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ravengards-rogue · 9 months ago

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WHAT SET YOU FREE, BROUGHT YOU TO ME BABY.

rdr2 men + short blurbs about their favorite sex positions.

ft. arthur morgan, john marston, javier escuella, and charles smith.

✧ tags : SPOILER HEAVY, fem + afab!reader, unprotected sex, light angst (in the horny post is crazy im sorry fdkjjkds), very gendered language, javier says one thing in spanish (thank u @nanamimizz), a little sprinkle of plot with each (and some canon divergency), john co-parents w abigail, otherwise just horny. 18+

✧ wc : about 1.4-8k each (6.3k total)

✧ a/n : sorry for making a multi character post for the cowboy game its cooking me to death. my john bias is showing rip. title is from rebel yell by billy idol but i listen to the bvb cover

sorry about charles and javiers but if i edit this anymore im going to level an entire city using hollow purple technique. please rb if you enjoyed i worked kind of hard on whatever this is.

sorry for . the THIRD repost of this i promise i wont after this. its just really bugging me. PLEASE

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ ARTHUR MORGAN + PRONE BONE ;

It’s an odd feelin’ for Arthur.

Wanting something, he means. Wanting anything as much as he wants you. He’s lived a less than quiet life up until now. And he ain’t the brightest, certainly, but living this kind of life teaches you many lessons. One of them being, it’s better not to covet anything. Coveting something you’re not entitled to, well—it’ll lead you places you wouldn’t want to go with a gun.

Arthur has made the mistake of coveting love before, dreamed of a future so completely out of his reach he almost convinced himself it was possible. Dreamed of it so foolishly he’d even go visit a woman he very well ought to forget. It’s his problem, his burden to bear - always desiring outcomes unsuited to him.

He’s just that sort of man he reckons. But he learned his lesson. He tries (tried?) to stay away from it after that. Tried not to pine too much for normalcy when such hopes had failed him twice. The loss of his child completely on his account and the loss of his love at the same fate.

So, wanting you - well, he feels like the world's dullest fool. Really. How is it that Arthur had fallen in love with someone again? It had all just happened so quickly. You were another woman he’d saved from the O’Driscolls, though it wasn’t like you were no damsel. A lot of those men were dead by the time they arrived. That sort of perseverance would stick with you while you traveled together. Much like Sadie, you didn’t take well to housework - you liked to earn your keep. Though you’re not nearly so trigger happy.

You’re quiet, thoughtful, well-read. Plus you’re good at making money. That’s why Dutch don't complain about you joining them, he figures.

(Arthur tries not to pry into it too much at first, but he eventually learns that you’re gambling. Which is how you’re able to make such a fast turn around. A prim little lady like you makes for a fine poker player, and you love to play men out of their money. He thinks it’s one of the funniest and most interesting things about you. He can’t help but love you a little more for it. )

When the feelings in him start to stir, Arthur tries to overlook it. Arthur convinces himself, time and time again - that there’s no way he’ll grow more tender about you. Eventually, it’ll die down. You’re a decent woman is all, a kind one - who’s easy for him to love and even easier for him to confide in. In your time together, you often come to Arthur and you always seem to have some profound wisdom he is so sorely lacking. Someone easy to love, who does not expect much from Arthur at all. It’s only natural a lonely, covetous man like him would start to dream about you. He tells himself, it will pass eventually. Should he simply let it run by him, it will pass. But Arthurs a fool, you’ll remember.

Of course, by the time he understood all that - he already loved you enough that he couldn’t bear it. It was already too late and it wasn’t going to change any time soon. Especially not while everything changed around him.

So, Arthur is undoubtedly a fool, but he’s lucky. He felt divinely blessed when you’d returned his feelings for him so politely. A coy little smile on your face, a laugh like you thought he was silly for being doubtful. Arthur tried to explain himself but you wouldn’t hear a word of it. Maybe that’s another thing he loves so much about you. There’s nothing he ever needs to explain.

In any case, all Arthur seems to do lately is want you. Wants you when it’s inconvenient. Wants you before he wants liquor or a cigarette or some other vice. Any time anything goes wrong, you’re the first thing his mind can conjure up for relief. That pretty smile and that self-assured way of living. It’s hard to get time alone in camp. And Arthur is a man in love, so any touch could be enough to set him on fire. Last week you hugged his waist a little before giving him a kiss goodbye and he had to listen to you laugh yourself into a fit as he waited for…little Arthur to settle down.

He don’t get many chances to be with you. Lay with you in that way that grown folk in love do. Though, if the two of you book it somewhere for a few days - the camp knows better not to ask where you’ve been. But it’s not often you get to really be together, where it’s peaceful to do that. Someone’s always hounding one of you to do something.

Arthur is a lucky man though, like he said. Today he had time. Today he’s alone with you in a beat up little saloon and today he gets to do as he likes. He gets to be greedy. And it’s an odd feeling for him, really, to want something so bad he disregards everything else in the world for a little while.

Feeling you, though - absolves the guilt for wanting. He’d be stupid to want you any less desperately.

Arthur’s favorite way to have you is on your stomach. Laid flat, just barely pushed up against him as he fucks you deep. You’ll fuck like rabbits for a little while and Arthur will wear you out just like this, maneuvering you until you’re pinned all underneath his weight. You lose any fight you might have, too exhausted to worry yourself with pleasing him - and when you’re like that, you let Arthur take care of you.

(He really ain’t talented at much, but he’s good with his hands. Being dexterous is part of being a talented shot. When Arthur has the time to spread you sweet in his lap and make you cum all over his fingers, he does so for as long as he can. At least until you beg him so sweetly otherwise. The same hands, soiled with gunsmoke, look so good so deep in you. At least in his eyes.)

Wet and pliable and helpless. Arthur loves you like that. He knows, he knows you’re anything but - but he’d be damned to pretend this don’t feel best. Tight, wet cunt so welcoming from all the pleasure he’s ripped out of you. Your bodies pressed together, your heartbeat pulsing through your skin. All sticky, honeyed need and animal desire as Arthur lets all of him sink on top of you. His heavy, lumbering form crushing you in - trapping you somewhere you can’t run from him. The curve of your spine pushed against his chest, ticklish.

Every inch of his body that so wholly wants for you, Arthur aches to make you feel. Burn it in you lest anything happens that risks your forgetting.

He can feel his hips meet your ass, backside squished against him - desperate for deeper friction. Whining. You’re whining to him so pretty, a pillow pushed underneath you to give friction to needy clit.

Arthur can feel how much you want more. Maybe Arthur is greedy, but he likes that look much better on you. Your pussy is sucking him in so tight, silken walls pulsing with every shallow little measured thrust. Arthur lets his arm wrap around your neck, your face pressing into his bicep. You moan again and he laughs.

“Arthur,” Your words come out in a messy slur. He lets his scruffy face press against your neck, a kiss behind your ear. He wants to kiss you all over. There’s not enough hours in the day. “Oh, god, Arthur,”

“Still feels good, then, I’m guessin’,”

“Shut up,” You huff and press your cheek into his arm. He doesn’t bother stifling his laugh. “Still feels…big. Stretchin’ me out—hicc—so much,”

You really don’t try to rile him up - but you do a damn good job of it anyway. He groans, grunts as he pulls back and pistons himself in you. A gesture half-way between a kiss and the warning shot of a gun. The sound of skin hitting skin echoes, noisy and vulgar. Arthur don’t pay it much mind. He laughs against your shoulder.

“One of these days, that moutha’ yours is gonna get me in real trouble.”

You giggle back at him

“What kinda trouble is that now?”

Even from your side glance, you’ve got that lovely little smile on you. Fuckdrunk and ingratiating, like you know he’s wrapped so tight around your fingers. And he is, like nothing else in the world could have him. A wave of possession curls up over Arthur, makes him press more of himself into you. Onto you. Another deep push of his cock, sliding against the tenderest parts of you. Staking some silent desire in you. He wants and wants and wants, and hopes that whatevers above him can forgive him for making the same mistake thrice.

“Dunno,” Arthur comments, teeth grazing your shoulder and kissing the indentations “Got our whole lives together to find out, I reckon.”

“I’ll hold you to it, Mister.”

Arthur laughs. “Hope you do, Miss.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ JOHN MARSTON + COWGIRL ;

John doesn’t say that he loves you lightly.

Hardly a thing he says can be said that way. Could never afford too. In an alternate universe where nothing goes wrong in his life, maybe - but he has a hard time picturing what the hell that’d look like. A version of himself so untainted, without all of the violence and blood and gunsmoke? Foreign. John can’t picture it worth a damn.

Who John is without a deadbeat father and a dead Ma is somewhere far beyond his reach. Ain’t nothing about his life, at any point, lighthearted.

On top of all that mess, he’s got a boy at age four with a woman he ain’t married too. And that relationship is always on rocky waters, even though John’s decided to do right by his own flesh and blood sometime ago. Most things in the world he should feel good about he doesn’t, and most things he should understand render him clueless. He’s a mess on multiple accounts, and he still doesn’t know how exactly he’s meant to approach this life of his. He knows what he should do, but nothing about how to do it.

John doesn’t come to love you easily ‘cause he wouldn’t know easy love if it hit him in his face. Quickly and painfully, but not easily.

Your return to the gang was an odd one. You were an old presence and your disappearance was an even older story. John thought he’d never gonna see you again for sure. You’d been a part of the gang back long before all of the nonsense that took place in Blackwater and you left about the time Arthur’s boy died. John don’t remember why you left exactly. He thinks it was a fight with Hosea, of all things.

Dutch weren't too happy about it neither, but Dutch back then didn’t make a show.

So you left, and John buried every feeling he ever harbored. You found all them again up in Colter, where you’d been living out your days lately. According to you, in the middle of riding, you thought you’d heard Arthur. So, somewhat recklessly, you went chasing him. Didn’t matter if he was just something your mind conjured. According to you, if it was him, it was at least worth checking to make sure. You’d reunited with Arthur and after some tears, he rode with you back to camp.

Upon your return, the gang welcomed you with open arms.

You’d done a lot in your time alone.You spent most of that time just like that, a ghost wanderin’ the planes. You weren’t gonna stay with ‘em, but Arthur insisted and Hosea did too. That wasn’t enough to compel, so John was last to chip in. You should stay, at least until Valentine.

(Silently he thought, you should stay so John can trace memories of you. It was so long ago, he should’ve forgotten all of it. You were a year older than John and always on his ass but easy for him to talk to. Didn’t fuss over his failures. You just barely grew into your womanhood when you set your sights on running away. You wanted more than this life, and John never really forgave you for it. His first heartbreak, maybe - but it’s all too blurry for that.

You understood him though better than anyone, and one day you were gone. Nothing’s really the same.)

You changed tremendously and not at all. He missed you. God, did he ever. Missed you a long time. Didn’t realize how much until you came back and everything in him felt right again. Your return stirred up old feelings and everyone noticed. He wasn’t trying to keep it a secret, but he really wasn’t trying to fall back into anything with you. Not how he did.

Just like you did back then, you read John like an open book. And just like he did back then, he loved you all too helplessly for it. It was just all too easy again, to be with you.

You stayed out of the way at first, for the sake of his family.

But, John ain’t a half-decent man even when he’s trying to be. So he set himself on being with you. It wasn’t easy - most things with him aren’t as you’ll see. Having you around again straightened what was left of his common sense, at least. He told Abigail before telling you. He figured you wouldn’t even reply unless that was all out of the way. That turned out as well as you’d expect.

It was settled between the two of you thereafter. He’s lucky she didn’t toss him into the street.

Everything works out in a way. As best they can between broken people. You make peace with each other. His boy loves you like a third parent (you’re better with him than John is). Abigail commends you for straightening out such a worthless man though she’s a little melancholy. John just tries to stay out of the way. You’ll be together in the end. There’s a plan with the five of you.

But until it all falls apart, he doesn’t get all that much time with you.

There’s moments like tonight, though. Rare ones. Together out robbin’, cooped out some place in the woods where no one is around. A place so shaded by nightfall that John can absolve himself of every sin he’s ever committed in his life and pray at the altar between your hips. John is convinced he might find worship like he’s always hearing about there whenever he touches you, the marred skin of his hands and knuckles reading the scripture of your body with careful precision.

You might turn him into a literate man yet.

John glances up at you. Only the light of the fire and the moonlight there to accompany as he watches you over him. You’re beautiful. John couldn’t picture a single thing more perfect in his life.

Your hands against his bare chest, nails digging into the flesh as you lean forward. Your palm dug into the dirt, John finds his own hands rested at your hips. John looks at you awe-struck, cock twitching at the mere sight. His heart settles in his throat, but he’s calm all at the same time. With you, he forgets. All of it. The worst of himself.

Bare naked and so close, he watches your face as you strain. You feel soft. Every inch of you in comparison to him is. A bead of sweat slides down the valley of your breasts. John cranes his neck up to catch it with his tongue, licking a stripe up to your neck - letting his teeth sink into the space between your jaw and neck. You want to make it last and John doesn’t blame you. It’s so rare you get to have each other so unrestrained. John can feel all the ways you want him, can see it in your face - all pinched with need. You’re holding yourself back, trying to get it to last as long as the night will allow. It’s cute in a way.

It’s different than how he’s used to seein’ you, all cocky or otherwise. You’re needy like this. Just needy. His stomach turns with lust, jolting through him like a strike of lightning. His cock twitches against your folds, sliding against them. Pure admiration watching the sticky mess of his pre-cum and your own arousal mix together and smear on your mound. You make a soft noise in the back of your throat, faint and tender as you fall forward just a little. John laughs against your neck.

“Darlin’,” He says with a huff. Not malice. Something akin to bliss, where he can rarely afford it “Have I done something to piss you off today?”

You pick yourself up and look down at him and frown. John kisses the corner of your mouth, resisting some crude desire to fuck up into you.

“Just,” You grunt as the tip of his cock passes over your throbbing clit, your whole body wracking to a shiver. John looks awed. “Pent up. Goddamn it,”

John figures it out quickly after that. It’s this part of it he likes. The proximity. The closeness. Feeling the tremble in your hands as they struggle to keep up right, muscles strained in your forearms. Being able to hold you, to keep the pace or let you take the lead. The clear view of your face as pleasure travels up through your spine and melts into you. He grabs your hips, the fat dimpling underneath his fingers as he moves you along. He can’t wait. You don’t bother to protest seeing John can’t seem to bear it anymore. You collapse into his chest, your tits pushed flat against his pecs.

His cock throbs near painfully, sliding against your soft cunt before finding himself lined with you. He thinks to himself that it’s this he was looking for, as he tucks your face against his neck and lets his tip stretch you out slowly. Such a vice like grip, stretching - resisting him like your whole body can’t anticipate the sensation of fullness. You gasp against his throat.

“John,”

What a sweet sound from your mouth, even sweeter as he bucks himself up. Keeps you steady and lets his cock stretch you full, feel you deep. “That’s right, my angel. Didn’t think you’d remember my name when you’re all worked up like this.”

“You’re,” You gasp and John thrusts, thrusts hard until he’s buried to the hilt. You shudder, walls pulsing around him as he bottoms out and John laughs like the terrible man he is. He fucks you again, over and over - a wicked little smile watching “Awful. Just awful, John Marston,”

“Ain’t that the truth,” He hums against your mouth as his hand snakes between your bodies, thumb rubbing against your clit. “Wonder what kinda woman that makes you,”

“A foolish one,”

John laughs.

“I sure do love you for it,”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆JAVIER ESCUELLA + SIDEWAYS ;

Javier hasn’t thought about much other than surviving.

It’s been like that. Been like that for a while, probably much longer than he cares to admit. He’s sure any sane man would suffer the same plight if they lead the same life. Anything but survival is little more than a pipe-dream, so Javier tries not to go for anything too strongly. In that aspect he’s like many of the members of the gang he’s in, perhaps that’s why he sticks to them. There’s that phrase Hosea’s always saying - that misery loves company. Javier will take any decent company he can get. He’s desperate for it just like he’s desperate for most things - inwardly, silently.

Some of that desperation may be symptomatic of who he is. After he killed a man in a crime of passion for a woman he loved and ran from a government who would sooner exile him than change, Javier decided to not dream anymore. Every revolutionary who dreams too hopefully pays the price in blood.

(Javier thinks there’s probably nothing in the world as true as this. A form of gospel. He remembers the first dream he ever had after his uncle passed. Not a nightmare but a dream. He remembers the exact feeling of waking up, cold and confused. What is a dream, except a memento of survivor's guilt that loyal people cling onto fruitlessly. When hope starts to feel like a debt he’s going to waste his life paying back, Javier loses sight of everything. The beginning of the end in some way.)

His mind doesn’t occupy itself with anything bigger than that. Since Dutch found him starving, there was never a desire to try and live off aspirations. He pays his penance with loyalty and honor. Practices some form of humility and tries, not too desperately, to carve a place for him to fit. All without drawing too much attention or caring too much. If you ignore the bleeding in his fingers, his penchant for knives over guns, and his refusal to talk too long about the place he comes from - it’s nearly believable that none of it matters.

Except loyalty. All Javier honors is that. It’s the only thing he has some part in choosing, so he choses it every time. Living like that didn’t make any difference to him. He was surrounded by mostly decent people. He didn’t hate the life he was living.

It wasn’t important. It didn’t matter. His directionless-ness, his floating. Hadn’t since he joined the gang. At least not to anyone but him. He didn’t know what he’s meant to do or if he was meant to proceed with this forever. He was (is) loyal to Dutch. To the gang.

He hadn’t thought much about what comes after.

And it didn’t matter until he met you

He’d sworn off love after seeing where it got him, at least until he could love more dispassionately. When the women bring you back from their outing from Valentine and beg Dutch to let you stay, Javier doesn’t think much of it all. He thinks you’re pretty, if it counts for anything. But he doesn’t let himself linger on you too long.

But that’s the sequence with you two, really. The whole time. He doesn’t linger until he does. It doesn't matter until it does. He doesn’t think about you until it’s all he can think about.

You go for him first. And it’s in little, unimportant ways that might not mean shit to you but mean a whole lot to him. You have some kind of tenderness about you that you wear deep, runs through your blood like love ran through his once long ago. Some softness he can’t really measure with his own. It’s not that that gets him. It’s that sometimes you look at Javier like he's … someone you want to see. He forgot what that was like all together. It felt foreign to him the first time it happened. Seeing how you light up when Javier is around.

You wanted to see him. You noticed that he’s gone. If he sang by the campfire - you’d sit by him and listen. If he was out in the trees keeping guard, he’d hear the soft call of your voice to Grimshaw ask Where’s Javier? And sometimes the girls will make fun of you - but you wouldn’t deny anything they said. It’s so small and ordinary. He would’ve never considered himself simple before meeting you. Nothing is simple. Nothing.

(But then, Javier thinks of the kinds of songs he sings and the way he takes care of himself and the clothes he wears and maybe Javier has some kind of affinity for preciousness that explains all of it.)

When Javier confesses his feelings for you - he finds the affair to be like most things between you. Ordinary love, not really between outlaws but people. It’s up against a tree while you share a drink and he’s looking at the curve of your mouth and the plum color Karen’s so kindly put on you. And his head fills with kissing you so he does. A breathless confession between alcohol stains and the feeling of your hands curled in the lapels of his suit.

From there, Javier is your lover. He’s not interested in the business of secrets, but he tries not to let it show too much. Not that he doesn’t want to. He wants to show you off more than anything - at least some part of him does. But the other part wants to keep you away from prying eyes, keep his love for you only where the both of you can see. If he could keep that pretty lovestruck face you make all to himself forever he would.

When he gets a chance to whisk you away from everything, Javier jumps at the chance. Not often, but Javier makes time for you. Makes time to indulge in love he thought he’d never find again.

That’s why he’s here with you in the middle of nowhere, a ghost town where no one knows you.. A reserved room with a bed and lowlights all to yourselves.

Javier can’t keep his hands to himself and he doubts you expect him too.

For Javier, this sense of proximity is what intoxicates him most. The warmth of your bare skin in the slivers of yourself exposed. Javier is fond of finding you like this after a long day of horse riding. Of sneaking touches to your waist as you push back against him to sleep, only to find his desire for you - laid clearly. He likes hearing you whimper feeling his length poke against your back, the embarrassment when it dawns on you that he wants you after all. Always surprised, even though Javier tells you it so often. Whispers it along your neck and shoulders whenever you’re at camp together.

You like the feeling of his hands so Javier always starts with them. He squeezes your hips. Planes his palms over your chest before squeezing your chest, pushing the fat between his fingers. You like the way they look when they grope you, his chin resting against your shoulder as you spoon. In the lowlights of a cheap hotel - Javier gets the perfect view of your silhouette. Your body is sensitive over the fabric of your gown, heat prickling through you.

Javier who is always so gentle with you, rouses so deep listening to your whining as he explores your body. The suffocating closeness of a single bed intoxicates him.

“Javier,” Your voice is sweet and thin. Plays in Javier’s head like music and makes his mouth curl up into a catlike grin as you push back on him. You look slightly over your shoulder, lips pushed into a pout. “Please,”

He tugs at the fabric of your nightgown. The top half pulls haphazard underneath your tits, nipples perky and sensitive to touch while the skirt pools at your waist. What gets Javier like this is the desperation. Wanting so much but not being able to look too long. A way for you to mirror him, it’s a matter of possession. In some stupid way. Bunching your clothes up, pushing the fabric of your panties to one side, letting his arm wrap around your waist to touch and tease. All of these are imprints of his longing, tucked faithful into your side as he whispers sweet nothings into your skin.

His cock twitches as it pushes past your folds with finality, your hands curling up at your sides. You whimper softly, let your cheek rest against the sheets as Javier takes you on your side. Terribly close, you fuss as you feel him slide every inch into you slow, your hands reaching back for purchase. It’s the fit of you against him so perfect, the silent strokes of intimacy, the hush-hush giggles between the sheets that Javier loves most about fucking you like this. Too enamored with you to look too closely, he lets his eyes flutter closed. He could get drunk just being in your space.

He carves out space for himself inside of you, feels your cunt accommodate for him like it loves him. A feverishness breaks out as his forehead rests on the space between your shoulders, an uncharacteristic whiny quality in his words.

“Ser mío,” Javier says - as a reflection of what he really wants, to belong only to you. “Belong to me.”

Darling as you always are, you nod softly.

“All yours, Javier,” You whimper, finding his hand. “Forever,”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ CHARLES SMITH + MATING PRESS ;

Wandering.

He’s been doing it his whole life. Not something he’s proud of. Or ashamed of either, really. Just how things have gone for him until now. Charles doesn’t think his life has been any better or any worse than anyone else's. At least not when he weighs it with the same kind of pragmatism he does most things. It’s been a hard life, and a miserable one in so many ways. Still, it’s not something Charles is too keen to dwell on.

There’s just something thematic about loss in Charles' life in a way he finds completely unpleasant. It’s more constant than anything. Loss of his home, loss of his mother, loss of his father in an attempt to find what’s best for him. It’s some overarching message that hangs over his head like a shadow. Everywhere he goes, trying to rectify his own solitude seems to come back to him. It doesn’t help that it’s an unfair world to start with, and would’ve been if he had just been black or just been native. But Charles is both, and has lived a life that reflects that specific injustice thoroughly.

There’s not really anything Charles can do about it, at its baseline. When he left his father, the name of the game had simply been survival. He was well-equipped enough for that at least. But after survival comes trying to live and trying to live isn’t something so simple. Jumping in and out of gangs who thought they could get away with slighting him or generally being surrounded by unpleasant people. Trying to find something in pages of book and scripture, or in the way water ripples when it rains.

He’s never felt any one way towards the gang. Even when he joined them all the way back in the Grizzlies. Lost in the cold, they’d crossed paths as Charles was out hunting. A lot of it feels like a blur. Of all the folks he’s met in his travels though, Dutch treats him fair and the rest of them (or most of them) are decent, honest folk. Charles stays in the Van Der Linde gang for such simple reasons as trying to stay alive and be somewhere that isn’t actively hostile towards him. He’s a good gunman, and a better fighter. The inner workings of gang politics and forging connection isn’t at the forefront of his mind, with the exception of the kindest few.

The Van Der Linde gang is just a place where he can figure out what his purpose is meant to be, even if he doesn’t find it there. He’s never expecting anything to come out from his loyalties to it.

Of all the things Charles expects of his life in the Van Der Linde gang, love is at the very bottom of the list.

Maybe it’s about time he stops being surprised by these things happening to him one or way another.

You were a member of the gang far before him, and someone Charles took to quickly. You’d joined the gang not too long after John from what Arthur tells him. Though the brunette speaks about you more fondly than he does his brother. A problem child at the start, according to Arthur - always getting into all sorts of trouble. Something you seemingly feel embarrassed about now and refuse to bring up. Charles has a hard time picturing it having only known you as you are.

The woman you’ve grown into is someone else completely, and Charles sees that in you all the time. Compassionate like Hosea but charismatic like Dutch, and clever. And you’re beautiful, too, though Charles feels a little shallow admitting that’s part of what drew you into him.

It wasn’t Charles that approached you first. You were the one who spoke to him, as often as you thought necessary but never in a way he found invasive. He doesn’t know what it is exactly about you that charms him near instantly. You’re enigmatic to a fault. It’s like you always know exactly what to say and exactly when to say it. Even more than that, you’re a terribly pleasant person to be around. Subtly warm and free of assumptions. When Charles talks to you about anything, you listen without making him feel like it’s any sort of burden to you. You don’t pry, don’t make missteps. Treat him fair, and then some.

It’s unbearably simple, just how quickly and how easily he comes to adore you. And, in some ways, Charles knows better than to believe that his purpose is loving someone. There’s more to it than that, surely - after everything.

But then, he’ll watch you do something. Watch you do some kind of menial work that he could do for you instead. Thinks of skinning animals for new clothes and chopping wood and rubbing the soap off of you and all of a sudden it makes him feel anchored. Everything he could do for you. You anchor Charles easily, with a wispy smile. Make him want to find purpose in life with you. He never wants to be somewhere you’re not.

He confesses it to you just like that, and like you do with most things - you accept and reciprocate without making too much of a fuss.

For Charles, making love is an extension of wanting to ground himself in you. A distant siren song - the intersection of lust and bone deep adoration. Like most things, you’re the one to approach first every time. A soft hand on his forearm, a whisper that you want him. It’s with ease that he draws you away. Drags from you camp during nightfall with his horse and blankets and picks a spot with the perfect view of the stars.

Charles watches you under the glow of moonlight, his vision adjusting to you easily. Naked underneath him, laid on your back with your legs folded at your knees - heaving deep breaths. He can see the sweat beading down your skin, your chest rising and falling - and the perfect view of your pussy. His hands and mouth are wet as you breathe out. He finds himself smiling at you, his own erection pressed against your thigh, pre-cum leaking out in a mesmerized haze.

You lift your hands up and he leans down, surprised as you wrap them around his neck and pull him closer to you. Your mouths meet like that, and Charles laughs against your lips as you kiss him so eagerly. You blink at him, pretty. You’re always prettier than he remembers you being the last time he looks.

“Charles,” You frown at him. “It’s impolite to keep a lady waiting,”

He kisses the corner of your mouth. “Sorry, my love. I don’t want to hurt you,”

“Well, I’m fine with it,” You repeat, almost petulant. Charles frowns. “‘Sides, it ain’t my first time taking you, you know?”

“Well, I’m not fine with it.”

You pout, looking at him all endeared. Charles couldn’t help but love you even if he tried. “You ain’t gonna hurt me. C’mon. Please?”

“Please, what?”

You look at him aghast before breaking out into a faux-scandalized giggle. “Now you—please fuck me. Pretty, please.”

Charles feels something tickling against his spine hearing you say it. He couldn’t imagine getting sick of you in his whole life. “Yeah, that’s good to hear.”

You make an indignant noise but it’s silenced quickly as Charles positions himself against your entrance. He has plenty of discipline when it comes to matters like these, but right now - he feels like he’s going to lose his mind. Not nearly enough patience to wait. He lets his hands go up underneath your knees just to have something to hold onto.

You make a little gasp as the tip of his cock pushes into you. Your walls are so soft, likely after all the orgasms he’d given you prior. You stop him in a shocked gasp, and Charles immediately readies himself to pull out. As if sensing his hesitance, you shake your head.

“Charles,” You gasp, the words caught in your throat and hoarse “Deep. Want it deep,”

His abdomen tightens, cocking twitching hard at your words. He agrees silently to your desires.

When it comes to sex, there’s very little Charles dislikes.

But this is his favorite. He’s simple but no other position lets him see you so close. He likes the way your eyes widen as he pushes up underneath your knees and folds you underneath his weight. How you look pinned down under him, the perfect view of your eyes rolling back into your head and the proximity from your face to his. He lets his cock stretch you out slowly, throbbing each time your nails dig desperately into arms trying to keep your composure. Fuck you feel so tight like that. Soft pussy, dripping and sticky. You suck him in relentlessly, and Charles groans as he bottoms out. You take every inch of him so well. So perfect like the rest of you.

Your eyes flutter open as he stays there, buried in you in complete bliss. You’re dazed.

“Kiss?”

Surprise followed by adoration, he abides by your request easily. Overwhelmed with it as he presses a chaste peck to your mouth, he laughs. “As many as you want.”

Anything you want, Charles thinks, he would give to you.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

#arthur morgan x reader #john marston x reader #javier escuella x reader #charles smith x reader #rdr2 x reader #rogues love letters #red dead redemption 2 x reader #THIS IS THE LAST TIME. THE LAST FUCKING TIME !!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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queenshelby · 1 month ago

Text

Daughter Dearest (Part 11)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (47) x Step! Daughter (21)

Warning: Infidelity, Smut, Dysfunctional Family

Tag List will be updated soon! Please comment and engage!

The following few days passed like a blur. Cillian was in London, working and attending some meetings for another movie while you finally got rid of your ankle monitor, gaining some freedom.

You applied for a few jobs in the hope to save enough money to move out again, even before you were scheduled to relocate to New York to attend your photography course, while your mother was busy shopping for Award Season dresses with your sister who was keen to be a third wheel at the Golden Globes and Oscars that year.

"Why do you even want to go to these award shows with them? I mean, don't you feel weird about it?" you questioned your twin-sister Cliona one evening, as the two of you sat together in the kitchen, eating leftover pizza and chatting, while your mother was putting Sadie to bed.

"Because it is fantastic for networking," she replied, chewing on a slice of pizza. "You never know who might be there and, besides, these events are great opportunities to show off," she added smugly, throwing a smug smile at you.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes and ignore her comment, allowing her to talk some more. Cliona had always been more interested in your stepfather's status than you had and, although you sometimes wished that you didn't care about her attitude towards his fame, it bothered you a lot lately.

In recent days, you had become particularly moody and being in a house with her and your mother, often alone, didn't help your nerves, despite the fact that you did love them.

On top of that, you had tried to push Cillian out of your head, telling yourself that what had happened between you two was a mistake and nothing more, but try as you might, you couldn't forget it.

You couldn't forget the way he had touched you, made love to you, or even just looked at you. You had never felt so desired in your life and although it scared you, it also excited you beyond belief.

It was a push-pull experience that made you yearn for his presence while, at the same time, you wanted things to go back to the way there were before, when you didn't have these feelings of guilt and shame constantly lingering over you when your mother and twin-sister were around.

"So you aren't coming to any of the awards then?" Cliona repeated her previous question with a pout, which mad you realise that, this entire time, when you were thinking about Cillian, she had been talking to you.

"W-what?" you said, snapping out of your daze. "Um, no, I won't be attending any of the awards shows with you guys. It's not for me and I have too much on my plate at the moment," you lied, even though you had no job and not much to do, other than wait for your course to start.

Cliona shrugged. "Suit yourself," she said, as if implying that you were missing out on a great opportunity, before finishing off her slice of pizza and standing up from her chair.

"Well, I'm heading to bed. See you tomorrow," she added, before walking out of the kitchen and leaving you alone in your thoughts.

You sighed and leaned back in your chair, staring out the window just as your phone beeped, signaling a new text message.

"You've got the job!" was the message written in big bold letters on the screen from the nice bartender at a local establishment to which a friend had introduced you to the day before.

Excitement bubbled inside of you, and your troubles seemed to vanish at the sight of the single message. You were absolutely broke , so this opportunity couldn't have come at a better time. You would be able to start working within the next few days, which provided a sense of financial security and a diversion from the drama you had created with Cillian.

Cillian, himself, arrived back home later that week just as you were about to head out for your first shift at the bar.

You were dressed casually in a pair of dark jeans, a fitted grey shirt and your hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail.

"Hey," you greeted Cillian as he walked through the door, looking exhausted but happy to see you, his eyes lighting up as they met yours.

"Hey," he replied, retaining his distance which, in your opinion, made this encounter somewhat awkward.

Luckily for you though, you were an expert in the art of small talk and, even though you hadn't mastered it, your tone sounded light and casual.

"How was your flight?" you asked, as he placed his luggage down and unzipped his jacket.

"Long," Cillian replied with a weary sigh before his eyes met yours again.

The connection was undeniable, burning with a passion that refused to quell. But he had his integrity, and perhaps that was something he would never compromise. Not even for you.

"Where are you off to?" Cillian inquired, his gaze falling on your outfit while you were fidgeting with the house keys.

"Oh, I've got a job now ," you informed him cheerfully, attempting to keep your tone light while trying to overcome the fluttering feelings in your chest.

"Where at?" Cillian asked, raising an eyebrow, and you wanted to smile at his enthusiasm, but you held back, taking a deep breath instead.

"Just a bar, in town. It's called O'Rielly's and is really nothing special," you lied, trying to downplay the significance of this job, but Cillian could see right through it.

"That's great though," he said with a warm smile, making your heart flutter uncontrollably. "Well done," he told you, knowing how you wanted to pay your own way.

"Thanks. I really needed this. I was starting to feel like a burden around here," you muttered, not meaning to make the conversation heavy.

Cillian narrowed his gaze upon hearing that, sensing there was something more to your statement.

"You're not a burden, Y/N, and you never have been," he asserted, closing the distance between you, his hands resting on your upper arms reassuringly.

"Oh, I am sure my mother would disagree with you right now," you chuckled, not wanting to tell him about the many fights you had with her in recent days, all because you felt like a leech living in her house. "But listen, I really have to go. My shift starts at six," you said, zipping your jacket closed and slinging your bag over your shoulder.

"Do you want me to drive you?" Cillian offered, breaking through your thoughts.

For a brief moment, you imagined what it would be like to spend a few more minutes alone with him in the car. But you quickly shook off that dangerous thought.

"Thanks, but I can take the bus," you said, smiling weakly. "Despite, you just got off a six-hour flight," you added.

Cillian opened his mouth to protest, but you cut him off. "No, really. I've got this," you insisted, already moving towards the door.

Cillian sighed, looking like he wanted to say more, but he seemed to think better of it. "Alright, but call me when you get off work. I will pick you up. You shouldn't take the bus that late," he said, his voice firm.

You paused and looked back at him. "You worry too much," you said, but there was a small smile on your faces as you said it since you found his concern heartwarming.

"Only because I care," he replied with a warm smile before he allowed you to leave.

When you arrived at the bar for your shift, you found it bustling with people, eager to escape their daily routine. You took a deep breath to steady your nerves and walked behind the bar, where the manager was waiting for you.

"Ah, Y/N! It's good to see you. Here, put this on," she said, handing you a shirt. "I'll show you the ropes."

The first few hours flew by quickly, with you learning the ins and outs of the bar, how to make drinks, take orders, and keep the customers happy.

The pace was fast but exciting, and you found yourself enjoying the buzz around you, serving drinks, laughing with the patrons and relishing in the anonymity and the freedom that came with working at a separate place of employment.

When things started to slow down, you checked the time on your phone and saw it was already after midnight. There was no way Cillian would still be up, you thought to yourself, as you dried your hands on your apron and walked towards the front of the bar but, just as you were about to bring up the bus schedule again, your phone buzzed with a new message.

"I'm still picking you up," it read, causing your heart to skip a beat.

You smiled to yourself, thankful for his concern and hit 'Reply,' typing out a quick thanks and an estimated time for the end of your shift. You knew that there was still some cleaning up to do, which would take about thirty minutes or more.

You put your phone back into your apron’s pocket and got to work, finishing up as quickly as possible and the friendly bar manager, Jeremy, offered you a drink on the house after you finished lifting up all the chairs.

"You did extremely well today," he praised, touching your shoulder. "And thanks for taking the shift last minute, you really saved me," he smiled, noting that you weren't actually meant to start until the week after.

"I am glad I could help," you responded before noticing him flirting a little with you.

"I enjoyed working with you tonight Y/N. I am serious," Jeremy added with a wink, making you blush slightly and laugh off his compliment. "And you can have as many shifts as you want," he went on to say, which caught you off-guard, since most places usually put new hires on a light schedule.

"Oh, really?" you asked, trying to hide your surprise. "I mean, that sounds good," you added hastily, before taking another sip of your drink.

"Absolutely. I would love to have you on the team, you are a star already," Jeremy complimented you again, causing your face to flush with heat.

You chuckled nervously and glanced down at your phone, checking the time, and saw a message from Cillian: "I will be there in a minute," it read, making you plan your exit.

"I, uhm, I gotta go now if that's okay?" you said shyly, biting your lip as you met Jeremy's gaze. His eyes lingered on your lips for a moment longer than necessary before he looked away, just as Cillian reluctantly pushed open the door to the bar, looking straight at the two of you.

"We are closed," Jeremy announced, trying to sound imposing, but you interrupted him.

"It's okay. He is just...uhm...picking me up," you stammered, shuffling your feet nervously as you broke eye contact with Jeremy. "He won't let me take the bus and now this is all really awkward," you then blurted out, causing Cillian to raise an eyebrow.

"I am Cillian. Y/N's..." Cillian paused before saying the word. "Stepfather," he clarified hesitantly, offering a polite smile and his hand to Jeremy for a handshake. There was a slight tension in the air as Jeremy hesitantly shook Cillian's hand, eyeing him carefully, before finally giving you a nod.

"Oh, right. Of course," Jeremy said, seeming to understand that there was nothing more to this interaction, which made you feel more at ease.

"I'll just...uhm...go and get my things from the back then," you muttered nervously before quickly scurrying towards the back room to collect your belongings.

You could feel both Cillian's and Jeremy's eyes on you as you gathered your coat and bag, your heart hammering away in your chest.

You had never been very good at hiding your emotions, and it seemed that both men had picked up on you feeling somewhat out of place right now.

"Okay, I'm ready," you eventually said, brushing a lock of hair out of your face as you walked back out to the front of the bar and, after Jeremy thanked you for your hard work, you followed Cillian out of the door, your heart still racing.

"You know you really didn't have to stay up for me," you said as Cillian opened the car door for you.

"I know. But I wanted to make sure you got home safely. Besides, I was still up anyway," he replied, his tone serious.

As you sat next to him in his car, you couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious about Jeremy and how he had been looking at you throughout the night and, it was also something that Cillian had picked upon.

"Everything okay?" Cillian asked, seeming to sense your discomfort.

"Yeah, everything's fine," you lied, forcing a smile.

"I can see the bar manager has already taken a liking in you," Cillian said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

"Yeah, I think, maybe, he has," you confirmed, looking out of the window of the car as Cillian expertly drove through the quiet streets of the city.

"Then again, he works in a bar. I am sure he has taken a liking to many women who have worked there," Cillian replied in a matter-of-fact tone.

You remained silent for a moment, trying to decipher his intent, but you chose not to press further at that moment.

"Are you jealous?" you blurted out, immediately regretting the words as soon as they left your lips. It was the last thing you wanted to imply, given the circumstances.

Cillian glanced at you and raised an eyebrow, causing you to quickly backtrack.

"I mean, not that you have any reason to be, of course. I am just your stepdaughter after all," you added hastily, your cheeks flushed as you watched Cillian's expression soften.

"No, I'm not jealous," he replied softly. "I am just concerned about you, that's all. I don't want to see you getting hurt."

"Sure, we will leave at that," you nodded, understanding his concern, and looked away, embarrassed that you had even brought it up.

The rest of the car ride was quiet, with neither of you speaking. But, despite the silence, the tension between you two was palpable. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, and your heartbeat quickened as you tried to ignore the thoughts and images that swirled in your mind.

The memories of the connection you shared, the intimacy you both had experienced, and the desire that still lingered, seemed to be clouding your judgement, and you couldn't help but long for that closeness again.

The car pulled up outside the house, and Cillian turned off the engine, allowing the silence to envelop you. He shifted in his seat as he glanced at you, his gaze piercing through the darkness. You could sense that he was trying to read your thoughts, but you couldn't find the words to explain what was going on in your head.

Your mind was a whirlwind of emotions, conflicting desires, and unspoken truths that clashed together, creating turbulence you were struggling to navigate.

"We should go inside and get some rest. It's late," you said softly, your eyes meeting Cillian's. There was a lingering tension between you both, as if his gaze could combust the emotions resparking within you.

"Yeah," Cillian replied after a moment, his voice almost a whisper. He let out a long breath before he opened his car door, stepping out on the pavement.

Only after he had fully closed the car door did you realize that you had been holding your breath. It was then that you released it in a sigh, feeling strangely disappointed that the night had ended like this, with awkwardness and silence and no connection between you both, except the remembered one.

You quickly exited his car, feeling embarrassed at how much your feelings for him had control over you at times, now that he was ignoring them too.

"Goodnight, Y/N," Cillian muttered, almost under his breath after you both stepped inside, as if he was too afraid to say it any louder.

You turned to him, your eyes wide with surprised and confusion, before you replied with a hoarse "Goodnight" and walking up the stairs, leaving Cillian to stand alone in the hallway.

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#cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy fic #cillian x fem!reader #cillian x reader #cillian fic #cillian fanfic

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bbieangel · 3 months ago

Note

Love the Joel fic!!! plsssss do an Arthur cramps one!!!

Moon Cycle — Arthur Morgan x F!Reader

A/N: I loved writing this! It's my first time writing anything that's not set in the present world so please bare with me <3 And yes, the title is a reference to Melanie Martinez's song :) As always, thank you for your requests and I hope you love it!

Summary: Even when you try to act tough, Arthur Morgan always sees right through you. And, the day you finally allow yourself to feel weak, he's there to help you with your cramps.

Tags: Fluff! A LOT OF FLUFF. High honor Arthur. Self-deprecating Arthur, we all know how he talks to himself. Mentions of his past (Eliza and Mary Linn), reader has a uterus and is menstruating, she doesn't wear the typical clothes that women used in the 1800's (think of it more like Sadie, she dresses like her). This is set before Arthur even knows he's sick.

Word count: 7.8k

Divider by @/peony chance on Pinterest!

Since day one, you had never failed to amaze the whole Van Der Linde gang with your dirty mouth and ways of pissing off Miss Grimshaw. To say the least, they had grown fond of you. And even if you could look after yourself just fine, you laid awake in your cot endless nights just wishing someone was there for you in times where you felt the most vulnerable, needing attention like the dog the gang had adopted. He always ran around, sniffing everyone and looking for any hand that would give him back scratches.

One particular day you had gone out to rob a stagecoach that a guy in Rhodes had told you about. Dutch assigned you to go along with Arthur, the gruff looking, almost giant man. But you knew he hid something else behind his blue-green eyes that often held a hint of tenderness whenever he looked your way.

"Now, stay right behind me, princess."

He muttered as he covered his face behind the rock you were prompted at, making sure the drivers didn't see you.

You groaned. Of course that, out of all of the women in camp, he would call you princess. But he didn't do it for the reasons you thought.

"Call me by my name, Morgan."

You muttered and he let out a deep chuckle, rumbling through his chest and sending butterflies to your stomach. But you wouldn't let your face show that, after all, you kinda liked being called princess by him.

The stagecoach robbery was a success, feeling like a breath of fresh air after what seemed like the gang had been cursed or just ran out of good luck.

Arthur counted the money effortlessly, the flicking of his fingers looking elegant. It was ridiculous, you thought as he you waited for your part.

"Don't forget to give some to camp, princess."

He said, pointing a finger at you. But he knew not to worry about you contributing to the little box Dutch had beside his tent, he had seen you do it more times than anyone else in the gang.

"You don't need to worry about me contributing, Arthur."

You said with a soft smile as you both rode back to camp, side by side, enjoying the nice weather and the views.

—

Later that day, you were sitting up against a log in front of the campfire. A bead of sweat fell down the side of your face and into your shirt. Arthur was going to tease you about it, but he held himself back when he saw the slight frown on your face and your knees being held against your chest.

He sighed, knowing that caring about you wasn't the best decision. He couldn't bring himself to like anyone else, not after Eliza and Mary. But that soft, empathetic part of him was stronger than any of his insecurities, and it needed to know if you were okay. Which you clearly weren't.

He slowly sat down beside you with a look of concern on his face, and placed his calloused hand on your shoulder.

"You alright, princess? Did you get hurt? You should've told me—"

"I didn't get hurt."

You interrupted him. You were about to snap at him for teasing you, but when you looked into his eyes, glowing by the fire crackling in front of you, you noticed he was being genuine. So your expression softened, and he saw it, making his heart flutter and long to open up to you more.

"I'm.. I have cramps. It's that time of the month.."

You spoke quietly. You had grown to know it wasn't okay to talk about it, let alone tell a man about it. They found it disgusting, a woman bleeding monthly was seen almost as a sin, something you couldn't talk about.

But Arthur couldn't care less. He had killed people and had seen countless bodies, massacred by some fool. Hell, he'd seen his son be born. He could handle speaking about a monthly small amount of blood coming out of a woman's body naturally.

"I understand. Is there anything I can do for you?"

He asked, and your eyebrows shot up in surprise. Why wasn't he acting disgusted by what you just said? Why didn't he tell you to just suck it up?

It took you a few seconds to answer.

"I—Uhm.. I don't know, actually. Can you help me get to my tent? I think I might've stained my clothes and I don't wanna get teased about it."

You spoke, your eyes darted towards the fire once again. It was fine if he declined, you would understand. But, once again, he surprised you.

"Yeah, let's go."

He said and wrapped his arm around your shoulder, helping you up. He looked behind his shoulder to make sure no one was paying attention to see the small stain in your pants, and led you to your tent.

"I've heard.."

He cleared his throat before speaking, the slight pink tint on his cheeks gave away the soft embarrassment he felt.

"I've heard that peppermint or chamomile tea helps, the ladies were talking about it the other day."

He said and you couldn't help but smile softly.

"Yeah, it does. I just ran out of both herbes."

At that, he raised an eyebrow. Why didn't you tell him? He would've gone looking for some if it brought you comfort. And, against his better judgement, he chose to speak.

"You should've told me. I'll make sure to bring you some."

He spoke gruffly, but unable to hide his growing softness and tenderness for you.

When he helped you into your cot, he made sure to cover you with a blanket before turning on his heels to go away. He figured you might want to be left alone.

"Wait."

You called out to him. You knew better than to call over a man who wouldn't hesitate to put a bullet between anyone's eyes, but a part of you knew he only did it when absolutely necessary. And that he would never, ever touch a hair on your body.

"Can you.. stay a little while?"

You asked, your cheeks turning a cute rosey shade. At that, he gave you a light chuckle.

"Yeah, 'course."

He sat down on the edge of your cot. You could see the sympathetic look in his eyes when your face would scrunch up every time a cramp hit harder.

"I'm not usually like this, I can take the pain—"

"No need to explain to me. I know it hurts and I don't need you to act tough all the time."

He cut you off, easing some of the embarrassment you felt. Maybe it was stress, maybe your hormones were fighting against you, but this cycle felt different. It hurt a lot more, making you sweat as you tried to deal with the pain.

The tension between the both of you only continued to grow, hidden desires behind your eyelids that none of you could speak about. Heartbreaks and loss were two things you were too familiar with, and couldn't bring yourself to experience once again.

So he didn't speak as he laid beside you, carefully, treating you as if you were made out of porcelain and he didn't want to hurt you. His hand went to your lower stomach and began moving it gently, massaging the zone.

You let out a sigh of relief—how did he know exactly what to do? As if reading your thoughts, he spoke:

"Mary told me this works. I didn't figure it out on my own."

He spoke quietly, and you felt kinda bad. How could she be such a fool to break up with such a kind man?

"Even if you didn't figure it out on your own, I'm grateful you know about it."

You spoke softly.

"Can I tell you something, Arthur?"

You asked, you heart pounding in your chest as if it wanted out just to be gifted to Arthur.

"'Course, princess."

He responded, his hand never stopped moving as he saw the look of relief in your face. A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips when he noticed it was working.

"You're a good man. And anyone who doesn't see that, is a fool. A damn, blind fool."

You spoke and his eyes widened at that, letting you take in more of the particular color they had. You were so close to him yet none of you could move.

"I ain't much of a good person, princess. I've done things I'm not proud of, killed folks just because.. There's a price on my head."

He said, looking at you with that self-deprecating look he gave anyone who even dared to call him good. He wasn't good, he was a fool who didn't know how to be kind, how to be good. Or at least, that was what he thought of himself.

But on the contrary, you didn't see him that way, and he knew. So you doubled down, going along with your stubborn nature.

"Well, to me you are good. And nothing will change my mind about that."

You spoke in a firmer tone, placing a hand on top of his shoulder and rubbing it softly. He swore you could feel the way his heart jumped at your small gesture.

After a few minutes of just contemplating each other's faces, trying to read each other's minds, he spoke.

"You deserve someone better than me."

At that, you frowned. He couldn't tell you what you deserved and what you didn't, who you could or couldn't like.

"No one has ever cared about my cramps before. No one... No man has taken the time to try and make me feel better."

His expression softened. How could anyone treat you badly about something that wasn't your fault? But again, he reminded himself, it was 1899. You didn't live in a fair world.

"I couldn't just let you be in pain."

"Exactly."

You said. Everything he did or said was just another reason as to why you considered him a good man. After fighting against your fears, your mind, your insecurities, you leaned slightly closer. What were you doing? You didn't know. But the sight of his lips covered by his always perfectly trimmed moustache was something almost magnetic that pulled at your heartstrings right when you were the most vulnerable and needy.

"Princess..."

He tried to protest. His breathing hitched as he felt you slightly closer, his eyes kept darting towards your plush lips without even thinking. His heart thumped against his chest in a way that almost hurt.

"Do you trust me?"

His eyes shot up at yours. Of course he trusted you, even if a part of his brain begged him not to, he wasn't doing what his brain wanted. He was following his heart at this point, and his heart wanted you. Only you.

"I do."

He responded, his deep voice was now soft.

"Then.. Let me."

You whispered and pressed your lips against his, without giving your brain the possibility to make you think about it twice. You stayed still as you waited for him to pull away, to shut you down and never talk to you again.

But he kissed you back. He kissed you back, and his hand tangled on your hair as he did. Every move, every action was so gentle, so careful. And you couldn't be more grateful for that.

His other hand never left your lower stomach. He was determined to end with your cramps, even if his own hand ended up cramping after massaging your skin for so long.

He didn't leave your side that night. If anything, the whole situation only brought the two of you closer, to the point where he would look for excuses to sleep with you all curled up against him. His arm wrapped around your waist, holding your frame up against his chest. All while keeping a soft smile on his face even when he slept.

Because what started with the two of you being scared of letting anyone else in, ended up with Arthur going out of his way to look for anything that would relieve your pain. He would even ride his horse for hours until he found peppermint.

But in the end: all you wanted was the warmth his body provided you with and his hand pressed against your skin.

#arthur morgan #fanfiction #arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan fluff #romance #high honor arthur morgan #one shot #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 arthur #rdr2 community #rdr2 #arthur morgan x reader

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horseshoegirl · 2 years ago

Text

Damn Those Dog Tags - Masterlist

📖 Jake Seresin / Hangman

💛Elizabeth "Liz" Beck

❗️18+ minors DNI. Ageless and blank blogs are blocked without warning.

❗️Reposting of this fic, including designs, line breaks, banners or any graphic materials is strictly forbidden without written consent from me. Be a decent human being and don't steal people's work.

🏷️ slow burn, strong language, troubling family dynamics, death of a parent/sibling, godmother reader, inexperienced/mildly insecure reader, mentions of an abusive relationship, physical violence later on (one scene, maybe two), romance, sexual themes/references (I mean smut!).

🎼 playlist

Summary: Your sister Ridley has passed away, leaving behind her ten-year-old daughter Sadie. The Dagger Squad go out of their way to ensure you and Sadie have people you can count on. Boring Saturday nights turned into game nights, rowdy dinners, and cheering events at Sadie’s soccer games. Any milestone or opportunity they want to be there. But the last to join the group is Hangman. The moment you met Jake Seresin, your heart screamed the cocky pilot was looking for a good time, not a long time. Deciding to keep him at a distance to protect your heart, Sadie has other ideas when she learns he was purposely left out.

A03 | Wattpad

Masterlist:

Part 1 - Be Still

Part 2 - Hello, I love you

Part 3 - Southern Nights

Part 4 - Long Cool Woman in a Black Dress

Part 5 - Everybody Wants to Rule the World

Part 6 - Three Little Birds

Part 7 - Oh What A Night

Part 8 - Drift Away

Part 9 - Hang on, Hang On

Part 10 - Let's Dance

Part 11 - Dream On

Part 12 - Blue Healer

Part 13 - Sons and Daughters

Part 13. 5 - Bradley Bradshaw Oneshot - Way Down we Go

Part 14 - Sex on Fire

Part 15 - Have you ever seen the rain?

Part 16 - In the Blood

Part 17 - Come a little bit closer

Part 18 - Sapling

Part 19 - An Evening I Will Not Forget

Part 20 - Separate Ways (Worlds Apart)

Part 21 - My Fair Lady

Part 22 - Jump

Part 23 - Sleep Deprivation

Art Work:

BookCover For DTDT's One-Year Anniversary

Moodboards:

Mood Board For Part Four - By @desert-fern

Mood Board for Part Ten - By @teacupsandtopgun

Main Masterlist for all my works

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nyyx-xoxx · 9 months ago

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hi :)

small-giggle > nyyx-xoxx

i change my photo a LOT oops

intro post ig✨

last edit: 28th october 2024 7:08pm

nyx

im a minor (16)

i use she/her pronouns, sometimes they

i am lesbian asexual

single fucking pringle ✨🦐🖤🎶🏳️‍🌈

aest

side blog is @dyke-angel

currently watching BBC ghosts

current hyperfixation is billie eilish

verryyyy chaotic and silly (however when im in a bad mood i will be kinda blunt (sorry in advance))

my favourite cores are liminal and cottagecore

music taste: angus & julia stone, AURORA, beabadoobee, beach bunny, beetlebug, billie eilish, bjork, cavetown, chloe moriondo, conan gray, holly humberstone, june henry, king princess, london grammar, lorde, matt corby, mitski, montaigne, mother mother, rainbow frog biscuits, ratwyfe, reneé rapp, rio romeo, roar, sabrina carpenter, tally hall, tash sultana, the cure, the crane wives, the killers, tv girl, WILLOW

i have depression, anxiety, ocd, adhd, and i have undiagnosed autism

pessimist

i hate myself loll

celeb crushes for shits and giggles: sadie sink, malina weissman, zendaya, sophia lillis, aurora aksnes

📍australia (nsw)

heres my spotify

heres my pinterest

heres my apple music

discord is smallgiggle

need to know:

my askbox is open for anything, from just being goofy to needing to vent to asking me questions (it can be anonymous, i dont mind)

i do participate in tag games and tag asks, but occasionally i might not, depending on the mood i am in (lately ive been doing it less because of personal reasons i still love you all) and if i do its always open tags although i almost always forget to add it

if i dont respond to your ask it means i probably havnt seen it, or i love it too much, or i havnt had time to respond etc

i will tag generally with #/angels asks! (or) #/angel rambles (or) #/yap yap (or) #/angel makes a poll (or) #/silly little vent (or) if its school-related with #/angel schoolposts (or) if posting loz content i will just use #/loz posting (or) sometimes its specifically about horses IN loz so then #/loz horse posting

DNI list

over 25 unless i interact first

nsfw

transfobic, homophobic, anti-gay at all

p3d0

racist, sexist etc

sure im chill, but guess whos super cool?

@urlocalsadkid-l @deetealeaf @astridcookie @treasure-goblin @ali-da-demon

@catinasink @rxsewqter @idonoiyo @amethyst-aster @aspenii

@i-must-confess-i-am-an-idiot @jake-your-gay @neoncopy @island-of-stars @sagaofa-dying-star

@autism-criminal @maximum-tragedy @bleep-bloop-boo @puppy--boy

@hadoom @im-on-crack-send-help @your-everyday-theatre-kid @killerdinosourusrex @neededset

@mybedroomceilingsbored @sagaofadyingstar-thesequel @lady-hibiscus @a-dam-heartstopper-fan

The sky is so tragically beautiful. A graveyard of stars.

userboxes below cut :>

#angels intro #yap yap #angel rambles

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daboyau · 7 months ago

Text

And another rise hunger games chapter! Wow, just training and interviews to get through, and then the real fun begins. First person to correctly guess who the president is gets a prize or something idk

prev/next

tag list! as always, let me know if you’d like to be added or removed. 💚 thank you to everyone who reads and interacts with my stories. I definitely wouldn’t be updating as often or as eagerly without you guys.

@boots-with-the-fur-club @theonlybrightowl @dandywonderous @dandylovesturtles @elijah-doodle @fredquinn @sady-is-secretly-an-alchemist @heckitall @beannary @brightandfullofglory @purplepixel @pomelined @imagionationstation @daughterofskylark @eb177 @lilysplash @burritello3000 @midwesternvibes @justchillininthebackground-06

The roar of the crowd is deafening as they emerge into the City Circle. Donnie doesn’t drop to his knees and cover his ears, no matter how much he may want to. Kendra presses herself subtly closer to his side, making his skin crawl as she tests her weight slightly against his arm, and once she’s confident that he isn’t going to let her fall, she lifts both arms high in the air in a dramatic flourish that has the crowd going wild.

Well, that just won’t do. The competition for attention (and for their lives, though he’s trying not to think about that right at the moment) has begun, and Donnie has been a middle child for far too long to let someone else win. With a hand still bracing her, he lifts his free hand high to call attention to himself, then sweeps into a graceful bow as he uses that hand to flip the train of his costume and show off the way the scales shift and change with his movements. The excitement that gets him makes Kendra elbow him hard, digging into the leftover bruises from when Kendra had tackled him. Despite the slight sting, he turns to smirk down at her, smug as she glares back. He’s grateful for the distraction. It makes it feel a little easier to ignorr the ever increasing urge to start screaming.

White and yellow chrysanthemums rain down all around them, carpeting the streets and getting crushed beneath the wheels of the chariots. Donnie sputters as one nails him in the face, and when Kendra tilts her head back and laughs, he forces himself to do the same, all too aware of the eyes and the cameras trained on them. Kendra plucks it from where it had fallen to his shoulder and tucks it behind her ear, grinning at him with a gleam in her eyes before turning a bright smile towards the cameras. More cheers, and suddenly the flowers raining down around them feel a lot more intentional. Oh, she is good.

There’s not much room in the chariot for them to do much more than wave or bow, or make a few subtle gestures at one another as they try to disguise jostling and thrown elbows as incidental closeness. Every time either one of them does a little half-twist or bows, the crowd goes crazy as their costumes ripple and change in a complimentary dance of beautiful colors. For one stupid moment, Donnie can almost forget what’s at stake; this just feels like hassling April or his brothers over the last piece of a birthday cake or for their dad’s attention. It is stupid and childish and all the meanness without any of the malice. It’s almost nice.

And then the feeling of a new set of eyes on him sends a prickling up his spine. This gaze is different. It is not the attention of the thousands of cheering fans, or even the grave watchfulness he can almost imagine he feels from the District people settled in their homes, watching the proceedings on their holoscreens. It is cold and dangerous and close.

Donnie snaps upright from his latest sweeping bow, careful to maintain his facsimile of a smile as sharp eyes sweep the crowd for the source of the gaze. He knows that it is foolish to actually believe that he can pick out or even feel a single glare amongst a crowd of over one hundred thousand, but he doesn’t know how else to classify the sudden creeping, choking sensation that has crawled up his spine and circled his neck like a noose. Alarm bells are ringing inside his head, drowning out all other sounds.

He scans the crowd, taking in the gleeful smiles and hungry excitement, before his eyes finally settle on the massive raised platform that they are barreling towards. The presidential mansion looms above them, bright and beautiful and utterly sterile. Lights are projected onto its side, fake fireworks exploding over the bone white surface in a colorful facsimile of true celebration. Standing high above them all, the president stares out with an expression that Donnie can only think of as regnant. He is impassive as he watches the proceedings, and indifferent to the fact that he holds so many lives in the palms of his hands. He is completely confident in his control of the situation and the people as he stares down at 24 soon-to-be killers. The distance between the procession and the presidential manor is still far too great for Donnie to delude himself into thinking that their eyes can meet, but he still shudders when that cold gaze passes carelessly over him. He knows where that sense of danger is stemming from now.

Though his features are wizened and long greyed with age, the president still cuts an imposing figure. He has not let power make him soft. The cushion of Capitol living hasn’t done anything to dull his sharp edges.

Not that Donnie is surprised, really. The man has been in power since before papa was born; an impressive feat, considering the immense power struggle that had occurred after the first rebellion failed. From what papa has told him - and what the cobbled together and highly sanitized history lessons have conveniently left out - there were an impressive number of assassinations during that time. He would have had to be sharp to survive. Unless, of course, he was the one ordering said assassinations in the first place.

Donnie narrows his eyes as they draw closer to the man who has created an age of prosperity for Panem, and has kept the Districts crushed thoroughly beneath his heel. He’s always looked minatorial during every holoscreen appearance he’s made, and papa used to warn them all of his propensity towards cruelty in hushed, fearful whispers. Donnie had never questioned his father’s words, but he hadn’t realized before now just how accurate those statements had been.

He keeps the smile in place, even as the lump in his throat grows and threatens to stop his breathing. He can’t tear his eyes away from the platform, or the figure standing atop it, flanked by his counsel. They watch the procession with a detached interest, like the children they are sending to their deaths are nothing more than pawns to be moved across the board.

Those cold eyes settle upon their chariot, raking over the beautiful costumes and sparkling gems, assessing the Tributes encased within. The president doesn’t seem impressed. He turns his attention on to the next set quickly, and Donnie feels tension prickle across his muscles as their chariots begin to slow, raising goosebumps across his bare skin as each one settles upon its predetermined spot before the presidential mansion.

The crowd falls silent as the president steps closer to the podium, the slight electronic feedback of his microphone enough to have the entirety of the Capitol holding its breath. Donnie does his best not to wince at the sound as it needles at his skin and scratches uncomfortably inside his brain. The president’s eyes sweep over the gathered tributes again, slow and thoughtful. He does not smile, but he does incline his head at each chariot, as if acknowledging each individual District.

“We gather today, to welcome our tributes,” he says, his deep voice soft but commanding the attention of the crowd with enviable ease. Donnie can almost feel each onlooker sit up a little straighter. “We salute each of you for your courage and your strength.”

The crowd erupts into applause, more subdued now than the previous raucous cheers and screams, but no less enthusiastic. The president smiles, just the slightest tick of his lips, and his gaze moves slowly over the crowd before snapping back towards the gathered tributes once again.

“We honor our tributes,” he says slowly, as his eyes come to rest directly upon Donnie. “—and their families. We recognize the sacrifices made for the sake of peace and prosperity. We thank you.”

His gaze moves on, but the feeling of it lingers. Donnie stays frozen, fingers digging hard enough into the handrail that he can almost feel the flimsy metal warp beneath his grip. His heart is pounding. The lights are too bright. Everything is so loud.

He just wants to curl up in the familiar comfort of his own bed, tucked beneath the weight of his blankets. He wants Mikey to sit on his thighs to to provide much needed pressure while he hides away in the darkness of his covers. He wants Raph to hum and rub careful, comforting circles on his back. He wants Leo—

Well. He just wants to be home. He wants his family.

“We wish you all a happy Hunger Games,” the president says serenely. “And may the odds be ever in your favor.”

The crowd cheers. Fanfare plays. The fake fireworks pop and explode all across the walls of the mansion, painting it bloody red and fire orange. Donnie stares at the bursts of color, wishing the fires were real. The president stares back, eyes narrowed like he knows the thoughts inside his head.

The chariots begin to move with a lurch that nearly sends Digi and Gizmo stumbling off the back of theirs, and has Kendra clutching at his arm to keep her balance. He can almost feel that chilling gaze lingering as they ride away. Kendra bumps him gently with her shoulder, and when he turns to look at her, she gestures for him to lean down. He obliges, mostly out of the desire for a distraction from the creeping unease.

Her lips brush the shell of his ear as she whispers, “That speech was total bullshit, huh?”

His smile feels a little more real all of a sudden.

There is a stranger waiting for them when the elevator doors slide open to reveal their fourth floor apartment. He is seated primly upon the pristinely clean and stupidly shaped sofa, ankle crossed over his knee, hands folded in his lap, head held high. He is invading the only marginally safe or private space afforded to them within the Capitol, and it rankles how much he looks like he belongs within this stupid fancy apartment.

He assesses them as they pile off the elevator, Donnie and Kendra both shuffling awkwardly forward as they clutch at the trailing fabric of their costumes to keep it from getting caught in the elevator door. They each keep a wary eye on him, suspicious of the interloper in their apartment. Atomo goes silent when she sees their visitor, her excited chattering about their Chariot Ride and the burgeoning sponsor interest cutting off with a sharp gasp. Donnie glares at the stranger, who surveys him with an expression that he has no idea the meaning of in return. He looks…excited, maybe? But that doesn’t quite fit. Certainly not upset, but not happy either. There’s a strange shininess to his eyes as they focus on Donnie’s face. He wishes Mikey or Leo were here to tell him what that expression means.

The stranger doesn’t stand until papa steps out from behind the cover of their small crowd. His eyes light up, yet his lips pulls down into a frown. He smoothes the fabric of his skirt and crosses his arms, muscles bulging in a way that even Donnie can tell must be purposeful. Yikes and gross. Talk about desperate.

“Draxum,” Yoshi says, his voice low and full of a quiet rage that Donnie rarely gets to hear. His hands flex at his sides before curling into tight fists. Donnie steps to the side, train dragging in his wake and shimmering even in the dim apartment lights, intent on keeping both of them in his sights. As if sensing the brewing danger, Kendra and Atomo both hurry to join him, standing a few feet back like they hope he’ll act as a buffer.

“Yoshi,” the man returns, sounding more amused than angry, which tells Donnie all he needs to know about who holds the power between the two of them. The stranger’s eyes narrow as they move slowly up and down Yoshi’s body. It’s something that he’s seen done to his father before, but it makes Donnie’s skin crawl worse than usual this time. “I see you are as pathetic as ever. Maybe even moreso than usual, considering the…special guest this year.”

Donnie stiffens as those sharp golden eyes drift towards him once again. Draxum’s lip curls, and if he didn’t know any better Donnie might have said that it almost looks like a smile. He stares back, too exhausted to bother trying to force even the barest hint of emotion into his expression. His papa hisses between his teeth, sharp and deliberate, and Draxum’s attention snaps back towards him immediately.

“What do you want?” he snaps, and though Draxum has a significant height advantage, he somehow manages to look down his nose at him in the way only someone who knows their own strength can. This time, the twisting of Draxum’s lips can only be a smile, small and cruel as it is.

“There has been a report that your son requires medical intervention,” Draxum says, slow and soft, and Donnie feels his stomach drop at the way those words make his father’s face go all twisted and pale. He really doesn’t want to deal with this right now.

So he won’t.

“I’m going to shower,” he announces, refusing to meet any of the eyes that snap towards him. “If you’re still hanging around when I’m done you can look at my back then.”

And then he turns and stomps away, ignoring the voices that call after him as he goes. It feels good to slam the bedroom door behind him, and as silence falls over the room he finally feels like he has a chance to catch his breath. Leaning against the door just in case anyone decides to follow him, he takes a moment to just try to breathe. His eyeballs feel hot and his chest feels tight. He can hear the blood rushing in his ears as his heart pounds, echoing the dull throbbing at the base of his skull. There is an uncomfortable tingling in his fingertips.

Thankfully, no one tries to follow him. There is no pounding at the door or jiggling of the knob. He’s not sure what he would have done if someone did try to get in, but he’s sure there would have been blood. Exhaling slowly, Donnie steps towards the bathroom, mindful to stay close to the wall and out of the range of the camera’s ever watchful eye. Glittering gems trail in his wake, silent as they fall to the carpet. The sting as they’re pulled from his skin feels good. It feels real in a way very little else has today.

He leaves the beautiful, glittering gown in a heap on the bathroom floor. His hands are steady as he turns the faucet, water gushing forth and filling the air with steam almost immediately. For a long while, he sits on the side of the tub and just watches the water as it circles the drain, breathing in the steam and the lingering smell of the shampoo he used when he last showered.

The water burns when he finally steps beneath its strong spray. His back tingles at the heat and the pressure, but it does not hurt. He thinks about the stranger in the living room, and wonders what he plans to do during the so-called medical intervention. His hands do not shake even though his lungs feel too small inside his chest. He takes his time. Thankfully the Capitol never runs out of hot water.

When he leaves the quiet sanctity of the bathroom, he’s not surprised to find Draxum in his room. The man is standing by the floor to ceiling window, which has been made clear again, and is staring at the city beyond. There’s something thoughtful and fond in his gaze, though Donnie couldn’t begin to guess at what he might be thinking as he looks out at the glittering expanse of white and silver. He clears his throat, impatient to get this over with, and Draxum turns slowly to face him.

“I’d rather this be fast,” he says simply, arms crossed tight over his chest, refusing to look Draxum in the face.

“It should be a simple matter, as long as you haven’t caused any undue damage to yourself,” Draxum concedes with a tip of his head. Dark pink hair cascades over his shoulders with the movement, silky and long. Teal lines his eyes and lips, a strangely vibrant pop of color against his dark skin and dull grey clothes.

“Close the window.”

Draxum arches an eyebrow at being ordered around but thankfully complies, and the late evening sunlight is dampened as the window goes opaque again. Donnie grits his teeth and stands by the foot of the oversized bed, wishing there was a chair or a desk or something besides a bed in this stupid room. He feels vulnerable. He hates it.

“Shirt off,” orders Draxum, and the cold clinical tone he uses is actually almost enough to soothe some of the nerves sparking inside Donnie’s chest, screaming that this situation holds the hallmarks of both stupid and dangerous. Donnie shrugs his shirt off, but keeps it clutched tightly in his hands. Draxum slips on a pair of gloves, not looking at him. “Turn so I can examine your back.”

There is no gasp of shock as he takes in the scarred expanse of flesh and the metal exo-spine. He doesn’t even hum with interest or ask how a boy from the Districts could have come into possession of such a piece of technology. All he does is press forward, far too close for Donnie’s comfort. He can feel each of the man’s cool breaths on his back and feel the press of latex covered fingers as he examines the seam where skin and metal meet. Donnie grits his teeth and tries not to snap.

“You don’t seem surprised by it,” he says instead, eyes trained on the ceiling, trying to take deep breaths to calm himself. Draxum scoffs, and his fingers press a little harder, almost to the point of pain. His gloved hands trace the metal spine, and Donnie feels his legs tingle. He hates it he hates it he—

“Why would I be surprised?” Draxum demands as he prods at one of the keloid scars on his shoulder. “I made it, after all.”

#Rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #the hunger games #rise hunger games au #my writing #rise of the tmnt #The chariot ride scene kicked my ass #I’ll probably do some edits before i post it to ao3 lol #Side note i love flower language #If i ever mention a flower by name in my writing there’s probably a meaning I like for it

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mummybear · 1 year ago

Text

My Brother's Best Friend - Chapter One - Unexpected Night

Words: 4079

Warnings: Swearing, Dirty Talk, Attempted Assault (Implied Sexual), Possessive Stiles, Protective Stiles, Grinding, Talk Of Marking, Protective Scott. Think that's it.

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall, Reader/Sadie McCall, Lydia Martin, Liam Dunbar, Allison Argent, Travis(OC)

Summary: Stiles Stilinski has always been your weakness, but since he was your brother's best friend you'd stayed away. When Stiles comes back to Beacon Hills fresh from his time in the FBI Academy something is very different about the boy you once knew.

A/N So hey guys! I know it's been a while hopefully this is the start of me getting back into my writing! We shall see. I really hope you guys enjoy this, any feedback is encouraged as always, and please let me know if you would like a tag as I update.

Chapter 1 - Unexpected Night

I can’t believe this goddamn party is still going on. I am far too drunk right now, I just want to sleep. However, as usual, my dumbass brother is too busy making out with his girlfriend. Don’t get me wrong, Allison is amazing, and I’m so happy for them. They had realised that they belonged together not long ago, after years of dating something happened. Scott didn’t explain it further than saying it was a wolf thing, that apparently I wouldn’t understand.

Mom always tells me never to go home by myself, however, right now I’m seriously considering it. I don’t even know why I came here tonight. It was stupid, they’re all his friends anyway, the great Scott McCall, I’m pretty sure people forget that I even exist. Not that I have any ill feelings towards him, he’s my brother, yes he might be a giant pain in the ass but all he’s ever done is protect me and look out for me.

If I’m honest with myself, I do know why I came here tonight, Stiles is here. He’s finally back from his FBI training, I hadn’t asked Scott too much about the situation, or how long he was back for. In fact I hadn’t even seen him yet.

Yes it’s one giant cliche. I have the world's biggest crush on my big brother’s best and oldest friend. I think I have since I was ten and Stiles was fourteen, I’ve been following them around for the better part of ten years. Before that I’d avoided them as much as possible. Then one day everything changed, as soon as I started hanging out with Scott and his friends, I finally felt like I fit in. I’m not sure what changed exactly, but whatever it was made it easier for me to become part of their group. Scott’s probably everything a big brother should be, and I know if he knew what I felt for Stiles he’d try and talk to me about it. Probably try and make me see what I’m already afraid of, that Stiles and I wouldn’t work.

Not really sure why I’m having these thoughts, probably has something to do with the fact that I’m drunk off my ass, in this random ass house. And while it may not be the best time for it, when I’ve been drinking my mind tends to wander.

After finally traipsing my way upstairs I find a bedroom, one that doesn’t really appear to belong to anyone, at least not permanently. Maybe it’s a spare room? People still have those, right? I close the door softly behind me. I’m unable to find a lock for the door, so I opt to just lay down for a minute or two, just to rest my eyes. I quickly climb up onto the bed and as soon as my head hits the pillow I let out a sigh of relief, finally giving in. I close my eyes, hoping that both the room and my head will stop spinning at some point soon. I can hear some kind of arguing going on behind the door, but I can’t bring myself to open my eyes, it feels like they’re being weighed down, I hadn’t had a drink in such a long time, but I don’t remember it ever hitting me like this before.

Suddenly there’s the sound of the door crashing open, as it bounces hard against the wall, before it slams closed again. I wince, feeling a throbbing in my head suddenly and manage to wrench my eyes open. However, they snap all the way open in fear as soon as I register the big body standing in the corner of the room. I can feel eyes on me as a tense silence settles over the room. Clearly he knows I’m awake, but he’s yet to make a move.

A sudden sickness overtakes me, when I hear Stiles on the other side of the door, quieter, but still audible, shouting my name, or his nickname for me. Mini or Mini McCall was the go to name for me among most of Scott’s friends. He sounds worried as he calls for me, and my head is so foggy that I can’t concentrate on anything, I can’t even tell if I’m imagining Stiles calling for me, why would he want to find me? He hadn’t so much as texted me since he’d been home, much less tried to see me or speak to me in person. It was strange, almost like he was avoiding me, even Stiles’s dad hadn’t seen him yet.

I clear my throat, testing out if I can speak or not, but the nerves are clear in my every word. “W-Who are you?” I manage to stutter out, my throat a little sore and my voice a bit hoarse.

“Don’t you worry about it, Doll. Just close your eyes, don’t worry about anything, I'll take real good care of you. Go back to sleep,” there’s a clear threat in that deep voice, one that makes me shudder.

I quickly sit up, doing my best to ignore the way the entire room blurs and moves once again. As I try to back myself into a corner, trying to make myself as small as possible. I know it’s stupid, but I also know I don’t stand a chance in hell of standing up right now, I’m scared and drunk off my ass, feeling like a fucking idiot for isolating myself in a freaking bedroom of all places, I should’ve just found Scott, or even Lydia.

He smirks at me as starts to walk closer and I can finally see his face. I don’t recognise him, but that isn’t really a shock, he’s definitely older than me, not sure if he’s older than my brother though. A sickness coats my throat just seeing the look on his face, the sick twisted grin. The door hasn’t stopped rattling since he stepped inside, so I keep my gaze fastened to it.

I’m hoping for a miracle, however unlikely it might be. He closes in on me until I can no longer see the door behind him, because this guy's huge hulking frame is blocking my view of anything but him. On instinct I close my eyes and hold my legs tighter, and I finally let out a scream.

“Stiles!” The scream sounds helpless and terrified as it’s ripped from somewhere deep within me, which makes complete sense, given the current circumstances.

He reaches for me, I can feel his large moist palm as he grips my knee squeezing roughly, trying to pry my legs down or apart, with enough force to leave a bruise. But before he can get too far, the door smashes open against the wall once more, revealing a much more welcome intruder. My heart thuds even harder in my chest, because the guy releases me in surprise and whirls around on my saviour.

I see him then, Stiles Stilinski in the flesh. And what flesh it is, he’s put on muscle lately. Muscle that could rival even that of my big brother, the true Alpha. But this guy is huge and I can see Stiles gulp from across the room, but his eyes harden as the flick between me and the guy who still has his hand firmly gripping my knee.

“Get your filthy fucking hands off of her!” Stiles shouts, taking another step into the room.

“Nah. Not gonna happen.” The guy states with a slimy grin, as his eyes slide over me, making me wish I was anywhere else.

“I said get the fuck away from her. What the hell is wrong with you?!” Stiles growls, stepping closer to this giant of a man. But I can only watch from where I sit, still paralysed with fear.

“Get over yourself, Stilinski, we were just gonna have a little fun. Stop being so hard up, go find your own pussy. This one's mine tonight, maybe I’ll let you have a go tomorrow. After I’ve used her up, such a pretty little body, bet she’s gonna feel real fuckin’ good.”

The words almost make me throw up, but my tongue feels swollen and I can speak. My eyes lock with Stiles for the first time in years as a tear slides down my cheek.

“I’ll make you fucking eat those words, Travis. The only thing you’re about to feel is my fist,” Stiles snarls, “take your fucking hands off of her.”

“Whose makin’ me? Your pansy ass?” Travis laughs, removing his hands and taking a few steps closer to Travis.

Suddenly those deep brown eyes draw me in like never before and my heart stills in my chest. This is the first time I’ve seen him in a few months. The FBI program has kept him so busy lately that we haven’t seen much of him. But still, I could swear there’s something a little different about him, other than his size, but there’s definitely something different about his eyes, something that I can’t quite place.

I can’t tear my gaze away, instead they fall to his lips and I shift uncomfortably where I sit, suddenly a growl tears through the room. My eyes widen and I look to the doorway behind Stiles, expecting to see my brother, but he isn’t there. I swallow thickly as my eyes automatically snap back to Stiles, and I see it, the flaring of his nostrils, the way his eyes are focused entirely on me, then I realise the sound could only have come from him. But he doesn’t share the same wolf affliction that my brother has, at least, not that I know of. How much has changed since I last saw him!

Stiles steps closer, body tense and unflinching. All traces of fear have disappeared from his face. Now he just looks furious, more so than anyone I’ve ever seen before.

“Mate.” Stiles snarls, shoving the guy as soon as he’s close enough, and to my utter shock and surprise the guy slams back into the wall with a crash, leaving behind an imprint of his giant body as he slides down the wall with a groan. Everything happens so fast, I don’t have time to analyse what the hell Stiles meant when he’d growled that one word. But I can’t help but shudder with excitement at the way my body responded.

Suddenly, I hear footsteps hammering up the stairs, and before I know it Scott has Stiles pinned against him, as Liam all but wrestles the other guy from the room.

“Stiles, you need to calm down, breathe buddy. ” Scott instructs calmly, his deep red Alpha eyes flaring to life, like they would when he’s trying to calm the other members of his pack. Something flits across my brother’s face as he relaxes his grip a little. Whatever it is, seems to register with Stiles that other than my brother we’re alone in the room and safe once again.

His body goes completely lax and Scott releases the tight band he’d been holding around his best friend. I can’t help but stare as Stiles staggers towards me. Safe to say I’ve sobered up in the last five minutes.

“Can one of you tell me what the hell just happened here?” Scott asks carefully, but I can’t take my eyes off of Stiles.

“Just give us a minute, Scott. I, um, I think I should talk to Stiles.”

I hear my brother huff out a breath before he leaves, closing the door quietly behind him.

“I’ll be back in ten if you’re not downstairs before then, we’re going home.” He calls through the door. Then the door opens again and Scott smiles at us both, “oh and thanks for having my sister's back, buddy.”

Stiles turns towards the doorway with a slight smile as his eyes lock on his Alpha, “Always, Scotty, you know that. We won’t be long.”

I finally let myself relax a little when the door closes. Stiles crawls on the bed and sits in front of me. He rests his hand over the reddened skin on my knee, and lets out another quieter growl. “I’m gonna fucking kill him. He won’t ever touch anyone ever again.”

“Hey, I’m okay,” I whisper, resting my hand on top of his, “you saved me.”

He runs a shaking hand through his thick hair and his eyes lock with mine once more.

“I should’ve been here. I’m supposed to protect you, I’m so fucking sorry, Mini. If that sick fuck had touched you…” He sounds so defeated and my heart squeezes at his words.

“You got here in time, you’ve always had my back. This time wasn’t any different, except maybe that,” you giggle slightly, as you nod toward the dent in the wall.

He shifts closer to me and drops his forehead against mine, letting out a contented sigh. I let my eyes slip closed for a second. For once I give myself the freedom to enjoy the closeness, I open my eyes again and those gorgeous chocolate brown eyes are focused on mine. I lick my lips and feel the shuddered breath that escapes his lips.

Ever so gently he reaches out and his thumb brushes my bottom lip.

“You’re so fucking beatiful. Please tell me you feel this, Mini, because you smell so damn good, I don’t know If I’m strong enough to stay away.”

I swallow thickly as his nose nudges mine gently, my entire body practically vibrating with need.

“Y-Yeah, I feel it,” I reply quietly, scared that if I talk too loud this dream will end, I don’t dare to tell him just how long I’ve felt these things though.

“Then we should probably talk. Because I need to tell you some things before this goes any further,” he replies, voice hoarse and strained, like it’s painful for him to speak these words. But then he goes to pull away and all my instincts go into overdrive, and I finally give in to what I want, I clamp onto him and don’t let go.

Nor do I fight the need to keep him close to me. Right where he belongs. My fingers push into his thick hair and I gently tug him back towards me, just those last few millimetres. Until his lips brush mine ever so briefly. He doesn’t even try to fight me, and I can feel the shudder that runs through his entire body when I push him back and straddle his lap, wrapping my legs around his waist. I think there’s some kind of trick of the lights because I could swear there’s this purple glow in his eyes for a few seconds before they settle back on brown. But I push the thought away for now, and press myself a little closer. So that every part of our bodies is connected.

“Tell me later, please Stiles, I need this.” I hope I don’t sound as desperate as I feel, Stiles doesn’t move, but I hear how hard he swallows, almost like a gulp as he lets his eyes slip closed. Following his lead I let my own eyes close when his hand cups my cheek, the other hand slips somewhere much less innocent. When he cups my ass his long fingers curl and he squeezes slightly, letting out a groan of pleasure when I grind down against the obvious hardness pressing against me.

Suddenly his lips are on mine, insistent and urgent, and it feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room. Our lips are in perfect sync, and a shudder rolls through me when his tongue nudges my lips, seeking permission that I happily and easily grant. I’m rocking my hips in a steady rhythm now, and the kiss grows deeper, his fingers dig harder into my skin as he urges me to keep moving.

Holding me as close as he physically can against his body, Stiles sits up, turning us so that my back hits the mattress and he’s hovering above me. He breaks our kiss and I gasp for breath as he drags his lips across my cheek and down into the crease of my neck. He groans as he inhales deeply, “smell so good. My mate. Just wanna mark you up, make you mine the right way.” His voice vibrates against my skin and I shiver as he laps at the soft skin of my neck.

Confusion sweeps through my lust-addled brain at his wording.

“What do you mean?” I ask breathlessly, more confused about his words than I’d care to admit.

Pulling back to meet my eyes he smiles, and ducks his head looking a little more like the Stiles I remember. I cup his cheek gently, urging him to look at me again.

“This is why I said we should talk. I can’t do what I need to. Not without you knowing what you’re letting yourself in for. I’m not the same man I was the last time I saw you, something happened, I just…I don’t know how to begin to explain this.”

It hurts me that he sounds so defeated already, almost like he’s worried about what he has to tell me.

“Don’t you know by now, nothing you tell me will change how I see you,” I tell him honestly, pulling him closer so his body is pressed against mine, and he finally lets some of his weight rest on me.

“I wanna believe you, but I’m scared. This is huge, and I can’t let anyone down, but especially you, I can’t lose you. Especially not now I know what you are to me, not now I’m so close.”

Before I can ask what he means there’s a hesitant knock on the door, before it slowly creaks open. Liam stands there, watching us sheepishly for a few seconds before Stiles growls at him, I can’t help but frown as I look up at my protector. But then I see it again, the purple in his eyes.

The gasp falls from my lips unintentionally and as soon as it does Stiles snaps his gaze towards me. Closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath, his fingers tightening their hold on me and I can only stare up at him.

“Liam, get the fuck out. Now!” Stiles snarls.

“But, Scott said…”

Stiles is off the bed before I can react, when I do finally open my eyes I can’t believe what I’m seeing. Stiles has Liam pinned to the wall by his throat. And Liam is trying to get free, but he’s stuck fast. I can’t help but wonder, how the hell is that possible!

Mouth agape I watch as my brother’s Beta looks over at me, “little help here, mini. Calm your man down, please.”

My man? I inwardly ask myself, we’ve fooled around for all of 5 minutes and suddenly he’s mine. While I can’t fight the pleasure at hearing those words, I also can’t help but fight the confusion, maybe he wants me to calm Stiles down so he doesn’t have to hurt him.

“What do you want me to do?” I ask nervously, looking between the two of them.

Stiles gives a final squeeze before dropping Liam and racing to me, covering me with his body.

“Don’t you dare fucking look at her!” Stiles snarls, his arms shaking as he holds himself above me. “Tell Scott we’re coming and leave now!” Stiles warns in a low commanding voice that sends shivers racing across my body as he carefully tugs my skirt back into place.

I can’t deny the pulse between my thighs, even as I clamp them shut, and the whimper that falls from my lips causes Stiles to stiffen. Before he’s off the bed, practically throwing Liam further down the hallway when he doesn’t move by himself, slamming the door behind him. Before he turns back to me.

“God, please tell me you know what you just said,” Stiles rasps as he pulls me up off the bed and hauls me against his hard body.

“I don’t… what do you mean?” I ask, frowning in confusion, as I try to search his eyes for an answer. I hadn’t said anything… had I?

Stiles whimpers like those words cause him some kind of pain. He shakes his head, running his fingers through the thick mass of hair before tugging at it harshly. I want to comfort him but I don’t know how. Hell I don’t have a clue what the fuck is happening right now.

“We can’t do this. Not right now.” His words sound harsh and bitter, no matter how softly he speaks them.

I stumble away from him, confusion and hurt lancing through me like an actual weapon. I know there’s a reason for this, but it doesn’t hurt any less, doesn’t feel any less like rejection either. Tears fill my eyes, it’s irrational and I don’t feel even remotely in control of my emotions right now, but I can’t stop it, maybe i’m still drunk. Though it doesn’t feel like that’s it. Stiles steps towards me again and I step back, “no, no. Please, Sadie, I want to. But not until you know everything! I swear to you, whatever you’re thinking, we can talk about it. Please, Mini, just trust me.”

Hearing my real name on his lips is so strange, but I can’t deny that I really like hearing him say it.

I feel myself giving in, because as much as it hurts to have him turn me down, he's still one of the best people in my life. And despite myself, I’ve been in love with this pain in the ass longer than I can even remember, he’s yet to let me down in a real way. Letting out a sigh, I know it’s best to give him the chance to explain.

“Fine. Then let’s talk.”

He swallows thickly, as I watch him carefully. Pretty sure I’m not going to like the next thing that comes out of his mouth. He looks nervous and twitchy.

He winces before he even speaks, “I’m sorry. But not here, let’s go home, there’s too many ears here. I swear I’ll tell you everything as soon as we’re safe,” he all but begs, holding out his hand for me.

Pushing away any and all doubts, I take his hand. Watching as he visibly relaxes and pulls me closer to him.

“Thank you, I promise, I’ll make this up to you,” he whispers before pressing a kiss to my inner wrist. Yet another shiver ripples through my body at the contact that I can’t control.

He keeps me tucked into his side as we leave the room, careful to touch as few people as possible while we walk. When we finally make it outside, Scott’s waiting with the rest of the pack. Stiles looks reluctant to get in the car, judging by the way Liam forces his body closer to the opposite door Stiles’ look had been less than friendly.

He slips inside and I can’t help but squeak in surprise as he hauls me inside with him, not into my own seat but so that my back is tightly pressed against his front, and his arms band protectively around my waist.

“Dude. Come on! Not in my car, she’s still my little sister. Damn,” Scott groans, locking eyes with Stiles in the rear view mirror.

Stiles seems to consider his words before he reluctantly relents, moving to the middle seat before he gently eases me into the seat as far away from Liam as humanly possible. Keeping a hand firmly planted on my thigh, huffing like a petulant child, I can’t help but giggle. It’s almost like he can’t stop himself from touching me. His long fingers tightly curl around my leg, almost like he’s afraid someone will take me from him if he lets go. Taking a deep breath I tentatively slip my fingers between the gaps in his, gently squeezing them, hoping to offer even a little comfort, those big brown eyes jump to mine and he visibly relaxes into the seat.

I look up and catch my brother’s eyes. I can’t work out the look on his face, for the first time since we were kids, I can’t tell what he’s thinking and for some reason that only makes me even more anxious.

Tags: @julzdec @lettersofwrittencollective @mogaruke @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @lilulo-12fanfiction @charmed-asylum @defenderrosetyler @foxyjwls007 @mylovelydame21 @akshi8278 @stylesismyhubs @peachyyybabyy @fantasy-myth1 @coffeebooksandfandom @magssteenkamp @screamxqueenx94 @brien-odylan @riseandshinelittleblossom @ceceliaking-18 @mrs-mitch-rapp93 @missindecision @chewie-redbird

#stiles teenwolf #stiles stilinski #stiles fic #stiles stilinski fanfiction #teenwolf #teen wolf #stiles and scott #scott maccall #lydia martin #allison argent #liam dunbar #Scott's sister #stiles stilinski x reader #Stiles stilinski x Scott's sister

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1toreyouapart · 1 month ago

Text

What It Cost

****THIS IS A FICTIONAL STORY BASED ON REAL PEOPLE. 18+ ONLY. I DO NOT OWN THE RIGHTS TO THE PEOPLE OR MUSIC MENTIONED IN THIS STORY OUTSIDE OF LILITH AND SADIE AND MAYBE A COUPLE OTHERS. DO NOT READ IF YOU’RE NOT UP FOR FANFIC INVOLVING REAL PEOPLE***

Terrible summary: Five years since she last spoke to him. Since she last saw him. Now his face and his voice is everywhere. She can't escape him.

Five years ago Noah destroyed her and the life they had built. Now he’s back and seeking to make amends. As much as she wants to say that it's too little too late, is it?

CW/TW: Angst, mention of addiction, cheating. Mention of character death. Language. Smut (later on). PinV, unprotected PinV (wrap it before you tap it, friends), oral (f&m receiving). Cyberbullying. All smutty warnings happen later on, so I’ll update TW/CW warning labels as those parts are written and posted. If I forget anything, please let me know so I can fix it! Thank you!

This part deals lightly with cyberbullying. Read at your own risk.

Part 3-Lilith

Every time her phone went off she cringed. Of course she was spotted in the same vicinity as Noah last night. And of course the fan base was going crazy over it. So, of course, everyone and their mothers were sending her the tweets and the Instagram and TikTok posts about it. Half the fan base was excited, half was yelling at the minority that were posting those pictures everywhere and invading his private life. And of course the even smaller minority were acting like he was fucking her and "how dare he?!" The closest they had been to each other all night was around the fire. It was enough to make her want to turn her phone off or go off of social media altogether.

"Turn your phone off, girl. Leave the bitches to me."

Sadie handed her a shot glass, filled to the brim with whiskey. Lilith chuckled, tossing it back, welcoming the burn of the alcohol as it slid down her throat, warming her from the inside.

"It's more annoying than anything. They're not really bothering me." Lilith set the shot glass down in front of Sadie, indicating she wanted another shot. "It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be seeing him last night."

Well, that was partially a lie. She had spent the first couple hours numb, steering clear of him at every opportunity. And he gave her a wide birth whenever able. It helped knowing he had been just as anxious as she was when she got there. She could see it in the way his leg bounced the second she walked through the door. In the way his eyes locked onto hers, then darted away, looking anywhere and everywhere but at her. But as the evening wore on, and everyone swapped stories, she couldn't help but tag Noah in for one of her favorites of Danny.

"I mean, you're not lying in bed pretending you're dead, so I assumed it couldn't have been that bad," Sadie teased.

"He's sober now. Asked Jolly about it last night when we were all drinking and he stuck to water."

Sadie hesitated, handing her the shot glass back. "I know. I should've told you. It's just, he never reached out when Jolly said he was working on making amends with people, and I really didn't want you hurt that he never reached out to you."

Lilith nodded. Sadie was right not to tell her. Still didn't change the fact that he's apparently been sober for three years and hadn't deemed her worthy enough of at least an attempt to make amends. Maybe it was her fault he had cheated after all. Tears blurred her vision as she tossed the second shot back. What had she done to drive him to that?

"Nope. Don't go there, girl. That's his issue, not yours. You're exactly everything good in this world and you were always too good for him. He fucked up. Not you." Sadie saw right through her.

Lilith nodded, though she couldn't help but feel like Sadie was wrong. Sadie was supposed to say this stuff. She was her best friend. They were practically like sisters. Her phone rang, interrupting her thoughts. Looking down she froze at the name on the screen. At the old picture of him, lighting up her phone as it rang. She really should have blocked his number all those years ago. Heart in her throat she picked it up, answering.

"What, Noah?"

"Can we talk?" He asked after a short pause, his voice quiet, though she could hear the anxiety laced in his voice.

"What about?" Her eyes met Sadie's green ones, her heart feeling like it was going to beat out of her chest.

"I-Can we talk in person? I shouldn't do this over the phone."

Sadie nodded her head at her, silently telling her to say yes. Like Sadie knew something she didn't. The bitch probably actually did, come to think of it.

"When?"

The doorbell rang, making her jump.

"How about now?"

Lilith looked at Sadie, wide eyed. He was here? Did Sadie know? What the actual fuck? Why didn't he just knock in the first place? Sadie shrugged, heading for the door. Lilith hung up the phone, snatching the bottle of whiskey and drinking straight from the bottle. What the actual fuck was going on in her life right now? Fucking Noah. She shouldn't have gone last night. It had to be karma from being around him again.

"The fuck do you want?" Sadie's stern voice filtered through into the kitchen. She couldn't help the smirk at the sound of Sadie acting like she didn't know he had called.

"I should've done this three years ago, Sadie. Lilly-" he paused. "Lilly deserves this more than fucking anybody."

There was a long pause in which she could imagine the look Sadie was giving him right now. All full of sass and eye rolls. Arms likely folded across her chest. Giggling to herself she took another swig from the bottle before slamming it down on the counter.

Moments later Noah walked in, hood pulled up over his head, hands in the pocket of his hoodie. Sadie was hot on his heels, arms still across her chest as she had assumed.

"I support this talk. But I'll be right here in the living room. I so much as hear you being a cunt, Noah, and I'm kicking your ass like I should have five fucking years ago."

Noah chuckled, mumbling his acknowledgment, his dark eyes never leaving Lilith's. Sadie walked away, hollering that she was only twenty feet away if she was needed. Lilith stood there, refusing to show any hint of vulnerability. Instead she reached for the bottle again, noticing the way he tracked her movements, the way he eyed the bottle, likely gauging how much she had already drank.

The silence between them stretched on as she took another swig from the bottle, letting the liquor fill her with the confidence she needed for whatever was about to be thrown her way. Satisfied she leveled her stare at him, ignoring the way her stomach seemed to flip at the sight of him.

"I-Lilly." He paused, glancing around the room. "Lilly, I'm sorry."

Lilith watched him, a million thoughts racing through her head. Why was he there? What was he actually saying sorry for? Groaning she turned away from him, dropping into the stool next to her. Her phone continued to ping with messages about last night being sent to her. It was all too much. It was just too fucking much.

"You sorry for this?" She grumbled, shoving her phone towards him.

Lilith watched as he picked up her phone, seeing all the notifications and everything that had been sent to her. Good and bad, all because they were in the same place just the night before. She watched as his stupidly perfect face fell, seeing everything she had seen. Then watched as his face morphed into rage at a new notification coming in. Part of her was glad it was someone else seeing it and not her at that moment.

She watched with bated breath as he carefully set her phone down, picked up his own, and dialed a number. All he did was hold up a finger, then turn his back to her.

"Matt? Handle this. I don't know what the fuck is happening, but handle this. They can say what they want about me, but Lilly is fucking off limits."

Her heart sank. It must have been bad. Carefully, as though he could turn on her at any moment, she stepped forward, picking up her phone.

"I see why he cheated on her. Gutter slut that she is."

Lilith slammed her phone down, startling Noah. He whipped around, quickly hanging up the phone. One glance between her and her phone told him everything, she was sure of it. She couldn't help the fresh tears. The way her chest seized. How she stepped back from him and her phone. In that moment, that awful notification confirmed everything she already knew to be true. She was the reason he did what he did.

Tags: @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @haylaansmi

#noah sebastian fanfiction #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian smut #angst #noah sebastian angst #badomensfanfic #noah sebastian fic #read at your own risk

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mamaestapa · 1 year ago

Text

Epilogue: Nine Months

•pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

•series summary: Y/N Y/L/N moved to Cincinnati, Ohio for a new start. Move in day arrives and she discovers something terrible...the apartment complex gave her the wrong lease. Instead of living with who she originally was supposed to, she's now living with the hottest quarterback in the NFL, Joe Burrow. Y/N is stuck living in the same apartment with him for a year...which the two are not thrilled about. However, as time goes on, they realize that maybe this wasn't the worst thing that could happen to them. Will Y/N and Joe stay enemies, or will they find themselves falling in love?

•chapter summary: Instagram posts and stories from the past nine months of yours and Joe's life. A great way to wrap up the end of this series❤️

•word count: 1k

•warnings: pregnancy, childbirth, lots of fluff. Witney Carson, Lindsay Arnold, and Sadie Robertson are the face claims for these posts :)

series masterlist

——————————————————

November 2023-May 2024

November 20, 2023

liked by bengals, itsmemacee, and 879,990 others

tagged: @yourusername @joeyb_9

yourusername and joeyb_9- Unexpected, but so, so loved. Baby girl coming April 2024🩷

comments:

bengals- A BABY BENGAL!!!

burrowsbae- I am SOBBING

nfl- Congratulations!

joeyb_9- 🩷🩷

robinburrow- SO excited to meet her!!!!❤️❤️❤️

itsmemacee- Can't wait to spoil this sweet babe🥰

joeburrowfan- NOOOO. That's enough social media for me today.

erinandrews- This is so exciting!! Cannot wait to meet her😍

y/njoestan- I CALLED IT. SO HAPPY FOR YOU GUYS😭❤️

shiestysbae-i need like four margs and five business days to recover from this news

traviskelce- Congrats y'all!

lahjay10_- Welcome to the daddy club Joey B

jblova- @lahjay10_ Joe's always been in the daddy club wym

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December 12, 2023

@yourusername instagram story

story replies:

itsmemacee reposted second slide:

itsmemacee- cant wait to see baby girl in those outfits!!🥹

y/njoestan reposted first slide:

y/njoestan- omg the bump😭

jb9lover reposted first slide:

jb9lover- I CANT. this is too cute.

January 10, 2024

@yourusername instagram story

story replies:

joeyb_9 reposted story

joeyb_9- I’ve yet to feel her kick

bengalsbabe reposted story

joebrrr reposted story

joebrrr- this is so cute wtf

yourinstagram reposted joeyb_9 story

yourinstagram- she’s just a lil shy

February 14, 2024

liked by samhubbard, yourusername, and 500,009 others

tagged: @yourusername

joeyb_9- Best Valentine's Day yet.

comments:

yourusername- The perfect day. I love you sooo much❤️

burrowsbae- Joe posting on V-day? Y/n must feel so special rn

bengals- Happy Valentine's Dey!

samhubbard- Enjoy your day with the girls, Joe!

shiestysbae- sometimes i forget she's pregnant lol

body_by_hollyyy- Joe🥹 This is SO CUTE😭🩷

joeyb-9- @yourusername ❤️

robinburrow- Miss you three!❤️❤️❤️ (and Bean)

yourmomsusername- Y/n/n, you are glowing!! Miss you sweetie. Happy Valentine's Day to you and Y/n!❤️

alisonkuch- I've haven't been this excited for a baby to be born since ours. Our babies will be besties🤍

teehiggins- Counting down the days...

loganwilsonlb- @teehiggins We all are. So impatient to meet her

emhubbard- @yourusername I think these guys are more excited to meet this baby than you and Joe😂🩷

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February 22, 2024

@yourusername instagram story

story replies:

joeyb_9 reposted story

joeyb_9- ❤️

y/nandjoeupdates reposted story

y/nandjoeupdates- Joe and Y/n saw their girl today!🥰

labjay10_ reposted story

lahjay10_- @joeyb_9 girl already looks like you

March 10, 2024

liked by emhubbard, body_by_hollyyy and 204,119 others

yourusername- My heart is so full. Had the best day celebrating Baby Burrow with the best people. She is already so loved!🩷

comments:

emhubbard- Such a fun day!

itsmemacee- So fun celebrating you and the little lady🩷 You’re going to be the best mama!

robinburrow- We’re ready for you baby girl!!!!❤️

burrow.updates- Looks like a fun day, Y/n! Where’s Joe?

body_by_hollyyy- Literally the BEST day!!! Can’t wait to meet the sweet little lady!!🥹🩷

joeyb_9- She’s already so spoiled.

cincystyles- Beautiful baby shower, Y/n! Hope you enjoyed the clothes we sent for your sweet girl🩷

brittwill- So cute!!

samhubbard- While y’all were having fun…the rest of us were putting a nursery together. She’s already got all of us wrapped around her finger!

yourusername- @samhubbard @loganwilsonlb @teehiggins @lahjay10_ thanks for helping Joe!��

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April 17, 2024

@yourusername instagram story

story replies have been turned off

April 24, 2024

@joeyb_9 instagram story

story replies:

joeburrow9fan reposted story

joeburrow9fan- Baby Burrow is here AND Joe and Y/n are engaged!! Congratulations🎉

yourusername reposted first slide

yourusername- My little family❤️

bengals.updates reposted story

bengals.updates- Joe is a dad AND he’s engaged! So happy for these two.

April 28, 2024

liked by loganwilsonlb, nfl, and 900,000 others

tagged: @yourusername @joeyb_9

yourusername and joeyb_9- Josie Lee Burrow🤍 04/24/24

comments:

robinburrow- My beautiful granddaughter!! We love you Josie🩷

bengals- Welcome to the Jungle, Josie!🐯❤️

loganwilsonlb- Congrats guys! She’s beautiful.

itsmemacee- She is the sweetest!!! Congratulations you two!❤️

emhubbard- Josie girl! Cant wait to meet her❤️

shiestysbae- SHES SO CUTE

jb9lova- SOBBING. Congratulations!!!🥹

heykayadams- What a cutie!!

nbsmallerbear- Congrats Joe and Y/n!

lsufootball- Congrats! (and Geaux Tigers)🐯🩷

lahjay10_- I can't believe ur a daddy @joeyb_9

patrickmahomes- Congrats!❤️

body_by_hollyyy- JOSIE LEE!!😭🩷 She is TOO cute, congratulations guys!!🥹

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May 1, 2024

@yourusername Instagram story

story replies:

bengalsbabe reposted story

bengalsbabe- I just KNOW the tumblr girlies are losing it rn over this pic

joeyb_9 reposted story

joeyb_9- How I'm spending my off-season...❤️

May 4, 2024

liked by bengals, yourusername, and 455,090 others

tagged: @yourusername

joeyb_9- My girls (not pictured: Bean, who is also included in that).

comments:

yourusername- We love you so much Joe❤️

joeburrowfan- look at those little blue eyes🥹

susieevans- So sweet!

beanburrow- Mom and baby sister🥹

bengals- Best girl dad🩷

carolthelandlord- I remember when the two of you came to my office and begged for me to do something about your lease...you hated each other for a while LOL. It makes my heart so happy seeing the two of you together with a baby❤️ cray how much changes in a year!

robinburrow- Such beautiful girls! You are one lucky guy, Joe❤️

christenharper- My heart🤍

itsmemacee- I don't think I've ever been so happy for two people! You, Y/n, and Josie are the perfect little family🥰

bengalsbabe- I am so happy for them. Joe deserves this so much

joeyb_9- @yourusername and I love you and Josie

joeburrowupdates- And they lived happily ever after...😉

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hey loves!

i wanted to do this as an epilogue instead of a written chapter. i thought it would be sweet! plus, i had some anons ask for a couple more instagram posts before i finished the series :)

so, it’s official, welcome to the jungle is COMPLETE!!

if some people are interested, I may write some little imagines to go along with this series! like instagram posts, written imagines--from any timeline in this series. so if you have an idea for a little imagine post Josie or something for when Joe and Y/n were still roommates, i'll happily write it ;)

i already wrote the long thank you paragraph in the previous chapter, so i’ll save your time. but i just want to say thank you again. thank you so much for all of the love, support and encouragement you all have given me as i wrote this series. it was a blast and i’m so glad you all enjoyed it as much as i did!🤍🤍

tags: @jackharlow @ilovejoeburroww @dandelionwrites8 @ijustcrypretty @sinners-98-world @a-moment-captured @stainednailpolishremover @spooky-stoner @xoxokiaraaxoxo @kkrenae @hallecarey1 @jordyn14

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow x y/n #joe burrow x you #welcome to the jungle #joe burrow series #joe burrow fic

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anemonelovesfiction · 1 year ago

Text

✨ Merry Ficmas ✨

Please don’t feel discouraged if I haven’t posted your works, I actually had a hard time dwindling my list down! Click on the titles if the works interest you guys, I made sure it was hyperlinked to the correct stories!

Hope you guys enjoy making your lists as much as I did!

Don’t forget to use the #AvatarFicmas2023

Recommended Monogamous Works

1. Any of @oakbuggy’s are work’s including Neteyam and Flora is a chef’s kiss from me!

2. “God of War” by @shit-i-say-shit-i-think (Rotxo x Ash Na’Vi reader)

3. “Lovingly Yours” by @neteyamssyulang (Kiri x human female mate)

4. “The Moon” by @live-laugh-neteyam (Neteyam x human reader) angst, grab some tissues.

5. “Addicted to You” by @pandoraslxna (Lo’ak x human reader)

Recommended Poly-ship Works

1. “Growing in Eywa” by @shit-i-say-shit-i-think (Rotxo x Ao’nung x Human female reader) -This one is a series-

2. “Pxelo” by @makoodles (Tonowari x Ronal x Human reader) -This was my first liked post on tumblr-

3. “My Our Little Play Thing” by @blue-sadie (Neteyam x human fem reader x Lo’ak)

4. This concept of Tsutey, Jake, and Neytiri being in a poly relationship by @333desire333 (not the actual work I was looking for, They have one where they draw all the kids)

Pairing(s) I Wish Was Written More Of

Kiri x Reader (Human or Na’Vi)

Rotxo x Reader (Human or Na’vi)

Tsireya x Reader (Human or Na’vi)

Jake x Tsutey

Lo’ak x Ao’nung

Tsireya x Neteyam

Jake x Neytiri x Reader (Human or Na’Vi)

Lo’ak x Tsireya x Reader (Human or Na’Vi)

Keep in mind, this last little bit (Paring(s) I wish was written more of) Will be something you take from someone else’s list and write a fic or make artwork on and post it on the 25th of December as a christmas present. Don’t forget to tag the person you are writing the little fanfic for! And since I don’t expect many people to participate in this I will be writing as many fics as I can (Which is why I’m not participating in other fun and exciting writing contests) but the only drawings I can do are stick figures

#avatar #avatar the way of water smut #avatar smut #human reader #afab reader #avatar the way of water #AvatarFicmas2023

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paperstorm · 1 year ago

Text

wip wednesday

Thank you for the tag @strandnreyes @orchidscript @birdclowns!

Carlos stares up at the ceiling, bathed in shadows and in the occasional beam of light traveling across it as a car passes outside on the street below. It’s quiet in the room, he can hear TK breathing evenly next to him and can hear the slight rustle of sheets as his own foot moves into a more comfortable position. Sleep is alluding him, for the moment. He feels wide awake, as alert as if it were 11 in the morning and he was rolling around in his patrol car. His body is tired, limbs seeming to melt into the mattress underneath him, but his mind races.

“I almost used again, a while back.”

Carlos blinks and his forehead contracts into a frown. TK is on his side, facing away from Carlos, and he’d thought TK was asleep. He’s lost track of time; he can’t be sure how long the both of them have been lying here awake next to each other in the darkness.

After the surprise dissipates, it’s another moment before TK’s softly spoken words settle deep enough into Carlos’s bones for him to understand what they mean. “You … what? When?”

“The day we were supposed to fly to New York for my mom’s funeral. When you came home and I wasn’t there. I told you I went to the firehouse. That was the truth, but it wasn’t all of it. I didn’t tell you why I went there.”

Carlos is quiet for a moment longer, mind frantically trying to fit pieces together and spin extras to fill in gaps, and then it strikes him. “Oh. Oh, baby …”

He wants to reach for him, but he doesn’t feel like he’s allowed to right now. TK knows he’s lying right here. If TK wanted to be touched he could roll over, and he doesn’t, so Carlos feels paralyzed.

TK sniffs and then his voice is muffled like he’s pressing his face into the pillow. “I grabbed some morphine from the bus. I would have taken it. Everything just felt so black and so hopeless, I was ready to throw everything away just so I didn’t have to feel like that anymore. I would have tossed away my sobriety, all the progress I’ve made. I would have been fired, maybe arrested. I would have fucked up us, and I didn’t care. Not in that moment. I just wanted to be numb.”

Carlos swallows and his stomach rolls in a sudden wave of nausea so intense he’s worried for a moment he might need to lean over the side of the bed and retch onto the floor. “Why didn’t you?”

“Because my dad caught me.”

Carlos brings his hands up to cover his face and exhales. “Thank God.”

“That’s not the point,” TK insists.

He still sounds devastated, but he sounds annoyed, as well. Whether he’s annoyed at Carlos or at himself, Carlos doesn’t know, and is too afraid to ask.

“The point is I would have done it, if he hadn’t. I would have fucked everything up, Carlos. Everything. So it isn’t just about what Sadie did to us. I know being drugged against my will isn’t the same thing as a relapse. I know that.”

“But?” Carlos hardly dares to ask.

“But I’m still broken in ways that have nothing to do with her. I was minutes away from a relapse weeks ago, before she did anything. That’s what you have to understand.”

He doesn’t say that’s what you can’t fix out loud, but it hangs in the air between them anyway.

Tagging @theghostofashton @heartstringsduet @reyesstrand @carlos-in-glasses @mooshkat @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @redshirt2 @cowlos-reyes @goodways @sarnagati @lightningboltreader @bonheur-cafe and everyone elssssse I haven't done this in a bit so I am whole ass forgetting everyone I usually tag I'm sorry 😥

#wip wednesday #911ls fanfic #paperstorm writes

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boots-with-the-fur-club · 7 months ago

Text

Chapter 2 of These Are Not Our Masks!

@daboyau

@that-0n3-shr00mi3-guy

@iobsesswaytoomuch

@sady-is-secretly-an-alchemist

@dluebirb

Let me know if anyone wants to be added to the tag list! And please let me know if I forgot someone!

Donnie and Mikey land on top of the skate ramp of their lair with a thump. Donnie wants to think about the logic of Leo sending them to this area of all places but the reality of the situation sinks in.

Half of them are missing.

The Foot probably have Raph and Leo.

He drops the pieces of his tech bō and hits his fist on the ground.

“All I needed was time! I might have been able to get us all out!”

Mikey grips his shoulder.

“Donnie! We have to get dad and April! Now! We have to go help them!”

Donnie takes a quick breath then nods and slides down the ramp with him. They both run as fast as possible to where their father is sleeping on his recliner.

Mikey tearfully shakes him.

“Dad! They took them!”

Splinter snorts awake, only opening one eye before closing it again.

“Learn to share boys, don’t take each other’s things….”

Donnie stands in front of him, tense hands at his sides in fists.

“Raph and Leo are gone!”

Splinter jumps out of his seat.

“What!? Where!? How!?”

Mikey starts rambling so fast that neither of them can understand them.

Donnie places his hand over his mouth.

“Raph was possessed by a mask and The Foot showed up! Leo got us to safety but they probably took the both of them!”

Mikey moves the hand, holding it close.

“We need to get them back!”

Splinter’s mind races a mile a minute.

“Let April know, we’re going to need her help.”

Donnie quickly texts an SOS message for her to meet them at the lair. He’s not sure how calling her would go.

She might start trying to find them by herself and he can’t let her get taken too.

“Done. I’m grabbing some things from my lab in the meantime.”

Mikey squeezes his hand again.

“Can I come with you too?”

Donnie glances at Splinter who he swears is greying more than ever at the moment despite it not being scientifically possible to happen so fast.

“Stay here with father. I won’t take long.

Mikey slowly let’s go of his hand hugs Splinter tightly instead.

Splinter hugs back just as tight.

Donnie leaves the two to head towards his lab.

Once he gets there, he stares at the hologram framed photos he keeps on the wall.

He remembers why they’re there.

Before he had gotten better at keeping his lab on lockdown, Raph went inside to look for a weight Donnie had borrowed to use for an invention.

That’s how Donnie walked in on Raph absolutely bawling his eyes out over a photo of him kept in a desk drawer.

That’s also how he came across both Mikey and Leo during the next couple of days after that pretending they weren’t looking for photos of themselves as well.

The obvious decision was having photos of all of them that could switch out daily so that no one would feel he was picking favorites.

Purely logical, it’s not like his mysterious bad boy self cared about the emotions behind it.

He also definitely never checked the footage from the security camera in the lab to see his brothers come look at the photos.

His finger gingerly touches the photo of Raph and Leo play wrestling.

It was a far cry from the fight that happened earlier.

“It figures that it was the two of you that were taken…..I’m going to get you back as quickly as possible and never let you forget I did. How dare you force me to take over responsibility this way?”

“Dude, you’re totally like just talking to yourself right now.” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. comments as he flies over.

“You’re acting like that’s a rare occurrence. I need you to gather up as much as my tech as you can and power up the tracker monitor.”

“Oh no, are our bros missing?”

Donnie sighs.

“Yes. Raph and Leo. Most likely kidnapped.”

“I’ll get right on it. Leo was supposed to sneak me out to play basketball, he needs to come back.” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. goes to do as he’s been asked.

Donnie knows he should be mad that Leo was going to go behind his shell but honestly he finds it nice that his brothers treat S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. like a nephew in a similar way that he treats him like a son.

He sighs.

It’s annoying to be so easily swayed by how much he loves his brothers sometimes.

Of course it was never too often because he will shove someone into a wall for a pizza slice if need be but it still happens.

Eventually, his robotic son comes back with the battle shell containing all his weaponry and a bag filled with smaller items he’s been tinkering with.

He’s never, ever going to admit that they’re new gifts he made because he felt guilty about the original ones.

Donnie also gets handed the tracker tablet and quickly sets it up.

“Both of them are in Foot headquarters. Problematic, but at least it’s a location we’re already aware of. Help me take everything to father and Mikey.”

The two of them begin making their way back.

Donnie pauses when he sees the symbols representing Raph and Leo blink away. He panics, knowing that the trackers are under their skin so the only way they could be removed would be painful.

Panic fades into confusion when they appear again in a different location.

The lair.

Did they manage to get away?

He hears screaming coming from where he left Mikey and Splinter.

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. and Donnie heavily pick up the pace to their destination.

They get there just in time to see Raph and Leo attacking their brother and father.

Donnie fills with fear as he sees that Leo is sporting a mask now too, bringing along two katanas instead of his usual, singular odachi.

These katanas have an unnatural green glow radiating off them and seem freshly sharpened.

Leo himself has all his muscles tensed up as if he’s been extremely deliberate with every movement he’s choosing. It’s a far cry from the typical, more loose and relaxed stance he had before that always gave the false impression of him being unprepared.

“Mikey! Mikey! Want to hear a joke? Come on, you want to! I know you do!” He says in almost a frenzy.

Mikey dodges several jabs from the katanas.

“Leo, you can tell one after you tell me what happened!”

“It’s the best joke you’ll ever hear! Let me tell it! Mikey!”

“Leo! Stop!”

Donnie feels an odd sense of familiarity wash over him as he realize he knows exactly what his brother is doing.

One of Leo’s most obviously qualities is how much he talks. He likes hearing the sound of his own voice. In the past, his distracting Splinter is what allowed them to take snacks from the kitchen without alerting their father.

Now this skill is being used against family again in a much more directly harmful way.

“Watch out! He just the distraction!” Donnie warns too late.

His little brother gets pummeled into the ground by Raph who was just waiting for an opportunity. He lifts him up with just one hand and slams him against the floor hard enough to leave a crack on it.

“Mikey!” Donnie and Splinter shout in unison.

He quickly retracts into his shell to avoid more damage being done.

Donnie reaches into the bag and tosses small, colorful balls at Raph explodes powder all across his face.

It hurts him to do this.

Not because he’s hitting his brother, they do that all the time during pranks and teasing like most brothers do.

It’s because he made these for battle purposes. It’s because he made these with Mikey in mind. It’s because they were all supposed to be able to use them together, not against each other in this way.

Raph growls and hisses as he tries to get the powder out of his eyes. He has difficulty because of the mask around them.

Splinter pulls Mikey shell to safety. It’s pressed close against his chest. He can’t believe this is happening.

Maybe if he had just trained them properly earlier in their lives this wouldn’t have happened. If he just prepared them, remembered what his grandpa tried so hard to teach him, they would know the dangers he placed in the back of his mind.

“Orange! Are you okay!?”

Mikey pokes his head out.

“I am! We need to worry about them!”

Splinter sighs in relief and hands him to Donnie.

“Take care of your brother. I will handle Blue and Red.”

Donnie holds onto Mikey tightly.

“Father, be careful.”

Splinter gently pats his arm and takes a step towards his other sons.

Leo cocks his head, carefully watching him approach. His limbs are twitchy. He taps his katana tips on the ground.

It’s unsure if it’s because he’s ready to strike or he’s still trying to be a distraction.

Raph finally recovers from the powder and opens his eyes. They’re red and teary, but the pupils are slit like an animal ready to strike.

Splinter holds steady.

He’s raised them since the moment they gained consciousness. Despite the moments where getting up was too much to bare, he knew his boys well. He had to in order to help them with their more animalistic tendencies.

Splinter starts reaching his hand out.

Raph opens up his jaw wide, baring his teeth. His snaggle tooth is the most prominent one.

“Red. My sweet boy. I know you are stressed, and you may be scared. Your father is here. I know you don’t wish to hurt me. You just don’t want to be hurt yourself. Please, let me protect you.” Splinter keeps reaching out.

Raph hisses and raises his arm up in warning. Leo bounces from foot to foot in anticipation at the fight to come.

Splinter place his hand over Raph’s and presses their foreheads together.

“I love you.”

Raph’s jaw slowly closes.

He starts whining loudly in a sad way.

“I….I….hurt Mikey. I was gonna hurt you.”

“Shh shh, Orange is fine and you didn’t hurt me. You listened to me. I’m so proud of you.”

Raph smiles softly.

Splinter smiles back.

Leo kicks Splinter in the side, sending him to the floor.

“Dumb and boring! You made me stand too long! Atlas, you know you’re only good for being a beast, Baron Draxum’s attack dog. You can’t kill one measly rat!?”

Raph roars at him.

Leo slams the hilt of his katana into Raph’s skull.

Raph tackles him.

They begin wrestling around.

Leo had always been the one Raph chose to play wrestle with. Raph always gave not so believable excuses for it but Donnie and Mikey knew the real reason.

He was afraid of hurting them.

Leo was different. He took prank hits like a champ. He was the last one after Raph to ever have to go to their dad crying about a a real injury.

He of course would be dramatic about things that weren’t really anything, but not ever actual injuries. Those were hidden behind his smile and a wave of his hand.

This wrestling is vicious.

They trade blows back and forth without a trace of hesitation. Leo’s face remains unbruised because his mask covers basically all of it, but his body is being bruised up.

Raph’s mask is another story so Leo punches and scratches with no remorse. It’s actually the opposite, like he’s enjoying it.

Mikey pops the rest of his limbs out and pushes himself away from Donnie’s grasp. He rushes towards his brothers.

“Mikey! No!” Donnie reaches out, but he’s too fast.

Mikey somehow manages to pull them both apart and away from each other. He has to hold Raph back from going after Leo again.

Leo slides back and hunches forward to go after the two of them.

“Blue! Stop! Those are your brothers!” Splinter shouts.

“They can take a hit! Maybe that’s why I should go a little further.” Leo cackles as he raises one of the katanas.

Raph starts getting harder for Mikey to hold back. Splinter visibly wracks his brain for a way to get through to him before things get bad again.

The click and hiss of Donnie releasing his battle shell causes everyone to look his way. Leo’s body language shows that he’s surprised by this move.

“You want us vulnerable? I’m the most vulnerable you can get and you know it.” Donnie starts walking forward.

Leo doesn’t move at first, but takes a step back when Donnie gets close.

“What’s wrong? Come on, you’ve got all the chance in the world right now Leo. I’m right here.” Donnie gets even closer.

Leo grips his katanas tightly.

“I’ll stab you straight through.”

Donnie turns his shell to him, hoping he doesn’t notice how badly his arms shake as he holds them out.

“Take your shot then! Or….ugh….a….stab at it? I can’t believe I just said that….”

Leo freezes.

Donnie glances back at him, waiting with baited breath for something to happen. Everyone else is in a similar state.

Leo’s shoulders start jerking a bit. The others worry it’s not working and that Donnie is about to be turned into a turtlekabob.

Then, Leo finally starts doubling over in laughter.

“A stab at it! That is so good!”

Donnie finally sighs in relief. That was a huge gamble. He’s proud that he was right about what Leo could never resist.

“Welcome back, my son. Let’s work on getting those masks off you both.” Splinter smiles.

“What is the meaning of this!?” Draxum’s voice booms from behind them all.

Things are still clearly far from over.

#these are not our masks fic #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #2018 tmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise fanfiction #rottmnt fanfiction #tw threats #tw mind control #feral behavior #tmnt 2018 #rise leo #rise donnie #rise draxum

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