#sun charged water | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

buryustogether · 1 year ago

Text

songbird

the ghoul x f!reader

summary: you used to be a singer in your vault - that skill comes in handy when you least expect it, and least want to use it. but who are you to say no when cooper tells you to sing for him?

wc: 5.7k

warnings: swearing, talk of murder, blood, alcohol, gun violence, sexual tension, smut, fingering, p in v sex, biting, possessive sex, possessive cooper

You had to admit - if you and your companion didn't find shelter soon, one of you was going to drop and the other wouldn't hesitate to feast on what was left.

The deserts of the Wasteland were harsh - you had known that the moment you stepped out of your vault those months ago and you had been faced with nothing but a searing sun, sand that got stuck places it shouldn't have, and creatures and fellow people alike who would risk it all simply for a quick grab at the pack on your back. But it seemed like this past week, God or Satan or whoever the fuck was controlling this shitshow of a world was in a bad mood. The heat was unbearable, even at night when the chilly winds should have weaseled their way beneath your vault suit and cooled your burning skin. Creatures mutated by the long-settled radiation were feeling the anger of the wasteland, as well, charging without warning or provocation. To top off a less than perfect week, your water supply had run out yesterday, and unless the skies opened up and released a storm of rad-infested hail upon your head, you weren't sure you would find any more before you keeled over and kicked it.

Struggling to plant your feet stable in the mounds of sand beneath you as you made your way between the shells of buildings that had once stood tall and proud, you glanced over your shoulder at your companion. Cooper was better adapted for this kind of environment than you were, what with his hardened skin and the wide brim of his hat shielding his face, but even he looked worse for wear. When he picked up his head, seeming to feel your eyes on him, you quickly averted your gaze and set your attention back on moving one foot in front of the other.

"Fuck're you lookin' at?" he said, his voice raspy as he called out through the dry air.

"Nothing," you snipped back, refusing to give him the satisfaction of facing him again. "Just wondering if I'm going to have to carry you the rest of the way, asshole."

The heat was making you both snappy - you hated it.

Your first meeting with Cooper hadn't gone smoothly. Hell, your second or third hadn't, either. You weren't exactly sure when you had fallen into a more comfortable presence around one another, but it sure as shit hadn't happened overnight. You'd been only half a day fresh from your vault when you'd seen him scavenging madly over a mess of bodies he'd dropped where they stood, searching for a number of vials kept in their pockets that he let drip into his open mouth like a fountain of youth. When you had called out a friendly hello to him, he'd nearly shot your brains out. Cooper had taken in your shocked expression - as you'd clearly never seen a ghoul before - as well as the stark blue of your vault suit and the pack over your shoulders, then promptly told you to scoot your ass back around to wherever the hell you had come from. Of course, you hadn't. You'd followed him from a distance, watching as he'd picked his way across the dusty sands until he'd wrangled you with the lasso at his hip, told you to fuck right off, and left you tied to a number of old pipes in the basement of a nearly collapsed building.

A day later, you'd tracked his footprints in the sand to a little settlement, where you hadn't ducked away quick enough to avoid his gaze. He'd threatened to blow your brains out if he caught you following him again. He'd only half-delivered on that promise when, not ten hours later, he'd planted a fist-sized hole in the skull of a raider attempting to cut your throat for the Pip-Boy affixed to your wrist.

From then on, he'd simply chosen to ignore you as you followed behind him like a lost dog, intent on staying with the biggest, baddest wolf in the yard. After a week, he'd tossed you a part of his rations. A week after that, he'd - not too gently - invited you to sit at the campfire with him when he saw you shivering beneath your thin, vault-issued blanket a good few yards away.

Somewhere along the way you'd started to talk. Started to share - at least, you had. Cooper had simply tucked his hat over his eyes and pretended not to listen while you rattled about this and that until he physically couldn't take it anymore and told you to go the fuck to sleep.

These months later, having accompanied him all this time, you didn't hesitate to call him a friend. Maybe something more, if you let the ache between your legs when you looked at him speak for you, but you knew it was a fantasy and nothing more, so you decided to stick with 'friend.'

Back in the present, you swallowed and winced when your throat barked with a bout of pain in response. You didn't think you'd make it another mile, let alone five, which was how far Cooper claimed the nearest town was. Despite the months you'd spent adapting out here to the wastelands, you were still attempting to cope with the hardships that came with it. Vault life wasn't anything like this; there was always water to drink, beds to sleep in. Cool air to bask in when it got just the slightest bit too hot. Of course, you didn't voice these complains to your companion. If you did, you had no doubt he'd tell you to shut the fuck up and deal with it.

Just as you were about to ask if you could take a short break and get away from the harsh sun beating on your back like repeated blows from a red-hot hammer, a gloved hand wrapped around your arm and held you in place. You jerked to a stop, nearly falling back on your ass as Cooper held you where you stood. You prepared a strongly-worded question as to just what he was doing before you followed his gaze downward, to where a small handful of pairs of footprints traveled perpendicular to yours. Together, you tilted your heads to the left where the foreign prints were headed, and it was there you found a small slope leading downward into what may have once been a shopping mall. From where you stood, you were able to see that the glass dome around the center of the mall had been shattered, letting out the gentle sound of music and human hollers.

You exchanged a look with Cooper, each of you sunken from the iron-fisted heat weighing you down, then slid down the sandy slope after him when he took off toward the shopping mall.

If there was one thing you had learned about Cooper since planting yourself at his side and refusing to leave, it was that he valued silence above almost everything else. You, on the other hand, had come from a talkative vault, where gossip reached every end of every chamber only an hour - at max - after anything noteworthy had happened. Your companion had once called you the biggest yap he'd ever heard, and you would have taken it for a compliment had he not told you to shove it a moment after. The two of you had been silent nearly the entire day now, save for a few venomous barks at each other, and you cleared your scratchy throat in an attempt to lighten your shitty moods.

"I used to read about shopping malls in the magazines," you said, leaning your weight backwards as the sandy slope shifted downward. "They had all kinds of stores inside."

"Thanks for the reminder," Cooper bit back, quickening his stride. "Would have fuckin' forgot without you here."

You let your eyes roll into the back of your head as you struggled to catch up to him, your boots digging into the uneven earth beneath you. "When I was a kid, a few of my friends and I would draw pictures of clothes - because, you know, we only had our suits - and then spread them across one of our rooms and pretend to shop. It was stupid, but it we made entertainment where we could."

"Now, was this before you started pretending to be Billie Holliday?"

You gave him a sideways glance. "Who's that?"

Cooper shook his head and took off ahead of you. "Jesus fuckin' Christ."

During one of your, as your companion called them, yap sessions, you had confided in him that your vault valued the arts above anything else. Since you were a child, they had encouraged you to find something you enjoyed, as long as you were able to call yourself an artist. Painting hadn't worked out too well. Writing had been a bust. But then you'd discovered singing - a way in which you were able to express yourself without actually saying how you felt. You could drape the tunes in metaphors and similes, bump the second verse from the first, and when you were done, everyone would get to their feet to applaud as if your songs were the best things they'd ever heard. Cooper hadn't expressed much interest in this, instead taking to calling you a songbird with her wings clipped when he deemed you were at your lowest and needed to be kicked while you were down.

Of course, you hadn't shown him - you would have to be long dead for that - but over the course of the few months you'd known him, you had confided in your notebook carried in your pack all the little things you'd come up with that complimented his persona. How the gold at his heels called for you with each step he took. The way his hands, encased behind leather that creaked, held a smoke so delicately you could have imagined it was you. The rasping curl of his words when he smiled while he spoke and how each word cast a spell that made you want to follow him until the sun exploded and the earth was gone.

Cooper was an enigma you couldn't help but wonder after, and every scrap of himself he tossed to you led you on like a dog on a leash.

The music and echoing sound of laughter from deep inside the shopping mall became louder as the pair of you approached, eyes scanning for snipers on the roof or guards posted at the busted-out windows. There wasn't a person in sight, only mannequins stripped of their clothing hanging out the openings and long-shredded posters clinging to broken glass. Cooper led the way inside, picking a path across the wreckage and rubble stacked haphazardly against the entrance. You felt your pulse tick up when he produced his gun from the worn holster at his side, tapping his trigger finger against the side of the firearm in time with the music winding its way down the wide corridors.

As you followed your companion through the shopping mall, you couldn't help but ogle at the numerous attractions you passed. Shops had been boarded up and torn open again, giving you a glimpse of tattered clothes still on hangers, books tipped over on shelves, pre-war machines behind display cases that were covered in two hundred years' worth of dirt and grime. Gang signs and dirty catchphrases had been spraypainted along the walls and windows in a rainbow of colors. In the center of the long aisle you were wandering, a carousel meant for children sat neglected, still fitted with cartoonish horses who had seen better days than these.

"Did you used to come to these often?" you asked as you stepped across a mannequin missing its head.

"Shut the fuck up for a minute." Cooper raised a hand to pair with his little spat, silencing you from asking any further questions. His tongue darted out between his cracked lips as he placed his steps carefully around shattered glass and wind-up toys that would declare your position to the entire mall. He led you around a few wide corners before coming to a stop behind an old escalator, motioning for you to take cover. You crouched to peer around the other side, pulling your bag strap tighter over your shoulder. You were met with a sight that made your lips part in wonder.

Made up in the center of the mall's large atrium, directly beneath where the glass dome had been broken out, a small encampment of people had established what looked like a tiny town. Tents rested just inside nearby shop windows and winking Christmas lights had been strung above their heads. Lanterns cast shadows along the faces of the camp's locals as they milled back and forth, sharing dinners, reading from books - and dancing. Booming from a solar-powered stereo was a symphony of fiddles and guitars, harmonies of trumpets and clapping in time with the beat. A woman's tinny voice came through the speakers and she reminisced about an old lover who had gotten away. As you watched the people dance and stamp their feet along with the music, you found yourself drumming your fingers along, as well.

You were so engrossed in the music that you nearly missed what Cooper had his watchful eye on; the fridge-sized container with several spigots on its sides marked with a large piece of paper that read 'Clean Water.'

You and Cooper ducked back behind the escalator.

"Bunch of fuckin' idiots," said Cooper as he pulled a red-capped round from his bandolier and loaded it into his gun's chamber. "That shit'll attract every goddamn raider and feral within the mile."

"They're just having fun," you said, unsure of why you felt so defensive of these people you didn't even know. Maybe it was because they reminded you of your fellow vault dwellers back home. There had been a dance or performance like this nearly every night.

Cooper scoffed. "Fun like this gets you killed, little lady."

Your eyes widened as you watched him pull back the hammer of his firearm. "You're not going to just go up there and start shooting, are you?" You knew for a fact that he would. You'd seen him do it before - draw his pistol and start spinning the trigger because a raider or flock of ferals had what he wanted. But this - this was something different. Before he could do anything more, you reached out and grabbed his upper arm in a grasp so tight your knuckles paled. He flashed you a dark, dangerous look from beneath the brim of his hat, but you refused to let go. "Cooper, these people are innocent. They haven't done anything to us."

"Listen here, dollface, and listen well," he said, quickly spinning you around so that your back was pressed against the escalator. He caged you in, his gun hand still in your grasp and his other arm propped against the wall beside your head. You tried your damndest to not flush when you felt his breath on you, when his hips came just inches from pressing up against yours. "If we're goin' to be carryin' on this little arrangement, you need to learn to keep that pretty mouth of yours shut when I tell you to shut it. Now, I know you vaulties think everyone and their mama is goin' to repay that silly kindness of yours, but do not be mistaken. Keep yappin' and I will drink my fill of that there water while I make you watch, and then I'll tip the rest of it onto the floor. You hear me?"

You were at a loss for words, your tongue dry and your knees beginning to feel wobbly from the lack of water and proper rest. Just when you were about to let your eyes fall back down and accept that he was going to clear out the settlement for their water, footsteps echoed past where the two of you stood. Cooper snapped around and raised his pistol, his other arm still caging you in, and aimed down the barrel at a few young men approaching the rest of the locals beneath the glass dome. Instead of yelling, instead of dropping their belongings and begging for their lives while they pissed their pants in the presence of a ghoul, the men waved and smiled friendly grins.

"No need to hide," one said, gesturing the pair of you toward the others. "Y'all are welcome to come and make yourselves cozy. The more the merrier!"

They continued on, greeted by the other locals with shouts of welcome backs and fond hugs, paying no mind to the wide eyes and parted lips of you and your companion. Breaking away from Cooper's little cage he had created with himself and the wall - as much as it pained you to - you peeked back around the escalator. The young men pointed your way, and a number of people waved in kind and beckoned you forward. You found yourself taking a few steps toward the inviting sight of fresh water and the smell of food being cooked over one of the fires when Cooper snagged you by the back of your suit's collar and pulled you back into cover.

"Where on this good green earth you think you're goin'?" he said in a hushed tone, bringing your face close to his with a commanding grip on your jaw. Another flutter of excitement, of blood rush, bubbled to life in the pit of your stomach and began to travel south, but you suppressed the urge to lean into his touch. You didn't pull away, either.

"They invited us," you said, your eyes wandering back over to the light flickering from the lanterns and fires. "It's rude to turn down an invitation."

Cooper harrumphed and released you a little harsher than necessary. "What you've got is a one-way ticket to bein' on tomorrow's menu, sweetheart," he said, tilting his head to follow your gaze and keep eye contact when you looked away. "If you've about had your fill of the real world up here topside, then be my guest. Go and let'em fatten you up. I'll pour one out for 'ya tonight."

Deciding not to wonder if he would actually pour one out for you, if you really meant that much, you scoffed and shook your head. "You know it's okay to let your guard down every once in a while. Smile, maybe? Wave back? No wonder you're so damn bitter, old man."

Cooper stared down at you, and you wondered briefly if he was considering slamming your head into the side of the escalator. Would he drag you away with him, you thought? Or would he leave you for the strangers just around the corner. After what seemed an eternity, he hummed a short little note and nodded his head toward the camp. "You want to play friends, little lady? Go ahead. See how far that gets you before I've got to turn around and put one between the eyes of a man who's not lookin' just for the sake of lookin'."

With the faintest hint of a smile, you blinked up at him. "You'd turn around for me?" you asked in a murmur.

He matched your heated gaze, dark eyes intense and flaring a torch in your belly. "I suppose you'll just have to find out one of these days."

Swallowing thick, you took a breath, then turned and led him toward the little encampment of people. Heads turned as the pair of you approached, and you found that most of them smiled. You waved to those who offered little shakes of their hands, trailed by a ghoul stalking in his own shadow and resting the crook of his palm on his pistol. You were met by a kind-faced woman near the large tank of water, and she was forced to speak loudly to be heard over the sound of the thumping music.

"You folks just get in?" she said, already fixing two bowls of stew from a large pot simmering over a fire.

You broke yourself from the staring match you were having with the pot, the same one Cooper was still stuck in. Although, he may have been watching the chickens that roamed inside a little pen nearby as he licked his lips. "Yes, ma'am," you said over the trill of the woman's singing. You so desperately wished you knew the words so you could sing along. "I hope we're not imposing."

"Not at all!" A bowl of stew was pushed into your hands, and you forced yourself to be polite and not spoon it down your throat immediately. At your side, your companion gave the rim of the bowl a lick with the tip of his tongue before tipping it to slurp up. "We pride ourselves in being an open community. We might be small, but that just means there's more to share." The tin cups of water she handed over didn't last but five seconds before she was refilling them. "Make yourselves comfortable and stay however long you like. All we ask is that you keep your weapons holstered and don't disturb the music."

You and Cooper took seats at a dining table that had been dragged over from the cafeteria, neither of you speaking much as you both wolfed down what was in the bowls in front of you. Both of your spoons went untouched, each electing instead to drink up the strangely-colored meat floating around inside. Cooper finished much faster than you, and shucked off his gloves so that he could dip his scarred finger in to collect what juices were left. When he was finished, the bowl looked as though it hadn't even been used.

Watching him with a small smile, you let up from your own bowl and said, "I'm waiting."

"For what, exactly, little lady?"

"Your apology." You lapped up the rest of your stew before politely setting your bowl inside of his. "You wanted to -" You hesitated and glanced over your shoulder to make sure no one was too close to hear you. "You know." Then you settled a rather self-satisfied smirk over your features. "And look where we are now. So I'd like my apology now."

Cooper sucked on his finger, ensuring he was getting every last morsel of the stew that he could, and your attention was pulled down to where his lips wrapped around his digit. A part of you began to imagine it was yours. He noticed you staring and grinned wide. "And you know what I'm waitin' for, darlin'?"

"What?"

"For you to walk yourself over there and get me seconds."

You rolled your eyes, but nevertheless grabbed your stacked bowls and began to make your way over to where the woman was tending to the pot. "You'd better be thinking about your apology," you called over your shoulder. When you turned back around you nearly collided into someone retreating back to their spot with their own dinner. You jerked to the side, attempting to get out of their way first, and in doing so rammed yourself into the stereo set on a table in the center of the little camp. You watched in horror, bowls clasped to your chest, as the stereo tumbled over the edge of its pedestal and fell to the floor, where it shattered into what must have been hundreds of pieces. The camp became shrouded in a tense, shocked silence as every eye in the mall turned to face you and look upon your sin.

"I..." Your voice carried through the atrium and down the corridors of the shopping mall, sounding like an isolated cry for help. "I'm so sorry. I - I didn't mean to, I really didn't. Here, I might be able to fix it." You bent down to try and gather the pieces with your free hand, and the moment you did, a number of the camp locals drew weapons to aim in your direction.

"Now," came that familiar drawl behind you as you heard a hammer lock into place. "Are we really goin' to be killin' each other over some silly radio?" asked Cooper, and you felt some of your nerves ease slightly when you felt his chest press against your back.

A man to your right hissed. "You killed him!"

You shook your head viciously. "No, no! I - I didn't kill anyone. I'm sorry, I really am."

"You killed Sterry!" a woman accused.

"Sterry?" You looked down at the broken stereo and began to scoop up the bigger pieces you could find. "I - I can fix Sterry, I swear -"

"There's no fixing Sterry," moaned the woman who had served you stew as she sunk into the closest bench, looking as though she were about to faint. "He's dead. And you've killed us all."

You glanced back at Cooper, who wielded both his pistols now, each pointed in a different direction toward locals who had drawn their weapons. He offered a shrouded look that screamed, 'Now, didn't I tell you so, sweetheart?' You took a shuddering breath and faced the woman who had served you. "What do you mean?" you asked.

The woman placed her head in her hand as if she'd already accepted her fate. It was a daunting sight, the face of a woman so cheery and joyful such a short time ago, now deflated as though someone had let out all her air. "This place," she said, gesturing vaguely to the mall around you. "It's infested." The word was so heavy you felt as though you nearly choked on it. "Infested with creatures that will tear us limb from limb now that you've ruined everything. The music! The music was what kept them away, and now that it's gone..."

As if on cue, from the darkness of one of the long-winding corridors straight ahead, there came the bone-rattling sound of a feral hissing and snapping its weathered jaw. A few of the locals scrambled back as the creature emerged from the inky blackness, arms twisted and eyes sunken so far back into its skull they looked like they were forever pointed toward the sky. It took a rushed few steps forward before Cooper's arm rotated and he put a hole between its eyes. The feral dropped to the floor, leaking dark blood that stained the tile floor.

"Stop being so dramatic, Uma," said an older gentleman who stooped at your feet to begin gathering the pieces of Sterry. You immediately dropped to your knees to help. "We've fixed Sterry before, and we'll fix him again. It won't take long. But while we do, we'll need something to drive those creatures off..."

Your stomach dropped when, as you stood to hand over the pieces of the stereo, you felt Cooper's hands - still fitted with his pistols - rest heavily on your shoulders. "Well, then, y'all folks are in luck," he drawled, and you could practically hear the smirk playing his lips as he spoke. "I've got my very own songbird right here. I'd be happy to lend her to 'ya if, say... you filled our flasks from that there tank when the time comes for us to leave."

"Cooper," you hissed through your teeth as you spun around to face him. Singing for your vault was one thing, but singing for a bunch of strangers in the middle of an infested mall while ferals stumbled from the darkness all around you? He may as well have tossed you back out into the wastes. "You are not going to fucking trade me -"

"Done," said the old man as he sat down and began to sort Sterry's pieces. "Have your girl start singing - anything her heart desires. Just long enough for me to fix old Sterry here."

Giving the man a mock salute that didn't quite raise to his brow, Cooper shoved you onto a bench so that you stood over the rest of the camp. From this angle, they were all able to see your petrified expression and your hands shaking at your sides. "You heard the man," your companion said and smacked the back of your knee. "Get to it, songbird."

"Cooper, I can't -"

Before you were able to finish, Cooper turned, his ears pricking at something yours did not pick up, and dropped another feral that had been silently stalking the camp from the other side. A few of the locals yelped in terror, fleeing into shopfronts and tents.

"Sing for me, sweetheart," Cooper said. He sent you a wink, tipped his hat, then unleashed another round of lead into the darkness which only his eyes could penetrate.

You felt as if you were going to vomit. Sweat began to form on the back of your neck as you fisted your hands and swayed slightly where you stood on the bench. Turning your head, you met the eyes of a few camp locals watching you from their hideouts, their expressions filled with fear, anger, anticipation. They were waiting. Expecting. Needing. Attempting to push down the swelling that was beginning to form in your throat, you looked down at Cooper as he emptied his pistols of empty shells before reloading in order to fend off the ferals attacking the camp - the very camp he'd wanted to take out not half an hour ago.

He'd told you to sing for him. So you'd sing. For him, and only him.

Clearing your mouth and opening your lips, you took a breath and forced yourself to sing. "Death will come from where the earth meets the sky." Your voice wobbled slightly, rusty from having not singing since you left your vault. That, along with the fear and dehydration sitting on your tongue. "The sand is scorched beneath his step, the future decided by his eye." As you sang, the miniature explosions banging from the barrels of Cooper's pistols created a short, quick beat you unconsciously began to tap your foot along to. "He'll come for you all in the end, you'll never be free... he'll come for you all, but never for me."

Ferals shrieked in response to the gunfire, to the song torn right from your notebook in your pack, and one by one, like stage performers who had practiced this dance a hundred times, they dropped at the feet of the camp.

"Death's got a girl who croons his songs, which is why he never stays for long. He's got to run back to his lady, just as harsh as he, he's coming for you, but he's running back to me." As you sang you realized your voice was getting louder, louder, swelling until it filled the mall's atrium and every corridor far beyond. You tapped your heel along with the rhythm you'd created, closing your eyes and imagining an audience of one; a ghoul with his arms slung out across the chairs beside him and a knowing smirk playing his thin lips. It pulled you forward, pulled forth a song you hadn't realized was already in you. "He might sound mean, but I swear, he's kind. He's just got to peer into these eyes of mine. I'll ride with him, and he'll follow me, leaving behind a trail of blood far as the eye can see. Oh, my baby's got teeth to bite and a gun to blow, see his smoke and soon you'll know. Death ain't my man, he's my right hand. He'll come for you all in the end, you'll never be free... he'll come for you all, but never for me."

You had just been nearing a second verse when, from where it rested before the old man on the table, the stereo jumped back to life and filled the atrium with thrumming, pulsing folk music. It drowned out your voice, silenced you like a gunshot, and the ferals teetering on the edge of the darkness leading to the rest of the mall stumbled back into their hiding places. The camp locals slowly emerged from their hiding places, chattering excitedly about Sterry and his newfound love of life. Feeling a little stupid still standing on the bench, you climbed down and shuffled away toward where you had been originally sitting.

Taking a seat, you rested your forehead on your arms and exhaled a shaky breath. What had you been thinking? Singing a song for the man you'd become hopelessly fascinated with while he was just a few feet away, battling ferals who were intent on tearing out your throat and taking your voice with it? You were such a fucking idiot. You wouldn't be surprised if he told you to never open your mouth again.

Just as promised, your flasks were filled to the brims with fresh water before you went on your way, leaving the mall atrium and the singing, dancing camp locals behind as you picked your way back outside. Neither you nor Cooper said much as you continued your trek to nowhere, leaving a pair of footprints like echoes in your wake. Your cheeks remained flushed long after the mall had disappeared into the horizon, and long after you picked out an abandoned building to set up camp for the night. For once, it wasn't from the heat.

You sat across the lantern and what light it cast from Cooper, who stared into the little beacon as if he were watching the most fascinating flick within its glass. You held your notebook in your lap, thumb marking your place as your tried to write, but nothing would come to mind save for the things you'd sung about today. Mortification stirred like a serpent in your belly, and you briefly considered excusing yourself to get up and throw up outside.

"Let me see that book you've got there."

Your head lifted at Cooper's request - more of a demand - and unconsciously tightened your grip around your notebook. Your notebook - full of songs, melodies, lyrics. The most recent half of which you had written about the ghoul staring at you. "This?" you said, your trembling voice giving way to your nerves. You forced out a chuckle and smacked it shut. "It's nothing worth looking at."

"Why not?" he said, voice rasping lower than the baritone he usually held it at. You swore his gaze was hotter than the sun during the day and the fires at night. "You got more songs 'bout little old me in there?"

Fuck, he knew. Fuck all, he knew. You felt your flush deepen as you pointedly tucked your notebook into the bottom of your pack and flipped the top shut. "I... I don't know what you're talking about," you said, avoiding his eyes. Instead you focused on the fraying tip of your boot. "I wrote that a long time ago. Back in my vault."

"Uh huh." Cooper stared you down for so long you thought that perhaps time had frozen. Then he took a barely-there breath. "Come over here, songbird. Let me get a good look at you."

For a long, long moment, you remained still as you ever had been. What was he saying? Normally the only time he let you close to him was when he invaded your personal space to deliver a shove or to smack your knee or thigh to tell you to get a move on. Your breath hitched when you finally lifted your head and found his gaze boring into yours, heavier than a ton and white hot like a branding iron.

"I ain't goin' to tell you again, pretty girl."

As if he had you on a fucking leash - because you swore he did - you found yourself pitching forward, crawling on your hands and knees toward him. He spread his legs slightly, enough to give you room to fit between them, and hesitantly, so very carefully, you rested yourself against his front. His rough, scarred hands, free of his gloves, came up to rest on the swell of your hips as if they were made to be there, fitting like puzzle pieces against your skin beneath your vault suit. You stared up at him, backlit by the lantern light, and let his thumb drag down your bottom lip until it slipped from his touch.

"Didn't think my songbird had such desire in her," Cooper chuckled, his warm breath fanning across your face.

You relished in the goosebumps that crawled over the planes of your skin. "I... I don't..."

"Oh, you'd be dead wrong if you said that little ditty you sang today wasn't all about desire." He settled back deeper where he sat, giving you more room to settle against him between the columns of his thighs. Your lower belly rested against his crotch, where you felt the hard outline of his cock straining against his trousers. Your heart skipped a beat or three. "If you wanted to ride with death, sweetheart, all you needed to do was ask."

Cooper sealed his lips to yours without word or warning, pulling a surprised little noise from the back of your throat that he swallowed up with fervor. As the initial shock faded, you found your eyes slipping shut and your mouth moving against his, lips opening without fight when his tongue demanded to explore your own. Bracing yourself with one hand against his thigh, you reached up with your other and cradled the back of his head, knocking off his hat in the process.

Swift to get a move on, to feel you against him and swallow up more of your sounds, Cooper easily flipped you around so that you were now lying flat on your back and he was hovering over your prone form. Both tingling excitement and nauseating nerves pulled groans from your lips as he moved to pressing harsh kisses and nips to the column of your neck, licking up red spots that would surely bruise come morning time. He shucked off his duster and abandoned it somewhere behind him, at the same time, by some skill you had no idea anyone possessed, also grasping at the zipper of your vault suit to pull it down as far as it would go.

It didn't take long for you to shimmy out of the suit, leaving you in just your underwear, the seams of which he traced with his calloused finger. It sent a chill running up your spine despite the heat prodding at your skin.

"My songbird sounds real pretty when she's singin'," Cooper muttered as he sucked a bruise into the swell of one breast over the cup of your bra. "I bet she sounds even better screamin' for me."

His hand plunged beneath the waistband of your panties and began to explore your folds, pulling a long, whining moan from your lips. He ate you and your whimpers up, devouring your lips like he wanted to eat you whole - maybe he did - while his middle finger ran up and down your cunt a few times before deftly finding your clit and applying a bit of pressure to the sensitive bud. You cried out. It had been far too long since you'd seen any real action. It didn't take long before your folds were soaked, and he was able to gingerly nudge his finger past the entrance of your pussy. It felt foreign to have another person thrusting their finger in and out of you, building you up to a kind of high you hadn't known since far before you left your vault. In less than a few minutes - something he would surely tease you about later - you felt that familiar coil snap in your stomach and you soaked his hand with a loud, throat-rattling wail that escaped your lips and flew right past his.

Cooper pulled back with a self-satisfied smirk and pulled his hand from your panties, lifting his spread hand to show you to slick you'd coated his digits with. You were only able to huff for breath and watch with hooded eyes as he brought his fingers to his mouth and used his skillful tongue to lick off your cum. You briefly wondered what else that tongue of his could do, what it would feel like to have him lap up your pussy like it was the only thing to guarantee him his daily hit of medicine.

"Sweet as honey, baby," he cooed, bracing himself with one hand while the other worked on the buckle of his belt. "Well. Maybe Tennessee honey. You ever had a taste of that?" He knew you hadn't. But that didn't stop his smirk from growing in size when you numbly shook your head. "Don't you worry your pretty little head about it, baby. We'll get you a lick one day. 'Til then..."

Your limbs dancing with pins and needles, you lifted your hips to help him tug off your panties. "I'll just have to settle for what I've got," you exhaled with a hazy smile.

Cooper grinned wide, a smile that bordered on the edge of dark, as he tugged down his trousers just enough for his cock to spring free. He was thick - larger than you'd expected - and his member was rough and scarred like the rest of him. It made you want to feel him all the more. "I'll promise you somethin', darlin," he said as he positioned himself at your entrance and you locked your legs around his waist, heels digging into the edge of his gun belt. "I'm better than anything else you'll taste these days." With that he slid into you, filling you at once to the brim like he just couldn't wait to feel you from the inside. A loud, sharp yelp escaped your lips as your back arched instinctively, curling yourself up into him. He only waited a few moments for you to adjust before he started moving, pulling himself out to the tip before thrusting back inside your welcoming cunt. You were able to feel each and every ridge of him, every scar, and you swore you were getting drunk from just the feeling.

"Fuckin' shit, girl," he groaned, moving to press the flat of his hand to the base of your neck so that he could keep you in place while he fucked you. "Better than I could've fuckin' dreamed."

Cooper's thrusts began to increase in speed, your moans and whimpers accompanied by his low, almost growling snarls he panted against the shell of your ear. You couldn't believe this was happening. You were being fucked by the ghoul you'd been following all these months, the ghoul you'd been watching and studying and falling hopelessly for. And it felt good. It felt so fucking good, a part of you wasn't entirely convinced this entire scenario wasn't a dream concocted by the recesses of your mind.

"God, Coop," you heard yourself moan as your nails dug crescent moons into the fabric of his shirt. "Feels so fucking good..."

"Atta girl," he muttered, moving his head down so that he could suck at the junction where your neck met your shoulder. "Such a sweet little songbird." His grip on your hips tightened as his movements increased even further. "Might just have to fuck you good every night so I can hear you sing for me."

You panted deep as you felt your second orgasm of the night approaching at an alarming rate. Your hips bucked up to meet his with each thrust, the sound of skin on skin filling the abandoned building in which you had taken shelter. "Don't have to - ah! - even ask. I'll sing for you any time, Coop."

Cooper's breaths came shorter, sharper, and it wasn't long before he came with a harsh bite against your shoulder, one that spilled blood into his awaiting mouth and pulled your own orgasm from deep within your depths. You shuddered and cried for him, tugging him close and holding him there for several minutes after your highs had faded and your breaths evened.

Finally, he pulled himself off of you. A short whine escaped you when he slipped from your heat, and he chuckled low before tossing you your panties to slip back on. When you were both covered again, you sat up and crossed your legs as you basked in the afterglow of what had just taken place. Cooper dug around in his saddlebag for a moment before producing his inhaler and drinking up a shot of his medicine, shaking his head against the sudden buzz that came with it as he sat back on his elbows and stared at the lantern light.

"I..." You struggled to find the words so desperately clawing at your chest. "I hope you don't..."

Cooper reached up and pulled your wrist out from under you, causing you to fall back on the ground beside him with an 'umph.' He let his arm cushion your fall before sweeping a few strands of hair from your face and giving you that crooked smirk which made your legs fall numb all over again. "Oh, don't you worry yourself, songbird," he said. "I ain't lettin' you fly away from me any time soon."

#fallout #fallout show #fallout amazon #the ghoul #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #the ghoul smut #cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #cooper howard smut #fallout imagines #fallout one shot #fallout smut #the ghoul x y/n #cooper howard x y/n

3K notes · View notes

rafecameronssl4t · 5 months ago

Text

The Swell || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: S4 ep 4 scene but it’s Sofia’s perspective + abit more angst but still reader x Rafe no use of her name

Warnings: angst!!!!! Mention of dead baby turtles (?), Ruthie (yeh she deserves her own tw),

Word counts: 2,267

A/n: how could I not post on our my man’s bday 😣😔

MASTERLIST

Divider by @h-aewo

As you drive down the beach, the Pogues come into view, their carefree laughter and familiar presence tightening the knot of unease in your stomach. You glance at Rafe, silently hoping the car won’t stop near them, your thoughts spinning in quiet desperation. But when Topper's Jeep slows down and pulls to a halt right next to them, you shut your eyes for a brief moment, taking a sharp breath through your nose to steady yourself.

Rafe, ever attuned to your mood, notices the shift and squeezes your thigh, his touch firm and reassuring. “It’s fine,” he mutters, his voice low and confident, though the tension remains. You look down at his hand resting on your leg, a gesture that says more than words ever could. Rafe helps you down from Topper’s ridiculously raised Jeep, his grip steady as you hop down onto the sand.

The sun beats down, casting long shadows as you take in the scene around you—Topper and John B already in conversation, their words tinged with the familiar undercurrent of rivalry. The air feels thick, charged with a subtle tension that lingers in every glance exchanged between them.

You go through the motions, helping set up blankets and gear, though your attention keeps drifting back to Rafe. He’s sitting a few feet away, legs stretched out in front of him, gaze fixed on the surfers gliding across the water. His sunglasses hide most of his expression, but you can tell he’s watching intently, his mind elsewhere.

When you finally make your way over, he turns his head slightly, reaching for a towel and placing it beside him without a word. You settle down next to him, the sand beneath the towel still warm from the sun, and you let out a small sigh. "Hey, Rafe," you say softly, your voice almost drowned out by the sound of the waves crashing in the distance.

Your gaze shifts to Sarah, longboard in hand as she walks out of the water, her eyes locked on her brother. A light smile tugs at your lips as you watch her, the hope in you flickering. "There’s Sarah," you continue, trying to sound upbeat. "Do you think she’d want to talk?" Rafe doesn’t respond right away. His eyes stay focused on the horizon, his expression unreadable.

After a beat, he finally looks towards Sarah, their eyes meeting across the sand. The moment stretches out, thick with everything they’re not saying. "No," Rafe says flatly, shaking his head. "She can come to me if she wants." His voice lacks emotion, as if he’s already resigned to the distance between them. He lifts his beer, taking a slow drink, his nonchalance masking something deeper. You nod in response, sighing softly.

You tried, but it’s not enough. It never seems to be enough. The next few minutes pass in quiet observation. You watch the surfers, your gaze following JJ and Topper as they glide across the water, their competitive nature apparent even in something as simple as catching a wave. JJ, always the wild card, edges too close to Topper and bumps him, sending Topper tumbling into the surf.

Rafe shifts beside you, sitting up a little straighter. "Hey! Blatant poach, man!" he calls out, his voice carrying over the beach, and you can’t help but smile. There’s something almost boyish in the way he yells, a rare glimpse of lightness in an otherwise heavy day. Your momentary smile fades when Ruthie’s piercing voice cuts through the air.

"What the hell was that?!" she shouts, her tone laced with irritation. You roll your eyes instinctively, already feeling the familiar annoyance settle in. Ruthie. She’s always been a thorn in your side, and she knows it. She thrives on it, always pushing just enough to get under your skin, but never enough to cross any real lines—at least not with Rafe around. She wasn’t stupid—she knew better than to challenge his authority, even though she could get away with nearly everything else.

JJ, still in the water, celebrates his small victory with a cocky grin, looking over at you both. Rafe’s response is swift, flipping him the middle finger without even blinking. JJ shrugs it off, giving a sheepish smile, and you laugh softly, shaking your head at the playful exchange. "I don’t know what JJ’s deal was," Kelce chimes in as he and Topper make their way back to the shade.

"That was bullshit, jumping in on you like that." His tone is casual, but there’s a slight edge to it, the kind that always lingers when someone feels disrespected. "Classic low-rent move," Topper agrees, brushing sand from his hair. Rafe’s snarky grin returns as he helps you up from the sand. "Surf violence is violence, man," he comments dryly, earning a chuckle from the group. But before the mood can lighten, the unmistakable sound of an engine revving catches your attention.

You glance over, spotting Ruthie now in the driver’s seat of Topper’s Jeep, her expression smug as she glances towards the Pogues. "Instead of whining about it," Ruthie cocks her head in their direction, a dangerous gleam in her eyes, "let’s drift. Give them a taste of their own medicine." Topper immediately shakes his head. "No, no. We’re not doing that," he says, his voice firm but calm. For all his bravado, Topper is often the most level-headed among them, the one willing to walk away from unnecessary drama.

You breathe out a quiet sigh of relief, hoping the situation will diffuse. Ruthie, however, isn’t backing down. "Are you afraid?" she taunts, her tone condescending as she stares him down, tilting her head with a smirk. "I told them we’re gonna be cool," Topper says, shooting a glance at Kelce, as if looking for backup. "Yeah, but they jumped in on you, bro," Kelce replies, still riled up from the earlier incident. "They stomped all over our home base."

"Never knew you kooks owned the beach," you mutter under your breath, loud enough for Rafe to hear. He chuckles softly, glancing at you with an amused look. Ruthie, undeterred, turns her attention back to Kelce, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "That doesn’t seem fair, does it? Are you cool with that, Kelce? It’s kind of sad, bro." "Pathetic," Ruthie adds, and a few others let out chuckles, their laughter only adding fuel to the tension.

Topper’s face tightens, his expression darkening as the tension between him and Ruthie reaches its peak. "What’d you say?" he snaps, his tone sharp with frustration, eyes narrowing at her. He’s clearly fed up with her antics, embarrassed as she goads him in front of their friends. The heated argument escalates quickly, Ruthie's biting comments cutting through the air like knives. Topper, red-faced and tense, tries to rein her in, but Ruthie only digs in further, her smirk never fading.

You lean into Rafe, resting your head against his broad back, arms loosely wrapped around his torso for comfort as you watch the scene unfold. It was horrifying but impossible to look away from. Ruthie, always the instigator, keeps pushing, her voice rising above the murmur of waves and laughter. She’s relentless, her eyes gleaming with reckless energy.

"Well, I’m about to buzz down there and show them whose beach this is," she declares, the wild determination in her tone sending a ripple of unease through the group. "You gonna make me go by myself?" You lift your head, casting a glance at Rafe, silently asking him to do something, anything. His eyes flicker with annoyance, but he doesn’t intervene, his usual detached demeanour firmly in place.

Topper, as much as he tries to keep some semblance of control, eventually gives in, rounding the Jeep and sliding into the passenger seat with a defeated huff. The sound of the engine revving cuts through the beach as they prepare for another display of immaturity. "This is ridiculous," you mutter under your breath, crossing your arms over your chest as you watch them speed off. Sand flies up behind the tires, scattering across the shoreline.

Rafe shrugs beside you, seemingly unbothered, his voice calm but clipped. "She’s just being Ruthie." "That’s not an excuse," you retort, sharper than you intended. "Is she fucking insane?" Your words are laced with disbelief as you scoff, eyes narrowing as the Jeep swerves wildly down the beach. Ruthie, clearly drunk on adrenaline, comes dangerously close to losing control.

You hold your breath as she veers sharply, missing the Pogues by mere inches. Your heart races in your chest, the tension in the air palpable. Rafe watches in silence, tipping his head back and taking a long swig from his beer, the bottle tilted lazily in his hand as if none of it phases him. You, on the other hand, can’t tear your eyes away from the scene. "Jesus Christ…" you mutter under your breath, jaw slack in shock. Suddenly, a splash of liquid flies through the air, dousing Kiara.

You watch as she recoils, visibly shocked and angry, while the Pogues gather around her, already shouting in response. The kooks around you jeer and laugh, their obnoxious behaviour only adding fuel to the fire. You roll your eyes, disgusted by the immaturity that surrounds you. How could they find this funny? Your gaze shifts back to Rafe, searching his face for any hint of how he’s feeling, but his expression remains unreadable.

His jaw tightens ever so slightly as he scratches his head, eyes flicking back and forth between the Jeep and the chaos Ruthie has left in her wake. Frustration bubbles in your chest — was he angry? Amused? He was impossible to read, and that drove you mad. You couldn’t stand his indifference, not when things had spiraled out of control. "You good with that?" you ask, trying to keep your voice steady, but the irritation seeps through as you turn to face him, arms crossed tightly over your chest.

He doesn't respond immediately, which only adds fuel to the fire. His silence grates on you. Then, after Kiara and JJ confront Ruthie and she threatens to press charges over some meaningless provocation, your patience wears thin. You’ve had enough of the childish antics, the toxic energy swirling around the beach. It was exhausting, and you wanted nothing more than to leave.

"Not cool, Rafe," you say, your voice wavering with disappointment. There’s an ache in your chest, a familiar one that resurfaces whenever you feel let down by him. You want him to see how wrong all of this is, but instead, he shrugs and brushes past you, his focus only on grabbing another beer. His casual indifference feels like a slap in the face. "They deserved it, baby," he mutters as he opens the cooler.

His words make your blood boil. Deserved it? You can’t believe him. It’s like the two of you are on completely different wavelengths, and the divide between you feels wider than ever. Spinning around, you glare at him, anger and hurt flooding your system. "I want to leave," you say, voice firm, holding his gaze as he turns to look at you, his eyes narrowing in challenge.

"Now!" you insist, your frustration bubbling over, leaving no room for negotiation. You’re done with the day, with the drama, with everything. Without waiting for his response, you turn on your heel and start walking away, the sound of the waves crashing behind you drowned out by the pounding in your chest. You can feel his eyes on your back, the tension hanging thick in the air, but you don’t stop.

“Babe, hold on,” Rafe calls after you, his voice almost pleading, but you don’t slow down. You grab your beach bag, throwing it over your shoulder with more force than necessary, eyes fixed ahead. You refuse to let him see how upset you really are, not in front of Ruthie and Topper. Especially not when Ruthie’s wearing that smug smile, clearly enjoying the chaos she’s stirred up.

Your jaw clenches as you storm past them, feeling the weight of their judgment. Rafe’s footsteps grow louder behind you, his longer stride quickly closing the distance. "Just calm down," he mutters as he reaches out, his hand catching your elbow in an attempt to stop you. The touch is gentle, but it ignites the anger bubbling beneath the surface, and you immediately yank your arm away, shoving his hand off with a sharp motion.

He steps in front of you, blocking your path, his brows furrowing as he tries to read your expression. "That wasn’t fair, Rafe," you say quietly, your voice cutting through the space between you both. The frustration, disappointment, and anger you’ve been holding in all day spill over. "You saw what Ruthie did! How can you just stand there and act like it’s fine?" Your words come out sharper than you intended, but you’re past caring.

You need him to understand, to see how wrong it all is. Rafe’s lips press into a thin line, his gaze shifting momentarily to the ground before meeting yours again. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes—guilt, maybe—but it’s quickly replaced by defensiveness. "She’s Topper’s girlfriend," he snaps, his voice low and tight. "What do you want me to do? I can’t control what she does or doesn’t do."

You let out a bitter laugh, stepping back and shaking your head in disbelief. "So what? You’d rather watch her humiliate people instead? Watch her throw stuff at Kie like a child? Drive over those baby turtles?" Your voice rises, sharp and raw. "That’s what you’re okay with?" His jaw tightens as he scratches his head, avoiding your gaze. "It wasn’t that big of a deal," he mutters, but there’s something in the way he says it—a hint of guilt that he’s trying to bury under his indifference.

"Not that big of a deal?" You repeat, your voice thick with disbelief. "You know what she did was wrong, Rafe. I know you do. You just stood there and didn’t do a fucking thing." He sighs, frustrated, running a hand through his hair. "You could’ve stood up for Kie, for anyone. But instead, you just stood there and let Ruthie act like a total psycho, and now you’re defending it?"

Rafe’s face hardens, but you can see the flicker of guilt in his eyes, the way his gaze shifts uncomfortably. He knows. He knows what Ruthie did was messed up, and it infuriates you even more that he won’t admit it, that he’s hiding behind the excuse of not wanting to cause drama with Topper. "It wasn’t worth starting a fight over," he says, his voice tight, as if he’s trying to convince himself more than you.

You throw your hands up, exasperated. "It’s not about starting a fight! It’s about doing the right thing! You just stood there, Rafe. You watched it happen, and you knew it was wrong, and you still did nothing!" His eyes flash with irritation, but underneath it, you can see the guilt he’s trying to bury. "Why are you making this about me?" he snaps, his voice defensive. "I didn’t tell her to do anything. It’s not my fault."

"No, but you watched it happen, and that’s just as bad!" Your voice cracks slightly, the frustration and hurt blending together. "You know Ruthie crossed a line. If it had been anyone else, you wouldn’t have let it slide, but because it’s her, and because it’s Topper, you’re acting like it’s no big deal." Rafe clenches his jaw, his frustration evident, but there’s something more in his eyes now—regret, maybe.

He’s not used to being called out like this, not used to being the one who’s wrong. "What do you want me to say?" he mutters, his voice lower, less confident. "It’s not like I could’ve stopped her." Your heart races, and you shoot back, your voice steady but laced with heat. "You chose to stay silent, and that says more than any half-hearted excuse you could come up with. It's pathetic!”

As you confront him, he steps closer, a tangible tension crackling between you. His voice turns low and icy. "Watch it." The warning hangs in the air, but you refuse to back down. He exhales sharply, running both hands through his hair, a gesture of agitation that betrays the storm of emotions brewing inside him. "I don't want to fight with you over something like this," he insists, the frustration lacing his tone, making it tremble with barely contained irritation.

"It’s not worth it." You stare at him, incredulous, your heart racing as the anger you felt moments ago begins to dissolve, replaced by a deeper, simmering disappointment that settles heavily in your chest. It’s a familiar ache, one that stirs memories of past arguments where the same sentiments echoed in different words. "Not worth it?" you echo, your voice soft but laced with hurt. Your words hang in the air, and for a moment, you search his eyes, hoping to find a flicker of understanding.

But he doesn’t respond, his gaze dropping to the sand beneath his feet, as if the grains can offer him some comfort. You see a flicker of doubt cross his features, and for an instant, you think he might actually admit it—might actually acknowledge the truth you’ve laid bare. But instead, he shrugs, a small, helpless gesture that only deepens the ache in your chest. It’s as if he’s trying to dismiss the weight of the situation, but it only leaves you feeling more isolated.

"That’s all you can say?" you press, hurt and disappointment lacing your tone again. "I don’t know what you want from me." "I want you to care," you say, your voice quieter now, the fight slowly draining out of you. "I want you to care enough to stand up for what’s right, not just for what’s easy. But I guess that’s too much to ask."

Rafe’s face flickers, something like guilt or frustration passing over his features, but he doesn’t say anything. He just stares at you, jaw clenched, the space between you filled with everything he won’t say. You shake your head, the disappointment settling in like a weight in your chest

1K notes · View notes

ayurveda4us · 2 years ago

Text

#benefits of sun charged water #surya Chikitsa #sun therapy

0 notes

asapstarkey · 5 months ago

Text

It's Complicated — Rafe Cameron

Chapter One: Here we go again

Introduction

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Routledge!Reader

Summary: Rafe can’t resist you and tensions boil over at a party on the beach.

Warnings: Drug use, alcohol consumption, dirty talk, implied smut, swearing, death of parents

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: Here we go! Chapter One. I can’t say I’m super pleased with this but I wanted to set the tone. Please please please let me know what you think! The series title is an A Day To Remember song for all my emos. And the title of this chapter is the first words of the song. Lmao. Just a fun fact for you.

“Y’all have a good one! Be safe out there!” you called as you waved off the boat you just gassed up.

You put the nozzle back in its place and wiped your hands on your shorts as you stood upright. You stared out at the coastline where the sun was setting and sighed softly.

“Yo!” A voice called from above and you turned to find your brother standing at the door of the surf shop. “That’s it for the day. Let’s wrap it up.”

You nodded, bending down to grab your water bottle and head up to help them count the money.

“Chop, chop! We’re gonna miss them starting the bonfire!”

“I’m coming John B!” You shouted back at him then muttered, “Jesus Christ.” You climbed the steps and entered your little bait and surf shop.

Sarah was sitting on the stool counting the drawer while Kiara sat on the counter and counted the lock box. You busied yourself helping Pope put away products people decided not to buy and reorganize the shelves, two key members of your group clearly missing.

“Where’d JJ and Cleo go?” you questioned, looking over your shoulder at your younger brother for answers.

“To get the keg,” Sarah replied. She was counting the same stack of five dollar bills for the third time with a furrowed brow.

“What? Why would they go get it? I’m the only one here of legal age,” you said with a laugh.

You knew the Pogues had acquired fake ID’s over the years and never had trouble buying alcohol before. It just made more sense for you to be the one to go get it without the hassle. The clerks at the gas stations and liquor stores charged extra for knowing they had fakes but letting it slide.

“New corner store just opened up a couple blocks away. You could show them an ID with a picture of Abraham Lincoln on it and they’ll still sell to you,” Pope answered. “Those guys are either dumb or don’t give a shit.”

You hummed in response, hanging one last fishing lure on a hook then heading for the door. Sarah and Kiara were taking too long counting the money and you wanted to rinse off the sweat and oil from filling gas all day. John B could handle locking up for the night.

You were exhausted. The beginning of Summer is always the busiest with the most tourists coming into the OBX to vacation. You almost considered heading straight for your bed and staying in for the night. But this was the first big party of the season, and you deserved to have some fun. So you hopped in the shower and relaxed under the warm water.

There were dozens of people already on the beach by the time you arrived. Chatter and laughter filled the air as you slid the side door of the Twinkie open. Your eyes scanned the crowd, seeing Pogues, Kooks, and Tourons alike. They were still stacking wood in the rock circle where the bonfire would soon be lit, cutting the cool breeze coming off of the ocean despite the humid Summer’s night air.

“Just in time,” Sarah sighed happily while climbing out of the passenger seat.

Kiara handed you a couple of bags of red solo cups, her carrying a few more as well as the rig for the keg.

“You boys got this right?” Cleo asked with a smirk as the four of you girls started towards the beach, leaving the men to lug the heavy keg through the sand. Grumbling could be heard from behind as you giggled and skipped towards the crowd.

The beers started flowing quickly and flames soon illuminated the faces around you. You kept your red solo cup in hand as you weaved through the crowd and welcomed the warmth from the fire. The first few beers went down easily, your mind already fuzzy and buzzing from the alcohol.

You caught up with old friends from school who were back from the Summer. A lot of them were fortunate enough to get off of Kildare Island and build a better life for themselves. Some were married, and some already had kids. The more you talked to them the worse you started to feel.

You and John B weren’t so fortunate. Yes, the treasure hunting and gold helped you start a business, but you still struggled. It was the only source of income for you and six other mouths to feed. You rarely had much left over after paying the bills and buying supplies. Not enough to get you onto the mainland and into college.

You made your way to the edge of the crowd, closer to the waves crashing on the shore. You stood alone and scanned the crowd that had grown much larger than when you first arrived. Your gaze landed on the Kooks, standing in their own group away from the rest. They looked at anyone who passed with their noses turned up, acting like they were better than everyone else like always. You couldn’t help the look of disgust that crossed your face.

That’s when your eyes locked with Rafe’s. He smirked as he raised his cup to his lips and took a drink, staring over the rim. Sophia hung off of his arm like a trophy, completely oblivious to the silent interaction you and the man beside her were having. His new flavor of the month you supposed, or year maybe. They’d been together since February, even though Rafe refused to call her his girlfriend. She was a Pogue yet hid it well. Somehow weaseling her way into the group of spoiled rich kids as if she belonged. Somehow gaining the attention of the King Kook himself and getting him to stick around. Well, kind of.

You wandered off at some point. You needed to clear your head and rid yourself of thoughts of how much of a failure you felt. As well as the man who contributed to it.

The voices from the party grew quieter and the waves grew louder. The beer in your hand was lukewarm now, but you fought through a sip anyway. You came to a stop, bare toes wiggling in the sand as you stared out at the reflection of the moon on the water. Just as your head started to clear and the silence settled in, a voice ruined it.

“Done with the party already?”

You sighed and your eyes fell closed for a moment before fluttering back open.

“Just needed a breather,” you replied. The footsteps grew closer until you could see his board shorts in the corner of your eye and he stopped. “What do you want, Rafe?”

You turned to look at him as he was lighting a joint pinched tightly between his lips. The smoke started floating off the end as he inhaled and his eyes flickered up to meet yours.

“Just came to check on my favorite Pogue,” he retorted stiffly with a sideways smile, holding the smoke in his lungs for another second before exhaling.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, looking back out at the water without saying anything in return. If you entertained him you knew what would happen. But Rafe seemed determined.

“Want a hit?” He asked, slowly inching closer until he was standing beside you. The sleeve of his open button-up shirt brushed your bare shoulder, blowing in the wind around his toned abdomen.

You ignored him. You shook your head and took another drink from your red solo cup.

“Come on, (Y/N). You know you want to,” Rafe teased, moving to stand in front of you. He took the cup from your hand and took a drink, holding the joint out between you in your direction.

You didn’t meet his eye, staring down at the rolled green that was slowly starting to go out in front of you. “Fine,” you sighed, going to take it from his fingers. But he pulled it away. You dropped your hand against your side and huffed. You knew what he wanted. He bit his bottom lip and brought the joint up to your mouth himself, watching your lips wrap around the end as you inhaled.

“Atta girl,” he whispered with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes and snatched your cup back, swallowing down half of it in two gulps. As much as you hated to admit it, you were nervous around Rafe. One, because of his unpredictable attitude and behavior. Two, because of the undeniable tension between the two of you being in such close proximity. No matter how many times this happened, you were always nervous.

Rafe’s hand came up, brushing your hair over your shoulder before toying with the bikini strap tied around your neck. Rafe placed the joint between his lips and held it there, around it he suggested, “Why don’t you and I go have a little fun?”

You looked up at him incredulously. “What?!”

“Yeah,” he shrugged, eyes flickering from your lips down to your bikini top. His fingers trailed the seam of the bikini, over your collarbone, and atop your breast. Goosebumps were left in the wake of his touch, your body betraying you even though you tried to fight it. “We always have so much fun at these parties.”

“Rafe..” you breathed as he dropped the joint into the sand and he bent down, lips brushing your jaw causing your breath to hitch. Your voice trembled slightly, “What about Sophia?”

Rafe hummed, no remorse at all for what you were about to do. He kissed your neck once below your ear. The sound of your cup being dropped was drowned out by the thumping of your heart in your ears. His breath was hot on your neck as he spoke softly, “She doesn’t make me feel the way you do. No one makes me feel the way you do.”

Your hand came up to grip his biceps, eyes fluttering closed as his lips worked over your sensitive skin. His hands found your hips and pulled you closer until you were nearly chest to chest. You would never admit it out loud, but you felt the same way. No man had ever come close to making you feel the way that Rafe did. And you weren’t sure anyone ever could.

Your hands slid over the muscles of his arms until your fingers found his hair. He raised his head, pupils blown as you finally met his eyes. Your bottom lip shook from the look of pure desire on his face. You glanced at his lips, unable to ignore how badly you wanted them on every inch of your body.

You caved.

“Make it quick. I’ve already been away for too long.”

Rafe smirked wide before he pulled you into a heated kiss. He pulled away only to say, “You won’t have to worry about that. I’ve been waiting all night to get you out of this damn bikini.” And then he was kissing you again, backing you into the trees to sneak you around to his Jeep.

As you climbed out of the backseat of the black Jeep, it was clear that post-nut clarity hit Rafe, and the buzz from the beer and weed had worn off significantly. He wouldn’t even look at you as he fixed his swim trunks and ran his fingers through the hair your fingers had just been gripping like your life depended on it. You sheepishly fixed your bikini top in the reflection of the passenger window and swiped at the smudged mascara under your eyes.

The sound of the back door slamming made you jump. Rafe didn’t say a word as he walked around the vehicle and back towards the party, leaving you behind to collect yourself and come up with some excuse as to why you disappeared.

You scurried around the Jeep and towards the Twinkie, faking like you had been in the old van the whole time in case anyone saw you. As you rounded the front, you saw Rafe back with his group of friends acting as if nothing had just happened. His arm was back around Sophia’s shoulders and you uncomfortably witnessed the moment he lifted her chin for a sloppy kiss.

I wonder if you know I just came from his mouth twice in the back of the car he brought you in, you thought to yourself.

And that’s when the anger set in. How dare he use you like that and go back to her like you were nothing? How dare he treat either of you this way. As much as you couldn’t stand Sophia and how fake she was, she didn’t deserve this. You didn’t deserve this.

Your eyes pricked with hot tears of fury. You made a break for it from the Twinkie, beelining for JJ who was at the keg because he was the only person from your group you could see at the moment. But there was only one route to him. Too many people on the beach to weave through. And it led you right into a trap.

“(Y/N)! Care for a beer?” Kelce offered as you tried to get past the group of Kooks, a smirk plastered across his smug face.

“I’m good. Thanks,” you replied dryly, blinking back the tears threatening to spill.

The sniffle gave you away. And like vultures, they couldn’t wait to rip you apart.

“What’s got the Queen in such a rush?” Ruthie stepped in front of you to block your way. That stupid nickname made your blood boil even more. Queen Pogue. They called you that like everyone called Rafe the King Kook. As if there was some kind of hierarchy amongst the already divided groups on the island. “Stay awhile!”

You looked past her, praying that JJ would look up and see what was happening. He was too busy talking to younger Pogues. You could tell he was also already wasted by the squint of his eyes and the sway of his body.

“Cat got your tongue?” Ruthie teased again, trying her hardest to get under your skin.

“Fuck off and get out of my way,” you warned. Your hands were in white knuckle fists at your side. You were trying your hardest to keep your anger at bay. Anger with Rafe that everyone around was about to get the wrath of.

The Kooks laughed and gasped in feigned fear. Your jaw clenched and you closed your eyes, trying to focus on your breathing. If Ruthie didn’t move you were going to move her yourself. Which she would be sure to press charges on you for and that’s the last thing you needed right now.

“Just let her go, Ruth,” Rafe spoke up from behind you. For a second, you thought he was coming to your defense for once. Urging his group of ‘friends’ to just leave you alone. But then he opened his mouth again, “No point in wasting your breath on trash like her. She’s not worth the trouble.”

White hot rage spread through your veins and for a second, you blacked out. You ripped the full cup of beer out of Kelce’s hands and threw the whole thing in Rafe’s face. Commotion. Suddenly there were bodies and shouting all around you. You lunged at him as he stood there in shock but someone grabbed you. You were screaming obscenities and flailing in Topper’s arms, swinging at Rafe despite knowing you wouldn’t land a single punch.

“Fuck you, Rafe! Are you fucking kidding me?!” you wailed. “Let me go!”

JJ was there in an instant, grabbing your arms so you didn’t hit him. “Hey. Hey!” he tried to calm you down. “Topper let her go, man!”

“(Y/N), what happened?” John B was there now too, grabbing the sides of your head and forcing you to meet his eyes. “Calm down. What did they do?”

“We didn’t do shit man, just offered her a beer.”

“Bullshit!” JJ snarled, knowing you wouldn’t get so worked up over nothing.

Your bottom lip trembled, eyes flickeirng to Rafe who was soaking wet and looking at you in disbelief. Sophia was using her own tank top to wipe the beer off of his cheek and neck. He scoffed and snatched the shirt from her, storming off down the beach and towards the ocean to rinse himself off. She trailed after him like a lost puppy.

“Just take me home, please. I want to go home.”

A/N: Add yourself to my tag list for this series if you’d like! As always, feedback is appreciated and I’ll see you soon with Chapter 2!

Tag list: @itsmattiesworld @escapismlourve @mattyskies @persiar9 @bellstwd @f4ll-for-you @oatmealisweird @FAMEFUCKERS @famefuckers @enthusiastms @lilleesthings @koibleufish @ravenroyale @reidshearts @probablyreadingsmutlol @rafelovergirl @angvl3tears @bilssturns @babygirlwilly

#outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #obx #obx fanfiction #outer banks fanfic #obx fanfic #outer banks writing #obx writing #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron writing #chai writes

899 notes · View notes

ad-caelestia · 1 month ago

Text

magical ideas for...whatever!

it's becoming a bit redundant to keep putting magical ideas at the end of all my posts (i'm still gonna do it but...) so here's the tldr; of some [vague] things you can do as a witch (not in any particular order and no you don't have to do everything on this list).

enchant stuff

charge stuff

anoint stuff

make spell jars

make oils

make salves and balms and tinctures, oh my!

cook food and mix drinks

make charged water (moon water, star water, sun water, war water, storm water, etc.)

meditate/gnosis/trance (something of that nature)

practice grounding and centering

practice energy work

learn the folklore and history behind [whatever it is that you're about to do]

spend time in nature (urban or rural or wherever, it literally does not matter)

make offerings and do other activities (literally anything! paint, draw, sing, go to a museum, go to the beach, go for a run, go for a drive, study for your exams, volunteer, whatever!!)

use crystals, herbs, colors, scents, and whatever else

burn stuff

write stuff down

bury stuff

drown stuff

draw sigils and symbols

carve, anoint, light candles

make a crystal grid

do a divination reading

utilize the elements, the planets, constellations, celestial bodies, etc.

invoke or evoke relevant energies to help ya out

also consider associated deities if that's your jam

idk, bye!

#witchblr #witchcraft #witchy #witch #witches of tumblr #beginner witch #beginner witchcraft #ad-caelestia

563 notes · View notes

wileys-russo · 1 month ago

Note

Ft. Clumsy Alessia on one knee - cliff top - reader: “babe did you just trip again?? Oh my god you’re proposing!!”

part of the maternal instincts universe just say yes II a.russo

you and alessia were engaged. you couldn't quite believe it as for the tenth time just in that hour you'd found yourself gazing down at your ring finger in admiration.

twisting your hand left and right you watched as the clean cut diamond caught the sun, glinting and shimmering as your lips curled into the same dopey smile of disbelief that had been plastered in your face the last two days since.

but in order to understand just how it happened, you'd need to track back through a series of rather unplanned and unfortunate events, and it had all started on a tuesday evening...

you had parent teacher interviews (which really you'd always protested was a waste of time for primary school classes, but the department of education clearly disagreed) which left alessia in charge for the night shift.

now normally that would be fine, bar bella perhaps testing the waters a little more to see just how much she could get away with. though your girlfriend had caught onto this quite quickly and now with both time and confidence under her belt had no issues assuming the stricter parental role as needed.

but tonight it seemed bella and her tummy monster had decided to take it easy on the striker, not kicking up a fuss when alessia refused to buy pizza for dinner since there was things to use up in the fridge, only splashing her half as much as usual in the bath and putting on her least favourite pair of pyjamas since the latter was in the wash.

so naturally alessia felt her guard start to slip, sitting bella down in front of the tv for her designated nightly episode of bluey and busying herself scanning two marketing contracts luca had been harassing her about which had been sat in her email inbox for well over a week now.

sat at the dining room table with her back turned on the suspiciously well behaved five year old, alessia failed to notice the couch was empty, bella wandering off to try and locate her phone which she knew charged in the bedroom, missing you and wanting to say goodnight.

but unaware the phone in question was tucked away in alessias pocket, bella frowned at the bare side table, now on the hunt and pulling open the drawer of the nightstand, pushing up on the tips of her toes to look inside.

sticking a hand up she clumsily fumbled about, pushing and poking and prodding but huffing when ultimately there was still no phone to be found. but then her finger brushed something soft, eyebrows creasing as she stood up as tall as she could until her small hand was able to grasp it.

tugging it out of the nightstand, a small crushed velvet box sat in the palm of your daughters hand, and from the moment she popped it open, everything that was to come in the week ahead was set into motion.

"you bought mummy a ring!" alessia almost fell off her chair as a little voice chirped up suddenly from beside her, eyes widening as large as saucers at the diamond ring thrust in her face as bella climbed up on the chair beside her, wild grin on her face.

"where did you get this? were you snooping? what did we say about snooping isabella?" alessia's tone was sharp as she slammed her laptop shut, lurching forward to snatch the ring and snap the box closed, shoving it into her pocket and head rapidly darting side to side to check you hadn't seen as if you weren't currently on the other side of town.

"no! i wanted your phone, so i could call mummy and say goodnight. does mummy know about the ring? does this mean you're gonna get married? can i be the flower girl? can i wear a pretty dress? can the dress be pink? or maybe red! will leah be there? will uncle-" overwhelmed by the rapid fire investigation taking place alessia was quick to press her hand over the five year olds mouth.

"we need to have a little talk, bella." alessia warned sternly, slowly lowering her hand as bellas once delighted grin lowered into a scowl, crossing her arms and slumping down in the chair, as was her usual go to whenever she knew she'd gotten herself into trouble.

"come on, its past your bedtime." alessia spoke a little softer now, standing and offering her hand for bella to take, chuckling as the girl who was more than capable of walking lifted her arms expectantly.

"oh alright then." alessia gave in with a sigh of amusement, lifting bella up and into her own arms, walking the pair of them down the hall to her room and lowering her into bed, making sure she was all tucked in and comfortable with the small army of stuffed animals bella insisted all needed a place in bed with her.

"now this-" alessia grabbed the ring from her pocket and popped the box open again. "-is a conversation i did not plan to have this way, snoopy." alessia smiled poking at bella's nose who scrunched her face up in response.

"but the situation has clearly changed. so, tiny, would you be okay if i ask your mummy to marry me?" alessia asked, a small handful of nerves bubbling to the surface with the question, surprise clearly written all over your daughters face.

"me?" bella asked in response, pointing to herself as your girlfriend smiled and nodded. "yeah, you. your opinion is pretty important to me you know." alessia affirmed, hand smoothing down the few rogue tufts of hair which stuck up at the back of bella's head where she'd had one of your hoodies on before dinner.

"i want you to marry mummy! i do! then we can be a real family!" bella perked up, alessia almost falling off the bed as bella launched across it, arms flung around her neck and clinging on tightly to the bear hug your girlfriend eagerly wrapped her in.

"we already are a family. me, you, your mum, your dad, your dads girlfriend olivia. thats why we all go out to dinner every second friday, right?" alessia reminded gently, hand rubbing up and down soothingly against bellas back.

"yeah! for chinese." bella nodded happily, the routine one that both you and your ex had implemented once both in quite serious relationships, and much from isabellas own requests.

"but. you cannot tell mummy about the ring or that i want to propose to her, okay?" alessias tone once again adopted a strict undertone, carefully prying bella off and pulling back the covers so she could climb underneath them again.

"but why? she'll be happy! mummy loves you mama." bella wondered innocently with a frown, tucking one of her teddys under her chin as she wiggled around until she was comfortable.

"because its a surprise, so its our little secret. okay? not a word to mummy, nothing, nada, zip!" alessia motioned zipping her lips closed making the five year old giggle and nod in agreement.

"zip!"

and for a few days, that seemed to be working well. until dinner at alessias mothers place, where suddenly everything came crashing down.

you were of course being your usual stubborn self, refusing to let anyone swat you out of the kitchen to help clean up after dinner and flicking your girlfriend with the dish towel when she didn't hold this same level of use.

"babe!" alessia gasped as the crack echoed around the living room, your finger pointing back into the kitchen. "your mum and dad cooked, your brother cleared the table, you can dry a dish or two russo." you warned sternly, the blonde sending a filthy side eye to luca who oohed, earning himself a smack on the arm from his own wife.

but with the pair of you preoccupied in the kitchen, and bella showing alessias parents her latest dance routine in the front room, it would seem the striker should have perhaps been a little more specific with the nature of her earlier warnings.

"lessi! can you come here for a second please darling?" the blonde glanced over your head from where her mum was calling for her, not long having finished helping you wash and dry when bella had come zooming on through, smacking your leg and demanding you were now 'it' for the game of tag she'd started.

"yeah mum what-" but the words died in her mouth the minute she saw the all too familiar red box in the womans hand, mirrored by the looks of pride and joy in both her parents eyes.

"oh god!" alessia groaned, dragging her hands down her face and hurrying to all but slam her parents bedroom door shut as the congratulations and hugs started which she quickly wiggled her way out of.

"isabella!" alessia muttered under her breath, forcing a weak smile as her parents chattered away happily and she plucked the ring from her mothers palm, tucking it safely away in her pocket and making a mental note to find a better hiding spot.

"why didn't you tell us you were proposing!" right as her dad clapped her on the back the door opened, alessias head doing a near 360 on her shoulders and exhaling shakily in relief seeing it was only bella and luca, rapidly motioning for the door to be closed again.

"you're proposing??" luca asked with wide eyes, squatting down to allow bella to slide off his back where he'd been carting her around, alessia sighing deeply and pressing her fingertips into her temple.

"i'm gonna be the flower girl!" bella announced happily, bouncing about as the room exploded into chatter once again and the blonde wished the ground could swallow her up.

"isabella i told you not to tell anyone!" alessia warned the grinning five year old who darted back to hide behind lucas leg. "no! mama you told me not to tell mummy." isabella retorted matter of factly, though not with quite enough confidence to move away from using luca as a human shield.

"well i told you not to touch the ring!" alessia groaned again. "i didn't! i touched the box." bella answered back smartly, retreating even further behind luca as alessias eyes narrowed.

"so when are you doing it? now?" her brother questioned eagerly, bella sneaking off when alessias gaze flickered away from her for just a second, the door opening and closing before the blonde could grab her.

"bella don't you-now? of course i'm not doing it now!" alessia scoffed, her head starting to hurt as she advanced toward the door, eager to wrangle you and bella up and get away from here into a much more controlled environment where the threat of the secret being revealed was at least lessened.

"but why not? sieze the moment darling, it doesn't have to be a big gesture!" her mum encouraged, alessia waving her off with a shake of her head, throwing open the door and all but stomping down the hall, her anxiety peaked that bella would continue on her little train of telling and you'd be the next stop.

only when she came to a halt at the back door, time seemed to slow and the hardened lines etched in her forehead softened, watching you and bella kick a ball around in the backyard, sudden nostalgia washing over her of when alessia had been bellas age.

full of life, excitement, with scraped knees and mud stained clothes, determined to best her two older brothers who would constantly shoot her down when she tried to join them, instead practicing on her own until the sun was so low in the sky she couldn't see more than a metre in front of her and she was forced to come inside.

you spotted your girlfriend hovering and watching, giving her a wave and pretending to dive for the ball, bella easily slotting it past you and racing around doing her 'air russo' arms as alessias lips curled into a smile.

though perhaps instead of watching in front of her, she should have been a little more concerned with what lay beneath her, as within no more than two steps forward the striker seemed to forget the layout of her own backyard, tumbling down the three steps that connected the deck to the grass.

of course more than used to your girlfriends clumsiness you didn't think much of it, covering a laugh up with a cough as you jogged on over to her with an amused shake of your head.

but as alessia slowly pulled herself up, she realised there was a looming weight that was now missing from her left pocket, and again head gaze shot downward.

scrambling to recover the small red box sat in plain sight on the grass before her, she was lucky as your attention was temporarily captured as bella called out for you to watch her do a cartwheel.

"very good!" you clapped happily at the five year olds half cartweel, turning around again as bella attempted to try and juggle the ball as she'd watched alessia do countless times, instead booting it halfway across the backyard with an annoyed huff.

"babe did you trip again?" you returned your gaze down to alessia, but your laughter caught in your throat as you did so, the blonde staring up at you like a deer in headlights with a tiny red box in her hand.

you knew you shouldn't say it, but the words came tumbling out of your mouth like a flood before you could stop them.

"oh my god you're proposing." you choked out, alessias mouth opening and closing like a fish. "no im-" but seeing the way your face automatically fell at just those two words, the regret and embarrassment now filling your features, coupled with the multiple sets of eyes she could feel staring at the pair of you from back inside the house.

she made a decision.

"yes. yes i am!" she quickly clarified as you now watched on with shock, alessia shaking her head a few times and exhaling shakily. "um-look i had a whole plan and a speech and it was much more elaborate and romantic and thoughtful than well...this." alessia started nervously, adjusting herself to be on one knee.

"but then bella found the ring early and let it slip to my parents and she brought it here to show them, without me knowing, and then the more people knew the more i worried it would get back to you before i was ready and when i tell you i had a plan i had a plan! i promise. it was-" alessia spoke a million miles an hour as you struggled to keep up, clearing your throat suddenly.

"less, my love, you're rambling." you smiled, still able to find some amusement in this situation as the blonde nodded profusely, pausing for a moment and taking a deep breath.

"this wasn't how i planned it, like at all. but i love you more than anything, i love isabella with my everything, and i want to cement a loving and stable future with both of you. so, will you marry me?" alessia finally popped the question, and you knew your answer, but you just couldn't seem to get the words out.

feeling a hand slip into yours you looked down, finding your daughter stood beside you with a cheshire like grin.

"mummy, just say yes."

and thats exactly what you did.

#woso x reader #alessia russo imagine #alessia russo x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs

513 notes · View notes

ineffectualdemon · 3 months ago

Text

I think some online leftists need to read Interesting Times by Terry Pratchett but believe him about it not being about China because it's not about China

These two sections live in my head rent free:

"‘Look,’ he said, rubbing his forehead. ‘All those people out in the fields, the water buffalo people . . . If you have a revolution it’ll all be better for them, will it?’

‘Of course,’ said Butterfly. ‘They will no longer be subject to the cruel and capricious whims of the Forbidden City.’

‘Oh, that’s good,’ said Rincewind. ‘So they’ll sort of be in charge of themselves, will they?’

‘Indeed,’ said Lotus Blossom.

‘By means of the People’s Committee,’ said Butterfly.

Rincewind pressed both hands to his head.

‘My word,’ he said. ‘I don’t know why, but I had this predictive flash!’

They looked impressed.

‘I had this sudden feeling,’ he went on, ‘that there won’t be all that many water buffalo string holders on the People’s Committee. In fact . . . I get this kind of . . . voice telling me that a lot of the People’s Committee, correct me if I’m wrong, are standing in front of me right now?’

‘Initially, of course,’ said Butterfly. ‘The peasants can’t even read and write.’

‘I expect they don’t even know how to farm properly,’ said Rincewind, gloomily. ‘Not after doing it for only three or four thousand years.’

‘We certainly believe that there are many improvements that could be made, yes,’ said Butterfly. ‘If we act collectively.’

‘I bet they’ll be really glad when you show them,’ said Rincewind."

Pgs 198-199 of the Kindle edition

And

"‘You see those armies over there?’ he said.

The buffalo holder concentrated his gaze.

‘Yes,’ he decided.

‘They’re fighting for you.’ The man did not appear moved by this. The water buffalo burped gently.

‘Some want to see you enslaved and some want you to run the country, or at least to let them run the country while telling you it’s you doing it really,’ said Rincewind. ‘There’s going to be a terrible battle. I can’t help wondering . . . What do you want?’

The buffalo holder absorbed this one for consideration, too. And it seemed to Rincewind that the slowness of the thought process wasn’t due to native stupidity, but more to do with the sheer size of the question. He could feel it spreading out so that it incorporated the soil and the grass and the sun and headed on out into the universe.

Finally the man said:

‘A longer piece of string would be nice.’"

P 227 of the Kindle edition

This this very relevant to a lot of leftist discourse bullshit I see everyday

#discworld #interesting times

677 notes · View notes

beloveds-embrace · 4 months ago

Text

Until the Last Loop: the Execution

(How many times must you repeat the same song and dance before the curtain falls?

poly mercenaries 141 x princess reader, time loop

The crowd screamed for your blood.

Their voices rolled over the courtyard like thunder- sharp, frenzied, and hungry, sharks smelling blood in the waters. You didn’t flinch. You had stopped flinching a long time ago. Instead, you stood on the scaffold with your wrists bound in rusted iron and your knees aching from where you’d been forced to kneel, a once-proud back bent into prostration.

The cold bites through the thin silk of your dress. You feel the rough wood splintering beneath your knees, the way the wind stings your skin, the weight of the executioner’s shadow looming above you.

You were not allowed the dignity of a white dress, or a veil or a blindfold. You never were.

The wood creaked beneath you as the executioner shifted, sharpening his blade against a whetstone. Sparks flew, bright and vengeful. You didn’t look at him. You didn’t look at the crowd either, for they were all familiar scenes- so much so you were sure that if you were to be given a canvas and paint, you would be able to redraw it all simply from memory.

Instead, your gaze wandered.

You let your eyes drift across the sea of faces twisted in hatred, searching for the one thing that hadn’t changed in all these lifetimes-

And there he was.

You spotted him near the back, the man in the crowd. As always, standing just close enough to see the platform clearly but far enough to remain unnoticed by the mob. Hooded, broad-shouldered, and still. He didn’t yell. He didn’t jeer.

He just watched. He always did. The same stance, the same gaze.

Your stomach twisted, but you forced yourself to look away. He had been there in every loop, always standing in that exact spot, and you had stopped trying to understand why. Whatever answer you might have once craved had been buried under exhaustion and bitter acceptance, and the defeating knowledge of not knowing where to even start searching for him.

The executioner finished sharpening his blade and stepped closer, his boots heavy against the wood. The crowd’s roar swelled as the official stepped forward and began to read the charges- words you had heard so many times they no longer felt real. Were they here, you wondered, listening to your crimes?

“Treason against the Crown.”

Your nails dug into your palms.

“Conspiracy to overthrow His Majesty.”

You exhaled slowly.

“Attempted regicide.”

The crowd erupted at that, like oil meeting water, and you wondered- not for the first time- if they even cared whether the charges were true. It didn’t matter. They just wanted someone to blame.

And you had always been an easy target.

The executioner raised the blade. The sun caught its edge, and for a brief moment, you saw your reflection- tired eyes, hollow cheeks, and lips pressed into something that could no longer be called a smile.

The crowd roared louder. The executioner took his stance.

You closed your eyes.

And the blade fell.

You wake with a gasp.

The silk sheets cling to your skin, damp with sweat. Your heart hammers against your ribs, a wild animal escaping the clutches of its predator, and for one wild moment, you’re sure you can still feel the blade at your neck, the bite of steel against soft, tender flesh-

But there’s no blood. No pain.

Just sunlight streaming through the tall windows, warm and golden, painting the room in the soft golds and reds of the afternoon.

You stare at the ceiling, swallowing against the bile rising in your throat. The air smells like jasmine and lavender. It always does.

You force yourself to sit up even when your muscles ache, and your wrists burn with phantom pain from where the shackles had been. There are no marks, but the memory lingers, haunting every little move you make.

How many times now?

You stopped counting after twenty. It didn’t matter. It never changed.

The knock at the door comes exactly when you expect it, after you had forced yourself to clean away the sweat rolling down your skin and sat at your settee, begging your heart to calm down.

“Your Highness?”

Your maid’s voice.

You already know what she’ll say, what expression she’ll wear when she steps inside. But you don’t move.

The door opens, and she enters with a bow, her hands folded neatly in front of her, expression detached and polite. And behind her, four men follow.

You don’t need to look to know who they are. They’ve been with you every life, always the same tune and dance.

He stands at the front, broad-shouldered and commanding, streaks of gray in his beard and sharp eyes that feel like knives. You meet his gaze, by now fully used to him and his presence. Price- John, he’d said you can call him either in your last few lives, when your spoilt attitude had been stripped off you with each death.

“You ain’t so bad, princess. Not a hoity-toity piece of work.”

Slowly, the others trickle in after him.

The mask hides most of his face, but you don’t need to see it to know what’s underneath is Ghost. He watches you the way a predator watches its prey- calm, patient, and ready to strike, but you know that later, he will ever so slightly warm up to you.

“I don’t know what to do… I haven’t done anything! You have to believe me!”

“I know. But you’ll catch a cold if you stay out any longer, princess.”

Soap smiles when he steps inside, easy and disarming, but you see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hand rests near the dagger at his hip. That same dagger has saved you before, but not always. In some lives, he is not there with you when you get ambushed- you were such a hard thing to get along with before- and yet in other lives…

“Wee lass, tell me where ye’re goin’, and I’ll protect ye always, aye?”

Quiet, steady, and sharp, like a hawk out for hunting. Gaz’s eyes sweep the room, cataloging every detail before they land on you and he nods towards you. Polite, always polite, even when you’d been like a hissy, feral cat towards him in times. Gentle when you’d been a quiet, reserved version of yourself.

“…will you stay with me? Just tonight? Please, Gaz… I feel lonely.”

“Course, princess. You don’t have to ask.”

You exhale slowly.

They’re different from the crowd, from the nobles and commoners of the kingdom. Always have been, always will be. They don’t look at you with hatred, even if they have their own misconceptions of you. But they’re still here, still close, in this life and before and next and that makes them special to you.

And this time, you… don’t have the energy to keep yourself away from them.

Price steps forward first, always the leader.

“Princess,” he says, and there’s something heavy in the way he says it. Like it means more than just a title. Or maybe less; mercenaries care little for royalty beyond what they can offer them. “We’re here to protect you.”

You almost laugh. Hired by king for no knight wanted to work for you, the shameful stain no one wanted to acknowledge or favor too much.

Instead, you turn your head and stare out the window, heart still pounding against your ribs.

“You’re wasting your time.”

You expect them to leave, even if you shouldn’t. Most people do when you push them away. Though you told yourself you won’t keep yourself away from them, you also truly want to just exist quietly, unperceived, until the inevitable hour arrives and you return back to this point.

But Price doesn’t listen to you, unsurprisingly. You can see your maid scoff about his nonchalant manner out of the corner of your eye.

“We’ll see about that, Your Highness.” He says, unbothered by your attitude.

And when you finally look at him again, his eyes are lingering on you- steady and sharp.

And thus, the loop starts anew.

Part Two

Masterlist

756 notes · View notes

agreeewrites · 2 months ago

Text

A Madness Most Discreet pt. 2 | G.W.

feat. George Weasley x Malfoy!reader

summary: You and George grow closer after Gryffindor beats Slytherin in the first Quidditch match of the year, succumbing the magnetic pull towards one another. But things only get more complicated when the two of you return to the harsh reality of your situation.

cw: MDNI 18+, smut, mentions of injury, simp!George, dirty talk, oral (m receiving), piv, cruel parents, hurt/comfort, naive!reader, mentions of war and death eaters, lying (or withholding the entire truth)

series navigation | part one | part three | masterlist | divider by @roseraris

You tossed and turned all night, seeing George, feeling his hands on you every time you closed your eyes. Before you knew it, the sun was shining, and everyone was getting ready for the first Quidditch match of the season.

Slytherin versus Gryffindor.

Your heart gave an excited trill. George was a Beater on the Gryffindor team, and even though he'd be slinging bowling balls of fury at your brother, you found yourself eager to see him in action.

You quickly got ready for the match and followed the rest of your house to the pitch. The energy was palpable, the rivalry one that never failed to draw a massive crowd. Unfortunately, it was a gloomy, overcast day, rain misting over the campus in a continuous haze.

Slytherin came out first, with Draco and Blaise leading the emerald charge. The Slytherin stands roared for them, jostling you and stomping on the stands. But the rest of stadium was silent as stone, many people even going so far as to start booing.

It hurt your heart a little, to see so many praying on Draco's downfall, but he didn't seem even marginally phased. His chin is lifted, his spine straight, a regal smile on his face even as the rain slicked down his hair.

A few moments later, the Gryffindor team exploded out of the tunnel, Harry and Ron at the head. But your eye immediately found George, leaning forward on his broom to rocket out above the pitch. He and Fred spiraled around one another before separating way above your head, red and gold fireworks shooting out between them as they plummeted back down.

The crowd whooped and cheered. “Weasley! Weasley! Weasley!” And you shook your head, catching the cheeky grin on his face when he flew by.

The game started quickly, and despite your best efforts, you couldn't take your eyes off of George. He was a master on the broom, and brutal with his Beater Bat. The strength and dexterity alone had your thighs clenching together, but coupled with his rain-soaked body, carefree smile, and contagious enthusiasm, you were ready to snatch him out of the air and drag him back to your room.

Madam Hootch called a temporary pause when a one of George's bludgers knocked the Slytherin Keeper backwards through the hoop, and into the infirmary.

The crowd was screaming for him, girls waving their scarves from every house, vying for his attention. But instead of paying them any mind, he hovered in front of the Slytherin stands. Whether he was extremely brave, or extremely stupid, you weren't sure. But he was eye level with you, twirling his bat in his hand, water droplets flinging off the end of it.

You heart rate spiked. He was close enough you could almost touch him. Could see the water beading along his brow, the mud smudged on his cheek.

“Begin!” Madam Hootch hollered, and George flashed you a wink before taking off once more.

Cheeks burning, you turned you attention where it should be, on Draco, who was hovering by the Gryffindor goal posts, eyes searching. Suddenly, he took off, Harry hot on his heels. They zigzagged across the field, clearly in pursuit of the nearly invisible snitch.

You saw Fred smack a bludger in Draco's direction and lost your breath, but Draco ducked at the last second, and it whizzed by him. He was rapidly gaining on the snitch, but so was Harry. The crowd was on the edge of their seats, you heart pounding in your ears.

“Go Draco!” You screamed, hands cupped around your mouth.

Suddenly, Draco grabbed Harry by the hood and yanked him backwards, nearly taking him off of his broom. Gryffindor booed, and Madam Hootch blasted the whistle, but the game kept going.

Harry managed to stay up, and even started to pull ahead again, when Draco reached for him once more.

A deafening crack echoed across the pitch. You looked for the source of the sound and saw George finish his follow through, bat arm raised high. The bludger was like a missile directed straight at Draco, and your stomach plummeted.

If there was one thing you'd learned throughout the match: George Weasley never missed.

The bludger beamed straight for Draco, but at the last moment, it whistled just under his arm, snagging the extra fabric of his robes and pulling him off course, missing his actual body entirely. If it had hit him…you shuddered. Draco's arm would have been snapped clean in half.

Moments later, Harry wrapped his hand around the snitch, and the stands erupted in cheers.

“Gryffindor wins!”

You were torn in two: half-disappointed for your brother, half-elated for George. But you knew Draco needed you more. It wasn’t like you could go celebrate with George, no matter how much you wanted to. So, you hurried out of the stands before the ocean of people started to move, Blaise at your back, making a beeline for the Slytherin locker rooms.

“He's going to be so pissed,” Blaise said, opening the locker room door for you.

You found Draco immediately, berating the Slytherin Beaters for not dealing with the Weasley twins sooner.

“D!” You called and he opened an arm to you, but didn't pause his raging. You slipped underneath it, wrapping your arms around his middle, not caring that he was soaked to the bone and near trembling with outrage.

“You will be on the pitch at dawn and practice until classes begin, then from the end of classes to dinner. Understood?!” Draco barked at the cowering Beaters.

“Yes, sir,” they said in unison.

“Get out of my fucking face,” he snapped, before turning fully and hugging you against his chest. “Fucking Weasley's,” he grumbled, resting his chin on top of your head. “Should teach those worthless fuckers a lesson.”

You bit your tongue, anger flaring hot under your skin at his cruel words. You knew he was just speaking out of insecurity, but it still didn't sit well with you. No one was worthless.

But, instead of telling him off like you wanted to, you handled it how you did when your father was in a mood: by placating him. “You did amazing. And I'm so glad I finally got to see you play.”

“Would have been better if you saw me win. What does that say about me that I can’t beat a fucking Weasley.”

You leaned back, flicking his nose. “Stop with that self-depricating shit. It makes you look weak,” you parroted your father, knowing it would snap him out of it even if the words tasted bitter on your tongue.

“Yes, father,” he glowered, releasing you to greet Blaise with a handshake and quick hug.

You slipped away, finding Pansy in the crowd and together returned to the Slytherin common room, but the vibes were sour and hostile after such a narrow loss. After showering, Draco went straight to the conjured bar, hellbent on drowning his sorrows in liquor, leaving you alone, surrounded by drunken strangers fawning all over you. Not for the first time, you wondered if they even saw you, or just your name, flashing like a marquise over your head.

Malfoy! Malfoy! Malfoy!

They didn’t give a fuck about you, all they cared about was your favor, and the glimmer of power they could skim off of you.

All you could think about was George. He was the first person that saw you, not your name, not your legacy, but you. You weren’t sure if anyone else ever had.

To your family, you were the precious daughter, the shining jewel of the Malfoy crown. To Draco, you were another burden. You knew he loved you, but you were just another person to impress, to protect, to worry about. Another responsibility heaped onto his already bowed shoulders.

The common room door opened, and you spotted a paper bird soar through. You followed it with your eyes, mildly interested, when suddenly it turned towards you. Your eyes widened as it swooped closer, sailing just over your head, then fluttered down into your lap.

Hastily, you tucked it into your robes and excused yourself, slipping into a shadowed corner. You carefully unfolded the bird, heart in your throat.

Astronomy Tower. G

George's POV

George sat in a window of the Astronomy Tower, one foot propped up on the sill, the other resting on the floor. He twirled his wand in his hand, uncertainty making him fidget.

He'd tried to stay at the Gryffindor party and let loose, he really did, but all he could think about was you. The way you tasted, the way you felt, the way you made him feel. It was an endless loop in his mind, your lips on his, your pulse under his fingertips, your body moving into his, over and over and over and over—

“So, this is how you want to celebrate you victory?” Your voice echoed along the stone, yanking him from his reverie.

He dropped his foot and turned, his breath hitching when his eyes landed on you. Your lips were painted red, glossy in the moonlight, dressed in a white blouse and your Slytherin skirt. It had only been a few hours since he saw you bundled up in the stands, how could he have forgotten just how beautiful you were?

You strode closer, steps light and graceful across the stone. “There must be a rager happening in the Gryffindor common room? And yet—” you stepped between his knees, placing your manicured hands on his shoulders and looking up at him. “Here you are.”

It took all of his self-control to not kiss you right then and there. “Had other things on my mind,” he said with a shy smile, pocketing his wand and sliding his hands along the gentle slope of your ribcage, pulling you closer.

“Like?” You prodded.

“What about you? Things a little tense in the dungeon?” He teased, knowing exactly how sullen Draco would be after a loss on his account. Though, the victory had been decidedly less sweet after seeing the concern on your face as you fled the stands after your brother.

“Thank you for not breaking his arm,” you said.

His brow furrowed, surprised. “How do you know I wasn't trying to?”

“I was watching you, George. You could have taken his head off his shoulders if you wanted to.”

He shrugged a shoulder, humble as he could manage, though the praise filled his chest with light.

“Why didn't you?” You asked. “He deserved a good whack for what he did to Potter.”

George found himself at a loss for words, stunned by what he was hearing. You were so un-Draco-like, it was mind boggling. You had all of the pomp, all of the swagger, but none of the vitriol. You were genuine. Honest. He struggled to reconcile the relation of you, this beautiful, open-hearted, whip-smart creature, with the hard-headed, little bitch blondie he'd known for years.

“I'm not one to cause unnecessary harm—” he started.

“You sent that Keeper to the infirmary without a second thought,” you cut him off.

He loosed a chuckle. You were so refreshingly blunt, a trait he deeply appreciated. “Fine. I thought you'd be angry with me if I hurt him,” he admitted.

Your eyes flitted over his face as if searching for something. “You're too kind, Georgie,” you finally murmured, cupping his face in your delicate hands. You placed a kiss on his nose, his eyelids, his cheeks, and he melted for you, pliable as wet clay, and prayed your lipstick left its mark. “So sweet for considering my feelings.”

His heart nearly leapt out of his chest, his stomach clenching when so sweet rolled off your tongue. He exhaled, his affection taking up too much space in his chest to hold air.

“But George—” you gripped his jaw a little firmer and he opened his eyes, finding your face a few scant centimeters from his. “I have all the yes men I could want. I don't need another spineless twit.” Your other hand flattened against his sternum, feeling the heavy thump thump thump of his racing heart.

“Tired of cold, callous snakes?” He asked, placing his hand over yours on his chest.

“Merlin, yes,” you breathed. “You feel so…” your fingers curled into his sweater, pulling him a fraction closer. “So real.”

“Oh, I'm very real. But I'm not convinced you are.” He let his other hand slide around to your lower back, closing the last inch between your bodies. You smelled of cigarette smoke and expensive perfume, a bit of lavender oil on your skin.

“Why's that?” Your hands found their way into his hair, gliding your nails along his scalp in a way that made his bones soften, his eyes roll back.

“Too bloody perfect.” The last of his restraint slipped away, and he pressed a kiss to the side of your mouth, making his way down to your throat. He lifted your hair, revealing the mark he'd left the day before, and dragged his tongue over it, imaging how many more he could leave on countless hidden places.

“Are we insane?” you sighed, tilting your head back for him, so beautifully vulnerable.

He certainly felt insane—insane with desire for you. But he shook his head. “No, I think it's the rest of them that are mad,” he murmured against your skin, wanting to drown in your scent, your warmth.

“I think you're right.”

Reader’s POV

George slid his fingers into the hair at the nape of your neck, guiding your lips to his. A thrill coursed down your spine and you sighed, gliding your tongue over his lower lip.

He groaned, his grip on your hair tightening, and his tongue brushed against yours. Slowly, he coaxed your mouth open, lush licks and lingering presses, his hands firm but not rough. Like he was savoring a fine meal, a deliberate and purposeful devouring.

But you weren't nearly as patient as he was.

You caught his lower lip between your teeth, tugging lightly, and his breath caught in his chest. You soothed the sting with your tongue and released him, kissing the corner of his mouth, across his freckled jaw and down his neck, leaving smears of lipstick over his fair skin. Marking him as yours.

“Definitely aren't real,” he sighed, tilting his head back as your nursed a bruise under his ear, your head going fuzzy from the overwhelming smell of his cologne. “Is it true that Malfoy's have Veela blood?”

You huffed a laugh, breaking the seal of your lips on his flesh, and lowered yourself to your knees between his legs.

His eyes widened is surprise, his body freezing like a deer in headlights.

“What makes you think I'm part-Veela?” You asked, running your hands up his thighs, the muscles trembling under your touch.

“I-uh, well—you’re so—p-pretty and—saints.” George stuttered as you leaned forward, his bulge straining against his jeans.

You brushed your lips against the covered swell of him, and a strangled gasp escaped from his chest. “You think I'm pretty, baby?” You asked without removing your lips from his cock, glancing up at him through your lashes, and you felt him surge under the warmth of your mouth.

“D-don't start with me, rattlesnake,” he groaned when you dragged your tongue over the root of him. He threaded his fingers into your hair, his other hand gripping sill of the stone window, grounding himself. “You know you're gorgeous.”

“I do,” you replied, sliding down his zipper. You got a peak of his green checkered boxers, and you smiled to yourself. “But I like hearing you say it.”

His grip on your roots loosened, and he smoothed his hand over your hair, casting a lovesick smile down at you. “You're the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen,” he murmured, bringing his thumb around to tug at your lower lip.

You dabbed your tongue against the pad of his finger before wrapping your lips around it, sucking it gently into the warmth of your mouth, the salty taste of his skin sparkling over your tongue.

“You're going to be the death of me,” he gruffed, watching you nurse his thumb with lust-fogged eyes, leaving a ring of red around his knuckle.

You grinned, pleased with yourself when he retracted his hand. As he shifted back, you moved forward, reaching for the throbbing ridge of his cock.

“You really want to do this?” He asked, looking around the empty tower. “Here?”

“Yes,” you replied immediately, saliva pooling under your tongue when his cock gave another lurch. “I really, really do.”

You were a physical kind of person, finding joy in giving and receiving touch, and all you could think about was making George feel good, making him happy, and showing him just how much you liked him.

“You're a wild little thing, you know that?” The end of the question twisted into a groan when you finally pulled him out of his boxers, hot and flushed a feverish pink, a string of precum dripping down the veiny shaft.

You licked your lips, wrapping your hand around his base. Fuck, he was thick. “Does that scare you?” You asked, dragging your hand up and down his length, applying the lightest pressure.

“Fuck yes, it scares me,” he panted, head falling back on his shoulders. “You scare the hell out of me.”

You tsked, running your tongue along the underside of him, and he shuddered, a whine eeking through his teeth. “I'm on my knees, George. How scary can I be?” You wrapped your lips around the head, tasting the musk of his skin, and sucked softly, tempering your eagerness to savor his reactions.

“Seven fucking saints, woman—fuck.” His hand fisted your hair again, practically trembling with the effort of not pushing you down further. “Have a little mercy.”

You started bobbing your head up and down, humming in approval at the way his cock kicked against your tongue. Lashes fluttering closed, you lost yourself in the feel of him, the soft sounds of pleasure spilling for his lips like prayers. Soothed by the rhythmic motions and pulse of his heart.

His hand moved for you hair to underneath your jaw, fingers stretched across to brace the span of it. “I wish I could take a picture of you,” he murmured, thumb stroking your cheek. “You look so fucking beautiful it hurts.”

Your eyes opened, looking up at him haloed in moonlight, cheeks flushed and chest heaving, eyes glossy as starshine. You knew that look. It was how people looked at the sunset, the full moon, the ocean. It was how people looked at things they adored, things they loved.

And George was looking at you like that.

You couldn't help yourself. You stood up, grabbing his stupid, beautiful, perfect face and crashing your lips to his. His arms enveloped you, hauling you into his chest as he kissed you deeper, his tongue stealing the taste of himself for your lips.

His hands slipped lower, hooking the backs of your thighs, and he stood, lifting you up into the air and wrapping your legs around his waist. Your back collided with the stone wall, the cold rock doing nothing to quell the heat blooming under your skin. Your lips never separated, and you moaned against his mouth when his cock grazed the thin barrier of your panties, practically non-existent in their dampened state.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he grated, one of his hands shifting so his finger could hook the gusset of your underwear.

“Don't stop—” you gasped when a rip echoed around the lofty space, and you felt the elastic of your underwear give way, tearing off your body. “George! Those were designer!” You cried, equal parts exasperated and wildly turned on.

He huffed a laugh, swiping the head of his cock through your drooling slit. “You're ridiculous,” he chuckled, voice laden with affection. “Ready, love?” He rested his forehead against yours.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. “Please, baby.”

He smiled, pressing his lips to yours as he slowly speared you on his length, the stretch making you gasp as pleasure unspooled in your belly.

George groaned your name, sweet as honey, and your pussy clenched around him, dragging him that last inch into your heat. His lips moved down your neck, soothing you as he withdrew his hips, then thrust back into you, making you cry out.

“Feel so fucking perfect,” he panted against your throat, lifting and lowering you on his cock. “Fuck, you're so tight. Gonna ruin me.”

“George, shit—fuck me, please,” you begged, nails gauging holes in his poor sweater as you clung onto his shoulders.

He nodded, snapping his hips faster and faster, fucking you open. “Taking that cock so well, such a good girl f’me,” he growled, nipping at your throat when you keened a little too loudly, the sound echoing like a church bell around you. “If I'm ruined, so are you.”

He kissed you hard, teeth and tongues clashing as he pounded you up the wall, your body completely immobilized between him and the stone. His pelvis was creating just enough friction on your clit to have you seeing stars, and suddenly you were toppling over the edge—struck like lightning as your orgasm burned through you.

He devoured every one of your cries, not relenting for a second as you crumbled in his arms. “That's it, that's my fucking girl. You can give me one more, c’mon, rattlesnake,” he ordered, his thrusts growing sloppy as he approached his own release. “Can feel you tightening back up already, little cunt squeezing me so hard—go on, pretty girl, give it to me—”

Your cry of ecstasy cut him off, and your second orgasm dragged him over the edge, his thick cock bucking hard as he painted your spasming walls white. All you could see was stars, your entire body tingling with to force of it, pleasure sapping every ounce of strength and tension from your body.

Boneless, you slumped in his arms, trembling legs falling to the floor beneath you.

“Baby—babygirl, are you okay?” He asked, gently lowering you to the ground and bundling you into his lap.

“M'perfect,” you panted, lolling your head against his shoulder as your mind slowly pieces itself together, feeling starting to return to your fingers and toes.

He pressed kisses into your hair, cradling you protectively in his arms. “That was insane,” he chuckled, nuzzling into your shoulder. “I—you—fuck.”

You giggled, breathless. “That was insane.”

The clock tower rolled, rattling your teeth in your skull, and you clung a bit tighter to him, startled.

He shushed you, covering your ear with one hand and pressing the other to his chest, filling your mind with the steady thump thump thump of his heart.

You couldn't recall feeling safer than you do in that moment.

“That's curfew, love,” he said, disappointment clear in his voice.

You sighed as your heart sank, lifting your head and meeting his eyes. “I've never wanted to stay before,” you murmured, and his eyes melted, warm and dark as cocoa.

You didn't expect it to be this hard—having to leave him afterwards. But you wanted to linger in his arms, talk and cuddle, maybe doze off together, wake up too-warm and tangled in his sheets. Such simple, beautiful, impossible things. And you wanted them all with him.

“I wish we could,” he replied, tilting your chin up to peck your lips. “Merlin, I wish we could…”

“Draco would kill you,” you chuckled, tucking a stars of copper hair behind his ear.

“I can take that weasel.” George smirked, kissing you again.

You swatted his chest, giggling as his fingers tickled along your ribs, your chest glowing with joy. “That, I don't doubt.”

He sighed, pushing himself up and setting you on your feet. “Can I walk you to the stairs?” Some of his mirth seemed to ebb, sadness creeping back into his expression.

You stood on your toes to kiss his cheek. “I insist.”

He offered you his elbow and you looped your arm through his, walking together slowly down the stairs. At the bottom, you turned to face him.

“Goodnight, Georgie,” you said, hoping you don't sound as pitiful as you feel.

“Goodnight, darling.” He brought your knuckles to his lips, pressing a chaste kiss into your skin. “I'll see you tomorrow?”

You nodded, taking a few steps back, your fingers still clutched in his hand. “Tomorrow’s not so far, yeah?”

He gave you a half-smile, though it didn't meet his eyes. “Yeah.” His fingers finally released yours, and you felt like someone severed your arm from your body.

“Night, Georgie.” You blew him a kiss before hurrying down the hall, unable to bear the sadness in his eyes a second longer.

George's POV

George pushed his breakfast around his plate, staring a hole into the table in front of him. His friends talked excitedly around him, still amped about the match the day before, but George couldn't muster up the enthusiasm.

Going to bed without you the night before was one of the hardest things he'd done in recent memory. He stared at the ceiling for hours, replaying every second of the night, trying to memorize the way your body moved, the curve of your smile, and how it crumbled so gorgeously when you came for him. Not once, but twice.

The way you looked at him, like he'd hung the moon and stars, stuck in his chest like an arrow.

And now he found his gaze continually drifting to the entrance to he Great Hall, just waiting for you breeze through, well rested and untroubled.

Was this killing you the way it was killing him?

And why was it killing him?

It's not like he could be developing feelings for you, a Malfoy—

“George, what's up, mate?” Lee knocked his foot under the table, bringing him back to the present, and his friends all staring at him with mild concern.

George cleared his throat, straightening and shoving a bite of toast into his mouth. It tasted like cardboard. “Slept like shit, tweaked my back or something in the match,” he lied. Well, it wasn't entirely a lie. His back was sore, but from something infinitely more worthwhile than a match.

Did he really just think that? Fuck, what were you doing to him?

“Probably that rocket you sent at Malfoy,” Fred chuckled. “Too bad it didn't take his fucking head off right?”

They all whooped and hollered, high-fiving and jostling George.

“Guess my aim was off,” he shrugged, washing down the toast with a swig of orange juice. “You must be rubbing off on me, Freddie.”

The doors to the Great Hall swung open, and he saw Draco enter first, looking sullen and rotten as usual. You, brilliant, energetic you, came sauntering in behind him, arm and arm with Pansy as you laughed about something. The sound carried across the Hall, turning plenty of heads, but George looked back down at his plate, pretending your joy didn't light him up from the inside out.

He forced himself to join his friends conversation, if anything so he could keep his eyes moving, flitting back to you every few moments. You sat between your brother and Blaise, drinking a cup of tea and nibbling on a pastry.

Even from across the Hall, he could tell you weren't really listening to Draco. You had that same glassy-eyed look you got when Snape lectured in Potions, and George chuckled to himself.

His attention was broken when the owls came screeching in, letters and packages and feathers raining down on every table. Errol dropped a letter in front of Fred before landing clumsily on the table. The envelope was addressed to the four siblings and Harry.

Fred tore it open, waving Ginny, Ron, and Harry over from a few seats down, and began reading their parents typical weekly update.

But then, a booming shout echoed across the Hall, making the candles overhead flicker and extinguish, and a hush fell over the students.

“Someone’s got a howler,” Fred whispered, setting their own letter down.

“YOU DARE DISOBEY YOUR BROTHER AND VENTURE AROUND THE CASTLE UNACCOMPANIED!”

George immediately recognized the voice, his blood running cold.

Lucius Malfoy.

You sat curled into your self, staring wide eyed at the paper replica of your father's face hovering in front of you. George's heart cracked when he saw you bite your lower lip to keep it from trembling.

“YOU REPRESENT THE HOUSE OF MALFOY AND YOU WILL BEHAVE ACCORDINGLY. IF I HEAR OF YOUR INSUBORDINATION AGAIN, YOU ARE COMING STRAIGHT HOME!”

George very nearly stormed over there, fingers itching to rip the paper-Lucius apart, but then it burst into green flame, startling you to your feet.

The Great Hall was silent, Lucius’ voice ringing in everyone's ears, all eyes on you.

Draco stood with you, tried to take your hand, but you shook him off.

“How could you?!” You cried, angry tears rolling down your cheeks. George almost thought you were going to slap him, but then you turned on your heel, storming out of the Great Hall and slamming the doors closed behind you.

Immediately, conversation exploded, the gossip mill already turning.

“What the fuck was that about?” Lee said, turning back to the group.

“Daddy's little princess has fallen from her tower,” Fred joked, and George grit his teeth, anger simmering in his chest.

He watched and waited for Draco to get up and follow you, for any of your “friends” to go check on you, but none of them moved a muscle. Turning their attention back to their breakfast like nothing at all happened.

It made his stomach turn.

Should he go to you? Sit here and defend you? Play along with everyone else—no, he couldn't do that. Throttle Draco for snitching on you? That he could do. He'd just have to pretend it was for some other reason. But he could do that later. Right now, you needed him.

He reached farther than necessary for an orange, and cried out in pretend pain, clutching his back.

“Shit, man. Maybe you should go to Pomfry,” Fred said, concern flashing across his face.

George didn't have it in him to feel guilty for lying. “Yeah, yeah I think I will,” he said, pretending to wince as he straightened.

“Need me to walk with you?” Fred offered.

“Nah, I'm good. Some salve should take care of it. I'll see you later at practice,” George said, clapping his brother on the shoulder and waving to his friends before limping out of the Great Hall.

As soon as the doors closed behind him, he straightened, bolting down the corridor.

Where would you be?

He tried the closest girls lavatories, empty classrooms, broom closets, searching every alcove for you, until finally, it dawned on him.

He booked it to the library, probably failing at looking inconspicuous, but he was past caring. Aisle after aisle, he navigated the empty library until it spit him out by the corner the two of you studied in. And there you were, curled up under the window with your arms around your knees, head tucked down.

“Hey, love,” he said softly, not wanting to startle you. You startled anyways, something he was starting to realize you did often.

You relaxed when you realized it was him. “Hey,” you sniffled, wiping your cheeks, eyes puffy and bloodshot.

“Can I sit?” He asked, gesturing to the floor beside you.

You nodded, and he lowered himself down beside you, legs stretched out in front of him. He wasn't sure if you wanted to be touched, but then you leaned into him, a flower tilting towards the sun, and his heart melted. He draped an arm over your shoulders, tucking you into his side.

“I'm sorry, baby,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your head. “Howlers suck.”

“I'm not upset about the Howler,” you said, voice barely above a whisper.

His brow furrowed. “No?”

You shook your head. “Draco was supposed to protect me, but instead he—” your voice caught in your throat, a hiccuping sob emerging instead. “He went behind my back and told father—we never tell father.”

George rubbed your back, trying to soothe you as the tears started again, soaking into his shirt. He wasn't very good in these situations, his own family sucked at emotional vulnerability, but he wanted desperately to take away your hurt. It was so strange to see his bold, outspoken girl curled into yourself like this.

He hated every second of it.

“Did Draco admit it was him?” George asked, perturbed that he was in a position to potentially defend Draco. But if it made you feel better…

“No, but who else?” You asked, picking your head up to look at him.

He swiped away your tears with his thumb. “Could have been one of his goons, Snape…”

“Snape?” You raised an incredulous eyebrow.

Your surprise…surprised him. “Yes?” He replied, mimicking your brow lift. “That's exactly the kind of thing he would do.”

“Why?”

George opened his mouth, then closed it. Did you really not know? How couldn’t you?

“Because he's a Death Eater, y/n,” George said, trying to keep his voice measured. “And friendly with your father.”

You blinked, clearly taken aback. “He is? Snivellus?”

George snorted in disbelief. “Yes. Death Eaters are everywhere, even Hogwarts. The Ministry too…”

“Wait—you're being serious?”

“Yes, baby. I'm being serious. It's—there's a war brewing.” He was completely shocked. He knew you were sheltered, possibly a bit naive, but you were too smart to be this unaware.

Unless, of course, you'd been lied to.

He could beat your father to death with that fucking cane. Keeping you in the dark like this was dangerous. How were you supposed to protect yourself if you didn't know what the threat was?

You looked away from him, face screwed up in consternation. “I mean, I know my family’s reputation, and that…he might be back. And I’ve heard some things in the halls, and in the Daily Prophet…but that's just a rag, right?” You looked up at him, so hopeful that he'd tell you everything was okay, that things weren’t as precarious as he was implying, and he understood a little more why your family kept you in the dark.

Even though he knew he should, he just couldn't bring himself to dash that glimmer of hope.

He tucked you back into the safety of his side, kissing the crown of your head. “It's a rag, love.” Not completely a lie. The Prophet had certainly spread enough bullshit about his family that he knew first-hand how untrustworthy it was. “And things are tense right now, but Hogwarts is safe, okay? You're safe.” Also not completely a lie. As long as Dumbledore was in the castle, you were mostly safe…mostly.

You nodded, hands curling into his shirt, and his chest ached with guilt.

He should have known you didn’t understand the severity of the situation. If you did, you probably wouldn’t be here, cuddled into his side in the first place. You probably would have never looked his way at all.

But he knew, and he looked. He allowed things to progress, encouraged it even. He knew that the rift between your family was more than just politics, was more than a class divide, and he still didn’t stop this.

His head thunked back against the wall, and he peered down at you, your breathing evening out, body warm against him, and knew that he still wasn’t willing to end things with you. Because you weren’t Lucius. You weren’t Draco. You weren’t a Death Eater.

You were just a girl, caught up in a war started by the people in power long before either of you existed, and just happened to be born on the opposite side as himself. He couldn’t fault you for that, especially not after knowing your own family had been lying to you about their role in it.

He should tell you the truth, even if it hurt you, even if it made you hate him—it was the right thing to do. But every time he went to open his mouth, the words died in his throat.

The day would come where your heart would have to break, and he prayed that it wouldn’t have to be him that delivered the blow. But, today wasn’t that day.

So, he held you tighter, dried your tears, and bit his tongue.

Thank you for reading!

If you'd like to be included in the taglist, comment below!

taglist: @pxige1234, @simars3, @jaybbygrl, @irlpokemonsworld, @just-some-random-blogger, @marrykisskilled, @tgnvhp, @rainydayathogwarts , @angelicbabydolll, @collectivefae, @weasleylovers, @arizonadesert, @i-love-gvf, @falsedivide, @catiwinky , @logana123, @mara-018, @bunbunbl0gs, @queermushy, @tetra-stark

#george weasley #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley fic #the weasley twins #the weasleys #weasley family #george weasley x you #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x reader #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter smut #george weasley smut #weasley twins fanfiction #harry potter #fic series #fic rec #ammd

477 notes · View notes

prettypinkporkchop · 7 months ago

Note

I’m a paul girly can u please do one where Paul is grumpy because everyone is coupled up with their imprint and his is away for college but at the bonfire the girls surprise Paul with his imprint and he goes from a mean grumpy to a clingy sweetheart make it long pls I love u��

I love you!!!!! ❤️

Paul kicks the log that's below him. Everyone that's lined up on the cliff turns to him. "Paul, lighten up." Embry says. "Shut up." Paul growls and charges at him, pushing him into the water. "Really?" Jared looks at him. "Fuck off, Jared." Paul rolls his eyes. Paul misses you so bad. He hates when you're away.

Everyone is at Emily's. She made the pack lunch. They're all eating inside the house. Paul is quiet, eating his sandwhich. "Dude! Imagine what'd it'd be like if Jacob and Renesmee had babies? I sense new drama." Embry laughs. Paul grumbles and rolls his eyes. "Hey, me and Kim are planning. Just saying." Jared raises his hands. "Nuh, uh! You're just stupid horny." Quil shoves him. They burst into laughter. Paul just sits there. "Paul Lahote. Don't be so rude. I know it sucks, but she's coming back soon!" Emily pats his back. He moves his shoulders around, wiggling her hand off of him. "Yeah. I know." He says.

Back outside, everyone is training. Even the Black pack. Leah is laughing, and just her laughter pisses off Paul. He's keeping his cool. "Bro, if I phase right now, I'm biting your ankle." Embry playfully pushes Quil. "Kinky." Quil smirks and then phases. He didn't even bother to take off his shorts. When he phases, he accidently bumps into Paul. Paul growls, loses his cool, and phases. Quil's wolf slowly backs away. Sam is calling out to Paul to chill out. Paul disregards Sam and starts attacking Quil.

It's been like this for weeks. Leah, Kim, and Emily are the only ones that know you are coming back tonight at the bonfire tonight. Right now, you're at the airport heading back home. Being away from Paul has been hard for you. You're getting excited at the fact that when you go home, the last two years of your schooling are online! Paul knows nothing! This is going to be the best surprise. "Forks!" The lady at the desk, taking tickets for the plane entry, calls out your destination. Only two other people follow suit. They don't look familiar, so obviously, it's just their layovers.

Emily looks at Sam because Paul just snapped at Seth for no reason. "Paul. I'm about to just send your ass home if you don't stop." Paul sighs and leans back in the chair, looking at the sun as it sets. The fire is warm on his legs, but all he can think about is you. Seth, being Seth, offers Paul a plate and a drink. "Yeah. Thanks." Paul said dryly. Seth feels so bad. He's the only one willing to deal with Paul's anger. Everyone else is over it but at the same time, feel bad. "You know she'll come back." Emily says. "I've got that. But when? I don't know. And she has to go right back. And it'll be like this for another two years." Paul growls. "You know it's hard for her too. You have to support her." Leah butt's in. "Jesus, Leah. You know I support her. She's at school, right?" He looks at her. She nods her head and walks away, going to talk to Kim. It's getting unbearable for Paul. Being away from an imprint is the toughest thing for a shifter. It's been two months of texting, phone calls, and video calls. You're gone for two months, back for two weeks. It's been like that for a year now. Every time you leave, Paul gets angrier and angrier.

Kim and Leah get in the truck and drive to the airport to wait for you. You'll be back in an hour or so. Paul sees Emily smirking at him and then Sam. "What is it?" Paul asks. "Nothing." She shakes her head. Paul just sighs, and Seth comes back with a plate of steak, potatoes, and muffins. In his other hand is a glass of coke. Paul takes it and nods at Seth. Paul starts scarfing it down.

You leave the terminal and go out to the open space. People are walking around you and you're trying to catch Leah and Kim.

You: girls! I'm near the entrance.

You text them. Not even a few minutes later, Kim in the distance spots you. The two women run to you. You run to them, too. Your fully packed backpack and duffle bag on your arm are heavy and bouncing. You tackle both of the women who hold their arms open. You three laugh and just about fall over. "Let me take this!" Leah smiles, grabbing your bag. "UGH! Thank you, life saver." You gush at Leah. "God, I've missed you guys." You sigh. "Paul has been a dick, as usual. I'm literally about to snap his neck." Leah laughs. You nod your head in agreement. "I can only imagine." You reply.

You girls get to Leah's truck. You sit in the back seat while Leah drives. "Nobody questioned why we left. Not even Jared!" Kim says offended. "Them rowdy boys wouldn't notice if the sun fell on them while they're together." Leah laughs. "True!" You call out. "How's Billy?" You ask. "He's doing good. Old man can't fall over. I swear he's invincible." Leah laughs. "Yes! I try to help him do stuff around the house, but he just shooes me and Emily off." Kim says. "So, typical Billy. What about Jake and Nessie?" You ask. Leah rolls her eyes. "The guy is barely even with us. Ever since they got their house, them two have been loners. He only comes out during get-togethers, wolf shit, and bonfires." Leah replies. As she says this, a car pulls out in front of you guys. She swerves to the side, making you hit your head on the window. "Shit! Asshole!" Leah honks her horn. Kim flips them off. You lean back up in your seat. "Geez." You laugh awkwardly. "We're stopping at Paul's so you can drop off your stuff and then going to the fire." Leah says, totally disregarding that you almost died.

You guys finally make it. You can see the smoke from the fire and orange in the distance in the yard. You can see the guys running around. You squint toward the fire and see Paul sitting in a chair by himself. You giggle at his sulking. "Wait, I didn't think this far." Kim laughs. "How do we surprise him?" She turns to Leah. "I have an idea!" You lift a finger. They turn to you. "I sneak up behind him, putting my hands in front of his eyes and pull a 'guess who'." They nod together and then clap their hands. "UGH! Finally, I can breathe!" Leah breathes out. You laugh at her dramatic self. You step out of the truck. You slowly walk your way behind Paul. "I can hear you creeping, and I'm not in the mood." Paul growls. You quickly put your hands in front of his eyes. "Fuck." He growls but then stops instantly as he smells your scent. "Guess who." You whisper. He doesn't hesitate to stand up, throw the chair that's in between you, and wrap his arms around you. You hold him back and breathe in what you've missed. Paul Lahote. He's back in your arms. "Oh my fucking god, my baby." He mumbles in your hair. "I fucking love you." He says. "I love you too, Paul." You reply. Then, there's loud clapping all around. You two pull away from each other and see everyone clapping. "How'd you even get here?!" He smiles at you. Before you can even answer, he grabs your face and kisses you roughly. You kiss him back and wrap your fingers around his wrists. His lips are soft, and the kiss is longing. You fall into it, moving your lips with his. You pull away and look into your man's eyes. "Leah and Kim picked me up. All of the girls knew." You reply, your thumbs running over his knuckles. "Damn it." He smiles, chuckling. He lifts you up and spins you around. "My girl." He laughs. You laugh along with him, and he sets you down. "Alright, we get it! Now, time to share her." Emily laughs, hugging you. Paul smiles, not giving any more attitude.

You hug everyone, and Paul refuses to leave your side. You love it! Considering, you refuse to leave his, too. Now you guys are sitting around the fire. Jake and Nessie showed up. You're sitting on his lap. His arms are around your waist. He leaves random kisses on your back and arm. He randomly squeezes and presses his cheek against your back as if you could disappear any moment. Once the fire talk is over, you turn to Paul. "I don't want you to go again." He frowns. "Baby, I have good news." You smile. "What?" His eyes widen and sparkle with hope. "My physical classes are over. I'm home now. They're online." You watch as his lips part, and he slowly begins to smile. "Oh my God. YES!" He holds you. You pull his face off of your chest and kiss him softly. He doesn't instantly kiss you back. Pulling away and going back in, over and over. Everyone is leaving you two at it.

After holding onto you for a hot while, Paul decides to apologize to his pack and play around with them. You sit down on the chair, chatting with Emily. "God, Paul is back." She sighs in relief. "I know! Even on the phone, he seemed off." You giggle. Paul grabs your shoulders suddenly and then kisses your head. "Alright, back off with the boys." He does this a few more times. He runs off to play with the guys and then runs to you to give you a quick kiss before running back.

You're typing away on your laptop while Paul is still in bed sleeping. You're on the couch with your legs crossed doing some work. You open the highlighter cap and swipe it across words on the thick ass book that sits next to you. The bedroom door opens, and there stands a quiet Paul. His sleep shorts are hanging low. He yawns and scratches the back of his neck. "Good morning, my baby girl." He says in his scratchy and low morning voice. He walks over to you and presses a kiss to your forehead. "Good morning, my love." You scrunch up your nose with a smile. He looks over your neck and chuckles. "You didn't leave hickeys last night, did you?" You sighed in annoyance. "Eh, maybe I got carried away." He clicks his tongue before walking into the kitchen. "Damn it, Paul." You turn on the camera on your phone and see three big purple bruises. "Emily asked me to come over today when you go over there." You say. "Good because you were coming with anyways." He smirks, pouring his milk into his cereal. You blush and then bite your lip. "AWE, no, don't do that. You'll get what you got last night again." He winks. You roll your eyes playfully. "And don't do that either." He warns, taking a bite of his cereal.

You're mixing the batter to Emily's cake. She licks some chocolate off her finger and flips through her recipe. "Girl, this will take hours!" She sighs. "Are you nervous? I mean, it's a wedding cake! That's a lot of pressure." You continue to mix. "Nah! It's a small wedding." She shrugs it off. "Woowoo!" You hear Embry and Quil. In walks everyone, including Jacob. "Surprised you're here." Emily smirks at him. "Hey, I had to see y/n again." He laughs. You smile at him. "Well, I'm here permanently." You say. Paul walks behind the counter and puts his arm around your waist, kissing your cheek. "Normally, I'd say get the hell out of my kitchen, but I'm giving you an exception today." Emily says to Paul. "Thank you, Emily!" He smiles. "Oh wow! A thank you!" Jared jokes. Paul flips him off with a smirk. "Don't hate the love." You laugh. You place the bowl down on the counter to finish up your assignment Emily gave you for the cake. Paul huffs and pulls you back into him. "Hey!" You giggle. "Alright, lover boy, let the girl bake." Emily pats his shoulder. Paul groans and nods his head, walking toward the group of guys. "Yes, ma'am." He says. "I could really get used to this." Emily laughs. Sam nods his head, crossing his arms. "Yes, much better." He laughs. "Paul, I have to show you this new trick I can do while jumping off the cliff!" Embry says. "I saw you do that shit, dude. You looked dumb." Jacob teases. "Aye now." Quil warns and wraps an arm around Embry. "Don't be mean to my boyfriend." He glares. "WOAHHHH WOOOAHHH WOKKAHHG." Embry shoves him off. "Emily! Can I give y/n one more kiss?" He begs. "Quickly." She says, putting one of the cake pieces into the oven. He jumps up and gets behind you while you put icing on the base of the cake. He kisses your head over and over before you turn your head and kiss him softly. He smiles and then sits back down. "Alright, alright. I'm done." He says. "Lover boy!" Jacob sings. "Oh, loverboy!" Jared follows Jacob. Paul glares at them. "I'll kick your asses. I'm not joking." He growls. They start laughing. "There's the hothead!" Jared ruffles his hair. Paul grabs his hand tightly. "Ow, ow, ow." Jared laughs.

#twilight #embry call #jared cameron #jacob black #paul lahote #seth clearwater #twilight wolfpack #leah clearwater #sam uley #quil ateara #paul lahote x reader

849 notes · View notes