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cressidagrey · 1 day ago

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Such A Mystery - Part 11

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Colette Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen fell in love at the ripe old age of 12 and never looked back.

Colette Leclerc really regrets posting that particular Taylor Swift Lyric to her private Instagram account, because it made George Russell go insane.

The rest of the world has absolutely no idea that the Dutch Lion and Charles Leclerc’s twin sister have been a couple for 15 years and are expecting a baby.

Warnings:

Pregnancy, Mention of multiple miscarriages, Pregnancy complications, George Russell Bashing (he's probably really nice in real life but in this, he's the bad guy, sorry), Jos Verstappen, We have apparently now reached the time where I also bash Ferrari. I am sure they are super nice in real life too. They are not in this.

Author Notes: Huge thanks to @llirawolf for holding my hand through this. Chapter 11 of 12!

Chapter 11

His sister's screams were bloodcurdling.

Charles had known that birth was a painful, messy affair, that it was never easy, but actually hearing his sister’s very real, very painful screams from the room beyond was a truly eye-opening experience. He didn’t know how women could survive this, frankly.

Arthur looked green around the gills, not helped by the white bandage on his forehead…which apparently had been the result of him fainting and being taken down by the corner of a hospital bed.

"I am never having kids," Arthur said, swallowing heavily.

"I am rethinking my family planning as well," Lorenzo said weakly. "I don't think I can stand seeing Charlotte go through that pain."

Arthur grimaced as another scream came ringing out from the room. “I think I am scheduling a vasectomy tomorrow,” he said faintly. “This absolutely confirms it as a good life decision for me.”

"I think that's the concussion talking," Charles tried to assure his brother, as another scream rang out.

On second thought…maybe Arthur was onto something.

And just at that moment, Colette's scream suddenly broke off. They froze—all of them.

Absolute silence rang through the room. Charles was afraid to even breathe. He had no idea what was happening on the other side of the door, and that terrified him. Everything had been going well so far, hadn't it?

And then a cry rang out.

A baby’s cry: shrill, a little indignant.

All three men let out their collective breaths in a sigh of pure relief.

The whole room was silent for a moment, as they processed the fact that their sister and her baby were alright.

“Oh, thank god,” Lorenzo said feebly. “I thought something awful had happened.”

“No kidding,” Arthur agreed. He sagged back against the wall behind him, his skin regaining a proper colour again, instead of the sickly green it had been moments before.

Charles leaned his head back against the wall, shutting his eyes for a brief second. It was over. Everything had gone alright.

Colette and her baby were both going to be okay.

"We are uncles now," Arthur said suddenly.

A beat of surprise. And then:

“Oh god, we are, aren’t we?” Lorenzo said.

“We’re uncles,” Arthur repeated a slightly shell-shocked look on his face.

Charles couldn’t help it. A smile broke out over his face, a very real, utterly ridiculous one that he didn’t have the energy to hold back. “We are, aren’t we?” he repeated Enzo’s words.

“This is absolutely insane!” Arthur said, a grin creeping over his face. “We’re going to be the coolest uncles ever.”

“I thought kids are overrated?” Lorenzo pointed out wryly.

“The most overrated,” Arthur insisted. “But I’m going to spoil our niece or nephew absolutely rotten.”

It took a little while longer, but finally, the door opened, revealing Max. He looked…exhausted. Absolutely beat. There were dark circles under his eyes…but a look of relief was on his face like Charles had never seen on his friend before. And yet, Max was grinning.

Looking happier than ever.

“Max,” Charles said, a little hoarsely. He wanted to ask how they were, he wanted to ask about the baby, he wanted to ask if Coco was alright. But all he could get out was Max’s name, his voice too thick.

"Come meet your niece," Max said simply.

He said the word ‘niece’ like it was the best thing in the world, and it made Charles smile. He straightened up, following Max into the room, Arthur and Lorenzo trailing behind him.

Coco was curled up in her bed, her hair messy, her face pale, but she was smiling, a weak little smile tinged with exhaustion but so very, very happy. And cradled against her chest was the baby, wrapped snugly in a little pink blanket.

Charles just sort of stopped dead in the midst of the room. Seeing his sister with her baby in her arms… it was like his brain had stopped functioning in the space of a moment.

All three brothers were silent for a long moment, just taking in the sight of them.

Charles felt a lump rise in his throat,and swallowed heavily.

Lorenzo was biting his lip, trying to keep the tears from welling up in his eyes. And Arthur was absolutely silent, all of the usual sass gone from his expression.

It was a moment that seemed to stretch on forever, as they all just stood awkwardly at the edge of the bed, just looking.

Finally, Coco looked up at them, and her smile widened faintly. “Well?” she asked. "Cha, don’t you want to hold your niece?"

His heart skipped, and he managed to pull himself forward so he could sit down on the bed next to her. “I get to hold her?” he asked, just to be certain.

"Of course, you do," Coco told him softly. "Here you go."

Charles could hardly believe it as Colette gently eased the baby into his arms, carefully supporting her head. And suddenly he was holding her, his niece, this brand new little life, in all of her tiny, delicate, vulnerable little glory, bundled up in a soft pink blanket.

"She's perfect," he said softly, swallowing.

She was so…fragile, in his hands. He hadn’t expected her to be that small, somehow. Charles smiled faintly, running his fingers gently over her hair. Her eyes were closed, and one tiny fist was poking out of the blanket.

"Does she have a name yet?" he asked his sister.

"I get to pick," Colette told him with a grin. "Given that Max named the cats after Monaco's nightlife."

Charles had to admit that was a fair point.

“What, you aren’t going to let Max name your daughter La Rascasse?” he teased Coco who just rolled her eyes. "What have you come up with?" he asked curiously, tearing his eyes away from his niece to look at his sister.

"If she was a boy, I would have named him Emilian Hervé after Papa," Colette said softly. "Sadly that doesn't work for a girl."

Charles smiled faintly at the mention of their father. Their father would have doted on this baby, he was certain. He would have spoiled her absolutely rotten.

"So I figured… somebody else needed to give their name for her," Coco continued. "I hope you don't mind."

"Of course, I don't mind," Charles assured her at once. Why should he? "Whose name did you use?" he wondered.

"Yours, you idiot, Cha," Coco told him, her voice soft. "Charlene Victoria Verstappen. We'll call her Charlie for short."

"Oh my god," Max's sister breathed somewhere behind him. "You.."

But Charles could only stare at his sister…could only feel the lump rise in his throat again. He swallowed hard. “You named her after me?” he asked with a waver in his voice, feeling like his heart might just explode in his chest.

"Of course, I did," Colette said softly. "You're my twin brother, why wouldn't I name my baby girl after you?"

Charles couldn't find any words to answer that with. He couldn't find any words at all. His eyes stung, and he couldn't look at her for fear he might cry. He looked down at the baby. His…god, his niece that was named after him.

He gently ran his fingers over her hair again, marvelling at her tiny, perfect little body. "Hello, Charlie," he said softly, his voice a little choked.

The baby didn't even stir, and Charles smiled, shifting slightly to support her more securely. He couldn't believe that his sister had done this, that she had named her baby girl after him. It made his heart feel like it was fit to burst straight out of his chest, made him try to blink back tears and fail horribly.

"Congratulations, you've made Charles cry," Lorenzo said from somewhere behind him, sounding a little choked himself.

Charles let out a noise that was half-laughing, half-crying as his brothers joined him at his side. "Shut up," he said, his voice rough with emotion.

"Not a chance," Arthur said as he squeezed in next to him to get a better look at the baby. Lorenzo joined him, peering down at the baby in Charles' arms with a strangely soft expression on his face.

"You gave her my name too," Victoria said weakly. Charles looked up at Max’s sister, not knowing what to say. It had sounded so obvious, so natural to hear Colette say it, that Charles had completely forgotten that Victoria shared the same name.

But she did.

"A sibling for each of us," Colette said simply. "Sorry, Enzo, Arthur. Maybe next time.”

“Nah, Arthurelle is a horrible name,” Arthur responded. “Totally see why you went for Charlene.”

Colette laughed, but it was a very weak, exhausted laugh. Charles couldn’t blame her. She must be absolutely wrung out.

And still as he looked at her...as her eyes met his, he could feel how happy his sister. How utterly in love she was with her daughter. How this was everything Colette had ever wanted, and it was right there.

"I am never driving you to the hospital again though, just so you know," Arthur said. “That cost me at least 30 years of my life.”

"But you did so well," Colette teased their younger brother. "Thank you for that, ma petite puce."

Arthur grimaced faintly, but he looked too tired and happy to actually bite back. Charles smiled faintly at all of them in turn.

Charles‘ eyes snagged on their mother.

"Well, Grand-Mère," he teased her. "How does it feel?"

For a long moment, their mother simply looked at the baby in Charles’ arms with an unreadable expression on her face. And then her expression slowly shifted into a smile. A true smile. A happy, proud Grandma smile.

“Your father would be so proud of you all.”

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bubblingbowie · 2 days ago

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just read your little logan smut with flower mutant!reader. ugh!! it was literally so sweet !! all the little nicknames for her “his flustered girl?” “the sweetest thing.” UGH i’m clawing my hair out it’s so good.

it made me think like what happens if he were to like overstimulate her or something. or maybe she’s had a bad day, or logan had been out on a mission and she misses him. and so when he gets back and pounds her into the mattress, bc duh obviously he missed his girl, little vines of some climbing flower wrap around his arms where he holds her, and eventually up his biceps, around his waist where they can sprawl over his abs, all of her favorite places of logan. and obviously she doesn’t realize it bc she’s too lost in how logan makes her feel and how much she missed him.

oh and maybe when she realizes, they start to retract because she’s so embarrassed !! and logan’s all like “hey, now don’t pull away from me, pretty girl,” and just kisses every inch of her and holds her close. please i’m obsessed. logan and his pretty flower girl are all i need !!!

a/n: YALLLL she's back. i literally had a whole other fic i was writing but this ask shot me and i just had to so thank u anon :) i will post the other fic soon but for now! be kind to me work has been busy i love uuuu enjoy!

Logan Howlett x f!reader | 18+ i'll bop you between ya eyes | flower!mutant :)

you all but jump into Logan's arms. 19 hours away; of silence. it was necessary for his stupid mission but agony for his darling love back at their cabin in the woods. he couldn't even make it inside, you ran out so he wouldn't have to find you in the house. "hey, sweet-pea." he gruffs, your eyes just beaming. he sure doesn't miss the dandelions that you leave behind with each step.

"about time! you said you'd be home by ten! god i was worried sick, i-i didn't know if i should cook dinner or not so there's nothing to eat." you babble, worried and running up the wall with meaningless stress. he just watches with a keen eye.

his hand ushers to your head, petting so sweetly to calm you down. "hey. hey. 'm alright, dolly. don't even care about dinner." and then the softest kiss to your forehead. "just happy you're here." like you'd be gone when he came back.

you're relaxed in his palm, eyes glued up to him. it's like he never left you. "bought some whiskey for you though." oh he's dating an angel, he knows it. and your proud smile just sends him in a frenzy of wanting to sip and stay with you in the living room or carry you over his shoulder to your bed. he wants the latter so badly.

he chuckles lowly and wraps his big burly arms wrap around your waist, his nose nudging under your ear. "too kind to me, baby." he murmurs. your all too familiar scent envelopes him and the switch is flipped. he has you to himself again. and Logan is just sooo greedy for his girl.

greedy and impatient. he all but shoves his large backpack into the corner of your shared room before you're thrown on the gentle plushness of the comforter. and you even made the bed for him, his sweetest girl. he's panting, eyes blown while your sweater rises up on your skin. the most he can do while he's crawling towards you is press the softest pecks on your knees and the front of your calves.

"missed you so bad." you're heart flips in its place, the sight of big bad Wolverine slinking slowly up your legs worshipping every inch he saw just too much.

"it was only a day." you chuckle, a hazy grin on your lips. your hands trail down to his hair, running through it with a smile. its fuel to the fire.

there's a small nip onto your thigh from the comment. "you say that like i don't need you every fucking minute of the it." he's quick to peel off pesky clothing in the way of the grand prize. both your tops and your own shorts were laid lazily on the floor. Logan nearly ripped it all off, his teeth baring a few times with how wanton he seemed. it's just you in your cute cotton panties and he aches all over for you. "can i? christ- lemme have you dolly, please?" you gulp, cheeks red and knees weak.

"please. yes please, need you so bad" oh how you're eyes go wide when you're desperate. Logan's hand gliding up and up your abdomen, a soft gleam shown with how smooth you've stayed. fingers run over the breasts he's worshipped so many times. after all that's been done, you've stayed his sweetest girl. so sweet you'd let him fuck you silly so quickly!

🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻

"i know sweetie, so deep, ain't i? jus' feel good, petal" he cooed so sweetly with your legs on his shoulders, pressed so lean against the silk pillowcases (bought by you but loved the most by Logan).

"oh fuck! 's so good, god-!" your eyes were screwed shut. you couldn't keep up, it always happens. senses get clogged up with how his dick stretches you so nice. all you hear is the quickness of skin on skin, his movement so unforgiving. you see Logan with a slacked jaw from how sloppy he's gotten you even within the few moments he's had you back in his arms.

but what you feel? you feel heaven and light all at once. you feel loved and loving, your skin melting into his. wanting him closer. to stay. on Logan's end, he's relishing in your sweet noises. just working along to keep your legs shaking, keep those warm tears falling down your cheeks, keep those vines growing your skin onto his hands rested on your waist. Logan does a double take.

the vines. oh shit. gardening again! just like those weeks ago with the wisteria. he remembers how red you were when your eyes laid upon those flowers. poor thing, your first thought was you hurt him. sure, like your mind would ever let yourself harm him. he prays it's a normal occurrence now, maybe he's a good man after all if you're so willing. a beautiful creation he has laid out so beautifully and for him?

yeah, you're growing more for him. "thas' it dolly, just feel good. you like my cock so bad? hm?" in your head, he's just talking about how you've gone limb from how the head of his cock rams deep into what feels like your gut. makes you so dumb you nod eagerly. he grins. the vines grow and grow to where they keep his hands attached to curve of your lower back. he can't loose you in all this now, can he?

Logan's just happy you've had your eyes welted shut focused on the bliss he's giving you, moaning like it's second nature. you were a vision beyond anything he'd seen with your charming trailing plants making him keep fucking into you. even the most darling buds pop next to the leaves.

"some pretty flowers for me too, huh?" Logan curses himself for saying that when your eyes meekly open, the words unfamiliar from his lips when it came to being fucked into a mattress. and then they're quarters from there. wide and beady while watching the fruits of your labor spinning and twisting up your lovers arms while he fucks you so good.

"oh...L-Lo, ah! i'm sorry i'll stop- fuck!" you really wanted to be sorry and pitying, to cry more than you were but from sheer humiliation. not from blinding pleasure. but maybe the vines had the good idea. they're not constricting yet not too different from your clawing hands onto his back.

he simply shakes his head. "nah. nah, keep em. lemme see it all, petal, please." embarrassment subsides. it's your Logan! there's no need for it. your shoulders relax with your head lulling back into the pillow, too cock drunk to think of ever letting this stop. more vines blossom onto his broad shoulders now. he'd be covered by the end of the night at this rate. "good girl, there we go..." the vines were kind enough to let his arm bend down to your cheeks pressing haste kisses on your flushed skin, peppering and spoiling you for you compliance. always so eager to please. his filthy girl.

he's insatiable, eager for more. his hips buck into you with more intent. to push you over, to have you more intimately. or to put it plainly, to feel you cum hard on his cock. and with how you clench around him with your little noises of "ah! ah! ah!" his lips capture yours in a sloppy kiss. all teeth while he drinks in every muffled moan. you just taste like fucking candy everywhere he puts his mouth, you're magic incarnate. in all his blistering years barely alive he's never known a feeling like having you below him so desperate to have his cock.

he doesn't know it but his stroke are getting messy. he's getting close and you're right behind him, your back arching into the sheets. he has to move his hands. his knuckles feel raw where those three shiny blades seep out. Logan's all too familiar with it. though he didn't think moving your flora would be so easy when detaching his hands to avoid an accidental injury to his lady.

fingers wrap around the bed frame with another large palm cradling your head to face him. you face the foliage you've made on his shoulders, and now, his chest. what a sight. seeing the ivy leaves decorate him and his specially carved abs.

oh you were a weak woman. "fuck, 'm gonna cum! more, please gimme more-" you cry out, now pulling him in by those strong stems able to carry while buildings. no longer auto pilot. you're all too aware. he groans, eyes nearly rolling in the back of his head.

"doin' that on purpose now, bub" oh you were. you simply wanted his fat cock deeper for when he unloads inside your poor pussy. you smile with mischief. his brows furrow. his pace picks up once more, groans turning to growls while the bed shakes with the direction force from his hands. beastly man he was . "cum with me, baby. cum on this cock and i'll fill ya up. i'll get y'so full, whatever you want"

and that's was all you needed for you're poor hole to clench violently while you drip down his thighs with a broken cry out. the vines tighten then expand, crawling out onto the bed with a poof. even cuter, the flowers bloom. he relishes in seeing his girls pretty pussy make a mess on him he just needs to return the favor. feeling the subtle clenching from your orgasm, he's cumming with one last mean buck of the hips.

"fucking christ-!" his claws unsheathe into the wall, his other set of knuckles driving into the mattress next to you while he grinds slowly to dump every drop into you. his veins on his forehead nearly pop, his eyes only watching your glossy pupils zeroed on abs. so shameless you were. he pants out with his entire body breathing with him.

he settles slowly, his claws reeling back from exhaustion. your plants remain however. yet he's only settled on you. his hands begin their soothing, his thumbs caressing your cheeks while you catch your breathe. "easy now. you okay? did i hurt you at all?" your head shakes in his grasp, eyes lazily opening to meet his eyes. your poor guy, he thinks anytime those knives come out around you he'll dice you on accident.

"spooked me." you mumble, but half heartedly. the smile on your lips shows it's a joke. Logan only huffs.

"it's only hot when you loose control." you gasp, a hand playfully patting his arm clad with your leaves. he chuckles while pressing a kiss to your forehead.

his sweetest flower, back in his arms again.

🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻🪻

dt: @nervous-person @clownprinzzzz

ask for a dt ! ! ! !

#x plus size reader #plus size reader #x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett smut #logan howlett x reader #logan wolverine #wolverine #i'm in love with flower mutant btw #you'll get more of her TRUST #logan howlett x flower!mutant

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wonderjanga · 2 days ago

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Hunting Trip

A little add-on to my Marvel and the Supernatural post from a long time ago. I also took a little bit of inspiration from @yazz-frost’s reposts. It also has inspiration from someone else’s post. I don’t remember who wrote it but they use the characters I used so I want to credit them as well.

Bruce thought over Marvel’s offer. After stewing over it for a couple days, he(Alfred) came to the decision that he would go with the Captain and the rest of his “buddies” to go hunt a bunch of Wendigos. His “buddies” turned out to be Raven and Jason blood.

Jason Blood: “The Batman, a teenage girl, and the Champion of Magic. What a wonderful group we are.”

Marvel: “Oh, and you can’t forget the demon!”

Raven: “I’m also a demon, Captain.”

Marvel: “Hmm… Then you can’t forget the guy that transforms into a demon.”

Raven: “I can also do that.”

Marvel: “Hmmmmm… you can’t forget the guy that’s like 400 years old and has fought in numerous wars.”

Jason Blood and Raven: *both give him a thumbs up*

Batman: *already lamenting his(Alfred’s) decisions*

They go full family camping/hunting trip for this. They got the SUV, they got the road trip songs, they got the magically enchanted weapons brought specifically for Bruce because of his lack of magic. They’re set and for once, Bruce is not the dad in this situation. Weirdly, Marvel is? Both Blood and Raven are brooding in the back like teenagers. They’re also playing tic-tac-toe against each other on Raven’s phone. To be honest, Bruce doesn’t really know what his dynamic is in this group.

Batman: *shoots a Wendigo with a magical crossbow and kills it*

Marvel: “You’re a wonderful shot, Mr. Batman sir!”

Batman: “Thank you. I have the Tibetan monks I trained with to thank for my accuracy.”

Jason Blood: “You and Tibetan monks, man…”

Raven: “What do you mean by that?”

Jason Blood: “I mean, he uses that excuse for literally every skill he has. Astral Projection? Tibetan monks. Blocking mind control? Tibetan monks. Blocking mind reading? Tibetan Monks.”

Marvel: “Wait, the is it the Tibetan monks in Shangri-La?”

Batman: “Yes actually.”

Marvel: “Oh I know those guys! Raven do you remember the time we went there together?”

Raven: “Yes. Their mental techniques are really useful.”

Jason Blood: “Oh my God, you know them too?”

After curbing the Wendigo population…

Jason Blood: “Captain?”

Marvel: “Yes?”

Jason Blood: “Are you gonna take the Wendigo skin?”

Marvel: “Nope. You can have it all if you want. Unless you want some Batman?”

Batman: *sounds a little disturbed* “No thank you.”

Marvel: “Great. By the way, be careful when you’re skinning them around the eyes. Raven wants them.”

Jason Blood: “Aye aye, Captain.”

Batman: “Actually, wait, Blood, can I have a little bit so I can study it later?”

Later…

Jason Blood: *looking at the others, all covered in blood, including himself*

Marvel: *humming a jolly little tune as he packs up their stuff*

Raven and Batman: *looking broody(their normal selves*

Jason Blood: “One of us is not like the other.”

Marvel: “What was that?”

Jason Blood: “Nothing.”

#billy batson #shazam #dc captain marvel #captain marvel dc #fawcett city #fawcett #fawcett comics

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bluem1lls · 2 days ago

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HEAR ME OUT!!!! se-mi with comphet reader (angst) 😈😈😈

✧₊⁺ you'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling

se-mi x fem!reader

✦ synopsis: you're so used to this perfect life. your career and your boyfriend. and it's miserable but is comfortable as it can be. until you met her, and now you'll have to spend the rest of your life waking up to be nothing more than his girlfriend, thinking about her saying "i told you so".

content: angst, comphet! reader, se-mi falls for thano's 'straight' girlfriend

authors note: thank you for the request! clearly inspired by good luck babe by chappell roan because i love to suffer jsjdfkfkj, i hope you like it! im sorry ive been posting more short stuff, the week is vvv rough on me with work but ill do everything i can to not stop posting! even if its a small work

✧₊⁺ your boyfriend was acting weird. i mean, he's a man. the first thing that came to mind was 'he's cheating'

✧₊⁺ if the bastard was cheating you would kill him. it was enough that he used both of your savings to place them in bitcoin, and of course.. lost it all.

✧₊⁺ and you forgave him about that (kinda) but cheating? yeah no. you didn't wanted to be like one of those actresses with a cheating boyfriend everyone knew about.

✧₊⁺ so when you decided to follow him a random night and a man invited you to play a game, you were all against it.

✧₊⁺ you were a prestigious actress for god's sakes.

✧₊⁺ "oh. i thought you wanted to know where your boyfriend was heading?"

your eyes widen. what was this? some hooker shit? a betting house?

fine. you needed to find out where he is.

✧₊⁺ of course you ended joining the game to see where your boyfriend was. you dumbass.

✧₊⁺ waking up in a room full of strangers, was sure an.. experience.

✧₊⁺ confused, you stood up. where was your stupid boyfriend and why was he here?

✧₊⁺ "thanos?" i called him, scared. "baby?"

✧₊⁺ as you saw a group of people gathering around a very familiar voice, your fear turned into anger. you ran, pushing everyone sorrounding him.

✧₊⁺ "are you kidding me? this is where you got in? you fucking idiot" i hit his arm as he stared wide eyed at me.

"b-baby what are you doing here?" he chuckled nervous. "you should go home, this is not safe-"

"i wish! but you know, i was following you thinking you were cheating but what the fuck is this? did you lost more money? why are you here-"

"well, i came to win back the money we lost, dont worry baby. when i win this we'll be free!"

i can't believe this.

✧₊⁺ as you turned around to fumble alone, a girl touched your shoulder.

"oh my god, you're the actress on my favorite tv show! can i get a picture"

oh god. here too?

with the best fake smile, you nodded, and suddenly, the same crowd that was sorrounding thanos was now admiring you.

✧₊⁺ there was no doubt that after the first game you wanted to kill him.

"we die!? you brought us to a place where we fucking die if we dont pass the games!?" i screamed at him

"chill baby... youre making a scene. remember that people are watching"

"well, who cares? theyre probably going to die in like two days! just like us you idiot"

✧₊⁺ but just like that you kept playing with your... lovely boyfriend. and his new best friend apparently. god you needed a girl in here. you missed your girlfriends.

so indeed, your boyfriend got you a girl.

✧₊⁺ "i got you a friend so you can stop being... so angry all the time. enjoy life babe, this is a one time experience"

the second game was about to start, we needed two people more in our group.

i was about to punch him as i looked at her.

oh.

✧₊⁺ "hi..i'm-" hello? why was my brain shutting down?

"i know. i think everyone here knows apparently" she plays with her piercing lip, smiling.

✧₊⁺ that made you so nervous???? she got you smiling and twirling your hair??

oh you haven't felt like this in.. so long.

✧₊⁺ so yeah, with every game and her being the only girl (besides you) in the group, you two got close.

like.. way too close.

✧₊⁺ holding hands, protecting eachother, laughing together. you spent more time with her than with your own boyfriend.

✧₊⁺ in your defense, every single minute with her felt... like something you never experienced with him.

✧₊⁺ "why are you still with thanos if you think he's stupid?" she said, rolling her eyes and manspreading besides me, while i kept complaining about my boyfriend.

"he's nice.. he really is"

"you hate him, i dont think is normal to hate your boyfriend you know?"

✧₊⁺ you knew. but what else can you do?

you told her. she knew all abouth how your parents raise you to be this perfect actress, with her perfect husband.

and you already let them down with the 'perfect husband'. you can't disappoint them again.

✧₊⁺ so when her touch made you sigh, when she caressed your hair as you stared into her eyes, when she held your hand to feel you close in every game, trying to protect you more than your boyfriend ever did, or when she whispered sweet nothing's to your ear, making you shiver, all you could do was ignore it.

✧₊⁺ of course, when she realized that it was stupid and you weren't actually going to leave your boyfriend and your perfect life for her, she gave up, looking for something (or someone) that could make her feel better.

✧₊⁺ please, she was hot. she didn't need you.

✧₊⁺ she would never admit that in every girl she kissed after that, she was picturing you.

the way she would be biting your soft pouty lips, how she'd show you your boyfriend was nothing against her. she'd kiss you until you were out of breath, her hands roaming through your body, grabbing your waist, your hips.

she bit her lip as she kept picturing your hands wrapped around her neck, going down her back up and down.

✧₊⁺ she was so down bad it was making her stupid.

she had to do something about this stupid.. crush.

✧₊⁺ so was it a surprise when you found her making out with a random girl in the bathroom? not really.

but was it a surprise when she stared right to your eyes while she did it? i mean.. a little.

✧₊⁺ you scoffed, washing your hands.

"that's disgusting. there are bathroom stalls for that" i said to both.

as the girl turned around, se-mi asked her to leave, saying that 'she'd take care of her later'. ew.

✧₊⁺ she turned around, pissed. yeah, maybe you can get in her head for hours and hours, but ruining her makeout session? you were out of limit.

✧₊⁺ "listen princess-"

"don't call me princess after you made out with a random " i mumble, bitter. "and don't scream at me pretending like you hate me"

her eyes filled with anger.

"listen to me, you can fake being this perfect actress with your boyfriend and everyone else" she said, pushing me against the wall, one of her arms on top of my head, trapping me there. "but not with me. you think i dont see your little lustful eyes? the way you stare at me how i bet you never stared at your boyfriend?"

"b-bullsh-"

"yeah. whatever" she scoffed. "lie to yourself if you want, go fuck the entire common room to prove yourself that you're this pretty straight princess that your parents want you to be, but don't play with me" with every word she said, she got closer to me. our heated bodies breathing almost in sync.

"tell me im lying princess. tell me that if i" she grabbed my chin, softly caressing her lips with mine. my body shivering as my hand grabs her bicep, my nails clawing there, leaving 'c' marks, to ground myself. "do this, you dont feel a thing. c'mon. stop me, pretty girl. tell me you shouldn't" she whispered against my mouth.

✧₊⁺ but the truth is that you couldn't move. you couldn't back away, but you couldn't do this to thanos, to your parents. it wasn't fair.

dad? he had all the contacts he wanted. he would destroy your career in seconds. mom? would never let you step your own house again. oh and your boyfriend? would clearly ruin you on the internet. probably leaking everything about you in seconds. your own fans? people are not as open as we expect them to be.

you can't do this. you can't let yourself have this.

✧₊⁺ "im sorry se-mi" a tear fell, almost wetting her face too because of how close we were.

her eyes shut close. she mumbled something under her breath as she quickly stepped away, breaking whatever moment we had going in.

"i dont want you close to me again" she said, turning to leave as i rushed to follow.

"please, a-at least let me have you as a friend se-mi please" i begged her. tears couldn't stop falling to my cheeks.

"i can't" she said, turning to face me. her eyes roaming my features with a hint of guilt and sadness. "how can i be your friend when i'm so.." she stops, pressing her lips together. "i-i picture you in every girl i kiss. i can't be your friend.

i bit my lip as i hug her. she stiffens but slowly lets herself go, hugging me back. her hand on my hair, softly caressing it for comfort.

"if we get out of here and.. you decide that you're done being his perfect wife, and maybe you want to be happy..with me..i'll be waiting. i promise" she whispers in my ear, kissing my temple.

✧₊⁺ so it goes. after the next game, the nerves make everyone vote to leave and just like that you're actually out.

✧₊⁺ and althought you don't hear from her, you know she's still friends with your boyfriend.

and although she doesn't hear from you, she follows your life like she did. watching every episode of every single show you're in, following you on social media.

and although you guys never cross paths again, if you or your boyfriend ever invite her to 'the wedding', she will throw that invitation to the trash, where it belongs.

✧₊⁺ you miss her every night. mostly, when you wake up feeling cold against the person that's supposed to be your future. you're sure you love her.

and she misses you too. and she knows she loves you. that's why she never tries to contact you again.

✧₊⁺ because she loves watching you smile. even if its not because of her.

#player 380 #player 380 x reader #se mi x reader #se mi #se-mi #se-mi x reader #squid game 2 #squid game #se mi squid game #lesbian #wlw #angst

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viagracex · 2 days ago

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okay here me out on this - you’re a youtuber and tiktoker who’s friends with the boys and always had a little crush on george, and he you, but you’re both cowards. it’s valentine’s day coming up and all the other boys have dates/are away and so are your girl friends so you say to george hey let’s do a friend v day like valentine’s day or smthn because he’s sad he doesn’t have a gf, he comes to your flat, you cook, watch rom coms, drink a lot of wine and you play games but you accidentally play a couples game 😉😉😉😉 and you end up doing the deed and in the end both agree to go on an ACTUAL valentines date the next day hehehehehe

A Valentine's Between Friends

george clarke x fem!reader

summary: a friendly valentine's evening leads to anything but…

warnings: sexual content, smut (MDNI)

3.4k words (may have got a bit carried away)

note: Anon, thank you so much for the request. It's my first time writing smut so I hope you like it, sorry if it's awkward and cringy. If it sucks let me know and would love to get more requests.

Masterlist

₊ ˚ ˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚ ˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚ ˚ ₊ ‧ 。☆ 。‧₊ ˚ ˚ ₊

It was the sort of cold February evening that made you want to curl up with a blanket, a glass of wine, and pretend the world outside didn’t exist. The sort of evening that made you consider just not getting out of bed at all. Except for the fact that your phone was pinging with messages from the boys.

You groaned into your pillow, staring at the screen.

Chris had a date with someone he met on one of his spontaneous trips. Arthur was spending Valentine’s Day with a new girlfriend who he met through TikTok. Even your best friend was off on a family holiday. leaving you all alone.

You could already feel that aching hole in your chest. Valentine’s Day, of all days, was particularly terrible when you were single. The entire world seemed to be a constant reminder of the relationships you didn’t have. Of the fact that your phone was always empty, save for messages from your mates.

But then, there was George.

You had always had a soft spot for him. It started back when you all met, years ago, the banter, the cheeky comments, the laughs, the way he made you feel like you were always in on some secret joke. And now, well... now, it was just confusing. It had become a game of will-they-won’t-they. Neither of you ever crossed the line—too much fear of what might happen if you did. But god, how you both danced around it.

You hated the idea of spending Valentine’s Day alone, and so did he. So why not just make it a thing? A friend Valentine’s Day—no expectations, no awkwardness. You’d keep it chill.

You shot him a quick text.

“Wanna have an anti-Valentine's Day? I'll cook, we can drink wine, watch rom-coms and maybe play some games. Neither of us have plans, so why not? Let me know xx"

It didn’t take long before his reply came through.

"That sounds like exactly what I need. I’ll be over in an hour."

It was almost comically easy. But as the hour passed, you found yourself slightly nervous, unsure of what to expect. Was this just a chill night? Or was there something more lurking under the surface? You tried to push those thoughts aside, focusing instead on getting everything ready.

You busied yourself in the kitchen, the sizzle of garlic in the pan mingling with the rich aroma of tomatoes—a simple, hearty meal to pair perfectly with the wine you’d bought. As you laid the table, each placement was a silent testament to the years of friendship that had intricately laced your lives together.

The sound of the doorbell jolted you from your thoughts. George stood there, hands buried deep in his pockets, his smile shy but genuine.

"Hey," he greeted, stepping into the warmth of your flat, the cold nipping at his heels. "This is a surprise. Smells like you've outdone yourself."

You chuckled, "Microwave meals are tragic on Valentine’s, even for friends."

He let out a laugh, sitting down at the table. "Fair enough. This looks pretty decent, actually. I’m impressed."

The evening unfolded with an ease that only true friendship could afford. Dinner was a merry affair, filled with laughter and nostalgic exchanges about past escapades with the boys. As the wine flowed, the barriers of mere friendship seemed to melt away, replaced by a tender connection that neither of you had dared to explore.

He grinned, taking off his jacket and hanging it up, glancing around your flat. "I’ve got to admit, this is a bit of a shocker. You’re actually being… domestic?"

"Well, thank you," you replied, smiling. "I even put some effort into it, just for you." You pulled the wine out of the fridge, uncorking it and pouring another glass for both of you.

The conversation flowed easily after that—easy banter, jokes about past video shoots, hilarious stories about the boys. But beneath the jokes, there was something soft lingering in the air. It was the unsaid, the little sparks you both danced around every time you spent time together.

As the evening wore on, the wine started to loosen your inhibitions. You moved to the couch, both of you nestled into the cushions, a blanket draped across your legs. The rom-com marathon began, and you both laughed at the ridiculous plot twists, snickered at the corny lines, but neither of you could ignore the growing tension between you.

"Should we play a game?" you asked, glancing at the coffee table where you had set out a box of games, most of them silly. "Something to pass the time? No pressure, I promise."

George gave you smile. "Yeah, I’m game. As long as it’s not too weird."

You grinned. "Oh, it’s not that weird. It’s just a couples game."

He raised an eyebrow. "Couples game? What, like Truth or Dare, but for couples?"

"Exactly," you replied with a laugh, though your heart was now beating in your throat. "But it’s mostly silly stuff. You know, harmless. Just a fun thing to do on Valentines."

You could see his hesitation, the subtle shift in his posture. "Alright. But I’m not kissing you, just so we’re clear." He finished his sentence with a cheeky wink.

You snorted. "Who said anything about kissing?"

With a shake of his head, George grabbed the card deck, and you both started drawing cards one after another, each more ridiculous than the last. The questions were harmless, at first: "What's your partner's worst habit?" and "What's their favourite food?" The game seemed lighthearted enough. Until it wasn't.

George drew the next card, his fingers trembling slightly as he flipped it over. The room suddenly felt too warm, the air thick with unspoken tension. He cleared his throat, a faint blush creeping up his neck as he read the card aloud: "Describe your most vivid fantasy involving the person sitting across from you."

Your eyes widened, and you felt a jolt of electricity course through your body. The playful atmosphere evaporated in an instant, replaced by a crackling intensity that made your skin tingle. George's gaze met yours, his pupils dilating ever so slightly.

"We don't have to-" you started to say, but George cut you off with a subtle shake of his head. His voice low and husky. "No, it's okay. I want to answer."

"It's always the same dream," he said, his eyes never leaving yours. "We're alone on a deserted beach at sunset. The sky is painted in shades of orange and pink, and the waves are gently lapping at our feet."

You felt your breath catch in your throat as he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees.

He continued, his voice growing more confident. "You're wearing that white sundress I love, the one that shows off your shoulders. Your hair is loose, blowing in the sea breeze. I reach out to brush a strand from your face, and suddenly we're so close I can feel your breath on my lips."

The room was dead silent now, and you’re hanging onto George's every word.

Your heart raced as George's words painted a vivid picture, one that mirrored your own secret fantasies. The air between you seemed to crackle with electricity.

"And then?" you whispered, barely trusting your voice.

George's eyes darkened. "Then I kiss you. Softly at first, but it quickly becomes more. My hands tangle in your hair, pulling you closer. You taste like salt and cherries."

You felt a flush creep up your neck, your skin tingling with each word.

"We fall back onto the sand," he continued, his voice low and intense. "The waves crash around us, but we don't care. All that matters is the feel of your skin against mine, the sound of your breath catching as I-"

George's voice trailed off, the unfinished sentence hanging in the air between you. The tension in the room was palpable, a living thing that seemed to pulse with each rapid beat of your heart. You realized you were holding your breath, your body leaning towards George unconsciously.

"As you what?" you whispered, your voice barely audible over the thundering of your pulse in your ears.

George swallowed hard, his adam's apple bobbing. He looked almost pained, as if continuing would shatter some invisible barrier between fantasy and reality. But his eyes, dark and intense, never left yours.

"As I trace every curve of your body," he finally said, his voice rough with emotion. "As I worship you with my hands, my lips, my entire being. In that moment, you're my entire world."

You felt a shiver run down your spine, your skin erupting in goose bumps.

The silence that followed was deafening. You could hear your own heartbeat pounding in your ears, feel the heat radiating from your flushed skin. George's confession hung in the air between you, electric and charged with possibility.

"I..." you began, but the words caught in your throat. How could you possibly respond to such a raw, intimate revelation?

George's eyes searched yours, a mix of vulnerability and desire swirling in their depths. "Your turn," he said softly, pushing the deck of cards towards you with trembling fingers.

Your hand hovered over the stack, suddenly aware of how this next card could change everything. With a deep breath, you flipped it over.

"If you could do anything right now, without consequences, what would it be?"

The question seemed to mock you, daring you to voice the thoughts that had been building since George began speaking. You looked up, meeting his gaze once more. The air between you seemed to crackle with unspoken tension.

"I..." you started again, your voice barely above a whisper. "I would make your fantasy a reality."

The words hung in the air for a moment, heavy with implication. George's eyes widened, his lips parting slightly in surprise.

Without breaking eye contact, you slowly rose from your seat. Your heart pounded as you crossed the short distance between you, each step feeling like an eternity. George's gaze followed your movement, a mix of anticipation and disbelief etched across his features.

As you reached him, you gently took the card from his hands, letting it fall forgotten to the floor. Then, with a courage you didn't know you possessed, you lowered yourself onto his lap, your legs straddling his.

George's hands instinctively moved to your waist, steading you.

"We may not have a sunset, but..." Your voice trailed off as you brought your face closer to his, your lips mere inches apart. "We can make our own paradise right here."

George's breath hitched, his fingers tightening on your waist. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as you hovered on the precipice of something monumental. Then, with a soft groan, George closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a searing kiss.

It was everything you had imagined and more. His lips were soft yet insistent, moving against yours with a passion that made your head spin. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened.

George's hands roamed your back, tracing patterns that sent shivers down your spine. When you finally broke apart for air, you were both breathing heavily, your foreheads pressed together.

"I've wanted this for so long," George murmured, his voice rough with emotion. His hands cupped your face gently, thumbs stroking your cheeks as if he couldn't quite believe you were real.

You leaned into his touch, your heart racing. "Me too," you whispered back, surprised by the intensity of your own feelings.

George's eyes searched yours, a mix of desire and vulnerability swirling in their depths. Slowly, deliberately, he leaned in again, this time placing a soft, reverent kiss on your forehead, then your cheek, then the corner of your mouth. Each touch of his lips sent sparks through your body.

When he finally reclaimed your lips, the kiss was slower, deeper, filled with a tenderness that made your chest ache. You melted into him, your bodies fitting together as if they were made for each other.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice low, barely above a whisper, as if the question was as much for him as it was for you.

You leaned in slightly, your breath mingling with his. "I’m sure," you murmured, before closing the distance between you with a kiss.

It started soft—tentative. But as the seconds stretched, it deepened, becoming more urgent. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer. You could feel the warmth of his chest against yours, the rise and fall of his breath matching your own.

The world outside seemed to vanish. The only thing that mattered was the press of his lips against yours, the way his fingers traced the curve of your spine, sending sparks of electricity through your body. His touch was gentle at first, but as you shifted against him, something shifted in the air between you—a quiet hunger that neither of you could deny any longer.

"George," you whispered against his lips, a soft plea, and it was all it took. His hands moved to your face, cupping it as he kissed you again, deeper this time, as if he was losing himself to the moment.

You felt the intensity rise in him, in the way his hands wandered to the back of your neck, tugging gently, pulling you even closer. The taste of the wine mixed with the warmth of his mouth, and you could no longer tell where you ended and he began.

"Are you really sure?" he asked again, his voice rough with desire.

"Yes. I want this."

With that, the dam broke. His lips trailed down your jaw, your neck, leaving a fiery path behind. You shivered at the feeling, the electricity between you both undeniable. Each kiss, each touch, built the tension higher, and soon, it felt like the only thing you needed was him.

The wine seemed to fuel your courage as much as it fueled your desire, and soon you were both lost in the moment, not thinking about anything but the way your bodies responded to each other. His hands roamed freely, each touch sending your pulse racing, while you met him with equal eagerness, your fingers tugging at his shirt, desperate to feel more of him.

As things heated up, you both moved to the bedroom, shedding clothes along the way. George's eyes roamed over you appreciatively as you lay back on the bed. He joined you, his warm body pressing against yours as he captured your lips in another passionate kiss. His hands explored your curves, teasing and caressing. You arched into his touch, wanting more.

George trailed kisses down your neck and chest, taking his time to savor every inch of you. When his mouth found your breast, you gasped in pleasure. His tongue swirled around your nipple as his hand kneaded your other breast. The dual sensations sent waves of arousal through you.

You ran your fingers through his hair, urging him lower. He obliged, kissing down your stomach until he settled between your thighs. The first swipe of his tongue against your sensitive flesh had you moaning. He explored you thoroughly

George's lips trailed lower, leaving a trail of heated kisses along your inner thighs. His warm breath against your sensitive skin made you shiver with anticipation. When his tongue finally made contact with your center, you gasped at the sensation. He started with slow, teasing licks before focusing his attention on your most sensitive spots.

As George's ministrations intensified, you felt waves of pleasure building inside you. Your fingers tangled in his hair, urging him on as your hips rocked against his mouth. He slipped two fingers inside you, curling them in a come hither motion that had you seeing stars. Thel stimulation quickly pushed you over the edge into a powerful climax that left you breathless.

Before you could fully recover, George was kissing his way back up your body. You pulled him into a deep kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. Your hands roamed over George's muscular back as he settled between your thighs. You could feel his hardness pressing against you, igniting a fresh wave of desire. George gazed into your eyes, seeking silent permission. You nodded, pulling him closer.

He entered you slowly, both of you gasping at the exquisite sensation of finally being joined. George stilled for a moment, allowing you to adjust to his size. Then he began to move, setting a slow pace that had you arching beneath him.

Your bodies moved together in perfect synchronicity, finding a rhythm that built the pleasure higher and higher. George's lips found yours in a searing kiss as he quickened his thrusts. You wrapped your legs around his waist, changing the angle and causing you both to cry out.

The room filled with the sounds of your shared passion - soft moans, gasps of pleasure, skin sliding against skin. The walls seemed to disappear, as if they were the only two people in the world. George's hips moved faster, his thrusts deep and primal, as if he couldn't get enough of her. His lips trailed down her neck, nipping at her collarbone, urging her on.

You met his gaze, your breath ragged and your chest heaving. "George... I... I'm..."

He kissed you again, hard and desperate, silencing your words as he drove himself deeper inside you. "I've got you," he murmured against your lips. "Let go."

That was all the encouragement you needed. With a sharp cry, your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave. The intensity of your climax sent shockwaves through your body, your inner muscles clenching around George rhythmically. He groaned at the sensation, his movements becoming more erratic as he chased his own release. With a few final deep thrusts, George let out a guttural moan as he found his peak, trembling above you.

You both lay there panting, bodies intertwined and glistening with a fine sheen of sweat. George's weight on top of you felt comforting rather than stifling. Sliding out, he lifted his head to look at you, his eyes soft with emotion. He brushed a strand of hair from your forehead tenderly before capturing your lips in a deep kiss.

"That was..." he trailed off, seeming at a loss for words.

"Yeah," you agreed breathlessly. "It really was."

George rolled to the side, pulling you close against him. You nestled into the crook of his arm, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest. A comfortable silence fell between you as your breathing slowly returned to normal.

George's fingers traced lazy patterns on your skin, sending pleasant tingles through your body. You tilted your head up to look at him, taking in his tousled hair and flushed cheeks. His eyes met yours, filled with warmth and contentment.

You both lay there for a moment, just breathing, both aware of the shift that had happened—of the line you had just crossed, and the new, thrilling tension that hung in the air. Neither of you spoke for a long time, simply enjoying the quiet intimacy.

"Well," he said, voice thick, "that… wasn’t how I expected the night to go."

You chuckled softly, catching your breath. "Yeah, me neither. But…"

"But?" he prompted, his eyes locking with yours, intense and filled with something new.

"But, maybe we should just go with it?"

He smiled at you, his lips curving mischievously. But when George finally broke the brief silence, it was with a soft chuckle.

"So… tomorrow," he said, his voice low and husky, sending a shiver down your spine. "I guess we're going on that Valentine's date after all."

You couldn't help but laugh, the sound muffled against his chest. "I guess we are," you replied with a smile, lifting your head to meet his gaze. His eyes were soft and full of a warmth that made your heart flutter. As his eyes met yours, you knew that everything had changed.

Outside, the night continued on, unaware of the transformation happening within the walls of your flat. But inside, on this unexpected Valentine's Day, you found yourself celebrating not just the day itself, but the beginning of something new and exciting. As you snuggled closer to him, your head finding its now familiar spot on his shoulder, you both agreed to take a leap into the unknown together. This was more than just a date on the calendar - it was a promise for the future.

Valentine's Day was no longer a dreaded reminder of what you lacked, but a joyous celebration of what could be.

#george clarke #george clarke fics #george clarkey #george clarkey fic #george clarkey imagine #george clarkeey #george clarke smut #george clarkey smut #british youtubers #uk youtubers #uk youtube #british youtube #youtuber smut #george clarke x reader #smut

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greengoblinswifey · 3 days ago

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Thanks for ur answers on the dbf!rafe asks, I’m loving them sm 😍😍 ur so talented!! How do u think reader’s dad would eventually react if he found out abt rafe and reader? 😳😳 not like I would want that to happen but I’m just so curious abt what would happen, I know he’d be pissed but like how would he react specifically

a/n— you’re so messy for this and thank you for the kind words <3

You knew it was only a matter of time before your secret with Rafe came out. The stolen glances, the way he lingered just a bit too long at family gatherings, and the late night “errands” you claimed to be running together, it was all bound to unravel eventually. But you hadn’t expected it to happen like this.

Your dad’s voice thundered through the house, shaking the very walls. “You’re what with Rafe?!”

You flinched at the volume, but Rafe stood his ground beside you, calm and composed as ever. His hand rested lightly on your lower back, a silent reminder that he wasn’t going anywhere.

“Dad, calm down,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Calm down?!” your dad repeated, his face heated with disbelief. “My little girl? Really, Rafe?” His gaze turned to Rafe, livid. “You’re supposed to be family, and this is what you do? You go behind my back, with my daughter?”

“Look, I understand how this looks—” Rake spoke, his tone measured but firm.

“How this looks?!” your dad barked, stepping closer to him. “This is disgusting! She’s half your age. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Dad,” you interrupted, stepping between them. “It’s not like that. He didn’t take advantage of me. I’m an adult, and I wanted this too.”

Your dad’s eyes darted to you, betrayal etched across his face. “You’re defending him? You’ve been sneaking around with my best friend, and you think I’m just going to be okay with this?”

Rafe’s jaw clenched, but he kept his tone steady. “I’m not here to cause problems. I care about her. This isn’t some fling. I’m serious about her.”

“Serious? With my daughter? You’ve known her since she was a kid, Rafe. Do you even hear yourself?” your dad said, letting out a bitter laugh.

“I know how it sounds,” Rafe admitted, his voice low. “But she’s not a kid anymore, and my feelings for her are real. I’d never hurt her.”

“Your feelings?” your dad spat. “You’re my best friend. How long has this been going on? How long have you been fucking my daughter behind my back?”

“Dad, stop!” you said, your voice shaking. “This isn’t about you. It’s about me and Rafe. I love him.”

Your dad’s expression twisted with disbelief and anger. “Love? You think this is love? He’s taking advantage of you, and you’re too blind to see it.”

“I would never take advantage of her, you know that’s not me. I care about her more than anything, and I’d do whatever it takes to prove that to you,” Rafe said as he stepped forward, his calm demeanor cracking slightly

“Prove it?” your dad snapped, his voice rising again. “You already betrayed me, Rafe. There’s no coming back from this. I should kill you.”

There was a tense silence before your dad sighed heavily, shaking his head. “I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

“Dad,” you started softly, stepping closer to him, “I know this is hard for you, but Rafe isn’t what you’re making him out to be. He’s good to me. He makes me happier than anyone else ever has.”

Your dad looked between you and Rafe, his anger simmering under the surface. Finally, he pointed a shaking finger at Rafe. “You’d better take care of her, because if you don’t, I swear to God, I’ll make you regret it. I’ll fucking kill you.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Rafe said firmly, his gaze unwavering.

Your dad shook his head, his face a mixture of hurt and fury. “Unbelievable,” he muttered, walking out of the room.

The silence that followed was deafening. Rafe turned to you, his hand brushing against your arm. “That could’ve gone worse,” he said softly, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

You gave him a small, shaky smile. “Much worse.”

“You’re worth every risk,” he murmured, tilting your chin to his lips.

“And you’re worth every argument,” you whispered, leaning into his kiss.

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captain-bubble-wrap · 1 day ago

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I'm over winter. I need sundress obsessed Quinn back in my life, k thanks! 🤤

Gods, you and me both! 🙂‍↕️ Mild content warning//implied sexual interactions.

"I want to take you somewhere," Quinn smirked, watching you put your makeup on. He hadn't been standing there very long, however long enough that he was obviously up to something. You had flown to Florida yesterday morning, so you had spent the day with him at the lake house. Today, it seemed, someone was suffering from cabin fever.

"Like where?" You asked, focused on setting your false lashes in the right spot.

"I dunno. Just...somewhere."

With a soft laugh, you'd shoot him a cute, sideways glance. "That sounds slightly ominous, babe."

Quinn smirked a second time, "I just want to take you out for the day, show you around."

"Show me around or show me off?" You teased, making him laugh at your quick whit.

"Both?"

"Quinny!" You replied in comedic shock, in that whiny tone he loved. You knew what he meant, but you couldn't miss the opportunity to tease him.

"You know I love you," he reassured, leaving the doorframe he was leaned against to come up behind you. His hands found your waist while you found your mascara.

"I love you too, Quinn." You tried to ignore him after that, but as you leaned forward, to get closer to the mirror, you couldn't help but press into his hips and see him smile over your shoulder.

"What are you trying to do?" He said, trying to contain a wider smile, one brow arched slightly.

"I'm trying to do my makeup, Quinn! I don't know what it is you're doing!" Try as you might, you'd break first. Your giggles instantly melting away your once determined facade.

Quinn would pull you a little closer, "I'm just standing here."

You stood up, turning around to ruin whatever fun he was trying to have. His pout the clear indication, like taking a toy away from a child. "I'll make a deal with you, baby."

Catching his attention, that bottom lip would quickly retract, "Yeah?"

"Mhm, how about you go pick me something to wear while I finish my makeup? Then you can show me off, or around," you winked, giving him a quick kiss.

Quinn's expression brightened, like he wasn't expecting you to say anything like that. It was clear that he was excited to have such permission. "Really?"

He could be so ridiculously adorable, especially when his emotions were genuine. "Really."

"Anything?" He pressed, that devious tone you forgot he had, painting his reply.

"Within reason, Quinn." You said, giving him one of "those looks". "I'm sure there are enough options for you to pick from. I know I over-packed like always."

He'd give a playful look on his face before leaving you to finish getting ready. You could have watched him dig through your suitcase, but you really did want to be finished just incase he was much quicker than anticipated. Thankfully, your over-night curls just needed let down, so once he came back, you'd be ready within ten minutes, if he could keep his hands off of you long enough to do so.

Lashes done, lipstick on, and after a quick spritz of some setting spray, you just needed to be given your chosen outfit. Finding it odd that you had actually finished before him, you made your way back into his adjoining bedroom to see what was keeping him. There, on the bed, Quinn had two sundresses laid out, standing before him like he was making a ground-breaking decision.

"Problems?" You asked, wrapping your arms around his waist.

"No...," he lied, pausing for a moment. "I like this one for today, I think."

You'd let go of him to see what he had picked, and honestly, you weren't surprised which ones had made the final selection. There was a reason you had packed so many sundresses, not just because it was Florida in the summertime, but because you remembered how a few of them had driven him crazy the first time you had wore them. The one he was holding was black and covered with orange and yellow sunflowers. It had a fuller skirt; one meant for twirling around, and just low-cut enough in the front that the girls could be seen if he wanted a tasteful peek.

"I love this one," you commented, taking it from him and slipping away to the bathroom once more. It wouldn't take long to get into it, or to let your hair down. Quinn had patiently waited for you to come out instead of asking you if you needed him. In reality, you'd have to ask him to help you with the zipper. You could have done it yourself, but it was more fun if you included him, knowing it would make his heart race just a little.

"Baby, can you help me?" You asked, standing in the doorway.

"Of course."

You pulled your hair over your shoulder, the black satin hairbow affixed at the back of your head had been sprayed with your perfume and it was now near his nose.

"You smell wonderful," he added, his shaky fingers fumbling with the zipper for a moment.

"Thank you. It's the perfume you got me for my birthday," you said, turning around once he was done.

"And you look beautiful." Quinn couldn't take his eyes off your body, it taking him a moment to return his gaze to your face. It didn't bother you, because you knew Quinn never put your looks before the real reasons he loved you so much. 'How you look is just a bonus,' he always reassured you, and you knew he meant it.

"Thank you, baby," you smiled, arms falling around his neck as he held you; his hands tracing the curves of your body lightly. "I love you."

"I love you, too. I love you so much," he grinned, finding your mouth for a soft kiss that developed into a deeper one.

"Careful, or you'll be wearing more of my lipstick than I am."

His lips would trace your jawline then down your neck. You'd squirm slightly against the feeling of his stubble against your body as he moved to dot the lightest kisses atop your exposed cleavage, you smiling the whole time.

"I don't want to go anywhere, just yet. Maybe in a little bit. I think there might be a storm coming in or something," he smirked, picking you up to take you over to the bed. Quinn would lay you down gently, his delicate fingers sliding up your thighs as he urged you just to lay back and relax. "There's plenty of time to go out later."

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes one shot #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes fanfiction #hockey imagine #hockey x reader #hockey fanfiction #hockey fic #hockey oneshot

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blessedbyahuntress · 3 days ago

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i saw your post asking for requests so i have one! odysseus x chubby!reader who is insecure about being his queen due to their weight?

Alright! *Excited clapping of hands* Thanks for the request!

Too Good

Pairing: Odysseus x Chubby!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Nah, just insecurity on Reader's part

Word count: 690

You stared at your reflection.

Your handmaiden swayed slightly from holding the mirror for so long, snapping you out of your daze. You waved your hand to dismiss her.

As she left the room, you stood, running your hands down your dress. You tried to ignore how large it was; nothing was just your size exactly. The only time you could find anything that wasn’t too small or wasn’t too large, was around your day of birth, when you always asked Odysseus if you could get fitted for a dress.

You looked at the mirror across from you. Gods, this room had too many mirrors. You ducked your head to avoid the searing eyes of your reflection as you shuffled toward your bed.

“What am I going to do with myself?” You asked no one in particular, flopping down on the perfectly made sheets.

You stayed there all day, the only one allowed to come into your room being your handmaiden.

As she brushed your silky hair- you couldn’t see what more to be brushed; it was the only part of your body that you were proud of- she began speaking. “Queen Y/N, are you going to appear at the feast tonight?”

“No,” you mumbled into your pillow.

She sighed, removing the brush from your hair. “Shall I tell King Odysseus?”

“No.”

That earned you another sigh. “He won’t be pleased,” she warned.

“I know.”

Odysseus was more worried than furious. He knew you didn’t like going to the feasts he arranged, yes, but he thought you’d want to be at this one.

“Y/N,” he said, marching into your room. He took one glance at your figure, and concern flashed in his eyes.

You scowled, shifting slightly so that your eyes met his. “You didn’t knock,” you said stiffly.

Odysseus raised his eyebrows.

You groaned as he came closer. “Go away.” You threw an arm over your head.

“Love,” he started. “What’s all this about?”

“Ody,” you whined as he sat down beside you. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Odysseus snorted. “I wasn’t going to press,” he said, gently stroking your hair.

“That sounds like such a ‘you’ thing to do, though.”

Odysseus made a disapproving noise in the back of his throat before breaking into a smile. “I- yes. That sounds a lot like me,” he admitted.

You returned his grin triumphantly. “Ha, ha, ha!” You cried, imitating how he always acted when he managed to fool you. “I was right!”

Odysseus’s smile turned into more of a smirk. “Oh?” He asked. “And who says?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, though it didn’t have much effect, as seeing you were still laying down. “I do, that’s who.”

“Well, maybe I was just trying to get you to laugh.”

You blinked.

“Ody-” You were rudely interrupted by Odysseus, who put a finger to your lips.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he scolded. “I think I know what this is all about. You’re feeling insecure about your body again, aren’t you?”

You huffed indignantly, which was answer enough for Odysseus.

“Ithaca couldn’t have survived with me being away for so long without you,” he began. “You kept the suitors at bay- and yes, I’ll remind you that you had a hundred and eight suitors lined up to marry you-”

You flicked your wrist. “We both know that they were only here for the title of ‘king’.”

Odysseus shot you a glare. “Shush,” he ordered. “I wouldn't care if you were the skinniest woman in the world, nor the prettiest.” He leaned over to tap a finger on your forehead. You went cross eyed to glare at it, causing Odysseus to laugh. “All I care for is your smarts and your intellect- very impressive way you fooled the suitors for that long, by the way.”

You groaned and looked away, swatting at his hand. “Why are you so good at this?”

Odysseus blinked, false innocence written all over his expression. “Good at what?”

“You’re too good at making me feel loved,” you complained.

Odysseus let out a low chuckle. “Well, that was always the point, wasn’t it?”

#epic musical #epic the musical #epic fandom #epic the ithaca saga #epic odysseus #epic the musical x reader #jorge rivera herrans #odysseus #Odysseus x reader

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nemisuki · 20 hours ago

Text

Love the Chef

Crush AU | A short oneshot of the blonde trying to assassinate her through his cooking skills. And it somehow leading to a massive realization - thank god for noodles, laughs and sparks of love?

᧔o᧓ || katsuki bakugo x f!reader, she/her pronouns, no manga spoilers, pure fluff, open ending, aged up to third years, realization moment, reader down bad fr, bkg a softie, silly moments, short oneshot, kdrama coded, mainly reader POV, 850 word count

“Agh- how could you eat stuff like this?!”

She flinches as the spicy noodles hit the surface of her tongue. The seasoned aroma entering her lungs and creeping its way up.

Causing her eyes to water the more she chews yet this is only her third spoonful.

Y/N wanted to prove him wrong for once.

That she could handle the spice.

But her taste buds went against her wishes.

Immediately understanding she overestimated her own limits - she quickly taps out and pushes the bowl of noodles across the table.

Not wanting to be near that monstrosity he cooked up in the kitchen. He must be psychotic to eat such things, that dish could kill!

“Okay okay you win!” she says, practically sweating as her body begins reacting to the poison known as Bakugos noodles.

Who the hell could eat such spice and not react?!

Accepting her loss, she grabs the glass of milk that the blonde poured out for her earlier.

As if he knew she would lose.

Chugging the cold liquid with urgency, letting it sit in her mouth as a makeshift antidote for the stinging pain on her tongue.

If things couldn’t get worse, it somehow does, as she feels her nose grow runny.

The combination of the spice and her tears - leads to this tragedy of a look on her.

A disappointed pout on her face as she holds the glass that’s now half full.

She doesn’t dare look in his direction.

Not wanting to see the look of triumph on his face, that smug grin that annoys her to bits.

That is until she hears laughter.

A sound so unfamiliar that she peeks in his direction.

She can see the way he holds his stomach - his eyes squinting with delight.

Multiple chuckles exiting his mouth, finding the whole situation amusing.

In an instant, warmth completely overtakes her body.

And she doesn’t know if it’s from the spicy noodles or the sight of him.

She has never seen him laugh this hard till now and is frozen in place, not daring to look away from this bizarre turn of events.

“Hah! I told you idiot, as if you can beat me in a challenge of spice!”

He covers his mouth with his hand, stifling the laughs threatening to escape.

“Y-You look so stupid!” he looks away to not wheeze at the sight of her. The way simple noodles could have her on the verge of a breakdown was peak comedy to him.

She is unable to respond, her mind completely forgetting about the aches of pain on her tongue.

Her eyes fixated on the new sight before her - his enjoyment being the source of her fast heartbeat and heated face.

It was just the two of them in the dining hall of the UA dorms but that's all ruined as she hears the sound of the elevator doors open. Footsteps exiting as whoever it is, begins approaching the lobby.

Without much thinking, she grabs a plastic plate and shields the side profile of his face. Her body moving on pure instinct as if protecting something worth value.

She hides him from passersby who are too engrossed in their private conversations to notice the duo at the table.

And she feels an odd sense of relief.

“What the hell are you doing?” he mumbles, his brows furrowing with confusion, peeking over the plate to see their classmates leaving the building.

Spotting nothing out of the ordinary, he looks back at her with a calculating look. Expecting her to explain the odd reaction that came out of nowhere.

Wait what-

Realization dawns upon her and she can feel the rapid increase of suspense and her jitters.

Why did she do that?

Now embarrassed, she quickly lowers the plate, averting her gaze, “ah I just….”

Thoughts swirl around her mind for a moment but the conclusion remains the same.

She’s glad no one else saw his smile. For some reason, wanting to keep the sight to herself, to relish in this new experience.

Her eyes begin widening as she connects the dots.

Oh.

“Oi you good nerd?” he tilts his head, both eyeing her down and completely oblivious to her inner turmoil.

Her eyes land back on his face, the smile no longer present as he's back to his usual self.

At that moment... Y/N could only wish he’d start smiling again.

"I-I need to blow my nose!"

She practically jumps out of her seat, running to the kitchen, hands pressed against her face.

Heat radiating off her face so intensely that she wondered if she had caught a fever.

The only sensible answer to this whole thing was so simple but nonetheless sudden.

Feeling like a love struck fool, she leaves him ultimately dumbfounded.

Yet in his mind - he's already planning what to cook for her next, secretly enjoying the banter between them.

Assuming the reason for her unexplainable actions is simply from the food he prepared.

He stares at her from afar, the sight of her splashing cold water on her face, has him involuntarily forming a smile at her ridiculous actions.

"What an idiot."

✦ ⎯⎯⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨ masterlist || taglist || intro || socials ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⎯⎯ ✦

a/n ||| this small fic is inspired by a scene from the anime 'Sounds of Life' which I highly recommend. It's so underrated and I get sad everytime bc theres no S3! for u guys I included the exact scene below if ur curious (from s2 ep 2) and I love them so much omg. tags ||| @leleyro ໒꒰ྀི ´๑ ̫๑` ꒱ྀིა

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joelsprettyprincess · 1 day ago

Text

Taming of the Shrew - Part 3

Pairing: dark!Arthur Morgan x f!reader Summary: Desperate times call for desperate measures. Series-wide tags: Toxic relationships, manipulation, obsessive behavior, smut, secretly unprotected piv, babytrapping, pregnancy, canon-typical violence, slight canon-typical misogyny. Wordcount: 3.4k A/N: This is the final part to this mini-series! I meant to upload it last night but I added in some things last minute. Thank yall so much for all the love on the first two parts, and thank you for reading!! As always, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Tags: @dandelion-ranch @i-will-give-you-love @amaranth-writing @heloixe @buneio @warmsideofthepillow03 @thoughts-of-bear @luzzbuzz @batmandallyboy

Part 2

You remained holed up in your room all day, alternating between sobbing and staring blankly at the wall. No matter what transpired, your life was irreversibly altered. Even if you gave away the baby and came home, you would still be the loose hussy. The unruly girl. Doomed to a life of being a spinster and an example to the younger girls in town.

At some point you started praying, hoping God would hear you and somehow lift you from this awful predicament.

All too soon, Elisabeth knocked on the door, saying you were being summoned to the sitting room. You were on edge; it felt like you could feel your individual neurons pulsing and transmitting a network of regret all over your body.

You dragged your feet downstairs and trudged to the sitting room, feeling like you were approaching the guillotine.

Your two executioners sat on the couch. Your mother had an angry, nasty look on her face while your father seemed a bit apprehensive. It was clear she hadn’t told him yet, choosing instead to let him wonder.

“Sit down,” your mother said icily.

You sat.

“Our lovely daughter has something to tell us, darling,” she said in a sickly sweet voice.

You were starting to think she was genuinely evil. You kept silent. Lord, save me.

“Go on, don’t be shy.” Your mother chuckled. “Or shall I?”

There was no way you were going to admit to your father what you’d done. Eating nails would be preferable to this.

She scoffed. “Alright then. Our daughter…this woman…has gone and got herself with child.”

Both you and your father flinched, him with surprise and you with shame. You bowed your head low. Your secret was out in the open now.

“With child?” he repeated incredulously. “How?”

How, indeed.

“That is the question,” your mother said. “She won’t tell me who the father is, or she doesn’t know.”

Your father struggled to form words. You didn't dare meet their gazes.

“Is this true?” he finally asked you.

Of course it was true. It was the worst, most painful truth of your life. “Yes,” you admitted in a tiny voice.

He shook his head in disappointment. “I just don't understand how this could happen,” he remarked. “What happened to our little girl?”

You hadn’t been a little girl in a long time, but you didn’t bother pointing this out.

“Do you have any idea who the father is?” your mother demanded. “Or are you such a loose hussy that it could be any man in town? Is that what you’ve been doing every time you sneak out? Answer me!”

I hate you.

You put your head in your hands and sobbed.

Your mother sighed. “Now I suppose you’ll wash my feet with your tears next? Stop with the crocodile tears. If you thought yourself mature enough to partake in such activities, you’re surely smart enough to know the consequences.”

The tears came harder and faster. You could barely stand to be here any longer. This was pure torture. You just wanted…well, what you wanted was far away right now, and also the cause of your problems.

“I’m sending you to the nunnery,” your mother announced, raising her voice above your noisy sobs. “Until this…issue is resolved. You clearly need the fear of God put into you.”

Anything but that! “No!” you cried. “No, please, I can’t! Mother, please!”

“We have no other choice,” she replied flatly. “I will not allow you to bring shame upon this family. Now, you’re dismissed back to your room and don’t you dare try to leave and corrupt anyone else with the knowledge of your actions. Just the sight of you disgusts me.”

“Father,” you pleaded. “Don’t let her do this!”

Your father, the coward, was already standing up. “Well, I don’t think I should disagree with your mother-”

“To your room,” your mother spoke angrily.

You ran out of the room, despaired, fearful, and angry all at once.

It had been less than 3 days since your parents were made aware of your pregnancy, and your mother moved like she had firecrackers under her feet, directing the packing up of your room.

You were being sent to a convent north of Valentine, many, many miles away. According to your mother, you would stay there until the baby was born and either raise it there or give it away.

“If you ever return here, I have no desire to see a crying brat with you,” your mother told you bluntly. What a pleasant woman.

Well, you were not going to any nunnery, that was for sure. You had a plan. An admittedly rough around the edges one, but a plan nonetheless.

Late at night, you quietly packed a large satchel with clothes and essentials. You were getting the hell out of here, and you were going to track down Arthur.

It was his fault this was happening, and you would refuse to leave until he took responsibility. As much as you hated the idea of groveling at his feet, you had no other options. Raising a baby by yourself was basically unheard of, and you were almost certain to screw it up somehow.

The gang was no longer hiding at Clemen’s Point. You knew this because you’d (ashamedly) ridden down to see Arthur about a month after your final meeting, and saw that the land was abandoned.

At the time you figured it was best he was gone. That toxic energy was better off not being in your life, and so what if you craved his red-hot touch every single day, and touched yourself thinking of him, hoping to replicate the feel of his thick fingers massaging your pussy?

Anyway, you had an idea of where he was. He’d told you before that the gang would probably move further east to outrun the Pinkertons, and he’d expressed his distaste of Saint Denis.

So, he was possibly somewhere near Saint Denis, maybe on the outskirts. You’d have to ask around a bit. It would be a daunting task– a single, defenseless woman in a big, strange city.

Not to mention pregnant. Maybe you should have taken those shooting lessons after all.

And it wasn’t like he was waiting for you there– surely the gang was laying low, after that crazy shootout with the Grays in town.

You finished packing and sneaked downstairs, careful to stick to the edge of the stairway. Your parents were apparently asleep, and only some of the help was awake this late.

Elisabeth, as kind as she was, couldn’t be trusted. She was in the pay of your mother and therefore on the enemy’s side.

So you had no one, no companion but your horse, Maverick. He was a very dependable creature and honestly your only friend.

You attached your satchel to his saddle, then got on and quietly directed him off the property. Luckily the help wasn’t paid to ask questions, so no one batted an eye as you passed by.

You didn’t dare make a sound, or even breathe, until the manor disappeared from view, and all you could see for miles was the forest and the midnight blue sky.

Sighing in relief, you sped up almost to a gallop, going towards Saint Denis. It wasn’t a terribly long ride, but it was long enough and made more difficult by worrying about your…Arthur’s...child. You still couldn’t quite get used to saying that.

After some time, you arrived in Saint Denis. It was about 12am, and you were eager to be off the road after getting lost several times and nearly falling into a swamp. You led Maverick to a hotel, where you purchased a room for the night.

You laid down on the bed. It wasn’t nearly as comfortable as the one back home, but it was miles away from your troubles. That was the important bit.

Snuggling into the pillow, you sighed deeply, formulating a plan to look for Arthur. You would try the saloon first; he’d spent a lot of time there in Rhodes, and you were sure he hadn’t changed that habit. After that, perhaps the post office, or the stables.

You fell asleep dreaming of his beard scratching against your face and his fingers exploring your filthiest bits.

The next morning, you rode over to the saloon and inquired about Arthur with the bartender. “Tall, broad, very handsome, with brown hair,” you explained. “Looks like a gunslinger.”

“Oh yes, him and his pals have come here a few times,” the bartender exclaimed. “They was just down here last night, even.”

Dammit. You’d just missed him. But that confirmed he was in Saint Denis. “Did he say anything about where he was staying?”

He shook his head. “No ma’am, not that I can recall. But just turn up here ‘round six and he’ll surely be here.”

That was that, then. You would come back to the bar later tonight and catch him.

You left the saloon and remounted Maverick in hopeful spirits. Now that you knew for sure he was here, it was okay to relax a bit. And you definitely felt worn out after that long journey.

You stopped by the general store to get some fresh food and an apple for Maverick. A bit of rum would have taken the edge off, but you supposed it wasn’t good given your…condition.

Arriving back at the hotel, you bathed and washed your hair. As silly as it probably was, you wanted to look nice for Arthur. To show that you were a survivor.

Your thoughts drifted. What kind of a father would he be? What kind of family unit would you be? What with him still on the run, still following that silver-tongued Dutch, it would be difficult for you to run from place to place with him. Perhaps he would just tell you to get a room in Saint Denis and he would visit when he could. What if he walked out of your life one day, and never entered it again?

A scenario like that would effectively doom you for life. You weren’t certain you could stomach giving the baby away, but the thought of raising a child with no money or prior knowledge made you equally queasy.

But even if Arthur let you stay with him– what then? You’d seen the mess that was John Marston’s relationship with his family. And Jack, the little boy. Did you want your child in the same circumstances?

Arthur is not like John, you told yourself firmly. But really, you had no way to tell until he knew.

You spent the day milling about Saint Denis, exploring the markets and seeing the many entertainers on the streets. The people were definitely ruder here, more coarse and quick to anger. It almost made you miss Rhodes.

Almost, anyway.

At about six o’clock you came back to the saloon. Your heart was pounding like crazy, and you mentally prepared yourself for what you were going to say.

Arthur, I’m expecting.

Arthur, I’m pregnant…and it’s yours.

Please help me.

I’ve nowhere else to go.

Please?

You opened the doors, swallowing hard and gritting your teeth.

“Arthur,” you squeaked, then looked around. It was quite full of businessmen, factory workers, and the odd prostitute.

You carefully took a pace around the room, searching for that familiar form. You looked all over, but didn’t hear him nor see him. Nor anyone from the gang.

Sidling up to the bartender (a different one this time), you asked, “Excuse me, sir, have you seen a…a gunslinger-type fellow here? Brown hair with a beard. Super handsome. You would remember him.”

He thought for a bit while pouring glasses. “Don’t think so, madam. But a lot of people come through here, I might just not remember. If you don’t see him here, you can sit near the door, watch it n’ see if he comes in.”

Sigh. “Alright, thank you kindly.”

You took up a post near the door, awkwardly clutching your satchel, examining everyone that came through the door. More men, some women, even a couple rough-looking folks that looked like the company Arthur kept. But no Arthur.

Unbelievable. Had the bartender from yesterday been mistaken? Or did the gang skip town already?...Most likely, it was just a fluke and they decided not to come today. Dammit!

After about half an hour of waiting, you gave up, just wanting to lie down. You dejectedly got up and exited the saloon.

However, as soon as you did, you almost ran face first into someone’s horse.

The horse nearly trampled you, and you screamed in fear as you tripped and fell to the ground.

“What the hell?!” you cried, shaken. What idiot couldn’t control their horse?

“Dammit, sorry, lady,” a gruff voice spoke. The man got his horse under control after a bit of calming. “You okay– wait…do I know you?”

You got up, dusting off your skirt, looked closer at the man and gasped. It was Bill Williamson, another member of the Van Der Linde gang!

This was an extremely lucky situation. “Bill?” you asked, praying you were right.

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “Ain’t you…wasn’t you Arthur’s little thing?”

You crossed your arms. “Yes, I know Arthur. Is he here?”

Bill shook his head. “No, he’s back at camp–, err, well, no. He ain’t here. You know, he acted mighty strange after you left–”

“Can you take me to him? Please, Bill,” you begged. “It’s imperative.”

He sighed and scratched his nose. “I was plannin’ on gettin’ drunk…but I s’pose so. But keep your voice down, we’re not exactly best buds with the Pinkertons right now. You got a horse?”

“I do.”

You quickly mounted Maverick, then followed Bill out of Saint Denis towards the gang’s camp. You were practically buzzing with nervousness. The courage you’d had last night had been used up, and now you were just scared. Would he reject you, force you back to your parents? Or claim that the baby wasn’t his? What if he had a new girl?!

You cleared your throat. “Has he…err, has Arthur…been seeing anyone else since I left?”

Bill laughed. “Arthur? Hell no. I swear, all he talks about is you. Back in Rhodes, he swore up and down you would be back soon. Heh, we all had a good laugh at him then. But I guess the joke’s on us, now that you’re here.”

Well, that was good at least. But why was he so sure you would be back? You’d mutually agreed never to contact each other again.

It was kind of ironic. You’d insisted on cutting him off, yet here you were, chasing him down.

After a few minutes of riding, you finally arrived at the dilapidated house the gang was calling their home. It looked more like a demolition zone to you, but you supposed they would take what they could get after Rhodes.

“Here we are, little lady,” Bill announced. “Arthur!”

You dismounted your horse and went into the main campsite. Karen, Javier, Charles…the gang was all here. You got a few greetings and hand waves from the women.

“Arthur,” Bill barked. “You got a visitor, get out here!”

You stood awkwardly by the entrance of the house, looking in the propped open door, waiting for Arthur with bated breath.

Dutch was sitting by the front door, reading. He looked up when you approached. “Well, welcome back, sweetheart,” he said in that demeaning voice. “You wasn’t followed, were you? A lot of people want us dead right now.”

“Err, no sir, I don’t think so,” you squeaked. Dutch made you uncomfortable. You got the feeling he thought of women as delicate creatures that were lesser than men. Even with the few times you’d been to camp, you had heard the cruel words he flung at and about Molly.

You just hoped none of it had rubbed off on Arthur. You knew he was fiercely loyal to the man.

Heavy footsteps could be heard from inside the house. “Alright, I’m comin’, shut up,” a familiar voice grunted.

A lightning strike bolted down between your legs and you gasped softly when Arthur’s familiar, muscular form filled your vision.

“What-” he started, then froze when his eyes landed on you. His lips parted, but no words came out for a second. “You-”

“Arthur,” you whispered.

This was the greatest day of his life.

Arthur was certain he’d failed to impregnate you. That you’d been living fine all this time, not sparing a single thought to his well being.

But you were here. You’d hunted him down, somehow, and you looked scared out of your mind. And he could guess why.

He licked his lips. “What’re you doin’ here, sweetheart?”

You stared at him for a good few seconds, transfixed by his rugged beauty. “Can we talk somewhere private?”

Arthur took you to the back of the house. The two of you sat in the grass, legs crossed.

“How’d you find me?” he asked.

“By chance,” you said. “I knew you went east, so I asked around at Saint Denis– then I ran straight into Bill.”

He nodded. “You…you got somethin’ to tell me?”

You took a deep breath. Now that the moment was actually here, every nerve in your body was thrumming with anticipation. “I’m…well, actually, I’m…pregnant.”

The only sound was the chirping of birds.

“Excuse me?” he said quietly.

You felt ashamed. “I’m with child, Arthur. My parents done kicked me out because of it. S’why I came here.”

“You’re pregnant,” he said slowly, like he’d never heard the word before.

“Yes. And you’re the father for sure.”

He stayed silent for a bit, but you could hear his breath accelerate sharply.

You felt scared of what he was thinking. “Arthur?”

After a long period of silence, he said, “Are you showin’ yet?”

What an odd question. “A little.”

“Can I see?”

What? But you obliged, letting him lift up your skirt high enough to show off your bump.

Arthur inhaled sharply, then put his hand on your belly. “That’s– that’s my baby,” he murmured, almost to himself.

“I’m about 4 months along, I think,” you said, fixing your clothes. “So…so are you going to…step up? I don’t have anyone else, Arthur.” Your voice turned squeaky and desperate, and tears threatened to fall from your eyes. “My parents wanted to send me to a convent–”

“Baby, hey, shh. I can promise you I ain’t goin’ nowhere,” Arthur said hoarsely. “You’re staying here with me.”

You felt butterflies in your stomach at his declaration. He was such a…man. Never afraid to take responsibility or action. You were supremely glad that he was going to take care of you and the baby. However long the gang could outrun the Pinkertons, he would, you knew it.

Arthur embraced you, curving his hands around your stomach and kissing your cheek. The two of you rocked back and forth for a minute, in unadulterated bliss. Everything melted away: the camp, the law, your parents. It was just you and him. And the baby between you.

"Told ya, you belong with me," he whispered in your ear.

Arthur was right. You came back again and again and again because you craved the action. You craved excitement and freedom and yes, even bloodshed to a certain extent. There was no use trying to leave him when he represented everything you wanted in life, even the most sinful things.

He was made for you.

Arthur hustled you back up to where Dutch was, fighting a raging erection. Seeing his girl growing round with his baby was insanely satisfying. He felt that was an appropriate reward for everything he had worked for.

And now you were certain to be stuck with him. With a baby in you, you couldn’t do much of anything, much less run away again. He would gently insist that you stay in Shady Belle to recuperate from your no doubt difficult journey east, then as the months went by you would grow more and more dependent on him, stomach getting bigger every day, till you needed his help with the simplest tasks.

He would do it all for you. All this time, Arthur had tried to make you see that your place was by his side. It was just unfortunate that he’d had to resort to deceit to make you realize the truth.

But no matter. All was forgiven. He couldn’t wait to see your pregnant body and show you off to everyone in camp.

And just maybe he would put another kid or two in you, in case you had any doubts after the first one.

Arthur sighed in contentment as he approached Dutch to explain the situation. No matter what, he knew your love was genuine. It burned brighter than the sun, certain to destroy anyone that dared cross its path.

You, him, and your child– you would make a picture perfect family. He was certain of it.

End.

#arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #low honor arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan smut #red dead redemption

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candykenma · 2 days ago

Note

Hi, can I pls request Haikyuu pretty setter squad when their s/o is struggling from writer's block or artist's block please?? Thank you =D

I LOVE THIS. PLEASE MARRY ME???

Oikawa

• Honest to god oikawa couldn't careless not in a mean way but hes missed his s/o all week now.

•He literally drags his s/o from the desk and just cuddled them despite the complaints and protest

•when he realizes it's actually getting to his s/o he'll buy they're favorite ice cream. Probally door dash it along with dinner bc if he lets his s/o go it'll be right bk to work for them.

• has his s/o shower with him and face care stuff to distract them.

Sugawara

•HE SIMPLY GIVES YOU IDEAS.

• This man will read what u got and be like "hey do you wanna like have sex at a carnival?" Or whatever random thoughts come to mind after reading and his s/o will go "THATS A GREAT IDEA"

• not referring to doing but instead writing a detailed chapter Abt whatever random thoughts came out of his mouth

• if that doesn't he work he'll sit u down on the couch and make u watch movies with him trying to secretly help u get ideas

•hell show u random stuff on Pinterest or tell u stories that his kids at school told him just to try and give u something to right about

•🥰

Akaashi

• this man right there frustrated wit u

•yall both got deadlines , both got writers block , both starving bc y'all forgot to eat.

• Akaashi probally stops for ant 10 minutes to cuddle with u and rub his fingers through your hair then straight BK to work

• they're was this 1 in incident where you were complaining Abt how cringe everything you wrote sound and he looked dead at you and said "why r u making it cuddly and innocent? You aren't either of those things" 😭

Kenma 😋my baby

•once again he doesn't gaf

• if u ask him for help he'll probably tell u the BK story of a character from one of his games he likes, or just tells u to put it down and he can't help u bc he doesn't read books unless he has too😭

• The definition of no fucking help. He tried and it's cute but baby no....

• if he sees it's affecting your health he'll butt in putting u to bed or taking u put to eat reluctantly,

•he'll offer to run you a bath as well but that's Abt as much as u get

Atsumu

• just as unhelpful and ANNOYING Abt it

• it's not that I have writers block it's that u can't write or think with him in you guys room. Your actually spazzing out so much so u send him to the store with a list of things you need and want jus to write

• he doesn't mean to and u never tell him that but he definitely makes your job harder.

• though u realize u can't write when he's not around either, his crazy stories and random thoughts he blurts out are the material and foundation for ur writing

•He comes BK home and you shower him with cuddles

Kageyama

• Also not very helpful

• I imagine most of the books you write would be smut related, you'd probably be letting out all that untapped pent up energy

•he probally read one of your books once and was like "u wrote this....?" And u jus were like yeah not think Abt the fact all your books are porn on paper with some good plot here and there

• He probally started doing things a bit different like playing into the books uve read in order to give you more content. He'd take you on more extravagant but intimate dates to help the creativity 🤷

I TRIED ITS 2:45 AM.....HOPE U LIKE???

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mayh3mde4d · 2 days ago

Text

Homework -LMH (pt 2)

Pt 2 bc I ran out of space ! Pt 1 :

Student!Reader Teacher!LeeKnow Genre: Smut Warnings: Student teacher ofc, age gap (reader is legal age!), cnc, oral (f and m receiving), rough sex, manhandling, squirting, oral part is a bit freaky, degrading petnames. Y/n doesn't talk too much

"God, I could eat you for the rest of my fucking life." he said while sucking your sensitive clit, the vibration making you push your hips to his face. "That's it, don't hold back". he curled his finger into your pussy, hitting your gspot, making you whimper his name out. "Fuck yes, Minho, please don't stop" he sped up as he heard your breath getting heavier. "I want you to fuck my face." he pulled his finger out and grabbed your hips, making you grind against him, his nose brushing against your clit. You grabbed his hair "I'm so close please don't stop fuck-" you moaned out before squirting all of his face. You hid your face with your hands out of embarrassment before he grabbed them and moved them away. He looked up at you, still on his knees, "Fuck you're such a little slut for me, aren't you? That was so hot Y/n." he said, biting his lip. "But I'm not done with you yet." He pulled out a condom and put it around his cock. "I'm gonna fuck you so hard, you'll forget your damn name." He stood up, pushing you on your back, slapping your clit with the tip of his thick cock. "please, please put it in" you begged him. He bottomed out instantly, making you practically scream and he covered your mouth with his hand, "Shhh baby, you don't wanna get in trouble, do you?" You nodded your head no. He started roughly and fastly thrusting into you, making your eyes roll back and he leaned down to kiss your lips, neck and collarbones, leaving hickeys. "You feel so good, I can't believe I waited this long." he said in-between kisses. "Tha-nk you" you whimpered out as he put his hand on your clit, rubbing it fast. "I want you to squirt all over my cock. Understood?" he locked eyes with you. "Yes sir- I understand" you moaned out as his thrusts just got faster. His breathing got heavy and his kissing turned into biting. "I'm so close" you whimpered out as his cock was hitting all the right places. "Me too, baby. Do it. Cum for me" he sped up his thrusts, speeding up his hand on your clit. You squirted on his dick and he kept fucking you still he came, throwing his head back with a slight growl. He pulled out slowly, pulling the condom off and throwing it away in the trash next to the desk. "Wow.. that was so good.." you breathed out. "I've been wanting to do that for so long" he smirked, getting you some water and cleaning up. "Stay here till you're alright, okay?" he kissed your forehead, helping you put your clothes back on properly and pulling up his pants. "Okay Minho, thank you" you smiled. "Its Mr. Lee or sir" he joked with you. ;HOPE YOU GUYS LIKED THIS ONE, PLEASE SEND ANY FEEDBACK AND OR REQUESTS!! I'm chill with pretty much anything so I got you freaks<3

#skz smut #stray kids smut #smut #stray kids #lee know #lee know smut #minho smut

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justmeinadaze · 1 day ago

Text

I Have Nothing (If I Don't Have You) Part 10 (Steddie X You)

Warning: Soft Dom Security Steddie & Sub Singer Fem Y/N, SMUT, dirty talk, semi-public (in an office at a party), light choking, FLUFF, they love each other, Steve makes a declaration to his father involving Y/N, Y/N gives them a present <3

ANGST *throws a baton in the air and catches it in angst!*

There is a shooting that's referenced throughout that Steddie protect her from, blood is mentioned, slight cliffhanger ending, Steves Dad is a dick (of course), calls Y/N demeaning names (trash, mentions her past), mentions of loss of a loved one.

Like most chapters of this series, this deals with some heavy themes but it's not too bad. Enjoy my friends <3!

Word Count: 4033

Series Here/Donate to Me :)

Sarah pants as she all but sprints into Hawkin’s General, growling as she finally makes it through all the paparazzi flashing pictures outside while the police department keeps them at bay.

“Where is Y/N?! I’m her agent!”, she practically screams to one of the officers as her eyes search for a face she could recognize.

“Hey, hey. Let her through.”, an older gentlemen instructed as he ushered her forward into a waiting room.

“What happened?! Where is Y/N?!”

“I don’t know. All they’ll tell me is there was a shooting. I’ve tried to get a goddamn doctor to tell me something but… I’m Wayne by the way. I’m Eddie Munson’s uncle.”

“Where are they? Eddie and Steve? Are they ok?!”

“I-I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

***

Steve heavily sighs as the elevator doors slowly open to the party on the third floor of. His parent’s building.

Even though your arm was clinging to both of theirs, his hand over yours seem to be grasping for dear life.

“We don’t have to do this, Steve.”, you whisper causing Eddie’s gaze to shift that way.

“No, no. I’m ok. I can do this. What about you? D-Do you need anything or—”

Both men had shown fear before when they were trying to find you when you ODed but they still had that aggressive, protective demeanor behind it like the big protector men they were. As Steve stuttered over his words, he seemed like a frightened child about to tell his parents he failed a test and your heart broke.

Not caring about any eyes in the room or what people would think, your palm cupped his cheek as you brought your lips to his.

“No, baby. I’m ok. We’re right here.”

The metalhead softly smiled as he comfortingly patted his friend’s shoulder.

“I can kiss you to if you want. I mean—”

“No. No, thank you.”, Steve laughs as you giggle at Eddie’s antics.

As the three of you walk further into the room, you take in the high class setting around you. Whatever Steve’s dad sold or did, he was definitely doing it well because everything seemed exceptionally expensive with nothing out of place. The stuffy air was slightly suffocating but you were used to that when it came to events like this but normally you had something in your system to calm your nerves.

“Champagne?”, a waiter asked as he held out the tray, startling you slightly.

“No, thank you, and don’t ask again.”

The boy just nodded before swishing away to the next person surprising you as you watched him nonchalantly smile and ask someone else.

“You two can drink if you want.”

“No, honey, we’re ok. Plus, even if this is a party, we still need to be on alert for you.”

“He means his dad and his bullshit.”, Eddie whispers, winking your way when you smile.

The sound of a woman’s laugh and high pitch squeal caught your attention as she made a beeline towards Steve. Since neither man jumped in front of you, you assumed this was someone they knew.

“Baby! Oh my God, I’m so glad you’re home. Hello, Edward! And oh my gosh who is this you brought with you?”

“This is our client. Y/N Y/L/N, meet my mom. Mom; Y/N.”

“Oh, hi. It’s very nice to meet you.”, you grin as you extend your hand out to hers before she grabs it and pulls you into a hug while Eddie snickers behind you.

“Mom…mom…come on, now.”

“I’m just so happy to meet you. Plus, I want you to have a good image of me in your mind before my asshole husband ruins it.”

With that she turns around and motions for your three to follow her.

“Is she high?”, you whisper with wide amused eyes.

“Um, no, but I think she’s definitely had a champagne bottle…or two.”, Steve sighs as he places his hand on his lower back and guides you forward.

***

“Steven! Good to see you, son.”

“Hey, dad.”, the man replies with a tight smile as he awkwardly embraces his father. “You remember Eddie.” The man slightly grimaces at the metalhead even as he nods in his direction before his disgust settles on you. “And this is Y/N. She’s the client we look after.”

“Hm. You brought a client to our event? I’m sure she has better things to do unless you just wanted to show off your wealth.”, his dad sassed causing your head to tilt.

“I have no wealth to show off. Plus, she’s my friend—”

“Oh, your friends with someone you do business with? Because that won’t end badly.”

“Bill.”, Steve’s mother hisses as your grip around his hand tightens.

“May I have a moment alone with my son?”

As Steve starts to pull away, your palm tugs him back eliciting a soft smile from him as he turns to face you.

“Don’t go in there. I don’t like the way he talks to you.”

“It’s ok, baby. I’m used to it.”

“Steve…”

Cupping your face in his palms, he kisses your forehead and a heavy sigh leaves you when you finally let him go.

“He’ll be alright, sweetheart.”, Eddie tries to calm you as he rubs your back.

################

“Look, I don’t know how many times I can tell you people I didn’t see anything!”, a man growls, grabbing Sarah’s attention as she heads that way with Wayne in tow pausing when she finds him yelling at an officer.

He seemed incredibly irate with his suit half undone and his face redder than a tomato as sweat dripped down his features.

“Bill…can you please…stop…yelling.”, a woman sighs from her seat near him with a can of Ginger Ale against her forehead.

“Mr. Harrington, this was your event and my understanding is it’s pretty guarded so how did the perpetrator get in?”

“Mr. Harrington? You’re Steven’s dad? Is he ok?!”

“Goddamn it! Am I speaking Spanish or something? I. DON’T. KNOW! All I know is my son shows up after so much time and brings this trash singer he claims to be in love with—”

“What?”, Sarah asks, cutting him off. As she shifts her gaze towards Eddie’s uncle, his own gravitates towards the floor and she knows it’s true. “Well, that explains some things.”

***

Eddie chuckles lightly as he scans your worried features, grabbing your hand and placing his own on your lower back as you both gently sway to the violin music from the floor below.

“He’ll be fine, sweetheart. Trust me.”

“I just…I remember what it was like hearing my parents talk to me like that. It stays with you…”

“Yeah…definitely longer than any bruises.”

Your gaze shifts to his as his jaw unhinges and he gently smiles your way.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“No, no, your highness. You didn’t do anything wrong.”, he comforts as he twirls you and playfully dips you, making you laugh before pulling you back up into his embrace. “My dad definitely had a bite to his words. I think what’s weird is… I could always anticipate when a fist was coming but his words…they seemed to come out of nowhere sometimes…”

Wrapping your arms around him, you rested your head on his chest as you squeezed him tightly to you.

“I love you, Eddie Munson.”

“I’ll never get tired of hearing you say that.”, he whispers.

The door to Mr. Harrington’s office door bangs open as an angry Steve stomps out before his dad grabs his arm.

“Don’t do this, son. You’re throwing your entire future away.”

“No, I’m not. I’m good at what I do, dad, and I’m not giving up my business for yours.”

“Oh, yeah? And what part of fucking your client is good for business?!”

The man stood up straighter and on impulse Eddie pushed you behind him, keeping a hand on your arm to make sure you were safe.

“Lower your fucking voice. She’s been through enough.”

“I know, Steven. I can fucking read. Arrests, alcohol, drugs, parties. Hell, didn’t she just overdose a few months ago!?”

“She’s been sober and doing better—What the fuck am I doing? I don’t need to explain anything to you. I love her, dad, and I love my job. Come on, guys.”, he ushers, grabbing your arm as he pulls you both down the hall to head for the stairs.

“Wait, wait.”, you insist as you pull him into an empty office. “What happened there? Talk to me, baby.”

“I’m sorry, honey. I know we wanted to keep this a secret. I just…he was talking about you and it was pissing me off and I just blurted it out. I love you so much and I’m not going to let ANY asshole talk to you or about you like your trash—”

Grasping his collar, you yanked him to you and smashed your lips to his. It took him a moment but after a few seconds, Steve finally exhaled as his shoulders deflated and he lifted you into his arms to carry you to the desk behind you.

“If you’re going to get riled up about every asshole who calls me trash, we’ll need to hire some more security guys.” The man laughed as he kissed you again, cupping your face in his palms. “We can tell people…if you want…maybe talk to Sarah first but…”

“You don’t have to do that for us, sweetheart.”

“I don’t want to hide you guys. I love you…both of you… I just don’t want to ruin your business. You said it could look bad if—”

Eddie’s fingers gripping your cheeks interrupted you as he turned you to face him so he could kiss your lips.

“Let’s not worry about that right now, pretty girl.”

Steve’s lips sucked on your neck as he rolled his hips between your legs eliciting a heavy pant from you both.

“U-Use me, baby. It’s ok. I want you to. I’m yours.”

Leaning back, his eyes search yours as his palm caresses your face and his thumb grazes your lips.

“What if we get caught?”, he teases, making you giggle as you circle one of your legs around his waist and pull him closer to you.

“We’ll just have to be quick and quiet, Mr. Harrington.”

A loud groan of approval leaves him as your own hand slides under his button up shirt near his neck and he hastily fumbles with his belt, pulling down his pants enough to free his cock. Steve lifts you slightly to help you take off your panties that you promptly toss as Eddie who rolls his eyes as he winks your way.

After tugging you closer to the edge of the desk, he tilts down to lick a long stripe through your folds before tapping your clit with his length and guiding himself inside you as you fell back against the wood underneath you.

“Oh my God—”

“Shhhh…”, the metalhead scolded as he quickly came around covered your mouth.

“Fuck…so deep…”, you whine as Eddie removes his hand to pet your head.

“Yeah? Feels good, your highness? Jesus, I can’t wait for the world to find out you’re ours. This beautiful girl deserves the world.”

Grabbing your throat, Steve pulled you up right and rested his forehead against yours as he thrust his hips at a rapid pace knowing your time may be short.

“That’s it, baby. Right there. Mmph…”

“Right there, honey? Fuck you feel so good. We’re going to take such good care of you. Mmm—you’ll never have to worry about anyone hurting you ever again.” His last sentence came out as a bit of growl and you wrapped your arms around his neck as he did the same holding you to his chest. “You’re safe with me, Y/N. I promise.”

“I know, Steve. I know. Make me cum, baby, please.”

Honoring your request, you clung to each other as he slammed his cock into you, muffling your moans in his shoulder as the ball dropped in your belly with him following close behind.

“I love you, Y/N.”, Steve panted.

“I love you to.”

As he ran his fingers through his hair, he backed away from you and you smiled as Eddie came around, lifting you into his arms to carry you to a nearby armchair where he took a seat with your straddling his waist.

The metalhead watched you with admiration as you unbuckled his belt and removed his cock from his slacks. After spitting into your hand, he mewled as you stroked it along his shaft and slowly descended onto him.

“Fuck me.”, Eddie groans as he cups your face in his palm and brings your lips to his. “Good girl, your highness. Bounce on my cock just like that.”

His fingers tangle in your hair as your head falls into his shoulder to muffle your moans as your hips grind and roll against him.

“I-I love you, Eddie. Oh my God.” Lightly tugging you back, you groan against his lips as you whisper against them. “You’re safe with me to, baby. I promise. I-I’ll be good. I p-promise I won’t embarrass you.”

“You never have, sweetheart.” Planting his feet, he thrust upwards, slamming the tip of his length against that spongy spot deep inside you roughly as your eyes roll closed. “I k-know people pretended to care about you, baby, but we genuinely do—Jesus—we just want y-you to be happy and—and healthy so…”

“So what, Eddie? Tell me, please.”

Pulling you back down against his shoulder, he hugs you to him just as Steve had as he fully takes over pumping his length while murmuring into your ear.

“So we can spend our lives with you—fuck—have a family with you…grow old together…we’d marry you, princess, if we could…put a ring on your finger…show the world you’re ours and—fuck I’m gonna cum—you’re safe.”

Your lips crash to his as your body trembles and pussy quivers around him as you cum. Eddie grunts at the feeling, his fingers digging into your flesh as his rhythm faulters and you feel him warm your insides.

#################

A door slowly opens and Sarah gasps as Steve steps through with blood still clinging to his what was once pristine shirt.

“Steve! Oh my God. Are—Are you alright? What happened?!”

“I…we…I promised myself I would do everything…to make sure she never saw hospital again…”, he mumbled before falling to his knees as Wayne caught him halfway down and held him to his chest as the boy sobbed. “This is my fault. I never should have…brought her there…my dad…I can’t focus…”

“Steven…I know you’re hurting but…I need you to tell me if Eddie is alright.”

As he continued to cry, your agent and the metalhead’s uncle kept hearing the same thing over and over.

“This is my fault…”

***

You grin in the mirror at the reflection of both boys straightening up their attire as you finish quickly restyling your hair.

“Hey Steve, can you hand me my clutch, please?”

“Oh manners. I love it.”, he smiles as he reaches for what you asked and bows as he presents it to you. “Your highness.”

“Thank you.”, you giggle. “It’s funny…you mentioned rings because…I got you guys a present before we flew out here and I was waiting for the right time to give them to you…”

After digging in your bag, you produce a box that Eddie giddily takes causing the other boy to playfully roll his eyes. Inside were two silver bands with an engraving etched along the inside.

“’ Je suis à toi et tu es à moi.’”, the pretty boy reads aloud in choppy French that has you beaming wide. “Something about you and me. I know that much.”

“I am yours and you are mine?” Your jaw drops as the metalhead chuckles your way before he shrugs. “I’ve, um, I may have been trying to learn some French since it’s your safe place. That way whenever we go back I can actually understand what people are saying. Was I right?”

You nod as you wrap your arms around him and kiss his lips before doing the same with Steve.

“We’ll get you something too, honey. I promise—”

“You don’t have to. I just…I saw them and I thought of you…how much I love you.”

“Hey, I have an idea. Why don’t we get out of here, go to the diner, and fill up on some greasy burgers?”

“Oh my God. I’m starving.”, you jokingly whine as you follow them out the door and down the stairs. “I have to run to the restroom first if that’s ok?”

“Oh yeah, now she’s asking. Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you to hold your dress up?”

Smiling, you smack Eddie’s chest as you scurry to the restroom to do what you needed.

Everything seemed completely normal and you were the happiest you had been in what felt like your entire life. You shouldn’t have been surprised when you opened the bathroom door and were met with a face you hadn’t seen in person in a very long time.

“Natalie?”, you ask as your eyes promptly search for the boys.. “What, um, what are you doing here in Hawkins?”

“I saw the interview… saw some sightings online of you on a plane to Indiana…did some research on your entourage now…put two and two together.”

Something was off in her tone as she spoke and you noticed immediately that her hands were shaking.

“Natalie why are you here?”, you ask her as calmly as possible.

“You didn’t go to Simon’s funeral.”

“I didn’t think it was appropriate.”

“For my brother’s girlfriend to be at his funeral?!”

You jumped at her outburst and held out your hand hoping to calm her.

“Natalie…Simon and I broke up months ago…”

“Then why was he with you that night?”, she asked as tears began to leave her eyes. “I have…so many questions and every answer I do find…leads back to you, Y/N.”

“Honey, I—”

“Don’t do that! Don’t you dare talk down to me!” Reaching into her coat pocket, she pulled out a handgun making you gasp as she pointed it your way.

“Y/N, honey is everything—” As Steve walked down the hallway, she turned on him and his eyes widen as he holds up his palms to show he’s unarmed.

“NO! No, Natalie! Keep talking to me! You said you had questions about your brother. Ask me! Ask me anything!”

Her wild eyes kept flicking between you both as she back away and kept the weapon pointed at you.

“Answer…me. If you two…broke up…why were you with him?”

“I…I had a relapse…and I knew he’d…he’d give me a fix.”

“So you used him?”, she growled.

“Yes.”, you whisper as your own tears begin to fall. “I’m not perfect, Nat, but—”

“But you’re still here and my brother is gone! Do you know what my mom and I have been through?!”

“I would give anything to bring him back. I really would—”

“Fucking liar!”

Right as she cocks the gun, Steve rushes forward to lift her arm in the air as Eddie comes out of nowhere and tackles you from the side out of harms way.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”, he panics as he takes off his suit jacket. “You’re bleeding, b-baby. Where…where did you get hit?”

Your hands fly down your body, feeling the dampness of blood but not finding a wound.

“I don’t know. I don’t feel—Eddie?”

The metalhead’s eyes flutter as he collapses in your arms and you realize the blood that was on your dress was sticking to his torso. Tearing open his shirt, you found a wound on his abs and quickly grab his jacket to press against it.

“STEVE!”

While Eddie had been attending to you, the other man was able to subdue Simon’s sister and get the gun away from her as security appeared to cuff her. Sliding to your side, he moved the jacket back to assess his injury. Silently, he pulls out his phone as you continue to hold the long-haired boy in your grasp.

“Yeah, we need ambulance and police at the Harrington Company building. Shooter is subdued by security and my-uh-my partner was hit in the abdomen…No…I don’t think anyone else was-was injured.” As his voice cracks, you move some Steve’s hair back with your fingers and his teary eyes immediately turn to you. “Are you ok? Were you hit?”

“No…No, I’m ok. I think…”

“Yes ma’am. I’m Steven Harrington and my partner is Edward Munson. We are security for Y/N Y/L/N…Yes ma’am…No, she says she’s fine but…” You wince as Steve delicately touches your arm and you see the slight bruising beginning to appear on your wrist. “…She may have a sprained arm from him pushing her out of the way…Yes…please…please hurry.”

“Eddie, you need to open your eyes, baby, please.”, you beg.

His lips began to move and you leaned down to hear what he was mumbling.

“I love you.”

##################

“Wayne Munson and Sarah Dash?”, the nurse called, guiding them and Steve to the hospital room.

“Y/N!”, your agent sighed in relief as she quickly scurried to your side of the room and pulled you into her arms. “Everything is going to be alright, sweetie.”

“Y/N has a small fracture at the wrist so she’ll need to wear that cast for about a month. As for Mr. Munson, he was extremely lucky. The bullet went straight through and missed anything vital. We gave him some meds to help him sleep and he’ll definitely need to rest. He’s going to be in a lot of pain these next few weeks.”

“He’ll be ok?”, Wayne asked as he placed his palm on his nephew’s chest. “We shouldn’t be worried?”

“Not from what I see… Of course, we’ll keep him for the next few days to make sure everything is alright before we let him go.”

“H-Have you heard anything about Natalie? Where is she?”, you murmur as Sarah tenderly pets your head.

“Um, that’s the young lady who…? My understanding is she’s in a cell but—”

“I can find all that out for you, honey.”, your agent relays and you nod.

After the doctor leaves, Steve’s eyes harden as he enters his professional mode you had seen many times before.

“I’m going to talk to the officers and security here at the hospital to make sure their privacy is respected and no one can sneak in.”

“Steven.”, Eddie’s uncle says with a deep authoritative tone as he grabs the boy’s arm, surprising you when he yanks it away. “Son…you’re going to want to be one of the first people he sees when he wakes up.”

As he stomps out of the room, he doesn’t even hear your socked feet slide across the linoleum. When your palm touches his shoulder, in one swift motion he grabs your forearm and shoves you hard against the wall, breathing heavily as he holds you still, raising his fist in the air defensively.

“It’s me, Steve! It’s me. It’s ok—”

“It’s NOT ok! You both got hurt! I failed!”

“You didn’t fail. You both saved me and the doctor says Eddie will be ok—”

“He shouldn’t be in there to begin with!! I should have clocked her at the party. We should have seen her. I should have noticed how agitated she was before I said anything…I-I-I…It should be me in there.”

“No, baby, no. Neither of you should be in there b-but you told me…it was part of the job…that’s why I couldn’t take that bullet for you…a bullet that was meant for ME.”

His eyes soften at your words as if finally realizing it was you he was holding and promptly let you go as he placed his hands on his hips.

“That’s my best friend, Y/N.”

As he begins to cry, you immediately tackle your arms around him and he promptly does the same, nuzzling his face into your neck as you hold him tightly to you.

####################

@rckstrbee @melodymishahiddlestan @myherometalhead

@siriuslysmoking @micheledawn1975 @cositaslua

@munsonmoonshine86 @unfocused81 @paleidiot

@dad-steddie @aol19 @strngrlytn @mrsjellymunson

@needylilgal022 @dashingdeb16 @hardladyheart

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demonic0angel · 2 hours ago

Note

Jazz has been cursed to be borrower size. Jason’s been doing his best to care for her til the curse can be reversed, getting her a size appropriate doll house with plumbing and a full wardrobe.

(Omg I love the borrower verse)

Jazz sighed. She sat on a chair in the doll kitchen that Jason made for her and said sullenly, “I feel like a doll.” She poked at the food on her table, all downsized to fit her.

Jason did not say anything, but his face must’ve reflected it because she glared at him and said, “Don’t look so happy.”

“Sorry, Princess,” he said, smoothing his face over instantly. He handed her half of a cherry tomato and she glowered, before cutting it up and putting it on her little miniature burger. She was too distracted to notice him, but Jason was inwardly screaming and crying and throwing up.

She was so ridiculously cute, surely this should’ve been illegal by now?!

She ate her burger and washed her hands in the dollhouse’s kitchen sink, which Jason had personally installed and then she said with a sigh, “I guess you want me to change my clothes again?”

Jason beamed. “Can you? You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

She just sighed again and shook her head. “No, I suppose this is payment for taking care of me.” She went into a side room and came out a few moments later with her outfit changed into a pencil skirt and a dress shirt with a garter belt and little boots. She wore a French beret and her hair was clipped up with a tiny pearl.

Jason, on the outside, nodded seriously at her and said, “You look good.” Jason, on the inside, was thanking God and every deity up there for this blessing. There was something incredibly pleasing and wonderful about having the ability to keep Jazz in his pocket all day and have her depend on him.

He reached for her and she stepped into his hands carefully. He stood up from where he was crouched over the dollhouse and then he carried her to his desk. He set her down gingerly and she walked around until she was in front of his reports, looking over them with a critical eye. Jason sat in his own seat and looked at the rest, allowing her to take her time and read the large words.

After a while, they worked together in silence as Jazz would occasionally pick up a large pen (to her, at least), and start writing carefully while Jason organized his things and made plans for the week.

By the next hour, Jazz seemed exhausted.

“When is this curse going to end?” She asked grumpily. She kicked the pen and it rolled once, which only seemed to infuriate her even more.

Jason grinned and used a finger to brush against her cheek. “It won’t take long. Just a few more days, and I can handle everything, alright?” She grabbed onto his finger and climbed on like a perching bird, and he paused before obliging and bringing her close to his chest, where she hopped onto his shoulder.

“I want a cupcake for dinner. An entire one. I don’t want to bake tiny cupcakes, I want a regular sized one all to myself.”

Jason grinned even wider and said, “As you wish.”

Whatever Jazz wanted, he would give to the best of his ability.

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc #dc x dp #danny phantom x dc #dp x dc crossover #ask #jazz fenton #anon ask #jason todd #anger management ship #hardcover ship #jason x jazz #dp x borrowers #ty for the ask <3 #assistant jazz au

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zepskies · 3 days ago

Text

Aww yay!! I'm so happy to hear that. 🥹💗

so far what I love the most about this series-verse is how, authentic and genuine dean and mila’s relationship is <3 I think maybe I mentioned it when reviewing THC but truly their love feels so sincere 🤍🤍

Omg thank you!! What an amazing compliment, and now I'm blushing. 🥰🥰 With everything these two went through in THC, I wanted their connection to feel real and natural now as they continue learning each other.

I feel like in today’s day & age relationships can be so complicated because there are too many trivial outside factors, but for them in this universe, it’s really just as simple as two people who care a lot for each other making it work. and i absolutely love that 😭💗

Oh God yes, totally agree. 🙃 And there are complications around Mila and Dean, but when it's just the two of them, Dean gets her to remember that them choosing to be together can be as simple or complicated as they allow it to be. It's a choice, day by day, working together. 💕💕

they’re so sweet to each other :’)🫶🏽 even when he puts his foot in his mouth; as soon as he made that comment when learning about the chief I shook my head lol, oh dean 😂

Ahaha he's trying his best. Oh Dean. 😝

But he's so damn charming and adorable, she can't help but let him back into her good graces.

mystery dude better back up!🤺 I do not trust that man at all so far, he gave me such a bad vibe :/ for his sake he better not try anything because not only will dean protect his wife, mila is clearly not to be messed with 🤣 which brings me back to how much I admire her strength! I love that she will speak up for what matters.

He's being sneaky about it, isn't he? 😒 But YES, if Mila doesn't mess him up first, Dean definitely will. 💞 Mila's not one to take things sitting down either.

the thought of dean getting picked on makes me so sad because it’s like, classic bullying :((( I wanna hug him so bad. especially since it’s already been so hard leaving everything and everyone he had behind — the weight of hazing & hard judgement on top of adjusting to everything new must be draining :( honestly I admire his strength too i’m glad she’s providing him with the support he deserves 🫶🏽 because yeah even though he can handle it, he shouldn’t have to ✋🏽😔

Ikr? 😭😭 Dean doesn't deserve this at all, considering how hard he's working to be respectful to their customs, but it's kind of par for the course (he's honestly lucky they let him live). It will get better for him (eventually), but you're right, it is draining for him, even if he doesn't want to admit it to Mila. She's doing her best to be his support system. 💞

also, I did not expect baby x mato but you know what, i’m here for it 😭🙂‍↕️

omgg I was hoping someone would like that part. 😂😂 I honestly didn't plan it when I was writing THC, but it came out when I started developing Outlander. I thought it was a cute lil' tidbit, and it's actually going to play more into the plot later. 😉💗

I'm so excited for you guys to see what's coming for this little series!!

Outlander - Part 1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC

Summary: Dean Winchester has been stripped of his military rank, but he’s living happier with his new wife, trying to adjust to a new life in her tribe. What will it take for her people to accept him, especially when the battle for her heart might not be completely won?

AN: Ready for some more Cowboy Dean? Here we go with Outlander Part 1! This is a sequel story directly following The Honorable Choice, where Dean not only saves the member of a Native American tribe, but falls in love with her. (She saves him a lot in return.) Now, he’ll have to learn how to live in her world if he wants to stay with her.

This sequel series will be 4 parts! 💜

Disclaimer: I first got inspired to write The Honorable Choice for @jacklesversebingo after a recent rewatch of Spirit: The Stallion of the Cimarron (with a tinge of Yellowstone in the mix). I’ve done a fair bit of research for this now ongoing series, both on the Native American Lakota tribe, and on American history during this time in the late 1800s; AKA: the Old West, during the American Indian Wars.

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: Western AU

Word Count: 5.3K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Suggestiveness/implied smut and spice, hunting (in the more traditional sense), angst, hurt/comfort, and romantic fluff. **Pronunciation guide at the end!

🐎 Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 1: Two Worlds

Her people call this river Little Cheyenne. It’s because Big Cheyenne cuts through the land of the Sioux Indians by half, but Little Cheyenne almost meets it in the south, stretching all the way up to the Black Hills.

Mila’s tribe has always lived near this river. Its waters have bled red during battles with other tribes, and sometimes during battles with White Men.

The White Men’s fort, the one her husband came from, lies farther down in the south. The tribe had to move their village higher north along the river after Mila returned with Dean Winchester, just to be safe.

On a cloudy afternoon, Mila scrubs at a bundle of dirty clothes until they’re clean. She rinses them off in the river and is thorough about her work, but she knows she can’t be here much longer. She has a stew simmering on hot coals in her tipi…

Well, the one she now shares with her husband.

Unconsciously, she smiles. She remembers leading Dean through the tribe, to the place where she hoped he would find rest. They stopped at the foot of her tipi.

“This one’s yours?” he asked.

She paused, giving him another small smile.

“Ours.”

Mila continues scrubbing, though she frowns when her fingers slip through a tear in one of the new tunics she made for him (even though he keeps calling it a shirt). The tear was made by a blade, or maybe an arrowhead, she realizes.

The crunch of feet on the riverbed’s gravel makes her raise her head and look over her shoulder. Unease prickles down her spine. She braces herself for a familiar shadow, come to disturb her peace.

But then she relaxes. She’s being joined by two of the older women in her tribe. Mila has known them her whole life, and so she calls them tunwin. Aunt. They both greet her kindly and kneel beside her with their own bundles of clothes for washing, but Eyota, the older one, has a sharper eye. She is their tribe’s medicine woman.

“Your husband wears out his clothes,” she remarks.

“He’s been working hard training with Šóta and the other men,” Mila explains.

“He seems to be learning quickly,” says Misae. She has a more playful glint in her eyes. “Who knew that you could catch and tame a White Man. Looks like they are no different from wild horses.”

Mila smiles slightly, but it’s not genuine. She nods in agreement. “He’s learning quickly.”

She holds her tongue from saying anything else, even though she wants to. Dean isn’t a man to be tamed, any more than she was, in his people’s eyes. She aims to change the subject.

“Do you have any good herbs or spices for wahonpi? I’ve had the stew simmering all morning,” she asks Eyota. Not only is she a gifted healer, but Eyota is also one of the best cooks, and she knows it. She nods and straightens her shoulders the way she always does when someone asks her for advice—and even when they don’t ask for it.

“Of course, child. What you need is…”

“Goddamn it,” Dean huffs under his breath.

The jackrabbit flees from him again, or more accurately, from his terribly aimed arrow. He’s an excellent marksman…just not with a bow, it seems.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing wrong here, and he’s not likely to figure it out. Not by the way Takoda, Šóta, and the other men are laughing at him.

Dean resists the urge to roll his eyes. He knows when he’s being hazed.

These men are bare-chested warriors, each of them richly tanned under the sun. Most of them wear their hair long, half of it gathered high on their heads, or braided in some way. Šóta is his wife’s cousin, and as the Chief’s son, he wears a small adornment of eagle feathers threaded into his hair. His closest friends are Takoda and Otaktay. Both of them laugh at Dean the most, and in their language, using just enough gestures and body language that Dean knows he’s being talked about. They point at his boots and his brown Stetson hat—two of the only things he’s kept of his own that make him feel comfortable in his own skin.

Finally, Šóta goes over to him. “Good try,” he says, in his usual patronizing tone.

Dean knows he can’t punch out Mila’s cousin, no matter how bad he’s asking for it. Somehow, Dean manages to hold onto his temper.

“What’re they saying?” he asks lowly, gesturing at the two chuckle brothers.

Šóta’s lips twitch. He glances down at Dean’s feet. “They say your…shoes are loud on the earth. You give yourself away before the animal even catches your scent.”

Dean’s given up a lot of things, but his boots won’t be one of them. He wants to learn. He wants to belong here, in Mila’s world, but he also wants to stay himself.

So the men move on, mounting their horses. Dean rides with Baby at a plodding clip. Her black coat ripples with a healthy sheen. He thinks she’s come to enjoy the more natural surroundings and freer pasture of the grasslands, and he can’t deny, this part of it all feels right. The sun peeks through between the dappled leaves of oak trees, painting the ground in red, green, and gold. It’s quiet and beautiful here as Šóta leads the pack through the forest, just southwest of the village.

Eventually, he stops them between a denser thatch of trees and shrub. He raises a hand signal that Dean’s come to recognize. He raises his bow belatedly after the others though. He follows Šóta’s line of vision, and there is a deer grazing in a small clearing. A young buck.

Šóta signals at Dean. Try again, his eyes say.

Dean takes in a deep, quiet breath through his nose, and he takes aim.

He really misses his damn rifle.

Dean shoulders the sting of failure while he makes his way through the camp, leading Baby by the reigns. He drops her off at the large horse pen. There he feeds her and brushes her long coat, all while murmuring soft affectionate things. She’s still one of his only friends here.

But even she leaves him short to join her new friend, Mato. The two have become thick as thieves. Mato greets the black mare with a friendly whinny. Their noses touch in affection, and Mato playfully nips at her ear.

Dean raises his brows. “Well, that’s a little more friendly than usual. You guys start courting when I wasn’t looking?”

He walks over to Mato, who’s softened up to him in recent weeks.

“You sly dog,” Dean remarks, smirking. “Didn’t even ask me for her hand.”

Mato blows a hot breath through his nose at Dean, who has to blink, wiping his face.

“Now that’s just rude.” Still, he offers the mustang an apple from his pocket. Mato takes it from his palm, letting Dean rub his neck while he munches on his snack. “As fathers-in-law go, you lucked out, pal. See? I’m a delight.”

He wouldn’t be surprised if Baby had her first foal by spring. Dean grins at the thought, but it soon falls. If only his father-in-law were so easy to please.

His mind dwells on it as he starts making his way back to the heart of the village. Chatan, Mila’s father, hasn’t warmed up to him any better than Šóta or the other men. Tahatan is the only one of them who treats Dean civilly, and overall, he seems to be a good leader.

Dean has that thought, just when he sees the older man himself walking with a woman Dean sort of recognizes. She wears a long necklace made of blue beads and seashells. Tahatan goes into her tipi, even though Dean knows…that woman isn’t the Chief’s wife.

Dean raises his brows, but he subtly pivots on his heel and takes a different route back to his own tipi. Whatever he just saw, it’s definitely not his business.

“Honey, I’m home,” he teases.

She welcomes him into her arms, her hands traveling warmly up his shoulders. He bends to kiss her, soft and slow at first. And then deeper, sucking on her lower lip and teasing her with a sensuous tongue. She hums in surprise into his mouth, making him smile.

He’s exhausted and feeling low, but he doesn’t want to let on to her. He just wants to forget about his day, and hopefully recharge with a better night.

“How did it go today?” she asks, after he allows her to breathe.

Dean nods (and lies). “Pretty good.”

She waits for him to continue. When he just continues to hold her, she raises her brows up at him.

“Dean?”

“What? I’m workin’ on archery. Lots of progress.”

She eyes him in suspicion, and he knows he doesn’t have her fooled. Actually, she looks like she’s going to press him about it, so he releases her from his hold and goes to change out of his dirty clothes to avoid her gaze.

“Hey, uh, maybe it’s none of my business, but I saw the Chief go into some other woman’s tent today. Holding hands, bedroom eyes, the whole deal,” he says while he changes. He glances back at her and waggles his brows. Mila smiles slightly.

“Did she wear her hair in a half-braid, or did she wear a necklace made of seashells?” she asks.

Dean’s surprised that she doesn’t seem surprised, but he thinks back to what he saw.

“Uh, seashells. Yeah, she wore seashells,” he says.

Mila nods. “Yes, that woman is also his…the chiefs of my people are known to take more than one wife.”

At that, Dean becomes even more surprised. He finishes dressing and leaves his boots by the tipi’s entrance. His raised brows even out into a smirk.

“Well, okay. Guess it’s good to be Chief,” he says.

Mila’s lips purse as she eyes him narrowly. She goes back to stirring the stew with a wide, wooden spoon. Dean doesn’t see her reaction, but he does notices that something’s missing from his side of the bedding. He frowns.

“Hey, where’s my gun?” He asks Mila, who shakes her head without looking at him.

“I moved it,” she curtly replies.

Dean’s frown deepens. He touches her arm to get her attention.

“I’d rather you didn’t do that, baby,” he says. He’s made sure that she knows the basics of a gun well enough, but he doesn’t want to take the chance of her hurting herself.

“Don’t leave it out, then,” she snips back. “It shouldn’t go where we sleep.”

Dean tilts his head at her. He’s a bit confused at her tone, especially because they’ve had this conversation before.

“I have it there just in case something happens at night,” he reminds her. His pistol is really just for emergencies though. There are only three bullets left in it, and he can’t exactly go shopping for more.

Dean realizes then that Mila’s mood has shifted. He approaches her from behind.

“What’s wrong, huh?” His hands find familiar purchase along the curve of her waist. He swipes her braid away and presses a kiss where her neck meets her shoulder. More teasingly, he asks, “What’d I do now?”

Mila remains tight-lipped, until she glances at him over her shoulder.

“Do you want another woman?” she asks.

It’s a simple question, but it succeeds in completely tripping him up. He blinks at her, incredulous and bewildered.

“What?”

She continues shredding another herb to put into the stew. Somehow, it makes the broth smell a bit worse.

“You seem to admire the Chief for having three wives, so you must want another one too,” she says.

Holy shit, three wives? Dean wonders. The man must be a saint. Look at the hell I’m catching with one.

He can’t help but laugh, a deep belly chuckle that does nothing to take away Mila’s ire. She glares at him now, genuinely upset, and Dean knows he’s starting to shit the bed on this one. He sobers up and raises his hands in surrender.

“Sweetheart,” he says, in a placating tone.

Despite her annoyance, she allows him to hold her again. He plies her with more tantalizing kisses along her neck. He breathes in the sweet-smelling oil she uses on her hair.

“You’re more than enough woman for me. You know that, right?” he whispers against her skin. It earns her slight shudder, and he smiles. He teases the spot just under her ear, grazing with his teeth, then soothing with his tongue. She can’t help but writhe against him a bit. It stirs a well of desire in his lower belly, especially when he squeezes her hips, pressing himself to her from behind.

She tries to remain strong as she clears her throat, no doubt feeling his growing hardness against her. She starts to blush hotly.

“It’s all I can do just to make sure you stay sweet for me,” Dean says, a hint of teasing returned to his voice.

Mila finally breaks into a laugh. She reaches back to swat him on the head, but his ministrations work. Once she manages to escape from his grasp with a teasing smile of her own, she more happily serves him a bowl of stew.

Dean smirks. Fine, he can be patient. He’ll just have to wait until dessert, then. After a moment to calm himself, he sits down on the ground beside her and brings a large spoonful of stew to his lips. There, he pauses. The strange taste that assaults his tongue nearly makes him choke, but he does his best to swallow it down. The meat’s tough as nails, for Christ’s sake…

Hearing a spoon clatter against the bowl, he chances glancing at Mila. She sits stock still, her brows furrowed as she frowns. Slowly, she sets the bowl down and says,

“Stop eating.”

She looks angry at herself. Dean feels bad for her, his sympathy striking at his chest.

“What do you mean? I’m hungry,” he says, and gamely takes another couple of bites.

She just watches him. Her upset worsens while he tries and fails to cover up a hacking cough.

Finally, Mila can stand no more. She takes the bowl from him, making some of the foul broth slosh over their hands and onto the ground. She tried to make wahonpi, one of the most basic soups in her people’s culture, made from bison, potatoes, corn, and carrots stewed in the broth.

Eyota told me it was simple! she thinks in dismay. How did it go so wrong?

“It’s no good,” she says, her voice hard. “I will go to my mother and see what she cooked. She may have extra for us.”

She rises to her feet, and Dean quickly follows her. He catches sight of her tears, even though she turns her face away from him to grab her shoes. He reaches out and stops her with a hand on her arm. He tugs her back to face him.

“Hey, it’s okay. Why’re you getting so upset?” he says. “I’m not picky. I’ll eat whatever you make.”

Or maybe next time, I’ll try doing the cooking, he thinks.

“Because!” she blurts. Tears well up in her eyes and begin to slip down her cheeks, no matter how much she tries to brush them away. “Because you shouldn’t have to eat it. Because it should be good. You deserve to eat something good!”

Mila finally realizes why her mother tried so hard to teach her these things. She’s embarrassed, feeling sorry for herself, but it’s also far worse than that. Her heart hurts knowing what Dean has gone through, and what he continues to go through for her sake. The least she could do is make sure he eats well, and it seems she can’t even do that.

“Mila,” he says with a sigh. He guides her into his embrace. “It’s okay, sweetheart.”

She can’t allow herself to be comforted. She pushes at his chest to look up at him.

“You think I don’t know what happens outside?” she says. “It’s a small village, and people talk when they think I’m not listening. I know what the men are doing to you.”

Dean shakes his head stubbornly. “It’s fine. I can handle it.”

“You should not have to,” she insists, resting a hand over his heart. “You have proven yourself to be a man of honor. Tahatan said it himself. They should not be this way.”

Dean smiles ruefully. “I can handle it.”

He bows his head and captures her lips, plying her with a deeper kiss. The heat of it grows and becomes more than a distraction, more than comfort. It strips everything else away, until it’s just the two of them again, like the night she found him at the riverbank and held him until he woke up in her arms.

What they eat doesn’t matter. Other people don’t matter. All that matters is this.

He squeezes her hips and presses her harder against him, so she can feel every part of his desire. She moans into his mouth, curling her fingers into his shirt. So he guides her down to the bedding, where he shows her what he’d rather get a taste of.

Later that evening, Mila and Dean have dinner with her parents. Her mother, Weaya, is a gracious host, treating Dean both like a guest and a proper son-in-law. She gives him a special cut of braised bison meat, not to mention extra corn and potato hash. Chatan says nothing to him and eats in gruff, stoic silence.

Dean can tell it both hurts and annoys his wife, but he has to focus on answering Weaya’s many questions about his life—mainly about his family and the farm he grew up on. In some ways, raising crops and rearing up cows, chickens, and horses there isn’t so different from the Lakota village.

“You must miss that place. Your home,” she says. Dean meets his mother-in-law’s eyes, pausing in polishing off the meat sauce on his plate with a piece of bread. Chatan looks up from his meal, and so does Mila, who hesitates too. He sees the thread of her concern there, behind her eyes, so Dean hides the stab of sadness that hits him every time he thinks of Lawrence.

“Sometimes,” he admits. He looks over at Mila. “But I’m not alone. That’s what matters.”

She smiles at him softly. Dean has the urge to take her hand, maybe raise it up to his lips, but he’ll leave that for when they’re alone. He doesn’t want to upset her father any more than he has just by sitting in Chatan’s house. Tent��whatever.

He’s glad when, after almost another hour and a round of hot tea, Mila finishes chatting with her mother and stands. It means they can finally get the hell out of here. No disrespect to her parents, but with so much change happening so quickly, Dean had been able to put Lawrence out of his mind for a while. Tonight he thinks about his mom and his brother more than makes him comfortable on their way through the village. He follows Mila inside their tipi, then starts up a candle while she gets ready to rest for the evening.

Living here is like going back in time—before the lantern, before indoor plumbing and the water heater. It’s not a huge hardship for Dean, who’s spent a lot of his life sleeping on hard, dusty ground, or military bases with less than most modern amenities, but it’s still another adjustment.

He undresses down to his pants and settles down to the bedding and furs, waiting for his wife. She kneels beside him after undressing down to just her shift. He lays on his back with an arm tucked behind his head, and he watches her unbind her long, dark hair, undoing the braid from the bottom strands. She has this concentrated look on her face, like her mind is far away, even though she’s right here next to him. He threads his fingers through her loose hair while she works, giving her a smile.

“You okay?” he asks.

Mila pauses. She lets her tresses escape from her fingers and reaches for him, laying her hand on his chest. Dean holds it there and finally allows himself to press a kiss into her palm.

I’m sorry, is what she wants to say, but she knows he’ll only reply, For what?

So she lowers down and slips into his warm embrace, as if this can make them both forget the day. She rests her cheek over his beating heart.

“You will never be alone,” she promises.

Dean quirks a smile. Instead of answering, he brushes her cheek tenderly with his hand, and he closes his eyes. A few deep breaths later, and he finds sleep.

The candle slowly flickers out.

On most nights, Mila falls asleep before Dean, and so his light snores don’t bother her. Tonight, even though she’s tried, she can’t tune out his rumbles. Or maybe it’s her own mind she can’t tune out.

She carefully maneuvers out of his hold and slips on her shoes. Maybe the moon will give her clarity tonight.

She pushes open the front flap of the tent and steps out into the cooler air. She looks up at the moon’s white-blue glow, a wide crescent peeking out from between two large clouds. A strong breeze tugs at her hair and flutters her lashes when she closes her eyes. She crosses her arms when goosebumps spread across her tan skin.

“What troubles you, Kimmímila?”

The voice is steady and male, and all too familiar. Still, the intrusion startles her. Her eyes fly open wide and she jolts, inhaling sharply. She frowns when she realizes it’s him.

“What are you doing? It’s late,” she says.

He steps out from the shadows with his pipe in hand. He smells strongly of tobacco. Her father and uncle smoke as well, but she doesn’t like it herself. She’s glad Dean doesn’t either.

“Easing my mind,” he says, raising his pipe. “I see you’re up to the same thing.”

Mila shakes her head. She returns her attention to the moon. “Go. You shouldn’t be here.”

“Are we not friends, Mila?” he says. “Can’t we talk and share like we used to?”

His voice is disheartened enough that it earns her gaze. She sighs at him.

“I am sorry, but I can’t give you what you want,” she says. “Don’t test me anymore.”

He pauses with his pipe in hand. It drops to his side, and he takes measured steps closer, until he’s looking down at her. Even with the litheness of his form, he’s still taller and broader than her. His long, dark hair is half pulled onto the top of his head, threaded together with a beaded leather string she made for him when they were children. He has used it ever since. The rest of his hair lays loose down his back, brushing his arms.

“If you actually loved him, it wouldn’t be a test,” he teases.

He tries to touch her cheek, but she guides his hand down. She shakes her head and steps away from him.

“This isn’t a game,” she says. “You know I mean what I say.”

His anger and frustration surfaces, with a sharp exhale of breath and the crunch of his dark brows.

“You would choose the Outlander over your own people,” he accuses.

Mila’s gaze is firm as she heads back to her tipi. If he will not be reasonable, then she will make it clear enough to hurt.

“I choose him over you,” she says.

Then, she slips back inside.

The shadow outside remains, just long enough for the moon to become clear past the moving clouds.

In the morning, Mila goes to her uncle, Chief Tahatan. She finds her parents there in his tipi as well, all of them sharing breakfast. Her aunt passes around more bread and wojapi, a sweet mixed berry sauce, while her father is resting a broken ankle. He’s complaining again, even though it happened over a week ago now.

“If you hadn’t let the horse buck you off, you wouldn’t be hurting,” she says sharply now. She’s become annoyed with his griping. “Or better yet, you can finally admit that you’re beyond the years of breaking young stallions.”

Chatan is the Horsemaster of their tribe, and has been since Mila was a little girl, inheriting the position from her great uncle, the former chief’s younger brother. Mila knows, however, that Chatan is getting too old to do the harder work. Many years have meant many battles too, and they’ve taken their toll on his bones.

An idea grows in her mind, and she goes to sit beside her father. She applies the poultice Eyota gives Weaya for him, before rewrapping his ankle.

“Father,” she begins, imploring him gently, “perhaps Dean could help you care for the horses.”

Chatan eyes her with a frown. “Your husband already has his hands filled with training.”

“Šóta and Takoda can’t do it all themselves, and Dean has experience with breaking young horses,” she reasons.

Chatan ignores her and hefts himself to his feet without her or his wife’s help. He leaves with her mother on his heels, even though she looks back at her daughter apologetically. You know your father, her eyes say.

Mila frowns at his back, both frustrated and upset. When they’re gone, she heaves a sigh. She remains determined though.

She goes to Chief Tahatan next. He sits in his chair of whicker and wood while he smokes his pipe. Her aunt has gone to help the other women harvesting chokeberries and wild onions. Mila will go there soon, but first, she has business here.

“Uncle,” she says.

He makes a sound of acknowledgement, crossed between a grunt and a groan. He knows what's coming. She kneels at his feet and touches his hand in a sign of humbleness, reverence, and familial love all at once.

“Uncle,” she repeats. “Dean has done nothing but try to please Father, but still, he’s being stubborn…will you talk to him? Please?”

Tahatan sighs deeply. “You must understand your father, child. The decision you’ve made affects us all.”

“I do understand, Uncle. But the truth of it is, none of you have given Dean a chance to prove himself.”

“His chance is right now,” Tahatan says, his tone more stern. “Have I not been gracious? Did I not allow him to stay and live among us?”

“Yes, but you continue to judge him in your mind, like everyone else,” she says. The Chief remains quiet. She moves to stand before him, holding his gaze directly. “Let us perform the Huŋkápi.”

Huŋkápi. The Making of Relatives. Her people first created the tradition to make peace between Lakota and rival tribes, like the Ree. It can even be used to unite extended families within the tribe, especially in times of marriage. There is no better time for it, she thinks.

The Chief shakes his head. “Kimmímila.”

“Is he not my husband?” she says. “In the eyes of our people, this is the joining of two families, and accepting an outsider into our tribe. That is exactly what the ceremony is for.”

“He has no family,” Tahatan snaps. “It is not exactly the tradition.”

“Then let us make it new,” she argues.

Tahatan hesitates. He shakes his head and rubs at his chin in a gesture of long-suffering. He thanks the spirits that he never had daughters. While he loves his niece, he has never envied his brother.

“I will think on it,” he says.

Mila frowns, but she tries her best to accept this, for now. She thanks him respectfully and leans in to kiss his cheek. Tahatan grunts an acknowledgement and watches her go with another shake of his head, despite a small smile. Between her and his sons, they will keep adding years to his life.

On her way out of the Chief’s tipi, she runs into her cousin, Šóta. He walks with all the comfortable cockiness of a rooster among his harem.

“Good morning, sister,” he greets, even as he playfully pulls at her braid and tosses it into her face.

She flicks it away and meets him with an irritated frown. She’s in no mood to be teased, especially by him. “You’re still a child.”

“Ho-ho, hey now,” he chuckles, and he cuts off her path by standing in her way, crossing his arms. “Watch it. When I become Chief, don’t think I’ll let you talk to me so disrespectfully, my sister.”

“Just because you will be Chief one day does not make you wise,” she says. Her voice is as sharp as the snap of a blackberry vine. “And don’t call me sister. You have lost that right.”

Šóta finally becomes serious; he realizes that she means what she says.

“What are you talking about? What have I done?” he asks, more earnestly.

“It’s what you haven’t done,” Mila snaps. “If you were a good leader, you would take your father’s words to heart when he accepted my husband into our tribe. If you were my brother, you wouldn’t let the men mock him. If you were a man at all, you would do what is right. You would be guiding him right now, instead of letting the others ‘train’ him.”

She storms away from him, leaving Šóta feeling irritated, but also with an uncomfortable feeling beginning to churn in his gut.

Mila moves brusquely through the camp until she reaches the clearing edged by the forest. There the horses are fenced in. They’ve been given their food and water for the morning, so they’re rather frisky as they clop around and graze.

She looks for Mato. Baby is no doubt with Dean today, so the Kiger mustang keeps to himself underneath a large sycamore tree. His tail flicks when she approaches, and he turns to her with a sound of greeting. She allows her hand to run along his dun-colored coat as she draws closer.

“I need you, my friend,” she whispers.

She holds his snout, pressing her forehead against his as she squeezes her eyes shut against the burn of frustrated tears. Mato bumps her shoulder with his nose, softly whinnying. She smiles, sniffling, and rubs his cheek.

“Let’s go for a ride.”

AN: Well, here we go! Sorry for ending on some angst, but here we've got the pieces in motion for a fun-filled, four-part sequel. 😂💜 Dean and Mila are both struggling in their own ways while he tries to navigate this new world he's trying to live in.

And how do you think he's gonna react to the "mystery man" trying to win her back? 😬

Pronunciation Guide:

Šóta ("sho-tah") Chatan ("chat-tan") Tahatan ("ta-hat-tann") Otaktay ("ogh-tac-tay") Weaya ("we-ayy-ya") Takoda ("ta-koda") Mato ("matt-toe") Misae ("mee-sah-eh")

Next Time:

But she feels a shadow at her feet as she ventures through the village. They are getting bigger as a tribe, harder to move when they need to, and it’s more mouths to feed, but it’s also a good thing. Despite all the challenges the past few decades have brought, their people are enduring.

However, she pushes these thoughts to the back of her mind when she feels a prickling down the back of her neck. It’s followed shortly by the strong hand that closes on her wrist, and the man that calls her name.

She gasps and whips around. He is there, gently shushing her. She glares at him and tries to pull her hand out of his grip.

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