despite being free, creeping along and filling every vacant space in your mind. It's so damn heavy. Something's there, a presence that seems to know exactly when to strike with its poisonous words, and it's not long until a part of you starts to believe them.

You don't belong here. You don't deserve them. You don't deserve this. You should've died long ago. Why are you still here? They would be better off without you.

It's those thoughts that have you here now, staring numbly at the sun beginning to shine over the horizon with a weight in your hands. There's a harsh chill in the air that bites at your skin through your thick, tattered long sleeve, but you don't care. You won't be here when the snow eventually hits.

You had left your jacket draped over a sleeping Ellie, her cheeks and nose tinged pink from the low temperature. It wouldn't go to waste - she'll get a lot of use out of it. Your pack you'd left in its spot beside Joel's - he'll take whatever they need before they move off. You have nothing else of worth.

They'll be better off. You don't belong here. You don't belong anywhere. Everyone will be better off.

Your gaze drops to your hands where they cradle the handgun, the steel barrel now warm from your touch. You only have one bullet - you left the rest behind. You wouldn't need them, anyway. Joel'll get a use out of them. They'll both be safe.

Safer without you. Better without you.

So why can’t you do it? Why can’t you just get it over with? Why are you hesitating?

The last few months roll through your mind. Blurs of memories, of you and Joel, of you and Ellie, each one rolling through your mind and bringing that sweetly craved warmth back to your chest. You know why you’re hesitating.

It’s a battle between love and darkness, and you hate that the darkness is winning. You’re weak.

They deserve more than you.

“Watching the sunrise?"

The unexpected but familiar gravel has you jumping about a mile high out of your skin. Your head whips to where Joel is approaching quietly from behind, and you discreetly tuck the gun into the waistband of your jeans as you nod, forcing a strained curl of your lips.

"It's a nice view," he continues quietly, voice still roughened from the few hours of sleep he managed to get. "I wasn't expectin' you to be gone so long."

He had been resting when you left the little campsite, eyes closed and merely grunting in reply when you mentioned needing a bit of privacy. How long had it been since you left? How long had you been dragging your feet in carrying this shit out?

"I got distracted," you explain weakly, shifting slightly over on the unforgiving boulder you sit on so he can rest on it beside you, "sorry."

He notices your clear lack of jacket.

"You cold?"

"No," you lie.

He's watching you, studying you. You can feel it. You keep your eye on the horizon, taking in the pastel mix of blues and oranges stretching across the sky as the sun starts to rise further above the landscape in an effort to escape his scrutiny.

"You needin' these?"

Glancing towards him, you watch as he sticks his hand down the front pocket of his jeans before holding it out to you, noting the bullets rolling around his palm. Your bullets. There's something hanging in his gaze as it remains heavily fixed on you. Maybe a slight edge of suspicion? Challenge?

You don't manage to hold it long enough to find out.

"Uh, not that I know of. I think I'm good."

He makes a low noise of thought, "Alright. Well, why don't you let me check. Better to be safe than sorry, right?"

"Joel—"

"Come on."

The cold's long seeped into your bones now. You weren't meant to take this long. Another thing you can't do right. Moving takes a small bit of effort, your fingers now numb as they struggle to keep a firm grip on the weapon and pass it over.

Joel swiftly pops open the cylinder once he has the gun in hand, taking a long, quiet moment to examine the one single bullet residing in there. His thumb briefly brushes over the top surface of it, before readying the other bullets in between the grasp of his fingers.

"Not gettin' far with only one," he comments dryly, nimbly filling the cylinder and then flicking it shut with a noticeable click.

He doesn't give it back to you.

Instead, he reaches behind his back and tucks the gun down the waistband of his jeans beside his own, before fixing his jacket above them. He sighs, a deep heave of breath that blows out from his lips with a wispy cloud that carries away with the breeze as he seems to lose himself in thought.

You say nothing. There's nothing for you to say.

"Don't you ever," he starts thickly, voice cutting suddenly through the quiet, "think about doin' that again, you hear me?"

"Do what?"

You feign ignorance.

Whether it's because you don't want to acknowledge your earlier thoughts, or Joel to know about any of it, you don't know. It's silly—he would've found you eventually anyway. Maybe you're just a coward and don't want to face the reality of what he would think of you.

"Don't play with me—not about this.”

An apology sits on your tongue, but it doesn't make it past your lips. You should've known better than to play him as the fool. Joel's anything but stupid. He probably saw through you the instant he laid eyes on you sitting in the cold morning light without a jacket.

“I don’t say it, and maybe I should start, but I can’t lose you,” he rasps, deep brown eyes falling away from your face to follow the soft swirls of the clouds, “I can’t. And I know that’s selfish of me to say, I know it’s not what I should say when you’re feelin’ like this, but—Jesus. Ellie wants you here, needs you here. I need you here, and I know you’re carryin’ a lot in that head of yours but—I just... I’m here for you, alright?”

“Joel—”

“Quiet.”

Your mouth snaps shut immediately.

“I know it’s a lot, and I know it hurts—believe me honey, I know it fuckin’ hurts, and you’re tired and the other side just seems so damn good… but it’s not. It’s not. You… you can’t do that. God, you just can’t.”

The wind chills the hot tears that spill down your cheeks until they feel like ice. He looks at you then, as if sensing the heart ache making wet paths along your skin.

You’re weak.

His hands are hot as they cradle your face carefully, roughened calloused palms covering your cheeks and soothing away the agony filled droplets with a quick brush of his thumbs.

You can’t help but turn into the touch, your own hands coming to wind around his wrists in an effort to keep him close. He’s so warm. You let out the lungful of oxygen you’d been holding onto in your worry, watching the fog of it hang between your faces before fading away.

“I don’t know what to do, Joel,” you admit in a choked whisper, eyes dropping from something close to shame, “My head… I-I don’t know how to fix this—”

His hands press tighter against your cheeks as he angles and holds your face until your eyes are flicking up to meet his. Sincerity fills them, mixing with the ever present concern he hides behind those high almost impenetrable walls. It’s hard to focus on anything but him.

“It’s gonna take time, and it’s gonna be damn hard, but I want you to put it on me, understand? Put it all on me. I’ll carry what you’re strugglin’ with, alright? Hell, I’ll carry you. For as long as I need to. For the rest of my—fuck. Just—just let me help you. Please.”

He wants to do that? For you?

“What if it’s too much?”

“Then we’ll handle it together, like we’ve handled shit hundreds of times before.”

A few more moments of searching his eyes and you’re breathing a quiet okay. The heaviness still rests unforgivingly on your mind, but maybe you won’t struggle so much if someone was there to help you carry the load. Maybe, with time, it would get lighter.

That’s what you could fight for—the days where it won’t hold you down, and threaten to break you completely. The days where, maybe, it won’t be there anymore. Is that even a possibility? It doesn’t matter, you think you’re willing to find out.

His own eyes flicker between yours when your voice reaches his ears, before he gives a slight, barley there nod. His throat bobs with a swallow and then he’s resting his forehead against yours in apparent relief, lashes brushing his cheeks as his eyes flutter closed.

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t ever need to be.”

“I fucking knew you guys were a thing.”

Ellie’s voice suddenly picks up from the tree line, her heavy feet trudging through the dense forest floor with the crunch of leaves and the snap of branches. Joel’s hands drop as he pulls away with a slight frown, levelling it on the girl making her way over, but it doesn’t seem to deter her in the slightest.

Despite missing the physical reassurance from Joel, you welcome the change Ellie unknowingly brings to the heavy atmosphere. You even manage a small smile, and it doesn’t feel strange as it stretches along your lips. There it is again—that lovely warmth from within you.

This is it. This is what you want, what you have. It’s just buried most of the time, but—but it’s definitely there. You weren’t imagining it. It’s there.

You’ll fight for it. You’ll fight for her, for Joel. You’ll fight for your peace.

“You didn’t need to hide it for so long—I’m not fucking stupid. I appreciate the jacket, by the way, but I don’t need you turning into an ice block on me,” she says, dumping your warm jacket over your shoulders before moving to your side and looking out towards the sunrise. “Holy shit, look at that view.”

[myfictionaldreams]

Hey love! Quick question, how do you think mafia stucky would be when their for l is on her period or sick? 🥺

Sick Day //Mafia!Stucky x Fem!Reader

A/N: I've had this requested so many times, I hope you all enjoy! Also for this specific anon, I've already written a fic where reader has her period called 'i don't care'

Tags: SFW, fluff, lots of comfort, sickfic, anxiety, coughing, fever (just being generally unwell), steve & bucky are stressed

Words: 4.3k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

“Are you ok? You’re never this quiet, it’s unnerving”.

You playfully shoved Bucky as he walked past where you stood, carrying a crate filled with the latest shipment of goods that had arrived at the gang's warehouse that afternoon. Your boyfriend hardly moved from the push but he playfully pretended to drop the important box that seemed to scare Steve more than yourself as he too pushed against Bucky as he walked past, this one forceful enough that he stumbled a few steps.

Grinning at the interaction, you shifted your weight from one foot to the other, tone full of sarcasm, “Very funny Buckaroo. Is there really much for me to say whilst you two are at your finest? I’m a little distracted to talk”, you trialled off. Your stare openly at their bare chests, sweat gleaming off the perfectly shaped muscles. It had simply been too hot this afternoon in the warehouse for both of them to wear shirts so with a subtle grin, you suggested maybe they should take them off which they were more than happy to oblige, giving you the best view possible.

A squeal erupted from you as Bucky ran up behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you flush against his body, stubble grazing your cheek as he leaned over your shoulder to peck your lips. Relaxing into the touch, you savoured his unnaturally warm temperature, not realising how just chilled to the bone you felt. You pondered on this thought for a moment. It was hot in the warehouse therefore you should have been feeling warm too but, you instead felt quite the opposite. Internally you groaned, hoping this wasn’t a sign that you were becoming ill, especially as you had a headache since the moment you’d risen that morning.

Bucky’s lips were on an exploratory journey of your cheek, only stopping until he was grazing over your ear, “More than just now sweetheart, you’ve been quiet today, is everything alright?” he asked with less of a teasing tone as before.

You withheld the sigh that wanted to escape as he moved away, continuing to help Steve unload the truck but his head turned in your direction so you knew he was still wanting you to answer. Staring around the warehouse, you pondered for a moment how bizarre it felt for it just to be the three of you in the vast building. Usually, it was full of other gang members but Steve and Bucky determined this shipment only required the two of them to unload and then Sam could begin selling to buyers tomorrow.

The automatic response to Bucky’s concerns was ‘I’m fine’, however, this wasn’t necessarily true. You’d had a lingering headache since the morning, and there was a tickle at the back of your throat that didn’t seem to ease even after coughing enough that your chest ached.

Shrugging your shoulders and wrapping your arms around your middle, you tried to keep your expression as nonchalant as possible. “Before either of you start worrying, I am fine, I just think I might be coming down with something, but it’s probably just a cold”.

It was Steve to stop next to you this time, his eyebrows furrowing in concern as he lifted a hand to press against your forehead. With a genuine smile, you pulled his hand away and instead hold it onto your cheek, nuzzling into it, feeling the roughness from his training as you insisted, “I’m fine, really I am, it’s just a little headache and cough”.

The mafia leader’s gaze softened a fraction at your touch, his thumb stroking against your cheekbone for a moment before he continued with his worried fretting. “Do you want to go home? I don’t mind taking you and Bucky finishing up here”. You shake your head instantly, stepping closer to him so that you could reach up and stroke a stray piece of blonde hair out of his eyes. It was Steve’s turn now to move your hand away so that he could kiss the tips of your fingers in a delicate way that warmed your cheeks with the loving gaze he was looking at you.

“No, it’s fine I’ll wait, it doesn’t look like you have much left to unpack and anyway, the view is keeping me thoroughly entertained”, you say, eyes dropping to his bare chest before glancing back up to his blue eyes with a suggestive eyebrow raised.

Steve doesn’t say anything, knowing you’re trying to distract him from worrying so he just simply leans down to kiss your forehead and continues with unloading the van. The two of them continued for a few more minutes as you happily watched until the overwhelming urge to massage your temple took over, the motion helping to ease the ache that was beginning to pound there only by the slightest amount.

It was Bucky who spoke next, muttering lowly under his breath as he walked past in a teasing but matter-of-fact tone, “I told you dancing in the rain wasn’t a good idea and you’d catch a cold”.

A smile graced your face as you thought back to yesterday's activities. The three of you had been on the way home from an intimate dinner where you were all dressed in the stunning dress and three-piece suits for Steve and Bucky. On the way home, your favourite song came on the radio and after the few too many drinks you'd had in the restaurant, all you wanted to do was dance and insisted that Bucky pulled over but he countered that you’d catch a cold going out into the rain with only your barely covering dress.

However, Bucky couldn’t say no to you for long as quickly parked up much to your delight and with the music blaring from the stereo, the three of you danced in the rain until you were soaked to the bone, shivering until you couldn’t talk. The romance, joy and grin that beam up to them both were all worth it.

However, with the way you were feeling now, maybe Bucky did have a point but you wouldn’t take back the moment yesterday, even thinking about it had your chest filling with love and warmth.

Looking up at Bucky, you cooed, “Yes, but it was so romantic!” Your boyfriend's eyes softened for a split second before quickly moving out of the way as you had an influx of sneezes, your eyes watering and your throat burning with intensity.

Eventually, the crates were unloaded and ready for Sam and the three of you were on the way home. However, it seemed the sneezes were the start of your downfall, feeling worse off from when you’d arrived at the warehouse. Sitting in the backseat with Steve, your head rested heavily against his shoulders, eyes closed with the hopes that it would help your headache. You would have held onto Steve’s hand but you spent more time wiping your nose that hadn’t stopped running since you began sneezing, luckily Steve had a spare tissue that now seemed to be attached to your face.

As soon as you were home, Steve insisted on you taking some cold and flu medicine; however, the only kind in your home was a vile liquid form which tasted like bottled sour death. So, of course, you refused with a dismissive wave of your hand as you stepped into the kitchen for a glass of water, “there’s no way I’m taking that, I’m sure I’ll feel better in the morning, just need some rest”.

“Please take just a spoonful, and I’ll fish out some ice cream for you. It’s probably better to start taking some medicine now than waiting and feeling worse”, Steve insisted, following you around with the spoon and medicine like he was Mary Poppins.

“You’re making me sound like a child Steve, and anyway, last time I had some you could hardly wake me for dinner”, referring to the drowsy medication, last time you’d taken it, they could hardly even wake you for dinner.

“Yes, but it’s the only medication we have right now and I’d feel better if you didn’t feel ill, so please take some”. He’d cornered you to the corner of the kitchen, his large frame blocking your escape as you back brushed against the countertops. 

Sighing heavily, you looked up into his worried eyes, seeing Bucky’s over his shoulder with just as much concern and instantly you crumbled on your reluctance, knowing he was right, it was better if you took some than none at all. “Fine I’ll take the medicine but I will only accept because of your offer for ice cream”.

As soon as the rancid medicine coated your tongue, you regretted ever believing you’d feel better after taking it, gagging so violently that tears streamed down your cheeks and even half a tub of ice cream couldn’t shift the lingering taste.

By the time your stomach was full of the dessert, your eyelids were already feeling heavy. Still, you tried to shake it off, wanting to spend the evening with your boyfriends considering it was a rare occurrence to have nothing planned the following day. “What do you want to do tonight,” you asked them both, trying to refrain from yawning as they sat next to you at the table. The two of them shared a look that had you groaning in dismay, “really? You have to work tonight?” Steve shifted closer, kissing your cheek gently and resting his hand on your thigh, his thumb drawing circles through your jeans as Bucky moved to place the ice cream back into the freezer.

“It’s only admin but we’re backlogged by a few weeks so both need to do it but we’ll do it in the living room, we can watch a movie or something”, he suggested as he inched even closer, wanting to feel his warmth and comfort.

“A movie sounds nice”, you answered with a tiny smile, leaning in to peck his cheek before standing, explaining that you were going to change into something more comfortable and you’d meet them in the living room. Despite the medicine, you continued to feel worse and in the process of changing your clothes into your usual pyjamas of shorts and a shirt of either Steve’s or Bucky’s, you had a massive coughing fit that took your breath away. As you tried to compose yourself, eyes closed as the pounding in your head intensified, a warm presence enveloped you from behind.

“I could hear you coughing from downstairs, Doll, are you ok?” Bucky asked, hands stroking up your arms to cup your jaw as you pouted at him.

“Not really, that medicine wasn’t worth it”, you admitted, feeling somewhat sorry for yourself as you leaned into him.

He smiled sadly, kissing your temple affectionately before holding both of your hands, “Come on let’s go downstairs and I’ll see what I can find you to help”.

Steve and Bucky always were so attentive when you weren’t feeling great, going above and beyond for your comfort. Once downstairs, Bucky covered your lap in a fluffy blanket after pulling your legs over his thighs, resting his laptop on your legs to continue working as Steve sat to your other side, his arm over your shoulder so that you could spoon around the muscular limb. On the coffee table between the couch and TV, there was an array of snacks, water, honey and lemon tea, packs of tissues and the dreaded medicine.

However, you didn’t touch any of the items as you promptly succumbed to the drowsy effect and before the movie was even selected, fell into a deep sleep on Steve’s arm.

As the movie credits began playing on the screen, you woke to an ice-cold metal hand on your forehead you moaned in relief, leaning into the welcoming touch.

“You’re starting to get a fever, Sweetheart”, Bucky remarked as his hand remained in place against you. One thing that Bucky’s metal arm could provide was coldness, the special substance that it was made from meant that it would always remain cold, even if he held it over a fire so for moments like now, it was perfect.

“I feel like shit”, you admitted, your voice thick with sleep and croaky from how dry your throat was. Not only this but your head was pounding enough that you didn’t want to risk opening your eyes to the fear that you might vomit and your entire body ached. This all didn’t get any better as you began to violently cough until there was a subtle wheeze with your breaths.

Bucky leaned forward, reaching with his warm hand for the glass of water, holding it up to your lips and helping you to drink half of it.

“Maybe you should have some more medicine baby”, Steve suggested but you were already asleep again.

Another hour passed before they attempted to wake you again so that you could eat something, having not had anything all afternoon but your only response was a shake of the head, your stomach churning at the thought of food.

The next time you woke, it was because you were being carried by Steve, his arms safely braced beneath your knees and back as your head cradled into his neck. “Can I sleep in the spare room tonight?” you asked croakily.

You could feel Steve stop walking, his head turning to try and look down at you, his grip tightening slightly, as he asked, “Why do you want to be in the spare room?”

“Because I don’t want either of you to catch my cold”.

Steve’s body instantly relaxed as he continued walking straight for the shared bedroom, carefully placing you into the centre of the bed before sitting next to you and responding, “Firstly, when have you ever seen either of us ill before?”

He had a good point, you thought, the entire time you’ve been with them both, not once had they been ill but they mostly put it down to the side effects of the experiments they’d been through during their time in the army.

The bed shifted on the other side of you as Bucky continued Steve’s points, “Secondly, do you really think we’re letting you out of our sight for even a second? I don’t think so, Doll”. You mustered up a small smile in response but with your eyes still closed and being comfortable in bed, you quickly fell back to sleep.

During the night was difficult, especially when you needed the toilet but both of your boyfriends were there to either carry or hold onto your hands to help you walk to the toilet when you weren’t feeling at your strongest.

When you woke up the next day, it was only because Bucky had shaken you to give you some new medicine that he’d just been and bought from the store. Reluctantly, one of your eyes peeked open to see Bucky dressed and looking at you with such worry you wanted to crawl over to him and comfort the brunette but your body didn’t seem to want to listen to you.

“Am I dead?” You tried to ask jokingly but the crackly voice from your sore throat had you wincing with how hoarse it sounded.

Bucky tried to genuinely smile as he stroke the back of his hand against your cheek, “Well, you were snoring like the dead so, potentially”. You would have swatted his arm away if you had the energy but instead, you only groaned, trying to hide your face in the pillow. “Talk to me, how are you feeling? Where does it hurt the most? I’ve got some water here for your medicine and some tea that’ll help your throat”.

Opening your eyes fully, you accepted the drinks and meds from him and noticed that he had covered the bedside cabinet with the array of treats, tissues and drinks from yesterday.

“What time is it,” you asked after being repositioned so your back was against the headboard, the position change meant that your blocked nose began to run so you shoved a tissue up each nostril and left it there, finding it easier than having to keep wiping, not caring what you looked like.

Bucky glanced at his watch. “It’s nearly 2 pm, I’ve been to the shop this morning and was waiting for you to wake up to take your meds but, I had a sneaky suspicion that you could probably sleep for the rest of the day if we left you to it”.

You were in disbelief that you’d been able to sleep for that long. Looking around, you couldn’t see your other boyfriend, “Where’s Steve?”.

“He’s just on the phone, he’ll be back in a minute don’t worry. Do you want to stay in here today or downstairs?”

“In here please”, as you respond, you slide your body back down further into the bed.

Bucky leaned down to kiss the top of your head before shuffling off to change out of his jeans and into some joggers but, before he’d even returned you were already asleep once more.

The next time you woke, it wasn’t because of meds or needing to use the toilet, this time it was because you thought you were going to explode you were so hot. Your skin was hot and clammy to the touch, sweating profusely as you tossed and turned to try and find some relief, and in the end, sobbing because you felt so poorly.

Bucky had been trying his best to keep your fever cool with his metal arm whilst Steve was helping you drink water but in the end, they both decided it was probably easier to just sit in the bath with lukewarm water. They both joined you, mostly holding up your body as you had no energy to even try and after a few minutes, you finally sighed in satisfaction, even though the fever remained at least the water helped to keep you calm.

After returning to bed in shorts and a vest, you had hoped to fall back to sleep but instead, you spent what felt like hours coughing and wiping your nose. Steve and Bucky were once again there every step of the way, stroking your back, reminding you that they were there and that everything would be ok which was what you needed to hear when it felt like you were struggling to breath with how tight your chest felt.

As the hours ticked by, they became anxious that you’d not eaten and even though you explicitly explained that you weren’t hungry, Steve still cooked his homemade chicken noodle soup, encouraging you with every mouthful. Even though you couldn’t taste it, it did make you feel a little better to have a full stomach, enough so that you were able to fall asleep.

As you slept, Bucky would continuously touch your feverish skin with his cool hand as Steve placed wet cloths against your forehead with the hopes of cooling you down. Only when you began to shiver did they both stop, satisfied that your fever had passed; however now, you couldn’t warm yourself up.

By the second day, Steve was near to having a nervous breakdown and had his phone in hand to call a doctor. However, in your half-conscious state, you tried to soothe his worries. He knew it would pass but you hated to see him so on edge. Bucky was just as bad, every time you’d open your eyes, he was there, unblinking stare watching your chest rise and fall.

The only way you could try and help them was by asking Steve to hold you close, which he was more than happy to do. Sliding further up the bed until his back was resting against, as he sat against the headboard, he pulled you into his lap, your legs straddling his, chests brushed together and your head resting on his shoulder.

You hummed in relief, “You’re like my own personal heated blanket”, you praised him, snuggling closer to his body. Bucky sat beside you both, sliding the fluffy blanket around your shoulders and kissing the back of your head, being careful not to touch you with his metal arm in case it was too cold.

You were highly aware of this from the awkward angle that he was sitting and you instantly felt bad for him, reaching a hand out of the blanket to grab onto his metal one.

“I don’t deserve you two”, you say with exhaustion and sadness lacing your voice.

“Yes you do, now go to sleep”, Steve brushed off your comment with a kiss to your temple, his fingers massaging over your head, helping you to fall asleep.

You seemed to spend more time asleep than awake but your body needed to recover, hardly having the energy to even wake up properly when it was time to take your medicine but luckily Bucky was there to help hold you up and tilt the water and meds into your mouth.

You were also half-aware that they were both moving you between the living room and the bedroom, making sure you weren’t stuck in the same position for too long. Your face would be regularly cleaned of the different bodily fluids that seemed to be leaking out of you, they would help you to the toilet day or night when needs be, and there would always be soup ready for the small time periods where you were awake.

Even though you were safe and slowly recovering, Steve and Bucky were struggling to see you this poorly. It got to the point that Natasha had to come around with groceries and help tidy the house as both men refused to leave your side.

After three long days of being most unconscious, you woke with only a mild headache, throat still sore but nowhere near as bad as it had been and at least you could breathe through your nose. Opening your eyes slowly, you found yourself laying with your head in Bucky’s lap, his fingers resting over your head like he’d been brushing his fingers over your scalp, whilst your feet rested in Steve’s lap.

You could hear the TV on but from the sounds of the light snoring coming from both men, it seemed that exhaustion finally hit them as they’d fallen asleep, heads dropping on their shoulders in uncomfortable positions. Your heart twisted in guilt at seeing them like this, purple shaded under their eyes and stubble grown out further than usual.

As you turned your head to look at Steve, the movement seemed to startle Bucky awake first, his body jerking with a snort that simultaneously woke Steve up as well, both of their tired eyes snapping to look at you in worry.

“Sorry for waking you”, you say sheepishly, coughing a few times to clear your throat and then giving them a genuine smile that calmed any tension in their bodies.

“Are you ok?” Bucky asked, eyes flicking between your own as he began to run his fingers through over your scalp, confirming your suspicions.

“Yeah, I’m actually feeling a lot better than I was, I can finally breathe through my nose!” You raised your arm in triumph and then quickly dropped it as your cheeks warmed in embarrassment. “Which means I can finally smell myself, I think I’m going to have a shower and change my clothes”.

“Bucky smells worse after the gym, don’t worry baby”, Steve joked, earning a glare from his friend. “Are you sure you’re feeling up for it though? The shower I mean, I don’t want you to push yourself too soon”.

You stretched your full body out, feeling joints click and muscles shake with the movement. “Yeah, I think so. I feel gross so want to get washed up anyway”.

“Let’s go then!” Bucky announced, shuffling to help you stand up, but your knees wobbled slightly and causing you to walk like a baby deer but you made it all the way upstairs and to the bathroom. It wasn’t only you that had a shower, of course, Steve and Bucky joined, both deeming that they needed to wash just as much as you but secretly you knew it was because they wanted to make sure you were ok.

“You’re both such mother hens”, you joke as Bucky washes your hair and Steve sponges over your body. You offered to do the same for them but they declined, making sure you were dry and safe before continuing with their own showers. In the safety of your bedroom, you looked around, trying to notice any signs that you’d been ill but other than the snacks and water on the side, there were no tissues or anything. Your heart pumped harder with love at having both of them so devoted to your care that they’d even clean up your snotty tissues.

“Better?” Bucky asks, stepping out of the bathroom with only a low towel around his waist, and walking towards where you sat at the edge of the bed.

Stifling a yawn behind your hand, you nodded, “Yes. Although even though I’ve only walked a few steps I'm already tired”. He smiles down softly at you, tilting your chin back and kissing your lips, a touch that you had missed dearly and it seems him too with the way his whole body seemed to sigh into it.

Pulling back, he nodded towards the top of the bed, “Get into bed. we’ll be with you in a moment”.

Without any arguments, you happily crawled up the bed, getting under the blanket and waited patiently, making sure not to fall asleep until Bucky and Steve were on either side of you, both kissing your face and shoulder tenderly. “I’m glad you’re feeling better baby”, Steve whispered against your skin.

[alwritey-aphrodite]

Physical intimacy prompt “literally sharing a sweater” with Jamie? Like ur wearing a sweater and he’s all like “I’m chilly” and worms his way into ur sweater 🥹 thank u in advance i love ur writing so much

This was so fun, I hope you enjoy and thank you!!

Jamie had a few little quirks that made him ten times more lovely to you. His shoes and clothes were always organized by color. He had an extensive skincare display to go with his extensive skincare routine. There were certain foods that were reserved for before and after matches. One of his little quirks that you didn’t find quite as adorable was the fact that his house was always freezing cold.

It didn’t matter if it was 100 degrees or 0, his house felt like a frozen tundra. With the lack of air conditioning in England, you always wondered how his house managed to be so cold all the time, but you’d just assumed there was some sort of magical reason for it.

Whatever the reason, though, you always needed to keep a stock of sweaters and sweatshirts at his house, even in the middle of summer. At least you always had an excuse to buy more soft, oversized outerwear.

Today, even though it was the middle of July, you’d spent the day curled up in a large sweater, under a pile of blankets on Jamie’s couch. You’d started keeping some books at his place, and he had every streaming service imaginable, so even though Jamie was at training, you had plenty to keep you entertained while you waited for him to return so you could spend your evening together, just like you did most nights.

“Is this how you’ve been all day?” Jamie asks after he returns home to see you in the very same position you were in when he left early that morning.

“I read outside for a while,” you respond, pushing the blanket back to reveal your shorts as you pull the hem of your sweater to reveal a tank top. You’ve learned that it’s best just to layer, so you can be comfortable inside and outside when you’re at Jamie’s house.

He just smiles at you as he flops on top of you, not even bothering to bring his bag upstairs or make himself a snack.

“It’s fucking freezing in here,” he says, pushing his hands under your sweater to rest on your warm stomach.

“Oh, I’ve never noticed,” you reply with a voice dripping in sarcasm. You’d brought up your disdain with the temperature of his house no less than a billion times, but he always just dismissed you with a laugh and a “I’ve never noticed.”

Now, though, it was your turn to laugh as Jamie attempts to work his way deeper and deeper under your sweater, starting by pushing his arms the rest of the way inside the fabric before he tries to wiggle his head in too.

“Jamie, you’re gonna stretch it out,” you laugh, even though you know the sweater was big enough to fit you and Jamie and probably one other person.

“No, ‘m not,” he responds with a laugh of his own as he pushes his head through the neck hole, successfully wearing the sweater with you.

Jamie’s laugh was nothing short of infectious, and the two of you spend the rest of the night giggling together as you cuddled up in the same sweater.

[aralisj]

hi umm if you wouldn't mind......... would u drop the "carmy is autistic" list..... because you're so right he's so autistic-coded but i want to compare notes

You don't know the can of worms that you just opened. Know that I cracked my knuckles and kicked my feet excitedly when I got this ask and I would LOVE to hear your insights too.

This is pretty much the format I used for myself, so I do apologize if there's something wrong with it. Also, this is only my appreciation of it and autism is a spectrum, etc.

Difficulty socializing - Imitating forms of communication (sign for "sorry", cursing) - Unable to read when he's being rude (shitty) and need for external confirmation from Sydney - Uneasy in group gatherings (not joining the rest of the staff for family during his first weeks at The Beef), avoiding social events (never been to a party, misses family reunions) - Can be gregarious when masking/using costumes - specifically the scene with him pretending to be Logan at the party - "And [Mikey] had this amazing ability. He could just, he could walk into a room, and he could take the temperature of it instantly. You know, he could just, he could dial it. And, um… I'm not built like that, man. I, um… I didn't have a lot of friends growing up. I had a, a stutter when I was a kid. I was scared to speak half the time. And, uh, I got shitty grades 'cause I couldn't pay attention in school. I didn't get into college. I didn't have any girlfriends. I don't think I'm funny."

Problems with body language - Cannot read easily when he's being teased/mocked and when he isn't: - He gets really defensive when Mikey and Richie mention Claire even if they're being genuine and doesn't calm down until Stevie says so. - He doesn't realize Sydney is joking at first in the alley scene or her outright mocking him in the S3 trailer ("I can sense the sarcasm" "No, no, no. Not sarcasm, snark, contempt even.") - Asking Sydney constantly what's wrong - he listens intently which suggests that he cares but he genuinely can't pick up on what the problem is - Lack of eye contact, especially at the beginning, giving priority to looking at the food than whoever he's talking to. He seems more comfortable with looking at Syd and Richie in the eye than the rest.

Difficulty making friends and navigating relationships - No romantic relationships before Claire (we assume 🤷🏻‍♀️) - When Claire called him and told him that Fak said he was his best friend, Carmy took a second to process and then agreed. He genuinely has no idea. - The whole "a girl who is a friend" debacle

Stimming - Fiddling with his spoon, shaking hands and blinking hard - Arguably, also smoking

Routine -~Consistency~ - "And the routine of the kitchen was so… consistent and exacting and busy and hard and alive" - Wears almost the same outfit every day (white t-shirt, slacks, coat, apron) - Doesn't deal well with change

Special interests - Cooking, drawing, (vintage) fashion - he's really out there cooking in hundred dollar t-shirts and gifting Thom Browne chef whites - Creative and flourishing in his chosen field ("I felt like I could speak through the food, like I could communicate through creativity. And that kind of confidence, you know, like I was finally… I was good at something, that was so new, and that was so exciting") - Understanding the world and other people in terms of food

Abnormal sensory response - Cannot stand certain sounds (~ball breaker~) and doesn't mind others (alarm) - Possibly heightened sense of taste/smell?

From childhood and more notorious overtime - Described as weird and shy even as a child - Stutter - Bad at school

More notorious under stress - Meltdowns and lashing out (1x07, 2x10) - Gets overwhelmed when plans change - Shutdown/anxiety attack after sleeping with Claire

Not playing cooperatively - Individualistic and cutthroat in the kitchen - VERY task focused (when he’s cooking HE IS COOKING) - Territorial over his things (knife) - He has a hard time finding a managerial style that suits him, delegating, and motivating the staff

Detail oriented - Toothbrush cleaning - The bowl thing in S3 trailer - His ~everything~ tbh

Depression, anxiety and APD comorbidity - Having special interests/happy stimming/needs shut down at a young age resulting in a pessimistic mindset (waiting for the other shoe to drop), anxiety attacks and unhealthy attachment styles - His trauma plays a huge role in this too but autistic children are particularly prone to suffering abuse in silence/staying in toxic environments and relationships

Insomnia

Alexithymia - "I Googled fun." - "I guess all the time I feel like I'm kind of trapped because I can't… Describe how I'm feeling. So to ask someone else how they’re feeling, that seems, uh… I don’t know, insane?" - "I hate this feeling" "What feeling, Carm?" "Uh, I'm not sure."

Black and white thinking - Difficulty focusing on more than one thing at a time, a very clear example is the majority of S2 when he's trying to juggle a relationship with Claire with opening the restaurant, while actively compartimentalizing the two of them, ignoring Syd's calls while he's out, then Claire's when he's at the restaurant - At the beginning of S1, he's hanging onto the idea that there's only ONE way to properly run a restaurant - Whatever "advice" he gets from Al Anon meetings is taken to the extreme, causing most of his fuck ups of S1 (more on this) - In the same vein, my boy can't understand a metaphor to save his life

I'm keeping track of the list (more or less) here

[footballfanficwriter]

Taking care of you

Summary:where Jude is sick and the reader is looking after him

"I told you not to play with water during Winter"

"Babe, right now is not the time to play the I told you so card"

"You should have listened though, now look at you, sick in bed, heating temperature, you are so hot it's like you just got out of a frying pan"

"I know right, I'm on fire" he says as he starts coughing again

"If by on fire, you mean your fever is getting worser, then yes my love you are so hot , you burn like a volcano" I say placing a cool rag on his forehead

" fine next time I'll listen to you"

"Yeah, whatever you say bro, I'm going to the kitchen to make you Some soup, try to get some rest, while I'm busy"

"Ok" he says

I walk out the room and go downstairs to the kitchen

I start making Jude's soup

When all of a sudden I hear him throw up in the bathroom

I quickly run upstairs to find him with his head hanging on the bathtub close to the toilet

"Baby, what happened"

"I tried I really did, but i think I'm dying"

"Jude stop being so dramatic, you're not dying, you're just sick"

"This fever will be the cause of my death"

"Ok, let's get you back in bed, before you start speaking shit again"

"Can I come sit with you in the Kitchen"

"You need to get some sleep first babe"

" I promise to listen too you just please"

"Fine"

We walk downstairs and I help him lye on the couch where he can see me in the Kitchen

I go back to the kitchen and continue what I was busy with before helping Jude

"You know, you are so beautiful"

" thank you" I say without looking at him

"Cause I'm actually thinking right like how was I able to bag, such a beautiful person"

"How high is that fever of yours"

"I don't think it's the fever" he says

"Then what is it then?"

" I'm just in love with you"

"Ok weirdo"

"Baby can I get a kiss"

"No, you'll make me sick"

I walk over to him and place the bowl of soup on the coffee table

"Here you go my love"

"Feed me please"

I sigh and sit next to him, grab the bowl and start feeding him

"You big baby"

" yeah whatever"

We sit in comfortable silence until he breaks it

"I've been thinking"

"That's never anything good, here"

He moves forward and takes the spoon into his mouth

"Where do you see yourself in the next few years?"

"I don't know, why"

"I see myself Married, with three children, and a wife that I love to bits"

"Huh, well goodluck to your wife, she's gonna need all the luck she can get" I say blowing on the spoon

"Your sarcasm is not funny"

"Oh yeah? I actually find it hilarious"

"Babe c'mon answer the question"

"Fine, I see myself married aswell, maybe being a mom and having a successful career as a lawyer"

"Who would you be married to" he asks

"I don't know, I saw this hunk at the supermarket yesterday, maybe him, that's if the universe will allow us to see eachother again"

" you're not funny" he says looking at me with a scowl

" I actually think I'm funny, I think I'm so funny, I make Trevor Noah look like he's an amateur"

"Y/n"

"Fine I see myself married to You Bro"

"Really?"

"Yeah, and you"

"I see myself married to Toby's sister"

I look at him for a very long time until he says

"Yeah it's not so fun when the shoe is on the other foot is it?"

"You know I could easily choose to leave you be and you can take care of yourself, or maybe you can call Toby's sister to look after you and nurse you back to health"

"I was joking alright, I see myself married to you"

" Mhhhm"

"So in a few years, we'll have mini yous and mini mes running around the house"

" yes we will"

"I can't wait, to share family moments"

"Oh yeah? , like what" I ask feeding him another spoon

"Like, watching you and our children, supporting me from the side lines as they wear my teams shirt with the word Bellingham at the back"

"And winning the champions league, with you, by my side"

I laugh at him, and can actually Invision that happening

"Well I see myself winning my court cases and you sitting in the Audience"

"Or us discussing you with your cases and helping you find evidence to help, you win your case and all the late nights we'll have"

"Babe you hate staying up late"

"Yeah but for you, I'll do anything"

"That was so cheesy it kinda made me puke a little"

" whatever"

"But, I can't wait to spend all that time with you and our Future children"

"Me too Jude, we're gonna be so happy"

"Yes we will especially with you by my side"

"You'll be the perfect dad"

"And you'll be the perfect mom"

"Also our children need to play sports, football to be exact"

"You weren't into football growing up"

"Yeah but our children will be"

"I refuse to let you force my children to partake in a sport they don't wanna participate in"

"They are our children"

I sigh knowing that it's hopeless

"Look at us arguing like an old married couple" he says

"How did God send me such a crazy person to love"

"He sent you someone that matched your energy"

"More like drained my energy"

"You still love me though"

"I don't know, it's actually something I'm reconsidering"

"Why must you always be like this" he asks with sarcasm

"Because I am me"

He looks at me with a serious face

"I'm Joking ofcourse I love you,I always will"

"Ok now, give me a kiss" he says

"No, I'm not planning on getting sick anytime soon"

"I'll look after you"

"How will you look after me if you're sick as well"

He's quiet and doesn't say a word

"Exactly what I thought"