#im almost certainly forgetting something

[gaylordthethird]

My friend mentioned how kinda weird and varied the foods I eat are and I've been thinking and put together a list. So-

The foods I eat with arfid, but they get progressively less common as a safe food

Bread (seedy not plain) (or naan or rolls)

Potatoes (chips, mashed, baked, cubed)

Chicken

Rice (white/jasmine)

Sausage Rolls

This one specific Muesli bar

Hawaiian Pizza (sorry 😔)

Garlic Bread

Chips (crisps, salt and vinegar or plain)

Dark Chocolate

Lettuce

Peanut butter Jam Sandwiches (crunchy pb only)

Apple and Mango puree

Mangoes

Butter Chicken curry

Mango Chicken Curry

Cucumber

Capsicum (bell pepper)

Hot sauce

Pomegranate

[marstons-angel]

WHAT SET YOU FREE, BROUGHT YOU TO ME BABY.

rdr2 men + short blurbs about their favorite sex positions.

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

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

✧ wc : about 1.4-8k each (6.3k total)

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

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

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

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

It’s an odd feelin’ for Arthur. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You giggle back at him 

“What kinda trouble is that now?” 

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

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

“I’ll hold you to it, Mister.” 

Arthur laughs. “Hope you do, Miss.” 

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ JOHN MARSTON + COWGIRL ;

John doesn’t say that he loves you lightly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You might turn him into a literate man yet. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“John,”  

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

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

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

“A foolish one,” 

John laughs. 

“I sure do love you for it,”

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

Javier hasn’t thought about much other than surviving. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hadn’t thought much about what comes after. 

And it didn’t matter until he met you

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Darling as you always are, you nod softly. 

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

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

Wandering. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, I’m not fine with it.” 

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

“Please, what?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kiss?” 

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

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

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

[waiting-foratrain]

> ‘your body remembers what your mind forgets,’ or, i think nona being as loved as she was should fuck harrowhark up a bit.

hello! i have a migraine and too many feelings, thus, as promised, im here to have feelings about tlt! (to preface, this is just a thought i have, it very well might not correlate w/ the text. i’m not fact checking x)

(NONA THE NINTH SPOILERS, I ASSUME)

to begin with, we need to talk about memory. specifically, we need to talk about somatic memory, or the physical sensations of trauma that remain in the body even when the brain itself has repressed the memories of said trauma (sound familiar? it should!) — nona, an amnesiac soul in someone else’s body, almost perfectly embodies this concept.

then, please remind yourself that the body that she’s in is belongs to harrowhark nonagesimus.

nona doesn’t remember drearburh, she doesn’t remember being 200 dead children, she doesn’t remember rolling away the rock, or harrows parents suicides, or any of the casual trauma of harrowharks upbringing… but her body does. then, in ntn, we watch that same body that is now experiencing care on a scale it has never comprehended prior.

forgotten trauma is still healable, and though the trauma that nona retains from having been alecto is still very much present and we see it affect her as she remembers more, simply experiencing the level of love and care that the people around her are giving- pyrrha, camilla, palamedes, even crown, aim, we suffer, etc, in their own ways (not to mention the people at the school)- is something that i think should start to sink into her body, even if she doesn’t have the words or the memories to process that anything is happening. it might not help with the somatic memory around nona being the soul of the earth, but i think it should affect harrow, after nona leaves her body.

nona is someone who is fundamentally kind, fundamentally loving, and fundamentally easily open to connection without so much as a whisper of the layers of guilt and shame harrow was brought up with in place between herself and others. nona doesn’t freeze or move away from touch; she constantly turns towards love, towards affection, towards being taken care of

(also, i think there’s something to be said for the lack of love alecto received vs the magnitude that nona did and the affect that has on the way they both turned out, but that’s for another post-)

anyways, here’s the thing: that sticks.

healing isn’t linear, and it’s certainly not instant, but the way nona treats harrow’s body, the way she lives in harrow’s body? i think that has sincere potential to start rewiring the way it responds to the world. so by the time we get to harrow in alecto? nona is gone, yes, but i think that the care she was shown, and the care she accepted should have started affecting harrow on a level she doesn’t even understand.

nona didn’t just exist in harrows body- she taught it, via experience, what it’s like to be loved... and i think that personally, harrowhark should have to deal with the after affects of that physically. (and emotionally. but this post is about physically)

[rush-the-stars]

Dogfight

pairing: nicholas d. wolfwood x reader, vash the stampede x reader, vashwood x reader

wc: 4k what the actual hell lol

cw: jealousy, mild smut/suggestive content, fighting, blood, biting, marking, possessiveness. the boys are jealous of each other sorta but then get on the same page. minors dni, 18+ only

a/n: this is for an anon that asked me about jealous vashwood and then i spent days working on this and it got too big so i made an Official Fic Post rather than just answering the ask bc im insane and unwell lol this is also probs more 98 vash and wolfwood than stampede! i hope you enjoy!! banner from @/cafekitsune

∘₊✧───────────────────✧₊∘

The first time they meet you, its through a shower of gunfire. Your wild smile is all that’s left when the smoke clears.

Wolfwood thinks he hasn’t seen anyone so damn beautiful in his entire life—streaked with blood and eyes lit up like a flame, twirling a twin pair of pistols like fucking ribbons.

And Vash thinks maybe he’s in love? And then he shakes his head and tries to clear it, tries to clear you from his vision, and at least the smoke disappears some. And the chaos stills. But you smile all crooked at them, tilting your head a little in greeting and he feels wobbly all over again.

“Happy to save your asses,” you say, “buy me a drink?”

Vash hears wedding bells.

(It’s just church bells tolling in the distance.)

“Happy to—happ—“ Vash trips over all his words.

“Shit, I’ll buy you dinner, too.” Wolfwood says.

Vash looks at him, Wolfwood looks back. And then they’re stumbling over themselves to get up, clambering and clawing and falling over each other and they must look like foolish, scrapping dogs in the dirt at your feet.

You laugh, though, warm and amused.

“Settle down, boys. bar’s still standing—you can both buy me a drink.”

And they’re left to watch you walk away and talk to Meryl, whose shaking her head and rolling her eyes at them. You introduce yourself to her.

And they both scramble after your heels, right on the tails of your skirts.

***

You sleep with Wolfwood first—

He’s surprisingly gentlemanly with you, even if you can feel the desperation and hunger that he tries to keep so far from the surface. He’s all bravado, all honeyed words and little growled praises as he squeezes the fat of your hips.

He gets you so wet it’s almost embarrassing, except that he also makes you come so hard that you forget about it almost immediately. He adores being between your legs, adores tasting and taking—being on his knees for you.

Wolfwood is a worshipful man. Devoted. Adoring. With a little grit and bite when you need it.

He leaves a mark or two. Around your collar bones or neck. One on your hip. He can’t help himself.

He takes good care of you in that brutishly charming way of his—fucks deep and hard, carves his way through you and makes you toss your head back into the pillow and pull at his hair. He loves to please, loves to be told what to do or what you want. Take what you need, pretty girl. He hums to you, groaning when you tell him how good he feels.

Rarely impatient except when you rile him up, Wolfwood makes a good lover. Fun and obedient and affectionate.

You adore him.

***

Wolfwood and Vash get testy with each other.

Tensions are high—Vash is surprisingly sharp with him, in a way that makes you a little wary, treating him like a bit of a ticking time bomb.

Wolfwood doesn’t help. He’s an instigator and if there’s one thing he loves, it’s to get under someone’s skin. Especially someone like Vash, whose usually easy and cheerful and kind.

“Would you leave it?” Vash snaps at Wolfwood, shoving the man’s hand off his shoulder. He bares his teeth a little and in the dim light you see the knife-sharp flash of his pointed canines.

“I was just trying to be friendly,” Wolfwood drawls in a way that indicates he most certainly wasn’t just trying to be friendly.

“Something the matter?” You ask and when Vash’s eyes land on you, he immediately softens. He looks guilty. Hangs his head a little and looks at the ground.

“No,” he says, “sorry—“

But Wolfwood says, “Blondie’s got his panties in a bunch about something and I was just trying to see what was wrong—“

Vash’s eyes flash.

“Nick,” you snap. Short and sharp, like reprimanding a dog.

He looks at you. You look back. Then you jerk your head to tell him to get lost, “take a hike.”

“And who made you the boss?” He snarks.

You level him with a more serious look, hand on your hip, “I’ll find you later.”

“You can’t just order me—“

“I wanna talk to Vash.” You respond firmly, “and you’re being a jackass.”

He stares at you for another long moment. You don’t back down, in fact you tip your chin up a little, meeting his eyes with a flash of authority.

He looks at Vash, who quickly glances away.

He scoffs, “whatever. You’re both a pain in my ass.” But he listens to you and skulks off.

You turn to Vash when he’s out of ear shot, “you okay?” You ask.

Vash can’t look at you. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that—“

“Not your fault. He can be a pest. Walk with me?” You ask and now you hold up the crook of your elbow.

Vash eyes you uncertainly for a moment, before he lets go of a small breath, and siddles up to your side. He loops his arm through yours and you begin to guide him through this little, nowhere town. The sun is setting. The dusk sky is smoky and golden, like a quartz glittering, shadowed and shining.

“You seem—“ You choose your words carefully, “troubled lately.” And then you amend, “more troubled than usual.”

“I’m sorry to worry you but everything’s fine.” Vash shakes his head.

“Vash,” you implore gently, shaking his arm a little. “I can tell something’s bothering you. Won’t you tell me?”

“Ah,” Vash says weakly, “it’s alright.” And he looks ahead, out at the horizon. You follow his gaze. There's nothing out there but the line of land in the distance.

“Thanks for standing up for me tonight but you should—you should go find him. He’ll be waiting for you.”

And then Vash drops your arm and walks away, his head down, a little furrow to his brows. And you watch him go, dumbfounded.

When you return to Wolfwood, he’s waiting for you on the porch of the little inn you're staying at, smoking a cigarette.

“What the hell was that all about?” He gruffs, blowing the smoke from the corner of his mouth.

You don’t answer him at first. You slip into his lap easily. He raises his eyebrows in slight surprise, but immediately adjusts, one hand around your waist, the other holding his cigarette away from you.

“You need to leave him be.” You say, sighing as you sink into his embrace.

He pauses for a moment, looks at you—really looks at you.

Then he says, “he wants you, you know.”

“Is that what this is about? Are you jealous? Is that why you’re pestering him?” You rub your knuckle against his stubbly jaw, pet him a little. He leans into the touch, nudging himself against your hand.

"You like him?" He asks instead.

"Course I like Vash." You hush, fingers moving to card through his hair.

He takes a slow drag from his cigarette before he leans away to blow the smoke away from you. It lingers in the air around him and for a moment, you look at him through the haze. The smell of it reminds you so thoroughly of him nowadays that you almost crave it when its not around.

"No," Wolfwood corrects, "do you like him the way you like me?"

"You think I like you?" You tease, but he doesn't take kindly to that and jostles you in his lap a little and even goes so far as to jerk his head away from your touch.

"Woah, take it easy," you say, realizing he really didn't like that joke, "I was only playin' with you. I'm in your lap, aren't I?"

He softens a little. Lets go of a breath. He squeezes your waist, maybe in apology. To soothe the ache, you lean forward and press a kiss to his jaw, pepper them lightly down his neck.

"You didn't answer the question." He mumbles and you feel more than you see him flick his cigarette down and crush it with the heel of his shoe. He pulls you closer now that his other hand is free, slots you tight against him, and leans back to give you more room at his neck.

"Would you be mad if I said yes?" You murmur, carefully kissing at the pulse in his neck. You hide there.

"If i was?"

"You aren't good at sharing?" You coo, nudging your nose against his jaw, up to catch him in a quick kiss. He nips a little in answer.

"Not usually," he finally says.

"Not even with Vash?" You ask, because you know him better than he'd like to admit. And now you pull away to look at him.

To really look at him.

His eyes flick away, maybe bashfully, "yeah, well—I don't think I'm the one you have to worry about."

"What do you mean?" You ask.

He shrugs a little, "you think cause he puts up the goody-two-shoes act that it makes him good with sharing?" He asks, "why do you think he's gotten so pissed with me lately?"

You hum in acknowledgement. "Have you been rubbing it in?" You ask.

"Not intentionally." He says. And then when you look at him more pointedly, he admits, "not intentionally most of the time."

"Well, we'll see if Vash can share." You finally say and lean again to kiss him.

But in a sudden move, he grabs your chin, forces you still. Forces you to look at him.

"Only Vash, you hear me?" He says. His eyes are dark suns, all encompassing and imploring and fiery, "anyone else and I'll lose it."

You can't tell if it's a warning with the slight waver in his voice or a threat, with the growl behind the end of it. And then you remember scared dogs bite.

"Only Vash." You swear, "only you."

He settles a little, leans back again, and this time, when you kiss him, it's harder. More a claiming than a kiss — more a damning than a passion. He gives it back tenfold.

He litters you in little marks, in his scent, and drops his blazer around your shoulders in the morning. At breakfast, right in front of Vash, he catches you in a sharp, burn of a kiss.

More of a claiming. More of a damning.

***

When you sleep with Vash for the first time, it’s after a near-death experience. You were being reckless. The room is charged.

And Vash kisses you not like it’s the first time, but like it could be the last. He's the heat of a falling star, searing you, devouring you. He's all desperation. All starvation.

You'd thought with how sweet he usually was, that he'd be even more well behaved than Wolfwood, but that is far from the truth. He's a little untamed, untrained and clumsy and ferocious.

He whines as he takes you apart and you think he'd probably take praise well if you could teach him but right now he's just so— raw. So yearning and famished with it all.

You've no choice but to try and give everything you can in hopes of soothing him in some way. Filling the emptiness in him. And even still, you're aching and sore and torn-up after all is said in done.

Vash is bashful and a little remorseful about it come morning.

But you twine your arms around him and kiss him hard in reassurance. In encouragement.

He's passionate and all-encompassing. He's all your world in this moment.

You adore him.

Later, when Wolfwood sees the marks he left on you, he curses.

"Is he a fucking vampire?" He asks, tilting your head to the side to see the dark bruise in the side of your neck. But then he realizes how tender you are still, how aching, and he coos all soft.

Tells you he'll lick the wounds Vash gave you.

Says. I told you it wasn't me you had to worry about.

Vash avoids you and Wolfwood for nearly two days.

On the third, he finally breaks.

And when he does, he bundles you in his red coat after a long day, fists his hands in the collar of it to pull you towards him, and kisses you hard in front of Wolfwood, underneath the dark heavens above. He says he'll be back later.

Your lip throbs from the nip of his teeth.

(When Wolfwood kisses you shortly after, pushing Vash's coat from your shoulders, he soothes the sting with his tongue.)

***

For awhile, all the boys do is fight when they're around each other. It's getting to a point where Meryl is avoiding them at all costs—and you're just short of joining her.

The worst of it is on one of the hottest days in a long time.

Wolfwood says something he shouldn't—asks Vash if he could smell his cologne on you. Asks if he likes it.

It's too far. Usually, they bicker and fight over unrelated, stupid shit.

But that strikes a nerve.

And it's so fast that you don't even catch it, and suddenly Vash has Wolfwood pinned against the wall, hands fisted in the front of his shirt.

You always thought, maybe just on height and weight alone, that Wolfwood was stronger. But looking at Vash now, easily pinning him, you aren't quite sure.

"Oh, you wanna finally fight?" Wolfwood asks, baring his teeth, too.

And really, it's like when dogs fight.

It's fast and vicious. It sounds worse than it is—snarling and growling and wrestling with each other. It's artless. You've seen them both in a fight and this isn't—this isn't that. It's better, maybe, on Wolfwood's end. He's not trying to kill Vash. But maybe it's also worse, more personal, more brutal.

You hear Vash yelp—Wolfwood curses. More fighting.

You yell at them, the way you shout at fighting dogs, grab hold of Wolfwood around the collar and pull hard enough that he stops from his place over Vash, panting.

His mouth is bloody and it drips down onto Vash, his teeth still bared and crimson.

For a moment, they look at each other.

(And Vash thinks wildly, looking up at Wolfwood, sorry about the blood in your mouth. I think I wish it was mine. He tastes blood himself and wonders if it is Wolfwood's. If he really did bite him.

Wolfwood thinks, hit me again. If that's all you'll give me now, I'll take it. Wolfwood looks down at Vash, feels his heaving chest beneath him, and thinks, if I can only have you this close in a fight, I'll take that, too.)

You're cursing them both out, hauling Wolfwood off of him. You're furious and shaking and you're scolding them both.

You're fussing over them both, too, angrily wiping at their mouths and inspecting their wounds.

And they both think, maybe I should pick more fights, to see you like this, too, flustered and livid and worried. Doting. Adoring.

You shake your head at the both of them but—

You adore them.

***

It takes another man sniffing around you for them both to finally get on the same page.

And if it's one thing about Vash and Wolfwood, for all their bickering and differences, they know when to shut up and work together.

The moment another man starts chatting you up at the bar, they both go still and silent.

"You see what I'm seeing?" Wolfwood asks.

"Yeah," Vash says, eyes narrowing behind his glasses as the man manages to make you laugh. He leans all close to you. Vash has a near visceral reaction to jerk up from his seat beside Wolfwood.

Wolfwood grabs his arm.

"You thinkin' what I'm thinkin' then?" He asks.

Vash spares him only a glance—his eyes are trained on you and the man at your side. He grimaces. "Probably not. I don't wanna kill him."

Wolfwood barks out a laugh as Vash adds, "but I don't want him here, either."

"You wanna chase him off?" He asks. "Or you want me to be the bad guy?"

Vash swallows.

"She'll get mad at me for being an asshole. She'll be all pleased with you for being so good." He says and there's a dryness to his tone, a certain resignation or—

"Why would you do that?" Vash asks and he finally peels his eyes away long enough to look at Wolfwood.

To really look at him.

He shrugs, "I don't mind being in the dog house."

Vash eyes him.

Wolfwood smiles a little, "and I think she's hot when she's mad."

Vash frowns at that, a little twitch of his lips, almost in a pout. "Besides that—I meant—why would you do that for me?"

Wolfwood looks back over at the man at the bar, whose gotten even closer to you, his shoulder almost brushing yours. You're smiling and playing nice. Wolfwood's hackles rise. He bristles. He finally stands, too.

He never feels this way when he sees you with Vash. He never feels this way on the nights when Vash has you. In fact, the idea of it is—it's—

Kissing you after Vash. Knowing he'd just kissed you. Sinking his teeth into the ridges of marks Vash leaves on you, like he's trying to get his own taste. Or compare his teeth to Vash's. Maybe he growls and snaps at him and bares his teeth the next day, too, but he never feels like this.

Scared and mean and angry and—

"What, are you gonna make me fuckin' say it?" Wolfwood snaps.

"Say what?!"

Wolfwood slugs his arm hard. The flesh one, so he doesn't damn near break his knuckles doing it. And Vash yelps all high and Wolfwood wants to shake him and he also sorta wants to hit him again. And maybe he wants to kiss him stupid, too—

"I don't—" Wolfwood swallows hard, "I don't mind sharing. With you. With only you."

Wolfwood looks at him.

Really looks at him.

And then Vash turns the deepest shade of red.

Wolfwood's face gets hot all over, too. "Oh, Christ, blondie—did you really not know?"

"I don't know what I thought!" Vash says and his voice gets sorta high.

"Well—" Wolfwood shifts, uncharacteristically nervous, "what about—I mean, do you—are you okay sharing...with me?"

"At first, I thought I wasn't." Vash admits, "and I was jealous of—" he swallows, "I was jealous of both of you, if I think about it. You're just—you push my buttons more than she does—so. I took it out on you, mostly."

"Ah," Wolfwood says, "you took it out on her, too. Just in a different way."

Vash cheeks somehow get darker with color and Wolfwood laughs, realizing that he's—it's relief. He feels relieved, finally, as he laughs.

"You're a dumbass." He says to Vash.

And Vash smiles at him, crooked and boyish and stupidly handsome. That smile that Wolfwood has always liked.

Wolfwood then turns his gaze back to you, back to the man at the bar whose leaning in all close. He sees you tip away, adjusting your space. And he says;

"Now let's go get our girl."

The moment Wolfwood comes up behind you, you know there will be trouble unless this man doesn't leave quick — what you aren't expecting, is Vash to come up on the other side of the man. You tilt your head.

You feel a broad hand on your lower back, "he botherin' you?" Wolfwood asks, leaning all into your space.

The man sizes up Wolfwood, weighing his chances still and you can nearly feel Wolfwood stiffen and bristle behind you. He doesn't like being challenged.

"He was just seeing if I wanted a drink."

Vash, on the other side of the man says, "maybe he'd like it if I bought him a drink instead!" And though it's said brightly, it's almost a little too bright.

Vash's eyes gleam like the cold edge of bright moons.

You look between them for a moment as the man says, "alright, what the hell is this? You her boyfriend or something?"

"Or something." Wolfwood agrees casually.

"And whose this guy?" He snarks to Vash, "her other boyfriend?"

"Or something." Vash says, still smiling, and that really pisses the guy off.

"Would you back up?" He snaps and he shoves at Vash enough that he stumbles away a few steps. And before he can do something stupid, you put yourself between Wolfwood and the man.

"Leave him," you say lowly to Wolfwood, whose hackles are raised.

Wolfwood isn't looking at you, he's looking at the man behind you and his eyes are hard and cold and mean looking.

"Nick," you say, "I don't want a bar fight."

"Worried he can't handle me?" The man asks, "no wonder you were letting me chat you up."

Wolfwood jerks a little in your hold and Vash speaks up, laughing a little, "no reason to fight! Wouldn't want to clean you up off the floor."

Well, that does it.

The man swings on Vash, who yelps a little, but easily evades him. When he ducks, the man connects with another person behind Vash.

Damn it all.

The bar breaks out in pandemonium. Wolfwood shoves you beneath him and Vash works on ducking and diving out of the way of the first few swings sent his way. Shouting and glass shattering, raining down from above, makes you curse.

Wolfwood dodges the first punch thrown his way and he shoves you out of the way, before he takes a swing himself. When he connects, it's a nasty punch. Blood erupts.

Food is getting thrown. Alcohol sailing overhead, soaking the fighting crowd and angering them further. The poor bartender is hiding, ducking behind the counter and shivering.

You clamber atop the bar to get a look and—it's a wild crush of people, fighting and wrestling and breaking glass over each other's heads.

You put your fingers to your mouth and whistle—the loud, piercing kind that usually gets everyone's attention. This time, there's so much noise and shouting, that not a soul stops their fighting.

You pull out one of your pistols.

The shot thunders in the bar, makes your ears ring.

Everyone gasps and yells in surprise, instinctively ducking, covering their heads. But they all finally turn to look at you.

"Everyone out!" You shout, "take your fighting elsewhere!"

Grumbles erupt. But you hold up your pistol and shout again, with more force and fire, "out!"

The bar begins to stir, all the patrons dislodging and shifting about, detangling themselves from their fights. They meander in knots of people, twisting out the door slowly.

When Vash and Wolfwood appear again, they look disheveled and Vash's lip is busted. Wolfwood's sunglasses are shattered. You put your hands on your hips as you look down at them.

"What the hell am I supposed to do with you two?" You snap.

Wolfwood reaches up to lift you right off the bar and back onto the ground in front of him. He shrouds you, "nurse our wounds?" He asks.

"You're a pain in the ass. I told you I didn't want a bar fight."

"He didn't throw the first punch, in his defense." Vash speaks up, but he's talking sorta funny because of his lip, which is swelling even now.

You sigh, "let me see."

Vash siddles up to you, a little sheepish, with that puppy-dog look on his face. He bends down a little, so you can get a better look at his face, dipping his head down in a show of submission.

Woflwood, behind you, whistles. "That's a good one, blondie."

"Hurts." Vash says as you carefully inspect it, debating if he'll need stitches or not.

"You gonna kiss it better?" Wolfwood asks.

"Why don't you?" You snark back, "since you two are finally working together it seems."

Vash smiles a little, which makes him wince, which makes you scold him. Wolfwood laughs, cooing a little, before he says, "alright, alright—lets get him patched up."

And you walk out with them at your skirts, hovering around you, dogging your steps. They follow you all the way back into your little room at an inn on the edge of the world.

And they settle in like they both own the damn place.

Wolfwood is tormenting Vash a little, whose whining and coming to your side for aid. But they're both—getting along, at least. And they're both demanding all your attention and taking up space in your room and—

And you adore them. You adore both of them, even with all their damn dogfights.

[kiame-sama]

this is so stupid but im currently cracking up the idea of yandere lilia totally forgetting that his (somewhat new) object of obsession has not been informed of his actual age yet and trying to hit on them only to get like.

"Uh huh kiddo, what are you, fourteen?"

and just being stuck going 'no i swear to god im like 400 its a faerie thing please stop laughing i am a father of three-'

What Are you, Twelve? (Yan!Lilia x Reader)

(Changed from 14 to 12 because that is my usual go-to age to guess when kids (under 21) try to hit on me (over 25))

Warnings; Yandere, yandere relationship, yandere behavior, yandere temper, age confusion, Silver/Sebek/Malleus have to vouch for Lilia, old man trying to have game,

~~~~~~~~

"You know, (y/n)," you wanted to sigh when you heard him start up again, knowing the odd lad from Diasomnia was back at his usual antics, "I certainly wouldn't mind a moonlit tousle through the grass with you any night... Or any day, for that matter."

Part of you wanted to laugh and part of you wanted to scream in frustration. This had been ongoing since you met the oddly young vice-housewarden of Diasomnia, Lilia. He was a cherub-faced pallid creature with pointed ears that made him look like an elf, and he was obviously quite interested in you. Problem was, you weren't interested because you were almost certain he wasn't even old enough to attend Night Raven College, let alone be hitting on you in such a direct way.

You would give credit where it is due, Lilia often spoke as if he were an old man and he could occasionally speak as if he were wise beyond his years. Still, that didn't change the fact that you were almost certain he was a child who got in to NRC due to an older sibling. You viewed the black and pink haired boy the same way you viewed Ortho; as a child. Hence the problem you now faced as that same cherub-looking boy shamelessly made a pass at you for the fifth time that day.

It was easy to ignore when you were in class despite how the young boy tried everything in his power to get your attention. However, you were now in the cafeteria and just wanted a bit of peace and quiet. You had been spending time by the table Diasomnia students often occupied because others avoided it, but now you may have to rethink the strategy as Lilia would come bouncing over the moment he saw you.

"Lilia, I just want to eat lunch."

"I would love to eat too! Perhaps later I can have a taste of you?"

Enough was enough. You tried to not snap at others- especially housewardens and vice-housewardens- but this kid was not getting the hint and you were getting annoyed. It had to be something his older siblings put him up to, as even now you could see the Diasomnia students watching the interaction keenly. You hadn't had much time in classes with these magically-gifted students, but you knew enough about them to know which student was likely Lilia's caretaker.

So without a word to Lilia, you stood and marched right over to the table the typical Diasomnia students frequented. The one with white hair- who you knew to be NRC's own 'sleeping beauty' Silver- and stood directly in front of him with a hand on your hip.

"Call off your little brother."

"... Excuse me?"

You pointed to Lilia- who had happily joined your side- with an exasperated sigh.

"Your little brother, call him off or explain to him that children shouldn't flirt with others who are several years their senior."

This made an odd choking sound escape the green haired one sitting next to Silver. Though you didn't know that one's name, you knew enough to recognize he was the one most often yelling in any class he attended. Before he could respond, the slow rumbling lilt of the housewarden of Diasomnia hummed out.

"Lilia is not Silver's little brother."

"Okay," you gave an exasperated shrug, "then whichever of you is supposed to be keeping an eye on him, teach him some manners. Trying to sleep with someone older than him will not end well for either party."

"... Child of man, enlighten me, how old do you believe Lilia to be?"

"Too young to be chasing me."

It was then Lilia spoke up, his usual playful smile gone and replaced with a more contemplative frown.

"I'm old enough."

"Kid, what are you, twelve? I am way too old for you."

The lasting moment of silence almost made you wonder if your assessment of the boy's age was incorrect as those sitting at the table all shared a look. Lilia was no longer the bouncing excitable boy he typically behaved as, straightening up as if he were offended by your assessment.

"Twelve years-? Ah, it seems I've forgotten to inform you of my true identity. I am not human, (y/n). I am Fae. We age differently compared to humans-"

"Okay, so you're several decades old, but you are mentally tweleve. I'm still too old for you."

"... Silver is my son. I raised him, Sebek, and Malleus from infancy or near infancy."

"And I'm the Queen of Hearts. Lies are still lies, Lilia. No matter how well you spin them."

"No, I'm being serious. I am basically a father of three-"

"Lilia, I'm being serious as well. Stop chasing people older than you. It's not alright to ask someone older than you to sit on your face, okay? You shouldn't even be thinking about these things until way later in life."

You walked from the table, content that you had made your point clear as you went back to your own lunch. Lilia was beside himself with surprise and he couldn't help but look to his three sons for some kind of aid or assistance.

"I am not twelve."

"Father... I've told you, if you insist on acting younger than your age, humans are going to believe you are actually young."

"Then you talk to them, Silver. Or I may have to drag Crowley into this. My youthful appearance should not interfere in my attempts to gain their affections. That would explain why they look at me so oddly whenever I try to proposition them, though. Still, you don't want your dear father to end up a lonely old man do you?"

"Of course not, Father, you would be an excellent match for anyone-"

"Exactly my thoughts! So be a good son and wing-man for your father."

"... This is going to end poorly."

[gay-dorito-dust]

i didn't realise i could just ask here than from messages im so sorry 💀 but im hungry so can you please write some more damian scenarios 😕 (angst/fluff PLEASE 🙏) im sorry if I'm bothering you but i can't get enough of your writing 😔 hope you're taking care of yourself tho!! :)))

This’ll probably seem really short but it’s like almost 10pm and I’m running on fumes and bad mental health days lately 😂

‘What’re you doing my treasure.’ Damian said as he walked into his room, only to find you had let Ace and Titus on the bed and he had to blink twice to make sure his mind wasn’t making up them wearing pyjamas on top of that.

‘Nothing.’ You said nonchalantly as you brought Titus in your arms, cuddling him while he remained looking at his owner.

‘I thought I said none of our pets should be on the bed?’ Damian then said as he gestured to the two dogs that you had let on the bed without his permission as though the situation you both faced wasn’t obvious.

‘I was feeling lonely when you were out on patrol.’ You replied, pouting. ‘That and I was bored and out the dogs in pyjamas to feel included with me being in pyjamas.’ You added as you smiled widely at him. Damian sighed, he shouldn’t be surprised, this was bound to happen sooner or later since you still had a couple more weeks to heal your leg before being cleared for vigilante work again.

So naturally you are going to rope in Titus and Ace one way or another in your shenanigans much like you did with Jerry and Goliath when you had hurt your arm, Damian almost lost his mind trying to find you only to find you fast sleep stop of Goliath, with Jerry acting on guard in front of you both. It was certainly a humorous sight had he not been on high alert when he couldn’t find you in bed upon his return from a mission with Bruce.

‘You could’ve waited until I came back my beloved, I don’t want you hurting your self further just trying to entertain yourself.’ Damian lightly scolded you as he walked over to your side of the bed, kissing you on the forehead before greeting -and thanking- ace and Titus with head pats and ear scratches, as an almost missable smile graced his face upon seeing the two dogs poetically melt into his scratches.

This was the sight he loved most when coming home and he always wanted to come home to this as many times as he could in the nearby distant future.

‘I’ll be fine Dami,’ you said softly as you reached out to hold his cheek in your hand, ‘I’m not doing anything that’ll cause me any discomfort or more pain then I’m already in and that I’ve been in really good company.’ You gesture towards ace and Titus who would press themselves against either of your sides, acting as living crutches for you when you tried to move about the room and down the halls, they’d even look up at you as though to silently ask if you were okay and if you needed to sit down soon.

You knew Damian was behind this and couldn’t help but bring him into a tender to his forehead. ‘Thank you.’ You whispered.

‘For what my treasure?’ He asks softly as he manages to settle himself on the edge of your shared bed.

‘For having ace and Titus look out of me when you’re gone, sometimes I forget how well you know me to know that I’d get restless when healing.’ You said as you patted both dogs on their sides in appreciation as they both decided that they had gotten comfortable enough to start falling asleep. Neither you nor Damian had the heart to tell them to get off, and silently decided that one night every so often could Ace and Titus could share the bed with you and Damian.

‘Like you said I know you, better then most, and I’d like it more if you didn’t go and get yourself hurt from trying to do something beyond your current capability.’ Damian admitted softly as he began to get into more comfortable sleepwear to join you, Titus and ace in bed by climbing into your side of the bed and holding you again his chest upon seeing as how Titus and ace took up his side of the bed.

‘How sweet of you my dear.’ You said cheekily as you kissed his hand that rested on your side before yawning.

‘Sleep my love,’ Damian said softly as he watched you rest your weary and heavy head upon his chest, ‘sleep sweetly.’ He adds just as you succumb to long awaited sleep as he kissed your forehead, only to follow after you not long after being certain that you’d wouldn’t be bothered anymore before joining you in the dream realm either Titus and Ace.

[rafeys-sweetie]

𝐖𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐬 - 𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐭

(I wasted my half of my summer tryna hold on your hand)

[ Reader x JJ Maybank. ]

౨ৎ

You have never fit in with the kooks, never. Not once in your life. Cause you weren’t stuck up asshole who thought poor people were ‘lazy’. You weren’t selfish.

You didn’t shit on people from the cut for having small houses- or not having the newest car. Cause why would you?

I guess that’s what made you stick out like a sore thumb, you never though you were meant to be a kook you mother always had said that too. You had empathy so much fucking empathy it’s not necessarily a bad thing but it’s certainly not a good thing when it can be used against you. Makes’ you naive.

Your entire life you’ve never really had friends I mean who would you didn’t like partying, you weren’t interested in drinking or smoking or even boys. It’s not like you didn’t wanna be loved cause you did.

Really badly.

I guess that’s what you were thinking about in this moment - you wouldn’t be here, your head wouldn’t be pounding and your ribs would hurt every time you took a breath. You just had to fuck up your cycle. Before this-before him… Your life was okay, and now you’re so fucked.

౨ৎ

Your whole life you felt comfortable being alone, plus you were never alone when you had art. Right? Art helped you express yourself it always had even as a little kid, and you’re pretty damn good at it.

Every art teacher you’ve ever had made sure you knew that, it gave you a sense of faith.

To say you were completely friendless was a stretch - you had people you talked with. But it was safe to say you were never invited to the sleepovers or the birthday parties, it hurt more back then and now you’ve gotten over it.

You’re weird and a loner and that’s just what you need to accept, you will always be like that. Maybe things would be different if you weren’t a kook.

You took deep breaths smelling-almost tasting the nice crisp ocean breeze as the salty wind blew your hair and the sun was starting to cast a golden hour right before it would start setting.

Your toes against the sand grounded you and it made you forget all your troubles, in another life you’d like to think you had something special with the ocean perhaps you were an animal that lived in it.

You finally found a good spot, putting down your hand crochet purple beach bag. Gently spreading out your soft pink towel and getting your camera equipment.

Photography was another beautiful thought of art, how you could capture the perfect sunset on camera.

Meanwhile.

“All im saying is I’d rather have two tongues then three eyes. You know what I could do with two tongues-“ The blond exclaimed as he winked at John B then Kie gently and playfully smacked the back of his head.

“Ow!” “Stop saying stupid shit JJ-“ Sarah said helping John B light the bond fire.

They all just kinda let out a good laugh, more pogues started piling in. It was nice for once just to have a pogue party on the beach- plus sun was setting soon. JJ started rolling a blunt while softly mumbling the song playing on the speaker.

About 30 minutes past, just lots of pogues drinking sitting by a fire having a good time. Although JJ, John B, Kie, Sarah, and Pope.

You had notice there was a party going on down the other side of the beach, but as the sun fully set you had gotten all your good pictures and just decided to just go home. Your car was parked just up the stairs away from the party. You made your way over.

As you walked you were just thinking to yourself, I mean be honest when weren’t you.

“Yo. Yo, Pope. You see that? Tell me I’m not hallucinating, bro.” The blond said grinning like he just found 200 dollars on the ground.

“That’s a full-on dime walking in slow-mo like it’s a music video or somethin’. That’s… that’s Baywatch in real life, dude. I’d tap that.” “Ew JJ what the fuck?” Kie said slightly laughing.

Sarah looked and squinted. “That’s Y/n, she goes to my school. She’s quiet I’ve never seen her talk to any one but the art teacher, rumored she’s sleeping with him.”

“Swear. Whole school talks about it.” Pope raises his brows. John B whistles low before Pope spoke. “Damn. Seriously? Sounds like drama”

“Or a challenge, depending on who you ask.” John b said while JJ just keeps watching, grin slowly forming, eyes never leaving you and your body.

“She looks like she wants someone to ruin her night.”

John B laughed hard. “JJ—dude—chill.”

Sarah smirked hitting the blunt. “She wouldn’t touch you if you were the last guy on the Cut. She probably doesn’t even know what a hookup is.”

Leans forward, cocky fire in his eyes. “Bet I could be her first.”

Everyone goes quiet for a second. Then the boys burst out laughing. Pope chokes on his drink.

“You’re outta your mind.” John B said shaking his head. “No way. She’s like… a nun with social anxiety.” Sarah chimed in.

“Exactly. All the more fun. Four weeks. I sleep with her. No strings. One night. If I win, y’all stop calling me reckless and start calling me a legend.”

“And if you don’t?” Pope spoke.

“You have to buy the rest of us blunts all summer. And you owe me your board for the whole summer.” Sarah said making Kie roll her eyes before piping in. “That’s so fuc-“

eyes never leaving your figure as she sits alone at the edge of the party, sipping a soda and sketching or some shit. “Deal.” JJ cut off Kie.

“Operation Defrost the Virgin starts now.” And with that, he heads toward you game on.

The bonfire’s glow stays behind you as you walk slowly up the sand, camera dangling from your neck, fingers brushing sand off your thighs. Your mind’s still half-lost in the shot you just captured sun dipping behind the pier, sky on fire. You hadn’t meant to wander this far into Pogue land. It felt… wrong. Like walking into someone else’s house uninvited.

You tug your hoodie tighter around your waist. You’re used to looks. Judgments. Kooks think you’re too weird, too quiet. Pogues probably think you’re a spoiled rich girl slumming for a vibe. You don’t belong anywhere and you’ve made peace with that. Almost. Then you hear it sand shifting behind you. Footsteps.

You turn slightly, just enough to glance. Blonde hair, backwards cap, low-slung grin. JJ Maybank. You know who he is. Everyone knows who he is. Trouble wrapped in tan skin and broken rules. He shouldn’t be talking to you. And yet…

“Didn’t think the sunset needed a paparazzi tonight.” He said lightly making sure you don’t bolt. You don’t stop walking. Not yet. But your eyes flick his way.

“Didn’t think Poguelandia let Kooks walk the beach…” You said softly staying friendly. JJ whistles low, mock impressed, falling into step beside you. “She speaks. And she’s got claws. I like that.” You don’t smile. You don’t slow. But you don’t tell him to leave, either. “I was just getting pictures. I’ll leave, I’m sorry.”

“Nah, nah, don’t go just yet. I mean we could act like you trespassed and I’m gonna throw you in the ocean or whatever…” he leans in slightly, grin lazy

“…but personally? I think it’s kinda hot when girls break rules.” You roll your eyes, finally stopping, the sand cool beneath your bare feet. You face him now. Fully. The fire behind him lights up the cut of his jaw, the flicker in his eyes.

“What do you want?”

You don’t say it mean. Just tired. You’ve been flirted with before. Never seriously. Never by someone who looked straight at you like they weren’t scared of what you might say back. JJ tilts his head, mock offended. “Maybe I just wanna talk to the pretty girl with the camera. Ever think of that?”

“No one ever just wants to talk to me.” “Yeah, well. I’m not no one.” It’s quiet for a second. The ocean hums. The party’s distant now, like it exists in another world.

“What were you shooting?” He said softer now. Made you almost smile, someone wanted to hear about your art? For once…

“Sky. Light. I like when things are fading it’s when they look the most alive.” He actually pauses at that. Something shifts behind his eyes. It only lasts a second before the grin’s back. “Okay, damn. You’re, like… an actual artist or somethin’. That’s badass. You always talk like that?”

“Only when no one’s listening.” JJ chuckles, looking at you like you’re a puzzle with a secret prize inside. “You’re something else.” You narrow your eyes.

You slow your pace a little, not used to compliments that don’t come with a smirk or an agenda. Your voice dips, quieter now. “I guess. I don’t really show people my stuff.” “Why not? Sounds kinda dope.”

You glance down, toeing the sand, fingers curling around your camera strap. There’s a faint blush in your cheeks not from the heat. “People don’t usually care. Or they pretend to, just to get something out of it.”

That hits a nerve in JJ. You’re not playing hard to get. You’re just… not used to being wanted for anything real. He watches you for a second longer than he meant to. “…I’m not pretending.” You look at him then. Really look. The bonfire behind him turns his features golden and soft around the edges, but there’s still that spark in his eyes reckless, alive. Dangerous. “…Then what do you want?”

Your voice is small. Soft. But not naive. You’ve been around enough to know boys like JJ don’t walk up without wanting something. Your fingers twitch at your camera strap, shoulders just barely tense like you’re bracing for whatever game he’s about to play.

JJ steps a little closer. Not enough to crowd you—but enough to test it. His voice drops just a little, not serious, but smoother now. Confident. “I wanna know why the quietest girl in the room takes the loudest damn pictures I’ve ever seen.”

You blink, caught off guard. Your lips part like you’re about to say something, but nothing comes out right away. No one’s ever said it like that before. No one’s noticed anything real.

“And maybe I wanna see if that camera ever catches me lookin’ good. Y’know immortalize the face, poster boy of Pogueland.”

You try to bite back a smile. You really do. But it sneaks out anyway small, shy, the kind that tugs at the corners of your mouth and makes your cheeks warm.

“You’re ridiculous.” “Yeah, but I’m also right here. Talking to you.” “That’s gotta count for something, right?”

You look at him again. Really look. He’s golden in the firelight shirt a little loose, hair messy, lips tilted like he already knows you’re gonna give in eventually. You hate that it’s kind of working.

“You don’t even know my name.” “Y/N. I know you’re into art. I know you dip out of parties before they start, and you’ve got this whole tortured-artist-hot-girl-ghost vibe going on. And I know every dude at this bonfire’s too scared to talk to you, which means—”

He takes one step closer, close enough now that you can smell salt and smoke on him “—you’re either gonna run the second I try, or you’re gonna surprise me.” You swallow. Hard. He’s magnetic in the worst possible way. “…And if I do?” “Then maybe you’ll let me take you for a ride sometime.”

Your eyes flick up, meeting his. He knows exactly what he’s doing. That boyish charm, the trouble behind it you should walk away. But instead, you just cross your arms, voice quieter now. “You always this smooth?” “Only when it counts.”

A beat. The ocean crashes behind you, the fire crackles in the distance, and for a second, you almost forget where you are.

“…You want my number or something?”

JJ’s grin spreads like wildfire. He holds out his hand like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “Phone. Now. Before you change your mind.”

You roll your eyes, but your hand dips into your hoodie pocket anyway, pulling out your phone and passing it over. JJ takes it, punches in his number with a cocky flourish, then holds it up like a trophy.“There. Now you’ve officially been corrupted by the worst Pogue on the island. No refunds.”

He hands it back, winks.

“I’ll text you. Don’t ghost me, Bambi .” And with that, he backs away, walking toward the fire without even looking back like he already knows you’ll be thinking about him all night.

౨ৎ

You had been texting JJ for two ish days now, he was funny. Your first friend? You even mentioned him to your parents at dinner and they bombarded you with question. Not that you minded they were just happy you had a friend. And now he invited you out today after you mentioned needing to go on the horizon and get some more pictures for class. You happily accepted his invite.

You told yourself you weren’t going to check your phone. You even turned it over on your nightstand after he texted you, acting like that would help you forget about it. But you didn’t delete the messages. You didn’t block his number. And the second your phone buzzed again around noon, you were already grabbing it before the screen lit up.

you ready? i’m outside. don’t flake on me Bambi.

You stood in front of the mirror for a full five minutes, staring at yourself like you didn’t recognize the girl in it.. Casual outfit Comfortable. But the gloss on your lips? That was new. For him? Maybe. You’d lie if anyone asked.

When you stepped outside, he was already leaning against the dirtbike, helmet hanging from one handlebar, one boot planted in the sand like he owned the island. His sunglasses were pushed up into his hair, shirt loose and half unbuttoned, chain catching the light at his collarbone. He looked like summer and danger rolled into one. And he was watching you like he’d already undressed you in his mind.

“Look at you,” he said, eyes sliding from your legs up to your face like it was a slow, deliberate scan. “Didn’t think you’d actually show.”

You shrugged, biting back a smile, trying to keep your voice even. “Didn’t think you’d be on time.”

“I wasn’t,” he grinned, stepping closer, fingers brushing your wrist as he took your camera bag from you like it was nothing. “I just got lucky.”

He handed you the helmet without asking if you’d ever been on a bike before. He didn’t need to. The way he looked at you said he expected you to keep up and part of you wanted to prove you could.

The ride was wild. Wind in your hair, arms wrapped tightly around his waist, the roar of the engine making your heartbeat sync with his. He didn’t say where you were going, and you didn’t ask. You just held on, pressed tight against his back, the warmth of him bleeding into you with every curve of the road.

By the time he parked near an old dock on the south side half hidden by trees, long abandoned you were flushed, breathless, and your thighs ached from holding on. But JJ? He looked completely at ease. Smirking as he watched you climb off, your hair a mess, lips parted slightly as you tried to catch your breath.

“You good?” he asked, tilting his head, eyes lingering on your mouth.

You nodded, brushing hair from your face. “Barely.”

He laughed and tossed the helmet onto the seat, already walking toward the dock like this was his secret place. The sun was starting to dip, casting everything in gold, and you followed him, camera swinging at your side, not sure if you wanted to shoot the light or him.

He sat on the edge, legs hanging off the side, then patted the space next to him. You hesitated, just for a second, then dropped beside him, close enough to feel the heat off his skin but not touching. Not yet.

“So,” he said after a long stretch of silence, “you ever let anyone see your work?”

You blinked, surprised. “Not really.”

He looked over at you, serious for once. “Why not? Bet it’s better than half the shit Kooks put on their walls to look deep.”

You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, cheeks warm. “It’s personal. People don’t usually get it.”

“Try me.”

His voice was low now. Not teasing. Not mocking. Just… there. Present in a way most people weren’t with you. You didn’t answer right away. You looked out at the water, camera resting in your lap, hands curled tight around the strap.

“You know… You’re not what I expected,” you said quietly, not looking at him.

He leaned back on his palms, body stretching just enough that his shoulder brushed yours. “That a good thing or a bad thing?”

You turned your head slightly. “Not sure yet.”

JJ laughed under his breath, eyes locked on yours, and something shifted. The space between you tightened like a thread pulling taut. His knee bumped yours. You didn’t move. His eyes dropped, just for a second, to your lips and you saw it. That flicker. That want. It wasn’t subtle. And it wasn’t sweet.

“You’re really not scared of me?” he asked, voice low, rough.

You blinked slowly. “Should I be?”

His smile curved lazy and slow, but his eyes stayed dark. “Maybe.”

He didn’t kiss you right then. He could’ve. The air between you was thick with it, hot and heavy and crackling with everything unspoken. But he didn’t rush it. He just leaned in a little closer, voice a whisper now.

“You gonna let me shoot sometime?” he asked. “Like, behind the camera? Let me see you how you see everything else?”

Your breath caught. You hated how much he got to you. How fast. How easy.

“Only if I get to make you my new subject for my camera angles and techniques class.”

JJ smirked, biting his lip like he was trying not to say something dirty. But the tension in his jaw, the way his eyes slid over your legs then back to your mouth he wasn’t hiding anything.

“Deal,” he said softly. “But don’t blame me if I end up being your favorite subject.” You guys shifted to get more pics on the water.

You’re sitting next to him on the edge of the dock, camera in your lap, legs dangling above the water. The air’s heavy with salt and heat. JJ hasn’t shut up since you got there, but for once, he’s not running his mouth just to hear himself talk. He keeps sneaking glances at you, waiting for something. Maybe a laugh. A look. Anything.

He nods toward the camera. “So what, that thing your security blanket or something?”

You turn your head slowly. “I shoot with it. I don’t sleep with it.”

JJ smirks, leaning back on his hands. “Could’ve fooled me. You’ve been clinging to it like you think I’m gonna snatch it and run.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time someone used it to fuck with me.”

“Shit,” he says, laughing under his breath. “Now I gotta earn your trust and camera privileges? Harsh.”

You roll your eyes, but the corner of your mouth twitches.

He sits up and reaches a hand out. “Come on. Let me try it.”

You hesitate. A second too long.

He raises a brow. “What, I look like I’ve got butterfingers?”

“No. You look like you’d take a picture of your dick and call it art.”

He lets out a short laugh and shakes his head. “Okay, that was kinda funny. But seriously. Gimme a crash course or something. I’m curious.”

You stare at him. He’s cocky. Loud. Always saying more than he should. But right now, he actually seems like he wants to learn. Or at least impress you. Either way, you hand it over, adjusting the strap before he wraps it around his neck.

You scoot closer, guiding his fingers across the buttons. Your hand brushes his. His skin is warm, rough. He doesn’t move away.

“Hold it like this. Elbows in. Frame it before you shoot-don’t just start clicking like an idiot.”

JJ glances at you, lips twitching. “Bossy.”

“You asked.”

You show him how to focus, how to meter the light. He’s listening, surprisingly. Then, right when you’re adjusting the lens, he raises the camera and snaps.

You blink. “Did you just take my picture?” He shrugs like it’s nothing. “Yeah. So?”

“Delete it.”

JJ didn’t even look guilty. In fact, he looked proud. He held the camera like it was a trophy, turning it toward himself to check the screen, smirking.

“Relax. It’s not like I sold it to Vogue.”

“Delete it.”

“Nope.”

You stepped forward, hand out. “JJ.”

He raised the camera above his head like a dick. “You really hate pictures of yourself that much?” “I don’t hate them,” you muttered, avoiding his eyes. “They’re just… never good.”

He tilted his head, studying you like you were a sketch he couldn’t figure out. “That’s bullshit.”

You didn’t answer. Just stared at the dock beneath your feet like maybe the cracks in the wood were more interesting than him calling you out like that. You’d heard people say it before some fake compliment after an Instagram post or a “you’re so pretty though” from girls who didn’t mean it. But the way he said it was different. Direct. Brutal. Like he actually believed it and couldn’t understand why you didn’t.

“Look at it,” he said.

You shook your head.

He stepped forward, closer than before, holding the camera in front of you. Not shoving it in your face, just… there. Waiting.

You hesitated. Then you glanced down.

The picture wasn’t what you expected. It wasn’t posed. You weren’t even looking at the lens. Hair messy, mouth slightly open, a little caught off guard. But somehow… you didn’t hate it.

You looked like someone real. Not some polished, Instagram-filtered version of a girl you were pretending to be. You looked like you.

You didn’t say anything.

JJ didn’t gloat. He just leaned in a little. “You gonna admit it’s not the worst thing in the world?”

He smirked, then dropped the camera strap back around your neck. “Keep it. Frame it. Or burn it. Whatever.” You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the way your pulse picked up. “I’m not framing a photo you took like a creep.”

“You’re welcome.”

You were already turning away when he added, low and lazy behind you, “It’s weird, right? When someone sees you and it doesn’t suck.”

You froze for half a second. Then kept walking.

But later, back home, you scrolled through the photos. And you paused on that one. The one he took when you weren’t ready, when you thought you’d look like shit.

You didn’t delete it. You saved it. Quietly. Without thinking about it too hard. And you definitely didn’t tell anyone. Especially not him. But it made you smile, you’d made a mental note to save the picture to you phone when you got home.

౨ৎ

JJ: u still hoarding that pic of yourself or did u print it out and glue it in your diary with lil hearts around it

You: funny. it’s actually framed on my ceiling so i can fall asleep to the trauma of being perceived

JJ: hot u should put it on a shirt i’d wear u to class

You: okay i walked right into that one

JJ: nah u sprinted face first arms open probably moaning a little

You: you’re actually the worst

JJ: yeah but like the type of worst u think about when u’re bored and in bed and maybe a little feral

You: are you drunk

JJ: nah i’m just in my feelings and also kinda hard but that’s unrelated

You: you’re disgusting

JJ: you like it tho bet u’re blushing right now

You: i’m not

JJ: liar

ur totally doing that lip-bite-over-the-phone thing u do when ur trying not to smile

You: ok stalker

JJ: photographic memory. saw it once. locked in forever.

anyway

wanna go on a date

like a real one

no cameras, no acting weird, just us ;)

You: that sounds illegal

JJ: relax. not like formal more like i buy u fried food and say inappropriate things at a sketchy dock

You: wow you really know how to charm a girl

JJ: i know it’s a curse but yeah

The Wreck

tomorrow night

you in or are u gonna fake a family emergency and disappear

You: i’ll come, but if you say one more thing about wearing me as a shirt i’m leaving

JJ: no promises i already got the neckline planned out super stretchy

deep V

You: blocked.

JJ: lmao see u tomorrow, Bambi

You: goodnight, menace

JJ: sweetest dreams don’t get to wet or drool too hard thinking about me 🫩.

౨ৎ

You hadn’t meant to spend that long getting ready. It wasn’t like it was some big event. Just JJ. Just fried food and bullshit. But still you caught yourself checking the mirror more times than usual. Fixing your gloss. Reapplying mascara. Not because you cared, obviously. Just because… you wanted to look good. If he noticed, whatever.

When you stepped outside, he was already leaning against the bike like it was a throne and he was the cocky little king of this trash kingdom. Shirt open just enough to be intentional. Hair a mess like he’d just run his hands through it a hundred times. He looked at you, eyebrows lifting as his eyes swept down, then back up lingering.

“Holy shit,” he said, whistling low. “You trying to kill me before we even leave?”

You didn’t answer. Just shot him a look that said try harder as you took the helmet.

“I feel underdressed,” he added, still not taking his eyes off you.

“You look like you just rolled out of the ocean and put on someone else’s shirt.”

“Exactly. It’s called effortless. Look it up.”

The ride to The Wreck was loud and fast, wind cutting through the silence between you. You kept your arms a little tighter around him this time not because you needed to. Just because you wanted to see if he’d notice.

He did.

When you got there, he killed the engine and turned his head just enough for his voice to carry over his shoulder.

“Didn’t peg you as a ride-a-bike-without-complaining type. Kinda hot.”

You slid off, pulling the helmet off without looking at him. “You think everything’s hot.”

“Only when it is.”

Inside The Wreck, the lights were low and warm, the smell of grease and sea salt in the air. JJ walked ahead, nodding to a couple people like he owned the place, then grabbed a booth near the back. You slid in across from him, resting your elbows on the table, eyes flicking around.

“So. This your go-to date spot?”

“Nah. Usually I just charm girls in the woods and get chased by the cops.”

“How romantic.”

“I try.”

He looked at you for a second. No jokes. Just looked. Then his grin came back like he couldn’t help himself.

“You clean up dangerously well, by the way. Kinda makes me wanna get into trouble.”

“Only kinda?”

“Gimme another ten minutes, I’ll be full criminal.”

The server came. He ordered like he’d done it a hundred times, barely looking at the menu. You kept it simple, watching the way he leaned back in the booth like there wasn’t a single part of him that ever got nervous.

“So what’s the deal with your friends?” you asked, casually picking at the straw wrapper on the table.

JJ raised a brow. “What, you doing recon now?”

“Just curious. You talk about them like they’re a circus.”

“Because they are a circus. John B’s got main character syndrome, Pope thinks too much, and Sarah’s basically a pretty war crime.”

“And you?”

“I’m the fun one. The problem. The party in a hurricane.”

You let a small smile slip. “At least you’re self-aware.”

“I’m very self-aware. Like, to a dangerous level. That’s why I’m fully aware that if you keep looking at me like that, I’m gonna end up saying something inappropriate.”

“I’m literally just looking.”

“Yeah. And it’s fucking me up.”

He reached across the table, casually stealing a piece of ice from your water and popping it in his mouth.

“Why haven’t I seen you around more? Kooks throw parties like it’s a competition, but you never show.”

“I don’t like pretending to be someone I’m not.”

JJ pointed at you with the straw. “See, that right there? That’s why I wanted to hang out. Everyone else is out here trying to perform. You don’t. You just… exist. Like a ghost. A really hot, intimidating ghost.”

“Should I be flattered or insulted?”

“Both. Definitely both.”

Your food came. You started eating. He kept talking. You let him, because somehow, it didn’t feel like noise. It felt like something else. Like someone peeling back layers without asking permission but doing it so confidently you didn’t stop him.

“So what’s your type?” he asked, halfway through his sandwich.

“You’re fishing.”

“I’m scouting. There’s a difference.”

You paused, looked him dead in the eye. “Not you.”

He grinned like you just gave him a challenge he couldn’t wait to lose.

“That’s cold,” he said, licking sauce off his thumb. “Lucky for you, I’ve got zero shame.”

“And even less self-control.”

“Exactly. Which makes this whole situation way more fun.”

You leaned back, letting your knee nudge his under the table just slightly. Barely a touch. He noticed. And for a second, he stopped talking.

Then he smiled. Slow. Dangerous. “Yeah,” he said, voice low. “This was a good idea.”

You stepped out of The Wreck into the humid night air, the buzz of crickets and low ocean wind filling the silence. JJ stretched his arms above his head like he hadn’t just devoured half the menu.

“That food was so good I might black out,” he said, letting his arms drop with a lazy grin. “If I pass out, just roll me into the sand and leave me.”

“Very dignified.”

He looked at you sideways, that grin still sitting lazy on his mouth. “I’m full, sun-drunk, and surrounded by a very hot, very complicated girl. Let me live.”

You didn’t say anything. Just kept walking with him down toward the waterline, the dock lights from The Wreck glowing behind you. Your camera bag thumped against your side as you kicked your shoes off and let the tide wash over your feet.

JJ followed without hesitation, shoes in hand, jeans already soaked at the ankle. His shoulder brushed yours once. Then again. Not an accident.

“Alright,” he said, suddenly louder, playful again. “So, scale of one to ten—how much did I crush that date?”

You pretended to think. “You didn’t crash the bike. Or throw up. So, like, a seven.”

“A seven?” he clutched his chest dramatically. “That’s cold. I made you laugh three times. That’s bonus points.”

“I was laughing at you.”

“Still counts.”

You turned toward him slightly, a small smile tugging at the edge of your mouth. He was standing closer now. Not obnoxiously close. Just enough that you could feel it. The warmth. The weight of him.

The silence settled for a beat.

Then he said it.

“You know I wasn’t expecting this to be fun, right?”

You raised a brow. “What, hanging out with someone who doesn’t exist for your entertainment?”

He smirked, but it didn’t reach all the way. “I dunno. Thought you’d be stiff. Bored. Maybe a little bitchy.”

“And?”

“And you kinda are,” he said, his voice dropping just slightly, “but in a weird way, I like it.”

You rolled your eyes and turned back toward the ocean. But your heart was beating faster.

JJ was quiet for a second, like he was trying to figure something out. Then—

“This started off as a game,” he said, suddenly not looking at you.

You blinked. “What?”

“Not like that.” He looked over at you again, expression unreadable now. “I mean… yeah. Kind of like that. But then you showed up. And now I’m standing in the ocean wondering if I’m gonna fuck it up if I kiss you.”

You stared at him. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t laugh it off. Just stood there, letting it hang in the air between you.

“Then don’t fuck it up,” you said, barely above a whisper.

JJ stepped forward. No hesitation now. His hand slid around the back of your neck, thumb brushing just under your jaw like he’d been thinking about it for a while. And then he kissed you.

Slow. Firm. A little messy. Like he couldn’t believe you let him.

And you kissed him back.

Because maybe for just a second you didn’t care if it started as a game.

Maybe now, it wasn’t one anymore.

When he pulled back, his forehead hovered against yours, breath warm and uneven.

“Shit,” he whispered. “That was—”

“Shut up.”

He smiled against your mouth.

And kissed you again.

౨ৎ

JJ had been dropping hints for days.

Not subtle ones either.

“John B said I’ve made you up, so now I’ve got to prove you’re real.”

“You’d like Kiara. She’s scary. You’d bond over judging me.”

“You, me, the hot tub. Pope’ll make fun of us, Sarah’ll be nosy—it’ll be great.”

You kept dodging it. Half because crowds made you anxious, and half because you knew his world was different. Tight-knit. Loud. Messy. And yours? Wasn’t.

But after another night of talking—this time about his dad, which surprised even him—you caved.

It started when he showed up outside your place again, propped against the bike, hands in his hoodie pocket like he hadn’t just said something that made your chest twist.

“He’s not a dad. He’s a punchline with a beer gut and a bad attitude.”

You’d asked if he hated him.

He said no.

Then said yes.

And didn’t explain.

He’d looked down for a minute, picking at his sleeve. Then he glanced at you again, but softer this time.

“Anyway. That’s why I don’t bring people around. Unless they matter.”

It hit different.

And maybe that’s why you finally texted back the next morning.

Fine. I’ll come.

The sun was setting when JJ pulled up to the Château. You’d already dressed just a hoodie thrown over your bikini, towel in hand, heart trying to beat out of your chest.

He whistled when he saw you, eyes dropping just for a second. “If my friends don’t believe you’re real, they’re gonna shit themselves when they see you in that.”

You rolled your eyes, but you smiled too. “Try not to drool. It’s embarrassing.”

“You’re lucky I’m not wearing gray sweatpants right now.”

“You’re lucky I showed up at all.”

He grinned, kicked the kickstand up, and held his hand out. “Let’s make it worth it then.”

The Château was exactly what you expected. Loud. Half-broken. A little chaotic in every corner—but weirdly warm. Like it had life soaked into the walls. You could hear voices from the backyard before you even made it past the door.

When you stepped out and the hot tub came into view, four heads turned at once.

“Holy shit,” Pope said, eyebrows up. “She exists.” (They all acted shocked as if they weren’t there when the bet was made although they have dropped it since JJ’s happiness went up these past for weeks of going on dates with you.)

“No way,” Kiara muttered. “She’s actually hot? JJ wasn’t lying for once?”

“Hey,” JJ shot back. “I never lie when I’m horny. That’s, like, sacred.”

Sarah laughed and stood, already stepping over with a hand out. “You’re Y/n, right? You’re so quiet I remember we had chem together freshmen year. I didn’t think you were gonna show.”

You nodded, a little overwhelmed, but trying to keep your cool. “He wore me down.”

“Classic,” Kiara said, grinning. “That’s how he got us too.”

You sat on the edge of the hot tub, hoodie still on, legs dangling in the warm water. JJ slid in next to you like it was his own personal throne, arm casually brushing against your thigh.

John B leaned back in the water, hand over his chest like he was dying. “I deadass thought she was a hologram.”

“She’s not,” JJ said, glancing up at you. “She’s just too good for us.”

That made everyone shut up for a second.

Just long enough for you to catch it.

The way he said it.

Not like a joke.

Like he meant it.

You shrugged off your hoodie and slid into the tub next to him. His eyes flicked to you for a beat too long before he quickly looked away and said something dumb to Pope, but his hand brushed your knee under the water and stayed there.

The night went on. His friends were loud and funny and didn’t make you feel weird when you didn’t talk much. Kiara cracked jokes that made you snort. Sarah kept complimenting your skin and asking what lip gloss you used. Pope tried to get JJ to do backflips off the dock. John B kept stealing people’s drinks and blaming it on “Pogue tradition.”

And you?

You looked around and realized he was lucky to have them.

But maybe he was lucky to have you too.

Because every time he leaned closer, whispered something just for you, laughed like he meant it he didn’t feel like the JJ everyone talked about.

He just felt like yours.

౨ৎ

After that it just felt like history. You went on more dates and he really liked you like how you really liked him, it wasn’t a bet anymore it was real.

He even secretly got a blessing from your dad to ask you out officially and be your boyfriend. You dad wasn’t strict but you were his baby he trusted this boy and knew you knew right from wrong and granted JJ his full blessing.

JJ Maybank was yours and you were his.

He was a good boyfriend he’d bring you flowers he’s specially stolen out of the garden or crafted them from pipe cleaners (you had taught him that) and covers them in glitter brining you a big one and your mom a little one. He was so sweet.

Mans the first time you guys fucked, god. He was amazing. He was so gentle and so loving he cared about you so much, never wanted you to be in any pain. Just wanted to take care of you.

He wanted to impress you everyday whether that was saving up money to buy you a cute necklace or charm bracelet or just buy showing up on time and giving you his full honest opinion.

Over the month you had gotten super close with his friends to now considering them your friends as well, you lived and loved how accepting they were into their group, made you wonder if you would’ve found them if you were born a pogue.

You and JJs one year was coming up soon and for that you just were gonna go to the beach, currently though your with him at your house. Your parents gone. You had just gotten out of the shower.

A big smile on your lips as you thought about how lucky you are to have this life, slowly stepping through the grand halls of your house, your quiet wet feet softly pressing against the cold floors.

You heard his voice on the other side of the door, he sounded mad or upset you couldn’t tell. Something was wrong, you wanted to comfort him without interrupting. You quietly cracked the door open peaking through.

He was on your bed his back to you.

You listened softly your heart shattered as you heard the words - “yeah just like that bet I made I could take Y/n’s V-card. Like some cheap slut from figure eight.”

“what?” JJ froze at the sound of your voice, immediately putting his phone down hanging up.

“N-no Bambi you uh, you misheard me?”

“I was just a bet to you?”

He rushed to your side gently holding your shoulders frantic, he hurt you after promising himself he wouldn’t. But things were different now, you were a bet at first but now you were so much more.

“N-no! no baby I promise your so much more-“

Tears filled your eyes as you ran down the stairs JJ tracking after you, you heart was breaking. Of course the first guy- your first boyfriend-first love, was all fake.

You rushed out the front door throwing your phone striaght at JJ. You heart breaking cries crushing you, he just wanted to hug you and pull you close, kiss you tell you it was okay.

You got far enough away and started your car, you didn’t know where you were going just needed to be far. Far from everything.

On the back roads you were speeding quickly- just so fucking hurt your speed escalating from 70 straight to 90. It all happens so fast.

You abruptly tried to stop as there was a biker in the road but instead your car fell straight into a ditch crashing hard into a tree. All you could hear was a loud beep. And before you knew it. You were fast asleep.

When you woke up you couldn’t remember anything, where were you, who were you? Your coursed as you realized your in a hospital.

“Mrs L/n how are you feeling honey”

“What happened?”

[pimpingthesqueak]

mine.

lads!caleb x fem!reader angsty smut (MDNI)

this one’s a LOONG one so get your popcorn (and your tissues).

synopsis: after your first time in skyhaven and encountering the Farspace Fleet, you had trouble forgiving caleb. but you also had trouble staying away from him.

warnings: ANGST, hurt NO COMFORT (i like pain) this takes place AFTER caleb’s main story branch, but in this timeline the memories after that don’t happen. this is kind of how i think this interaction should have went. caleb just wants you back and you have your reservations. also, im going off of how i think the chip in his brain works. alcohol usage. mentions of death, you rough up caleb a bit. SMUT including oral (fem receiving), p in v smex, caleb begging during sex crying during sex but NOT dacryphilia

thank you so much for the love on my previous fic! if you have any comments, questions or concerns, please let me know! happy reading!

———————

you don’t know why you’re here.

a raggedy bar hidden in an alley somewhere in skyhaven.

you stare at the near empty glass, shifting constantly at on the uncomfortable barstool. you were in skyhaven, for some reason your feet brought you back to skyhaven. no matter how many times you want to forget about this place, you find yourself back at this bar, drowning in booze and waiting.

you wait because you know he will show up.

you didn’t even have to text him; after about 40 minutes, the door opens and you feel it.

he’s here.

you stare down at the bar, even as you feel caleb’s stare boring into your back. the environment here was always quiet, so you look down at your drink as you hear his muted footsteps.

he eventually sits on the stool beside you and orders a drink. “…hi.” he exhales, and it’s shaky.

you don’t reply and he chuckles bitterly. “you know, i almost didn’t come this time.”

“and yet you’re here,” you look up and stare at the bottles lined up on the shelves but you don’t stare at him.

you don’t dare.

your resentment towards him is carefully laid out between the two of you. you thought he was dead for a year, and he made no move to stop that. if it weren’t for the undercover mission you took six months ago, you’d still be in the dark.

“you know i’d never leave you.” that’s why he was here.

“you did leave me.” you bit out. “for a year. i buried you, caleb.”

he clenches his fists and inhales sharply. “we’ve had this conversation before-“

“the one where you say that you leaving was to protect me?” you snap looking at him. “i don’t need your protection!”

“every step you take in this city needs protection.” he hisses and you’re drowning, falling into his galaxy eyes. “you don’t know anything about what goes on here.”

“so tell me! i’m not a kid anymore!” your voice sounds pathetic, you’re pleading.

“you certainly sound like one right now.”

his words have bite and you stare back at the display of bottles across the bar.

“i didn’t…” he sighs and runs a hand through his hair, agitated. “i’m sorry.”

your words are slow and calm, calmer than you felt. “every time i come here, i expect something different, but it’s the same.” you wave the bartender for a check. “i shouldn’t have come.”

he groans your name as you stuff cash into the leather check book and stand. you didn’t get far though, because he grabs your wrist.

“you come to skyhaven when you have bad days.”

“how do you-“

“what happened today?” he looks up at you and you’re lost, lost in those purple eyes you called home once upon a time.

“you’re losing your touch,” you quip humourlessly, after you catch yourself. you try to put some distance between you to by pulling your hand free. “it happened yesterday.”

his grip tightens and he say nothing.

you sigh. “rescue mission on the pier.”

he looks away, freeing you from his piercing stare. you exhale as he cocks his head to the side. “i read about that. 54 saved, 21 injured one casualty.”

“right.” you huff out the word.

“tell me what happened.”

you’re about to protest when he hits you with the colonel stare, the one that had grown man shaking in their boots.

so you sit and you spill. everything in the report and in your memory. how you managed to find the last hostage on the sinking ship.

“i swam through the weirdest currents…” your voice was far away. “she was trapped inside one of the rooms on the ship. i didn’t have an oxygen tank but i just kept thinking if i got to her, getting out would be easier…” you let out a shaky breath.

he says nothing, but his fists were clenched. he probably didn’t like the fact that you nearly drowned but it wasn’t his problem.

“from what you’re telling me, there was no way for you to save her.”

what? “I should have gotten oxygen tanks or a life vest.”

“those would have slowed you down significantly. you probably wouldn’t have gotten that deep if you did.”

anger flares in your gut. “are you saying i’m weak?”

“i’m saying if you decided to, the current would have pulled you under. no one is winning that.” his voice was gentle, like a caress. as if he wasn’t telling you straightforward that you were close to death.

you let out a shaky sigh and put your head in your hands.

“what’s it to you?”

“what?”

“if i died… you would be free of this-“ you wave your hand around the bar. “of us. me.”

he was shaking his head before you could finish. “the thought of losing you… it’s too hard to bear. so whatever form you want to come in, i’ll take.”

“caleb…”

“you know how i feel. don’t act like you don’t.” he’s not aggressive, he states it as a fact.

you didn’t know how to respond.

you knew how you felt. maybe he did too, and that’s why he always comes when you call.

you close your eyes. it was chip into your walls; every time you were around him you found a way to want to forgive him even though he doesn’t deserve it.

“if you want to keep being mad, that’s fine, but as long as you keep coming here, expecting me… i’m going to hope.”

“i may never forgive you,” you whisper.

“i’ll still hope.” his whisper is just as broken as you felt.

you needed to leave him alone. walk out the bar and leave skyhaven, for good.

the thought of never seeing caleb again, your childhood best friend… it clutches your throat and squeezes. your body was setting into panic just thinking about it.

it wasn’t an option.

so you were here. mad as hell that your caleb is gone, but wandering into this bar to get any caleb you’re offered.

after more drinks were drank in silence, the two of you leave in the same uber to his apartment.

the ride was quiet but caleb’s eyes were on you, and yours were avoiding his, staring out the window.

about a block away, his hand rests on your thigh, like it always does. and you rest his head on his shoulder, breathing in his scent like a drug. he smells like your him…if you closed your eyes you could see yourself doing the same thing in another life… with your caleb.

the uber stops in front of his building and the two of you get out.

the ride up the elevator was tenser than usual. on a regular night, you’d already be kissing him, praying that this is the night that he fucks your pain and anger at him out of you. tonight, you were standing at opposite ends of the elevator and your hands were gripping the rail behind you, eyes on the floor.

you had to give it to caleb: he never touches you first. the hand on your thigh was the furthest he’d go. it was always you making the first move. and you haven’t yet and he hasn’t pressured you.

why did this feel different? you came here for a drunk hookup, why wasn’t the alcohol hitting like it usually does?

“we don’t have to…” you look up, and caleb has his arms crossed and is leaning on the other side of the elevator. he was looking at his shoes. “you know we don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

you snort and that’s when you realize you were crying. you quickly wipe any tears, and if caleb noticed, he didn’t comment. “you’re just gonna let me go?” you roll your eyes.

“if that’s what you want.” but his fists were clenched.

“you’ve made it very clear that your wants will always be at war with mine.” you stubbornly set your jaw.

he juts out his and looks at you. “you’ve been coming and going out of skyhaven since then, right? so clearly yours are winning.”

“do you want me to leave?”

“of course not.” his hand rakes through his hair with an agression that makes you cringe. “but i’m not going to sleep with you when you look like the thought brings you to tears.”

the elevator dings, and the doors open, but neither of you move.

“what do you want from me caleb? you hurt me!”

“and im doing everything i can to fix that.” he walks closer and his tone is desperate. “you need to tell me how to remedy this. i hate this. i love you, sweetheart. tell me how to fix this, and i will do it. if you want hit me, punch me, kick me, do it. you’re in pain, because of me. so-“

his hand sharply turns left and you realize from the growing red on his cheek that it’s because you slapped him. hard. his jaw tics, and his eye twitches but he doesn’t do anything.

so you hit him again. a matching red on the other side of his cheek.

his eyes flare up the second time, for a second, then they dull and he stares at you patiently.

fuck him. fuck him, fuck him, fuck him.

you push his chest, and he allows it, taking a few steps back. you push him again, and again and again until his back hits the other side of the car. he grunts but his eyes are locked on yours, drinking you in. this is the most life you’ve had in you since you first left skyhaven, and he was feeding off it, adrenaline pumping the both of you.

you push him into the wall again.

“did that help you calm down?” he goads and your blood boils. before you can register your movements, you’re throwing a punch.

he catches it before it hits his perfect face. “enough, *name*.”

you were just getting started. he could see that. so he drops your hand and you swing again. he dodges it. you go to knee him and his hand blocks it. he wasn’t fighting back, just evading. he almost looked bored. he will never be your caleb.

“fight back!” you grunt.

he doesn’t answer, just blocks another blow.

this is what hurt the most. you were hurting, your depression was worse now more than ever, you actively cried to sleep majority of the week and he… was bored. he didn’t care, this caleb never did. your caleb would have never let this go on for so long.

he catches your hands and you use that to bring him down to your level and smash your head against his.

stars dance into your vision and you sway but you catch yourself on the railing. the alcohol didn’t help the dizziness but you look over at him and see him holding his head. at least you hurt him.

he groans and you stand straighter, fat angry tears streaming down your face.

“i only go to that stupid bar because i know you’ll come find me,” you spit and rub the pain out your forehead. “if you don’t care, stop going to the fucking bar.”

he groans in reply, but you keep going.

“i don’t know what this is… or who you are, but you’re not …my caleb.”

“what are you talking about?” he grunts and rubs his eyes.

“you don’t care. since you’ve you’ve been back you never care! you’re like a robot. that’s why i don’t understand why you keep coming to see me when you’re just gonna be cold and distant.”

his pain is muted by your words. he looks at you and you freeze in your spot. his glare had a million emotions flashing through them as he steps towards you.

hurt.

anger.

doubt.

confusion.

lust.

something crackles in the air and you step back. he unblinkingly takes another step. you back up until he’s towering over you and your pressed against a wall. his gaze was heavy on yours so you look away. or you try to. his hand grabs you jaw and you’re forced to look at him again. “everything i’m doing here, is for you. to protect you.” he says in a seriousness that gives you no choice to believe him.

but you retaliate, pushing against his chest.

“i don’t want or need your protection.” you snap and his free hand grabs the both of yours and pins them above your head.

“tell me what you need then. you want me out the Fleet? i’m gone. you want the Fleet gone? it’s gone. you don’t want to come up to skyhaven anymore? i’ll bring this whole city down for you.” his eyes were earnest, open like he was telling the truth.

he would bring skyhaven down? for you?

you were speechless. this wasn’t your caleb. but…this caleb still wanted you despite the red cheeks and bruised forehead.

maybe…you could learn to love this caleb.

‘whatever form you want to come in, i’ll take.’

maybe that street ran both ways.

“i don’t want to lose you again,” you admit. “when you’re like that… it feels like you’re already gone.”

he studies you for a moment, his hand sliding down from your jaw. “nothing in this world could take you away from me, pipsqueak.”

the nickname makes your heart leap and take off. there was some part of him in there. he releases your hands and slowly, they fall around his neck. he tenses but his large hands grab your hips and he lets out a shaky exhale before kissing you hard.

you reciprocate immediately, pulling him closer and clutching at his shirt. this was nothing like the other nights where he is calm and collected. he was as needy and desperate as you always felt, it made your heart soar-and your legs clench.

one of his hands reach out and feel around blindly, since he refused to stop kissing you. eventually he finds the door open button, and slams down on it then picks you up. he stumbles out of the elevator with you in his arms and nearly sprints to his apartment. he braces you up against the door while he looks for his keys and you take the opportunity to reach between the two of you and pull at his belt.

he grunts and swats your hands away. “don’t do that.” he jams the key into the door and opens it.

he kicks the door closed and puts (more like throws) you on the couch and kisses your neck, then pushes your shirt up your chest. he gazes as your chest like a meal before pushing the shirt higher, along with the bra. his mouth latches onto your nipple and you cry out holding onto his hair. he grunts in appreciation and lays between your legs.

his tongue swirls around your nipple then bite down, and you arch your back, moaning his name.

he pulls away to give attention to your other nipple, one of his hands gliding down your torso until they find purchase in your jeans. the frenzied hand undoes your jeans and finds your clit, which was already soaked. his fingers tease the little nub and you writhe under him.

you call out his name and his hips buck into the couch and he groans, pulling his mouth off your nipple with a loud pop. his eyes find yours and they’re dark and heavy.

out of no where he nods.

“you’re right.” your breathing picks up as he discards your jeans and makes you sit upright on the couch before kneeling between your legs. his hands rub your thighs as he drinks you in. he slowly opens your legs wider, pulls you to the ledge of the couch and you see his pupils dilate as this focus on the apex between you thighs. he let’s out a shaky exhale and pulls his cock out of his pants. your eyes focus on it and you whine, opening your legs wider as he starts to stroke his shaft. he moans and strokes faster, then reaches out and starts to thumb your clit as he strokes.

this was different from when he pleasured you other times. he was getting of it too, watching your slick build up under his finger, watching your body writhe under him, it made his hand go faster.

your chest heaves as your stomach tightens and he dives in, eating you out like a man starved.

your gasp and cries echo throughout the apartment as his nose nudges your clit while his tongue fucks your entrance. your stomach tightens and you pull his hair as your release comes rapidly.

your back arches as he mumbles into your entrance.

“what?”

he pulls away a millimetre, murmuring “pull it tighter.” and latching onto your clit.

you call his name and both hands snake into his hair and yank, earning an appreciative groan from him.

you were so close.

so was he.

soon your calling out for any gad that will hear and cumming on his face. your slick drenches his chin as he laps you up through your orgasm. you’re twitching and shaking by the time he comes up, and you see him strangling the base of his shaft and breathing hard.

you look at him through unfocused eyes. “something wrong?”

“no, just…” he closes his eyes. “just trying not to cum.”

a small bead escapes the tip of his angry shaft and falls to the floor. once he was sure that he was good he scoops you up and walks to the bedroom, and you squeal and giggle the whole way there.

he drops you onto his bedroom and takes off his shirt, and your hand trails up his abdomen then your nails scrape his chest, earning a hiss and a twitch of his cock.

he smirks, and the sight pulls at your heartstrings, reminding you of a distant memory. you push down the longing as he climbs on top of you. “are you checking me out?”

you roll your eyes and press a light kiss to his lips. “beats whatever you’re doing.”

“i’m admiring. marvelling….” he kisses the valley between your breasts. “plotting.”

you raise your eyebrows and he silences any upcoming questions with a kiss.

your tongues dance as you push his jeans down his legs and grab his ass, earning a gasp then a chuckle from him. “i’m trying to prolong this sweetheart, but you’re not helping.”

you grind your pelvis against him and you grin while he moans. “baby…”

he kisses you again, more desperate this time and nudges your legs apart. “this might… be quicker than usual.” he murmurs and lifts your legs around his hips.

you shiver in pleasure, wrapping your arms around his neck. “it’s okay. i want you. all of you.”

he looks at you with such anguish it makes your breathing hitch. “caleb-“

“promise me you’ll stay.”

your breathing stops all together but he slides into you before you could muster a thought.

your back arches off the bed at he fills you and he moans brokenly into the crook of your neck. he immediately starts to move and it’s slow shallow thrusts. he was hitting deep inside you. your nails crawl down his back.

“every time, i wake up in the morning and you’re gone,” he pants, biting your pulse point. you clench and he grabs the headboard to center himself. after a few moments, he continues thrusting. “i…. i tried waking up earlier. maybe to catch you in the act- fuck- and convince you to stay. but you’re always gone.” he gives you a particularly sharp thrust and you cry out. he looks down at your blissed out face and his body tenses, pleasure running through his body.

“i won’t leave you, baby. never again. i’m always here, right where you leave me. don’t go. we can make this work.” he’s begging now, and you can’t look at him, so you close your eyes and fall to the pleasure. your legs tighten around his waist and your hips start meeting his, and it’s a sight to caleb.

beautiful, he thinks, and memories of his past life with you flood through his head. it brings him down on top of you, and his full body weight on you makes you gasp and your eyes fly open. he adjusts himself onto his elbows and stares down at you, and you can’t look away. he moves again, thrusting into you in a more erratic pace, like he was running low on time.

“things are hard, but give me time baby. i’ll fix this then i’ll follow you to the end of the earth.” he’s babbling and you barely understand what you’re hearing. your stomach is tightening again, so you pull on his hair, making his eyes roll back and he whimpers and thrusts harder.

you moan louder and call out his name.

“we could do this, every night. and in the morning i could make you breakfast…” he moans. “just give me a chance.”

you could see it. you’ve been wanting that life with caleb since you realized that could exist. but things were different now. he’s different now.

he looks into your eyes and you cup his cheeks, catching a wetness on your thumb. the both of you are shocked at this fact but he hides his head in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent and giving you a few more sharp thrusts.

your legs twitch, signalling that you were close. his fingers find you clit and he fucks you desperately. “say yes, baby. i can’t stand another night of waking up without you.”

you were so close, your mouth was open and your nails dug into his biceps, chasing your high. “caleb-yes!”

you cry out as you fall off your peak, cumming hard on his shaft. you saying yes sends him over the edge and he cums with you, shouting your name. you feel his cum flood your walls and your legs tighten around him, as if to keep him there. you look up at him and he’s beautiful and he’s yours for the taking…and you hesitate.

the both of you come down from your high and he pulls you into his arms, not bothering to pull out. he rolls onto his back and the two of you quickly fall asleep with you on top of him. the last thing you feel is him kissing your forehead.

—————

you wake up on your side, with caleb’s giant arms still holding you and his cock still sheathed inside you. the clock read 3:14AM.

you try to untangle yourself but the arms pull you closer making your heart pound. “where you going?” caleb murmurs in your ear. usually the two of you slept on opposite sides of the bed, which made sneaking off easier. you smile softly at him and kiss his cheek. “bathroom.”

“mmph… don’t take too long.” he slowly pulls out of you, making the both of you moan, but let’s you go before his mind and body could fully wake up.

your clothes were still in the living room and you quietly put them back on.

you recall caleb’s sex ridden confession and sigh, sitting on the bed. if you stayed, you could fix this. you and caleb could pick up the scattered pieces of what was left of your relationship together.

you pull your sweater on and press your lips together.

fixing this would mean mourning the old caleb.

you weren’t quite ready for that yet.

you grab your shoes and head for the door.

“you said you’d stay.”

you freeze, then curse and turn.

caleb was standing gray sweatpants, fists stuffed in the pockets. his eyes were on the floor, as if he was expecting this.

“i thought you went back to sleep.” you say softly.

he chuckles once then looks up with a sad smile. “i was never sleeping.”

the two of you were standing in silence, and you were unsure of what to say.

“caleb-“

“you go out that door, i won’t chase you anymore, *name*.” he’s says it like a fact, and with so much certainty that you freeze.

you don’t want that.

“that’s not fair.” you whisper.

“this whole situation is unfair. but i’m the only one trying to repair it.” he clenches his jaw. “i need to move on if you don’t want me.”

you did want caleb. you wanted your caleb. and he was standing here in front of you, but you were going to wake up to Colonel Caleb in the morning, and the traumatic memories of your time in the Farspace Fleet come to your head. your hand grabs the doorknob.

his eyes watch as you twist the know, a thousand emotions flooding through them. hurt, betrayal, anger, so much anger, fear. his chest was heaving and his hands were shaking. he tried to step forward and stumbled onto one knee holding his chest.

he was having a panic attack.

you drop your shoes and run towards him. his body suddenly jolts then he stills. you grab his face and his eyes were rolled back so you smack his cheek a couple times. “caleb? caleb!” his head lols to the side, and he was unresponsive. you weren’t even sure if he was breathing. “please caleb i’m sorry, i won’t go, just wake up!”

you look for your phone to dial emergency services when he gasps and his wide eyes land on you, breathing heavily.

“oh caleb!” you hug him and sob into his neck. “i’m sorry, i’m so sorry.”

he hugs you back with one hand then stands up, setting you upright. you look up at him and your heart sinks as you recognize the robotic look of concern on his face.

“hey, don’t cry. i thought you were leaving? did you need a ride?” he looks at you, and if it weren’t for his tear stained cheeks you’d think that you dreamt the whole interaction.

you step back, wiping your eyes harshly. “no, just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

he shrugs with a light smile. “i’m okay, pipsqueak. people leave all the time. make sure you get home safe.”

you pick up your shoes and head for the door, stifling your tears until you’re on a train back to linkon.

————-

like, repost and share! i’d also love it if you commented a song that this reminded you of. this was kind of inspired by revolving door by tate mcrae

don’t steal.

[idkwhylou]

Darker than death

Summary : You need to think of something else since your mother's death. Seeing you in that short dress of yours gave Rhett an idea to help you.

Rhett Abbott x f!reader

Warnings : dark Rhett kinda ?, smut, rough sex (MY SMUT IS CRINGY SORRY im trying my best lol), mention of death, mention of religion, no y/n

Words : 6K+

A/N : I'm trying to work on smut so sorry if it's not good I'm new with that. Please don't hesitate giving me advices. And reminder that English is absolutely not my first language.

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Royal and Rhett had just finished repairing the last ranch's fences when the two men arrived at the diner not far from downtown. The older man entered and wasted no time going to the restroom while his son walked up to the bar and waited for one of the waitresses to come and attend to him. A tall redhead he'd never seen before greeted him and led him to a table, not forgetting to put down the menus before leaving quickly to attend to another customer. The restaurant was full, almost bursting at the seams. They got lucky to get a seat so quickly. Waiting for his father, Rhett carefully observed the people around him but didn't seem satisfied with what he saw. His eyes roamed every corner of the restaurant, but he couldn't find you in the wave of people. He became impatient, refusing to believe that you weren't working today. He waited all week for this day, looking forward to running into you and your pretty face.

Once Royal returned, he opened the menu and looked at what he was about to eat. Unsurprisingly, both agreed on a double cheeseburger. In an almost ponderous silence, the two men waited calmly. Then, out of nowhere, you arrived. Greeting the two men quickly, you took out your little notebook and pen from one of your apron pockets and smiled at them, waiting for them to announce their order. Rhett couldn't keep his eyes off you. He loved your messy hair up in a bun, from which a few strands escaped. He would have preferred a ponytail though, so he could pull your hair more easily. He imagined his hand in your hair, controlling the movements of your head as you sucked his cock. He visualized you on your knees, there in the middle of the restaurant giving him a head. Those pretty eyes of you, looking up at him through your long lashes as he made you go faster. The sensation of your little mouth on his big cock as you chocked. Fucking your throat till missing air in your lungs must be divine. He shook his head, pushing the thoughts away. 

It had been a long time since you'd seen each other. Rhett looked down at your bare legs, wearing short shorts that hugged your thighs just right. However, he was a little disappointed to see that you'd opted for a simple t-shirt. He couldn't help but give you a smile as you glanced at him before moving away from their table once you took their order. As you walked towards the bar, Rhett was tempted by a misplaced glance. Indeed, your short were also quite tight, he looked for a second at how the clothe made your ass look before definitely turning his head towards his father, deciding he'd seen enough. 

“She seems better...” began Royal, looking at his son. 

The youngest merely nodded, to be honest he hadn't been looking to hear from you that much. Since that day at the church he had another vision of you. He never thought of you that way. You were younger, too pretty and certainly too innocent. You were definitely too good for a man like him, however he liked looking at you from afar. Imagining what he could do with your pretty little body. As his eldest began to discuss the day's program, he was distracted by the image of your ass in those too-short shorts. He couldn't help but follow you with his eyes every time you passed their table. 

Once both had finished their meal, strangely Rhett got up first and quickly made his way to the counter. Royal didn't wait any longer and was already out of the diner, leaving his table to the other customers, heading to his truck to wait for his son. The younger man waited his turn to pay, it wasn't unusual for him to pay for the meal but his father usually did. Today, however, he felt an essential need to do so. 

When the customer in front of him had finished, he couldn't help smiling as your eyes met. He waited peacefully for you to give him the bill, “Busy day huh ?”

You raised your head slightly, “Yeah... but I prefer days like that. It's less boring than waiting for the hours to pass.”

From this angle, he realized that you were much smaller than him, something he'd never really paid attention to. Rhett nodded his head as he paid you, and then said, “Isn't Ashley here ?”. Without even glancing at your form, you replied that she was ill, which was why the redhead had replaced her for the day. “Good for you,” you couldn't help rolling your eyes at his comment. He took the opportunity to look a little at your breasts, and noticed you weren't wearing a bra, he liked that. There was nothing provocative about it, and you certainly weren't looking for cowboys’ attention, but he liked the fact that he could see your nipples through the fabric.

As you returned his change, your fingers brushed the hard hand of the man in front of you for a moment. “You’re coming to the rodeo tomorrow night ?”.

His question surprised you but without hesitation you nodded, “Ash’ will probably come with me”, he sighed and nodded as you gave him a smirk. “See you tomorrow then.”

“Yeah... have a good day Rhett” you replied in a soft voice.

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Rhett had slept horribly and was tired the night of the rodeo. He had no idea or rational explanation as to why his night had gone wrong, but hell now, he was paying the consequences. He had retrained and lost the title of winner, coming in second place. He'd been working like crazy for months to keep that damn prize and now, in a matter of seconds, all those dreams had gone up in smoke. With the money from rodeos and contests, he was trying to raise a certain amount of money to get out of this rotten town once and for all. Between his father, who was becoming more and more unbearable -even execrable with him- and his brother, desperately waiting for his wife's return without doing anything else, he couldn't take it anymore. 

He dreamed of escaping this rat hole, starting all over again and trying to be happy. The reason that stopped or he should say slowed him from leaving was his niece Amy, he didn't want to leave her alone in a family that was falling apart. But he realized by now that he'd never be important enough to tighten the bonds. And now, with tonight's loss, he was even further from his goal. Always one step forward but three steps back huh ? Rhett sighed as he leaned against a post behind him, he had left the track quickly after seeing his score in order to reach the area reserved for participants. The best idea was to wait long enough for his family to return to the ranch, not feeling up to facing his father again tonight. He wiped his hands thinking about what he was going to do. He could go to the bar. But he knew that if he let himself be tempted by a drink, he'd end the night there, or worse in cell. The rage bubbling up inside him was becoming more and more difficult to control, and even more so when he let himself be carried away by the effects of alcohol. 

The young cowboy raised his head and looked around, spotting in the distance the man who now held his winning title. He couldn't help but feel a little jealous, anyway he quickly banished the feeling before he would do something he might regret after. Around him, other participants and organizers were chatting, but he didn't had the strength to join them. He preferred not to stir up the pity of some or the mockery of others. But just when he thought the night couldn't get any worse, he heard an all-too annoying voice in the distance, and without even glancing towards it, he knew Ashley was coming to disturb him. He straightened up, putting his hat back on properly before setting his eyes on the blonde who was about to disturb him for far too long. 

“Sorry Rhett for your defeat...” began Ashley, addressing him with a pout. “You'll do better next time !” he looked at her for a second but his gaze quickly fell on you. 

You were moving silently towards the duo, and the man couldn't help noticing your attire. If your father saw how short your dress was, it would certainly give him a heart attack. He let his eyes wander from your old boots to your cleavage, a little too pronounced for his taste. He shook his head before addressing the girl in front of him, who was already looking at him with a smirk. “Did you dress her like that ?”.

“I thought it would please you, all doll up just for you. I mean you’re the one who wanted her to come, wasn't it ?” she teased.

So you talked to her about it ? Interesting. He didn't add anything since you arrived next to your friend, “They didn’t got any sweet popcorn left Ash’”. The blonde placed one of her arm around your shoulders, assuring you it was no big deal, as Rhett gave you a nod.

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As usual Ashley monopolized the conversation and asked Rhett a whole bunch of stupid questions. You watched the exchange without paying too much attention, until you cut your friend off “Isn't that Arthur over there ?”. 

Without waiting another second, she turned her head and her eyes opened a little wider. She ran a hand through her hair, trying to create some volume. You couldn't help laughing as she asked you in a panic to check that her make-up was intact. The man beside you watched the scene a little indifferent, hoping Ashley would go away for good and quickly. The blonde then kissed you on both cheeks before winking at the cowboy, trotting off towards the famous Arthur a little further on. Once he got rid of your friend, he moved a little closer to you, filling the empty space between you.

“Like that she'll stop bothering you.” You explained, raising your head to look at him. 

A smirk slowly formed, “Did she ask you to wear that ?”. He didn't even have to say anything, you knew he was talking about the dress. 

“Tell me about it,” you sighed. “I'm doing it to please her, don't think I like walking around like that in the middle of a rodeo.” He hummed as you continued, “She's nice, you know. If you gave her a chance, you'd see she's not all bad. And since... well- you know-”

“ -yes ”

“She's very considerate of me.” Rhett had more the impression you were trying to convince yourself but said nothing about it. After a silence you added, “Plus her guys stories are funny, so that keeps me busy a bit.” 

He laughed softly and leaned a little closer to you, letting his gaze slide over your breasts. From where he was, he could see a small part of them, but above all he could see that you were still not wearing a bra. Damn. He did, however, notice a thin necklace with a cross. “I didn't know you went to church.”

You lowered your head, grabbing your necklace to look at it He couldn't help smiling tenderly at you. “Yes, I've been back a few times since... well, you know. It helps a little.”

“You seem to be doing better, you manage ?” in his voice you could heard concern. 

“Yeah, don't worry-”

“-are you sure ?” you looked at him puzzled. Rhett had always been kind to you, but he never really cared. “I mean, I guess it's hard when you lose your mother. But when I see you dressed like-” 

Your dry laugh cut him off. Was he serious ? “I beg your pardon ?”

Your name came out softly, almost like a prayer from his mouth, “You understood what I meant-”

“-well not exactly. First you criticize Ashley and now the way I dress is a problem ? No way.” Anger was slowly building up inside you, his comment had hit you right in the heart. As if the length of your dress had anything to do with how you deal with grief. “Before you question certain things, maybe work on yourself a bit. I find it cheeky of you to criticize Ash’ when you haven't even checked up on me. She may not be the most perfect friend, but at least she makes sure I'm okay.”

You stared at him, eyebrows furrowed, waiting for an answer even though you didn't really care about what he could add. But something deep inside forced you to stay in front of him. Rhett was confused and didn't know what to do. He didn't want to upset you any more than you already were but wanted to express his idea properly. And he couldn’t pretend that seeing you all worked up because if him was kind of exciting. He knew he shouldn’t like that but god, you were so cute when you were mad. “I don't doubt that she's a good friend in your eyes but imagine for two seconds if I wasn't here.” 

You rolled your eyes as you crossed your arms, who do he thinks he is ? “What are you talking about ?”. 

Rhett gulped, your movement caused your breasts to rise, exposing them a little more to his eyes. Trying to compose himself, he quickly resumed, “She just left you to fuck Arthur or whoever. Can you imagine being alone, here at this hour ? I don't doubt your ability to tell a guy to fuck off. But let me doubt on your ability to stand up for yourself with three drunken cowboys.” He watched carefully your reaction then realized quickly you were going to retort again. He dropped your glare and picked up his jacket before handing it to you not wanting to cause a scene. “Now you put this on and I'll take you home.”

You lowered your arms, accepting defeat, and put on the jacket sighing as you started walking away. The image of you in his jacket made him feel possessive. He liked it. The cowboy behind you shook his head, catching you quickly before you went too far into the night. He arrived in front of his truck but didn't even had time to open the door for you before you rushed into the vehicle, not forgetting to slam the door behind you. The man sighed in annoyance and climbed behind the wheel. Turning on the engine, he turned his head towards you in an attempt to calm your anger, but froze when he saw a tear roll down your cheek. You quickly wiped it away, letting out a sniff before turning your head towards the window.

He called your name, but you didn't answer. Hesitantly, he laid a hand on your shoulder to comfort you, if you could call it that. After a moment, you let yourself be carried away and broke down in front of him, curling into yourself and letting your sobs echo in the car. Rhett rushed to pull you against him but you gently pushed him away. However, he left you no choice and took you in his arms, encircling your trembling body and resting his chin on the top of your head, waiting patiently for you to calm down. 

A few minutes passed and you straightened up in your seat. Running a hand over your face, Rhett looked at you intently, not wanting to rush you. Deep down he liked being the only one seeing you that weak. “I'm sorry...”

“You don't have to apologize, I shouldn't have mentioned your-”

“I'm not talking about my mother. That's not why I'm crying.” You cut him off but your explanation confused him more than anything else. You turned your body towards him, looking at him, tilting your head against the seat. “I'm crying because you're right and it’s getting on my nerves. It's stupid to wear a dress that short just to please Ashley. It's just...”

He brought a hand to your cheek, caressing it gently, inviting you to continue. He was right and you were wrong. His gesture was delicate. In no way did he wanted to make you feel uncomfortable or hurt your feelings. He just wanted to make you feel better. Seeing you cry had made his heart ache, and when you looked up at him with your puffy red eyes he wanted to take you back in his arms. 

“I'm sick of everything. I miss my mom, my dad's been drinking all the time since she died, the people in this town make me go slightly mad,... I just want to live my life but everywhere I go people see me as the poor kid who lost her mom. I'm tired of being pitied.”

“You're not pitied. People just try to be nice but they don't realize how heavy it is.” He pressed your cheek lightly trying to comfort you. 

You rolled your eyes and broke the contact between you, moving closer to the door. He didn't like this, but he couldn't say anything. “Even at Church people act like I'm lost and-” you interrupted yourself, sighing for the umpteenth time, ”I don't even know why I keep going there to be honest. My mother was an adherent, that's probably why. I don't know...”

You turned your head towards Rhett again, he was still looking at you and seemed to be really listening to what you were saying. Realizing that you must be annoying him more than anything else, you closed your eyes. “Sorry to bother you with all this, you've certainly got better things to do than listen to me complain.”

He was shaking his head even though you couldn't see him, moving a little closer to you. “Nah, nah no worries. Go on.”

Your eyes reopened as you felt the touch of his hand on your thigh. Suddenly looking into his eyes seemed far too difficult. Your gaze remained fixed on his veiny hand. “I thought if I went out tonight I'd be able to think about something else. Then Ashley made me wear this stupid dress because she said you'd like it or something.”

Without realizing it, he'd tightened his grip on you as he listened, “Why should I care ? Did you talk to her about something ?”. His voice was much huskier than before, and it was as if he was implying something. Even if he didn't like seeing you dressed in such short clothes at the rodeo, he had to admit that made you look rather sexy. To be honest, the idea that others might have seen you in his company -dressed like that- with his jacket over your shoulders, excited him greatly. 

You straightened up again, realizing your sudden closeness. You didn't dare look at him in the eye, but you felt his gaze. Suddenly you felt a wave of warmth wash over your whole body. “I just told her you'd asked me if I was coming and- well, she started making up stories. You know Ash’, no big deal...”

Rhett let go of your thigh but didn't pull away, humming once more as he looked out of the car window. It had been dark for a while, but he noticed that a light fog was beginning to form, making it difficult to see what was going on outside. You raised your head without looking directly at him as a silence settled between you, “What are you thinking about ?”. 

“Are you feeling better ?” 

You didn't hold back your laugh, “That's not the answer to my question-”

“Answer my question first and maybe I'll answer yours.” he asserted authoritatively. You looked at him, disturbed by his sudden change of mood. Your eyebrows furrowed as he glanced at you, still preoccupied with what might be going on outside.

“Yes...” You began softly, but your voice broke slightly, so you cleared your throat and resumed, “Yes, I'm feeling better. Thanks for listening. I just needed to... say it all out loud, I guess ?”

He finally turned his head towards you and was now looking straight into your eyes. You gulped, looking away. You were all quiet. He didn't answer and continued to look at you, a satisfied smile forming on his lips as he watched you intently. Suddenly you felt so small next to him, something in his eyes had changed but you couldn't say what. “Is it about the rodeo ? I'm sure you'll do better next time, I'm not worried about you.”

“Nah it's not about the rodeo. It's darker than the rodeo.”

“Darker than the rodeo ?” You were completely lost and felt a strange sensation forming in your lower belly. Suddenly, it seemed much too hot in the truck. You felt your face grow warm at the sight of the man in front of you. 

“Darker than death.” He moved closer to you as you watched his every move. “Are you sure you're feeling better ? I'd hate to rush you.” God knows how he doesn’t care ‘bout that.

He was so close you could smell his perfume. Forming a sentence seemed impossible, you couldn't think straight. Naturally, your body recoiled but you were already against the car door. Your breathing quickened as Rhett took off his hat and put it behind him. Your name escaped his mouth in a whisper, “Answer my question.”

You nodded without taking your eyes off him as he continued to move towards your face. When your noses touched, you let out a shaking sigh that made the cowboy laugh slightly “Would you like me to help you think of something else ?”

“Please...” That's all it took before he crushed his lips to yours. A cry of surprise escaped you as Rhett pulled you against him, he lifted you and with ease placed you on his lap. Your hands went to his torso, then his shoulders, before finding their place at the nape of his neck. The cowboy slid his tongue against your lip, asking for access to your mouth. 

You let him as he tightened his grip on your hips. Quickly, one of his hands slid along your back before abruptly grabbing the back of your neck.

“Jesus !” You whispered as you stopped kissing him, his grip was hard but not hurtful. 

“He's not coming to help you, sugar.” The young man smiled before sliding the hand that had been at the nape of your neck down to your throat. He found your necklace and played with it a little, “It’s not your mother's, right ?” you shook your head, assuring him that it wasn't. Then without any warning, he yanked it off you. A cry of surprise escaped your throat as he looked at you with his trusty smirk. 

“Rhett !”

“What ?” You shook your head, biting your lip at his reaction but he ran his thumb over your bottom lip to stop you, “Don't hurt yourself, please.” His eyes were so soft and gentle on you but his thoughts were the complete opposite. Without giving you time to reply, he captured your lips again in a fiery kiss.

His hands delicately caressed your back as he kissed your neck, you couldn't hold back your moans any longer. Your whimpers sounded like music to the cowboy's ears. He pressed you against him, holding you firmly with his rough hands before moving both your bodies to lie on the bench. Now on top of you, he attacked your cleavage, leaving a trail of wet kisses on your boiling skin. He continues to move his mouth over your body, his lips and tongue tracing every curve and contour. His hands followed, exploding and touching every inch of you. Your hands found his hair, which you gently tugged on without trying to pull him away. It felt so fucking good. You couldn't think about anything else except the sensation of his thin lips on your skin. He pulled at your dress, letting one of your breasts slip out and took it into his mouth. As he sucked on your nipple, nibbling lightly, you moaned loudly. 

“Shhh baby. You don't want the others to hear you.” You couldn't answer him, too absorbed with the different emotions consuming you. Seeing you that flustered for him made him want to fuck you all night long. You nodded as he took your other breast in his hand, massaging it sensually, and never taking his eyes off you. “Naughty girl. You're not even wearing a bra, are you doing this so I can see your nipples through your dress ? So I can see how much I turn you on huh ?”

You bite your lip, closing your eyes as he let go of your breasts, sliding gently down your body. He lifted the bottom of your dress and poked his head underneath. Soon you felt his breath against your inner thigh, making you tremble. With his big hands, he grabbed both of your thighs to stop you from moving. Once held in place, you could hear him laugh as he saw the wet spot on your panties, your pussy was that soaked just for him. His name rolled off your tongue, but he didn't stop, smelling your arousal. Delicately, so as not to hurt you, he bit down on your panties, grabbed them and pulled them off. Once he'd removed the piece of fabric, he observed your unveiled intimacy. He could see how wet you were and ran his tongue over his lip before placing a tender kiss on your crotch, signaling that he was going to take care of you. Which made you feel a wave of heat.

As he placed another kiss on your clit, you almost let yourself melt back onto the bench. You had sex before, but something about Rhett turned you on even more. You couldn't see him but could imagine the gleam of desire in his eyes. He was licking your intimacy like a hungry cat, his tongue tender and warm against you. He savored every second, his nose pressed against your clit as he let his tongue burrow deeper into you. He sucked all your juices making you moan more. No longer able to control your body, you closed your legs over his head. He grunted in displeasure, causing vibrations against your pussy that made you moan louder. He tightened his grip on your thighs and spread them further apart, then continue eating your dripping pussy.

Without a warning you felt yourself coming, you tried to straighten up by pulling a little more on Rhett's hair, but he placed one of his hands on your stomach to hold you in place. He said something without drawing away from your pussy without understanding what he was saying, and once again you felt vibrations throughout your body. You felt him smirked against your core as you struggled. You were breathing harder and harder, but when he started to play with your clit with the hand on your stomach, your breath almost stopped. It became jerkier. You were hot, very hot. Then you closed your eyes and let the man between your legs handle the situation. Bringing your hand to your mouth to try and disguise the few whimpers escaping from your mouth, you felt yourself coming soon.

Your hips lifted slightly from time to time to encourage him to continue, to go deeper. Suddenly you came, moaning against your hand as Rhett licked your juices as if he hadn't had enough. Your legs trembled and you felt your eyes moisten. As you tried to recover from your emotions, the man between your legs kissed your crotch one last time before moving up to your face. He kissed your lips as you could taste yourself. He wasted no time in removing your dress, pulling it over your head. Revealing the rest of your naked body, without taking his eyes off you he let his veiny hand slide down your legs to remove your panties once and for all, throwing them in his jeans pocket. And as you struggled to remove your boots, you watched him take off his shirt. 

That's when you realized you were completely naked in front of him, even though he had taken off his top. You fold your legs and try to hide your breasts with your arms. It was as if he'd heard you, without further ado he removed his jeans, leaving him in just his boxers in front of you. You could see his erection, which made you smile anxiously. You let your hand go to his last garment as it settled back over your still trembling body. Your fingers played with the elastic of his underwear, but he stopped you by shaking his head. 

“You're sure ?” you kissed him. “Good because every time I see your pretty face I want to fuck you hard.”  With that he kissed you even more savagely, you pulled him by the nape of his neck wanting to feel him even closer. He let himself fall onto your body as his knee spread your legs. Again, your hands grabbed his boxers, moaning into his mouth as you slid the clothe down his thighs as he managed to pull it off.

“Do you want me to suck you ?” You asked in an almost innocent voice, he suddenly stopped in his movements to look at you with tenderness. You straightened up on your elbows looking at him through your lashes, waiting for his answer. It was exactly like in his imagination. You were there, just underneath him all naked. Almost begging for it. But he needed to wait. 

“I don't think I can take it if you do. Let me fuck you first.” With that you nodded, letting yourself slide a little further onto the bench. He reached into the glove box and pulled out a condom. He tore off the wrapping with his teeth before taking it out. You took it from his hands, straightened up again and for the first time laid eyes on his cock. Fuck. Rhett was big. His penis was thick and veiny, and not just because of the erection. You remained frozen on his intimacy for a few moments. He laughed at your reaction before placing a kiss on your forehead and taking your wrist in his big hand. “You wanna stop doll ?” 

“No ! I mean... no please.” You were far too excited at the sight of his erect member, you definitely didn't want to stop. When you thought back to the way he'd eaten your pussy, you could only wait impatiently to feel his full length inside you.

“Alright baby...” he took the condom from your hand and put it on before placing himself at your entrance. He placed one of his hands on your hip to hold you while the other allowed him to hold himself pressed down so as not to crush you. He licked his lips and entered you hard, making you lie back against the bench fast. A moan escaped your mouth as the cowboy began thrusting in your tight and wet pussy. He was so fucking big. He slammed into you with no mercy. You were already seeing stars while he was still slow. You clung to his shoulders feeling his pace quicken, “You like that ?”.

You nodded as you closed your eyes, feeling your orgasm coming already. Your hand gripped his bicep as he lowered his head to nibble your earlobe. You could feel his cock in your stomach, it was so big. With every thrust, a whimper escaped you. “If you keep making that kind of noises I'm going to cum in your pretty pussy baby,” a whine was the only answer you could give him.

He slowed a little before thrusting in harder again, “Fuck you’re so tight.” your back arched as you groaned loudly. You cried loudly and begged for him to continue. His thrusts were hard and you wanted more. The fire inside, your burning desire grew even more. Your hips tried to move to his rhythm, but he was too abrupt for you to imitate. “Feels like your pussy has been made for me.” He growled. Your nails scratched his back as he nibbled the skin of your neck, enough to leave a mark tomorrow morning. “All innocent in your little white dress. You wore it for me ?”

You nodded with difficulty, and he laughed darkly. “Use your words, doll” he added, penetrating you hard which took your breath away, preventing you from gathering enough air to form even a word. 

“I- Jesus! y-yes...”

“Fuck,” he groaned, “You’re close ?”

You hummed, but it wasn't enough for him. He lifted one of your legs and placed it on his shoulder, allowing him to fuck you even deeper. His hands gripped and pushed on you. You moaned so loudly that you put your hand back over your mouth to shut up. He remove your hand by grabbing your wrist, continuing to penetrate you hard. “Answer me.” his tone was almost as harsh as the way he was treating you. He fucked you like an animal. 

“Do you like it when I fuck you hard ?” you nodded as tears of pleasure escaped your eyes. “Attagirl.”

Just when you thought it couldn't get any more euphoric, Rhett began nibbling your nipple once more. It was too much for you. You wrapped your other leg around his pelvis to pull him even closer to you. You had the vital need to feel him even deeper inside you. 

“Rhett- please... Please !” you whined. He looked down at you with a growl, he shook his head at your mess. Desperate, you were unsure of what you were begging for anymore. Losing track of your time, you didn’t even knew for how long you were in that fucking truck.

You were biting your tongue when suddenly you felt he was hitting the right spot. He was deep inside you. You let yourself slide but he caught you with his big arms, holding you against him. He straightened both your bodies, forcing you into a new position. Giving him more access to fuck you hard. You could feel his whole cock inside you, his balls were hitting hard against your skin. You couldn't take it anymore; you were going to fucking cum. You looked briefly at him, his eyes were focusing on the view of his cock harshly coming in and out your pussy. His brows were furrowed because of his concentration.

“Fuck ! Yes, yes, yes just there ! Please Rhett just- yeah just there...” the tears that flowed prevented you from seeing properly. He kept you close to his body, almost not letting his dick out anymore. Enjoying your inside too much he wanted to make you cum very soon. Feeling your wet and tight hole, stretching just for him made him consider taking off the condom but he resisted.

Rhett kissed you one last time and without you seeing it coming you let yourself be carried away and your cum ran down the length of his cock. You let out a moan that echoed through the truck as he could feel your hot cum dripping onto his balls. You tried to catch your breath but couldn't get over your orgasm. You kept moving your hips a little so Rhett could cum too, but he put your leg back, holding your hips. As he immobilized you, you let out a few whines of pleasure. He came out of your pussy, letting out a pop. Then he'd slide off before resting his head on your sweaty belly.

“Rhett-”

“-baby rest a bit. I’m not finished with you yet.” He felt your body trembling at his words. Now that he'd fucked you and made you cum, it was time for him to use you to his needs. It was even better than in his dreams. He knew you weren't going to be able to take it all, so he preferred to give you some time to rest before he began to do what he wanted with you.

[lareinarata1960]

Teenage Damian finally being more involved in JL matters thanks to his leadership on the Titans which eventually leads him to work with his father and siblings.

Things can get a little awkward from time to time because even if Damian is now almost as tall as Dick and he has demonstrated multiple times he's capable of defeating most of the other heroes he's STILL the little baby to his family eyes.

So picture a situation in where Batman, Nightwing, Red Robin and Robin (Damian) plus some members of the JL, the Titans and Jung Justice are all cooperating for some major menace, which apart from other things, means family reunion.

Nightwing *checking some security cameras they put on the main suspect of the villan of the week room*: Well if he does anything suspicious we can confirm all this mess is his fault

Red Robin: It will be great if we can confirm it before he destroys the world

Wonder Woman (looking at the screen where their main suspect appears to bring a girl to his room to something more that chatting): Well if he's actually about to destroy the world he certainly has enough time for THAT

*moanings start coming out of the computer and even when most of the heroes start laughing Nightwing seems scandalized*

Nightwing *reaching from the other side of the table to try covering Damian's eyes*: YOU CANT WATCH THIS DAMI!!! YOU ARE JUST A BABY!!!

Red Robin (not actually caring but always on favor of annoying Damian): This is not an appropriate look for a ten year old!!!!

Damian|Robin (Very clearly not ten): Get off me!!! And stop being so dramatic

Superman (participating mostly to catch Batman's attention): Well you are the kid in here we have to protect your innocence

Batman is trying to ignore the hole scene but a soft smile escapes from his mouth while he sees his kids fooling around just like before

Robin|Damian (still trying to get Nightwing off him): Stop acting like I'm a baby! There are other teenage heroes on this same room!!

Batman: Well yea but their families aren't here

John|Superboy (trying to help Damian): Im here

Damian finally getting away from his brothers and suddenly feeling sassy enough to speak more than he should.

Robin|Damian: Funny that you still assume I'm a virgin...

Damian leaves almost immediately leaving a room full of shocked heroes behind him.

All: ...

Nightwing (with the most concerned grin in his face): ... WHAT

Red Robin laughing his brains out: Oh god!!! You have such a traumatized face!!!

Nightwing, still not processing what just happened and having some type of panic atack: THATS MY BABY BROTHER WTF!!! 😭😭😭

Batman bluescreened from the beginning and Superman is trying to bring him back (he's also trying not to laugh)

Meanwhile, John|Superboy is on the back trying to piece everything together because WHY DAMIAN DIDN'T TELL HIM ANYTHING??!! There supposed to be like best friends, Why would he lie about something like that?? Does he even had a girlfriend he didn't know about??!! and NO HE'S NOT JEALOUS WHY ARE YOU ASKING??!!!

Red Robin, still trying to stop his laugh: Don't be so dramatic Wing... He's almost 16, how old where you when... you know?

Nightwing, in a super dramatic voice: IM NOT ANSWERING THAT IN FRONT OF MY DAD!!!!

Batman, who has started to came back to reality is looking at his boys with the most, Bruciest grin in his face, completely forgetting he's THE BATMAN

Anyways... Damian realizes what he confessed teen minutes later and decides to avoid every single member of his family for the rest of the month

[saltnsugarbear]

congrats on 200! love your writing <3

i'd like to request “Oh God, yes, just like that. Keep— keep going.” with carmy pls

im so fucking insane over this

word count: 0.6k

content warnings: MDNI!!! pervy roommate Carmy, stolen underwear, getting off with that underwear, pillow humping, sort of voyeurism?? maybe??, reader is having sex but like across the hall behind closed doors so

side note: this came to me in a flash I wrote this in like an hour holy shit

He didn't mean to get a hold of your underwear. Carmy was doing his laundry, folding clothes and hanging them and it just fall out.

He remembers it very clearly. When he was putting a hoodie on a hangar and a small piece of fabric fell out. Imagine his embarrassment when the fabric was a pair of black panties covered in little cherries. God, he can still feel the warmth from how flushed his face got, cheeks and ears probably bright pink.

And the problem is Carmy can't just sneak into your room to put it back. He can't because whenever he is home, you're home. You're asleep when he's leaving for work and you're up when he's getting back from The Beef, there's never a good time to put it back.

So Carmy just hid it under his bed, letting it sit in the dark where he could forget about it.

And he did forget about it. For a while.

Until tonight.

And it's not your fault, truly not your fault, that the walls are thin. It's not your fault that Carmy can hear you through the walls. And it's certainly not your fault how his body is reacting or the fantasies that are running around his head.

At first he thought he could get away from it, distract himself with dishes and food over the sounds your making across the hall. Keep his mind off the stirring in his boxers by any means.

But it got to be too much at your first cry of frustration. The quiet pleading that came after, your sobbing and begging to come.

Carmy's hand flew to his erection almost immediately, rutting up into his palm when he makes contact. He tries to pace his hand movements in time with your moaning, but it's not enough.

Something in him remembers. He doesn't know what part but Carmy is rolling over quickly, sticking his hand under his bed and patting around until he makes contact with fabric. He wraps his fingers in the material and brings it out from under as he shoves off his boxers.

The idea of wrapping your underwear around his cock isn't enough. He needs something solid, something underneath him.

He's moving automatically as he grabs his pillow and lays your underwear over the side. Carmy lays one arm above his head and one in front of his face, perfect placing just incase he has to quiet himself. Positioning himself is easy, keeping one leg tucked up as he pushes his hips up against the pillow.

The pressure of pushing himself against the fabric is maddening, causing him to grind into it. He slowly finds the rhythm of your moans and applies it to his grinding. He's surprised by how fast it is, whining at the rough and quick drag of the fabric under his cock.

It doesn't even register to him that he's being a little loud, his own quieter moans being masked by yours across the hall. He presses his muttering into the fabric, almost trying to melt into the mattress.

"Oh, yes, just like that," Carmy mutters into the mattress, bucking his hips up against his pillow. "Keep- Keep going.."

His words get more slurred the quicker he grinds his hips. Soon he's nothing but a whining, moaning mess against his sheets. And he's hoping to God that you or the person you've brought over can't hear him.

"Fuck- fuck- shit.." Carmy mutters when he feels the band in his stomach snap. He bites the fabric under him to muffle his whines, stomach clenching at the warm spurts of cum against his skin.

His breathing settles as his hips twitch at the slight overstimulation from him grinding. Carmy huffs as he lets go of the fabric in his mouth, laying back against the bed as he comes down.

He groans when it hits him. The reality of it all. Carmy shoves his pillow off the bed before rolling back don't his stomach, covering his eyes with his arm.

He's going to have to wash his sheets.

[mrsrileywrites]

Hi! I read lots of your work and im SO IN LOVE!!! Like I absolutely fell so hard for papa simon 😭😭 i wanna give him a babyy! But i was wondering, how would pregnancy be like with his child. I mean bro is HUGE so his baby would probably be not only pretty big and probably weight a little bit more too than an average newborn. If its okay with you would it be possible for you to write a little story maybe add a little bit of angst? (Idk like argument about something that made the reader really sad?) but please a happy ending 🥹

Feel free to ignore if thats not your thing or just not feeling comfortable writing about it!! LOVE YOUU!! Btw sorry for any misspelling English is not my first language.

First of, as a not native English speaker, your English is perfect.

And second, thank you for your kind words, it really encourages me to keep writing and also boosts my ego 😁

You asked in such a nice and respectful way so I really want to make you happy.

Now here's the thing, I'm an adult with lots of responsibilities and sometimes adulting makes me tired, like last night when I was trying to finish this but I fell asleep and I woke up this morning to find half of my writing disappeared, it just vanished 🥲

But I'll give you this to munch on and I promise I'll finish this before the end of the week.

I hope this is what you were expecting... Enjoy 🫶

A little over 700 words.

_______________________

You stood in front of the sink of your bathroom, holding a pregnancy test on your shaky hands, two little red lines staring right back at you.

How did this happen? How would you tell him? He doesn't want kids, he made it clear from the beginning and you accepted it without a fuss, that's why you've been taking your pills diligently every day, you didn't forget one, did you?... No, you know you didn't, how did this happen?

"You okay there, love?" Simon knocks on the bathroom door and you jump in surprise, like a child that's been caught red handed.

"Y-yes Si, j-just give me a minute... I'll be right there." Your period is about three weeks late so you bought a pregnancy test, your best friends advice, it wouldn't hurt, it was just to make sure, you certainly were not expecting this.

You hid the test on the cabinet under the sink and washed your face before coming out.

It's been a week since your ob-gyn confirmed a six weeks pregnancy and you still haven't found the courage nor the right time to break the news to Simon, so when he gets a call from Price to get deployed on a long mission you fear it would be too late by the time he comes back.

One month at most he said when he kissed you goodbye almost two months ago, you are 16 weeks into your pregnancy and your bump is starting to show, which only adds to your anxiety, between the morning sickness and your hormones being all over the place you still haven't figured out how to tell him.

As you ponder how to break the news to him, you realize that a simple phone call wouldn't suffice. With him stationed on the other side of the globe, risking his life every day, you hesitate to burden him further. At the same time, you know it wouldn't be ideal for him to return home and suddenly find you waddling around with a baby bump.

So you stay quiet and whenever he calls and asks why you sound so exhausted you blame it on your job, you say you are just stressed out, and he promises he'll take care of you once he's back, he'll relieve you from the stress the way you like it, the way only he knows how to.

You are laying on the couch wearing Simon's t-shirt, stuffing yourself with your favorite ice cream and watching trash tv when you hear fumbling outside your front door before it swings open, a very rugged Simon stands in the threshold , you curse under your breath, he didn't say he was coming home the last time you talked on the phone three days ago so you stand there and look at him overly conscious of the bump hiding under his t-shir and you thank the heavens he is a big man, you think the loose fit of his T-shirt would buy you time, your ice cream long forgotten in the coffee table.

He walks towards you with long strides as he pulls his balaclava over his head running his fingers through his messy hair and you shy away, you step back and freeze, eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlights, he stops in his tracks and tilts her head, his eyebrows pinch as his eyes linger on your midsection and you know you're fucked, he noticed, how wouldn't he, and you hope and pray he'd say something, anything, but he doesn't, he turns on his heels ready to walk out.

"Simon wait!" You call for him and he stops, his hand lingers on the door knob, "I can explain, please just hear me out" your voice cracks and you wish you had been brave enough to tell him before, you know about his childhood and his trauma, you know his struggles and why he didn't want children in the first place, he trusted you and you broke his trust, you deceived him from the moment you found out you were pregnant and decided to keep it to yourself because you were too scared to trust him back.

"Explain what?" He shouts turning around and walking towards you again, your hands fly to your belly instinctively, protective. You lower your head, eyes glued to the floor, ashamed.

[drdemonprince]

(aromantic anon) i actually can relate to the "bestie who stops answering your calls as much when they have a boyfriend" too! which is also one of the reasons it took a while for me to start id'ing as aro. the difference for me is that it isnt a boyfriend/partner (although, i thought it was at first), i just really like making new friends, and often getting a new friend (or just, randomly with old friends) i get a sort of mini "honey moon phase", usually for abt a month-ish, where i get a little obsessed w that one friend and accidentally put my other friendships to the side. it got a lot easier to manage once i realized that it passes, and that it didnt mean i had to date the person, bcz if i did they almost certainly would've been disappointed when they become someone who i end up not actually wanting to spend any more time with than i do with my other friends. someone else described it as "having a person as a special interest", which i also relate to! i dont tend to call most of my interest special interests just bcz very few of them tend to last years, its just short bursts of obsessions. but the exact same thing happens when i get a new interest, or have random bouts of intensity with an older interest that usually also last abt a month where i just completely forget to socialize w anyone for a while bcz im too busy being obsessed with something. the new friend/new interest also often coincide, as ill get into a new interest or get re-into an old interest, and meet someone also into that and dont want to talk to anyone else or about anything else for that month, before i inevitably and often really suddenly move onto to something/someone else. feelings of infatuation/love and even arousal are very often built into how i feel about the person and the interest during this time, which is why it was pretty easy for me to mistake for romance bcz it took a while for me to realize that it would level out into regular friendship pretty much every single time, and i would suddenly feel upset and suffocated abt being in that position where this person wanted to continue spending the same amnt of time with me that we were spending before.

this is all super interesting! And it tracks with the thesis many ppl have that "favorite persons" in BPD/Autism/etc are really special interests applied to individuals. I think it's also an attachment-regulation thing, and a way of managing close relationships when those things are difficult for us, but like, yeah! it's neat!

[shelter-clangen]

"ONLY IF SHE ASKED ME TO"?????? based. also im trying to picture husk attacking kindred with his horns. how. would he have to walk into him backwards?

WHEEZE ok ok HAHAHAHA that’s a good question and I want to answer it too HAHAHA

ok let’s say theoretically husk had a target to attack in this scenario

so like when I was first concepting husks design my first thought was that husk’s antlers pointed forward and curled up, but then I actually started drawing him, and I realized my own ability to draw depth like that was very lacking and these are the benefits of having a 3d model. alas I am not well versed in the art of 3d sculpting

so like the original goal was something like this:

which makes more sense, yea?? but then I tried to draw it from the front

and I think that’s. kind of where things fall apart and I am 90% certain that is entirely my own fault lmao

so I try to draw it more spread out so the silhouette is clearer

but now I have a new problem lmao. because now his horns look like they’re directly pointing out to the sides. which means if I draw him from a side angle it should probably look like this?

because they point directly towards the camera now ?

but instead to continue to make the silhouette clear I drew them like this lmao

Which now means his antlers are pointing BACK, and are like curved around his head?? which makes attacking with them almost. uh. null and void?? impossible?? they’re like fancy cheek guards now lmao

so yea naw chief I don’t think that’s working out for ya.

so now that leaves like….if I assume the horns are actually pointing out to the side and are not curved around his head pointing backwards, then maybe?? side attack??

but. I don’t think. uh. I don’t think having to blindly tilt your entire head to the side in order to mmmmaybe get a hit in would be very effective??? and he’d certainly never spear anyone with them

In the end im pretty sure I’ve accidentally fucked this guy over and any chance he had at some sort of defense haha. I should probably fix that sometime, because that’s,,, definitely a bug and not a feature lmao

But at the end of the day, never forget that he has the most effective tactic of all:

Slapping people with the knives on his ass.

[ghcstao3]

Price survived the sarin gas inhalation but it benched him for quite some time so Ghost had to take over the CO's responsibilities.

so now Gaz joins Ghost and Soap on missions and is forced to listen to their horrible jokes on comms.

but one day Soap says something so smutty to Ghost that Kyle is convinced Soap's days are numbered but to his utter surprise Ghost rolls with it.

Gaz suspects that Soap's and Ghost's bond is deeper than they let on.

don’t worry, happens to the best of us haha. love this idea btw im so sorry it took me so long to get to it 😭

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Gaz has seen and heard… a lot during his time in the military.

From having witnessed the much more traumatic gore and destruction and men gone mad with power to the decidedly less impactful crude jokes and stupid things soldiers get up to in their downtime, Gaz doesn’t think much could surprise him anymore.

As it would turn out, however, there’d been one thing that he’d left unaccounted for: his lieutenant and fellow sergeant’s flirting.

Now, he’s heard Ghost’s awful jokes before. He’s heard the offhand teases and ‘buy me a drink first’s, but without Price as the voice of authority, Gaz discovers that there is far, far worse to be said between the two of them—specifically by Soap.

The team’s first mission without Price, with the captain still in early recovery, Gaz gets the general sense of testing the waters. The mission itself goes off without a hitch—they couldn’t call themselves an elite task force for nothing—but the comments not meant for Gaz but still said over comms are certainly… something. Bordering on raunchy. But it’s fine, whatever, Gaz has heard far worse from soldiers who aren’t even friends, let alone whatever Ghost and Soap are.

The second mission is already worse.

Soap seems to have taken Ghost’s silence as permission to continue with his over-the-top flirting, and Gaz has already begun to worry at what point it becomes too much. At what point Soap will cross the line, and at what point Gaz will have to figure out what to wear to his friend’s funeral.

The second mission, none of the above occurs. They all make it out alive and with minimal injuries—though Gaz could argue his brain has already been scarred by what Soap seems to deem appropriate to say to his lieutenant.

It’s the same thing for their next few outings. Price is doing better but is still out of commission, and Gaz cannot wait until he’s back, it’s started to get so bad. He’s heard more than he wishes to forget. He thinks it’d do him well to have his mind erased, scrubbed clean of Ghost and Soap’s worsening banter, but alas.

But up until this point, anyway, he’s chalked it all up to the lack of Price in their ears not letting them get away with the awfully filthy talk and increasingly terrible jokes.

Gaz is fearing for his own life when it happens.

Mercifully, Price is green-lighted to go back into the field at some point during the task force’s current mission, so Gaz has been counting down the days until finally, finally someone with a voice of higher authority than Ghost’s can cut through the line and tell them to either knock it off or keep it to their own channel.

They’re almost in the clear, Gaz thinks, and just as he does is when Soap says something that no way in hell Ghost should be tolerating.

“—bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you, LT? Havin’ me on my knees, cryin’ and beggin’ for mercy?”

Honestly, it isn’t the worst Soap has said these past few months. Not by far. But it’s the directness and very clear implication of what he means that sets Gaz on edge—because surely, surely even Soap couldn’t possibly outright proposition Ghost with a blowjob and not be reprimanded for it.

Yet for some reason, Ghost’s response is not keep it tactical, but rather, “Ask nicely and you might get it the other way ‘round.”

Gaz isn’t sure how to move on normally from hearing that, but he manages, somehow. The only good thing to have come from Ghost’s reciprocation is that it manages to make Soap go quiet for the remainder of the mission, unless there’s something critical to be mentioned.

It doesn’t click for Gaz right away, too focused on the mission and figuring out the most effective method of brain-bleaching, but hopping off the heli back at base and watching Soap drag Ghost off to god knows where is certainly telling of something that he’d missed all this time.

He’d bring up to Price later, he thinks. The captain ought to know if Ghost and Soap were really a thing—and if not yet, well.

They probably would be soon enough.

[violetseaslug]

HI DEREE *waves hand erratically *

i would like to request a yoon jisu fic if thats okay!! i would like one where reader is new to the green home & jisu’s you’re neighbour but she never really introduced herself properly but she starts getting creative and making reader her muse for her songs ^-^ since reader is her next door neighbour (nd the walls are thin..) reader finds jisu’s music comforting even lulling them to sleep! the next day they’d properly introduce themselves finally!! (and reader finds out the song she played was about her, for her! aww)

you can certainly do some tweaks, add anything!! i just really love the way you write :3c

" so it'd suit the mood with your soul "

₊˚⊹ ⤷ pairing: fem!reader x yoon jisu // wc: 1k

₊˚⊹ ⤷ my masterlist // reqs open!

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brief a/n: thank you for the request beautiful i hope you like it <3 the song i had in mind while writing this was black beauty by lana del ray !!

synopsis: you're jisu's new neighbor, you see each other in passing and she then decides to write about you the night before you both coincidentally meet the next morning. she invites u back to her apartment and teaches u to play a song that turns out to be the one she wrote abt u!! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

cw/tw: im not sure if there r any this time

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The first time you see her, it’s fleeting—just a brief moment in the dimly lit hallway of your apartment complex. You’re distracted, fumbling with your keys, when you accidentally bump into someone rounding the corner.

"shit, sorry—" You glance up, and for a second, time seems to stall. Jisu blinks at you, wide-eyed, as if she wasn’t expecting to see someone like you here.

Her lips part slightly, but no words come out. The faint scent of cigarette smoke lingers in the air around her, mixed with something softer, something undeniably her.

You offer a small smile, shifting your weight. "didn’t mean to run into you."

Jisu still doesn’t respond right away. Her fingers tighten slightly around the neck of her guitar case, the strap slung lazily over her shoulder. Then, with a flustered smile, she says, "It’s fine."

And just like that, the moment passes. She steps aside, giving you space to pass, and you do, still feeling the weight of her gaze on you even as you unlock your door.

──────────────────────

Later that night, the rain comes down in sheets, drumming against the windows of your apartment. You sit by the window, watching the city lights shimmer through the downpour when a soft sound catches your attention.

Music.

The strum of a guitar, gentle yet deliberate, filters through the wall—the same thin walls that let you hear everything just a little too well. The melody is melancholic, drifting through the night like a secret meant only for those who are awake to hear it.

And then, her voice. Soft, almost hesitant, but undeniably beautiful.

You close your eyes, letting the song carry you away, and without even realizing it, you drift off to sleep to the sound of her playing.

Jisu doesn’t forget you. She doesn’t know why, but the image of you—your soft smile, the way you looked at her without hesitation—sticks in her mind long after you disappear into your apartment.

It lingers as she sets her guitar down, as she runs a hand through her hair, as she absentmindedly plucks at the strings.

And before she knows it, she’s writing.

The words come easily, too easily. She doesn’t even have to try; the song writes itself, flowing from her fingertips like it’s been waiting to be created.

She barely knows you, but somehow, you’ve become her muse, the thought of you curling around her mind like smoke.

She plays well into the night, lost in the melody, letting it guide her.

The notes drift through the thin walls of the apartment complex, a quiet lullaby that finds its way to your ears just as you settle into bed.

You don’t know why, but the sound is comforting—familiar, even though you’ve never heard it before.

And just like that, you fall asleep to the music, unaware that it’s about you.

──────────────────────

The next night, unable to sleep, you step out onto your balcony. The cool air brushes against your skin as you lean against the railing, your eyes drawn to the balcony next to yours. And there she is—Jisu, sitting on the floor with her guitar in her lap, a cigarette resting between her fingers.

She doesn’t notice you at first, her gaze fixed on the city skyline, lost in thought. But then, as if sensing your presence, she glances your way.

You offer a small smile. "didn’t expect a concert two nights in a row."

Jisu chuckles, exhaling a slow breath of smoke. "didn’t expect an audience."

You tilt your head.

"well, you’ve got one. hope you don’t mind."

She shakes her head, a hint of amusement flickering in her eyes. "not at all."

For a while, neither of you speak. She plays softly, the melody carrying through the quiet night, and you listen, watching the way her fingers move so effortlessly along the strings. It’s peaceful, the kind of moment that lingers even after it ends.

Eventually, Jisu looks over at you. "you should try it sometime."

"what?"

"playing." She nods toward her guitar. "you seem like you’d be good at it."

You laugh. "that’s a bold assumption."

She smirks. "call it a musician’s instinct."

You don’t know why, but the thought of learning from her—of sitting beside her, fingers brushing against hers as she guides you—sends a warmth through you that has nothing to do with the night air

──────────────────────

The next morning, you find yourself at the corner café, the one just down the street from your building.

The air smells like fresh coffee and warm bread, the early sunlight casting long shadows across the pavement.

You don’t expect to see her again, but fate seems to have other plans.

She’s sitting at a table by the window, absentmindedly stirring her drink with the tip of a spoon. The sunlight catches the edge of her features, softening her sharp gaze as she stares down at the notebook in front of her.

Your feet move before your mind can catch up. "hi."

Jisu looks up, startled, and for the second time, you watch her momentarily lose her composure. Her fingers twitch around the spoon before she blinks, shaking herself out of it. "oh. you."

You raise a brow, amused. "Is that how you greet your neighbors?"

A flicker of something crosses her face—guilt, maybe, or something softer. "didn't think you'd remember me."

You scoff lightly. "hard to forget someone who plays guitar at ungodly hours of the night."

Jisu smirks, just a little. "kept you up?"

You shake your head, taking a sip of your drink. "no. actually… it helped me sleep."

Something in her expression shifts, but you can’t quite place it. A beat passes before she hesitates, then gestures toward the empty seat across from her.

"sit with me?"

You do.

Conversation comes easier than expected. She’s quieter than you thought she’d be, her words measured but not unkind. She listens more than she speaks, and when she does talk, there’s a dry sort of wit behind her words that makes you grin.

After finishing your drinks, the two of you walk back to your apartment complex together. The air is crisp, filled with an easy silence that neither of you seem to mind.

Jisu glances at you every so often, as if trying to figure you out, but she doesn’t say much.

When you reach your doors, she hesitates before speaking. "wanna learn how to play?"

Your heart stutters. "right now?"

She grins. "why not? I think you’d look cute holding a bass."

With a laugh, you follow her inside. The next thing you know, you’re sitting beside her, hands wrapped around the cool wood of her bass guitar.

Jisu leans in close, guiding your fingers along the strings, her voice soft in your ear as she murmurs instructions.

"just ike that,” she encourages.

As you fumble through the notes, a familiar melody takes shape. It doesn’t click at first, but then realization slowly seeps in—it’s the song she played at night, the one that helped you sleep.

she glances up, meeting your gaze.

"recognize it yet? it's about you"

you still, your fingers hovering over the strings as a shy smile creeps up on your face.

Something warm blooms in your chest. Before you can overthink it, you lean in, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. "I guess i am your muse after all."

Jisu laughs, a little breathless, as she nudges you playfully. "looks like it."