#thanks for the prompt sadie!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cowboydisaster · 5 months

Note

Hi again! Thought of another one….

Arthur finds out that reader has a gift for him for Christmas but he hasn’t gotten them anything. So he has to scramble to think of a gift. He ends up making a handful of drawings of reader including some with their beloved horse. And of course reader is over the moon about it

This one isn’t too clever so if you’re not feelin’ it, it’s ok.

🎄❤️

* ˚ ✦ Icebreak * ˚ ✦

pairing: arthur morgan x f!reader word count: 720 a/n: Just a cute lil' drabble. Merry Christmas' eve! Thank you for another really cute prompt!!

cowboydisaster's christmas countdown: ONE day 'till christmas!

christmas countdown┊main masterlist┊rdr2 masterlist

Arthur distinctly remembers the conversation in which you’d both agreed that you wouldn’t be exchanging gifts this year. Alarm bells are going off in his head. Was he supposed to get you a gift anyway? Should he have ignored that conversation entirely? Been a gentleman and got you something nice? Arthur swallows thickly.

Despite the conversation, Arthur had just found out that you have a gift for him. Sadie has a loud mouth, especially when she’s drunk, and for once, Arthur is grateful for it. At least he has a little time to think of something. He pulls his pocket watch out, glancing at the time. 6:27 PM. A little time.

In a rush, Arthur jogs into his tent, pulling his journal out of his satchel and placing it on the bed. Beside it, he tosses down a piece of charcoal and a pencil. The camp isn’t in a great financial situation; hence the agreement of no presents. So, he reckons if he can’t buy you something, he’ll just have to make you something.

Arthur begins drawing, and after a while, the sun fades away, forcing him to switch to lantern light. The side of his hand is caked in lead as he runs the pencil over the pages, capturing the curves of your body, the shine of your smile. He draws his favorite memories of you. The day he gifted you your mare, Sugar. The day you kissed him for the first time. The day he’d brought you to camp.

Arthur stays up far too late, sketching a handful of pictures of you, taking his time to capture you in the utmost detail. His hand flicks perfectly, catching the waves in your hair, the line of your jaw. Arthur draws you with your mare, with his gelding, with him.

The group of drawings encapsulate the things that you love the most, and the memories that you hold dear. After finishing half a dozen good drawings, Arthur inspects them, fixing little mistakes, and adding little notes about his love for you. When he’s finished, he takes some old baling twine, tying a little bow around the pages, fixing them until they’re all wrapped up perfectly.

He knows you deserve better, a bracelet of silver or gold. A necklace embedded with gemstones, or a new dress. Those are the things you would have been gifted back in the city. He sighs, looking down at his little homemade gift, knowing that it will just have to do.

— — —

“Alright,” Arthur whispers, pulling out the ribbon-wrapped sketches, “Go on n’ open ‘em.”

Your eyes open slowly, drifting to the white pages that Arthur is extending out to you.

Hesitantly, you take them, eyes searching up to Arthur’s for reassurance. He nods, and you smile, pulling the twine ribbon, letting it spiral to the floor. You flip the first paper, recognizing it as being ripped out from Arthur’s journal, and you gasp.

It’s a beautiful sketch, one of you sitting up in bed, hair draped down your back, a graceful smile on your lips. Even through paper and pencil, Arthur has managed to capture the sparkle in your eyes, the optimism in your countenance. Next to the drawing is a small note.

Early mornings with my lady.

Your heart warms, and you flip to the next one. You find a sketch of you, laying on the back of your beloved mare, arms wrapped around her neck. The drawings are stunning. Works of art that should be posted in a gallery in Saint Denis, and he’s giving them to you. You know how private Arthur is with his journal, and you’re honored.

“You like ‘em?” Arthur asks, nervous of your silence as you continue to look through. Tears pool in your eyes as you look up to him, holding up some of the precious gifts.

“You drew me. Arthur, I love them.” Sincerity is thick in your voice, and Arthur wipes a tear away from your cheek.

“Didn’t wanna make you cry.” He jokes. You huff.

“They’re so beautiful, so meaningful. No one’s ever done anything like this for me. Not in my whole life— not before you.” You whisper.

Arthur’s arms wrap around you then, pulling you into his chest, shushing away your sniffles.

“They’re perfect, Arthur.” You murmur against him. He smiles.

“Merry Christmas, darlin’.”

taglist: @margofiore @mrsarthurmorgan7 @woman-with-no-name @tillith @luvliewriting @pine4pple-b0i @photo1030 @dudsparrow @holyratrimony @twola @calcarius445

#divider by cafekitsune #cowboydisaster's christmas countdown #bea's christmas countdown #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x y/n #arthur morgan x f!reader #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption two #arthur morgan

189 notes · View notes

abellmunsonmovie · 3 months

Note

For your older!Eddie prompt request:

Older!Eddie going to a flower shop to help his daughter pick out a corsage for Sweethearts/Sadie Hawkins/Prom, only to meet a cute florist that totally threatens his “cool older guy” vibes by turning him into a nearly blubbering mess.

Older!Eddie who hires a tutor for his kid that is currently as risk of failing (cuz we know he’s not letting his kids be super seniors like he was). The tutor is a young teacher from another high school and he it totally smitten.

OR if no kids is your thang…

Older!Eddie who is freshly divorced and going to court mandated therapy. The receptionist at his therapist’s office is smitten from the get go. And him? Hmm…

THANK YOU FOR YOUR REQUEST! I'M GONNA WRITE THE RECEPTIONIST ONE THIS WEEK SOMETIME

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson comfort #eddie munson headcanons #eddie stranger things #eddie munson headcanon #eddie blurb #eddie munson angst #older!eddie munson #comfort character #abellmunsonmovie writes

63 notes · View notes

bellezaycafe · 4 months

Text

Get Your Shit Together - Chapter 8

genre: 2024 and onwards AU, with the 2024 starting grid.

pairing: Romantic!oc x that triangle y’all voted on. Platonic!oc x the whole grid.

warnings: swearing, mentions of physical crimes, discussions about gangs, mentions of bars and alcohol. Besties arguing. talk about the accident in chapter 4.

context: Part 1 and Masterlist…

comments: this is a little bit of a time skip filler chapter. But it also sets up Oscar's feelings. I went for the whole he fell first/he fell harder but instead of about each other, about Sadie.

Oscar was frustrated. Very frustrated. It was a description that barely covered how he felt.

He knew his team could see it, and knew equally that they had no idea how to handle it. They had worked with drivers who exploded far quicker than him did but Oscar never so much as boiled.

The calmest man on the grid was simmering away and no one knew what to do.

It was Thursday, and Oscar was already in Abu Dhabi, prepping himself for media day, but it had been over a week since the trial had started.

Someone’s safety had never mattered to him so much before. Oscar wasn't surprised at the feeling, Sadie was dealing with some very dangerous people. The Australian was surprised at how it had consumed him. He was pacing. Pacing.

“For fucks sake!” Came Pato’s voice through the wall between their driver’s rooms. “I can hear you, Oscar! I love you man, but go for a run or something!”

And Oscar did just that. He didn’t even put headphones on. He just knocked on the wall twice to let Pato know he’d heard him and left.

Oscar pushed himself. Hard. He ran and he ran and he ran. Nothing mattered but his feet drumming against whatever surface he found himself on. He kept running and running until someone pulled their e-scooter up right in front of him.

“Shit,” he halted abruptly. “Sorry, I-“

“What the hell, Piastri?” It was Max.

“I needed to move,” he muttered.

“You've been running for an hour. You're going to exhaust yourself before the weekend even starts. What’s wrong?”

"It's Sadie," he admitted on a deep breath.

Max, pulling his Red Bull cap off, swept a hand through dirty blonde hair. "I haven't heard."

"Me neither."

"She can look after herself."

But Oscar noted the tightness to the Champion's jaw and a raised eyebrow told Max just as much.

"Let's go." The Dutchman muttered and led the walk back towards the hospitalities.

"What?" Oscar pressed.

"Nothing."

Frustration rippled in his gut again. "You two love to hide things."

"Get over it. These aren't my secrets to tell."

"Fine."

There was an uncomfortable silence but Oscar hoped it would prompt Max to say something about Sadie. Anything.

It worked.

"She congratulated you on Qatar."

"I wish I could thank her."

"Maybe you can one day."

"At this rate, that's a big maybe."

"Yes, but there is a chance."

"And I'll hold onto it," Oscar promised. He had promised himself something similar when she'd driven away from his mother's house.

The rest of the walk was silent until Pato, surrounded by three of McLaren's media team, saw them.

"There he is!"

And Oscar was handed a bottle of water, a wrap and thrust into discussions for that week's Youtube content.

----$----

"That's P3, mate," Oscar's engineer relayed and he let out a massive sigh of relief.

"Thank you everyone," he said into his radio. "That was a hard one. Thank you to everyone in the garage and back at the factory."

"Well done, Oscar. You've ended fourth overall." Came Zak Brown's voice.

Oscar couldn't find the energy to respond. He pulled his car to a stop in front of the 3 sign. He saw Charles and Max holding each others forearms, their helmets together and a string of laughter and shouts coming from the two. Oscar hauled himself out of his car and flipped his visor up.

The McLaren mechanics pulled him into massive hugs and slaps to the helmet. He laughed and laughed, the sound bubbling from him in surprised bursts.

He had beaten Lewis Hamilton, George Russel and Carlos Sainz. In a McLaren, he'd outlasted, outpaced, outmatched both the Mercedes and a Ferrari. And he'd done it consistently enough to end fourth. Fourth overall.

Max turned and, Charles mimicking the gesture, beckoned him over. He joined them and the elation in his heart could not be matched. He may have earnt P3 before, hell he'd gotten a better result the weekend before, but he was standing, laughing, with the confirmed champion and the runner up. Oscar was standing with them.

Time blurred as they made their way to a cool room, and then to the podium. Up there, holding his trophy with a broad smile on his face, Oscar had a thought that stuck with him.

I wonder if Sadie is watching.

----$----

She was.

Sadie smile at her phone, amidst the pitch black of her bedroom at 2 am in Melbourne. Max, the man she'd ego-checked all those months ago, was a four-time World Driver Champion and, smiling broadly beside him was Oscar Piastri. The feed cut to Lando, looking up at Oscar and Max with more pride on his face than Sadie had thought possible. His teammate, and his friend were both up there and grinning down at him.

Even though the screen Sadie could see the laughter in Oscar's eyes.

She hoped that she'd be able to congratulate them in person one day. Maybe one day.

----$----

Angst is coming. Idk when, but it is. Plus, I haven't made y'all any promises about comfort and I won't.

Taglist;

@snubug @cmleitora @izzy-marvel @aquangxl @morenofilm @viennakarma @simpingcorner

#f1 #f1 fic #formula 1 #formula one #f1 x oc #lando norris #f1 fanfic #get your shit together #max verstappen #oscar piastri #charles leclerc

75 notes · View notes

pedrito-friskito · 2 years

Note

I am in need of some fluff after your Dave York angst KILLED ME lol sooooo may i humbly request fluff prompt #20:

"Thank you" || "For what?" || "For coming into my life"

with Javi Peña or Frankie Morales, your choice 🥺💗

sadie!! part two for dave is up! (just so you know, enjoy this little slice of fluff first if you prefer 😉)

I had to go with Mr. Peña, I’m in a mood, and I just want to shower that man with love.

also put this under The Ranch universe cuz I want to live there

sleepover saturday

soft spot

(word count 1.2k)

Javier Peña has one soft spot. Well, technically two. One physical, one mental.

The physical one, it’s your secret weapon. He can still remember the day you found it, early on in your relationship, and the reaction he’d had was so forceful you said aloud that you’d saved the information for later. It’s specific to you, he’s noticed; other woman have kissed him there, nipped at his skin, but he’s never had the same reaction before.

It’s right behind his ear, the left side of his neck. Right where his ear starts to curve down towards his shoulder, where the skin is thinner, more sensitive.

And the mental one? You. Plain and simple. Javier always swore he’d never fall so hard for a woman, not after everything that happened with Lorraine, the guilt he’d carried with him for years, the regret that seemed to coat him like a second skin. After Colombia, he knew he was no good for anyone, riddled with stress, both post-traumatic and current.

But then…you.

You, who appeared to him like something out a of a dream, with your smart mouth and your sparkling eyes. You, who seemed to know what he was feeling without him needing to speak the words aloud. Little things, like knowing exactly when he was ready to leave a party, when he needed to just relax in the quiet for a moment, when he needed to yell and scream and vent about one thing or another. You knew him better than he knew himself, it was plain to see, and it was even plainer to see that there was absolutely nothing Javier Peña wouldn’t do for you.

His soft spot.

It was an accident, in truth, the way you’d stumbled upon the physical spot. Things were…heated, the two of you stripped down on his couch, his hands everywhere and yours following suit. You were on top of him, hips rolling in a way that made him see stars behind his eyes, and you’d grabbed his face in your hands, kissing him messily as you ground down into him. He was distracted, too caught up in the contours of your body, mapping you out with his fingers. You felt so good, and he couldn’t get enough. He knew right from that night he was hooked on you, addicted, more strung out than any drug the world could throw his way. You were it.

Then you hooked your hand around the side of his face, thumb prodding at his cheek, fingers slipping behind his ear, and you just brushed the spot. Not even a nip or a kiss or anything like that, just a gentle caress.

And he came.

It hit him like a freight train, his entire body seizing with the force of it has he spilled into you. He’d grappled for your body, pulling you against his chest, growling into your collar and gasping your name. You’d let out this airy laugh, stroking the spot again, seeming to revel in the way it made him shiver.

“Damn,” you’d whispered, tilting your head to the side, removing your hand only to replace it with your mouth, kissing the spot softly. He’d gripped your hips so hard you were sure to have bruises. “Just like that, huh?”

“It’s you, querida,” he’d breathed out, tipping his head back against the couch, letting you continue your assault, grateful when you gave him some reprieve, continuing a path along his throat, covering his neck with your affection. “I’ve never—” He gasped, body reacting as you moved your hips again, returning to the spot. “You.”

“Me,” you’d murmured, laving your tongue over the spot. “What about me?”

He honestly thought about telling you he loved you right then and there, but the time didn’t feel right. No, the admission didn’t come until later, until he’d learned every inch of you, until he couldn’t hold back the words any longer.

Fast forward, and it’s nearly a year since you moved in with him, on the ranch, the pair of you sharing the home Javier grew up in. It’s hell sometimes, dealing with the land and the animals and all the chores and aches that come with it, but it’s home.

It’s you, and it’s home.

It’s a quiet night, for once, and you’re both basking in it. You ordered pizza, cracked open a bottle of wine, ate on the couch. You found some old re-runs on TV to watch, some mindless sitcom you’ve both seen a million times. It’s comfortable as all hell, and after the pizza has been demolished, you both sprawl out, Javi on his back, you on his stomach. He’s got one arm around you, the other occupied with the remote, and he fits his other hand in the back pocket of your jeans, thumb reaching up to stroke your bare skin where your shirt has ridden up.

You make a little happy noise as you cuddle close to him, one hand skirting up his side. “Javier Peña, are you trying to cop a feel?”

He snorts, squeezing your ass. “Aren’t I always?”

You laugh back and tilt your head back, until your lips are grazing the underside of his chin. “I’d let you, but I’m so tired I might just pass out right here.”

“Could I interest you in a good old-fashioned make out instead?” he asks, pulling his hand from your pocket to rub along your curves. You grin, nodding, and Javier adjusts, moving himself lower on the couch so you can move up, until your lips slot together.

It’s slow and languid and comfortable as all hell. He lets his hands wander, squeezing and rubbing at every inch he can reach. “You feel nice,” he whispers against your mouth.

You smile again, kissing his lips once more before you’re pulling back slightly, swiping your thumb over his moustache as you lean to the side, diving for his throat. He lets you, tilting his head back slightly, savouring in your slow affection, your hands roaming his body just as much as his own. When your lips land on the spot behind his ear, his whole body reacts, just like it’s had the first time, but it’s different.

It floods his body with warmth, something bright and delicious starting in his chest and spreading through his limbs. Your second kiss is even softer, the third a mere blush of your lips. He can feel you starting to slip, your body moving even slower as you settle your head back onto his shoulder.

“You feel nice, too,” you murmur, and the words are almost slurred with sleepiness.

Javier chuckles, resuming his exploration of your body. He rubs circles into your back and you groan, sinking even deeper into his touches. “You comfortable, querida?”

“It’s you,” you mumble, fitting your face against his throat. “Of course, I’m comfortable.”

He chuckles again, holding you close. Silence settles over you, especially when he turns the volume down, feels your breathing even out against his chest. It’s a moment before he speaks, the words hushed.

“Querida?”

You sigh, the noise drenched with sleep. “Yes, Javi?”

“Thank you.”

He looks down to see your face scrunched, your brow furrowed as you adjust yourself slightly on his chest. “For what?”

“For coming into my life,” he murmurs, leaning in to whisper the words into your hair. “For loving me.”

“Don’t have to thank me for that, silly,” you whisper back, squeezing him a little. “But you’re welcome.”

Javier just chuckles, the noise turning into a sigh when you arch your neck, kiss the spot behind his ear again.

His soft spot.

You.

#sleepover saturday #my fics #javi p #javier pena #javier pena x you #the ranch #javier pena fluff #javier pena headcanon #javier pena imagine #javier pena fic

726 notes · View notes

thisbuildinghasfeelings · 1 month

Text

Still playing a bit of catch-up with fic recs this week, we're focusing on fic recs from season 3 episodes 7-12:

3x07 Red vs. Blue, 3x08 In the Unlikely Event of an Emergency, 3x09 The Bird, 3x10 Parental Guidance, 3x11 Prince Albert in a Can, 3x12 Negative Space.

Here are this week's prompts:

126 softball

Gwyn's death

TK's relationship with his mom

Owen and Gwyn

Owen and Catherine

Paul and Marjan as ride or die besties

Carlos and Grace teaming up

Sadie

Rules:

Every week there will be a different prompt, and everyone is encouraged to share a fic (or a few!) recommendation that meets the prompt and tag a few fic-reading friends. The game can be played all week, so no pressure to post right away. Please feel free to use the banner above, to make your own, or to not use one at all!

Finally, please use the tag ‘Rewatch Read-Along Week 18’ and at the end of the week @911lonestarrewatch will post the link to the tag for the comprehensive list of fic recs!

Thanks to @guardian-angle22 for the banner!

Here are my recs:

Ride or die by @tailoredshirt

In the aftermath of their fight and makeup in 3x09/3x10, Paul and Marjan get in a car accident and have more of a conversation about why Paul was so upset by what happened to him. A beautiful little exploration of Paul and Marjan's friendship.

kiss it better by @sznofthesticks

Nancy/Marjan in the aftermath of the softball game. We always need some more softball-adjacent porn without plot excellence!

"You love this, don't you?" by @irispurpurea

A little missing scene from the softball game. An incredibly accurate portrayal of how much Carlos must have enjoyed seeing TK during the game.

Sex Drive by @welcometololaland

We all know without a doubt what happened between TK and Carlos after they left the softball game 😏 But in this wonderful rendition, they don't even manage to make it home first!

(if this is) goodbye by @fallout-mars

A lovely and heartbreaking missing moment from 3x08. Carlos waits helplessly at the airport and leaves TK a voicemail as TK is in danger in the air.

Sweet Dreams and Flying Machines by @carlos-in-glasses

An absolutely gorgeous fic that artfully intertwines Carlos and TK's memories of 9/11 with the events of 3x08.

Let me just tell you, I really should go back to sleep by @ladytessa74

Yes, this is a 4x04 coda, but it's beautiful and I love it and it heavily features Gwyn and TK's grief at losing her, so it absolutely counts as an appropriate fic rec for this week!

i'll go on singing till i know you've heard by @maxbegone

TK runs into Genevieve, the woman he saved on the plane in 3x08, at the grocery store and the meeting provides a bit of a healing experience for him.

let our hearts beat here by @doublel27

A really beautiful fic where TK and Carlos get to have a little vacation in the aftermath of Gwyn's death and before things start getting even worse for them again. These two pretty much always need a vacation, so it always makes me so happy to read about them getting one.

Tagging some fic readers who might have recs to share:

@lemonlyman-dotcom @paperstorm @carlos-in-glasses @reyesstrand @strandnreyes

@vineofroses @bonheur-cafe @alrightbuckaroo @herefortarlos @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad

@heartstringsduet @liminalmemories21 @lightningboltreader @fangirl-paba @reyestrandd

@chicgeekgirl89 @firstprince-history-huh @noxsoulmate @ladytessa74 @sznofthesticks

@literateowl @nancygillianmvp @bonheur-cafe and OPEN TAG for anyone else who wants to share some fic recs!

#Rewatch Read-Along Week 18 #911 lone star #911 lone star fic #911 lone star rewatch 2024

29 notes · View notes

outerbankies · 1 year

Note

number 7 on kisses for the prompt list 😌

wooooooooo thank you for this!!! number 7 is: I know we're fighting but come here (swoons)

new light: look at us now — rafe cameron

nl masterlist

warnings: mentions of possible infidelity, swearing

“Who are you talking to so early?”

Rafe ambles into the kitchen, your dog Sadie close behind him, just as you wrap up your conversation and set your phone face down on the kitchen counter, scrubbing over your face with your hand and letting out a gigantic sigh.

“Margot,” you finally say, before reaching over and refilling your coffee from the pot. You grab one of Rafe’s favorite mugs from the dish rack, one he bought from his go-to coffee spot back in his college town, in order to pour him a cup, too. “She called me on her break.”

When you hand the coffee off to him, Rafe presses a kiss to the top of your head, sending you to sit down at the counter with gentle a hand on your lower back. His fluffy, morning hair glows like a halo around him, your sleep-deprived mind thinks.

When he speaks again it’s slow and deep. “Must’ve been urgent. Hey, want a yogurt bowl?”

“Might just grab a bagel on the way in,” you contemplate, shrugging at the decision.

But Rafe pouts.

“C’mon, let me make you breakfast,” he pleads. “Please?”

You lean up slightly over the counter, smacking a kiss into his pouted lips where they await yours. “If you insist.”

“I do,” he answers readily, cracking his first smile of the morning, always your favorite. “I do insist. Margot okay?”

“Yeah, she’s… I don’t know, this whole thing with Kelce is wild,” you say, resting your cheek on your fist, watching Rafe pull out yogurt, granola and berries in just his boxers and an old gray long-sleeve, almost threadbare it’s so old and worn. You could get him as many new versions as you wanted, but he’d always insist on his old faithful on the chilly mornings.

“They’re still…?” he asks, surprised. Rafe doesn’t name it, and honestly neither would you. Because nobody’s really sure what Kelce and Margot are doing—it’s somewhere between hooking up and seeing each other and full-on dating. It’s none of those things but also all of them at once.

“She flew to Texas this weekend.”

Rafe sighs, shaking his head and turning around to open a cabinet and grab two bowls. “She’s gotta leave that alone.”

“Hm?” you ask, suddenly distracted when your dog Captain tries to force himself under your chair, the weight of his body pushing you around slightly. Sadie’s in the kitchen patiently under Rafe’s foot, not yet wise enough to know she won’t get any scraps until you’re both finished eating.

“He’s rebounding hard. She’s gonna get hurt,” Rafe says matter-of-factly.

You study him for a second, as he moves about what he’s doing, like he isn’t giving much thought to what he’d even said. “Why does it have to be her that gets hurt?”

“Because this is what Kelce does. He took Therese really hard, and Margot’s always there,” he says.

“Rafe,” you say, your hand splayed outward in question, now slightly alarmed. “What?”

He sighs, leaning into the blue tile counter. “She is. She was there after Sidney—”

“That was high school.”

“She was there in college, when we’re pretty sure she was still dating that guy from her school,” he fires back.

Your mouth falls open slightly. “I didn’t tell you that so you could use it against her.”

“I’m not,” he says. “I don’t have anything against Margs, you know that.”

“Then why are you… why are you making her sound like some obsessed girl that Kelce has to beat back with a stick?

Rafe suddenly drops the bag of granola he’d been holding onto the counter, frustrated. “Y’know I’m not saying that.”

“He invited her to Texas, or was that part not clear to you?”

“Okay, well that’s his mistake then,” he shrugs.

“So pursuing Margot is a mistake?” you challenge.

“He’s not pursuing her,” Rafe claims, finally going back to his task at hand. “Not seriously. And I’ll bet she knows that.”

A thought occurs to you at his words, indicating he’s so sure of Kelce’s feelings. Rafe seemed genuinely surprised they were still at it though, and he wouldn’t tell a white lie about something so trivial. Unless… “Did Kelce say something to you?”

“No, Kelce didn’t say anything to me,” he says, now sounding annoyed. “And honestly, the fact that he hasn’t kind of says something in and of itself.”

Margot had been as unsure as Rafe is on the phone this morning—worried that she’d end up hurting Kelce or herself if something didn’t work out between them. It made you sad, of course it did, that two of your closest friends couldn’t figure things out the way you’d always maybe secretly hoped they would.

Margot and Kelce were a crazy pairing to begin with—both extroverted and loud, the leaders of the pack and the centers of attention. You’d never really saw them ending up together, but you can only hope every time they start something up again.

“I just don’t think it’s fair to pin it all on Margot. He could be rebounding with anyone, even someone in his state,” you finally say.

“I’m not pinning anything,” Rafe says, hands on his hips. “Kelce will get just as hurt when this thing goes up in flames.”

You stand up at that. “Why do they have to get hurt? Why does it have to go up in flames?”

Rafe sighs, pouring honey over your bowl how he knows you like it, even if he doesn’t need it for his own. And if he does it a little angrily, jerking the bottle around before setting it down on the counter with finality, you can’t help but take notice. “This is stupid. We’re arguing about shit that isn’t even ours to argue about.”

“Fuck, Rafe,” you say indignantly. “I was just trying to tell you about my call, and you turned it into this entire thing about—”

“I didn’t make it a thing,” he accuses, dipping his spoon into his bowl, eating it right at the counter instead of coming to sit next to you, almost like he’s challenging you. “You made it a thing.”

You cross your arms over your chest stubbornly, annoyed that you have to turn down the breakfast that was starting to look really good right in front of you—he’d added those strawberries you love, the ones from the farmer’s market on Sundays—and be annoyed and melancholy at work all day, after grabbing that last-minute bagel on the way to the office after all.

“This is me not making it a thing,” you say, turning on your heel with your head held high.

You begin to rethink almost everything you said that morning as soon as you reach the landing of the stairs, when you hear Rafe mutter a ‘fuck,’ accompanied by the sound of his spoon loudly clattering into his bowl.

—

Rafe avoided you all day, wanting to give you space and leave some for himself, too. He didn’t want to let anything fester for long, he never did, but he waited until enough time had passed that he felt stupid about the entire thing, about ever taking up arms at the crack of dawn over something so unimportant.

But more importantly than all of that, Rafe knew that Kelce and Margot would work their shit out—he was worried about Kelce, about both of them, and that’s truly where it’d all stemmed from. But it was nothing for the two of you get so worked up over, in the kitchen at breakfast no less, when you’re his favorite version of you. Rafe loved mornings with you, loved the extra fluff to your hair and the tired droop of your eyes, the way you spoke in hushed tones to him and scratched his back without him asking.

He can blame it on something stupid, like the lack of sleep he’d had the night before, but Rafe knows he’ll own up to it, no matter what.

But he’ll do it after he checks out the break that’s just a few blocks over and down some wooden steps, he decides, sitting in your back garden with his wet suit pulled up to his hips while he finishes waxing his surfboard.

What he didn’t mentally plan for, throughout his entire work day as the way he’d hoped this conversation would go began to take shape in his mind, is for you to come out to the garden still in your work clothes—your shoes kicked off immediately at the door, he guesses—the saddest pair of eyes he’d ever seen looking at him.

“Hi,” you say quietly.

“Hi,” he returns, resolve paper thin.

“I know we’re fighting, but…”

Rafe doesn’t even sigh, placing his surf board out of the way before settling back into the chaise lounge. “Come here.”

He’s relieved when you come to him immediately, letting him tug you down into his space, squeezing your arms around his neck while his hands rub up and down your back.

He presses a kiss into the side of your head, letting out a surprised hum when you turn your head and find his lips instead, your affections surprising but never unwelcome.

“I’m not fighting with you,” he murmurs.

“You didn’t text me on your lunch,” you say, pulling back so your lips are brushing his with every syllable. “You always text me on your lunch.”

“Because I thought you were fighting with me.”

“Uh-uh,” you answer sadly, shaking your head. Rafe kisses you again, pouring every ounce of remorse he feels into you.

“Margot’s not crazy,” he finally says, once you both come up for air. “There’s something there with Kelce, I’m sure there is. But he’s just hurting right now.”

“He is?” you wonder, pulling back to look at him, worry all over your face. The wind blows some into your face but Rafe pushes it behind your ear immediately, not passing up the chance to feel the soft skin of your cheek under his palm.

“Think so,” Rafe shrugs. “I wasn’t lying when I told you he won’t speak to me about it. And that’s how I know it’s bad.”

“Kelso,” you pout.

“I think Margot’s just… too much too soon for him. They’re too close. He cares about her,” he points out, looking past the rows of houses and out to where the sun is beginning its descent down to the water. “It’s messy, and I just—I worry.”

“About them?” you ask.

“About them,” he agrees, before cutting his eyes back down to you. “And about you.”

“Me?” you question.

“I don’t want you to get too invested in them,” he says. “You feel all of their emotions, you’ll get caught in the middle when it doesn’t work out.”

Rafe can tell by the look on your face that his suspicions are correct, that you were already in the process of becoming way too involved.

“They’re both your best friends. They’re both our best friends,” he continues. “You have to let them figure it out, and we can pick up the pieces if we need to. I’ll help.”

You sigh, saying nothing for a while, just leaning into his body and seeming content to be held. “You don’t think they could have something like we do?” you say, pulling back to look up into his eyes.

Rafe doesn’t speak his truth, that he doesn’t think anyone can, ever, have what the two of you have—even if he’d love to see all of his friends try and come close. He does his best to fake a laugh instead, hands tightening around you. “They’d be off to a much different start, that’s for sure.”

“Do you think… hm,” you taper off, suddenly looking away.

Rafe taps your thigh. “What?”

You look back at him nervously, your lips doing that twitchy thing they do when you’re embarrassed. You shift out of his lap, sitting fully in the chair beside him, your legs still splayed over his as you lean back on your hands. “I thought of a question, but I’m nervous to hear your answer.”

“Baby,” Rafe says. “Now I have to know.”

“Don’t lie,” you warn.

“Never.”

“When we were younger, or even if—even around when we started dating,” you begin nervously. “Would you have wanted to do what they do? With me?”

Rafe can feel his grin overtaking his face, and you let out a groan before he even answers.

“Just to make sure I understand—you’re asking if I ever wanted to hook up with you?”

“No. I’m taking it back, actually,” you say, covering your face with one hand. Rafe tugs it away immediately, temporarily pushing you back into the chair so he can lean over you, pressing another long kiss to your lips, long enough until you can let go of your embarrassment.

“Of course I wanted to,” Rafe says, kissing you again as if to prove his point. “But I would’ve been lying to myself, and to you, if I ever acted like I didn’t want more.”

“I told you not to lie,” you accuse, pushing him off of you momentarily.

He shrugs. “Not lying. I’ve always wanted more.”

You touch his face like you believe him, swiping a thumb over his bottom lip before being the one to initiate another kiss this time. “Really?”

“Really. Did I ever make you feel like I didn’t?”

“Never,” you smile, letting your arms splay out as Rafe leans down to pay attention to your neck, almost getting distracted before he realizes something.

“What about you?”

You laugh loudly, the sound sending a warm feeling from Rafe’s stomach out to his entire body, all the way down to his fingers and toes. “Are you kidding? You would’ve ruined my life.”

“I’d have never risked it, baby, I swear. I cared about you way too much,” he admits.

“You don’t think they care about each other the same way as we do?” you ask quietly.

“No. I think they do, but it’s different,” Rafe says.

You sigh, shifting under Rafe’s arm, where he’d fully laid down beside you. “I don’t care. I just want them to be happy. With each other or not.”

“I know, sweetheart,” Rafe says, trailing his fingers up and down your bare arm, pressing a kiss into the crown of your hair.

“Plus, we’re the only couple in our group,” you say. “What if everyone started calling them ‘mom and dad’ instead?”

“Blasphemous.”

“And you know they’d get married first,” you continue. “Kelce is impulsive, and Margot has a timeline in her notes.”

“Do you have a timeline?” Rafe wonders.

“I used to,” you answer, looking up at him again, like you’re daring him to challenge you on it.

Rafe checks his watch, noting the dwindling sunlight. “Does it allot time for a sunset surf?”

“With me? Right now?” you ask excitedly, alright shifting to stand up.

Rafe can ask about the timeline later, or not. He has a feeling you haven’t followed it exactly, but he also has a feeling that you don’t mind. He hopes you’d have already told him if you did.

“Yes you, and yes right now,” he says, standing before offering a hand to you. “I didn’t buy you that wetsuit for Christmas just so it could collect dust in our closet.”

#answered #new light hcs #outerbankies 2k #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron #outer banks #outer banks imagine #obx #rafe cameron fanfiction

297 notes · View notes

spongeyspot · 6 months

Text

Rules

Masterlist

Requests are [Closed]!

Also! Wanna be a named anon with an emoji?

Check this out!

PLEASE READ THESE RULES VERY CAREFULLY BEFORE REQUESTING ANYTHING!

I WRITE 18+ CONTENT! THIS BLOG IS 18+ ONLY! MINORS DNI!

🧽Characters I write for🧽

Red Dead Redemption

Arthur Morgan

John Marston

Lenny Summers

Dutch Van Der Linde

Charles Smith

Hosea Matthews

Javier Escuella

Kieran Duffy

Abigail Roberts

Sadie Adler

(I will write for almost anyone; just ask! These are just the characters I’m most comfortable with.)

🧽Characters I DON’T ALWAYS write for🧽

Micah Bell

Note: Certain ooc scenarios with certain characters I probably won’t write, and its really up to my discretion of what I’m comfortable writing. You can ask for whatever you want, but if I don’t feel comfortable, I probably won’t do it.

🧽Forbidden themes🧽

As a writer on tumblr, there are certain things that I just can’t tolerate, and they read as such.

ABSOLUTELY NOT:

Pedophilia

Age-play

Scat or Watersports

Vomit play.. whatever that is called.

basically any bodily fluids besides male or female ejaculation

Incest (Excludes Step-cest)

Race Play

Necrophilia

Ass Play (Fisting, Eating, etc.) (excluding Anal)

Anything in this list that is asked for will not be written. Your request will be ignored and deleted.

Note: If something that isn't listed is asked for, and I'm uncomfortable with the theme, I will reserve my right to refuse that prompt and add that theme to the list.

🧽Welcome Themes🧽

Character x Character (but only if the reader is also involved)

BDSM

A/B/O

Dark themes

Angst

Character Death

Daddy/Sir

Mommy/Ma'am

Blood Play

Step-cest

Corruption

Lactation

Age Difference (Characters will always be of legal age [18+])

Con Noncon

Noncon

Dubcon

Praise

Pet Names

Impact Play (Ex: Spanking, Slapping, etc. [Consensual])

Breath Play

Knife Play

Squirting

Anal

Threesomes + Moresomes

(mostly anything else that isn’t listed is welcome, but please check the restricted criteria before asking!)

Note: I tend to write more toward afab/fem presenting. But i also write gn or amab/masc. If you don’t specify which you prefer, I’ll probably just write afab because thats what I’m most comfortable with.

If you want your prompt to be a different gender/orientation please specify so I know!

🧽Other themes (SFW)🧽

Pregnancy (Can be NSFW)

Comfort

Platonic Fluff

General Fluff

Sibling/parent themes (angst or fluff, NEVER nsfw. [See restrictions])

🧽DNI🧽

Do not interact with this blog if you qualify as any of the following:

Minor

Pedophile

Racist

Homophobic

Transphobic

Ageless or Blank blog

This is a drama-free, safe environment, and I intend to keep it that way.

Thank you!

25 notes · View notes

emily-mooon · 9 months

Note

Hiii! for the color palette 19 for elmax? Also really loooovee ur art and artstyle it's super cute and fluffyyy 🥰🥰🥰🥰

Hello!

Oh yes of course and thank you for the compliment!

I give you 1930s elmax because I noticed that one of the prompts for elmax week was 1930s and as I said in the Nancy drawing using this palette, it screams pretty puffed sleeves. Also short haired Max because Sadie Sink with short hair has me in a light chokehold.

Thank you for your ask and I hope you like it!

(As always, if you would like to send in a colour palette with a character or two, my reblog alongside the palette used in this piece is under the cut.)

#the flannel arms beside el are Will and Jonathan and in that order #El has such cute parings (excluding mleven)#henderhop and elmax tug at my heartstrings #stranger things #el hopper #max mayfield #elmax #colour palette ask game #mutual asks

31 notes · View notes

rowdyhughesy · 5 months

Text

✿ Welcome to my 800 followers celly! ✿

Thank you so much for following me and all my shenanigans on this blog, I couldn't have gotten to where I am without you so thank you for the support🤍

Rules: there really isn't any just send the emoji on what you want in my asks😚 (This celly will close on January 12th!)

🏒: games! examples are fmk, this or that or would you rather

🧸: headcanons. send me a player and a scenario/situation and I'll write how they would react or what they would do in the situation

🌈: shuffle. send me this emoji and I'll shuffle my playlist and tell you the song that comes up!

⭐️: aesthetics. tell me your favourite colour & your interests & i'll make you a small moodboard!

��: Get to know me. ask random questions or just tell me anything that's on your mind! I love to chat

🫧: blurb prompts list.

"You're blushing." "Yeah, so? Never seen anyone fall for your charm before?"

"Stoooop. Stop making me all..." "All... what?"

"Have you ever been in love?" "No. Why?" "I think I'm in love with you."

"Is this it? Is this the end?"

"You've always been there for me, now, it's my turn to be there for you"

"So, I don't think I'm dying, or anything, and it's probably not that serious, but... I'm kinda bleeding. A lot."

"Let me love you."

"When was the last time you took a moment to just breathe and be in the moment?"

"i saw this the other day and thought of you. i hope you like it."

🎧: song fic list. (I’ll write a one shot for requested song)

Mr perfectly fine - Taylor Swift

He never will - Alexander Stewart

Bigger than the whole sky - Taylor Swift

Made up story - Andi

Locksmith - Sadie Jean

You’re losing me - Taylor Swift

#rowdy800celly

6 notes · View notes

rebelrebelwrites · 1 year

Text

Fic authors self-rec! ✨ When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you’ve written, then pass on to at least five other writers ❤️

Thanks for the tags @bad-surprise and @wyrd-syster

Mine are all from other fandoms, but just in case any Reylos still follow me or your sexual awakening was also Jareth the Goblin King 😂, I'll share my 5 favorite fics that I’ve written w/ all the old shit I made for them:

1. when the moon met the sun in the sky [reylo fantasy au | E | 71k | 20/20] — To date my proudest work, just because it was fun to try and attempt to evoke a Miyazaki-style fantasy world, and the world-building was so much fun.

"Who?" Rey asked.

She knew who. But she didn't know what else to say.

The man called Kylo Ren — Ben, her mind whispered — rolled his shoulders, a tick she'd seen before, a thousand times at least; an echo of a boy she used to know.

He seemed to notice. He took a tentative step toward her. When she flinched in response, he froze.

"Don't do that," he said, soft as a psalm. His dark eyes darted over every inch of her.

"Do what?" she asked.

"Lie."

2. Boon [reylogan heist au | E | 39k | 12/20] — This is such a niche fic in the first place because it’s a crossover between SW and Logan Lucky, but man, it was so fun and Rey/Clyde are so soft. I’d never attempted to write a heist and I obviously didn’t finish but I still have a fondness for this (permanently? IDK) on hiatus little fic.

“Your jar looks like it’s full of stars,” Sadie said, gaping at it.

“It does,” Clyde agreed. He raised his own. “Time to set them free?”

Sadie nodded, skipping into the night to release hers. As Rey turned to follow, Clyde snaked his good hand around her wrist.

“Follow me.”

He led her around the house, where the night felt denser, darker, somehow warmer. Underfoot, wild daisies swayed in the dying summer breeze.

“Here,” he murmured. She smiled at him, then twisted the top of her jar off. He followed suit. Together, they shook the little bugs free — to fly away, blinking little lights in the darkness; hazy yellow stars they might touch.

3. Crown Glass [reylo fantasy au | M | 4k | 1/1] — I love this one because it just sort of came into being; a prompt/gift one-shot that took on a mind of its own, but I got to play more with present tense and some high-fantasy elements bouncing around in my brain.

She shouldn’t be able to find it. But she does.

It stands tall, tucked away in the back of the cellar; she weaves through abandoned armor, crusted cauldrons, and shelves and shelves of spellbooks to reach it. It’s old, ancient even; she can feel that, even if she’d never set eyes on it, full-length and ringed in circles of crown glass that shimmer in the gloom.

She reaches out a hand, skimming the surface–

And then a world appears on the other side.

A room, awash in milky moonlight. A desk, buried by books. A bed…

And a man.

She draws her hand back, heart thumping as loud as the magic in her ears.

The world flickers and fades back into blackness.

4. This is the Sign You've Been Looking For [reylo modern au | E | 29k | 10/10] — My first real Reylo fic and what got me back into writing after years away, so I have to give it credit! Also my first ever AU, and Virgin artist Ben Solo and sign maker Rey were so sweet and sad but with a nice HEA.

"I'm sorry," Rey murmured, drawing close. She could only seem to look at her feet.

He pressed a large palm to her face, tilting her head up to look at him. The music filtering in from the living room was noticeably softer; vaguely, Rey recognized Elton's "Your Song" playing in the background and decided it was a good idea to rest her hands on Ben's hips.

He glanced down at her touch, swallowing hard.

"Don't be," he hummed.

5. Muse [Labyrinth canonverse fic | E | 82k | 20/20] — I have a lot of Feelings about this fic, but I have to include it even though a part of me wants to edit it into oblivion, haha. I feel like I’ve come so far as a writer since finishing this in my early twenties, but I’ll always appreciate this for how it helped me improve, for how it gave me an avenue to do more with fantasy world-building, and for the nice response it got in a small little fandom.

"Why did you give me the peach?"

He stared at her, his expression unfathomable.

"Are you going to answer me?" asked Sarah quietly.

"You know why I gave it to you," replied Jareth, "To make you forget."

"No," continued Sarah, "I know. That wasn't what I meant. Why did you give me the peach, knowing that I would never be able to leave after taking a bite?"

Tagging: @demonscantgothere @scriberated @myrsinemezzo @thrillofhope and @formerlyir

#walking down memory lane before night work? definitely fun #my fics #fic writer tag game #reylo #reylo fics #reylo fic #reylo fanfic #labyrinth #labyrinth 1986 #labyrinth fanfic

26 notes · View notes

allzelemonz · 1 year

Text

Letter Snoop: Micah Bell X Male Reader

Pronouns: he/him, Reader is referred to as 'man' and 'guy' Physical Sex: None Mentioned Rating: T/Language Warnings: Micah Bell is his own warning, Sadie is a curious cat, Sean never shuts up, Micah takes things well for him being Micah and all Summary: When Sean interrupts your trip into town with an urgent job, you have to give your letter to Sadie to post. Sadie, always the snoop, finds an interesting confession inside.

It makes you nervous, writing it down. But if you don’t tell your best friend the truth they would kill you if they found out some other way. Ever since you fell in with the Van Der Linde gang you’ve only been able to keep in touch with your friend through letters. This most recent one prompted a somewhat annoying question given the hundreds of exciting things that you go through on a daily basis. They could have asked about your most recent robbery or the new bounty on your head, but they asked if you were interested in anyone.

If you don’t answer them and they find out, they’ll kill you. They will. You know they will.

Which is why you carefully and nervously write his name down, just his first name. If you give them too many details they’ll know exactly who you’re talking about. He is an infamous outlaw after all. His bounties stack higher than yours, his list of crimes miles longer. So all you give them is: Micah, blond, fond of his guns, kind of an asshole.

You fold the page with careful precision and tuck it into the already prepared envelope, the name ‘Killgore’ scribbled on it. As you approach your horse to make the trip to the post office, you’re stopped by Sean. He’s bubbly, more excited than he should be.

“Hey there, big man.” He grins. “Dutch has got a job for us.”

“Now?” You ask.

Sean nods. “Now ‘er never.”

Behind him you spot Sadie and Charles by the wagon, about to make a trip to the general store for Pearson. You groan internally.

“Just a second, Sean.”

“Best hurry, Dutch said it’s highly time sensitive, it is.”

You walk quickly over to the wagon where Sadie turns to you with a half smile. “Hey, Sadie.”

“Hey, everything alright?” She asks, leaning against the wagon.

“I gotta go on a job with Sean.” You explain, pulling out the letter. “Could you post this for me?”

Sadie stands upright and takes the letter from your hands. “Sure. Good luck on that job.”

“Thanks.” You give her a small smile and rush back over to Sean.

The job itself isn’t too bad. A homestead that Dutch insisted be hit right away. The money is good too, even with that fifty percent going to savings. Sean talks your ear off the whole time, but it’s to be expected. Once you’re back at camp and Dutch has the savings, you retire to your tent and finally take your gun belt off. The missing weight feels nice, but you nearly jump out of your own skin when you turn to see Sadie standing at the tent’s entrance.

“What the hell.” You mutter, a hand going to your chest.

“Sorry.” She says.

“What’re you doing here?”

“I know I shouldn’t a’ looked. “ She sighs. “But I was curious.”

“Looked?”

“At yer letter.”

You had forgotten about the letter. All of Sean’s talking had you thinking about so many other things. “Oh.”

“So, that blond, gun obsessed asshole named Micah wouldn’t happen to be our Micah, would it?” She asks, a mix of concern and teasing in her tone.

“Shut up.” You mutter, heat rising from the embarrassment.

“Hey, I ain’t judging.” She laughs. “But Micah?”

“That sounds like judging.”

“I’m sorry.” She laughs again. “Guess I can’t help it.”

You sigh. “Don’t snoop in people’s letters next time.”

“After this, I promise.”

“Good.”

There’s a beat of silence before Sadie’s curiosity gets the better of her again.

“So why Micah?”

You close your eyes for a minute, unable to believe you’re in this situation. “I can’t explain it.”

“Guy like you has a lotta options ‘round here and you land on the greasy ass of a man?”

“Sadie.”

She meets your eyes and reads the annoyance. “Sorry.” She says.

“How about you forget what you read and I forget what I wrote. Okay?”

“Sure, sure.” She nods. “Sounds like a great idea.”

She turns to leave, but you call out to her and she turns back to face you.

“If anyone finds out about this, I’ll kill you. Slow.” You say.

A smile spreads over her face before she walks away. She won’t tell anyone. You’re sure she won’t--it may be denial. You’re too tired to think about it for now and opt to go to bed. It’s dark when you wake up, still night time. Not many people are up, just the usuals that drink well into the night or scarcely sleep. You go over to Pearson’s and grab what's left of the stew, still a little warm from some lasting embers.

“Nice night, eh, cowpoke?” Micah says, stopping a few feet from you.

You stop with your spoon halfway to your mouth. You let out a nervous cough and set the spoon in the bowl. Micah being around always makes your heartbeat a little faster, but after the letter it’s even worse. He has his hands resting on his gun belt like he usually does, but his head is tilted up and you can see his face for once.

“Yeah, nice night.”

He does that small cough that he does, swaying on his feet a bit. “Miss Adler has some interesting things to say.”

You steel your expression and look down so your own hat gives you some privacy. “That so?”

“Ya sweet on me, cowboy?” He drawls.

You shake your head. “No.”

He chuckles lowly. “Ain’t that a shame.” You can feel the flutter in your stomach as he takes the few steps towards you. “Anytime, cowboy. I’m right here.”

He puts a hand on your shoulder as he walks past you. Even when he’s disappeared into the trees you can still feel the ghost of his hand resting there. You drop the bowl, letting the stew sink into the grass and stomp over to Sadie’s tent. You said you’d kill her, it was only half a joke.

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #micah bell #red dead redemption x reader #red dead redemption x male reader #micah bell x reader #micah bell x male reader #x reader #x male reader

48 notes · View notes