#「 chatter without face 」;; anon thread

[whitechocolate355]

time out

oneshot

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 2k

warnings - language

synopsis: after a heated argument during a scrimmage, Paige and Azzi are both benched for “unsportsmanlike behaviour.” Forced to sit in silence while their teammates play, the tension between them begins boils over — and neither of them can hold back what they really want to say (or do).

one shot request from a lovely anon!! getting around to everyone’s requests so bear w/ me… also chap 5 for full court press will be uploaded tmr morning

The gym was blisteringly loud. Sneakers screeched. Whistles pierced. Coaches yelled in a flurry of clipped commands and clipboard slaps.

And Paige was about two seconds from completely losing her shit.

“I SAID SWITCH!” she yelled, throwing her arms up as Azzi jogged past her, completely ignoring the rotation.

Azzi didn’t even spare her a glance. Just caught the rebound like it was hers by divine right and launched the ball effortlessly into the net.

Swish.

Paige’s blood boiled. “You’re seriously not gonna talk to me now?”

Azzi brushed past her again, the faint scent of musky vanilla clinging to her skin, her face stoic, as if carved in stone. “I didn’t realise I had anything left to say.”

“Oh, cut the cold act,” Paige hissed, stepping into her space. “You’re playing selfish. This is a team scrimmage, not your personal Steph Curry highlight reel.”

Azzi stopped. Turned. Her hair whipping around like a blade.

“You want to talk about selfish?” she snapped. “Maybe look in a mirror before you start throwing around words you don’t understand.”

And that was it. All it took. Paige shoved her shoulder into Azzi’s, and Azzi shoved right back.

“HEY!” Coach blew the whistle like it was a goddamn siren. “You two—BENCH. NOW. You wanna act like children? You’ll sit like them too.”

Paige stormed to the bench, jaw clenched, heart clawing at her ribs. Azzi followed, expression unreadable.

But this had been building for weeks.

Paige could feel it in the way Azzi always passed to someone else when she was open. In the glances they shared that lingered too long. In the breathless moments after every scrimmage where she half expected Azzi to say something—anything—that might make sense of the way her heart pounded after every brush of their hands.

And now, with them both benched and pissed and sitting shoulder to shoulder, Paige couldn’t take it anymore.

They sat on opposite ends of the same metal seat, separated by maybe three feet and about a mile of heat.

The game continued. Shouts echoed. The scoreboard buzzed. But in their corner, time held its breath.

Paige bounced her knee. She could feel Azzi’s presence like a gravity field.

Neither of them spoke.

Not until the fourth whistle of the quarter blew and the gym momentarily dulled into ambient chatter.

"You always do this," she muttered without turning her head.

Azzi’s brow ticked. “Do what?”

“You push until I snap, and then you act like I’m the problem.”

Azzi finally turned to face her, eyes sharp. “Maybe you are.”

Paige laughed bitterly. “God, you’re exhausting.”

“Right back at you.”

Their teammates were across the court, deep in the scrimmage, too far to hear. Too far to care. Paige felt something inside her break loose—something reckless.

“You don’t have to hate me, you know.”

Azzi’s expression flickered. “I don’t hate you.”

“No?” Paige turned now, fully. “Then what is this, Azzi? Why is it that every time I try to talk to you, it turns into a fight?”

Azzi exhaled slowly, then said, “Because if I don’t fight you, Paige, I might actually—”

But she didn’t finish. She didn’t need to. Paige felt the unspoken words hang in the air between them like a thread about to snap.

Might actually what?

Their breath tangled somewhere in the air between them. The game raged on, but the court felt impossibly small now, the air between them thick with tension.

Flashback: The First Game

The first time Paige had seen Azzi play, it was more than just basketball. That girl was a display of effortless grace, precision, and an undeniable swagger that drew Paige’s eye from the beginning. 

They had met at a youth basketball camp, and Paige hadn’t been able to forget the way Azzi dominated the court, effortlessly gliding from one play to the next. Paige had never felt the need to be jealous, or scared for her spot on the team. But for the very first time, she was. And the culprit: Azzi fucking Fudd. It wasn’t just the way she played—it was the way she carried herself. Confidence radiated from her every movement. It pissed Paige off.

But at the same time, she was drawn to it. The two were the first off the court. 

Azzi wasn’t like anyone Paige had met before, which made her feel unsettled. It was as if she could read Paige’s movements, and every one of her thoughts because before Azzi even knew where she was, Paige had kicked it to her in the corner in one, smooth movement. And unlike her other previous teammates that would’ve just fumbled the ball in surprise, Azzi caught it mid-pass with ease — as if she intercepted her own ball — to fire the quickest release the crowd had ever seen. And with that, Paige held her fingers out in celebration, because as soon as that ball graced Azzi’s hands, Paige knew that shot was cash. 

—-----------

“I don’t get you,” Paige growled, slamming her water bottle to the ground. “You show up like you’ve got nothing to prove, and then you play like your whole damn career depends on it. What is it? What do you need to prove?”

Azzi took a breath, her face a mask of calm, but Paige could see the tension in her jaw, the way her muscles were coiled, ready to spring.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Azzi said, her voice lower than usual, laced with frustration. “Not everything is about what you want, Paige.”

“Then stop pretending like you’ve got it all figured out!” Paige shot back, her voice trembling with anger and something else she didn’t want to acknowledge. “It’s like I can’t even look at you without feeling like you’re hiding something.”

Azzi’s eyes flickered, just for a second, like she was about to say something but thought better of it. The silence that followed stretched out between them, thick with unsaid words.

They were sitting inches apart. But emotionally? Miles.

Azzi finally turned toward her, eyes softer now. “You think I’m hiding something? Paige, you have no idea.”

Paige swallowed, heat rising in her chest. Her heart beat erratically in her ears.

“Oh, I think I know,” she said, voice low and dangerously soft. “You don’t let anyone close. You keep everyone at arm’s length. But I’m done with that. If you’re hiding something, then I want to know. Because I’m not gonna keep playing this game with you.”

Azzi stood up suddenly, the motion sharp and filled with frustration. “I’m not hiding anything,” she said, her voice a growl. “I’m not the one here pretending everything’s fine when it’s not. I’m the one who shows up every single day, working my ass off, and all you can do is act like I’m the problem.”

Paige stood up too, the two of them facing each other, inches apart. “Maybe I’m not pretending,” she shot back, her voice hard, eyes burning with a fire she couldn’t suppress anymore. “Maybe I’m tired of you acting like I’m just another player you can push around. I’m done with that, Azzi.”

Azzi’s breath hitched, and for a second, Paige thought she saw something flicker in her eyes. But before she could analyze it further, Azzi was stepping back. Her hand went to the back of her neck, rubbing the tension there.

“I think we both need a timeout,” Azzi muttered, more to herself than to Paige.

“Yeah, we do.” Paige replied under her breath.

.

.

.

Benched and bitter and burning from the inside out, Paige knew she needed to get away. Before she did something she shouldn't do. Watching Azzi glance over at her every so often as their chests rose and fell in sync with each other was driving her crazy. And before she could stop her thoughts, Paige stood abruptly.

“Where are you going?” Azzi asked.

“Out back. Before I say something I can’t take back.”

Azzi hesitated, then stood too, following closely behind. “Say it.”

Paige turned, inches away from the gym door. “What?”

Azzi stepped in, closer now than she had any right to be. “Say what you want to say. I’m right here. And besides, I’m done following you.”

“Fine.” Paige grunted. It was time to get real. The blonde couldn’t take it anymore. “I don’t get you,” she began. “One second you’re giving me eyes like you wanna ruin me, and the next you’re pretending I don’t exist. What the hell is your game, Azzi?”

Fuck. Did she really just air herself out to Azzi?

Azzi stepped toward her slowly, closing the distance. Her eyes were dark, unreadable, but there was something else there too—something raw.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Azzi said, her voice barely a whisper. “This isn’t a game. You think you know me, Paige. You think you understand me. But you don’t. You’ve only seen the parts of me I’ve allowed you to.”

Azzi stood a few feet away, arms crossed, expression unreadable. “Maybe I’m tired of pretending.”

And just like that, Paige couldn’t take it anymore. 

Grabbing onto Azzi’s jersey, she pulled her into her chest —not hard, not violent, just… desperate, while her free hand pushed the door back. 

[Outside]

Azzi’s breath caught as Paige leaned in. It was slow at first, hesitant, like a dare. Azzi’s heart pounded in her chest, and before she could stop herself, she was leaning into Paige too, their mouths meeting in a frantic collision of teeth and heat.

Paige slammed her palm against the building wall, caging Azzi between her broad shoulders all while forbidding herself to tear away from Azzi’s lips. Her fingers curled around the metal grate, trying to stay grounded — as if this moment wasn’t what she was fantasising about since she met Azzi. 

It was a kiss that held everything—frustration, longing, pain. All the words neither of them had said but both of them had wanted to for so long. There were no zone defences anymore. No hesitation. Just the messy, overwhelming need to feel something, anything, between them.

Azzi’s hands slid to Paige’s back, pulling her closer. Paige’s hands found the hem of Azzi’s shirt, fingers pressing against the soft skin there, memorizing the feel of her. The kiss deepened, becoming frantic, like they were trying to devour each other whole.

Why the hell did she look at Paige like that when we first met?

Why does she keep pushing Paige on the court, then staring at Paige like she’s hers?

Why does this feel better than any win?

Paige shot away her thoughts with her mouth, biting softly on Azzi’s bottom lip, as if that was where she held the answers. Azzi pressed against the wall as Paige wrapped her arms around Azzi’s waist, her muscles tensing —which sent a jolting sensation to Azzi’s spine.  Paige’s hands gripped the back of her neck, pulling her impossibly closer.

Azzi gasped into her mouth, and Paige took that gasp like a win, like a possession. She leaned back, admiring her view with a smug smirk on her face —as if she had manifested this moment— before she tilted her head, deepening the kiss, her body flush against Azzi’s now — muscle to muscle, sweat to sweat.

Azzi moaned before she could stop herself…

And Paige kissed her harder for it.

They didn’t pull away. They couldn’t. Not until a water bottle dropped somewhere in the locker room, echoing just loud enough to remind them where they were.

Paige’s hands were still bunched in Azzi’s jersey. Azzi’s fingers were threaded through Paige’s hair.

Neither of them moved. Their foreheads touched.

Paige’s voice was hoarse. “I hate you.”

Azzi’s breath fanned her lips. “No, you don’t.”

Silence.

Then Azzi kissed her again — slower this time. Like a statement. Like a fuck-you and a promise in one.

The buzzer rang again. Timeout was over.

They pulled apart, barely. Lips swollen. Chests rising and falling.

Paige glanced down, cheeks red but jaw still set. “We have five minutes.”

Azzi smirked, voice low. “Then you better move fast...”, leading her to the locker room by the jersey.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I think you should make Farena and Malleus meet again just to humble Leona a lil’ 😜 think you did a birthday thing where that happened and I want more lmao

Anon is referencing this set of interactions (for Leona’s birthday in 2021): Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

*rubs hands together* 😈 Time to bust out L*ona's sexy hot brain calls for this... HELP ME I'M SO OJITANPILLED RIGHT NOW

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

"Kingscholar."

"Lizard."

The Botanical Garden's flora shuddered as the two princes--lion and dragon--regarded each other. They stood several paces apart, Malleus upon a small bridge over an artificial waterway, Leona shrouded in the shadows of wide palm leaves. Combined, their auras were overwhelming, filling the air with a crackling tension like that of wild sparks of electricity.

"Leona? Who is..."

A third figure, one half hidden by foliage, peered out at Malleus. His hair was a fiery red-range mane, his eyes a deep brown, skin the color of chestnuts under golden robes threaded with prancing animals. Everything about the man radiated warmth, as though he were the living embodiment of the sun.

Malleus's lip curled. "It seems I'm disturbing your private forum. Forgive me, I will see myself out."

"Wait."

The red-haired man fully emerged. A pair of lion ears and a tail similar to Leona's came into view. He smiled broadly--and Leona visibly cringed.

"You are... my younger brother's friend, aren't you? The one who helped Cheka find his way when he was lost on campus. I remember your face from Leona's birthday party. I don't believe we had a chance to be properly introduced to one another! Leona was shy and steered us away from each other last time." He approached Malleus without hesitation and stuck out his hand. "Falena."

The fae prince tested the name. "You are the acting regent of Sunset Savanna. The elder Kingscholar."

"Haha, that's right! Leona told you about me, did he?"

"Yeah, keep dreaming," Leona snorted.

"... My, it would be rude of me to make my exit now." Placing one foot in front of the other, Malleus smoothly dipping into a bow. "Malleus Draconia."

"Draconia! As in, crown-prince-of-Briar-Valley Draconia?"

It took all of Leona's willpower not to roll his eyes. Anyone with half of a brain cell would instantly be able to clock this depressing guy's telltale horns.

"The very same."

The surprise that flooded Falena's face quickly dried, giving way to merry laughter. "Leona's got friends in such high places!"

A scoff.

"Would you listen to yourself? I keep hearing you repeat friend, friend, friend like a chattering parrot without one shred of evidence to suggest that would be the case." Leona rolled his shoulders and, smirking, languidly lifted a hand to Falena and Malleus. "To put me and the lizard on equal social standing is a little insulting, don't you think? We're on entirely different playing fields. Crown prince of Briar Valley and acting regent of Sunset Savanna... That sounds like a much better fit to me."

He internally ground his teeth.

Smile and bear with it, Leona coxed himself. You can't let this opportunity slip through the cracks. The chance to establish cordial relations with other countries doesn't come delivered to you on a silver platter every day. Get them to make that connection if it's the last thing you do. If you play your pieces right...

"... Hey, how is that irrigation project coming along?" Leona prodded his brother. "Last I heard on the news, there was a protest blocking construction."

Falena frowned--the first time that day. "It could be going better."

"Irrigation..." Malleus brought a finger to his chin. "You're in the process of constructing waterways?"

"Yeah, to channel water directly to crops," Leona snipped. "As one destined to ascend the throne, surely you're familiar with the concept."

"So it is akin to gargoyles."

"Oi, ain't no one here talkin' about gargoyles!"

"On the contrary, Kingscholar. Gargoyles were designed to redirect rainwater from buildings, thus protecting them from wear and tear. Irrigation systems exist to funnel water to desired areas. It is a similar enough concept."

Let him have this one. Keep the conversation moving!

"Most in our country walk a long way to the nearest source of water--a well or something--and draw buckets one by one, then walk back with it. Real inefficient." Leona dragged out a sigh. "Unfortunately, our people deeply cherish living in harmony with nature. They come out in droves to push against our attempts to improve their circumstances. It's a thorn in our sides."

"Now don't say it like that," Falena tutted. "We are the royal family. It falls to us to assuage our people of worry. If we expand slowly and in an environmentally conscious manner... I'm sure we can all come to an understanding."

"You'll have to excuse my brother. He's got a bleeding heart."

The comment rolled off of Malleus's back like rainwater.

"Hm..." He looked to be lost in thought, his lashes lowering. "I see. Implementation is never as easy as simply giving the order to act.

"I have visited Silk City on a trip with classmates. Their waterways are second to none in all of Twisted Wonderland. Though the climate is dry and sweltering, the children of man that reside there have managed to tame those waters and optimized them for trade.

"Such systems do not exist in my home of Briar Valley, so I cannot say I am familiar with them. We, too, as fae, revere Mother Nature. The last thing we would want is to turn our backs on her and destroy her blessings. However, I saw with my own eyes that those Silk City waterways have brought much prosperity to the people. Perhaps it would be prudent if you were to explain this to your countrymen, along with providing a detailed plan of how you do not intend to expand at the cost of ravaging nature."

"Exactly, exactly!!" Falena beamed, his face like the sun coming out after a storm. "You understand me so well, my friend."

"Friend...?" Malleus's eyes went wide. "Me?"

Checkmate.

"Oh, would you look at that," Leona purred sarcastically, "you've gone and earned my dear onii-sama's respect and admiration. How good for you."

"It sounds like we're birds of a feather, Malleus. From one prince to another... I think you've got a shining future ahead of you." Falena clapped his younger brother on the shoulder, earning a glare from him. "Just like Leona here!"

"This isn't about me," he hissed back. "This is between you and the lizard."

Falena blinked. "But weren't you the one to introduce us?"

"That he was," Malleus agreed with a chuckle. "Kingscholar has a talent for bringing together the most unlikely of people. It's something I've noticed about him."

"It's true, he does!!" Falena had his sibling by both shoulders now. And that massive grin--Oh no, Leona thought. He's switching from Useless King mode to Doting Older Brother mode! "Leona's so good with people! I had the chance to meet some of his dorm members earlier today--there's a variety of beastmen in his dorm, all united under him. That's really amazing!"

"Yes, it's impressive. I've heard that, among beastmen, traditions and beliefs are drastically different. It is a unique challenge to bring them together--yet Kingscholar achieves this flawlessly." Now it was Malleus's turn to smirk. "Fae are quite varied as well. It will soon be my responsibility to bring about that same unification. Fufufu... Mayhaps I should look to Kingscholar as an exemplar."

Leona directed his glare at Malleus. This scaly bastard...!

"No thanks. I want no part in that," he replied bluntly. "I should leave the ruling to you kings."

"Leona," Falena protested, "he's correct. If you were to lend your help, set an example... We could--" he stopped, correcting himself. "You could unite so many people. I know you could."

"This again," he spat, those few words coated with venom.

It always came back to that.

The promise of acceptance, respect. Rewards for all his efforts. A prize dangled before him, always snatched away at the last possible second.

"... I've said enough here."

Leona turned on his heel, shoving his hands into his pockets, and began strolling away. Deeper and deeper into the thicket. Ignoring his brother calling after him, the frantic footsteps following.

"Kingscholar."

There was an eruption of green light in Leona's path. When it dissipated, Malleus stood in front of him. He looked visibly displeased.

"Out of my way," Leona growled, attempting to step around him.

Another flash, and Malleus teleported himself in front of his fellow dorm leader once again. "You will not simply walk away from this," he warned.

"I can walk away whenever I like. You're the kings discussing your domains. This doesn't concern me."

"That is not what I meant." Malleus's brows drew together. "You will not simply walk away from family."

"What do you know about family?!" Leona snarled. "Don't act like you have any leg to stand on."

"You shall mourn that you did not cherish them once they are already lost to the abyss." His voice was dark, commanding. "You will hear what your brother has to say."

Leona held his stare--the danger in it, sharp as a blade. He glanced back, spotting Falena with his fiery hair amid the leaves and vines, as mournful as a kitten that had been left out in the rain.

There's no getting out of this. If I bust out my strongest magic here, the entire Botanical Garden is going to be sanded and I'll never hear the end of it from Crewel. Ugh, I've gotta opt for a tactical surrender.

Sending Malleus his most scathing look, he managed one final curse.

"Damn you, lizard."

Maybe he had been the one checkmated today.

[doodle-pops]

Seconds Chances Are Worth Living For

Maglor x human!reader

Request: Hi can I request an fic (or onehsot) where a human finds Maglor wondering the beach where he threw the silmaril and they help him? - anon

Warnings: human!reader, light angst with happy ending/comfort, depressed and gloomy Maglor

Words: 1.3k

Synopsis: Nobody ever said second chances in life were easy, nor were changes necessary to bring them.

“Will you not come with me?”

His heart twisted painfully; your words lingered in the air like an unwelcome odour he desperately wished to dispel. Too often had these haunting words surfaced in his mind during the agonizing days of solitude. Too many times, he found himself yearning for them to materialize into reality, yet he remained resolute in his pride, steadfast against the prospect of accepting forgiveness. Deep within, he longed for the warmth of a fireplace, enclosed by walls of solace and finality—enough respite from the harshness of the ocean waves and the mournful cries of seagulls.

His posture, detached upon the rugged rocks, nearly melding into the static structure, remained unmoved. On the contrary, you stood unwavering before him, your gaze fixed upon his threadbare form draped in the remnants of shame and despair. It was a clash between an immovable object and an unstoppable force, and you were determined not to be the one to yield. Whether it was destiny or the cosmic alignment that led you to his desolate presence on the shores of Forlindon, you were resolved not to depart without pulling him away.

Defiance surged through your veins as you continued to face his statuesque figure, yet you restrained yourself from encroaching upon his personal space.

“If you stay another hour, you may succumb to fatal illness,” you pleaded, voice above a whisper. A strong gust of wind roamed the shores, prompting you to curl your cloak around your shoulders tightly to your body. There was a faint chattering of your teeth as you gathered the courage to speak up again. “Please, there is a cabin not too far away from these shores. The least you can do is come with me for something warm to eat and drink, perhaps a warmer change of apparel?”

Maglor’s gaze stretched into the distance, fixed upon the horizon, while his fingers gracefully danced through the air, as if caressing an unseen harp. Murmuring unfamiliar words, too delicate for mortal ears to grasp, his lament echoed the sorrows of a bygone era when the world was in its infancy. This was the poignant scene that unfolded before you: Maglor, singing with a voice textured like sandpaper, tears encrusting his eyelids, lips weathered and parted, fingers weaving through the invisible threads of melody, and eyes reflecting a profound abyss of desolation.

In a single glance, your heart welled with empathy, and tears threatened to spill from your lashes. In a burst of compassion, you implored and beseeched him to find solace within the confines of your cabin, offering a glimmer of hope to bring an end to his eternal torment.

“Please,” –you stepped closer, dwarfed by his largeness despite his malnourished physique– “I’m not asking you to stay forever if that is what you believe I seek. I only wish to help you—”

“Why?” He spoke or rather, croaked!

“Well…” you fumbled, stunned at his ability to communicate after minutes of attempting to capture his attention. “Because it is the right thing to do.”

“Why?”

Flapping your lips like a fish and furrowing your brows to mimic confusion, you stammered, “W-Well, I mean—You shouldn’t be alone out here in the element…suffering. You deserve a warm bed and comfort.”

“Why?” You never imagined that reaching out to aid a person would become so difficult. Indeed he was proving to be an unmovable object, but you were willing to be that unstoppable force who spoke wisdom into him.

For a fleeting moment, your gaze descended from his lean countenance to the weathered rock upon which he perched, his nimble fingers still weaving through the breeze in search of a haunting melody. A serene ambiance enveloped both of you, juxtaposed against the impending unease hanging in the air. The turbulent seas clashed vehemently against the headlands and platforms, while the sky hinted at an impending tempest, prompting you to ponder earnestly on what he sought from you amid the impending cataclysm.

Rubbing your cheek to battle against the frost nipping at your skin, you pinched your lips, then scratched your head as though an oncoming headache was surfacing. “Because I want to help you and I believe you are in need of help. My mortal compass would not rest well knowing that I left someone out in the element to suffer when I could relieve some of it.”

“And…what if you are…” He never finished his words for his throat seized up on him, but they lingered in the air ringing obviousness to what he was conveying.

“Wrong? Then I will learn a life lesson to not trust strangers who are on the brink of death.” Releasing a chuckle as you crinkled your nose, you looked at him once more. “I rather spend my time helping someone in need of it instead of having restless days and nights knowing I left you to suffer. If I am wrong…—everyone suffers differently, the good, the bad and the indifferent. What matters is that I helped; what you choose to do after is your choice and path.”

For the first time since your encounter, his lacklustre gaze fixed upon your earthly form, shrouded in ebony. His eyes meticulously studied every nuance of your being, from the strands of your hair down to the contour of your chin, even discerning the intricacies of your skin that radiated vitality. It was a quality of his that had languished in purgatory for countless eons. Compelling his lips to part, his pallid complexion yielded, producing droplets of moisture that emerged, imparting a semblance of colour to his wistful countenance. “But…am stran…ger.”

Resisting the urge to physically shake him by his shoulder before being beyond complex, you huffed and widened your eyes, tears threatening to spill as your emotions swallowed you. “Yes, yes! I know you are a stranger! You could be a sea creature too for all I know, who crawled out the depths of the ocean to lament his sufferings to the surface world! But none of that matters because I know a suffering person when I see one because I too… Please, let me help you. Don’t…give up without trying. Let me help...”

Maglor drew in a slow, measured breath before exhaling. It felt as though some divine intervention, dispatched by the Valar to alleviate his torment, had arrived in the form of your unwavering determination. Perhaps the burden of his endless years wandering the shores had become too much for even the Valar to bear, prompting their counsel for his return. Alternatively, this could be yet another vivid dream, a product of years spent attempting to conjure solace. Regardless, it all seemed serendipitous.

Though he longed to inquire about his fate should he accept, the strength to articulate a single syllable eluded him. As his eyes locked onto yours in search of sincerity, he grappled with the duality of seeking both truth and deceit, yearning for the former.

Setting aside his infamous pride, swallowing it like a scalding-hot, white rod, a new chapter unfolded. The courage amassed since ancient days returned, instilling confidence in his actions. However, the lack of physical strength betrayed him, causing his legs to give way, sending him tumbling into the damp sand. In that moment, he felt an overwhelming desire to weep at the transformation he had undergone and the shame he carried. Your arms delicately extended, encircling his waist, as he clung to your figure. From a once-great prince to a desolate wanderer in need of mortal compassion, Maglor held onto you as you struggled to lift him onto his feet, leaning his weakened body against yours.

“All is fine, I have you. Just walk with me, small steps and we shall get there safely and securely,” you softly reassured as you carried him towards a new beginning.

Masterlist

Taglist: @lilmelily @ranhanabi777 @mysticmoomin @rain-on-my-umbrella @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @sakurayaxd @ladyenchanted @involuntaryspasms @stormchaser819 @aconstructofamind @addaigio @lamemaster @hermaeuswhora

[primxryfunction]

tag dump !!

[apocalypticgargoyle]

YES YOURE DOING REQUESTS!! 💛💛 ILY ILY ILY!! Can I get the "only one bed" trope with Dream, Sap, and George x reader (separately lol) - 🦎

Hi 🦎 anon! Thank you for the request! I hope this is what you wanted :)

summary: uh oh! bed sharing ;)

pairing: Dream x reader, Sapnap x reader, George x reader

warnings: fluff, one or two swear words I think?

links: ao3, main

◦ You’re traveling to visit mutual friends.

◦ Clay was picking you up because you lived near each other.

◦ The two of you never really got along, but when it came to not having to drive, you were willing to let bygones be bygones.

◦ That being said, when Dream finally pulled into a hotel and there was only one bed available your strained car ride tension snapped. 

◦ You both stood, glaring at the double bed in the middle of the dingy motel room and avoiding eye contact at all costs. 

◦ How cliché, you’d think. 

◦ “We’re adults. I think we can share a bed without killing each other, can’t we?” You’d groan, earning a low grumble from him. 

◦ You could practically hear his eye roll. “No, I’ll literally wake up and think ‘today’s the day’ and unremorsefully strangle you.”

◦ You shot a glare in his direction. “You don’t have the brain power to hide my body after that.”

As you sank into one side of the springy mattress, Clay would sigh in frustration before burying himself in the covers beside you; both of you too tired to argue.  Despite the fact that you could practically feel your hair grow you were so exhausted, Dream’s cover hogging and your cold feet would make most of the night hell for the two of you. 

The sun began to pierce through the slits in the blinds, the stripes stinging your eyes and forcing you awake. As dust jumped from light beam to light beam, you groggily began to stretch your body yet stopped short at the feeling of Dream’s warm breath fanning against your shoulder. It was then that you noticed just how encompassed you were in his long limbs as his arms kept you pressed against his chest, locked around you as if you'd float away in the middle of the night. His legs were tangled with yours like sleeping this way had been natural to the two of you.

You froze in the hope that you hadn’t woken him up, but also in utter shock at the fact that he was snuggled up against you so tightly… And that you were enjoying it. The scent of his day old shampoo mixed with whatever foreign laundry detergent the motel was beating into their sheets, made you drowsy once again. Dream’s soft snores came out as whispers against your hair to break the silence of the intimate moment. 

Yet your bubble of calm was popped as his phone alarm began to shrill, jerking him awake and into a sense of panic as he realized his hold on you. You squeezed your eyes shut, hoping he’d just slip away from you and you would pretend it never happened. 

But alas, this was Dream you were talking about. “Jesus Christ! What are you doing on my side of the bed, perv!”

◦ Sapnap was moving in with a friend of yours in your area.

◦ The two of you hadn’t really known each other well; you’d met at a party once or twice but that was the extent of it. 

◦ Since you lived nearby, you offered your help while he was moving in. 

◦ Sap had come a day earlier than your friend, so you took it upon yourself to welcome him. 

◦ Most of the day was spent heaving boxes into various parts of their apartment and light chatter

◦ You’d been so engrossed in helping him lift the couch into the correct spot in the living room, you hadn’t noticed how late it had gotten. 

◦ As you mentioned having to leave, Sapnap swatted you off saying it was late enough that you could just crash there.

◦ So, that’s how you found yourself on an air mattress in the center of the floor with him sprawled out in a sleeping bag beside you. 

◦ Only problem was, you were freezing. 

◦ You nudged him with your foot, trying not to startle him too much.

◦ Despite this and you calling his name softly, he didn’t budge. 

◦ You kicked him harder, making him startle awake.

◦ He’d look at you with raised eyebrows as if to ask if you were dying. 

◦ At this point, you were so tired and so cold, you didn’t care what kind of Twilight trope you were giving into. 

◦ “Nick, I’m freezing. Come lay next to me,” you’d request. 

◦ His brows knitted together. “What? NO-” 

◦ “Please, how are you not cold?” You’d nearly beg. 

◦ He’d shake his head and then climb into bed beside you, his warmth a new haven for you. 

The make-shift mattress sinks under Sapnap's weight and you're nearly reluctant to curl up closer to him but as he turns to face you, you can feel his body heat radiating off of him. You shuffle nearer to him and he doesn't pay mind to it. Your teeth were still chattering though, so he huffs slightly and wraps an arm around you, pulling you to his chest. You're enveloped in his warmth almost instantly, your body calming at his touch. "Damn, your feet are like icicles," he chided, sending the two of you into soft laughter. It isn't long before you lose yourself in the sound of his heartbeat. 

“What is going on?” An all too familiar voice broke you out of your dream world, your heavy eyelids struggling to open because of the long night. You snuggled closer against what you had figured was a pillow until you realized the soft material under your touch was Sapnap's hoodie. 

Your eyes snapped open, finding Sapnap sound asleep in your embrace, your roommate looking over the two of you scornfully. “It’s not what it looks like, I promise,” you muttered, reluctantly dislodging yourself from around Sapnap and wincing at the brightness of the room. He groaned and sat up, stretching his own arms and sending you a soft smile, making a blush rush to your cheeks.

“It looks like you’re spooning my roommate,” your friend badgered, heading out of the room with a shake of their head. 

◦ You and George were roommates.

◦ The two of you shared a wall, much like you shared milk and sugar; sparingly but with respect. 

◦ You usually kept to yourself around your shared space, letting him do his thing and you do yours.

◦ Sure, the two of you were friendly here and there, but you were positive he couldn't pick you out of a line-up and vice versa. 

◦ But, all that had been put aside when you began having nightmares.

◦ You'd woken up with a start one night, heart racing and a cold sweat inkling down your back.

◦ Your surroundings seemed foreign to you as you could barely see your hand in front of your face. 

◦ The fear you'd felt moments prior was digging its heels into your subconscious and threatening to make its nest. 

◦ You rolled your eyes in subtle embarrassment as you noticed the small line of light spilling from beneath George's door across the hall from you. 

◦ It was then that you felt yourself move, your mind now set on companionship you weren't entirely sure you needed. 

You knocked softly at his door, regretting the disturbance almost instantly as you heard him climb from his bed. You debated turning back and burying yourself in a book until morning, but as you turned on your heel, his door creaked open. 

George rubbed his eyes with one hand and the other leaned against the threshold. "You okay?" He asked, his voice raspy from being dormant for a few hours. 

You cleared your throat, finding it difficult to form words of your own. "I um- had a nightmare," you mumbled, chewing the inside of your cheek and feeling like a child. 

George's brows furrowed as he looked down at you, the light from his room drawing his long, slender shadow around your feet. "Do you want to come in for a bit?" He asked, as if sensing what you were struggling to ask him. 

His sheets were soft against your skin as you settled into his bed, inches from him. His features seemed softer in the dark as the two of you laid in silence, the only sound being his gentle breathing. He reached for your hand, grasping it gently in his own to send you a small node of understanding. "You can wake me up if it happens again," he whispered, a sense of ease washing over you as you once again felt drowsy. The feeling of safety being near him like this and his hand threading with yours, calmed your quarrelsome mind. 

It was like you had closed your eyes for an instant before the morning sun pulled you from your slumber. George's arm was wrapped protectively around your waist as your hands curled around his own. Your nose was nestled in the crook of his neck as the two of you had unintentionally begun to share a pillow at some point in the night. He slept like the dead, and continued to as you slyly slipped from his grasp and headed into the living room. 

You'd never really spoken about it, but these sessions became next to normalcy for the two of you, sometimes even without the nightmares.

[remsmoonlight]

— title : theatre square

— word count : 2.2k words

— pairing : daigo dojima x reader

— summary : nothing but a nice day spent with Daigo in theatre square .. also Daigo still hates the fact he still sucks at the ufo catcher

— warnings : nothing but a few curses here and there

               ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*   requests are open ! / requested by anon *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

An unending chatter of noise that bleeds into each other from the various conversations of people going about their daily lives as they are captivated by their conversations through their mobile phones or the shopping trip they are using as a way to catch up with their friends to those just on their lunch breaks from their jobs — all do not take in that which surrounds them as you do, your eyes jumping from person to person. While you wait, you find yourself making a story up for each of them, using the game from your childhood to entertain yourself until your date arrives.

As the minutes pass your excitement by, the bright blue of Kamurocho dulls as does your enthusiasm. Time aches by every time you bring your wrist up to check the time on your watch, not a message to say they’d be late. Nothing. A heavy rush of air takes the plunge out of your lungs and into the air, with dejection and gloom the bricks that build its body. You wonder why a person would ask you out only to leave you without even a whisper to communicate their lack of interest despite being the one whose idea it was. People are confusing.

“ What are you doing here by yourself? “

Your view is interrupted as you turn to the recognisable voice behind your shoulder, a forced grin is plastered onto your features — hope courses through your veins that it’s not blindingly obvious that you’re drenched from the stormy clouds of misery above you.

“ Daigo? “ You ask as surprise lights up your eyes as you survey the man. “ It’s been a while. “

Your friendship with him had occurred by accident. There’s not a day that passes in the town where there’s not a poor soul being harassed on the street for some odd reason or another, it’s just you’d never thought that you would be in that very position. Often, you would walk the streets of the neon metropolis making yourself as small and as insignificant as possible.. However on that day your lone bubble had been burst completely. One moment you’d been blissfully content in your own comfort zone as you dipped and weaved in the crowded streets and the next you’d found yourself surrounded by a swarm of drunks.

Had the universe sensed your predicament, the unpleasant experience lasted no longer than a wore on fleetingly as your lips whispered its silent gratitude. They’d scattered once an order to cease had been uttered by Daigo, as if they’d never been there in the first place, not even a shadow in their place. Apologies had been issued and usually you’d not even stayed long enough to accept them but his words were as remorseful as his eyes were true.

“ Yeah, I had something to deal with. “ He responds, digging his hands into his pockets.

“ It didn’t happen to involve this town being under siege, did it? “ You question him, a brow lifts up knowingly as your expression shifts.

His past had been no secret, you made no move to judge — his actions spoke louder than any riotous melody should weave the ability to. As you stared down at the scene from your apartment high above the glowing lights of the town, all you could see was a maze of smoke littering various areas you know well, especially as you’d walked their path that very morning. Terror prevented you from leaving, the unknown of what could occur should you walk that path played into your fear with an unyielding grip on your body.

“ These past few weeks have been something. “ He swallows lightly, his circumstances have certainly altered in the passing days. “ You haven’t answered my question. “

“ I was waiting for someone.. “ You shrug with a mousy chuckle, preferring to not let on how disappointed you feel. “ I don’t think that’s happening now. “

“ Who would stand you up like that? “

It would be a falsehood to say that he’d never imagined a closer relationship between the two of you the more he laid eyes upon your form. Noting mentally how you would persistently shine brighter than venus yet everyone who interacts with you would gravitate towards you as if you took on the form of Jupiter and they became an additional moon to orbit your infectious laughter. No sooner than he’d met you, he fell under the spell that many who interacted with you had — becoming one.

“ Well, we’re not all too close. I’m not bothered about it really. “ You lie, your words to anyone else would have gone amiss, but he’d picked up the soft falter in your voice.

“ Let’s go. “

Your gaze follows his retreating form, your body still glued to the spot it has occupied on the bench. Had you anything to say your mouth would be opening and closing like a fish, it’s not long until you manage to snap yourself out of the stupor he’d led you into and you’re both now standing outside the Club Sega arcade. A mist of uncertainty begins to fog slowly as the wheels turn in your mind, you’d only ever seen him settled into establishments where alcohol was served. Just what has he been through recently?

Chords of a catalog of sources flow through your hearing as your sight scans the area, electronic notes from the games move in rhythm with the joy those emit from the entertainment they gain from the amusements to the despair others make vocal as they lose a battle or have run their turns out on the UFO catcher. Fingers slip into your as you feel yourself tugged into the direction of a game with large seats, already knowing the game you know you’re terrible.

“ Why not another game? I’m horrible at this. “ You complain as you stare at the intimidating structure of the game.

“ It makes it easier to beat you then. “ He chuckles, a spark softly swaying in his eyes as he turns his attention to you.

“ You’re not being fair, Daigo. “

“ The aim is to win, you’re just going to have to try harder to beat me. “

You do as he says. It takes a colossal effort to direct your mind to organise itself in order to give yourself a fighting chance at winning, and it does work — to an extent. A thread of tame curses tumble unceremoniously from your lips as your character is knocked out once more, and the distractions from the male finding humour in your disaster beside you does not help your cause. Your eyes roll as the game ends once more, with you failing to get a win over Daigo, there’s no need to turn to face him for the smugness radiates off of him in waves.

“ See? I’m awful! “ You whine as your shoulders slump in defeat.

“ Let me make it up to you.. “ Daigo speaks with a comforting tone, no longer relishing in his victory. “ I’ll get you one of those toys from the UFO catchers. What one do you want? “

Your lips twist and turn as your teeth sink into the flesh to bite on them in contemplation as you eye up the prizes from your position, the lengthy distance doing nothing to hinder you as the sight of a pillow pups toy stands out confined to its glass prison. The golden retriever is too irresistible to the childishness within you as your eyes narrow as you reluctantly share your desire for the toy with him.

“ Make sure it’s the golden retriever one. “

“ Yeah, I got it. “

“ I hope you do. “ You comment in a steady tone, a palm leaning on the pane.

The music begins and you scrutinise the scene before you with an eager eye as the metallic claw first moves left. Determination chisels itself into his features as his brows lower in a physical representation of his focus. To win the plush toy would be the most simplest effort in the world yet it would be the first step in treating you how he should have been treated at the start. Truthfully, he’d wanted nothing to do with forging bonds that could be so easily disintegrated, however he could never build up the strength to tear himself away from you. Instead of feeling drained from the human interaction, he’d leave your encounters revitalised.

A groan leaves the both of you as the first attempt leaves all of the toys still confined to their places, the one you specifically want at the back firmly in the middle. A tough spot, you remark.

“ Fuck. “

Giggling to yourself, your teeth shine brighter than any star as they are on full display from the action as the frustration of the man is surprisingly amusing to you. Again, the claw had found itself short of where it should be, and the last chance of retrieving the toy desired so much is shown clearly on the metallic panel.

“ Let me, Daigo. “ You comment, pushing him to the side with a weak force. Rolling your shoulders dramatically, you grab the controls of the game. A breath is held as the claw makes its way left, the toy stands out temptingly from its position. I have to get this, it’s so cute! You do not listen to the prompt to let it descend from Daigo just yet, allowing it to inch its way further back ever so lightly. Your eyes are transfixed as you watch the toy is clutched in a clumsy hold, your heart speeds up at the sight of the lessening grip with each jagged movement that leaves the toy released earlier than it should.

A relieved sigh is released as it falls through the empty space at the last minute, just managing to pass through with seconds to spare.

“ I’m still shit at this. “

“ So you know how it feels now? “ You ask him with a smirk, interlocking your arm with his as you reflect on the surprisingly good time you have had with him. “ Ooh, let’s go to Café Alps, I fancy something sweet. “

The proximity between you both is small, with both hands secured firmly in his pockets Daigo enjoys the basic experience. A buzz of energy bubbles between the two of you as you converse interactively, you can’t help but notice a level of tension has been removed from his shoulders, the man next to you appearing a little more relaxed. The walk is short to the café, you can’t help but continue to stare at the bright displays of the stores as you pass by as if you’re witnessing them for the first time. Life is certainly vivid and lively in Kamurocho.

You turn your attention away from Daigo ordering to the life outside from your spot on the cushioned wall couch. It doesn’t go unnoticed that darkness has overtaken the skyline completely, even with the glistening neon lights the stars fight to make themselves seen.

“ Thank you, Daigo. “ You begin, a leading inflection heavy on your words as you sip slowly on the hot liquid. “ I have to ask though, what’s this all for? “

“ Does there have to be a reason? “ He deflects as you cock your head to the side in response.

“ You’re you. There’s always a reason to everything you do, I know you that well at least. “ You respond, before placing a piece of the chocolate parfait. A short wiggle of your shoulders at the enjoyment of the sweet treat lends some amusement to Daigo before an air of sobriety returns to his outward expression.

“ I haven’t been the best to you. “

“ Dai — “

“ Please, let me finish. “ He interrupts suddenly, eye contact unwavering as he continues to study your form. “ I had you as a friend but even then I would hold you at arms length more often than not. I’m surprised you’ve put up with me. “

“ I’m not going to say you’ve not been difficult.. But you don’t see what I do. “ You comfort, there had been days where he’d been more insufferable than a child, but you know humans are more than one dimensional creatures.

A culture of existing in a positive bubble perpetually is no way to live, for it denies you the chance to feel the emotions that slash your soul deeply. Is it easier to think it would be easier to live if you only experience happiness? Perhaps. But never does the find feel clearer after releasing the negativity that darkens your walls.

“ Huh? “

“ You’ve been through a lot, it’s not excusable to be an ass but it’s understandable. “ You shrug with little effort, shaking your head nonchalantly. “ Besides, you haven’t been as bad as you think. You’re human, you have your off days. We all do. “

“ Still, I don’t want to be an ass to you. “ He confides, moving his hand to envelope yours. There’s a surging warmth that the pair of you notice simultaneously threads between fingertips more seamlessly than when ink glides onto paper with the grace of a bird that soars through the bright blue sky.

He’d lived long enough in a world built of paper, using it as a means to escape the reality the world so harshly has built into it.

“ Then don’t. “

[fruitcoops]

I don't know if you are taking asks anymore, so if you are not you can ignore this or put it to the very end of your list. But I was hoping you could write something angsty for coops but with a happy ending. Maybe one of them is having a bad mental health day? I've been struggling so I'd really like to read something sad but also comforting. Thank you so much!

Lovely anon, I hope you are doing better <3 It’s been a few days since this ask came in (sorry) but it was really cathartic to write and I hope it is a good balance of sad and comforting. I combined it with two similar asks, which are listed below:

Coops/ SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

Prompt 26: “I don’t know what’s wrong, okay? I’m just…really tired.”

Prompt 30: “You’re not okay.”

“Sirius. Sirius.”

He blinked and shook his head, clearly trying to come back to reality. “What?”

“I asked if you were okay.”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“You’re scowling.”

“I’m fine.” The resignation and frustrated confusion in his voice worried Remus. He almost sounded like when he got heatstroke, just…different. Angry.

“Are you ready to head out?”

“I’m going to tap a puck around for a bit, I think.”

Remus frowned. That superstition only came out after bad games, when Sirius’ pent-up energy twisted around and burrowed into him rather than overflowing in tangible waves that boosted everyone around them. A remnant of years spent blaming himself for not being the absolute best, Remus supposed. “You don’t want to do that at home?”

“Not really,” Sirius said harshly. Not shouting, not snapping—harsh. Harsh in a way he never was with Remus. Talker, the only other person left in the locker room, picked up his bag and left silently with a final glance between them.

“Talk to me, baby,” Remus tried again, softening his voice. Making Sirius feel pressured was the worst way to go about this.

As expected, the frown slipped slightly. “I don’t know what’s wrong, okay? I’m just…really tired.”

“Okay. Ten minutes?”

Sirius sighed and scrubbed his hand through his hair without looking up. His skates were still laced up tight. “Ten minutes.”

Twenty minutes later, they were on the road heading home. The car was uncomfortably quiet, as if they were both waiting to say something, but Remus refrained from making any comments until Sirius opened up. Poking and prodding was never a productive method, and he was exhausted from the game, which had been far too close for a team like the Ravens.

“I’m not mad at you.”

“Good.”

“I think I just need some food.”

“And sleep.”

“And sleep,” Sirius added as an afterthought. “You’re quiet tonight.”

“I’m always quiet,” Remus said with a light laugh.

“Not around me, you’re not.” A smile tugged at the edges of Sirius’ lips when he glanced over, then faded into the troubled darkness from the locker room. Few members of the team had swung by for fist bumps or postgame chatter with him once the interviews were done; any reporters who approached were met with a cold stare.

“I was thinking about asking Reg to come over for Christmas, too.” Remus looked back out the passenger window. “Jules misses him and it’s been a while since we all had dinner together.”

“D’accord.”

“We might need to convince Dumo to let him go, but—”

“I said that sounds fine,” Sirius huffed, turning onto the road that led to their house.

Remus looked at him, eyebrows raised. “I know. I heard you. I figured I’d ask for your opinion on getting him to come over, considering he’s your brother, but if you really don’t care then I’ll just call in the morning.”

“That works.” The engine turned off and Remus locked the doors. Sirius unlocked them, only for Remus to click his key again.

“What happened? You’re not okay.”

Sirius blew out a long breath and let his head fall back for a moment. “I told you, I’m just tired.”

“You get cuddly or grumbly when you’re tired. You shut down when you’re upset. What did the reporters say?”

“Can I at least take a shower before you start interrogating me?”

Ouch. Okay. Remus tucked his key into his pocket and grabbed his duffel from the backseat. “Go for it. I’ll be in the bedroom when you’re ready to talk.”

It felt weird entering the house alone after winning a game. Sure, it had been close, but they still won and Sirius generally went into Hockey Obsession Mode after skin-of-their-teeth victories. The last time Remus had seen him like this was when a rude reporter asked whether he had spoken to his parents since the All-Stars and Sirius silenced him with a thunderstorm glare.

The pasta he reheated tasted like sawdust, but it cleared his head a bit and stopped the growling in his stomach. Sirius was still in the shower when he went upstairs; leaning against the tile while steam practically suffocates him, I bet, he thought as he changed into his softest pajama pants and tossed his postgame clothes into the hamper.

Sirius looked everywhere but at him when he came out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist and began digging through the dresser. “Your sweatpants are over here,” Remus reminded him. He didn’t respond. “Ignoring me is a dick move. I know you’re upset but that’s not cool.”

His broad shoulders slumped and he paused his search. “I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted. What are you looking for?”

“Manches longues.” With a low hum, Sirius pulled on his most beat-up long sleeve shirt and slipped into bed, then immediately turned on his side, facing away from Remus. “Bonne nuit, mon amour.”

“Are you sure you’re not mad at me?”

“Very sure.”

Remus settled onto his side as well and, after a moment’s hesitation, reached out and touched the back of Sirius’ shoulder. He flinched slightly. “Sirius.”

“Don’t say my name like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like—” He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling with an angry huff, waving one hand around. “Like it’s so soft. It’s not. I’m not.”

“You are.”

“No, I’m not.” The corners of his eye glimmered in the low light of the full moon.

Remus shifted closer, just enough that he could feel the heat radiating from his skin. “Yes, you are. With Harry, with the team, with me. You’re allowed to be soft, honey.”

“I don’t want to be,” Sirius said angrily.

“I think you do.”

“I hate it when I feel like this.” His voice broke and he inhaled shakily. Remus hummed his agreement, resting one hand a few inches from Sirius’. “All those reporters—they think I’m like that all the time. That I’m aggressive and untouchable and perfect, even off the ice.”

“But you’re not.”

“But I’m not. I’m not, and I don’t want to be, but I don’t want to let them down.”

“The reporters don’t matter.”

Sirius shook his head as the first tear slid down his cheek, toward his ear. “I don’t give a shit about them. I don’t want to let the fans down. It would be so much easier if I could be the captain all the time, but I can’t. They ask about the youngest captain and I always forget that it’s me. They ask about Regulus and I have to remember if they know he spent last week snarking at me about vacuuming or if they think we still fight. They ask about you and—and I’m tired of it. I love you, but sometimes I just want to talk about hockey. I play hockey and I have a life that is separate, but they don’t seem to understand that.”

Remus brushed away the tear tracks with his thumb and Sirius closed his eyes, tangling their hands together. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I’m sorry you feel like that,” he rephrased. “It’s a lot of pressure for one person.”

Sirius half-smiled. “You make it better.”

“Can I hold you?”

His smile wobbled. “Please do.”

Remus wrapped one arm around his waist and drew him close against his chest, threading his other hand through his hair as he placed gentle kisses to the top of his head. He had washed his hair in the shower—the minty scent was calming, and the slowly-drying curls were soft. “You don’t have to be perfect all the time,” he murmured. Sirius’ palms pressed into his bare back. “You can just be you and that’s more than enough. If they don’t see that, it’s their problem.”

Sirius hooked their ankles together and pulled the blankets up over their shoulders with a trembling sigh. They fell asleep soon after, lulled by two hearts beating in tandem.

[amerrierworld]

Spilling the Tea

Ocean’s  8 - one shot

For anon

Summary: Tammy clumsily spills a drink on herself because of nerves as you celebrate the end of the heist and as you help clean her up you finally figure out what caused it... you.

Characters: Tammy x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,273

Warnings: NSFW! bathroom sex. 

Everything had seemed so simple up until now. Tammy and you were friends, right? You got along swimmingly. The heist went perfectly, and all nine of you were more than content with the riches you had. 

But no, of course, now it had to get complicated. Because every time you glanced over at her from the other side of the kitchen, she would already be looking at you, and then she’d blush and turn away. 

“Can I get another glass of wine?” you asked Lou who was standing across from you. The bottle sat next to her on the counter and she picked it up, accepting the offered glass you held out and pouring you a good amount. 

“Thanks,” you mumbled, taking a generous sip. You turned away, feeling Tammy’s doe-like eyes burning into the back of your skull and trying to ignore the jittery feeling it gave you in the depth of your stomach. 

You went and sat a little further from the gang, sitting on one of the windowsills and breathing in the cool night-air that came through deeply. The nice thing about having such a large group of con friends was that you could take a breather from them without being missed, which was nice once in a while. 

Rain began tapping against the window and you felt a slight mist from the outside world greeting you through the small crack. 

“...go do it, you coward...”

“...No! You can’t make me, I’m not ready,”

“If you’re not ready by now, Tam-Tam, you’re helpless.”

Your ears pricked up as the chattering from the girls had died down and there was only a collection of hushed whispers coming from the kitchen.

“Listen, Tam. The job’s done, you’re divorced, everyone’s rich. Why the hell would you not be ready by now?”

“Debbie!”

You turned your head and immediately they stopped talking. All eight of them were huddled in the kitchen, looking over at you. When you arched an eyebrow, they all scuttled away like frightened animals. The one person that stood stock-still was Tammy, staring at you, clutching the can of hard ice tea in her hands, her face beet-red.

As Lou passed her she gave Tammy a light shove that made her take a step closer to you. 

You couldn't say anything as she began taking hesitant steps towards you, eyes downcast. When she reached your side she was still refusing to look you in the eye, looking at her flats instead and pulling at the edge of her floral summer dress.

“Hi,” you said, acting surprised that she’d suddenly come up to you rather than watching her make the whole journey across the room. 

“Hey,” she said, trying to slouch nonchalantly and take a sip from the can at the same time. The awkward angle didn’t let her drink properly and some of the tea spilled down her chin onto her dress. 

“Fuck,” she hissed as she pulled the can away, a hand lifting to catch the drops that started to settle deep in the light coloured fabric of her dress.

“Oh, dear,” you responded dumbly, trying to get your eyes off of the droplets that were running down her neck into the cleavage line of her dress. You set your glass down on the sill and took Tammy’s can too.

“You’re so clumsy,” you teased her with a small smile as you pulled some hairs away from her face so they wouldn’t become sticky with the spilled drink as well.

“Shut up,” Tammy retorted, but with a smile in her eyes.

“Here, let’s get you to a bathroom.”

Lou directed you to the bathroom upstairs and you tried to ignore the suggestive winking she sent your way, or the fact that Constance looked at Tammy and mouthed ‘well-played’.

The bathroom was big enough for the two of you to stand in comfortably. You dabbed some water on a clean towel and set to work on trying to get as much of the drink out of her dress as she cleaned her face. You pressed the towel against her stomach and she yelped a bit at the cold feeling of it.

“Sorry,” you said, blushing. “You’ll probably have to get changed, it’s better to wash it now so that it won’t be sticky and dry later.”

“Good idea,” Tammy said, her voice slightly trembling and her face on fire.

“You okay, Tammy?” you asked. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, you know, spilling a drink. Happens to all of us.”

“Yeah, I know. It-It’s not that.”

“Oh? Is something wrong?”

“No- I mean, yes, I-,” Tammy couldn’t finish her sentence and she looked at you with a pleading gaze as if she didn’t know what to say anymore.

“It’s alright, you don’t have to tell me. Where’s your stuff? I can grab a new dress if you like.”

A beat passed. Tammy looked ready to burst out with something, but instead her shoulders slumped and she nodded. 

You exited the bathroom and hurried to find her things, in one of Lou’s guest rooms. A large suitcase sat on the bed and you rummaged through before finding the dark blue dress she mentioned, deliberately avoiding looking at any other pieces of clothing you came across.

As you went back to the bathroom, you passed Daphne who took one look at whose bedroom you just exited and smirked.

“Nice,” was all she said, and left you.

The fuck?

You re-entered the bathroom with a small frown on your face. 

“Why are they all acting so weird? Every time I look at one of the others they act all.. smug, like they know something I don’t, and I-”

You couldn’t finish your sentence as you realized you were staring at Tammy half undressed. The dress was scrunched in a ball in her hand and she stood in a black bra and underwear, with stockings that reached here mid-thigh. Her eyes were locked on yours but didn’t miss how you looked at her body at least once. Maybe twice.

“S-sorry,” you stammered. “I should’ve knocked.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “What were they saying?”

“N-nothing,” you continued, frozen with the blue dress in hands. “They just- they’re acting all secretive. Like they know something about..”

“About what?”

You couldn't answer for a moment. Your mind kept racing, trying to piece together why they were all winking, smiling, smirking at the two of you. You looked up at Tammy and dared to say it out loud.

“... about you,” you breathed. “Us.”

Tammy chewed on her lip, probably due to nerves, but it made you squirm. “They're right.”

“What- what, what?” you blurted out as you stared, incredulous. 

“Yeah, they’re right. They’re a lot more perceptive about that kind of stuff than you and I. Lou noticed first,” Tammy turned to the sink, giving you a gorgeous view of her side profile and she dropped the dress in the laundry basket on the floor. 

“Oh, wow, really. But, you had a husband,” you frowned a little, taking a step forward as your nerves eased, realizing that the two of you were on the same page.

“Divorced, now, officially,” she breathed. “I’ve always liked both, you know.”

“No way,” you mumbled. By this time you were mere inches from each other, the only thing separating you being the dress you still had in your hands.

“You can’t be that surprised,” she chuckled, her cheeks red. 

“So, you like me?” you asked dumbly. Tammy laughed.

“Yes, of course. Is that not clear yet or something?”

“Well, you’re right about one thing,” you said, putting the dress on the counter and stepping closer. Her breath hitched.

“The two of us are definitely not as perceptive as the rest of them.”

Your lips met in a soft kiss. Both of you nervous, new, unsure. But Tammy’s fingers immediately began playing with the hem of your shirt and once she  took it off you knew there was no going back. 

Your pants came off quickly and you kneeled in front of Tammy as she pressed back against the sink. You started rolling down each stocking with careful precision, kisses following the soft skin as it was revealed to your eager eyes. 

“That’s really nice,” Tammy squeaked softly, hands white knuckled at the edge of the counter. You stood up again and gripped her waist, her hands threading in your hair and pulling you close for a kiss. She began rocking against your thigh with a needy whimper in the back of her throat as you worked to get her bra off. 

You let a thumb flick over a rosy nipple, enjoying the way it pebbled at your touch and how her back arched as you did so. Her hand worked down to stroke you between your thighs and you nearly lost your balance at the feeling. Fingers tugged and pulled deliciously at the edges of your underwear, trying to get inside. 

Once she’d managed to push them down enough to run fingers uninterrupted through your folds with one hand, she didn’t hesitate to worm a finger inside , curling as a thumb pressed up against your clit.

You leaned down and bit on her shoulder as you breathed, “fuck,”  in a low voice. 

“Y-you’re so beautiful,” Tammy stammered, hips constantly rolling. You bent down further to catch a nipple between your lips and she gasped. “I-I wanted  you.. for so long, god.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” you asked, barely able to think as another finger entered you, clumsy and slippery, but still incredibly arousing.

“I couldn’t.. work,” Tammy mumbled. You shook your head, incredulous at the notion that she tortured both you and herself for this long because of the heist being in the way. 

You captured her lips in a kiss again as you felt her thumb quickening against your clit and you came with a long moan and a shudder, pressing your body against Tammy, fitting the two of you perfectly together. 

Small licks and soft kisses pressing against your face and neck brought your attention back through the foggy haze in your head and the fact that Tammy was soaked through her panties against your thigh. You moved to lick along her neck, tasting the hard ice tea that left a sticky trail down to her chest.

“Oh, Tam-Tam, you’re so filthy,” you scolded in a mock tone. Tammy giggled and leaned back against the mirror as you lifted her up to sit on the bathroom counter properly. 

“Please,” she whispered, fingers grasping your upper arms and shoulders. You got the hint, finally, and lowered yourself to kneel on the floor, knees pressing against the bathroom mat and your hands gently pulling Tammy’s legs apart.

The soft, black and ruined panties came off with a quick tug and you settled in comfortably, pressing kisses against her inner thigh while her hands clawed at your shoulders. 

“Oh!” she gasped, high-pitched and sweet, as you ran your tongue up the length of her cunt. In the back of your mind you wondered how long it had been since she’d had this kind of pleasure. You thought of all those weeks of the heist where the two of you were dancing around each other, oblivious to the mutual attraction and growled at the fact that you missed out on so much opportunity. 

The growl made Tammy shiver and you did it again.

“It’s-it’s not gonna take long,” Tammy breathed. “Please, oh, Jesus. Y/N!”

“Shh,” you said against her clit, flicking your tongue over the bud. “They’ll hear.”

“I don’t care,” she moaned. “They’ve known for so long. They know exactly what’s going on.”

“So you want them to hear how well you like being fucked by my tongue?” you grinned, pressing your tongue against her opening and slowly easing it inside.

“Oh, yes, yes please,” she went on. Her hips began moving as you fucked her, starting slow and working carefully to make every inch of here come undone. You mapped her out quickly, learning where she liked to be touched and how easily she became aroused if you just pressed your tongue in the right place.

She came with her thighs clamped around your head, your fingertips bruising her thighs as hers pulled at your hair. The mirror had steamed up and you were both sweaty. Your knees ached as you got up and grinned at her, hands rubbing at her waist as she hugged you close and kissed you desperately. 

“Dinner?” kiss. “Tomorrow?” kiss. “I’ll pick you up,” she said. You arched an eyebrow.

“What?”

You shook your head and smirked at her. “Nothing, I just love that you’re so confident after just cumming on my tongue.”

Tammy rolled her eyes and smiled. “It helps me relax. I don’t see you trembling anymore either, you know.”

“I guess you’re right. So all we needed all along was just a good fuck, eh?”

Tammy laughed and you felt yourself swell with giddiness at the sound. “I guess you’re right.”

You helped her off of the counter, getting her dressed in the clean dress and picking up the laundry.

“Let’s go find the washing machine,” you said. She wrapped her hands around your waist and pressed a kiss against your sweaty shoulder as you opened the door of the bathroom. You looked down.

On the ground stood a bottle of bathroom-cleaner and a rag, and a note that said 

‘pls clean my bathroom once you’re done, you dirty animals. Lou xox’

Tammy buried her face in your neck, moaning about how embarrassing all this must’ve been, but you could only laugh.

A/N: Sooooo, you think Tam-Tam spilled her drink on purpose or nah? ;) 

[schmuckyschmarnes]

Daffodil

anon request: I have a request if that's okay. Could you maybe write about Bucky protecting the reader from some douchebag in a bar?

warnings: unwanted advances, unwanted physical touching (hand on thigh/leg) author notes: this ended up being a lot longer than i intended, i hope this is at least close to what you were after, but if you’d like me to make any changes, please feel free to let me know!!  i included a best friend character and tried not to use any names so it sounds a bit clunky but the y/n ybfn abbreviations always kill it for me when i’m reading so i hope this is ok!! edit: i forgot to mention i also wasn’t sure if you wanted them to already know each other so i wrote a kind of pre-meeting so you could have it both ways 

There was a chill in the air as you hurried down the street, half walking-half running, your heels tapping sharply against the concrete.  An aggressive series of vibrations interrupted your thoughts and you fumbled for a moment, attempting to balance the large bouquet of flowers you were holding in one hand so that you could retrieve your cell phone from the pocket of your trench coat.  The brown paper rustled noisily against you as you finally grabbed your phone, sliding the bar across the screen and putting it to your ear.

“Hey!  I’ll be outside in just a sec, I’m so sorry I’m running late!” you said immediately, feeling heavy with the litany of apologies that you would relay until you arrived at your destination.

You were met with a happy laugh on the other end of the line.  “How long have we been friends?  Did you think I’d wait for you to get started?” your friend teased, and you could hear the beginnings of a slur licking softly at her words.

“I’m offended that you wouldn’t wait for me, you said you would this time!” you accused, biting at a smile as you crossed the road.  A car sped around the corner, tires screeching, and the driver slammed down on the horn as he approached you.  “Oh piss off!” you called, as the car continued to honk after you'd skipped out of the way.

“And you said you’d be on time!” your friend giggled, oblivious to your rage-fuelled exchange.  She had you there.

“I did say that,” you relented, as you walked up the footpath, your destination in sight. “Okay babe, I’m outside, I’ll see you soon.”

“Yaaaaaaaay!” she shrieked, and you moved the phone away from your ear, wincing.

The bar you’d decided to meet at was an old favourite.  Busy enough that you weren’t uncomfortably visible, but not too rowdy.  Perfect for catch ups and your favourite game, people watching.

As you reached your hand to pull the door open, it swung at you, and a body collided with yours.

“Oh shit-”

“Fuck-”

You felt an arm wrap itself around you as your heel wobbled, and when you opened one eye, face scrunched up (still bracing yourself for what you considered an inevitable fall) you found yourself mesmerised by a shade of striking blue. The stranger steadied you, releasing you from his grip.  You opened your second eye, taking a step back sheepishly.

“I’m so sorry-”

“Hey, that was all me,” he interrupted, his hand pushing through the long waves of hair that had fallen into his face.  “I wasn't watching where I was going.” 

He was gorgeous, sharp lines and stubble and pink lips that stood out against the otherwise dark shadows.  A black t-shirt stretched itself over his broad shoulders, and a pale blue long sleeved collared shirt sat loosely over the top, buttons abandoned and sleeves rolled halfway, giving way to the black gloves on his hands.

“Good reflexes, though,” you noted, moving out of the way of a couple who wanted to head in.  “They make it look so easy,” you said, sighing dramatically as the couple disappeared into the bar without incident, and the stranger laughed. It was warm and deep, and you could’ve sworn you felt it reverberating in your own chest when you saw his eyes crinkle at the corners.

“Maybe one day we’ll get the hang of it,” he joked, a crooked smile tugging at his lips.  He could feel the moment slipping. You tilted towards the door, and he didn’t want you to leave, he wanted to memorise you, and as his eyes ran over you a frown settled over his features, his face darkening. “Aw jeez, I ruined your flowers,” he groaned, clearly distressed.  You looked down to find that a few of the petals had been crushed, but all things considered, they’d held together pretty well.  An overwhelming desire to comfort this complete stranger seized you.

“Oh hey, no, it’s okay!” you said.  “Look, if we just-” and you pulled off a few of the sad-looking petals, “see, they’re good as new!” You waved them proudly in his direction and a single daffodil drooped sadly to the side.  “Okay, they’re good as new except for this one,” you amended, pulling the offending stem out, and he chuckled, face brightening once more.

“You’re a miracle worker,” he stated, as he took in the fresh-looking bouquet, and something in his voice made you think he could say anything and you'd believe it.

“Ah, miracle worker is my day job,” you said, smiling.  “I’ve got to get these flowers to the person I bought them for, but here, a souvenir of our time together-” you broke the stem off of the single daffodil you were still holding, throwing the long end to the side, and threading the crumpled flower through one of the open buttonholes of his long sleeve shirt, your palm resting for the briefest second on his chest.

"I knew my outfit was missing something.  Thanks, doll,” he joked.  

"Anytime..." you trailed off, realising you didn't know his name.

"James," he supplied, putting out his hand and then looking down at the glove with uncertainty.  It seemed important to him.  You took his hand in yours and shook it.

"Anytime, James," you finished, turning to the door.  "Okay...take 2," you said, adjusting the flowers and pulling the door toward you.

"Wait," he called out, and you turned back, holding the door open.  "What's your name?"

The chatter from the bar swallowed the sound of your voice as you answered him.  You watched his lips mouth it, repeating it to himself as if he was determined to remember, and you smiled one last time at him before finally stepping inside.

You’re immediately hit with a wave of warmth, bodies huddled close together, legs sprawled beneath booths, hanging off of stools, hands gripping and fingers holding loosely, glasses that all glinted in the comfortable low light.  A screech from across the room startles you and when your eyes find the source, you can’t help but smile.  You begin to make your way over but you’re immediately hit by an assortment of limbs, this time you move the flowers off to the side.

“You came!” she shrieked, arms latched around your neck, a few people nearby looked up at the commotion before returning to their conversations.

“I came!” you laughed, squeezing your best friend. “Congratulations, you badass, you deserve this promotion so much.”

“I really do,” she nodded solemnly as she released you. “I’ve worked-” she hiccuped “-so hard.”

“You really have,” you agreed.  “This should’ve happened a lot sooner but I’m so happy for you, these are for you.” You thrust the bouquet toward her, and she gasps, taking them in one hand and looping her arm through yours as she leads you to the table she had occupied. 

“They’re so pretty, I love them,” she gushed, and you laughed again, amused at how sweet and affectionate she was when she had been drinking.  “Listen, Jake’s here,” she said, waving at the man in question, slowing down before you reached him, “and we might not stay too long because to be honest with you, I gotta get laid, babe, it’s getting dusty down there.”

“Girl, it’s your night,” you replied, “I don’t mind at all, we’ll have a few drinks and then you go celebrate properly.”  

“Hey Y/N.” Jake said as you finally arrived at the table, standing to give you a quick hug.

“Hey, Jake!  How proud are we of our girl here?”  you replied, as you removed your coat and settled into your seat. 

“Never been more proud,” he answered, throwing his arm around her as she beamed up at him.

The drinks arrive, or, more drinks arrive, and empty glasses are cleared from the table as you catch up, relive what feels like ancient memories, and laugh too hard at stories that continue to hold the title of “funniest thing ever”.  After the tenth round of people watching (definitely divorced, owns a cat “-or a bird”, enjoys infomercials and nasty sex), they announced that it was time to leave, and you were shocked to see that almost two hours have passed.  

“Enjoy cleaning out the cobwebs,” you said as you hugged goodbye, and she giggled, leaning on her boyfriend for support as they walked out. 

You reached for your trench coat, intending to trade the table for the counter when a man sat himself opposite you, and a strong stench of cologne slammed into you.

“Hey,” he said, “can I buy you a drink?”  He smiled, and you could tell that it was meant to be charming, but something about it felt...

“Oh…” you began, unsure of how to proceed. Off.  It felt off. “I’m okay, thank you, though.”

“Come on,” he persisted, “let me buy you a drink.”  

You looked around at the bar and your eyes stopped when you saw him, James, sitting a few tables away, laughing at a joke one of his friends had just made.  He had come back?

“I-”

“Just the one,” he said, holding up a single finger and tilting his head to the side.

“Sure,” you replied, unsure of how else to get rid of him.  “One drink, okay.”

He was an investment something or other.  He liked to golf, he travelled often, his- His tie was distracting you as he spoke, something about the gold and the brown didn’t make any kind of logical sense in your mind and you pondered over it for the entirety of his monologue, sipping gingerly at the drink before you for something to do.

“So what do you do?” he asked, and it caught you off guard.  He had been speaking about himself for so long that had it not been a painful experience you might have actually begun to doubt your presence in the conversation.  He shifts his chair closer, leaning forward when you reply, and places his hand on the bare skin of your leg.  “I think that’s so hot.”

You shift your legs so that his hand falls away, but a few seconds later, it's back, and higher than it had been the first time.  

“Hey, I’d rather you didn’t-”

“Oh come on, baby, I bought you a drink, didn’t I?  Let’s keep enjoying each other’s company.”

You don’t respond.  Your chest filled with panic, your head with static, everywhere else felt as though you’d been dunked in ice.  Your eyes moved around the room again frantically, and this time, when you saw James, he was looking at you.  His expression shifted as he noticed your own, his head tilted the smallest bit, his eyes flitted to the man beside you, and followed his hand to where it was clamped around your thigh.

He stood abruptly, not excusing himself, and you watched as he approached, ignoring his friends who had called out to him.  

As soon as he arrived at your table, you felt the static cease.

“Hey, doll,” he said, his tone casual.

“Excuse me,” the man interrupted, hand still on your thigh. “This table’s taken, we’re getting to know each other here, so if you wouldn’t mind-”

“Oh, I can see that, James interrupted, looking down at the man’s hand.  “I see you’re getting to know her real well.”

“Okay, well-”

“I’m going to give you a few seconds, because I’m feeling generous. My friends tell me that counting down helps relieve anger, and honestly, I haven’t found that to be true, but I think if anyone was to benefit from me calming down, it would be you,” James said, voice steady as he placed his hands on the table. 

“Dude, you’re literally wearing a flower right now,” he said, smirking at the daffodil still hanging from James’ shirt.  The man - Chad?  Brad?  You couldn’t remember, scoffed as if to say “this guy, am I right?” 

The second the sound had left his mouth, Bucky’s gloves had come off.  Literally.  You saw a flash of silver and then the heat from your leg was removed as the man went flying across the floor of the bar, knocking into some chairs.  James looked towards his friends and both gave a single nod as they stood, and made their way over to Chad/Brad, having a quick word with the bartender as they dragged him yelling out of the bar.

“You okay?” James asked, bringing your attention back to him.  His gloves were back on, and his hair had fallen into his face.

“Yeah.  Yes, I-” and you were cut off by a sound that, you realised a second too late, had come from you.  Tears spilled down your cheeks and the air you were expelling left you faster than it could come in.  James sat down next to you, and you could tell he was unsure what to do.  “Oh my God,” you said, once you could catch your breath.  “This is such an overreaction, I’m so sorry, I-”

“You’re not overreacting.  That asshole was trying to take advantage of you, you have every right to be upset,” he said.  Your head dropped down into your arms, and as the tears continued to fall, you briefly wondered when the last time was that this table had been cleaned.  “I don’t know what to-” he began.  “I’m just gon-” and he stopped again.  “You tell me if this isn’t okay,” he said, placing a hand on your back.

“‘S okay,” you said, and he moved in soothing circles as your breathing evened out and your sniffles slowed down.  “Sorry for all the crying, it’s just, you always think you’ll know what to do in this kind of situation and when you freeze it’s terrifying like, why can’t I do something right now, you know?  I mean, you probably don’t know, but-”

“I know,” he said.  It was soft, and you believed him.  

“Listen, I’m okay,” you said, lifting your head and wiping the tears from your face. “You should get back to your friends, I’m sorry for interrupting your night, you don’t have to comfort me, I’m a complete stranger-”

“What do you mean, ‘complete stranger?’  We go way back,” he said.  It caught you off guard and you laughed, shaking your head.  “I’m going to sit here until you feel okay,” he said.  “Because that’s what friends who go way back do, and because I enjoy your company.”

There was quiet as you looked at him, his hand was still resting on your back and he suddenly didn’t know if he should leave it, or move away now that you weren’t crying.  His eyes searched yours, and he worried his bottom lip between his teeth, almost unnoticeably before you spoke. 

“I’d like that.” 

[turning-dreams-into-chaos]

Dare or Dare

*Not My Gif*

Request: *I accidentally deleted the request but it went something like a truth or dare game and everyone was setting Y/N and Draco up to kiss but she wants to make him mad so she does something that I’m gonna keep a secret cause I don’t want to spoil it*

Requested by: Anon

Post Date: 1-8-20

Paring: Draco Malfoy x Reader

Word Count: 1.5K

~Master~

~Harry Potter Master~

You knew telling your best friend, Pansy, that you were crushing Draco freaking Malfoy was the worst decision of your life. Especially when she tried to play matchmaker and actually TELL him about it, despite the infatuation she held for him. Now the boy refused to leave you alone and constantly teased you about it. You tried to ignore him, repeatedly telling him that she was just messing with him, but Draco wasn’t having any of it. It seemed the more you tried to convince you otherwise, he knew you actually did like him. It wasn’t that Draco was opposed to you liking him, in fact he might’ve been harboring a crush on you as well, only he was smart and didn’t tell his friends.

Draco, you and a few others sat in the Slytherin common room, bored out of your minds as you tried to find something to do.

“We could play a game.” Pansy said as you both laid opposite of each other on a couch, your legs a tangled mess in the middle when you groaned, letting your head rest on the arm rest.

“Too much work, don’t want to move yet.” You got a small chorus of agreements as you looked around the room, finding the bright eyes of Draco before you pulled them away, missing the smirk making its way across his face.

“Why don’t we play truth or dare?” Draco suggested and for some reason beyond your knowledge, everyone thought it was a good idea.

Pansy kicked your legs off hers as they slid off the couch, bringing to you sit up fully. “But I don’t want to play.” You told them as Pansy laughed at you.

“Come on Y/N! You’re bored and you don’t even need to do the dares if you want.” Pansy jokes, knowing damn well you’d never pass up on a dare. You sent her a half assed sneer as you made room on the couch for a few others to join you all.

Most of you all picked dare, not much of a shocker considering none of you really wanted to answer questions about yourself. You surprised a few people by saying truth a couple times, receiving questions like “if you had to snog one Weasley who would it be?” Or more inappropriate ones like “what’s your biggest kink?”. You got a few mouth drops from the boys after that one.

“Y/NNNNNNNN! You can’t keep picking truth!” Pansy yelled right after your turn as you rolled your eyes.

“Pans, I’ll pick dare next time.” You promised her, hoping more than anything that she’d forget. But unfortunately she didn’t, and a few turns later it was yours again.

“Y/N, dare or dare?” Blaise smirked as you furrowed your brows, looking at all your friends who slightly resembled kids at Zonko’s.

“That’s not how this game wor-“ You tried to tell them before they all cut you off, mumbling many things you didn’t understand before you gave up. “Fine! I guess I choose dare.” You crossed your arms in front of your chest, pouting your lip a little as you heard Draco snicker next to you. You looked towards him, seeing his perfectly plumped lips parted in a laugh as you pulled your eyes up to his. “Something funny Malfoy?”

He just shrugged, the same look never leaving his face. “I just know how this is going to turn out for you.” He pointed to the group of teenagers around you, all whispering to each other and leaving you and Draco out, but Draco didn’t seem to have any problem with that. The chatter died as everyone looked at you, smiles being restrained on each of their faces.

“Your dare is...” Pansy began as leaned into the group, adding extra emphasis and making you a little nervous.

“Ok, come on you guys! You didn’t act like this for everyone else!” You hadn’t even heard the dare yet and you were already done for.

Pansy spared you the complaining as she continued. “Your dare is... to kiss the hottest boy in the room!” Her words were rushed out in laughter as everyone joined her, your face going almost blank as you stared at her.

What the hell was she thinking! No, you knew what she was thinking. She was gonna get you to kiss Draco. Draco just smirked, moving closer to you as you turned to him surprised.

“What are you doing?” You asked him, meeting his now slightly darkened eyes. He just raised his brow with a deep chuckle.

“Getting ready for our kiss.” He shrugged as if it was the most obvious thing in the world and you wanted to let your jaw hit the floor but you kept yourself composed.

“And why would I kiss you?” His laugh was only emphasized as he let it turn into a smirk, everyone around you watching so intently, you would’ve assumed there would be a test afterwards on the subtle actions you had.

“You love me.” You heard a few gasps coming the kids not in the know as well as a few snickers at Draco’s coo but your face remained stoic.

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t.” Draco countered as he put his hand on your knee. You weren’t sure if it was something done out of comfortableness or if he was doing it on purpose but you ignored the warmth of his hand as you crossed your arms.

“I very much do.” Draco had a fire in his eyes as he watched you rebel and deny your feelings as he said two words he instantly regretted.

“Prove it.”

You never moved faster in your life, hands cupping a face as you pulled a pair of lips to yours, deepening the kiss with the flick of your tongue on his lip before pulling away.

And Draco sat there in awe as you just kissed Blaise.

“Did i prove it?” You whispered, barely loud enough for Draco to hear as he remained frozen, nodding his head only slightly. You stood up satisfied as you looked at all the gaping mouths in the room, all pairs of eyes locked on you, Draco, and Blaise. You clapped your hands together. “Well then! I’m going for a walk.” You turned to Draco, your hautiness very much evident on your face before turning to Blaise. “You, feel free to join me.” Everyone knew you were just messing with Draco, well, everyone except Draco. You walked toward the exit with an extra sway of your hips, the feeling of Draco’s eyes specifically lingering on you.

The moment you left, the room was silent, no one having any idea what to do before Blaise wipes the dazed look off his face and stood up, about to run after you before Draco’s arm stopped on his midriff, keeping him from running after you.

“What are you doing?” He asked Draco, sparing a glance at the boy who sat pissed before looking at the door again. “I was going aft-“

Draco grabbed Blaises shoulder, pulling him down onto the seat without a word. Pansy sat proud of herself as Draco rapped his knuckles against his knee. He didn’t waste another second before leaving the common room, ignoring the giggles and whispers coming from the others.

You weren’t that far ahead of him when you heard footsteps behind you, turning around and feigning a confused look. “You’re not the one I invited.”

Draco ignored your comment as he finished the distance, and the distance between your lips as his body collided against yours, pushing you up against the wall. Your eyes shut as you kissed him back, completely satisfied with how everything turned out.

Draco pulled away first, his nose brushing against yours and his breath tickled your lips.

You couldn’t say anything, just letting the feeling wash over you as Draco looked at you through his eyelashes, your lips puffier than he’d seen them before as he went in again. He took your breath away once again as he stopped so soon, gently letting you go.

“Well.” You let out a chuckle, the sound barely passing your lips as your cheeks reddened. “If me kissing Blaise leads to us doing that again, then count me in.” You joked as Draco chuckled, his eyes widening as they looked at you.

“How about we stay away from that.” He suggested. You nodded, threading your fingers with his. Draco’s breath hitched at the action before soothingly rubbing his thumb over your soft skin. “Y/N?”

“Hmmm?” You both began walking back to the common room, your intertwined hands swinging between the two of you. Draco looked down to the floor bashfully as he pulled you along.

“Do you really think Blaise is hotter than me?”

You rolled your eyes, swatting his arm with your free one as he laughed, pulling you closer so he could wrap his arm around your body. “Yeah, you know what? I do. Blaise is hot.” You shrugged, pretending not to notice the way Draco’s jaw stiffened as you walked but you couldn’t help yourself. You leaned up, planting a kiss on his jaw as his tough demeanor fell, looking down at you. “You’re hotter. I was just messing with you.” You whispered and Draco felt pride fill his cheeks as they darkened.

“So you do love me then?” He jokes as you smacked his chest.

“Shut up.” You mumbled as Draco nodded, leaning down to kiss you again before taking you back to the common room and the gossiping teenagers.

A/N: oh I hope you guys like this bc I don’t know if I do, but oh well. 🤷‍♀️ I don’t know if I edited this very good... let me know what you think please!

Permanent: @literal-fand0m-trash @just4muggles @saturn-aka-six @nathaliabakes @whyamihere-bro @colored-confetti @wiseeggspickleslime @sadn0va @btsiguess-kpop @galacticstxrdust @independentgirl @wellhellotherelovey @hollymac79 @delicately-important-trash @emcchi @rauwz @herondalescecilys

Harry Potter: @accio-rogers @songforhema @hahaboop @paigeyisme @missmulti

[thewinedarksea]

the hell crossover

ft. arin and little knife vibing. tw: the ink mage, but mild this time. for the anon 💜

“Is he always like this?”

The girl stared blankly up at him, her silver eyes wide and glossy. Arin had been informed that she didn’t have a name. 

“You know.” He gestured vaguely to the chaos of the room and the tall, slender figure in the center of it. “This.”

They’d appeared in a halo of light and thick, choking smoke, boring a hole through several alternate dimensions and straight into the center of Conference Room B. A girl and a man, both magical, both coughing. In the two hours since they’d landed in the Bureau the man had insulted Director Li, Sub-Directors Romano and Fitzgerald, the entire janitorial staff, and the curtains. He’d also set fire to a table he disagreed with the look of and caved in half of the security department’s ceiling when officers had the nerve to try and arrest him for careening his way into a restricted section. 

He’d come to rest in the linguistics department, citing that the magical energy there was optimal for crafting a portal back to his own world. 

Arin had been informed that his name was the Ink Mage, and that not interfering with his work was of the highest priority. He was also a dick. No one had told Arin that; he’d worked it out for himself, right around when the Ink Mage had stolen his desk for “purposes of higher learning that a child like you has no business being around, why are you still here, get out of my way.”

He regarded his lost property mournfully. The outline of today’s work agenda was softly smoking, and his treatise on future tense verbs in Low Seelie had been tossed onto the floor to make room for one of the Ink Mage’s strange machines. Most of his plants had survived the invasion unscathed, but a shower of pale pink blossoms from an upturned hydrangea scattered the ground, and the yellow lady’s slipper orchid was cowering fearfully in its pot. 

“Worse.” 

The girl’s voice was low and colorless, whispering like water on rocks. She’d taken up residence on Nyssa’s desk, her legs dangling off the edge. Beneath a cloud of pale hair her face was expressionless, eyes empty as she watched the Ink Mage pace the length of the room. 

She put him, unexpectedly, in mind of the Unseelie. Arin had seen a procession of nobles once, when he’d accompanied Caym on an errand to the Court. He’d drawn back into the shadows as they approached, afraid they’d catch sight of him and decide he was more interesting as an eyeless corpse than another half-fae. They’d swept past in a river of flowing silks and ringing laughter, and the sight of their cruel, lovely faces still haunted him. There had been nothing human in their leering smiles, only a vast, towering nothingness peering out from the cracks in the masks. 

He felt the same pervasive sense of wrongness when he looked at her, all empty eyes and emptier expressions. Silence, coiled to the snapping point, clung to her like a fine shawl: a bone-deep stillness that promised bloodshed when broken. 

“It can get worse?” He felt a stirring of compassion for the strange girl. The Ink Mage’s hectic energy set his teeth on edge, made him want to burrow his head beneath layers of blankets until quiet returned to his life. If Caym or Tselel had contained half as much capacity for motion he doubted he ever would have bothered falling in love. 

“He’s not throwing things.” The girl tipped her head to one side, pale eyes trailing after the Ink Mage. “Or yelling, which means he’s not upset.” She glanced over at him. “You don’t want to see him when he’s angry.” 

“No, I can’t imagine I would.” 

Another beat of silence fell, tenser this time. For all his motion the Ink Mage worked in near total quiet, the only sound the harsh scrape of his pen as he scribbled runes across the floor and up the walls. Inky loops wrapped the thermostat and climbed the sides of his desk, spilling across the shiny surface in a dark wave. 

Arin squinted at the nearest line, trying to pick out the individual pieces of the twisting spell. The few sigils he could decipher pulsed faintly, meaning slithering just beyond his grasp. Pressure built behind his eyes the longer he stared. 

Across the room the Ink Mage flicked a hand. The runes crumbled to metallic ash, blurring the line into a haze of sharp peaks and sinuous curves once more. A headache pounded its fists against the walls of Arin’s mind at the intoxicating sweep of power. With an effort he ignored it, wrenching his attention from the strange magic. 

“So you’re his…” Arin left the question dangling, unsure of the proper terminology. The girl contemplated it for a moment, as if trying to seek out a hook.

“Apprentice.” A smile so faint as to be nonexistent quirked the edge of her mouth. “Or slave. Whore. Abomination. Depends on who you ask.” 

“I’m asking you.”

The girl blinked up at him and gave a suggestion of a shrug. The unease deepened. 

“Okay. So you’re his...apprentice.” He stumbled a bit over the word. Abomination suited his tongue better, but it was bad form to throw it at someone not half-fae, even if he did have the feeling that she wouldn’t mind. “Do you like it? Learning magic and stuff.” 

The girl tipped her head the other way. Light reflected off the strange silver sheen of her eyes, turning them flat and empty as a mirror. She didn’t answer. 

“No personal questions. Got it.” He picked at his sleeve, searching for a loose thread to distract from the situation.  “I have a friend you might like to meet. Well, not a friend. Ex-boyfriend. Stalker? 

“Anyways, he likes dodging questions too. I think he may be allergic to emotions, actually. Besides arrogance, of course. And anger. Also disgust. You know what, I’m going to revise my statement: he’s allergic to positive emotions. The point is that you should have a conversation with him. I think you’d get along.”  

Arin closed his mouth with a click, cutting off the stream of nervous chatter. More words rose in his throat and he swallowed them with an effort. The silence around the girl gaped, open and hungry, the urge to fill it nearly unbearable. He hadn’t seen quiet so weaponized since he’d walked out of Caym’s life. The urge to lock them in a room together intensified. 

“Girl.” The Ink Mage’s voice cut through the space. A stir of magic rose, dragging unpleasantly across Arin’s skin. It left a residue of blood in his mouth, the taste of copper clinging to his teeth.

The girl slid soundlessly from the desk, picking her way through the fields of ink to hover at the man’s side. Without a word she rolled up her sleeves, baring the battered skin of her forearms. The Ink Mage caught her wrist and began to scribble his writings across her wrist, heedless of the bruises already there. Blood welled in neat lines, dripping in crimson splotches onto the floor. 

Arin straightened, discomfort and anger warring in his chest. He wanted to punch the Ink Mage in the mouth. More, he wanted to call Tselel and have her punch him in mouth. And then maybe a few other times, in more deadly places. 

Don’t interfere, the Director had said. So he wouldn’t. He would be obedient, and walk away, and protect his job. With an effort he pushed down the rage, the clawing darkness that threatened to overtake him. Arin was good at closing his eyes and following orders. 

Besides, for all he knew, every mage in this strange other world wandered around turning their apprentices into living magic sources. 

“I’ll go make you some coffee,” he called. She flicked a look his way, the emptiness shaded with gratitude, another not-there smile touching briefly upon her mouth. “Don’t let him touch my plants.”

“Five sugars,” said the Ink Mage, right before Arin slammed the door. 

Most of the employees had evacuated the building in case the madman made good on his threat to blow it up, and so it was only a few members of the security department that watched Arin gather every offensive gesture he’d learned from years on the street and throw them in the Ink Mage’s direction.

Then he went to make coffee. And swear. Not necessarily in that order.

[arrows-and-cigars]

My favorite pieces to read are always about his life before the war. A glimpse into his history. How did he propose to his wife?

Go on anon and ask my muse anything you want. About their past, their future, something you saw in a thread, their opinion on something… anything you want.

The couple sat in silence within the hunting blind position in the Hillsbrad forest. Nearly an hour had gone by, and no game had crossed their sights. A few songbirds in the distance occasionally offered a soft melody, and a handful of small critters scampered along the tree branches overhead. Squirrels, chattering at one another for dominance over one spot in particular.

“Might be a bit too late in the day for the deer,” Charlotte whispered, glancing over at Damerrek, who watched out the other side of the blind.

“We’ll give another half hour then head back to town.” His eyes swept across the canvas interior until meeting her own.

Her lips pursed slightly but nodded in agreement as her attention shifted back to the forest.

Unable to look away immediately Damerrek’s gaze trailed across her figure, admiring not just the frame and lean muscle tone, but also the lightweight leather she wore for hunting. At the moment he could feel his breath catch, everything seemed perfect. From the long single braid of her hair to the soft smile barely visible on her lips, and the way her fingers rested at the ready on her bow.

Carefully he slipped an arrow from her quiver, selecting one at the edge and easing it free to not alert her. Once the arrow was in his lap, he set to work, slowly fishing a ring from his pocket. Not gold or silver, but made of antler, carved from one of the large buck they bagged a month ago. The edges smoothed and polished, chiseled to properly seat an emerald from the local mines.

With a small strip of leather, the ring was tied to the end of the arrow and positioned to rest on the head to ensure it wouldn’t snare on any other projectile. Once it was snuck back into Charlotte’s quiver with caution, Damerrek looked out to the forest, signaling to a friend in the distance with two fingers.

One queue, the hidden friend, snuck around towards Charlotte’s side of the blind and snatched up a twig from the forest floor. Positioning himself behind a tree and aiming the twig outward as it snapped, the sound echoed in the trees.

Without missing a beat, Charlotte drew and arrow, the one Damerrek set up by inching it out just enough to ensure it was grabbed. She notched the arrow and putting little tension on the string as she stared intently down the shaft and out into the forest, taking a second for the ring stuck on the end to register. A nearly inaudible gasp escaped as she blinked in shock.

Damerrek turned as much as he could within the blind to face her with a smile pulling across his lips. “Charlotte, will you marry me?”

“Yes! Yes, of course. A hundred times over!” She couldn’t set the bow down fast enough as she declared it, reaching out and pulling Damerrek into a long and passionate kiss.

Shortly after, there was a sudden uproar outside the blind. Friends and family all emerged from the nearby trees where they were waiting, cheering, and congratulating. A few men popped open bottles of ale and passed them out as the newly engaged couple stepped out of the blind, and Charlotte showed off the ring to her friends.

[ @inkedwolf-compendium ]

[theycallmemoosey]

All He Needs Is Love

Dad!Arthur Morgan x Reader

A/N: This took so long to write because I had to watch hours and hours of gameplay to make sure that all the dialogue was right...and as a result, this is the longest fic to date. This was sorta a request but it was phrased more of an inspirational idea from an anon so thank you so much for that whoever it was. I really hope you guys enjoy it! Moose :)

---------------------------------

“I’m telling you, Y/N, that man doesn’t realise how good a life he has!” 

“I’m sure John realises that he has the world, Abigail” you laughed, continuing to sew a hole in Arthur’s pants as Abigail was sat opposite you, complaining as usual. You zoned out to what she was saying as your eyes landed on the two little boys of the camp chattering cheekily to each other, laughing as they came up with some scheme. 

You smiled and shook your head knowingly, “Oi! You two!” 

The two boys’ heads whipped to your direction, quickly running towards you.

“What mischief are you up to now?” You asked, watching as they looked sheepishly towards each other.

“We want to go and play in the woods! Make a den!” Jack exclaimed, turning towards Abigail.

“Where in the woods are you going?” 

“A really cool place” your son, Noah, smiled proudly, trying not to snicker.

“And where is this really cool place” you teased, knowing it was winding the two boys up.

“Just to the edge of camp” Jack shrugged, Noah’s eyes furrowing in confusion which received a sideways glance, “Can we mother? Can we?” 

“Y/N? What do you think?” She asked, a kind smile on her face.

“Well…” you began, shortly to be interrupted by the two boys.

“Pleaseeeeee” 

“It’s okay with me” you smiled, the two boys cheering and hi-fiving each other as they began to run off, “As long as Cain goes with you!” 

“Ah no, not Cain” both the boys groaned, the two of them stopping to let Cain catch up to them, the dog casually prancing towards them.

“Don’t go too far to the edge of the woods!” Abigail called out, “Stay where you are safe and people can see you!” 

“I’m not too worried, Javier and Bill are out on patrol and Cain will protect the two of them” you shrugged, stretching out your arms to relieve the pain in your back, “Oh god, I stink” 

“I wasn’t going to say anything” Abigail muttered, making you gasp and throw the thread towards her making the two of you laugh.

“As I was saying” you emphasised as Abigail kept on laughing, “I’m going to go and take a bath” 

“Stay safe” she smiled, dismissing you with a wave.

———————————

The sun was setting as you got dressed from the bath, heading back to where you were previously sat. 

“They come back yet?” 

“No…not yet” Abigail sighed, turning a page in her book, “I haven’t heard anything bad though so I’m sure they’re fine” 

You hummed, but your eyes widened at the sound of Cain’s growls and barking.

“I-I’m gonna go and look for them” you decided, quickly heading towards the edge of the woods.

“Hey, Y/N” Micah smirked, “Where you heading?” 

“Off to find the boys…you haven’t seen him by any chance?” 

“They’re with that dumb mutt in the woods playing. Want me to keep you company?”

“No. No, thanks” you smiled forcefully, stopping in your tracks when you once again heard Cain bark. 

“NOAH?!” You called, rushing to the middle of the woods, your heart racing when you couldn’t see or hear either of the boys, “JACK?!”

“Y/N? Everything ok?” Bill asked, hearing your calls while he was on patrol.

“My-the-have you seen them?” 

“Calm down, they’re probably just too far near the edge of the woods” 

“I heard Cain barking” you said quickly, “Bill, where are-“

“Come on, follow me” he nodded towards the edge of the trees, calling Cain’s name over and over. He padded over, barking as a signal to follow him. 

“Cain?! Cain where are they?” You asked, panic in your voice. You followed him, running to match his pace, gasping when you saw Jack’s book on the floor, wrecked and ruined. 

“ABIGAIL!” You called, running back into camp at a speed you didn’t realise you had, “THEY’RE GONE!” 

“What?” Abigail called, standing up from her seat.

“What do you mean, Y/N?” Dutch asked, your calls alerting him.

“Jack and Noah, they-they…” you stuttered, your breathing quickening.

“Y/N, calm down” Hosea tried to soothe you, stroking your back, “Just tell us” 

“Cain was barking and growling and…and Jack’s book” you began to cry, looking towards Abigail who had gotten the picture. You ran to her and embraced her in a hug, the two of you feeling more terrified than either of you had been. 

“What’s all the commotion?” John asked in a grumble, throwing the bundle of logs on the floor next to Pearson’s wagon.

“Jack’s been taken” Abigail explained, still holding onto you.

“WHAT?!” John raised his voice, clearly just as panicked as the two of you were.

“I think the boys have been taken” you continued to cry, feeling somehow lonely with the fact that Arthur wasn’t there with you as he was out on a hunting trip with Charles.

“Who in hell would want to take two innocent children?” 

“Someone who wants to get to me” Dutch whispered, thoughtfully pacing back to his tent.

“Goddamn-the Pinkertons must have found them” Micah added.

“What makes you think that?” 

“Who else knows who those kids belong to? Remember when Arthur took them fishing and they ran into them? I bet you they’ve been following us and they’re just trying to get to us” 

“He’s not wrong” Hosea begrudgingly said.

“I’m not wrong. I say we leave them” 

“WHAT” you growled, pulling away from Abigail to face Micah, your glare threatening, “Are you seriously suggesting that I let them kill my boy? MY SON?!” 

“What? They were only slowing us down anyway. We’re better off without them” 

“Why you son of a-“ you lunged towards him, Abigail pulling you back with all her strength.

“Y/N, he’s not worth it” she soothed, rubbing your arms although she was seething in anger, “Let’s just focus on getting our sons back” 

“Listen to the whore, Y/N”

“Don’t push it, Micah, or I’ll rip your head off too” she spat, leading the two of you towards her tent. You gasped and pulled away from her when you saw Arthur and Charles return from their hunting trip. 

“ARTHUR! ARTHUR!” You sprinted towards his horse, making him slide off rapidly when he saw how scared you were.

“What? What-What is it, Darlin’?” 

“Noah’s gone…” you panted, “They took Noah”

“Woah, slow down…are you sure he isn’t just playing?” 

“No…Cain was there with them and-“ 

“Someone took our son?!” He asked, raising his voice in anger although you could sense how scared he was at the thought of losing his son, “God damn son of a bitch will pay” 

“They…they took Jack too” you tried to get out, still clinging onto his hand as he squeezed it tightly.

“We’re going to get them back” he reassured you, pressing a kiss onto your forehead, “We’re going to get our son back”

“IT WEREN’T THE PINKERTONS!” Kieran yelled, rushing back into camp to where you were stood with the rest of the gang, “I saw-I saw…” 

“Spit it out, boy! What did you see?!” John asked, seeing Kieran back away in fear.

“I saw a couple fellas clear off out of the woods with the boys…they sounded like Braithwaite boys!”

“I want my goddamn son back” Abigail cried, not sure who to fling her arms out towards.

“We will find them, and we will bring them home to you two” Dutch reassured, placing a hand on both yours and Abigail’s shoulders, “And we will kill any fool that had the temerity to touch one hair on those boys’ heads. I promise you” 

“Just get our sons back” she pleaded, Karen rushing towards her to comfort her. 

The men started to storm towards their horses, Dutch promising, “I will get those kids back, so help me God”

“How many of us do you need?” Bill asked.

“Anyone who’s willing to come. Micah, Kieran, you stay behind and if anyone strange turns up, kill em”

You sighed and rushed towards Arthur, who was mounting his horse with urgency, Hosea muttering something comforting to him. 

“Arthur!” 

“I’ll get him back” he whispered, taking your hand and kissing your knuckles.

“Take me with you” 

“No, it’s too dangerous, I-“ 

“Arthur we don’t have time for this! Now help me up or God help you!”

“I can’t lose you too” he whispered, desperation on his face. 

You sighed and grasped his hand tightly, “He’s my son too” 

Arthur grumbled and looked towards Dutch, who was too busy trying to get his horse to go forward at leading pace. He hauled you up onto his horse and you wrapped your arms around him, hearing his shouts to urge his horse to meet with the rest of the gang.

———————————

The ride there was painful, your heart hammering in your chest at the thought of what they were doing to your son. 

“I swear, I will kill everyone there” John shouted, his anger evident in the tone of his voice.

“Easy, John” Dutch reprimanded, “Try to stay calm. You too, Arthur”

“I’m fine” Arthur grumbled, shifting the reins into one hand to take yours into his other, squeezing lightly. You knew he was just as terrified as you were, if not more.

“How the hell did they even get to him?” Hosea asked.

“It’s my fault” you piped up, feeling Arthur stroke your hand as if to say don’t you dare blame yourself, woman, “I let the boys go off and play in the woods…I thought it would be safe with Bill and Javier on patrol…I even sent Cain with them” 

“You didn’t know, dear. You can’t blame yourself” Hosea tried to reassure you, knowing that despite anyone’s efforts, you would only blame yourself.

The gang turned into the driveway up towards the Braithwaite mansion, Dutch giving a final instruction.

“Okay, get your heads right. Nobody makes a move until I say so”

“Y/N” Arthur whispered, “I want you to stay with the horses, stay out of trouble, you hear me?” 

“They have my son, Arthur” you spat in a hushed tone.

“I will get him back, Y/N, if it’s the last thing I do” 

“It will be the last thing WE do…you can say all you want but I’m coming with you” 

Arthur sighed in defeat but didn’t push the matter, pulling his horse to a halt and dismounting at Dutch’s demand.

“Ok,” Dutch started, “Come on, let’s get this done…John, Arthur…you sure you're okay?” 

“Like Arthur said, we’re fine” John insisted.

“I want no one to-Mrs. Morgan! What are you-“ 

“Same reason everyone else is here. I’m here to get my son and Jack” 

“This ain’t no-“

“Save it, Dutch…I’m here and there is fuck all any of you can do about it”

Dutch sighed and looked towards Arthur, who just shrugged and signalled for him to carry on.

“Follow my lead” he raised his gun, starting to walk down the driveway.

“Both these redneck families think they can ruin us? I don’t think so…” Bill muttered.

Arthur handed you one of his repeaters and looked at you longingly, “Don’t do anything stupid”

“Arthur-“ 

“I love you” he interrupted, his eyes full of desperation and fear.

You nodded, “I know. Let’s get our son back” 

The two of you hurried to catch up, the 9 of you walking in a threateningly straight line towards the house.

“There they are” Hosea pointed.

Dutch growled, “Who steals goddamn children?” 

“I’m gonna let fly at those sons of bitches” John promised, his feet storming at a faster pace than anyone else.

“John, I need you to stay calm. You too, Morgans”

“You want me to stay calm?” You asked, feeling somehow offended, “My son is in there and they could-“ 

“Y/N…that’s enough. We’re going to get them back and give them what they deserve” Dutch warned, before raising his voice to let the Braithwaite’s know of their arrival, “GET DOWN HERE NOW! YOU INBRED TRASH!” 

——————————

The shootout outside had ended, and you were breathing rapidly with adrenaline.

“You ok, Darlin’?” Arthur asked gently, rapidly checking you over to make sure you were ok.

“Fine…I’m fine” 

“ARTHUR! Y/N! JOHN! HOSEA! WITH ME! Rest of you…watch out here for any other arrivals” Dutch ordered, kicking down the doors, “Get in there, find those kids and find that Braithwaite woman!” 

Arthur stormed in, “NOAH?! SON ARE YOU IN HERE?!” 

“Noah?!” You cried, rushing behind Arthur, “Jack?!”

“JACK!” You heard John call out behind you, the sound of glass smashing accompanying him, “JACK CAN YOU HEAR ME!” 

You followed Arthur into a room, “Boys?!” 

“Ah shit” Arthur mumbled when he spotted a Braithwaite gun, firing carelessly towards you and shooting the hat off of your head. Arthur shot a single bullet into his head and immediately rushed back to you, “You alright, are you hurt?!” 

“Stop worrying about me, Arthur, and hurry up finding those boys!” 

“The rooms barricaded! This must be where they’re holed up!” You heard Hosea call from upstairs, “Arthur get up here and give us a hand will you?”

You sprinted up the stairs to where the men were waiting, urgently trying to bust the door open. 

“Don’t hurt yourself, Y/N” Dutch pulled you back, the rest of them pushing the door down, “John, Arthur, get out there. We’ve got this door covered” 

The two fathers rushed outside, shooting the back up as you cried silently outside the barricaded door, praying that your son was not hurt.

“Arthur!” You called, running past all the gunshots towards an outer door on the balcony, “There’s a door here we can break down!” 

“What are you doing out here! Get back inside!” He shouted furiously, still trying to shoot the remainder of the Braithwaite guns in the field, but you were already trying to break down the door with John by your side. When the door opened, you opened fire towards the two Braithwaite’s hiding inside, killing them both instantly, Hosea and Dutch breaking the main door down. Arthur hurried towards the closet door, kicking it down effortlessly and pulling the old woman out.

“Want me to kill you too?” Dutch threatened, his gun close to his side.

“Where are the boys?” Hosea asked, a firm grip on her shoulder as Dutch’s gun went to her throat.

“You bastards,” she seethed, “We have lived in this house for a hundred and twenty years” 

“Well, I’m sorry you won’t live to see it for a hundred and twenty-one” you spat, glaring daggers at the woman.

“Where are the boys?” Hosea persisted.

“YOU KILLED MY SONS!” She cried.

“YOU TOOK OURS!” You matched her tone, trying to lunge towards her but Arthur had a firm grip on you, knowing how scared and angry you were right now, “And believe you me, from mother to mother, I will surely kill the rest of them until you tell me where my son is right now”

“I did your boys a favour!” She laughed, “I know your type! Common scum! At least they’ll grow up away from that sort of life!” 

“Let’s get her out of here” Dutch growled, shooting her son in the head which caused her to scream and cry out. 

Arthur traced his steps backwards, checking outside the balcony to make sure they were all gone. When he walked back in the room, you were stood in the same place, staring at the wall in front of you. 

“Y/N, come on, we have to-“ 

“What if they killed him?” You asked shakily, tears falling down your cheeks, “What if he’s…he’s…” 

“Don’t think like that. Noah is fine” he tried to reassure you, his voice quiet and gentle, “He’s going to be ok” 

“Am I a bad mother?” You asked, almost in a whisper, your eyes flicking up to meet Arthur’s which were filled with sadness.

“What?” 

“She said she did our boy a favour…we’re filth! Common scum!” You started sobbing, “What if she was right?!” 

“God-“ Arthur pulled you into a tight hug, his heart beating rapidly and his breath shaky, “I want to tell you so much but right now, we have to get our son back…come on” 

You nodded, pulling away and taking a large breath as Arthur wiped away your tears, taking your hand and leading you out the house to where the gang were dragging the old hag outside.

“Any more of her sons to deal with?” Dutch asked, dragging her by her hair.

“I reckon they’re all dead” John spat, following him down the stairs.

“Burn this dump to the ground!” Dutch ordered, the cries of the Braithwaite echoing in the house, “You sure Jack and Noah aren’t here?” 

“We searched everywhere, Dutch” Hosea said sadly, looking towards your crying form sympathetically. John and Hosea had already started burning the place, throwing torches into rooms. You glared at the crying lady on the floor, pure anger flowing through your body. Dutch grunted as she resisted being dragged and picked her up swiftly, throwing her carelessly on the floor outside her flame ridden house.

“Why did you take the boys, Mrs Braithwaite” Hosea interrogated her.

“You stole my liquor! You stole my horses!” She cried, every member around you staring at her with pure hatred, “Ain’t no rules in war, Mister”

“Where’s my goddamn son, you whore!” You shouted, your hand still gripping onto Arthur’s for dear life, seeing John shed a tear from the corner of his eye.

“My sons” she started to laugh maniacally, “They gave him to Angelo Bronte. So my guess is Saint-Denis…well, either there or a boat to Italy!” 

You gasped, feeling Arthur pull you closer towards him as he could sense you were about to do something irrational. 

“Let’s go” Dutch ordered, the rest of the men following him. 

“Y/N, come on” Arthur encouraged, pulling your hand away from the sobbing woman. You obliged for a moment before pulling away and grabbing Arthur’s revolver, shooting three clean shots into her head before any of them could do anything about it.

“That’s for taking my son, you bitch” you cried, dropping the revolver on the floor.

“Arthur-“ Dutch indicated towards you, Arthur rushing off to carry you away from the corpse on the muddied floor, still sobbing.

——————————————

“Excuse me, Sir” Dutch waved to the guard at Bronte’s gate, followed by you, Arthur and John, “We have an appointment to see Mr Bronte” 

“Who are you?” The guard asked, grunting when Dutch pulled him up flush against the gate.

“You tell your boss to get down here right now so that we can talk about this like gentlemen” he whispered, picking him back up, “Run along now boy” 

“Is that the special Dutch charm I keep hearing so much about?” John asked, sarcasm evident in his voice. 

“Relax, I got this” Dutch reassured, raising his hands in surrender, urging the three of you to copy. 

You were escorted into a large house, the sound of Italian music coming from the drawing room. 

Dutch smiled politely, “ Mr Bronte, we-“ 

“Why did you take my son?!” You demanded, Dutch glaring at you as a result of your outburst.

“Excuse me?” Angelo laughed, clearly offended by the accusation.

“You heard the woman” Arthur spat, trying to contain himself from shooting a bullet through his brain, “You took our son” 

John cleared his throat.

“and his” Arthur corrected, pointing towards John.

“We ain’t got no problems with you, Sir, nor you with us” Dutch reasoned, “But if you want to start one, there is gonna be a lot of folks dead in this room before it’s done”

“So, you walk into my city…” Bronte recapped, “Stinking of shit and looking like this…not to mention you bring a lady in trousers…and you come into my house before you have a bath and YOU tell ME how to act? You ask me to show compassion? Have I not shown you almost infinite compassion already by simply allowing you to breathe in my presence?”

“Indeed you have” Dutch broke the silence, shuffling to sit on the sofa opposite Bronte, “Now we are simple country folk” 

“Simple?” You scoffed under your breath, catching Arthur’s lips upturning slightly.

“All we have is each other, and you have gone and taken their children over some dispute with some inbred ex-slavers? It has nothing to do with us” 

“You have nothing to do with destroying the liquor business?!” Bronte shouted, the guard next to him raising his gun towards Dutch. 

“We was innocent bystanders” Dutch said gently, “And that which we weren’t innocent of, well…we most surely were ignorant of”

“You twist words, you lie shamelessly, you think you are better than everyone else?” 

“Well, what makes you think you’re better than everyone else? What makes you think that you’re entitled to steal not one, but TWO children away from their families?” You spat, clearly having enough of this man’s arrogance.

“È grintosa ... Mi piace! Ti amo! Dai da bere a questi uomini!” Bronte laughed, signalling to his guards to get the drinks he requested for the four of you, “Angelo Bronte!” 

Dutch laughed at Bronte’s outstretched hand, willingly shaking it, “Dutch Van Der Linde! Arthur Morgan! And that there is John Marston!” 

“Arthur, the pleasure is mine. John, all mine and who…” he paused when he reached you, “Who are you?” 

“That is Y/N Morgan. Arthur’s wife”

“Ciao Bella!” He took your hand and kissed it, bowing slightly, “How lucky Mr Arthur is, eh?”

“He doesn’t even know the half of it” you smiled, winking at Arthur who looked at you as if he were hurt, ushering for you to sit down next to John as he stood next to the sofa.

“So…” Dutch took the glass from the guard, “Can my three friends have their sons back now?”

“Of course, of course,” Bronte laughed, taking a drink, “But…should I be out of pocket over a misunderstanding?” 

“Name your price” you burst out, not letting anyone else have a turn in the say.

“Oh, oh my dear, no. Not a price” he smiled, “A simple favour is all I ask”

“What is it?” Arthur grumbled, placing his glass on the table.

“A couple people have taken to grave robbing in the cemetery”

“Well that is a fine place for it, the best” Dutch laughed at his own joke, soon stopping when he realised no one else found it as funny as he did.

“Why don’t you three” Bronte pointed to you, John and Arthur, “Go and sort it out while Mr Van Der Linde and I talk more about my manners”

———————————

“Well” Dutch grumbled as the three of you came back from the cemetery, “You took your time” 

“Where are they?” You asked desperately, Dutch smiling and waving behind him to indicate to the guards to open the door. 

“JACK!” John cried out happily, rushing to pick up Jack and hug him tightly.

“PA!” Jack smiled widely.

You looked towards Dutch, “Where’s-“

“Mummy! Daddy!” Noah ran down the steps and jumped into your arms, making you sob like a baby with relief. You hugged him tightly and smiled when you felt Arthur wrap his arms around the both of you, kissing the top of Noah’s head.

“Where did you get to, son?” He asked, smiling just as widely as you, almost on the verge of tears.

“I’m sorry…Jack took care of me though” 

You sighed and looked over towards Jack still in his father’s arms, who was watching the three of you hug each other tightly.

“Thank you, Jack” 

“That’s what older brothers are for” He smiled proudly, John putting him down to check him over.

“Come on, let’s go home” Arthur smiled, kissing the two of you gently.

“Arthur, Mr Bronte has invited us to a garden party at the mayor’s house” Dutch laughed, mounting his horse as John helped Jack and Arthur helped Noah onto theirs, “We have a new camp set up, boys…you two are going to love it” 

“Let’s head back to Ma shall we?” John asked Jack, making him smile widely, “You sure you’re okay, son?” 

“I’m fine” he said cheerfully, “Papa Bronte said you guys would come for us”  

“I’m sorry” John said, the guilt evident in his voice.

“What for, pa?”

“For taking so long” 

“We had a fun time!” Noah piped up, “We had a big room with our own beds and the biggest toy box in the world!” 

“And lots of books” Jack added.

“Is that so?” You asked, thinking about the life back at camp and how they had it so much better with that Bronte man.

“Have you ever had spaghetti?” Jack asked his father, making Arthur turn his head.

“What’s that?” 

“It’s food, Daddy,” Noah told him, “It looks like worms” 

“It tastes delicious, though” Jack said, making you laugh forcefully. You couldn’t help but feel guilty with the fact that you had stripped the boys from their own beds under a roof with food other than stew with lots of toys and books for them to play with. They had nothing but their families at camp.

“Papa Bronte teached us lots of Italian words” 

“Don’t call him that…please” John begged his son, feeling just as guilty as you did.

“Pantafollo…that’s a slipper” 

“A slipper?” John laughed.

The two Marston’s chatted away behind you and you leant on Arthur’s back, holding tightly to the younger of the two boys. 

“Is he doing ok?” You whispered.

“He’s out” Arthur sighed, “Kidnapping is a tiring business” 

“He had a good life back there” 

“Don’t-“ 

“No, Arthur…I mean it…he had toys and books and…slippers, apparently. For christ sake, he had a roof over his head” 

“He didn’t have his family” 

You paused for a moment, listening to Jack talk endlessly about Italy and Italian food.

“I guess you’re right” 

“I am” Arthur smiled, leaning back to kiss your forehead, “He’s back with us now. He’s safe”

———————————

“ABIGAIL!” Dutch called out as you reached the edge of camp, the big house looking dark as always, “HE’S OK!” 

“WE GOT HIM, ABIGAIL!” 

“MOMMA!” Jack cried out happily, “I’m fine momma!” 

Abigail ran around the corner, reaching her arms out to take her son from John, “Come here you silly boy” 

“Come on then” Arthur groaned, sliding off his horse to grab his sleeping son and carry him towards your room. 

“Thank you, you got my son back. Arthur, Dutch, thank you” She cried, “Did you find Noah?” 

“He’s right here” Arthur said, coming out from behind Dutch’s horse so Abigail could see Noah.

“Thank the Lord” she sobbed, “Thank you” 

“JACK!” Hosea cried out happily, “How are you boy?” 

“Fine” he piped up happily, “Noah’s here too” 

Everyone’s attention flicked up to you and Arthur, Noah still soundly sleeping in his arms. 

“I’m gonna put this monster to bed and I’ll be right back down” Arthur whispered proudly, holding protectively onto his son.

You stopped next to John, noticing him standing back and watching his son.

“You ok?”

“Yeah…yeah, I just…I want him to know that-“ 

“He knows. He knows you love him, of course he does. Abigail too” 

“She sure don’t act like it…did you see her just a second ago? Didn’t even so much as notice I was stood right there”

“She’s more than grateful, John. She…just has a funny way of showing her appreciation. It’s Abigail” you laughed slightly, the rest of the gang fussing over Jack.

“Am I a bad father?” 

“You’re as much a bad father as I am a bad mother” you said, “I let my son play in the woods and he got taken. I can’t give him anything that Bronte man can give him. But I went and I got him back. And I can give him all the love in the world that he deserves. And you’ve done that for Jack. I know you’d give up the world for him. Just as I would for Noah” 

John looked at you and smiled gratefully, “Why are you so good to me?” 

“Because I see that good man under that arrogant facade, Johnny” you pushed him with your shoulder, making him laugh, “Now go and be with your family” 

“Yes, Ma’am” he continued laughing, jogging over to embrace his family just as Arthur had done earlier. 

“Let’s have a drink!” Dutch called out, earning a cheer from the rest of camp. You watched over them all laughing and singing along to Javier’s guitar. What you didn’t see was Arthur heading over towards you.

“You ok, Darlin’?” 

“Noah down alright?” 

“Yeah, yeah he’s ok” 

“Good” 

Arthur looked at you, although you refused to make eye contact, “You still think you’re a bad mother, don’t you?”

“They stole my son and gave him a life I could never give him” 

“Y/N, darlin’-” 

“I’m common scum” you sniffled, wiping away a single tear.

“That boy…our son…he has the best mother anybody could ask for. You gave him life, and you move heaven and earth to get him what he wants. He wants a toy? You go and get it. And not by stealing or killing, you do it honest. He wants something other than stew? You take him to town and feed him any meal he wants, even if that means we have no money for three days. You are amazing. How many times do I have to keep telling ya?” He started to laugh, opening his arms and engulfing you in a tight hug, “We’ll raise this kid the way we want to because that’s the best way there is. You’ve raised the most amazing boy, Y/N, and that’s all you. While I’ve been out hunting and collecting debts for fucking Strauss, you’ve been doing the perfect job at raising Noah to become the best man he could be. And I promise that I will be with you to raise him for the rest of our lives. I ain’t going anywhere anytime soon” 

“I hope” you sniffled, looking up at Arthur, “That he turns out exactly like you…minus all…this” 

You gestured around towards camp, making Arthur laugh, “I ain’t a good man, Y/N” 

“Stop it” 

“I ain’t-“

“You’re perfect. You’re so good to me and to Noah, and hell you step up to the plate when John can’t and Abigail is off…doing her own thing. I want Noah to be exactly like you. I mean, he’s already the spitting image” 

“He is a handsome lad” Arthur laughed, kissing you gently. 

“Mummy?” A small voice came from beside you.

“Noah? Sweetheart, what you doing up? You should be asleep!” You caressed his head, kneeling down to his height.

“I heard everyone singing and-and I wanted to sing too!” He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, making your heart melt into a puddle.

“Ok, but only for a little bit, alright?” Arthur decided, crouching down to the same height, “I think mummy would kill us both if you stayed up until the sun comes up, don’t you?” 

Noah laughed and lifted up his arms, Arthur picking him up easily, “Come on, kiddo” 

Noah laughed as Arthur blew raspberries onto his neck as they approached the campfire, joining in with the singing before sitting down on a nearby log. Arthur placed Noah on his lap and sang the song Javier was playing. Noah motioned over towards you and you smiled, wiping the last tear from your eye before going to sit next to Arthur, his arm wrapped around you tightly.

He was right. Noah may not have had everything Bronte gave him, but he definitely had everything he could ever need. He was loved.

[arthurmorgan-s-heart]

Arthur Morgan x Reader: Warmth

Sometimes, you wonder if you’ve died and gone to Hell. Colter seems close enough to it.

There is no escape from the cold, sharp as it is, cutting through your many layers of clothing as easily as a knife, and the wind is never far behind, blowing relentlessly between the town’s ruined buildings and chilling you to the bone.

Even then, you would rather be out here than inside the ruined schoolhouse, crammed in with all the others - you’ll go back eventually, of course, but for now, you just want a bit of peace and quiet. And though the howling gale prevents you from enjoying the silence, there is something undeniably peaceful about the moonlit village and its apparent emptiness. If you close your eyes for a moment, you can almost believe that you’re alone.

You stomp your feet in a vain attempt to regain some feeling in your toes as you look over the frozen mountains; as beautiful as they are, you can’t help but wish you were somewhere else - not only is Colter cold and inhospitable, but it is a constant reminder of the gang’s failure in Blackwater. You stand in your half-sheltered corner by the dilapidated church for a few more minutes before you sigh, your breath misting in the frozen air as you resign yourself to going back to your crowded shelter. Before you can take a single step, the faint light of a lantern catches your eye, swinging from right to left in the billowing snow as its bearer grows closer and closer, until the blurry silhouette becomes familiar, and you recognize Arthur. You step out from your shadowed nook, greeting him with a wave, and he stops in his tracks at the sight of you, seemingly hesitating for a second before stepping nearer.

“What’re you doing out here?” he asks once he’s close enough, and though he’s but an arm’s length away, you can barely hear him over the fierce wind. You close the distance between you, until your shoulder is against him, unconsciously huddling closer to him than you should as you seek a bit of his warmth. He holds his lantern between the both of you, the warm glow threading gold through his frosted beard. “Gonna freeze to death.”

“I’m alright,” you say, suppressing a traitorous shiver that would have contradicted your words. “Just gettin’ some air. Too many people in there.” You wave in the general direction of the schoolhouse, and he nods.

“Still,” he says. “You should go back. Too cold out here to stay for long.”

“It’s fine,” you reply, and you see at the concerned furrow of his brows that you didn’t quite manage to hide the chattering of your teeth as well as you thought you did. “I’ll go back soon. I just - “ you look down at your feet, heaving a sigh. “I can’t sleep. I can barely think.”

He doesn’t answer, but you feel him looking at you, and you don’t dare meet his gaze. You see the light of the lantern shift as he switches it to his other hand, touching your shoulder lightly.

“Come on,” he says before he turns away, and you think he’ll lead you back to your own building, but he passes it by without stopping, until he reaches the small house he shares with Dutch and Hosea. He opens the door and motions for you to go inside, but you stay rooted to your spot, uncertain. You’re not sure the others would welcome your presence.

“It’s quiet enough in there, if you ignore Dutch’s snoring,” he says with a smile. “Warm, too.”

You finally give in at his words, your frozen body overtaking your mind as you step inside. You can’t help a relieved sigh when he follows you and closes the door, shutting out the wind. The fire in the hearth is mere embers, but Arthur is quick to bring it back to life, the flames soon burning high and bright again.

“Sit,” he says, pushing a chair closer to the fire. “Wait here.” He disappears in his room.

You take off your snow-soaked coat before sitting in the offered chair, but you soon find yourself sitting on the floor, as close as you dare to the hearth, shivering despite the heat of the fire. You can hear Dutch snoring from the other room - that would have made you laugh had you not been so utterly frozen. Arthur steps back into the main room, and you look at him as he kneels next to you, draping a heavy woolen blanket over you. He allows his hands to linger on your upper arms, trying to rub warmth back into your frozen bones, his breath hitching in his throat when you give a sigh and lean into his touch, closing your eyes.

“You alright?” he whispers, his throat suddenly dry.

You simply hum in answer, warmth finally starting to seep back into you, though it immediately starts receding when he takes his hands off you as he stands up and turns away.

“You gonna be okay out here?” he asks, not daring to face you lest you see the blush he feels creeping across his cheeks. “I’ll be in my room - “

“Can you stay with me?”

He hopes you don’t notice the way his shoulders tense at your words, his mind immediately telling him he must have misheard you, though he knows he didn’t. He slowly turns back toward you, hoping that the red has faded from his cheeks. He should refuse, he knows he should, but the thought of spending an hour or two with you is more than he had ever hoped to get. He slowly removes his gloves before unbuttoning his coat, pulling the chair closer to you.

“Guess I can sit a while,” he breathes as he lowers himself into his seat. When he looks at you again, he’s surprised to see you holding out a hand to him.

“Down here,” you say, almost pleading. Another shiver courses through you. “Please.”

He’s frozen in his chair, his eyes fixed on your outstretched hand. Surely you can’t mean what he thinks you mean, you can’t want him to -

“Alright,” the word escapes his lips despite his racing mind, and he would have regretted it but for the grateful smile that you grant him in return. He stands up, pushing the chair away to make room before he removes his heavy coat entirely, laying it across the chair before placing his hat on top. He hesitates one last time before finally lowering himself to sit next to you, as close as he dares - which still leaves a respectable gap between the two of you, which you immediately close as you throw the blanket over his shoulders and press yourself against his side, sighing in relief. His heart is beating so loud that he’s sure you can hear it. He’s still not entirely convinced he's not imagining things - how many times had he dreamt of holding you? And now that you’re here, next to him, he’s petrified, limbs as heavy as stone, not daring to touch you though there is nothing in the world he wants more.

“Are you alright?” you whisper. You can’t help but notice how tense he is, and you start to regret your boldness. It was selfish of you to ask this of him - it was late, he would probably rather be in his bed -

But you feel the tension in his body fade away at your words, and you feel his hand on your waist, his touch feather-light and more gentle than you had ever expected he could be. You rest your head against his shoulder as you wrap the blanket tighter around you, and you feel warm for the first time in what almost seems like years.

“Fine,” he answers quietly. “You feelin’ better?”

“Much better,” you reply, and you might have noticed the way his grip tightens on your waist slightly, or the hitch in his breath, if you weren’t already starting to doze off. “Thank you.”

He’s almost afraid his heart might stop when you close your eyes and lean your entire body against him, and he doesn’t dare move a muscle when he realises you’ve fallen asleep. But after a few minutes, he feels himself relax as the heat of the fire melts away his nervousness, and he allows himself to rest his chin lightly on top of your head, squeezing his eyes shut and wishing the night would never end.

Hello, I have been murdered, and this anon did it.

[alitheamateur]

Turning the Tables

Characters: Colton Ritter/Liv Elliott

Warnings: NSFW. SMUT. DIRTY, DIRTY COLTON.

Summary: We all know Liv is the lady of the when it comes to ruling under their roof. But this time, Colt just needs to see his bold, sure, Liv begging for his mercy.

A/N: THANK YOU ANON, for this awesome request. I hope you enjoy!! I typed the entire thing on my phone within a matter of hours because I was itching to write it so badly 😂

Poor girl. I nearly drowned her on our run this afternoon. Leave it to me, the asshole, to skip out on checking the weather beforehand. Three cheers for boyfriend of the year, Ritter. She was definitely not gleeful about having to sprint over a mile in return back to the house with brutal pellets of Spring ran beating into her bare shoulders. But, her little blue chattering lips once we finally reached the safe space of our dry kitchen did make me smile. Behind her back, but I smiled nonetheless.

Livvy darted straight for the downstairs shower, her soaking tank-top plopping with a splat onto the tile, making me nearly slip to my ass from the puddling rainwater. I didn’t make it to the warm confines of her scorching shower before she locked me out. Access denied. She plays this little game, putting on a dutiful face of anger & displeasure, knowing my sorry ass will kiss her holy feet to make it all better. I know, right? Who the fuck am I these days?

Hers. And that’s all I ever care about being again.

BUT, she can’t be the only one to play the games. She knows I have a pretty competitive game face myself, and I won’t let that little pouting princess have all the fun. Not tonight. The pumping thunder of the storm outside has the afternoon sky resembling more of the nighttime hours, and the dripping, goosebumps on the side of her topless breast as she bounced down the hall stirred me.

I waited for the unlatching click of the lock, and wafting steam rolled from the door when she stepped out. I’m bringing my A game. She loves these ratty as shit sweatpants from Mac’s, and I slid the bed comforter into the dryer while she was thawing under the warm spout. She loves it when I do that. Crawling into the fluff of a heated bed makes her almost purr with happiness.

“Livvy, baby? Hey, I’m in the bedroom.” I cleared my throat & pulled off my own soggy t-shirt.

She peeped around the door frame, comb lines through her golden hair. She’s cut it shoulder length against how I thought I preferred it, but I love the way it frames around her soft face.

“I’m gonna make a quick cup of coffee. Ya’ know, before I catch pneumonia.”

Damn it, her comes the snark. She’s ready to make some demands, I can tell it in her sure voice. I make up my mind fully to turn the tables. Just for tonight. I love her independent, broad mind. Truly, she keeps me in check, & I’d be fucked without her. But, I need those lips to beg me tonight.

I had a few extra minutes to spare, and I needed to really send her reeling.

Do some push-ups or something Ritter, get a sweat going. Fuck no, you prick. Don’t be that meathead douche.

Think. Think.

I felt myself get hard with the anticipation of her & what I intended to come, so I used it to my advantage. Bouncing quickly from under the covers, I ran towards to kitchen. She stood at a gentle lean against the counter, her back towards me watching the drips of her French vanilla blend fall into her favorite mug. I loved the way she fit so petite into the span of my arms, so I tip-toed stealthily to encase her. Making a point to lean into her with my excited lap first.

She tried to chew her lip & stifle the little squeak of arouse it caused her, but I saw her curved lashes close over her dangerous green eyes in the reflection of the steel toaster on the counter. I was winning already.

“Head to the bedroom, baby. I got the bed all warm. I’ll grab your cup & the green candle that nearly chokes me from the coffee table. I know how much you like it.”

The key was making her think she was dealing with apologetic, cowering Colton. But, he was only a disguise for the mischievous bear waiting to make an entrance. How many times has this girl had me on my knees? Most times, I caused the groveling so I’ll own those fucking colossal mistakes. However, I’ve lost count on the occasions I could’ve cried when I was between her heavenly legs.

Liv’s body shuddered & I could hear her thick swallow as I was curved into her neck. I made it no point any longer to try & hide the long inhales I took of her flowery smell. She knew it was my favorite, most familiar sense of home.

I wrapped my scarred knuckles playfully around her loose hair, and kissed the silken patch of skin behind her ear before she dismissed herself.

All requirements in tow after the final sputters of coffee poured from the pot, I marched to her. Her painted toes were buried under the heavy bedsheets, her neck covered to the chin like an Eskimo. I heard the key up of Pretty Woman on the t.v., and my manly ego nearly regurgitated. But, I didn’t have any intentions to let her watch much of the film for the 42nd time regardless.

“Got any room for me under there?” I ran my hand through my damp hair and purposely adjusted the loose waistband of my sagging sweats to kidnap her attention.

“What’s in it for me?”

Oh, honey. You got no idea what’s about to unfold.

“You know there’s nothing warmer than me, baby. C’mon now. I’m sorry about the rain! It’s my fault. I’ll be more careful next time.”

Way to stand your ground, Ritter. We see who’s in control here.

She tossed back the spread on my side of our California king, and pat the wrinkled lines of her indention in the mattress. With no time, or patience, to waste I climbed in beside her & immediately reached for the cotton tightness of her leggings. Discarding the unwanted clothing to the foot of the bed, I smiled darkly not hiding those demons behind my eyes. Sometimes they came in handy.

I licked over my lips, coating them generously, before I latched onto the skin where her thighs met her warm sex. Liv’s back arched off the bed like a woman carnally possessed at the sensation of my teeth sucking into her flesh. She knew I was needy when it came to the taste of her on my mouth.

I wanted to play her slow, in a way that forced her body to spiral & clutter with need. So, I pulled back to allow her sexually spasming muscles to find relief. Kissing my way up the bone of her pelvis, to the tiny dip of her belly button, then wallowing my head under the oversized fit of her t-shirt to ghost the tiniest tip of my tongue between the valley of her heavy breasts. Her whispering exhales teetered the line of a moan, and I felt her heartbeat dancing inside her chest.

“How about a nap, 2-1? I’m pretty beat.”

My lovers every inch froze. Every feathering touch of my lips had ignited her with gallons of gasoline, and the wildfire couldn’t be stopped. I could tell she was blindsided by my unsubtle shift in direction exactly the way I wanted.

“Wait a minute,” she needfully whined. Her voice lifted an octave & it painted over me like a cold paintbrush, causing prickles all over my skin.

“What’s that, baby?”

“I’m... I’m not ready for a nap yet, Colt...”

Let the games begin.

“Well what is it my girl needs then, huh? What are you ready for? Wanna finish the movie first?”

Her limbs squirmed nervously, wrestling with the words she wanted to say. But, I could see traces of pride on her face. Would she break that easily?

“Yeah. Exactly! I just wanna finish the movie. That’s all.”

Fuck. She won’t break that easy, you bastard.

I resentfully took my place next to her on the cool pillow, and opened the bend of my arm for her to nuzzle into as the movie played in the background. I traveled to the deepest cavern of my mind for any weapons of mass eruption I could use against her valiant efforts of resistance. With one arm bent behind me against the headboard and my thoughts at war, I fretted internally. She always liked her hair twirled around my finger before she fell asleep, so I trusted the usually successful tactic.

Still, no reaction on her stoic face as she gazed & giggled at Julia Roberts on our bedroom flatscreen.

Trying to focus so intently on all the ways I could break down her wall, I instead trailed off on the countless ways she drove me utterly insane with her feminine antics, once again the ripple effect landing between my legs. I’d bust if she didn’t cave into me sooner rather than later.

Lowering deeper into the soft bed, I rolled onto my side dangerously near the opening of her ear. My hands & mouth danced in unison, one on the point of her pert nipple, the other lapping on her lobe. I heard her fingers scrapping against the thread of white sheets, and her toes curled.

“Does my pretty baby like that, huh?” My gravely questions seemed to inject directly into her veins like vicious poison.

“Does my Livvy girl like the way that feels?”

I was never, ever a man of poetic manner, but I knew it meant worlds to her when I made some conscious effort to try & use my words like a actual adult. Even if it meant using them to my full advantage in the most salacious of ways.

She never answered my questions, not even so much as opened her sealed eyes. But I planned to break her silence.

I walked two fingers, one in front of the other like the ‘itsy-bitsy spider’ south toward her seeping center. Intruding with my pointer finger inside the band of her laced-trimmed panties, Liv licked over her dry, panting mouth. I could feel the pooling of her pleasure between her velvet folds, and I slid gentle circles around the bundle of sensitive nerves. Sweaty beads of gleaming sweat gathered on her forehead, the perfect bones of her cheeks puffed with red the more I toyed with her release, but she still remained collected.

I escaped from the glossy squeeze between her thighs & winked to her as she laid on her back in disbelief. The lick of her wetness from my finger may have struck her every desire, but it was actually more of a treat for myself rather than her.

“What do you think you’re doing, Ritter?” She elevated on the point of her elbows, her lids heavy with lust.

“I’m disturbing your movie. My bad, babe. I’ll behave. I really am sorry. Unless....”

The static electricity from the pillow case flowed through her hair as she waited for my offer to fall on the table.

“.......unless?”

“Unless you want me to get down there & suck out every last little drop of sweetness you’re keeping from me between those gorgeous legs.”

Her eyes took the shape of glassy marbles. My girls shyness with my sailor mouth never got old.

A storm brewed inside her, and she couldn’t deny how bad she wanted me if she tried. But I’d make her say it. I’d make her grovel just this once.

Giving her ample time to make her final decision, she never uttered a sound. So, I climbed from beneath the bubble of warmth under the blankets and dismissed myself.

“Imma grab a shower, then maybe I can head out & grab a bite for us if you want.”

Liv leaped with the speed of a lioness on attack to protect her young to stop my escape.

“Don’t. You. Dare.” She treated & swiftly pulled off the cover of her t-shirt.

“What’s that? I have no idea what you mean, baby...”

With one gracious motion she stood up shaking loose her hair, her round tits shaking with the aftershock. Her fight training had definitely fallen to her advantage as she took my broad arm in the lock of a submission move, weakening my knees and sending me to the floor.

“You know what, you clever little bastard. Finish what you started, Ritter.”

There was fury in her voice, and power in the fist she knotted into the hair on top of my head. Here I was again, bending the knee to worship her perfectly curved body.

“Beg.” I boldly protested against her sharp demands.

She knew it’s what I wanted. The entire time she could see it’s what I was working for.

I kissed her lips once more, lingering a bit just for the taste, then backed away to look upward at her.

“Let’s hear it, baby. I know how bad you need it. It’s dripping down my chin, in fact.”

“Please.”

Step one.

“Please what, Livvy. I’m ready & willin’, baby. Just ask.”

“Please... you know...”

Step two.

Her polite little mouth just couldn’t allow the words release. I eyeballed her, batting my eyes in genuine laughter at the way she kept such a shy demeanor when it came to our sex life. Even considering the many ways we had tarnished nearly every service within a 10-mile radius.

“Damn it, Colt! Make me come already! Please! Make me come!!”

It was an angry, resentful, desperate cry, but immediately my every pulsating cell exploded. My pupils swelled with evil satisfaction at the feeling of her needing me in such a raw way. Immediately, a victim to my lack of self control, I pummeled my face to her core. I wanted to shower in the hot, sugary sensation of all things Liv. She laughed out loud, resembling a twisted woman controlled by the darkness of her lusts. My thumbs pushed into her thighs in effort to keep her wobbly legs standing, and I knew it wouldn’t be long before a bright pink blush would rash all over her body with the arrival of her orgasm.

“More, Colton! Just one more minute. I’m begging you. Don’t stop!”

Pushing into her entrance with a widened tongue, seconds later my beautiful Livvy’s screams bounced from wall to wall in the tranquil privacy of our little house on the corner. And as for me, I spent the rest of our stormy, Spring afternoon groveling for her mercy.

Tags: @torialeysha @eap1935 @littleluna98 @mollybegger-blog

[sleepychai-fics]

Wolf!Lance x Fem!Reader - A Different Story

Request: Anon;  Voltron request: Can you do a story about wolf Lance and his female human s/o? She don't know that she is followed by a big, bad, handsome wolf Lance. XD Please make it fluffy and romance! Thanks!

here it is! I enjoyed writing this, sorry its a bit late.

I couldnt think of another plot I could go off of so I did I cliche with a little twist..................

Tag List:

@fanderrawr @dontcallmecedge @thecinnabitch

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Words: 1629

“Look out for the Big Bad Wolf!” They say.

“Don’t wander off the path!” They sarcastically warn.

Well let me tell you something; I hate it when people refer to me as Red Riding Hood. I have nothing in common with her. I purposefully go into the forest to pick flowers for my Auntie.

My AUNTIE. Not my Grandmother.

There is no path through the forest, and it’s pretty open as well. It’s right outside my house and a big, populated town is less than a mile away from it. So a residential area next to a forest. NOT a single cottage in the middle of one.

But why is it I’m found restraining myself from hitting someone?

“I’ll see you later tonight then (Y/n). Oh! And remember to stay on the path!”

I cringe as I mentally restrain myself from hitting the man, who unfortunately happens to be my uncle, which only makes it harder to restrain myself.

I force out a small giggle and strain a smile on myself, waving to my uncle. “HaHa, okay. I’ll see you tonight. I’ll be sure to bring an extra special bouquet of flowers for Auntie!”

“I’m sure she will enjoy it. Be sure to watch out for the wolf!” He says, turning around to leave.

I force out a giggle once again, sticking up both my middle fingers at my uncle as he walks away. “Okay, see you later.”

I turn around, dropping my hands to my side. I let out a sigh, the word ‘Asshole’ slipping past my lips. I pick up my basket and walk down towards the woods. It only takes a few minutes to reach the forest’s edge. Like I said, it’s practically outside my house.

I walk past the few trees from the edge, walking a good hundred feet before reaching my destination.

Flowers border and bloom around the tree trunks, all different colours. No tree trunk homes the same flower types, all of them having a difference from each other.

I smile. This place is a particular favourite of mine. It has the perfect amount of sunlight and the perfect amount of shade for all these different flowers to grow. That and it has that natural calming vibe to it.

I lay my basket down in the middle of a small patch of grass, where a single decent stream of sunlight appears.

I then immediately walk over to the nearest tree and lean down, staring at the colourful bed of flowers. I thread my fingers through one of the stems, stroking one of the blue petals with my other hand, before delicately cutting off the stem with a small pair of scissors. I ensure there’s a good length of stem before closing the scissors.

I repeat the same procedures with two others, one purple and the other red, before standing up and walking over to my basket.

I gently lay the flowers in the basket, checking to make sure no damage will occur.

I stand up and head towards a different tree. Before I lean down, I hear a near rustling of leaves.

I pause my movements and snap my attention to my surroundings. I stare at the bushes, eyeing them for any suspicious movement. After a few minutes of nothing but a quiet chill wind, I shake my head and sigh.

“Stupid wind.”

I bend down and inspect a few flowers, grazing my fingers over petals and threading them between stems, before cutting them off and securing them in my careful hold.

I gasp and jump up as the sound of a twig snapping reaches my ears. Panic slowly begins to set in, but I try my best to keep it down.

I let out an annoyed breath and walk over to my basket. “You’re starting to get paranoid (Y/n), stop it.” I mumble to myself as I place the flowers in the basket.

I stand and walk to another tree with yet another different range of flowers. I kneel down and start to pick up a flower. I freeze in fright as a sudden chill runs down my spine. I growl in frustration, picking the flowers away from their stems. “It’s just the wind (Y/n). Nothing else but the wind. Jeez, maybe you are getting paran-“

As I stand up and turn to return to my basket, I come face to face with one creature I never considered to believe to be real.

Standing in front of me, a cross between a wolf and a human, a hybrid you could say. His scruffy brown hair spikes up at the back and just above a brown headband, two furry ears poke out from the side. The face is all human. Tan skin with slightly rough features, his sharp canine teeth being the only in-humane thing on his face. His body is also human apart from the bushy tail. His clothes also appear human, draping over his body, not hugging him as such but still showing definitions of his muscles.

I stare at him, unblinking and still, frozen in place by fear.

The wolf-man, werewolf, hybrid thing, stares at me with a curious gaze. He cocks his head to the side, his lips twitching upwards as if he’s amused.

“Well, well, well,” He speaks slowly, his voice dipping lower with each word. He straightens his neck and begins to circle around me, eyes raking down my body in some sort of interest. “What do we have here?”

I remain still, turning my head towards him, keeping my gaze locked on him as he continues to circle around me. By now he’s almost behind me.

“Seems to me,” He moves in the blink of an eye, disappearing behind me. I gasp and tense up as I feel his hot breath brush against my ear. “that someone like to pick flowers for their grandma, Little Red Riding Hood.” He ends with a smug grin.

Anger boils within me and before I realise it, I’m talking.

“Don’t call me that.” I say firmly, somehow not breaking under his intense gaze.

I watch him as his eyes light up in shock before switching back to amusement. “A back-chatter. I’m beginning to like you a lot more.” He moves in front of me, face insanely close to mine.

I take this moment to properly study his face. Coincidently, he stands in a stream of sunlight. The soft glow of the light outlines every curve and crevice, shining across his cheeks. My eyes scan over his tan features, marvelling at his perfection. Now that I’m thinking about it, he looks really cute up close.

“Thank you.”

I jump slightly and stare at him in confusion. A few seconds go by before I come to a conclusion. “I-I said that out loud?”

He only smirks in response and I’m just about ready to slap myself.

I sigh in defeat and stare into his deep blue eyes. “Well I wasn’t lying.”

His smile only grows.

I avert my gaze to his ears, dazed by the way they peak out above his headband. The perfect way his fur seems to brush around his ears, the smooth looking texture that only compliments them more.

Without realising, I let go of the flowers and begin to reach out towards his ears. I flick my gaze to his eyes which shine with interest and amusement.

“C-Can I-“

Before I can even start, he pushes his head into my hand. Instinct takes over me and without thinking about it, I begin to gently scratch my fingers along his scalp.

I smile at the smooth and delicate feeling of his fur. I move my hand around the back of his ears, watching in awe as he leans heavily into my fingers, his tail slowly picking up speed, wagging back and forth.

“Mmmmm.” He hums. “You have definitely got the magic touch.”

I can’t help but giggle at his compliment. He leans in closer to the point he’s nuzzling into my chest. I thread my other hand through his hair and watch as his tail wags furiously faster.

“(Y/n)?! Are you still there?!” I jump away from the boy as my mother’s voice rings through-out the forest.

I take a quick glance around, frowning when I can’t find the boy.

“I’m here Mother!” I call out, sadness evident in my voice.

“Hurry up now! We’ll be leaving soon.”

“Yes Mother! I’ll be there soon!” I watch and listen closely, seeing no sight of her and hearing nothing close-by.

I sigh and turn back towards my abandoned basket. I walk over to it, inspecting its contents. I turn my head to the tree I had last visited, searching the ground for the flowers I dropped. I furrow my eyes in confusion when I don’t see them.

“Drop something?”

I jump away from the hot breath against my ear. I relax once I see the boy’s face.

A small grin spreads across his face. He steps closer to me, leaning his face in closer with mine. My eyes widen at the feel of his nose brushing against my cheek.

“The name’s Lance.” He whispers to me as his tongue moves across my cheek up to my ear. “I’ll see you tomorrow (Y/n).”

And just like that, he disappears.

I stand there in shock, unable to move or comprehend anything that had just happened. I slowly look down to my hands, noticing the three flowers I had previously dropped, gently clasped in my small grip.

I look back up to where I last saw Lance, and stare into the woods, past the bushes and trees.

Thoughts race through my head, disappearing and reappearing at will, but one thought stays in mind, controlled only by the heart.

And ironically, the boy has it.