wingedhallows

[wingedhallows]

send me requests! I’m feeling motivated ☀️

[wingedhallows]

send me requests ! (smut is very much welcomed 😏)

[wingedhallows]

𝟗𝟎𝟎 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓-𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋

━━ ᝰ.ᐟ

(so for reaching 900 followers, i want to give a little bit back. so i'll feed you 9 little smut-drabbles - about five hundred words long - of different characters)

cowgirl!vi x sweet little housewife!reader (coming - THU 26th June)

professor!abby x student!reader

racer!ellie x reader

sirius black x reader

nat scatorccio x reader

maya bishop x reader

finnick odair x reader

jinx x reader

james potter x reader

ೃ⁀➷ 𝐓𝐀𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐓

if you wish to be tagged in the specials, please comment below this post!

[wingedhallows]

the urge not to go to sleep so soon because i gotta go to work in the morning - adulting’s hitting a lil’ too hard 🫠

[wingedhallows]

hey hey - send me asks, anything! i wanna talk to y’all 💗

[wingedhallows]

ayo! talk to me - send me some asks 💗 (i’m lonely)

[wingedhallows]

not gonna lie I could DIE for your cowgirl ! Vi series. Like yeah I need to be a cowgirl’s wife 🤧 Would you be interested to write something about Vi and her companions doing a shooting can game, and reader wanna join and try. Vi is a bit surprise but she knows a wife as the unexpected kind sooo 👀 something badass, cute and Vi being a huge softie and reader number one supporter ! also a late happy birthday !

𝐖𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐍 𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐀𝐆𝐄

━━ જ⁀➴

જ⁀➴ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 cowgirl!vi x sweet little housewife!reader / 0.5k words જ⁀➴ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 fluff જ⁀➴ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 thank you for requesting this! I just loooove cowgirl!vi so here you go, hope you like it!

♡︎ 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ♡︎

The county fair is buzzing with life—laughter spilling from the cotton candy stands, lights flashing from the Ferris wheel, and the smell of fried everything thick in the air.

You’re tucked against Vi’s side, one arm looped through hers as you both wander the gravel paths with a few of her ranch buddies trailing behind. You’ve got your sunhat tilted just right, your sundress catching the breeze, and Vi’s hand resting on the curve of your waist like it belongs there.

“Y’ever take her shootin’, Vi?” One of the guys—Mike, maybe—asks with a crooked grin, nodding toward the shooting game up ahead. A little stall with glass bottles lined up like soldiers on a wooden pillar, daring someone to knock ‘em down.

Vi chuckles, deep and amused. “Nah,” she says, squeezing your hip gently. “Ain’t her kinda thing.”

That makes you glance up at her, brows arching like a dare. “Is that so?”

Vi’s smirk is all confidence and charm as she pats your hip as if too soothe you “Ain’t no shame in it, darlin’. Some folks just weren’t made for holdin’ a rifle.”

Mike’s already fishing out a few bills. “C’mon, let her try. Can’t always be the pretty little thing bakin’ pies, right?” That makes you grin, Mike’s right.

You step away from Vi, letting your arm slip from hers. “I’ll do it.” 

Vi blinks once. “Wait, sugar—”

“I said I’ll do it,” you say again, a little sweeter this time as you approach the stall. A small grin on your face and a little pep in your step.

The fair guy hands you the rifle, old but sturdy. You plant your feet, lift it with care, and take your time sighting the first bottle - like Vi’s taught you.

Vi’s gone quiet behind you, arms crossed and jaw ticking just a little.

You pull the trigger.

The bottle shatters on impact and you tilt your head with a pleased hum - you’ve learned well.

A chorus of whoops and hollers rises from behind you. You just cock the rifle again, aiming smooth and steady, and take down the next two bottles.

By the time you set the rifle down, Vi’s already at your side—arms slipping around your waist, that damn smug look plastered across her face like she knew it all along.

“Well I’ll be damned,” she murmurs, lips brushing your temple. “Look at you, darlin’. My sharp-shootin’ housewife.”

You grin up at her, all sunshine and mischief.

“Told you I’m not just a housewife.”Vi hums, fingers curling tighter at your waist as she pulls you close, her breath warm against your ear.

“No, ma’am. You’re the whole damn package.”

[wingedhallows]

𝟗𝟎𝟎 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓-𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋

━━ ᝰ.ᐟ

(so for reaching 900 followers, i want to give a little bit back. so i'll feed you 9 little smut-drabbles - about five hundred words long - of different characters)

cowgirl!vi x sweet little housewife!reader (coming - THU 26th June)

professor!abby x student!reader

racer!ellie x reader

sirius black x reader

nat scatorccio x reader

maya bishop x reader

finnick odair x reader

jinx x reader

james potter x reader

ೃ⁀➷ 𝐓𝐀𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐓

if you wish to be tagged in the specials, please comment below this post!

[wingedhallows]

Abby x masc reader who can DANCE hips waist and everything is moving and Abby’s just hypnotized, then getting wayyy wayy too jealous when they end up catching ass on accident

Angst or smut or fluff is fine!! (But please fluffy)

𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒-𝐘𝐎𝐔

━━ ᝰ.ᐟ

──★ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 abby anderson x reader / 0.8k words ──★ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 suggestive, jealousy ──★ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 this was such fun to write! thanks for requesting, i hope you like it!!

♡︎ 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ♡︎

The music pulses through the club, a steady thrum that settles in your chest like a second heartbeat. Lights strobe overhead, casting flashes of color across the crowd.

Abby’s hand is warm in yours as she pulls you through the chaos, weaving past bodies with single-minded purpose. She’s taller, broader—built like she could knock someone out without breaking a sweat—and right now, she’s dragging you like a ragdoll toward the bar.

She doesn’t look back, doesn’t need to. You follow, breathless and grinning.

Abby orders a beer—classic. No surprises there. You opt for a whiskey and coke, because the bartenders here are generous with the ice and stingy with the pour. You don’t even try to hide your fond eye-roll when Abby pulls out her wallet.

Swiftly, you push her hand down and slip your own card to the bartender. “Let me pay, baby,” you murmur into her ear, soft and teasing.

Abby makes a sound—half grunt, half sigh, clearly displeased—but she doesn’t push it. She never really wins these little standoffs, and you both know it.

You take your drink, give her a look, all crooked grin and heat behind your eyes. “Wanna dance with me?”

She takes a swig of her beer instead of answering. The scoff she lets out is subtle, but you hear it loud and clear—her silent “hell no.” You just laugh, lean in to press a quick kiss to her cheek. Her lashes flutter at the touch.

And then you’re gone, slipping into the sea of bodies moving under colored lights.

The music’s something vaguely familiar—upbeat, maybe a 90s throwback—and it fills your limbs like static. You let it guide you, hips swaying, arms loose at your sides.

You’ve never needed company to own a dance floor, and if Abby prefers to brood in the corner with her beer and her eyes locked on you like a sniper—well, that’s her prerogative.

You’re in your element. You’re grinning. Until she shows up.

A girl—tipsy, bold, barely held together in a slinky black dress—locks eyes with you from across the floor. She points, long manicured nail aimed your way like a dare.

You barely have a second to react before she spins around, throws an arm around your shoulders, and grinds herself against you like you’re part of the scenery.

Your arms shoot up, stiff in the air like you’ve just walked into a bank robbery instead of a club. You don’t move. You don’t touch. Not because you’re uncomfortable, but because you already feel the change in the air.

You don’t need to look to know she’s seen it.

Abby.

She moves through the crowd like a storm brewing slow and dangerous—shoulders squared, jaw tight, that unmistakable scowl carved into her face like stone.

Her eyes are locked on the girl plastered to you like a second skin, and if looks could kill, there’d already be blood on the floor.

You swallow hard.

Shit.

“Get the fuck away from my girlfriend.” Abby’s voice cuts through the music like a whip—low, sharp, and laced with barely restrained fury.

Before the girl can blink, Abby’s hand clamps around her upper arm and yanks her back.

She stumbles with a startled squeak, heels catching on the floor, and spins around with a glare already forming—until she gets a proper look at Abby.

All 5'9" of broad-shouldered, scowling woman.

The girl's expression flickers from defiance to survival instinct in half a second. She mutters something under her breath and slinks off, wisely choosing not to test her luck.

Abby doesn’t even spare her another glance. Her arm snakes tightly around your waist, firm and possessive—like a claim, like a warning. You feel it in your bones, and it makes your knees a little weak.

Your heart’s still hammering like a war drum, but you lean in, smiling softly despite yourself. “I think I like jealous-you,” you tease, arms sliding easily around her neck.

“That’s ‘cause half these bitches think you’re a stud,” Abby grumbles against your neck, voice all gravel and heat as she presses a trail of warm, lingering kisses to your skin.

You hum, half-laughing, fingers toying with the soft hairs at the nape of her neck. “Yeah, well…” you begin, breath catching when her lips brush a little too close to your pulse.

Abby huffs, half into a smirk. “Gotta start makin’ you wear skirts—can’t have us both out here lookin’ like masc trouble.”

“Oh, hell no.” You scoff with a laugh—but barely get the words out before her hand slides down and grabs a handful of your ass.

“Would look good on you,” she murmurs, shameless. “Might give me easy access.”

Your ears burn, and you slap her bicep with a shocked laugh. Abby just grins wide, unbothered, delighted with herself, her laugh low and rumbling in your ear.

[wingedhallows]

AYO! we’re 900 now! thank you so much for the support, really. i never thought this silly little blog would reach this far. so thank you!

love, hallow 🪽✨

[wingedhallows]

love ur writing! can u write sub abby being obsessed with reader’s tits and calling her mommy?

𝐒𝐎 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃, 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐘

━━ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

જ⁀➴ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 sub!abby anderson x reader / 0.4k words જ⁀➴ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 smut - MDNI જ⁀➴ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 i've never done sub!abby but i think it was time - hope you like this little filthy something!

♡︎ 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ♡︎

It starts innocently - who’re you kidding - nothing’s really innocent with Abby. Her head’s resting on your chest and her fingers absentmindedly toy with the hem of your shirt. You know what’s coming, you always do.

“Can I..can I take your shirt off?” She mumbles into the fabric of your shirt, breath warm against your covered skin,  you have to suppress a smirk.

“That’s not how we ask, is it, baby?” You answer, voice soft and quiet, it earns you a low desperate sound.

“Can I please take off your shirt, mommy?” She tries again. Her gaze lifts to yours - glassy and so needy - to think that this mountain of a woman is this desperate little thing when in your bed makes you wetter than anything else.

“That’s better, mh?” You give her a small grin and tilt your head, your hands let go of her hair and it signals the go, she doesn’t need words. Abby doesn’t waste any time and strips the shirt off you with fidgety hands and teeth biting the corner of her lip.

Her eyes focus on your now bare chest and you watch how her pupils dilate - how she licks her lips and makes a soft involuntary sound which can only be described as pathetically needy.

One of her hands comes up to cup your left tit, thumb gently running over the rosy bud which earns Abby an approving hum from you. Your eyes flutter shut at the sensation.

“Can I..please lick’em, mommy?” she whispers breathlessly and all you can manage is a nod - Abby doesn’t need to be told twice.  She surges forward, warm tongue on your nipple like she’s been dying to taste you. Her tongue moves desperately - fast and wet.

You lean your head back with a moan.

“Taste so good, mommy - so good.” She mumbles between sucking on the pebble like a drowning man clings to a raft.

The wet obscene sounds fill the room and you bring a hand to her hair, reverently stroking her scalp as you watch her lap at your breasts.

“Such a good girl.”

[wingedhallows]

𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋 𝐎𝐑 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐊𝐄-𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋?

━━ ꩜ .ᐟ

♒︎ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 spike x reader / 4.2k words ♒︎ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 fluff, funny banter ♒︎ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 this has been sitting in my drafts but i think i wanna just throw it out there, here u go :)

♡︎ 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ♡︎

The stench of freshly turned earth makes your nose twitch. A fledgling’s grave, sloppy job. You can practically hear the bastard breathing under the soil.

“Are they always this late?” you mutter, voice like silk and venom, arms crossed over your leather corset. Spike lights a cigarette beside you, grin twitching like he’s been waiting for that exact question.

“Yeah. Slayer’s got a flair for dramatic timing, luv. Likes to roll in just as the punchin’ starts.”

You roll your eyes. The last time you waited this long for a hunt, Napoleon still had teeth.

Then—finally—voices. Footsteps. That chirpy American cadence that makes your ears bleed.

Buffy Summers arrives in a blur of blonde and sarcasm, flanked by her usual entourage: Red Witch, Book Boy, and the Tall One Who Smells Like Anxiety. Buffy halts when she sees you standing at Spike’s side, her stake twitching slightly in her grip.

“Who’s the new bloodsucker?” she asks, eyes narrowing.

Spike grins wider. “Not new, Slayer. This is Y/N. My bird.”

You offer a smile that’s all teeth. “Charmed,” you say, voice like a threat wrapped in velvet. “Spike insisted we do this the collaborative way. Personally, I find hunting more efficient without teenage commentary.”

Willow lets out a small “oh,”

Xander nudges Buffy. “She kinda sounds like if evil had a skincare routine.”

You arch a brow. “You do realize insulting ancient vampires is a quick way to test your mortality, yes?”

“Okay!” Buffy claps her hands once, fake cheerful. “Let’s hunt.”

The earth cracks beside you. The fledgling bursts through like clockwork, teeth gnashing. Spike launches forward with a delighted, “Ooooh, here we go!” and it’s a blur—him swinging a fist, you catching the vamp mid-snarl, twisting his head like a bottle cap.

Dust.

“Damn,” Buffy mutters. “Didn’t even get a hit in.”

You brush invisible ash from your jacket and look over your shoulder at her. “Yes, I do make a habit of cleaning up after younger generations.”

Spike stifles a laugh, then hooks an arm around your waist. You tolerate it because you love him, idiot that he is.

“You’re so bloody elegant when you’re condescending,” he whispers in your ear.

“I learned from the best,” you murmur back, eyes still locked on Buffy.

Buffy narrows her eyes. You narrow yours right back.

This is going to be so much fun.

Buffy’s still sizing you up like you’re a puzzle piece she doesn’t like the shape of.

“So, what—you’re Spike’s girlfriend?” she asks, voice dripping with disbelief. “Do they even make vampires that old?”

You smile sweetly. “Oh, darling. They made me before they made rules about vampires.”

Giles has just arrived—poor man, slightly out of breath, holding a crossbow and several books under one arm like he thought this would be a classroom session. He slows to a halt when he sees you, his eyes widening behind those thick glasses.

“Oh,” he says. “Dear God.”

You give him a polite nod. “Rupert. Still quoting Latin badly, I assume?”

He actually blushes. “You—you know who she is?” he says to Buffy. “That’s Y/N of Carthage. She predates the Council’s earliest records by nearly four centuries. Allegedly wiped out a monastery in Provence for mispronouncing her name.”

You sigh. “It was a spelling mistake. And they knew better.”

Xander lets out a nervous laugh. “Cool. Cool cool cool. So, Spike’s dating the Dracula version of a Bond villain.”

“Oi!” Spike protests, arm still slung around your waist. “She’s not a villain. She’s just misunderstood. Also terrifying. But like—in a sexy way.”

You elbow him lightly in the ribs. “Flatter me again and I’ll let you live.”

Willow edges closer to Buffy, whispering, “Do you think she’s evil? Like, really evil? Or like Spike-evil?”

“I don’t know,” Buffy mutters back. “But she makes Spike look like a kitten.”

You roll your eyes. “You children and your obsession with alignment. I’m not here to destroy the world. That’s so… 2003.”

Spike snorts. “Told you, she’s retired. Took up pottery for a bit. Think she got bored after the Great Fire of London.”

“I caused the Great Fire of London,” you correct.

Buffy opens her mouth to respond but a noise cuts through the cemetery—another vamp. Sloppier this time, and clearly drunk on fresh blood. Before anyone can move, it lunges for Xander.

And you’re there. In a blink.

Your hand slams into the vampire’s chest and you rip it back just as fast, clutching his heart like a spoiled fruit. The vamp dusts before it even hits the ground. You toss the heart aside and calmly brush your hands clean.

The silence that follows is thick.

Xander squeaks. “…So are we, like, on her side? Or just not on her bad side?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” you say coolly, turning on your heel. “But if I wanted any of you dead, you’d be dust before you finished your clever quip.”

You stalk off into the dark, coat billowing, heels clicking on cracked stones. Spike jogs to catch up, grinning like a schoolboy who just watched his crush set something on fire.

“That was brilliant, love,” he says. “You’ve got such presence. Terrifyin’. Hot.”

You glance at him, a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth.

“I put up with that Slayer and her band of fools only because you amuse me, William.”

“Aw,” he says, clasping his hands to his chest. “Romance isn’t dead after all.”

“Not yet,” you say, linking your arm through his. “But give me another hour.”

[wingedhallows]

hi babes - had a bad day, gonna turn my brain off and write whatever i want tonight 🙃

[wingedhallows]

Hiiii, hope you're doing fine and are having a great day 🩵

I just wanted to request a Caitlyn X fem!reader with eating disorders. Like Caitlyn and reader are together for a long time and Caitlyn starts to notice something weird but doesn't really know what to do? Could be angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, just anything you want 🩵and if you're not comfortable with writing this, it's ok!!

𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆

━━ -ˋˏ⟿

-‘๑’- 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 caitlyn kiramman x reader /0.6k words -‘๑’- 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 angst, eating disorder - nothing explicit -‘๑’- 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 thank you for requesting this. i had to really think how to approach this but i enjoyed writing a little emotional something. i hope u like it!

♡︎ 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ♡︎

You love pancakes—you always have. For as long as Caitlyn can remember, pancakes have been your favorite breakfast. Sometimes you’d load them up with whipped cream, other times with berries and a drizzle of melted chocolate.

But lately, pancakes haven’t been the same. You barely touch them. And it’s not just the pancakes—it’s the little bretzels you used to devour during one of Cait’s old movie nights. Something shifted. But Cait’s sure: it started with the damn pancakes.

Caitlyn’s never been one for jumping to conclusions. She doesn’t want to corner you, to make you say something neither of you are ready to admit. So she does what she knows—she makes the pancakes.

She’ll offer them, just like always. And if you turn them down—again—then maybe she’ll finally ask the questions that have been eating at her. Because she can’t ignore it anymore. Not when she knows you've started buying clothes three sizes too small. Not when her own uniform would hang loose on your frame. She won’t stop—not until she gets to the bottom of it.

Now she stands in the kitchen, one hand braced against the counter, watching the batter bubble and turn golden in the pan. You’d love these, under normal circumstances.

You’d devour them, grin through powdered sugar, tease her about whether it’s her mother’s recipe. And she’d laugh. You’d share a plate, and she’d get to kiss the sweetness off your lips.

She flips a pancake just as soft footsteps pad into the kitchen—lighter than they used to be.

“Morning,” you mumble.

She turns her head, offering a small smile, choosing gentleness instead of confrontation. “Morning, sweetheart.”

You move around the counter, her oversized shirt hanging off your frame, falling to mid-thigh. Your shoulders are sharper now, more fragile beneath the fabric.

You rise onto your toes and press a faint kiss to Caitlyn’s cheek. She hums in return, but her fingers twitch at your side, hesitant.

“I made your favorite for breakfast,” she says, voice soft, coaxing. Her hand brushes lightly along your waist, the touch as careful as her words.

You glance at the pan, at the pancake sizzling gently. And she watches it happen—the hesitation, the flash of panic in your eyes. That flicker of fear at the thought of eating something with real weight to it. It guts her, because you were never like this before. You never used to flinch at food.

“I’m not really hungry,” you whisper. The words are quiet. Apologetic.

Cait sets the spatula down with a soft clatter. Her hand slips away from your waist. “You’re never hungry these days, are you?”

It comes out sharper than she means. You flinch. Your throat tightens, but you try to smile through it—gentle, shaky. “I don’t know what you mean, baby.”

But Caitlyn shakes her head. Her lips press into a trembling line, eyes shining, and she steps back from you—once, twice—until she’s leaning against the kitchen island like it’s the only thing holding her up.

“Do you want to leave me?” she chokes out.

Your heart stutters. “What—?”

“Because that’s what it feels like.” Her voice wavers, rough and raw. “You’re disappearing in front of me, and I don’t know how to help. I don’t know how to fix this, love.”

She rakes a hand through her hair, like she’s trying to hold herself together by sheer will.

“I’ve let this go on too long. You’ve become so thin and I... I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t know how to save you.”

Her voice breaks on the last word. You stand there, frozen. Mouth slightly open. Hands trembling.

“Cait…” you say, barely above a whisper.

But she holds up a hand, her expression twisting, like she’s trying not to cry.

“Please, love… eat the pancakes. Or something else. I’ll make you whatever you want. Just—please. Eat something.”

You swallow hard, throat burning. And you look at her—really look. How her shoulders hunch under the weight of worry. How her eyes plead with you like she’s already lost you.

You did this. You put that look on her face.

“Okay,” you say, your voice hoarse with the tears you don’t let fall.

It’ll be hard. You know it will. But you’ll do it.

You’ll eat every bite of those pancakes if it means Caitlyn never has to look at you like that again.

Like she’s already mourning you.

[wingedhallows]

i need more nat! looove ur writing 💗

𝐆𝐋𝐀𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔

━━ ☾𖤓 .ᐟ

𓆩❤︎𓆪 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 nat scatorccio x reader / 0.5k words 𓆩❤︎𓆪 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 fluff 𓆩❤︎𓆪 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 thank you so much for requesting - this is a little something i've cooked up because i believe that nat deserves a little comfort too. hope u like it :)

♡︎ 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ♡︎

The makeshift tent rustles softly in the wind, its thin fabric fluttering like breath. The cot beneath you offers little warmth—it’s starting to cool again.

A sure sign that winter is coming, and out here, winter never brings anything good. Still, you try to sleep. You really try. But the night is restless.

The wind howls through the trees like a warning, threading its way into the silence of the camp—a silence that feels less like peace and more like a held breath.

You shut your eyes tight, willing sleep to take you. Just rest. Just for a little while.

Then—a gust of wind. And something else. A shift in the air. That sharp, cold flicker of instinct snakes down your spine like white-hot fear.

A figure looms, casting a faint shadow over you. Before you can even part your lips to scream, a hand gently clamps over your mouth, muffling the startled gasp that rips from your throat.

“Shh—it’s me.”

Her voice is low, a whisper laced with familiarity. Nat.

Relief floods your chest, hot and dizzying. You go slack beneath her touch, a strangled little sound escaping you as she slowly pulls her hand away.

“Jesus,” you breathe, your voice a soft exhale. “You scared the crap out of me.”

You drop your head back against the makeshift pillow—a bundled-up jacket—and try to steady your pulse.

“Didn’t want you waking the others,” she murmurs, a flicker of amusement dancing beneath her words.

Nat lowers herself beside you, propping her head on one hand, the small cot creaking under the added weight. She’s close enough now that her breath grazes your shoulder.

“Mind if I stay here tonight?” she asks quietly, her fingers brushing up the length of your arm—light and hesitant, like she’s asking with more than words.

Please. Don’t kick me out.

You sigh again, softer this time, and give a small nod in the dim light—though you doubt she can see it.

“You’re already here,” you murmur, voice barely louder than the wind outside.

Without hesitation, she settles at your side, her head finding its place on your shoulder like it’s always belonged there.

“I’d kill for a smoke right now,” she mumbles against your neck, her voice warm and worn down.

Her hand finds yours in the dark, and this time, you don’t pull away. You let her lace your fingers together—slow, tentative, like it means something.

“I miss hot showers,” you murmur, eyes fixed on the sagging roof of the tent above.

Nat hums in agreement and gives your hand a gentle squeeze. “I’m glad to have you,” she says after a beat. “Just… don’t tell the others. I’ve got a reputation to keep.”

You huff a laugh. “Okay, miss mysterious.”

She chuckles, the sound barely a whisper. “I’m glad to have you too, Nat.”

You shift your head slightly, pressing a soft, barely-there kiss to her forehead.

Outside, the world might be falling apart. The cold might be closing in. You might not make it home—not in one piece, not ever.

But right now, in this stolen sliver of quiet— You’re not alone.

[wingedhallows]

Can u do dancer!reader X nat scatorccio?

𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

━━ -ˋˏ✄┈

ᯓ ✈︎ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 pre crash! nat scatorccio x dancer!reader /0.6k words ᯓ ✈︎ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 kissing, making out ᯓ ✈︎ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 thank you so much for requesting this - it's a little something and i hope you like it!

♡︎ 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ♡︎

The studio is filled with soft music—a delicate ballet score chosen by your teacher for the upcoming evaluation—and the sound of your quiet, uneven panting.

You’ve been at it for hours. Skipped lunch again, just to nail the damn transition after the arabesque. Your leg moves, the motion familiar and fluid, but something’s off.

The angle, the weight—something. The arabesque lands, but it looks more like a dying swan than anything remotely graceful.

“Last one in the studio again?”

Her voice doesn’t startle you—it washes over the piano notes like silk, smooth and warm. You turn slowly, a smile already tugging at your lips before you even see her.

There she is—Nat.

Still in her soccer jersey, hair tousled like she’s just come off the field, and that trademark smirk curling at her mouth like she was born with it.

“Always,” you reply, tilting your head slightly, letting your muscles finally relax. One hand rests behind you on the barre for support as your chest rises and falls a bit too fast.

You’ve pushed yourself. Again.

“Well…” She strolls across the room, slow and cocky, holding an iced coffee like it’s a trophy.

“I brought caffeine and my company—you’re welcome.”

You push off the barre and meet her halfway, your arms winding lazily around her shoulders. She doesn’t miss a beat—leans in and presses a kiss to your jaw, quick but electric.

Your pulse jumps like it always does when she touches you like that, like it’s the first time all over again.

“You’re a hero,” you murmur against her cheek as she slips the cool drink into your palm.

“Just fulfilling my girlfriend duties,” she teases, her voice low and fond. “Since someone doesn’t know when to take a damn break.”

Her hand finds your waist and she gently steers you down to the studio floor.

You sink onto the wood with a soft exhale, and she settles behind you, legs tangled with yours. You take a sip of the coffee—cold, sweet, perfect—and hum softly in appreciation.

“I’m just caught up in this routine,” you sigh. “It’s impossible.”

Nat hums again, low in her throat, and pulls you into her lap. Your thighs part and fit around hers without hesitation, like your bodies already know the steps.

“Sounds like you need a little distraction,” she murmurs, her hand trailing slowly up your side.

You place the cup on the floor beside you, a smile tugging at your lips. “Do I now?” you ask, your voice quieter now, tinged with teasing.

“Mhm. I think so.”

She leans in and presses a kiss to the underside of your jaw, then another at the corner of your mouth—soft, coaxing.

Finally, her lips find yours, and the kiss deepens quickly—hot, slow, consuming. Your hand slides up to cup the back of her neck as your mouths move in sync, tongues tangling with an intimacy that makes your heart race.

She grins into the kiss when a soft, involuntary sound slips from you.

“There she is,” she breathes against your lips, voice a little smug, a little tender.

You hum softly before leaning back in, lips finding hers again as your fingers slide into her hair, gently tugging at her scalp.

“Eager, are we?” she murmurs against your mouth, her hand tracing slow, soothing lines up your spine.

“I’m done practicing,” you whisper, pulling back just enough to meet her eyes. Your lips are kiss-bitten, flushed, still tingling. “Let’s go home.”

Nat tilts her head, gaze lingering on your face like she’s memorizing every detail. That soft, familiar grin spreads across her lips.

“Sounds good, baby.”

[wingedhallows]

hey, what do u think of my new layout? (u likin’ the new navigation header and the icon?) ✨💗