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[caelivir]

shrimply in love | miya atsumu

synopsis. atsumu wholeheartedly prayed that you forgot how you first met, and for a while he believed that you did. that is until he finds the literal token from that day.

pairing. atsumu miya x gn!reader | wc. 2.1k | genres. timeskip!atsumu, established relationship, tooth rotting fluff, atsumu is soooo down bad | warnings. (minor?) manga spoilers

notes. outing myself as a hq fan and atsumu lover LOOK AWAY. this was inspired by a tiktok i saw LMFAO 😭. i was up until dawn, on my phone, in the drafts writing this that’s how bad it was. there's something additional to this so stay tuned, and i hope you enjoy.

“tsumu!” you call out from the couch while he’s in the bathroom connected to your shared room. “can you get my wallet? it’s on the bed.”

“sure thing, baby!” he answers back.

“thanks love!” you reply, the petname making him grin in the mirror. it gets him every single time.

after drying off his hands with a towel, atsumu doubles back to the bedroom, your wallet immediately catching his eye. he picks it up, and as he does, something slips out from the crevices.

atsumu picks it up and inspects it. it’s a folded slip of paper. curious, he unfolds it to examine its contents. reading it puts him in shock, and now he’s mildly annoyed with you.

he rushes out of the room, stomping over to you like a little kid. you raise an eyebrow in amusement when he stops in front of the couch.

“baby, what the hell?!” he whines, holding the paper out in front of you for you to read. confused, you lean closer, letting your eyes scan it before laughing out loud. it’s a guest check from the day you first met.

“what?! it’s cute!” you defend with a smile.

“it’s horrifying. do you even know how embarrassing this was for me?” atsumu pouts.

“oh believe me i know.” you giggle.

three years ago.

after a hard won victory, the msby jackals were craving a celebratory meal. meian had suggested a new italian restaurant that had opened by the arena. there was a unanimous agreement among the team, except for sakusa. however, bokuto had managed to convince him to come along with enough pestering.

so there they were, a group of guys well over six foot (with the exception of hinata and inunaki), sharing what’s probably the largest table at the restaurant. it drew tons of attention, and there were even some fans who came up to them for pictures and autographs.

then you came by, ready to take orders, and atsumu knew in that moment he was an absolute goner for you. your beauty was unlike anything he’s ever seen before. you were prettier than those models on the ads he walked by, prettier than the flowers in his mother’s gardens, prettier than sunsets on a beach. and god, your smile. his head went all fuzzy at the sight of it. it melted his insides.

you chuckled at whatever bokuto animatedly said before moving onto atsumu. you looked at him expectantly, eyes shining with so much light that it jumbled the blonde’s brain. shit. what did he want to order?

atsumu’s eyes quickly racked through the menu, and his mouth fired off an order before his brain could process what he was reading. “uh, could i get the shrimps camping?”

a silence befell amongst the table before a collective cackle filled the restaurant. realizing what slipped out of his mouth, atsumu’s face turned red. his cheeks were embarrassingly hot.

mortified. he was absolutely fucking mortified. even that asshole omi-kun found it funny. it didn’t help that you were suppressing a smile at him too. he didn’t even bother with the damage control. there was no point. he’d only embarrass himself further.

with a giggle, you made a note of it on the guest check you were writing up because at least you knew what he was referring to. atsumu buried his face in his hands. see in his head, the setter had come up with a plan to ask for your number, but now he was never even going to walk down this street ever again. his chances? consider them blown.

“alright, alright,” you said after the laughter had died down. you fire off orders to confirm everything, and then you get to atsumu. “and… one shrimps camping.”

“you’re killing me.” atsumu groaned, feeling a new wave of embarrassment now that you were teasing him.

“it’s my job.” you shrugged before walking off with a wink. the blonde felt his heart skip a beat.

“don’t sweat it, atsumu-san!” shoyo clapped his back reassuringly. at least he could leave it to the ginger to always have his back.

it took a minute, but the team had finally moved on from atsumu’s slip up. unfortunately, it was all the setter could think about. god, what if you teased him once you came back with the plates?

luckily for him, it didn’t happen. you just tossed him a knowing grin when you presented him his food. he stared down at those shrimp dancing in the sauce, knowing he’s never ordering fuckass shrimp scampi ever again, and dug in. (it’s the most delicious thing to have graced his tastebuds.)

atsumu, contrary to previous thoughts, did end up coming back to the italian restaurant in the hopes that he could see you. he realized that he wasn’t going to allow one fuck up ruin the chances of having you. atsumu miya is many things. annoying, rude, loud, but a quitter? that’s not one of them.

it was a weekly occurrence, and atsumu would try something different from the menu each time.

“no shrimp scampi?” you would smirk.

“no…” atsumu would sigh, feeling the jab in his bones before handing you his menu. “no shrimp scampi.”

conversations became more casual. he learned more about you like how you were in your final year of university and that your favorite men’s volleyball team was ejp raijin. (he was definitely going to change that.) each week the blonde setter visited you during week made him fall for you even more. all of these little things accumulated until atsumu finally got the balls to ask you out.

“what would you like today, atsumu?” you greeted, that soft angelic grin on your face, and he just knew he had to do it. he couldn’t ever let you go.

“you. me. a date.” he said casually, his eyes dripping with confidence. (interally, he was freaking out).

you tried maintaining your composure but failed so miserably. you couldn’t stop the smile that reached your eyes as soon as you heard those eyes. “i thought you would never ask.” you beamed at him.

chewing on your lower lip, you motioned for him to give you hand, to which he most happily obliged. your touch was a new heaven. so warm and so soft. he wished to be wrapped in it forever.

you held his hand steady as the tip of your pen scribbled on his skin. when atsumu looked down, he realized it to be your number, and his eyes stared at it in awe.

“text me.” you told him before walking off. then you stopped in your tracks, turning yourself back around until you’re back at atsumu’s table. “wait, shit. what do you want to eat?”

oh. he had completely forgotten about that. atsumu picked up the menu and quickly scanned for a fun dish name. “um, just the pizza napoletana and garlic bread.”

“you got it.” you noted it down. followed by, “no shrimp scampi?”

“(y/n), please. i feel like i’m flying right now, and you’re killing my mood.” atsumu’s face fell, feigning fake irritation, but you knew better.

you laughed. “alright, alright. i’ll be back soon.”

“you better be.” the setter scoffed before his face betrayed his true feelings.

and before you knew it, one date became two, then three, then four, and the rest was history, shrimp scampi along with it.

at least, that’s what atsumu thought.

“i thought you completely forgot about it.” atsumu whines.

you laugh, standing up from your place on the couch. “how could i ever forget that? i stopped the jokes because you got all sulky. besides, that’s how my little infatuation with you began.”

once you’re directly in front of him, atsumu places his hands on your waist, burying his head in the crook of your neck. without even thinking, your hand finds its way to the back of his head, stroking it with affection. “of all things? not my good looks? or my nice arms? ” the blonde murmurs into your skin.

you hum in agreement. “well that came after.” your boyfriend groans, making you roll your eyes.

“i don’t think i ever told you this, but i was having a really rough shift the night the team came in. when you guys were put into my section, i nearly lost it.” you admit. “but then you asked for shrimps camping, and i lightened up, like all of my negative energy just drained out of my body. seeing you all flustered and blushing was so adorable in my eyes.”

your boyfriend pulls back, his face scrunched. “i didn’t realize you were in a foul mood that night.”

“had to fake it. you know how customer service is.” you shrug, a smirk taking over your face soon after. “but you were too busy admiring me to even notice it.”

atsumu grins smugly. he’s not even ashamed. “that i was.”

you roll your eyes. “you’re hopeless.”

the blonde setter hums, leaning in, and you meet him halfway, kissing him gently. atsumu’s arms wrap themselves around your waist, pulling you closer to him until you’re pressed against his body. you feel his lips twitch into a smile.

you’re the first to pull away, but your boyfriend is unsatisfied with that. he presses his lips to yours once again before you could even get another breath in. it’s a kiss full of affirmations that atsumu can’t voice. you feel it all through him. he’s so greedy when it comes to you, but he’d definitely agree with that statement without any complaint.

to atsumu, kissing you is a new kind of euphoria, one better than any service ace, better than any cool quick that he pulls off with his hitters. kissing you is like falling in love with you again, and it’s single-handedly the best feeling in the entire world.

he pulls away first with a proud smile. he steals a quick peck against your lips, then your nose, and then the rest of your face until you’re drowning in his affection.

you giggle, throwing your arms around his shoulders. “tsumu!”

atsumu sighs contentedly. his large hand cups your cheek. the rough skin of his thumb traces up and down your face. it’s so reassuring and so warm that you can’t help but lean into it.

“i love you, angel. y’know that right?” atsumu stares at you, adoration swimming in his eyes. everyday, he can’t believe that he gets to have you. he can’t believe he gets to come home and you’ll be there waiting for him, ready to hold him in your arms and kiss his knuckles when he tells you about his day.

you adjust your head ever so slightly to kiss his palm. “i know it. you never fail to make it known.”

you’ve come to realize that that’s who he is. your sweet boy, atsumu miya, is so full of love. behind the brashness and the insults, he has so much love in his heart that some days he doesn’t know what to do with it.

“i love you so much, atsumu miya. you are my life.” you whisper, bringing him in for another soul-igniting, cavity-inducing kiss. it’s intense, hotter, but that is just life with atsumu, a blaze of passion and fierceness.

you can feel him melt against you as if this is his first time doing this with you. you can feel him reciprocating your words. you know him so well that you can guess the words that follow. “all for me. my sweet angel. what did i do to deserve you?”

a memory springs to mind, causing you to cut the moment short as much as you’d like to continue. atsumu pouts at the loss of your lips against his. such a kid. still, he looks at you expectantly.

“i have to admit,” you’re kind of excited to see how he’ll react to it. “the entire restaurant knows you as the shrimps camping guy.”

atsumu stiffens against your body, and the horrified look on his face makes you burst out laughing. “you’re lying. (y/n), tell me you’re lying.”

“i’m sorry, my love. it’s true.” you reach out for his hand, but the blonde playfully shrugs it off.

“don’t touch me. how could you do this to me, huh? i thought we were for life!” atsumu turns away from you, shutting his eyes.

you roll your eyes. you should’ve expected this. in situations like these, there is one sentence that will make him forget everything immediately. “if i kiss you, will you forgive me?”

atsumu snaps his head back to you, and his eyes fly open, allowing you to catch the light that sparkles in them as he smiles widely. he’s so beautiful. “really?!” he exclaims but leaves no room for you to respond before he’s crashing your mouths together for the fourth time. you roll your eyes in disbelief but give into him immediately.

atsumu miya is so annoying, but he’s yours, and you wouldn’t give him up for anyone else in the world.

[twola]

Passerine : Chapter 3

PAIRING: High Honor Arthur Morgan x Fem!reader

One step forward, two steps back.

Warnings: This fic has graphic descriptions of non-consensual sex, violence against women, the trauma thereafter, and somewhat unhealthy coping mechanisms. If any of that content makes you feel uncomfortable or triggers you, this may not be the fic for you.

Hi - I know it’s been over a year since I’ve updated this. Passerine is a love letter to trauma and the thereafter. It’s heavy. It’s hard to write. But thank you all for holding on to this. I promise it won’t be another year before I post chapters 4, 5, and 6 to finish it out.

Note: I play fast and loose with the passage of time as compared to the canon game.

➵ AO3 Link ➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ Previous | ➵ Next

Abigail pulls the canvas around the tent’s opening closed behind her. She sighs as she arranges the fabric to preserve the privacy that you so desperately need.

Wiping the back of her palm across her forehead, she squeezes her eyes shut as she tries to stave off a headache.

“Mama!”

She jolts, steadying herself as her five-year-old son barrels into her legs, whipping his arms around her skirts.

“Jack…-Jack,” Abigail reels slightly as she places her hand on his head as he snuggles into her thigh. She pushes gently and he unwinds his small arms from around her. He steps half a step back and she stoops down on one knee to look him in the eye.

She tucks some of his hair behind his ears, her hands cupping his small cheeks, losing the last bit of baby fat from them as the boy grows in fits.

“Can you be a good boy fer me and go find Uncle Hosea? I think he has a new book fer you.” 

His eyes flash in excitement as he nods, and Abigail gives him a wry grin as he tries to wriggle away, not letting go of him until she places a kiss on his forehead. When she takes her hand from his shoulders, he darts away across the camp, calling after Hosea.

Bless him, he’s like a grandfather to Jack. Between him and Arthur, sometimes, sometimes, she can almost forget how terrible of a father John is.

Speaking of which, she finds him staring at her from across the camp, elbows at his knees as he sits in front of the fireplace. She glares back at him before turning away, huffing in a moment of agitation.

She pulls back the tent's canvas slightly, confirming to herself that yes, you are asleep.

Frowning, she lets the canvas go and walks over toward the lakeshore behind where Arthur had set his tent wagon up, crossing her arms over her chest as the red-painted sunset reflected off of the still waters of Flat Iron.

When she had asked you when was the last time you bled, she expected sputtering, anxious eyes and having to come up with a way to tell Arthur that he’d gotten a child upon you.

Instead, your flushed face turned almost white as you shot to your feet and immediately stumbled away from the wash bin and toward the treeline.

Abigail dropped laundry she had been working on back into the tub and hitched her skirt to run after you, catching up only as you doubled over, leaning against a tree as you choked up bile onto the ground.

You had burst into tears in between wet, gasping breaths, your stomach heaving dry when there was nothing left to expel. Abigail rubbed your upper back soothingly as she pulled your hair back from over your shoulder.

“C’mon now, it’s gonna be okay. Arthur’s- he’s the best of the men, he’ll take care of you.” She cooed softly, her hand working in slow circles between your shoulder blades.

You sob aloud, which unseats her. “It’s…it’s….”

You could barely get the words out.

Abigail’s circles slow, “Is… it not his?”

You collapsed to your knees as sobs racked your body, wet coughs echoing through the woods.

Abigail spent the rest of the afternoon trying to console you, able to pry details between your fits of dry heaving and sobs. She narrows her eyes against the red sun in the distance, her shoulders finally letting down from how tightly they’ve been wound all afternoon.

The truth was much worse than she had been expecting.

She had managed to coax you away from the trees and usher you quietly into Arthur’s tent, where she immediately pulled the canvas shut before turning back to you and pushing you down gently into the cot, taking your boots off one at a time and placing them on the ground next to the cot.

In hushed whimpers, you told her about what had happened those months ago when the gang was still at Horseshoe.  Her brow furrowed in shock as she brushed your hair off of your forehead, taking a handkerchief from the pocket of her skirt and dabbing it across your damp brow.

The truth, as terrible as it was, was not unfamiliar to Abigail. A whore by fifteen, she had seen her share of women forced against their will. A customer gone too far, a rat of a man waiting to catch one of the girls alone, not wanting to pay for services.

She herself had experiences with it. 

But you, as you regaled the terrible details in hiccuping breaths, you had never been part of that world, and when the O’Driscoll forced you down on that bed, the act of sex had never been weaponized against you until that moment.

She had finally calmed you down enough that you drifted off to sleep, not more than an hour ago.

Rubbing the back of her neck, Abigail glances back toward where the horses are hitched, Arthur’s mare still missing amongst them.

She lets out a long, mournful breath. As many times as she had tried to assure you that if you were with child it was likely Arthur’s… all you could dwell on was that man who bound and gagged you and had you on the old bed in that dingy cabin.

You had cried yourself to sleep, and Abigail now has to figure out what to do going forward. Obviously, she thinks as she brushes the loose hair at the nape of her neck that escaped her bun, she needs to figure this out with Arthur. No matter what the decision was. She needed to talk to him before she made a trip to Saint Denis to collect the needed items.

A pang of memory flashes in her mind - the horrified look on John’s face when she told him she was with child. How it was months before he had her in his bed again. Only once, when she was swollen with child, did he lay with her - now years ago. 

The sound of hoofbeats draws her from the fugue of her thoughts. She turns partway around to see Arthur ride into the camp atop his mare, weighed down with a whitetail deer strapped across the horse’s rump. Wiping her hands on her skirt, Abigail sighs and moves towards where Arthur dismounts, following him silently as he shoulders the deer carcass and slings it over Pearson’s table.

He scoots over toward the tub of soapy water to wash the blood from his skin.

“Arthur.” 

Arthur looks up, shaking his hands from the wash bin, “Miss Roberts,” he drawls with a smile on his face.

Abigail does not return his smile.

-

“She was raped?”

Arthur stares at Abigail from under the rim of his hat, clenching his jaw, “How-”

“She told me.” Abigail sighs, leaning against the tree a bit away from the camp that she had led him to.

“She alrigh’? What happened for her to tell you?” Arthur mumbles, glancing back at the camp looking for you, but you are nowhere to be found.

“Arthur. I think she’s with child.” Abigail states in a hushed tone, and Arthur’s eyes dart wildly back to her.

“Child?”

“Yes, Arthur,” Abigail retorts, her patience frayed and finally worn out.

Arthur’s jaw clenches before he opens his mouth again, “It’s mine.” He mumbles, almost too soft to hear, eyes shooting down to the ground.

Much like how you refused to listen to Abigail’s pleading and reassurance as she tried to convince you of the same, Abigail brushes aside Arthur’s comment.

“Did he… did he spend in her?” Abigail rubs her eyes with the back of her palm, exhausted as dusk was closing in on the camp.

“I have,” Arthur says quietly, continuing to look at the ground.

“I know you have, idiot. But th’ first thing she thought is that this baby belongs to some dead O’Driscoll that raped her.”

Arthur’s jaw sets, unable to hide the snarl from his tone. “Ain’t no way it's his. We’ve been sleepin’ together for a couple a’ months. And I don’t always-”

“Yes, Arthur, I get that.” Abigail interjects with exasperation, “The question is - does she?”

The outlaw’s gaze flicks upward, landing on Abigail for a moment, before he turns his head to the side, looking over the western horizon at Flat Iron Lake.

“Look - I don’t know what y’all want to do. I don’t know what she wants to do. But…” She trails off, her gaze also looking out to the lake, “I can give her things to make it end.”

Arthur doesn’t respond.

Abigail dusts off her skirt as she begins to step away, “But Arthur…”

He finally can make eye contact as she looks back at him.

“She’s gotta make up her mind - quick.”

-

The dinginess - the sour smell of off-food and dirty men permeated the air. The kind of stink that simple cleaning would never get rid of.

Your head is killing you as you blink away the pain, but you find yourself biting down on a foul piece of fabric tied around your mouth. You try to pull it down, but find that your wrists are bound behind your back.

The door opens and the feeling of dread in your chest explodes into a blazing fire of fear.

“There’s my little girl.”

His greasy, dark hair is slicked back away from his disheveled beard, and he smiles that toothy, nauseating grin at you.

The O’Driscoll pulls up your chemise from your thighs up and over your belly, baring your bottom half to him. You try to clench your thighs together, but as he leans over you, you do not find that he forces your legs apart.

But you cannot fight him as his rough and dirty hand spreads out over your belly.

“Pretty miss - gonna be all big and swollen with my child.”

Your eyes shoot open, your fingers closing tightly around the blanket that you’ve pulled around yourself. You have to bite your lip to stop from screaming aloud. 

Dusk’s shadows permeate through the canvas of Arthur’s tent, and you realize you’ve spent most of the afternoon sleeping. You push yourself up in the cot, breathing out heavily.

You pass your hand over your stomach. As soon as Abigail asked you the last time you bled, the cavern inside you opened up. You hadn’t bled since before the house in Cumberland. The nausea, the vomiting. God, you’ve been so tired too. 

Shit, was it true? Could there be a child there, under the softness of your belly? Would you grow round and hard there beneath your fingertips? 

Not only was there a pit in your stomach, but you felt like your chest had been cracked open - you’re drowning in yourself - why can’t you escape that O’Driscoll and what he did?

You curl up smaller in Arthur’s cot, pulling the blanket over you, trying to hide from the world.

-

Usually, it’s before a job that he reaches for a cigarette. Something to calm his nerves and hone his senses before roaring into a situation with guns blazing.

That’s not the situation he finds himself in now.

Arthur finds himself pacing in the wooded area outside of camp, smoking hurriedly as his palm clenches in agitation. He throws the half-smoked cigarette to the ground and smashes it under the heel of his boot, turning his face upward and exhaling a plume of smoke with a sound that could be described as a sigh.

The lantern lights of the camp start to glow in the distance. He hasn’t worked up the courage to rejoin the group since stalking out to the woods and smoking half a pack of damn cigarettes.

Flat Iron Lake is still in the distance, a few ships passing between Saint Denis and Blackwater illuminate the dark waters.

Arthur grabs his hat off his head with one head and wipes the sweat from his brow with the back of the other. He closes his eyes, letting another long breath out.

Arthur swears he can hear a child’s laughter. It ain’t Jack though. Another young boy - with tawny hair and freckles dusting his cheeks. 

“Papa!”

A young boy who darts toward him as he slides off of his saddle.

The smile of a dark-haired girl leaning in the doorframe.

Fishing rods and toy horses and bedtime stories when he came around. A cup of coffee and pleasant conversation with a girl he shared a night with so long ago…

And two wooden crosses. Silence. Not even the birds sang that day he came upon the little house off the road. 

Arthur continues to pace, cursing under his breath. He goes to reach for yet another cigarette when he stops, swallowing, and grits his teeth.

How goddamn selfish of him to wallow in his own miserable past when you need him. The pit in his stomach reopens as he remembers the sight of you in that cabin. Bound, gagged, and violated.

And now his dumb ass has gone and gotten you pregnant. Foisted this upon you when you were still so vulnerable and hurting and god damnit - he told you he wasn’t a good person. This absolutely proves it.

There’s no lantern light on in his tent, he can see through the woods, and he’s stayed out long enough. Lord only knows Abigail is going to come find him and smack him the way she’s hit John - but he wouldn’t be any less deserving.

With yet another long, burdened breath, he heads back toward his tent.

Arthur Morgan moves as quietly as he can through the canvas, pulling it shut behind him. Darkness has fallen upon the camp, and he’s thankful that he can reach the oil lantern on the table with just enough moonlight for him to light it low. A yellow-orange glow emits from it, illuminating the tent.

You’re sitting in his cot, in the darkness, and in the light, he can see the sheen of tears down your cheeks. Your hair is falling out of the bun it’s half tied into. Fuck, he’s the goddamn scum of the earth.

“Darlin’,” his voice cracks with uncertainty.

You shiver, the threadbare blanket pulled over your shoulders as you sit in the cot. Arthur holds the rim of his hat in his hands, fidgeting with it restlessly as he cannot meet your eyes.

“Abigail seems to think…”

“Abigail’s right.” You mumble, monotone while staring into space.

Arthur chews his lip, “This is my fault.”

“Ain’t your fault an O’Driscoll-”

“I got you pregnant,” Arthur interjects, moving to sit on the small stool across from the cot.

“You don’t know it’s yours.” You snap back with a vicious snarl in your voice and he nearly recoils as if shot. This he did not expect.

Neither it seems, did you. Your eyes widen when you finally meet his, and hold his gaze for but a moment before your brow crinkles and you shove your face into your knees as you draw them up to your chest.

You hiccup a sob, “What if this baby looks l-like ‘im? What if the baby has them cold dark eyes starin’ at me like when when he-”

“Shh,” Arthur hushes you, preventing you from speaking aloud your terrible truth. He wraps his arms around you, drawing you into his embrace, “That ain’t gonna happen.”

You wriggle uncomfortably in his arms, trying to pull away. Arthur lets go of you, but his hands move to cup your cheeks and force you to look at him.

“No matter what, I’m gonna be here for you, sweetheart.”

Your eyes are only able to hold his stare for but so long before you look downward. Arthur lets go of your face and you take the opportunity to scoot further away from him in the cot, unable to look him in the eyes.

You’ve pulled your knees to your chest and hidden your face in them, ashamed of the tears that spill down your cheeks again.

“I had a son.”

Arthur’s voice is not loud, not strong, not solid. You slowly raise your head, sniffling, to find him sitting with his elbows on his thighs and head hung low, staring at the dirt below his feet.

“…had?”

He nods, still not looking at you, “He ‘nd his mother were killed, long time ago. Robbery.”

You remain quiet, your gaze down to the ground also. 

“I wasn’t there.”

You wrap your arms tighter around your legs.

“Wasn’t there for any of it. Wasn’t there when he was born, barely there as he grew up, wasn’t there when he ‘nd his mother needed my protection.”

Arthur rubs tiredly over his eyes, his thigh bouncing slightly with something you recognize as agitation, anxiety. 

Fear.

It is several moments before he looks up at you again, swallowing before the low timbres of his voice fill the tent again.

“If you want this baby - I’ll be here. For all of it.”

-

You curl up on Arthur’s cot and try to sleep. At your obvious discomfort, he maintains a distance between you, pulling a chair in from outside and posting himself in it, pulling his hat over his head to try to get some sleep. 

Just before dawn, the pit in your stomach threatens to open up, and you toss the blanket from your body and pad outside, hurrying toward the treeline for what has become your normal. You’re able to make it a few trees back before you have to stop and hunch over to empty your stomach.

You wetly cough between heaving breaths, and it is not but a few minutes later that you feel his fingers grab into your hair, pulling it up as you vomit into the leaves below. 

You lean into the tree harder as you spit up the last of the bile in your belly. Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you stumble slightly when you try to stand up, and Arthur’s hands find your waist quickly to maintain your upright position.

“C’mon there, sweetheart, let’s lay you down again.”

You don’t answer him, instead allowing him to guide you back to his tent as the first vestiges of the dawn overtake the sky. You let him help you lay down, you let him pull the blanket over your body. Exhausted, you finally fall asleep.

You awaken several hours later, when a hand presses to your forehead, checking for a temperature. Your eyes flutter open to see Abigail leaning over you, and you scramble to get up as she moves to the end of the cot to sit opposite of you.

Abigail takes your hand in your lap after a few terse moments. “Y’ wanna get rid of it? I can make that happen, but we gotta do it sooner than later.”

You look up at her, unable to stop the sheen of tears from glazing over your eyes. Tears escape and trail down your cheeks as your gaze moves from Abigail, sitting on the cot with you, across the small tent to Arthur, sitting on an old chair with his elbows on his knees.

Behind those blue eyes of his is a maelstrom, one you know he’s trying to hide from you. Arthur’s whispered voice echoes in your mind as he tells you the sorry tale of his own fatherhood. His loss, the indescribable hole in his heart full of regret and sorrow. Arthur’s gaze moves from you down to the ground.

You close your eyes as another wave of tears slides down your face, sighing loudly as you try to gather what little composure you have left. 

Finally, you look back to the woman gently rubbing your hand.

-

“Seen you hanging all over Arthur,” Grimshaw eyed your waist critically, “It’s his, ain’t it?”

There comes a time that you can’t hide it anymore - the swell of your belly just under your skirts. You’re sure the girls know - you’ve seen their eyes flit on your figure.

You continue to stare at the setting sun over the lake. Part of you wishes you had the wherewithal to respond, but you don’t have the strength to anymore.

Susan had clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “Idiots. The both of you.”

You avoid people. Get your chores done quickly. Don’t complain about not getting jobs. Arthur moved everything of yours into his tent, more permanently letting down the canvas sides.

From that very first day that you cowered in his cot away from his touch, Arthur had given you a wide berth since you pushed him away - hesitant, sleeping on either a chair or laying his bedroll on the ground.

You awaken many days before dawn, silently padding out to the wooded area south of the camp, far enough away that the rest of the folks couldn’t hear your retching. Several times in the beginning, Arthur follows you, and you angrily shoo him away before he stops tagging along behind you.

Over the weeks, your belly hardens, your breasts swell. You have to let out the waist of your skirt, and there is no hiding anything when the height of the summer finds Clemens - it’s so miserably hot that layers to hide your growing body must be shed or you’d sweat to death.

You’ve seen Dutch eye you. You’ve seen him argue with Arthur. You’ve seen Grimshaw join the fray. Hosea has been dropping ginger tea off to you in the morning with a gentle, knowing smile - it tasted terrible, but after the first few bracing sips, it did settle your stomach.

“Mind if I join y’ for a smoke?”

From the grassy spot you sit upon, you look up to find the widow Adler looking down at you. She’s shed her skirts and blouses in favor of work pants. Arthur had dragged her away from Pearson hollering some kind of awful and they returned with her much less agitated. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a braid, the scar above her eyebrow much more noticeable when she wasn’t wearing a hat.

You nod, looking back to the water, and the spurs of Sadie’s boots jingling as she pulls a matchbook from her trouser’s pocket.

“You know me, I ain’t gonna pussy foot about you. I know you ain’t gettin’ fat because of Pearson’s cookin’.” Sadie lights the cigarette between her teeth, continuing to talk through the process.

You remain silent, sitting there on the shoreline, arms looped around your knees, your skirts hiding your frame - your belly, swelling with child.

The match sizzles when she chucks it into the lake and takes a drag.

“Y’got a look about you that you ain't happy bout it.”

You frown, placing your forehead against your knees. “No,” you mumble into the fabric of your skirt.

She lets out a plume of smoke. Silence settles between you before you work up the courage to speak again.

“When they came to your ranch… did they… did-” you swallow, stuttering as your voice cracks.

Sadie drops the cigarette, mashing it into the ground under her boot.

“Yeah.”

You squeeze your eyes tightly shut, sighing before your voice cracks again,  “I… when we just got to Horseshoe - there was a house I was scopin’ a-and then… then an O’D-driscoll-” you start to sniffle as your vision clouds with tears.

Sadie does not meet your gaze, simply closing her eyes and breathing out her nose.

“And you're thinkin’ it's his.”

You nod, the tears slipping down your face. What a miserable excuse for an outlaw you are, weeping like a frail woman in front of someone who endured the same trauma.

She lets out a long, thoughtful breath, heavy with the weight of familiarity, “I know, better than most, that you ain't gonna listen to anyone, but y’know it's probably Arthur’s.”

You swallow, about to retort something back at her when she turns on her heel, her spurs jingling.

“You and he weren’t exactly subtle with what you were up to.” Her hand brushes your shoulder before she walks back toward the camp. You remain still, looking out over the lake with your arms wrapped around yourself.

“Best if you start lookin’ forward instead of lookin’ back. You’re only gonna find pain there.”

You look back toward her.

“Are you lookin’ forward?”

Sadie Adler turns halfway to look at you, her jaw set and eyes hard.

“No.”

-

You dream of blood. Of the overpowering richness and stifling warmth in the stale air of the tent. Of movement, people, murmuring voices, and hushed tones.

You dream of pain. You dream of being torn apart from the inside. You dream of screams, nearly inhumane, echoing in the tent.

You dream of Susan Grimshaw dabbing a damp rag over your head, a soft, pitying look on her face.

You dream of the women of camp surrounding you - of Abigail and Sadie, Tilly and Mary Beth. Karen, even Molly. Sadness, forlornness in their eyes.

Abigail holds a whimpering newborn in her arms, swaddled in a blanket.

The bundle is placed in your arms, and as you draw back the linen, the child’s features are revealed. Instead of Arthur’s dark honeyed hair and blue eyes, the babe has dark, dark hair and near-black eyes that blink up at you. Dark, cruel eyes that are nothing like your own.

Nothing like Arthur’s.

You rocket up in the cot, gasping, holding a hand to your breast to calm your racing heart. Your movement has awakened the other person in the tent, and Arthur shoots up from his bedroll on the ground, his head darting this way and that, looking for potential danger before realizing that you had been plagued by a nightmare.

“Sweetheart-” Arthur reaches toward your face to wipe the tears from your cheeks but you flinch and draw back further so that he cannot touch you.

“I just… I…” your voice stutters in the night, “P-Please don’t touch me.” 

His hand retracts from between you, “Course, darlin’.”

You gather the thin blanket around you closer, refusing to make eye contact with the man who has crawled closer to the cot from where his bedroll lay spread out on the ground. “Why are you doin’ this?”

“Doin’ what?” Arthur says quietly as he pushes himself up, from his knees to sit at the very end of the cot, opposite where you have curled yourself.

“This.” You gesticulate to the distance between you, then to his bedroll on the floor, “You shouldn’t be sleepin’ on the ground. You’re far too high up in this gang to be doin’ that.”

“You’re pregnant. I c’n sleep anywhere, don’t need a bed.” Arthur says, running his thumb over his bruised knuckles, also not making eye contact with you.

“I ain’t pregnant with-” You begin, clenching your fists in the blanket, your voice faltering.

“You are. Don’t start with this - you remember how many times we was stupid.” Arthur looks up, clenching his jaw and narrowing his eyes in a look of irritation before sighing, running his palm down his face against the exhaustion creeping in on him, “Look, sweetheart. I don’t know why you keep thinkin’ the baby’s his. We’ve been sleepin’ together for months.”

You turn your head away from him, setting your jaw. He doesn’t understand, how would he ever understand?

Arthur lets out a breath and moves from the floor up to sit at the opposite end of his old cot.

“But what if he is? What if this baby’s daddy is that O-”

“My daddy wasn't nothin’ but the man that made me.” He interjects, “Hosea and Dutch raised me more than my actual father did.” 

You glance at the mugshot placed on the wagon in the corner of the tent. Lyle Morgan stares at you, with unrepentant eyes, as if he were mocking you from the grave.

“If…if-” You stutter, your eyes watering over again as you draw your knees awkwardly to your chest, your belly getting in the way, The strap of your chemise slips down your shoulder, “If this baby is born and y’ see it’s h-his-”

“It doesn’t matter,” Arthur’s voice raises a bit, and as he realizes it, he slides closer to you on the cot, and grasps one of your hands in his own, his large, calloused hand engulfing yours, “I’m gonna be this child’s pa. Me. I’m gonna be that for the babe, and I’m gonna be that for you.”

You don’t fight his touch. Your eyes water over as you tightly close them, “I don’t know why you’d want another man’s-”

His thumb tenderly swipes your cheek, dashing the tears cascading from your eyes, “Cause I want you, sweetheart. ‘Nd anythin’ you create, it’s gonna be from you, and I want that too.”

You can’t hold back the sob from your throat as you crumble forward in the cot, Arthur winds his arms around you. You breathe in the musk of him - of leather and tobacco and safety.

And in the dim silence of the night, you allow it, burying yourself into his embrace, crying into his collarbone, your swollen belly pressed against his ribcage. 

[mountainsandmayhem]

Congrats again!!! You deserve all the love 🥰

📝You know I’m already gonna ask for a Drabble about my man Joel 😂 I am thinking in the middle of outbreak and they get a moment alone in an abandoned building and he has some fun with reader 😈 I want that filthy mouth of his 🤭

A Lesson in Listening

18+

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: Joel stumbles into your hideout and proceeds to change your whole life during the outbreak.

“I told you to stay fucking behind me,” Joel growls, shoving you into an abandoned Target. You’d been camped out here for a few days, before Joel “sex on legs” Miller wandered in.

“Sorry. I was trying to help!” And you really were. Raiders are almost worst than infected, and you made a stupid move and almost got caught. But your intentions were to help.

“Need to teach ya to listen, darlin’,” he huffs, looking you over to make sure you aren’t hurt. His concerned slowly melts from his face, replaced with something wicked. Sinister. Eyes glazing as he looks down at you with deep black eyes. His tongue pokes into the side of his cheek as he steps back and crosses his strong arms across his broad chest.

“That what you need? A lesson in listenin’?” His voice is dark and husky, and you feel it in your clit as she vibrates for him. This man, this fucking man, and his almost unfair ability to turn you into a soaking hot mess with just a look.

You wet your lips, watching as his eyes dart to your mouth, and then to the column of your throat as you swallow the dry lump of desire that’s forming. “I promise I’ll listen from now on, Joel. I’m sorry.” It comes out weak and shaky.

“Prove it,” he challenges. “Get on your knees.”

You don’t hesitate. Dropping to the chipped and dirty linoleum floor. It’s cold through your jeans, and it hurts the large bruise that’s forming from the earlier attack. But you push through, Joel has intoxicated you in the last few days. Somehow winding himself so deep into the fabric of your being. Anything for him, you’ll follow him to the ends of the earth just to hear him say your name; never mind all the other dirty shit you have, and will continue to oblige too. Happily. Easily. Gladly.

“Take off your shirt and play with your tits,” he leans against an empty rack that at one point would have been filled with candles or seasonal displays.

As your shirt comes off, the cool air pebbles your nipples, but your hands, and the fire in his gaze, warms you as you knead your breasts.

“Pinch your nipples,” he barks. You rush again, rolling your hard little nipples between your thumb and forefingers. He shakes his head, chuckling throat his nose as you moan. “So you can listen?”

You pinch harder, gasping at the mix of pain and pleasure. “Yes, I’ll listen Joel.”

“Good,” he states as he removes his shirt. You feel the slick between your legs growing as you take in his sculpted body. His chest hair is somehow perfectly sculpted even though it’s the middle of the goddamn apocalypse. The happy trail of hair down the middle of his toned abs makes your mouth water. You know exactly what that trail leads to. His thick, ruthless cock.

“Crawl to me!” His deep command echos through the abandoned store. You waste no time, placing your hands on the floor and crawling over to him. He turns around and walks to the bed, sitting on the edge with his legs spread wide.

“That’s it. All the way to me.” He’s enjoy this way too much. When you reach him, you sit back on your heels and look up at him through your lashes.

“The bed was shakin last night. Wanna tell me what you were doin?”

Blush lights your cheeks and you look down at your hands. “Ummm…I-I was…”

Joel’s strong hand cups your chin gently and tilts your face up to meet his. “Come on. Be a good girl and tell me.”

“I was….touching.” You shouldn’t be embarrassed, you’re an adult woman, but something about admitting to Joel that you needed more last night feels wrong.

“Touching what?” He whispers, one eyebrow raising.

“Myself,” you say nervously.

“You mean you were touching MY pussy,” he says. It’s not a question, he told you last night that she belongs to him now.

“Y-yes. I just…I needed more.”

“I fucked ya stupid yesterday and that slutty little thing needed more?”

You nod sheepishly, avoiding his gaze.

“Show me,” he says darkly. The tone of voice causing goosebumps to raise along your exposed skin.

“W-what?”

He pats the bed, “take off your clothes, and show me. Show me how you make yourself come.”

He holds his hand out to you, as you slip your small hand into his large palm he helps you up and guides you to the bed. You lie down, unbuttoning your jeans and sliding them and your panties off in one motion. Joel shuffles to sit on the foot on the bed, looking up at you.

“Don’t get shy on me. Show me how you did it last night.” His rough hands reach to push your legs apart, his pupils dilate when he sees your glistening pussy on display.

“What do you do to yourself, baby? Do you gather all that slick and slip your fingers in? Do you just rub your clit? Maybe you do both.” He’s practically salivating as he looks at you.

Your chest rises and falls with shaky breaths. No one has ever watched you touch yourself before. You feel nervous as his honey flecked eyes burn into you.

“Show me!” He says loudly, voice echoing through the large, empty building.

You gasp in fear, hand shooting to your waiting pussy. You start by moving the building arousal from your hole up to your clit, light little strokes, spreading wetness. Once you’re wet enough, you let your eyes slip closed as you use the pad of your middle finger to slowly circle your clit.

“Fuck, darlin’. She’s so wet. Doin’ so good,” he adjust himself so one of your legs is draped across his lap, eyes wholly focused on your center.

Your lips part, a pleasurable sigh passing your lips as you apply more pressure. “Joel,” you moan.

He leans down, bringing his face close to your pussy. “Lookin’ good enough to eat. Add another finger, wanna see you come.”

His warm breath hits your pussy as he speaks, your hips bucking forward as the sensation. You follow Joel’s instructions, adding your pointer finger and swirling figure eights around your swollen bundle of nerves. “Fuuuuck…oh god….Joel, please.”

“Not yet, wanna see you bury those little fingers,” his lips graze your inner thigh, rough facial hair scraping your skin. “Show me.”

You prop yourself up on an elbow for a better reach, his free hand pushing your legs open more. “Start with one, slide it all the way in.”

Your middle finger prods at your tight hole. You whimper as you slide it in. “Is she sore?” Joel asks softly.

“Mm-hmm,” you nod, slipping your finger in and out as he watches.

“Add another finger, slowly. Once she’s open for me I’ll take over. Come on, darlin’.” He kisses along your creamy thighs as your tease yourself with the second finger, pushing them in slowly.

“Hnnnngh, Joel. I need you.” You say in a shaky whine. Your sore pussy stretching in a mix of pleasure and pain. His two fingers are about three of yours, you’re not sure if you’ll be able to take it.

“Doin’ so good. Look so beautiful like this, fuckin’ yourself like I ask. Such a good girl.” He brings his two fingers towards your lips. “Suck, get ‘em nice and wet.”

You lick your lips and then suck his fingers deep into your mouth, fighting against your gag reflex, your two fingers stilling inside of you. “Keep fucking yourself. Don’t stop, sweetheart.”

You moan around his fingers, bobbing your head up and down until your saliva is dripping off of them. “Lay back,” he says, pulling them from your mouth. Your fingers slide out from your pussy, slick coating them as you slide them up to your sensitive clit.

You fall back into the plush pillows, a luxury in this post apocalyptic world. Joel doesn’t take his time, sliding his thick fingers in, stretching into your wet heat. “Keep rubbin’ that little clit,” he whispers, before blowing cool air on your pussy and curling his fingers forward.

And that’s what does it. The pressure behind your clit breaks, waves of pleasure washing over you. You cry out, saying Joel’s name over and over again.

“That’s it. So fuckin good for me. Let go for me,” his lips kiss your thighs, the outer lips of your pussy, above your mound. He’s everywhere and somehow no where all at once, and you never want it to stop. “So beautiful. This pussy. Fuck baby.”

You finally start to come down, and he slips his fingers out, cleaning them off with his mouth, moaning at the taste of you. Your legs shake uncontrollably, his large hands coming to massage where they meet your pelvis.

“Good girl,” he says, placing a light kiss on your clit. “Such a good listener.”

[frootynovak]

calex vs. outdoor activities vs. being clingy

“So, you are serious about going on this hike!”

Alex stood by the sink, drying her hands with the kitchen cloth hung by the drawer.

It was a chilly morning and the sun was just beginning to rise. The kitchen windows were slightly open and Alex was reveling the refreshing scent of blossoming magnolias next door, welcoming the start of spring. She could hear frantic movements and running around coming from upstairs. A minute passes and Casey emerges from the staircase in tight underpants and sweaters, carrying a backpack and a duffle bag.

“And you’re really not coming with me?”

“I am not going hiking with you, Case.” Alex insists. She takes a plate from one of the drawers and dumps the buttered toasts she prepared. “Did you see the list I gave you detailing the many reasons why it could be dangerous?”

Casey shakes her head in mild disbelief. She puts her bags down and comments, “Didn’t paint you as a pessimist but yes, I did see the list.” She moved closer towards Alex, grabbing a piece of toast off her plate and taking a bite. “And it is ridiculous.”

“Ookay, then what will you do if a brown bear lunged at you?”

“There are no bears where I’m going, idiot.”

“You don’t know that.” Alex pouts. “You could literally die.”

Casey shrugs. She bends down to tie the shoelaces of her hiking boots. “Eh, guess I’ll take my chances.”

Alex turns off the coffee machine and pours a cup. “Won’t you have coffee with me first?”

Try as she might, Alex knew well she can never convince her stubborn wife when Casey is already intent on doing something.

“Love to but can’t.” Casey gets up and walks across the kitchen. She took the remaining coffee from the brewer and poured the liquid straight into her red thermo flask. “I’m sorry. I’m just running a bit late.”

“And who are you going with? Do I know these people that you’re going with? Have I met any of them?”

Casey grins at her hesitantly. “Not exactly… But I am in good hands, Lex.”

When Alex didn’t answer, Casey proceeded to the fridge to get the packed meals and trail mixes she prepared yesterday for her trip. She puts them inside the duffle bag and zips it closed.

Pushing the eyeglasses up her nose, Alex sets aside the newspaper she was reading earlier into the rack in the living room.

She returns to the kitchen to take a sip of her coffee and then turned towards Casey with wide eyes when she realised something. “Oh Casey! You don’t even know the people you’re going with!”

“Relax, babe, I’m going to be fine.”

Alex clenched her jaw and put her hands on her waist. “How are you going to be fine? You will be in the middle of nowhere with strangers!”

“Okay, first of all, we have a guide. Her name is Emma Wheatley and she is a childhood friend.”

Alex raised a brow. “Emma? A girl?”

“Yes. Emma. A woman.” Casey says matter-of-factly. She furrows her brows, studying the expression on Alex’s face. “Before you get jealous, she is happily married with kids.”

Alex will never admit it but she tends to be possessive when it comes to Casey. There is no doubt in her mind that her hopelessly devoted wife will ever have the heart to betray her trust but she learned halfway into their early years that Casey can be so incomprehensibly oblivious when it comes to people flirting with her.

“Do you even know the trail? You could get lost and end up on dateline!”

“Baby,” Casey heaved a deep sigh. She stood in front of her wife and stroke the length of Alex’s arms as if to pacify her. “I say this sincerely but you’ve been watching too much television. And if you’re so worried, why don’t you just come with me, huh?”

She went camping in the woods with Casey once because she wanted to learn more about this side of Casey, outside of the courtroom and outside of the shell she’s built for her fast-paced life in New York—her adventurous, free-spirited, curious, and dynamic Casey.

There was one rainy night that Alex chanced upon a sleepless Casey just watching the raindrops pelting against the big window by the living room. She remembers how she was comfortably perched on the corner next to the couch with a cup of tea on her hand. When Alex approached her, Casey told her that it would have been her grandfather’s 82nd birthday.

Casey relieved her childhood memories when their grandfather used to take little Casey and her brothers to go fish and camp in the woods. She said it was always what she looked forward to in the summer—their parents would drop them off and leave her and her two older brothers for a week or two in their grandparents’ small farm.

Touched by the memory and wanting to cheer Casey up, Alex agreed to go to the mountains with her. Casey told her it would be fun and easy, and that Casey will set up their tent and that they could lay down under a starlit sky and how she would even tell her fun facts about constellations. Or bugs.

When they found an appropriate schedule for the both of them, they left for Maine. Casey was overcome with excitement, and Alex, although glad that this little gesture made Casey happy, was nervous.

In the end, they had to circle back to the center and go to the nearest hospital when Alex complained of having itchy rashes.

Alex swore she would never go to the mountains with Casey again after what Alex dubbed as her second “near-death experience”. They both just accepted that outdoor activities would be Casey’s thing, and Alex will stay with playing tennis and riding horses. At times, Casey would still ask if she wants to go in hopes that Alex changes her mind.

“You sure you’re not coming?”

“I will wait for you by the foot of the mountain and you better meet me in one piece.”

Casey rolls her eyes before flashing a childlike smile at her wife. “Okay, okay. See you in three days, Cabot!”

She wraps her arms around Alex and peppered her wife’s face with chaste kisses, and then finally, bade her goodbye with a lingering kiss on the lips.

When Casey shut the door behind her, Alex felt a vague sense of yearning; a quiet ache settling in her chest. For a second, she mentally checks weekend routine to be sure that she won’t have spare time to sulk around the house because she misses Casey’s presence.

Alex bolted outside and quietly stood by the door frame in her silk pajamas. She watched Casey put her bags in the trunk of her Honda.

She debated with herself whether to say something for fear of getting teased by the redhead as being too clingy. She stood by the frame of the main door of their townhouse. “Case?”

“Yes, baby?”

Alex combed through her thoughts before deciding to finally ask something: She cleared her throat and asked whether Casey has double checked everything and packed her essentials: water, bug spray, sunscreen, mosquito repellant, a flash light, a whistle, a hunting knife.

“Yes, yes, and yes. Lex, this is not my first rodeo.”

Alex nods. “I know.”

Casey closed the trunk and then run to the front stairs up to where Alex stood. “Would you rather I stay home with you?”

Alex looks at Casey’s bright, green eyes. Yes, she would rather Casey stays home with her for the weekend. Yes, she would rather have her cuddled up and cozy by the couch while watching their favorite TV shows. Yes, she would rather stroll around busy Manhattan and hold hands with her and stop by for gelato. Yes, yes, yes, Alex wants Casey to just stay by her side so she could keep her safe and love her and adore her and make her hers.

“No, no. Don’t be ridiculous, darling. Go. Don’t worry about me, I’m fine.” Alex kisses Casey as she caresses her cheeks. “I would really enjoy if you’d keep me company of course but you don’t have to stop doing the things you enjoy just because you’re worried about me.”

There was a tinge of red on the apple of Casey’s pale cheeks as she listened to Alex talk. “Two years and you’re ready to renew our vows?” She teased. “Your ass is mine, Cabot.”

Alex could only give her a pointed look. “Shut up.”

Casey enters the car and puts her car key in the ignition. She opened the window slightly and shouted, “Don’t burn down the house while I’m gone! I’ll miss you!”

As Casey drove away, Alex follows the car with her eyes. She frowns and whispers to herself, “I’ll miss you, too, dumbass.”

[quicktosimp]

Just a Little Longer

Kinkmas Day 04

Warnings: By the Fire, Sleepy Sex, Nipple Play, Alien Genitalia, Cock Warming

A/N: Huge shout out to @neteyamsyawntu so excited for day four and to continue this amazing event 💗

One of the downsides to foraging for blue cloud moss is that for it to be harvested perfectly, you must do it in the rain. So’lek brought me with him because it was supposed to be light rain, yet here I am, shivering from said rain, but it is not weak. Large drops fell from the sky at a speed that is punishing. So’lek had gone deeper into the water to grab the last piece of blue cloud moss, and then we could head back to base. He wanted me to go with him, but my limbs were so cold I could barely use them. The rain felt like ice chips striking my body, racking me with painful coldness, and all I wanted to do was sit under 30 blankets and fall asleep.

“Paskalin, are you alright?” I heard So’lek ask me before I saw him.

I turned to the sound slowly, my body aching with every move. He was standing there holding the sack full of moss, looking at me concerned.

“I-I I-m, c-c-cc-col-d,” I stutter through my chattering teeth. 

He continues to get closer to me. He gently raises his hand and holds my face, angling it towards him, but even his gentle touch causes spikes of pain.

“Your lips are purple. I did not know that a tawtute body could do that,” So’lek asked concernedly, having never seen me like this before.

“T-t-t-too-o, co-c-cold,” I stutter out, hoping he’ll take the hint.

So’lek brought me into his arms, and while the warmth was nice, the feeling of his clothing on my skin felt like needles.

“You are much too cold, Paskalin,” He rumbles as he looks around, “I see a cave nearby. I will set up camp there, and we can continue after the rain stops,” So’lek gently kisses my head.

I nod obediently, just wanting to be warm and dry. I hobbled along after So’lek, trying and failing to keep up with him. Noticing my plight, he picked me up and cradled me to his chest.

“We are almost there. I will build you a fire as soon as you are settled in the cave,” He promised as I tried to leech whatever little heat I could get from him.

I wrapped my arms around him and buried my face in his neck, trying to find whatever little warmth I could as the rain continued to hit my skin. As So’lek climbed into the cliffside cave, even in the little enclave, there was some warmth. So’lek gently set me down on the dry floor as he scoured the cave for materials for the fire; thankfully, plenty of dry moss and twigs looked like they were from an abandoned nest. So’lek quickly built a fire, bringing light and warmth to the rest of the cave. As it became warmer, I stripped off my soaked clothes, peeling them off of me and setting them on the other side of the fire to dry.

“Yawne, what are you doing? You are still too cold to take off your clothing,” So’lek scolded as he felt my still too-cold skin.

“My clothes are wet, So’lek; they’re keeping me cold. The heat on my skin will help dry me faster,” I explained, sitting closer to the fire.

His brow furrows as he looks at his own soaked garments. He strips them off and places them next to my own clothing, leaving the two of us sitting next to each other nude. Even though we were practically touching, it wasn’t close enough. I crawled over and sat myself in his lap, facing him so we were chest to chest. His strong arms wrapped around me, bringing me the feeling of protection and warmth. I signed in response as I cuddled closer.

For a while, there was nothing but the sounds of the fire crackling and our breathing. I simply enjoyed the closeness, but So’lek had more on his mind.

“I’m sorry, Syulang, I wasn’t thinking when I asked you to join me, and because of that, I brought you pain,” So’lek’s ears drooped as his tail came to wrap around me. 

“It is alright, So’lek. I agreed to come, despite knowing it was probably a bad idea. I just wanted to spend some time with you,” I whispered, comfortable in my spot. 

“Next time, I will make sure it is something you enjoy, and I will ensure you won't feel an ounce of pain. Do not think I didn’t notice you flinching when we touched,” He states as he rubs his large hand up and down my back.

“It’s just from the cold. It makes my skin sensitive,” I say blindly, wanting more of his touches.

“Still, my carelessness will not be repeated,” So’lek finalized.

I simply hummed, too comfortable to argue right now. As time went on, So’lek’s hand started to rub down lower, nearing my ass. 

I angle my face upward so So’lek can hear and whisper, “Baby, I’m pretty sleepy right now, but even your little touches are making me horny. Will you make me feel better?” I ask seductively. 

A breath hitched in his throat as his grip became a bit tighter, “If that is what you wish, then I live to please you,” So’lek’s lips fell to my neck, gently kissing the skin there, before taking the skin into his mouth and sucking.

A gasp leaves my throat from the painful pleasure and knowing that a mark will be there tomorrow. His free hand traveled up and tangled his fingers into my hair, pulling my head to the side and giving him more room to my neck. So’lek’s other hand traveled down, slipping over my ass and in between my legs, as a lone finger trailed across my folds. I can’t stop the whimper that leaves my lips. The light touches mixed with his sharp teeth were making my head fuzzy. Too tired to do anything, I lay there limp, letting So’lek do as he pleases. As he started to trail his lips down, he pulled my head back, forcing me into an arch, pushing my tits into his face. So’lek immediately latched onto one sucking it into his mouth and nibbling on my bud. 

“So’lek!” I whine. 

My tits have always been sensitive, it's like a jolt of pleasure straight to my core, and this is something that So’lek has always exploited. As his mouth works along my tit, he applies more pressure on my cunt, parting my folds and gathering the slick there. 

“You are already so wet for me, Syulang, so needy,” So’lek muttered over my nipple as he slowly worked one of his long fingers inside me.

His finger is so long and thick that every knuckle would pop inside my tight cunt. So’lek curled his finger and rubbed that spongy spot inside me before pulling his finger out and doing it again. I moan as I try to rock my hips onto his finger, grinding myself into his slit. But soon, he added two; the stretch burned delightful as the two digits opened me wider than a human dick ever could. 

So’lek’s mouth left my tit only to move to the other one, lavishing it with the same attention as his thick fingers slid in and out of me leisurely, twisting and spreading his fingers inside me, preparing me for his cock. He let go of my breast, leaning back and admiring the marks he left. The hand threaded in my hair brought me closer to him, laying my head on his chest. I quickly latch my teeth into his peck, wanting to leave a mark of my own. 

By now, So’lek’s slit was open, and his cock was peeking out, eager for attention. With his now free hand, So’lek eases the rest of himself outside his body and into the open air. 

So’lek pulls his fingers out of my pussy with a wet pop, “Are you ready, Syulang? I will fill you now and warm you from the inside,” He whispers as he lines himself up with my hole, slowly dropping me down on his cock.

No matter how often I take it, I can never get used to the feeling. So’lek’s large cock spears me open. The tapered tip slides in easily enough, but then the spines come into play, large protrusions similar to the kuru but much thicker speckled around from the base to just below the tip of his cock, and fuck were they glorious. Each spine had to pop past my entrance, forcing it open even wider before my hole would clamp around it, only for it to be done again. I couldn’t stop the whines as I continued down his length. The spines inside of me started to move, wiggling around inside of me, eager to find a resting place. By the time I was seated back on So’lek, I was out of breath, trying to rock my hips or grind on his cock for more, only for his hands to grip my hips, keeping me in place.

“No, no, not yet,” So’lek’s deep voice reverberated in my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

“Please, So’lek, please give me more,” I beg, needing more friction as each of the spines on his cock, some having already hardened and stuck in their place.

So’lek groaned at my words, “You must be patient. I will give you what you wish soon,” So’lek placed the two fingers that were inside my cunt into his mouth, licking the juices off of them.

I moan at the sight, knowing that he was tasting me. I clenched around him as I tried to follow the pleasure.

“Shit, Syulang, you really are desperate tonight,” So’lek hissed, bringing his fingers down to my front and placing the pad of his finger on my clit, rubbing it in small circles.

“Oh, fuck yes, So’lek,” I moaned into his chest. I could feel his abs flex, refraining from trying to thrust his dick. 

The stretch of his cock brought a sweet burning, and the spines brought a more intimate pleasure as they rubbed my inner walls, trying to find a place to lock in with their mate. Each of them rakes against my flesh as So’lek begins to hump into me, never letting a centimeter leave my cunt, just gradual rolls of his hips, allowing more of the spines to lock into place, leaving more of them to push and pull inside, refusing to leave their chosen spot. 

“Fuck! So good, So’lek!” I moaned as my fingernails raked down his chest.

“My good girl, aren’t you? Always taking my cock so well. And now here we are. I’m going to fill you up with my seed,” So’lek growled, the idea of breeding his mate lowering his inhibitions. 

“Please, So’lek,” I whimpered as the tapered tip of his cock bumped against my cervix.

The angle didn’t work, and So’lek had to try again and again, continuously bruising my cervix as he continued to roll and pinch my clit. I whimpered and squealed with each thrust. My tired body couldn’t tense in the way it needed to, yet the pleasure continued to build. So’lek shifted his hips and leaned back, so I was more lying down compared to before. The new angle pushed him in deeper than I thought he could go, his cock head slipping past my cervix as the tendrils on the tip of his cock got to work. Feeling around the inside of my womb before creating a seal on the inside of my cervix, refusing to let a drop of cum leak out of me. And cum he did.

“I’m cumming, Syulang!” So’lek roared as he began to release inside of me.

Rope after rope of his seed filled my womb, filling me to the brim, and then more. Each rope of cum made me even more eager for him as his warmth filled me.

All this time, So’lek never stopped playing with my clit. And I finally came, wave after wave of a burning pleasure washed through me, my eyes whiting out, as my body relaxed further into his. My toes curled as each wave washed over me.

I was breathless as I came too again. So’lek was still cumming inside me, his cock still hard, and spines still flexed, and his breathing was just as labored as before. The feeling of his mate wrapped around his cock, as he continued to breed me is nothing short of perfect to him. 

“Was it good, Paskalin?” So’lek asks over his breathing.

“It was perfect, So’lek,” I respond, yawning.

So’lek chuckled at my plight as he gently arranged us so we were lying down, “I am glad, now sleep well. I will care for everything.”

Trusting So’lek, I closed my eyes and started to drift to sleep, wrapped in his arms and finally warm.

[sasha199]

Gale/ Wyll/ Rolan drama pt. 10

Y’all…this game hits different when your Tav is a stand in for yourself.

My sister and I are playing a multiplayer as ourselves, as sisters. I was romancing/flirting with both Gale and Wyll. I made a move on Lae’zel too but THAT ended in tears. Sister is pulling both Astarion and Shadowheart

(I’m Sasha, sister is Marlie.)

“What do you mean Rolan saw you naked?”

I cover my face with my hands, and peek at my sister through my fingers. “Exactly that. He. Saw. Everything.”

We’re in the basement of Last Light raiding the wine racks. There's a surprisingly large stock pile, I'm not complaining. 

Marlie shrugs, she’s working the cork off of an Arabellan Dry with her dagger. “I’m sure you looked great. But, explain to me how that happened when you were only alone for a couple of minutes.”

“Ah, well that’s not all…it was more…” I’m beginning to regret this whole conversation. “involved than that.”

She quirks an eyebrow at me, “ ‘Involved?’ ”

Gods above, can I even say it? I tap my temple. “Do you want me to just show you?”

“FUCK no!” She points her dagger at me as if to fend off whatever I might tadpole her.

“Right. Well, we shared a mental image, but it was more… I mean I could…feel him…”

The cork comes free with an echoing *pop* startling us both. 

“You mind fucked?”

 “Well…yes. But like REALLY-” I clap my hands together rhythmically a few times, making a solid consistent sound. 

“Wow.” She takes a big swig before passing the bottle to me. “That's intense.”

“Yeah.” I drink deep, the wine is sweet but dry, lighter than what I’m used to. 

“Good for you, I guess.”

“NOT good for me!” I splutter indignantly. “I’ve decided to be with Gale.”

“I mean, is it cheating if it’s in your head?”

I can feel the heat creeping up my cheeks. I take another gulp. “Well, after we experienced…that…he kind of kissed me…and stuff.”

“Damn.” She puts another bottle in her bag with a clink. “I swear it couldn’t have been more than 5 minutes once the door closed.” 

“Why did you let the door close?” My tone is carefully polite, not accusatory.

She shrugs, “I’m your sister, not your dad.”

I sigh, a bit of wine dribbles down my chin with the next swig. “Can we get out of here please? Gale already went back to camp.”

“What are you going to say to him? When we get back to camp, I mean.”

“The truth.”

“You think he’ll understand?”

“I don’t know.” 

“Maybe don’t tell him.”

“No way, he knows a lot about the Weave. He might be able to explain what happened.”

“I say leave it. Sounds like it was just an accident. At least the first part was.”

“I can’t lie.”

“I know, I’ve watched you try.”

My head is soon buzzing from so much wine on an empty belly. As we make our way topside I’m careful to peek down hallways and around corners, the last thing I want is to bump into Rolan on accident. 

I know I have to say goodbye to Lia or she’ll be suspicious. That line of thinking confuses me, because I’m pretty sure I did nothing wrong, but I sip more wine and let it go. Maybe she won’t even be with Rolan, he is kind of mean. As we enter the common area, to my dismay the tiefling trio is sitting in their usual corner together at the bar. 

Marlie goes over to Astarion, who is standing near the front doors with Shadowheart, casual as can be. 

I try to wave to get Lia’s attention but she has her back to me, listening to something Cal is saying. I swallow hard and walk over there. Rolan doesn’t even look up from his silver tankard. “We’re heading out,” I say, I’m trying to be cool. I don’t think I’m succeeding. 

Lia glances at the bottle in my hand, she smiles a little, “Celebrating?” 

“Yep,” I proffer it to her, “every day with you out of Moonrise is a day worth celebrating.” Rolan does glance at me then, I’m careful not to look at him. 

“When will you be back?”  

“Oh y’know. Soon.” 

She chuckles at me, and reaches for the bottle. As she takes it her face looks suddenly quizzical, her nose wrinkles. “What’s that?”

“Hm?” 

She pulls my wrist forward and turns it to look at the raised lines on the back of my hand. I pull back without thinking, tucking it behind me. “Oh nothing, I’m just clumsy and stupid and…it’s nothing.” Rolan’s eyes are boring into me from over her shoulder. I don’t look at him. I can’t. 

“Alright…” Lia hands the wine back to me after taking a small sip. “Let me walk you out.”

“No no no no no no. That’s quite alright, you sit. Relax. Recover. I’m fine.”

“Very well.” She turns to Rolan, “You walk her out then.”

Rolan chokes on his drink. 

“Lia, it’s really okay. I’m good. I’m great.” 

I’m drunk, I need to leave.

“You need to take care of yourself, love.” She pulls me into a fierce embrace, I squeeze her back just as tightly. “You need anything, I’ve got you.”

“Of course. I’ll see you soon.” I whisper to her, she nods. 

I take a few steps towards the front doors before I realize Rolan is walking with me. I pause to drink more wine and say nothing. My tummy is starting to hurt. 

After we exit the common room and start moving towards the bridge he says something to me. 

“What?” I ask, half expecting an insult.

“I said give me your hand.”

“My hand..?”

He already has it between his warm fingers. The parallel marks stand out plainly on my skin, red and puffy. He traces them gently with his thumb. 

“I hurt you.”

“N-no. Not really.” Damn it, am I out of wine? “Lia made me bleed way more than that earlier. ‘Course it was an accident…”

“I’m sorry.”

I blink stupidly at him, “You’re sorry?” 

“Yes,” he lifts my hand to his lips. He softly kisses the length of the scratches, from the top of my wrist to where they taper at my knuckle. His lips radiate heat and I swallow hard, wondering what it would be like to feel those lips in other places…

He raises his eyes to meet mine, “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

“Rolan…” we’ve stopped behind Tali’s quartermaster tent. I can hear Astarion and Shadowheart chatting at the bridge, they’re waiting for me.

“You are the most willful creature I've ever met...it's quite maddening.” His gaze is as intense as ever, brows furrowed, golden eyes gathering the light despite the darkness around us, but there’s something different there too, something earnest. “My family is… well, they’re all I have left. It’s no excuse for how I’ve treated you, but you must know I -"

He lets go of my hand but he takes a step closer, "It was never my intent to hurt you.”

I don’t know what to say, my mind is fuzzy. I should say something, make a joke, break the tension, but all I can think about is the way his teeth felt on my neck, his tail wrapped tight against my leg, that faint rose water smell. I can smell it now, with him standing so close. He’s looking at me expectantly.

So I kiss him. A gentle kiss, tender and slow. Full of all the feelings I can’t quite express. He leans his forehead against mine as our lips part, breathing deep. 

"Perhaps," he murmurs in a deep timbre, "you can put that willfulness to good use. And stay alive, a little longer."

In response, I sweep a hand across the breadth of his shoulder. “Machte virtute." Three opaque shields dance around us, flashing bright for an instant before the shadows sweep back in. 

I give him a tentative hopeful smile, and with a soft brush of his tail he turns away and is striding back towards the bright lights of the inn.

[letsgetrowdy43]

The Timeline ☆—

Au Masterlist!!

Honey was born and raised in Plymouth, Michigan.

Her father was the equipment manager for the USNTDP U18 team, meaning that she spent a lot of time surrounding the sport and the culture.

Her whole life revolved around training camps, away games, spending most of her Christmases in other countries to attend the world juniors

With this lifestyle of constantly being on the move, she spent a good portion of her life taking in new cultures, learning and admiring travelling around the world, which led to her love of photography

Quinn was the first Hughes she met in Michigan before the rest of the family moved down for Jack to follow in his footsteps.

The other Hughes' moved into town and basically took over the hockey scene, meaning that she spent a lot of time around the family of five

When Quinn and her had originally met it was around their sophomore year of High school and Quinn was all heart eyes for her.

The poor boy could not form a coherent sentence around her, everything was mumbles and whispers until she was asked to photograph some portraits for the USNTDP

Her father had gotten her an internship with the communication team for the program, and after many complaints about how the teams needed better graphics, they finally gave her creative liberty over the Instagram page.

So now they sat in an overly lit room, a camera in her hands and him in full gear as she listened to his coach's wishes for the photos.

At this point in their life, they had only ever talked within classes when their moms were carpooling their brothers, or in passing.

So the moment the coach left the only noise remaining in the room was the humming of the air-conditioning.

Quinn's mouth ran dry as she put the camera up to her eye to size him up in the viewfinder, her cheeks turned a bright shade of pink as she examined his side profile. Quietly thinking to herself "omg this guy is like extremely attractive" her eyes roamed around his features.

"I had no idea you were into photography," he said sheepishly as she messed around with the lighting and the backdrop, she moved over to reposition his stance and position now, fixing the jersey that draped over his frame to better show off the Team USA logo

"It's a hobby I picked up in junior high, while in Sweden for a tournament," a smile danced on her lips as he mimicked the pose she wanted him in.

Memories of that particular WJC flashed through her mind as she remembered her and her older brother opening a gift each on Christmas Day, hers being a new Canon camera. Something she'd never expressed an interest in, but something that soon became one of her greatest passions.

"The media thing is something my dad wants me to pursue" She shrugged as she found herself standing in front of him, fingers raking through his hair to make it sit just right.

She had barely noticed that she had done it until her eyes met his, shock displayed across his features as his cheeks turned bright pink.

From that day on she had basically been attached at the hip to Quinn, wherever he was, so was she.

The nickname stemmed from Ellen calling her honey, Quinn thought it was endearing thus forth he claimed it as his own.

Luke and Jack had settled for the nickname Hun, at first it was mockingly, but then it just stuck.

She was his best friend throughout his time on the U18 USNTDP Team, his runs at the WJCs, his draft day, and up into his time in the NCAA

Her original plan was to attend MSU and gain a degree in communications through their program, but the thought of growing apart from her favourite Hughes felt too bitter

So instead, and after quite a bit of convincing from Quinn, she followed him all the way to Umich to pursue a career in media and sports management.

The summer going into their sophomore year was his NHL draft, the entire Hughes family was in Dallas, nerves racking their brains as they awaited Quinn's name to be called.

Honey sat prettily, dressed up in his favourite colour (to match his suit) as his name was picked to go 7th overall.

A wide grin on her face as she watched him hug all of the friends and family around him, landing lastly on his best friend who he just smiled at softly and hugged tenderly, allowing her to place a kiss on his cheek before he walked up to receive his Canucks jersey.

they began to date in their sophomore year, after a lot of dancing around the subject Honey.

Honey was the one who made the first move as they unpacked his thing sin his and josh's new dorm room. A shy smile of his face as she pulled away breatlessly, smirking at the flush on hi cheeks.

they dated throughout their sophomore year, it felt like they were on a tightrope for a good amount of the year though, knowing that by the end of the school year, it was more than likely that Quinn was to be sent out to Canada.

And just as expected Quinn was in Vancouver by the end of the spring semester.

The long-distance was definitely not kind to them, with the time difference and the fast pace of their lives, both decided it was best for them to take a break.

They sat down during Christmas of her junior year and his off-week and decided it was for the best for them to break up, and then possibly pick up where they left off after she finished her schooling

That didn't exactly go to plan, because as soon as the off-season started and she was home for her summer break the two of them were literally attached to each other once again.

Let's just say although they were not together they were definitely taking advantage of being able to hook up at any given opportunity

Luke and Jack definitely chirped the fuck out of Quinn, they had seen and heard their fair share of the couple over the summer

The summer came to an end, and although it had been a whirlwind of emotion Quinn thought it was still a better idea to let Honey go out and be single for her last year.

On the day of her graduation Quinn showed up on her front door step in a suit and a gift in his hand, he didn't know how she still felt about him but he wanted to make it known that he wanted her.

she opened the door, a grin on her lips as he blushed at her pretty appearance, and pressed a small gift box in her hand.

"I do not expect you to uproot your life for me, but I want you to know that I want you in my life" he whispered, as she opened the gift box in her had to reveal a key to his apartment.

Two months later and the two of them were packing up all of her essentials and sending them off to Vancouver.

Honey started a job as a media manager for a Bridal store, acclimating to the life of an NHL girlfriend (too which she slayed)

The following Christmas (2021) was when they found out that they were expecting warren, too which prompted Quinn proposing to her

I love a good shotgun wedding and 100% this wedding was an outcome of the unplanned pregnancy but Quinn and Honey were on cloud 9 the moment they find out that they were going to be parents

Ellen and Jim were just over the moon, they love Honey, they love Quinn, and they love the couple, and they were just so excited to be grandparents.

Warren was born in October, in Vancouver, both sets of in-laws flew in along with the couple’s brothers.

Parenthood came on extremely easy for Quinn, and a little less easy for Honey, but eventually, they worked out the kinks and she finally figured out motherhood but in her own light.

They had their second baby in the summer of 2024, welcoming their baby girl Hayden into the world

Life was perfect for them, their two babies, and their happy marriage, and then a media manager position opens up for Honey which opened many more opportunities for the content family

[toska-writes]

Hello! ✨️💖 I've been thinking about this idea all day about Padawan Y/n X Rex- The conditions on a planet force them to make camp and wait out a storm during a march to a seperatist Outpost. The thundering has kept them awake and they go out to join Anakins tent for some comfort but guess what certain Captain and 501st troopers had the same idea.

This ask took me so long for some reason! Sorry!

“The Blues”

Summary: The rain and wind is enough to get under just about anyone’s skin, why not make the best of it

Paring: Rex x GN padawan Reader (PLATONIC)

Warning: None just so much fluff!

Word count: 841 (it’s a little short but I also wrote it during class woops)

Notes: Happy May the 4th! Wish me luck I have a really big test today!

It was a blessing from the maker above when the March came to an end, the sound of rain colliding with plastroid armor was almost as loud as the thunder.

You pulled your robes tighter around your frame to keep at least some part of you dry. The noise around you almost blocked out the crackled voice that sounded from your comms, Anakin and Rex finally decided to set up camp and wait out this weather.

Sighs of relief sounded from all around you, the rain had that sort of magic to make you unbelievably tired.

Everyone around seemed to have an extra kick in there step knowing that once tents were up this dreary campaign would be put on pause.

The wind picked up as you fought to try a set your own tent up and quickly get inside. Without another glance to anyone who had the same idea as you, you pulled the flap shut.

The small bed was set up in seconds and you had the heater already radiating a pathetic amount of heat. It was fine for now. The cot, no matter how rock solid it was, was inviting for your sore limbs.

Your eyes fluttered shut, thunder boomed from all around rocking the entire round. Why exactly did you and the 501st get stuck with this mission? That’s what everyone was asking themselves.

Shivers racked your body- the soaked robes were already thrown to the side but unfortunately left you with only a tunic and pants. The lightweight cover that came with the camping kit was a poor excuse of blanket.

You probably would have been better off without the itchy fabric on your skin.

The small hum of the radiator kept your mind awake, the wind seemed to howl and the flap of your tent seemed that it could blow open at any moment.

You sat up again. Rubbing your eyes once you thought that maybe, just maybe you could find someone to bunk with. Knowing any of the men that you came with any would be happy to help.

Not to mention the warmth that would finally make you stop shivering. Seriously why did it have to be so cold?

The damp heap of outer robes sat in the corner of your tent, grabbing one quickly you held it over your head as a make shift umbrella.

If you could spare even a little bit of you staying dry it was worth it.

The sky outside already went dark, with the time it the cover of the clouds you weren’t sure.

Scanning the horizon tents were scattered all around, clearly no one really cared when you were getting drenched.

A smaller tent stood close by your own, making your way quickly you nudged through the open flap.

Huh it was empty.

It wouldn’t be a surprise if some of the others had the same idea as you so you made your way to the next tent.

Vacant.

Through the dark of the storm you noticed a faint glow of a light under a tent just up ahead- you stared at the dark fabric of the tent as you came up to it. Water already sinking into your boots once again.

Of course it was your masters, why you didn’t think to look there first was beyond you. Muffled noise sounded from the inside, warmness seemed to radiate from it. It was so inviting.

Your hands shook as you pushed open the flap starring at the inside.

“There you are Y/N.” Anakin greeted from his spot nestled between at least 5 different troopers. Echo waved from his spot in the pile. “Rex was just about to go get you. I commed but you didn’t answer.”

“We thought you were already asleep.” Rex added from his spot near the door, clearly he was just about to leave. “Sir it’s going to do us no good if your frozen for our battle tomorrow.” The captain took the dripping cloak from your hands and returned it to the floor.

The warm air wrapped around you like a wonderful hug, you quickly drifted to your assigned spot attached to Captain Rex hip.

Rex draped a heavy arm around your shoulders as you made your way to where you master was practically about to fall asleep.

Anakin words slurred with sleep. “We can get going at, at umm 07-“

“0700” Rex finished for his sleepy general. You felt a gentle tug at the hem of your pants. Fives gave you his own sleepy smile as he and Hardcase made room for you and Rex.

The slick fabric of the blacks that all the men wore rubbed against your skin, but unlike last time it didn’t irritate your skin like the blanket.

Your body finally seemed to calm itself as the shivers that racked your body stopped.

Arms wrapped around you again, your figure was pulled close to Rex and he was sandwiched between his two Jedi.

But if he could trade anything to relive this moment again he would.

_____________________________________

Taglist: @arctrooper69 @thereforepizza @padawancat97 @pb-jellybeans @floffytofu

[malooracks]

Are you looking for the perfect outlet that offers you the best foldable wagon deals? If yes, then it is time to put an end to your search for the best foldable wagons.

[neonovember]

Bourbon Decision’s

Steve Rogers mafia!au

summary: In light of your reappearance in New York, Steve makes a decision that begins the road to the relationship between you both. And you, begin to remember some familiar faces.

warnings; mentions of death, murder, angst and violence

a/n: so, this chapter gave us a little bit of a back story on how the reader ends ups in Brooklyn, and who her husband truly is. Your girl is a fighter! More parts coming soon…

The cursive lettering burns a hole through your chest, the edges cracked and plastered as you shove accusation down into your pocket. It almost feels poisonous, like simply touching it will make him come around the corner, reminding you that you would never be alone, that you were never going to escape him.

You’re able to hide your shaking hands from Caroline, who takes your silence as simple exhaustion, you fill ill, the bile rises from your throat and you pinch your arm to stop yourself from gagging.

You’re able to conceal your emotions well, your entire life and marriage has been holding up a mask, it was a dance that was all you knew, and all you would ever thank him for.

“You alright there sugar” Caroline looks towards you, eyes filled with concern and she takes notice of your wobbly legs. She reaches with a hand to steady you, but you ignore it, holding onto the granite counter, forcing your downturn eyes to look up at Caroline, you straighten your back.

“Yep, fine, I just need to use the restroom” You reply catatonically, a smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes has Caroline looking at you even more strangely.

You turn down the hall, passing David, his auburn black bun bopping to the tunes chirping out of a beaten-up purple stereo he gaggled a 17-year-old in exchange for a pack of Marlboros.

The smells of bacon grease and butter that causes the insatiable monster taking camp in your stomach to growl now has you running into the staff bathroom, the door slamming behind you as you dry heave the entire contents of your breakfast.

Wiping the spit falling from your mouth you turn on the tap, scrubbing your face clean and running a wet hand across your hair. The reflection staring back at you looks nothing like the woman just mere hours ago, a woman who thought she had escaped the biggest tormentor in her life, a woman who thought she was finally free. This woman, the one whose eye bags now seem deeper than before, whose skin looks dull and pulled across her body like skin on bone is bound and shackled by the haunted past that never seemed to wretch its fingers off of her.

Each time she thinks she has a chance at life, the chain wrapped around her neck tightens, and it pulls her back until she's dislocated and bruised. It shakes her violently and spits in her face, laughing and cackling, staring down at her in disgust because how could she have been so stupid? So foolishly naive?

You don't escape men like her husband, you just end up dead.

An overwhelming desire engulfs you, the need to survive and flee fills you strong, and for a second you glance at the back door that leads to the alleyway hidden from the main road. You've got enough cash on you to skip town, maybe hunker down in a dingy yellow motel for a bit until you feel

But what's the point? There was no plan B for what you did, your escape itself was a fucking plan B, and your head is still pounding from the success of it. You had gotten lucky, for the first time in your life, you had gotten lucky. You wouldn't get this chance again, this was it for you. Skipping town would do nothing, but prolong the inevitable, there were no steps ahead with the men you knew, at least let you die with your dignity.

You can't help but laugh at your stupidity, it racks through your body and has you bent over, gripping your stomach, before your shoulder shudders with cracked sobs, a hand muffles your wails as you run the tap, the last you wanted was for adiora to hear you.

You were just so exhausted your body weighed down with the fatigue and stress of your escape, the bruises and injuries you've accumulated over the years that never fully healed took a toll on you. You'd never gone a day without seeing how your body would look without the yellows and purples colliding, some ragged and large while others were small and deliberate. It made you walk funny, your manager had asked if it was a limp, if you'd be able to waitress with all the walking it included, you rushed to tell her it was nothing, just a fall that didn't heal right.

You needed this job, and youd do anything to get it

Caroline had told you you could get benefits for it, to help with rent and supplies, you smiled and told her you'd look into it, you didn't think it would be appropriate to tell her it was years of abuse.

Could the government pay you for that? Or would you be met with an officer at your door ready to drag you back to your husband because of course he had the governor on speed dial and the NYPD in his front pocket?

A tiny bubble of anger begins to set place in your chest, how dare he? He didn't even want you, the nights he’d bring home countless women told you enough. Why did he so adamantly want you then? Keep you chained and locked in the palm of his hand? 

You've seen the other marriages in this line of work which were much like yours, transactional and strictly business. Except most of them had an agreement, you have yours and I have mine. Show up like you both are in love, clutching onto each other and keeping your lovers to the side.

Not him though, no, he wanted it all, you think he craved the power it gave him, to see you at his feet below him, your escape was the one time you felt like you had gotten him beat. You knew it wouldn't last long but damn did it feel good.

That man with golden hair looked at you so strangely, like he knew you from long ago, you'd shaken the sense of familiarity from your mind before it even began. This was New York, not Washington, no one knew you here. You were just a face, like any other, so why did he look at you like the sight of you broke him? 

The fact of the matter was, your husband was an unstable lunatic who fed off the fear of others, he’d probably shot a few women who even slightly resembled you during the time since your escape, so why didn't that man drag you out of the diner and into one of your husband-marked vehicles? 

There was only one explanation, one you couldn't bring yourself to entertain, but it still remained in the back of your mind, next to the hopes and dreams you had for yourself at 13. 

The sounds of your name being screeched from the counter can be heard echoing towards you, the diner was horribly understaffed and don’t doubt that there is a mountain of things that needed to be completed since your meltdown.

You need this job, you were not about to lose it.

So just like the years you have been trained, you shove the impending emotions down your stomach, straighten your back, and practice your smile before slamming the staff door behind you.

It’s well past 11 when you finally finish cleaning up after the last of the patrons that exited the diner, the moon was cloaked behind deep grey clouds, providing little light to your walk home. David had offered you a ride, but you had declined quickly, the thoughts circling your mind would be too loud for a car ride. You didn't like walking home, especially this late at night, but you had no choice. You would not want to incapacitate someone else's day, especially now with a target on your back.

The flickering street lights provide a tiny sliver of direction to the beaten path cracked with concrete and dirt. A loud truck filled with men slowed as they neared you, you kept your head down, fingers pressed into your palm as you tried to avoid any confrontation. They screamed obscenities, before zooming past you, the smell of burnt tire lingering behind them.

There was a shortcut to your apartment complex, though the back alleyways were hidden from the main street, and you made a sharp turn to follow the insecure path through the suburban houses. It doesn't take long before you notice the unmarked car following shortly behind you, just a few streets back, enough to not look conspicuous but still get a clear view of you.

You tense, unsure of what to do, you push your house keys between your fingers, silently praying to god that it wasn't him. And it seems that god is on your side today, as the car pulls into a dark street, leaving you breathless and releasing your grip on your keys.

You don't waste any time running the rest of the way until the dingy apartment complex comes into view, your neighbour, a sweet middle-aged lady whose smile never quite reached her eyes and who let you use her gas was screaming at her son, a cigarette hanging from his mouth in open shock.

You smiled to yourself as you passed them, he looked towards you with raised eyebrows, pleading for some support. You weren't about to tell her how to raise her kid, she looked even more exhausted than you.

Jimming the door handle a couple times, you finally shoulder your way into the safety of your small but safe apartment. The soft caramel walls were chipped away at the edges, and the wallpaper was peeling but it was home. It was the closest thing to something that was yours, and only yours. 

You quickly made yourself some time, to help calm the storm beginning to write inside your mind again, you hated coffee, it left you jittering and cold and you just wanted to sleep at this point.

After jumping into the shower, your waitressing clothes left sweaty and seeped with oil in the basket you finally found the solace of your cold bed. You invested good money into a solid mattress and covers, and it payed of by the softness and ease that engulfed you. 

You reached for the book left on the side table, its spine broken in and countless stains and markings left on its pages. You had never gotten the chance to read, you'd been told it was a useless waste of time that could instead be used for more important things.

Now though, with the threat of your safety looming around the corner, you felt you needed to finish every book you started, in fear you mightn't ever again.

Your mind, however, was running 50 miles an hour and it so happened to find him, golden boy, again. He looked so different from the henchmen of your husband. They were all short and stoic, egregious muscles bursting through tight shirts, fingers dirty with blood and sin. They all had that hungry insatiable expression, like rapid dogs, they salivated every time they were given a task, to murder, to steal, to torture. 

One particular night, when you left down the hall to the section of the house you weren't permitted to enter, the blood-curdling screams and moans followed by their laughter had you bolting out, they heard you anyway, and your husband had forced you to watch.

You just needed scissors.

This man though, his eyes shone with a different kind of darkness. One possibly more intricate and deeper than the sleazy men near your husband, and, it should have scared you. But it didn't, it pulled you closer like you wanted to dip your foot in and see how far it went. The sense of familiar you'd refused to feel filled you once again, a part of your mind was screaming at you, itching and shoving its fingers between bordered wood to get you to see.

Shaking your head you flicked to the dog-eared page, one thing you knew about the world you were married into, was all the men were obsessed with one thing, power and money, and they'd do anything to get it.

All of them.

The brown liquid sloshes against the ice as steve raises it to his lips, finishing it with one gulp. The familiar burn of liquor eases the tension in his shoulder, as he leans against the mahogany desk, hands folded against his chest.

“All I’m saying is that we have to act fast and we have to act now, every day that passes is another risk to the dominion, he's getting more and more erratic by the day” Sam murmurs, sitting on the plush velvet coach situated to the left of the expansive office, the high ceiling lights cast a glow across the room that does little to ease the tension.

Steve rubs his jaw, scratching at the stubble that has begun to grow, he's gotten so busy that he'd forgotten to shave. Steve’s mind is scattered, bits and pieces here and there, Sam was right, Matthews was getting even more unstable than he ever was, killing mercilessly without a second thought, leaving finger prints and blood and bodies. Sooner or later, he’d get the entire underworld exposed if he kept up with this.

“I know, I know, I just- I need to think” Steve begins, before Bucky interrupts quickly, his eyes roam Steve, squinting as he notices something off.

“It’s different this time, Matthews, it’s more than just his greed and psychotic tendencies, he’s lost something. And I have a feeling you know exactly what it is”. Bucky replies, eyebrows raising and he looks towards Steve.

Sam looks up rapidly, a grim look on his features as he takes in Steves silence

“Steve…what is it?” Sam replies, Steve was apprehensive to reply, eyes shutting for a few minutes, mind racking over the moments before, when he found you. Selfishly, in a way, he wanted to keep you hidden, a secret only he knew, but Sam and Bucky knew him long enough where they’d eventually find out.

“You know Matthews wife” Steve begins, Sam and Bucky lean in closer as they take in Steves tighten jaw and deep seated anger behind his eyes. Steve was a man of decorum, he’d rarely show his true anger, always hidden behind canine smiles and wolf like hunger, he was precise and meticulous with his rage. It’s what made him so powerful.

“The girl from your home town?, The quite one right?” Sam replies, confusion covering his features as he tries to connect the picture Steve was sewing in front of them.

His cracks as he remembers you, before Matthews and before he stamped out the light that always shone through your eyes, the oblivious innocence you carried that seemed to suck him in and ruin him for anybody else.

“Yeah, yeah, that one” Steve coughs before straightening his back 

“Poor girl, I heard she didn’t even get a say, just woke up one morning with his claws in her. I haven't seen her in any of the charity fundraisers in a long time” Bucky says, hands running through his jet black hair as he recalls your frequent absence. It was strange, most men would flaunt their wives anytime they’d get the chance, especially one as gorgeous as you. Not Matthews though, he acted as if you were invisible, a burden, like a mother running after her petulant child. As if he wasn't the one that gave you no choice but to marry him.

“She's gone” Steve spits out, his golden locks fall to his face as he quickly pushes them behind his ear, no one else knew of your absence, besides your husband and him, you were still behind the shadows of his wrath. Now the shoe had dropped and it was real, you’d really gone and done it, you’d escaped him.

“What do you mean Steve, your telling me that girl escaped one of the ruthless mob bosses in Northern America? The one with all the guns and men and fucked up morality? The one who’s murdered teenagers?” Sam emphasis in open shock, moving to get up from the sofa and walk closer to Steve.

“I dont know when, I don’t even know how, but she got out” Steve says, a sudden urge to see you again fills him, he shakes it away quickly before it consumes him whole and ruins him.

“Holy shit, she really did it. She’s got some fucking balls” Bucky says, eyes widening as he comes to terms with the fact that you may not have been as innocent as they once thought.

“But, if shes out...she knows what will happen to her now? As much as I hate Matthews, he brought her immunity and protection, especially one from a family like hers, now-, now she’s a walking target.” Sam says it was inevitable, the mafia world wouldnt allow for such treachery, for such betrayal.

“Open fucking season” Bucky continues, eyes strained behind Steve towards the frosted window of the office. The planes of concrete fields stretch endlessly, the smoke of vehicles and Nee Yorks smoking problem floating through the deep grey clouds.

What was your endgame?

The question circles Bucky’s mind, he was always searching for an answer, a causation, and right now you had him stumped. Funny.

Steve nods, nocking his leather dress shoes against each other, loyalty ran thicker than blood in this world of theirs, and what you had committed was worse their murder.

“She disappears I know, trust me I do, probably ends up at the bottom of the Hudson at best, and at worst..” Steve says

He didn’t need to continue for them both to understand. Eyes failing to wince as they had grown use to the brutality of the mafia.

“But, I talked to her, earlier today, down by Brooklyn” Steve begins to say before both Bucky and Steve interrupt him quickly

“You talked to her?! Jesus, Steve, this has got to be a fucking joke, because I know the man infront of me. And he would be as insane as to talk to a mafia’s wife, let alone the king of the dominion. Hell, even being near her would count as a death wish” Bucky replies, eyebrows furrowed as the shock of Steve’s recklessness hung in the air.

“We can’t afford an attack right now, especially one from someone as psychotic as him and his lunatics” Sam reiterates, unsure what had gotten into their usually calculated and cunning friend.

“Listen dammit”, Steve grumbles, hands flying around him

“If I get her to share some information about Matthews in return for safety, we’ll be able to get ahead, plan an attack before he even registers she’s back in New York”

“Back, she was here before?” Sam questions, confusion filling his usual stoic features

“She was here a couple years back, something happened, bad, and since it’s Matthews you know it had to have been some extraordinarily catastrophic shit” Steve murmurs, eyes far away as if he’s mind was back all those years. His fist tighten involuntarily, and he quickly reminds himself to relax before they take notice of his sudden anger.

“No one knows what happened, not Santiago, not even Brock. All we know is that he changed after that, became way worse. Before, at least he could keep a handle on it, after what happened though, it’s like he’s wishing for a reason to rage”. Steve continues, Bucky and Sam nod following him, they had all noticed the shift in Matthews behaviour, even more drastic then, the entire underworld whispered behind masks and glistens of pistols about the mafia don and his mental breakdown.

“Your asking her to commit treason then?” Sam quakes, hand pressing into the deep wood of the chair.

“She already did when she walked out that door, you don’t just make a decision like that, no, not for someone like her. She probably stayed in that decision for days, if not weeks. She knows the risks she took.” Steve informs, arms crossing against his chest, he knew you weren’t as stupid as people thought you were, in fact he knew you better than most people ever would.

You were similar to him in that way, cunning in ways people didn’t realise, always hidden beneath false naivety.

“Well, you sure he’s still out looking for her? How do you know he isn’t pointing a fucking laser at your head right now?” Bucky begins eyes strained to the window again as if looking out for any incoming steel bullets.

Steve remains silent as he hums to himself, a pen between his fingers as he jots down your address on a haphazard note pad.

“Because she would have already been dead by now” He says finally, underlining the street name twice, before clicking it back into the desk drawer. Sam laughs, a hand coming to rest at his chest, the under suit creases at his ministrations and it reminds Steve that he needs to buy one that actually looks good on him.

“You’re one insane mother fucker Steve, I’ll give you that” Sam chuckles at the casualness of the blond’s demeanour.

Steve shoots a smile, a real one, his canines glint and for a second, it’s as if a wolf has taken it’s place over his features. The rosy reds of his cheeks contrast against the sand gold of his hair and suddenly Steve looks younger. Like the cruelty and immorality of the world around him hasn’t taken his soul and left a gaping black hole.

“That’s how we win, it starts with her” Steve replies with finality, his voice refusing any negotiation or persuasion.

It was final, Steve set his eyes on you, and he wouldn’t stop until he got exactly what he wanted.

Taglist 🏷️

-send me a chat if you’d like to be part of my taglist!

@namelesssav @shamelessfangirl-3 @nessie2183

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[barbex]

HAPPY FRIDAY!! "The empty space that can’t be breached between you in bed" from the sensory prompts, for any characters you like!

Happy @dadrunkwriting and thank you for this prompt.

It turned into a little angsty weird, some kind of pre-and-missed-fenders ficlet.

---

Fenris can't sleep. At least not yet. Maybe later, when the first morning light crawls over the horizon, gently pushing the darkness of night away, maybe then he can sleep. That's when Anders will leave the tent to take up the watch. He always takes that one, something about being used to getting up early, and about picking herbs and such. The dew of the morning moistening the leaves, so that they keep better for the trek back to the drying racks in Anders' clinic. 

At least that's what Anders told Isabela once, when she asked about his early morning habit. He pretended not to listen. Anders would never have answered his questions, not like he answers Isabela's questions. Not with that smile and that twinkling in his eyes, and not with the joke about putting leaves in your smalls to make yourself smell better. 

Anders doesn't talk to him anymore. After so many fights, so many vicious words, he just stopped. Stopped altogether. No words about mages, about the Gallows, about freedom for him and all mages. Fenris isn't sure what to make of it, at first it was a relief to not hear his complaints anymore, but now it feels like something is missing. Something that made Anders who he is, is gone. Instead, another version of Anders walks with them, quiet, serious, friendly. Friendly like the head slaves used to be, polite, carefully projecting being contend and calm. 

Fenris looks at Anders' back next to him. The mage sleeps fitfully, twitching, sometimes even making a sound. He cries out and sits up, wide eyes staring into nothing. "No, sorry," he says, but his voice is still laden with the weight of the nightmare. 

"It was just a dream," Fenris says. 

Anders' head whips around and he frowns at him.

"You are safe here." 

Even in the dim light of the tent, Fenris can see the mask settling back on Anders' face. Contend. Friendly. Polite.

"Of course." Anders lies back down, folding his hands on his chest.

"Why are you like this?" He had not meant to ask the question but now it is out.

Anders slowly turns his head to look at him. "Like what?"

"Cold. Quiet." He doesn't know how to explain how eerie it is to see Anders like this. "I know you were passionate and now... why are you hiding everything?"

Equally slowly, Anders looks back to the roof of their tent, his fingers tapping out a rhythm on his chest. "I thought you would be happy about that. You always said you didn't want to hear my yammering."

"But now you don't say anything anymore."

"Yes." Anders' voice has lost all its softness. "I don't say anything. It's better this way."

"Why?"

Faster than his eyes can grasp it, Anders is up and leans right into him, his breath in his face. Fear tightens his throat, as if Anders had his hand around his throat. But he is not touching him. That is even worse.

"You don't want to hear what I think." A mad smile draws at Anders' lips. "None of you do. Be glad you don't hear what I think." 

He is out of the tent before Fenris can take a breath. His heart beats too fast. Like he is drawn from an invisible force, he crawls out of the tent, grabbing his sword. There, tall in the moonlight, he sees Anders stand at the edge of their camp. He doesn't hide his steps, and the way Anders glances over his shoulder shows him that the mage is aware of his approach.

"Tell me," Fenris says. "Tell me what you are not saying."

The mask slips, for the first time in weeks an actual emotion shows on Anders' face. He recognizes it. Pain. Grief. "Tell me."

Anders lets out a breath. "It has to end. The suffering. It has to end, soon."

"Tell me."

Finally, Anders looks at him, smiling gently. "No. You should not know." Without another word, he walks into the darkness.

Fenris watches him, fighting the feeling that he missed something important.

[beesneedswords]

The Camp Mystery

A quick little story of camp and some of its happenings. (Idea from @alonelybeemakingart )

Sorry guys, I've been kinda out of it recently. Trying to get caught up and restarted on a lot of things.

Masterlist

You notice camp supplies dwindling. You still have several large bottles of wine and various ales and many potatoes growing eyes. Every time Gale grabs some cheese, you see him whittling away, getting as much mold as can can off of it. The bread he served is stale and starting to get blue and black spots on it. As far as meat goes, you and your companions have been holding onto one dried sausage for weeks now.

You look in the chest and see two wheels of cheese completely molded through and half of the potatoes are soft and covered in roots and eyes. You toss the rotten food into the trees and look at the remaining food: half a loaf of bread, 20 bottles of wine, 3 potatoes, a courgette, a wedge of cheese, and the dried sausage. You gather the food and two bottles of wine and head over to Gale.

He looks at the assortment and smiles sadly, "This is all?"

"We only have wine left." You shrug and place the food in a heap next to the campfire.

"Soup it is." He tries to muster a smile, but it's weak and finicky.

He takes his time cutting the vegetables into bite size pieces. The sausage he makes into such small pieces, it doesn't really resemble the meat at all. Gale toasts and cuts the bread until there's only one inch slices for everyone. When he's done with the meal he dishes out an equal serving for everyone.

Everyone seems to take their time, savoring every bite before it's gone. All too soon the bowls are empty and the cups are dry. As you all head to your tents and bedrolls, you see Astarion and Halsin retreat into the forest. You shrug it off assuming the vampire is looking for his next meal, the druid, however, is a mystery.

In the morning you go to the chest and find a rag full of raspberries, another full of honey comb, and another with various mushrooms and other edible plants. In several jars you see thin slices of meat. You turn to see Halsin, Astarion, and surprisingly Gale asleep next to the now smoldering fire.

You decide to grab a few sticks and make a makeshift drying rack hoping to make the meat last longer. You set out some berries and wait for the others to wake. You set Wyll and Lae'zel on protecting the meat from various wildlife before waking Astarion.

"I'm sorry to wake you, but we need to get going." You say.

Astarion stretches and gets himself ready for the day. As the days continue you notice more and more meat and berries in the chest. And every morning the three men are asleep next to a dead fire. One night you finally decide to stay up to see what they're up to. You already have a theory, the boys are going out to hunt and gather, but you just want to be sure.

After dinner, you head back to your tent to wait. You must've dozed off because the next thing you know the sounds of heavy feet and breathless gasps send your eyes flying open. You see Halsin with a cloth soaked in red and purple and Astarion dragging a small boar behind him. Just what you'd expected. They set everything down by the fire before making their way to Gale. He's the only piece you've never been able to figure out. They wake him gently and he quickly grabs a knife.

You watch as they each begin to separate and put away everything they found. They laugh and joke and tell stories as they do so. You never thought you'd see the day Astarion and Gale get along. You decide it's best not to say anything. They're getting along too well to ruin it.

[apomaro-mellow]

Taking Care of Business (And My Business is You) 14

Part 13

It was a frosty morning, deep into autumn, inside a cozy cafe, when Steve told Eddie what he intended to do. Robin was there as well, practically Steve’s shadow anytime she wasn’t his eyes on the street.

“I’ve already begun the investigation of my father and I have a few leads.” As Steve said this, he laid out a manila folder onto the table. Eddie started to flip through it, finding some photos and files.

“The guy responsible for doing the deed has already been snuffed out”, Robin said when Eddie got to a mug shot.

“We’re still trying to find out exactly how he’s connected to my father”, Steve said.

“If you can confirm your dad contacted him then he’s in hot water”, Eddie nodded. “But what about the family business?”

Steve played with the stirrer in his cup. “That’s something I need to work on while searching for clues. People are either in my father’s pocket or my mother’s camp.”

Eddie raised a brow. “You don’t have any direct support?”

“He’s an omega with zero accomplishments under his name”, Robin pointed out. “Not a lot for people to uplift there.”

“Hey, I’ve got some accomplishments under my belt.”

“Being a high school athlete doesn’t count”, she said. “Nor does being a very skilled flirt”, she added very quickly.

Steve kicked her under the table but she moved her legs in time to make him hit the table’s leg instead, jostling their drinks a little. Eddie was still looking through the file, trying to commit the names and faces to memory. A few of them he’d seen or heard of. Steve reminded him that if all went well, his induction would be soon and he’d officially be family.

Eddie followed Steve on the usual tasks he was given, which was often just collecting on those who had mafia protection. Apparently Robin did most of the investigating. It was easy for a beta like her to go unnoticed unless she made her presence known.

During Eddie’s escorting, he always stayed a step behind Steve, speaking only when spoken to, which was never. Fortunately, most knew how to act with decorum and if they had a problem with shaking an omega’s hand they knew not to show it.

They were in the middle of downtown, collecting from some of the vendors, when a downpour began. They hid under an awning, already drenched to the bone. Steve’s hair flopped over his forehead so adorably, Eddie almost couldn’t resist. He knew he looked like a wet rat in comparison.

“The car’s just a couple blocks down the street”, Eddie said. He pushed some of his hair from his face.

“We are not getting my car all wet”, Steve said.

Eddie bit his lip, trying very hard not to remind him that other, much more scandalous fluids had been present. Instead, he thought of some other options. Steve probably wasn’t opposed to going back out in the rain if it meant getting to dry off somewhere and wait out the weather.

“Well, you know…my place is just down the street. In the other direction.”

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

They had held their jackets over their heads like that would do anything to keep them dry. But they made it to Eddie’s apartment and hung them on the coat rack. Steve took in everything when he walked in, first noticing how small it was. But then how homey it was. It just looked so…so lived in.

Steve perused the pictures on the wall, seeing a younger Eddie, probably twelve, holding up a fish next to his uncle.

“Don’t look too hard, the eyes will start to follow you”, Eddie teased.

Steve turned in time to see Eddie start to unbutton his shirt. It was already bordering on transparent and when Eddie took it off, droplets ran down his skin. Steve bit his lip while the alpha pulled it off.

“Wet…”, he whispered.

“What?”

Steve cleared his throat. “We’re both-we’re both really wet um, do you have a dryer in here?”

“As a matter of fact, we do. Lemme get us a change of clothes first. Unless…”, Eddie turned his body this way and that. “My uncle is currently out. So we coooould….”

“What? Walk around in the nude?”

Eddie waggled his brows which made Steve actually guffaw. If he thought he could keep his hands off the man, he might actually entertain it. But it had been much too long since he laid his scent on Eddie and he knew he couldn’t resist.

“We better not. Knowing you, you’d have my knotted right on your couch”, he said, flipping it back onto him. He spied what must be Eddie’s room and went inside, shutting the door. 

“Um…?” Eddie stood outside of it, confused for a moment as he knocked on his own bedroom door. 

There was a shuffling noise and Steve cracked it open just enough to hold out his wet clothing to Eddie. He accepted them, brain melting a little at the idea that Steve was naked just on the other side. But then Steve shut the door and he was left outside again. He waited, just to see if it would open again. But when it did, Steve was dressed in a pair of Eddie’s shorts and one of his cropped band tees. It was the sort of thing he’d wear in the dead heat of summer. Not when winter was on their heels.

“You might want to get the dryer going”, Steve said, walking past him.

Eddie went inside his room and got undressed in a hurry, piling his wet clothes on top of Steve’s. He put on a sweater and some boxers and went to get the dryer started. By the time he met back up with Steve, the omega was in the middle of cooking…something in his kitchen.

Steve’s back was turned so he got a prime view of his ass in those shorts. His legs too. Steve’s thighs were thicker than his and they filled out the shorts much better than Eddie’s ever did.

“I bet you’re gonna tell me you’re making some authentic Italian meal you learned from your mom that translates to something like ‘Venetian Orgasm’.”

Steve snorted. “I don’t know how authentic it is. And it doesn’t have a name exactly. But I learned it from my mother.” His face softened whenever he talked about her. “We didn’t got down to the kitchen a lot. But she taught me how to take simple things and turn it delicious. And how to make pre-made stuff better.”

“Doesn’t really seem in the skillset of a mafia princess”, Eddie said, leaning against the fridge.

“Whatever she knew, she learned from my nonna, God rest her soul. And she hated canned food.”

“Ahh, she would’ve been my arch enemy”, Eddie said when he noticed Steve had taken one of the many cans of Chef Boyardee from the cabinet. He picked it up. “This must be blasphemous to your people.”

“It has its place. And I know I can’t expect a five course meal from you, so…let’s just say it’s a good thing you have parsley. And real parmigiano reggiano.”

They talked while Steve cooked and Eddie carried his weight by setting the table. It was a scene so unexpectedly domestic that it caught Steve off guard and he briefly wondered if his parents ever had moments like this. 

When they finished eating and started to clean up, Steve asked, “How long until the clothes are done?”

“At least another thirty minutes”, Eddie answered.

“And how long will your uncle be away?”

“He’s playing cards at a buddy’s, it’ll be a couple more hours.” Especially if the rain kept him away. Coast cleared, Steve’s eyes began to darken and Eddie could scent the sweetness in the air. 

“Well then, why don’t you give me a tour of your bedroom?”

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

Even if Eddie was completely privy to all the leads Steve had, he could tell when he was getting close and when something turned up dry. He was rather open with his emotions. Or perhaps it was just because Eddie could read him well now.

He could also read others well, but he chalked that up to them being too free with their facial expressions. Such as one Tommy Hagan, who had been a sourpuss the more Eddie showed up to the estate. He probably figured he’d be chosen to be sponsored by Steve.

“Something like that”, Robin replied when Eddie brought it up.

They were lounging on couches while Steve did pull-ups. Eddie definitely enjoyed the show. He could fight, but he wasn’t much for exercise in general.

“Tommy has been gunning for Steve for a while. He’s pretty open about marrying him. But he hasn’t officially asked permission to court.”

“Why not?”, Eddie asked.

“Because he can’t”, Steve said as he dropped down from the bar. “My old man has control over a lot of things, but courtship and my eventual marriage are not in his hands.”

“How is that even possible? Isn’t he the boss? Why are people trying to impress him then?”, Eddie questioned.

“They’ll do anything to get in good graces”, Robin said. 

Steve wiped the sweat off of him with a towel. “When I presented, my dad basically handed over all of my upbringing to my mom. I don’t know how much she foresaw, but she even got it in writing that only she or my nonno were to take care of my courtship.”

Eddie whistled. “Sure she wasn’t a psychic?”

Steve shrugged. “Whatever the case, Tommy can’t court me unless he has my grandfather’s permission.”

“And the old boss hates the Hagans”, Robin said.

“Lemme guess, they’re all brown nosers?”

“God, it’s like they think we shit roses”, Steve said.

Eddie watched out for Tommy more and sure enough, the guy had a permanent scowl on his face whenever Eddie was present. Eddie tried to keep to Steve’s side, it was his place after all. But more than once, he saw Hagan walk off with Steve’s dad. A mob boss meeting with an underling of no actual rank was odd. 

But two sleazeballs conspiring wasn’t out of the ordinary at all.

Part 15

[fckinwild-kiwi]

Dec. 18th: Coffee in the Morning

Day 18: Saying ILY without saying it/Birthdays

Day 18!!! of @comp-lady’s Domestic December writing challenge has arrived!

Warnings: Swearing (This is an 18+ blog, minors dni)  Word Counts: 0.9k+ Words Pairings: Eddie Munson x Reader

You knew that to provide Eddie with comfort in times when you couldn’t say it, you would touch his neck, grab his hand, run your fingers through his hair, anything to provide physical closeness. Eddie, however, was struggling to find what you needed in those moments. 

“Eddie,” Macy screamed, running through the house to find you and Eddie sitting together on the couch.

“What’s up, Macy girl,” Eddie said sitting up to accommodate your sister as she climbed up into his lap. 

While you loved the relationship that Eddie had with your sister, you needed the space tonight. After a miserable day at work and a delivery of bad news from your boss regarding your holiday work schedule, you just wanted to cuddle up with your boyfriend. You did not want to accommodate other people or share your boyfriend. 

“Eds,” You whispered, Macy burrowing her face into Eddie’s neck as he rubbed reassuring circles on her back, a comforting act that you wanted for yourself. “You stay here with Macy, I’m going to get ready for bed.”

Before Eddie could respond, you walked up the stairs and into your bedroom to get ready for bed. You were going to need to find the comfort you needed, all on your own.

A week later, you and Eddie were walking along Lover’s Lake, the rest of the party was back at the base camp that was set up for the camping festivities. 

“I feel like I haven’t seen very much of you lately,” You whispered, looking up at Eddie as your grip on his arm tightened.

“I know, I’ve missed you,” Eddie responded, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, but I just-“

“Eddie,” A voice shouted from the camp. “We need your help, we’re trying to explain the D&D dice to Steve but he’s being a dick!”

“I have to go help the guys babe,” Eddie said, squeezing your hand before running off. 

“Yeah, of course I’m fine,” You began, talking to yourself. “I just feel alone and it kind of feels like everything is falling apart. But don’t worry, I’m fine!”

Two days later, with the frustration and loneliness bubbling over, you found yourself alone in your bedroom with tears welling up in your eyes. Soft sobs racked through you as you pulled the pillows on your bed towards your body. 

“Y/n?” You heard Eddie call through the closed door. 

“Yeah?” You responded, trying to quickly dry your eyes and remove any evidence that you’ve been crying. 

“What are you doing in here?” He asked, walking through the threshold and closing the door behind him. “Wait, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Eds,” You said. “It’s just-“

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie!”

“Hey Macy girl,” Eddie said, smiling at the little girl before picking her up and swinging her around. 

“Will you come play with me? I gots a new Barbie!”

“Wow, Mace, that sounds incredible,” Eddie said before looking at you. Noticing you roll your eyes and bury yourself deeper into the mountain of pillows, Eddie continued, “I’ll come find you in a bit, Macy, I need to stay with your sister for a little bit, okay?”

“Okay! Give her kisses from me. Feel better, Sissy!” Macy cheered, walking out of the room. 

“Why’d you do that?”

“What do you mean?” Eddie said, confusion painting his face. 

“I mean, you’re good at taking care of other people, Eds. I find it hard to believe that you let Macy play on her own."

“You need me.”

“I’ve needed you for the last week too, though, and you didn’t seem to notice then.”

“Baby...” Eddie said, sighing as he pulled your body closer. “I’m an idiot. I could tell something was wrong but I just assumed you’d tell me what was bothering you?”

“I just wanted you to hold me and be there for me but I couldn’t hold on to you long enough to seek comfort before someone was pulling you away,” You said, wrapping your arms around yourself. Eddie, saw you closing yourself off and hauled you into his arms. “I love that you care about others so much, I just wanted you to be that for me too without me needing to beg for it.”

“I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you and you’ve been taking care of yourself all alone,” Eddie whispered into your hairline. “I’ll be better about making sure you’re okay...”

“I should work on expressing my needs too, though,” You said, shrugging before burrowing yourself into Eddie like Macy did the week before. 

“So, tell me what’s been bringing you down,” Eddie mumbled, rubbing your back in the way you craved.

“Well,” you began... An hour later, you’ve finished breaking down the horrors of your job and the problem with your schedule. Together, you and Eddie fell asleep and for the first time in a week and a half, you felt lighter. The weight of your problems wasn’t weighing on you alone, in fact, they weren’t weighing on either of you since Eddie was able to help you find the bright side. 

The next morning, you woke up, Eddie had already left for work but his side of the bed still felt warm. After brushing your teeth, you tiptoed downstairs to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee. But sitting on the kitchen table was a cup of coffee with the note, for my love.

“Oh, Eddie,” You whispered.

“I helped him make it,” Macy said, interrupting your thoughts with her giggly attitude. 

“You did?!” You questioned, turning around to grab the little girl in your arms. And in that moment, you felt warmer and lighter than you had in a long time. 

[weskipooo]

GHOSTFACE X NON READER

TW gore, harsh language, suggested content

This is my first post i really hope you like it, my best friend grammer checked me and helped me go check out their work they are amazing! @shotoyami

I ran as fast as my feet could carry me- my mouth dry, my legs sore; everyone was dead on hook beside me- and Ghostface is actively hot on my tail in a desperate pursuit. I wipe the blood off my lips, from his previous stab, as I run. My back aches in pain, but not too much because of the adrenaline. “Please, I’m almost there!” I mumble to myself in desperation, slamming a pallet between myself and the bloody killer, stunning him good. “Fucking bitch,” he cursed through his teeth, leaving me feeling prideful. 

I ran and jumped through the hatch, a great, big smile on my face. My team pats my back, giving me praises, though I winced, my back still in pain from the stab wound. Sable noticed my wound, helping me sit down on a fallen log near our camp, “Here, let me patch you up.” I gave Sable a weak smile, relaxing around the familiar presence, sort of laughing for some form of easing my mental stress, “Thank you, I took a rough hit out there today.” She laughed and lifted my shirt while grabbing a medkit. “I’m glad you’re alright. It was tough today, and Ghostface wasn’t too happy about losing you.” I raised a brow, glancing up at the night sky. “What? …why would he be angry?” She gave a soft, pensive sigh, rubbing alcohol on my wound. The action causing me to both wince and let out a huff. “Sorry,” she mutters, though I quickly reassure her. “It’s alright- why so upset?” She focused on my back while speaking, “No one knows. All we witnessed is him storming out of the challenge cursing and throwing things all while saying your name.” A shiver ran up my spine, though that was most likely due to Sable beginning to stitch up my back. “You might want to steer clear of him,” she warns with a worried face. The thoughtfulness makes me smile a bit. “Thank you, Sable. I appreciate the concern.” 

I slowly pull my shirt back over the rest of my body, so as not to hurt or put pressure on my back. I then walk further into the woods, where my tent resides, with a tinier campfire and a change of clothes and food to the side. I sigh out of relief, changing my blood-stained shirt and pants; the cold wind brushing against my skin makes me shiver. Once I was done, I rubbed my hands above the fire- huffing hot air into my hands. A sudden snap catches my attention, causing me to avert my eyes, scanning over every single tree, bush, and even to the sky, but… nothing. I calmed my breathing, mentally reassuring myself that it was simply the wind, which would be a reasonable thing to expect. 

However, before I could scream, my body is suddenly slammed against a tree near my camp, causing me to cry out in agonizing pain- feeling my stitches open up again. A hand comes to my throat, squeezing and cutting my airflow short. There’s a dark laugh that cuts through the air, “I got you now…I’ve been looking everywhere for you after your little getaway. What’s wrong, hm?” My face goes pale as a ghost- my brain racks as I try to grasp if he’s angry or enjoying this sick situation. “Fuck you” I rasped out, gasping and clawing at his hand. He quickly moved me back and forth, slamming me against the tree again- which earns him another agonizing scream. “Looks like my stab did a number on you…aww, poor thing. You gonna cry?” I felt like I was being humiliated, even with no one around. My eyes started to tear up, though all it seemed to do was rile him up more, “Don’t look so sad, I wouldn’t dare lay another hand on you…at least, not in a way you wouldn’t like.” My face suddenly feels hot, though I kicked at him for some sort of attempt at freedom. “Squirming gets you nowhere, sweetheart. You really hurt my feelings by slamming that pallet in my face back during the challenge. Shame on you.” By now, I could feel my blood running down my back. “Looks like Sable will have to patch you up again.” My eyes widened–‘he was watching?’ I thought to myself, searching his body language for some sort of further clues. “I just came for an apology.” I glared at him despite wincing “I won’t apol-“ My back is slammed again, earning yet another, even more painful, cry. My body goes weak, my vision seeping black into my line of sight. “Apologizing is fun, isn’t it? Come on, apologize to me.” He taunts, though I could tell, without even seeing under his mask, the immense joy in his voice. “I’m sorry..” I wheeze out, still grasping for air. He finally relents his grip on my throat, my lungs sucking in air greedily, then he crouches in front of me. “Let’s not make the same mistake next time, yeah?” I nod my head desperately. “Good. I’ll leave you alone, so go back to Sable to get patched up again. I’ll see you soon, sweetheart,” He left, my mind foggy. How did I end up in this situation…