#red dividers by cafekitsune

[ramblette]

𓏵⠀⠀ 𓈒　 synopsis : Amidst an apocalypse, several young adults must navigate love, loss, and everything in between…

𓏵⠀⠀ 𓈒　 word count : 1k

𓏵⠀⠀ 𓈒　 warnings : Graphic descriptions of gore, extreme body horror (not visual), violent imagery, swearing, mentions of a gun

𓏵⠀⠀ 𓈒　 a/n : If you like the mlp infected au’s, you might find this interesting!

00. — Prologue

“Something’s here.” Hunk murmured.

Lance paled.

The boys had only reached their middle school a couple days before, and both of them were growing sick of the “mystery lunch meat” they’d found deep in the freezer. After what the two had seen on their trip over, meat was the last thing they ever wanted to see, much less digest.

But when the world is ending, you can’t be picky about what’s for dinner.

Lance grew up on comics and cartoons, he’d fought off alien invasion after alien invasion in his video games and saved the digital world countless times. For some childish reason, he’d always thought if the end of the world came around, he would be safe.

He’d be the exception.

But that’s never true. When the Things started appearing, Lance had been home alone. His family didn’t come back. Hunk, his best friend since diapers, had stayed behind while his parents went to get help— they never returned, either. So the boys hid out in Lance’s home until the food ran low. Weeks must have passed before it was time to move on.

Then they came here, to their middle school. Thankfully the building was only a couple of blocks away, Lance used to walk here regularly. But it felt like eons when they saw first hand what exactly they were up against.

The Thing that had emerged in the street before them was decidedly not human, or at least, not anymore. Whatever skin had been there previously had decayed or was deep admits the process and, instead, was replaced by some sort of oozing tar. The Thing itself was twice the size of a human, and bones were sticking out of places where they definitely should not be. Somehow it seemed, the skeleton had twisted in a way that turned the body into a walking nightmare, and Lance could see something was growing out of its side but, thanks to the angle, it was hard to tell. The eyes were bulged— hanging out of their sockets, attached by a thread…a trail of organs spilled out behind the Thing. God the smell was unbearable.

What disturbed Lance most, however, was that through its exposed rip cage, he could see a beating heart— held in place by something that could only be compared to long, dark, withered fingers.

The Thing didn’t make a noise, but the neck began to extend, its lips pulled back to reveal a disturbing sort of smile. As it entered the light Lance saw the dark hair falling out of its skull.

It never saw him. Or Hunk. But the two boys spent the rest of the journey in complete silence. It was clear nobody could be saved from this, nobody would be spared.

Once they reached their school, they found it was (for the most part) abandoned. Save for a couple stray corpses of kids who must’ve had the same idea, but hadn’t been so lucky.

Lance was shaken from his thoughts as he and Hunk rushed to hide behind the cabinets nearest to the backdoor of the kitchen. It was a relatively obscured spot, while still providing an easy exit should they need to leave quickly. Or alternatively, the unspoken agreement that one would flee while the other was devoured.

The pair listened carefully as light footsteps approached rapidly from the entry. Hunk gave Lance a relieved look, the steps were too quick to be any sort of Thing. Even the younger ones moved at a slower pace. Lance gave a nod in acknowledgement, and peered out from around the corner.

It was a girl, actually, someone he recognized from class. Her small frame leaned over the sink, and he could hear her grunt in frustration as the water failed to turn on. Her light auburn hair fell over her shoulders, messy, held in place by a purple headband. He noticed the shirt she wore was much too large, and her jeans, while form-fitting were torn and bloodied.

Lance crawled out and around a different cabinet to get a better look of her face. He noticed her pale skin was covered in dirt and grime. Her eyes, dark and owlish, were obscured by a pair of round glasses— granted, with a broken lens, he imagined she couldn’t see very well.

Hunk snapped, and Lance’s attention was drawn back to his friend. The boy gestured towards her, and Lance hesitated, before nodding. It would be good to get as much help as possible. Not to mention, if memory served him right, this particular girl was a straight-A student and upcoming valedictorian. Or, she would have been, anyway. The smarter she was, meant she was less likely to be a walking liability.

As Lance stood, he raised both his hands to show the girl he had no intention of harming her. “Hello?”

She whirled around, eyes wild, and pointed what looked to be a pistol right at his head. Immediately, Lance ducked back down under the cabinet. He wasn’t sure if it was loaded, or she was bluffing, but he sure as hell wasn’t taking any chances.

“What happened?” Hunk prodded, clearly startled.

Lance turned toward him, murmuring loudly. “She has a fucking gun, dude!”

Hunk quickly slapped a hand over his mouth, terrified. Lance felt his heartbeat pick up tenfold as the slow footsteps of hers approached their hiding spots.

“Who are you?” Her voice was strong, but she couldn’t hide the undertone of fear that was present in almost everything anyone did these days.

“My name is Lance, I think we were classmates?” He looked at Hunk, eyes wide, who was gesturing wildly for the boy to move. Lance swallowed deeply. “We uh, we aren’t here to hurt you.”

“We?” The footsteps stopped, and Hunk dropped his head into his hands, looking all the more distraught.

Lance swore under his breath. “My friend Hunk and I. We’re just here for the food, okay? Please don’t shoot us.”

“…Oh, I know you.” There was a soft click noise, and the girl rounded the corner. Her eyes trained on the boys, gaze solid, but not malicious. “You two were always getting in trouble in Mr. Williams’ class.”

Hunk perked up. “Y-yeah! You’re Katie, right?”

She nodded.

“If you want, we can help you get some food. It might be safer to stick together anyway, but that’s up to you…” Lance offered, giving his most authentic, charming smile. It had always worked on babysitters back before the outbreak, but Katie didn’t seem fazed.

She grew lost in thought. “You all would drag me down more than help me. But if it were to come to us being cornered, I could sacrifice one or both of you for my own survival…”

Lance side-eyed his friend. This could either be a great choice, or the worst mistake of their life, and he was betting on the latter.

“Okay, I’ll work with you.” Katie grinned. “But we’re doing this on my terms. I already checked your food supply, it may provide us for a week or so, but then things will start to get moldy.” She set the pistol on the counter, and Lance swallowed deeply, seeing it up close and realizing it had in fact been loaded. “I found some snacks, but that should only be enough for a couple days if we eat sparingly. Then we’ll have to move.”

Katie crouched, scrunching up her nose and eyeing the boys closely. “I heard some people are starting a safe haven on the edge of town. We should head there as soon as possible, I don’t know about you guys but I don’t plan on dying out here.”

Lance nodded, and Hunk clasped his hands together. “Safe haven, really? Who’s running it? Is it legit? Is it safe?”

She pondered his questions for a moment, then shrugged. “Nothing is safe. But from what I hear the leader is an old family friend, so I trust it.” There was a mischievous gleam in her eye. “My terms, remember?”

The pit in Lance’s stomach told him his intuition was right, that this kid would kill them before any Thing could.

[jaysgirlx]

"Need help sweetheart?" Bookstore Customer!Jason Todd helps you reach the books on the higher shelves. You were his favorite employee and he wanted to make your day easier. He'd been coming here for a while but you always forgot how tall he was and how good his body felt pressed against yours. You only knew how to mumble out a couple words because you didn't know what else to say to a man like that. "Uh sir, you don't need to-"

"Please call me anything but sir sweetheart, you know I'm not new here"

Bookstore Customer!Jason enjoyed teasing his favorite employee aka you of course. He teases you about working at the bookstore even though he's constantly there and he'll always be flirting with you even if you're working the counter that day. He knows he's holding up the line but he's a paying customer so he doesn't care.

"How's my favorite pretty girl doing?"

"M'tired today Jay, I can't handle your nonsense right now"

"Okay that was mean- wait, Jay? that's a first"

"Buy a book or get out Jason"

You could easily tell Jason liked classics and poetry but for some reason he was willing to read your favorites even if they were a smut-filled mess. One time, he backed you up into a corner, after reading one of those books you liked, "Hmm, you like this kind of shit baby? cause I can do all that to you and so much more"

Over time, you learned that Jason also likes to follow you to the store, whispering to you about all the things he could do to you if you'd let him. His hand is always on your hips, pressing his body fully into you. He knows you like it especially when you roll your hips into his when nobody's looking. He wishes you'd use your words and just say you were his but he knew he wasn't even close to getting that, at least not yet.

Jason tried to buy a new book every week, sometimes not even to read. He needed an excuse to be there since your boss has never been fond of him ever since he had caught him feeling you up near the back shelves once. He learned his lesso so now he purposefully buys the books you like, just so he can watch you ramble on and on about them without getting kicked out of the store.

Bookstore Customer!Jason thrived on the feeling he got from watching you go from being so nonchalant around him to the most talkative girl in the world. he wants you comfortable if he's going to fuck you. You find yourself shutting up one time because you thought you had bored him but he quickly gets rid of that thought for you, "Keep talking sweetheart, I'm just wondering how pretty your mouth would look with my cock stuffed down your throat"

"Jay I don't- I can't- I haven't-"

"Don't worry, you will and I'm sure you're a fast learner"

It wasn't that hard for you to notice that Jason got a little jealous when his brother Dick hits on you the first and last time he brings him to the bookstore. Dick easily chats you up and Jason watches the two become a bit too friendly for his liking but it wasn't his place to speak, "Now I see why my little brother brings home so many books"

"It's good he does, I like guys who read"

"I actually quite the fan of classic literature-"

"Oh shut up Dick"

Bookstore Customer!Jason had all your coworkers wondering if you'll ever let the poor guy hit. They weren't sure if Jason was interested in you or your body, regardless they couldn't ignore the smile you got whenever he walk in. Or the way you'd laugh at his dumb jokes. You had him on a leash and you didn't even know what to do with him. He's begging to take you out or just even spent a night with you. He didn't just want you, he needed you. "C'mon I promise to take care of you princess, I'll even take you to that little coffee shop in Bludhaven"

"Who told you about that?!"

"…Dick"

When he finally manages to convince you to let him kiss you, you're nervous as fuck. You thought this was just another one of his antics but no, this was real. He'd promised to stop hitting on you if you felt nothing and you should've know it was bad idea when you could hear your own heartbeat still your let his lips touch yours. It was such a bad idea because before you knew it, he's got you pushed up against the wall, leg parting your thighs with your hands gripping at his shirt. "Jay, more please" Suddenly after all this time, you're pleading for him. Oh how the tables have turned. You're begging for all he's got, and you know he has so much more to give.

"Just give me a moment baby, got be patient" Within a matter of minutes your pants are discarded on the floor, and your panties are still on but being pushed aside while two fingers are being pumped in and out of your pussy. He's got one hand on your hips holding you down while one of your legs is wrapped around his waist. "Didn't I tell you I could do some much for you baby?"

You nod quickly while he's sucking on your poor neck, that would definitely be red all tomorrow. you feel his teeth sink into your skin, not too hard but rough enough to leave a mark. "Now keep quiet, I don't want any of your coworkers hearing us back here" The next thing you know you're cumming on the boy's fingers and he wants you to do it again. and again. and possibly 50 more times if you're willing.

The next time Jason comes, he's holding what you think is flowers and you know he'll be your victim today.

"So I thought real flowers would be cheesy and you'd probably not want to take care of em, so my brothers taught me how to make these paper flowers and…here just take them"

"Wow, I'm getting hand-crafted flowers from THE Jason Todd? Someone must have a really big crush on me huh? Are those bandaids on your fingers? Want me to kiss your boo-boos? "

"Are you going to finally go out with me or do I have to make you cum-"

"Yes yes! Just do not finish that sentence out loud"

"You are soooooooooo in love me"

"Jay, get out"

[pastryfication]

THE RED SHOES ↳ oscar piastri

based on the fairytale by hans christian andersen | inspired by an old school project i found on my laptop … this took me forever so please give it some love <33

pairing: oscar piastri x leclerc!sister!reader summary: from the moment you were gifted your first ballet slippers, dance had been a constant in your life. a comfort in even the darkest times. but it becomes unhealthy the moment you are unable to take off the shoes.

the most worn out, old shoes in your collection dated all the way back to your fourth birthday. they had been a gift from your three brothers; a pair of red dance slippers for you to wear when you the following week participated in your very first ballet class.

it had been love at first sight for you. the moment you stepped into the studio, feeling the hardwood beneath your thin shoes, seeing yourself reflected in a mirror no matter what direction you looked in, you knew that it was where you wanted to spend the rest of your days. dance became your lifeline, the only thing keeping you going when everything else seemed dull.

when your brothers were off racing and your parents preoccupied themselves with the go-karts and helmets, you found solace in the simple act of ballet. lacing up your shoes, the familiar scent of the studio and the smoothness of the wooden floor always managed to calm you. when the music started, your world narrowed down to the rhythmic beating of the drum and the fluidity of your movements. there, in that sanctuary, nothing else mattered.

your first pair of shoes quickly became worn out, too ruined to be used, and your parents provided you with a new pair. a new pair that soon would be replaced as well.

when you were twenty, you were for the first time introduced to oscar. it was the italian grand prix, an event your entire family always attended in support of your older brother, and that year was no different. you had been wandering around in search of a familiar face when you ran into the mclaren driver. it had been love a first sight—something neither of you believed in, yet couldn’t deny—to put it simple, and the two years you had been together had been nothing short of incredible.

the australian was more than happy to contribute to your collection of shoes that only grew more and more as your training became harder, more challenging, more draining.

he worried. it wasn’t in his nature, not something he found himself doing often, but for you, for the growing dark circles under your eyes, for the weight you only seemed to loose and not gain, he worried.

you would never want him foreboding, never want him to feel the slightest unease, but as your days filled with more stress, your mind started closing up, leaving room for nothing but the new choreography.

each morning and each night, you stepped into the studio, the mirrored walls reflecting your resolve, as the music filled the air like a whisper of promise. each movement carved out a sanctuary, a space where the weight of the world faded to a distant hum.

your body became a vessel for the dance, each plié and tendu an escape from the noise outside. time drifted away, an endless stream of practice and precision and the pulse of the music guiding you deeper into this realm.

the world outside became a mere shadow, its demands and voices lost in the blur of your focus, where you were both lost and found. every ache was a testament to your commitment, every breath a surrender to the rhythm.

the only thing remaining clear was the shoes.

you had long since outgrown the pair your brothers had gifted you so thoughtfully, yet somehow, they stayed with you, not only in the physical sense, but in a way that felt deeper, more insidious. you couldn’t see it then, couldn’t know how easily the delicate line between passion and obsession could blur without you noticing.

your brothers had never fully understood, though they loved you all the same. their world was filled with the rush of engines, the thrill of speed. they were boys of the track, always chasing something fast, something tangible. when they handed you those shoes on your fourth birthday, they had no way of knowing they were giving you something you would chase for the rest of your life. a place you would carve out in the quiet, where the sound of your feet against the floor was all that mattered.

time went on so slow yet so fast. your brothers still called, though not as often as before. arthur’s voice always had an edge of command, as though even over the phone, he couldn’t help but lead you, the only person who would ever follow his command. “we’re all going to monaco this year. you’re coming, right?” his words held the weight of expectation, as though he couldn’t imagine you saying no. but when you hesitated, there was always that brief pause before he moved on, never pushing too hard.

charles’ calls were shorter, more distant, his voice lighter, floating through pictures and scattered texts from whatever corner of the world he happened to be racing through. he asked about the dance, though you both knew he didn’t really need the answer. to him, it was enough that you were still moving, still spinning through your world as he did through his.

and lorenzo—sweet, caring enzo—he called the most, his words gentle but filled with concern as he told you about your mother’s worry. about his own worry. “you sound tired,” he’d say, even when you laughed it off. he noticed things the others didn’t, sensed the exhaustion creeping into your voice, the hesitation between your words. but you reassured him, told him you were fine, always fine.

it wasn’t until oscar voiced the same worry that you began to feel the weight of it yourself. he wasn’t like your brothers—his concern was quieter, but it settled over you like a shadow. he’d watch you in the studio, even when he was busy and cramped by his ever growing career.

silent he was, his eyes tracing the movements of your body as it twisted and turned, as though trying to understand what it was you were chasing. he knew, even if you didn’t want to admit it yet, that something had shifted.

“i’m worried,” he had said one evening, after watching you move through another rehearsal, the exhaustion clinging to you like a second skin. “you don’t have to push so hard.”

his words were soft, but they lingered. you had brushed them aside at first because how could he understand?

the studio was your world. it was where everything made sense.

each day, the pull of the shoes grew stronger, though they were no longer on your feet. the new pairs you slipped on felt no different; they all seemed to carry the same curse, driving you forward even when your body begged to stop. the movements, once effortless, now felt like a compulsion, a promise you couldn’t break. you were chasing something. chasing a perfection that always seemed just out of reach.

it wasn’t until you stumbled—it just a small misstep, barely noticeable to anyone but you—that the truth started to crack open. you stood there, breath caught in your chest, staring at the mirrored walls surrounding you. your reflection looked back, but it didn’t feel like your own. there was something unfamiliar in the way your body moved, something hollow in your eyes. the girl in the mirror was still dancing, but you weren’t sure why anymore.

oscar was a magician in the way he immediately was there, his hand on your arm before you even realized it. “it’s okay,” he whispered, his voice steady, but his eyes told a completely different story. “you don’t have to keep doing this,” he said softly, his fingers brushing against yours as tenderly as if you were close to breaking. “you don’t have to prove anything to anyone.”

you wanted to believe him, but you couldn’t. the shoes still called to you, still urged you forward. they were tied to something deeper than the dance itself, something you couldn’t quite name, but couldn’t quite let go of either.

your brothers called again, their voices distant but filled with love. “come to the race,” charles said. “we’ll all be there. we want to see you.”

and for a moment, you hesitated, the pull of family tugging against the pull of the enchanting movements. you thought of charles‘ steady voice, of arthur’s laughter, of lorenzo’s quiet concern and of your mothers worrying eyes. you thought of your first ever shoes, of the girl who had received them. the girl who danced because it was her joy, not her burden.

but as you tried to step out the shoes, you found that you couldn’t. they were stuck, grown unto your feet so tightly that not even the whispers of your adoring family and all too loving boyfriend could free them. the web had spun for years, and now, it was too late to escape.

[cyrdling]

Lovey (Jason Todd x Reader Oneshot)

a/n: i really hope i wasn't gone too long, lol. hope you guys like the blog retheming! for the story, reader is broke and lives in a shitty apartment.

now, you didn't know jason todd was the red hood. how were you supposed to know that the total hunk with mysterious scars all over and a tendency to leave in the middle of the night was a fucking vigilante? okay, yeah, maybe you were a bit oblivious. but nobody could blame you for it, since you were slaving away at your job and you lived in gotham, for goodness sake. if you had one week without some random attack by the local crazies, you could count yourself lucky. this meant that the time you had outside of work and city-wide emergencies was very, very little- you couldn't really sleep all that much, and you couldn't do any of your hobbies. in essence, you weren't really living- just surviving. no time to think about pretty boy jason, or to figure out how to lie about being fine.

despite your oblivious nature, you knew jason was incredibly observant. you didn't need to know he was a vigilante (which, by the way, he still teases you for) to know that he's very aware of his surroundings. he takes care to be very, very aware of where you are- other things he doesn't really care about. he wants to make sure he knows where you are so he doesn't hurt you if you startle him. he just wants to be as gentle with you as possible. however, because of his observance, he's noticed something is up with you.

he wakes up in the morning to you rushing to get ready for work, remembering how late you went to bed last night. he decides to say something.

"sweetheart, why are you going to work? you slept so late last night," he practically mumbles. he has to keep his voice quiet, or else you might notice the soft little whine to it- he just wants to cuddle and keep you close, so not being able to absolutely breaks his big heart.

"sorry, jay- i need to work, i won't be affording this apartment and i can't miss a day just because i'm too tired. i know you'll miss me, baby, but i'll be back before you know it," you tell him, speaking at a volume normal to you, sure, but the quiet paradise of your bedroom was practically shaking from the sound. jason sighs, giving you his best puppy dog eyes to try and guilt you into staying. you're his little angel, he wants to hug you like a teddy bear while he curls up under your blankets.

you sigh, kissing him on the lips, while his adorable tactic doesn't help his case. then, you grab your phone, and leave. he sighs, deep and tired, as he pulls out his phone to check the time before he gets up. he goes through his morning routine without you- brushing his teeth, combing his hair, putting on his sweats and a tee shirt, eating a balanced breakfast (which he's very sure you didn't do, because the one he made for you and put in the fridge is untouched) and then sitting down in front of the television to think about you.

now, jason doesn't think about you every second of every day- he has to figure out how to save the city, after all- but he definitely comes close. he'll be walking down the street and see some items you might like, in a little storefront. he's watching television, and an ad for that one show you like shows up, and he looks to his side to talk about it with you, but you're not there. he decides that if he wants you to be happier, he'd have to do a lot of work.

first, he goes to the grocery store and buys all the stuff you're running out of, and stuff you've said you wanted to try but never had the funds. he even gets a couple extra things he thinks you might like, too, even if you've never said anything about them. he racks up quite the bill, but it's fine- bruce will pay for it.

second, he goes to a furniture store to replace your ratty couch and get you something cute and nice. he gets you some insanely expensive furniture, especially in comparison with what you bought for yourself, and even got you a couple knickknacks from an antique store nearby. like the first bill jason got, bruce will, once again, pay for it.

last, he goes to the wayne manor. there's some things he wants to get that he can't exactly buy- mainly sentimental things- but he wants to show you that he's making an effort to trust you, and turn your apartment into a home. he gets some framed photos off the walls of his old bedroom, some books, and other little things that he thinks you might find cute. while he's carrying his huge bag of goods, he comes across bruce. they stare each other down for a while, and bruce speaks first.

"is this for your partner?" he asks, stern voice bouncing off the walls and buzzing in jason's skull.

jason smirks, "yeah. what's it to you?" the last word ending in a slight raise of his voice.

bruce sighs. "nothing. just tell me the next time you plan to spend that much money in one day," with that, he turns and leaves- a barely imperceptible smile on his face at the fact that finally, finally jason has found someone to love.

jason hops in his car- he couldn't trust himself to carry that much on his bike, let's be honest- and drives back to your apartment. he drags all his luggage up to your floor, struggling only slightly to open your door. thankfully, all of the furniture he got was delivered- thank goodness for money- and he just took a few trips to carry it up (and also had dick help some).

with all of these things in his sight, he suddenly became insecure. what if you didn't like the foods he got you? what if you didn't like the furniture, or thought the stuff from his childhood room was stupid?

he heard footsteps down the hall.

heard someone fiddling with their keys.

heard the door opening.

you came in, and saw him in the center of a long day of work- his eyes widen, and he greets you- nervously, stuttering a little, just a bit too loud for the situation.

"hey, sweetheart- um- i got you some things," he sighs, almost defeated. oh god, you're gonna hate him. you're gonna leave him for someone who knows what gifts to get you, who knows how to talk to you about things. he feels his palms going clammy, his heart thundering away in his chest, his lungs struggling for air- wait, why are you smiling? you're not supposed to be smiling. does this mean you're happy with this? you laugh, and he feels his heart shoot directly through the upper floors of your apartment and into the stratosphere. he's sure you'd be losing your security deposit for that, but he can't bring himself to care. he'd pay for it, a million times over, just for you.

with his help, you put all of the food away, throw out your ratty couch, rearrange the furniture, and set up the knickknacks and sentimental items around the place. the entire way through, though, jason stares at you starstruck- if you look close enough, you might be able to see the hearts forming in his eyes. he, in his ever-helpful wisdom, told you to quit your job. when you ask why, he only told you one thing- and he kept repeating it whenever you'd ask.

he'd tell you, "it's my job to take care of you, lovey. i'll pay for it," his eyes full of love and his thumb caressing your cheek. he is quite the partner, ain't he?

please reblog if you enjoyed this one!! i definitely had a lot of fun writing it!

[ivysangel]

asking jason for help with your english homework and you're trying to listen, you really are but he's just so hot when he's explaining to you the underlying themes in the book you're reading for class. your legs are clenched together and you're shifting in your seat, chasing a feeling you can only get with his cock stuffed inside of you. he asks if you're getting what he's saying and all you can do is nod your head and say "mhm" before he moves on to reading over your essay. your entire body is hot, and you slide your hand between your thighs, gently applying pressure without trying to draw attention.

"it's written well, only problem is that you need to find better quotes." his eyes continue surveying the computer screen, "want me to help?"

yes, you want him to help. help you out of your clothes and over the side of the couch where he'll fuck you from behind until your arms can't hold you up anymore and he'll wrap an arm around your stomach, pulling you closer to him. pounding in and out of your pussy until you see stars and the only word you can remember is his name.

"yeah that would be great." you murmur, and he rolls his sleeves up his forearms before grabbing a highlighter, ready to start annotating. he glides the tip of the marker along the paper, leaving yellow streaks in his wake. and you tense every muscle in your body, trying your hardest not to pounce on him, while you think about how it should be his tip leaving white streaks on your back.

"you can relax you know," he says. "i'll take care of your other problem in a few minutes, just gotta make sure you get an A first"

first real post on here, who else cheered? also, not proofread (part two, here)

[orchidsangel]

Friends to lovers with Jason where the sexual tension is so intense that other people get uncomfortable around you two and often have to leave the room whenever you’re together. So intense that the first time you have sex he’s practically ripping your clothes off, and he has to restrain himself from manhandling you because he needs to be in you so bad, but he doesn’t want to scare you off. He’s holding your face in his hands and leaving hickeys all over your neck while fucking you so good. And it is so good because his dick is so big and it’s hitting you so deep, and you can’t help but moan his name between shallow breaths. He’s all but silent, except for a few grunts and groans, and you’d think he wasn’t enjoying it if it weren’t for the way he moves his hands to grip the pillows under you, so he doesn’t blow his load too quickly. He fucks you relentlessly, and your fingernails find their way down his back as you scream him name. When you feel your orgasm crest your head leans back as far back as possible as his finds its way into your neck, and when you feel the intense wave of pleasure wash over you and hear his strangled gasps as he spills inside you; you both realize that this will change the trajectory of your friendship forever, but in that moment neither of you care. 

ro's first time writing smut !! who else cheered? if you think it's bad don't say anything (i have a fragile ego)

[jasmineoolongtea]

jason todd's skin isn't untouched in the slightest, far from it.

almost every crook and cranny of his sculpted form has been marked or marred by some sort of scar or injury he's managed to sustain over his time as a vilgilante to the point where there's barely anywhere on his body that's seemingly safe from this apparent curse.

is it bad to say that he's lost count of them over the years? a bruise here, a large jagged scar there; sure, jason used to spend time fixating on them like some strange obsession he couldn't shake off when a new one appeared fresh on the canvas of his skin but by now, all they would get was a slight grimace whenever he caught a glimpse of them in the mirror as his lips draw into a tight line before quickly throwing some article of clothing over his head to cover it.

unfortunately for him (though seemingly par for the course for his life trajectory), many of them are the result of some less-than-pleasant experiences and encounters that and in true jason fashion, he has taken it upon himself to bear this metaphorical cross even if it weighs heavy on him and his every waking moment.

though he would never admit this out loud, he can't help but see each line of scar tissue or faded bruise as another reminder of his own mistakes, failures and inadiquacies and at times, they sting more than what caused the wound in the first place.

however, he's found a type of mark that doesn't hurt as much (quite the opposite in fact) and those are ones caused by you. specifically, the lipstick marks you leave in your wake.

the way you trail and place these kisses across his body is like you're trying you're trying to commit every plane and edge of his chiseled figure to memory and who is he to stop you in your quest. whenever you arrive at one of his many scars on your journey, you always take extra care to linger on them for a second longer than the others and for a fleeting moment, he lets himself forget the backstory attached to them and instead focus on the sensation of you against him.

you treat him like he's your own personal canvas with how you meticulosly choose to mark him such as clustering them in certain places like on his shoulder blade or placing them in a line leading down his torso and ending just below the band of his underwear.

your lipstick is smudged so perfectly around your mouth and when you pull away to go to wipe it off, he has to fight the urge to audibly let out a sigh of disappointment at the sudden lost of contact and how good you look when there's evidence of his presence on you.

although the public will never be privy to this artwork, jason thinks that it just might be one of the greatest masterpieces he's ever had the pleasure of seeing or experiencing.

everytime he catches a brief sight of the faded imprint of your cherry red lips dotted against his bare skin in the mirror, there's a ghost of smile that graces his features as he makes a mental note to ask you to top them up when he deems them too faded for his liking.

he can't decide what he likes better; the feeling of your soft lips against the harsh lines of his muscles or the look of pure satisfaction you get when you lean back to admire your work. jason's never been one for photography but god he wishes that he had a camera just so he could take a photo of these moments to immortalise them for the rest of eternity.

sometimes you like to joke that he's the reason that you go through your lipsticks so fast and he'll offer you a somewhat bashful grin in response although you know that there isn't an ounce of guilt in his bones for this. silently, he swears to buy you a lifetime of lipstick if it means that your lips keep coming back to him.

[mylifesjustacarousel]

femme fatale

pairing: james hook x fem!reader (requested!)

summary: you are the new transfer student at merlin academy, and hook falls head over heels for you when he realizes that he’s not the only pirate on campus anymore

type: fluffy…? very silly goofy

CW: kinda suggestive, reader has a knife

WC: 1.5k

part 2 | not proofread!

“Who is that?” Hook whispered, nudging Morgie’s shoulder. The two of them were sat in class when a certain someone caught Hook’s eye. Morgie looked up from his book, gazing over at the person in question. You were sat a few rows ahead of the boys, your feet on your desk while you leaned back in your chair.

“Her? I think she’s one of the new transfer students. You know, she’s a pirate too.”

Hook’s interest in you instantly piqued. It wasn’t every day that he met another pirate, or at least one as breathtaking as you. “She’s stunning. You think I should ask her out?” Morgie looked puzzled. “Ask her out? You don’t know her.” Hook scoffed, looking offended. “Look at me, Morgs. I’m irresistible to all.”

When class was dismissed Hook got up, scrambling to get up and walk over to you. He almost tripped on his way over to your seat, catching himself on your desk. “Silly me, I’m already falling head over heels for you. The name is Hook, and you are?” he asked, winking at you. You raised a brow, looking him up and down. Your eyes stopped on his hook. “I see where the name comes from. I’ll call you pirate boy. As for my name?” You got close to him, your faces mere inches apart. “You’ll just have to figure it out, lover boy.” you whispered, getting up from your seat and walking past him. Yes, he was gorgeous. But you liked to have a little fun with your prey before you went in for the kill.

Hook was practically frozen in his spot, absolutely in awe from the interaction that had just occurred. Morgie walked up to Hook, tapping him on the shoulder. “You okay? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a girl reject you like that.” Hook stood up, brushing off his clothes. “No, no. That was far from a rejection. This just turned into a game, and the ball is in my court. She’ll be mine… eventually.”

“What’s he so happy about?” Maleficent asked Morgie in a hushed tone, watching as Hook quite literally skipped into the lair. Morgie giggled, looking up from his book. “He met that new transfer student, y/n, in class today. I can’t really say why he’s so happy, though. He almost fell on his face right in front of her. If that was me, I would’ve started running and never looked back.”

Hook looked over at them, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’ll have you know that, no, it didn’t exactly work out how I wanted it to. But, she was totally into me. She didn’t really show it on her face, but I could tell.” Maleficent snickered at him. “You think that you have a chance with her? I’m sure that you could get any girl that you wanted, just not her. No, even Uliana is a little scared of her. She exudes so much confidence that it’s actually a little terrifying, and that is coming from me.”

“And that makes me like her even more. I like a girl who knows what she wants.” He let out a happy sigh, sitting down next to Morgie. “She’ll come around, they all do.”

“Hook, you have a problem.” Hades mumbled.

“I don’t recall asking.” he grumbled. “Look, I think she’s into me. It won’t hurt for me to take my chance. In fact, I think I saw her studying in the common area. Maybe I’ll pay her a little visit.”

“Hello there, m’lady.”

You looked up from your homework, seeing the same pirate from earlier standing in front of you. He pushed your papers aside, sitting down on the table. You crossed your arms over your chest, leaning back in your chair. “Well, isn’t this a pleasant surprise, pirate boy.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s Hook. James Hook.”

Giggling to yourself, you sat up. “Do you even know my name?” Leaning forward, the faint feeling of your breath ghosted the skin on his neck. “Why should I bother to use yours?” Hook audibly gulped, looking down at you. Never, not once, had someone rendered him speechless. He always had something to say, always. “I, uh…”

“You what?” You ran your fingers through his long hair. “Tell me, pretty boy. I don’t bite.” Hook’s heart was racing about a million miles a minute. He absentmindedly leaned into your touch, his eyes threatening to close. “Your name is y/n.”

Your hand stopped in his hair, a smirk growing on your face. “So you do pay attention. I’m impressed, Captain. If you can even be called that. Have you earned the title of Captain?” He looked over at you, pulling your hand out of his hair and holding it in his own. “I can show you why they call me Captain, darling.”

You tapped your finger against your chin, acting like you were thinking about it. “I’ll pass. But, thank you for the invite, gorgeous.” You went to pull away but he pulled you back towards him, your chests pressing together. “You don’t know who you’re toying with, lassie.”

“I’ll see you around, James.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek, leaving a dark kiss mark from your lipstick. He huffed, watching you gather your things. “You’re not even going to consider? I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Maybe another time, pretty boy. After all, I do love to stare at that little face of yours.”

Hook stormed into his room, throwing his bag down on his bed. Morgie looked over at him from his desk. “Hey, Hook… What’s on your face?” Hook groaned, slamming the bathroom door open and looking at himself in the mirror. Right in the middle of his cheek was a big ol’ kiss mark from you. “She’s playing hard to get, Morgs. But I’m not going to let her win.” he grumbled, trying to rub the kiss mark off with water.

Ever since the second that Hook laid his eyes on you in class, he was instantly infatuated. Your confidence, your playfulness, your drop dead gorgeousness… He wanted it all.

Morgie got up, leaning against the doorway of the bathroom. “What if she’s just not interested?” Hook spun around on his heels to face Morgie. “Oh, she’s interested. She’s hot, I’m gorgeous. It’s meant to be.” Morgie slowly nodded, making his way back to his desk.

“You’ll see, Morgs. A pirate always knows how to get their treasure.”

“Okay, Hook.”

You were laid out on a towel at the Enchanted Lake, trying to soak up some sun before the weekend was over. While relaxing, you couldn’t help but think about your new… admirer. You knew that you were playing hard to get, but you couldn’t help it. He was just so fun to play with. No matter what, he kept trying. It was intriguing, to say the least. You couldn’t lie and say that you weren’t even the tiniest bit interested, though. After all, he was gorgeous. But you didn’t give in that easily to anything.

“Sitting by yourself, darling?”

You took a deep breath, not even having to open your eyes to know who the voice belonged to. “Yes, I am, pirate boy. Emphasis on the “by myself” part. How do you keep finding me?” you asked, propping yourself up on your elbows so you could look at him. “I was, uh, actually just passing by. Then I saw you and I thought that I would stop and say hi.” You bit your lip, trying your best to hide the smile that was trying to make way on your face.

“You don’t think that’s a little odd?” You stood up, walking over to him. “I mean, not that I mind, pretty boy. But, you don’t know who you’re messing with.” Within seconds, there was a small blade pointed at Hook. His eyes widened and his face turned a cherry red. “Where did you even pull that out from?” You just shrugged. “A good pirate always keeps a method of defense on hand. If you need tips, pirate boy, I could always give you a… little lesson.”

“A lesson?” he scoffed, his face still as red as his jacket. You reached up, straightening out his jacket. “Careful, love, any more flustered and your skin will completely blend in with this jacket of yours.” Teasing him seemed a little mean, sure, but he made teasing him simply too easy. Any ounce of attention you gave him went straight to his head. It was cute.

“Well, I think that under all the knives and the mysterious attitude, you’re interested in me too. I mean, you haven’t even tried to kill me yet. Any good pirate would’ve taken their enemy down already.” he smirked, his smirk only growing bigger when he saw the shocked look on your face. He caught you. “Listen, gorgeous. If I let you take me out, will you sod off?”

“Only if you don’t fall magically in love with me, which you will.”

“We’ll see about that one.” you huffed. You were definitely interested, but you weren’t going to let him know that. “Meet me here next Friday at twelve. Bring a towel.” He nodded enthusiastically. “Next Friday, twelve, towel. Got it.”

You cupped his cheeks, holding onto his face so he was looking you in the eye. “I look forward to it. Don’t be late though. I don’t like to be kept waiting.” Pulling away, you gathered your things and left him standing there.

Let the fun begin.

a/n: i think i’m gonna do a part 2, but let me know! i’m sorry it’s a little short, thank you so much for reading MWAH MWAH MWAH

taglist: @skellseerwriting @sleepyking @ljaylmaoo @lesbpotmurdocklokistan @yokolesbianism @eretsupremacy89 @descendantsramblings @thegoddessofnothingness

[cowboydisaster]

Christmas countdown request:

Have you ever sat in a hot tub while it's snowing? It's a magical experience. Your top is chilly, your bottom half is so warm, and if you look directly up at the falling snow it looks like the stars are floating down around you.

Anyway, Arthur should take reader skinny dipping in a hot spring and it starts snowing and they get to enjoy that magical moment while cuddling naked in the hot spring 😁

* ˚ ✦ Nightfall * ˚ ✦

pairing: arthur morgan x f!reader word count: 1.9k a/n: OKAY-- i have experienced this and i LOVE it. I couldn't help myself from writing the smut, really. Smut in a hot spring is too good. I'm obsessed with this. warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, thigh riding, inexperienced reader, cowgirl

cowboydisaster's christmas countdown: TWO days 'till christmas!

christmas countdown┊main masterlist┊rdr2 masterlist

The breeze is cold against your bare skin, the snow soft against your feet.

“Are you sure this won't hurt?” You ask again, eyes flickering over towards Arthur. He chuckles as he unbuttons the bottom of his shirt, slipping it off his shoulders and letting it fall to the rocky ground. 

“Yes, I'm sure.” He says, amused. 

“Why did we have to wait ‘till nightfall?” You ask, teeth chattering, hand running up your bare arm, over the goosebumps that are appearing. 

“You’ll see. C’mon, darlin, before ya catch a cold.” Arthur whispers, hand on the small of your back as he leads you across the flat rocks, towards an unknown destination. 

He’d wanted to surprise you, had planned this little trip weeks ago. Your horses eye the landscape curiously, not daring to leave the forest and venture out onto the strange, warm rocks. A nervous smile rests on your lips, a slight anxiety resting in your stomach. Arthur doesn’t miss the shudder in your breathing, nor the beating of your heart in your ears. Wishing to quell your hesitation, Arthur reaches for your hand, squeezing it gently in his own.

“You trust me?” He whispers, green eyes searching yours, and you nod. Hand in hand, you both venture across the rock. Arthur smiles for the way you marvel at their heat. The snow melts away from them, and small bubbling puddles of water rest at your feet. You raise an eyebrow, never having seen anything like it. 

“Where are we?” You ask, looking down, seeing more water, ponds and pools of it, hot and steaming. The warm pools are crystal blue, and seem to glow in the pitch black of night. 

“Cotorra Springs.” Arthur smiles.

Your eyes go wide, taking in the beauty and the wonder of the hot springs. Arthur leads you towards a particularly large one, and you study it. The way the water steams, warmed by some forces in the earth, the way the moon reflects in the strangely clear waters, the halo of light that shines out from the circle in the earth. 

Arthur watches your curiosity with loving eyes. He knows that you were very sheltered, and he’s trying to show you as much of the world’s beauty as he can. The wonders of nature are something that he often takes for granted, but not you. Every flower you come across, every landscape and every animal you meet is met with deep wonder and appreciation. Seeing the way you study, how your eyes light up at something new is… enchanting for him.. 

“Is it magical?” You whisper, your eyes filled with stars reflected from the water. You lean down, running your fingers through the spring, pulling away quickly at the warmth. You look to Arthur for reassurance, relaxing when you see him stepping down into the water. 

“Reckon it might just be.” He hums, extending a hand out to you. You take his calloused hand, letting him help you. Your toe meets the water first, and you pull it back, hesitating. 

“S’alright, sweetheart. I gotcha.” Arthur whispers, and trusting him wholly, you step in. 

The warm water envelops you, chasing away the chill that had been sinking into your bones. Arthur sits on the naturally carved ledge in the spring. You hesitate, but he nods– signaling that you’re okay– and you follow.

“Incredible, ain’t it?” Arthur whispers, head tilted back, looking up at the stars. The snowfall combined with the bright stars enrapture your attention, and you stare at the sky, wondering if it’s the snow falling onto your tongue, or the stars themselves. 

“It’s beautiful.” You murmur, brushing your hair back with wet hands, extending them to the sky, catching snowflakes that promptly melt against the warmth of your skin. 

Arthur is sure that in all the things he’s seen, all the places he’s gone, he’s never seen anything as beautiful as you. Your wet hair falls in tangled waves down your back, your smile is brighter than the stars above as you try and catch the ones that sprinkle down to you. The wonder in your eyes. That wild streak in your heart. Arthur could draw you day and night in his journal, and never truly capture your glow, or the way your smile brightens a room, the way your laughter heals broken hearts. 

Sometimes he wonders how you do it. How does someone with so much pain– so much trauma– stay so optimistic? So grateful for life and for people? In all that Arthur endured, all it ever made him was an angry fool. But you. You’re a phoenix. 

Arthur’s hands grip onto your waist, pulling you into his lap, your legs sitting across his own as he holds you wedding-style in his arms. 

“How’d I ever get so damn lucky?” Arthur whispers to you, green eyes laden with emotion. 

Your smile picks up all the cracked pieces of his heart, the liquid gold pouring out from your soul glues it back together.

“Karma.” You answer quickly, “Because good things happen to good people, Arthur.” 

Your legs are toasty warm in the water, but your chest and shoulders shiver lightly in the cold breeze. You cuddle closer to Arthur to make up warmth, laying against his chest. 

“I ain’t a good m-” 

“Shh.” You say into his ear, lips remaining there for a moment, pressing a slow kiss to his cheek. 

“You are a good man.” You whisper, turning in Arthur’s arms to face him, straddling him, “and…” You press a soft-as-silk kiss to his neck, “I love you for it.” 

His breaths grow a little quicker at the contact, and suddenly you become all too aware of the position you’re in.

“Too good to me.” Arthur whispers in between open mouthed kisses to your neck. His hands find your waist, fingers digging into your soft flesh, gripping you tightly. 

You whimper, breath shuddering as he pulls your hips down, grinding your core against his leg. 

“Arthur we’re–” You take a breath, “What if someone comes along?” 

“No one will come along, darlin.” Arthur reassures, thumbs trailing up your torso, pressing circles against your firm, sensitive nipples. 

Despite your sheltered childhood, you struggle none with this. When you were eager, Arthur had shown you– again and again– what you could do to make yourself feel good, to what you could do make him feel good.

“Keep talkin’ to me, sweetheart. Tell me how it feels.” Arthur’s voice is like velvet against your ear, his lips locking on to your lips, your jaw, your collarbone. One of his fingers continues massaging your swollen, pink nipple, and the other travels lower, teasing your thigh, stroking your hip. 

“Please, Arthur.” You whisper, hips rocking gently, waiting for friction.

“Jus’ wanna touch you, sweetheart.” Arthur groans, pulling your hips down against his leg, helping you to rock them, to fuck yourself against his thigh, your warm bodies still half submerged in the spring. The temperature does something for you all on its own. Your breasts are exposed to the cold, only warmed by Arthur’s touch, but your lower half is heating all on its own, and combined with the hot water, it's almost overstimulating. 

“Just like that-” You gasp, head tossing back, hair dipping back into the glowing water. Snowflakes flutter about, landing in your hair, on your face, and your breasts, scattered white specks that Arthur picks up with his trail of kisses. Your hips keep their steady pace, and Arthur continues teasing you, featherlight fingertips trailing down your legs, ghosting over the backs of your knees. 

“Easy, sweetheart.” Arthur’s voice reaches your ears in a strained huff. 

He wants to pull you down onto his throbbing cock, to roll his hips up into you, watch you rock yourself, fuck yourself on his length. He wants to watch those beautiful eyes roll back into your head over and over, wants to hear his name coming from those pretty, plump lips. He wants to mark you, kiss you, make you his. He’s not sure if at heart he's a good man. However, he is sure that you make him a very bad one. His cock is straining against his stomach, and every rock of your hips is rubbing against him, and jesus, he can’t take it much longer. 

It’s selfish, purely selfish as he dips his hands below the water, pulling you up. Your face wrinkles in pleasure when he slides you down onto his cock, and the gesture nearly sends him to heaven. Your soft skin goes tense, muscles tightening, cunt gripping him, pulling groans from his cracked lips. 

The glow of the water shines impossibly brighter, illuminating you. Your face is flushed, your breasts bouncing with every one of your rocks.

“Oh–” You moan, hands gripping onto his sturdy shoulders, “Arthur!” 

“Tell me what’cha need, darlin.” Arthur grunts, squeezing your ass in his hands. 

You reach for his wrist, grabbing it tightly, and shoving it down between your bodies. Arthur smirks against your skin as he nips at your earlobe, sending waves of pleasure through all the pressure points in your body. His thumb makes a steady pace on your clit, and when you toss your head back in pleasure, snowflakes spot your eyelashes. 

“Feel good? Gonna cum for me?” Arthur groans, cock twitching inside you, pushing up into you. You press your chest to Arthur’s, the added stimulation of your nipples against him creating an influx of sensations.  

“Good… Good, there you go.” Arthur praises, feeling the stutter of your hips, noticing the whine of your voice. 

“Cum for me, sweetheart.” Arthur kisses your neck, and your stomach clenches down on him, “C’mon, baby. Cum for me.” 

Your hips stutter, voice growing louder, strained as you rock against him. Arthur curses as your walls tighten around him, squeezing out every bit of self control that he’s clinging on to. Your orgasm works through you slowly, building and building, like a dam cracking before it bursts. 

“There, there, just–” Arthur groans, “Jus’ like that, darlin’. Doin’ so good. I���m– nearly there wit’ ya–” 

You shudder and gasp, fire erupting in your abdomen, spreading over your limbs. A few unrhythmic, upward thrusts and Arthur is there with you. His hips grind up slowly, pumping his cum into you, filling you full as he groans, hands tearing into your hips with their force. He thrusts again, slow, breathing deeply as you both come down. 

“That–” You shiver, sweat clinging to you, cold from the temperature. 

“I know.” Arthur finishes for you, pulling your body against his chest, keeping you mostly in the water for warmth. His arms wrap around you, fingertips trailing slowly up and down your spine as tingles spread through your limbs, little waves of aftershock hitting you now and again. 

Arthur doesn’t pull out, just keeps you in his lap, holding you, kissing your head, praising you. 

The falling snow lands in your hair, and as Arthur looks up at the vast expanse of stars, he's sure you’re one of them. An angel, come down as a star. Something divine, surely.

taglist: @margofiore @mrsarthurmorgan7 @woman-with-no-name @tillith @luvliewriting @pine4pple-b0i @photo1030 @dudsparrow @holyratrimony @twola @calcarius445 (send an ask to be added/removed!)

[eveomo]

bounties and blessings - arthur morgan x f!reader

chapter 3 (SFW)

previous chapter

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ synopsis : after meeting a seemingly dangerous yet kind outlaw during a bounty, your world seems to get turned upside down after you can't seem to stop running into each other. could this be the beginning of something you've both been longing for?

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ warnings/tags : MINORS MAY INTERACT WITH SFW CHAPTERS (NSFW WILL BE TAGGED), depictions of violence, arguments, angst, eventual smut, unprotected piv sex, guns, gun violence, swearing, mutual pining, strangers to lovers, soft arthur, animal death, PTSD, mentions/depictions of abuse, attempted SA (very brief and non descriptive and for plot purposes only), NO PREGNANCY, NO BABIES, MC isnt a frail weak girl who constantly needs saving, often grammatically incorrect (probably)

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ contains : arthur morgan x f!reader, no use of y/n, reader changes the plot for the better

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ wc : 3.8k

You awoke to the sound of rain hitting the window panes of the hotel room you had gotten for the night. The clouds hung low, clinging to the mountains like a nervous child clings to their mother. Whatever light shone through the clouds was directly in your eyes, and you let out a groan of irritation at the intrusion. Rubbing your eyes, you sat up, placing your sore feet on the ground before running your hand through your tangled hair and deciding you needed a bath—badly. 

After putting your boots back on, you headed for the front desk and placed some coins on the counter. The clerk directed you to the bathing room, and you gladly entered, appreciating the dim lighting. After undressing, you folded your clothing and placed them on the stool next to the bathtub before stepping into the hot water and sighing with relief. Grabbing the bar of soap, you rubbed it between your hands and started with your hair, scrubbing your scalp, then your shoulders, working your way down all the way to your feet. You remained in the tub for quite some time, appreciating the way the warm water released any tension held in your body. 

Now freshly clean, you left the hotel and unhitched Lenora, climbing on her back and lightly tapping her sides with your feet before trotting out of Valentine. You were low on food and money, which left you with one option to fill your empty stomach: Hunting. Were you bad at it? Not necessarily, however you had long run out of arrows and hadn’t had the time to make more, forcing you to use your revolver or rifle to hunt which was less than ideal for killing small animals such as rabbits and turkeys. Crossing over the hills, you kept your eyes out for herds of deer, or anything that would keep you fed for the next few days.

 After riding for about 20 minutes, you saw a herd just down the hill and you quickly dismounted, removing your rifle from your saddle. Taking light steps down the hillside, you crouched behind a bush and waited for the grazing deer to lift their heads up, giving you the perfect shot. You held your rifle up, closing one eye and taking a deep breath to steady yourself, finger ghosting over the trigger. You locked in on a movement, and as soon as the doe had looked up, you exhaled and fired, sending the rest of the herd running in a panic.

Letting out a sharp whistle, you approached the deer’s body while the sound of Lenora’s beating hooves got closer. You hoisted the deer onto your horse’s back, grunting at the exertion. A loud grumble erupted from your stomach, and you mounted Lenora, setting off to find a campsite so you could cook what you had hunted.

The sun was beating down on you now, a sharp contrast to the previous rain and clouds just that morning. It painted your face a slight pink despite the shade your hat provided, and you found yourself longing for your blouse despite the rolled-up sleeves of your button up you had stolen from a bounties dead body. Spotting a cloud of smoke coming from a clearing in the trees, you quickly pulled the reins and directed Lenora, hoping to find an empty camp with a forgotten fire. Unfortunately for you, gunshots began to erupt from the area. Hesitating for a moment, you urged your horse faster, quickly approaching the camp as part of you hoped you would be left with dead bodies to move, and an empty camp. Despite your speed, the gunfire had stopped as you had arrived, no more than 20 feet back. 

“Dirty O’Driscolls.” A familiar voice spat out, and you sighed at the realization that it was Arthur before dismounting and walking towards the now empty camp. 

Just as you were about to enter the clearing, you spotted a man in a green vest sneaking up on him, knife in hand before lunging and tackling Arthur to the ground and you froze. A struggle ensued, the knife getting far too close to Arthurs neck. You quickly drew your revolver and pulled the trigger, shooting the man point blank in the head. 

“We gotta stop meeting like this. You alright?” you said, finally emerging from the bushes as Arthur pushed off the dead body slumped over his.

“Sure, thank you, ma’am.” He replied with a huff, rolling his shoulders in pain. Arthur quickly looted the body, putting a watch and some tonic in his satchel before approaching you and dropping some coins in your hand.

“Ma’am? Just how old do you think I am, Mister?” Looking down at your hand, you quickly counted the small amount of coins sitting in your palm.  “‘nd hold on now, me savin’ yer life is worth $3?” You exclaimed in disbelief, cocking an eyebrow as you shoved the coins into the back pocket of your trousers.

“What? An outlaw can’t have any manners now? I already thanked you,” He scoffed, clicking his tongue as his horse returned to him. He grabbed the reins and mounted his American Standardbred, looking down at you. His gaze was strong and unnerving, a distant look in his blue eyes that chilled you to your core. 

“Well, I oughta head back-“ 

“Wait!” You spoke before you realized the words had even exited your mouth, and you felt the blood rush to your face in embarrassment. Thankfully, your minor sunburn concealed your blush.

Arthur cocked a brow before replying, “Yes?”

You threw your thumb back, gesturing to the deer resting on the rear of Lenora. 

“Err… Could you help me skin this? I ain’t all that great at it.” He shook his head in amusement and dismounted.

“Sure, I’m not expected back for another day or so anyway.” Arthur approached your horse before picking up the deer and resting its body on the ground. He squatted next to the animal, his eyes scanning its lifeless body. He let out a low whistle as he noticed the bullet hole straight through the skull.

“You got a good shot there.” You smiled softly before replying,

“No point in havin’ a good shot if I can’t skin it myself.” Shrugging, you squatted next to him and removed your hat, wiping the back of your hand along where sweat had collected at the brim. You glanced down at Arthurs hands, knuckles scabbed over from the bar fight, and various scars covering both worn hands.

“You been livin’ alone out here and you can hunt, but you don't know how to skin what you’ve caught?” Arthur teased, a glint in his blue eyes that made your breath get caught in your throat.

“I-I know how… I just ain’t good at it.” You mumbled. You were still somewhat new to this. Hunting was usually a success for you, but the skinning? That’s a different beast altogether. 

Arthur chuckled softly, voice low and gravelly. “It ain’t about knowin’ how. It’s about knowin’ when to make the right cuts. You gotta let the blade do all the work for you, not your hands.”

You shot him a skeptical glance, but his posture and the confidence in his voice made you reconsider any doubts you had. With a long sigh, you dropped your head. “Alright, teach me then.”

A small smirk worked its way onto Arthurs face, but he didn’t say anything more. He removed a knife from his satchel and it sliced through the hide without any hassle, a clean line following the curve of the ribcage. The first cut was always the hardest, and despite his years of practice he had yet to perfect it. 

He glanced over at you, admiring the furrow in your brow and the way you tugged your lip between your teeth in concentration. “You ever skin a deer before?” Arthur asked, further separating the hide from the meat and muscle.

“Once or twice,” you murmured, though it was painfully obvious from the way you shifted uncomfortably that you weren’t confident in the slightest. You gestured towards the hide as he worked. “Never as cleanly as this, though.”

Arthur paused for only a moment before continuing on. “Yeah, well that’s the trick. Slow and steady. Take your time, there’s no need to rush.” He slid the knife down the flank of the deer and handed it to you, hilt-first. “Take it from here. Just follow the line.”

“What, you think I don’t got my own knife?” Arthur rolled his eyes in response while you drew a slow, controlled cut through the hide, following the line he had made. It was much harder than Arthur had made it look, your hands were shaking and it felt as though the knife was fighting you.

“You’re gripping too tight,” Arthur said, his voice lined with a soft tenderness that disappeared as soon as it had bubbled up. “Loosen up, let the blade do all the work.”

You relaxed your grip slightly, and the knife slid more easily through the meat and hide. The scent of the deer wafted through the air, sharp and pungent. As you worked, you fell into a rhythm, the initial discomfort dissolving as your movements became more fluid. 

Arthur nodded in approval. “That’s it, girl. Just like that.” Your face flushed as he spoke, a simple praise making you feel giddy inside. He helped you peel back the hide and roll it up, placing it right behind the bedroll sitting behind your saddle. 

“Make sure you keep some fat on the meat, just not too much. You need that bit for cookin’.” He finished, and you glared at him.

“I know how to cook, thank you.” It came out sharper than intended, but Arthur just laughed.

“You sure? Even a lone wolf has more meat on its bones than you.” He joked, gesturing to your small frame.

“It ain’t polite to comment on a ladies body, Mister.” You chided him, beginning to cut the meat away from the bones.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were a lady.” Arthur teased, removing his hat so he could wipe his forehead with the back of his hand.

You glared at him. “Shut up.” Eyes narrowed, you continued to work while a pleasant silence settled between the two of you. The only noise being the chatter of the wildlife and the occasional grunt from you and Arthur as you worked on the deer. You worked delicately, cutting away at the tender joints and muscle. 

“Why’re you helping me, Arthur?” You asked, absent-minded as you made another cut. “Ain’t like you owe me nothin’—except your life.” He chuckled at the last comment, but stayed silent a beat before setting down the other knife he had retrieved from his satchel and studying your face for a moment. 

“You’re better off with help than on your own, and I guess because you saved my life.” He drawled. 

You didn’t ask for more, that was enough. 

You both worked together in a comfortable silence, the deer slowly being separated into usable parts. As you freed the meat from the bones, Arthur wrapped the meat, then used discarded sinew to tie it together. It was taking a lot longer than you had expected it to, and the sun was beginning to creep behind the mountaintops. You lit a cigarette, nursing it between your lips as you continued to cut away, before finally finishing and cutting some of the meat into smaller chunks. Standing up, you grabbed a couple of logs that the O’Driscolls had so kindly left, and you nursed the fire until you could feel the heat on your face. 

“Well, I’d best be on my way.” Arthur grunted as he stood, wiping his hands on his jeans before turning on his heel and approaching his horse. 

“Hey,” you started, scratching the back of your neck awkwardly “you want to stay and eat? It’s the least I could do since you helped me,” Arthur turned back around and nodded, not saying much else. 

The two of you sat around the fire, chunks of venison sitting on the blade of your knives as you cooked it and ate silently. It was a little more awkward now, the sun had set completely, the only light being the now warm glow of the fire which illuminated Arthurs sharp features. You studied his face for only a moment before his eyes met yours, and you quickly diverted your gaze towards the flames. 

Suddenly, the night was thick with smoke, the air heavy and burning your throat with each stuttering inhale. The once sturdy frame of your home enveloped in flames, now nothing more than splintered wood and blackened timber. It groaned as the flame further consumed it, shooting sparks up into the air like dying stars. 

You knelt in the snow, your hands trembling as you held the body of your now lifeless husband. His blood, warm and sticky on your palms now coated the front of your nightgown, but you didn’t notice, nor did you care. You were too focused on committing his features to memory, his pale face illuminated by the growing fire, his green eyes the same as the day when your parents had introduced the two of you, his muddy hand held out with a gap-toothed smile as you hid behind your mothers legs. You placed your hand over his now glazed over eyes, closing them forever. A warm kiss against cold, dry lips made your body wrack with sobs as you held him closer, kissing him for the final time.

His chest, once broad and full of life, was now still. There was a gaping wound where the shotgun had torn through his torso, his blood staining the white snow. He’d fallen just outside the door, trying to make it to the horses, trying to get you to safety before the debt collectors came. But they were too fast, too brutal. The gunshots rang through your ears, reminding you-

“Hey,” You were snapped out of your flashback, staring back at Arthur with wide eyes. 

“You alright?” He finished, putting out his cigarette. You sat upright, releasing yourself from the nervous posture you held. Bringing a cigarette to your lips, you struck the match and lit it, inhaling.

“Yeah, just thinking ‘s all.” Wiping a stray tear from your face, you put your blade back over the flames since the piece you had cooked had now gone cold. Arthur let out a hum, clearly not wanting to dig any deeper, and he shifted uncomfortably where he sat. He scratched his head and sighed before standing.

“I really should be going now, Miss…” He trailed off, clearly expecting your name. You spoke it softly and he repeated it, before mounting his horse and riding away. Left alone, you allowed the pit in your stomach to consume you, and your body wracked with sobs as you held your head in your hands. It felt like you could barely breathe, your chest constricting and compressing; breaths coming short and stuttered as if you were swinging on the end of a rope. 

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing out here all alone?” 

You froze as the click of a rifle cocking resounded through the clearing. Your hand slid instinctively to the grip of your revolver. There were 5 of them. You could hear their murmurs and the muffled shuffle of feet creeping closer from every direction.

“Look at this, boys,” came a low voice from behind you. “A pretty lady waitin’ here just for us. Ain’t that a sight?” 

He was closer now, just to your left. You didn't turn, but your fingers wrapped around the cold steel of your revolver, your eyes flicked quickly to the nearest cover—a barrel just ahead of you. You had seconds, maybe less.

“Get the rope,” another voice sneered, this one rougher and deeper, laced with authority. “Tie her up nice and tight. We got ourselves a real prize this time.”

Your heart pounded, but your movements were fluid, second nature at this point. You quickly swiveled, pulling your revolver from its holster in one quick motion. The first a scrappy man with a scar running down his face stepped into view just as you fired a round. The bullet ripped through his chest with a sickening thud, his body jerking back and collapsing into the dirt with a gurgled scream, his green vest stained with blood.

The other O’Driscolls reacted insantly, guns drawn. But you were already darting to the side, tucking low behind the barrel as bullets whizzed past you, striking the dry earth with sharp cracks.

“She’s fast,” one of them cursed, his voice filled with frustration. “Get her!”

You breathed deeply, mind sharp and calculating. You needed to thin their numbers, fast. You knew they wouldn’t just back off—these bastards would press until they had you cornered.

A younger man, no older than twenty, emerged from the trees ahead of you, eyes wide with panic as he aimed his rifle. You ducked and popped out the side of the barrel and fired, sending a bullet straight through his knee. He collapsed with a scream, his rifle falling uselessly beside him. 

“Goddamn it!” The leaders voice rang out. “You ain't getting away from this, girl!” 

You didn’t respond, you couldnt afford to. From behind the barrel, you pulled a second revolver from your belt, your finger sliding across the trigger as you darted toward a wagon, firing off two quick shots. The third O'Driscoll went down with a hit to his shoulder, his rifle flying from his hands, the second bullet catching him in the side. He didn’t make a sound as he hit the ground, twitching for a moment before stilling.

Two down. Three left.

The leader, a burly man with a thick beard, shouted for the others to fan out. You could hear their feet scrambling in the underbrush, closing in from all sides.

"Come on, girl!" the leader yelled. "We ain’t playin’ fair anymore!"

You gritted your teeth, slamming the revolver back into its holster, and grabbed the rifle you’d left propped up against a nearby tree. You rose up above the wagon and pulled the trigger, catching the next O'Driscoll—a tall man with a wild-eyed stare—right between the eyes.

The remaining two O'Driscolls exchanged panicked glances. One was the young boy you’d already injured, clutching his bleeding leg with a grimace. The other, a grizzled man with a long scar across his throat, charged forward with his rifle raised, desperation in his eyes.

You could hear him coming, his boots crashing through the underbrush. You didn’t wait. As he broke through the tree line, you were already aiming. The rifle bucked in your hands, two shots ringing out like thunder. The O'Driscoll staggered back, his rifle spinning from his hands as he crumpled into the dirt.

You felt a burning pain in your thigh, and you looked down as you watched blood begin to stain your trousers.

Shit.

Adrenaline coursed through your veins, and you were brought back down to earth as you remembered the boy. His face was pale, his leg a mess of blood. He was fumbling with his own gun, terror written all over his face. You took a breath, steadying yourself. you moved quickly now, ignoring the searing pain in your right leg as your boots thudded softly against the earth as you closed the distance between the two of you.

"Please," he whimpered, his voice shaking as he leveled his gun at your chest. "Please don’t—"

He didn’t get to finish. A shot that wasn’t yours rang through the air with deadly precision. The boy dropped his gun, body slumped in the dirt in a heap. You shot your arm back up, aiming for wherever that bullet had come from.

“‘S just me,” Arthur spoke, and you sighed in relief as you placed your gun back in its holster. You sucked air in through your teeth as the adrenaline left your body and you were reminded of the gunshot wound in your thigh. Looking down, a choked gasp left your throat as your pant leg was almost entirely soaked.

“Shit.” He dismounted quickly and tugged his bandana off his neck. Guiding you with a hand on your shoulder, he sat you down and instructed you to put your leg out straight as he began applying a tourniquet. You hissed in pain as he tied it.

“I know, I know.” Arthur comforted you, his eyes meeting yours. Your breath caught in your throat as he pulled your arm over his shoulder, walking you towards his horse.

“I can ride, Arthur.” You murmured, attempting to free your arm from the grip he had on your wrist as he helped you walk.

“Not with an injury like that, you can’t.” Arthur said with a raised brow.

Huffing, you reserved yourself to your fate, allowing him to guide you to his horse. You looked away in embarrassment as he placed his arms underneath your shoulders, hoisting you up onto the back. Arthur approached Lenora, a series of ‘You’re alright, girl’s and ‘It’s okay’s left his mouth as he grabbed onto her reins and led her back over. He mounted and clicked twice, his horse jolting forward.

“Wait—Where are you taking me?” The realization dawned upon you that you had nowhere to go, and you clearly couldn’t stay at the empty O’Driscoll camp. Anxiety clawed its way into your stomach for no good reason, nausea twisting your gut as the pain in your leg grew with every stride

. 

“Back to camp. My camp, I mean. That leg needs tending to, Miss Grimshaw and the other ladies can help you with that.” Miss Grimshaw? The other ladies? Confusion settled between your brows as you held a little tighter onto Arthurs waist. Very few gangs ran with women, and if they did, it was for the men’s stress relief.  

“No! I can’t ask that of you. Just leave me somewhere with cover and I’ll figure it out.” You pleaded with Arthur, the last thing you wanted to do was invite yourself into their camp and use their resources. You hadn’t had many run-ins with gangs, sure you cleared an O’Driscoll camp here and there when you had to, but you preferred avoiding them at all costs

“You won’t last a week out here with your leg in that kinda condition. You’re coming back to camp with me and that's final.” The commanding tone of his voice shut you up instantly, and you reserved yourself to your fate with a sigh as Arthur passed you a bottle of whiskey from his satchel.

“Drink this, it’ll be a long ride without it.”

yaaay chapter 3!!! enjoy some action (just not the sexy kind)

i gave up on arthur pov at the end of the chapters bc it felt corny. hopefully the dialogue felt accurate and flowed well but if it didnt please lmk! i am always open to constructive criticism <3<3

hope u liked it! pls like + reblog <3

[4lovehearts]

PRIZED POSSESSION ‹𝟹

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ; bridget hearts x gn reader.

summary ‎⸝⸝⸝ bridget freaks out after hook breaks the bracelet you made her.

warnings ‎⸝⸝⸝ hurt/comfort, capt. hook being a bully (as per usual), brief mentions of a scratch.

note ‎⸝⸝⸝ this is heavily inspired by this fic,, i highly recommend reading it, it's incredible !!!

bridget smiled to herself, skipping happily through the merlin academy hallway. with a small pink tupperware in hand, she was currently on her way to visit you! she'd come up with a new cupcake recipe and wanted you to be the first to taste it. the new batch was made with you in mind, so she was over-ecstatic for you to try them.

she exited the hallway, now happily skipping through the courtyard. she'd only made it about halfway before the feeling of cold metal grazing her wrist startled her. she let out a yelp as she stumbled back, dropping her tupperware on the ground when she flinched.

“whoops!” the voice made bridget take her eyes off the scratch running across her wrist — she looked up, noticing james waving his hook around teasingly. her bracelet —the bracelet you'd gave her on your first date— was dangling off the edge of said hook.

she immediately froze and held her hand out, her palm facing upwards, “please– please give it back.”

it wasn't until james denied her request and began taunting her, that she finally noticed how worried she actually was. she felt so, absolutely sick to her stomach, and it only made her want her bracelet back even more. putting on the bracelet had become a staple of her morning routine, to the point that how her day went all depended on if she was wearing it or not. she had a really deep emotional attachment to it, and it was only occurring to her now how much she truly cared for the bracelet. it was already torture for her when she'd misplaced the bracelet once before, so the thought of losing it for good was agonizing.

tears pooled in bridget's eyes from all the negative thoughts circulating in her head — and she started getting angry. she didn't know why james decided to mess with her bracelet so suddenly, you two had always been pretty public, but someone noticing the importance of her bracelet was extremely obscure. whatever the reason, she was sure that uliana was behind this.

“give it back!–” she lunged forward, trying to get the bracelet back from james. he stepped back, trying to dodge her, but at the same time she'd managed to just barely grasp it, causing the distance to make it to stretch far more than it could handle.

bridget flinched when the beads flew everywhere — she stood eerily still, as if moving would make the moment more real. james' laugh pulled her out of her thoughts, and she immediately dropped to her knees, trying to pick up all the beads through tears. james uttered a couple more sentences before walking off, probably more taunting, bridget was too focused on finding all the beads to listen to him.

she spent a couple of minutes on the ground, combing through the grass looking for every single little bead through silent sobs. she hadn't found another one for a little while now, but the feeling she was still missing a couple plagued her deeply. though, she couldn't handle being away from you any longer, and the feeling of people staring at her as they passed by was making her feel so humiliated — she hesitantly stood up, cupping the beads she'd collected tightly in her right hand, then quickly grabbing the tupperware she'd dropped earlier with her other hand before hastily running off to your room, letting out a few sniffles as she did so.

── 𖹭 ──

you jumped at the sound of your door suddenly swinging open, but your panic immediately washed away at the sight of bridget with tears streaming down her cheeks.

you rushed over to her, “bri? what's wrong?”

“hook, he– i– m'sorry.” she opened her right hand, showing you all the scattered beads. you frowned at the sight, quickly putting the pieces together of what had probably happened.

“it's okay, we can fix it. it's alright.” you took the tupperware out of her other hand, swiftly moving to place it on your desk, “put the beads here.” you grabbed a small empty container, and she hesitantly dropped the beads into it.

she wiped her tears away, watching you place the container on your desk. you turned back around to her, your arms open wide to offer her a hug — she immediately accepted the offer, rushing into your arms and quietly sobbing into your chest. you hugged her tightly, murmuring sweet nothings about how you could easily remake the bracelet for her.

── 𖹭 ──

after a little while of comforting, bridget had recollected herself, and the two of you were now sitting at your desk, beginning to remake her bracelet.

bridget had her head rested on your shoulder, along with her arms wrapped firmly around your torso — she remained mostly silent while you rebuilt the bracelet, only occasionally perking up to tell you if a certain bead was in the wrong spot. she'd spent so many minutes of her life just staring at the bracelet, absolutely enamored that you'd taken the time to make such a lovely gift for her. so of course the pattern was engraved into her memory, it was nearly impossible for her to forget it.

you placed the last needed bead on the string, before holding it up to show bridget, “it's finished!”

her eyes lit up and she squealed, letting go of you and holding out her hand, so that you could tie the bracelet around her wrist. she smiled eagerly as she watched you adjust the bracelet accordingly, her heart swelling with joy as you tied the string ends.

when you finished tying it she stood up and happily twirled around, before hugging you tightly whilst uttering a bunch of "thank you"s over and over.

she let go of you after a moment and then spun around once again, beginning to ramble about how she thought the bracelet was ‘broken forever’ while cheerfully pacing around your room — she suddenly paused mid-sentence, her eyes drifting to the pink tupperware on your desk that was discarded earlier.

you tilted your head at the sudden silence, before tracing her line of sight back to the tupperware. you pointed at it, turning your head to face her before tilting your head again. “uhm, i... made those for you!”

she sheepishly walked over, picking up the tupperware and opening it. she frowned, noticing that the two cupcakes had fallen upside-down when she dropped the tupperware earlier. she picked up one, bashfully handing it over to you.

“they.. were prettier before... but it's a new recipe! you were.... kind of the inspiration for them.” she rocked back and forth on her heels, watching anxiously as you took a bite out of the cupcake.

she let out a sigh of relief when your eyes widened with —what she correctly assumed was— delight. “bridget, this is amazing!” she immediately blushed, joyfully beginning to ramble on about the recipe.

before she got too into the recipe, you interjected, “why don't you tell me about the recipe while we make matching bracelets?”

bridget's face lit up straight away, and she skipped back over to the desk, happily agreeing over and over. she sat back down next to you, excitedly rambling on about what colors you two should pick for the bracelets.

after deciding on colors, she turned her rambles to focus on the recipe, like you'd suggested — in all honesty, all of her baking lingo made zero sense to you, but you were just glad that she was back to her usual cheery self.

[atsubie]

✴︎ 𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝖻𝗅𝗎𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗈𝗇 , 𝓐ᵗˢᵘ

𝒯𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗆𝗒 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗐𝖾 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝖺𝗀𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖿𝖾𝖼𝗍.

⸻ レイ. 𝗥𝑒𝑖

⫘⫘﹐❁̶ “ 𝐷ear priest, I have a

confession to make ” 𝅘𝅥𝅮♪ ���

𝑁.𝑅 '⩇𝟰. ( 直井 怜⠀ ) ☆

♥︎⁎̯͡ ʔ 𝘓𝘪𝘻 '𝗌 𝘤𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 🍓

﹒ 𝅄 ׁ 𝖲𝗁𝖾'𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗎𝖼𝗄 𝗂𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽

𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖺 𝖻𝖺𝖽 𝗈𝖻𝗌𝖾𝗌���𝗂𝗈𝗇 ㅤⴕ ﹫reinyourheart

𝓐ᵗˢᵘ <- dont remove / add somewhere if using

© atsubie do not repost to other platforms / websites

͏

[jaysgirlx]

"jason don't move!" you say while sheepishly giggling. you take the photo and out sprouts a little polaroid. you shake it before giving it to jason. he looked at it unamused like it was dumb. "what's the point of this?" he asked. "it's a photo of you, and now i have a physical copy"

"why would you need one of those?" he asks confused.

"for those nights i don't know where you are, the ones that scare me the most," you say with a smile, you smiled yet it hurt so bad.

jason was quiet for a bit before taking the camera out of your hands and taking a photo of you. now you looked at him like he was the idiot. before you could ask what he was doing he shut you up.

"this is for when i go on those long trips…and i don't know how long it will take me to get back to you or if i even will." he takes the photo and puts it in his wallet.

out of nowhere, you hugged him and he hugged you back while the two of you stayed silent. he was going away for 6 months. he couldn't tell you more than that because that could put you in danger. he was set to leave tonight with roy. he wanted to bring it up because he wanted to say goodbye. he wanted to promise to come back and promise to buy you a ring but he couldn't. he didn't have to courage to.

you pull away from the hug and press a kiss to his lips. it was sweet but short. like this was the end of something.

"can i take the camera with me? i'll bring it back"

that might've been a lie, he wasn't sure because he didn't know. he wishes he had all these answers but he didn't.

"what will you do with it?

"you'll see"

"jason-"

he kisses you this time, firm and hard like he has something to prove, something worth saying. by the end of it you are panting, flustered and so confused.

"this isn't our end," he says quietly before standing up.

you wanted to walk him to the door but that would be painful. it always was. so you closed your eyes and waited for the door to close before letting the tears fall. you wanted to convince yourself that you were crying because of that expensive polaroid camera but you weren't. you were crying over him. you were crying over jason todd because he was gone and because you knew this might be the end.

you could only wait and see for what may come next.

[pastryfication]

Can you pretty please do a equestrian!reader x Max Verstappen? She fell off her horse while competing and is disappointed with herself and Max comforts her?

back on the horse | max verstappen

pairing: max verstappen x equestrian!reader. note: thank you for the request!! i hope you like it xx

the stadium buzzes with the low hum of the crowd, but all you can hear is the rush of your heartbeat in your ears. the course in front of you feels like an insurmountable challenge, but you've trained for this moment, poured every ounce of yourself into it. your horse, a powerful bay with a coat that glistens in the sunlight, shifts beneath you, sensing your nerves. you take a deep breath, trying to steady your shaking hands, and give a gentle squeeze with your legs. you’re both ready—or at least, you thought you were.

as you guide your horse toward the first jump, everything else fades away. it’s just you, your horse, and the course. the first few obstacles pass in a blur, your horse soaring over them with the grace and strength you know so well. but then it happens. a misstep, a moment of hesitation, and before you can even process it, you’re on the ground. the fall knocks the wind out of you, and for a split second, you just lie there, stunned. your horse snorts, trotting a few steps away, and you can feel the weight of the crowd’s silence pressing down on you.

someone’s calling your name, but it sounds distant, muffled by the roaring disappointment in your head. you’ve fallen before, but this time feels different. this time, you were supposed to succeed. this was supposed to be your moment.

by the time you’re helped to your feet, your horse is already being led away, unharmed but confused. you mutter something about being fine, about not needing help, but the truth is, you don’t know how to face what just happened. you can feel the tears burning in your eyes, but you blink them back, refusing to let them fall in front of everyone.

the first face you see when you step out of the ring is max’s. he’s waiting for you just outside the arena, his usual confident expression softened with concern. he’s seen you ride countless times, but this is the first time he’s seen you fall in competition. your heart sinks further at the thought of disappointing him, too.

“hey,” he says quietly, stepping forward to meet you. his voice is gentle, but it only makes the lump in your throat grow.

you manage a weak smile, trying to brush it off. “i blew it,” you whisper, hating how small your voice sounds. “i let everyone down.”

max shakes his head immediately, his eyes locking onto yours. “you didn’t let anyone down,” he says firmly. “falls happen. it’s part of the sport.”

“but not today,” you argue, the frustration and disappointment spilling over. “i was supposed to do well today, max. i’ve been working so hard, and now…” your voice cracks, and you have to look away, unable to bear the sympathy in his eyes.

he doesn’t say anything for a moment, just reaches out and gently pulls you into his arms. the embrace is warm, comforting, and you feel yourself relax just a little, the tension in your shoulders easing. max holds you like you’re the most important thing in the world, like your disappointment is something he wants to share, not dismiss.

“you’ve done so much already,” he murmurs against your hair. “one fall doesn’t change that. you’re incredible, and you’ll come back stronger.”

his words sink in slowly, wrapping around the raw edges of your pride. you know he means them. max wouldn’t say something just to make you feel better. he believes in you, even when you’re struggling to believe in yourself.

you take a shaky breath, burying your face in his chest, letting the familiar scent of him calm you. “i’m just so mad at myself,” you admit, your voice muffled against his shirt. “i wanted this so badly.”

“i know,” he replies softly, running a hand up and down your back in slow, soothing strokes. “and that’s what makes you such a great rider. you care so much. but sometimes, things don’t go the way we want, no matter how hard we try. it doesn’t make you any less amazing.”

you nod slowly, not quite ready to believe him but willing to try. max pulls back just enough to look at you, his hands resting on your shoulders. “besides,” he says, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips, “i’ve seen you fall before, and you always get back up. this time won’t be any different.”

his words bring a small smile to your face, and you feel some of the heaviness lift. max is right. you’ve fallen before, and you’ve always found a way to get back in the saddle, both literally and figuratively. this time won’t be the exception.

“thank you,” you whisper, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

he grins, that familiar spark returning to his eyes. “luckily, you won’t have to find out.”

as you stand there, wrapped in max’s embrace, the disappointment still lingers, but it doesn’t feel as overwhelming. with max by your side, you know you’ll find the strength to try again, to push through the setbacks and keep going. and the next time you enter that ring, you’ll do it with him in your corner, cheering you on every step of the way.

[devnmon]

dating sadie adler, kisser of women hcs ♡

obviously i had to do this for my bbg sadie. she deserves MORE appreciation and if nobody will write for her I WILL!!!! i gladly will. i love her, so enjoy these! luv u all!

[also just pretend this is historically accurate bye!]

Sadie is a very intelligent woman... she knows how to hunt, how to use a gun, who knows what else is in that brain of hers. She must have so many hidden talents and skills, and you intend to find out what.

Though her addition to the group was somewhat abrupt, you and Abigail do your best to make her feel welcome. You aren't sure if Sadie feels the comfort that you hope your words provide to her at first. Once the group moves to Clemens Point, you find she's coming out of her shell little by little. You see it in her pristine new outfit when she returns from a run with Arthur, and the way she holds herself is much different than before.

This new version of Sadie Adler was fiery, confident and stickin' it to the man– you quickly found out not to get on her bad side. Though you think you'd let her do anything to you if it were the right situation.

The minute Sadie realizes what she's feeling for you is more than platonic... it takes her back a step. She never thought she'd find someone other than Jake to want in that way– but here you are. You're always at her side, perfect to her, and she will protect you like her life depends on it. When she silently swallows her feelings and pretends she doesn't care, you notice.

You all but have to drag her out of camp in the middle of the night to get a minute alone with her; otherwise there's prying eyes and others whose attention you really didn't wish to grab.

Once the two of you are alone you'll go off on how she's been avoiding you at every turn, rambling on and on like you'd done something wrong. "What happened to you?" you'd ask. She sighs and goes "You happened to me."

"I've been a fool. Do you hate me? What have I done?" statements flow from her when she notices you're silent, staring while she stutters over confessing her feelings. It's at that point you shut her up by kissing her and you can almost hear the sparks flying from the two of you. There's a big ass smile on her face afterwards and she kisses you in between her smiles. Sadie Adler is a smitten fool for you.

She's observant, patient and good with her hands. That is: she teaches you how to shoot a rifle, since you're more comfortable to ask her. She gladly shows you, and when you think you've got it, her arms surround you from behind to adjust your aim– and you're blushing. After she takes her hands away, you're flustered by the loss and silently begging for her to put them back.

Will match outfits with you nonchalantly as a statement to your relationship with her. Like say you're wearing an outfit with blue or white, she'll wear a blue scarf and her white shirt to match you. She'll even give you a piece of her jewelry to wear in that instance, or get you a piece of your own to match hers. Sadie's sentimental & cute like that!!!

Sadie will also leave you notes secretly, to which you fawn over every time. She also definitely gushes over the ones you leave her, when you compare her to the sweet flowers you pick for her. [Arthur noticed how hard she was blushing one time and got curious, she's had to read your notes in private ever since!]

Definitely gets veryyy touchy and affectionate when she's had a few drinks. She's slurring out "Heyyy pretty girlll I know where you can find a nice place to stay for the night..." in your ear and you have to excuse yourselves in *attempt* to get her to sleep.

Sadie is definitely the type to say "i owe you a hundred kisses" if you had a bet with her about something. Usually it was silly, harmless contests that either of you could compete against each other in playfully.

Sadie also introduced you to pranks, which she loves to pull on the other guys. One time the two of you messed with Arthur, sending him silly letters from someone named "Hugh Janus". The two of you tried to hold in your laughs when he got frustrated and yelled out "WHO THE HELL IS HUGH JANUS??" in camp unprompted.

Sadie is a huge cuddler at night, intertwining her whole body with yours to keep warm, especially when it gets chilly at night. There's not a smidge of space to have for yourself, it's shared with her always. Other examples of this are her linking her pinkie finger with yours when you're standing around the group. She loves physical touch so much that she'll do anything to have her skin on yours no matter what; if it's riding on the back of the same horse, or pouring her a drink, she's making some sort of contact. It's her way to say "I'm here & I love you". She's such a sweetheart to you.

NSFW

Yeah Sadie is a top this Sadie is a top that... may I suggest... she's a switch. On rare occasions, Sadie Loves being on her knees for you. She's a real freak like that. She'll beg and beg and beg until you cave and give her what she wants: you.

“Please, stop teasin’ me, just give me what I want. You know I’ll return the favor, sweet girl.” Her raspy voice, her gentle commands, her pretty thighs spread for you..

But when she's in control? Oh it's absoluuutely over for you. She'll praise you constantly cause she knows it's what you want to hear. “Doin’ so good for me, pretty girl. C’mon, let me hear you, use your words. I know you can.. Such a good girl.”

Her soft little whimpers & pleas as she climbs higher & higher. she’s so desperate for release & your touch, she’s basically sobbing for it. her eyes never leave you once she hears the same needy whine come from your side of the room, wanting to watch you come undone from the sight of her spread out for you.

You can't tell me she doesn't get off on you pulling her hair when it's in a messy braid. You love to run your fingers through it and grip, but it's too hot out for that. Plus she thinks it's easier for her braid to be pulled, and fucking loves it.

Her skilled hands could make you a whimpering mess, easily. She knows her way around, and boy if she isn't good at what she does.

"There you go, you got it, takin me so well..." in that accent of hers.. You'll fold every time. “Oh, look at you, pretty girl. Fallin’ apart for me so easily. D'ya know how whipped you got me?" Yeah, she's a lady who knows how to drive you crazy.

Then again... she's a goddamn tease. Especially if you've been bratty? Oh it's over for you. She feels your body up and down, making you work for any other sensual touches by begging. It's music to her ears. She lovesss to make you work for it.

She'll take her time for however long edging you with her fingers, then her tongue, and once you've had about two orgasms from just that, she sticks her strap inside you and gets another.

For aftercare, she'll ask you if you're feeling alright and lay with you after she cleans you up. Usually the both of you fall asleep afterwards, or take a bath or a shower before you do. Her brown eyes shine in the light while she tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and kisses your cheeks while you lie together.

[orchidsangel]

CAPABLE OF LOVE (JASON TODD) - "and i think i need a picture 'cause it's never enough, to see you smilin in my mind when i lay still in the dark"

note/cw ~ GN!reader, fluff, angst, suggestive (if you squint), if the ending seems rushed it's because it was

“So, I was cleaning out my camera roll recently, and I realized we don’t really have that many pictures of us” you say from behind the menu in your hands, pretending to casually browse through.

He shows no reaction besides a short hum of acknowledgement, instead opting to continue perusing the multitude of diner food options in front of him.

“Like, we’ve been together for months, and I don’t think we’ve ever taken any pictures to um- commemorate anything you know?” Your eyes move up, peeking over the menu trying to see if this information garnered any kind of reaction from him.

It didn’t.

“And the few we do have, your face is super blurry in them…Probably because every time I pull out a camera, you turn away.”

He looks up for a second, but very soon turns his attention back to the menu, showing no other signs of interest.

A small sigh escapes your lips, and you lean back against the booth chair, now addressing the hunger in your stomach instead of the stubborn man in front of you refusing to acknowledge the very serious issue you’ve presented him.

Your hands flip through the worn pages, and you weigh your options, eventually deciding on a seasonal pancake stack listed in the way back that piqued your interest. Closing your menu and placing it down in front of you, you cross your arms and try to look anywhere but him.

“I have pictures of you.”

Your eyes dart to Jason, whose nose is still buried in between pages of burgers and omelets.

“Lots of them, actually.” He says, raising his eyes to look at you.

His full attention is on your face now, and no longer the menu.

“Some of you smiling, some of you laughing, some when you’re not looking…” His eyes go back down to the laminated paper in front of him.

“Some of you naked…” He trails off, and you recede even farther back into the seat, a heat creeping up your neck and towards your cheeks.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

A stupid smile sits on his face, and he closes the menu, sliding it off to the side.

“Not sure what you’re talking about sweetheart.”

“Just because you’re handsome doesn’t mean you get to play dumb.” You say, sitting up, regaining your composure. “Look, I know you’re not very fond of cameras but a few pictures of us together on my phone isn’t gonna blow your cover.” Sympathy laces your words, and you look at him with a softened gaze. 

He rests his forearms on the table and leans forward slightly, teal eyes boring into you with a light playfulness but you can tell how badly he wants you to drop the topic.

“I just want a picture, one picture.” It comes out quietly, barely above a whisper; something only you two can hear. “For when you’re gone, and if you don’t come back…”

The smile drops from his face when he notices the shift in your tone, “I’m not-”

“You can’t guarantee that.” You say, holding back something threatening to break through. “Just one, for the nights when I’m alone and my memory isn’t enough. Please.”

He clenches his jaw and tilts his head down before sliding to the edge of the seat, and out of the booth.

Your eyes follow him as he stands up, and you’re sure he’s gonna leave. You shouldn’t have pushed him; it wasn’t your place.

But instead, he slides into the seat beside you, and turns in your direction as much as he possibly can. Gently taking your head in his hands, he places a soft kiss on your forehead, right below your hairline. 

A single tear spills down your cheek and he swipes it away with his thumb, caressing the spot where it was.

Leaning in, he presses his lips against yours in a sweet kiss you’re eager to reciprocate. It serves as a mutual apology, an ‘I’m sorry’ from the both of you.

“I didn’t realize it meant that much to you.” He says between breaths, hands still cradling your face. “But if it really is that important then we can take the picture.”

“Yeah?”

“We can take a million pictures if you want.”

A giddy laugh escapes your lips, “you mean that?”

“Mhm, some of us smiling, some of us laughing, some of us-”

“Naked?”

A grin spreads across his face, “hey, you said it not me.” And he leans in to kiss you one more time before sticking his hand in your pocket and pulling out your phone.

“Wanna do the honors?” He says, holding the device out for you to grab.

You take it into your hand and swipe to open the camera, situating your arms in front of you to get your faces in frame. 

“Okay now look into the lens,” you say, pointing to the small black dot and maneuvering yourself to be close to him. Your head is tilted, tucked into the crook of his neck, and he has a fond smile on his face.

“3…2…1.” Your finger taps the white button, capturing the moment; and you wait a split second before opening it up in your camera roll.

It’s a sweet picture, the two of you nestled next to each other with the tufted red leather of the booth seat serving as a background, and you can’t help the smile that appears on your face upon seeing your first real picture together.

“Oh, sorry.” Jason mumbles, “I wasn’t looking at the camera…we can retake it if you want-” 

“No!” you cut him off quickly, “I love it. It’s perfect.”

And you meant that, because he may not have been looking at the camera, but he was looking at you with so much love in his eyes that any other picture you might take would never come close to this one.