#it takes so much to push him to this point but i do find it sooo fun when he gets there. make him snap ♥
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stopping at the hospital to bring your dad something to eat for dinner and seeing his best friend doctor rafe and when you're walking down the hallway someone suddenly takes your hand to pulls you into the empty room 🤭 you turn around to see rafe and when you ask him why did he do that he just shrugs, smirking down at you as he takes your face between his big hands to whisper "maybe i'm just hungry too?" before he goes down on you like a starved man <3
warnings — dbf!doctor!rafe, age gap (rafe is 35, reader is early 20s), sneaking around, public sex, oral (f. receiving), praising
more of my doctor!rafe au found here !
“hey sweetie, what are you doing here?” your dad greeted when he noticed you. “figured i’d bring you some dinner since you’re working the overnight shift tonight,” you gestured to the tupperware in your hands. “you didn’t have to do that,” he chuckled, “i know, but i wanted to, besides, i know how crazy the hospital gets during this time of the year,” you shrugged.
“yeah, the holidays tend to do that or make people do crazy things,” he snorted, carefully taking the tupperware and tucking it under his arm. your ears perked at a familiar voice, and your eyes landed upon rafe, your dad's best friend, who was already looking in your direction while talking to one of the nurses. rafe had that same signature smirk on his face, shooting you a playful wink, and chuckling to himself when you quickly averted your attention back to your father calling you, "honey?"
"sorry dad, what were you saying?" you mumbled, hearing him sigh at the sound of his pager going off, “it's okay, honey. i was just saying that i have to go, but thank you for bringing dinner.” you smiled softly, nodding as he planted a kiss on your forehead, “i’ll see you at home, alright?”
after he rounded the corner, you looked back to find that rafe was nowhere to be found before you started heading down the hallway to get to the elevator. just as you were about to pass one of the supply closets, a hand reached out, encircling your wrist and yanking you into the small, confined room.
"what the hell—" you spun around, crashing right into rafe's broad chest. "rafe? why did you drag me in here?" you questioned. the older man shrugged, smirking down at you as he cupped your face in his large hands, "thought you'd be happy to see me, babydoll."
"i am, but what if someone saw you dragging me in here?," you argued. "you worry too much, you know that?" rafe chuckled, earning a playful smack to the chest, "yeah, for good reasons."
“you need to stop worrying so much, it’s not good for your pretty little head,” his thumbs caressed your cheeks. he gently pulled your face closer as he dips his head down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. you melted like putty in his hands, your hands grabbed at his scrub top, balling it into your fists to pull him closer.
“see? isn’t that better?” rafe hummed, kissing along your jaw to your neck. “a little, still doesn’t explain why you dragged me in here,” you pointed out, moaning softly when he nipped at your flesh. "maybe i'm just hungry too," he muttered against your skin. "what—" you watched as he lowered himself to his knees, his hands pushing your skirt, causing it to hike around your waist.
“fuck, haven’t even touched you and you’re already soaking through this little thing,” he groaned, his fingers hooking into your panties, tugging it down till it pooled around your ankles. he helped you step out of them before pocketing them into his scrub pants, “gonna need something to help me get through the rest of this shift.”
you lean your back against the shelves in the closet as he nudged your thighs further apart. “fuckin’ missed this sweet little pussy,” rafe groaned, his tongue running through your slick folds to your puffy clit.
"oh—" you hiccuped, his tongue circling your clit, sucking the sensitive bud into his mouth, making you sink your teeth into your bottom lip to muffle your moans. you looked down at him with heavy-lidded eyes, and saw he was already looking up at you. his nails dug into the skin of your hips, pulling you closer as the tip of his tongue flicked at your clit, moving to prod at your entrance.
you forgot how good he was at this, but he's never failed to make you cum from his tongue alone. small, desperate pants slip from your lips as he ate you out like you were his last meal.
"missed tasting you on my tongue, babydoll. taste as sweet as you look," rafe moaned against your cunt, his tongue delved into your cunt. "fuck, rafe," you whined, his nose grinding against your poor clit as your rut your hips, grinding against his mouth desperately.
your legs started to tremble as you felt the familiar knot forming in your stomach. "oh fuck...'m gonna cum," you whimpered pathetically, your hand clutching the back of his head. "c'mon, babydoll, just let go," he groaned, sucking your sensitive bud back into his mouth harshly,
you quickly clamped your hand over your mouth as a cry erupted from your throat, pure bliss washing over you. rafe watched in awe, taking in your pleasure-ridden face, his tongue lapping at your release before pulling away to kiss along your inner thighs. he slowly stood up, helping you fix your skirt, "did so good, baby," he peppered your face with kisses.
"c'mon, let's get out of here before we actually do get caught," he whispered, carefully opening the door and peeking his head out to ensure no one was looking. you carefully stepped out behind him, "thanks for dinner, sweetness.”
tagging moots: @oceandriveab @cameronwillow @bloodibambiidoll @rafesangelita @nemesyaaa @ilovefiction4lmen @cameronsprincess @starkeysbabygirl @rafesthroatbaby @rafeyscurtainbangs @rafesbabygirlx @cxrrodedcoffin @dollyfiles @littlelamy @fallbhind @sturnioloshacker @heartsforvin @jjslaybank @fae-of-prey @cybersunnie @zyafics
#𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓀𝓈 ༉‧₊˚.#dbf!doctor!rafe#doctor!rafe#rafe cameron prompt#rafe cameron#rafe cameron obx#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron smut#rafe obx#rafe cameron outer banks#rafe cameron blurb#rafe x reader#rafe x you#rafe smut#older!rafe#rafe fanfiction#rafe blurb#rafe cameron x y/n#outerbanks rafe#obx smut
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I saw ur recent post n dw I got u w the requests💪🏽
Could we get a Cho Hyun-Ju x f!reader where we know each other before the games n are already friends? We wake up w the rest of the players n get close to Dae-ho who quickly becomes one of our best friends n Hyun-Ju noticed n becomes jealous of how quick we got along w him which causes tension w her that the rest of the group can feel except us cuz were so oblivious to the point that we have to be pushed to Hyun-Ju n ask her whats wrong which leads to her spilling n some suggestive stuff?
★ : jealous girl"
featuring: hyun-ju cho x reader, mentions of dae-ho x reader.
summary: you and your best friend hyun-ju were both at the mercy of this horrible game in order to pay your debts. However, in the middle of the game, you found comfort in the presence of another person, which sparked some unwanted feelings inside hyun-ju's heart.
warnings: none.
A/N: I sneaked a mouthwashing reference in the middle of the text, can you find it?
★ . ★ . ★ . ★
➤ Staying at this hellish place was not for the frail or for the weak, both physically and mentally. You had already finished 3 games, and you simply couldn't wait to go back to your precious home, as you finally realized how much you missed it.
But things weren't completely lost, at least you hoped so. You still had your precious friend with you, and that eased your spirits. She was mature, collected, and always knew what to do. It was like she had a natural leadership. It gave you a comforting sensation knowing that you had her.
Well, you had some other idiot too.
Dae-ho was like an useless ray of sunshine. His positive humor and personality were a contrast with the harsh reality of this dark place. You quickly found a good relationship with him. Before you even realized, you were spending time with him, sharing food and starting conversations. His presence, albeit childish, calmed you down a lot more than you would expect.
And that didn't go unnoticed by hyun-ju.
She had formed a nice, small group with her former partners. An old lady named Jang geum-ja, with her son, Yonsik, and a small girl named young-mi kim (who you managed to save last second in mingle by pulling her to your room). You grew very found of them, but that didn't mean Hyun-ju felt the same with your former partner. Quite the opposite.
She couldn't stand the overgrowing jealousy inside her. You two only were friends, her feelings didn't matter on this situation. She shouldn't get jealous of a partner she didn't have.
She just wished you spent more time with her. She just wished you spent less time with him. She just wished you paid more attention to her. She just wished-... Dang it.
Her feelings didn't go unnoticed by people, anyone could notice her bold feelings. Anyone but you. Everyone in the room could read her growing jealousy, everyone could notice her gentle stares at you and the not-so-gentle glares she sent in Dae-ho's direction. Again, everyone but you.
-
You, Jun-hee (a friendly pregnant player who you had grow really protective of.), Geum-ja and Hyun-ju were at the female bathroom. After a couple of minutes, both ladies had left the bathroom, but not before wishing goodnight and to take care to both of you. Leaving only you and Hyun-ju alone in the immense bathroom, full of multiple cubicles painted a nice shade of pink.
You could notice her not-so-friendly stare to her own reflection at the mirror. You knew she was having one of those insecure moments were her dysphoria was hitting her like a ton of bricks. But before you could protest any further, you heard her quiet voice mutter to you.
"... What is your relationship with him?"
The silence that invaded the room was so heavy it could be cut with a knife. You were half confused and half in shock. You two were friends, sure. And friends talked about crushes right? Right. But this... This didn't seem like the case. You, after a few seconds of contemplation, finally managed to get a response out.
"What do you mean, Hyu-" before you could even finish your sentence, you were harshly pinned to the wall of one of the cubicles. Her bigger frame towering above you.
"Do you know how you make me feel? Can't you feel it? Can't you notice it?" your confusion was quickly shattered as you finally could connect the pieces together.
Hyun-ju cho liked you.
And, at this moment, she was jealous.
You mentally facepalmed as you didn't have the capacity to realize it sooner. On one side, you felt like a stupid, idiot buffoon. On the other, your insides felt like melting at the realization that the love of your life felt the same way too.
You almost forgot the situation you were on as a quiet grunt pulled you out of your daydreams. Ah, right, she was still mad.
You gently put your hands on her cheeks, her expression softening almost immediately. You slowly start pulling her face down, and her body immediately obeys your subtle command.
"I love you, Hyun-ju."
It was the unasked, but obvious reassurance that she needed at the moment. Her body immediately bends to you, laying her face to your neck and snuggling her body as close as she could manage to yours.
"now, let's go back, we need to-" she again interrupted you. But this time, you could say you were more pleased than offended.
"don't think i can simply let you go after everything." she says, gently biting on your shoulder after a few seconds.
"uh...?" you silent question was quickly aswered by a harsh grope to your butt.
"i know you more than you know yourself, my dear. Don't think i don't realize how you used to stare at me before we entered here."
You were dumbfounded, unable to do any movement due to shock and a hundred of other feelings you couldn't describe properly.
But none of them were bad.
Your small paradise was quickly interrupted by a loud banging agaisnt the door, followed by a harsh voice.
"player 120, player [number], back to your dormitory, now!"
★ . ★ . ★ . ★
A/N: i suck so bad at doing suggestive themes. Sorry.
#hyun ju x reader#cho hyun-ju x reader#player 120#cho hyunju#cho hyun ju x reader#squid game headcanons#squid game x y/n#squid game
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READ YOUR MIND
You're roommate and her boyfriend are incredibly loud, so you decide to spend the night at your hot friend Jason's house.
fluff, college!au, confessions, one bed trope
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It takes about twenty minutes of internal conflict before you find yourself outside Jason’s dorm room.
You feel stupid. It’s not like you haven’t been in Jason’s room before. You guys were friends. He’d slept on your couch after a movie night gone too long, you’d stayed up for hours writing essays together on his bedroom floor. This was nothing weird, nothing new.
But for whatever reason, today it feels different.
It might be the fact that you’re seeing him differently. You’re not sure when, but the line between friend and something else has started to blur. You don’t know how you didn’t notice the strong slope of his jaw, the fact that he was probably strong and muscular enough to throw you over his shoulder. How funny he was, how kind he was. The fact he studied English, how smart he was at it. It’s really no one's fault but his own. You’re surprised you’d lasted this long without crushing on him, anyway. And maybe the way his eyes lingered a little too long on your own. Innocent touches felt like something else, a hand holding your hips as he stepped behind you, a thigh against your own as you sat in impossibly tight lecture halls.
Whatever. There’s no point looking at it like that. You love your friendship with him too much to let a little crush ruin it.
If you were in any other situation, you wouldn’t be here. But it’s late and you know of all your friends Jason’s the most likely to be awake. You don’t want to bother him but you can't spend another night third-wheeling with your roommate and her boyfriend. That, and the fact that it gets particularly loud whenever you come to sleep.
After a deep breath to steel yourself, you knock on the door. It takes only a few seconds before it swings wide open.
And God, you take back everything you just said. Because he's wearing a pair of grey sweats, and an old band shirt that is showing off his delicious arms, and you don’t know if you can blame the fact it’s nearly midnight on the thoughts running through your head. His movements are slow, sleepy, as he blinks at you confused.
He pushes his glasses up his head, tufts of brown hair falling over his face. “Oh. Hey. Is- Are you okay?”
“Oh god, did I wake you?”
“Nah, you’re good.” He leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms.
It takes a second before the words come out of your mouth. “I- Lily. She has- She has her boyfriend round, and I don’t sleep very well when he’s there.” You laugh awkwardly, scratching your arm.
You hold up the books and paper you brought with you. “You mind if I crash here tonight? I bought stuff to keep me busy, so I’ll be out of your hair.”
Jason smiles easily, pushing the door open further. “Of course, yeah.”
You step in, thanking him as he grabs the stuff out of your hand and puts them on his front table. His dorm is so boyish. Him and his roommate, an eccentric boy everybody called Gar, were not the best at interior design. Their couches are dark grey with red pillows, jarring against the white carpet you’d bought them as a housewarming gift. The kitchen was an amalgamation of whatever plates and mugs they’d found at thrift stores, their fridge filled with pictures from Gar’s old polaroid camera. It was cute and very them, and a warm place to sleep that wasn’t accompanied by the sound of your roommate and her boyfriend doing whatever the hell they got up to alone.
“Thanks again. I can’t stand another night with those two.”
Jason snorts a laugh, sitting down on the couch. “It can’t be that bad. They’re nice people.”
“Yeah, sure. But all they do is remind me of how painfully single I am.” You huff, sitting beside him.
He’s close enough that you can smell the expensive cologne he wears. He’s shown you it once, a fancy glass bottle. He’s spritzed it on your wrist and the smell lasted all day. He nods at your words, and you turn your head towards the TV to avoid his gaze.
“That guy you saw last week didn’t work out?”
Your eyebrows furrow. Honestly, the date had been crap, and you’d forgotten about him the second you’d gone home. You’re surprised he remembers. You tell Jason about all of your romantic adventures, hoping it will have some effect on your feelings for him. It hasn't been very successful so far. And while Jason looks disinterested as he asks you, eyes focused on the movie on screen, his leg taps up and down, and he looks a little restless. You think about lying for a split second, but you can’t bring yourself to do it.
You scoff. “I haven’t spoken to him since. He was boring. And stupid.”
Jason laughs, his eyes crinkling. “That’s rude!”
“He couldn’t hold one conversation with me! Like, I asked him what his favourite book was and he said Diary of a Wimpy Kid. We are nineteen years old!” You whine, hands covering your face as Jason cackles next to you.
“So that’s all women want. A man who reads?” There's a teasing lilt to his voice and you roll your eyes.
“Well, duh. I am studying English after all. I’d like to be able to hold a conversation with him about what I do.”
“That’s a fair dealbreaker, I'll be honest.” Jason hums, resting his arm on the back of the couch, brushing your back slightly. “Is that all you’re looking for in a man?”
The TV blares quietly in the background. Some random show on the food network where the contestant currently on screen looks like they're about to drop the tiered cake in their hands. His question rings out in the room, and you know you only have a few seconds before your silence is considered awkward. But you can’t help but think his question is so suggestive. Does he want to know why out of innocent curiosity? Or does he want to know out of something else?
“Well. Obviously not.” You finally say, bringing your knees up to your chest. “But English comprehension would be nice.”
Jason snorts a laugh. “That being said. He has to be funny. And tall, at least taller than me. And he needs to be smart. And fit. Like, physically.”
Jason watches you with a small smile on his face, nodding, like he knows you're just trying to describe him in a roundabout way. You laugh, a little nervous under his gaze. You reach across the couch and grab the remote.Your arm brushes against his leg and the contact is fleeting but it makes your skin burn.
“And all these guys at uni, and you haven’t found one who fits?”
His voice is lower when he speaks again, and when you look at him he’s looking at you so intensely. And it’s then you notice that the two of you are sitting quite close on the couch, considering it's one big enough to fit about four people.
“Well. Yes. I- Maybe.”
He just nods again. You take a quick breath in, quickly grabbing your book from the table. “Did you finish the essay for next week?”
Jason groans, leaning his head back on the couch. “Fuck. No. I completely forgot.”
You wave your own essay in the air. “Well. I was gonna ask you to read over mine, but. Nevermind then.” You sigh dramatically.
“Shut up. Lemme read.” He takes it out of your hand, slipping his glasses back on his face. They’re thick rimmed lenses that make him look older than he is and you love them.
You watch him as he reads, fingers playing with his bottom lip as his eyes skim over your work. Some part of you feels the tiniest bit self-conscious, because he is a hundred times smarter than you, but you know he’d never make it feel that way. Jason suddenly looks up and his eyes meet yours. You smile, face heating, as he raises an eyebrow.
“Enjoying the view, sweetheart?”
“Shut up.”
You tap the edge of your paper. “Good?”
“Great. Can you write mine too?”
You snort. “You wish.” Jason pouts and drops your paper back on the table.
“It’s fine. I’ll do it tomorrow. Right now I’m hungry.”
You sit up immediately at that. “Yes. Let’s order food.”
Jason looks back at his kitchen. “I shouldn’t. I’ve eaten takeaway every night this week, I think. It’s also,” he quickly glances at his watch, “barely half twelve. What’s even open right now?”
You groan, shaking his shoulder. “Jason, don’t be responsible! I’m here, this is like a sleepover. We need to eat something junk-foody.”
Jason just frowns. You flick the centre of his glasses and he tuts. “Hey.”
“I’ll even pay! It’s on me.” You nod and pull out your phone. You’re opening UberEats before he can protest again.
“See. Burger King is open. We love Burger King!”
“We do?”
“Yes. What do you want?”
“A whopper.”
You spend the next ten minutes deciding and then the next thirty waiting anxiously for your food. The thing with Jason, and probably the reason you like him the most, is that you can talk to him about anything. Tonight, it’s his brother Dick’s birthday party. He leans in to show you the picture on his phone, and you try not to laugh at how unhappy he looks to be photographed.
When the doorbell rings Jason runs to grab the food, before bringing it back to the two of you. It takes another twenty minutes for the two of you to finish eating, old episodes of Friends humming in the background. Sleep circles your limbs and you yawn, sipping on blue slushy that had come with your order. It’s entirely too sweet and stains your tongue blue but you keep drinking it anyway.
“I don’t know. Bruce is always asking me to come over, but. Things are still weird.”
You nod. “Yeah, I get it. But it’s good you’re trying. I-“
You're cut off suddenly by Jason yelling and pointing at your arm. You screech, dropping your slush and shooting off the couch.
“What! Oh my god, what is it?” You yell, hands rubbing at your sleeves.
“You-“ Jason tries to speak but his words are cut off by a laugh. “It was just a little bug.”
“Jason. That is not funny! You freaked me out, look!” You whine, pointing at the now spilt slushy all over your hoodie.
“Ah, shit. Sorry, sorry.”
He gets up and grabs some tissues and you furiously dab at your hoodie. The couch is also now blue, and you frown. “There goes my bed, too. Guess I’m sleeping on your bedroom floor today.”
Jason perks up where he’s blotting the couch. He frowns, thinking for a moment. “You’re not sleeping on the floor, what? Take my bed.”
Your hands drop to your sides. “Well what about you?”
“I’ll take the floor. It’s my fault you split this, anyway.”
“It’s your bed. I’m not gonna make you sleep on the floor.”
“Well, it’s my dorm so. I think I’ll have the final say, sweetheart.” He teases.
You bite your bottom lip, thinking, and toss the used tissues on the table. “Why don’t we just sleep together?”
The tips of Jason’s ears turn a dark red and he looks a little shell-shocked at your words, before it’s replaced by a smirk. Your face flushes too, and you quickly shake your head.
“I- Not like that, I meant- Stop laughing.” You snap. But the sight of him laughing behind his hand makes you giggle a little too.
“I just mean, like. I don’t mind sleeping in the bed with you. I just- I don’t think there’s any point in one of us sleeping on the floor, if there’s a perfectly good bed that can fit us both, you know?”
You’re well aware that you’re rambling, and the way he tilts his head and smiles at you is not helping. He gives the couch one last wipe and stands.
“Alright. That’s cool with me if it’s cool with you. I can also get you something else to wear.” He gestures at your now blue hoodie and you smile gratefully.
You’ve been in Jason’s room once or twice, to grab something or take a call. But this time it’s different, because you’re looking at his bed and you’re going to be in it in about five minutes. You ignore the band posters plastered on his walls, the messy stacks of books all over his floor. You sit gingerly on the edge of the mattress and wait. He comes in only a moment later. He starts rummaging through his drawers and you just watch. He glances at you over his shoulder and shakes his head, huffing a laugh.
“Stop staring. You’re making me nervous.” He whispers.
“Man up.”
He throws a hoodie at you and you catch it. “You know where the bathroom is.”
You walk into the toilet and quickly get changed. You leave your old hoodie in the hamper. Jason’s one is bigger and smells like him, and you don’t see yourself giving this back anytime soon. You give yourself a quick once over in the mirror, fixing your hair and wiping mascara from under your eyes, before you head back to Jason’s room.
When you come back, Jason’s already in bed, doing something on his phone. You linger in the doorway and he looks up.
“You want a formal invitation?”
You roll your eyes and shuffle your way over. You gingerly lift up the sheets and climb in. You are so painfully aware of how close he is, your shoulders brushing as he puts his phone to the side and lays down properly. The room is silent other than the two of you breathing. Just when you're about to speak, he beats you to it.
“Night.” He whispers.
“Goodnight.”
You’re not crazy, right? This is weird. Maybe if it was Victor’s room. A boy friend who was completely platonic, it wouldn't mean anything. But you’ve felt the tension between you and Jason, the subtle flirting, the lingering touches. You know that whatever is happening between you guys is not just friendship. And you have no idea if it's just you, because Jason is breathing so evenly you think he’s fallen asleep already.
You shuffle a little in the sheets, uncomfortable. They smell like Jason and it’s not helping to calm your thoughts down. You turn around to lay on your side, and when you do, you’re met with a face right in front of you, looking back.
It doesn’t take long for your eyes to adjust to the darkness and this close, you can make out the spattering of freckles on the bridge of his nose, the grey hairs he’s growing at 20 that he always complains about. His eyelashes are so long, and you smile sleepily.
“Hi.”
He smiles too. “Hi.”
“I can’t sleep.” You mumble, eyes fluttering shut. “Those burgers woke me up.”
Silence. You don't get a reply. You open your eyes again and Jason is just staring.
“Is there another bug on my face?” You joke. But he doesn't laugh.
“No. You just look so pretty right now.”
Your mouth opens to speak, but no words come out. Jason looks like he’s telling you the time of day, so casual. He lifts up his hand slightly, and brushes a strand of your hair from out your face.
“I- Thank you.”
He doesn’t say anything again. You don’t know what to say. A silence settles over the room again. The two of you just look at each other. And just when you’re about to break it, he sits up so fast it makes you jump.
“Jason, what-”
“I can’t do this, I-”
You eyebrows furrow and you sit up, watching Jason flick on the lamp on his bedside table. The room is enveloped in a soft warm light, and his hair is tousled a little, his shirt wrinkled from how quickly he got up.
“What is going on right now?” “Did you know Gar isn’t home?” He says.
You say yes, because the fact you can’t hear him yelling at COD or something else, and the fcat he didn’t come say hi, is enough clue that he’s not home.
“Right, so. When I made you spill your slushy, which was an accident by the way, I could’ve easily just let you stay in there. He wouldn’t care.”
“Okay.” You say slowly.
“And. I didn’t. Because I knew that you wouldn’t let me sleep on the floor and i wouldn’t either, and then we’d be in this position, and I’d finally get the chance to fucking tell you how i feel.”
“How- How you feel?”
“Yes. And then I pussied out and I just said goodnight, and. And then you looked at me, and, fuck. I can’t take it anymore.”
And then Jason turns to look at you, and he looks so desperate as he grabs your hands, his skin calloused as he tightens his grip.
“I like you. A lot. And, you know, I’d like to think I'm pretty smart, but I know I am horrible when it comes to people, at feelings. So I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to say that.”
This is a dream. There’s no way this is real, that the Jason Todd, biceps and all, is confessing to you on his bed. You want to pinch yourself because the way his thumb is rubbing soothing circles on the back of your hand is making your heart squeeze in your chest.
You watch those pretty brown eyes furrow slightly at your silence.
“I- If you don’t feel the same way, I-”
You don’t think before you reach forward, palms grabbing his jaw and pulling him forward so you can press a kiss to his lips. And he barely waits a second before his eyes flutter closed, hands tangling in your hair to pull you impossibly closer. Your arms slide down to curve around his neck and you toy with the hair on the nape of his neck, and he groans. You finally let go and he leans his forehead on yours, kissing your nose, your cheek.
“I like you too, by the way. If the kiss wasn’t tell enough.”
He grins, boyish and handsome, and you want to kiss him again.
He sighs happily, hands slipping up the edge of his hoodie, eyes waiting for your nod of approval. When he gets it, he smiles again, pressing a kiss to your jaw.
“God, thank fuck for Lily and her boyfriend
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nia try not to write a college au mission impossible... I LOVEE JASON TODD! In my head any alternate universe hes not emo so i write him nice and cute.
thanks to all who voted in the poll! im gonna make my way through all the guys on that list so look out for it! next up will be shinsou because of a very nice commenter ;P i hope u all enjoy this, leave any fic ideas in my ask box!
#fluff#oneshot#b3ach bunn7#jason todd oneshot#jason todd x reader#jason todd#batfam#dc comics#dc universe#batman#jason todd x y/n#jason todd red hood#jason todd reader#red hood x reader#red hood
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Thunder
Bottom!FTM Cloud Strife x Top!Male Reader
⛈️ Word Count: 1,799 ⛈️
While out on a mission, you and Cloud get caught in a sudden thunderstorm, forcing you to find shelter for the night until it stops. But after a couple days, there aren't any signs of it letting up
AFAB Language Used | I had writer's block and got bored so i decided to finally continue playing final fantasy. I stopped like 30 minutes in to write this fic at 12AM. i put down the game (temporarily! i love it) after the section 8 stuff so i'm sorry for any inaccuracies, just needed to take advantage of this burst of motivation
CW: Rape/Non-Con, Somnophilia, Power Imbalance, Frottage, Teasing, Creampie
You peek outside the window, or what was left of it, of the broken down building you're in then turn to Cloud. “Looks like we’ll have to stay the night.” Lightning strikes to reinforce your words. “Think you can handle it, pretty boy?”
“Stop treating me like a rookie.” Cloud sighs. “And stop calling me pretty boy.”
“It's hard when you look like an adorable little kitten.” You smile.
He rolls his eyes and looks around for burnable items.
“It's like watching a lion cub hunt and gather.”
“I can't wait for this night to be over.” He groans. “How about you do something useful, captain?”
“Like what, kitty?”
Cloud grips the damp piece of wood in his hand in annoyance. “Like maybe finding things to keep the water out of here.” He tosses the wood aside.
“Sure.” You stretch.
The two of you worked together to make the old building livable for the night and went to sleep thinking it’d be over by morning.
Cloud wakes up to the loud sound of thunder and sighs. He sees you leaning against the wall. “It's still raining.”
“It sure is.” You chuckle. “We might be here for a while, kitty. Unless you want to run out and somehow dodge all that lightning?”
The two of you are way too far from the base to even consider doing that. The job pays well but not enough for Cloud to not be annoyed with this sudden detour. “I better get a bonus for this.”
“Of course. You could get paid even more if you did me a little favor.”
He raises an eyebrow.
“About 60,000 gil plus your bonus pay.”
“What is it?” He asks, attentive.
You smirk. “Since we're gonna be stuck here for who knows how long, I think it’d be nice to do something as a…pastime of sorts.”
“Stop beating around the bush.”
You motion for him to come over. He rolls his eyes and gets up. “I know you're talented in so many ways,” You grab his wrist and pull him close to you. “And I wanna see if you're talented in this way too.”
He pushes you and steps back, his cheeks red. “Don't even think about it.”
“It was worth a shot.” You laugh.
He shakes his head and decides to explore the building more, far from you.
The sun set and the sky continued to pour. Then days passed. You rationed food and managed to find other edible things to keep yourselves alive but the situation isn't all that great for you. You're still functioning, but just by a small margin.
The two of you were able to collect rainwater to drink and help yourselves clean up. Cloud insisted on doing it upstairs so you wouldn't watch him. You promised you wouldn't but you were lying.
As time went on, it was getting harder and harder to keep it in your pants. Your mental state started to get a little wonky thanks to your body not getting all the nutrients it needs. You couldn't stop thinking about how much you wanted him, especially since it was better than thinking about food. It got to a point where you couldn't even fall asleep.
You look at Cloud’s sleeping face, studying the slight movements in his facial muscles as he dreams. The soft glow of your lamp allows you to properly see him despite the darkness. His chest slowly rises and falls. You know if you made an attempt, he’d wake up, any good soldier would. But it's getting hard to control yourself. Being in such close proximity with him is driving you mad. You hesitantly, and very softly, touch his shoulder. He doesn't react. You poke his cheek. Nothing. You pause.
You trace your finger down his chest and to his pants. You carefully unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants. He doesn't seem to notice you pulling them down. You take in a small breath. You're so nervous it feels like there's a hole in your chest. You remove his boxers at an agonizingly slow pace. You gulp as you start to see his pussy. Light blond tufts of hair beautifully surround his soft, pudgy cunt and his t-dick. You look at him. He's sleeping peacefully. He must be more tired than usual tonight.
You gently pull his underwear down his ankles and place it on the end of the blanket he’s laying on. You carefully spread his legs and slot yourself in between them. As you begin to free your aching hard dick, you start to feel a little bad. You tell yourself to give him a huge bonus after this. You gently rub your cock along his pussy, knowing you can definitely get off just by doing this. You don't want it to hurt, at least not too much, so you decide not to penetrate him since your luck would probably run out if you tried to prep him properly.
You bite down on your lip. The view is making you feel dizzy. Your ears drown out the sounds of the thunder storm and focus entirely on Cloud. On his soft, gentle breaths and the squelching sound of his wet pussy, aroused by your cock pressing itself against it. Your heart starts to pound louder, ruining your focus on Cloud.
You let out a breathy gasp as you begin to feel your climax approaching. Your eyes flicker over to his face, watching to make sure he's still asleep. You don't know how you’ve gotten this far but you're no longer so sure that you’ll be able to stop here. Your movements stutter as your cum splatters on his body.
“Cloud..” You whisper. His lack of reaction emboldens you to keep going. You move back and slide your middle finger inside his cunt. Squelch. It sucks it in with ease, and same with your ring finger. You slowly open him up while using your free hand to jerk yourself off. He twitches. You pause and look at him before continuing.
You eventually decide to stop and finally get to the good part. You gently lift Cloud’s legs and position the tip of your cock in front of his entrance. You take your time easing into him while constantly checking if he's awake.
Once you're finally fully inside, you take a couple minutes to take everything in. You're in serious disbelief but way too horny to be concerned about it. You know that, at this point, if he wakes up, you’ll be able to overpower him.
You slowly thrust into him, happily indulging in the wonders of Cloud Strife’s pussy. You gently caress his t-dick, smiling when you start to hear him whimper. “You feel so good, Cloud– ‘s like you were made for me, to tempt me..” You murmur, gradually picking up the pace. “I didn't think it’d be so easy…”
“Maybe you're not even asleep. No properly trained soldier would sleep through something like this…I wonder if you're enjoying this. Getting off on me assaulting you in your sleep like a slut.” You notice his cheeks starting to turn red. A chill runs down your spine as you start to get a feeling your assumption is correct. “You like this, Cloud? Letting yourself get taken advantage of? Does it feel good getting treated like a cocksleeve?”
He whimpers, his cunt squeezing you.
“I know you're awake. Answer me.”
His eyes flutter open, his face flushed and deliciously seductive. “It– it feels good-!” He moans.
“Good boy.” You grin. You never would've thought Cloud would be into something like this. You roughly pound into him. He cries out in pleasure, feeling his orgasm approaching. “‘M gonna come inside and you're gonna take it like the good kitty you are.”
“Ye- yes–!” He shuts his eyes, squirting on your dick. His mouth hangs open as the aftershocks hit him. He smiles dreamily as he feels your cum flow inside of him.
You stop and catch your breath. “Did you reject me hoping this would happen?”
Cloud nods softly. “I didn't think it would…but I wanted it to.”
…..........
He pushes you and steps back. “Don't even think about it.”
“It was worth a shot.”
He shakes his head and decides to explore the building more, far from you.
Cloud climbed the semi-intact stairs and explored the second floor of the building. There wasn't anything noteworthy inside but it did give him much needed privacy. No room to lay down but he didn't need to anyway.
He walked behind a wall to hide himself in case you decided to follow him, and unbuckled his pants. He stuck his hand down them and gently caressed his t-dick. He always knew you were attracted to him, it wasn't like you were hiding it, and he pretended that he hated it. He loves your pet names and the lustful way you look at his body. Part of him hoped that one day, you’d just force yourself on him and claim him like a prize. He didn't think it'd ever happen but he never got tired of fantasizing about it. He hoped he'd have some sort of opportunity for you to finally make your move.
He'd imagine you cornering him in the locker room showers and covering his mouth to make sure no one finds out.
Cloud sneakily rubs his sensitive nipples against the cold wall tiles as you enter him. “Shh, this is what you get for being such a tease.” You spank him, your cock forcefully entering his pussy. Cloud shivers at the sounds of your heavy breathing. He can tell how aroused you are and how much you love his body. He rolls his eyes back as you stretch him wide open, his own heavy breaths making him feel lightheaded.
Or he’d imagine you giving him an ultimatum and forcing him to submit to you in exchange for keeping his job.
Cloud fakes a look of disgust as he stares at your rock hard cock. He looks up at you then back at your length, hesitating before enveloping it in his mouth. “There you go, Cloud, finally doing what I hired you for.” You praise him. He shudders at the thought, his pussy throbbing with need. “This is what you should be doing, not out on the battlefield but here, pleasing me.”
He looks up at you, trying to look angry. You smirk and push his head down, forcing him to shift his focus back.
His latest fantasy was about being trapped together. He hoped that something would happen to keep the two of you together for a long time. And he’d tease you even more to frustrate you. Then you’d finally do it.
He didn't think that exact scenario would actually play out.
#wicks🕯works#top male reader#male reader#ftm character#dom male reader#cloud strife x reader#cloud strife x male reader#cloud strife smut#bottom cloud strife#final fantasy x reader#tw noncon#tw somnophilia#bottom male character
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Danny deeply distrusts the Justice League
Based on the wonderful @saltymarshmall0w 's prompt.
I really feel like they aren't enough fanfics or prompts where Danny dislikes the Justice League — and continues to dislike them even after everything (Anti-Ecto Acts) is revealed and taken care of. (Or maybe I'm not looking in the right places — if you guys have any recommendations put them in the Tags or Comments!)
Read on ao3. Masterpost
After many years Danny has finally retired — sure he had to leave everything he loved and that was familiar to him behind for it, but it was worth it. He had a small little house that was his own, he would water his plants every morning and make small talk with his neighbors. Everything was fine.
Everything turns not so fine, when there’s a sudden knock on his door. Expecting it to be one of his neighbors — for example needing eggs or flour (a neighbor’s kid had needed eggs to bake one of her parents a cake and Danny had been more than willing to spare the few she needed) — he opens the door without a second thought.
Only to almost immediately want to close it again.
Because that’s the Justice League standing in front of his door. And that can mean nothing good.
Before Danny can slam the door closed, Superman‘s shoe slides in between the door frame, blocking his escape. The smile the man shoots him is probably meant to be reassuring, but the only thing Danny feels is dread.
To most civilians the Justice League is seen as a beacon of hope — but to Danny? He knows the bitter truth. When he needed them the most they turned his back on him before chasing him across half the globe calling him a villain without even hearing his side of the story. They handed him over the GIW for Ancient’s Sake. He would have died if it weren’t for Tucker and Sam. (He may not have scars to show for it but he can still feel his chest burn when he thinks back to it.) Not that they can remember that though. He still doesn’t trust them.
“You are Danny Fenton, correct?” Superman asks and Danny stiffens.
Fenton — not Nightingale like he has changed his surname into to escape his parents influence and leave everything behind.
“Yes,” he says warily — seeing no point in lying. Considering Batman is lingering behind Superman the Detective would figure it out instantly.
“And you used to be Amity’s Park’s vigilante Phantom?”
Danny grips the door frame, knuckles white. What’s their point? Are they trying to intimidate him?
“Yes,” he grits out.
“We were told that you are the one we should seek out in matters involving Ghosts and the Infinite Realms,” Superman continues, but Danny doesn’t let him finish.
“I’m retired,” he interrupts. “Find someone else.”
“There’s a world-ending event,” Superman says like that would convince Danny. Like Danny hadn’t lived though so many of them — had to prevent them from happening without anyone’s help every single time. Guilt-tripping much? “Even if you don’t want to fight — we need you as an advisor.”
Danny snorts, shaking his head.
“Go take up the matter with the Justice League Dark then.”
Danny moves to close the door, but still Superman’s foot doesn’t budge. He could probably brute-force his way through this — but Danny’s tired and he’s not in the mood to explain to his neighbors why his door is broken and he needs to do repairs.
He glares at them and to his surprise Superman actually takes a step back — but still not enough to be able to close the door.
Danny hasn’t transformed into Phantom since he left Amity Park. Had kept that part of himself locked away — would have separated his Ghost Self from himself if he didn’t know he would be selfish for that. Had ignored his Obsession even if it screamed at him — had pushed it away in his Human Form even if it muted all the colors around him and it meant that every breath was a painful wheeze.
Faced with this situation he almost wants to break the promise he made to himself — but he can’t.
There is no GIW anymore — Danny had made sure of that. He had wiped all of their files and his parents published research with the help of Technus. He had dismantled both portals to the Ghost Zone and made sure no one would be able to replicate it. But Danny also knows the Justice League — knows how much Superman’s punches hurt, how it feels to get mind controlled — they could overpower him in an instant if he twitched as much as into the wrong direction.
He really doesn’t have a choice here, doesn’t he? If he doesn’t go out of his free will — they will force him with any means necessary, of that much he is sure.
His gaze trails to his neighbor’s house and the swing in their backyard. And if they are right and he turns them away — is he sure he won’t feel any guilt if something happens that he could have prevented? Sometimes Danny really hates his Martyr Complex.
Danny sighs, defeated.
“What do you need my help for?”
They had liked their new neighbor despite the fact that he barely left his house other than to water his plants. They had known that the young man was sickly. He looked like death wormed him over and was weak on his feet— his ice-blue eyes dull. His smile barely held any warmth in it.
Still they invited them over after he had given their daughter eggs to bake the cake for their birthday. They learned that he was kind and had escaped to their small village to live a quiet life.
When the young man came to tell them that he would be out of town for a few days and to please water his plants if they could, they were worried.
“Are you sure that you are fine, son?” they asked and touched the man’s forehead — but it was icily cold like the rest of their skin had always been. “You look even paler than usual.”
The young man had only given them a half-hearted smile and affirmed them that he was fine
Their daughter's excited steps had hurried behind them and she tugged on their pants after the man had left.
“Was that Uncle Danny?” the girl asked. “Can I play with him?”
They gave their daughter a weak smile.
“Uncle Danny is busy for a few days,” they explained. “Later, okay? How about you draw him a picture while we wait for him to come back? So he has something to look forward to?”
Their daughter nodded and raced back to the living room, searching for supplies, while they continued looking out of the window. They can’t help but have a bad feeling about this.
It’s unnerving how quiet the young man is.
There are no easy smiles, sassy quips and puns like from the few shaky phone videos they had pulled from the internet about Phantom.
He’s meticulous. Probably even more than Batman — and that is a statement. There had been a deep mistrust in the eyes when they had located him and asked him to help them. It’s evident in every step he makes. He double-, even triple-checks every single evidence, every single sentence, every single word they say.
Nothing is left unturned as he works the way though the situation like if he is dealing with a case. He never stops moving, always doing something — reading through heavy leather-bound books or through their reports. His heart rate is so slow that Clark sometimes wonders if the boy is still breathing at all.
When the young man had asked them if they spoke to the leader regarding the war declaration and the reasons behind them, he had clicked his tongue when they told him no.
He hadn’t let anyone help him when he drew out the summoning cycle — it looked even more intricate and complicated than they had seen from Zatanna or Constantine. When he had spoken the words for the spell, his words had sounded ancient and undescribable — hushed whispers following every single word. He clasped his hands and only opened his eyes when he spoke the last word, his eyes burning a deep green.
The cycle goes up in green fire before a form appears — Clark recognizes the Ghost from the declaration.
The man’s cold gaze sweeps over the Justice League before it stops on Phantom. He smirks, bowing his head slightly.
“I greet the Prince of the Infinite Realms.”
“Cut the crap Fright Knight,” Phantom's voice is steel-hard. “We both know I refused that position.”
The man tilts his head but nods.
“Very well,” he says. “I greet Phantom, savior of the Infinite Realms.”
Phantom grits his teeth like he wants to refuse that title too before he shakes his head. He gestures to the Justice League.
“Explain.”
“We are just paying back what has been done to us,” Fright Knight claims. “Vita brevis, ars longa, occasio praeceps, experimentum periculosum, iudicium difficile.”
“Life is short, art is long, opportunity fleeting, experiment treacherous, judgment difficult,” Diana translates for them.
“I see the Daughter of the Queen of the Amazons knows her arts,” the man’s voice has a hint of mockery. “Humanum genus est avidum nimis auricularum. Ignorantia legis non excusat:”
Diana’s eyebrows knit together as she listens.
“Mankind is too greedy for lies. Ignorance of the law does not excuse,” her voice is almost a whisper.
“I would have thought you would know of this Phantom,” Fright Knight addresses the young man again. “But now seeing your state, you probably didn’t feel the call for the announcement either. Is there a reason why you are starving yourself?”
Phantom doesn’t meet any of their eyes as he answers.
“That is unimportant to this situation.”
Fright Knight’s lips twitch back into a grin.
“If the savior of the Infinite Dreams claims so, then I have no choice but to accept it.” He turns back to the Justice League. “Si vis pacem, para bellum.”
“If you want peace, prepare for war.”
“When have we been ignorant?” Batman finally steps in.
Fright Knight huffs out a dark laugh.
“When has mankind not been ignorant?” Fright Knight questions. “When your government captured my brethren and tortured them, where were you? When they declared us as non-sentient and staged war against us, where were you? When they threatened to destroy our home, where were you?”
The man’s eyes seem to burn as he repeats himself.
“Where were you?”
Clark and the rest of the League are shocked to silence.
“Now that the danger has passed, why should we just forgive you? Why should we forget?” Fright Knight continues. “If we are not worthy enough to be counted towards mankind that means we just have to rewrite the rules. And since we were never given the chance to negotiate, that means by force.”
“The Meta-Protection Acts-”
“Only count towards those that are alive.” Fright Knight interrupts Batman. “After all, how can the dead feel any emotions such as pain? I’m sure if you ask your government they will hand you a lot of pretty reports on the biased experiments that prove so.”
“But that’s-” Clark starts but Fright Knight doesn’t let him finish.
“Despicable? When has that ever stopped mankind?” Fright Knight asks. “We can talk if there isn't a law that states that we can be eradicated without any consequences.”
Before either of them can stop him, Fright Knight swishes his cape made out of purple fire and disappears. Clark faintly asks himself if that is how other people feel when Batman does that in front of their noses.
Seeing no other option the entire League turns back to Phantom who hasn’t said a single word since the Ghost went on his tirade.
“Phantom-” Batman tries, but the young man’s eyes burn with so much hate that the normally stoic man stocks in his words.
“I don’t have to tell you anything,” Phantom seethes. “You heard him. Now finally do your jobs right for once.”
Then he leaves the room without a single glance back.
Clark gulps as they look at each other.
“I feel like we made a mistake.”
When the news declares the Anti-Ecto Acts as abolished, Danny feels nothing but exhaustion. The Justice League barely managed to avoid a large-scale — and very justified war.
Danny leans back tiredly on his sofa. His eyes trail to the drawing his neighbor’s daughter had given him and the first genuine smile in months graces his lips.
“What I don’t do for mankind,” he sighs before he closes his eyes.
#dc x dp#dc#danny phantom#danny fenton#justice league#danny meets justice league#danny is not the ghost king#yoonjae20 writing#yoonjae20#fright knight#anti-ecto acts#dc x dp crossover
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What if the dorm leaders had a clumsy, klutzy, forgetful, and lazy female s/o that somehow knows how to do impossible tasks (like cooking up a feast, repairing a car, play 10 different instruments, getting good grades, etc) without even trying?
Dorm Leaders with a Talented yet Lazy Girlfriend
CWs: a tinge of jealousy, fluff and a little insecurity. Fem! Reader, s/o is basically one of those overpowered anime protags lol.
Riddle
He adores you so much as his girlfriend, but Riddle can’t help but be a little jealous of you. The sheer lack of effort you put into anything and everything you do compared to the overall success you have goes against everything he was raised to believe.
Riddle might push you to be a little more studious but ends up finding it meaningless. You simply have a talent for beating people who’ve put in considerably more effort than you have.
Those miraculous acts of preparation you do, such as preparing full meals and such, come in especially handy when his dorm is in chaos before a tea party.
Seeing you whip up the tea, set the table, and paint all the roses in record time, it was like seeing a phoenix rise from the ashes. He was so bewildered he just stood there, mouth slightly agape.
The klutzy nature you display fits right in with his dorm, so he isn’t put off by it at all.
“S/O, remember you’ve got a history test today…I know you’ll do great…”
Leona
At the start of your relationship, there is a comfort the two of you have in your shared sense of calm. You’re both chill people with slow lives, living comfortably. The second he learns how effortlessly you succeed at life, though? He can’t help but be a little jealous.
Very verbally supportive, but silently fuming until he realizes just how ridiculous he’s being. Then he’s bragging about you to anyone who’s even a little curious.
Leona’s event planning skills are…unfortunate to say the least. So whenever the two of you have guests over or are hosting some type of event, you take over.
Clumsiness is also something he isn’t used to; lion beastmen are agile in nature, so he tends to help you in terms of holding things and overall balance. Leona insists you hand over any heavy or easily breakable object to him.
“Do you want me to carry that? Your hands are shaking again…”
Azul
You two definitely met because he deemed you an easy target for one of his contracts, only to be embarrassed and slightly enamored when you broke apart each aspect of it and tried to negotiate a better deal for yourself.
He respects how multifaceted you are, especially when it comes to your talents. Azul might even employ you to play light background music for the lounge.
If your talents extend to sports, he’s going to beg for advice.
“So you don’t even practice or anything? And you made the team? What do you mean you’ve never played—
On the topic of grades, he gets a little freaked out. You’ve been here for like a month, and you’ve learned all of Twisted Wonderland’s history already? Are you some kind of malfunctioning robot?
Azul also doesn’t care about your lazy nature; nap around his office all you want.
Kalim
You two are quite similar in disposition and overall vibes, but when it comes to grades, you’re way better off than he is.
The amount of stress you both put Jamil in before you locked in and cleaned out that entire dorm was unbelievable. I mean, a full-course dinner that he didn’t have to make; he’s begging you to marry Kalim at this point.
He would be the type to leave you sticky notes reminding you of your tasks and goals, with little encouraging messages.
“Don’t forget you have a presentation today! How’d you do all 20 slides in ten minutes? Who cares? You’ll do great! :)”
Vil
This would be a tricky situation.
Vil believes in pushing yourself to reach your ideal goals; to sweat and tire is to prove your worth to him. So to see you basically lose at every step of the way and still win at life is unbelievable. I mean, you forget every quiz date you get and still score hundreds every single time.
Vil also appreciates your musical skills; he’ll encourage you to play complex melodies as he gets ready in the morning, waking him up for the day ahead.
His own schedule takes time from his studies, but he also scores high on everything. He thinks your grades come from a good sense of intuition.
“Schatz, how could you possibly have scored a hundred on this when you skipped all but 2 classes?”
Laziness is something he dislikes overall, but he can’t help but find you adorable when you drift off to sleep in his dorm room as opposed to getting some job done for Crowley. He likes making you feel safe.
Idia
He thinks you’re a natural good luck charm; I mean, everything you do seems to fall into place!
Idia is also kind of lazy, so he won’t complain about your work ethic. Your clumsy nature, on the other hand, worries him because of all the one-of-a-kind tech in his room.
Once Idia finds out how good you are at, well, practically everything, he’ll get a little self-conscious. I mean, you don’t even have to try, and you just kinda win? Why stay with a shut-in like him?
You shut that down pretty quick, and he learns to just enjoy your talented self. He’s got a girlfriend; he’s already like, halfway more successful than most of his internet buddies.
Idia would adore it. If you played some type of electric instrument, like a synth or an electric guitar, he’d buy you the best one on the market just to hear some of his favorite intro songs played by you.
“S/O, how does a keytar sound? Of course, you already know how to play that.”
Malleus
Grades and all that don’t really matter to Malleus, as he’s also just naturally talented at everything, similarly to you. It's your clumsy, human nature that enchants him. Fae like him are naturally balanced, elegant, and refined; they don’t just fall over or knock things down like you have a habit of doing.
“You’ve just done what humans call ‘eating dirt,’ did you not, Beastie? Intriguing…”
The concept of laziness is also new to him; he would have fun dragging you along to your tasks and seeing the looks of shock on people’s faces as you come riding into class on the Prince of the Briar Valley’s shoulders.
Malleus is also probably trained in several instruments, and he’d love to play duets or help you acquire more rare, niche musical tools.
People who’ve been around as long as he has don’t often deem things impossible, but the shocking speed at which you managed to fix the decaying Ramshackle dorm, cook dinner each night for Grim and yourself, and deal with everyone’s problems, including your own, has him questioning if you’re human at all.
#reader insert#fanfic#fanfiction#headcanons#twisted wonderland#twst x reader#female reader#fem!reader#twst#disney twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#riddle rosehearts x reader#riddle rosehearts#leona kingscholar x reader#leona kingscholar#azul ashengrotto x reader#azul ashengrotto#kalim al asim x reader#kalim al asim#vil shoenheit x reader#vil shoenheit#vil schoenheit x reader#vil schoenheit#idia shroud x reader#idia shroud#malleus draconia x reader#malleus draconia
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Silent Poem
Zayne returns home to find you fast asleep in his bed. You help each other…relax. 😏
An expansion of Zayne’s Silent Poem Secret Times (some lines removed because try as i might, i couldnt make them fit)
Zayne x Reader
-:- massage leads to other things -:- clothed sex lol -:- body worship Zayne -:- sweet talkin mofo -:-
INTENDED FOR 18+ READERS. MINORS DNI
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was supposed to be a night filled with laughter over dinner, but dusk gave way to twilight in what felt like a handful of seconds. Doctor Zayne had called with his apologies, stating that an emergency surgery had come up and he would be home late. Dinner was packed away to be saved for another time, and you curled up on his sofa with the silly games you thoroughly enjoyed on your phone. You understood how it was. After all, you had to do the same to him several times as well. It didn’t bother you one bit- you would just wait until he got home, embrace him, and usher him off to bed for much-needed rest.
It wasn’t long before you started to nod off and you checked the time, noting that it was nearing midnight. There was no telling when Zayne would be home, but the two of you had shared a bed for some time now. You knew he wouldn’t mind if you slipped between the sheets to take a quick nap before he got home.
You changed into your long night shirt and were lost to the waking world when Zayne snuck into the room. He took light steps until he was at the bedside, peering down at you with softness in his gaze. The glass of water he held was placed quietly on the bedside table and he sat at the edge of the bed. He marveled at your beauty, wondering how he could have ever been so lucky to have someone like you in his life. Lost to these thoughts, he leaned forward and kissed you. Just a gentle brush of his lips against yours while you slept.
You inhaled sharply, startled awake by the unexpected contact. When you opened your eyes, you saw Zayne’s smiling face in the dimmed lamp light and relaxed back into the pillows.
“My apologies. Did I wake you up?”
You smiled lazily at him. “Yeah, but it’s okay. Are you just getting in? It’s so late!”
“Yes. It’s been hectic at the hospital as of late. Every night I had to return home in the middle of the night…you were sleeping so peacefully. I couldn’t resist the urge to kiss you.”
He leaned over to kiss you softly again, and you chased his lips until you were sitting up in the bed. Worry raced through you when he pulled away and slumped against your shoulder, closing his eyes with a sigh. You observed his face more closely and noticed exhaustion and tension bracketing his mouth and eyes. His arm lazily circled your waist, and your own came around him to embrace him back.
“Zayne?” You asked softly.
“Let me hold you for a bit. This helps me chase away my exhaustion.”
“You should relax more,” you murmured to him.
“Me?” He called you out with that one simple word and you huffed a laugh.
“Alright, we should relax more.”
“But how exactly…will you help me relax?” He lifted his head from your shoulder and stared at you intently with those eyes that held the depth of a forest. You watched as his gaze drifted to your lips and then back up, and you felt a blush spread across your face. What a strange time for shyness to strike, especially since intimacy was not new between you.
You push him away from you a moment so you could escape the covers. Kneeling over him, you started pushing his jacket off his shoulders and began working at his shirt, all while completely ignoring the intense way he watched your chest waving in front of his face.
Once his shirt was loosened enough, you dug your fingers into the muscle that made up the slope of his neck. You remember him telling you it was called the trapezius at some point, and how it was where he carried all of his stress. The moment your fingers dug into that brick wall of a muscle, he let loose a heavy sigh that was nearing a moan.
“Mmmh…massage. I see…” he grumbled with a smile.
“Yes, what else were you thinking?” You raised your brow, continuing to work at his neck and shoulders.
He cleared his throat a little bit and you took note of the blush that stained his ears. He blinked rapidly and looked away in that endearing way he did when embarrassed.
“Ahem. Never mind.”
His muscles finally started to give way to your ministrations, but your own tensed the more you worked at him. The sounds he made had your heart thundering, and you were acutely aware of how close your body was to his and how you still knelt over his lap- not quite straddling him.
He looked up at you, golden-green eyes hooded by barely concealed desire. “My eyes aren’t as tired as they were before. And my neck and shoulders feel so much better.”
“Good, I’m glad,” you said, smiling down at him. You knew your face and neck were red, and it took all of your effort not to run and hide. Your only saving grace was the blush that dusted his cheeks.
“Just sit on me,” he said, noticing how your legs began to shake from the unsustainable position you were in. “It’ll be easier for you.”
You began to decline, but his hands found your hips and suddenly you were straddling him in full. And you became very well aware of the hard length of him pressing against your core.
He moaned at the contact, a breathy sound that shot to your core. “I feel much better already.”
“Y-yeah?” You stammered. His hips rose to grind against yours.
“It’s more effective than the strongest, most soothing medicine in the world.” He kissed you then, an unhurried kind of probing kiss that drew you in the longer your lips held contact.
But then he pulled away, and you could feel the embarrassment at how easily you got lost in him flush through you again. Still, his arms caged you, keeping you close.
“Your lips are dry. Do you want some water?” He reached over and grabbed the glass from the table, presenting it to you.
“How did you know?” You realized you actually were parched. It was always a point of contention- you always seemed to forget to take care of yourself. “I keep forgetting.”
“You haven’t learned to drink it on your own yet?” You chose to ignore his chuckle by carelessly chugging the glass.
“Don’t rush, it’s spilling out,” he said, right as your overeagerness sent a trail down your neck, chest, and into your shirt between your breasts.
“Oh,” you said dumbly. He took the glass from you and put it back on the table.
“Zayne, help me clean it up, do you have a cloth?”
“All right,” he chuckled, pulling away the hand you were using to dab at it. “I’ll help you clean up.”
And then his mouth found where the water trailed at the hollow of your throat, a searing kiss that sent shivers through you. His mouth and tongue followed the water in a blazing trail on your skin, even tugging down the neck of your shirt to get at as much as he could.
“Z-Zayne,” you breathed, unable- or unwilling- to push him away.
“Is this what you wanted?” His question was murmured against your chest between kisses. You watched as his tongue slipped between your breasts with a hissed inhale, your hips grinding against him. His hands trailed up the backs of your thighs, teasing the hem of your shirt. There was nothing else there to halt his touch, save for your underwear, and he inhaled sharply at the realization.
“I knew it,” he breathed, nipping at your collarbone. “You want to do this to me again.”
And then his lips found yours again, coaxing you open so that his tongue could tangle with yours. His breath mingled with the soft sounds that escaped you. His hands skirted over your curves to lift your shirt over your head in a swift motion you didn’t even have time to react to. This bared you to him almost fully, the only thing covering you now was the soft cotton of the underwear you wore.
“Now you’re just taking advantage,” you chuckled, capturing his lips again. He smiled against your lips.
“What do you mean-” he began, interrupting his sentence with a kiss to your neck.
“I’m taking-“ another kiss, this one to your collarbone.
“Advantage-“ his mouth found your breast now.
“Of the situation?” His teasing words ended with an open mouth kiss to your other breast.
“Aren’t we just helping each other relax,” he questioned softly against your breast. His eyes locked onto yours as he continued kissing, licking, sucking your breasts. With a groan, he lifted you off of him for the length of time it took for the pair of you to fumble with his belt and pants.
When his cock was finally freed, you palmed and stroked him lazily while he gasped and groaned against your chest. But the control he struggled to maintain came close to snapping when you straddled him again, tugged your underwear aside, and slipped the tip of him just inside of you. His hips jerked involuntarily, slamming upwards into you and a whimpered gasp escaped you.
“Sorry,” he breathed. “Did I hurt you?”
You shook your head, unable to put into words that it was quite the opposite. He filled you so well, that you damn near came apart on him with that single thrust. Still, he waited for your body to adjust to him, trembling with the effort.
“It’s been a long time since we last saw each other,” he whispered in your ear. “I missed you.”
Your body shuddered, involuntarily clenching your walls around him. He gasped out a moan, dropping his forehead to your chest while his hips began a slow roll. Your hands gripped at his biceps, fingers digging into him with the same amount of force you used to massage his neck.
“Does this also need to relax?” He said with a sly smile. You couldn’t even muster a response to his teasing. “Of course, I understand you only want to help me feel less fatigued.”
You ended his teasing by lifting from him and easing back down slowly. His breathing came in panting bursts while you rocked your hips against his. You watched his body reacting to yours with pleasured delight, trailing your fingers down his firm chest and into the hills and valleys that made up his abdomen.
“Are you enjoying your massage, Doctor Zayne,” you breathed to him, feeling uncharacteristically bold at the sight of him coming undone beneath you.
“Different muscle groups call for specific massage techniques,” he murmured. “Sometimes…being skillful is what really makes a difference.”
You smiled and resisted rolling your eyes. Still a clinical mind, even while you were impaled on his cock. You set out to make him lose that rational thinking by increasing your pace, taking him deeper and faster. Breathy moans escaped from him and his arms circled your waist to give added leverage as he helped to piston in and out of you.
“I think it’s getting more tense, now,” he murmured, kissing your chest as he nuzzled into you. You knew he was no longer talking about muscles. The lewd sounds of your bodies colliding rose to join the panting moans that permeated the otherwise still air.
“Perhaps…you could add a little more pressure,” he whispered to you before his mouth fell upon your nipples once more. Per his request, you clenched your walls around him as you rode him. With a whining moan, he halted your movements so that he could take over and slam into you from below.
All rational thought was driven from both of you, only this primal need left in its place. You could feel pressure building inside of you as his cock plundered you at an almost punishing speed. Hips collided in a frenzied urge to chase the high of release, breathless moans responding to the pleasure, bodies tensing until finally the pair of you spilled over the edge with cries of ecstasy.
He buried his face against your neck, nuzzling as his body continued to jerk and plunge his cock so impossibly deep inside you. Your cunt pulsed around him, milking him for everything he had to give you. His large hands gripped your hips in a bruising grasp, pushing you so that he remained buried in you to the hilt.
“I wonder,” he panted once his body stopped trembling underneath you. He laid back fully, an arm tucked under his head to prop it up so he could take in the full image of you straddling him, of you impaled on him. “How long were you planning to pull this stunt on me?”
You trailed your hands from his lower abdomen to his chest, leaning your hips forward only so slightly and dropping back down on him. He was still hard inside you, clearly not fully finished with you. “What can I say? I missed you.”
He clenched his eyes closed when you shifted on him, another short moan rising from his chest. “Yes, of course.
“I missed you too.” He punctuated his words by lifting his hips to meet yours.
“Mmmh, how much?” You followed the rocking of his hips, allowing him to pull out slightly before chasing the descent of him to sheath him inside you fully once he settled back against the bed.
He took your hands in his, pulling you so that you laid flat atop him. He captured your lips in a tender kiss, placing his forehead against yours when he pulled away. His hands smoothed up your back, holding you to him.
“Rest in my embrace, just like this,” he murmured to you. His hips lifted again, sinking his cock deep into you again.
“Now-” He kissed your jaw.
“Let me tell you-“ He kissed your neck
“How much I missed you when we couldn’t see each other.” He wrapped his arms around you and began to move.
“Relax,” he murmured to you when you tensed in anticipation. He moved slower now, rolling the two of you so that you were beneath him now. During the transition, he went too deep and you couldn’t help the hiss of pain that you released.
He froze, searching your face for any hint that you wanted to stop. You caressed his flushed cheek, drawing him back down to kiss him.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said against your lips. “Does it still hurt?”
“A little, but I'm okay,” you tell him. You move your legs to wrap them around his hips, but he leaves you so that he can quickly shed the rest of his clothing. He rejoined you after removing your underwear, prodding at your entrance but not pushing in. Instead he leaned down to kiss you softly, in hopes to distract you from any pain or discomfort you might still be feeling.
“What about this? Do you feel better now?” His cock breached your slit, but he still wouldn’t fill you in the way you craved and you could feel your patience slipping.
“Or…do you want to change positions?” He stopped the forward tilt of his hips and pulled away to wait for your answer. You grumbled out a sigh, circling your legs around his waist so he couldn’t remove himself.
“Just do it and stop asking questions!”
With that, he settled over you fully, and you reveled in the way the size and weight of him pressed you into the mattress. His mouth captured yours once more and he rolled his hips forward.
The languid pace at which he pressed his hips into yours was almost too much to bear. You wanted to be taken fast, but the feel of him dragging against your walls was only accentuated by how slow he thrust into you. He was all but worshipping your body with his mouth and hands while his hips pressed into yours with every forward lunge.
“So much time has passed now. Don't you want me to say something?” What you wanted was him. To be drowned in him, swept away by the pleasure he elicited with every stroke of his cock. It was almost too much to bear, the sensations surrounding you as he clung to you as fervently as you clung to him. You closed your eyes, listing your chin when his kisses trailed down your throat.
“Tired already? You want to sleep?” His voice was light and teasing but held the hint of a threat in the undertone. You didn’t get a chance to answer before he slammed his hips forward. A pleasured cry escaped you, fingers digging into his flesh.
“We’re not done here. Quitting halfway isn’t something I would do. The night is still young, we have plenty of time to learn from each other,” he grunted, his hips colliding with yours at a brisk pace now. You whimpered beneath him, allowing him to hook his arms under your knees and practically fold you in half. He slammed his cock into you over and over and you tilted your hips to meet his at every thrust.
“Let me hear your voice,” he sighed, and you obeyed him. Once more, the sounds of pleasure mixed with the sounds of your frenzied coupling. His mouth latched onto the slope of your neck and by the time he was done sucking almost violently at that spot, you knew it was going to leave a gnarly mark. The thought of carrying his mark for weeks drove you even closer to the edge.
“Say my name,” he murmured against your skin, hips snapping forward with forceful thrusts as his climax started to build.
“Z-Zayne,” you whimpered. Your nails dug into his back at the guttural moan he released against your neck.
“Again,” he growled.
“Zayne-” His name came out more like a breath, barely recognizable as a word as his pace turned punishing. He was so impossibly deep inside that you didn’t know where he ended and you began.
“Again,” he groaned, his body trembling with the beginnings of his orgasm. One final, hard, thrust and he was spilling into you with a guttural cry.
“Zayne!” You all but screamed his name as the pulsing twitch of his cock flooding you sent you over the edge with him. You threw your head back into his pillows, body arching into his as your release shot through you.
His hips jerked and shuddered, his whole body trembling like he wasn’t in control. His eyes were clenched closed, his brows drawn down to crease at the center, while he struggled to regain some form of composure. But the intensity of the pleasure didn’t grant him a single reprieve as his body continued to convulse with moaning cries falling from his lips. All you could do was wrap your legs around his waist and lock him to you while he rode out the high with you.
“Fuck,” he whimpered against your neck when his body finally relented control back to his mind. He collapsed on you and the pair of you tried to calm your erratic breathing. Soft kisses rained on your skin and you couldn’t help the giggles that escaped you when his lips brushed sensitive spots.
When you came down from the pleasured high, he carried you bridal style to the bathroom. He started a shower for the both of you, willingly stepping into the blazing hot water you preferred. He cleaned you with a delicate touch, eliciting shivers as his hands glided over your body. And when he knelt before you to lather your legs with soap, his eyes locked onto yours with a mischievous glint in them before his mouth latched onto your cunt. He proceeded to turn you into a babbling mess, bringing you to the brink and driving you over the edge with his skilled tongue.
You wiped the self-satisfied smirk off his face when you knelt in front of him to give him the same kind of attention. He stared at you wide-eyed, blushing profusely, as you palmed him and ran your tongue along the underside of his length. Soft moans and curses escaped him as you worked him with your mouth, until he couldn’t take anymore and spilled against your tongue.
Dawn came and went by the time the pair of you tumbled into bed. You were spooned in his embrace, and the warmth of his body against yours lulled you into sleep. You were grateful that it was your weekend, because you didn’t have the will to leave his bed for even one minute.
Not that he would allow it.
#l&ds zayne#dr zayne#zayne x you#doctor zayne#zayne x reader#zayne smut#lnds zayne#lads zayne#zayne love and deepspace#lads fic#lads smut#lads x reader#l&ds x reader#l&ds smut#love and deepspace fic#love and deepspace
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Love That Burns ~ Ending 2 ~ 56
LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST
< previous chapter
Word Count: 2,890ish
Summary: Wade, Laura, and Logan find themselves in the TVA, prepared to do whatever it takes to bring you home and take care of you.
Notes: This can be a tough one. Hope y'all enjoy it. Please share reactions! Please remember to review the timeline posted here.
Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!
Logan didn’t bother asking Wade how he got his yellow and blue suit fixed up, he honestly didn’t care enough. He kept clenching and unclenching his fists as he stood in the TVA. All that mattered was getting you back. You deserved happiness and a place to experience that. Logan would do what he could to make that happen. Laura was standing at his side, defensive and ready for an attack, while Deadpool was in front, leading the charge. TVA agents were surrounding them, with Hunter B-15 pushing to the front.
“There she is!” Wade exclaimed. “The woman in charge! Though, I did hear the author thought about bringing Loki into this, but you’ll do just fine.”
“The three of you need to leave,” B-15 said.
“Oh, not a chance in hell. We are looking for my Buttercup and will not be leaving without her.”
“She broke the conditions of her return to your timeline.”
“Look, sugarplum,” Wade pulled out one of his katana’s and pointed it at B-15, causing the agents around to arm themselves, “this isn’t a request. I will happily let my pack of wolves cut through you all to get the information we want, but I’m sure you don’t want to clean up that mess. Trust me, I’ve been there. Some stains never come out.”
Logan stepped forward with a growl, claws coming out with a snikt. The claws in Laura’s hands released as well, a signal to the TVA that they weren’t going anywhere without you. With a glare, Logan’s eyes barely glanced past B-15, noticing a screen that was showing you curled up in a field, on fire.
“She’s in The Void,” Logan murmured, fists clenching tighter.
Without another word, all hell broke loose. Claws and swords were flying as the agents tried to gain control of the situation.
“Peanut!” Wade exclaimed. Logan turned just in time to see Wade toss a TemPad in his direction. He caught it with ease. “Press the button! Little Wolf and I got it from here.”
Logan pressed the button and ran through the orange Time Door, closing it before anyone could follow after him. With a deep inhale through his nose, he could smell your smoke and it was strong. He spun around to see a large fire going in the field, a few miles away. Logan took off towards it. TVA agents began coming through Time Doors along the way. He grunted and roared as he used his claws to kill each agent that tried to cross his path. No one was going to stop him from getting to you and bringing you home.
As soon as Logan reached the flames, he ran right in, stopping the agents from coming after him.
“Y/N!” Logan yelled. He coughed as he fought through the smoke and flames, not caring that his suit and skin was burning. “Y/N!”
“Lo—Logan?”
It was quiet and pained. Logan knew he wouldn’t have been able to hear it if he didn’t have heightened senses. But it was there. You were there, nearby.
“I’m here, sweetheart!” He shouted. “I’m bringing you home! Just let me see you!”
“I–I can’t,” he could hear the sob in your throat. “It’s too much... It’s all too much… I just want it to end…”
Logan continued to head in the direction of your voice. “I know, doll. You’ve been so strong. But you don’t need to carry it all on your own anymore. I… I’m here. Just let me get to you, sweetheart.”
The fire in the center extinguished, leaving a ring of roaring fire on the outer edges and smoke. He coughed as he tried to wave the smoke away enough to see you. You were curled up in the blackened grass, a dazed look in your eyes, your clothes barely hanging on with various burns peeking through. Logan rushed over and fell to his knees in front of you. His hand came up to your face, gently trying to get your attention.
“Logan,” you sobbed.
He shushed you as he pulled you into him. One of his arms secured you to him while his other hand cradled your head into his neck. “I’ve got you… I’m here… I’m taking you home.”
“I have no home.”
Logan understood the feeling. He had felt that way until Wade crashed into his life, bringing the rest of you along with him. “Yes, you do, sweetheart… you have Wade and Althea and Laura… you have me… you will always have me.”
He held you tighter as multiple Time Doors appeared and more agents marched through, surrounding the two of you. He kept your head in his neck so that you couldn’t see what was going on.
“Alright, alright, enough of the dramatics,” Wade said as he, Laura, and B-15 came through one of the doorways.
“We have reached an understanding,” B-15 stated. “Y/N can return with you. But your TemPads and time jumpers must be returned.”
Logan tossed the one he had towards her before resuming his grip on you. You tried to curl up further into Logan as you felt the eyes of the others on you. B-15 opened another doorway.
“That will take you home,” B-15 informed. “I am truly sorry about all of this.”
Logan scoffed as he stood up and walked through the doorway without another word. It led to your apartment where he immediately headed to your bathroom. He walked in and tried to set you down. You gripped him tighter.
“I need to set you down, sweetheart,” his voice was calm and reassuring. “Need to get you cleaned up.”
“No,” you shook your head, wincing at the action. “Everything hurts.”
“I know, but you need to be cleaned up and cooled down. You’re still overheating which can’t be helping your pain.”
“Okay,” you breathed out, loosening your grip on him.
With great care, Logan set you down on the counter. He didn’t let you go until he felt that you could hold yourself up enough.
“I’m going to turn on the shower,” he told you. He waited patiently for any sort of response from you. You gave him a single nod before he was quickly turning around to move to get the shower going. Once he had done that, he was back in front of you. His eyes ran over the burnt clothes, barely giving you any coverage. “Can I get you out of these clothes?” Logan watched as you bit the inside of your cheek, giving yourself a moment to think it over. “No funny business, darlin’, just taking care of you.”
You gave him a nod, not meeting his gaze. With great care, Logan began to free you from the tattered clothing. His eyes remained on your face as he worked, trying to show you that he meant what he said and so that he didn’t have to see the burns littering your skin. You whined and whimpered as the movements caused you pain. Once you were free of your clothing, Logan stepped back.
“I can leave you to–”
“Please don’t leave,” your voice was quiet and full of desperation. “I don’t want to be alone… I can’t…”
Logan stripped off his Wolverine suit, leaving him in his boxers before stepping back up to you. More delicate than you could imagine from the man, he picked you up and took you into the shower. He kept a firm arm around you as he set your legs down.
“Do you want your hair or body washed first?” he softly asked. You shrugged, looking down. One of his hands came up and hooked a finger under your chin, gently guided your head up to look at him. “I’m not gonna do anything more without a verbal answer, darlin’. Hair or body?”
“Body,” you whispered.
Logan nodded before grabbing your washcloth and squeezing some body soap on it. With great care, Logan began lathering you up with soap. You were practically a doll in his arms, barely keeping yourself up as he took care of you. Once your body was clean, Logan moved to your hair. You leaned back against him as he used his calloused hands to massage the soap into your hair. Your eyes closed as you let him take care of you.
It felt natural for Logan to take care of you, despite that the two of you weren’t from the same timeline, and didn’t share the same history. It made him crave for more moments to take care of you.
By the time Logan was done cleaning you up, you were practically unconscious. He turned off the shower and reached out for a towel, carefully wrapping it around you. He carried you out of the bathroom and headed to your room, catching a glimpse of a lingering, worried Laura in the hall.
“Can you get her dried up and changed, kid?” He quietly asked.
Laura nodded and quickly headed into your room. Logan followed and gently set you down on your bed. You weakly reached out for him, whining in pain.
“I’ll go grab some medication,” he said before slipping out of the room.
Not caring that he was still wet from the shower and only in his boxers, Logan headed to where he knew you kept the medication in the kitchen. Wade was in the kitchen, making a mess.
“Woah, Peanut!” Wade exclaimed, upon seeing Logan’s state. “Now is not the time to be putting down moves. My favorite superhero is not okay and I will not allow you to use her!”
“Shut the fuck up, idiot,” Logan muttered. “She asked me to help her.”
“Well you could help us all by getting your soaked body dry a little more. I know the readers don’t mind that you’re standing here in your boxers but you’ve got water on the floor. This isn’t a water park.”
“Fine. Grab some meds and get them to Y/N. I’m gonna change.”
~~~
Back in your room, Laura was holding back tears as she helped you dry off and into some comfy clothes.
“I’m so sorry, mom,” she cried. “I didn’t mean any of it… you’re my mom. I love you. I wouldn’t be here without you… I’m so sorry…”
You were barely registering anything around you. The pain, emotional and physical, was all consuming. Laura helped you with great care and trembling hands, tucking you into your bed once she was done.
“Okay! I got the meds! I also brought some water!” Wade exclaimed as he waltzed into the room. He immediately became somber as he took in the sight of you weakly laying there and Laura crying over you, holding your hand.
“All she’s ever done is put me first,” Laura mumbled. “How could I treat her so bad?”
Wade sighed, coming over and sitting on the other side of you. “She’ll forgive you… Help me get these meds in her? I’ll sit her up.”
Laura nodded, taking the pills and water from Wade. Wade carefully helped you sit up, wincing at the painful cry that let your lips.
“Sorry, Buttercup,” Wade said softly. “We just need you to take some meds. It will help.”
“Here you go, mom,” Laura said, placing the meds in your mouth.
For a brief moment, her mind snapped back to when she watched you and her father do the same thing for Charles. Her heart broke at the memory and the situation you were currently in. She silently wished that her father were here, he would be better suited to handle this.
She guided the water bottle up to your lips and was grateful when you swallowed the meds down.
“There you go,” Wade cooed, like you were a child. “Gonna get you all better, Buttercup. Can’t lose my favorite super hero just yet. Haven’t even gotten your opinion on the new Emberine fic I’m putting together.”
“No one wants to read that shit,” Logan murmured as he came into the room, dressed in a tight black t-shirt and gray sweats.
“Actually, I have over seven thousand followers than say otherwise.”
“Bullshit,” Logan scoffed. His eyes focused on you as he came to stand at the end of your bed. “How is she?”
“Our Little Flame here is in a lot of pain. But she’s a fighter.”
“She needs rest,” Laura said quietly, guilt weighing heavily on her.
“She shouldn’t be alone,” Logan said. “We should take shifts.”
“And I get the first shift!” Wade quickly rose his hand. “You two assholes still need to make up from the damage you did. Now, scurry off. Big Brother Wade is taking over.”
Laura gave your hand a squeeze as she stood up. She leaned over you and pressed a kiss to your head. “I’m sorry, mom,” she whispered. “I love you.” She slowly let your hand go and left the room.
“I’ll be in the living room,” Logan stated. “Let me know if anythin’ is needed.”
“Don’t you worry, Peanut! I’ve got everything under control.”
Logan sighed, looking at you for another moment before leaving the room.
“I know you’re sleeping, but I’ve got fics to write and stories to read.” Seemingly out of nowhere, Wade pulled out his laptop and opened it up. “You do not wanna know where I’ve been keeping this thing. I’ve been waiting too long to share some of these fics with you. The first one is about what I think would have happened if your dear Wolvie never lost his memories. I think you’re really gonna like it or it will just make you sad, so I guess it’s good that you’re asleep now. I’m gonna read it anyway.”
~~~
Logan couldn’t sleep, neither could Laura. The two ended up silently sitting at the dinner table, a tense awkward silence between the two of them.
“I’m sorry,” Laura eventually spoke up, her voice quiet. “You shouldn’t have had to step in… I just… She’s been carrying so much and her powers dwindling is terrifying… It’s my father all over again.”
“What do you mean?” Logan questioned.
“The adamantium in him poisoned him… He didn’t exactly die from it, but it didn’t help either… He aged in the span of that week faster than I new possible. His healing stopped and everything was painful for him… And now I’m watching my mom go through it… She’s done everything for me. She pushed aside all her pain and grief to raise me… She never deserved those hurtful words.”
“No, she didn’t,” Logan responded. “But,” he leaned forward to try and catch Laura’s eye, “it’s also not all on you. Your mom has clearly had things building up inside her for a lot time. It was only time before Y/N broke like this.”
“Doesn’t make it any better.” Laura’s gaze dropped to her hands, rubbing over the spots where her claws extend.
“What else is bothering you, kid?”
She shook her head. “It’s nothing.”
“Liar.”
She sighed. “It’s… you.”
Logan tried to not be too surprised at her honesty. “Me?”
“You look exactly like my father… exactly like my mother’s husband… but you’re not him. You don’t share the same memories. You… treat me better than he ever treated me. But you’re still not him.”
“I’m not trying to replace him, kid. I’m just trying to be friends—“
“Yeah? And what happens when that leads to more on either one of your ends? Will you walk away if seeing you becomes too much for her or will you break her heart when she feels more than you do? Or is she just a replacement for the Y/N you lost?”
Laura’s words hit Logan harder than he wished they would. Was his presence making everything worse for you? It clearly was harder on Laura than he originally thought. Before he could let his thoughts spiral too much, Logan stood up and strode down the hall. He reached your room to find you still asleep and Wade furiously typing away at a computer.
“Oh, Peanut, just in time!” Wade greeted, not too loud to prevent you from walking up. “I just finished a new fic. I’m sure that it will grow on you. It’s obviously an Emberine fic with a smutty—“
“Get the fuck out,” Logan grumbled. “It’s my shift.”
“Fine.” Wade closed the laptop and leapt from the bed. “I’ll go see if Laura wants to hear my stories. Don’t do anything stupid, Peanut.” Then he was gone.
Logan took a deep breath before taking Wade’s spot on the bed. He couldn’t look at your sleeping form right now, keeping his eyes on the picture of you and your original Logan on the dresser.
“I’m sorry if I’m making things worse,” he whispered. “I just… I haven’t had people in so long… I haven’t let anyone close. I thought that I’d give it a shot… That I wouldn’t walk away… But I will, if it’s too much for you… I’ve really enjoyed becoming friends with you.”
His head snapped down as some of your fingers brushed against his hand.
“Don’t,” you rasped, eyes still closed as everything still weighed on you. “Don’t… I need friends, too…” Your hand moved to lay on top of Logan’s as your eyes opened a fraction. “Thank you… for bringing me home.”
“Anytime, doll. It’s what friends do.”
next chapter >
#james logan howlett x reader#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett imagine#logan x reader#logan howlett#james logan howlett#logan howlet x reader#logan howlett x y/n#logan howlett x female!reader#logan howlett x you#logan howlett x mutant reader#logan howlett x f!reader#logan howlett x fem!reader#wolverine fanfiction#the wolverine#wolverine#wolverine x reader#x men x reader#marvel fanfic#marvel fanfiction#marvel x reader#old man!logan x reader#worst!logan x reader
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I really liked “things dom!m!reader does that turn sub! LeeKnow on” can you please make a similar one about Han or seungmin
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"Things you do that turn him on"
Sub!Jisung x Dom!m!reader
Cw: gross boy sung// sweat licking// manhandling// quite a bit of sweat talk ngl sorry// slightly toxic reader// aggressive reader// choking// pain kink// humiliation// mentions of readers body being muscular// size kink???
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When you're angry
God he loves when you get mad
Not annoyed or upset or slightly pissed off. No
I mean FURIOUS.
When you can FEEL the anger radiating off you
When you snap at people or even go as far as getting into a fight
Slamming doors, throwing things, that aggressive tone of voice, the scowl, the clenched jaw
He shouldn't find your aggression so hot but he can't help it
He knows it's a toxic trait of yours and he shouldn't be with someone like that
But you look too hot
He'll just stare with lust filled eyes
And once your both alone he'd ask you to take it out on him
He wants you to choke him till he feels like his brains gonna pop out his skull
He wants you to slam him against the wall and have your way with him
He wants you to hurt him and leave marks
And you'll do just that
When you're sweaty
I'm a big believer in gross sung soooo
Just after a heavy workout you're absolutely DRENCHED in sweat
It's dripping down from your neck all the way down your naked torso until it stops at your waistband
He just watched each bead of sweat and gulps
He wants to lick it SO bad
He's almost drooling
His mouth is watering just thinking about the salty taste
He'd drag you to the bathrooms before you wipe the sweat off you and clean it up himself
Dropping to his knees and desperately licking your stomach
You love your gross boy
When you 'bully' him
You're a very playful person
And you like to annoy, push and poke fun into him
But what you don't know is that he gets off at the humiliation
Pointing at him and laughing for something he said
Telling others about it and getting them to laugh at him with you
Or even when you jokingly try to trip him or when you gently push him into a bush
He loves being manhandled by you
So when you grab him and put him in a headlock he tries his best not to moan out loud
He just enjoys being pushed, pulled, grabbed and hit by you
When you wear his clothes
Now the things is...
You're much bigger than him (which drives ji insane as it is)
But his clothes are always very oversized anyways
But they fit you almost perfectly and by perfectly I mean they're slightly tight around your body
So when you wear his shirts you can see...alot
Your muscular chest is perfectly outlined and you can see a faint print of your abs
You wear them to work out sometimes so by the time your back home they're drenched
Which as I said...sungie is gross and would go crazy over this
Of course he still washes them much to his disappointment but there's always a slight smell of you remaining
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#sub!idol#dom!reader#sub!kpop#dom!malereader#kpop x male reader#sub!skz#skz x male reader#sub stray kids#sub!stray kids#sub!stray kids x male reader#sub!han jisung#sub!han#sub!jisung#han jisung x male reader#jisung x male reader#han x male reader
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what do you think would cause soul to not see whole as a god or deity anymore?
i am interested
ohh very good question...
it's a buildup of things, I think. soul is trying to tuck his pain away because it's all worth it! all of it was worth it to see whole, all the thousands of loops of endless suffering {caused by} for whole, it's all okay because whole is here and everything is alright now. he gets frustrated with his involuntary responses to things- the way he flinches when heart or mind raise their voices too loud, the sound of fireworks sending him into a panic thinking it's happening again - the constant looming dread he's grown so used to, things he could manage before, they get to him because it's supposed to be over. he's supposed to be free. why isn't everything perfect, why isn't he perfect?
and he tries so very hard not to blame whole. in the beginning, he'd never even dare to. the other two do, but soul never would. sure, he put them all through hell and knowingly put soul specifically through an endless loop of suffering whole knew he remembered - but it's fine! whole got him through it too, he's the reason soul kept going, and who is he to question god?
things also become less perfect on whole's end. whole tries his best to impress soul, to not let him down, to live up to all the expectations of divinity. but he's not a god. he's just a man, and a very mentally ill and unstable one at that. so it's inevitable that he does things that aren't godly. he lashes out, he makes mistakes, he does all the things humans do and gods don't.
soul tries not to blame him again. it must be something with soul, somehow. it has to be that their harmony isn't perfect, there's something soul could be doing better, if they just find that perfect synchronicity, then it'll all be perfect. soul is a flawed and broken thing by design. whole is the ideal he's been striving for for... god, how long has it been now? hundreds of years? thousands? the loop number {333,333} is all that he remembers {always 3, never 1}, it's all that matters {not soul's suffering, not all the work that goes to waste, only whole}
the breaking point, like most things, happens gradually. maybe he starts to understand why heart and mind are furious with whole and feels terrified that he can relate to an emotion he'd never dream of having. maybe whole pushes him away and soul feels upset with whole instead of himself for once. maybe he realizes he's been praying to the altar of the god who brought him salvation, not to the man who damned him.
it's slow. and it's unwilling. and it's painful. for the first time, he's the one to pull away. he doesn't want to see whole because he can't bear to see the imperfections instead of the god he reveres. he doesn't want to have his whole life to be meaningless. doesn't want his mirror image to be as flawed as he is. {doesn't want to see whole's heartbroken face when he realizes it's finally happened.}
why is the world so cruel? why couldn't things just be alright? why couldn't soul be satisfied? {why couldn't whole just end this already? why did he put soul through hell if he loves him so damn much?} he's angry, and it hurts that he's angry, he doesn't want to be angry. but he is.
like the fall, the rebuilding takes time. whole is the one to reach out first for once. whole has always been terrified of initiating anything, always letting soul take the first step, but he's willing to try for soul. it's painful. there's a lot of crying. and soul is devastated when whole hugs him and it doesn't feel sacred anymore.
but it's warm. and it's human. and maybe that's enough.
#cccc#chonnys charming chaos compendium#chonny jash#cj soul#cj whole#cccc soul#cccc whole#tridential tirade#eclectic excerpts#yeah i'll put this there#kaleidoscope posting#oh my god i didn't realize i wrote THAT MUCH sorry orz
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SUMMARY: Leon drifts deeper into a dream of perfect moments, struggling to separate longing from reality as everything he feels is watched closely.
PAIRING: Leon Kennedy x F!Reader
WARNINGS: angst, intense emotions, dub con/noncon voyeurism
[MASTERLIST][PREVIOUS]
Leon drifted off, just like he had been every other night for the past few weeks. The hazy realm between sleep and awake beckoned to him so easily. He barely put up much of a fight rather letting it guide him than him actually protesting sleep.
No longer when he reached for the other side of the bed did he find a bitter cold. He found the warmth of your hand in his, fingers steady and pressure just the same. His heart raced, rhythm too fast, too sharp, like a drum out of sync with reality. Kind of like the one he just abandoned for this.
But nothing compared to this. Nothing.
Leon knew his heart was a place filled with regrets and unrelenting, unfulfilled desires. Not to mention, the now ever-present sharp, aching hole where you should've been. Every time he woke up he tried to convince himself to stop this, stop chasing ghosts…yet, here he was, every night. Every touch, every word shared with you felt like a desperate echo of what he couldn't have. What he couldn't reach in his waking life.
He'd tried to capture it. A way to cope with what he was experiencing in his head but more tangible, something he could touch. They were small, fleeting distractions. Women who vaguely resembled you in some way—-maybe their eyes, the curve of their lips, or the warmth of their skin. But it never compared. Didn't feel like enough. But for a brief,—very, very brief moment, it made this newfound ache that sat like a rock in his chest go away. It made the visions of you, the dreams, the memories—whatever they were…go away so he could breathe again.
It made him feel like himself before all this, the man who learned to hide it all, push his feelings aside and put on the mask of a man who was okay on the surface. But who was he kidding? This is exactly what it is. A game. A distraction.
They didn't matter. Because they weren't you.
Nameless, faceless women with empty words and empty touches.
He stared blankly to the ceiling as he sat at the kitchen table, a bottle of whiskey half-empty beside him. A lovely habit he picked up during training. It only granted him temporary respite. A harsh, flicking neon light casts a dull, sickly glow on the room. His eyes wandered down to the glass in front of him, maybe if he stared into the bottom of it hard enough, he'd find something there.
Some of the previous nights, where he didn't want to fall victim to the hold of sleep so quickly lingered in his mind. Nights he'd wish he could forget, the faint touches of skin, laughter in his ears. None of them you. They were someone else.
His mind had wandered, back to you—the vivid, soul-piercing moments that felt more real than anything in his real life. The way you'd touched him, your hands soft as they ran through his hair, the gentle way you kissed him. Everything about you had been seared into him like a brand, burning him with its intensity that left him wanting more.
But it's not real. He knew it. He knew she wasn't real.
Leon shook his head, a frustration building in him that threatened to drive him to the brink of insanity. The solace of temporary pleasure only made him more desperate, left him hollow.
"What the fuck am I doing?" He muttered to himself, pacing around the dimly lit kitchen.
He should find you…the real you. He knew it was stupid to even think the government would let him do that. It was hard enough to see Sherry, what made him think they'd let him see you? Fear and uncertainty plagued him at every point—haunting thoughts that'd he already lost you—-kept him from taking that step.
So, here he was. Chasing a ghost, a vision, an illusion….a memory.
Leon closed his eyes, lulled by the sound of the TV to sleep. This time, it wasn't to forget, but to remember. He replayed the dream—the way you looked at him, held him, kissed him as though nothing else mattered. He longed for that pathetically. He longed for you desperately.
"I’m here,” you whispered, your voice softer now, like the wind itself was stealing your words.
His grip tightened, desperation welling in his chest. “Don’t go.”
Your face blurred. His pulse slowed, the warmth of your hand grew cold. He blinked, but the image of you faded, dissolving into a swirl of colors. A buzzing sound filled the space where your laughter had been.
In a sterile room far from where he sat sleeping, a monitor beeped in rhythm with Leon’s brainwaves.
“NeuroSync is holding,” a voice said calmly, devoid of emotion. A shadowed figure leaned closer to the glowing screen, eyes scanning the peaks and troughs of neural signals dancing across the display.
Splashed across different screens, Leon's apartment sat in clear view of the scientists. But the main one that they focused their attention was Leon as he lay in his bed. Every twitch, every breath, everything laid bare for their viewing pleasure. And they weren't just hearing Leon's contentment, they were seeing it.
“Subject Kennedy’s engagement has deepened. Increased attachment to the fabricated stimuli.” Another figure adjusted the feed, altering the algorithm that controlled the dream sequence. “Introduce another stimulus. Let’s push his emotional capacity further.”
A panel lit up, showing the projection of Leon’s subconscious—a simulated reality crafted from fragments of his memories, designed to feel more real than life itself. Each sensation, each longing kiss, meticulously coded.
Medical records, photos, reports all laid out on a nearby table. You, their subject of interest, in every detail of your life all cleanly noted across this table. Alongside Leon's information, no detail left to chance.
How had they managed this? Managed to get the government's top asset wrapped up in this? Oh, they'd hold that close to their chest. They couldn't let anyone else take the credit.
Still, they had to admit….Mr. Kennedy was a fascinating subject.
Most of Umbrella's enemies were just that…enemies. Nameless opposition to their main objective. But soon they became names, faces, people. People like Leon Kennedy. Chris Redfield. Jill Valentine. Many more to count.
Who forced them into the shadows. In hindsight, this was only fair.
Dr. Erickson, Dr. Morales, and an assistant Thompson huddled close together, speaking in hushed tones as their eyes scanned the screens.
"What exactly is the purpose of this? Mr. Kennedy seems to almost be…enjoying the dream presented to him," Dr. Morales pointed out just as Leon, within his dream, pulled you closer to whisper in your ear. His heart rate spiked, brain activity lighting up like a Christmas tree from just a small, intimate act. Quiet moments interlaced with sweet, tender, and increasingly passionate in nature.
"Is that such a bad thing?" Thompson asked, clearly puzzled. "I mean, he’s still vulnerable to the program’s control, right? He’s still part of the experiment. He’s just... well, living in a distorted version of reality." Both the scientists seemed to disregard the assistant's words.
"It's only been a few days and he's—he's fully immersed already. And we haven't even introduced any other aspects to this…dream," Dr. Erickson, the head scientist, explained. His face scrunched in confusion as they stared at the man on their screen. A man completely unaware of anything beyond the realm of this dream. A happy man. For Leon, it was only….you. "Let's get some more info on this Y/N," he instructed.
Leon had become addicted—for lack of a better term. Well, no, that was the best term.
His eyes would glaze over at his desk, the words of his computer screen blurring together to create their own mishmash of words. Yet, he was nothing if not professional with his work.
The waking world had become more dull than he could ever recall it being. Colors muted and lifeless. His mind already seeking ways to disconnect from this world—the missions, the government orders, the endless cycle from disaster to disaster. Despite his best efforts to put on the usual front of nonchalance, he could never escape Hunnigan's watchful eye.
He stood at the coffee machine, hoping a cup of coffee would rouse him back into the paperwork he had left to finish. Still, his mind still gave him brief visions—moments—that kept from completely being tethered to this reality. He saw you in almost crystal clear clarity leaning against the counter, a teasing smile painted on your lips, "You still drink that burnt shit?"
He glanced down at the cup of black coffee, and just before he almost slipped to answer you like you were really there. Hunnigan tapped him on his shoulder.
"Everything good, Kennedy?" She asked, curiosity in her expression. "Looks like you're trying to find all the world's answers in that cup."
Shit. He's more obvious than he thought. Get it together, Kennedy.
Leon gave her a small smile, the corner of his mouth barely moving. "Just tired. The usual."
"The usual?" Hunnigan raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "The usual for you doesn't usually involve getting coffee at…" she looked at her watch,"…at three in the afternoon. What's bothering you?"
Jesus Christ, he can't hide anything from this woman. Did he want to tell her? Hunnigan had experienced quite the ordeal with him from Spain and he certainly trusted her more than any other handlers in this place. But, still, he didn't have to tell her. This was his cross to bear, so to speak. In many ways, he was a modern man but on this, his old-fashioned father came to mind, "It's impolite to burden people with your problems."
"It's nothing, really. Just had an off night is all," His voice dipped, lower and quieter, hoping that would stop her questioning for now.
Hunnigan nodded in understanding, "Alright, fair enough. I'll let you get back to your coffee then."
Leon watched as she left, a sinking feeling in his gut that this wasn't over. Now all he'd managed to do is pique Hunnigan's never-ending curiosity. Great.
For once, Leon was glad when the work day was over. And even better, the weekend was coming up. Two whole days where no one would give a rat's ass what he'd be doing, except now probably Hunnigan.
He pulled on his jacket, not looking back to his office for even a moment longer than he needed. Tonight, Leon decided to grab some takeout. The cold as he walked to his usual spot was piercing his skin like needles but he pushed through.
Upon entering the diner, he was greeted with mixing scents of stale coffee, grilled onions, and hot grease. A few people sat in the booths, keeping to themselves. A family with their young child, enjoying a plate of fries and shakes. A woman reading a book over some coffee. A couple huddled close together, sharing a meal, shared laughter, shared glances of affection.
Leon could see it all from the booth as he waited for his takeout. For some reason, he couldn't take his eyes away from the couple, the lingering gazes and gentle touches. All so…easy.
For a moment, he saw the both of you instead. Leon huddling close to whisper something in your ear to make you laugh, seeing it so vividly and hearing your laugh—warm, comforting—as you placed your hand in his. It had to be insanity because he could even feel the pressure of your hand in his.
The dinging of the bell took him out of it. His food was ready. He quickly thanked the waitress as he made his way to leave. The couple still completely wrapped up in one another with no idea that Leon had stared so intensely.
A sense of yearning gripped at his chest like a vice.
He entered the same dreary apartment, tossing down his keys and hanging up his jacket. He wasn't too quick to touch the takeout. Instead, he did what he'd been doing the last few nights, watching TV.
His phone lit up, vibrating on the coffee table where it laid.
Chris Redfield.
He ignored it.
Usually, Leon would be happy to go meet Chris for a beer and catch up on how life had been treating them, but right now? Leon didn't want any time away from the sleep he knew was coming, where he could be with you. He knew he should probably at least tell the idiot he's alive but even that was a chore right now.
So, he watched the screen light up one more time before it stopped.
Chris will just have to understand.
In his dream, Leon was once again with you, the two of you sharing a quiet moment in the soft glow of the evening light. Spilling through the curtains in their shared apartment.
An euphoria washed over him, an intoxicating haze that could've lasted forever.
He again watched you as you guided him to cook a new recipe, scents of garlic and fresh herbs hanging in the air as you moved gracefully through the space. He had never been much of a cook before, but with you, it was easy. Your presence made everything feel effortless—your hands guiding his as he chopped vegetables.
Your laughter filled the spaces between their movements.
The soft crackle of an old vinyl played in the background, a tune from the '70s that was vaguely familiar to him. It only added to the atmosphere making it nostalgic and intimate. The melody wrapped around him like a warm hug, a cocoon of warmth and comfort.
You turned to him, eyes filled with mischief. "You sure you can handle this?" You teased, voice playful yet tender.
Leon chuckled, warm and full of affection. "Well, a fire hasn't started yet, so that's always a good sign, right?" He asked, giving you a lopsided grin.
You smiled back, still holding a familiar glint of love and tenderness in your eyes, and for a moment, nothing outside this kitchen existed. Just them, together in this near perfect, domestic bliss.
As you reached over to stir the pot on the stove, Leon couldn't help noticing how your hair fell softly over your shoulder, the way the light coming from above the stove made your skin glow like nothing else. He moved closer, hands running down your arms in a gentle motion. You don't pull away, instead locking eyes with him and still offering that soft smile.
Leon, not wanting a moment like this to pass, took your hand in his, pulling you gently into him. The sensation was intoxicating—a rush, a high that was exhilarating and equal parts comforting. He couldn't help but to breathe you in, the beat of your heart syncing with his.
"Take a break?" He asked, voice barely a whisper.
You raised an eyebrow, still holding that playful twinkle in your eyes. "Now you're just trying to get out of cooking," you teased but you didn't stop him as he led you across the room.
As you both swayed gently, moving in rhythm to the music, the press of you against was enough to make him feel dizzy. The heat of your skin and softness of your breath as you laid your cheek against his chest.
All of his senses for the briefest moment told him this was real…you're real. No longer held back by the world of impossibilities.
He pulled back slightly, looking at you and just savoring you. He had so much he wanted to say but all it was incondite—inadequate and not all encompassing of how he felt. But as always, you'd say the same thing, from your perspective, Leon had never acted so strangely in your shared space.
Your eyes are soft, almost knowing. "You are being so strange, Leon." Your hand rested on his chest, he'd hoped you feel the beat of his heart underneath.
Instead of words, he leaned in, pressing his lips softly against yours. Kiss slow and tender as he tasted you, the sweetness, the warmth. Lost in you.
He pulled away, pressing a brief kiss to your forehead and responded with a chuckle, "I don't care. I don't care if I'm being strange, I just want this. You."
Your fingers traced his jaw, smiling. "Well, lucky for you, you've got the real thing right in front of you," you said with a wink.
The bliss, pure unadulterated bliss of it all was fleeting just as it had been every other day. The truth seeped in quicker than he expected this time. This is not real. She wasn't here. This place wasn't theirs.
Still, Leon held onto it for as long as he could, unwilling to let go of the dream—if only a few more moments despite the edges of reality caving into this one.
#leon s kennedy#leon kennedy#resident evil 4 remake#resident evil 4#resident evil#leon kennedy x you#leon kennedy x fem reader#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy fanfic#leon x reader#leon kennedy angst#no edits we die like men#editing this is a pain in the ass bc im a perfectionist#eventual smut
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I opened up to my mom about age regression
(if you are reading this and are new to my blog I am high support needs autistic and I already have childish interests please don’t say I’m infantilizing autism)
So first of all she kind of knew something was up with me, I brought my plushie with me to my disability day program. I showed her my blog, she said she hadn’t logged into my account to check yet so it was a surprise to her. First of all she was very proud and said I was brave for opening about some of my struggles and being so candid about it, I don’t know if it’s bravery or just autism making it so I don’t know what’s appropriate to share haha. Then I showed her my posts about age regression and how I learned about it here and was like, instant hyper fixation for me. I told her about how I never felt negatively infantilized by her and my dad almost never compared to people at school or strangers and I enjoy the connection we have when my parents kind of “baby” me the right way when they take care of my support needs. Like I need to have physical touch to calm me down and being cradled and my diaper changes are met with nick names, hugs and tickles, yeah very embarrassing I’m sure but whatever. I told her about “little space” and how I already enter it when she takes care of me sometimes and she said she always knew something like was going on but never pushed me or into it and made sure I was enjoying myself in those moments. She said if it would make me happy she and my dad would for sure be willing to help me out with little space. I told her that I want to take the power back from people who infantilized me negatively and assume I can’t think for myself by doing this and that surprised her but she said it made sense. I mentioned that I want to keep what independences and adult privileges I do have and I don’t want them to think I want this 24/7 and they said of coarse they will and I trust them. She had a talk with my dad real fast and they agreed to let me spend some of the money I saved up doing internet surveys, like a hundred dollars for an age regression starting pack essentially, my dad asked if this is really what I want and I guess the way I looked at him after and nodded made him believe me. My dad talked to me about how it’s important to keep my regression inside so others don’t get the wrong idea and I said of coarse and I shouldn’t do more then take my plushie with me in public and I agree. However I’m getting an adult sized bottle and pacifier, a mobile for my special needs cubby bed and a few fisher price toys. I am over the moon ecstatic and my mom said she’ll throw in the money for overnight shipping cause I earned it for using coping mechanisms when meltdowns could of gone worse lately.
I told them about pet regression too and they were still supportive of me being interested in it, they said they would feel uncomfortable with treating their disabled child like a pet personally and I can see where they’re coming from on that. They told me that one day I can find someone special to do that stuff with. As you can imagine dating is really hard with my level of needs but I’m not completely discouraged I’ll find somebody but that’s a post for another day. We did have a talk about how much I enjoyed being on an anti elopement harness and how I would pretend play as a puppy when out on walks with her, she said she knew had a feeling that’s what I was doing. Also I had my pacifier till 4 or 5 years and she said me giving it up was one of the hardest things she saw me go through and joked about it like I’m a drug addict about to relapse on it. I still have so many oral stims and use chewerly throughout the day so I think she has a point. Imagining what a paci would feel like in my mouth makes me feel so happy. I am just excited all around and can’t wait till tomorrow. For now my mom asked if I wanted some “little time” tonight and of course she said yes. We watched In the Night Garden on the big TV while she stroked my hair and cuddled when I normally only watch shows like that on my tablet as a form of stimming I guess. It was nice watching it where I could relax. I felt extra giggly at all the dumb stuff in the show, my friends describe it as an “acid trip” if that gives you an idea about what it’s like. My mom after the episode tickles me down and played games with me like I did when I was a little kid and I loved it. I started crying tears of happiness because I felt so loved I guess you could say. She teared a little bit too and told me every mother secretly wishes they could still baby their grown children so she said she had fun, I don’t know if it’s true or not but it’s a funny thought.
I feel so happy I wanted to write this out and share with you guys. I don’t know what else to say I think I wrote out enough. Now my mom wants me to get into my pajamas early I think she’s having too much fun with this but so am I and my dad is gonna run to get some of my favorite ice cream when I was a kid. I feel so lucky to have parents who can support my physical and emotional and disability support needs.
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viii. care and keeping
Courting realizations and the care and keeping of nestmates.
>> AO3 <<
"I want to hear the minute you find it, Pru."
Jason wakes to the sound of Tim's voice rumbling under his cheek. Tim sounds different again. Less Alley, more… Jason almost wants to say Bristol? But that can't be right, can it?
He can hear the click-click-click of someone typing; see the brightness of a computer screen through his closed eyelids. Jason scrunches his nose.
“And whatever you do—“ Tim cuts himself off as Jason turns more into his chest. He settles his hand on the back of Jason’s head. “I have to go. You know what needs to be done. I’ll call you back later.”
Tim snaps his laptop shut. Only then does Jason lift his head—blinking at the sunlight filtering in through the window. He opens his mouth to ask what all of that was about… only to find the words caught in his throat when he finds himself greeted by Tim’s smile—soft and warm and all for Jason.
Tim cups his cheek, swiping his thumb over Jason's bottom lip. "Good morning, omega mine.”
Jason blushes, unprepared to be faced with so much affection first thing in the morning. "Morning, alpha."
Tim tugs him forward. He kisses him slowly, languidly, like there’s nothing else he’d rather be doing. Like Jason is something to be savored, something Tim wants to indulge in.
To keep.
Or maybe that’s just how Jason feels. Maybe it’s not the same for Tim. Maybe Jason is just so far gone that every kiss feels like the promise of forever.
But—
How’s he to help it? Especially when Tim slides a hand up his shirt, not to fondle but just to hold. Or when he makes a soft, eager little noise against Jason’s mouth right before he deepens the kiss?
It can’t be that great, not when Jason hasn’t even brushed his teeth yet, but—
Tim kisses him like he can’t get enough, all the same.
Even when he breaks the kiss, Tim lingers, giving him half a dozen shorter kisses before he finally rests their foreheads together. The adoration in his gaze, in his scent, in their bond… Jason thinks he could sustain himself on it forever.
"Did you sleep well?" Tim murmurs.
Jason nods. His mouth opens, but… It's like Tim stole all the words right out of his mouth. He knows he was going to ask something, but—
He doesn't remember what.
His eyes drop to Tim's mouth, wet and faintly pink.
It probably wasn't that important anyway.
This time, Jason kisses Tim, and loses himself in him. They trade slow, lazy kisses and lingering touches. At some point, he ends up on top of him; Tim pushing the laptop aside to make room, his hands settling on Jason's thighs.
They don’t separate until Jason’s stomach growls, loud in the quiet. Jason barely has time to flush before Tim’s stomach does the same a moment later. They grin at each other—Tim’s is a little crooked, one side tugging higher than the other.
Jason can’t help but lean forward, planting a kiss to the corner of his mouth.
It makes Tim’s smile widen. He tucks a curl behind Jason’s ear, fingers lingering.
“Breakfast time, I think.”
Jason nods, reluctantly climbing off of Tim and out of the nest. He offers him a hand up, which Tim takes; raising Jason’s hand to his mouth after, to plant a kiss to the back of his knuckles.
It’s a little after noon, but Tim makes them French toast and bacon anyway while Jason perches on the counter to watch. Every time Tim brushes past him, he kisses him again. Always brief, fleeting—but they keep Jason buoyed, regardless; feeding some fizzing, fluttering thing in his chest that leaves him feeling warm and tingly.
After they eat, Tim says, “I’ve got a couple of work errands to run this morning. They shouldn’t take very long—I’ll be back before lunch. A little after, at the latest—if you get hungry, feel free to eat without me.”
“Okay,” Jason says. He won’t.
Or maybe he will, but make more than he needs, so Tim can eat it when he gets home.
Tim kisses him, slow and sweet. Jason cups his face in his hands; leaving them there as long as he can before Tim moves out of his reach. He curls up on the couch with his blanket and one of his books after Tim leaves.
>> AO3 <<
the sweetness of honey
Pairing: Tim Drake/Jason Todd Rating: Explicit Words: 62,448 Chapters: 8/?
Content Warnings: Underage, Age Gap, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Reverse Robins, Unhealthy Relationships Portrayed Positively, Explicit Sexual Content
Jason tries to sell off his first heat to make ends meet for the upcoming winter. When he’s taken by traffickers instead, he’s sure that’s the end of him—until he’s rescued by a mysterious alpha. That “rescue” comes with a price: Jason’s heat hits shortly after, and… one thing leads to another, and now Jason and Tim are bound together by a fledgling mate bond. It’s not the first time Jason’s had to make the best of things, but… he finds it a little bit easier this time, especially as he grows to genuinely like Tim. Unfortunately, just as Jason is starting to settle into mated life, Tim’s ex-pack starts getting involved, and they don’t exactly approve of Tim’s choice in mate...
My first longfic for DC! This is a highly self-indulgent Reverse Robins AOB AU. It started as a 15k one-shot, but after some encouragement, turned into... this: the slow exploration of a developing relationship.
A list of posted chapters & a summary of them is below the cut. Each chapter has content warnings in the Top Notes <3 Please mind them, and the fic tags!
I hope you guys enjoy—or keep enjoying xD—this fic as much as I do! <3
chapter list
i. a five hundred dollar lure
Jason intends to trade his first heat for enough money to survive Gotham's upcoming winter. He's picked up by traffickers instead.
ii. a gift, pretty and bruised
The leader of the trafficking group decides to give Jason as a gift to a mysterious alpha. Jason is strangely drawn to him.
iii. dousing the flame
Jason's heat comes. Tim's willpower is tested--and fails.
iv. the dawn of a new normal
Three days later, Jason's heat fog dissipates. He finds himself sporting a brand-new mate bite on his neck.
v. prescription: communication
Tim takes Jason to see Leslie, and then the two finally have a much needed talk.
vi. a little bit of spoiling
Jason and Tim have a pleasant day out... and then a less than pleasant night in.
vii. further entanglement
Jason builds a nest with Tim.
viii. care and keeping
Courting realizations and the care and keeping of nestmates.
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The Pool House: Alden Parker x Reader
Tagging: @kmc1989 @mandy426 @caffeinatedwoman @nbtfran @toheavenwmydrms
Companion piece to:
Pillow Talk - Alden realises he's a shitty husband.
Two Points For Honesty - Alden makes a confession about his time on the run with Viv.
Wild Flowers - You confront Viv about what happened with Alden.
The Duck Pond - You try to tell Alden how you're feeling.
WIshful Thinking - You realise Alden isn't coming home tonight.
Guilt - Alden realises he needs to confront his guilt.
You aren’t in the hotel suite when Alden arrives, he says suite because you upgraded yourself upon arrival, the concierge tells him. You’ve splashed out on a space with a view of the lake and a bathtub with the jacuzzi jets. All those couples activities you’d had booked have been cancelled, the money instead going towards the most expensive spa package the hotel has to offer.
Alden doesn’t even flinch when he was told the cost. In a way he’s glad that you’re thinking of yourself for a change. One of Alden’s main concerns has always been how much of yourself you give to other people, through your work and the marriage.
“I’m guessing she slipped you an extra fifty so she could use the pool after hours.” He asks the concierge when he comes back down from dropping his stuff off.
It’s something you do at every place the two of you have stayed in the past because you enjoy the tranquillity of swimming at night. The concierge neither confirms or denies Alden’s assumption, he simply hands him a spare towel, leaving him to find his own way to his destination.
It’s dark when he steps inside the pool house. The low lights have been switched on so there’s a dim glow along the edges of the room. The pool is illuminated by the underwater bulbs set into the base of the structure. You’ve left your towel draped over one of the lounge chairs, along with a pair of flipflops and a robe.
His chest tightens when he catches sight of you. You’re wearing that navy blue bathing suit, the one he’s become intimately familiar with from your trips away. You're floating on your back in the azure water, your hair fanning around you like a halo, your eyes closed as the water carries you.
You look relaxed and Alden realises he hasn’t seen that in you in a while, not since before the Raven.
He doesn’t want to intrude on your peace so he sits on the lounger instead, listening to the dulcet lull of the water as it echoes through the pool house. The drive down here has left him feeling fatigued, it’s a symptom of the doubles he’s been pulling on this case, trying to get Viv out of your hair. He must fall asleep because he wakes up to the sensation of water splattering across his face and the sound of splashing.
He grabs the towel, wiping the droplets from his features before he finds himself meeting your gaze. You’re still in the pool, your arms resting on the tile that lines the edges as you stare up at him.
“I didn’t think you’d come.” You tell him, using your palm to push your wet hair way from your face.
“I know.” He says quietly, looking down at the silver wedding band on his left hand. “There’s no excuse for my behaviour. I just...”
The words, they lock in his throat because there’s this other secret he’s been keeping from you since his time on the run and that’s where this guilt comes from, this horrible crippling feeling he feels every time he looks at you.
“Alden.” You say softly and his gaze flickers up to meet yours. “Get in the pool.”
“What?” He rasps, his eyes stinging.
“Just take your clothes off and get in the fucking pool.”
It’s the most commanding you’ve ever been with him and fuck if it doesn’t have him taking his clothes off in record time. The garments fall away until he stands in his underwear at the edge of the pool before diving straight in. That moment of impact, the rush of the water as it hits him before he surges up for air, it’s liberating.
You’re waiting for him when he breaks the surface, the edges of your mouth tipping up into a smile as he bobs in front of you, trying to catch his breath.
“Better?” You ask.
“Yea.” He whispers as your hands come to rest on his shoulders. His arms wrap around your waist holding you close as you float together in the darkness.
“You should tell me now.” You say, your fingertips linking at the nape of his neck, brushing over his damp hair. “That thing you’ve been hiding, you need to tell me because it’s killing us both.”
His forehead comes to rest upon yours, his breath catching. That feeling is back, that agonising sensation in his chest but he forces his way through it because you’re right, his guilt it’s murdering the marriage, it’s the seal on the box he’s trapping you in.
“The day they took Viv, it was meant to be you.” Alden tells you. “They knew you went swimming on Thursdays, that you like to go before the pool opens because the owner gave you a key. They were waiting in the parking lot for you but when you never arrived they moved onto Plan B.”
“I went to Norfolk that day…” You recall and his grasp on you tightens because if you hadn’t made that choice, you wouldn’t be here with him. “My witness worked in a diner, she could only do before the breakfast rush so I skipped swimming that day.”
“It saved your life.” He tells you, his thumb chasing over the apple of your cheek. “Lisa, he wasn’t just going to kill you, he was going to torture you. He was going to send the video to NCIS…”
Seeing that video it would have obliterated him. You know it, he knows it. The nightmares he has, they’re the real reason he’s been avoiding coming to bed with you. He sees the horror of what could have happened in his dreams, he feels the devastation as he listens to your laboured breathes and agonised cries. He feels the loss so fucking acutely that when he wakes up he’s clawing at the air, staving for oxygen.
“I think about it everytime I look at you.” He tells you, his voice breaking. “I see what that monster could have done to you because of me and it eats me alive Lisa.”
He chokes then and there you are holding him close, sheltering him from the storm that rises up deep inside him.
“Alden, you have been carrying this all alone for so long.” You say softly as you look into his pained eyes. “If you keep holding onto this, you’ll be doing more damage to yourself, to us. It’s time to let go now.”
“I want to Lisa.” He whispers as your nose trails along his until your lips are barely parted. “Christ I do, but I don’t know how.”
“I’ll help you.” You promise him, your lips brushing over his. “I won’t let you drown Alden, I'm going to make sure we get you some help.”
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𝚂𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝙳𝚘𝚞𝚋𝚝
Pairing ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Arthur Morgan x fem!reader
Next Part - Hell Hath No Fury Series
Summary: Tensions rise as you continue to pull against Dutch's taut leash. You seem to be the only one who sees him for the trickster he is. Infuriatingly, that means you and Arthur butting heads about the man. But you don't expect your latest fight to end with him coming back to you nearly dead.
As much as you’d love to bask in the newness of whatever this is that you have with Arthur, the law has other plans. While the gang has grown comfortable, fat in their complacency, the Pinkertons have gotten closer. You are beginning to realize just how rare these moments of peace are in the life of an outlaw.
“I’m gonna sell her, I swear,” you tell Arthur angrily as you try and get a stubborn Lady to obey your commands. You finally feel comfortable enough to head back into Valentine, you know the woman he’d been with is gone, Arthur told you as much. You doubt he’d have any reason to lie about something as silly as that.
Arthur laughs and leans down, smoothing over Diablo’s mane. “No, you ain’t, you like her too damn much.”
“You’re right,” you acquiesce. “I’ll sell her to a glue factory, instead,” Lady lets out a stubborn noise, flicking her head back and forth. “Unless you start to listen, you insolent little bastard.” Arthur brings Diablo to a slow trot while you relentlessly tug on Lady’s reins to no effect.
He watches you struggle, laughing as he hitches up Diablo. When Lady comes to a sudden stop in the middle of the road, he lets out an amused sigh and comes forward to take her reins from you. You hand them over easily, nudging the horse with your spur in retaliation.
He hitches her next to Diablo and rounds her to stand at your side, holding his hand out for you. You take it in your own, relishing his touch as he helps you down from your saddle. Your movements are still clumsy but you’re starting to get a little bit better at riding her. Even if she still refuses to listen to you.
“If you stopped insultin’ her, I’m sure you’d get along better.” Arthur leads you towards the general store and you glare up at him.
“Whose side are you on, Mr. Morgan?” He chuckles and leans down, pressing a brief kiss to your cheek. It’s chaste and near prudish, but you still find yourself flushing.
“Not on anyone’s side, sweetheart. But if you want to start getting along with her, you’ll just have to learn to trust her.” You nod, not listening to anything he’s saying, too busy admiring how handsome he looks.
He seems to realize what you’re doing, rolling his eyes and pushing you forward. A man’s voice booms through the air, interrupting the both of you. “Well, isn’t this a pretty picture?” You pause, turning to face the man watching you from the porch of the hotel. Men with large guns move around the side of the store and come to stand in front of him.
Your brows furrow, eyes roving across the street, suddenly noticing the stark lack of people out and about. You’d been so distracted by Lady that you hadn’t realized just how dead Valentine was. Something glints in the sunlight on the roof beside the hotel. You narrow your eyes, peering through the glare and seeing a man with his rifle pointed at you and Arthur.
“I’m sorry,” the man calls out, sounding wholly unapologetic. Arthur’s hand tightens around yours and he drags you slightly behind himself. “I should introduce myself,” the man drawls.
You take note of his finely tailored clothes, and the way he’s not fully leaning against the wall because he doesn’t want to dirty his suit. The pocket watch attached to his vest is real gold, something you haven’t seen a whole lot of in Valentine. He’s too prim and proper for a low-down town like this. He could easily have been one of the men from the city you grew up in, upper-class and elite. He’s not from around here and he seems to, at least, vaguely recognize Arthur. You don’t see this going any way but bad.
“Leviticus Cornwall, I believe you’ve heard my name before.”
“God dammit,” Arthur curses under his breath, he nudges you further back in the direction of the horses. Your foot freezes in the air as you hear the familiar click of a rifle being loaded right by your ear. Swallowing hard, you risk the slightest glance back and see another black-suited man with the tip of his rifle pointed squarely between your eyes.
Arthur sees him in his peripheral, but he doesn’t take his eyes off Cornwall. “I know what you want,” Arthur calls out, one hand raised in surrender, the other still holding yours. “But leave her out of it, she’s got nothin’ to do with any of this.”
Leviticus laughs and tilts his head patronizingly. “If she’s with your ridiculous little gang, then she’s got something to do with what happened to my train.” Your eyes flutter shut, dread filling every crevice of your body as the realization finally sinks in. In your last days in the mountains, the men had gone off to rob a train.
They’d mentioned the same name a few times but you’d never cared to pay attention to it. It comes back to you now. Leviticus Cornwall. He was here to collect what they’d stolen.
“I know you are your master’s favorite little lapdog, so why don’t you go fetch Dutch for me and I won’t have my men splatter your lady’s brains against your boots.” Your nails dig into Arthur’s palms, body tensing with fear as you lean further into him.
Arthur gives your hand a reassuring squeeze, keeping you firmly tucked into him. “I’m afraid neither of those things is gonna happen, Mr. Cornwall,” Arthur calls out to him. He leans slightly towards you, voice lowered so even the man behind you can’t hear, “When I tell you, make a run for the horses.”
You so desperately want to look towards where you know Lady and Diablo are hitched by the saloon, but it would only give your plan away. Instead, you force yourself to focus on the man with the rifle pointed at you. You maintain eye contact with the barrel of his gun, refusing to look away.
You try and force your heart to be silent and still, hoping you’ll be able to hear Arthur’s order over the rushing force of your blood. Arthur keeps a tight grip on your hand as the men begin to close in.
“I’ll only say this once, Mr. Morgan. This will be your only chance to escape my wrath, alive.”
“Right,” Arthur moves you in front of him and you suck in a shuddering breath when you see just how many men surround you now. They’re everywhere, on the roofs of buildings, on horseback pacing the streets, and the worst of them have their guns trained right on you. “Well, I’ll say this,” he rips his hands out of yours and practically tosses you to the side. “Run!”
You don’t think, just blindly follow his orders and take off towards the horses. The shots start going off instantly, mud flying up around you as bullets narrowly miss you. You run in a wild pattern, trying not to be such an easy target.
“The times of outlaws is over, Mr. Morgan!” Leviticus calls from behind you, voice tainted with wrath as it penetrates the air. “There’s no place for you anymore!”
You’re running with the instinct of a prey trying to outwit a predator who's actively snapping their maw. It feels futile, though, when you’re so wholly surrounded. Arthur comes up behind you, hand snatching up the back of your shirt and dragging you faster behind him.
Your feet scramble to keep up with his pace as you make for the horses. The men seem to catch onto your plan faster than you’d hoped. One of them jumps in front of you but his body topples to the ground before he can say a word. When you turn, Arthur’s got his revolver out and the end of it is smoking.
You’d barely even had time to process the threat before Arthur had shot him. You’d never seen what a quick draw he was in person before. If you weren’t feeling the breeze of bullets whistling past you, you’d have time to be impressed.
You reach Lady and she’s already stomping and kicking her legs out, terrified by all the noise. You grab her reins, hands shaking as you try and keep yourself steady. You don’t have time to let Arthur help you up. You place your foot in the stirrup and jump, you’re barely seated before she goes flying.
You lean forward, holding on tight as she moves like fire’s licking at her heels. “Come on, Lady!” You shout, not once looking back to see how many of them are after you. The sounds are getting closer and you swallow bile down as you risk a look over your shoulder.
Arthur’s just behind you, turned in his saddle, and shooting at as many of them as he can. Lady lets out an odd squeal and your brows furrow, glancing back at her. You see a streak of red across her side and feel your blood rush to your head.
They’d shot her. They’d shot your damn horse. You don’t even like her all that much, but right now she’s the only thing between you and a bullet through your head. Forcing yourself up, you slip the revolver out of your holster and turn like you watched Arthur do. It’s disorienting, feeling your hips rocking forward while you try and keep a steady aim behind yourself.
There’s no way for you to know which of them actually managed to knick her. But if they can hit your horse, they’re not far off from hitting you. You don’t have time to take in deep breaths and settle yourself, you can only start wildly shooting and hope you hit one of them. You don’t care to spare your bullets, firing off without any real aim and spotting a few drop from their saddles. You don’t know if it's you or Arthur that claims the kills but they eventually start to slow down and the space between you all grows wider.
Arthur tucks his gun away and rides up closer. “We need to get back to camp,” he shouts. You nod your head and follow along the path behind him. Your gaze drifts towards the wound across Lady’s side and you run your fingers through her mane as she races back home.
You brush out Lady’s coat as you wait for Arthur to finish up with Dutch. Hosea had promised that Lady would be fine, horses were sturdy but she’d have to make it through a lot worse if she wanted to stay with the gang. You understood what he meant but you didn’t appreciate it.
It’s only as you finish up with her that you realize what happened on the way back. You’d seen and, possibly, contributed to more killing and you hadn’t felt a thing about it. Not only that, Arthur had seen you shooting at men with no remorse.
Your heart flips itself into a knot in your chest as you look over to where he’s speaking with Dutch. He was quiet on the ride back and you’d assumed it was because he was worried more people would show up. What if it was because you ruined your image for him? The only former lover of his you know about was a lady like you. But, now, he sees you as someone who’s perfectly fine riding around and shooting at men without question. What if he doesn’t want you now?
You swallow down the lump in your throat and try to get your fingers to still. You’d been shaking from the adrenaline for the last few minutes. Your blood is still rushing so fast you’re getting dizzy standing still. You try to convince yourself that it’s just the nerves of the day getting to you, but you’re not so sure.
Arthur finally turns away from Dutch and heads back towards you. You give him a shaky smile but he doesn’t return it. Instead, his brows are set with anger and he’s glowering at you.
You feel your stomach drop as you scramble for a way to explain why shooting at those men was so easy for you. “Arthur, I’m sorry-”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” He demands. Your face falls flat and you feel like you might throw up. Has he somehow found out about your husband? “I didn’t realize they’d hit you,” he reaches forward and you frown with confusion. His thumb brushes against your upper arm and you hiss.
Off instinct, you swat his hand away, fingers stinging at the force. You glance down and notice blood soaking the sleeve of your shirt. One of the bullets had done a little bit more than graze you, leaving a deep gouge in your arm. “So you touch it?” You ask him, only now starting to feel the pain of the wound.
He stutters over a defense before rolling his eyes. “Come on,” he sighs and places a light hand over your back. He presses you forward, herding you towards his tent. “Let’s clean it up.” He sets you down on his cot and begins rummaging through the chest he keeps next to it with all his supplies. Glancing up at you, he asks “What were you apologisin’ for?”
“Oh, um,” you feel a bit silly now. You almost don’t want to say it but that doesn’t feel fair to lie straight to his face. “I feel sick that you saw me shoot at those men.”
His brows furrow and he pauses his rummaging. He glances around like he’s waiting for you to finish but you just shrug. “Oh,” realization dawns on his face and he looks a little stunned. “That’s it?”
“Well,” you stutter and stumble over your words as he walks over to you with a cloth and some alcohol. “Yes,” you finally land on.
He tips the bottle over, soaking the cloth in the liquor. “Darlin’, I’ve seen death more times than I can count to. I don’t care about a little shoot-out. I only care about you bein’ alive.”
He presses the cloth to your wound and you jerk back, hissing in pain. He mutters small reassurances to you, soothing you like a bucking horse. “You mean that?” You ask through gritted teeth.
He laughs a little, kneeling and smiling at you. “Kill as many men as you like, sweetheart, just don’t point that gun at me.” Despite the aching pain in your arm, you find yourself smiling back at him.
The new spot for camp isn’t awful. The town nearby isn’t much to write home about. Two families have been feuding here since before the war. They haven’t seemed to fully accept this new society you live in. And you’re sure that their crops thrive on Braithwaite and Gray blood rather than water.
You weren’t allowed to go into town with Arthur and the others. None of the ladies were. Dutch had said that the people here wouldn’t react well to so many unmarried women. Especially not women like Karen. She hadn’t appreciated the dig, but she hadn’t argued with him.
You found it difficult to follow along blindly to Dutch’s whims. Sometimes it feels like you just traded one master for another. Your father, then your husband, and now you can’t do anything without Arthur constantly running to Dutch to get his approval. As much as you’d like to pretend you have a newfound freedom, you know that Arthur will never leave the gang behind. Dutch has practically brainwashed him into a loyal soldier. So long as you love Arthur, you’re stuck under Dutch’s thumb- and he knows it.
“I said go and get another slab. How hard is that?” Pearson’s voice carries through camp, his tone tight and irritated. Your brows furrow and you turn in your seat to see what he’s fussing about now.
“It would be a lot easier if I wasn’t havin’ to fight with a goddamn fool the whole time!” Sadie picks up a slab of deer meat and hurls it at the man. He throws his hands up, just barely managing to catch it in time.
You stifle a laugh, figuring you should have known what was causing him so much grief. Sadie’s been having to follow his every order ever since Dutch changed her over from Mrs. Grimshaw to Pearson. You know it’s driving her mad, same as you, to do nothing but cook and clean all day.
Even when she was married she had gone out hunting and fishing with Jake. They’d always taken care of your land, they were never house servants. She only knows how to cook because she’d had a husband to take care of, not an entire camp.
You place your book down on the table before you and get to your feet. You figure you should step in before this gets nasty. Again. You’re worried Sadie might actually stab the man. You can see them both considering it as you approach. Neither of them are happy with the arrangement. Pearson thought he was getting a quiet assistant and Sadie just plain hates him.
“Mr. Pearson!” You call out before they can say anything else. You lift your hand in greeting and he grunts noncommittally. “If you wouldn’t mind, I need Sadie’s help with a task.”
Sadie’s lip curls up at him and he crosses his arms, leaning back like he has any power to hold over you. “Oh, yeah? What would that be?”
You glance away, eyes down like you’re flustered. Your hand hovers over your stomach and you grimace, “I’m afraid it may be more feminine in nature.” His face blanches and he turns back to the slab of meat before him.
“Get.” He waves Sadie away and refuses to look at either of you.
You grin at her, holding your arm out and nodding towards the trees around camp. She chuckles slightly, looping her arm through your own and following alongside you. With Dutch and most other men out of camp today, you can afford to explore a little further than you might normally be allowed.
“Has he been giving you much grief?”
Sadie rolls her eyes with a scoff and sets you with a deadpan look. “What the hell do you think?” She doesn’t actually give you a chance to answer and continues with an angered tone. “He seems to be of the belief that women are of better use quiet and obedient.”
“Well,” you tilt your head in consideration and nod. “Most men think that. We haven’t yet reached a point in society where women hold much power, Sadie. Do you expect a group of outlaws to be fighting for our rights?”
“I don’t want none of them fightin’ for me. I just want to be able to take a ride, go huntin’,” she throws her hands up and sighs, “somethin’.”
You realize you do have a slight bit more freedom than she does. Arthur often takes you into towns with him or, at the very least, on some rides for space away from everyone. She’s been holed up with all these strange people since they first rescued you. You purse your lips and give her a sympathetic look.
You lead her further towards the grove of trees and hope some new scenery will help her calm down.
Arthur’s white button-down shirt lay across your lap. Needle in hand, you check it over to make sure you didn't miss any holes or tears. Satisfied with your efforts, you get to your feet and walk towards Arthur’s tent.
You don’t sew or fix anything up for the others unless they’re willing to pay. You find yourself doing this naturally for Arthur, without telling him. You're not sure if it’s because your finishing school teacher had ingrained into you the good qualities of a wife, or it’s simply because you want to.
Part of you will always resent the fact that you can’t recognize your own actions versus your training. You try to keep those thoughts at bay most days, but sometimes, when you do something like this, it’s a little more difficult.
Orange light glares into your eyes and you lift a hand to block it. Peering through one eye, you watch as the sinking sun sets against the horizon. Orange, red, and pink swirl and dance around each other to create a scene so perfect it almost doesn’t feel real.
It makes you think of Arthur, of how he would draw it. He’s incredibly gifted with art, even if he won’t admit it. Even with a piece of charcoal, he manages to capture the life of the animals he sees or the people around him.
After working a few odd jobs in camp, writing a letter for someone or doing some tailoring, you have some meager savings. You’ve been considering buying Arthur a proper drawing kit. You’re sure it would be foolish to spend it all on him, but you’d think he’d like it.
The people in camp only think he’s good for shooting and providing muscle. As much as they care about him, they don’t see the value in some of his finer skills. And you know it affects him. Anytime you catch a glimpse of one of his drawings he immediately starts tearing his work apart, always calling it trash and a waste of time. You wish that he could see the beauty of his creativity like you do. But a skill like that isn’t rewarded around here and you know he’ll never truly understand just how much more he’s capable of than what he’s been told.
Your gaze moves from the setting sun to the table in his tent. His journal rests on the edge and you frown. He doesn’t normally leave it behind. Reaching forward, you snag it off the edge and tuck it under his pillow. There are a lot of nosy people in camp, you doubt he’d want anyone getting their hands on it. While you fuss with that, you notice the picture on his table. Or lack thereof.
It’s been a while since you’ve paid attention to the interior of his tent. Most of the time you’re here, you’re focused on him. But you can’t help and snoop, just a little. The picture of his mother is still there, along with a folded-up one of the gang. But the picture he used to keep of his former lover is gone.
Curious, you take the shirt and turn towards the chest at the end of his cot. You bend over slightly, undoing the buckles and propping the edge up.
You lay the shirt flat, straightening out any wrinkles, and your hand accidentally slips toward the turned-over picture frames beside his clothes. You lift the first one and find another one of his mother. Pursing your lips, you debate if you should dig any further. Glancing over your shoulder, you don’t notice anyone watching you or coming close. You bend over a little more and rifle through another frame.
There it is- the picture of the woman buried beneath the rest. You don’t blame him for keeping it. You know how much she meant to him. You’re just curious as to why he went so far as to bury it below the rest.
Someone clears their throat behind you and you let out a squeak, slamming the lid of the chest shut. You whip around and find Arthur leaning against the post of his tent. “Arthur,” you're breathless as you clutch at your chest, not having even expected him back in camp yet. “I didn’t hear you come up.”
“No,” he lets out an amused huff, “I don’t imagine you did.” He nods towards his chest and you flush with guilt. “What’re you doin’ in there?”
You tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear and shrug innocently. “Just putting away a shirt I fixed up for you.” He moves away from the post and takes a slow step towards you.
“And that’s all?” He looks completely serious, as though he’s about to start interrogating you, but you can hear the slight tease lingering at the end of his words.
“Yes,” you lie, “that’s all.”
“Alright,” he stops in front of you and chuckles a little. “I’ll pretend to believe that. How ‘bout next time you want somethin’, you just come to me?” You nod your head and he steps around you. He takes his hat off and places it on the table, running his hands through his hair.
“Actually,” you grin at him as he turns around, “there is somethin- wait, what is that?” You demand, pointing to the deputy’s badge on his shirt.
He glances down with a sigh and rolls his eyes. “Bill went and got us deputized. Don’t know how, but Dutch seems to think it’s best if we want to stay here.” You try not to sigh at the mention of Dutch. He’s been getting stricter ever since the incident in Valentine and Arthur’s obeying him like a leashed dog. It’s beyond frustrating.
“I can’t believe they gave you all badges,” you can’t help but laugh. The sheriff has got to be touched in the head to have looked at those men and thought they were anything but outlaws.
“Buncha fools,” Arthur grumbles. He sees the look on your face, the way you bite your lip to keep any more laughter from escaping, and sighs. “Quit laughin’ at me, woman. What was I supposed to do? Say no?” You shake your head mutely and he rolls his eyes. “What did you want?”
“Right,” you clear your throat and let out one last huff of laughter before straightening up. “I need you to do a favor for me. Sadie’s been itching to get away from camp, especially from that old bastard Pearson. Could you take her out for me, tomorrow, or sometime soon? I’m worried she’s going to drive a knife through his skull if we don’t deal with this.
Arthur doesn’t look convinced, eyes narrowed and head tilted in a way that makes you think he’s going to say no. You risk a step forward, taking his hand in your own and pulling him close. “Oh, please, Arthur. It would mean the world to me.”
His eyes meet yours, and you widen them, giving him your best pleading look. He holds out for a minute longer than you thought he would before letting out a rough sigh. “Alright, alright, fine. But she better not cause any damn trouble, she’s got a worse temper than Bill.”
You can’t promise she won’t, so you just lean up and press a kiss to his cheek in thanks. He rolls his eyes and takes your chin between his fingers. He tilts your face up towards his, narrowing his eyes at you, “Come on, give me a real kiss,” you smile slightly and wind your arms around his neck, pulling him down to meet you halfway. You suppose there are worse ways to have to pay him back.
Arthur and Sadie were both out on a supply run before you even woke up. By the time you’re properly dressed and cleaned, you can see the wagon cresting over the hill. Your eyes widen with alarm when you see Sadie with the reins, driving the horses even worse than you do.
You know she’s driven a wagon before. You think she might just be trying to give Arthur a heart attack. You can hear them shouting at each other from where you stand and you snicker. You wonder if those two were separated at birth or something, they get along about as bad as most siblings you know.
You go over to Arthur’s tent and rifle through his bullets until you find a few extra for the revolver in your holster. Eventually, you’ll have to start buying your own supplies. But he doesn’t seem to mind much. Either that or he hasn’t caught on yet.
You load the bandolier on your hip and walk out to meet them as they return. Sadie doesn’t quite park the wagon in time, nearly taking out Bill’s tent as she drives them back into camp. “Enough!” Arthur barks, ripping the reins out of her hands. “I am never lettin’ you drive again.”
“Didn’t know you were such a coward, Arthur,” she taunts, hopping out of the wagon. You find yourself grinning when you see the clothes she’s sporting. Pants, a new hat, and some fresh boots. You’re sure Dutch won’t appreciate her use of camp funds but you applaud her latest show of rebellion.
You round the horses to greet Arthur as he gives Sadie a bewildered look. She hauls a sack of flour out of the back and tosses it at Pearson’s feet. “Have fun?” You ask airily as you greet him.
He whirls around on you and points an accusing finger towards you. “I said no trouble.”
“She couldn’t have been that bad,” you admonish, swatting his hand away.
He purses his lips in irritation and crosses his arms. “She nearly killed me drivin’ back. Women can’t drive!” You gape at him as he hops out of the wagon and begins storming towards his tent. “They can’t!” He shouts and you gasp, face twisted in a bewildered smile.
“Arthur!” You admonish, chasing after him. He shakes his head, not looking at you.
He scoffs and shakes his head, looking for all the world like a madman. “Think I don’t remember how you drove when we came down from the mountains?��
“You broke the wheel,” you throw back at him. With his shoulders nearly up to his ears, he continues his stubborn march towards his tent. “Oh, Arthur, come on.” You catch up with him and dart in front of him so he can’t get around you.
“How about a ride to calm you down?” He looks to Sadie and then back at the wagon with a sickened look and you laugh. “On the horses,” you laugh and grab his arm, dragging him to Diablo and Lady. “Sadie ain’t the only one feeling cooped up,” you tell him.
His low sigh sounds a little apologetic but you hadn’t meant anything against him. It was Dutch keeping you under lock and key. “I know, and I’m sorry about that. But we can’t risk too many of us bein’ seen.”
“Dutch can’t risk it, you mean,” you grab onto the saddle’s horn and swing up, glancing down at him.
He frowns, mounting Diablo with more grace than you can manage. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
You bat your lashes and shrug, leading Lady towards the edge of camp. “Nothing really, just that it seems to be Dutch forcing us all to lay low.” You take the lead through the trees, ducking underneath a few low-hanging branches. “No one else seems to be as worried, or even know what’s going on out here.”
Arthur slows down and you’re forced to match his gait if you want to hear what he says. You turn back in your saddle and give him a questioning look. He’s looking at you in a way you’ve never seen before. It’s distant like he’s gazing at someone closer to a stranger than a lover.
“You’re doubtin’ Dutch?” His voice is low, tone giving nothing away to you.
“Well,” Lady shifts restlessly underneath you, seemingly sensing the change in your mood. “Not doubting per se. I just don’t think things are as dangerous as he makes them out to be. It just seems to be-”
“Do I need to remind you how you got that scar on your arm?” Arthur snaps, pointing towards the slight bullet wound left behind by Cornwall’s men. You blanch as he nudges Diablo forward, quickly surpassing you.
“No Arthur, I think I remember getting shot at pretty damn well.” You’re getting angry now too, you really hadn’t meant much by the comment. But he had to realize how out of proportion Dutch was making everything feel. The “threats” surrounding you, the grand plan of escape, it was all too magnificent.
“Look, you can’t be questionin’ Dutch like that. If we stop trustin’ each other or start turnin’ on each other, it’s all gonna fall apart faster than you can blink.” He slows slightly so you can catch up with him but it doesn’t seem as natural as it normally does.
“That’s not what I was trying to imply Arthur. I’ve been in camp for too long. The world outside seems so distant to me. It’s just hard to believe we’re in any real danger.” You try to downplay what you said. Pretend you hadn't been suggesting exactly what he’s accusing you of. Playing the ditzy little lady used to get you out of trouble in the past, but now, he sees right through you.
“Well, we are,” he snaps, “and you’d do your best to remember that. Just because you can’t see it, don’t mean it’s not real.” There’s a sense of finality to his words that tells you the conversation’s over. Whatever hope you’d had of a peaceful ride is gone.
It’s a difficult pill to swallow, knowing no matter how much you care for Arthur, he’ll always pick Dutch over you. And worse, he’ll pick Dutch over saving himself. He’ll never understand just how much he’s worth, or how much he means to everyone around him. He’s a martyr through and through. Always prepared to make a sacrifice, even when it’s not needed.
You tighten your grip around Lady’s reigns, eyes cast down as you follow along silently beside him. He leads you onto the path towards town and you wonder if you should just head back. You could lie, say you’re feeling sick, and be done with him for now.
You’re already upset by how the day’s turned, no point in prolonging either of your misery. “Arthur,” you call out. He hums, turning slightly, just barely facing you. “I’m going to go back to camp.”
He pulls on Diablo’s reins, turning him around so he can properly face you. “I thought you wanted to get out?” He asks, sounding on edge and a little snappy.
You shrug dismissively, not bothering with an excuse. “Changed my mind-”
“Told you it’d be worth a pretty penny,” your brows furrow as a strong Irish accent starts talking a little further up the path. It sounds startlingly familiar.
“Those wagons are always worth the trouble,” Arthur’s quick to ride up beside you. He doesn’t hesitate as he takes Lady’s reins out of your hand and leads you both off the path. You’re silent as you follow him off the safety of the trail. He tucks you both behind some trees. You have just enough coverage that they can’t see you but you can still see them.
There’s a sharp pain slicing up and down your back the closer the Irishmen get. You hiss through your teeth, shifting uncomfortably as they continue to talk. Arthur keeps his head low, hat tilted down and you follow suit. They pass by without much fuss and Arthur picks his head back up to watch them go.
“O’Driscolls,” he curses and the painful familiarity suddenly makes sense. “We need to tell Dutch,” he says, already making his way back to camp. You follow him without much argument, as eager to get back as he is.
Your heart sinks to your stomach, toiling in hurt the whole way. You know Dutch has instilled a paternal familiarity into Arthur but it hurts knowing the man you chose will always choose someone else.
Pearson’s ambling back into camp just as you and Arthur arrive. You’re tempted to just go back to your tent but you follow Arthur, knowing he’ll probably need someone else to back up what he saw. “Dutch!” He calls out, interrupting whatever scheming conversation he’d been having with Micah.
Dutch walks towards you both, Micah following slightly behind, coughing into the crook of his elbow. You grimace at the wet, choking noise. He’s been looking worse and worse everyday. The circles under his eyes are so dark he looks like he’s been knocked across the face.
“Something the matter, Arthur?” Dutch asks, eyes briefly darting to you before looking back at Arthur.
“Saw somethin’ out on the road.” You cross your arms, mind drifting as you wait to be called into the conversation. You’re roughly jarred out of your reverie as a strong, clammy hand lands on your shoulder so suddenly you’re nearly dragged to the ground.
The smell of sweat and moonshine sours your nose and nearly makes you gag as Pearson leans against you. “Gost ‘ome news,” he slurs, eyes barely open as he gestures vaguely towards Dutch.
You struggle under his weight, doing your damndest not to fall into the mud. Arthur frowns and knocks Pearson’s arm off your shoulder. “Get off ‘er, you damn fool,” he grabs him by the bicep, roughly jerking him straight and relying on his strength to keep them both upright.
“Now, Mr. Pearson, Mr. Morgan, I believe you both have news to share. Seeing as Mr. Pearson is close to toppling over into the mud, he can go first.” Arthur’s lips purse in irritation but he says nothing, only shakes Pearson to wake him back up.
“Met ‘ome fine mens in the bar. O’durshels, wanna purl.” You narrow your eyes at him and your face twists with confusion. You’re not the only one, the other men around you already look tired of having to deal with Pearson’s inebriated state.
Sadly, years spent married to a drunkard means you’ve learned the language of liquor quite well. “He met some O’Driscolls in a bar, they want to parley,” you translate, looking to Dutch.
His brows set with something you don’t recognize and Arthur scoffs. “It’s a damn trap.”
“‘Course it is,” Micah snaps. “Don’t mean we can’t use it to our advantage.”
Arthur drops Pearson’s arm and the man goes tumbling face-first into the mud. He takes a menacing step towards Micah who only grins up at him. “We’d be a bunch of fools to go anywhere near this.”
“Arthur,” Dutch barks his name out like an order and Arthur pauses, still leering over Micah. “I believe Mr. Bell might be right.”
“Oh,” you glare at him, smiling with disbelief. “You’re kidding, aren’t you? Those men are bastards,” you spit the word out with venom you didn’t know you possessed and step towards Dutch. Micah darts forward, protecting him like you’d actually try something.
“Arthur,” Dutch warns lowly, intense stare set on you. Your skin crawls with the weight of his gaze. You feel like he’s pulling you to pieces, digging around to see which parts of you are weakest. He doesn’t have to say anything more, Arthur walks forward. He’s gentle as he grabs your arm, but he leaves no room for argument as he leads you away from Dutch.
“Arthur,” you admonish. “You can’t be thinking about this.”
“I’m not,” he mutters, glancing over his shoulder at Dutch. “But I ain’t got a choice.”
You laugh in disbelief and shake your head at him as he parks you beside his tent. “Of course you do. You’ve got the same choice as any of us. Just say no.” You’re praying that he sees sense, that he doesn’t go along with what is a clear trap.
He only shakes his head and turns back towards Dutch. You should have known. Even if he knows there’s danger, he’ll ride in headfirst so long as someone else doesn’t get hurt. You feel something like disgust twisting you up and irritating the anger already present.
You look towards Dutch and he’s already got his eyes on you. He doesn’t wear it plainly, but you see the satisfaction on his face as Arthur comes to stand beside him and leaves you. As if you were ever a threat to his authority.
You turn away from them all, unwilling to watch them ride off as you storm back toward your tent. If they want to go be a bunch of fools, so be it. It’s not your business what mistakes men make with their freedom.
It’s Sadie that wakes you, her hand on your shoulder, shoving you insistently. Your eyes are slow to flutter open, your mind racing to remember where you are and who you’re with. “What?” You slur, one eye open as you try to orient yourself.
“They’re back,” she hisses, tossing away the blanket and getting to her feet. You sit up slowly, hands landing in your lap as you let your head sink between your shoulders. You listen to Sadie’s rushed footsteps as she runs away from the tent.
You’re moving slowly as you rub your eyes, trying to force yourself awake. Whose back?
You try to remember the events of the day and then the realization hits you like ice. Your heart palpitates as you scramble to get up. You chase after Sadie, feet bare in the mud as you run to the entrance of the camp. You’re not looking to give Arthur a happy welcome back, you just want to make sure he’s okay.
You see The Count’s white head parting through the trees first, then Baylock. You come up behind Sadie, peering around her to see if you can spot Diablo through the trees. You know it’ll be hard with his striking black coat, but you figure you’ll manage some hint of him, even through the dark.
Dutch and Micah are slow as they amble up to you. Your brows furrow and there’s an intuitive gnawing feeling in the back of your mind. John comes out of his tent at the sound of hooves, moving to stand beside you. A few others join the welcoming party but you’re not paying any attention to them.
You move away from Sadie and take a step closer to the men now broaching the perimeter of camp. Your hand balls into the fabric of your night dress and you suck in a sharp breath when you realize they’re riding back alone.
Red-hot anger hits you like a hammer knocking a blade into place. You run towards Dutch, not even waiting for him to be fully off his saddle before you start hollering at him. “Where is he? Did he have to stay behind? What’s going on?”
Dutch holds his hands up, lips curled back in irritation as he skirts around you. “There were some complications,” Micah snipes as he jumps down from his horse. His lips are twisted up, humor coating his rotten voice.
Your chest heaves with panic, heart tapping an odd pitter-patter as you try and process what the hell that means.
“Complications!” You shout, uncaring for the way the others are staring at you. “Where the hell is Arthur?” Dutch tries to walk away from you, giving you a bewildered sort of look. He’s looking at you like you’re some sort of ranting madman wandering in from the woods. You may be ankle-deep in mud, wearing nothing but a nightgown, but you are not crazy. And you will not let him treat you like you are.
You shoot forward and shove at the back of his shoulder. You catch him off guard and he stumbles slightly. You reach for him but Micah rushes forward, snatching up your left wrist before you can try again. You don’t see anything but red as you whip around and snap your hand as hard as you can against his cheek.
You hear the sound your skin makes against his, see the bright burning mark on his face, but you feel no sting. You rip your wrist out of his hold and turn back towards Dutch. “You wicked little-”
“You left him, didn’t you?” You interrupt Micah’s low-brow insult and wait for Dutch to answer. He’s got a surprised look on his face as he takes you in. As if he hadn’t expected you to do anything but sit back and obey.
His silence is the only answer you need as he tries to turn away from you again. “After everything he’s done for you! You just leave him!” You sound more heartbroken than he looks and it’s devastating. He left him to the mercies of O’Driscolls and he doesn’t seem to care at all.
“We didn’t leave him!” Dutch shouts, voice cracking slightly. He snatches up your arm, dragging you away from Micah and trying to isolate you from the others. He’s pulling you to his tent, trying to keep you silent so you don’t cause a big scene in front of the rest of camp. You won’t let him do this, you refuse to let him keep his perfect mask of the unfaltering leader.
You dig your feet into the ground and feel the cold wet rush of mud filtering around your legs as he tries to drag you forward. “This is childish,” he snaps, glaring at you and letting your arm go. You know there’ll be a nasty purple bruise where he’d held you but you could care less right now.
“You didn’t leave him? What the hell do you call this?” You gesture around wildly, not fully comprehending that this isn’t just one bad dream. “You don’t understand the cruelty of those men. What you just left him to-”
“Excuse me?” Dutch’s voice is low now, no longer is he shouting. Instead, he stalks towards you in two easy steps.
“Easy,” John warns, coming up behind you both.
Neither of you pay him any mind. You take a step closer, nearly nose to nose with Dutch, refusing to be intimidated by him. “This isn’t your fight, Mrs. Rowe. These aren’t your people, how dare you-”
“Arthur is my people,” you interrupt, voice a deadly whisper. “How dare you leave him. Fearsome Dutch Van der Linde,” you taunt and his nostrils flair at your impudence, “can’t even keep his people safe. Tell me, if you’re such a great leader, a man who’s always got a plan- what is it? What is your great plan? How are you going to get my Arthur back from this?”
Dutch’s face blanches and it’s the first time you’ve ever seen anything genuine appear. He almost looks concerned. And not for himself or his image, but for Arthur. It makes you hesitate for a moment, startling a step back from him with a furrow between your brows.
“I’ve got a plan,” he whispers, eyes wide like he’s trying to convince himself. He turns and looks at the rest of the gang, most of them having woken up while you’d been shouting. “I have got a plan!” He yells, turning back towards his tent and storming off.
Micah follows behind him, shoulder slamming into yours as he passes. You grunt, tripping forward and glaring at his back. You wouldn’t mind putting a bullet between that bastard’s eyes.
Your mind races with everything the O’Drsicolls had put you and Sadie through. Your skin crawls with the way their hands and weapons had felt against you. You swallow the bile in your throat and turn towards the horses.
John is right behind you, having been lurking at the edges of your and Dutch’s fight. “Where’re you goin’?” He asks with a tired sigh.
“Where do you think?” You snap, reaching for Lady.
Charles calls out your name and you turn to see him standing behind John with Hosea. Out of everyone in camp, you’d think these would be the three men joining you, not trying to stop you like they clearly are.
You scoff in disbelief, a sardonic smile on your face. “That's it?” you demand, a disgusted glare directed at each of them. “You’re just going to abandon him too?”
“We’re not abandoning him,” Hosea objects, taking a step closer. You flinch away from him and he frowns. “You don’t know these men-”
“The hell I don’t! I’ve got the scars from what they did to me. I barely survived it.” Hosea winces away from your words.
“Dutch has a plan,” he tells you, but it doesn’t even sound like he believes himself. “We just need to wait.”
“What’re you going to do?” Charles adds, and it feels remarkably like they’re circling you, herding you away from your horse. “You don’t even have a gun and you’re just going to ride into an O’Driscoll camp.”
“I will,” you tell him, all the sincerity in the world backing you up.
“And you’ll get yourself killed,” John snaps. “I want them dead just as bad, but you are only going to get yourself hurt or caught. We only need some time, we’re not abandoning him. But we can’t just go in guns blazin’.”
“When has that ever stopped any of you?” You snap. You feel all your anger, all your determination, slip right out through the bottom of your bare feet. You know from their faces there’s going to be no arguing with them. They’re just as bad as Arthur, just as blind.
They truly believe that Dutch has any clue what he’s doing. How could you possibly be the only one to see the truth of what he is? He’s a conman, decorated as a friend, father, brother, leader. He takes whatever form he wants and he knows how to use it against those around him. There’s no plan, there’s no grand escape to some tropical paradise.
“You’re not leaving tonight,” Charles tells you and you wish you had the energy to cry. You want to weep for Arthur. Here stood the people he would sacrifice himself for, and they aren’t going to kill a few O’Driscolls to save him.
You let them lead you back to your tent and look toward the horizon. You’re not going to be allowed to leave this camp. And even if there was a plan to rescue Arthur, you’d never be told of it. All you can do is wait.
You stay up all night, sitting by the fire and forcing yourself to tolerate the feeling of Charles watching you the whole time. You don’t know what it is that makes you look away from the flames and towards the trees, but something pulls at you.
As the sun crests the horizon, you place your cup of coffee down and turn. Over your shoulder, barely visible, a horse struggles along the path. You squint, head tilting this way and that so you might be able to better make out what it is. You get to your feet and hear Charles follow you.
“Oh, god,” you gasp, making a run for the horse just as the rising sun illuminates it. Arthur is slumped over Diablo’s head, blood soaked through his shirt. You don’t make it to him before he slips off the saddle and lands in the mud. Diablo stands over him, nosing at his neck and cheek.
Charles races behind you as you slide into the mud, hands roving over Arthur’s chest until you find the burned-over wound on his shoulder. You press your fingers to his throat, holding your breath while you pray to feel the beat of life within him still.
“Oh, thank god,” you whisper when you feel the faintest thud against the tip of your fingers. Charles kneels beside you and you both throw an arm over your shoulders, lifting Arthur to his feet. “Susan!” You scream the old lady's name until you see her stumble out of her tent.
A few of the other’s still awake all stand, Dutch included. “He needs help!” You shout, Charles helping you drag him towards her.
“Bring him over here!” She shouts, clearing off Arthur’s cot and motioning for you to lay him down. You stumble under Arthur’s weight, ankle rolling the wrong way as you struggle to keep up his limp body. Charles helps as much as he can but you can barely stay standing. Dutch runs over to you, you share a brief look before he slips Arthur’s arm off your shoulder and carries him the rest of the way to Mrs. Grimshaw.
You turn towards the tent of women and by now they’re all up, watching everything with wide horrified eyes. “Tilly, help me,” you demand, rushing towards the water boiling for Pearson’s stew. She snaps into action, racing behind you and passing you a cloth to lift the scalding pot off the fire. You both carry it over to Mrs. Grimshaw and she barely spares you a glance, too focused on Arthur.
You can’t look at him for too long, can’t bear to face the way his eyes stare up at nothing. He looks too much like the corpses you’ve seen. But you know you felt life inside him. You couldn’t have made something like that up.
Mrs. Grimshaw slices through his shirt and hisses at what she sees. You move past Dutch and peer over her shoulder with Tilly. “Oh, you fool,” she mutters. You shake your head when you see what he’s done to his shoulder. You know he did the best with what he had, but gunpowder is a risky move to close up a bullet hole.
If you’re not careful with how you treat his wound, it’s more than likely to get infected. Besides the gunshot, judging from the bruises on his body, you can tell he was beaten to within an inch of his life. He’d barely been there a day and they’d nearly killed him. If what they’d done to you wasn’t reason enough to want the O’Drsicolls dead, this was.
“Susan,” Dutch whispers and he sounds so disappointed, “sit by him. Take care of him. Keep him alive.” You refuse to look at Dutch, dipping a cloth into the purified water and wringing it out. You pass it to Susan who only nods her head.
Tilly draws the tent flaps closed, pushing Dutch the rest of the way out. Susan presses the cloth gently to the area around Arthur’s wound and his shoulder jerks slightly. “He’s burned himself up,” Tilly mutters, rooting through his supply trunk and ripping up some of his clean shirts for extra cloth.
“Closed up the wound,” Susan mutters, “but we’ll need to watch for infection.” Her hand drifts down his chest, pressing down on one of the purple and yellow splotches along his ribs. His eyes shoot open for a moment, a pained groan coming from his cracked lips.
“Broken rib?” You ask, rooting around in his table for some of the ointment Hosea had made for him. She hums an affirmative and you hear Tilly rip up some more cloth for binding.
“It’s gonna be a long night, you best listen to every damn thing I tell you,” Susan snaps, not taking her eyes off of Arthur. You nod your head silently, pulling out the tin of salve and presenting it to her. Your eyes drift towards Arthur and you let out a shuddering breath, not willing to look at his broken form for more than a few moments.
Susan helped the most the first night Arthur was back. It was because of her that he made it. Tilly and you assisted her the best you could. But she had the knowledge only a doctor should as she staved the infection away from his wound.
She wasn’t capable of a miracle, but this seemed damn close. Still, even with all the work you’d put in, someone had to stay by his side at night, make sure he didn’t slip away quietly. You volunteered yourself, opting to let them watch him during the day while you slept.
His recovery was a slow one. You have to make sure his ribs are wrapped tight enough to encourage them to heal again. You need to ensure he doesn’t flip around in his sleep and do any more damage to himself. More importantly, you have to do everything you can to keep his fever down.
Despite the heat of the day, it seems worse at night. Sweat soaks through his clothes and blankets, he’s constantly twitching with shivers. You try and make sure the cloth along his brow stays cool, but he seems to heat them up like a fire.
There’s no puckering green skin around his wound, none of you can figure out where the infection is stemming from. You don’t have the medicine he needs to fight it, only sheer will and prayer.
You lean forward in your chair, pressing the back of your chilled fingers to his cheek. Same as the night before, it’s hot to the touch. You’re surprised your skin doesn’t sizzle as it touches his. His breaths come in short pants as you slip the cloth off his head and dip it into the bucket of water beside you. You wring it out and place it gently along his brow again.
Standing, you perch yourself on the edge of his cot and peel back the bandages on his shoulder. It sticks slightly to the skin, yellowed and bloody as the skin works to heal itself. He’d done the best he could with the gunpowder, but all it had done was stop you from getting below the surface and healing what needed it.
Your eyes are fighting to stay open after being awake all night. You know the sun will rise soon, that you’ll have an opportunity for rest. But you haven’t been able to sleep well, not since he was brought back. You nearly drift off and then you think of him dying while you’re dozing away.
He might have made it through the first night, but there are no promises with things like this. Your hand slips into his and you let out a heavy sigh. You take in his sallow face, the gauntness of his cheeks, the circles under his eyes. His beard has grown longer than you’ve ever seen it, his hair nearly reaches his shoulders. You don’t recognize this beaten man below you. This isn’t the Arthur you know.
You squeeze his rough hand in yours, “You better not stop fighting, you stubborn bastard.” You feel a familiar burn in the back of your throat and look away from him, choking down your tears. You can’t cry over him again. You’ve done it so often your eyes have run dry.
Just as you’re about to get up to leave, his hand twitches ever so slightly in yours. Your brows furrow and you glance down at his hold on you. It was nearly imperceptible, a barely there movement. You watch his arm carefully, seeing if anything else happens. When he doesn’t move again you dismiss it as your mind playing tricks on you.
Again, almost as if he knows you’re going to leave him, his hand twitches. This time, you can’t dismiss it as a reflex or simply something your addled brain has conjured up. The movement is deliberate, purposeful, as if he’s trying to hold on to you in every way he can. His fingers squeeze your palm weakly, and a sharp gasp escapes your lips.
“Arthur?” you breathe, voice trembling as your heart skips a beat. You turn back to his face, ragged and pale, the shadow of the man he once was. But there’s something in the faint wrinkle of his brow and the uneven parting of his lips. It’s the most life you’ve seen in him in days.
You’re practically shaking as you move further up the cot. You stick yourself as close to his side as you can. “Oh, Arthur?” you plead, leaning closer, searching desperately for any sign that he’s still fighting. A low mutter slips from his cracked lips, the sound so faint it’s almost lost in the silence. You freeze, straining to hear, your breath caught in your throat.
You’re so close you can feel the shallow rise and fall of his chest against yours. His lips move again, his ribs quaking with effort. It’s a whisper, barely audible, but you hear a cracked version of your name slip through his lips.
This is the most you’ve gotten from him in days. There had been moments where, as hard as it was to accept, you’d begun to realize he could be dying. His lips move again and if you weren’t watching him so intently, you might have missed it.
Your heart shatters and mends all at once. “Arthur,” you choke, nearly crying with relief. Your body slumps over his with the relief that he’s not been lost to you yet. You clutch your hand in his as though sheer will can keep him with you. For a moment, the unbearable weight of your fear is lifted.
Tears spill down your cheeks, hot and unrelenting, as you press your forehead against his. “You’re still here,” you whisper, more to yourself than to him. “Just keep fighting for me.”
He doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t have the strength, but his fingers twitch again, his grip just a little firmer. It’s enough for you. You hold on to him like he’s your lifeline, and in a way, he is. You can’t let him go, not now. “I’m here, Arthur,” you promise, voice shaking but just steady enough for him to understand you. “I’m not going anywhere. Just, don’t leave me. Please.”
For the first time in what feels like forever, there’s a flicker of hope in the darkness. It’s fragile, so fragile, but it’s there.
It doesn’t take long for Arthur to start coming back around. Most nights, he’s still groggy and spends more time asleep than awake, but the fever has broken, and that’s enough for you.
You no longer go to sleep every night worrying he won’t be there in the morning. Now, when you check on his tent, you find him waiting for you, even if it’s with little more than a tired glance and a hoarse word or two. Tonight is one of those nights. He doesn’t have much energy for anything beyond picking at some stew and lying down, but you don’t mind.
You stay by his side, fussing over him as you fluff the pillows behind his head. He’d teased you the other day, comparing your fretting to Mrs. Grimshaw. You’d laughed, too relieved he felt well enough to joke to take offense. The memory makes you smile as you smooth the blankets over him.
“Quit,” he mutters weakly, swatting at your hands.
“Oh, hush,” you retort, tone light as you sit back down in the chair by his cot.
His hand catches your wrist before you can settle. When you glance down, you find him peeking up at you through one half-lidded eye, a faint smile playing on his lips.
“Come on,” he mumbles, tugging gently.
“Arthur, I’m fine right here,” you reply, hesitating. His cot isn’t exactly spacious, and you’re worried about jostling him or hurting his still-healing ribs.
He doesn’t answer, just tugs again with what little strength he has.
“Oh, alright.” You laugh slightly and shake your head. “You’re so stubborn,” you grumble, but the smile tugging at your lips betrays you. Carefully, you climb onto the cot, curling into the space he makes for you on his good side. His head tucks into the crook of your neck, his arm settling around your waist like it belongs there.
You comb your fingers through his hair absentmindedly, thinking that maybe you’ll cut it for him when he’s stronger. His breathing slows against you, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. He’s nearly asleep when he rasps out a question, voice muffled against your shoulder.
“Why didn’t they come?” He rasps against your shoulder, nearly asleep as he asks.
Your hands still in his hair, and the quiet around you feels suddenly heavy. His arm tightens around your waist, as though he senses your hesitation. You close your eyes and draw in a shaky breath.
How are you supposed to answer that?
You could tell him the same tired promises Dutch fed you, that there was a plan, that he was never really abandoned. But you’ve been here, tending to him alone for days. You’ve watched Dutch only appear when Arthur’s too far gone to notice, his visits perfunctory and brief. And you know, deep down, what Arthur would never admit, if he keeps believing Dutch’s lies, it’ll kill him.
You swallow hard and take his hand, threading your fingers through his. “Arthur,” you whisper, voice trembling but firm enough to hold his attention. “You’ve given Dutch everything, and he left you there. He left you to die.”
You hear him exhale, a sound somewhere between a sigh and a groan. His grip on your hand loosens just slightly, but he doesn’t pull away.
“I’m not saying this to hurt you,” you continue, leaning closer so your words sink in. “I just- I need you to know the truth. He’s not the man you think he is. He never was. Please, Arthur, when you’re strong enough, tell me we’ll get away. We’ll leave this all behind before it’s too late.”
You fall silent, letting your words settle in the quiet. He doesn’t respond, his breaths deepening as sleep overtakes him again.
You tighten your hold on his hand and rest your forehead against his temple. “I’m sorry,” you murmur, your voice breaking. “You deserve better.”
You doubt he’ll remember this when he wakes, and maybe that’s best. But you had to say something, you had to try. It feels wrong, though, to try and twist Arthur’s loyalty. You’ve barely had a chance to know either of them the way they know each other.
Still, you can’t shake what you’ve seen. Dutch’s words, his cleverly painted lies, they turn into nooses, and he’s got a rope around everyone in camp. You know his kind, once he sinks his claws into someone, there’s no letting go.
You glance down at Arthur’s face, softened and unguarded in sleep, and your chest tightens. He deserves to be free of Dutch. At the very least, he deserves to see the truth and to live for himself instead of chasing someone else’s dreams.
Doubt still creeps alongside you. Did you have a place to say anything at all?
You brush a hand through Arthur’s hair one more time, listening to his breaths as they even out. Curling closer around him, you drift to sleep with your heart heavy, praying he sees the truth when he wakes.
end. — I do not own the characters or the game Red Dead Redemption 1/2, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2025. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.
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bad mood. l Joel Miller
before Jackson
Summary: bad moods were holding you all, then you found this place
Warnings: a bit of angst, but they finally make up, Ellie shows up, some swearing, guns, they're pretty mean to each other
A/N: This was requested by the wonderful @underneath-the-sky-again. thank you sweetie. I hope you enjoy it. it's short and boring!❤️
your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes
short stories from life. [masterlist]
It was a difficult time for Joel.
It all started with the worsening weather - the cold and rain were becoming more and more difficult and made you have to walk on roads that were drowning in mud and puddles. One day Ellie declared that even her underwear was wet and she was tired of this shitty march towards Jackson.
The shelter you found was of little use and you couldn't stay there for long for fear of riders or other intruders. Then something started happening to you. Joel noticed it immediately. You became quieter, and every time he pointed something out to you ended with a sarcastic comment or an angry look from you.
"Jesus, what's gotten into you..." Joel muttered once, irritated, and at his next remark you just shrugged your shoulders, mumbling something like "Whatever."
Your food supplies were dwindling, and the accommodations didn't allow you to rest. And that fucking weather. Joel knew exactly what was causing the bad moods. And he himself was becoming more grumpy and quiet.
When some buildings appeared on the horizon, you were already so tired that you didn't care anymore - you wanted to get there, hide and catch some sleep.
"It must have been a warehouse of nearby farms." Joel muttered, approaching the metal door.
"Do you think we'll find something to eat there?" Ellie asked hopefully.
Joel shrugged, he didn't want to tell her that he was counting on it too. He readied his weapon, and you did the same, Ellie was supposed to guard the entrance. There was a long, dark corridor in front of you. You both entered and your footsteps echoed quietly inside.
Soon it got dark and you turned on your flashlights to illuminate the place. Every now and then you passed a door, which you pushed gently, but it was closed.
"Shit." you hissed again, and Joel felt his irritation reaching its limit.
“Stop following me.” he finally muttered, even though he knew it was pointless, he kept repeating that you should stick together "You're going to give me a heart attack."
“Oh, do you want me to walk beside you? Maybe hold hands with you?” you snorted ironically.
You couldn’t see his face well, but you were sure Joel rolled his eyes. He had been annoying you so much lately, that you wanted to get away from him for a moment. With relief, you noticed a corridor leading off to the right.
“I’m going this way.” you declared.
“We should stick together.” he hissed.
“You just told me to fuck off.” you said angrily. “That’s exactly what I’m doing.”
“That’s not what I said!”
“Whatever.”
Fuck. He watched as your flashlight flickered and you moved further and further away from him. If you survived this night and didn’t kill each other, or someone didn’t kill you, Joel would consider it a success.
The corridor continued for some time until he finally stopped in a large room. Overturned shelves, remnants of warehouse equipment, but silence reigned everywhere. On the other side he noticed another door, this time with a sign indicating the cafeteria.
He was about to grab the door handle when he heard a strange noise from the other side. He put his working ear to the door and began to listen. A strange shuffling, something he couldn't identify. If those were clickers, then you were screwed. He didn't know where you were or if he would be able to find you fast enough.
Something slammed into the door, and then again. Joel adjusted his fingers on the rifle. He could take care of this quickly. If it was one or two clickers... Yeah, he should be able to handle it.
He grabbed the handle and yanked the door open, something fell out from behind it, and Joel aimed the barrel and...
You stared at him, and he saw surprise and fear in your eyes. He felt like something had cut off his power and his knees buckled.
"Fuck!" he groaned "I could have killed you!"
"After the last few days, I wouldn't be surprised." you replied, but you didn't sound too sure "I managed to get into this room, I wanted to get out and..."
Joel nodded, trying to calm his faster heartbeat. Then you lifted something you were holding in your hand. "Look what I found! It's not much, a few cans, but it's still something. I think it's some kind of soup, but I also saw risotto and some stew. Ellie will be happy."
You weren't wrong. As soon as you arranged your stay in one of the rooms, you started heating up what you found.
When the warm meal filled your stomachs, you immediately felt better. Ellie quickly regained her good mood. Eventually, however, she started yawning. She squeezed herself into the sleeping bag somehow, mumbled a quiet "Night!" and soon you heard her soft breathing.
You took a few sips of tea and adjusted the blanket that was thrown over your shoulders. Joel was sitting against the wall. He stretched his long legs in front of him and folded his arms across his chest, you could see that he was slowly dozing off.
"You should get some sleep." You said quietly, he opened his eyelids lazily "I'll take the first watch."
"No need." he replied, but then yawned.
You chuckled. "Do you want to keep arguing?" he shook his head and reached for the blanket.
He finally laid down. "Sorry I tried to kill you. I thought it was infected."
You looked at him with a smile "It's fine, but next time you should try harder."
He smiled and rubbed his eyelids with his hand. "Yeah, I'll try to remember that."
"Joel?" he looked at you once more, your face wasn't as tense anymore, you seemed more relaxed "I'm sorry I was such a bitch."
"It's fine, but next time you should try harder."
You both laughed quietly. The rain was pattering slower and slower on the roof and soon Joel's quiet snoring informed you that he had fallen asleep too.
☆☆☆☆
Thank you for your time.
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#pedro pascal#joel miller#the last of us#joel miller x reader#joel miller x f!reader#short stories from life
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