#they are sitting around a campfire if you couldn’t tell

[daryltwdixon]

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: Tension at camp is nothing new, but after Daryl nearly takes a swing at Shane, you pull him away to the quarry, offering a distraction that quickly turns into something else entirely.

Tags: smut MDNI, pinv, fem reader, pullout method, kissing, public(ish) sex, outdoor sex, quickie, quarry!daryl, protective!daryl, husband!daryl, shane ‘tell ya what’ walsh is an ass what's new, little bit of praise kink, established relationship, sweet relationship, age gap mentioned but not specified

a/n: I’ve been watching season 1 on repeat too often. I remember when I didn’t think quarry Daryl was that cute and now I’m FERAL for the man. Top 3 fave versions of this man that’s for damn certain. thank you for reading!! lmk what you think!

The smell of campfire smoke was thick in the air, clinging to your clothes, your skin, following you no matter where you sat. It was the first time in a while you’d joined the others instead of sitting around the separate fire Merle usually built on the other side of camp. But with him gone on a recent run into the city with a few of the others, along with the sight of the pile of fish Andrea and Amy had hauled in, you told Daryl the best way to get a bite was to play nice and sit with the group—unless, of course, he wanted squirrel stew for the fifth night in a row.

But now, sitting there, you were starting to regret that decision.

Even with the world gone to hell and class lines erased overnight, some things hadn’t changed. They still shrank away from you, their discomfort as thick as the smoke curling through the air. And Daryl? They didn’t just avoid him. They dismissed him. Ignored him. Like he wasn’t worth a second glance.

You didn’t pay it any mind. You were used to people underestimating him, used to them not seeing him for who he really was. Beneath the sharp stares and sharper tongue, he was a good man. Your man. And these people—they’d never understand that.

The sun dipped lower, setting the valley in a wash of pink and orange, the glow of the fire growing brighter with every passing minute. Conversations murmured around you, voices low as they discussed camp security—how to reinforce their perimeter, how to keep the geeks out. So far, they’d been lucky, nestled deep in the woods with none of the dead stumbling through just yet.

Still, that luck wouldn’t last forever.

You shifted, glancing toward the tree line. “We could set up noise traps,” you offered. “Tin cans, broken glass—something to warn us if somethin’s comin’.”

The second the words left your mouth, Shane, a man with dark eyes and even darker scowl, scoffed as he paused mid conversation with another resident. You barely had time to blink before he turned on you, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you’d had the audacity to speak up.

“Yeah? That what you think?” He let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Tell you what, next time I need advice on how to run this place, I’ll be sure to come find you, sweetheart.”

The word dripped with condescension, slow and deliberate.

Your lip curled, rolling your eyes as you turned away. “Dick,” you muttered under your breath.

Shane barely let a beat pass before he fired back, voice laced with smug amusement.

“Better watch your lil’ backwoods girl there, Dixon,” he sneered, dark eyes flicking toward Daryl. “Might just have to give her somethin’ to scoff about with that mouth on ‘er.”

Silence hushed over the group like an uneasy wave. The fire popped, the only sound in the sudden, tense stillness as the eyes of everyone in the camp turned to look at you.

There was a loud scrape of metal groaning, Daryl’s lawn chair shoving back under him as he stood abruptly.

“The hell d’you just say, asshole?” he snapped, voice sharp as steel.

Shane barely flinched. His jaw worked, tension coiled tight in his shoulders, but instead of rising to the fight, he let out a slow breath through his nose. He ran a hand down his face, shaking his head.

“Christ, Dixon,” he muttered, voice low, measured, not even smug, just tired. “Ain’t gotta get all riled up. Was just a joke.”

Daryl’s hands curled into fists. “Yeah? Didn’t sound like one.”

Shane exhaled hard, eyes flicking around at the others watching before landing back on Daryl. His expression hardened.

"Ain't my fault you can't take a joke, Dixon. Least when your brother was here, we didn't have to listen to you run your mouth. He at least kept you on your side of camp.”

Daryl’s knuckles went white, his fists clenching tighter as he glared. Across the fire, Shane held his gaze, eyes steady—calm, almost—but there was a challenge in them, a quiet go on, do it lingering beneath the surface, prodding without a word.

You felt the fight still coiled tight in Daryl’s body as you wrapped your fingers around his upper arm, could feel the way his muscles flexed under your grip, the way his whole damn being was strung tight. You stepped in closer, lowering your voice so only he could hear. “Come on,” you murmured, his body warm as your hand curled tighter around his bicep, firm but gentle. “Let’s get outta here.”

Daryl didn’t move at first, his breathing still uneven, his fists still clenched.

Then, finally, he exhaled sharply and let you pull him back, turning away from the fire, from the camp, from the people who would never understand either of you.

The sun's dying light stretched long over the jagged rocks of the valley below, the water rippling in deep, coppery hues as you walked down to the quarry to get your mind off the argument at the firepit. 

When you finally got to the bottom, Daryl leaned against a boulder, his face half-lit in the glow of dusk. He'd been quiet most of the evening, despite his blow up earlier, deep blue eyes flicking to you like he was chewing on something he didn’t quite know how to spit out.

You stepped in front of him, close enough to smell the sweat and earth clinging to his shirt, the faint scent of pine from the day hunting. "I’m sorry about…about whatever that was,”

His jaw ticked. “Ain’t nothin’ for you to apologize for,” he muttered, but he wasn’t looking at you, gaze fixed somewhere past your shoulder. “Dickhead don’t even know good advice if it hit ‘em upside the head.”

You sighed, reaching up to brush a short lock of hair from his forehead. He let out a breath, more like a huff than anything, barely audible, but you caught it.

“You always get like this when you’re thinking too hard,” you teased softly. “What is this really about?”

His lips pressed together, jaw working, like he was still chewing on the words. Then, as natural as breathing, his fingers found your waist, rough and certain, pulling you in just a little closer.

“Just don’t want ‘em talkin’ to ya like that,” he admitted, voice gruff, quieter than the night settling around you. “Like you ain’t worth listenin’ to. Like you ain’t got a damn brain in your head. They only do it ‘cause you’re with me.”

Your chest ached at the frustration in his voice, the way it came out stiff, like he hated even saying it out loud.

“Daryl…”

“They already look at me like I don’t belong here,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Ain’t gonna let ‘em do that to you too.”

You cupped his jaw, fingers grazing over the rough stubble, waiting until he finally looked at you. His blue eyes were sharp, searching, like he was waiting for you to tell him he was wrong.

“I don’t give a shit what they think,” you murmured. “I chose you. You get that, right?”

Daryl swallowed hard, something flickering across his face–vulnerable and open, his brute mask slipping now that it was just the two of you. His grip on you tightened, his body pressing just a little closer, his breath warm against your skin.

“I ain’t gonna let ‘em make you feel small,” he muttered, almost more to himself than to you.

Your chest ached at the way he said it, like he wasn’t sure how to handle the way he cared. Like the thought of letting them think so little of you was gnawing at the edges of his mind. Your thumb traced over his skin as you held his face, grazing over his bottom lip, his chin, until you leaned in.

“You don’t have to,” you murmured, lips barely ghosting over his. “I know who I am. And I know who you are. Even if they can’t see it.”

His blue eyes caught to yours, something different in them, something raw and sweet that no one else was ever allowed to see. Then, before you could say another word, his mouth was on yours, sweet and gentle, lips chapped but insistent. His hands gripped your waist tighter, pulling you closer until there was nothing between you but the fast, unsteady rhythm of your heartbeats.

You melted into him, hands sliding around his neck, letting the kiss ignite into need and heat, letting him pour everything into it—his frustration, his fear, the love he wasn’t good at putting into words. The quarry was silent except for the quiet rush of the wind over the water and the uneven breaths you shared between kisses.

When he finally pulled back, forehead resting against yours, he took a long moment just to breathe as he closed his eyes. His hands stayed on you, gripping you tightly against him, and you couldn’t help the smile that tugged across your lips.

"Thinkin' too hard again?" you whispered.

He huffed a quiet laugh. "Shut up," he muttered, but his lips brushed yours again, even softer this time, like he couldn’t help himself.

No one understood Daryl like you did. Not the folks at camp, not the people who side-eyed him like he was nothing but trouble, not even his own damn brother.

Thing was, no one really tried to know Daryl. They saw the brittle edges, the temper, the way he kept to himself. They saw the bickering between him and Merle, the way he came back from hunts with blood on his hands, all silent and brooding.

But you saw the man beneath all that.

Before the world turned upside down, you saw him for what he truly was. Gentle in ways he didn’t realize, kind in ways he never gave himself credit for. A man who had spent his whole life bracing for a fight, wearing his rough edges like armor, until you came along and showed him there was more to life than just surviving, even before the dead came back to life.

You were younger, but that never mattered to you. And once you finally convinced him that nothing—not even a pesky thing like an age gap, and definitely not his own doubts of whether he was good for you—was going to stop you from being with him, you watched him… soften. Let you in. 

You saw him on lazy summer afternoons, stretched out in the bed of his truck, hands behind his head, cigarette hanging loosely from his lips as he stared up at the sky. You saw him when he picked you up for late-night drives, old country rock humming low from the radio, one hand on the wheel, the other resting warm on your thigh.

Back then, he was just a man trying to carve out a place in a world that had never been kind to him. A man with rough hands but a soft touch when they traced the curve of your back. A man who met the world with a scowl but looked at you like you were a miracle—something precious, something his, something he’d spend a lifetime trying to deserve.

You remembered the nights he’d come to you after a bad fight with Merle, his knuckles split, his jaw clenched. He’d never talk about it, never tell you what happened—but he’d let you run your fingers through his hair, let you patch him up in the glow of your bedside lamp.

“You’re too good for me,” he’d mutter sometimes, voice low, like he wasn’t sure he wanted you to hear it. Like he was afraid that this time you’d believe him and run for the hills.

And you’d brush your fingers through his hair, tilt his chin so he had no choice but to meet your eyes.

"You don’t get to decide that," you’d tell him, voice warm, certain.

He never argued. Just pulled you close, held onto you like he was afraid you’d slip through his fingers.

And now, here in the middle of the world ending, he still held onto you like that.

The way those rough, calloused hands could still be careful, still be tender when they touched you. The way he always put himself between you and trouble, whether it was a walker shambling too close or some asshole in camp running his mouth. The way he let you get near, let you see him in a way no one else did.

Some things hadn’t changed, even when everything else had.

Something about those memories had your lips crashing back onto his, pressing him against the boulder with a force that made him grunt softly into your mouth. His fingers dug into your waist, like he wasn’t sure if he should stop you or drag you closer, but you didn’t give him a choice.

You grabbed the collar of his dirty shirt, fisting the fabric as you kissed him deep, claiming, letting him feel the way you wanted him. He let you have it—let you take and take, let you push up on your toes and press into him like you couldn’t get close enough.

Then, when your hips rolled just right against his, he growled. Low, guttural, needy against your mouth.

His hands slid down, gripping the curve of your ass, dragging you closer until your hips fit against the hard press of him. You gasped against his lips, nails raking up the nape of his neck, and pulled the short hair that stuck there, and that was what made something snap in him.

He twisted you around so fast you barely had time to think, hands gripping your hips as he pressed you forward, your palms bracing against the boulder. The rough stone bit into your skin, but it barely registered. Not with the heat of him behind you, breath hot against your neck, hands dragging under your shirt, spanning wide over your ribs before sliding down.

“You want somethin’ from me, girl? Hmm?” His voice was ragged but taunting, sending goosebumps down your spine as he leaned his body over you. 

A sharp breath left you when he pulled your hips back against him, grinding slow, measured, and the stiff press of his cock behind his jeans made your eyes roll, feeling just how much he wanted you too.

His lips dragged over the back of your neck, sucking in a breath like a hiss when you pressed your ass back into him.

“You, w–want you, Dare,” you murmured, the sound of his name breaking something open in him.

His fingers hooked under the waistband of your denim shorts, yanking them down with a roughness that made your breath catch, the cooling night air biting against flushed skin.

After the clatter of his belt buckle and the sharp zip of his jeans, he was on you—kissing your shoulder where the strap of your shirt fell, your neck, anywhere his lips could reach. Then he was there—thick, warm, heady with a scent that made you dizzy. He pressed the tip of his cock into you with a need so desperate it made your knees weak. Your center was slick with wanton need just from his touch, his kisses, the way he took you like he had to—like it was instinct, carved into him, a hunger he could never ignore. His hands splayed over your stomach, dragging you back onto him with a solid thrust, his breath heavy against your shoulder as he took you to the hilt in one long press of his hips. 

“I love you,” he said, voice hoarse as he continued to press open mouthed kisses to your skin, “Love you so god damn much,”

The sun dipped lower, its dying light casting everything in cool blue and shadow, the only warmth now rolling off Daryl’s body. You turned your head, reaching back to thread your fingers into his hair, tugging until his lips found yours in a kiss that was all teeth and hunger. It was haphazard, messy in the way that made it real—the slide of tongues, the clash of breath, the moan that tore from your throat, loud and shameless against the quiet night.

He groaned into your mouth, swallowing the sound, pressing his forehead against yours for the briefest second before dragging his lips down your jaw, your neck, everywhere he could reach with his mouth. His hips rolled in steady, aching thrusts, sinking deep before dragging his cock out slow, teasing, making you squirm against the rock.

“I love you too,” you murmured, voice wrecked, sincere. “Always, Daryl.”

His jaw slacked and he rested his face against your shoulder, his pace growing rougher, more erratic, each thrust punctuated by the sharp slap of skin against skin, his groans mixing with the wet, sinful sounds of your bodies joining in the cool evening air.

“So good f’me, baby,” he whimpered, the sound raw, unraveling. His hand slipped between you and the rough stone in front of you, fingers seeking, finding, calloused fingertips pressing into the heat of you. He knew your body too damn well—knew exactly how to wind you up, knew what it took to have you gasping, shaking, screaming his name just the way he liked it.

“Daryl, it’s—too much—they’ll hear—” you choked, gasping as his fingers worked tight, slow circles over your swollen clit, a shudder wracking through your body.

His lips dragged up the side of your neck, breath hot, voice ragged.

“Fuck ‘em,” he murmured, his voice low and grinding. “Wanna hear every pretty sound you make for me. Wanna feel you come on my cock, just like you always do—c’mon now, baby, give it to me. Be a good girl now.”

A shudder rolled through you, his words sinking deep, making it impossible to fight the pleasure coiling hot in your belly. His fingers pressed harder, circling your clit with devastating precision, his thrusts turning sharp and frantic.

You bit your lip, trying to smother the cry threatening to break free, but he wasn’t having it.

Daryl’s free hand came up across your chest, fingers gripping your jaw, tilting your head so his lips were right against your ear. “Don’t you hold back on me,” he rasped. “Wanna hear you, feel you, know you’re mine.”

Your body tensed, the pleasure mounting too fast, too sharp, and when his teeth scraped down against your pulse point, it sent you flying. 

Your moan broke free, loud and inhibited as your eyes rolled back, Daryl groaning in response, the noise tearing from his throat as his hips slammed in rhythm with his fingers against you.

“There it is,” he gritted out, voice strained. “That’s my girl, fuck—jus’ like that, baby.”

The pleasure tore through you like wildfire, your palms trembling against the rough stone. Your walls clenched tight around him, and Daryl let out a deep, wrecked fuck, his rhythm faltering as he chased his own release.

With a sharp curse, he pulled his hand from your clit once he knew you were through, his breath hot and ragged against your shoulder. His thrusts grew erratic, deeper, rougher, chasing his own release. At the last second, he pulled out, his fist working over his cock, a deep, guttural groan tearing from his throat as thick ropes of cum spilled onto your lower back, hot and slick against your skin.

For a long moment, all that filled the night air was the sound of heavy breathing, the cool breeze ghosting over sweat-slicked skin.

You turned your head, looking at him over your shoulder, a lazy smile tugging at your lips. “Come wash up with me?”

Daryl huffed, still catching his breath, his hands squeezing at your hips like he wasn’t ready to let you go just yet. “Yeah? That what you want?”

You leaned back just enough for your ass to brush against him, teasing, knowing exactly what you were doing. “Well… we’re already dirty,” you mused, glancing at him with a glint in your eyes. “Might as well get clean together.”

Daryl let out a rough chuckle, his fingers dragging slow and deliberate over your skin. “You’re killin’ me, girl.”

You grinned, pulling off the rest of your clothes before taking his hand and tugging him towards the water’s edge.

“Well? You comin’?”

[avensartt]

This audio fit too well not to do this

[alisonsfics]

risk it all for you

pairing: tyler owens x reader

summary: you and tyler have liked each other since high school. but you both may have waited too long to tell each other, which leads to a pretty nasty fight between the two of you. that’s when a storm comes.

word count: 3.7k

a/n: ended up being so much longer than i thought it would, but had a blast writing for everyone’s favorite tornado cowboy

The comforting scent of burning wood filled your lungs as you sat by the campfire. You didn’t even notice the smile that was glued to your face as you looked around.

The recent storms had brought in all kinds of visitors, hoping to witness a tornado up close and personal. It was the end of a busy day, and all the chasers were camping out in the parking lot of the motel they were staying at.

Tyler, your best friend since high school, had invited you to the bonfire. Tyler had always been the adrenaline junkie, not you. Chasing tornadoes was his thing, and you were glad to let him have it all to himself.

You were currently sitting in the back of Tyler’s truck waiting for him to bring you back a beer.

“So, you’re telling me you and Tyler have never gone for a ride?” One of Tyler’s friends continued to pester you. You quickly shook your head. You couldn’t bear the thought of risking your life like that. “Never, you all can keep your tornadoes. I am happy staying at home and hearing the stories.” You replied.

“Nobody said I was talking about tornadoes.” He retorted. The whole group erupted into laughter. Your cheeks heated up at the implication. It wasn’t like you’d never thought about it. You definitely had.

You heard a few rogue whistles. “Alright, that’s enough.” You heard a low voice say beside you. You turned to look over your shoulder and saw Tyler with two beers in hand.

“Here you go, sweetheart. Don’t let ‘em bother you too much.” He said, handing the bottle over to you. He jumped up to sit next to you on the tailgate. Even after being friends for years, you still sometimes got butterflies when you hung out with him.

“I mean, you can’t blame them. It’s a complete mystery how we’ve managed to stay just friends. I mean, you are just so hot and irresistible. I don’t know how any girl could stay friends with the infamous Tyler Owens.” You sarcastically teased him.

He nearly spit out his beer as he laughed at your joke. Whenever Tyler laughed at your jokes, it was like a little ego boost.

Many people had prodded over the years and asked you and Tyler why you never dated. Every time you gave a sarcastic response to the questions, Tyler fell a little harder for you.

Tyler leaned against you, clinking his bottle against yours. His arm pressed up against yours. Heat radiated off his skin. You hadn’t realized how cold you were. Tyler noticed too.

“Oh hang on, here take this,” he said, grabbing a blanket from behind him. He carefully wrapped it around your shoulders, so it would keep you warm.

You could smell his cologne on the blanket. If you closed your eyes, you could pretend you were wrapped up in his arms.

“So, Tyler, if you two aren’t together, are you seeing anybody else?” One of the girls sat around the fire asked Tyler. You instantly felt your stomach drop. You’d watched girls flirt with Tyler for years, but it never got easier. You faked a smile, but inside, you had a pit in your stomach.

“Why you wanna know? You want me all to yourself?” Tyler jokingly flirted back.

It was no secret that Tyler was a flirt. It never meant anything more to him. It was always just a flirty comment. But you still got jealous. You knew you and Tyler couldn’t have any kind of flirtatious relationship.

The girl pretended to fan herself and blew a kiss towards Tyler. Everyone was laughing at the silly exchange. You just couldn’t do it.

You set down the blanket and hopped down off the tailgate. “I gotta get something out of my car.” You lied, since everyone’s eyes were glued on you. Jealousy was written all over your face. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out.

They all went back to their conversations as you walked away. You wiped away the tear that was rolling down your cheek.

You heard a heavy pair of footsteps behind you. “Wait up. Where ya goin’?” He asked. You both knew you weren’t just “getting something out of your car.”

“Anywhere but here, Tyler,” you said. You continued walking and refused to look back at Tyler. You knew if you looked at him, you’d melt and lose the courage to leave. Tyler could convince you to do anything, and all it took was the twinkle in his eye.

You reached out to open your car door. Tyler smacked his hand against the door, pushing it closed. The loud slam caused you both to jump. It hadn’t been so aggressive in his head.

He mumbled a quick “sorry” and then squeezed himself between you and the car, his back pressed up against the car door.

You focused your eyes on the ground. You refused to look him in the eye.

“What’s goin’ on? Are you mad at me?” He asked you. You rolled your eyes and huffed. He waited for you to answer as you stubbornly crossed your arms. “I’m not mad at you, Ty. I just want to leave.” You said, with your eyes still glued to the ground.

He grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him. You bit your tongue, trying to remain assured. Tyler had to resist the urge to laugh at how much effort it was taking you to keep a serious face.

“Really? Cause it looks like you’re mad at me. In fact, it looks like you’re a little jealous.” He said, smirking down at you. He moved his hand from your chin to brush a piece of hair behind your ear.

You pushed him off of you and took a step back. “Oh, really? Is it that obvious?” You said, hitting his arm. He cocked his head to the side. He was expecting you to deny it, and he was a little shocked when you didn’t.

“So, you are feelin’ a little jealous? Why didn’t you just tell me?” He said, taking a small step towards you. He was wearing the same cocky smile that he always had plastered on his face.

“Do you know how hard it is to see you flirt with every girl you meet?” You asked. He furrowed his brow as he tried to figure out why you were so frustrated. To him, it seemed like there was a very simple solution.

He let his hand rest on your waist, softly toying with the fabric of your shirt. “Well, sweetheart, if you wanted me, you could have just told me. I’m right here for you to take.” He told you, genuinely. Hearing those words come out of his mouth made your stomach do flips.

“It’s different with me and you. We can’t flirt the way you do with those girls.” You told him. You could feel yourself starting to give into his touch, as you leaned in closer to him. “I see no reason why we can’t, sweetheart.” He said, looping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him.

You could feel your heart pounding. You had to remind yourself to breathe. His cologne was enveloping all your senses. Your eyes were stuck on his.

“Cause with them, it’s casual. But we’ve been friends for years, so it could never be casual. It would have to be all or nothing. It would have to be this serious thing, or we’d risk our entire friendship.” You told him, your voice coming out as a whisper. He ran his fingers through your hair. He couldn’t help but admire you under the moonlight.

“I never claimed to want something casual with you, sweetheart.” He told you. You could feel goosebumps spread down your arms as he looked at you like you were his everything.

You had to pull yourself out of it. You were getting dragged in. “We can’t be together, Tyler.” You said, pulling yourself out of his grasp. You noticed his slight frown as you slipped out of his arms.

“Why not? I think we both know we’d be great together.” He tried to convince you. He didn’t know why you seemed so hesitant when you both knew the feelings were mutual.

He could see the sadness on your face. You wanted to be with Tyler, but you knew it wouldn’t work. “I would always end up as your second priority. It would ruin us, and we’d never be able to be friends again.” You told him. Your emotion was clear in your voice.

He cocked his head to the side in confusion. That was the last thing he expected you to say. He never thought he struggled at showing you how important you were to him.

“What do you mean? Nobody comes before you. Nobody ever has. I’ve always put you first.” He told you. He was practically begging you for answers. He wanted to know how to assure you.

“Owens, I’m not talking about a person. I’m talking about all of this.” You said, looking around you both. There were storm chasers camping out for as far as you both could see. “What are you saying? That we can’t be together because I chase tornadoes?” He asked, starting to raise his voice.

You both were very stubborn people, so it was gradually turning into more of an argument.

“I’m saying you’d always have one foot out the door. And at the drop of a hat, you’d be racing out to risk your life. I can’t be wondering if you’re gonna come home. But, I know how much you love what you do.” You told him. Your voice cracked, and Tyler stepped forward to try to comfort you.

You put your hands up to stop him. He swore under his breath. He was seeing how determined you really were. He was becoming less confident that you could convince you otherwise.

“Well maybe I love you more.” He said.

The thought of losing you was enough to finally push him to confess how he really felt about you. He saw your eyes soften. Those were the words you’d always dreamed of hearing Tyler say.

You felt your heart break when you realized they didn’t change anything. “Oh, come on, Tyler. It’s not fair to throw out words that you can’t back up with any commitments.” You said.

Tyler was becoming more frustrated as he felt you drifting further and further away. “Don’t push me away. You’ve known me for years. You know me better than anyone. You know I’m not reckless. A risk taker? Yes, but I’m careful enough to stay safe. Because I’ve got someone to come home to.” He told you.

You tried to take a deep breath, but all you could focus on was the broken expression on Tyler’s face. “Tyler, I’ve seen you chase tornadoes for years. I’ve seen how much you light up when you talk about it. I know how much you love it. It’s inspiring, it really is, but it’s also the reason you can’t make a long-term commitment to anything or anyone else.” You told him, honestly.

Tyler shook his head, looking down at the ground. You were technically right. He had trouble making commitments. But it wasn’t because of how much he loved storm chasing.

It was because of how much he loved you.

“What about us, huh? We’ve been friends for years. I’ve never missed a birthday or a phone call or a breakup. So, don’t tell me I can’t make a commitment. I have never failed to be there for you. Why would I stop if we started dating?” He snapped at you.

You flinched at how loudly he was talking. He’d never yelled at you before. He noticed how your expression changed. You stepped backwards, putting some physical and emotional space between the two of you.

You pushed past him to open your car door. “Wait, c’mon, don’t leave,” he begged you. He knew he’d crossed a line, and he was trying to remedy it.

“I’m not gonna stay here when you’re yelling at me like that.” You told him. He grabbed your hand and spun you around to face him. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to. I was trying to tell you that I’d always put you first.” He apologized, squeezing your hand. You wanted nothing more than to melt into his arms. But you couldn’t.

“I can’t do this right now, Tyler.” You said, pulling your hand back and getting in your car. Tyler felt a pit in his stomach as you drove off. He couldn’t help but worry that he’d lost you for good.

He ran his fingers through his hair as he wondered what to do. His eyes landed on the bar across the street from the motel. He started walking in that direction. He felt stupid for being optimistic that you’d reciprocate his feelings.

His friends all called after him, having seen the whole fight go down. They all asked him where he was going, but he ignored them all. He wasn’t quite ready to talk about you and have his friends tell him he’d screwed up. Because he knew that already.

So, while you drove home and started crying on your couch, Tyler went to the bar. He wasn’t even really drinking that much. It was mostly just sulking.

He’d drowned out everyone else at the bar who was partying. He was sitting at the end of the bar staring into his glass. All he could think about was how hurt you looked when he yelled at you.

He wanted to pull you into his arms and apologize over and over until you forgave him.

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard a news alert playing on the television above the bar. His eyes darted up to the screen and saw “Multiple Tornado Spottings”. He realized your house was right in the middle of the storms.

He swore under his breath and raced towards his truck. Fueled by adrenaline, he sped towards your house. He had the pedal pushed down as far as it would go.

Nothing motivated Tyler more than the thought of you being in harm’s way. He grabbed his phone out of his pocket and clicked on your contact.

He anxiously tapped on the steering wheel as his phone rang. It only rang once before he got sent to voicemail. He tried to call you again, and you declined the call again.

You were oblivious to the incoming storm, and you were in no mood to talk to Tyler.

“Oh, come on, sweetheart. Turn on the news, please.” He muttered to himself, praying that he could will it into existence.

Once he got to your house, he barely turned his truck off before jumping out and sprinting towards the front door.

He banged on the door with his fist. The winds were picking up around him. His adrenaline was still running high.

“Go away, Tyler.” He heard you yell from inside. He pounded on the door again. “There’s a storm, sweetheart. We gotta get to the cellar. It’s not safe.” He yelled through the door. He could barely hear himself over the howling wind. He quickly tapped his fingers on his leg, fidgeting as he waited for you to appear.

The door swung open. Your fear was written all over your face. Tyler grabbed your hand and pulled you with him. He glanced over his shoulder and saw a tornado forming in the distance.

The wind was blowing you both around as you raced towards the cellar. Tyler kept a tight grip on your hand. He wasn’t going to let you out of his sight.

“Lookout,” Tyler yelled, shielding your body with his as a dumpster went flying by you both. After it missed you both, he tugged you towards the cellar.

The cellar doors had already flung open from the wind. He grabbed your waist, pushing you inside before him. You quickly ran down to the bottom of the stairs.

“Sweetheart, get me a stick or something down there or these doors won’t stay closed.” Tyler told you. He was wincing as he struggled to hold the doors closed.

You grabbed an old broomstick and handed it to him quickly. He shoved it through the handles and prayed it would hold.

“Alright, c’mon, we gotta get to the back.” He said, nudging you.

“Over here,” you said, grabbing his hand and pulling him into the closet in the back of the cellar.

Tyler closed the closet door behind you both. It was a small closet. You were facing the back wall. He was covering your whole body with his. He had his hand protectively cupping the back of your head.

“Keep your eyes closed and hold on to those pipes, sweetheart.” He instructed you. You quickly nodded your head and did what he told you to do. He pressed a soft kiss to the back of your head, to try to comfort you.

You both had always had a nonverbal way of communicating. He obviously knew you were scared because who wouldn’t be? But he also knew that one of your biggest fears was something happening to him while chasing a storm. And now you were wrapped up in that.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart. I promise, I won’t let anything happen to you.” He assured you, holding onto you tightly.

A high pitched whistle filled the room as the wind started to pick up. You could feel the pressure envelop your whole body. Everything around you was rattling.

Up above you, you could hear thuds as the tornado flung around cars and anything else in its path. It wasn’t long until you both heard the cellar doors rip open.

The howling wind got louder. It made your ears ring. Tyler tightened his grip on you as the closet doors started to shake. Your knuckles turned white as you gripped onto the pipes.

“You promise me you won’t play hero.” Tyler yelled at you. He didn’t want you to get hurt trying to save him. You furiously shook your head. “I’m not letting anything happen to you.” You yelled back.

The closet doors started shaking even more. The hinges were loudly squeaking. You just knew that the tornado was right above you.

A piece of the door ripped off and flew through the air. The air swirled around the tiny closet, making it harder to hold on.

Pieces of the door kept splintering off. One of them sliced against Tyler’s bicep, causing him to wince and bite down on his lip.

The closet doors finally swung open. With the large cut on Tyler’s arm, his grip accidentally loosened. He started getting pulled backwards. He only had one hand on the pipes. He was gripping it with all the strength he had.

You wrapped one of your arms around the pipes and the other around his waist, pulling him back into you. You buried your face into his chest.

Then, the wind almost instantly disappeared.

You both continued to hold onto each other as your adrenaline still ran high. Tyler kissed the top of your head. “It’s over, sweetheart. We’re safe.” He whispered, still trying to catch his breath.

You both slowly pulled away from each other and leaned against opposite walls. Neither of you said a word as you tried to process what had just happened.

“You saved my life, sweetheart.” He said, looking at you with love in his eyes. You could feel the tears start to bubble up. You were finally letting yourself acknowledge how scared you’d been, now that you weren’t in danger anymore.

“I was so scared to lose you.” You whispered, your voice cracking. He pulled you into his arms, nestling his face into the crook of your neck. He softly rubbed your back. “You did everything right, sweetheart.” He assured you.

He continued to hug you until you stopped crying. When you both pulled apart, you could see the guilt in his eyes.

“This was all my fault.” He mumbled under his breath. You furrowed your eyebrows as you looked at him. You stubbornly shook your head. “None of this was your fault. It was a tornado. You might be the tornado wrangler, but you can’t control them.” You said, trying to cheer him up and lighten the mood.

He grabbed your hands, interlacing his fingers with yours. Neither of you wanted to keep your hands off each other. You both were still worried if you took your eyes off the other that they’d disappear.

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you back there. If I hadn’t, we’d both still be at the motel. You wouldn’t have been in harm’s way if it wasn’t for me.” He told you, apologetically. He was realizing that his actions had put you in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“I’m sorry that I yelled at all. I wasn’t mad at you. I really wasn’t. I was mad at myself. You should have no reason to doubt how important you are to me. If you do, I need to fix that.” He said, squeezing both your hands. You noticed a smile start to grow on his face when you didn’t pull away.

“You never gave me a reason to doubt you. I was just scared. We’re not all as brave as the tornado wrangler.” You teased him. He let out a soft chuckle.

It was nice to have a peaceful moment, laughing together like you always did, after a life or death scenario.

“Does that mean?” Tyler started to ask you, a smirk beginning to grow. You just giggled and nodded your head. “Yes, it means you can kiss me, cowboy.” You said, cheesily smiling at him.

He didn’t waste any time grabbing your belt loops and pulling you closer to him. You cupped his face and leaned in to kiss you. You let yourself melt into the kiss. His soft lips fit perfectly against yours. Just like you’d always dreamed.

You could feel him smiling against your lips. You both pulled out of the kiss. Tyler looked at you with a look of awe. “I’ve spent years wishing I could do that.” He said, smiling down at you.

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[tojiluv]

Hello new follower here hope you’re having a great day/evening/night💜 could I request any inuyasha characters reaction to accidentally touching their s/o’s cold feet/hands while they’re sleeping at night ? You can ignore this if it makes you feel uncomfortable.

COLD NIGHT — inuyasha characters reaction ft. inuyasha, sesshomaru, koga [headcanon]

context: amidst the camp set up for the night, you spread your blanket on the ground while your partner opts to lie beside you. despite the warmth emanating from the large fire, your body retains a chill, though it doesn't trouble you greatly. however, someone else appears more affected, expressing their discomfort unlike you.

warnings: fluff. slight ooc? lowercase intended. gn! reader

notes: ty for the request anon! if you can't tell, i prefer sesshomaru more lol. also why doesn't Inuyasha and koga have good alias names ugh

INUYASHA ─ ❝ HALF—DOG ❞

➜ inuyasha would sit up against the rough bark of a nearby tree, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, ready for any potential intruders. you settle down beside him, seeking warmth and solace in his presence. your hand reaches out to him, seeking comfort and reassurance that he's beside you.

➜ as your hand makes contact with his, his serene expression swiftly transforms into one of alarm, his eyes snapping open wide. he jerks his hand away from yours, swiftly moving it towards the fire to regain warmth.

➜ “the hell is wrong with your hands!? they’re colder than the damn snow right now!”

➜ you scoff at his words, turning away from him in response. inuyasha grumbled at your reaction before firmly gripping your shoulders and pulling you closer to him, snuggling you into his warm embrace.

➜ “since you wanna be stubborn and not get near the fire, i guess i’ll just stay next to you for the night.”

LORD SESSHOMARU ─ ❝ BEAST KING ❞

➜ unlike inuyasha’s outburst, sesshomaru is more the silent-but-glaring type of partner in this situation. 

➜ when your hand accidentally brushes against his face while adjusting a few strands of his hair, his golden eyes widen briefly at the contact before narrowing into a silent, intense glare.

➜ you pull your hand back quickly, shooting him an apologetic smile as he continues to glare, the sensation of your cold hands disrupting his slumber. it was rare for sesshomaru to join you and the group, let alone to sleep as well, but now, you've ruined it with your never-ending coldness.

➜ you turn around on the blanket, keeping your hands to yourself as you quietly sigh, feeling regretful for ruining the moment.

➜ after a few seconds, you feel something heavy and warm drape across your freezing body. it takes a moment to realize it's sesshomaru's mokomoko, which he has placed on you, providing the extra warmth you need that the fire couldn’t.

➜ even though you knew sesshomaru wasn’t one to talk about his feelings, you appreciated how he expressed his love more through actions than words.

KOGA ─ ❝ WOLF CUB ❞

➜ as the leader of the wolf-demon tribe, koga had numerous responsibilities to ensure the survival of his pack, with one of his main priorities being the protection of you, a human. despite being vastly different from your wolf-demon boyfriend, koga fell in love with you at first sight and would do anything to ensure your safety.

➜ as night fell, you settled around the campfire with the tribe, aiming to get some rest. however, the cool breeze that kept blowing made it difficult, causing your hands to grow numb from the biting cold.

➜ you shivered from the intense cold, despite being wrapped in a blanket. koga could feel your shaking body against his own, which startled him awake. quickly, he turned to face you with a scowl as he realized what was going on.

➜ “why the hell didn’t ya say anything? you’re freezing! here, take my hands.”

➜ you hesitated at first before settling your numbed hands against his warmed, rough ones. his touch sent a comforting warmth through your chilled fingers, and you graced him with a grateful smile for his kindness.

➜ koga would then move your sleeping bag closer to the fire and wrap his arms around your body, pulling you so close to his chest that you could hardly breathe, enveloping you in his warmth. he cared deeply for your comfort and always made sure you were satisfied.

© 𝐭𝐨𝐣𝐢𝐥𝐮𝐯 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒

[margeoww]

Strong Enough for You

back to my masterlist

pairing: percy jackson x gf!reader

summary: being in a relationship with Percy Jackson means adventure, danger, and plenty of moments to admire his heroism. But what you love most? His quiet moments of vulnerability—and, of course, those arms that could rival the gods themselves.

a/n: okay guys, just look at him. I just wanted to write something related to this wonderful pic.

It wasn’t a secret, not really. Everyone at Camp Half-Blood had noticed Percy’s physical transformation over the years—his strength wasn’t just in his bravery or his loyalty; it was evident in the way he moved, the way he carried himself. And you? Well, you had front-row seats to it all.

Sitting on the steps of the Big House one sunny afternoon, you watched Percy from a distance as he helped the younger campers set up for capture the flag. His orange camp shirt clung to his shoulders, and his biceps flexed as he effortlessly lifted a heavy crate of shields.

—Are you even listening to me? —Annabeth’s voice broke through your daydream.

You blinked, turning to your best friend, who was smirking knowingly. —What?

Annabeth crossed her arms. —I was saying that Percy’s been showing off a little more lately. And judging by the way you’re staring, I think I know why.

Heat rushed to your cheeks. —I wasn’t staring.

Annabeth raised an eyebrow. —Sure, you weren’t. Look, you’ve been together for a year now. He’s obviously just as smitten with you as you are with him. Maybe it’s time to tell him how much you appreciate his hard work.

Later that evening, you found Percy by the campfire, absentmindedly poking at the flames with a stick. He looked up as you approached, his face lighting up in that way that always made your heart skip a beat.

—Hey. —he said, scooting over to make room for you. —How was your day?

You sat beside him, resting your head on his shoulder. —Better now.

Percy chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. —You’re cute when you’re sappy, you know that?

You tilted your head to look at him, your eyes trailing over his face and down to the strong line of his jaw. From there, your gaze wandered—his broad shoulders, the way his arms rested casually on his knees, the faint scars that told stories of battles won.

—Okay, what’s that look for? —Percy asked, amused.

You bit your lip, deciding to go for it. —I was just thinking… you’ve gotten really strong lately.

Percy blinked, caught off guard. —Uh, thanks? I mean, I’ve been training a lot, but..

—I like it. —you interrupted, your voice soft but teasing. —I mean, I really like it.

Percy’s face turned red, and he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. -Oh. Well, that’s… good to know.

You grinned, leaning closer to press a kiss to his cheek. —Don’t get too cocky, Pers. But for the record, you’re ridiculously attractive.

A few days later, Percy seemed determined to test just how much you liked his newfound strength. During sparring practice, he pulled off a series of overly dramatic moves that had the other campers rolling their eyes—and had you trying very hard not to laugh.

Afterward, as you were both walking back to your cabins, he turned to you with a mischievous grin. —So… was that impressive enough for you?

You playfully shoved his shoulder. —You’re such a show-off.

—But you like it. —he countered, grabbing your hand to pull you closer. His voice dropped to a low murmur. —Admit it.

You rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away. —Fine. Maybe I do. Just a little.

Percy leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that was sweet and unhurried. When he pulled back, his eyes were full of affection—and a hint of smugness.

—Good. —he said softly. —Because I’d do anything to keep you looking at me like that.

That night, as you lay together on the dock by the lake, Percy’s arm draped around your shoulders, you couldn’t help but trace your fingers over the muscles of his forearm.

—Do you ever get tired? —you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

—Tired of what?

—Carrying the weight of the world. —you said, your tone teasing but your words sincere.

Percy’s smile was soft as he turned to look at you. —Not when you’re here. —he said simply.

And in that moment, as the stars reflected in the water and his hand found yours, you realized that no amount of strength could compare to the way he made you feel: safe, loved, and completely at home.

[primofate]

Is it a crime to post unfinished drafts? It's been sitting for 2 years already. I'm letting this one go.

Genshin Series - The sides of him only you get to have and see Part 5: Angry/Frustrated [All male characters]

Other works in this series: (Part 1 - Soft and Gentle) (Part 2 - flustered) (Part 3 - clingy) (Part 4 - Worried)

Warnings: some fluff, some angst, depending on the prompt, lots of different scenarios, some protective, some a bit yandere, some aggressive... quite long cause i got carried away >_>

Personal favourites in this work: Ayato, Bennett

Aether

When his investigation about his sister’s whereabouts turns up into a dead end

“...What if I never find her?” His voice is just a whisper as the two of you sit side by side around the campfire. Paimon is already sleeping off to the side, exhausted by the day’s events. 

You can hear the desperation in his voice, and it cripples you as well, the hurt that comes with losing a loved one and being unable to find them. You let yourself fall sideways and lay your head on his shoulder, hoping to give him some comfort. “...We’ll keep looking, Teyvat’s a big place, you know,” you whisper and it seems that your answer only serves to frustrate him more.

“That’s exactly the problem... Sometimes I don’t know where to start and I don’t know where to look first... I just...” His fists clench for a moment but he relaxes with a small sigh minutes later, arm wounding around your back to pull you closer to his side. “Sorry... I don’t mean to complain so much,” 

You shake your head as you bask in his warmth. “You’re allowed to feel this way, Aether. I’m right here beside you, okay?”

His gaze softens, head leaning towards the crown of your head to place a kiss there. “Thank you, Y/N,” he wouldn’t know what to do if he lost you as well.

Albedo

When someone is too rough with you.

Could he request you not to work at the tavern? Possibly, yes. But Albedo was not the type to tie you down or tell you what to do. Plus, you were capable of taking care of yourself. 

Sometimes he would pick you up from your shift, however, today the Cat’s Tail was a little understaffed and you had to work a few more orders before you could go. 

“Hey!” You jump as one tavern-goer stands and smashes his glass of beer on the table with a loud THUD. “This isn’t what I ordered!” Frankly you were used to this by now, but it didn’t mean that you were any less startled. You calmly walked over to the table and took back the mugs that you just placed when the same person grabs your wrist.

The mugs sway in your hand, the beer in it pouring over your fingers a little as it sloshed. “Sir?” You ask as the man’s hand tightens around your wrist. 

The man grunts and growls “Make sure you tell the bartender to give me a discount for giving the wrong order!” Drunkards were like that. They were loud and sometimes couldn’t control themselves, you twist your wrist away successfully and relay the message to the bartender, though you noticed that Albedo was there too, waiting for you to come back. 

Albedo catches your arm and lifts your wrist up to eye level. There’s a blank look on his face that you can’t quite read and for a moment his eyes dangerously flicker to the group of tavern-goers who gave you trouble. You sense that he’s a little irked. “It’s okay ‘Bedo, I’m fine, just the usual rowdy people, you know?” You reassure him and his stern face drops, replaced by that of defeat with a small sigh.

It’s “just the usual” you say. He doesn’t quite know how to feel about that, if this was “usual”, yet he understood. Every job came with its risks and this was already relatively safer than being an adventurer. Albeo sighs again and brings your wrist up to his lips, his eyes yet again dart towards the said table. He really wanted to have a word with those rude men, but he avoided conflict for your sake. 

“Alright, Y/N. As long as you keep your promise,” he reminds you. Jogging your memory that you had promised to tell him if something dire really happens at work.

Ayato

When his status affects you

You’re aware that ever since you and Ayato were married, his shuumatsuban had also been following you around. Ayato reassured you that it was for your own good, and you somewhat agreed. You weren’t that bothered by it, since the shuumatsuban were so good at concealing their presence, it seemed like nothing changed in your every day routine.

“Master Ayato,” and so imagine Ayato’s annoyance when he receives a report from one of his men that you were being tailed by someone suspicious. “...Capture him,”

In the secret dungeons of the Kamisato residence, there is a pitiful man sitting in the middle of a cell with bars. Kamisato Ayato stands in front of him, cold and calculating look on his face. “State your reason for tailing Y/N,” he would break this man quick, and get all the answers he needed for your safety.

“I-I-I swear I’m not a bad guy! I just--Someone told me they’d pay me a huge amount of money to kidnap Y/N!” Ayato doesn’t break his cold gaze from the man, but he also can’t control the way he unsheathes his sword and starts to clean it with a cloth, as if getting ready for an execution.

“Then for your own good I suggest you give me all the names of these people who bribed you,” His tone is calm, but also eerie. “After that’s done, you won’t lay your eyes on Y/N again... Is that understood?” 

He couldn’t afford for anything to happen to you, specially not when it was because of him.

Bennett

When his bad luck affects you

Bennett had been quiet the whole way back to Mondstadt. As per usual a few things happened that proved his luck was horrid. 

Today seemed to be one of the worst.

Not only did you not finish the commission given to you, but things happened one after the other.

First, the two of you couldn’t find the monster you were looking for. Second, when you finally found it, it proved to be difficult to subdue. Third, the treasure the two of you found was not really treasure at all. Fourth, you could not find the item that you were supposed to bring back to town and finally, fifth, a once wonderful, cloudless and breezy day suddenly turned glum and the rain poured down on your heads.

Bennett was utterly defeated, and you knew it cause he had been quiet up until the gates of Mondstadt, when the two of you finally took shelter for a moment from the rain. He usually would still be upbeat and positive, no matter what he went through, but seeing you sneeze and shiver in the rain, on top of being tired and grimey, he really couldn’t help but hate his bad luck.

You glanced at him at the corner of your eye, he was looking at the ground with his brows furrowed. The look of frustration was foreign in his face but you said what you always did after an adventure with him. “...Today was fun, Bennett. Let’s go again tomorrow!”

His head snaps up in an instant, eyes wide and tracing your face for any lies and dishonesty. All he saw was your bright smile and eager disposition. Truthfully you had learned to be incredibly positive because of him, and if he needed a little bit of that positivity, then you were willing to give it back, no matter how hard things were.

For a split second his lips looked as if they trembled, his shoulders relaxed and a wobbly smile appears on his face. He nearly barrels into you with a hug, and mumbles “You’re the best Y/N,”

Bennett always thought that you were his sun, and he loved every bit of the time he spent with you.

Chongyun

When he isn’t able to protect you

“’Yun?” You call out from your sitting position on your bed, and Chongyun, for the umpteenth time that day, slightly jerks up on the chair next to you, eyes darting towards your face. 

“Hm?” he says, trying to brush off the fact that he had been zoning out, small, shy smile on his face.

You’re silent for a moment, staring back at him. The cogs in your mind working a bit more. “...You’re upset aren’t you?” 

The way he tenses up at your accusation tells you the answer, but still he denies it. “N-No,” 

You sigh, your bandaged arm resting on your side. The wound didn’t hurt that much, but Chongyun was the one who insisted he’d feed you instead of making you use your dominant, injured arm. He was so embarrassed when he offered it. Face red and unsure what to say except that he was holding the bowl of porridge your mother made in his hands and that was enough of a cue for you. 

“...Aah,” You open your mouth again, and that’s when Chongyun snaps out of it, realizing that he hadn’t even finished feeding you. So he proceeds to give you another spoonful. 

“You know it’s not your fault, right?” You confirm after you swallow that bite and he again tenses up without saying anything. 

You knew he hated it when the two of you went adventuring together and you ended up getting hurt. Occasionally it would be him with the injury, but when you got injured, somehow, to him, it was a graver matter than him getting hurt. 

That statement opens his dam of insecurities. “I’m too weak...If I had been a little faster...”

“I must be pretty weak too then, if I wasn’t even able to dodge it,” you counter and you see him open his mouth in protest but close it again, knowing that you had laid a trap for him if he disagreed. He went silent again. 

“...I think you’re really cool Chongyun, the way you handle your claymore makes you look really handsome,” you giggled a little cause you knew he was going to go red and sputter out a response. 

“W-W-What do you mean?” He proceeds to shove another spoonful in your face, probably so that you wouldn’t actually be able to reply. “A-Anyway...I...I’ll work harder to protect you,” he finishes his sentence and you don’t protest nor say another thing anymore, seeing as he at least got some of his good mood back. 

Dainsleif

When you don’t keep a promise

“You said you would meet me by the tree in Windrise. Imagine my distress when you didn’t show up,” Dainsleif had his arms crossed over his chest, eyes actually glaring at you. 

“I know but you know how things can get. The job was a little more difficult than expected and it took longer to finish,” 

You’d found yourself trudging deep through the forest to locate the cabin he considered his “home”. Far away from everything else and nearly impossible to locate if you had never been there before. You arrived by morning, knocking at his door and unsurprised with the dumbfounded look on his face. 

He still welcomed you in, but he didn’t say a word and the air was tense even as he placed a glass of water on the table for you. 

Then you were here, getting the lecture from him. 

“Then you shouldn’t have promised to be there. It’s a simple thing to communicate with me that you’re not sure when you’ll be done, I would have waited,” He continued and you sighed, cause you knew that he was right. You really shouldn’t have promised you were going to be there on time. It’s not as if it’d be the end of the world if you were a day or two late. 

“I know, I’m sorry. I guess I just wanted to see you as soon as I could and I wasn’t thinking,” you should’ve known by now that promises were a heavy thing to Dainsleif. 

You heard him give out one of his own sighs and then his hand cups your chin and tilts it up to meet him eye to eye. “I trust you understand why I’m angry,” his voice had levelled down a little, and though he was frustrated earlier you can always see the worry behind his gaze and the love in his eyes. 

You smile a little and nod your head, still a little apologetic. “If I can’t find you, if you happen to go missing, do you know what that would do to me?” He asks you, eyes finally dropping the glare and just softly gazing at you.

“I know,” you whisper and lean your face closer to his hand. Your arm reaches out to hold his coat, tugging on it a little as if a small child. “...I know you weren’t able to sleep...and I spent the whole night trying to make it back to you...so can we rest for a bit?” You suggest and he found it a good idea.

He wordlessly sweeps you into his arms and kisses your forehead, bringing the two of you into the bedroom.

Diluc

When you forget to tell him where you’re going and he doesn’t know where you are

“Adelinde, did Y/N mention skipping dinner today?” Diluc asked his head maid. He was alone at the dinner table and you were nowhere to be found in the mansion. 

Adelinde considered her words carefully. A slight misuse of words would send the young master into a spiral of worry and anxiety. She was a hundred percent sure you had just forgotten to tell someone that you were going to be out for dinner, because you’ve done it before, bless your bad memory, but Adelinde really wished you would at least tell the young master. 

“...They didn’t mention, Master Diluc...but I’m sure they must be out on some errands in Mondstadt,” it was a gamble for Adelinde to state that, because she also didn’t know where you were, and she would be in deep trouble if you didn’t come home at all.

Diluc started to eat, albeit slowly and glanced at Adelinde when she made that statement. “...Did they mention going on an errand?” he asked again, to which Adelinde now had to truthfully reply. “...No,” 

Cue the distress in Diluc’s features. Furrowed brows, cutlery not even moving, eyes calculating. You could practically see all the assumptions run through his face. Maybe you were in trouble, maybe you were taken, maybe you were lost somewhere and needed help. You would have said something if you were going to be home late, no? 

Diluc dropped his cutlery on the table, and he started going back through his memories to determine whether or not you actually had said anything about today. He would have remembered, and as far as he could tell, you didn’t say anything about not having dinner with him today, or anything of the sort.

He was about to push himself up and away from the table, to double check at Mondstadt if anyone had seen you, when the front door opened, revealing you with a basket of goods and a smile on your face. Diluc practically deflated, your name a sigh on his lips, “Y/N,” 

You knew that look, and you knew that look that Adelinde was giving you. “Oh Archons. I’m sorry, I went out in a hurry and just forgot to tell anyone where I was going,” your smile dropped almost immediately as you scurried over to the table with an apologetic gaze on your face turned towards Diluc.

You knew how worried he could get, he could already feel the adrenaline starting to pump through him, thinking about all the worst case scenarios. Diluc sighed once again, repositioning himself properly in front of the table and picking up his cutlery again. He was slightly angry, you could tell. Mostly because this wasn’t the first time it had happened. “...Put your things down and we can eat,” he simply said and you pouted a little while passing the things over to Adelinde, then sitting on your side of the table.

“...I don’t get my welcome back kiss?” You chide him playfully, to which his eyes lazily graze over you and back to his plate of food.

“When you start remembering to tell someone where you’re going in the middle of the night, I’ll start giving you your welcome back kisses,” he strictly exclaims and you could only grumble under your breath.

Gorou

When he spends too much time training or working and loses time with you

“Hahhhh...” Gorou plops down on the tatami floor of his home with a loud and long sigh. Not only was training and the patrols a little harsh today, but that was another day gone without getting to see you.

How long had it been now? Eight, nine days? He was starting to get really antsy about not being able to see you and he knew it wasn’t anyone’s fault but his. 

That night he couldn’t immediately fall into a peaceful sleep. He tossed whenever he thought of you and turned whenever he started thinking too much of what the two of you would do together the next time you saw each other. It was like planning out a whole date in his mind but realizing that he didn’t even have any day offs soon. So he would deflate and be disappointed in himself, try to go to sleep, then get carried away thinking about you again, causing him to snap his eyes open and repeat the thinking process.

“Arrghhh!” At some point he shakes his head and shuts his eyes tight, the frustration getting to him. He had to sleep, or he’ll have a really tiring day tomorrow. 

When he woke up the next morning to knocks on his door he immediately thought he had overslept. He scrambled to his feet, swinging the door open with his still disheveled fluffy hair and said “I-I’ll be right there! I just--” then he reels back, blinking, realizing that it was you standing there are the door. “Y-Y/N?! What’re you doing here?”

He smooths his hair down, tries to pat down his wrinkly house clothes but his eyes are tacked on to you, wide and happy. 

“I figured I’d visit you this time, since you seem really busy,” you laugh sheepishly, scratching your cheek. “I hope I’m not intruding,”

“Of course not!” He replies quickly but coughs on his hand right after. “I-I mean. Yeah, you’re always welcome here,” he smiles and beams at you, but then slumps his shoulders right after. “I...I still have work though, so I won’t be able to spend a lot of time with you...”

You shake your head and wave your hands “That’s alright! I can still spend lunch and dinner with you, right? That’s more than enough for me,” 

His heart blooms with a warmth that engulfs his body, his cheeks might have turned red. You were just oh-so sweet to him and oh-so kind, he didn’t know what he did to deserve an angel like you.

Heizou

When he can’t help you with your problems

Heizou is a genius at solving problems, but he knows that sometimes there are problems that he can’t solve nor he shouldn’t interfere with. One of those was problems within your family.

Sure, he had solutions and probably ways to diffuse the rising tensions in your family, but he wasn’t really in the right place to do so. All he could do is listen to you rant and complain about how things are getting so much harder with your mom and dad, and you just wanting to run away from it all, move out as soon as you can but you were tied down with the obligation of caring for your sick mother. 

It pains him and frustrates him, watching you stress over it day by day, but as much as he wanted to tell your parents that they were affecting you this much, there are some things that he shouldn’t meddle with. 

All he could do was offer advice. “...Perhaps move out and live somewhere close to them? It would still give you the advantage of privacy,” he suggests, as he sits next to you on a bench, arm coming around and behind your back, hand resting on your hip.

“I would, but the houses nearby are actually pricey, mostly because they’re family houses, not for a single person rent,” You lean sideways into him. He’s always so good at giving you solutions, though you’re unaware of the internal battle inside him, seeing you so distraught like this.

“...Well why not live with me then?” You can hear that familiar mischief in his voice, and though you know he’s joking it still flusters you. 

“D-Don’t say that as a joke, Heizou!” He chuckles at your reaction, just as he expected, but he leans in to place a kiss atop your head, his next sentences sending a shiver up your spine. “It’s a joke now, but someday I’ll make it real, regardless of what your parents say,”

Of course he ends it with a wink.

Itto

When someone hurts you and he witnesses it

Itto doesn’t get angry easily. He just doesn’t have the capacity for it. He was loud, yes, but good natured overall and never means any actual harm to anyone. 

Unfortunately you can’t say the same thing about some people in Inazuma. For the most part, people were friendly, amicable, helpful...but sometimes there were the odd balls that just appeared out of nowhere, wreaking havoc when they wanted to.

Just the other day a group of ronin who claimed to be the strongest group of vagabonds roaming Inazuma entered town and they were loud and gruff about it. “Where’s the best inn in town?” They asked at the entrance, and a kind man directed them towards it.

The next day that man was bullied by the same ronin. “We said the BEST inn in town, not the most EXPENSIVE!” You had witnessed it, the man who was just trying to help them was starting to cower backwards, the ronin were complaining about the price of the room, how they wanted the man to pay for it and you just couldn’t stand that blatant bullying.

“What’s your problem? Of course it’s going to be expensive!” You appeared behind the group and just couldn’t help but be angry at their stupidity and overall disgusting behaviour. One of them looks at you, then starts to laugh and the others follow suit, all laughing at you as if you were a clown on the streets.

You didn’t falter and merely crossed your arms above your chest. “If you have nothing better to do then maybe you should look for a job so you can pay for your next inn,” was provoking them a good idea? Of course not, and you knew that.

One of the ronins grabs you and twists your arm behind your back. You could only let out a whimper at the sudden motion but as soon as it happened it was over. You found yourself suddenly pushed behind, looking at Itto’s back as he shoves the ronin away with a harsh force. 

“The hell do you think you’re doing touching Y/N like that?!” Itto’s voice is loud, louder than when he’s excited about eating ramen or louder than when he’s discovered a magnificent onikabuto. The anger in his voice is unusual, you don’t immediately recognize it as his.

Itto’s tall. Taller than any of the ronin around you and suddenly it’s as if the ronin become meek little mice, stepping away from him and you. “W-We were just--”

Itto brandishes his claymore, “Less talking, more fighting. You want a real arm wrestle? Come at me,” you can’t imagine what kind of face he’s making, but the ronin--actually just cowards--runs at the sight of Itto’s weapon and he’s just about to go after them when you call out to him, telling him to calm down.

He doesn’t listen easily, but you place a hand on his arm and he stops, still glaring and huffing at the sight of those stupid ronins running away. 

Scaramouche

When you have to be paired up with another Harbinger for work

“You’re going with who?” There’s poison dripping from his voice, but you’re so used to his antics by now that it doesn’t scare you one bit.

“Tartaglia. The Tsaritsa said--”

“Fuck what the Tsaritsa says,” Scaramouche cuts you off. “You’re not going with that fool,” He stands and paces back and forth now. You simply sit at the table and watch him, knowing that he’s going to throw one of his “tantrums” again. “Possibly the worst person to go on a mission with,” he continues to grumble, now biting on his thumb.

“You always get worked up whenever the two of us are paired up together. It really isn’t that bad,” you exclaim, shrugging your shoulders and he stops walking to glare at you. 

“So it’s a little bad? Is that what you’re insinuating?” He doesn’t let you finish and adds. “You don’t know how dangerous he is,”

You couldn’t help but stifle a laugh quite obviously. “Scara, I think you’re more dangerous?”

Tartaglia

“I’m different,” He mumbles under his breath.

When his alone time with you gets interrupted

Thoma

When you get sick but he’s busy

Venti

When he hasn’t seen you in days

Xiao

When he wants you to stay

Xingqiu

When a book he’s reading isn’t as good as he thought it would be

Zhongli

When someone doesn’t respect your boundaries

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[pinescent-and-gingerbread]

˖✧ Through my eyes

✦ Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader ✦ Summary: Karen explains Mary and Arthur's story to you. Saddened, you're convinced you could never compete with her until the man in question proves you wrong. ✦ Warnings/Tags: Self-depreciation from both sides, kissing, comfort, fluff. Reader has been with the gang for a year. Use of Y/N. ✦ Words: 3k ✦ a/n: This is the answer to this ask by the lovely @crystalofmoon19. I really hope you'll like it, dear! And thank you for your support, you've been really sweet to me and my work! As always, I got carried away and wrote way too much. And as always, please reach out to me if you spot any misspellings. Also idk why I made this in Colter, guess I just feel way too hot rn and want some fresh snow + Arthur's coat is perfect for comfort. Credits. Arthur's pic is from my playthrough. Other pics are not mine found them on Pinterest. AO3

“And in the end, she rejected his proposal, then a few months later, sent him a letter telling she was marrying some wealthier gentleman!”

Your mouth hangs open in the air. Karen’s words enter through your ears and create a nice little nest for themselves in your brain. You had no idea. No idea Arthur had been this close to being married. That their relationship had been so strong, that, according to hearsays, he had reached his lowest after their break up, drunk most part of the day, fighting the rest of the time, obnoxious to everyone, even Dutch and Hosea.

“Y/N? You’re okay, there?” Karen asked you, disappointed her big reveal had left you reactionless.

You focused your gaze back on her. Her blonde hair is softly litten up by the setting sun, her breath exhaling a puff of steam as she breathes. Colter is a cold place, and it probably felt even colder because of the morose mood of the gang. You suddenly remember you’re supposed to be shocked. You are, of course, but in a very bad way. Not in an “Oh my God, I can’t believe this Karen, so much gossip!” kind of way.

How could you ever compete with that?

“Yeah, I’m alright. God, I had no idea so much happened between them.”

“Oh, trust me, it was definitely his biggest love story. Never saw him get into someone else after her. Not even Mary-Beth! Could you believe that?”

No, you couldn’t. You weren’t sure why but every word from Karen felt like an enormous stone falling into your belly and dragging you deeper and deeper into the sea. Your silly little crush on Arthur, when you first joined the gang a year ago, had turned into a way stronger attraction. Denying it at first, you had little by little let your emotions win, cherishing every moment with him, thanking Dutch for assigning both of you to the same missions, loving the quiet evenings where he would just sit next to you around the campfire to scribble in his journal while you would do your little hobby on your own. Silent most, but enjoying each other’s company, and so, so peaceful.

More than your emotions, you even had let your imagination take the lead, dreaming about a selfish future with him, seeing it every time he would give you a smile, or laugh at one of your jokes. A happy Arthur, relieved from his obligations, enjoys life's simplest joys. A house, a garden. Maybe a dog, considering he had loved having Copper. A marriage even. And why not a child? If he would feel ready. Something in you was telling you he would be a good father.

But now, you felt like this dream was rotten, condemned.  Like a broken match. The fire, the very thing it’s designed for,  not being able to be lit. Would never be lit. A wasted potential.

You tried to continue your gossiping chat with Karen, voice light but gaze elusive as you peeled the potatoes you were supposed to prepare while discussing, tedious tasks often ended up less difficult this way when you were working with the other girls. But behind your seemingly normal smile and hollow words, a haunting thought was hanging on to you as strongly as a rock trapped in a thousand-year-old iceberg. 

Arthur never fell in love again after Mary Linton.

Night had definitely fallen on the frozen mountains. After your endless vegetables centered-chores, you had helped Mr. Pearson turning them into a decent meal, his incessant blattering about the Navy giving you some sort of distraction. During dinner and after though, once you didn’t have any goal or job left to do for the day, your conversation with Karen came back into your wandering mind, her speech playing again and again like a used gramophone record.

Never fell in love again...

Sitting at one of the corners of the big cabin you had been sleeping in for the past few days along with the girls and some other gang members which mainly served as a common space, you were looking outside by a dilapidated window. A frozen World spread out before your eyes, every inch of surface covered in snow and ice, the landscape ending up looking like it was coated with a thick strange substance —dark blue colors Queen of this gloomy, misty horizon.

Arthur had returned from a very busy hunting day with Charles. Thanks to them, meat had been added to the vegetable paradise of a meal, resulting in a better-than-usual supper. He should have felt cheerful, but his mood wouldn't lighten. 

He had spotted you from across the room, noticing the hurtful absence of your smile on these sweet lips of yours. Smile he secretly loved. Lips he secretly fancied. 

Hesitating for a long moment, debating with himself, a self-depreciative rambling turning in his head like a well-oiled motor, he had ultimately decided to join you and investigate. Something pretty important must been bothering you, because loosing your usual little grin and eating your plate all by yourself really wasn't in your habits.

Approaching you, his boots and spurs clicking and stomping before you could see him, he plants them in front of you, standing there while his eyes lock on your face.

“Miss Y/L/N? Is everythin’ okay?”

“Oh, Mr Morgan. Yeah, don’t worry. Everything is great.”

He doesn’t believe you and honestly, you wouldn’t have convinced yourself either. And Arthur is a stubborn man. A stubborn, and caring one. He leans against the cabin's old creaky walls, on the other side of the window.

“Come on, don’t lie t’me girl. Everyone noticed you’re not in your right mind.” He honestly doesn’t know about everyone, but he surely did. His words are accompanied by a small, polite smile.

“I don’t think… I don’t think you’re the right person to talk about it.”

Arthur’s entire body froze. The hands he had on his belt as always when he was comfortable, flew to his chest as he crossed his arms, his thick winter coat folding with difficulty. His encouraging smile flattened, his brows pleating in a harsh frown.

“Erm… Alright, I get it. I won’t bother you, I guess.” 

Without loosening his arms, he pushed himself from the wall, taking a step to leave you some space. You couldn’t have missed it. This change of behavior, the hurtful expression he had displayed, as if he was truly pained by your words. Disappointed, maybe even shameful to have thought he could help you at all. He was just a sad, ugly bastard, after all.

You felt like you could hear all of it from where you were, and see it in the shadow that had taken his face and the gigantic mass that seemed to have fallen on his shoulders.

No, you didn’t want this. Didn’t want him to feel like that because of you and your stupid feelings, or your own dark thoughts.

“Wait, Arthur!”

He turned around the second you talked again.

“I’m sorry it’s just…” You sigh and look at him with an uncertain expression, knowing your next words were going to be risky. “It’s about you and Mary Linton…”

His eyes turn into two literal plates, his mouth slightly opening in outer astonishment. This was really not what he had in mind. You could have been sad because of a hundred logical reasons, the death of Davey and the loss of Sean and Mac, the complete fiasco of Blackwater, the hundred of dollars lost, the terrible and tough conditions of the Grizzlies plunging everyone into an unbearable cold and a threatening famine.  Not mentioning Hosea’s alarming coughing, Dutch’s mysterious decisions, and Micah as a whole.

But you, out of all these things, were worried about Mary.

Once his eyes had grown as round as they could, they got back into an interrogative expression, the wave of surprise over.

“Wha’…?! How d’ya even know ‘bout her?”

“Karen speaks a lot when she’s bored…” You briefly explained, trying to sound detached.

Arthur rolls his eyes to the Heavens. Of course, folks talked, and you had to know about it all at some point. But this wasn’t ideal at all. He would have preferred to tell it to you himself, at a time he would have felt comfortable doing so, with his own words. He didn’t want this to change anything between the two of you.

“And erm… What exactly bothers ya?”

You open your mouth to speak, but your words are jammed. Explaining that you feel jealous of what the both of them had shared would just come down to confessing your feelings for him plain and simple. 

You felt completely stuck. 

He’s right there before your eyes, the very source of all your worries and your every joy. Looking at you with those confused blue eyes, wondering what is happening in this pretty head of yours. But the words still won’t come out.  You feel more and more powerless, and instead of a sound, your eyes take over to get something out of your body, slow and sad tears filling them like a lonely glacier fills a mountain lake on its own.

Arthur’s usual frown furrows, his wrinkles more visible, contrasted by the shadows from the warm lights of the fire. Suddenly, his internal melancholic speech shuts down, as if the view of a single tear streaming down your cheek were absolutely intolerable to him. No worries nor anxious self-restraints crosses his mind —it’s now only instinct. He sees you crying. He has to help you. This is as easy as that.

His right hand reaches to you by itself.

It feels warm but coarse. This big, big hand on the side of your face.

“Oh, Y/N. Don’t waste those pretty tears for a sour-faced idiot like me.” His thumb gently wipes the drops of sadness that had overflowed from your two delicate lakes. “Come on, les’ jus’ talk about this somewhere quiet.”

Arthur gently uses the hand he had on your cheek to wrap it around your shoulders, solid arm gently pushing you up. He then leads you through the door, other members throwing curious gazes at the both of you.

But he doesn’t care. His priority, right now, is your well-being, and some privacy to allow him to finally whisper things in your ears he should have a long time ago. Not in front of everyone. Not with the other men looking at your sparkling eyes, and listening to the change in his voice he knew would crack, his usual intimidating persona crushed into a million pieces with only the sound of your own. Or with the other girls hearing the oh-so-important words he had to say. No. You would be the only one to witness this. 

He had brought you to the barn where the horses were kept. The snow was falling lazily, a few flakes passing through the holes in the dilapidated roof. The place is enveloped in a heavy silence, as if it was muffling every sound coming from the outside.

Once Arthur had closed the big wooden doors behind you and before he could do anything else, you finally burst.

“I shouldn't cry, I’m so sorry Arthur, I just… She looked like an incredible woman, so beautiful a-and distinguished, and me well… I'm just… me.” Your eyes fell to your feet. You like everything was coming out of you all at once and you couldn't contain it anymore.

“Stop it.” 

“How could I ever mean something to you? You've been with her for so long and even proposed to her and… and never fell in love again after her and…”

“Stop it, Y/N!”

Arthur cut your blabbering panic by pulling you against him. He held you so tightly you were almost crushed by his powerful arms, but it felt so good. Like he was holding together all the little pieces of you that had cracked, melting them with his warmth and molding yourself again with it.

“Now you l’sten to me, sweetheart. I don’t want ya to say things like this ever again.”

The sudden use of the pet name soothed your heart immediately. You buried your face into the furred collar of his big winter coat, the hairs tickling your nose. There, you can feel a little bit of his bare skin, your cheek finding shelter against it.

You stopped talking.

You just wanted him to continue to. His deep voice seemed to come directly from the inside of his chest, and you could feel it vibrating before actually hearing it.

“Ya know I’m no… Am no poet or, or good with words like Dutch…” He started, visibly unsure of what he was going to say. He’s relieved he had initiated the hug, this way, with your face in there, you couldn’t see his. The worried expression it was carrying, like a burden. “But lemme tell ya just how much I care about ya. Oh, my sweet girl.” 

This is it. He tries not to but his low tone begins to tremble. It’s so strange. It feels like forever since that happened for the last time.

“Yeah, Mary has been a real’ important part of my life, I won’t lie to ya. But it was so long ago, gorgeous. So long ago.” 

He knows he won’t shed a tear. He never cries. But his hands shake. His vocal cords vibrate in a vulnerable, softer, and higher-pitched quaver. His body tenses, heart as fast as if racing with a million wild horses galloping in the Great Plains. Even if his words couldn’t explain just how much you meant to him, you could have guessed by how you were affecting his entire flesh.

“Ya know what? It’s true. Our story ended badly. I never fell in love again after her.”

You sigh, more tears wetting your face and his blue coat, this truth so hard to swallow.

“Until that morning, when I saw you brushing Boadicea’s mane; your hair all covered in hay, the brightest smile I ever had the chance to witness on that sweet face o’ yours. That day, I knew my stupid foolish heart had done it all over again.”

You let out a single chuckle mixed with tears and emotions, so relieved. Even when you felt like you were at your lowest, he succeeded at making you smile.

“Grimshaw had forced me to groom all the gang’s horses to “get used to camp’s work”. Must have looked terrible.” You remembered with a smile, details of your first encounter with Arthur flooding your mind.

“You looked like a goddamn Angel, honey. T’was like the sun was shining jus’ for ya. Jesus, I knew it was too late for me.”

You pulled back from him just a little, enough for you to look at him in the eyes, but not for him to let go of you. Now that they had found you, his hands, still slightly quivering, refused to let go, their place on your back and behind your head feeling so natural and right. Your eyes behave the same way as them but with his face. He looks so moved that you have to pinch yourself internally to make sure you’re not dreaming this whole thing; never in your life you had seen him like this.

“I love you too, Arthur.” You confessed back to him, fingers cupping his cheeks in a delicate touch.

You had to stand on your tiptoes to reach his face, but his arm helped you, your lips gently discovering themselves, brushing against each other in a soft and shy caress. Even if both your mouths were chapped by the biting cold, it was the most gentle kiss you had shared in your life, a satiny embrace that left you completely dreamy and light-headed.

The snowflakes silently swirl around the both of you, Nature the only witness of your souls melting into each other.

Opening your eyes again after this moment out of time, you're met with the happiest smile Arthur ever had on his face. He looked like and idiot in love, and you were sure you looked exactly the same.

“Please darlin’, don’t ever compare yourself to her ever again. What’s in the past stays there. And I wanna have a future with you.”

Your dreams sprang back straight from your heart to your mind. The visions you had about the both of you were more alive than ever, reinforced by his own needs shared with yours.

“You’re sweet, you’re funny, you’re so smart and stunningly gorgeous. And, you wan’ a proof?” He playfully asks you, taking his hat off his head, a thin layer of snow falling from it.

Turning it over, he carefully pull a piece of paper out, hidden between two leathered segments in the inner part of his hat. His cut and reddened fingers unfold it and he gives it to you, his big smile turning into an embarrassed and sheepish one.

It’s a sketch of you.

You’re mesmerized by the details of it, the blades of hay messily tangled in your hair, the sparkling in your eyes, the exact clothes you were wearing that day. This smile, you’re more than certain he drew it way more beautiful than it really is. Arthur even had added some lines traced from your head to the end of the paper, as if you were the Sun itself and were emitting your own light.

This was impossible this was the same person as you, her beauty was too radiant and fascinating.

But no matter what you thought about yourself, seeing his work curled your lips in the exact same way as yourself on the drawing. With snowflakes replacing the twigs, you had turned into the living recreation of it. Arthur laughed when he noticed, and realized just how much he had loved you and continued to since that morning from a year ago. He bent towards you to put a small kiss on your forehead.

“Arthur it’s… It’s beautiful.” You find it difficult to find another word, speechless once again. 

You also had no idea of how talented at drawing nor attracted to you he was. This day definitely was full of surprises. You chuckled fondly before taking a last look at your portrait and giving it back to your lover. But Arthur’s large palm wrapped around your hand.

“No, please, keep it. This way, you’ll always remember how you look through my eyes.”

More tears threaten to escape your own, even though those were a direct extract from the immeasurable happiness you were experiencing.

“And... Now that I don’t have to hide myself while sketching ya, I’m going to draw lots of new ones.”

tagging: @a-court-of-valkyries Thank you for reading all of this! Also, I didn't know this was a thing but if ever you want to be tagged in my works too, let me know! It would be my pleasure.

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Forgive Me | John Price x Reader

Summary: After a rough day, Price gets home and accidentally raises his voice at you, leading to plenty of apologies, and making up for his mistake.

Word Count: ~ 1.2k

Warnings: price yelling at reader :( angst to fluff to a lil bit of smut, fingering, cuddling, cute snuggly kisses, nothing too bad

Minors, do not interact!

A/N: this was such a cute request from anon, I love price so much…like he’s such a cutiepie y’all don’t even get it, hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

You and your husband didn’t have many arguments.

Sure, the occasional little squabble where you’d only last maybe an hour before breaking and both apologizing to each other, acknowledging your wrongs.

The emotional maturity that both of you shared was something John Price appreciated most about your relationship.

But tonight was different.

He couldn’t even remember what had started the argument.

He’d already been wound up, having driven hours from the base to home after a long day of dealing with annoying recruits while his patience ran thin with their antics and horseplay. It had been a bit entertaining the first few times, but by the 40th time, it was plain annoying.

But they didn’t seem to understand that.

So he’d spent his day yelling at them till his voice was hoarse, some refusing to stop and just continuing what they’d been doing if they were ballsy enough.

And he supposed that instead of reverting into the normal John Price, the Price that was softer and gentler with you, he hadn’t seen the difference between you and those recruits in the moment.

One sarcastic remark, and you were both in the living room, Price pacing around leaving a trail on the floor while ranting in a loud, brusque voice all too similar to a yell. He got so caught up in himself, in his angry tirade of frustration with his day and the current situation, that he hadn’t noticed how he was asking until you muttered a meek little,

“John, you’re scaring me.”

It had floored him completely. Nearly all thoughts shut down at that one little sentence as he stopped pacing, standing stiller than a statue, eyes now observing your red-rimmed eyes brimmed with tears, or the quiet sniffles you were making, trying to hide them as well. He could tell.

Guilt punched him in the gut harder than any enemy had ever done.

He’d never grown up in a bad family, per se. It was just traditional. His father ranted while his mother kept her mouth shut, listening patiently and serving his every need. He could still remember how angry his father had been at his older sister when she’d snuck out with a boy. How his father had screamed at her in the kitchen while she’d sobbed, his mother doing nothing but sitting silently at the table, like a ghost.

He’d been terrified at the time. Promised himself and his future spouse that he would never treat a woman, his woman, that way.

And here he was. Doing the same thing.

“Love,”

He cooed apologetically, eyes crinkling in the corners from worry, brows furrowing as he held both his hands out towards you, watching as your bottom lip wobbled a bit when you took a little step back.

You were afraid.

Of him.

He’d be an idiot to think you wouldn’t have a bit of fear after what he’d done, screaming at you, a small woman, being the large man he was. Of course, you’d be afraid.

“I’m sorry, bird, please.”

He tried again, tone taking on a hint more desperation as he offered you at least a hand. Tears fell freely in streams down your face now, clumping in your lashes and catching in the corners of your lips.

Only when the first sob tore through your body, did you finally relent and fold into his warm, strong arms. His familiar musk, a mix of whiskey, barbecue, and a campfire, enveloped your senses as you buried your head in his shoulder. His hand stroked up and down your back soothingly, large palm gently massaging the tension out unknowingly, while his other hand ran through your hair.

“I know, I was being a right ass, wasn’ I?”

He murmured, the hand in your hair moving to your knees as he gently bent them while picking you up bridal style, your weight barely even noticeable to him as his feet padded against the floor, the door to your bedroom creaking open and promptly shutting behind him before he sat on the edge of the bed with you. The sobs shaking your already-trembling body slowly subsided, leaving you feeling emptier than before.

Now sniffling, tears hardly dried, you replied.

“Yeah, you were.”

His calloused thumb wiped whatever wetness remained on your face away. Your lips were still in a pout, one he tried to erase by gently pressing his chapped lips against yours, pulling away, his eyes gazing deep into yours.

“Really, I’m sorry. Didn’t intend to get carried away.”

He murmured, and you sniffled again before replying.

“It’s fine, I guess.”

He let out a dissatisfied hum, pulling the blankets out from underneath both of your bodies to gently cover you. He was already practically a human furnace, not needing much to warm him.

“It’s not fine, shouldn’t have lost my temper.”

His hands curled around your waist once again, holding you just a bit closer, as if wanting to keep you close. To keep you safe.

You raised a brow, relaxing into the cuddles nicely as you melted into his body, hardly noticing the way his thumbs were rubbing little circles into your hips.

“Yeah? What’re you gonna do to make it up to me, then?”

You teased, voice a bit drowsy already. He let out a small hum of thought, one warm hand slipping down your thigh, slowly making its way in between and rubbing those little circles onto your inner thigh, now.

“I’ve got an idea.”

He mumbled, his hand temporarily returning to him as he licked the pad of his thumb, leaving a bit of spit on it before returning to your inner thigh, the same hand pushing both your shorts and underwear to the side as his thumb slowly grazed through your folds, that bit of spit acting as a lubricant.

A low purr of delight from you, one that only grew more vocal as his thumb began lazy circles around your clit, not teasing or holding back, just slowly working you up until your legs were trembling, hips jerking slightly and little gasps escaping your lips.

“There you go, almost there,”

He cooed as you let a little whimper slip from between your lips, that tight coil in your stomach building and building before your orgasm washed over you like a cool breeze in the summer heat.

“Good girl…”

He murmured softly as his hand slipped out of your pants, adjusting them back into place before going back to holding your body against his, helping you back to reality from whatever clouds your sleepy mind was floating in.

“Mm…John?”

You mumbled against his shoulder, and one hand went back to stroking your hair.

“Yes, pretty?”

He questioned, ignoring the breathy little incoherent noises you kept letting out amidst words.

“I forgive you, really this time.”

An airy chuckle from your drowsy husband as he held you a little bit closer, tucking the blanket in over you as he smiled against your skin, giving your forehead a little peck before he closed his eyes, mumbling one last thing, mainly to himself, before sleep claimed him.

“Don’t know what I’d do without you, love.”

[umadxoxo]

FAMILY MAN [O!Bakugo Katsuki x A!Male Reader] PT.2

You laid on Bakugo’s pillow, one arm pinned under your head while the other played in the blondes’ hair. The man was lying on your chest, in the glow of his preheat. He had invited you to his room after classes, just to allow you to scent everything he needed you to in his nest. Nothing sensual had happened yet, during your research you had learned that all an omega really needs before their heat is the scent and attention of their alpha. Their alpha…were you Bakugo’s alpha? He had never asked, you had never asked for him to be your omega either though. It was unspoken arrangement between the two of you that you would only go to each other for things like this. He had never smelt the lingering scent of another omega on you, and your interaction with omega classmates were limited, always holding yourself three steps away from them.

You enjoyed basking in his scent, it was smoky and woody. Like sitting by a campfire on a snowy night. You could drown yourself in it. Times like these were nice, when Bakugo wasn’t his usually angry self, when he wasn’t yelling at you, or pulling your hair and calling you an idiot. You lived for the few times when he acted like a domesticated cat. It’s almost as if he enjoyed your company as much as you enjoyed his. You truly did love him. 17 and in love, how stupid of you. But with him in your arms clutching you like a lifeline, how could you have not fallen in love with him?

You stared at Bakugo dumbfounded, his push away from your embrace wasn’t as successful as he had hoped, your hands still had death grips on his upper arms. His glare remained on you though, unwavering as you slowly pulled in closer to him, looking in his eyes.

“Why the fuck are you in Japan?” He asked, pulling his face away from your curious gaze. Despite the grip you had on him, your hands were still comforting, and safe. Not letting him go. But he needed to leave, he couldn’t deal with this shit right now, there was still a villain on the loose.

“Kat, what are you talking about?” You asked slowly. Your hands left his arms and snaked up his shoulder and face, something you used to do to him all the time when it was just the two of you. He would have never let you show him affection like this in public when you were teenagers. Old habits die hard because the moment your fingers intertwine in the hair he’s pulling himself off the other side of the bed to put some distance between you. Something in your eyes flickers that he’s all too familiar with; disappointment.

You always had that look on your face in high school. When he didn’t scent things for you, or didn’t acknowledge you outside of class, or told you when he didn’t love you. The last one was probably what he was most ashamed of. You loved him, despite how badly he treated you. How little did you think of yourself to let him walk all over you like that?

Years of just hit after hit from him and you always came back when he called. Until you didn’t.

“Did you get tired of dicking around in America? Does anyone even know you’re back? That you’re married?” It figures that he wouldn’t even be on the list of people you’d tell, it’s not like you have given him any life updates since you left. But he would have a least heard about it from Shitty Hair or Pinky, hell even fucking Deku would have had something to say about you returning. He can’t keep secrets for shit. He had told Bakugo a while Hatsume has been trying to recruit you for years to come back and work with her on support gear. All of her efforts had been unsuccessful though, apparently you enjoyed your job in America.

You had your own little life out there. One that he knew nothing about.

Your disappointment turned into a little pout, and you tilted your head in that cute fucking way you always do when you’re thinking. You share a look with the medical staff, who is all still crouched in the corner of the room and watching the two of you. One of the doctors you make eye contact with is finally man enough to stand up and approach Bakugo.

“Mr. (L/N), we think that there may be some trauma do your head after the attack, if you could let us run some neurological assessments and a MRI we can get a better idea of what we are working with.”

“I DIDN’T HIT MY FUCKING HEAD!” He yelled, the doctor was quick to back away from his outburst. You were quick to jump into action, directly all his attention back to you.

“Kat, it’s okay, it’s just routine.” You lied like he wouldn’t know. Like Bakugo hasn’t landed himself in the hospital a dozen times and already knows a routine assessment. You sounded defeated though, like you didn’t want to fight but weren’t going to back down. You would drag him kicking and screaming to the MRI if you had to. “I know you’re upset but Deku got the villain after he knocked you out, okay. Let’s just get all these tests over with and I will take us home.”

The distance Bakugo put between you didn’t seem to detour your calming scent, but you made no move closer to him out of respect. He was mad, and you’ve seen him made enough times to know to give him the space he needs. Bakugo is just staring at you, a mixture of emotions that he wouldn’t appreciate you deciphering in front of all these strangers. Because what the fuck did you mean “take us home”? To your home? To his? And Deku wasn’t even near the fight when it happened, how the hell did he swoop in and save the day? You nod silently the way to the door for the doctors so the two of you can be alone. They take the hint.

You sit down in the hospital bed, watching as Katsuki paces around in his anger. After what feels like forever he looks at you, only you. And you swear you can see a glimmer of water in the corners of his eyes.

In a flash, the omega is back in your arms, face burrowed in your neck as you run your fingers through your hair again. “Why are you here?” He whispered, and the sound of his voice is enough to break your heart and two. Because neither of you had an actual clue what was going on in each other’s heads. You wanted to ask him what he meant, because he saw you this morning before work. He lifts his bed from your shoulder to meet your gaze. Katsuki Bakugo, number one hero, was sitting in your lap on the brink of tears because a low level villain caught him off guard? No, no something else was going on. You could tell, he was confused and scared and angry all at once. You cup his face and pull him close.

“My Husband is in the hospital.” you laughed, “Where else in the world would I be?” You gave him a small kiss on the lips, pulling away all too soon. Bakugo’s hands find your wrists and put them in a death grip, preventing you from moving away. The kiss he gives you is more passionate, like he thinks it is the last one he will be able to give you in a while. You make a surprised noise until you melt into it. He’s rubbing his scent all over you as if you weren’t already drenched in it.

Him? Your husband?

A/N: That’s so lame of me not to update in months and I want you all to know I’m as disappointed in myself as you are.

[heliosunny]

Hi! I love your Yan fics, can I request a Yan!Fem!Reader with Phainon looking like the Kevin Kaslana she used to love? (It would be better if Yan!Reader's love for Phainon/Kevin was like Jyahnar's love for Kiana in ggz.) Please, I just love them so much, these two Samoyeds are something😭😭😭

Yan!Fem!Reader x Phainon

The first time you saw him, your heart stopped.

The market square was loud, buzzing with the energy of traders and travelers, but all of it faded into nothing the moment your eyes landed on him. White hair, blue eyes, a strong, battle-worn physique—he looked just like him. The one you had lost.

It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be.

But the longer you watched, the harder it was to tell yourself otherwise. He moved so effortlessly, carrying a heavy bag of supplies over one shoulder, his posture relaxed yet powerful. His laugh rang out—bright, unguarded, the sound of someone who had never known true loss.

No, he wasn’t him.

But that didn’t matter.

A person could be shaped. Molded.

Phainon was a wandering warrior, traveling from city to city, taking on work as a hired fighter. Not quite a mercenary, he wasn’t the type to kill for money, but a warrior for those who could afford his skill. He was strong, fast, and trained in both traditional weapons and modern enhancements. But he wasn’t untouchable. He wasn’t careful. Most importantly, he was kind. And that was what would ruin him.

A connection, set in place long before you arrived. A man you had helped months ago, one who now owed you a favor, introduced you at a local gathering.

“Phainon, this is Y/N. She's new in town.”

You gave a polite smile.

“Nice to meet you.” His eyes met yours, and for the briefest moment, something stirred in your chest—something yearning.

You pushed it down. For now, you would be patient. You would slip into his life, step by step, until he couldn’t imagine a world without you. And then—when the time was right—you would take him.

The mission had been a success, but you barely thought about it. Your mind was elsewhere, pulled by an invisible thread—toward him. The moment you saw the campfire in the distance, your steps slowed. Phainon sat by the fire, leaning back against a crate, his sword resting within arm’s reach. He looked up as you approached, his face lighting up with recognition.

“Well, if it isn’t Y/N” he said, grinning. “Back already?”

You gave a small nod, watching as he gestured toward the empty spot beside him.

“Come on, sit. You must be starving.”

You hesitated—not because you doubted the invitation, but because the way he said it. It was too familiar. Too much like him. But you went anyway, settling beside him as the fire crackled between you.

Phainon stretched, rolling his shoulders before glancing at you. “Got anything to eat? I’d offer, but I kinda ran through my rations.”

You reached into your bag, fingers closing around a familiar plastic cup. As you pulled it out, peeling the lid back slightly, steam rose from the broth inside. Instant noodles.

Phainon blinked. Then, to your surprise, his face lit up.

“No way—you eat those too?” He let out a laugh, eyes shining with something almost nostalgic. “Man, I haven’t had these in ages.”

Your fingers curled slightly around the cup.

He liked them.

Just like Kevin did.

You handed the cup over, watching as Phainon took it eagerly, chopsticks in hand. The first bite made him pause, eyes closing briefly as he let out a satisfied sigh.

“Damn, that’s good” he muttered. “Simple, but hits the spot.”

You had known, of course. You had seen the similarities, traced them over and over in your mind. But seeing it now, so natural, so real— It was fate. It had to be.

“You sure you don’t want any?”

You smiled. “I don’t mind.”

Because just watching him—watching Kevin—was enough.

The night air was cool, the fire reduced to glowing embers. Phainon sat beside you, his usual energy dimmed by the quiet peace of the moment. The warmth of the meal, the weight of exhaustion settling into your bones—it all made your eyelids grow heavy.

“You should get some sleep” Phainon murmured, voice softer than usual.

You shifted slightly, resting your arms against your knees. “I’m fine.”

He huffed a laugh. “Yeah, sure.”

Suddenly, he tilted his head toward you, offering his shoulder.

“Here. You look dead on your feet.”

You hesitated. Not because you didn’t want to—but because it was too familiar. But in the end, you let yourself lean in. His body was warm, solid, steady. A presence that should have belonged to someone else. Your eyes slipped shut. And then the past came rushing back.

It was cold. The kind of cold that seeped into your bones, that turned breath to mist and blood to ice. Kevin stood before you, blade in hand, his expression unreadable. Behind him, the battlefield stretched endlessly—flames licking at broken metal, bodies crumpled in the snow.

You reached for him. “Kevin—”

He didn’t move. And then, without warning, the world cracked apart. Blood bloomed across his chest, staining his uniform. You screamed. He didn’t fall. Not at first. He turned to you, lips parting as if to say something, but then his knees buckled. His body hit the ground. The snow swallowed him whole. You ran. You clawed at the frozen earth, hands shaking as you tried to pull him back, tried to stop the blood from spilling out.

You woke with a gasp, your body jerking upright. The campfire flickered in the dark, but all you could see was red. A strong arm wrapped around you.

“Hey, hey—breathe,” Phainon’s voice murmured, still thick with sleep. His warmth surrounded you, grounding you, pulling you back. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Your fingers curled into his shirt. For a moment, you almost called him Kevin. But then Phainon pulled you closer, his hand resting gently against your back, and the name died on your tongue. He wasn’t Kevin. But that didn’t matter. Because in his arms, you could almost pretend.

It had been weeks since you last saw him. You told yourself it didn’t matter. Phainon was a wandering warrior, it was natural for your paths to split. You would always find him again.

The city was lively, you moved through the crowd, heading toward the bounty office when a familiar voice cut through the noise.

“—Not bad, huh? Almost too easy.”

You stopped. Phainon stood near the entrance of a tavern, laughing with a group of fighters. His silver-white hair caught the light, his expression open and carefree.

He looked the same. He always looked the same. But something was off. The people around him. They weren’t you.

One of them, a cocky-looking guy with a scar across his jaw, noticed you first.

“Well, well. What do we have here?”

You ignored him, stepping toward Phainon. Before you could speak, the guy slung an arm around Phainon’s shoulder, grinning. “Hey, Phainon, is this an old flame or something?”

Your expression didn’t change, but something cold settled in your stomach.

Phainon blinked, glancing between you and the man.

“Huh? No, this is—”

The guy cut him off with a laugh. “Come on, don’t tell me you let this one slip away.”

His grin widened, eyes flicking over you in a way you did not like. “Though, I guess if you’re free now—”

Your knife was at his throat before he could finish. Silence fell over the group. The man froze, his smirk twisting into something nervous.

“I’d suggest you shut up” you murmured. “Before you lose something important.”

A drop of sweat rolled down his temple. He lifted his hands in surrender, stepping back carefully.

“Alright, alright. No need to get violent.”

You lowered the knife. Without another word, you turned and walked away.

Phainon cursed under his breath before jogging after you. “Wait—Y/N!”

You didn’t stop, but he caught up easily, falling into step beside you.

“You know, scaring the hell out of people isn’t the best way to make friends.”

“I wasn’t trying to make friends.”

Phainon laughed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeah, I figured.” He glanced at you. “Still… sorry about that guy. He’s an idiot.”

You said nothing.

He nudged your arm. “You okay?”

You exhaled slowly, forcing down the lingering irritation. It wasn’t his fault.

“…I’m fine.”

Phainon studied you for a moment, then smiled. “Well, since you’re here, want to help me out with a mission? It’s nothing too crazy, but an extra set of hands wouldn’t hurt.”

You met his gaze. A chance to stay close. A chance to remind him that no one knew him like you did. You nodded.

“Great. Let’s go.”

And just like that, you were by his side again. Right where you belonged.

The mission was straightforward—escort a merchant’s cargo through a stretch of rough terrain. Phainon handled the front, chatting with the merchant, while you kept watch from the back.

It should have been easy. But your mind wasn’t on the job. You watched Phainon’s movements, the way he carried himself, the way his shoulders shifted with each step.

It was so much like Kevin.

And yet, it wasn’t.

You clenched your fists. He wasn’t Kevin. The realization struck harder than expected, like a thread snapping loose in your mind. You had known, of course.

And yet… The thought crept back in, slow and insidious. Kevin had walked ahead of you once, too. Just like this. Always leading, always making sure you weren’t far behind. And when you trailed off, lost in thought, he had always—

“Y/N!”

Phainon was in front of you now, tilting his head. “You good?”

For a moment, you didn’t answer. You just stared at him, seeing him and not seeing him at the same time.

“…Yeah,” you finally murmured.

He didn’t look convinced but let it go. The mission ended smoothly. You parted ways with the merchant at a guild outpost, collecting your cut of the payment before heading off on your own.

You needed space.

The forest just outside the outpost was quiet, the distant hum of city life fading into the rustling leaves. You leaned against a tree, exhaling slowly. You had been too careless. Too caught up in the idea of him.

Phainon wasn’t Kevin. But it was hard to let go.

“Did I do something?”

Your eyes snapped open. Phainon stood a few feet away, arms crossed, expression light but questioning.

“…Why are you here?”

He shrugged. “Saw you leave. Thought you might need company.”

Of course. Of course he would follow. Just like Kevin had.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “I just needed some air.”

Phainon hummed. “Well, I won’t bother you too much, then.” He paused, then added, “Did you hear about the guy who fell into a well?”

You frowned. “What?”

“He couldn’t see that well.”

You stared at him. A beat of silence. Then— A laugh slipped out before you could stop it. It was small, barely more than a chuckle, but it was real. Phainon grinned like he had won something, rocking back on his heels.

“There it is,” he said.

You shook your head, exhaling. “That was awful.”

“I know.”

And just like that, the weight in your chest lessened.

He wasn’t Kevin. But maybe… that was okay.

Phainon never stayed in one place for too long, never tied himself down. But you were patient. And patience always paid off.

You didn’t force your presence into his life. Instead, you became a constant—a familiar face in his ever-changing world.

When he stopped by a town, you were already there.

When he took on a job, you happened to be on a similar one.

And when he thought he was alone, he would find himself thinking about you.

One evening, after a particularly grueling mission, Phainon collapsed into a seat at a guild tavern, rolling his shoulder with a tired sigh. His new companions were loud, sharing drinks, but he felt… detached. Like something was missing. And then— A familiar presence slid into the seat beside him.

“You look like hell.”

His head snapped toward you, surprised—then relieved. “Y/N!”

is grin came easy, like he had been expecting you all along. “You got a habit of showing up at the right time, huh?”

You smiled, resting your chin on your hand. “Or maybe you’ve just started noticing.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Maybe.”

He didn’t realize it yet, but he was already caught. Because now, when you weren’t around, he felt your absence. And that was exactly what you wanted.

---

The air was thick with the scent of blood and scorched earth. Phainon stood amidst the wreckage—broken weapons, shattered armor, and bodies strewn across the battlefield. But none of it made sense. Because you were the one who did this.

His party had been strong. They should have been able to handle a monster attack, but instead, they were lying unconscious at your feet, their bodies bearing wounds too precise, too lethal to be anything but intentional. And there you stood, a wicked glint in your eyes, your blade gleaming under the artificial moonlight cast by the neon panels embedded into the sky.

The world was a strange mix of past and future, but here and now, only one thing mattered—your bloodstained hands and the way you were looking at him. Not as a stranger. But as him.

“Kevin…” You breathed his name like a prayer, like a curse.

Phainon tensed. Kevin?

The monster that had been terrorizing travelers was nowhere to be seen, but he knew what had happened now. You’d fallen under its control—trapped in an illusion, haunted by the past.

Your movements were deadly, practiced. Years of battle had honed you into something nearly untouchable, something even his team had failed to stand against. But Phainon wasn’t them. He had fought wars alone, walked through death and back, and he wouldn’t fall so easily.

“Kevin,” you called again, this time with something aching in your voice, something raw. “Why did you leave me?”

Phainon barely dodged as you lunged, your blade slicing through the air where his throat had been a moment before. He didn’t answer. There was no point. You weren’t here. You were somewhere else.

You fought like a demon possessed, each strike laced with fury, grief, and longing. Phainon could see it in your eyes—the war between past and present, the way you weren’t truly seeing him. You didn’t hesitate. Because in your mind, you were fighting to keep Kevin from slipping away again. A cruel trick of the mind.

Phainon gritted his teeth, raising his sword to block another vicious strike. He had to end this—quickly. You were powerful, but the real enemy was the one who had twisted your memories, poisoned your mind.

And then he saw it. A shadow lurking behind you, monstrous and ancient, its form flickering in and out of existence. The true beast. You weren’t the enemy. It was. With a swift, calculated movement, Phainon feinted, dodging your next strike just enough to get into position. Then, with one fluid motion, he shifted his grip— And slayed the monster in a single, precise strike.

The moment its body hit the ground, the illusion shattered. The haze in your eyes flickered, confusion replacing the madness. Your knees buckled, and Phainon caught you before you could collapse entirely.

“Phainon…?” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

Not Kevin.

His grip tightened around you, but his expression remained unreadable. “It’s over.”

The weight of what had just happened pressed down on you, suffocating, but before you could fall any further, Phainon moved.

Without a word, he lifted you into his arms and began walking. Away from the battlefield. Away from the carnage, to the nearest inn.

The room at the inn was dimly lit, the only illumination coming from the old-fashioned lantern hanging on the wall. Outside, the distant hum of machinery mixed with the sound of rain tapping against the window—modern and ancient, colliding in a world that never quite made sense. But none of it mattered. Not when he was here.

Phainon sat at the edge of the bed, tending to the shallow cuts on his arm. The battle had been over for hours, but you could still feel the phantom weight of your blade in your hands, still hear the way you had called him Kevin with such desperation.

But that wasn’t what made your stomach twist. It was the way he had looked at you afterward. Distant. Like he was leaving you behind. Your fingers curled into the sheets, your breath slow and measured as you watched him from across the room.

Your voice came out softer than you intended. “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?”

Phainon didn’t look up. “Thinking about what?”

“Leaving me.”

A flicker of something crossed his face—annoyance? Amusement? It was always so hard to tell with him. “You’re imagining things.”

“Am I?” You pushed yourself up, the sheets pooling around you as you crawled closer. “You’re afraid of me now.”

He finally met your gaze, “No. But I know you, and I know what you’re thinking.”

You let out a soft laugh, tilting your head. “Do you?”

Your hands moved before he could react, grabbing his wrist, fingers pressing into the faint scars that mapped his skin. He stilled, not out of fear, but because he knew. Knew that something had shifted inside you, something that had always been there but had finally cracked open, spilling over.

“You tried to take him from me” you whispered, tightening your grip. “Tried to remind me he’s gone.”

Phainon didn’t respond.

“You killed the monster” you continued, “but do you think that means I’ll forget? That I’ll let go?”

“I’m not him.”

“I know.” Your nails pressed into his skin. “That’s why you’re mine.”

Kevin had been taken from you, ripped away by a cruel world that had never cared for love or loyalty. But Phainon… Phainon was here. And you wouldn’t lose him.

“You belong to me” you murmured, inching closer, close enough to feel his breath, to drown in his eyes. “So don’t even think about leaving, Phainon.”

Phainon didn’t speak, but he didn’t push you away either.

You straddled him, fingers wrapped around his wrists, pressing them into the mattress. His silver hair fanned across the sheets, his expression unreadable beneath you. The lantern’s glow flickered against his skin, casting shadows over the sharp lines of his face.

“You’re not trying to stop me” you whispered, leaning down until your noses nearly touched. “Why?”

Still, he said nothing. But his body—his silence—spoke volumes. You traced your fingers along the veins of his forearm, feeling the strength beneath them. He could throw you off if he truly wanted to. He could fight back. But he didn’t. A shiver of delight ran through you.

“You act like you don’t care” you murmured, shifting slightly, feeling the way his muscles tensed beneath you, “but you do, don’t you?”

You watched his expression, waiting, daring him to deny it. But there was no sharp retort, no scoff, no effort to escape. Only silence. Your hands released his wrists, fingers trailing down his arms, across his chest.

“You won’t leave me” you whispered, pressing your forehead to his. “I won’t let you.”

His eyes softened, just slightly.

“You’re mine” you breathed against his lips, feeling the warmth of him beneath you, the quiet surrender he refused to put into words.

His steady breath fanning against your lips as you hovered over him, waiting, daring him to push you away. His wrists were free now, your hands resting lightly on his chest, feeling the slow, controlled rhythm of his heartbeat.

Then, he moved. It was subtle, almost hesitant—the way his head tilted up ever so slightly, the way his breath caught just before his lips brushed yours. Your own breath hitched, a rush of warmth flooding your veins.

So, he finally understands?

Your fingers curled around the fabric of his shirt, your grip tightening. Just as his lips were about to meet yours, you caught his chin between your fingers, stopping him just short.

“Ah” you whispered, tilting his head back just enough to assert your hold, “so you do want me.”

He didn’t deny it. You leaned in, lips ghosting over his, savoring the way his breath shuddered ever so slightly, the way he was letting you control the moment.

“I knew you would come around” you murmured, letting your fingers trail up to cup his jaw.

Then, with agonizing slowness, you leaned down, claiming what had always belonged to you.

[00valentina-writes00]

Ur take on Best friend older sister Ellie or Abby ????

please my lord 🙌🙇‍♀️

♡♥︎ 𝔼𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕖/𝔸𝕓𝕓𝕪 𝔹𝕖𝕤𝕥 𝕗𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕟𝕕 𝕤𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤 ♥︎♡

♡ 𝔼𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕖 ♡

♥︎ Your crush started small. You would catch her staring at you when you spoke, and there was a little smirk she’d throw your way when she thought no one was paying attention. You tried not to read too much into it, but there was something about the way she talked to you—like she was actually interested in your thoughts—that made your heart skip.

♥︎ Ellie loved seeing you flustered. She’d start to do little things like giving you extra attention when you weren’t expecting it, like pulling you into conversation when you’d be lost in the background. The more you tried to hide your crush, the more Ellie seemed to enjoy it, like she was in on a secret you didn’t even know you were sharing.

♥︎ You never really expected Ellie to act on it. She was your best friend’s sister, and you didn’t want to make things weird. But every time she touched you—whether it was a pat on the shoulder or brushing her hand against yours—you felt that electric charge. It was like she knew just how to push your buttons without even trying.

♥︎ The first time Ellie genuinely flirted with you, it caught you completely off guard. You were sitting around the campfire, and she had been making jokes all night. Out of nowhere, she casually leaned over and whispered, “If you weren’t so damn cute, I’d probably make fun of you more.” Her voice was low, teasing, but there was something in it that made your heart race. You didn’t know how to respond, so you just laughed awkwardly, avoiding her gaze.

♥︎ Ellie always seemed to know how to make you nervous—on purpose. She’d drop little compliments here and there, like “Not bad for a little thing,” or “You’ve got a good sense of humor.” The way she said it made it clear she was giving you more than just words; she was giving you a reason to feel like maybe she felt the same way.

♥︎ At one point, you found yourself avoiding Ellie more. You weren’t sure how to handle the growing attraction, and the last thing you wanted was for your best friend to find out. But Ellie didn’t let you get away that easily. She’d corner you, pull you aside, and flash you a playful grin, just to see how much you could handle before you cracked.

♥︎ When Ellie started making it more obvious, you couldn’t tell if she was playing a game or if she actually liked you. She’d lean in too close when she talked to you, often making eye contact that lingered longer than you were comfortable with. You’d try to act casual, but inside, your heart was racing.

♥︎ You realized Ellie was good at reading people—especially you. She noticed when you’d fidget or avoid looking at her for too long, and it made her want to push you further. One evening, she caught you blushing when she brushed a strand of hair from your face. “Cute,” she said, her voice just soft enough to make you wonder if she was serious or just messing with you.

♥︎ One night, after a few too many drinks, Ellie sat next to you and wrapped her arm around your shoulders. “You’re alright, you know that?” she said, her breath warm against your ear. You could feel your heart hammering, but all you could do was nod, your words lost to the pounding in your chest.

♥︎ She’d ask you about your day, about things that no one else cared about, making you feel special. But there was something else behind her questions—something in the way she made you feel like you were the only person in the room, as though everything else faded away when she focused on you.

♥︎ The teasing got more direct over time. “You know, if you weren’t so shy, maybe I’d think you liked me or something,” she’d say, always with that knowing smirk. You’d try to brush it off, but Ellie’s teasing was persistent. She could see right through you, and the more she did, the more you realized you might not have to hide your feelings for much longer.

♥︎ Ellie started to get a little more bold. She’d brush your hand with hers when she passed by, and sometimes she’d just stare at you with a teasing smile, daring you to make the first move. You could tell she was having fun, but the tension between the two of you was starting to build in a way that neither of you could ignore

♥︎ One afternoon, when the two of you were alone, Ellie asked if you wanted to join her for a walk. It felt normal at first, just the two of you wandering around in the quiet. But then, out of nowhere, she stopped, turned to face you, and said, “I think I know why you’re so nervous around me.” You froze, your heart pounding, unsure if you were ready for whatever was coming next.

♥︎ “It’s okay, you know,” Ellie continued, her voice softer now. “I don’t bite… unless you want me to.” The smirk that followed made your stomach drop, but it also sent a thrill through you. It was clear she was messing with you, but a part of you wasn’t sure if it was a joke or if she was waiting for you to make a move.

♥︎ From that moment on, the flirting between you two became more comfortable. Ellie stopped teasing so much and started to let her guard down a little more around you. The playful comments turned into real, lingering glances, and when she’d touch your arm or your back, it wasn’t just by accident anymore.

♥︎ Eventually, the tension reached a breaking point. One night, as you were walking together, Ellie leaned in close, her lips brushing your ear. “You know you don’t have to hide it anymore, right?” she whispered. “I think I might feel the same way.” The words sent your heart racing, but the relief that flooded you was overwhelming. You didn’t have to hide your feelings anymore, not with Ellie.

♥︎ That was the moment everything changed. The teasing turned into real chemistry between you two, and your secret crush was no longer a secret at all. You both knew something was there, and neither of you were shy about it anymore.

♡ 𝔸𝕓𝕓𝕪 ♡

♥︎ You first met Abby when your best friend brought you to visit her. Abby’s intimidating presence made you nervous at first—tall, muscular, and covered in scars—but there was something about her that made you want to stay in her orbit, despite how out of place you felt.

♥︎ Abby always had a protective streak when it came to her younger sister. You’d see her constantly looking out for your best friend, and it made you admire her more than you probably should have. But it was when she started to treat you with that same level of care, in a way that felt more personal than casual, that you began to feel your crush start to grow.

♥︎ At first, you tried to ignore your feelings for Abby. She was your best friend’s sister, and things could get complicated. But every time she’d give you a quick smile or a soft compliment, you’d feel that tug in your chest, and you’d find yourself wondering if she might feel the same way.

♥︎ Abby never shied away from teasing you, especially when she saw you getting flustered around her. She’d throw a quick wink or a sly comment just to watch you stumble over your words. The way she made you feel so aware of every little thing about you both frustrated and thrilled you.

♥︎ The first time Abby complimented you, it was so casual that you didn’t know how to respond. You were working on something, and she just walked by, stopping to say, “You’ve got a good head on your shoulders.” You froze, unsure if she was joking or being genuine. But she kept walking with that confident, almost amused expression.

♥︎ She could tell when you were uncomfortable and would lean into it, not in a mean way, but in a teasing, playful one. Sometimes, she’d drop little hints to make you blush, like when she’d say, “You’re cute when you get shy,” and give you a knowing look.

♥︎ Abby wasn’t exactly subtle, but she knew how to make you feel special. If you were having a bad day, she’d check in with you quietly, asking if you needed anything, her voice softer than usual. There was a sense of care behind her words that made your heart ache with how much you wanted her to notice you more.

♥︎ The first time Abby called you by your first name, it made your heart skip a beat. It was so simple, but it felt like an acknowledgment of something more. She said it like it meant something, and you couldn’t help but hope it was her way of showing a little more interest.

♥︎ You often caught Abby staring at you, but it was always in that intense, unreadable way. She didn’t look at you with judgment; she simply observed, as though trying to figure you out. It made you self-conscious, but also made your stomach flip.

♥︎ Abby always seemed to know when you were feeling down. She would show up with food or a drink, just to keep you company without asking questions. It was such a small thing, but it made you feel like she was paying attention to you in a way that felt different from everyone else.

♥︎ Despite her tough exterior, there was something incredibly gentle in the way Abby handled you when you needed it. Whether it was a pat on the back or a soft hand on your arm, she always made you feel like she was there for you—no questions asked.

♥︎ There was this unspoken understanding between the two of you. Even when she was busy with her own things, Abby would take time out to check in on you. She’d ask how you were doing with a sincerity that made your heart melt, especially since it seemed so rare for her to let her guard down.

♥︎ When your best friend wasn’t around, Abby would ask you about your interests, your plans, and your thoughts. The conversations were never forced—just quiet, genuine exchanges that made you feel like she was truly getting to know you, and you loved every minute of it.

♥︎ Abby wasn’t big on showing her emotions, but when you got closer, you could sense her vulnerability. There were moments when she’d open up to you about things that had happened in her past, and you’d listen, feeling like you were earning her trust.

♥︎ There was a certain warmth in Abby’s presence that made you feel safe. Whenever you needed space or a moment to yourself, she’d give it to you, but if you ever needed comfort, she was always ready to give it, even if it was just in the form of a quiet, reassuring touch.

♥︎ Sometimes, Abby would be the first to break the silence when things were awkward between the two of you. She’d crack a joke or ask you about something that made you smile, making it impossible to stay in your shell around her for long. The more she made you feel comfortable, the more your feelings for her grew.

♥︎ One time, Abby caught you staring at her—probably a little too long—and the smirk that spread across her face told you she knew exactly what was going on. She didn’t call you out on it, but she made it clear with a small chuckle that she was aware of how you were looking at her, making your face turn redder than you thought possible.

♥︎ Abby liked to test your patience. Sometimes she’d casually touch your arm or playfully nudge you with her shoulder, just to see how you’d react. She was good at reading you, and it was clear she enjoyed making you squirm just a little bit, like she was drawing out your feelings without you even realizing it.

♥︎ Your best friend would sometimes joke about how close you and Abby were getting, and Abby would just laugh along, but there was this glint in her eye that made you wonder if maybe she wasn’t just playing around. It felt like a game to her, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something deeper under the surface.

♥︎ One night, after a long conversation, Abby leaned in a little closer than usual, her breath warm against your skin. “You’re different,” she’d said softly, her voice lower than normal. You didn’t know if it was a compliment or a warning, but it made your heart race regardless.

♥︎ It was a rare moment, but sometimes Abby would let her guard down, especially when the two of you were alone. In those moments, she’d let her tough exterior slip just enough for you to see the side of her that wasn’t afraid to show a little vulnerability, and it only made you fall harder for her.

♥︎ Abby might not have been as direct as some, but she knew how to show you she cared. Whether it was with small gestures, soft words, or her protective nature, she made it clear she saw something in you. And while you were still figuring out your feelings, you couldn’t help but hope that maybe she felt the same.

[johnpriceslamb]

— 𝓕𝓔𝓑𝓡𝓤𝓐𝓡𝓨

Soft murmurings of gossip rises within the Van Der Linde gang about the close relationship of the enforcer and the ex-noble.

𝓑𝓔𝓕𝓞𝓡𝓔 𝓨𝓞𝓤 𝓟𝓡𝓞𝓒𝓔𝓔𝓓 : age gap . fem ! reader . afab ! reader . hyper feminine ! reader . reader is mentioned to be physically smaller than chars mentioned in story . reader is in early 20’s . arthur is in late 20’s - early 30’s . crybbie reader snifle . traditional gender stereotypes heavily mentioned . tis short chapter ^_____^

The sun casts is warm rays across the expanse of the campsite, shrouding the trees in a soft glow. The soft murmurs of the people amongst the camp blends with the rustling of leaves and a gentle breeze carries the scent of a strange concoction of multiple animal meat and vegetables boiled down into a stew.

It’s been a week since you’ve stayed with the Van Der Linde gang.

You heave a bucket load of laundry onto the curve of your hip before sauntering to the place with a thick line roped around two trees which conveniently is placed where sun shines the most. The luxury you experienced back in ‘Denis was something you wish you never missed but the ultimate reality comes to clunk you gently on the head. Never hardly, because you couldn’t ever do harsh. The epitome of softness, you are.

Your feet ache from the weeks load of walking and helping with chores but alas, you could not just sit down and sniffle about your incident involving the man who lead the carriage to Chicago. You ponder at the thought if your father was still waiting for you, almost bouncing on his feet once he tells the boy he found as a partner for you to get on his knee and serve that dainty little ring on your left hand.

You tighten your grip on the wet fabric your hands enclosed on before spreading out the clothing on the line and clipped the ends with it with two half-broken pegs.

You’d rather be cooped up in a gang filled with outlaws than be married off to a man who could not even wash himself properly. You remember begging Dutch a day ago or so on your knees, dirtying your sweet little dress in the process, hands clasped together tightly as you cried out for him to let you stay.

He had a soft spot for pretty girls, and an even more softer spot for girls who keened at him like a needy puppy.

His warm hand combs through your hair as you sniffled upon his lap, beady eyes coming to stare at him through glossy tears. Your long lashes fluttered at the slight irritation, and the leader of the gang watches those fat globes of tears run down your cherub-like cheek.

From then on, you’ve received the embarrassingly sweet title of ‘Princess’. Suited for you. A pretty noble. Spoiled.

You knew life which held privilege unlike most of the camp members here. You pitied the people who told stories about their experiences of living around the campfire, noting yourself to bring a handkerchief for the next campfire session. A sense of envy was evident around the girls you slept next to, understandably so. However, they loved you like a sister, teasingly taunting you with your sweetest nickname as you giggle shyly at their prodding.

You shake your head lightly, lower lip lightly poking out at your distracting thoughts before finishing up with the laundry.

A soft crunch of leaves under a pair of boots, matched with a soft jingle of spurs to pair up with the evident way the loyal enforcer of the gang creeps up to you with a lazy stance. Your smile is light as you turn yourself to face him.

“Hey, princess.” Him too? Thats… Great.

Your cheeks feel warm at that silly title, “Good morning, Arthur.”

He takes the empty basket from you and you feel your heart soften just a bit at his kind gesture. Each time you look at him, you feel a slight spark between you both.

“Grimshaw been keepin’ you busy?” He looks at the long line of clothes, before that slightly boyish grin etches on his mature face.

You sigh, fiddling with your delicate cuffs, “Undeniably so. The soles of my feet ache from the amount of chores I do.” Now you understand why the maids from your manor would lightly stretch their legs before working around the interior.

He looks at you with concern, “Y’alright? Y’need anythin’?”

You shake your head politely, walking beside him slowly. “No, but thank you for your service.”

He looks down at your petite figure. You barely reached his shoulder, ��Hm. If y’need anythin’, just call f’ me.” A hand comes to gently guide the small part of your back to avoid any sticks or sharp edges on the forest grounds.

“I.. I appreciate your kindness a lot.”

And he looks at you again. A shy smile.

“Any time.”

You walk with him across camp to place the basket with the other woven stacked baskets. Then, he turns towards you with a sheepish expression.

“‘M uh, ‘m gonna be ridin’ with the guys in a few minutes. I’ll be goin’ to town..” He clears his throat, “Anythin’ you want me to get f’ you?” His eyes dart to the simple little necklace you wore. He looks at your face again quickly.

You feel your cheeks becoming warm again, before shyly looking around, “Oh! Um.. I-.. Please, don’t waste your money on me.”

“It ain’t wastin’ if its ‘bout you.” He states.

“Are you sure?”

“Mhm.”

You ponder. Perhaps a proper needle and thread to sow that stubborn little hole which keeps falling apart no matter the needle you used. It’s that damn thread you have to work with, which is probably older than Hosea himself.

“If you could just buy a small amount of thread for me, that would be lovely. If you can’t find any, I don’t mind at all.”

“Right got it. Jus’ some thread? Don—”

The bellowing voice of that lanky late teen whom you remembered his name was John comes huffing out. Wheat between his mouth, and a furrowed look on his scruffy long face, “Arthur! Stop talkin’ to your girlfriend ‘n come on! We’re all waitin’ for you.”

“Pipe down, Marston. Gimme a sec,” Arthur grumbles lowly, before his hands come to hold onto his heavy belt around his waist. You almost hiss at the sound of that new title coming out of his mouth, feeling your insides burning up from fluster.

“A-Alright. I’ll see you then?” He asks, almost shyly.

You wave at him as he backs up to leave, “Bye, please travel safely.”

He nods his head before sauntering off. You watch him saddle up on that beautiful mare of his that he proudly called Boadicea and rode off with the rest of the men to rob.. Or something. You’re not really sure what they do, turning a blind eye and kept on with the chores among the campsite.

A slight nudge is felt by your side, you yelped at the sudden appearances of the other girls when you turned your head around. Karen stands beside you with a slight smirk.

“What in the world was that?” Tilly pipes up, looking at you with a smile adorning her delicate features.

You look around and peer at a tree, glancing at the ground to see multiple footprints. With that in mind, you realised the three girls were all stalking you and Arthur’s conversation.

Stammering, you pat your hands down your dress and cross your arms in front of your chest, swaying side to side and looking away to avoid eye contact with any of them. They giggle at the fact that your cheeks turn into a darker colour, “I— What do you mean?”

“Bye, please travel safely~” Karen mimics you, her pitch much higher than before with a slight drawl of poshness added to it to make you even more flustered.

“Thats not funny!” You hiss at them, before they all erupt with laughter you’ve never been acquainted to. Warm, sweet, and most importantly..

Comforting.

Your nimble hands fiddle with the ends of your frilled-tipped dress. A week since you’ve been gone from home, and won’t return until then. A week. You’ve used up all of your delicate fabrics, picky about wearing the same clothing everyday. They may call you prissy and overly prim for it, but you would quite literally rather die than be cooped up in clothes which stick to your skin from sweat and body odour from not showering nor changing.

Thus, the frequent fussing of your laundry. You’ve ought to buy another dress or so with the pocket money you stored in one of the thin pockets of your dress. Until then, you’ll have to deal with the feeling of your palms becoming more wrinkly from the many times you’ve dipped it in water.

Your thoughts are disrupted when Marybeth sits quite close to you, a shy demeanour etched within her figure. Sheepish, almost.

“Hi, princess.” She greets you with a light smile.

You smile back, feeling comfortable around the woman. She shared similar thoughts with you upon any topic you sigh about, and the same adoration for romance novels.

“Hello, Marybeth. Can I help you with anything?” You greet back, delicate hands placed on your lap.

She lightens up immediately, softly stumbling on her words, “Oh! R-right, I was just wonderin’.. well.. er,”

“—Lemme start from the beginning.” She searches for something behind her, which was stored with the other girls stuff. She grabs a book, flipping to a few pages before showing you an illustrated picture of what seemed to be the main character in the novel she held onto.

“‘S called.. Lorna Doone by RD Blackmore! A story between two star-crossed lovers.. That woman,” She points to the picture with her thin finger, “Shes the love interest of this man here,” She flips to a page of the illustration of the man.

“The man’s father was a farmer who got murdered by this clan called the Doones. Actually, if I recall.. The Doones were actually nobles but turned to outlaws. ‘N guess what? He falls in love with her, who turns out to be in this clan!” She explains with excitement, holding the novel close to her chest with a dreamy sigh.

You flutter your precious lashes a few times, before giggling lightly at her enthusiasm, unconsciously telling her to keep going with her ramblings with a light nod.

She then adds, “Right, look.. I know this is a bit silly of me to ask but..” She shyly looks at you with an upturned smile, “Could y’ maybe.. put a bit of makeup on my face? Y’know, to match with her looks?” She gestures to the illustration of Lorna drawn onto the page.

“I reaaaally admire her, ‘n’.. You get the jist right?”

You light up. Of course, shes seen you put a light bit of makeup on your face sometimes just to feel a bit prettier and pass time. In fact, you were wearing a little bit right now!

“Hmm..” You look at the picture, before glancing back at her.

“I can do that.”

“Oh!” She cheers, pulling you into a tight hug, “Thank you, princess. You’re the best!”

You giggle again at her soft squeals, before hugging the girl back with the same intensity. You saunter away for a bit to grab your small pouch of makeup products. Once you come back, you perch yourself on your knees in front of her form and politely asks her to close her eyes.

She does so immediately, watching her lashes flutter down and meet her cheeks.

You grab your small tin of home-made cream, screwing the lid off and using your finger nail to whip a dollop and gently place it on her freckle-kissed skin with a sweet hum. Your fingers rub into her face until the cream disappears and forms a very thin barrier of blurring any pores on her face.

You peer at the illustration again for a bit. It wasn’t difficult to replicate. Lorna’s lips were so prettily placed with a red stained lipstick, and her cheeks blossom touched with blush.

Your fingers clasp onto another small container, this time filled with powder grounded from rice. You’ve heard that some cosmetic manufacturing stores sold powders with arsenic and lead which drastically reduced safety in women’s skin, but in a magazine you’ve read, some women used grounded up rice powder to hide any blemishes on their skin.

With the lightest dip of a cushion, you apply the fine-rice powder onto her skin.

She hums at the smell, peaking at your nimble hand which was encased with a little cushion, “Smells kinda nice.”

“Hm.. Kinda does,” You mumble in response, lightly smiling at her pretty complexion. Finally, you reach for a thin bottle of lipstick, rubbing the tip first to get rid of the previous use you had for it and applying it with another finger, before gently dapping it on her thin lips.

Finally, you move on to the final step. Blush!

Grabbing your last makeup product from your little pouch, you use the same cushion you used for your powder, but on the other side. You dip it into the pink substance before applying it on the apples of her cheeks.

Once you were finished and packed your supplies back into your little bag, you excitedly show her face with your little floral emblemed pocket mirror, “Tada!”

She fawns over herself, lightly touching her skin. Your little tinkering and handiworks has made her feelings for her beauty burst into stars of light.

“Not much of a difference, but I applied a bit more blush on your cheeks to emphasise it. At the end of the day, y’can just wash your face with some warm water ‘n’ a bar of clean soap.” You mention, before she nods.

“Thank you, princess! Why, I ought to show the other girls!” She happily smiles, before hitching her magenta skirt lightly and tittering off to find the other ladies her new look. Her excitement bounces off the lonesome camp, but it feels like it’s bustling with energy from the other women around. A much different place when the men were gone.

“Well I’ll be,” That southern drawl catches your attention as the man you were closest to amongst this group approaches from behind. You turn, smile drawn onto your demure features as you stand up from your spot and saunter closer.

“Looks like you ‘n Marybeth were having a good time.” He crosses his arms and relies on the soles of his feet to keep him standing, peering at you.

“When did you arrive?” You question, sizing him up and down a few times to see if he sustained any injuries.

“Just a few moments ago.” You didn’t even hear the sounds of Boadicea’s footsteps clacking on the rough grounds. Just how skilled was he when it came to horseback?

Then, he reaches to his pocket and grabs the thread you asked for. You lightly gasp and profusely thanked him.

Your hands enclasped around his and picked the string from his palm.

His heart flutters lightly at the quick touch, breath hitching in his chest as he takes a step back.

“I can finally sow that little pest of a hole in my dress now! Thank you, Arthur. I really appreciate it.”

He grunts, clearing his throat before looking away. “‘S all good.”

You place it in one of your pockets, “How can I repay you?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it.” He gently chimes, the rim of his hat tipped lightly down. You puff your cheeks at his nonchalantness, trying to poke and prod at him to waver a bit on repaying him. But of course, he stood firm on his decision and doesn’t budge.

“..Please?” Cue your big beady eyes staring up at him.

“M-m.”

“…Why not.”

“Cuz it don’t matter. ‘S just string.”

“But.. it must’ve been a bit expensive.”

“Princess. ‘S string.”

“Please.”

“Nope.”

“Arthur!” You whine lightly.

“Princess.” He hums in response, before placing his hand on your waist and guiding you to where food is served in a large pot.

“C’mon, lets eat.” Somehow, you forget everything he’s said because of how gently he treated you.

From the other side of camp…

Tilly, Marybeth with her newly applied makeup- smudged a bit from unconsciously itching her face, and a Karen watches the two. Javier— curiously grouping with them.

“…Chicas, what are we staring at?”

“Shhh. We’re lookin’ at plot development.”

[obxsummer]

good things fall apart // ghost of you

pairing: jj maybank x routledge!reader

summary: post-pogue reunion calls for campfire conversations, more walking, and PhDs in thiefology. jj asks you about your wishes and a near mercenary encounter has you on the run again (to no surprise ever).

warnings: usual obx drama, nothing too exciting

navigation -- series masterlist

ask me anything

--

“I think next time we take a trip, we should maybe plan ahead.”

John B’s obvious statement made you burst into laughter. The lot of you were crowding around the campfire that was still trucking along through the day and night, conversation flowing to pass the time as you tried to come up with a game plan on your next move.

You were settled against JJ’s chest, his legs caging you in on each side as you leaned into him. His arms hung loosely around your chest and his back pressed into a log that he and Pope had managed to roll up the dune and situate as a seating option for your temporary setup. Neither of you wanted to separate from the other for as long as you could, so you kept close. 

“We can stay in a hotel next time,” Sarah offered, smiling brightly at the idea. “Preferably one with a shower.”

Kie’s face turned up in disgust. “Oh yeah, I smell awful.”

“I smelled myself today,” John B grimaced in reaction. It was no secret you guys needed fresh clothes and a hot shower for sure.

“You’re not the only one who smelled you,” Sarah added, pinching the boy in his side as the group laughed with her.

Rhythmically, JJ’s fingers moved back and forth on your arm, the motion lulling you to sleep. “Hey, uh, you know what’s a good name for a baby? JJ.”

You rolled your eyes at his words but didn’t stop the small smile forming on your face. “The last thing we need are two of you running around.”

“What baby?” Cleo asked, eyeing you particularly. You shook your head slightly, letting your eyes drift to Sarah as a hint. 

The blonde girl was much more enthusiastic to share the news, having come to terms on her own with it. She reached out for John B, gripping his fingers with hers as realization fell across Pope’s face. “No freaking way.”

“A Poguelet?” Cleo asked with a huge smile on her face, sitting up in Pope’s arms as the couple descended into chaos.

“You?” Pope pointed at Sarah but he was staring at John B in shock. “You’re gonna be a freaking dad!”

Your brother’s arms went up in the air in celebration. “I’m gonna be a dad.”

“A little baby!” Cleo scrambled out of Pope’s embrace to press her ear against Sarah’s stomach dramatically, like she would be able to hear anything. Her lips continued to move as she spoke into Sarah’s dress, promising that she would be the favorite aunt if she had anything to do with it. You laughed at the sight, snuggling closer into JJ who was happy to tighten his hold on you. 

“You’re so ill equipped for that!”

“I know, but it’s totally okay!”

“Congrats, holy shit!”

Your gaze moved slightly to the left where Rafe was lounging. It was hard to miss that he kept glancing over and it was even harder to admit that you kinda felt bad that he was finding out about Sarah’s pregnancy in this way. 

You couldn’t imagine if John B found out you were pregnant from an overheard conversation and not you directly telling him. Which, sore subject and all, but your opinion still stood. 

You sighed, biting your lip in consideration before shifting out of JJ’s warm grip. He looked up at you expectantly. “Be right back, okay?”

He nodded, accepting the small kiss you gave him before you stepped away from the group to sit in front of Rafe. Not too close, of course, but enough that only the two of you would hear. Your fingers tugged at your lip and you contemplated how to even begin the conversation. 

There was a lot more to your “relationship” with Rafe than the two of you even noticed. Despite all of the hard feelings and trauma, you were both broken souls that were laid bare to the other at some point in time. Rafe didn’t realize it, but he’d spilled more of his deepest darkest thoughts to you when you were at their house. He found comfort in that. And whether you realized it or not, you’d been at your lowest in his presence, even if he was part of the cause. 

“Um, thank you. For what you did earlier,” You started, your fingers picking at your shorts. “I’d probably be fish food if it wasn’t for you.”

Rafe glanced over at Sarah, a moment of silence passing before he answered. “Yeah, I uh, things might be different right now with me and Sarah but I didn’t want to stand by knowing I could’ve prevented that for someone else.”

The answer caught you off guard slightly. Rafe’s relationship with Sarah was not a good one, in any way, shape, or form. Maybe at one point it had been, but you’d yet to see it. It had only gotten worse since she’d returned with John B and when Rafe found out Ward had died, he’d been downright cruel to her. 

Sarah had done her best to talk to him, especially when Rose declined all of her calls and Wheezie’s number was suddenly no longer available. She was rightfully scared of Rafe and his unpredictable anger, which had ended most of their conversations before they even happened. 

“I can’t speak for her, but I think she would appreciate you trying to talk to her… in a calm manner,” You emphasized and looked at him pointedly. 

Rafe rolled his eyes and shook his head slightly. “Yeah, well she should’ve thought about that before she let Dad die. She chose John B, that was her decision, not mine.”

You didn’t say anything, knowing it wasn’t your place to explain what happened in El Dorado. It wasn’t like Rafe would understand anyway, since he didn’t seem to listen to anyone but himself. You were trying. Despite the screaming feeling in your chest that wanted you to run, you were trying. If you didn’t make peace with what happened, it would continue to have a hold on you. Not saying Rafe deserved (or would receive) any forgiveness, but acceptance was part of the grieving process and you owed yourself freedom from it all. 

“Rafe, look at me.”

He nearly winced at the authority your tone held, the sound unfamiliar to him when it came from you. He looked up to see you staring at him with what he assumed was sympathy. You, sympathizing with him after all he’d done. 

“Your dad is not here anymore, and I know that’s hard to deal with. Trust me. But his hold over you, the way he manipulated you, it left with him. You don’t have to do anything for him. In fact, everything you do now, is for yourself. Just… think about that, okay?”

You didn’t leave room for conversation after that and returned to JJ, feeling much lighter than you had in a long time.

--

Sometimes, it felt like all you guys did was walk. Or run, you were always running from something, too. And you know what, it was getting really annoying. Crossing the dunes of Morocco wasn’t on your bucket list at all, and the beating sun wasn’t helping in the slightest. 

You were trying to keep a positive attitude, but man, today was not your day.

“Look, all is not lost. Like, we got a bead on Groff, and he can lead us to the crown. Happily ever after, right?” JJ theorized as the two of you walked hand in hand, your arms swinging slightly between you as the group followed in your footsteps. 

You nearly laughed, “Oh, someone woke up on the right side of the bed today, huh?”

JJ rolled his eyes, playfully pushing into your side and nearly knocking you over before he pulled back on your hand to keep you upright. A shocked gasp left your mouth as you lost your footing before he stabilized you again, a laugh bubbling from his throat.

“Asshole,” You joked, bumping your hip with his.

“Hey,” He whined in faux annoyance. “You love me.”

You paused in your walk to face him. “You’re so lucky I do.” Shifting on your toes, you kissed him slowly, ignoring the complaints from your friends as JJ flipped them off in response. It was hard not to dismiss everything that had happened in the past 48 hours when you were all here, together and alive, safe and sound.

As long as everyone made it out of this, you could keep moving forward, one step at a time.

--

The walk across the dunes continued for what felt like hours (and likely was), before civilization came into view. Essaouira, Pope explained, was a major port city for Morocco. The landscape was a crowded one, with building after building stacked next to the other. 

“What’s the plan here?” You asked, glancing back at your brother who was keeping Sarah close with her evident exhaustion. Everyone was dehydrated, sore, tired, and in need of a refresher. 

“We locate the wharf and find Groff, yeah? That’s all we gotta do,” JJ said as you guys walked through the tunnel that opened into the bustling town, people flooding in all directions. 

Your eyes widened at the surplus of individuals moving about and you turned to JJ to see his shocked expression. “That might be a little harder than we thought.”

Pope scoffed next to you, his expression unamused. “You think?”

JJ’s grip on your hand tightened before he took the step into the crowd and you reached your other hand back to grab ahold of Cleo’s, determined to keep the group together as you weaved your way through. 

It was overwhelming as the voices blended together, people shouting at you for money or items, hands grabbing on to your clothing before Cleo smacked them away with a disgruntled disapproval. 

“Babe, we gotta get out of here,” You huffed as someone else bumped into you causing you to stumble into JJ’s back. 

Pope must’ve overheard because he was suddenly taking the lead, JJ following in step with him to get out of the chaos to somewhere quieter. It didn’t take long before you found yourself staring up at a large statue of a man with a menacing sword, the stone carved with delicate details.

“Yo, that Murat,” Pope explained as everyone came to a stop. “The Barbary pirate. That’s the guy Groff was telling us about.”

“Holy shit,” John B mumbled as he looked up at the statue. “That’s him, the one who made the map to find the crown.”

“Which might be closer than we think. Let’s go.” JJ started following the path again which unfortunately was taking you all back into another crowded space. 

The heat was almost nauseating at this point and you hoped there would be a good opportunity to take a break here soon.

Apparently, Sarah was feeling the same way as John B eased her down on a nearby ledge. She was obviously pale and not feeling well. You separated from JJ as the group stopped walking and crouched next to the blonde girl. Your hands moved quickly to pull her hair off her neck and up into a bun, twisting a hair tie from your wrist to keep it out of her face. 

“Nauseous?” You asked with a knowing feeling. Nobody had really eaten a sustainable meal since you left Poguelandia, just snacks and bits of cooked fish that you’d caught. It wasn’t a surprise she didn’t feel good.

She barely nodded, letting out a deep breath and resting her head on the stone wall behind her. “Really nauseous.”

You looked at John B and almost laughed at the stress on his face. “Bee, she’s fine. Just needs some food and water, okay?”

John B nodded, but he didn’t seem convinced.

“Everything okay?” Kie asked as she hovered over you. 

“No-”

“I’m fine,” Sarah spoke over John B’s reply, her stubborn attitude peeking out as she made eye contact with you. You gave her a reassuring nod, hand resting on her shoulder as John B’s fingers brushed through her hair.

Turning, you looked up at JJ. “She needs something to eat and water.”

“Good luck with that, we don’t have any money,” Pope commented before Cleo glared at him and smacked his shoulder in reprimand.

“Don’t be so negative,” She hissed at him before addressing you again. “We can do it the old fashioned way.”

“A little five finger discount?” JJ followed her idea, his fingers waving teasingly. “I got my PhD in Thiefology.”

You shook your head at him, not necessarily pleased with the idea but realizing there really was no other option. “Guys, please be careful okay? We’re not in the States and-”

You were cut off by a $100 bill being shoved in your face.

Blinking in shock, you looked up to see Rafe holding out the crisp bill with an unamused look on his face. When you didn’t move to grab it, he gave you a pointed look and waved it slightly. “Baby steps?”

You nodded slightly, unsure what caused his sudden change but appreciating it nonetheless. Shock wearing off, your fingers pinched the money gently and he pulled back, resuming his uninterested appearance and stepping away from the group. Sarah looked at you, confused, to which you could only shrug. 

You let out a deep breath and offered the money back to Pope. “Essentials, yeah? The more the better.”

Money in hand, Pope nodded and recruited JJ, Kie, and Cleo to come with him. 

“Just hurry up with whatever dumb shit you guys do, alright?” Rafe called as your brother joined the group heading into the market, leaving you with Sarah. Apparently his momentarily kindness was spent as he yelled at them. 

You gave him a sharp glare to which he raised his hands in surrender, walking away to entertain himself for the time being. With a sigh, you put your attention back on Sarah, who was already looking at you. “What?”

“Are you okay?” She asked with a knowing look on her face. “Talking to him?”

You shrugged. “It’s fine. It doesn’t help any of us if we’re tiptoeing around each other the whole time. So I tried to talk to him about it last night. Obviously, it didn't work fully but we’re getting there.” 

“Baby steps?” She repeated his words and you nodded.

Shrugging off your backpack, you tried to find any snacks within the mess of first aid supplies and JJ’s obnoxiously long charger cord (not that he needed that anymore, considering his phone was at the bottom of the ocean). Your fingers caught hold of a water bottle and you cracked it open for Sarah to drink.

She sipped slowly and closed her eyes to rest against the wall, her body finally beginning to cool off from the hike and beating sun. It didn’t take long before your group was back together, various food and clothing bundled in their hands.

Pope took your backpack to fill with the remainder of the items after passing them out, including some to Rafe who took them with a grunt of thanks. You bit into the fresh fruit aggressively, nearly devouring it in record timing.

Once everyone had eaten, you were moving again, weaving through the throngs of people in the direction of what you hoped would lead you to the wharf. 

“I think we lost Rafe,” Cleo commented as the group slowed and sure enough, the elder Cameron was nowhere to be seen.

“It’s fine, he’ll catch up,” Sarah dismissed with a wave of her hand, figuring if anything he left on his own with the intent of finding Groff without waiting on you all. “He probably has his passport, anyway. Better him than us.”

You nodded in agreement with her words, figuring Rafe would’ve prepared for this trip better than you all and considering he had a shit ton of money with him, he’d be fine. “Agree.”

“Where we going?” Kiara asked, her eyes falling on Cleo as she held the fresh clothes in her hands. She was itching to change and get the ruined fabric off her body. Plus, you all stood out like sore thumbs and switching outfits would help blend.

“Here.” John B waved you all over to an empty hut. “You guys go first, we’ll switch.”

You ducked inside with Cleo, Sarah, and Kie to change quickly before the boys swapped spots and you all continued on your journey to the wharf. The new attire was much more comfortable, and although still unfamiliar, you felt more in place than before. 

Eventually, you found yourself staring across hundreds of boats all packed in the tiny marine area. 

“Groff was on Hollis’s boat, so look for something fancy,” JJ offered as he scanned the vicinity for the familiar yacht. “I mean, it’s gotta be here. This is the only wharf in town.”

“I don’t know about no fancy boat, but that’s Terrance’s boat,” Cleo spoke up, her finger pointed across the way to one of the vessels that was docked. 

Pope wasn’t so convinced. “Are you sure?”

Cleo turned to him, unamused. “I grew up on that boat, man. I’d know that boat anywhere.”

“If his boat’s here, the Corsairs are here,” You added and crossed your arms over your chest. “Which also means Groff’s here.”

“And the one who killed Captain T.” Cleo smirked at the idea, her fingers already tracing the handle of her knife on her side.

“No lights, no motion. My vote is we go, see if we can use anything,” Kie said with a shrug.

You nodded in agreement and JJ took a step forward to move on before rushed disagreements fell from the others.

“No, wait. Not you. They know what you two look like,” Pope pointed to you as JJ stopped in his tracks. “Somebody else needs to go.”

“They know what half of us look like,” You countered. “Which leaves-”

“I’ll do it.”

You turned with wide eyes to Sarah, who’d spoken up. “What?”

She shrugged, confused by everyone’s reactions. “I’ll do it,” She repeated and rolled her eyes. “I’m fine, I can do things.”

“I believe you,” John B was quick to agree, though his tone said otherwise. 

“They don’t know what I look like. I’ll do it, I can do it.”

“I’m coming with you!” He called to the blonde girl before pointing at you as he started to walk. “Don’t do anything stupid!”

You chuckled as John B took off after her to catch up, mumbling to himself in the process. The rest of you quickly agreed to keep an eye out, you and JJ claiming the high ground (JJ copied Obi Wan, don’t you fret) which left Cleo, Pope, and Kie to monitor down below. 

“Not quite our dream vacation, huh?” You joked as you followed JJ up the path so you could gain a better view. 

JJ scoffed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, babe. Warm weather, interesting views, an unfamiliar location. Sounds dreamy to me.”

You rolled your eyes at his wording. “Sure. Interesting views my ass. I love looking at stray animals and getting slammed into for trying to walk from Point A to Point B. And there’s no time for me and you.”

“Hey, rumour has it, if you find the Blue Crown, you get a wish,” He offered as you guys came to a stop up on a bridge. 

You leaned against the stone to face him with a smirk. “Oh, is that what they say now?” You asked, feigning your obliviousness. 

JJ shrugged, closing the gap between you with each step closer. “It’s the legend, after all,” He hummed, his thumb resting on your lip gently before he leaned down to kiss you. “I’ll wish for us to go on the best vacation ever, how ‘bout that? No interruptions… just me and my soon-to-be wife.”

The title made you shiver and you laughed quietly, eyes closing as you kissed him again with a satisfied hum. JJ’s fingers squeezed your sides gently as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer. Your back dug into the stone behind you, not that you were paying attention in the slightest to it.

“Let’s hear it, pretty girl. What’s your wish?” He asked quietly, his eyes staring into yours with interest. 

You smiled at him and shook your head. “If I tell you, it’s not gonna come true.”

JJ forced a pout into his lip when you wouldn’t play along. “But I shared mine!”

Shaking your head, you kissed him again, nearly folding when he bit your lip gently. “You’d vote for a truck, babe. Suspension, LED, nice rims. All the bells and whistles.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t matter if you’re not going to be in the passenger seat.”

You tilted your head at him. “Who said my name won’t be stitched in the seat in the first place?”

The two of you were blissfully unaware of what was going on behind you until JJ’s eyes drifted for a split second and he caught sight of someone familiar. “Hey, that’s one of the Corsairs that kidnapped me and brought me on the ship.”

You frowned when you caught sight of the man he was referring to. JJ moved quickly, taking the spare pipe he’d found to bang on the cannon that was there for show, the noise echoing around you. Pope looked up, before knocking on the barrel with the ore Cleo had found for their use.

Their attempt at signaling John B and Sarah was interrupted by Arabic chanting across the space. Tilting your head in confusion, you looked over at JJ, who was clearly annoyed.

“It’s the call to prayer,” He answered your unspoken question. 

It didn’t settle right in your chest that you had no way of alerting John B and Sarah of the man’s presence and you definitely needed to act quickly to fix it. Pope and Cleo stared back at you before you groaned to yourself. Kie, however, had different plans and explained something to the duo near her before giving you a thumbs up.

“What’s she doing?” You asked the rhetorical question, watching as the curly haired girl maneuvered her way through the crowd and purposefully bumped into the mercenary you were watching. When her hand landed on his arm, your jaw dropped. “Oh, shit.”

“Flirting with danger, nice move Kie,” JJ spoke quietly, keeping his head ducked down slightly so he was harder to see. You lounged above, trying to act as subtle as possible while keeping a close eye on your friend. 

Noticing the call to prayer had ended, Pope grabbed the ore to bang against the empty barrel, the sound bouncing its way around the area and hopefully reaching John B and Sarah.

“There they are!” You said as you caught sight of the couple moving about on the boat. Kie started waving her arms wildly as the mercenary began to leave her, clearly not buying her distraction any longer. “Shit, J, let’s go!”

You darted down the path you’d taken up here, taking the turns as fast as you could to get to your brother faster. JJ apparently wasn’t satisfied with your speed and moved around you. “Be careful!”

“I know!”

You watched, horrified, as he grabbed another nearby ore and managed to collide with the mercenary, causing the gunshot to miss completely. JJ winced shortly after, his hand grabbing his side and you cursed yourself for not even thinking about fixing his injury when he’d showed up on the beach yesterday. 

“Kie!” You called out for your friend as you ran over to JJ who was scooping the discarded gun off the ground. Pope was heading in the direction of Sarah and John B, but Cleo was nowhere to be found. Kiara accepted your hug instantly, her hands shaking with adrenaline as the two of you caught up to JJ. 

The question of Cleo’s location was answered with a car horn as the girl came flying around the bend in an open air truck. You laughed at her timing, all of you meeting and practically falling into the car with zero coordination.

“How did you get this?” Pope asked as he flung into the seat next to her. 

“I stole it!”

A scream almost slipped out as she took off and you nearly fell into Kiara completely, the two of you trying to balance with the sharp motion. JJ was on your other side, yelling at Cleo to floor it as if she wasn’t speeding already. 

When you made it out of the crowded wharf area, you breathed a sigh of relief and moved forward to shove your head between your brother and Sarah. “You guys okay?” You asked, your hand squeezing the back of John B’s neck. You nearly gagged at the sweat on his skin and wiped your hand off on his shirt with a huff.

“We’re okay, we’re okay,” Sarah repeated as she tried to catch her own breath, her fingers tangled with John B’s on the seat between them.

Sliding back into your seat, you whistled at the events that just occurred. “This is only the beginning, y’all. Hope you’re ready.”

JJ laughed next to you, his arm coming to rest across your shoulders to pull you into his side so he could kiss your temple. 

“Let’s do this shit.”

--

a/n: sorry she's a lil short but we're goin into the craziness 🥴

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[ludwig-van-gaythoven]

Cabin Fever - (Regina George x F Reader)

Fandom;

Mean Girls (2024)

Pairings:

Regina George x Reader

Summary:

The students of Northshore go on a school trip for a week in the forest. You end up getting to know the apex predator in a way you’d never seen her before.

Warnings;

Underage smoking, underage drinking, implied ED

Parts

Part 1// Part2// Part 3// Part 4// Part 5// Part 6

School trips were never really your thing. Sure it was good to be out of classes but to you it just seemed like an extension of school and honestly you’d rather be anywhere else.

One of the teachers thought it would be a bright idea to take you all out of school for a week to spend it in a forest ‘immersed in nature’. Possibly their tactic to get everyone to stop being at eachother a throats especially after the whole Cady incident a few months back.

It didn’t help that your best friends Janis and Damien both ended up getting sick at the last minute so couldn’t come with you , now you had to stay in your shared cabin alone. At least you didn’t have to room with a random person the whole trip, small mercies I guess.

The coach drive there was boring. You sat near the front, making sure to put your bag on the seat next to yours so nobody tried to sit with you. Of course Queen Regina and her minions took ownership of the back of the coach, that’s why you decided to sit upfront. Best to stay out of the firing line.

It’s not that you hated Regina, you understand why she’s the way she is. It’s a smart move to position yourself at the top of the food chain to avoid being mauled. Your tactic has always been to just steer clear of the food chain entirely which has worked so far.

The coach finally comes to a stop after a few hours and everyone shoves their way off and mills around in groups before a teacher starts to call out names and lodge numbers so people can go and unpack.

As soon as you turn the corner you hear Regina’s shriek of horror.

“Eww, what the fuck are these. I thought we were staying in chalets”

You roll you eyes. The cabins were clean, neat, maybe a little rustic. Of course Regina would still have to be dramatic about it.

“I’m sure forcing us to stay in one of these is some form of neglect.” She snarks at Mrs Norbury as she takes her hot pink suitcase over to her accommodation.

Luckily you get assigned one of the cabins at the edge of the forest, it’ll be quiet. Unfortunately it’s the next cabin over from the plastics. Not that they’ll even notice you there, I’m not sure any of them even know your name. It feels safe to be invisible, if not a bit lonely.

Once everyone is settled, a teacher comes round to each cabin explaining that tonight you can just get settled. No hiking or activities today, just a campfire and dinner later. That suits you perfectly. You sit on the creaky bed in your cabin, pull out your Switch console and start to get lost in a game. Hours pass before dinner call and you make your way, alone to the campfire.

You sit on your own, out of the way of all the different high school cliques. At this point you wish Janis and Damien were here. It feels vulnerable sitting alone.

To distract yourself you watch the other groups like a documentary maker. Noting the way they interact, the tension between them and the clique next to them. However nobody quite catches your eye like Regina.

She’s like a lioness. She has this invisible hold over everyone. They can all fuck about in their own groups but as soon as someone steps a foot out of place she roars and swishes her mane and everyone scampers back to obedience.

Currently she’s sitting at a bench with Gretchen and Karen, they’re talking enthusiastically about their plans for the trip; makeovers, cabin decoration, girly shit. Regina seems zoned out, she’s been pushing the same bit of food around her plate for a good 15 minutes. Every few minutes it’s like she’s trying to solve a puzzle, rearranging everything until teachers tell us to go back to our cabins and rest for the evening. You’re not sure you saw her eat a single thing, the food is probably not up to her standards.

Regina stands and suddenly seems snapped out of her trance, flashing a grin and summoning Karen and Gretchen back to the cabin with her.

You follow, a good distance behind. No point getting too close to danger, and slip back to your Cabin unnoticed.

There’s not much to do alone in a forest so you end up putting on a movie and start a new page in your sketchbook. Janis and Damien are the only ones to know you draw. That’s how you ended up speaking with Janis in the first place. If that news ever got back to Regina she’d probably have something to finally pick on you for, but so far you aren’t even on her radar.

You lose a lot of time sketching out some of the trees you can see out of the window, lots of tall, looming pines fill the page, you start to sketch a lion between the trees.

Eventually darkness creates a blanket around the forest. There’s a soft glow from many lamps outside of cabin doors, but past that, the forest seems endless in the dark. It’s 10:30pm. Teachers are fast asleep. Students definitely are not.

You hear snickering coming from the plastics cabin. Their lights are still on, not that you care at all.

Since all the teachers are asleep you decide that it’s probably safe to sneak out and have a cigarette. You stand down the side of the cabin so that your silhouette is obscured slightly by a bush and hunt through your pockets for a lighter. Finally you light the cigarette, trying to blow the smoke downwind, away from the teachers window.

“Karen! Fuck! Would you just stop puking, shut up!”

You watch from the shadow as Karen falls out of the door and begins to heave into the bush next to their window. Gretchen follows quickly, shaking Karen by the shoulders, desperately trying to get her to shut up so they don’t wake anyone. Regina steps out too, slightly loosing balance and nearly falling down the steps after them.

Clearly they’re all drunk. Someone must have snuck alcohol in.

Regina tries to keep a composed look but you see panic flash across her face briefly as her eyes scan around them, watching for any witnesses. You stay completely still against the cabin wall.

Karen finally stops for a second and they grab her by the arms to try and get her back inside. Their balance isn’t very good either and on the way in Regina’s foot connects briefly with a terracotta plant pot which wobbles for a second and then crashes to the ground, smashing over the front step. A sound that cuts through the night air.

The light to the teachers cabin flicks on.

You quickly drop the cigarette and stomp it out before silently scrambling back into your room, making sure the door closes soundlessly, watching intently through the window.

Mrs Norbury storms over to the plastics lodge, already suspecting they caused the noise.

You can’t make out exactly what’s being said. There’s a lot of shouting, from both parties. Then Mrs Norbury leaves, and the plastics light goes off too.

You quickly get into bed. It’s unlikely anyone will check in on you, but you decide it’s time to sleep anyway, it’s late, and drift off to the sound of the wind through trees. The wind sounds faintly like a roar.

In the morning you shower and begin to get changed when there’s a knock at your door.

“Regina will be rooming with you for the rest of the week, make sure she doesn’t try sneaking out.”

[clappingandcheering]

Hii baby, how are you? I wanted to ask Percy something where the reader's relationship with Percy has all 5 love languages? And it's so cute and romantic🙃

I'm so good!!! I hope this is what you meant?? It's like how Percy would show each love language, if that makes sense. I tried!

(Percy Jackson x Reader)

"All the Ways I Love You"

It was one of those quiet nights at Camp Half Blood. The kind where the campfire was flickering in the distance, but it was mostly calm—no monsters, no quests, no chaos. Just the gentle sound of the ocean and the occasional laughter from the cabins.

You were lying on a blanket outside your cabin, your head resting on Percy’s chest as he traced lazy circles on your arm. His fingers were warm against your skin, his touch gentle, and you couldn’t help but smile. You were comfortable here, wrapped in his presence.

“You know, you’re really good at this whole'making me feel loved’ thing,” you said, glancing up at him.

Percy chuckled, his hand stopping its movement to cup your face. “You make it easy.” His thumb brushed across your cheek, and you felt your heart flutter. “Besides, you deserve all the love in the world.”

You smiled, feeling the full weight of the affection in his words. But there was something in his tone, something about the way he said it, that made you think about just how much he loved you—and all the different ways he showed it.

Percy shifted so that he could look you in the eyes, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to fade away. He was always a bit awkward with words, but when it came to you, he found a way to speak to your heart.

“You know you’re amazing, right?” He said softly, his voice low but full of sincerity. “Like, I’m seriously lucky to have you. You’re strong and kind, and you make everything better just by being you.”

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words, and you couldn't help but laugh softly. “I’m not that amazing.”

“Yes, you are,” Percy said, his gaze never leaving yours. “And I’m going to keep telling you that until you believe me.”

You leant up to kiss him—a soft, lingering kiss that was all about how much you cared for him. But it wasn’t just that kiss—it was everything he said. You could feel his love in every word and every whisper.

Later, when the night air grew cooler, you pulled your jacket tighter around you, shivering slightly. Without a word, Percy stood up and quickly pulled off his hoodie, wrapping it around your shoulders. He didn’t even wait for you to ask; he just did it because he knew you’d need it.

“You’re going to freeze out here if you don’t wear this,” he said, his voice teasing but gentle as he adjusted the hoodie around you.

“I wasn’t cold before, but now that you mention it..." you smiled, feeling the warmth of both the hoodie and his thoughtfulness.

“You don’t have to thank me,” Percy said, sitting back down next to you. “It’s just what I do.”

You rested your head against his shoulder, feeling the quiet love in every little thing he did.

The next morning, you woke up to find a small bag of chocolate—your favourite brand—by your bedside. A note was tucked inside that simply read, Thought you might need some sweetness today.

You smiled, recognising Percy’s handwriting, though it was a little messy. He didn’t know much about buying the “perfect” gift, but he always knew exactly what you liked.

When you found him later by the lake, you teased him, holding up the bag of chocolate. “What’s this?”

Percy grinned sheepishly. “I saw it and thought of you. Figured it could make your day a little sweeter.”

You wrapped your arms around him, your heart swelling with affection. “You always know just what I need.”

“Guess I’ve learned a thing or two about you,” he said with a wink, and you kissed him again, feeling the sweetness of both the chocolate and his gesture.

The day continued with the two of you walking along the beach, talking about everything and nothing. Percy made you laugh with his usual jokes, but there was also something soft and serious in the way he’d listen to you—whether you were venting about something small or sharing a memory from your past.

Every moment with him felt like a treasure—just being in each other’s company made everything feel right. You didn’t need grand adventures or flashy gestures; the quiet moments of being together were enough.

“I love just being here with you,” you said, slipping your hand into his.

Percy smiled, his eyes lighting up. “Me too. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

You didn’t need to say anything more. The way he held your hand, how he kept stealing glances at you with that goofy, love-sick grin, told you all you needed to know. Being with him was always enough.

As the sun began to set, painting the sky with hues of pink and orange, Percy pulled you into his arms, holding you close as you both sat on the sand. His fingers gently brushed through your hair, and you felt his chest rise and fall against your back with each slow breath.

You snuggled into him, feeling safe, loved, and completely content. His touch was grounding, and every small caress of his hand on your skin sent sparks through you.

“I could stay like this forever,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear.

You smiled softly, tilting your head to look up at him. “I’d like that.”

And in that moment, you realised that Percy didn’t just love you in one way. He loved you in all the ways that mattered—in every word, every action, every moment spent together. His love was full and infinite, wrapped in gestures both big and small.

"I love you, Percy," you whispered.

"I love you more," he whispered back, and then kissed you softly, tenderly, as if the world outside of the two of you didn’t exist.

With Percy, love wasn’t just something you felt—it was something you experienced in every way, every day. And somehow, it only made you love him more.

[whatacaitastrophe]

Guilty as Sin?

Summary: After confessing his feelings for Tav, Gale fantasizes about them back in his tent, because he's an idiot who said they needed to wait a little longer to explore their mutual desires.

Rating: Explicit Words: ~1k

Tags: Pillow Humping, Masturbation, Gender neutral Tav, Tav is referred to as "You" Song Inspo: "Guilty as Sin?" - Taylor Swift Author Notes: Shout out to the Magic Man discord server for making me write this, and shout out to Taylor Swift for writing a song about masturbation.

“It’s quite thrilling— to fight off such grim creatures as this region throws at us. Especially at your side.”

Despite the raised eyebrows from Shadowheart and the snide remarks from Astarion (“Really? You’re telling them this now? Right now?”), Gale wasn’t sorry for confessing his attraction to you after the heat of battle. Now that Elminster had quieted the orb in Gale’s chest, he was no longer afraid to be candid about his attraction to you. After all, the mere thought of kissing you was, until recently, a threat to Gale’s very existence. He was touch starved, and now that he could finally do something about it? Why would he wait to finally lay the groundwork of his desires with you until you were alone. 

Besides, saying it in front of Astarion also had its perks. The vampire could no longer feign ignorance to the connection Gale shared with you. Therefore, Astarion could no longer continue flirting with you, or do anything else the two of you were doing in the dead of night while everyone else slept, without blatantly walking into Gale’s territory. 

Declaring his intentions with you (and hearing you say that you felt the same way) sent a message, loud and clear: You belonged to Gale, and Astarion needed to back the fuck off. 

The only misstep Gale made when confessing his attraction to you was insisting that it wasn’t the time or place, that the two of you needed to wait a little longer before exploring your desires. If he’s being honest with himself, that just might be the stupidest thing Gale has ever said. 

That was the thought that kept Gale up after everyone else went to sleep, tossing and turning as he silently kicked himself for not immediately inviting you to his tent. There was a reason, of course, Gale wanted the gesture to be as beautiful and grand as the object of his affections, and he couldn’t do it after a full day of flinging spells at shadow-cursed creatures. Damn his lofty ambitions for getting the best of him, even in the simplest ways. 

Gale huffed with frustration as he rolled onto his back, the thoughts of you plaguing his mind and making his cock impossibly hard. As Gale slid his hand over his chest, he could only pray that  this would be his last night indulging in a fantasy about you instead of indulging in the real thing. 

Closing his eyes, Gale started off slowly—palming himself over his pajamas, squeezing his shaft gently. He imagined it was you: You with your soft hands that he’d had the pleasure of brushing against while sitting around the campfire. It was you that slipped deft fingers beneath the hem of his trousers, stroking Gale’s cock with feather light touches. It was you who pulled Gale’s trousers down past his hips, allowing his already leaking cock to spring free from its confines. 

“I’ve been waiting for this, for so long.” You said in his mind as he slowly stroked his cock, imagining the way you’d tease him because oh— you would tease him, Gale was certain of it. After all, the two of you had already spent weeks flirting and verbally teasing each other. Why wouldn’t you want to drag it out a little longer. 

“Please,” Gale begged audibly, speaking only to the image of you in his head. “I need more.” Gale stroked himself harder as he imagined you complying with his request, leaning forward and enveloping his cock with the wet, hot heat of your mouth. Gale arched his hips into his hand, a soft moan tumbling from his lips at the thought of you swallowing his cock to the hilt until it tickled the back of your throat. 

When he couldn’t take it any longer, Gale reached for one of the many pillows he had in his tent and rolled over desperately, placing the pillow between his legs as he straddles it. A soft moan left Gale’s mouth as he braced one hand on the ground and held the pillow in place with the other. As he began grinding against the pillow, the vision in his mind shifted. 

You’re beneath him now, your body ready and waiting to take him. Gale imagines what you sound like when you moan as he slides his cock inside of you— how pretty your voice sounds when Gale is the source of your pleasure instead of someone else. How pretty Gale’s name will sound when it’s sung from your lips as he fucks you. A quiet moan passes through Gale’s lips at the thought as he ruts against the pillow, aching and desperate for you. 

“Harder.” Your voice is crystal clear in Gale’s mind, as is your body trembling beneath him as he fucks you the way you requested. With a subtle flick of his wrist, the pillow becomes warm beneath him. It’s not quite the same as having a body beneath him, but it will do. Gale’s hips snapped desperately as he chased his pleasure and pretended that it’s not a pillow beneath him, sheathing his cock as he moved, but the velvet warmth of your inner walls. 

“Gods, you look incredible,” Gale whimpered softly as he pictured his thick length sliding in and out of you. “You take me so well.” He whispered to no one as he doubled his efforts, hips rutting erratically as Gale’s climax swiftly approached. 

“I love you.” 

Those were the last words Gale imagined leaving your lips before slapping his hand over his mouth to muffle the moan that escapes him as he cums with a shout. Hot spurts of semen burst from Gale’s cock as he rode the pillow into his own personal oblivion, ruining the fabric beneath him the same way he imagined ruining you. 

It was only once his cock was spent and over-sensitive that Gale collapsed onto his bedroll, panting, sweating, and dizzy from the intensity of his climax. The visions of you fade away slowly as Gale stares at the ceiling of his tent, leaving him only as satisfied as one can be after masturbating while the object of their desire slept a dozen feet away: spent, but already aching for more. 

Tomorrow. 

Tomorrow Gale would volunteer to stay back at camp so he could save his strength, so he could save his magic, for you. 

Tomorrow, Gale would make you completely and utterly his. He needed to. 

Because if he didn’t, he was going to run out of pillows.