#where's the naive camp i ask you

[dragonomatopoeia]

Air's Bizarre Christmas Rom-Com Reclist

I am a fan of Romance Media, but even more importantly, a fan of mediocre art. As such, I have watched a lot of christmas romcoms. I have in fact watched Too Many christmas romcoms. While freelancing between jobs, I would put them on in the background as mindless noise to keep me company while writing copy.

This means that I am uniquely positioned to create a rec list of christmas rom-coms that meet a very specific set of criteria:

Is the movie interesting enough to make me actually Watch it instead of half-listening to it in the background?

Are elements of the plot bizarre enough to make me yell "WHAT" at the screen?

Would I rewatch the movie in the company of friends?

Any movie that fulfills all three of these criteria is eligible to join those privileged few, the elite ranks of My Christmas Rom-Com Rec List

A Chance for Christmas (2021)

Synopsis: "Influencer Christina Chance gets the opportunity of a lifetime: a lucrative sponsorship from the brand of her dreams. However, she soon discovers she's stuck in a time warp where the same Christmas Eve repeats itself over and over again." Commentary: This is a Tubi original, and it lives up to all the mess that status bestows. That established, my favorite parts of this movie are that the main character and love interest have the same kind of obsessive, perfection-driven marketing brain poison that lead them to try to min-max a time loop and learn zero lessons for the vast majority of the movie. There's a kind of frenetic, self-absorbed energy to each of the characters that's fascinating to watch. At one point the main character attacks a man dressed like Santa in an act of misdirected rage, and the love interest holds her concerned family back while yelling "SHE NEEDS THIS LET HER GO SHE NEEDS THIS". Also, the kids are actual characters with inner lives instead of props! There are structural issues with the movie, and in my perfect world, the protagonist would quit her influencer job, but overall, I enjoyed it.

A Christmas Movie Christmas (2019)

Synopsis: "A Christmas movie fanatic and her cynical sister wake up to find they are now the stars of a Christmas movie." Commentary: I have a soft place in my heart for scripts written by actors who have been trapped in this Christmas purgatory for years. There's a certain sensitivity to The Way Words Work that is nonexistent in most of these films. Especially since this industry relies on Never Retaking Any Line Read Ever because these movies are basically made on an assembly line. That is to say, this movie is a love letter and a list of grievances wrapped together in a metatextual bow. All of its jabs at the genre feel like they come from a place of familiarity rather than scorn, and the actors are obviously having fun. Line deliveries and elements of blocking feel like they have actual character work put into them, and one of the love interests feels like a Christmas Homunculi with no understanding that a world other than snowglobes and sugar cookies exists. But on purpose this time! If he encountered a turtle flipped on its back, he'd start feeding it christmas cookies, and the movie is Very Aware of This. It's fun.

Baby It's Cold Inside (2021)

Synopsis: "When a travel agent up for a promotion is directed to forget her tropical vacation and instead visit the world-famous Ice Hotel, she discovers that her sacrifices are more than compensated." Commentary: I'll be honest. This one is mostly here because the editing choices made me feel like I was losing my mind. I ended up dragging my roommate down to the living room at multiple points so that they could witness the same thing I was seeing. The jarring cuts, dropped story beats, and lines that lead nowhere make for an unforgettable viewing experience... except for the part where I have forgotten literally every other element of the movie. Except for the inexplicably evil love rival who becomes niceys at the end. I like her. Girlboss. This isn't even the only Hallmark movie that was set at and filmed at Hôtel de Glace in 2021. Truly the most Hallmark movie on this list.

Christmas Perfection (2018)

Synopsis: "Darcy's been striving for the perfect Christmas since childhood; thanks to a magical figurine her dream finally comes true." Commentary: I have already written up my thoughts on Christmas Perfection in EXTENSIVE detail here. Needless to say, I watch it every year. What a fascinating text. What an odd timeloop. It should have been gay.

Snowmance (2017)

Synopsis: "Each year Sarah builds her "Snow Beau" snowman with her best friend Nick. After another breakup, she begins to wonder if she'll ever find her own true love. A little Christmas magic brings her Snow Beau to life." Commentary: I cannot believe the snowman actually came to life. The snowman came to life and he's not even the primary love interest. Nick sucks in a normal possessive childhood friend love interest way, fuck Nick, everyone hates Nick, sure, but THE SNOWMAN CAME TO LIFE? THE SNOWMAN CAME TO LIFE AND HE TRIES TO SELL THE PROTAGONIST'S HOUSE!!!!! SHE LIVES THERE!!!!! This movie made me scream out loud multiple times. It is not good. Please watch it.

Timeless Love (2019)

Synopsis: "Megan wakes up from a coma in a hospital. The husband and 2 kids she just dreamed about aren't real. At her first job interview, she meets Thomas from her dream - or was it a vision years into the future?" Commentary: Listen to me. Listen. The establishing scenes of this movie are played completely straight. For the first chunk of the movie, it feels like this is going to be a dramatic, serious movie in a way that Hallmark Christmas Romcoms fundamentally are not, which makes it EVEN WEIRDER when it suddenly pivots into your classic nonsense. It entrances me. Who let this happen? Why is the medical professional who is assigned to help Megan with the trauma of losing her coma-construct family and recover from being in a literal coma cartoonishly evil? Why was the information Megan obtained from the coma dream accurate to real life? Why is she suddenly okay with losing her coma children as soon as she found the real-world version of her coma-husband? What a fascinating text. I have no clue what to do with it. But maybe you do. I'm folding it into your hands. Whatever happens next is your decision

#rec list #christmas #christmas ment #i didn't put the netflix movies on here everyone knows about those and they're trying too hard to be weird #where's the naive camp i ask you

[lafleshlumpeater]

hey!! for the luke castellan x child of posideon!reader could you do an enmities to lovers type of trope where he teases and flirts with the reader a lot? possibly fem reader? tysm!!

Ofc!! Thanks for requesting- it’s a little short but i hope that’s okay <3

Warnings: luke calling r nicknames (love, doll), enemies to lovers (?), mentions of weapons, teasing, flirting, fem!reader- lmk if i missed any

(also, so sorry this is so late)

part two luke castellan masterlist

“You’re back isn’t straight, love.”

Rolling your eyes, you grudgingly straightened your back, desperately ignoring the irritatingly cocky smirk of the platinum- blond behind you. All you were trying to do was teach one of the younger kids from the Apollo cabin how to use a bow and arrow, after seeing him almost shoot himself in the eye whilst examining the contraption. Not spotting any of the campers you knew who were more experienced in the field of archery, and lack of anything else to do had driven you to do this. And you regretted it bitterly, when out of nowhere, appeared the one person who learnt all the right buttons to push just so he could push them to his fancy. Luke Castellan.

You didn’t know what it was- a short while after your brother had been claimed, you had arrived to camp and no sooner than that Poseidon had claimed you too. Ever since then, Luke had befriended Percy and the two got along like a house on fire while all he strived to do with you, on the other hand, was to tease and flirt and mock to the point where you were pulling your hair out and Luke remained coolly satisfied, that smug smile which would make anyone with eyes go weak in the knees residing in his sculpted features.

Not acknowledging him still, you gently took the elbow of the young (and clearly naive) Apollo camper, guiding it where he felt most comfortable and it was most convenient for the task at hand. As the younger camper drew the arrow back under your mentoring, his eyes focused solely on the target metres away, Luke tutted once again.

“Feet shoulder- width apart, Nick. Your tutor not doing a good job, huh?”

“Tutor not doing a good job, huh?”

“What was that?”

You bit your tongue after imitating the taller boy under your breath. Why did you let him get to you so much?

It was so infuriating how he was the one person who could break through your usually- cool demeanour, causing you to lose it within minutes.

The curious Nick lost concentration, arms going limp at his sides. He looked up at you, eyes quizzical and bright with amusement. “Is that your boyfriend?”

“He is not my boyfriend,” you hiss, praying Luke hadn’t heard. “If anything, he’s the opposite. Alright, back straight, shoulders-”

“I asked a question, doll,” Luke called out obnoxiously, which in return painted your cheeks an embarrassing red. “Did you just mimic me?”

“Yes I did,” you snap, fist tightening around an arrow. “Now will you shut up? I’m not your love, or your doll, or anything in between!”

Luke remained quiet throughout your rant- not absent of his signature, sly smirk, or at least, signature when it came to you. His eyes were light, flecks of grey gracing his irises as they glinted with familiarity- of mischief. You stopped, wondering why when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

“Hey,” Percy grins at Luke, charming as ever before turning back to you. “Was it you who was yelling? I could have sworn-”

Both of you reply at the same time, you with a flustered “No,” and Luke a confident, arrogant: “Yes”. Percy raised a puzzled eyebrow, eyes narrowed and flicking between the two of you in suspicion.

“I’ll see you later,” Luke drawled, thankfully breaking the uncomfortable silence under your brother’s scrutinising gaze. “I gotta shower.” He fistbumped a still- bewildered Percy, turning his back to the three of you- not before throwing you a wink over his shoulder. Nick’s eyes widen in understanding.

Before his mouth can open, you nudge him, sending him an intimidating glare.

taglist: @quickslvxrr @bibliophile-dendrophile

READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

#this is a little shitty but yk #requested fic #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x fem reader #fem reader #pjo #percy jackson fic #luke castellan fic #luke castellan blurb #enemies to lovers #fanfiction #pjo fanfiction #platonic percy jackson #percy jackson x fem!reader #percy jackson x reader platonic #percy jackson x reader

[rileyslibrary]

“So, let me get this straight,” he says, rubbing his temples, “You set fire to your tent while trying to make what?”

Heat rises to your face as you avoid meeting his eyes. You fidget with your fingers, feeling exposed and vulnerable in front of your superior. Your breathing is so loud and ragged in the silence of his tent, and you try to steady yourself before speaking.

You murmur an inaudible answer while shifting your weight from foot to foot.

“Louder, soldier,” he commands, “and look at me when I address you.”

You take a deep breath and hold it in. You lift your head and meet his eyes. His balaclava is crooked and messy as if he put it on in a hurry when the entire camp went into chaos. You can see a few stray hairs poking out from underneath it. His eyes are bloodshot, and his voice is hoarse; the poor guy has had enough.

“Popcorn, sir.” You whisper and instinctively kick a rock on the ground, wishing it was you.

“Popcorn.” He repeats, amazed.

You nod and divert your gaze to your left, where his bed is. You blush and immediately swing your head in the other direction.

“What were you thinking?” He asks, leaning on his field desk with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“I guess I, um, I guess I was hungry, sir.” You stammer. You shift your weight to the balls of your feet, then place them back on the ground.

“You guess you were hungry?” He asks dumbfounded, “And you decided that popcorn was the right snacking choice?”

You shrug, and he shakes his head.

“Tell me, soldier,” he says, “do you know what popcorn does?”

“What does it do?” You ask naively.

“Come on, work with me,” he says, gesticulating with his hands, “it’s a compound word; corn that...”

“… pops?”

“Repeatedly”, he nods, “and do you know what repeated ‘pops’ might be interpreted with? In a field exercise? With a bunch of soldiers on high alert?”

“Gunshots?”

“Repeated gunshots,” he corrects you.

You shut your eyes and hunch over. “I’m really sorry, sir,” you finally mutter, “it was an accident.”

“Oh!” He exclaims and throws his hands up, “Thank you for clearing that out, soldier; see, I was worried you were intentionally committing arson!”

“No, sir, I promise you that wasn’t my intention,” you cry, “I didn’t want to upset you.”

“Upsetting me is not the problem here, Y/N, and if you can’t see that, we have a bigger issue to deal with.”

You furrow your eyebrows and look at him, confused. He takes a while to assess your expression and widens his eyes, ready to lecture you for good now.

“You could have gotten hurt, you idiot!” He shouts, hitting his palm with the outer edge of his hand. “You could have burned yourself, or someone could have shot straight in your direction with all these...” he gestures with his hands, imitating fireworks, “...pops that you were making!”

You raise your eyebrows as you connect the dots. “You’re right, sir,” you nod, “I will try to be wiser and not make any stupid mistakes in the future.”

“Mistakes happen daily, and you are wise, soldier.” He reassures you, “If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be on my team.” He walks behind his desk to sit on the folding chair. “It’s your inability to assess the danger that scares me.”

“I don’t understand, sir.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” he says gently, “and I worry that there might not always be someone there to help you.”

“I can assure you that the team is always-”

“I know the team is great and always has your back, but I mean me; I won’t always be there to save you from harm,” he says and shoos you away. “You’re dismissed,” he orders, and starts filling paperwork.

“Aren’t you going to sleep?” You ask.

He shuts his eyes and rubs his forehead. “I just extinguished one hell of a fire,” he replies. “Unless what I just experienced was a scene from a movie, I highly doubt I’d be able to sleep in peace.”

“I’m really sorry.” You apologise, and he waves his hand again for you to leave.

“Soldier?” He asks, and you turn to look at him one last time.

“I hope you didn’t bring any movies to accompany you with that popcorn.” He states in a stern voice.

You vigorously shake your head. “No, sir,” you reply, “no movies, just popcorn.”

He lets out a relieved exhale. “Just remember; next time you get hungry, it’s better to stick to the rations.”

You shrug and look at the ground. “I’ve run out of my allocated rations, sir.”

He lets out another exhale, this time deeper, and tilts his head to the side.

“Is that the reason you decided to cook for yourself?” He asks, “Because you ate all your meals?”

You slowly nod. His eyes have softened, and he looks more compassionate than before. Almost forgiving; human.

He opens the drawer of his field desk and grabs an energy bar and a pack of dried figs. He pushes them towards you.

“Please, come see me next time,” he advises you. “I much rather wake up to you asking for food than to a blitzkrieg of kernels popping.”

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x y/n #simon ghost riley x gn!reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x y/n #simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #ghost cod #cod ghost #ghost cod mwii #ghost cod mw2 #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon ghost riley fic #cod fanfic #cod mw2

[lady-ashfade]

is there any chance you can do a yander clarisse fic? Im not too sure about but maybe reader is kinda naive and sweet and Clarisse is really overprotective sorry this is vague im not sure what else

You got it!

Yandere!Romantic! Clarisse La Rue x Demeter's daughter!reader

-£ my first time really writing for her! Hope you like it. And you didn’t say what kind of reader you wanted so it is fem, and also didn’t know if you wanted romance or platonic. If you are upset with this you can request again!

-£ warnings: short, yandere behavior, stalking, slight mentions of violence, swearing, reader being to naive to notice, changing perspectives half way through,

she never liked flowers. She found them annoying, when she realized it was what she was “supposed” to like. no, she likes to play in the dirt and rough house.

until she found one flower that wanted to keep safe. and her name was y/n and oh, was she beautiful. she didn’t realize how pretty nature could be until she saw how you created and helped the flowers, grass and anything you could find.

“do that again,” the girl looked at her with confusions, “smile, I like it.”

Clarisse didn’t truly know how she could have wrapped herself at her around her finger so easily and without trying. from the first time watching her grow a patch of flowers in the woods made her entranced.

at first she watched from far away, not scared. just getting the feel. but day after day of watching her smile with her siblings and other people, when she didn’t even get a glance? it was unfair. but she would prove herself.

knocking a boy over at lunch just before her table, making sure she would see, Clarisse just stared at the boy with a playful smirk knowing he wouldn’t do anything about it. After the boy ran away she glanced over to the table, finding those eyes looking back at her. it was a high greater then any blessing she could have.

Everything got worse from there. Clarisse had no control over herself sometimes and she got that from her father. This is where you two finally start hanging out. Everywhere you turned she was always close or right beside you. Though you didn’t find it strange but as a way to say how much life wanted to kept her around you.

“It’s so nice to have a friend.” You beamed with happiness. Her eyes darkened as her lips curled up into a devilish smirk, “Friends? Yeah.” You didn’t notice the way she was looking at you like a sheep.

She hated how nice you were to everyone who approached you at camp. How you would smile and bat your eyes and are willing to help anyone who asked. That was her attention. That was her smile. That was her girl..

She was so relieved that you never noticed anything about her. And how everyone that seem to spend to much time around you seemed to avoid being at least ten feet near you.

Every few days she found herself in the woods, deep in the night with one hand clinging to someone’s shirt and the other one raised. that hand was covered in blood and her knuckles bruised. No real harm. Just a warning to keep them away.

When she finally asked you out. She was able to hold you close now, not that she didn’t already, but she could kiss your lips anytime she wanted. Her hand stayed on your hip to hold you close. Like a leash incase you want to run off.

And gods, did it feel good to show you off.

#clarisse la rue x reader #Clarisse La Rue #yandere Clarisse La Rue #yandere #yandere Clarisse La Rue x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #Clarisse La Rue x you #percy jackson x reader

[wlntrsldler]

almost (sweet music) | luke castellan

synopsis: exbf! luke castellan goes on a date with another girl after your death. went back to my roots and wrote an aphrodite reader!

song: almost (sweet music) by hozier

it's been a year.

it's been a year since percy uttered the words, "we need a shroud, for the daughter of aphrodite." it's been a year since he survived the battle of manhattan and you didn't. it's been a year since hermes had to pull him off your dead body as he thrashed and mourned your death.

he's out of camp half blood now, which he thinks you'd be surprised to learn. you always joked that he'd end up taking over mr. d's position if he wasn't an immortal god. luke had a special relationship with chb, just like you did. back when he was sixteen, the first time he kissed you, he let himself think about growing old with you there.

maybe taking over the summer activities and planning. living in a small cabin just on the outskirts of camp. he thought about making it into a welcome center for new arrivals, somewhere where they could have a hot meal and have a room of their own before they inevitably ended up in the hermes cabin with his rowdy siblings.

those were the easy days. back when his biggest fear was losing his best friend if he told you how he truly felt about you. it seems silly and trivial now that he looks back at it. he wishes he told you how he felt sooner, just to get those extra years, extra days, extra seconds with you knowing that you were his and he was yours.

but now he's in his twenties and you were six feet under. it wasn't fair and he felt disgusted with himself as he prepared for his first date with a girl chris set him up with from his sociology class at nyu. he knew that you would've wanted him to move on, after all, you always said that your favorite version of him was when he was in love. something about how his eyes sparkle differently and how his voice turns softer, kinder, when he spoke, but luke didn't know how to tell you that he was only like that when it came to you.

the date was fine. the girl was pretty. she had the same hair color as you and same giggly laugh, and luke should be grateful that chris knew his type, but all luke could do was compare her to you. it wasn't fair to the girl. she was lovely and she deserved someone who didn't think about their ex-girlfriend every time they looked at her.

when she showed up to the mom and pops restaurant luke picked out for the date, she was listening to your favorite artist. luke almost felt like he was back in the aphrodite cabin, listening to the song on your record player, swaying you back and forth in a lousy attempt at slow dancing. if he tried hard enough, he swore he could feel the sound of your heartbeat pressed against his chest, reminding him that you were still there, still alive.

it made him so dizzy that his date had to ask him if he was okay. he turned pale, all the color draining from his face. luke meekly nodded and told her a half-truth. i haven't gone on a first date in a while.

the girl smiled at him kindly, just like how you did when you first met him, and told him she understood. she sat across from him and sipped on her water, trying her best to keep the conversation going, but luke could tell that she knew his mind was elsewhere.

his mind was at camp half blood, in the sheds by the strawberry fields. his lips were on yours, a smile grazing his face that you had to pull away to tease him. he was always so smiley with you, no facade of the brooding, tough as nails, hermes head counselor that everyone else got from him. with you, he was luke, young, naive, and helplessly in love. when he closed his eyes, he could still feel the ghost of your lips on his, cherry lip gloss teasing his tastebuds.

his date complimented his necklace and for the first time that night, luke gave her a genuine smile and a look of interest. it was the necklace you bought for him for his seventeenth birthday. you'd saved up all your money from your part-time job at the froyo shop in ohio during the year. it was a silver dog tag with an engraving of mercury and venus circling each other. he hasn't taken it off since you put the necklace on him years ago.

when she asked the story behind it, luke spoke your name for the first time in a year to a stranger. when he caught himself talking about you in the present tense, a bitter taste lingered in his mouth and he had to gulp down the rest of his water to wash it away. he flexed his hand, a nervous habit that he had. and when the girl leaned over to place her own hand over his to steady him, luke pulled away from her like she just burned him.

he apologized profusely and it became clear to the girl that luke was not ready to go on a date with anyone. luke saw a flicker of disappointment in her eyes and he wondered if he'd looked like that the entire time, disappointed that it was her in front of him and not you. but then she tapped the back of his hand in a friendly way and leaned back in her chair and said, tell me about her.

you were his favorite topic of conversation. he recalled one too many conversations with chris and the stolls where they'd complain about how every conversation somehow ended up about you. so luke obliged and told her the story of how the two of you came to be. he kept the details vague, deciding that exposing olympus and the existence of the gods would be too much for a first date. maybe sixth, or seventh, but he doubts he'll get that far with her.

when the date was over, the girl gave luke a hug and whispered, i hope you guys get back together. it seems like you really love her.

luke wanted to tell her that if he had the power to be with you again, he would do it in a heartbeat, but that was beyond his control. luke thanked her and said, i hope so, too.

#frances writes #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan fanfic #luke pjo #luke castellan x you #percy jackson

[rthko]

please define camp. I see it said so much to describe anything.

@sougeeee Camp is an an aesthetic sensibility most famously described by Susan Sontag in her 1964 essay, Notes on Camp, where she disclaimed that "to write about camp is to betray it." The term has long been popular in queer circles, but exploded in popularity online with the 2019 Met Gala, themed and named after this essay.

Here are some characteristics of camp:

Camp is failed seriousness. I think a lot of uses of camp lately emphasize the silliness and lightheartedness but play down the melodrama and passion. Sontag writes here that camp "finds the success in certain passionate failures." Failure is a common theme in queer aesthetics and worldviews; as Quentin Crisp said, "If at first you don't succeed, failure may be your style." Writing about performance artist Dynasty Handbag, José Muñoz described the "failure" of her work as "not an aesthetic failure but, instead, a political refusal."

Camp is innocent. The camp that is most satisfying to Sontag is not trying to be bad on purpose but dead serious in its grandiose intentions: "naive" camp. To do it on purpose is what she calls "camping," and this is what the Met Gala in 2019 ended up being. As it's been said on here, Karlie Kloss's claim that she was "looking camp right in the eye" was accidentally closer to camp concept of fabulous failure than the look itself. Admiring camp is not to point and laugh but to sincerely appreciate it. Sontag writes: "Camp taste is, above all, a mode of enjoyment, of appreciation - not judgment."

Camp is artifice. It involves a love of the unnatural and exaggerated, and this explains why most drag is not simply female/male impersonation. There's an undue association between femininity and artifice, especially when it comes to trans women, lesbians, working class and racialized women (Julia Serano most famously writes about this as part of the basis for transmisogyny). While it's important to challenge this, some have taken the approach of playing with this in a tongue-in-cheek way. In her essay "Rogue Femininity," Elizabeth Marston writes: "let's say that femme is dispossessed femininity. It's the feminity of those who aren't allowed to be real women and who have to roll their own feminine gender."

Camp is apolitical? One of the first points in Sontag's essay is that "To emphasize style is co slight content, or to introduce an attitude which is neutral with respect to content. It goes without saying that the Camp sensibility is disengaged, depoliticized - or at least apolitical." In a way I agree. This sort of detachment is why George Santos the right wing politician was obviously abhorrent, but George Santos the former drag queen and fallen diva was, unfortunately, very entertaining. Since Sontag wrote this essay before Stonewall, it must have been hard at the time to see any overlap between camp and politics. But as the examples I've chosen so far might show, I do see a political angle, and a political discussion to be had over which expressions of art and being are considered unnatural or unserious. For instance, Black queer art like the bejeweled collages of Mickalene Thomas and the exuberant sculptures made of trinkets by Nick Cave address the racial angle in the demarcation of high brow and low brow.

There's a legacy in queer politics that calls for a sort of hedonistic, bejeweled extravagance for all. Jules Gill-Peterson writes about the transfeminine travestis in Latin America, and a term they use,mujerisima. The English translation is less glamorous--"extremely woman" or "the most woman"-- but to Gill-Peterson this represents a vision of racialized, working class anti-austerity and anti-assimilationist sensuality and glamour. In A Short History of Transmisogyny, she asks: "What's wrong with being extra? Abundance might be a powerful concept in a world organized by a false sense of scarcity."

So for an in-depth description of camp, I still recommend Sontag's essay for its insight and cultural impact. She's right to address the association between camp and homosexuality, but the association between failed seriousness and excess with marginalized subjects doesn't stop there. So I hope people realize camp is not an irony-poisened, "doing it ironically" hipster thing, but a perspective and way of life to find real joy and freedom in.

[gigisdoll]

Cw: noncon, unbalanced power dyanamics, innocent!reader, manipulation, g!p, corruption, drugging? [Implied], groping, somnophillia, reader being treated like a bimbo (she is)

Notes: idk I lowkey rushed this out since I'll be inactive for like 3 days to camp! Hope u like this :p

Parings: vocal coach!aespa x idol!fem reader

Everyone in the entertainment knew you were the favorite of the most favorable of coaches..they made it obvious who their favorite was and it shows in how they treat you. The way they stared at you while you sang alongside them, all you thought was that you were just the perfect student, but in ways more than your talents in singing dancing and etcetera, oh you most definitely were.

It was laughable just how shameless they all could be, Giselle groping you in every place her eyes would linger for a little too long to 'try it out' laughing it out with you, at this point it's become a daily occurrence she says that it's your fault that she even has these desires for you saying 'Your basically asking for it every time you come into my room, and with that outfit? Yeah... I thought so' but you were wearing such simple clothing? Huh maybe you were just dressing too revealingly, not that she minded anyway..

" sorry but you were basically asking for me to touch you! I mean how could I not? Just write it off as a thank you for all the shit I did for your career. "

Ning ning never made you uncomfortable, no matter how much she looked with eyes that were devouring you, or however much she groped you. She just made it so easy to feel like you were at home! How could you not feel comfy with her? Yes while she was pretty touchy... You didn't mind did you? Course you didn't, your pretty little head didn't have to worry about that! Just let her have some fun! I mean it's the least you can do for her?

"Just a touch.. I mean I've done worse y/n? Just let me continue, I know you want to anyway so don't try to resist me. "

Karina was definitely the most quiet, silently checking you out in the hallway as you checked whatever was on your phone, definitely also the most stealthy, well not really after you drunk the drink she gave you you were just too limp to feel her hands on your body. Hey where did all these hickeys come from? and... Why are you so sore? Why do you always black out when visiting Karina? You know maybe you should just stop asking questions! I mean it was hard keeping you quiet in the first place.. !

"Huh?... Another hickey? Oh... Well I guess you should just cover that up! How'd it get there? Uhm I don't know! I'll ask the guards for the camera footage! " (there were never any cameras but you never noticed did you?)

Minjeong was just attracted to you, she doesn't know what really sparked it up.. Was it the innocence in your eyes whenever you looked at her? Or was it whenever she looked at you, it seemed like you were asking for her to just... Fuck you? The innocent doe eyes you throw at her every time she coached you during vocal warm ups. She doesn't know... But what she does is that you're so naive..

" y/n.. My dicks been hurting! Can you help? You don't want me in pain right? So help me out please... "

-

" Aeri sunbae? Wow! Hi! I've been busy lately... Sorry we had to meet like this.. " You've just debuted, you thank your coaches and your other members for helping you get this far! But your coaches seemed sad that you even debuted.. I mean how could they not? They just lost their favorite student... Well not for long... As long as you don't struggle they'll have their favorite student back in bed:)

#୨୧.ningie #୨୧.minjeong #୨୧.jimin #୨୧.giselle #𐙚.ramblings #🎀.noncon #🎀.somnophillia #🎀.drugging #🎀.corruption #୨୧.AESPA #aespa smut #aespa x reader

[frannyzooey]

Short Days, Long Nights: 2

Joel Miller x f!reader

Rating: none — I’ll change it to E when we get there (slow burn, forced proximity, age gap — no age actually mentioned but rather more implied through lack of life experience, competence kink, hunting)

Summary: Part of a band of travelers, your party is slowly picked off one by one, until there are only two of you left. Finding an abandoned cabin in the woods, you decide to make camp there until you figure out your next move. As the seasons change, the nights get longer and longer…..

A/N: a truly endless amount of thank you’s to @the-ginger-hedge-witch who took SO MUCH TIME to make this actually coherent, and @mourningbirds1 who always asks the best, most inspiring questions. I love you both ❤️ Enjoy!

Chapter One

--

He shouldn’t be encouraging this. 

He shouldn’t. 

His head bowed, his steps careful as his eyes scan the forest floor for animal tracks, he had thought the wide open forest and a temporary relief from your close presence would help clear his head, but it doesn’t.

The bright optimism in your eyes flits through his mind, the confidence in how you told him about the various plants you chose to start with and why, the content smile on your face as you went about your tasks this morning. Cleaning out the old pots, filling them with fresh soil, setting up an area in the kitchen near the window to keep them safe. 

He should have said something then, but he didn’t. 

Should have said no to begin with, but he couldn’t. 

The night you had suggested the garden, he watched you leave the room and felt the urge to call you back, but like many urges he has where you’re concerned, he resisted. Hated himself for immediately shutting down your idea, but reasoned that you were too naive for your own good anyway. 

It makes him angry, your hope. He wants to stomp it out of you, harden you like he’s been forced to harden, solely because it will give you the best chance at survival in this world. 

That’s what he should do, but the second he had found himself unable to say no, he laid bare a dormant part of him that he had been denying for a while: another piece of him that wants you to keep that innocence. Unable to fathom how you’ve kept it this long, he wants to protect it, like those seeds. Keep it tucked away from the ugly world, save both it and you from waste and ruin. 

He hears the whisper of ferns brushing against each other, sees them moving out of the corner of his eye, and he crouches low, listening. Reaching back, he pulls an arrow from the pack he has on his back and, keeping his eyes on the bush, notches it in his bow. 

He waits, still and silent. 

He had stayed awake long into that night, thinking about how you were right. Every settlement is a nightmare, FEDRA no better than the free cities, smuggling a dangerous game that would most likely end in death the longer he kept on doing it. It’s not something that had really bothered him before – the thought of dying – but that was when it was just him. 

For you, it didn’t sit right. 

For you, he can’t let that happen. He won’t. 

He had gotten up from the couch to pace, mindlessly scanning the bookshelves as his brain ran through every scenario. Stopping on a gardening book, he had decided that if you wanted to make it work, then he was going to do it right. Keep some of that innocence of yours while also being smart about it. 

It’s not that you couldn’t hold your own. He has seen it before, but there is still so much that you don’t know. The sole idea of staying in this cabin betrayed your naivety, highlighting what he had already been fighting with himself throughout this entire trip: teach you, so you’d be ready, or keep you from it, so it wouldn’t be your burden to carry. 

If you are going to stay here, that changed things. 

He should teach you basic skills: how to hunt, how to set traps, how to properly handle a gun if you need to. You could do it if you had to, but you aren’t great. Inexperienced, at best, and as he waits there in the grass, he makes a mental list in his head of the topics he should cover. 

Maybe if he focuses his energy on teaching you those things, he can stop thinking about what it would be like to teach you other things. Not that he knows if you need teaching in those areas, but the idea had taken root weeks ago in his dreams and refused to let go. 

Waking up hard and aching every morning, trying to close his eyes and will it away — being ashamed of those thoughts though unable to stop them from happening, he shoved them down deep, just like he shoved you away.

Or tried to, anyway.

Impatient, harsh, taking advantage of how intimidated you are of him, he’s been gruff and dismissive, but you followed him all the same. Sticking to him like a shadow because of the protection he offers and he knows that’s part of the problem. The real reason you bleed into his dreams every night, because you’re constantly around him and on his mind every hour of the day.

A sort of misplaced attraction due to proximity alone, just like your own is due to his protectiveness - that’s all. 

He has protected you, and he still does. He will protect you from what’s out there, including himself.  

He sees the flash of shine, the animal’s eye catching the sunlight, and his fingers react on instinct, letting the arrow loose.  

Finding its target, the plant stops moving.

–

“I was good with my hands, but I was never good at that.” Joel gestures at the pot in front of you, leaning against the wall as he watches. “I always killed ‘em all.”

You laugh, gently tamping down the cool soil with your fingers. “You? Big bad Joel Miller? There’s something you’re bad at?” 

You haven’t seen it. Not yet, anyway. 

A small smile curls under his mustache. “Hard to believe, I know.”

Late afternoon sunlight streams through the now clean windows, and you shake your head at him, reaching into the bucket next to you. Pulling out another fist full of loose soil, you sprinkle it over the surface of the pot.

“Well, good thing I was always good at it.” 

You were. Had once thought it a relaxing, mindless hobby. Houseplants all over your apartment, you had found it fulfilling when something bloomed and blossomed and grew. Loved the delicate sloping vines, the broad leaves that reached for the sun, the endless shades of green. 

This new version of the world holds growth as well, but it isn’t the same. It is chaotic and overwhelming, plants and roots and whole trees sprouting from beneath the concrete, overtaking whole structures as it takes back what once belonged to it. You find beauty in it still, but sometimes the growth is disgusting and horrifying – when it’s the unnaturally colorful warning of fungus instead of plants, and when it’s a body buried underneath instead of a building. 

Pouring a little water into the soil, you think about the tiny red watering can you had, the reminder of the mundane action that used to bring you so much joy weighing heavy on your chest for a moment as your hands wipe together to brush off the dirt. 

He pushes off the wall and steps closer — always stays close, even inside, just in case. 

The swirl of his protective presence is a heady one, and you’ve become so used to it that you feel a perceptible absence when he’s not in the cabin. The same orbit pulls you unconsciously into his direction now, tilting your body to the side so he can get a better look. 

“This one should bud fairly fast, according to the packet,” you say, trying hard not to noticeably breathe in his warm scent. He doesn’t often get this close, and you hold as still as possible to encourage him to stay. “Then we can move it outside.”

He says nothing, his skepticism apparent through his silence, and you turn your head, looking at him. The wiry patch of gray that gathers at the edge of his jaw calls out for your touch, the light strands threaded among the dark, and you keep your eyes on it for a moment, tearing them away when he looks at you. His eyes focus on yours, a pull of something filling the air between you for a weighted beat, and then he shifts his gaze back to the pot. 

“We’ll see.”

You roll your eyes at his ever-present pessimism, opening your mouth to ask him what he had meant about being good with his hands before since he’s never talked about before with you, but he stands, talking first.

“I was thinking this morning,” he starts, leaning against the wall again. “I should teach you how to hunt.” He pauses, his expression shifting into something more resolute. “I’m going to teach you how to hunt.”

You look up at him, wide eyed and questioning, and he meets your eyes again for a moment before looking away, directing his words at the floor. 

“You should probably know how to do it, if we’re gonna stay out here. Just in case something happens to me, and I can’t do it.”

Your face goes still at the thought, and he backtracks, “Like if I get sick or something. Can’t get outta bed.”

“Knowing you, old man, you’ll be faking. Anything to stay in bed longer.”

He huffs, amused. “It’s a pretty comfortable one, I have to admit. It’s been nice not sleeping on the ground.” 

The beds are better than the ground for comfort, but you liked the ground for safety. Better to have him close should you need him, and you assume he feels the same way, given the way he conveyed his displeasure with the distance wordlessly, insisting the doors stay open at all times. 

“We better go before the sun goes down, try to get more than I got this morning.” His eyes flick over to the hallway. To your open door, the privacy of your room just beyond. 

“Sure. Just lemme get dressed.” 

Standing to carry the pot over to the window sill, you arrange it just so, right next to the other seedlings, and when you turn to head towards your bedroom, you feel his eyes on you until you’re out of his sight.  

–

Leaves crunch underfoot as you walk behind him, the slope of his broad shoulders a map that you follow without question. You’ve followed them for months now, those shoulders ones that you’ve seen damp with rain, covered under the taut drum of his flannel, tight and tense in unfamiliar territory and now, relaxed and loose, as he walks over to the now still bush.

“Did you get it?”

He nods in your direction, crouching with a soft grunt. “Yea. I got this one, next one is you.”

“You’ve always done it,” you grumble to yourself, watching the path. Your heart aches for the animal, but you’d never admit that softness to him. You know you have to eat, but to see it happen, to be the one who kills something so innocent - that’s a whole other matter. 

You should be used to it by now. But while you have been able to justify killing people as a means to survive, knowing they would do the same to you if given the chance, you still get slightly squeamish about doing it to animals just minding their own business.

“You wanna stay out here, you’re gonna have to learn sooner or later.” He reaches down, grabbing the small, limp rabbit by the ears, and it hangs dead in his grip, not as heavy as he hoped. He stands and turns, leading you deeper into the woods. 

Your fingers catch on the feather light branches of ferns, everything a wash of muted color as dusk descends, and it’s peaceful in your mutual silence, the woods around you alive with its own sounds. 

“We can wait here,” he says, stopping at the edge of a small clearing. The leaves of the trees rustle in the wind, a rabbit popping out long enough to hide behind some tall grass nearby, and he crouches low, your body automatically following his lead. 

“Normally you wanna keep walking. You can scare em’ out of the bushes that way. Rabbits, you let em’ know you’re coming. It’s deer you gotta stay silent for.”

You plant a knee in the moist earth, dampness creeping through your jeans, and he fixes something on his bow. Your eyes rest on the skillful way his fingers move along the bow string, the size of them compared to the delicate wood. 

Satisfied, he holds it out to you with an expectant look. 

“Show me how you’re gonna hold it.”

Unsure, you hesitate before you take it from him, but he waits patiently all the same. You’ve never held a bow before and when you look down at it for a beat too long, he shifts until he’s right next to your side. 

“Like this,” he says quietly. 

He positions your body how he wants it, the practiced weight of his hold guiding you into place, and you let him do it, trying to ignore the increasing thrum of your heart. Something stirs deep in your belly, arousal beginning to bud and unfurl, and then his calloused hand is sliding down your forearm, wrapping your fingers around the bow. 

“Hold it up, and look with your dominant eye. Like when you shoot.”

You test it out, closing one eye and then the other, the tip of the arrow visually landing directly in the middle of a thicket of tall grass. 

“Just like that,” he murmurs, his drawl curling low in your ear and a shiver rolls through you under your jacket, your fingers starting to tremble. He sees it, placing his hand on top of yours with a reassuring squeeze, and you hold your breath. 

“They always come out at dusk,” he says softly, the husk of his voice matching the low lit setting. “That and right away in the morning.” He glances at you with a smirk. “Thought you’d prefer this with how you like to sleep in.”

You can’t turn your face to look at him, lest your mouth brush his, and so you breathe out a laugh instead. 

“Very funny,” you whisper. 

Your leg cramping slightly in your tense position, you shift a little and he places his hand on the small of your back to steady you. 

“You wanna look for something shining in the dark. Their eyes, you’ll be able to see them. They reflect whatever light is around, and you’ll see it flash if you’re patient.”

You keep your eyes trained on the spot, a slight rustle to the brush, and focusing there with intensity, you wait, slipping into a sort of trance. His closeness is intoxicating, the solidness of his hold still pressing lightly into you, his voice a gentle, guiding murmur as the woods grow darker around you. 

His voice lingers in your mind, catching on every ridge, embedding itself and playing on a never ending loop. He’s spoken more to you today than he ever has, and every word has been a piece of useful information - things you’re trying hard to hold onto, but he’s making it difficult with how overwhelming his presence is. The way he’s guiding you with that soothing, low voice makes you think about what other things he can talk you through in the middle of the quiet night. 

You swallow hard, your mouth dry, and he looks from the bush to you, a frown pulling between his brows. 

The grass rustles again, and between the blades of ferns, you see it - a sudden flash of something shining.

“There,” he whispers urgently, prompting you to let the arrow loose, but you don’t. Instead you find yourself hovering on the edge, hesitating just long enough for the animal to sense you, and it moves suddenly with a thrash, bounding away. 

He lets out a heavy sigh. “What happened? Why didn’t you shoot?”

You look at him, the words pulling you from your head. Your eyes are hooded with want, your mouth slightly parted and his own gaze narrows in something akin to recognition, but it disappears from his face before you’re sure. He stands, getting some distance between the both of you. 

“Nevermind. It’s fine.” He won’t look at you, instead letting his gaze rest somewhere out in the field, and your head clears as the thick tension you felt earlier dissipates into thin air, vanishing into the twilight. 

“I think you’ve had enough for today. We can uh – we can pick up tomorrow. It’s getting dark anyway.” He stands there for a moment, weight shifting from one leg to the other while he taps the edge of his thumb against his thigh, and then he’s gone, leaving you sitting there alone. 

–

Choosing to dress the rabbit he shot earlier alone down by the water, you prepare everything else inside. You watch him make the pit, his thighs taut in their crouch as he prepares it to burn hot and low, and when he’s done cooking, you eat together in relative silence. 

He hasn’t said anything about your lesson or about picking it up tomorrow, but the way he won’t meet your eyes has embarrassment and shame coursing through you. Becoming a burden to him is something that you can’t afford and taking his avoidance of the topic as disappointment, you are stewing on apologizing when he clears his throat, sitting forward with his forearms resting on his knees. 

“I’m gonna set some traps tomorrow. I think you should help me, so you know where they are.” He brings his eyes up to yours for the first time since he’s come inside. “And so I can show you how to set them.”

Relief washes through you, and you nod, agreeing “I’m sorry, by the way. About earlier.” He frowns in confusion, and you clarify. “With the rabbit. Sorry I didn’t shoot. I’ll – I’ll try harder next time. Focus, like you asked.”

You had been focusing, just on the wrong thing, and his frown gives way to a look of understanding.

“Don’t worry about it. Your first time holding a bow, wasn’t it? Wasn’t expecting you to actually make a kill or anything. Just wanted to get you used to it.”

Second chances are something you aren’t often afforded, but here it’s different. Here, you can take your time and learn without the pressure of death as a consequence for your mistake, and it’s like he knows it too, with how understanding he’s being. 

He stands, preparing to do his usual checks for the night while you gather the dishes and place them in the sink for washing tomorrow. He grabs his rifle from the counter, leaving the cabin to walk the perimeter and then comes back in with a stomp of his boots on the rug to check every lock, scanning the forest through the window before he tells you he’s going to turn in for the night. 

“Goodnight,” you say, settling in to read on the couch. 

Delighted to find a bookshelf in nearly every room, you had spent the last couple of days going through the titles, selecting the ones you wanted to start with and reorganizing the shelf in your room to store them.

Assembling your own personal library, Joel’s face had been amused as he watched you, and you had thought maybe he would say something to discourage it. At the very least make a teasing comment, but he had held back.

Victory was yours later when you spied a worn western on his bedside table, the paperback lying open, face down.

You read for about an hour, your eyes eventually burning with tiredness in the low, flickering light of your lantern, and deciding to also turn in, you glance at that western when you pass by his bedroom. 

Stopping in the shadowed doorway, you look at him for a moment.

His broad back facing you, his shoulders are a steady, slow rise and fall. He shifts, rolling onto his stomach and the t-shirt he’s wearing strains tight across his torso as he bunches his pillow, adjusting it under his head. You see a sliver of his back in the darkness, a slice of it beneath the hem of his shirt, and the dip of his spine leads downwards, disappearing into the waistband of his sweatpants.

Crawling into your own bed with your door open, you lie in the darkness and concentrate on the sensation of warm, firm velvet skimming under the pads of your fingers, his back still on your mind.

Crawling into your own bed with your door open, you lie in the darkness and concentrate on the sensation of warm, firm velvet skimming under the pads of your fingers, his back still in your mind.

Stopping in the shadowed doorway, you look at him for a moment.

His broad back facing you, his shoulders are a steady, slow rise and fall. He shifts, rolling onto his stomach and the t-shirt he’s wearing strains tight across his torso as he bunches his pillow, adjusting it under his head. You see a sliver of his back in the darkness, a slice of it beneath the hem of his shirt, and the dip of his spine leads downwards, disappearing into the waistband of his sweatpants. 

Satisfied that he seems to be okay, you crawl into your own bed and with your door open and lying in the darkness, you drift off to the sensation of firm, warm velvet skating under the pads of your fingers, his back still in your mind.

#joel miller/reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller/you #joel miller tlou #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters

[winchestershiresauce]

The Touch of Another

Astarion x reader/Astarion x Tav; referenced/imagined Gale x reader/Gale x Tav

Summary: Apparently, Astarion has noticed the way you and Gale look at each other. He brings it up in bed to tease you about it, but it becomes something else.

1069 words

Warnings: SMUT, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, teasing, squirting, coming untouched

--

Hovering over you, his breath tickling your neck, Astarion could feel the warmth radiating from you. Your body is tangled up with his, one of his knees between your legs and his body pressed against you. 

“What do you think Gale’s doing right now, knowing that you’re here with me?” he chuckles against your skin. Your brow furrows and you pull back from the kiss Astarion presses against your throat.

“What are you talking about?”

“Do you think he’s jealous? Pacing in his tent, fuming, knowing that I get to touch you and he doesn’t? Or perhaps he’s having his own fun, fucking his fist as he imagines the sweet sounds you make as I play you like a lute?” You look up at him, unsure where this is coming from.

“Why would he be thinking about it at all? What makes you think he’s not asleep?”

“Don’t be so naive, darling. Surely you’ve noticed the way he watches you.” He trails the chilled tip of his finger down the side of your face, making you shiver. He stops when he gets to your mouth, his thumb teasingly pressing against your bottom lip as if he’s going to press his thumb inside, but letting your lip bounce back into place.

“You’re just trying to stir up drama, Astarion,” you sigh. “If you don’t move things along, I’m going to go back to my own tent and you can get yourself off.”

“Ah, but I mean it, my sweet. I’m sure he’d do anything to be able to touch you like this.” His cold hand slips under the loose fabric of your top and slides up your torso, stopping just under your breast. He strokes his thumb over the nipple, smirking as he feels it harden under his ministrations. 

“Stop, okay? You’re mean enough to him–” 

“Stop this?” he asks, a smirk dancing across his lips. He leans back from you, pulling away the hand caressing your breast and the one tangled loosely in your hair. Your skin immediately flushes with warmth, missing his cool touch.

“No, you know what I mean. Stop making fun of Gale when he isn’t here to defend himself.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Like what? You to stop talking about Gale while I’m in your bed?” You roll your eyes. You know he can be purposefully obtuse and while you usually find it amusing, it’s getting old.

“No, you’d like it if Gale were here. Just imagine how his fingers would dance across your pussy, something like this…” Astarion’s fingers tease you over your panties with the lightest touch and your cunt squeezes around nothing, hoping for friction.

“Astarion,” you try to warn him but it comes out as a sharp moan when he pushes his finger past the fabric and caresses your clit. 

“Ah-ah, darling, you may want to be quieter if you don’t want the rest of camp to hear you.” His middle finger gathers up wetness from your entrance and rubs it over your clit, making tight circles around your aching bud. You groan and tighten your grip on his bicep. “Though maybe that’s what you want.” He presses down on your clit firmly, making you squirm. “Maybe you want Gale to hear the pretty sounds you make, help him enhance his fantasy.”

You open your mouth to protest but his lips press harshly over yours and you gasp for breath instead. Your hips cant up into his touch, desperate for more. Two fingers slip into your pussy and you clench around the delightful intrusion. Your mind immediately turns off, thinking about nothing but the need for more pleasure as you become wrapped up in his touch. Fingers gripping his soft white curls, you moan into his mouth. 

“So needy,” he comments against your lips as he curls his fingertips back to press against the spongy sweet spot just inside your entrance. 

“Please,” you whine. Normally you’d push back a bit more, hesitant to beg when he was being like this, but your body aches for touch and he could say anything and you’d agree when he was touching you like this.  

“Please what, darling? Tell me all about how you you'd want Gale to make you come.” You whimper, unable to form words for a moment as he adds another finger to split you open for him. 

“I want to feel him–” Astarion's mouth latches onto your neck, his fangs grazing over your pulse, and you yell out. “Gods, I want to feel his mouth! I want his mouth everywhere!”

The vampire sucks a dark mark into your skin before trailing his kisses lower and lower, down to your collarbone, your breast, and your belly, and he keeps going. His fingers continue to pump in and out of you and you clench your eyes closed, imagining every touch belongs to the wizard. When his lips wrap around your clit, there's not a single thought in your head as you call out Gale's name. 

Astarion laughs and then hums, the vibrations sending shocks like lightning through every nerve ending. You can hear the obscene squelching of your dripping, desperate cunt as it takes the pounding Astarion gives it. 

“Don't stop, Gods, Gale– Astarion, please,” you plead, frantically hurtling toward your impending climax. The tip of his tongue flicks over your throbbing clit as he sucks the life out of you through your vulva. You're so close, so desperately close, and all you can picture is Gale rutting against your leg, his cock hard as marble, as he worships you with his mouth and defiles you with his fingers. 

Astarion curls his fingers back toward him, slamming into just the right spot to throw you off the edge and into ecstasy. You cry out, loud, unable to form words, as your orgasm races through you and you gush all over Astarion's fingers and chin. He groans, trying to lap up everything you give him as he works you through your high and continues to frantically rut against you until he shudders and suddenly stills. 

He flops down next to you and you're not expecting the knowing smirk he gives you. 

“What's that look for?”

“Do you still want to pretend you haven't thought about fucking the wizard?” He looks so self-righteous that you almost want to point out that he's the one who came in his trousers. 

“Well, I certainly have now.”

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #gale x reader #gale x tav

[noowayybroo]

Snowed In - Yeti!M!Leon x GN!Reader (NSFW)

Merry LATE Chrimmy guys!!!! HAPPY NEW YEAR GUYS!!! (yeah... that went well) guys the fic is very long so I MARKED THE SMUT IN BLUE JUST SCROLL FOR IT

I was brainrotting with my best friend EVER and I came up with a terrible terrible thing (You're welcome) so hear me out, you're camping out in the snow, looking for, idk, self torture, and suddenly you catch the eye of a certain Yeti...

Long story short, he rescues you... eventually, and warms you up inside! I wanted to make this GN because although I am an F who LOVES F fics, I thought it'd be nice for y'all not Fs out there! I'll try keep it short so there's more chance of me finishing it! EDIT: IT's VERY LONG, JUST LIKE HIM!!!

THIS IS INSPIRED BY THE BRAINROTTINGLY NSFW GAME CLOUD MEADOW WHICH I HAVENT PLAYED BUT I WANT TO PLAY!! iN THE GAME THERE'S A CUTE YETI GUY AND HE LOOKS LIKE LEON A BIT, NO?!???!??!!?

guys I tried to edit this like 2000 times and every fucking time tumblr deleted my edit I am going insane but I pulled through for YOU! (eventually)

Honestly guys i'm not happy with this one it by far isn't my best work so read at your own peril. What I really want is for people to love the idea, not the fic, you know?? xx Pls do something with it if you like it! <3

Characters: GN!Reader, Yeti! Monster!Leon Kennedy

Warnings: NSFW, mentions of penetration, kissing, licking, cuddling etc, cumming iinside toooo, Reader is GN for inclusivity, and I've described the sex as P-in-Hole lol. He fucks you and you imagine where ig. !! Leon is kinda monstrous and not too human, and also in the start he kinda wrecks ur camp and scares the shit outta u so if it'll trigger pls dont read. Leon isn't monstrous he;s just big, furry and a bit primal. Kinda switchy / sub leon so at the start he lets you push him around n then he rails u v hard sooo uhhgjjj and also u have no condom dont be so naughty!!! NOT PROOF READ THERE WILL BE ISSUES OK BUT i CANNAE BE ASKED SORRY

Stay safe n happy this Winter!

"Just picture it! The fresh air! All that snow!" A naive relative tells you, patting you firmly on the shoulder. You stare down blankly at the brochure in your hands, all about a family getaway to a ski resort in some snowy, far off mountains. You didn't doubt them when they told you it'd be a good family exercise, but all you wanted to bond with was your warm bed and all the other things you had to do.

Only a week later, there you were. The sigh you let out dispersed into a cloud of white vapour before your eyes, leaving you to gaze upon your surroundings. Before you sat the exact sight from the brochure you held only a week ago, and it was beautiful. Crisp snow crunched beneath each trudging step, snow-tipped pines line each iced hill and valley as far as your eye could see. No longer mere inky blotches on thick paper - the wind howled past, whistling through each tree, and sending shivers up your over-clothed spine.

You learn the hard way that you won't even have a warm cabin and hearth to laze by during your chilly nights as you follow your family to pick up the camping gear they would be renting. You supposed it'd save money, but at what cost? Pneumonia?

And as you're all setting up camp, you can't help recall being at home wrapped up in your warm covers and revelling in the endless wonders of your Tumblr "for you" page. You also can't help feeling as though you're being... watched, and not by fellow campers in their tents.

"There's nothing out here but adorable rodents and birds!" your guide would exclaim for the fourth time now, in a screech which rivalled that of any of the feathered friends he'd referred to. He means to reassure you, and whilst you'd love to trust what he says with his years of experience in mind, you can't help but doubt him.

Eventually, night falls, and after a good few hours around a make-shift campfire sipping hot drinks of your choice, you and your family finally resign to bed. It's freezing, and despite your warmest sleeping-bag and thickest pyjamas, your teeth chatter and your body shakes. But you're convinced to fall asleep. The sooner you do, the sooner the cold fades away. So, eventually, amidst the wind battering your tent, and night-time ambience, you drift off.

You wake with a start, surprisingly warm, but quickly realise you're alone. Oh no. That's terrifying. After trying (and failing) for a good while to get signal (ever the priority (maybe this is too self-insert)), you crawl out of your tent. The sun hangs high in the sky. You were out for a while. Your sigh of relief must be audible once you find a scrawled note pinned to the makeshift seating surrounding your lit campfire.

"Good morning Sleepyhead!" It reads, and you can tell by the writing exactly who wrote it.

"We didn't want to wake you up so we've gone to get some food! Be back soon! xxx"

Well, at least you knew they couldn't be far away. You're not at all ready for the cold winds that begin to gnaw at your skin again so, groggily, you crawl back into your tent. You stretch, get back into your cocoon, and try once more to get signal.

He'd been watching you for a while now. He watched all the humans at the ski resort as they went about their festive holidays, completely unaware of his presence and he wouldn't have it any other way. Once like you, Leon was just like any other man, or government agent. That was until he encountered a strange virus on one of his missions. Years ago now, the virus caused him to significantly grow in size. He became taller and slightly buffer, and began to grow white fur on most of his body. His hair also became white.

Amused, Leon referred to it as the Y-virus (Y for Yeti) to anyone who'd listen, but, afraid of any negative side effects and any testing, hid away in some distant mountains. If you'd see his face, anyone who knew him might recognise him, and he dared not admit it to anyone, but he enjoyed being free, living off of wild animals and things. That, and, any snacks he could pilfer from unattended camps. He enjoyed his tranquil life, but grew to hate the years of loneliness he'd subjected himself to. As time went on, however, Leon slowly forgot what it was like to interact with other humans. And then, he forgot how to speak well too.

He watched as humans had their holidays, and spent time with friends and family. He was content in the knowledge that you were all happy, and, once the people cleared off, he'd investigate the area to see how far humans were developing, and whether he was still in the papers.

He'd been watching your camp too, and he was certain you'd all left. This was his chance to investigate.

You've been laying on your makeshift bed for a few minutes now when suddenly, you make out the soft sound of trudging through snow towards your tent. The footsteps are slow, but you chalk that up to any exhaustion a human would experience after facing the monster of a hill your tent was precariously placed upon. At first, you think it could be family, until you realise there's only one set of steps. It was probably someone on their way to wherever they were going. Nothing concerning you.

The sound approaches though, each footfall sounding loud, heavy and far apart. You'd think they were just walking slowly, if not for the speed at which the volume of each step increases. Before you know it, a large shadow almost eclipses your tent. A male figure. A tall one at that, and he seems to be about to walk straight through your camp.

Bit unnecessary...

Except he doesn't. The man just stops outside your tent. He looks around a bit. Maybe he needs some help, you think. Groaning quietly, you crawl out of bed, and peep through the unzipped door of your tent-

Tall. Really, really tall. At least 6ft. And you're staring right at his ass. And he doesn't... have clothes on.

Before you stands, quite proudly, something you can only describe as a yeti. He's covered from head to toe in thick, soft white fur. He's broad, muscular, and his waist forms a sharp V as it reaches his hips. Even through his glossy, well kept coat, the definition of each muscle and delicious shoulder blade catches your eye. You're terrified, hoping it's just some sort of elaborate cosplay to scare people. There's definitely space for someone to be hiding inside that... realistic suit. Ducking into your tent, you continue to observe with only one eye peeking from the tent, hoping you won't be noticed.

The man begins to look around, two catlike ears upon his head are perked as he scans his surroundings and eventually, he looks in your direction. He's far too tall to even register you while his eyes are at their level, but oh boy do you register him. You drink in his form, and, as he turns, his face. He's chiselled, certainly a sight for the sorest of eyes. His face is simply the cutest, softest almost feline looking one, and his jaw juts out as he analyses his surroundings thoughtfully.

You know how Leon looks, so I don't need to go into detail about the way his piercing blue eyes reflect the sun, shining through his silver fringe. I don't need to describe to you how his fluffy bangs sway dramatically as he looks around, or how he playfully blows a soft puff of breath upwards to clear some stray hair from his eyes.

Fortunately for you, I also don't need to tell you that he doesn't see you. He seems almost in a trance, stepping around carefully, analysing the tents and each miscellaneous object littered around. It seems as though he's checking up on things- the quality of them, the materials they're made of. He seems curious.

And then you see it, a small burst of flame at his right ankle. He's stepped too close to the fire pit. The yeti lets out a startled grunt, jumping into the air like a petrified cat. His hair bristles and stands on end as he tries to stand one legged in the snow, trying to bury his leg to put it out.

Then he loses his balance, the gargantuan man stumbling forward before suffering an untimely meeting with the guy line of a nearby tent. He yelps, trips, and with a loud thud and a few pings, lands face first in the snow right outside your tent. His collision with the strings holding up your tent sends them pinging out of the soft snow, and suddenly, your tent collapses around you, trapping you in.

Even in weak flails, he'd managed to tear his claws through another tent. You were terrified. What if he saw you?

In his clumsy efforts, the man had thrown quite a large amount of snow into your tent, and you gradually become colder, damper and more panicked as the freezing wet fabric of the tent pins you down. Scared to move, you only shiver as you completely hide inside now, not wanting the abomination outside to find you. You'd seen enough now to be certain that wasn't a costume. He was too... real.

You hear frantic fumbling and crunches of snow as the man outside extinguishes the last of his afflictions. His breaths are heavy, and gradually slow to a calming rate. And, after a while of sitting there still, perhaps shocked, he works up the courage to gaze around at the tents he's toppled. When his eyes at last land on your entirely ruined one, his heart sinks straight to his gut. His shoulder slump and he just stares in your direction, guilty being an understatement. Maybe if he just stares at the tent for a little longer, everything will undo itself, he seems to think, ogling your direction as his mouth hangs open.

Instead, it draws his attention to your shivering form beneath the soaked fabric. He swallows thickly, eyes widening and pupils narrowing.

"Fuck..." he groans meekly, muscles tensing in anticipation before stumbling to his feet. He kicks snow as he makes a series of small, unsure steps towards the tent. Then, in a flurry of inevitable motion, he crouches and throws what's left of your tent off of you. And just like that, with a yelp, your prison of a disguise is torn from you, exposing your skin to the cool, dry air. You shiver, duck away and curl further into a ball. Some small part of you prays for this to be just a nightmare, but the rest of you knows it's very real.

As soon as you hit hit his eyes, Leon falters. He leans back in surprise and his brows furrow in pity and regret. He could tear you apart so easily, and he'd just proved it. Sniffing the air a little, eventually he moves in, reaching out to you with large, clawed hands. He's almost pouting at you, eyes narrowed in concentration as he moves in. All you can do is hold your breath. You ball yourself up tighter. You have no idea how you'll survive this - you're past the point of playing dead. All you can do is stare up at him, silently pleading for mercy.

His hands are warm where they touch you. They're large too - large enough to almost encompass each of your upper arms in their soft grip. He just stays there for a while, gently holding your arms as they shiver. His gaze is locked on them as he focuses, gently adjusting the force at which he holds you, rhythmically squeezing you a little, just to get a feel. His tongue darts out in his focus, and after a while, his eyes are back on yours.

You wondered when your family would be back. You wondered if they could even save you. And then it hit you. You wondered if they'd never be back.

Gently, Leon pries your arms away from your face where you'd shielded yourself so desperately. When I say gentle, well, to him it was. He barely had to exert any force to bend you to his will. You were like putty to him. He could easily overpower you, and he didn't dwell on whether it was down to sheer strength or your fear.

Emotionless eyes scan you up and down a few times, ultimately resting on your face once more as a slow hand wipes your clinging hair from your forehead. Then, he reaches out again. Large clawed hands find purchase under each of your arms. They slide in easily as you comply, not wishing to enrage him. He hoists you up with ease, save a small grunt. Next thing you know, he's standing and you're held at arm's distance from him like a cat. He peers up at you, smiling for the first time. He chuffs, hot breath landing on your face; he seems proud of his catch.

Terrified and uncomfortable, you continue to shake in his grip. All you can do is stare at him pleadingly, and even if you had the willpower, you doubted you could escape him. Your clothes are soaked through now, and if you had to thank him for anything, it would be for warming your arms and not killing you... yet. His blues stalk you through his silvery fringe, and after sniffing your air a few times, he sighs and pulls you in.

You're terrified. You can't look. You squeeze your eyes shut. What if he eats you?? You couldn't even begin to picture it, but after a few seconds of being pressed against his warm body, a gentle caress of your thigh coerces you to open your legs a little to allow him space between them. He grunts, wrapping your legs around his waist and carrying you more supportively now, like a child.

Buried in his chest, you can't see the small awkward smile he gives you, or the look of relief he sends your way as you seem to warm up to him (literally.) Through small rubs and caresses up your back and where he holds you by your thighs, he slowly rubs his warmth into you. Mind so frazzled by fear, all you can really do is let him hold you. You shiver occasionally, afraid of what he may do to you, but otherwise remain still. You don't want to get on his bad side.

After a while of peace, he gently places a finger below your chin, and guides your face up to meet his. He leans in, nuzzles your cheek a little with his nose, and takes a deep breath in. He lingers on you for a while - eyes closing in either bliss or contemplation, before walking once more. He scowls at the firepit as he passes it, beginning to carry you off in the direction he came in.

Where was he taking you? You go a little rigid, now realising you're being abducted. You panic, and it manifests in small squirms, trying to ball yourself up again and push away, levering yourself away from the yeti. You strain against him, and your small noises of fear and exertion perk his ears. He glances down at you tenderly, ceasing his stride to raise a gentle finger to your teary eyes. He swallows thickly and puffs out another deep breath, thinking for a while. He's not at all sure what to do, and doesn't want to risk failing to speak of his own accord, so instead just bounces you softly like a father cradling a child.

You feel warm and cared for, and become distracted wondering if he can actually understand you. However, your surrender was enough compliance for him to continue walking, and he carries on carting you off to goodness knows where. You wouldn't know this, but in truth, Leon was so confused. He hadn't come face to face with a human in years, nevermind one who was so brittle and terrified of him. Somehow, after all these years, he still imagined himself to be the hero, not the monster.

He hadn't intended to face you. He didn't mean to destroy your tent, or to plunge you into the freezing cold... What he'd meant to do was leave you there, before any of that could happen. He'd felt guilty. He wouldn't let his actions affect you and your sweet holiday so negatively. It was decided for him, he was sure he was helping you. He was going to fix things, and warm you up.

The cold and fear had left you weak. You sit in his arms, limp, knowing you couldn't get away even if you'd tried. The gentle rock of his body against yours as he powers through the snow soothes you. His warmth and strong scent clouds your judgement. Before very long, you find yourself snuggling into him somewhat as you watch your camp grow further and further away through tired eyes. He squeezes you gently as he feels you sink into him. One hand rubs up and down your back soothingly. It was ironic, as your captor, how much reassurance Leon was trying to give you.

"C-can you understand me?" You whisper eventually, raising your head to gaze up at the large man's jaw. His ears twitch a little and then he hums. He peers down at you, thoughtfully.

"Hm.. yeah." His voice is gravelly, rough and deep. It's quiet though, like he doesn't use it much.

"You can?!" Your eyes widen and you pull away a little. Leon was becoming quite nervous now. He feared this moment. He didn't want to talk to you at all. He knew he'd fuck up. In response to your question, Leon smiles sheepishly, revealing his sharp teeth. You get straight to the point. "Where are you taking me?"

He frowns and peers down at you. "My... home?"

"Why??" you feel hopeless again. He seemed human enough to appeal to, but then again, you had no idea what he wanted with you.

"...It's warm here" he eventually mumbles as you notice your surroundings suddenly getting a little darker as he carries you into a cave. You'd been so entranced staring up at him, that you hadn't taken in your surroundings for a while. As you do, you notice several random objects lying around. Some looked natural and from the forest like pinecones, sticks and berries. Others seemed very human. Smartphones, newspapers... clothes.

Oh no. You were going to die here.

At least none of the belongings seemed to belong to you or your family... yet. That was still terrifying though. Where was all this stuff from? Some of it was even torn... That's it, you're getting out of here. With a newfound vigour, you begin to claw at his shoulder and back, climbing out of his arms. For a second, it works, until he catches on and wraps his burly hands around your waist, yanking you back down to where he has a good hold on you. He ducks down to look you in the eyes, almost pleading. "Not gonna hurt you." His voice is a soft hum now, claws prodding you as he holds you still.

Somehow, he comes across as quite trustworthy. You couldn't be scared of him just because he's big, not when he's so clumsy and cute. And certainly not when he holds you and watches you as if you were the most precious, sweet individual he'd encountered. It was hard to ignore him, too, with his smooth voice and handsome face, and the careful way he leans over you as he carries you deeper into his cave to shelter you from droplets of condensation.

"Can you please let me go?" you plead.

"I'll take you" he hums, missing the way your eyes widen in shock and confusion. He jostles you up a little to make sure you stay wrapped around his waist and no lower, before eventually laying you down on some soft-makeshift bedding. You're so far into the cave that most of the light from outside is gone. Nobody would find you now, even if they saw the small gas lamp Leon lit beside you. He's about to lay down right beside you when he realises, perhaps, it's not the right thing to do.

Sheepishly, he motions to a spot on his own bed beside you. "Can I?" You have no idea what to say, so, you nod. You were in his home, if you could even call it that, you weren't gonna anger him. You felt as though you needed to make friends with him if you planned on getting out of this alive. And so, as the large man slowly got onto his knees before laying down on his side beside you, it struck you just how "Beauty and the beast" this situation really was. He groaned a little and his joints creaked somewhat as he slowly got down, propping his head up with one hand as he watches you.

Huge was an understatement, and whilst he did have monstrous features and strength, he seemed like the type to at least give you a kind death should he want to eat you-

No, stop. Why are you thinking like that?

You shiver, replacing his amused hum with another thick swallow. His wide eyes scan you.

"Still cold." his lips tug disapprovingly as he watches you lay there, and when you nod, he wraps a blanket around you that he got from goodness knows where. His voice echoed in the small cave, even if he seemed to be whispering now. Leon didn't like causing you fear, but he also didn't like ruining your shelter and warmth, and so, he sought to provide those for you.

You lay there, facing him. Slow and heavy breaths continue to rush over your face, fanning you as he invades your personal space. Yet for some reason, you can't bring yourself to move away. Turning your head momentarily, you eye your camp in the distance. Maybe if you could just get up and run now, you could escape him. Maybe he'd be kind and let you go. You shake again, the cave only rescuing you from the wind, not the biting cold his body provided you shelter from only moments earlier.

Suddenly, his burly arms are back on you. They wrap around you and pull you close, leaving you no space but to open your legs a little for him to get in between. He blankets you in a weighted embrace, head rested in your neck, pressed intimately close. "You're still shivering" He murmurs, silently noticing how your hairs stand on end at his proximity and gravelly tones. You feel his soft fur against your face, between your fingers. You can almost hear his heartbeat.

It's at this point, reluctantly, that you start to allow your attraction to him to manifest. The signs had all been there before as you admired his figure and strength, and basked in his voice. But now, you had no way of escape. You might as well just give in and enjoy the ride. So, you relax against him, wrapping your leg around him again, and letting him give you all of the closeness he can.

Leon knows this is wrong. He, at heart, is still very human, and knows that he should have abandoned you about 20 minutes ago after he destroyed your tent. Heck, he shouldn't have even gone to investigate. But he couldn't fight how good this felt. He couldn't fight the slow boner he was developing as you snuggled up to him so innocently, and he couldn't help wondering what a relationship with a human would be like, after all these years.

He also cant help the small shocked whimper he makes when you move down a little to snuggle up closer to him, and not-so-accidentally press quite firmly against his little issue. His hands seize your waist, threatening to move you, but when you tense in protest, he groans and goes limp, wrapping them around you again. He falls under the impression that if he keeps still, and if he keeps you still, you won't know what's really going on.

It was difficult to keep your morbid curiosity at bay, about fucking a literal Yeti. It was also difficult to not get too attached to the soothing warmth of his shimmery fur and hot skin. His slow breaths and small smile had you in a sleepy trance. You could fall asleep like this and rest. It would be the warmest night you'd get out here, and in all honesty, this was all starting to feel like a nice, cuddly dream.

Too much so.

"What do you want from me?" You lean back to look into his eyes which shoot open. He seems sleepy too. Your presence comforting him more than you could ever know. He stammers a little.

"W.. N- Nothing." he pleads, leaning in to press his forehead to yours. He thinks for a long while, articulating his words. "Just wanna... keep you warm, n safe." he sighs. You're digesting his response when his eyes shoot open in terror as he feels his cock kick against you once. He loosens his grip. This was terrible. He was being selfish. Maybe he should take you home now.

"Are you gonna let me go back?? I have a family out there, please." You whimper, giving him the eyes. He can't say no, he never wanted to hold you hostage. He just wanted to make sure you were ok and-

"Are you warm now?" he huffs, looking down at you to gauge your expression. In all honesty, you were warm, physically and emotionally. He was cute, too cute, and you could tell that he cared. For the first time since you'd met, you almost felt sure that he would actually let you go. And so, you wanted to test him. You pretend to think for a while.

"mmm, no." you smile up at him.

"No??" He seems shocked, running his hands over you to check, nuzzling his nose against your face. "You feel so... warm" he chokes out, eyeing you worriedly. He presses his finger tips to your forehead "you ill?" he grumbles "Where?" His huge hand works its way up and down your body, pressing everywhere he can whilst still being decent, checking for warmth. Then, when he identifies that your leg is a little cool, he wraps his around it.

You stare up at him. The answer is very simple. "Inside." you hum. He short circuits. Leon stares down at you, a faint blush just becoming visible beneath the fur of his cheeks. Inside? What did that mean? How was he meant to warm you up there???

Oh.

Leon stares at you in shock. He swallows thickly, and you decide he's just not sure what you mean, so, you decide to be a little more genuine about it. "Look... I'm... I'm not even sure if this is real. But I've never seen anything like you before and I'm just curious." There's a stunned silence as he eyes you up and down, thinking to himself.

"If you don't want to- it's fine." He wanted to. Oh boy did he want to. He just wasn't sure if it'd be right. He never imagined this day would come. He never thought he'd be able to fuck someone ever again. Leon hums down at you.

"Really shouldn't." those words pop your balloon instantly. You pout at him, but you're willing to take his answer.

"Why not?"

"No condom..." he sighs "Unless you-"

"No."

You both lay there in silence for a while before he crumbles, head falling to reside in the crook of your neck once more. You can tell he's thinking about it- taking you in, soaking into you. He's not felt more content in years. Cuddling up to you, he croons before placing a chaste kiss to your throat.

...Maybe he does want it...

You cover his cheek with small kisses, and sneakily reposition yourself against his throbbing cock. He whines, bucks into you once, and buries his fanged mouth against your skin where he feverishly kisses, trying to hide his sounds. Leon couldn't even admit to himself, let alone you, how pent up he'd been, and now? He wouldn't at all be able to let this opportunity slide.

One of his hands roams your body, sliding down to grip your waist possessively, tugging you hard against him. Then he retreats, realising his mistake. You grab his hand and return it to where it was, earning a playful chuckle and another shy buck of his hips. He runs that hand up your body twice more, watching entranced by the way it glides over your hips and chest, before using it to cup your face. He makes you look up at him.

"You sure?" He's hesitant, a little shaky. You're both very aware that this could end terribly. He could crush you.

"Uhuh.." Just like that, your fate is sealed. He leans in, and pulls you close for a hungry kiss. Expected from a mythical creature, Leon was a walking antithesis: His physical size and strength made him dominant and scary, and yet each of his actions was soft, caring and calculated... and needy. He whines as your lips meet his searing ones. He was so cute, so pliable. You're sure he'd do anything you wanted at this point, and so, testing your luck, you gently grind against him.

He instantly reciprocates, moaning a little as he clutches you tightly. Leon's ears sit flat to his head as he ruts against you, eyes screwed shut, mouth willingly opening enough for you to use some tongue. You've been making out for what, 2 minutes? And the man is already panting, groaning, rock solid against you as he humps desperately. When you slow down on the tongue, he licks eagerly into your mouth too, and moves to pepper kisses and licks all over your cheeks and neck while you catch your breath.

He's so cute, practically begging for you with his mouth but no words come to his aid. Instead, all the gentle giant can do is stare down at you with pleading giant puppy eyes. You want to go further with him. Guiding his hand down towards your sex, you intrust him to ready you. And oh boy does he. He swallows thickly, eyes locking onto you as if you're some mission or target, and he begins to work on you, slowly at first. He groans, cock kicking against you as he licks his lips. Eyes closed tight, kissing you all over, he doesn't even notice you undressing your bottom half until he hears you shimmy the fabric down your legs.

But that's when you feel it too. His hard cock poking out from his coat, slowly drooling copious pearls of precum, smearing his fur. He ruts it against you, the force of his huge hips shoving you so hard that you wrap yourself around him again just to stay put. Suddenly, Leon picks up his pace on you just where it feels best, rubbing with more force and energy than before. Unbeknownst to you, he had a plan. You let out a moan, mouth open wide enough for him to suddenly jam two huge digits in there. It didn't hurt, he wouldn't hurt you, but for a second, you feared for your life.

Even half way in, his fingers had you gagging, choking and drooling. You got them nice and wet for him, and as thanks, they'd be going inside you. Replacing his fingers with his tongue again, he needily whimpers and whines into your mouth.

"Fuck, you're w.. g-great... You're great" he groans, toying with your entrance, eyes shut once more as he grinds into you. He's slow, he understands his fingers are huge, especially by the reaction he didn't mean to elicit from filling your mouth with them, and so, once he breaches you, one finger at a time, makes sure to go slowly. He tries a bit of everything, thrusting, curling them, scissoring you open, all gently until he thinks you can take more.

He fills you so perfectly, so deliciously with just his fingers alone, and he knows what to do even whilst kissing you all over, but you don't dwell on where he got the experience. Leon nibbles a little at your lobe, trapping it gently between his sharp fangs, and moves towards teasing other parts of your throat and shoulder in this way until you begin grinding against his fingers, chasing something more. You snapped out of it a little when you realised just how large his member was. Easily over 7, maybe 8 inches.

And now, he was lining it up with you, holding his breath as he lets it slip, teasing your entrance a few times. It was thick too. The whole thing was just pretty, and due to his strange skin colour, where it would be red and angry it was tinged with a soft purple.

The last thing you see before he stuffs you is his brows furrowed in concentration as he lines himself up. As soon as he slides in, you groan and buck from the stretch of just the first few inches. He shakes, he twitches a little, and he curls up to you, holding you oh-so-dearly. His hips buck shallowly a few times but ultimately he's patient, waiting for the go ahead until he can continue to slowly fill you up. A few shallow thrusts and he works his way deeper, then he gives you a minute or so before repeating.

As bottomed out as he can be, Leon begins a torturously slow pace. He watches closely for you reaction. He's wondering what you like, what you want from him. Eventually, he's groaning with each slow thrust, apparently more edging for him than you. He quickens his pace, leaning over you, propping himself up as he pounds into you a little roughly now. He barely pulls out, each slow roll against of his hips against your sex making you want to cry out.

It's having an affect on him too. Before long, Leon is groaning and growling with each thrust. He's on his knees, body forcing your legs up against your chest as he pile-drives into you. His head hangs by your ear, occasionally nipping and sucking at you, but for the most part, growling like a feral animal. He slows down a little before driving a series of hard, strong thrusts into you with merciless force. Snarling and snapping his jaws, each smack of his hips shifts your body across the bed until he has to grab your ankle to pull you back to him.

He knows you're close, but he wants this moment to last and he's sure you do too. His breath tickles your ear between breathless chuckles, his voice deep and sultry, "H..heh... you ever... ridden a yeti?" As soon as you shake your head no, he purrs. "You want to?"

You nod. He picks you up with ease, temporarily leaving you empty and collapses onto his back. He's quick to fill you to the brim once more as soon as he's comfortable. He groans and throws his head back as you slide down him. And then, lets you work your magic. He groans under you, arms folded behind his head to cushion himself. His eyes follow you, watching you almost predatorily as you bounce on him, and occasionally, his hips snap up to meet yours.

"Fuck, you know, you're so... gnnn... good at this" he whines, trying to force his eyes to stay open so he can watch you.

He bites his lip, bucking up to meet you as his hands reach out for you. They're huge. One feels your body, supporting you, the other holds your ass, guiding you up and down. He smirks, clearly about to make another comment, when you reach down caress his chest, digging your nails into his pecs as best you can. His head falls back and he lets out an almost roar. "Fucckkk" he hums, staring up at you.

You're close again, but you're getting tired. Luckily for you, he understands. Leon sits up, wrapping his huge arms around you. He snuggles into your neck, littering it with growls and kisses as his hips go wild, pistoning into you with a force somehow he hadn't used yet. You were amazed, for such a large man, how hard and fast he could rabbit into your hole. His breaths deep, laboured and lustful as he lost himself in you.

It wasn't long before you were cumming on his cock, gripping his fat length like a vice. He groans, plugging his mouth with your shoulder, but not biting hard. You know exactly what's coming as he adjusts his legs, thrusting hard, almost throwing you up into the air if it weren't for his arms pinning you down to him. His growls and groans shake your core, rutting up in a similar fashion a few times as he pumps you full of his seed. And then he collapses, falling back against his bed. He pants and blushes furiously.

A small grin litters his face, he looks like he's about to pass out as he lays there, eyes narrow and chest heaving. It takes him a while to come down, cock still throbbing and kicking inside you. With how tight you are around him, there's no chance you'll spill a drop before he pulls out.

"Mmmm, fuck" he hums contentedly, hips jostling you upwards a few more times as he carefully reaches up to hold your face. His hand dwarfs your head easily, and he smiles. He's hesitant as he strokes your face. He knows what he did was probably wrong, but it felt so good. It delights him when, as he gently pulls you towards him, you come readily, leaning down to meet his lips.

This kiss isn't hungry or greedy. It's needy and loving. It's an apology, and a thank you, all at once. And when you pull away, his eyes flutter open to gaze lovingly at you.

He sighs, realising his time is up. "Alright, Take you back now, as promised." You're not having it. Playfully, you roll your hips against his and sigh down at him. His cock is half soft inside you now, and still feels great. He stares up at you, confused, ears perked. "What's wrong? Why not?"

"I'm cold outside again..." you pout. He chuckles, leaning up to grab you in a tight hug before laying down once more, this time with you as his captive.

"Well then, allow me to warm you up again."

And that he did.

Eventually you returned to your camp. With Leon carrying you, that is. If he'd given you anything, it was a severe case of jelly-leg.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

guys I just awnna have a little rant at u rn I'm sorry this fic is late and not christmas and Im sorry but I tried to write n edit this like 3 times and each time tumblr deleted my fucking edit im so fucking mad I had internet and I saved it as a draft the works but tumblr was a penis grrrr also, also, the times I edited it like and wrote some I had such good ideas for jokes and puns and things and good writing and now because iM fed up all my good ideas have left me so sorry that this fic is shitty bye thanks for existing ily.

the fic is so long im sorryy i hope you like him

#resident evil #re leon #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #re4 leon #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil leon #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy fanfic #yeti #fanfiction #fanfic #smut #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x reader smut #gn!reader #yonten #cloud_meadow #cloud meadow

[stupidfuckingwindow]

highkey wondering if you’d do any kind of smut where ken is actually a cowboy? 🤠

Campfire // Ken

Notes: Thanks, RDR2, for giving me slight help w the setting. I read too much Arthur Morgan porn. I loved writing this, thank you for requesting it.

Content/warnings: Technically public. Ken jerks off in the woods and has no idea you're watching.

Word count: 833

The morning of December 18th, 1899 was particularly freezing. Snow packed on top of roofs, so tightly pressed together that it became hard; almost so like ice. But the nights and mornings got harder and worse in the north- Way up in the mountains and stuck in some dead little abandoned mining town near a frozen-over lake. Run up here by the law for a robbery turned out to be a set-up was something you had regretted deeply, cold long having seeped past your skin, and powdery snow falling through small cracks in your wooden shelter. The move had brought chaos- Separated you from your gang until you were lost.

The only solace brought to you is the man who'd stumbled upon your camp. Neatly combed blond hair and a pretty, shaved face was Ken- Some little outlaw from some ways east, wanted alive for a few meager thefts and no gang of his own (or, so he'd told you, anyway). You'd seen a couple posters warning folk, his bounty a good 30ish dollars across one to two states. Ken is suspiciously too sweet and naive for an outlaw- Taking everything you told him as gospel. You force your worry down your throat and run with his all too trusting attitude, noting the gun on his hip. But if push comes to shove, you suppose you and Ken will shoot each other and bleed out in the cold if you have to.

He insisted on following you back to your gang in the following days, when the law's frenzy was beginning to die down and before bounty hunters would start prowling the roads in search of their next payload.

Ken is surprisingly quiet, as his horse trails a little ways back from yours. His curious nature draws his attention to every noise, focus darting all over the place between what few creatures are out and about. He doesn't ask you anything about all the new little things- Ken lets his eyes do all the prying and studying. He watches as the trees change along the way, forests going from the cold-resistant pines to leafless willows and oaks. He gets especially excited when the two of you pass any wild horses, and only then does he ramble on about all the pretty colors and different kinds of species. About how his favorite kinds of horse are the fast race horse species, so he can travel better and see everything.

Over the course of three days, you and Ken are forced to camp together. While you make the fire, Ken sets up the tent with practiced ease, like he'd done this a thousand times over. And he probably has, you think. The heavy storm clouds have you and he anxious, huddling in his small tent together with the heat of the campfire warming the both of you.

He gains confidence once the clouds roll past without rain, climbing out of the tent to better sit by the fire. He sticks a sliver of some big game animal's meat on the end of his knife, holding it close to the flames in order to cook it. Ken offers you a piece, and you take it. Still, despite his kindness, you're suspicious. Worried he might hurt you, and cautious he'll try if you sleep in the same tent as him. You don't say a word to Ken as you lay on your side, back facing him and revolver close by.

But your attention is caught and you're startled awake hours later, in the depths of midnight.

Ken's climbed out of his own sleeping bag, gone. Panic strikes you, seeing as his boots are gone from the tent entrance. Your worry is dampened only slightly by the sight of his horse still being here, but there are still worse dangers in these woods for him to just be alone. As you clamber out of the small sleeping space, you spot tracks in the dirt- Undeniably Ken's trail. The longer you follow his tracks, the more you hear it.

Groans that he probably thinks are quiet. Whines and moans that were probably supposed to be muted or muffled but aren't. And when you finally see him, he's lit by the soft golden glow of his lantern, eyes shut tightly and erection in hand. Ken's mouth hangs open, quietly panting. His strokes are slow and sweet- Methodical as his long fingers squeeze gently at his cock. Ken's bangs fall over his eyes as he hunches over himself. When his eyes do flutter open again, they're fixated on the way his hand moves.

His hips buck against his hand ever so often, palm curling further around his cock. His thumb rubs at the sensitive tip, swiping a bead of pre-cum from the slit to use it as lube. Again, he whines at the feeling. A shuttering breath leaves him, head falling back and hitting the tree he's propped himself up against.

You can't look him in the eye in the morning.

#ryan gosling #ryan gosling x reader #n.sfw. #ken #ken x reader #ken x reader smut #ken barbie #ken smut

[annasinterests]

going out, she's getting into something

|| main masterlist ||

a/n: here's my contribution for the season, witches! i had SO much fun writing this piece and i hope to get out more for this month! i definitely didn't think it'd be this long but i absolutely loved where it went. also ten points if you could tell when the tone shifted because i started listening to mitski LOL

the dividers are by @saradika — be sure to check them out! 🤍

word count: 10.4k

pairings: arthur morgan x f!reader

warnings & tags: minors dni, halloween time!!! tried to be historically accurate but then again this is fiction y'all, readers having the time of her life honestly, pining, cursing, mentions of alcohol, perhaps some errors??, and some wholesome moments here n there :) — please tell me if i missed anything!

“I already told you girls, the answer is no.”

She didn’t look up from her washing basin as she gave a firm response, her voice tinged with fatigue from the relentless persistence on this matter.

Miss Grimshaw– the unyielding matriarch of the gang– always looking out for the best interest of the camp, even if it meant extinguishing your hopes of a joyous venture beyond its confines.

Normally, you’d accept the answer and move on. But this time, that wasn’t the case. No, you’d been going at it all this week, employing every conceivable tactic to sway her decision– most of which involved volunteering for additional chores atop your designated ones already– because today wasn’t just any other day.

It was Halloween.

And you were damned if you weren’t going out to celebrate it in all its glory.

“Ms. Grimshaw, please,” you continued to beg, “I won’t ask for a thing more!”

The ceaseless scrubbing paused, her hands moving to wipe across her skirt before pressing them against her forehead, muttering words only audible to herself. You stood before her eagerly, hands folded neatly over your apron, shoulders squared– striving to project an aura of innocence that might influence her.

She shook her head as her hands fell hard on her lap, huffing out a frustrated sigh. “Go ask Dutch. If he says it's fine, then you girls can go.”

The elation you felt at her response made you want to dart away before she could have second thoughts, yet your feet remained in the same spot of the muddy grass your heels slowly sunk into. She eyed you as she stood up, your presence a mystery even though she’d already granted your request.

Even though she kept you all on a tight leash, her actions were rooted in sound judgment.

The whole reason there was any stability at camp at all was because of her, no matter how long or short you stayed in some places. She possessed an innate sense of what needed to be done, always placing the welfare of the camp, and more particularly, her girls, at the forefront, even if she had a funny way of showing it sometimes.

“Won’t you come out, too?” Maybe it was naive of you to ask, given she almost never step foot outside camp unless absolutely necessary.

Her hardened stare softened for a moment, peering behind you at camp momentarily as if she really were contemplating it. Her gaze returned to you, her eyebrows drawn together with the faintest curl on her lips.

“What happened to not asking for another thing?”

With a small smile and nod, you excused yourself and set out to find Dutch.

Much to your surprise, he wasn’t in his tent, and a lack of an answer of his whereabouts from Ms. O’Shea didn’t help. Nor did one from Javier out on the post claiming that he hadn’t seen him ride in or out today. And through your thorough search around camp, none revealed a trace of the man you eagerly sought.

On your way back to his tent for a second try, you recognized a figure donning a signature white shirt and black vest standing at the far end of camp, where the view was best of Horseshoe Overlook.

Your smile grew wider with each step to approach him, only calling his name when you were within a few feet.

“Dutch! Can I-”

While your voice caught his attention, it had also gotten the man who stood just nearby him, concealed by the trees until now. You came to an abrupt stop, flickering your widening gaze between the men, feeling hot embarrassment creep onto your cheeks.

It’d been Arthur.

He’d only looked over his shoulder to you, still facing the canyon with his thumbs tucked into his gun belt. The brim of his hat rested just above his eyes as he appraised you, running his eyes up and down your figure.

“I’m sorry..” Your hands instinctively folded against your stomach, “I didn’t realize you were..”

A low chuckle rumbled from Dutch’s chest as he approached you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Nonsense, Miss. Arthur and I were just enjoying the view. Why don’t you join us?”

Your gaze shifted from Dutch’s to Arthur’s, who maintained his position with his chin tucked over his shoulder. He gave no indication as to whether or not your presence affected him, and a slight unease settled in as he was usually quick with a polite comment or sarcastic remark, but he did neither and continued to look at you.

Returning your attention to Dutch, you found him patiently waiting for your response– one hand lingering on your shoulder while the other was outstretched in an invitation to join them at the plateau.

Your lips curled up into a small smile as you walked forward, Dutch appearing to your right and Arthur to his.

The view was nothing short of breathtaking. Below and in the distance, dense forests and mountain ranges stretched for miles, a white veil of mist shrouded at the peaks, and the Dakota River flowed through the canyon, its waters reflecting the brilliant blue of the sky.

What made the scene even more enchanting was the weather– the sun shining bright with barely any clouds to obstruct its rays, its warmth a delight on your skin. The air was crisp in a way that each breath rejuvenated your lungs, a cool and fresh quality trademarked by the fall season.

“What do you think, Miss?” He asked without averting his gaze.

You turned to him, stealing another glance before you, “Pretty as a picture, Dutch.”

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he softly echoed your sentiment. “Indeed it is.”

For a moment, your eyes fell to Arthur. Like Dutch, he made no move to look away, fully immersed and reveling in the simple pleasures of the moment. His hat still lowered over his eyes, shielding sunlight from those bright blues that could be the sweetest or most intimidating sight. His facial scruff was perfectly tailored for the season– substantial yet manageable, complementing his rugged appearance.

Even in his relaxed stance, you could see his clothing fighting to fit around his muscles, especially in the shoulders and arms. The cuffs of his sleeves clung snugly to his forearms, the contours of his strength evident in raised veins and muscular definition. His thumbs remained tucked into his belt, his large hands lazily curling over it, an embodiment of quiet strength and presence.

A flurry of thoughts swirled in your head– the loudest among them an undeniable realization of just how incredibly attractive this man was.

And how this definitely wasn’t the first time you were thinking this.

You hadn’t realized that you were looking right at him while your thoughts were running wild, and immense embarrassment hit you like a freight train when your eyesight focused on him staring right back at you.

To compound your mortification, your initial reaction was to smile– a smile that aimed to conceal the fact that you had been thoroughly checking him out. You tried to maintain some air of sweetness and innocence, but you knew he could see right through it.

It faltered when he broke contact and looked down, his hat serving as a convenient shield to hide his face entirely. You squeezed your eyes shut and bit your lip, cursing your own lack of composure. It was painfully obvious. You’d gone ahead and made a fool of yourself in front of the man.

Dutch’s voice interrupted your thoughts and commanded you to pull your attention back.

“Camp’s in mighty fine shape thanks to the help of you women here,” he remarked, finally looking at you. “Your contributions are always valued.”

You smoothed out your skirt, a chuckle leaving your lips. “Wouldn’t be as good as it is without Miss Grimshaw. That woman is the glue that keeps us together, I swear by it.”

“That she is.” He agreed, “But with all the effort you ladies put in, I ought to say that you girls deserve a little time to yourselves. Not in camp, that is.”

Your jaw slacked and eyes sparkled with excitement. Barely able to contain the thrill that coursed through your body, your hands began to gesture emphatically as you started up.

“Actually, that’s why I was looking for you!” A grin spread on his face as he took notice of your demeanor, “The girls and I have been dying to go out!”

You caught Arthur lift his head to you, but continued on.

“We would love to go out to town,” you reached out and grazed his arm as he listened, “pleeease, Dutch. Just for tonight?”

He nodded, that reassuring hand finding your shoulder again. “Of course, how could I say no to that?”

You beamed at him, buzzing with even more excitement.

“Where would you ladies like to go? Valentine? Perhaps even Strawberry?”

You bit down on your lip again in a futile attempt to suppress the wicked smile that grew on your face, sheepishly shrugging your shoulders. “Saint Denis?”

“Saint Denis?” Arthur interjected before anyone could speak, stepping in front of Dutch and briefly glancing at you, “Dutch, that’s–”

“Quite alright if that’s where they want to go,” Dutch smoothly derailed his refute, “Arthur.”

But Arthur, being the obstinate man he was, didn’t heed the cue. He furrowed his brows and tilted his head, “That's far, Dutch. Too far.”

Dutch fell silent for a moment, drawing a hand to his hip and shifting his weight to one foot. You wanted to say something to counter Arthur’s point, but you knew his standing with Dutch, so contradicting him could jeopardize your argument, especially after Dutch had already expressed his approval.

“Well, then I guess it’s a good thing we’ll all be going to Saint Denis tonight.”

Dutch’s ability to orchestrate a plan that convinced everyone to head down to Saint Denis was a mystery to you, but the best part was that you had absolutely no responsibility in their efforts to move camp for a night.

Because the only thing you had to focus on was having fun.

After Dutch’s final say, Arthur grumbled, shook his head, and retreated back into camp. It likely didn’t improve his mood when you broke the news to the girls and you all erupted in joyful shouts and jumped around, clinging to one another out of pure delight.

Or when you all approached Lenny and Javier in front of him to ask if they’d take you to town and they agreed without putting up the slightest fight.

Or when you couldn’t resist teasing him by suggesting that he wear his best costume for the evening ahead, earning you a glare that you couldn’t help but smirk at.

You hadn’t even had the chance to get out a proper goodbye to the boys as Tilly grabbed your hand and practically dragged you off the wagon to emerge yourselves in the scene of the town, disappearing into the crowds on the paved streets and dodging the ever flowing trams.

Jack O'Lanterns adorned nearly everywhere you turned, perched atop picket fences that lined the slums to the mansion district. Hay bales, while adding to the festive atmosphere, served as a dual purpose as both sustenance for horses and a playground for children to climb upon– an amusing sight that elicited giggles from you.

Karen had led you all into the markets where several vendors hunkered down for the long night ahead, selling various treats and services from harvest foods, to jewelry, to fortune tellings. They all beckoned and invited you over with their expert sales tactics, and usually you would be able to just ignore them, but given today, you gave in to a woman at a jewelry stand.

You and the girls encircled her table and ogled at all the shiny pieces before you, your hands hovering over a splendid array of rings, earrings, and necklaces. With the utmost care, you picked up a ring to examine it further, capturing the saleswoman's attention.

“Oh, that’s gorgeous.” Mary-Beth leaned in to admire it with you, “I’ve never seen somethin’ quite like that before.”

She was absolutely right; it was one of the finest pieces you’d ever seen, far surpassing what you’d observed other women wear. It was a tri-colored gold ring– a dainty gold rose in the middle, flanked by a pink and green leaf to each side, all set against a band crafted with a delicate weaving pattern.

“Would you like to try it on?” The woman offered with a kind smile. “See how it fits?”

You slipped it on your ring finger with ease, gently turning your wrist to admire it from different angles. It hugged against your skin like it was meant to be.

But when you looked down at the price tag, you quickly changed your mind.

“This is a very lovely piece,” you took it off and placed it back on the table, earning a raised brow from Karen, “but it’s more than what I can offer.”

The woman simply nodded at your honesty. You were well aware that most items in these markets were overpriced, with prices inflated to maximize profit, but you felt that this one was truly worth it’s value. With a polite smile, you stepped away from the table and began to walk off with the girls, your heart feeling a little heavy but knowing it wasn’t the end of the world.

But a gentle hand on your elbow caught your attention, pulling you away from the group– the woman.

She took your hand and cupped hers over it, feeling a small object fall into it. Silently, she observed as her hand revealed what she’d given you.

The ring.

Your mouth formed a small ‘o’ shape and your eyes widened, quickly covering it with your other hand.

“Ma’am, I can’t possibly– I don’t have enough–” Her hand on your arm again made you quiet.

“You could’ve easily stolen it from me, but you told the truth and walked away.” Her smile was warm as she plucked the ring from your hand and slipped it on your finger. “Not many people do that here in Saint Denis.”

You looked at her sympathetically, holding her hands in your own, “How can I repay you?”

She grinned and leaned in to whisper, “Come back if you wind up stealing from anyone else.”

You muffled your laughter with a hand over your mouth, giving her a knowing look as she playfully shooed you off with a wink.

You were certainly going to pay her another visit.

Rejoining the girls, you discreetly but excitedly displayed your new possession, allowing each of them to take a turn at holding it up to their faces for a closer look, their voices filled with admiration for its beauty.

Moving out of the markets, you came across the park of Saint Denis. A massive tent had been pitched across the field with people busy setting it up for the evening’s events, clearly designed to cater to a younger crowd. Beneath it were several rows of seats arranged in front of a stage that featured a couple of large basins evenly spaced apart– instantly recognizing it for apple-bobbing. Taking notice of the flairs of red gingham about the area, it made you smile with the detail put into celebrating the day.

The girls had been chattering excitedly about something you hadn’t been fully tuned into, but you snapped back to attention when Karen seized your hand and urged you to run.

Spinning around, Mary-Beth and Tilly were a few paces ahead to your right while Sadie came bolting closer from your left, a wicked grin spread on her face as she pointed towards the other two girls.

“Jump on that trolley!”

Without a second thought, you began weaving in and out of the crowd, your knees kicking your skirt up with each leap. Laughter escaped from you as you heard the startled cries of townsfolk being pushed aside in your hasty getaway, though you really had no idea why you were running at all.

You grabbed Tilly’s hand and hauled yourself up as Mary-Beth did with Karen, whipping around and sticking your hand out for Sadie who was too far away for your liking. Your heart was pounding as the men behind her were catching up, your smile from the adrenaline dropping and turning into panic.

Glancing back, you saw the trolley was due to turn a corner, inevitably too quick for Sadie to keep up with. Your panic escalated until you spotted a way to effectively cut off her pursuers– a tall stack of hay bales just waiting to be tipped over.

Swiftly, you sat on the rail and leaned back with the three girls holding your legs and waist, giving you the ultimate leverage.

“Sadie!” You shouted. “Cut the corner when I say!”

A thumbs up from her was good enough for you. You quickly alternated your gaze between her and the approaching corner, slowly leaning back and stretching out your arm until you couldn’t anymore, your adrenaline pulsing through your entire body now.

With one last look, you yelled your cue, and at the last moment threading your fingers through a band of twine and yanking with all your might.

Slowly, then all of once, they came tumbling down like you intended, fellow townspeople causing an even bigger commotion– or distraction, for your case. The men had no choice but to stop, tripping over the bales and crashing into other people, your plan executed perfectly except for one crucial detail– Sadie.

Frantically, you scanned the crowd, gripping the rail so hard that you were sure to put a dent in it. Shit– Had they got to her after the cut?

Before you could conjure a series of worst-case scenarios, she came sprinting from your right and jumped on to the trolley with ease, all of you ushering inside and taking a seat to catch your breaths.

“I keep tellin’ ya' to trade that skirt for pants, girl.” Sadie smacked your knee, “With quick thinkin’ like that, it’s a waste you don’t get out more.”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. The thrill of doing jobs got you antsy, seeing it was something that you could seriously enjoy once in a while, but being a caretaker was what you were at heart. You liked providing stability in a different way.

“What in the hell was all that about?” Karen asked before you could while fanning herself with her hand, “You’re supposed to save the mischief for later, ya’ know.”

Sadie smirked and raised her hands defensively, “I may have miscalculated some things, but–” she dug into her pockets and revealed two handfuls of money, jewelry, and pocket watches. “I think it was worth it.”

You sighed back into your seat as Tilly, Mary-Beth, and Karen hovered over to get a better look, “I say we take that and go straight to a saloon.”

Sadie shot you an incredulous look, “I just worked my tail off for this, and you wanna spend it already?”

“No–” You dragged a hand over your face and huffed out a laugh, “For bets, idiot. Take more from their pockets, but the fair way.”

She contemplated for a moment. “I ain’t very good at table games.”

“I am!” Karen perked up.

You shot a sly look at Sadie, the dots connecting immediately. And just as you found your new activity for the next couple hours, the trolley slowed to a stop, and you all quickly hopped out the back and right into Doyle’s Tavern.

Hours in, Sadie was racking up more cash and treasures than all five of you could even carry.

It’d been more packed than when you first entered, the festive spirit flourishing through the establishment. On top of all the autumnal decorations already in place, skeletons dangled behind the bar and burning candles littered about to give the right impression of mischievous yet inviting. Round tables were busy with patrons, some full of drinks, others invested in rounds of poker or dominoes– like your own. And when you weren’t glued to a game, you were at the bar flirting your way for a free drink or charming men just to get close enough to discreetly pilfer valuables from their person.

Now, you sauntered over to Karen’s side after taking a brief stroll and glance at Sadie’s hand from the opposite side of the table. While you weren’t intimately familiar with poker, you knew what constituted the best possible hand, and it just so happened that your dear friend held that in her fingers without even knowing it.

You could see the men at the table underestimating her, their smug smiles stemming from her being the lone woman and their belief that they held the winning hand.

But none of them came close to a royal flush.

Nudging Karen, you whispered your observation, a smirk appearing on her face instantly. She shot Sadie a wink– the cue to let them have it– and watched the scene unfold as she splayed her cards across the table.

Their smug smiles dropped to open-mouthed astonishment and disapproving grumbles, slamming their hands down on the table and begrudgingly pushing their bets towards her. She kept her head down in a noble act, but it was really to hide the shit-eating grin on her face as the table cleared and her opponents drudged to the bar for another much needed drink after losing their fourth consecutive round.

Sadie joined you at the side as you all began to leave with the earnings. “God, why don’t we do this more often?” She mused while placing a chunk of wealth into your hands, “Better than the guys doin’ busted-up, ass-backwards jobs if ya’ ask me.”

Mary-Beth spun around and walked backwards as she received her cut, “Well we would if Miss Grimshaw wasn’t such a damn witch.”

“Mhm,” Karen agreed over her shoulder, “I wouldn’t be surprised if we saw her ridin’ a broom tonight.”

Amid their hearty laughter, you quietly chuckled. You knew that despite her being a hell-bound handler, she loved you girls more than anything.

“Y’all are terrible,” you playfully chided while poking them in the back, “both of you!”

The sun had set as you entered the streets of Saint Denis again, now lit up by streetlights, candles, and Jack O’Lanterns. Your eyes twinkled at the sights, the town completely transforming for the night life. Children roamed the sidewalks in noisy groups, no doubt ready to wreak havoc and fully embody the spirit of mischief. Townsfolk flooded in front of every tavern, saloon, and vicinity that promised alcohol, money, and a good time.

But what really caught your eye was the other women– more precisely, their attire.

Left and right you spotted the most beautiful Victorian dresses you’d laid eyes upon– rich in color and carefully designed with the best materials money could buy– and as well as soft and colorful medieval gowns that fluttered and flowed in the gentle breeze. You couldn’t help but stare in awe of their beauty and how well-fitting they were for the evening.

Sadie saw your hands curl around your money as your eyes flitted around and a sly smile curled the corner of her mouth. “Ya’ know, there’s a boutique just around the corner.”

You shrugged at the idea, but she insisted. “Don’t give me none of that– Go on, go get yourself somethin’ pretty,” she bumped you with her elbow, “I know you wanna.”

You bit your lip as a smile crept on your face, glancing down at your hands and back to her while slowly backing away.

“Give me five minutes.”

It was a lie.

Five turned more into twenty with trying on several different dresses before finding the one.

Initially, you tried on the first dress you saw in the window of the shop, a gorgeous navy dress with an integrated corset between the flared skirt and puffy sleeves. However, the bustle was more than you bargained for, and you certainly didn’t fancy the look of having a shelf on your backside. The mirror in the fitting room let you know that the ‘regal’ look was something you weren’t interested in.

The second was a significant improvement from the first. It leaned toward a more gothic style, featuring a mix of black and red satin, as if the red were a robe draped over the black gown, yet both were stitched together seamlessly. Strings criss-crossed over the bust and torso, giving it a unique backward corset appearance, and the sleeves were long and chinched near the elbows. It even came with a hood adorned with black lace trim– a distinctive feature compared to most gowns you had seen. You loved how it looked and felt, but there was a persistent voice in your head that told you it looked too cultish, especially with the hood. In the end, your conscience had guided you out of the fitting room and onto the next.

Picking through the collections had consumed more time than you had anticipated, and your impatience grew as you felt your precious night slipping away.

Nothing was catching your eye and you just wanted something.

You looked out the window to all the bodies strolling through the streets– laughing, smiling, talking– while you were wasting time away finding a silly dress to wear.

The sound of the bell above the door ringing brought you back as a couple customers entered the store, a trio of young women in animated conversation about accessories and making a bee-line for the displays. But as you eyed them, your gaze shifted to just the right of them, falling on exactly what you were looking for.

There it was– a long, crimson floor-length skirt cinched at the seam under the bust, paired with a striking black blouse. But this wasn’t just any black blouse. No, it had balloon sleeves with exaggerated cuffs adorned with buttons that matched the body, and a stunning combination of lace and mesh on the collar that extended gracefully from shoulder to shoulder.

Not wasting another second, you swiped it and practically flew in and out of the changing room, taking a look in the mirror afterwards and absolutely falling in love with how it looked on you. It was comfortable and conventional with a dash of sexy– a match made in heaven! You slid a wad of cash across the counter to the gentleman in exchange for a paper bag for your other clothes and were quickly out the door.

Clutching the bag, you navigated the labyrinthine alleyways and main roads of Saint Denis in search of your girls, thinking just when you found them, it was just another bunch that looked similar from afar. Head on a swivel, you did your best to avoid getting distracted by the lively celebrations around you, despite your strong desire to join in.

So set on your mission, you didn’t even think to look both ways before nearly stepping in front of an oncoming trolley– being saved by a large hards on your arm and waist.

“Oh!–” You palm flew over your chest as you gasped, “I– Thank you! I didn’t even see where I was going!”

“Quite some timing there,” the figure chuckled, “we just got here.”

We?

Looking up, you were met with Charles looking down at you with a kind smile, putting you at ease. In the not-so-far distance, you saw Dutch, Jack, and Kieran hitching their horses and making their way over to you.

“I see you girls have been busy!” Dutch declared as he grandly gestured to your new clothes. “Having fun I hope?”

You nodded politely. Fun and causing trouble, but who were you to spill about that?

A satisfied grin crossed his face, “We’re off to meet the others at Mayor Lemieux. Care to join us, Miss?”

Reuniting with the rest of the gang? Say less.

Before you could answer, you remembered the bag in your hand and looked down at it, your thoughts not lost on the men around you. Not that your old clothes were worth much in a town like Saint Denis, but they were still yours.

“You three go on, we’ll meet you there.” Charles insisted to Dutch, then turned to you as they walked away. “You can leave your stuff with me, it’ll be safe.”

You smiled as he just knew what to do, the protective side of the men you always appreciated. A short walk over to the stables, where he insisted on keeping his horse rather than in the open, and stowing your things later, you were back on track to the mansion district– after some jokes about all the wealth you’d been carrying, of course, and keeping a couple pieces on you for when you saw your market friend.

You marveled at the increasing crowd in the town– kids’ laughter echoed through the streets that mingled with the roars and singing reverberating from every saloon, and occasionally, there were startled shrieks of terror caused by juveniles of the night. You made comments about the atmosphere and were very careful to stay out of the way of the ongoing trolleys, a small inside joke brewing between you both.

In Charles, you felt a strong sense of safety and trust. He was one of the few men you believed to be genuinely good, his only flaw being part of a criminal gang, but even that could be justified with loyalty. He was kind and respectful, not just towards women, but towards everyone. He was someone to have on your side, always.

“So, is everyone really out here?” You inquired, “I didn’t think that Dutch could really rally everyone up to come into town.”

“For the most part,” Charles shrugged, “a couple of them wanted to stay and watch camp. Said they weren’t too big on celebrating.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Who decided to hang back?”

Charles chuckled and glanced at you, teasing, “What’s got you so curious? Expecting somebody?"

Your cheeks burned at his question. You hadn’t been thinking of him until this very moment.

“Maybe I was praying for a miracle that Micah didn’t come.”

He laughed louder this time, “Well, it was answered.”

You cracked a smile at your banter, but now your mind was totally elsewhere and remained that way well into the district, the buzzing of your thoughts stopping at the front entrance of Mayor Lemieux’s estate.

Before you was a huge mansion, white with pillars supporting the sprawling balcony that extended to each side of the house and a wide staircase that led up to an opulent wrap-around porch. From the outside alone, you could tell that every inch of this property was occupied between the amount of people and staff.

Charles led the way into the estate, making sure you didn’t lose him along the way as you looked about. You thought the exterior was grand enough already, but the interior proved to be much more. The flooring in each room varied, from carpet, to tile, to wood– all extravagant. As soon as you stepped inside, a staircase greeted you and split off into two more on each side for the second level, all lined with a rich red and gold carpet. The walls were lined with exquisite light fixtures and portraits of people you couldn’t even begin to name, and an enormous chandelier hung over the center of the entrance, adding to the luxurious ambiance.

Making your way to the back, you grabbed a drink and some hors d’oeuvres off a tray from a nearby server, nursing the drink and nibbling on the food a little bit at a time. As if you thought the place couldn’t be anymore rich, the gazebo and water fountain in the backyard told you otherwise. It was also now that you noticed that the estate had been on the water which reinforced its extravagance. Every single detail had been thought out to make this place the go-to spot for the people of Saint Denis between the assortment of food and beverages, games, decorations– everything.

Your favorite part, though? Finding your people again.

The girls cheered as you locked eyes at the same time, flocking to you and immediately forcing you to spin to show off your attire for the evening. Charles rejoined Dutch, Jack, and Kieran again as they watched you five with amused expressions.

“Next time, we’re comin’ with,” Sadie raised her glass to yours, “five minutes my ass.”

You sheepishly smiled at her and clinked your glass against hers while looking around, “Where’s everyone else? Charles said-”

“There she is!”

Your voice froze as you heard the familiar sound of a particular woman, turning around to meet them.

“Was wonderin’ when you’d show up.”

Your face dropped.

“Miss Grimshaw?”

She took complete pleasure in your utter surprise, sporting a smirk as she sipped from a glass of dark liquid. You approached her, gesturing to say something, but words eluded you, earning a chuckle from her. She savored her drink and waited patiently, her smug expression unyielding until you finally found your voice.

“I didn’t think you wanted to-”

“Celebrate the Day of the Dead? I don’t.” You raised your eyebrows at her bluntness. She took a few steps towards you, “But it beats bein’ in that camp for once. And free drinks ain’t so bad either”

There’s the Susan Grimshaw you knew.

You were quiet as she surveyed your attire, ruffling your sleeve from awkward creases and smoothing it afterwards. Her gaze drew up to your face, looking everywhere but your eyes, making sure all your hairs were in place and that you didn’t just walk straight out of a barn. She placed her fingers under your chin and tilted up to her.

“Don’t be dumb. Don’t be stupid. And don’t go diggin’ up graves. Ya’ hear me?”

You smirked. “No promises.”

She rolled her eyes as her hand dropped, smacking you on the shoulder. “Lord, y’all are the reason I have all these grays.”

She winked at you as she moved on from your conversation, and when you turned back to your friends, they had vanished.

Again.

You let out a suppressed laugh at the circumstances. Of course– if you weren’t glued to their hip, you were bound to lose them. And with as many people there were, finding them again wouldn’t be easy. So, you chose not to.

Swiping another drink from a passing server, you wandered about the property and drank while you observed the various scenes that played out. Suited men overindulging in beers and politics, staff lingering in the corner and gossiping in hushed tones, and young women trying to appear more desirable by loosening buttons or letting a sleeve slip off their shoulders.

The further into the night, the more increasingly bold and uninhibited people became, embracing the wicked and mischievous aspects of the holiday. You noticed it more as you went about the district, slipping in and out without attracting much attention– a level of anonymity you found strangely enjoyable.

The only interruptions were the occasional sightings of familiar faces when you were least expecting them– like Lenny and Kieran on the corner of a saloon, or Karen and Sean talking it up on the staircase of another mansion. Despite their lack of acknowledgement, you still grinned towards them and continued your exploration.

As you came across one of the last estates, you’d barely stepped foot on the property before hearing your name shouted out, causing you to jump.

“Over here, Miss!”

Realizing it to be Dutch beckoning you over, you relaxed and crossed the yard to join at his side, accompanied by a few unfamiliar men. You graciously made their acquaintance and accepted a drink offered by Dutch.

“Gentlemen, this here is one of Van Der Linde’s finest.” He bowed to you, eliciting a shy chuckle out of you, “Truly, she’s one of a kind.”

“You don’t have to tell us twice,” the man to your left winked in your direction. He extended his hand to you, “It’s a shame we haven’t met earlier.”

He was conventionally attractive; kept hair, clean shaven, chiseled features, well dressed. His accent you couldn’t particularly place but found it interesting nonetheless– carrying a definitive air of sophistication.

Taking his hand, he brought it up to his face and kissed the top of it– an act that normally would be acceptable, but you got an icky feeling from him. You bowed your head only to be polite, finding words unnecessary.

“What do you say, dear, let me take you for a drink and have the privilege of getting to know all about Van Der Linde’s finest?”

The bold request had you raising your eyebrows and an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. You flushed with embarrassment, was this really happening right now, especially in front of Dutch? It felt so wrong. You didn’t realize how long you’d been silent until another voice interjected.

“She ain’t interested.”

Your eyes widened and back straightened at the deep drawl.

Arthur.

His imposing presence settled beside you, taking the opportunity to steal a glance at him while he was focused on the gentleman before you. It turned into a double-take once you realized what he was wearing.

His hands held his trusty gun belt over a pair of dark pants– jeans, maybe, but it was hard to discern in the dim light. He swapped his typical suspenders for a ragged dark brown leather belt, a unique change yet fitting one. And his shirt– God, his shirt– a white and red gingham button-up that he filled out perfectly with cuffed sleeves. Now that was different, and probably not his preferred style deep down, but you loved it. Even his hat was different, trading his father’s for a much fancier one with a wide front dip and roll, as well as the band featuring brass rifle bullets.

You couldn’t help but gawk. He looked so damn good, and also the only one out of the gang that actually dressed up for the occasion.

“Last I checked, I was speaking to the lady.” The gentleman puffed his chest a bit, elegantly gesturing to you.

Arthur chuckled lowly, his demeanor remaining cool, “Yeah, well, last I checked the lady wasn’t talkin’ back.”

The gentleman, clearly insulted, narrowed his eyes on Arthur as his fingers pinched the stem of his wine glass– the difference between their behaviors clear as day. During their small exchange, you kept your eyes on your hands that held a drink, though you weren’t interested in it much at the moment.

“It’s clear you’ve made her uncomfortable with your poor manners,” the irony of his words made the faintest smile curl on your lips.

Arthur laughed louder, turning to you and draping a hand behind your back while the other settled on his belt still, “Miss, have I made you uncomfortable with my poor manners?”

You met his gaze with a knowing look, biting your lip to fend off the smile that was deepening at him fucking with the man. You knew the answer, and so did Arthur, and you got a kick out of his way of making him look like a fool.

“What poor manners?” You raised your drink to your lips to further conceal your amusement while maintaining eye contact with Arthur, a smirk appearing on his face.

“See? She just ain’t wanna talk to you.” Arthur’s hand pressed against your back, directing you to move, while he tipped his head and gestured a farewell, “Now, you gentlemen have a fine night.”

As you walked further away you could hear bits and pieces of Dutch attempting to soothe the situation, which, to you, sounded like a lot of ass-kissing to salvage whatever relations he had built with those men before suffering a blow from Arthur.

Speaking of him– your skin was warm where his hand touched and guided you, steady as he maneuvered you both through the crowds. It was reminiscent of the feeling you’d had with Charles earlier, but with Arthur, it was different– more intense. Even from behind, you could sense his frame towering over you, feeling a warmth in your cheeks just at the thought of his broadness alone. He mumbled a series of ‘excuse us’ and ‘watch out’ as you moved along into the backyard, the scene nearly the same compared to Mayor Lemieux’s, of course the obvious difference was the actual yard itself.

It was only when you were nearly at the back that his hand dropped from you as he rested against a pillar, his eyes carefully scanning through the sea of people before returning to you.

“M’sorry about that,” his sincerity was evident. “Dutch’s been with ‘em all night, and I ain’t got a very good feeling about it.”

You appreciated his apology though it wasn’t really necessary. His intent was clear, and you admired him for it.

“Well, I’d say you’re my knight in shining armor, but it’s looking more like..” Your eyes danced around his attire again with a hint of a smile.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he shook his head and put his bottle to his lips, giving you a fine sight to see. “S’your fault I’m wearin this get-up, by the way.”

He pointed at you while leaning back, shifting his weight to one foot with the other crossed in front of it. His arms crossed against his chest in a way made his arms look ridiculously big, and you couldn’t help but wonder how this man didn’t have women lining up for him around the block.

“Oh, you say it like it’s a bad thing,” you retorted, taking a sip from your glass before gesturing to yourself. “And you’re not the only one, see?”

With a graceful twirl, you spun around, allowing your skirt to flare for a flashy effect. Arthur couldn’t hide the smile that tugged at the corner of his lips as he watched you.

“Are you supposed to be somethin’, or?” There was a genuine curiosity in his tone that had you raising your brows, which caused him to stutter. “I-I mean, don’t get me wrong! It looks, you look–”

A laugh from you calmed his nerves, “I’m not, I just wanted to be festive, is all.”

He nodded and shifted his weight to the other foot, casting his gaze towards the crowd again. An awkward silence filled the space for a moment.

“What about you? What’s your get-up?” You grinned as he rolled his eyes at his word choice for costume. “And don’t say a cowboy.”

He fell quiet.

“An outlaw?”

Your laughter mingled in the air with Arthur’s, seeing a dash of red spread across his cheeks. It was exactly the kind of answer you had expected.

As it died down, his attention returned to the yard, and you couldn’t help but look at him. With his rugged looks, quick wit, and heart of gold, it was hard not to feel something for him. And for how much you were having a good time in the short duration you were with him, you couldn’t believe he ever protested coming out here.

Your heart fluttered for him. He could’ve been anywhere else right now, either at camp or drinking and getting into trouble, but yet he stayed with you, and it didn’t look like he was leaving your side anytime soon.

“Arthur–”

“We gotta move–”

The sudden urgency in his voice caught you off-guard. He stood from the pillar and a protective hand was on your back again, preparing to lead you away once more. Both of your gazes were fixed on several unfriendly-looking staff members who were combing through people with lanterns– grabbing them by the shoulder, holding the light to their face, then carelessly throwing them aside when they weren’t the face they were looking for.

Just your luck.

Quickly, Arthur guided you down the steps and to the right to what you assumed was a storage house. You kept an eye out while he found a way in, though your panic rose as they kept sweeping the yard and moving closer.

“Arthur, any day now would be gr–”

He pulled your arm into darkness and swung the door shut, immediately blocking it with an object that was too dark for you to see. The space was much smaller than you imagined and quite stuffy, the music and conversation muffled to your ears now.

Your heart hammered in your chest, surely this wasn’t because of a bruise to the ego? But then again, these rich folk seemed sensitive. You joined Arthur at the small window, just peeking around the curtain to watch the unwelcomed company grow closer, “Some staff this place has.”

“This place belongs to Angelo Bronté. And that ain’t staff.”

You scoffed, “Who?”

“Somebody we ain't need to piss off.”

You faced him, “And let me guess, you pissed him off somehow?”

As he turned to you, you became acutely aware of the lack of distance between you both. Just the slight inch forward and–

No– now was not the time to lust over him, even if your body was giving you all the telltale signs, especially the fire that burned in your core. But it didn’t help when he smirked at you for an answer, the dim illumination of half his face making him look criminally more attractive. You groaned at the overall situation– grappling with your desires and figuring how it wouldn’t be a true Van Der Linde outing if someone didn’t cause trouble.

Your fingers curled around the curtain as you watched them gather near where you’d been standing no more than ten minutes ago. Glancing back, you noticed another window that would lead just over the wall– your escape.

“Hey, there’s a–”

“Where'd you get that?”

You knitted your brows in confusion at him, letting a beat pass before seeing where his eyes had been glued to– your hand on the curtain.

The ring.

The dim light from outside still made it twinkle in the darkness of the room, catching his attention. You glanced at it before redirecting your gaze to the henchmen that had now come down the stairs and searched the opposite side of the patio behind some barrels. It was only a matter of time before they came looking where you were.

“Someone gave it to me, but listen–”

“Who gave it to you? His voice was insistent as he stared at you intently.

You stared back dumbfounded. Between wanting to have him right in this storage house and your pursuers less than twenty yards away, you couldn’t comprehend he was pestering you about this right now.

Letting out a huff, you blindly reached around for anything to give you a boost, finding your footing and hoisting upwards to reach the higher window. With one arm supporting yourself, the other made work with the pane, pushing it up little by little. It proved to be more difficult than you expected from its old age and scarce use. Your heart raced when you heard the twisting of the door knob and voices from the outside congregating around it.

Shit.

With a final push, you opened it all the way, whispering urgently, “C’mon!”

Arthur followed swiftly after you, his plunge to the ground a bit more graceful than yours, but certain he wasn’t looking anyway. Just as hit feet hit the ground, you heard the door bust open from inside, followed by several heavy footsteps and angry voices.

He grabbed your hand and pulled you to the right to run down the street, bumping into townsfolk along the way and hearing their unpleasant words go in one ear and out the other. But they weren’t the only ones disgruntled– so were more henchmen that were right after you. How many people did this guy have?

Your muttered profanity let Arthur know that trouble was on your tail, tightening his grip on your hand and looking for any way out.

An intersection was coming up as you ran further into Saint Denis, which meant more people, more places to hide, and more–

“Trolley!”

You pointed at it as it was approaching too quickly for your liking, hoping Arthur would see and redirect your route. But instead, he tugged for you to run faster.

“We’re not gonna–”

“Just trust me!”

Your eyes darted from the street ahead to the trolley, panic at an all time high as you were essentially running to your certain death.

You squinted as the bright lights blinded you, your legs pumping as fast as they could, and your shriek swallowed by the horn of the machine– you accepted your fate as an oversized bug smeared across its windshield.

You felt your body jerked to the side and slam against concrete. You were disoriented, your senses in chaos. This was it. The afterlife already– dark, cold, and full of..

Ragged breathing?

“Goddamn...” Arthur’s voice reached your ears.

You shot your eyes open at Arthur’s rasp, your heart painfully thumping in your chest and lungs aching with every breath. You heaved and peered around the corner to see Bronté’s men grouped in the street looking for a sign of either of you, but their efforts yielded nothing. WIth an angered look of defeat, they turned back towards the estate, and you let out a deep sigh of relief.

When you turned back, Arthur stood close to you, his gaze drawn to the men then falling to you after.

“You,” you poked at his chest, “are absolutely insane. Never make me do that again!”

“Remember,” his hand reached up for yours, “I’m an outlaw, not a liar.”

You shared a soft laugh, captivated by the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled and the soothing timbre of his voice. Your gaze shifted down to your conjoined hands, appreciating the gentle way he held yours despite his larger and rougher ones. His skin was warm against yours, and although you expected fireworks, it was more like a softness, surrendering to its familiarity despite never having experienced it before.

Lightly, his thumb grazed your palm and stopped at the band around your finger, gently turning your hand over so that the design was visible. He examined it closely, tracing the delicate details with his thumb.

“A woman in the market here gave it to me... Told her I couldn’t afford it, but she wanted me to keep it– insisted on it.”

He continued to look at it, taking in all the tiny details as best as he could in the dark alley. A faint smile appeared on his lips as his thumb ran over it, “Sounds like it was meant to be.”

His choice of words resonated with you, reaffirming the same feeling you’d had when you first tried it on.

A chuckle and grin from you caused him to tilt his head with a playful expression, slightly leaning closer to you, “What?”

You glanced at the ring and back to him, briefly holding your bottom lip between your teeth for a moment. Your gaze flickered from his eyes, down to his lips, and back up again.

“You believe in fate, Arthur Morgan?”

His smile faded and eyes slightly widened, but your soft gaze remained steady on him. Your hands left his and traveled to his shoulders, carefully smoothing out any wrinkles. His breathing quickened, especially after the sudden touch. He stared deep into your eyes, searching for any sign that would tell him it was all in his head, but it wasn’t. You knew what you were asking.

He lowered his head for a moment, his expression softening under your touch and drawing closer to you. When he met your eyes again, a fleeting look of sadness crossed his face as his hands found themselves under your elbows.

Being involved with someone like him came with hardships for both sides– a lifestyle that one had to keep and the other suffered because of it. It wasn’t fair, eternally caught in moral dilemmas and forever denied the chance to settle down. There wasn’t the luxury to cherry-pick from life’s offerings, to have it all. This was his life, and he carried the weight of it heavily.

“I don’t believe in a lot of things,”

But you didn’t care. You had embraced a life similar to his, akin to that of the Van Der Linde gang. If you hadn’t, would you all have winded up together anyway?

You understood the unconventional life you all led, far from the standard, civilized existence that others pursued. But it worked for you, and you had each other to rely on, and that’s what truly mattered. You saw beyond the surface, beyond the cold outlaw label that clung to him, a man with flaws and virtues. Maybe he lost his temper too quickly at times or wielded a sharp tongue, but beneath it all, there was love, kindness, and a sense of honor that ran deep within him.

The world may have painted him as the Devil incarnate, but you knew him differently. He was a good man, capable of both selfless kindness and quiet introspection. In your heart, you held this belief, and nothing could change that.

Life had conspired to bring you together. And in that union, there was fate.

“But I have my exceptions.”

He pressed his lips gently against yours, his arms snaking behind and around as yours curled over his shoulders.

It was slow and sweet just like how you imagined he would be– taking his time to know your body and touch. His hands spread along your back and held you protectively, your bodies melting into one another. The breaks between were short, too focused on the fact this was happening to pay attention to anything else but each other. Your hand moved to his cheek and ran your thumb along his beard, earning a hum of pleasure from the small act and had you smiling against his lips.

When you finally broke, you rested foreheads together, pushing up his hat slightly in the process. Even in a dark alley, you could still make out his bright blue eyes and a deep shade of red gracing his skin. You couldn’t even begin to conceal your toothy grin, nor could he.

“I have my exceptions, too.”

His hand reached up and curled around yours, “Hope I’m the only one, then.”

You pecked his lips before stepping back and lacing your fingers with his, gently tugging to walk, “I’ll think about it.”

He rolled his eyes at your wink but still grinned, happily following you around wherever you dragged him to. Slipping between alleys, you merged yourselves with the lively nightlife again– the same sights you saw during the day looked even better now.

As you strolled through the town hand-in-hand, a sense of domesticity settled upon you. Tonight, you weren’t part of a highly wanted gang, you were just another pair in the streets of Saint Denis– clinging to his arm, catching snippets of entertainment through saloon doors, and getting the other’s attention when something of interest was spotted.

One of the things you enjoyed most was Arthur’s reactions to when kids jumped out to scare you both, a prank played on anyone who dared to walk the particular stretch of the street. The younger the prankster, the more dramatic Arthur’s responses became. He would place a hand over his heart and tightly cling to you with feigned disbelief, saying things like “Haven’t been scared like that in years!” or, “Never even saw ‘em comin!” before saying some words of encouragement that fueled the next scare.

Teenage boys who attempted the same stunt received a more wary reception from Arthur, recognizing their motives often stemmed from a desire to appear cool in front of friends or impress girls, and that their pranks were much more juvenile. In most cases, his glare and sheer size alone were enough to send them fleeing, but those who dared to persist were subjected to his quick tongue and left them retreating like chastened dogs with their tails between their legs. Your laughter always followed the encounter, adding to the lingering sting of Arthur’s verbal reprimand.

Eventually, your route had led you near the markets again, and you eagerly pulled Arthur along to find your favorite stand. He chuckled and followed your lead as you navigated through the crowd, your excitement palpable.

“Oh please tell me you stole him!” Came a familiar voice around the corner.

You smiled at the sight of her and approached, seeing that her table had been decently cleared, a sign of a good night for profits.

Arthur politely tipped his head towards her with a shy smile, “Afraid it’s the other way around, ma’am.”

You felt a warmth on your cheeks at his answer and gently squeezed his hand before letting it go to dig out your promises tucked expertly within your clothing. “But I do come bearing gifts!”

Her playful frown turned up into genuine surprise at your reveal of assorted jewelry and trinkets– indeed impressed with your take as it was more than she anticipated. Carefully, she examined each one before placing them with her own wares for sale, whispering a praise about the item while doing so. As she spoke, her eyes flitted about her table, her gestures revealing a hint of embarrassment.

“I apologize that I don’t have more to offer, dear,” her eyebrows furrowed apologetically, “but please, do take whatever you like.”

You glanced over the table, hesitating as you hovered a hand over an item before retracting it, shaking your head slowly. The woman and Arthur exchanged puzzled glances, the woman’s expression now tinged with concern.

“It doesn’t have to be tonight, I’ll be here–”

“It’s quite alright,” you replied sweetly, though the confusion was still apparent in her expression. “I just wanted to repay you.”

She layered her hands over her chest in gratitude, and you felt the act of pure kindness from one human to another to be worth more than any dollar bill or piece of gold.

You also knew that besides the girls, each member that was out had surely pickpocketed or gambled their way into getting a cut for themselves and camp.

Her eyes peered over to Arthur for a moment, his posture straightening when she pointed a motherly finger at him. “Don’t let this one go, you hear?”

You giggled at her demand, and another wave of red kissing his cheeks only added to your amusement as he tipped his head at her once again.

Slowly, you exchanged goodbyes as Arthur placed a hand on your lower back and subtly scooched you along– only for it to be an excuse to slip a wad of cash towards the woman without you noticing. Her hands were quick to replace the cash in his hands for something small and delicate into his, darting her eyes between your turned figure and him before shooting a wink. Without looking, Arthur knew exactly what she gave him, and placed it right in his pocket before giving you his full attention as you continued through the strip.

A warm smile graced your lips as Arthur’s arm wrapped around your waist and he planted a gentle kiss on your head, feeling a tiny swarm of butterflies in your chest. His attention made you feel important with the way he had to touch you, like he needed everyone to see you on his arm, proud to have you by his side.

As the night wore on, you couldn’t suppress the heaviness of your eyelids. You tried to hide your yawns that wouldn’t stop coming after the initial one, but Arthur noticed after the second one. After exploring nearly all the sights of Saint Denis, with the exception of the mansion district, of which you had wisely avoided for the rest of the evening, he convinced you to rest at a hotel for the night. You protested at first, but another yawn and knowing look from him persuaded you to give in.

He’d slipped the clerk a little more than the average room cost, wanting you to have the best possible after such a physically taxing day. The clerk, more than willing to oblige, had graciously handed over the keys.

While the lofty bed and opulent room details were certainly appealing, you immediately took to the private balcony that gave the perfect view over the town, allowing you to continue enjoying the night from the comfort of your room. Your skirt fluttered in the breeze, mirroring the movement of the curtains as you leaned against the iron railing. A soft, ambient glow illuminated your figure, creating a picturesque scene that Arthur couldn’t help but admire– a sight he would undoubtedly sketch later.

He joined at your side, his presence reassuring as he brushed against your shoulder. You continued to gaze down at the bustling town below, the sounds of murmured conversation and laughter from the open buildings– mostly taverns and saloons– filling the night air. You rested your head against Arthur’s shoulder, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you.

“I know I acted like I didn’t wanna come out here tonight,” he mentioned as he looked down at you, meeting your gaze that reaffirmed his statement that pulled a smile from him. “But I’m glad I did.”

Adjusting to face him properly, he snaked his arm around you as he did the same, drawing you closer to him with a soft, affectionate look. You brushed noses as you settled in his space, your lips mere centimeters from his.

“I’m glad you did too.”

Your lips locked in a passionate embrace, and the cheers and woos from below had reached your ears, causing both of you to break into smiles at the unexpected audience. But he paid no heed to the commotion as he pulled you in for more, his hands finding your face to deepen your connection.

In a brief moment of separation, you took the opportunity to give him a suggestive smirk and nod to the room that told him everything he needed to know– quickly peppering kisses along your jaw and neck before swiftly sweeping you off your feet and right into bed.

If tonight proved one thing, it was that you needed to get out of camp more often.

Especially with Arthur.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x f!reader #arthur morgan fic #arthur morgan fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption fic #rdr2 #halloween fic

[lady-ashfade]

Favorite Jackson

Day of five celebration marathon

Yan!camp half blood x Male!Jackson!reader

-£ Ask: Yan camp half bloods (specifically Grover, Percy, and Annabeth) for Percy's older brother, also son of posiden who takes after Sally just SO much, and bakes cookies for everyone and takes care of them even if they are mad at him.

-£ words: 900

-£ warning: short, yandere behavior, protective over the reader, stalking themes, reader being a bit naive, drowning themes?

it was always the son of Poseidon to calm down the campers in their time of need. ares cabin hated that they couldn’t find it in themselves to be mean to him. they only wanted to be near him and fight anyone that came near him. even his own brother, percy.

y/n was always near his brother when he was at camp. he was protective over his little brother but everyone new that Percy was the one to take care of things. sure, y/n would glare at someone that would say something mean but it was percy who handled things much differently.

“do you have everything?” Y/n looked over his brother with a worded look in his eyes, looking so much like his mother.

“Yeah, calm down.” Percy smiled and laughed at his brother, “I’ve done this before.” y/n huffed out his cheeks and flicked his forehead.

“I’m worried about you! Now don’t be a little brat,” percy could only smirked and rub his forehead. “I baked some cookies for your trip, make sure you share with Annabeth.”

percy took the bag of blue cookies, “no problems.”

speaking of annabeth, she often watched him from afar to make sure no one bothered him. but she loved him like family. someone that took the roll of Luke when he left but annabeth would make sure he would never leave her. this time she was going to have family that stuck.

Grover, the satyr was very manipulating. he only liked it when y/n hung around the trio. he’d say that the other kids were mean to him so he could get attention. you had to take care of percy when he got picked on at school, so you were protective over anyone who got bullied.

“Guys,” you groan as they tug your arm around camp, “I was enjoying a meal.” Your own stomach making noises at the thought of food.

“We need some to watch us train,” percy looked up at his brother, “I thought you’d help me? Or, maybe- oh, I get it. You think it’s lame to help your little brother?” and you played right into his little trap.

“I can’t believe you’d say that, you know that’s not true.” You push his head and roll your eyes and end up following them to the training ground where they fought to get your praise and attention.

now, you did try and take care of the younger campers of any cabin but ares and aphrodites childs were clingy, and so were the hermes kids.

ares kids likes to try and impress you with their fighting skills and aggression. aphrodites kids like to tug you around and play with your hair, even if it was short, and make you learn how to braid.

hermes kids like to pull you away by any means necessary. infected someone’s clothes so they break out in hives and itch like crazy. maybe start to stealing things and hind them around. or, simply ask you to help them because you could never refuse.

percy hated everyone for stealing his brother away from him, didn’t they know you cared about him the most? as much as everyone hated to admit, but percy had you wrapped around his finger. just like his mom you wanted to care for him, make him happy and keep him safe.

all he had to do was look at you with his puppy eyes and say, “please big brother?” and it was like he was five again and needed your help to pick up his toys. hints why you always helped him do his chores.

but when it comes to protecting you? Percy doesn’t care who he has to team up with, someone is going down.

“I’m fine Percy, really.” You wiped the tear off your check and feel ashamed of crying in front of your brother. but you were so frustrated and embarrassed! you were a few years older then percy and still you couldn’t fight like him! Heck your own father didn’t trust you to go on missions with percy, or anyone else at camp.

“Don’t give me that,” Percy patted your shoulder with a small drop in his voice. you couldn’t see the darkness in his eye as he tried to soothe you.

“Who were you training with?”

as soon as you answer he knew exactly what he was going to do, have a little chat with that person. once he got you to calm down he gave you a smile. he offered to go get you something from the kitchens and you just nodded and stayed put in your shared cabin.

which is why he was next to clarisse who stood with her arms crossed. both had a glint in their eyes but for the first time not at each other but the kid on the ground.

“I swear I didn’t mean to hurt him! he asked me to teach him something but he didn’t do as I said,” the kid kept backing away from the two but they just kept creeping closer.

“And who said you could train them?” clarisse asked with darting tone.

“Yeah, who said you could train my brother? Out all people, you don’t have the right.” Percy hissed and leaps forward to grab ahold of the collar of his camp shirt.

“I think you need a lesson.” the boy whimpered and shook his head while pleading but it feel deaf to their ears.

clarisse took him from percy and dragged him to the lake as the sun had almost set. she threw and evil look at percy as the corner of her lips tugging into a smirk.

“water is your specialty, Jackson.” She threw him back down into the water.

“Show him what you got.”

Taglist: @itzmeme @ravenmedows @maria699669 @purplerose291

#yandere percy jackson x reader #yandere percy jackson #yandere pjo #platonic percy jackson #platonic percy jackson x reader #Percy Jackson x reader #x male reader #percy jackson x male reader #clarisse la rue x reader #yandere clarisse la rue #yandere clarisse la rue x reader #platonic clarisse la rue #yandere annabeth chase #yandere Grover underwood

[rebeliz7]

NAIVE

Wanda Maximoff x Avenger Reader

Word Count: 3837

Warnings: Betrayal

Thank you Van (aka @missmonsters2) for helping me by editing this, way back in the day LOL. 

…

It starts with a light-hearted comment from Bucky. 

He and Wanda formed a tight friendship at some point after he was found. He's always been thoughtful and quiet in a way that Wanda found comforting. They were good at sitting in silence and coexisting without being alone, and sometimes that was all they needed. 

You were a friend, not as close as Bucky but equally supportive and protective. You've never spoken about it, but Wanda knew that she could count on you whenever she needed you, and you have yet to let her down. 

"Right?" Bucky asks, the grin on his lips suggesting he already knows the answer to his own question. Wanda swallows thickly, her eyes catching yours across the gym fleetingly. 

You look away quickly, though, something Steve says catches your attention and makes you laugh. 

"She's cute," she shrugs, and although Bucky decides to focus on something else, the strange feeling in her stomach remains for the rest of the day. 

…

She starts seeing you in a different light. Maybe it's Bucky's comment that made her very aware of your smile, but she's suddenly enamored by it and the sound of your laughter. 

"Hey, Wands, want some ice cream?" You ask her as she approaches the dining table, where Natasha and Kate are also sitting. 

"Sure." She smiles, hands in the back pockets of her jeans and feeling more than a little vulnerable. 

It takes her a hot second to recognize that she's nervous--nervous about being close to you or talking to you. 

"Take a seat, babes. How was your day?" You smile, scooping some ice cream and offering her a small bowl with a tiny spoon. 

The gesture is friendly, but she still feels special under your momentary attention. 

"It was fine." She says, more focused on the color of your eyes and the smile on your lips than the ice cream itself. 

"That's good." You tell her, and she doesn't know what to say to keep the conversation going--so she says nothing at all. 

You go back to talk to Natasha, and Kate wastes no time in butting in, and Wanda's just there. She doesn't feel exactly out of place, but she does feel a tad inadequate. 

She should be talking too, you're all friends, and she's always gotten along well with Kate and Nat. But the sound of your voice and the distracting way in which you smile continue to throw her. 

…

She notices you more and more. It's innocent at first. You're beautiful, and everyone in the Compound seems to have a crush on you, so she's not entirely put off by her growing interest. You're a nice person; everyone knows it. 

"What about you, Miss Y/LN?" Sam asks during a friendly game of poker. 

Steve and Tony have been implementing two or three activities every week, a way to get to know each other better. So far, there have been movie nights, hiking, camping, and now it's poker.

Friendship is important in a team such as ours, Steve's always saying, and Wanda is inclined to agree with him. 

"Don't start with me, Sam." You warn him with an amused grin on your lips that Wanda inexplicably wants to kiss. 

She looks away quickly, the thought having startled her a little. Where did that come from?

"You're bluffing." Sam calls you out, and Natasha laughs, her own poker face falling as she sets her cards on the table. She folds. 

"She's bluffing, right?" Sam asks her, making Wanda look at you again. 

You're keeping your cards close to your chest now, a single eyebrow raised in her direction. Wanda's stomach sinks. You're so beautiful, and she's entirely stricken by the realization as if it were the first time she's noticing. 

"I have no idea." She says, and you wink at her as if there was a hidden joke between the two of you, and she feels special. 

"Girl's whipped." Sam laughs, and that catches her attention. 

"What?" She asks as Natasha smiles in her direction. "I'm not whipped."

Tony makes a whip lashing sound, and everyone laughs, making Wanda blush where she sits. 

"Natasha is too." Steve says with a boyish grin. 

"So are you." She tells him with a pointed look, and his eyes instantly meet yours across the round table. 

You pay them no mind. Wanda is almost convinced that you're not even aware that they're talking about you, or you're simply not interested in giving this conversation any attention. 

"Stop stalling, pretty boy." You tell Sam, and he hums to himself, his eyes taking you in before he sighs and drops his cards. 

"I'm out." He says, and you smile. Everyone else claps their hands, Natasha squeezes your shoulders, and Wanda claps too, completely distracted. 

"Bluffing, you say?" You taunt him before showing your hand. 

"A royal flush, of course," Tony says with only a little bit of jealousy in his tone. He was the first to fold, and you continue to be the solid poker queen. No one's ever beaten you. 

"You've got to be kidding me!" Sam picks up your cards as you swipe all the chips with a pretty smile on your face. 

The night progresses as it usually does. Beers are being passed, jokes being told, there's a lot of laughter, and Wanda enjoys herself to an extent. There's a part of her brain that continues to remind her that she wanted to kiss you earlier, though.

But you're just--you're just you. Everyone tries to gain your attention or sit close to you. Everyone tries to please you in some capacity, including her. 

It's more than your looks, what has them all falling over their feet, more than the pretty smile you always have for everyone. It's everything that you are. 

You're smart in a way that always leaves Wanda speechless. You're clever and articulate, even when you're upset. You always find the right words to speak without hurting anyone's feelings but getting your point across all the same. You're open; there's an inviting quality about you that makes the team want to be your closest friend. 

But then, of course, you're also incredibly beautiful, so much so that compliments are always raining your way. 

"You doing okay?" You ask her, sitting next to her on the large couch, while Natasha attempts to show Bucky how to properly hold a ballet pose. 

Everyone's laughing, and she's suddenly very aware of her silence--since she can't think of a single coherent thing to say to you.

"Yeah." She nods her head, nervously glancing your way and her stupid brain reminding her that she wanted to kiss you earlier again. "You?"

"I'm quite well. Take a look—Sam's already about to fall asleep." You point towards the next couch, where Sam is dozing off, and Wanda laughs awkwardly. 

"Still a lightweight." She comments as you sip your beer, the same one you've been holding the entire night she's noticed. 

"You'd think being in the army and all that testosterone would teach a guy how to hold his liquor, but nope." You laugh, and she's once again taken by how beautiful you are. 

"Yeah." She tries to laugh, following your joke, but all she can think about is how nice you look in white. The shirt you have on is loose and definitely something you wear to sleep, but the color makes your skin glow in a way that she finds absolutely gorgeous. 

"Y/N, please come collect your kids." Tony calls you, and you roll your eyes as you give Wanda a look. 

She can do nothing but smile at your reaction, and you squeeze her knee before you stand up. 

"What's going on?" You ask Bucky, and he takes a step back from Natasha. Natasha moves lithely towards you and wraps her arms around your waist as if looking for protection from the big bad Winter Soldier. 

"She's mean. She's a mean drunk." Bucky says, pointing at Natasha. You push Natasha away from you a tad, if only to look into her eyes. Natasha's not drunk, though—she never gets drunk. 

"We agreed." You remind her while Wanda looks closely at the interaction. 

"I know, I'm sorry." Natasha deflects, and you turn to Bucky, a serious look on your face. 

"Fine, I'm sorry too. We'll behave." He says, and Tony laughs, as does Pepper. You have them, metaphorically, eating out of your hand. 

"Whipped," Pepper says, and Tony makes the same whip lashing sound right after. 

"Uh uh." Natasha shakes her finger at Bucky, her free arm going around your waist again. "I'm not into sharing."

You laugh, and Natasha does too. It's a joke, but the phrase doesn't sit too well with Wanda. 

Are you dating Natasha? 

…

The question stays with her for good—the thought of you too. 

It's like one day she wakes up and finds herself infected with you. You're the first thing she thinks in the morning, and once you're in her brain, you're there to stay. 

She goes about her daily routine and can't help but wonder if you're already up and what you're doing. She goes to the gym and can't help but wonder if she'll see you there. 

When you're not there, she can't help but feel a little disappointed. But her day moves quickly, as does everyone's in the Compound. There's training, meetings, debriefings, and more training. 

She feels exhausted by the end of the day and craves a shower more than she craves air itself. No one said being a hero wouldn't be hard after all. 

She's on her way to her room when someone calls her name, and her stomach instantly drops. The sound of your voice hits her in the pit of her stomach; it's a sensation she's never felt before and one that makes her feel nervous and awkward to an extent. 

"Want some pizza, Wands?" You ask with a smile on your lips and a slice of pizza in your hand. 

"I was gonna go take a shower. I'm feeling kind of gross." She says with an embarrassed smile, but you're already walking closer to her. 

"By the time you come back, there'll be no pizza left. Plus, you look fantastic!" You tell her, handing her the slice you're holding, and she takes it with a blush on her cheeks that she hopes you don't notice. 

"Thank you." She says, and you bump her shoulder in a friendly way, and she feels--well, she feels special. 

"Come on. I ordered some wings too, I know you love them. I'll share with my ladies."

You walk with her back to the kitchen, but by the time you both get there, the entire pizza is gone. The boys are happily chewing while Natasha and Kate watch the scene with a grimace. 

"Ladies, follow me." You announce as you walk behind the counter and pull out a take-out container from one of the lower drawers. 

"Life saver." Kate touches her chest before she leans forward to kiss your cheek, and Wanda takes a seat in silence. 

"These are my favorites," Natasha comments as she goes for a wing, and you do too. 

Wanda watches you take a bite, and she has to look away when the feeling in her stomach makes her feel so uncomfortable that she can barely stand it. 

"I know they are, hon," You tell Natasha while picking up a napkin and cleaning her chin, where a little bit of sauce has spilled. 

"Thank you," Natasha replies, winking in your direction, and Wanda's stomach sinks again for the reason that she refuses to overthink.

Not that her brain listens.  

…

You're the first thing she thinks about when she wakes up now, and it becomes an unconscious habit of sorts. The thought of you comes to her mind effortlessly, as easy as breathing and it always comes accompanied by the weird feeling in her stomach that makes her feel as if she can't breathe.

It's just a crush, she tells herself. You're definitely crushing material, and there's nothing wrong with her feeling this way. 

It's a crush, and it'll go away. 

…

The crush does the exact opposite of going away. 

You're everything she can think about, and she has no idea of how to get closer to you. 

It all changes one night, though. 

She can't sleep, and she decides to go for a walk, the Compound is big enough, and she's done it before. She's walked through every corner of it; she's come to know every hidden ladder that leads to the roof and Tony's secret wine cellar. 

But tonight, something's different, not that she can put her finger on what that is exactly. She takes the stairs down to the first floor, and the silence is what tips her off. 

As she walks through the main lobby, she realizes that Friday hasn't said a single word to her since she left her bedroom. Usually, Friday would be asking her questions by now, keeping her company.

Suddenly on high alert, she rounds the corner to the main security area, and she sees you. 

All the red alarms in her head are quickly replaced by that same feeling in her gut and chest. You're talking amicably with the tech guy that oversees the security systems overnight. 

You see her, and she comes to a halt in the middle of the wide-open lobby. You smile, and she feels like melting right where she stands. 

"Wands." You smile, walking towards her quickly. "What are you doing up? It's so late."

You're wearing combat boots and skinny jeans, a black top, and an open denim jacket--a look that she's never seen you wear before. She's certain that she's never seen you wear that top. 

"I was just--walking." She tells you, and you reach out to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. Your fingers graze her skin, making her shiver, and you notice. 

Of course, you notice, just like you've noticed every other single reaction she has towards you. 

"You mind if I join you?" You ask her, and she can barely breathe. 

She can't answer verbally, so she nods, and you caress her cheek with the back of your fingers as you pull back your hand. A subtle action that can definitely be taken as friendly. After all, you don't want to scare her, or worse, tip her off. 

"Are you cold?" You ask her after noticing she's only wearing an oversized shirt. 

She's still trying to get her breathing back to normal, the ghost of your touch still lingering on her cheek and preventing her from thinking straight. 

"I'm fine." She tells you after catching the look on your face and remembering that you asked her a question. 

"Here." You stop walking and take off your denim jacket. 

"It's okay, really." She tries to intervene when you move to drape the jacket on her shoulders. 

"I insist." You tell her with a smile that quite literally steals her breath away. "Denim suits you, Miss Maximoff."

You fix the collar of your jacket close to her chest, smiling as she blushes right before you. You're cute and beautiful, so beautiful that she can barely think, let alone speak. 

It's ridiculous! You shouldn't have this much power over her. You two aren't even that close, but the more she looks at you, the more her brain shouts things that she's never thought about before. 

She wants you happy. She wants to see you smiling. She'd like to know everything about you, everything that you're willing to share; she wants to know it. She'd like to go wherever you go, and she'd like to see the world from your perspective. 

You're still smiling as you admire your jacket on her, and she tilts her head to the side in a sign of endearment. You're so cute, and she can't stop staring. 

She'd never hurt you. She only ever wants to love you and take care of you. She doesn't know you that well, but she wants to, but the universe, it seems, is not giving her an option.

If you give her a chance, she'd make sure that you never regret it. 

"You okay there?" You ask her after a beat, and she swallows with difficulty. Her face burns with embarrassment, and she nods her head quickly. "How about that walk?"

You smile and offer your arm for her to take, and she nervously does. 

It's not long before you're telling her about your time as a rookie in S.H.I.E.L.D. and Melinda May kicking your ass daily as your S.O. She finds your journey so interesting that by the end of the walk, she knows the names of most of your friends at S.H.I.E.L.D.

That's the first night she sleeps with your jacket on. 

…

You begin to spend more time with her. She refuses to ask if you're dating Natasha, especially after you both act like a married couple.

She doesn't ask because the thought of you with someone else--guts her. If you were to tell her that you and Natasha are an item, she knows the feeling that would take over her--she knows the feeling all too well. 

And maybe she's being naive. Maybe the more time she spends with you, she's just opening herself up to more inevitable heartbreak. Whatever the reason, she doesn't want to cut the time the two of you have finally begun to spend together short. 

It doesn't matter anyway because even after Natasha joins whatever conversation you're having, you still make sure to stay by Wanda's side, and she feels, well, she feels special. 

…

The late-night walks become a regular thing. Wanda would meet you in the lobby, where you'd wait for her with a smile that seems to be reserved only for her. 

There are many times when she's almost told you everything she feels for you, but something always holds her back. She's afraid to lose you, and she doesn't want to gamble with your friendship. 

… 

You kiss her one night. One second she's greeting you in the empty lobby, and the next, you're kissing her. 

She loses her breath, her entire body tensed, and for a moment, she feels like she's freefalling. But she opens her eyes and finds your gentle stare on her, waiting for a verdict as if you'd done something wrong. 

"But Natasha?" Is the first thing out of her mouth, and you place your hands on her waist, pulling her a little bit closer to you. 

"She's just a friend." You tell her, and she chuckles, the smile on her lips threatens to split her face in two, and you think she might be the most beautiful woman you've ever gotten to kiss. 

She's certainly the most beautiful target. No doubt about it. 

…

She's in love with you, so much so that she's completely blind to things that you know she's been trained to see. 

…

Tony believes they've been infiltrated. Recently he's found a code on Friday that he's certain he didn't write himself. 

Everyone is on high alert, but things go on as they usually do. Tony rewrites the coding, and Wanda continues to fall for you. 

You take her out on dates, and Natasha keeps her distance, though she does glare playfully at Wanda from time to time. Now Wanda laughs at her antics, reassured by the way you're always touching her in some capacity. 

She becomes increasingly addicted to the way your hand finds a home in her lower back whenever you're close enough and the way your slender fingers move to delicately fill in the gaps between her own. She becomes a junky for your sweet kisses and the way your hands sneakily touch her bare skin under every shirt that she wears. 

You always look at her adoringly and chuckle before running your nose across her cheek as you kiss her face. She'd wrap her arms around you then and giggle at having you happy, which is all she ever wanted. 

Your late-night walks become a habit that always ends in her bedroom with her under you, moaning and groaning your name over and over again like a breathless prayer meant only for your ears. 

Each day that passes by gives her something else to fall for you, and she collects these moments, these aspects of your personality, like a treasure. She's never felt as safe as she does when she's with you. She's never loved as fiercely. 

"You trust me?" You ask her one night when you're knuckle deep in her, and her bottom lip is caught between her teeth. 

"Yes," she moans as you brush your thumb over her clit and her nails dig a little deeper on your shoulders. 

"You love me?" You ask her, adding pressure on her clit and sinking your fingers a little deeper. She yelps, her stomach tightening and her throat running dry. 

"Yes," she gasps as she pulls you down and kisses you a little bit desperately. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knows that she's being too vulnerable, but she still feels safe with you. 

"You sure you trust me?" You ask her again, and the look in your eyes has an earth-shattering effect on her; it always does. 

She comes around your fingers with a strangled gasp of your name, and you kiss her lips one last time before you bend to pick up your phone from her nightstand. 

She's still catching her breath when you return to her side with a little pill between your fingers. 

"What's that?" She asks as you twirl the pill, and she scoots closer to you. Her lips kiss your face, her hands pull you closer. 

"I love you too, you know." You tell her, and she hides her face in the pillows, laughing and blushing, and you think she's the most beautiful woman you've ever slept with. 

The most beautiful target you've ever gotten. 

"Take this." You offer her the pill, and she looks at you with a little apprehension. 

"But what is it?" She asks. 

"You said you trust me." You remind her. 

"I do." She nods as you roll on top of her. 

For such a powerful being, she's still just a girl staring into the eyes of the first person she's ever loved like this. 

"Show me." You tell her.

… 

Leaving the Compound with Wanda in the middle of the night proves to be by far the easiest part of your entire mission. But pretending to look for her when you return? That is by far the hardest thing you've had to do when you know exactly where she is and who asked you to get her.

Eric assured you she'd be safe, and you know better than to question Magneto himself. She's no longer your concern.  

… 

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff

[madwomansapologist]

forever in this twilight

Meet Kind!Druid!Tav | More TiefHusbands | AO3

synopsis: Peace is nothing but a concept for the unlucky tieflings refugees, a sweet dream they can never quite reach. Don't matter how much they run, fight, try: the world wasn't build for them. But somehow, in all this mess, you are the most steady thing on their lives.

warnings: zevlor, rolan x druid!tav. backgroung (arabella, kagha, alfira, volo, astarion). is it too obvious that one of my favorite books is "what we owe to each other"? that my life philosophy is "it's our duty as human beings to care for others"? my tav is a menace. she isn't even a durge. yes, she licked the dead spider. yes, she did it twice. she's just like that. is it too obvious i am the eldest daughter?

Elturel was left far behind, forever in their memories but never again able to reach their bodies, but its fires anticipated their every movements.

It made foes out of strangers, turned welcoming druids into a threatening force, transmuted safe paths until they were nothing but darkness and fear. The world turned its back against those who only asked for help, as if even the blood running through their veins was cursed.

If they were threatening, they could've understand it. If they were warriors, bandits using brute force to subdue and terrorize others. But that's so far away from the truth. There are kids. Cattle. Aspiring bards, studious wizards, naive lovers.

They have souls, goddsammit. Even when some assume they don't. They look different, are different. Does it matter? From where they are or who's blood started their lineage? Where it matters tieflings are just the same. They feel rage, happiness, pain. Have hunger, desires, needs. When a tiefling bleeds, isn't it just the same as any other being?

They shouldn't see you treating kids as kids, instead of beasts as some seemed to agree, and get impressed. Or be surprised that you would ever decide to help them on the way. Druids are supossed to understand that all living beings are just another facet of nature, yet they can only remind that you're the first in a long time to act like it.

It's maddening that you're one of the few exceptions on their path. They shouldn't feel lucky for you being nice. People are supossed to care for others. They are supossed to be nice just for the sake of it. Kindness was supossed to be a convention, not a surprise.

The world is supossed to be a lot of things, the reality is often disappointing.

It can be tiring, exhausting even, to always fight. Constantly surviving, never enjoying peace. Earning a place to exist, but never the happiness it should've bring. Zevlor won't stop trying, but he won't last forever.

He's tired. How long has it been since he started feeling like that? Gods knows it was way before Elturel fell. Leading his people, the last thing Zevlor could do was to stop. There's no one going to save them, so he better act.

Except, there was you.

Eating from the corners, you made a difference in their lifes. At the gates, protecting Arabella, saving Mirkon. You convinced Rolan to stay at camp, discovered Kagha's plans, inspired Alfira.

Your influence over their plans and fears felt too close to hope. Like that brief moment at dawn, when sunlight warms the world and yet stars keep on shining. That moment before the world start and cacophony become norm.

The way you talked like you knew they would make to Baldur's Gate, like they had no option but suceding. As if you already knew their fate.

You were everywhere. When Zevlor sees Umi running around, when Alfira writes another song, when he has time. He saw you in the repentance glowing in Kagha's eyes, on the attacks to the gates getting less usual, on his people.

Crossing Shadowlands, at the very first moment, Zevlor asked himself what you would do in his place. He followed you, even now that you were long gone. Until the moment he started to question if you were everywhere, or just on his eyes.

Were people always talking about you, or did he only paid attention when they did so?

Lost in the dark, your voice came to him. With his eyes closed, Zevlor allowed himself to wonder about the last good moment he had on his journey. His people celebrating, their heroes being salute, good wine on his cup. And you, beside Zevlor, shining on him.

"And did he," Zevlor gazed at Volo. That man didn't look like a doctor. Or someone sane enough to be allowed near sharp objects. "Got the tadpole out of you?"

"Nah. Just my eye." You took a sip from the bad wine. Astarion warned you about it. "It hurted like hell, but I must say that this new one he gave me is way better."

"You let a bard experiment with your eye?" Zevlor was still in shock about this. "A bard?"

You shrughed it off. "I got curious."

He never laughed so hard. His belly ached, his cheeks were about to fall apart, no air made to his lungs. What a wonderful thing you are. How could you made him forget about all the things going on and just laugh? A real, deep laugh.

A beacon surrounded by darkness, that's what you were.

Your presence was a antidote for some, and for others it was worse than poison. It was a reminder of what happened and what could've. A neon sign of their mistakes and regrets. Of what they could've be and what they should've.

Rolan hated that you continued to smile. That you said you were sorry when he treated you like shit. That you didn't fought him back. That you didn't tried to embarrass or humilliate him.

Or maybe he hated how you had hound dogs following you around all the time. The fact people seemed to enjoy your presence. Don't they see you were the reason why they're here? That you were the one trying to change everyone's mind? That his brothers might die and it is all your fault?

And there was also your talent to hate. The fact nature gave in to your commands. That you could control it, even when darkness seemed to want nothing but kill everyone there. That you were taught, properly.

Or how it would be so much easier if you didn't continue trying to look like someone good. If you didn't opposed the Absolute, if you haven't promised to find his siblings, if everyone else around him didn't seem to idolatred you.

Or maybe Rolan just hated that, doesn't matter how much he tried, he couldn't just hate you.

It wasn't really your fault. He knows that. Shadowland was here, and it would've affect his plans of running away faster just as easily.

But damn, he wants to hate you. It would be so much easier if he did. He wants to have something to direct his anger. Someone that he could see hurt. Someone to blame for the rest of his life.

If they die, if that ever happens, what will be of him? The death of parents is expected, a lover can be forgotten or replaced, even a child lost would hurt him less. Who could ever grown him new siblings? Who could ever replace his mirrors and opposites? They are one and the same.

Would he even be able to call himself a brother? Who lost a husband becomes a widow, who lost a parent becomes an orphan, but what do you call someone that lost a sibling?

Rolan acted as if you hadn't just sat beside him at the bar. Maybe that would make you go away. If you're denied of attention, you probably will look for someone willing to lick your boots to prove their gratitude.

Of course he was wrong.

He just didn't expect to you to not say a single thing. You didn't even looked at him. You just stayed there, drinking something that smelled horribly, until the bar closed. When it did it, you headed back to camp.

And you kept on doing this. You sat there with a drink your hands. Rolan kept on being quiet, only moving to get something else to fill his cup. Days passed, and no words were exchanged between you both.

He was the first to break the untold law shared by you. "What are trying to do, oh hero?"

You finished your beer, then looked at him. Sarcarm, wow.

"Why?" He tried again, this time less inquiring. If it was even possible.

"You look lonely," you answered. "And I need silence."

Rolan tried to think of something else to say, but no words made to his mind. "Why?"

It took you another glass to answer him. "I don't think I will make it out of here. This place is... hungry. I feel like being a bug inside a monster's belly. Nothing I do is enough."

Rolan reached for a drink on the higher shelf. Even its bottle looked like it would be enough to kill someone of drunkenness. He filled your empty glass. "Don't be stupid."

Damned be you. Now Rolan needs to find someone else to hate.

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

BALDUR’SGATE3TAGLIST: @citrusbunnies

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

#madwomansapologist #kind!druid!tav #oc: liliana wilde #bg3 zevlor #baldurs gate 3 zevlor #zevlor x tav #zevlor x reader #zevlor #bg3 rolan #rolan #rolan x tav #rolan bg3 #rolan x reader #bg3 #bg3 x reader #bg3 x tav #bg3 x you #baldur's gate #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3

[taki-yaki]

Sorry if this is random or comes at a time where you already have a lot of requests, but how do you think Astarion would react to a Tav who has to take care of/raise their younger sibling and has been trying to get back to them in Baldur's Gate the entire journey?

Hi anon, dw I don’t have too many requests atm. I usually get around 2 or 3 at most, sometimes they take a while since I’m usually trying to think of ideas for requests or just busy doing irl things.

But the idea of Astarion having to deal with a Tav with a younger sibling is unique. Also since I’m the youngest sibling in my family, I’ve got some personal tip bits to add.

Astarion x Tav w/ Younger Sibling Headcanons

Astarion usually thought charming another for protection was nothing but a simple task. Go in compliment them, say a few of his favourite lines and then his protection is secured.

But having to deal with your younger sibling is a factor he had not accounted for. Not that he had an issue with you having a sibling, but more of the fact of how much they intervened.

Whenever it seemed you had some time to yourself in the late evenings, when your sibling was ‘presumably’ asleep, he would attempt to make some moves on you, whether it was with some flirting or teasing. When it seemed that he would make some sort of progress with your relationship, the little imp would seemingly appear from nowhere to start asking all sorts of questions.

“What are you doing?, Can I join in? Why do you have white hair, Why are your teeth so sharp?”.

He would try and keep his distance from the child early on. Choosing to forget the last time he was near a child, forced to be reminded of the monster he was that night. The shouts of battle and the screams of the children he dragged away. So why would this one see him as nothing but a heroic adventure after all he only killed a couple of goblins with ease.

When the child discovers that he’s a vampire, along with the rest of the group. But rather than running away in fear, they seem to only be more fascinated by him. 

Of course, they make for a great night's entertainment, with the antics they get up to either blabbing on about the gossip they picked up or saying who they think is your new crush. Being perceptive of others. 

“I’ve heard Tav has been talking with the wizard man”

“Hmm and what have they been saying little one, will you lend me an ear?”

“Some stuff about how strong the strong red lady is, they think she’s foxy, but she doesn’t look like one”

Snickering to himself over the naive comments that they make.

The only moments of peace that he gets with you are when he’s out with you away from camp to help with fights. Leaving the child at camp with Halsin or Wyll to keep watch over them often. 

However, during the fray of one battle, a shrill voice pulled Astarion out of the chaos of battle. The little brat had snuck outside of camp mainly from all the stories that Karlach and Wyll had told them probably, wanting to see their older sibling in battle for themselves.

As they attempt to run over to their sibling, a Gnoll attempts to strike them down, seeing them as nothing but an easy target. Still, he didn’t know what came over him at that moment, either it was to atone for what he did for those gur children or just a gut reaction, he quickly rushed between them, taking the brute of the hit and protecting them, before swiftly knocking the gnoll out.

After the dust had settled, checking them over for any injuries, Tav approached Astaion, 

“I didn’t expect you to be the heroic sort after saving my sibling from doing something so stupid. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“Well I can be surprising at times darling, if anything happened to the brat, then you would have been glum about it” before turning his head aside and muttering “And I didn’t want you to see you sad is all”.

Soon after that event, the tyke would badger him even more, seeing him as an idol of sorts. At first, he is miffed by this. But soon leans into it after seeing them attempt to mimic his roguish ways, teaching him how to lockpick chests among other things, which would lead to him being scolded by Tav. 

Although he would find their antics to be bothersome at first, he would eventually learn to grow a soft spot for them and a great deal of respect, with the patience you have for them, even when they’re troublesome, it reminds him of his “siblings”, even when they would give you grief, they would still be there to help in any way they can.

#astarion x tav #astarion x reader #bg3 #bg3 astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion headcanons