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iwannawritelots · 2 years

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Can you do a oneshot of Solomon x Mammon relationship reveal and how everyone is reacting to it? With some Protective/Possessive Solomon? With a dash of Jealous MC or Asmodeus?

Sorcerer and Thief

Originally written June 2022

Masterlist

Genre: fluff

Ship(s): Solomon X Mammon

Trigger/content warnings: mentions of sex but nothing NSFW

Headcanons/notes from the author: I ended up not using MC. I’ve been working on this in weird spurts. I never considered this ship before lol, I’ve only seen like, Solomon X Satan besides Solodeus for matching a brother with Solomon? Genderfluid Asmodeus, non-binary Simeon. I hope I wrote it okay, since I only had the reactions of three characters. It was getting really long and I didn’t want to make it bad lol

Brief Blurb: Solomon and Mammon ended up together. They decide it’s finally time to tell people.

It wasn’t supposed to be a serious thing. Mammon just wanted to have a casual thing with someone who wouldn’t mistreat him. He wanted to be given aftercare, and he wanted it to last more than a few minutes. One could only imagine his surprise when Solomon swiped right for him on Akudr. He almost didn’t accept the match, not wanting to cause any weirdness within his social circle… but did it really matter?

After they hooked up the first time, he found his crush revealing itself once again. Why were his eyes so beautiful? Was his kindness real? Did Solomon consider him a friend?

At first he pushed it off as purely a sexual bond. Of course he would find Solomon attractive again after hooking up with him! That’s how brains worked sometimes, after all. He shoved his feelings down, and refused to acknowledge the way his heart pounded in his chest whenever Solomon was around. Even if he did still have a crush on him, it didn’t mean that it was all that serious.

Eventually, though… one thing lead to another, and they ended up dating. Neither of them really wanted to say anything, since Asmodeus was bound to be upset about it. As time went on, though, it was getting more difficult to hide. They were a bit sick of it.

“Mammon,” Solomon muttered, snuggling closer to the demon. “Do you… think we should say something?”

Still in a bit of a haze from sleep, Mammon hushed Solomon and wrapped an arm around him. “‘m sleepy, babe.”

“It’s noon…”

“Sh.” Mammon growled and squished him close to himself. “Sleep.”

Chuckling, Solomon rolled his eyes and nuzzled into Mammon’s neck. “You’re grumpy.” He cackled when Mammon shushed him again, then kept his mouth shut. Listening to Mammon’s heartbeat was soothing, and he fluttered his eyes shut. “I love you…” he muttered.

After taking a deep breath, Mammon muttered, “I love you too, ya shady wizard.”

“I’m still shady when I’m your boyfriend?”

“Did ya change your shady ways or somethin’?” Mammon mumbled, then kissed Solomon’s hair.

Solomon decided to not say anything and kissed Mammon’s neck instead. “Since you’re still sleepy, why don’t I make breakfast?”

“Suddenly I have motivation to make breakfast,” Mammon announced, sitting up and making Solomon whine. “Ya gotta rest. You work too hard or whatever.”

“Why don’t you ever let me cook?” Solomon asked with a pout.

“‘Cause, uh…” Mammon gave Solomon a nervous smile. “I’ll tell ya later.”

Frowning, Solomon watched Mammon get out of bed. “If you insist, I suppose.”

“I do.” Mammon leaned over and kissed Solomon’s temple. “Ya mentioned somethin’ while I was still sleepy. What was it?”

“Oh, right.” Solomon sat up and rubbed his eyes, then yawned. “It’s getting exhausting not having anyone know we’re together.”

Mammon hummed and nodded. “That’s true.” He opened Solomon’s closet and dug through his clothes. “I mean, I think Simeon knows by now.”

“If Simeon hasn’t figured it out I would be surprised,” Solomon stated in agreement. “I… feel guilty about not telling Azzy in particular, though…”

Pausing his actions, Mammon turned to look at Solomon and crossed his arms. “I mean, you two used to fuck, right?”

“Mammon…”

“Genuinely,” Mammon reassured him. “I ain’t mad, obviously. I’m kinda feelin’ bad about not telling Asmo too, but honestly they’re the person I really don’t want to know. They’ll get all jealous.”

“Isn’t that more reason to tell them now…? They’ll be even more upset if we wait longer. It’s been a few months.” Solomon sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “Azzy is my best friend. I’ve stopped sleeping with them, of course, but I didn’t really give an explanation. I’m sure they can tell I’m dating someone.”

“Well…” Mammon sighed. “I know you’re right. Damn wizard.” He resumed digging through Solomon’s clothes, then added, “Sorry. I love ya. It just… stresses me out. Not just ‘cause of Asmo, though. Lucifer doesn’t really like ya, y’know?”

Solomon rolled his eyes and laughed. “I know, babe.”

“Plus, my last few relationships have been rocky and ended on bad terms. Especially my last one.” He put on one of Solomon’s shirts, then went to put on his own discarded underwear and pants. “Like, I trust ya, I promise, there’s just a lot that makes me worry.”

Solomon stood up and joined Mammon at his side, then wrapped an arm around his waist. “I know. It’s okay. We can just start telling people, and if they have anything to say about it, they’ll have to go through me.” Mammon sighed and leaned into Solomon, nodding. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. I won’t let anyone hurt you over this.”

“I’m more afraid of what will happen to you,” Mammon admitted in a mutter. “Lucifer can be an asshole, y’know?”

Solomon chuckled and rubbed Mammon’s hip. “Yes, that is the case sometimes.”

After a while of physical reassurance, the two finished making themselves presentable before heading downstairs. In the kitchen, Simeon was already making breakfast. “Good morning, you two.”

Mammon felt his face heat up, realizing he was wearing one of Solomon’s shirts. “H-Hey, Simeon. I thought you angels were like, not home?”

Simeon raised an eyebrow, then glanced at Mammon. Biting back a smirk, Simeon turned around to face them. “No, we weren’t last night. We decided against staying the original three nights because Raphael got violently ill.” They watched Mammon nervously nod. “Is there a reason why we shouldn’t be here?”

“W-Well, no, I mean, y-ya live here, so…” Mammon hid his face in one of his hands, the other trying to push Solomon in front of himself.

“We were just being a bit loud last night,” Solomon stated plainly. “Mammon also probably expected that we’d have breakfast alone.”

“I thought that may be the case.” Simeon resumed cooking, humming a bit to themself. “Is there anything else?”

Solomon raised an eyebrow at Mammon, who gave a shaky smile, then nodded. “Mammon and I are boyfriends.”

Not looking away from their task, Simeon told him, “Thank you for telling me.”

;

The couple had entered the House of Lamentation, and Mammon wouldn’t stop fidgeting as he watched Solomon take off his jacket. “Are ya sure you’re okay with Lucifer knowin’?”

Solomon perked an eyebrow. “Are you okay with Lucifer knowing?”

“I am!” Mammon exclaimed quickly, fumbling with his hands. “I-I jus’… I jus’ don’t want him to like, kill ya or something.”

“I don’t plan on being killed,” Solomon told him softly.

The two ascended the stairs, then made their way to Lucifer’s office. Mammon knocked on the door, half hoping Lucifer wouldn’t be on the other side. “Come in.”

Slowly, Mammon opened the door. “Could we talk for a minute?”

Lucifer set down his pen, then folded his hands on his desk. ��Of course.”

Mammon pulled Solomon into the room, face growing in warmth every second he stood before Lucifer. “I… I am Solomon’s boyfriend.”

There was a pause. “Alright…” Lucifer scrutinized Solomon for a moment, then resumed his attention on Mammon. “This isn’t… some sort of scheme?”

“N-No.”

“Solomon isn’t forcing you?”

“N-No, Lucifer,” Mammon carefully hid Solomon behind himself a bit, suddenly feeling very protective. “It’s all genuine ‘n’ stuff, so… d-don’t be rude.”

Lucifer took a deep breath, closed his eyes, then exhaled and shot daggers at Solomon. “I expect you to treat him well.”

Solomon gave a smile. “Of course.”

“If that’s it, then… I need to get back to work.”

Mammon quickly ushered Solomon out of the room, then closed the door behind them. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Th-That was… smoother than I thought it would be.”

“Indeed,” Solomon gently brushed some hair from Mammon’s face, then ran his fingers along his cheek. “Do you want to take a break before we tell Azzy?”

Mammon shook his head. “N-Nah, I’d rather Asmo knew before the others.”

“Alright.” Solomon gently interlaced his fingers with Mammon’s, then led him to Asmodeus’ room. He knocked, then called out, “Azzy?”

There was commotion on the other side of the door, then it swung open, revealing a very pink-faced avatar of lust. “Solomon! Hi!” They noticed Mammon was holding the sorcerer’s hand, then felt their heart squish. “What’s up?”

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” Solomon told them softly. “Could we come in?”

“Um, okay!” Asmodeus attempted to keep up their cheerful façade, but Solomon could hear the twinge in their voice. They stepped aside, allowing the couple to enter the room before shutting the door. Mammon carefully took his hand away from Solomon’s, feeling a bit guilty despite there not being an actual reason to. “What do you want to talk about?”

Solomon watched Asmodeus sit down, examining their body language as he spoke. “Mammon and I are together, as a couple. Exclusively.”

Despite being well versed in pretending, Asmodeus’ face fell for a moment. They quickly forced another grin, blinking back tears that threatened to fall. “Thank you for telling me.” Solomon furrowed his eyebrows, then attempted to reach towards Asmodeus, but they quickly stood up and away from him. “I… am really happy for you two.”

The shaking in their voice was making Mammon’s heart break, and he had half a mind to go back on Solomon’s statement. He knew it wouldn’t do any good, but he couldn’t stand his little sibling being upset. “Asmo, um…”

“It’s okay!” they assured him quickly. “I’m just… surprised is all.” A tear rolled down their cheek, and they quickly wiped it away with their palm. “I just… am surprised. I’m just surprised.”

Solomon watched them carefully as he grabbed Mammon’s hand. “Alright. We have to go do something, so… thanks for listening.”

“Mmhm,” Asmodeus watched them leave the room, then slammed the door behind them and locked it.

The two heard them let out a guttural scream, then a loud sob. Mammon carefully examined Solomon’s face. “Are ya okay, Solomon?”

“Yes,” Solomon made a weary, small smile. “They will get over it.”

#fluff #mammon x solomon #solomon x mammon #mammon #solomon #obey me! one master to rule them all #obey me! shall we date?#obey me!#obey me #omomtrta #omswd #om!#om #fanfiction #fanfic #darlingficsbycinna #iwannawritelots

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silasbug · 1 year

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dream log Nr. 023

28/03/2023

it's been a while since i've remembered anything proper from a dream, but! i had a silly little dream about going to prison and gifting another prisoner a fountain pen, which made him really happy. we became good friends.

this dream felt joyous and warm.

i was sitting in the cafeteria at a table, trying to eat a meal after having gone to prison. neon orange jumpers and everything.

a large black man (bald, slight beard, very broad build. he was huge, but he looked like a large teddy bear to be sure) walked by me. i saw a wooden fork in his hand. he looked like he was coming over to stab me in the sides with it. i wasn't sure why, but i figured it was some kind of hazing.

i covered my sided with my hands so he didn't have access. my assumption was correct, but he didn't end up stabbing me due to me curling in on myself. he didn't bother to stab me anywhere else.

we became friends after we sat together at a table, writing letters with colourful felt-tip pens. he was writing a letter to his (ex?) wife or girlfriend, whose children he adored (very, very similarly to Gewuwu. it was basically the same situation. the lady was cheating on him, emotionally manipulating and blackmailing him with the children.)

he only had only the one pen in orange and seemed to be struggling with it, so i offered him one of mine (blue) from my pencil case. he wrote with it, and, wanting to be kind, i offered that he could keep if he liked it better than his own.

he thanked me, but said that he didn't like felt-tip pens. didn't like the way it felt to write with them. so i offered him a ballpoint pen. he also didn't like those. so i rummaged through my pencil case, trying to see if i had anything to offer him.

i found a fountain pen from my childhood, but i wasn't sure if it still worked. i asked him if he liked these types of pens, but he said he wasn't sure. i tried scribbling with it, but only dried ink came out of the tip. i frowned and opened it up, but not before checking that i still had some replacement cartridges. i did.

when i opened it up, i saw that the leftover ink from years ago had become some sort of gelatinous mess, clogging up the insides of the pen. i offered to fix it, but he told me i needn't bother. but i wanted to do something nice for him. i tried sucking out some ink from the tip, it tasted metallic in my mouth. i tried my best not to swallow it as i continued making a huge mess.

he tried to help me, we got ink on our hands. i eventually gestured for us to run across the courtyard to an outdoor sink so we could rinse the ink out. thankfully, the water was enough to clean the pen entirely. i spit out the ink and rinse my mouth. we laugh.

i let him write the letter with the fountain pen and he loves it. but refuses to keep it for now.

over an undisclosed period of time, we become even closer, better friends. once it is his birthday, he comes to visit me as i sit outside on a bench.

i give him the pen, and he picks me up in joy.

he eventually goes to sit somewhere and lies down, still being in his arms i end up sitting on a chest (this was all entirely platonic!) as he buries his face in his hands.

he starts telling me about the woman again and i encourage him to do what he feels is right. if he feels he should cut off contact with her, to do what is right for him, then i would be there to support him.

if he continued to stay in contact with her for the sake of the children (who were not his own, but to whom he was a father figure), then i would try to encourage him to set boundaries.

it was all a very warm and encouraging feeling. such a close friendship, so much trust.

#dream log #curiously his story is almost the exact same as an IRL friend

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the-bau-quinjet · 3 years

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Always

Summary: You overhear Steve talking to Bucky about going back to be with Peggy. Rather than confronting the situation, you write him a letter.

Warnings: I cried just thinking about writing this, so much angst, some swearing

Word Count: 3305

a/n: here it is folks: the sad fic I mentioned a few posts ago. Inspired by a multitude of songs from the album Ashlyn by Ashe. I high key recommend listening to that album while you read or just in general. I'm pretending like nobody died in Endgame because that shit is sad and I know this is sad aside from that, but I still have a heart ya know?

Per usual, any song lyrics (or song lyrics that I changed a bit) are in bold! I think used lyrics from Me Without You, Save Myself, I'm Fine, Love is Not Enough, and Always.

Masterlist

"You'd really want to go back?" You overheard Bucky right before you walked into Steve's room.

"I don't know." He let out a deep sigh. "I mean, I do know, but what do you think?" Steve's answer left you wondering what they were discussing.

"All for Peggy?" Your heart stopped waiting for Steve to reply.

Another sigh escaped his lips. You could easily picture him running his hands down his face, a signal he was deep in thought. "I mean, I never got a chance to see what would happen with her. Don't you think she deserves this much?"

You felt frozen. You couldn't hear the rest of Steve's answer or Bucky's reply over the sound of blood rushing through your ears.

It was all too much to handle. Rather than confront the grab bag of emotions swimming inside of you, you turned around and went back to your room in a zombie like haze.

"Friday, don't let anyone in my room."

You know the AI replied, but you were still too caught up in thought to understand it. Your mind was full of questions you knew you couldn't figure out the answers to alone.

Why would Steve want to go back for Peggy when he had you? Why would he even consider it if he loved you like he said he does? Is he still in love with Peggy? Has he been in love with her the whole time? Why would he choose her when he's spent so much more time with you?

"Y/N?" The sound of Steve's voice outside your door startled you. "Y/N, honey, are you in there?"

You could hear the doorknob rattling in his attempt to open it, but Friday was doing as you asked.

"I thought you were going to meet me downstairs?"

His words only broke your heart more, a small sniffle escaping despite your efforts to remain quiet.

"Are you not feeling well? What's wrong?"

His questions were left unanswered, much like the questions swimming around your head.

Steve kept talking to you through the door for a while, but you never replied. You weren't ready to face him, not until you knew you wouldn't say something you'd later regret.

The next few days carried on much the same. You refused to leave your room, relying on various snacks and protein bars you had for food. Every few hours, you would try to write down what you were feeling, but it didn't help calm you down the same way it typically did.

Everyone tried talking to you, but nothing worked. Steve spent hours outside your door every day in an effort to get you to talk to him, but you just couldn't figure out your emotions. It was all still too much to handle.

Late one night, Steve said something that forced you into action.

"Y/N, I don't know what happened, but if I did something I'm truly sorry. I'm returning the stones tomorrow. We've never not said goodbye before a mission... I just hope this one is the same."

You listened as he quietly walked back down the hallway, steps slowly receding until you were left in the same absolute silence you've spent the last few days.

You knew you had to talk to him, but hearing him say to your face that he's staying with Peggy would kill you.

You couldn't survive a permanent goodbye, not in your current state of mind.

After a few minutes of silent contemplation, you decided to write Steve a letter. Maybe you'd give it to him or maybe it would just help you organize your thoughts. Either way, it would be helpful to write to someone for a change.

Hi Steve,

I, well, I guess I'll start with this. You deserve an apology. I'm truly sorry for ignoring you for the past few days. I just... I heard what you said to Bucky and I didn't know how to deal with it.

You know I've never been the best at controlling my emotions, so I just holed myself up in here. I avoided you so I could figure out my own feelings first.

I know I should talk to you. You deserve that too, but I don't think I could survive the heartbreak. I guess I'll try to explain everything I've been thinking and feeling since that night.

Honestly, I'm not sure where to start. It feels kind of stupid to say, but I obviously experienced a range of emotions when I first heard you and Bucky talking about going back.

You know I've always found solace in writing, so that's what I'm doing. I needed a way to clear my thoughts, and it turned into this concoction of thoughts and some poems - you know how I feel about poems. (Look at that! A sarcastic comment! I didn't think I was capable of humor anymore.)

This might not surprise you, but the first emotion I clung to was anger. I'm not angry anymore, well at least not as angry. Anyway, I wrote this next part when I was absolutely pissed at you.

What the fuck?

You want to go back in time and stay there?

You want to leave me behind?

Steve, what the fuck is wrong with you?

I could keep you here. If I really wanted to, I could figure out a way to do it. I could cut the brakes just to keep you from leaving. I'll do it too. My hands on the wheel would drive us into a wall.

You must think I'm being petty. Hiding in my room like a child to avoid you. All the while, here I am writing all the things I could do to keep you. Well, news flash: I don't need you. You made me think the only world I could exist in, was one you lived in, almost had me fooled.

Here's something you probably never considered, because I sure as shit never thought I'd even need to. I can be me without you. I don't have to rely on you for my own happiness. I thought you loved me, but if you want to go back and be with Peggy, do it. Go find yourself, let me down.

It's easy to sit here now and look back on how everything we had would always be second string to your relationship with her. God damn hindsight's 2020.

I want you to know, you did this to me. You broke my heart. When I heard you say you wanted a chance to be with Peggy, it's like my whole world crumbled down around me.

Everything I thought I knew was ripped out from under me. You poured rain all over my sunny. Yeah, someday, this could all be funny, but right now it's absolute shit.

And maybe everything will work out the way it's meant to be, but honestly I couldn't give less of a shit about that right now.

If I had the chance, I would take it back. Everything. Meeting you. Becoming friends. Dating you. Falling in love. I'd be jumping off your sinking ship, instead of going down with it.

It'd be so much easier that way. If I never fucking knew you.

One day I'll be good. I'll be over all of this bullshit. Right now I'm just mad. And you know what, it's justifiable. I think I'm allowed to be mad at you.

I'm over being so mature. If only I was never yours. Maybe I'll go back in time and undo it all. Then at least I could save myself from you.

Like I said, I wrote that in the heat of the moment. Once my brain caught up to my ears, all I saw was red. Anger didn't last as long as you might think though.

All that was how I felt in the moment, but I want you to know it's not true. I don't really believe any of it. I was hurt and angry and avoiding the pain I knew was just around the corner.

I've always told you anger would be my downfall because I just can't control what I say.

Let me be completely clear, I would never want to undo meeting you. You've been the best part of my life for years. I need you to know that I don't regret any of it and I never will.

Anyway, the anger shifted to tears pretty quickly. It wasn't hard to feel the pain that comes with someone you love leaving you. I can't honestly picture a world where I don't love you.

This is the first poem I wrote. With tear blurring my vision, I put pen to paper and this is what came out.

Complicated. Understated. On the way to, Devastated. I'm just holding on for dear life.

Short and sweet, right? Well, not so much sweet, but you get the point. I feel broken. Here's another bit of poetry for ya.

Right now I'm sorry, Burns through me darling, But I can't help hope In thirty years it won't.

Maybe I just need time. That's what everyone always says. "Time can heal all wounds."

It's hard to even think about moving on though when everything reminds me of you. I've got emotional souvenirs from fleeting moments we spent together. If this is the end, I'll always know you were my golden years. I know in the future I could close my eyes and go back there.

Maybe that's the hardest part. Knowing I'll always have these memories.

All I've been thinking about for the past three days is if this will ever feel better. And maybe it will, when time has passed.

Maybe when I'm older, I'll run out of stories about you. Maybe when I'm older, I'll know what it's like not to love you, Anymore.

Despite my best efforts, it's still only a maybe. Maybe when I'm older I'll be able to stop thinking about you every second of the day. Maybe when I'm older I won't feel like crying everytime I see your face.

But maybe not. Maybe I'll always feel this way.

Maybe when I'm six feet, underneath the concrete, I'll know what it's like not to want you, anymore.

I'm not saying all this to make you feel guilty. You don't need to tell me you're sorry. I know you are. I know you would never hurt me like this without a reason.

I should just talk to you, but I don't think I can. Not yet. We don't need to talk til we're ready. Both of us.

I guess I do have one question. Do you really love me?

I don't think I want to know the answer right now. Because even if you do... it takes a lot more than a rose, more than a kiss, more than a heart to truly love someone and spend forever with them.

It takes a lot more than a ring, more than a vow, more than a promise to build and maintain a relationship.

Love is not enough. I know that now. Even if you love me to the best of your abilities, you could still love Peggy more. Love may not be enough for us, but at least we got that much.

If you leave, I'll live the rest of my life grateful that at least I got your touch for as long as I did.

I used to think we could take our sweet time, that everything would be just fine. But now I know maybe not.

I cried for days. Like I said, I'm not writing this to make you feel guilty though. I just want to be completely honest. I cried a lot, probably more than I ever have before.

I kept replaying memories of time I spent with you. Not even dates, just the small moments that made me know I love you.

Like that day I woke up too early, almost put salt in my coffee. Oh I thank God that you stopped me before that.

I've never been a morning person, but ever since I met you you've always been there to keep my head on straight.

I think the thing I love most about you is how you can read me better than anyone I've ever known. I can hide from everyone else and they won't bat an eye. They never can tell when I'm falling apart on the inside.

No matter how hard I try to hide it though, you don't believe me when I say I'm alright. You can always, always tell.

It's like you've got a sixth sense that tells you I need you when I try to say I'm fine.

Before I met you, I would get so lonely everyday. Now I'm only lonely until you ask if I'm okay and then I remember that I have people who are there for me. I have you.

All this to say, I love you, Steve. I love you more than I've ever loved another human being.

Forever yours,

Y/N

It took you nearly all night to write a coherent letter and come up with a plan to talk to Steve. A quick glance at the clock let you know Steve would be up any minute, so you had to act fast.

You opened your door for the first time in days, running in a full sprint to the stairs and down the hall to Steve's door.

With one final burst of courage, you shoved the letter under the door and ran away before anyone could find you out of your room.

"Y/N?" A familiar knock on your door woke you from a restless sleep. "I read your letter, Y/N please let me explain."

It felt like time slowed down as you stared at the door.

"Y/N, I have to bring the stones back, but I really want to talk to you first."

"Come in." You steadied yourself with a deep breath, but one look at Steve ruined your flimsy resolve.

"Y/N... I tried to wait for you to come to me, but..."

He stopped talking when you shook your head, a painful sob forming in your chest.

"I've been thinking a lot." You started slowly, voice scratchy from days of not being used except to cry. "What if staying with me isn't the best thing to keep you happy?"

"Y/N, I-"

"Please let me finish." You waited for him to acknowledge your words before you spoke again.

"If letting you go is the best way to show that I love you, I will." Tears poured down your cheeks, breaths coming to you shakily.

"Captain Rogers, your presence is requested in the backyard." Friday's voice echoed through the room.

Steve looked more torn than you've ever seen him.

"Let's go." You nodded toward the door. "I've got more to say, but you've got somewhere to be."

Slowly, the two of you walked down the hall and entered the elevator.

"I don't know if you'll ever come back-"

"Y/N, really just let me-"

"Steve, please." You begged him to let you get it all out. "I won't ask 'cause that's selfish."

"It's not." He cut in again.

"It is. You deserve to be as happy as possible." With a slow, shaky breath you continued your speech. "I've come to terms I might never feel whole again."

The elevator doors slid open. You followed Steve to the yard where they set up the time machine.

"I'll be broken when you're gone, but I won't hold you back if it's wrong."

"Steve, there you are! Let's go-"

"In a minute, Sam." Steve's eyes never left you, remaining soft and caring. "We can go back inside if you want." He ran his thumbs over your cheeks, ridding them of tears only to be instantly replaced. You've always hated crying in front of people.

"I don't care what people say." You shook your head, ignoring the potential pitying looks you could receive for crying in front of others. Another deep breath, and you continued. "You know I won't force you to stay."

It was your turn to wipe tears from Steve's face.

"If you leave, I'll be okay. Just promise that you won't forget me babe."

"I could never-" He cut in again only to stop when you gave him a pleading look.

"I understand if leaving is what you have to do. I don't want you to go, but I'll be okay, eventually." You let out a watery chuckle, wiping your eyes again.

"Y/N, I never meant for-"

"Steve, you ready?" Sam interrupted again.

"It's fine. You can go." You did your best to hold back any lingering tears. You had to physically turn Steve around yourself and push him towards the machine.

"Y/N, please, I can't-"

"Steve, they're waiting for you. It's okay, I promise." He finally started to walk away only to pause when you called out one more thing. "Oh, Steve?"

"Yeah?" He wore a solemn smile.

"I'll love you always."

You watched as he listened to Banner's instructions and bid farewell to Sam and Bucky. The bitter part of you wondered if Sam knew.

A strangled sob left your mouth as soon as Steve disappeared. All three men standing around the machine looked your way, Sam and Bucky running toward you to help.

"He should be back any second. It's fine!" Sam desperately tried to console you, but you knew it wouldn't work.

"Y/N. Y/N! Listen to me. Did Steve talk to you?" Bucky asked, ignoring Sam's bewildered expression.

You nodded pitifully.

"Did he explain-" You cut him off.

"He- he didn't ha-have time.: You stuttered as you tried desperately to gulp in air through the tears. "I did most of the talking. I needed him to know it was okay."

"To know what was okay?" Sam asked, still clearly confused.

The thought of explaining it only broke you down more. You would have fallen to the ground if not for Bucky catching you. Your body leaned into his.

"Doll..." Bucky shook his head. "You should have let him explain."

You choked on another sob just thinking about it.

"Shh, it's okay. You'll be okay." Bucky whispered in your ear, ignoring Sam's confused glares.

"Y/N..." The sound of Steve's voice echoed in your ears causing another painful sob to jolt through your body.

"Baby, please look at me."

You genuinely thought you were hallucinating when you opened your eyes to see Steve towering over you.

"Steve?" Your voice was barely a whisper.

"It's me, I'm here." He gently took you from Bucky's arms, cradling you close to him but leaning his head far enough away for you to look into your eyes.

"You came back..." Your tears slowed, gently falling down your cheeks as you stared at him wide-eyed.

"I was never planning to leave." He spoke while gently stroking your hair.

"B-but, you were talking to Bucky about going back?" Your tears gave way to confusion as you glanced between him and Bucky.

"Just to say goodbye." He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, breathing in your scent. "I just thought she deserved a real goodbye."

New tears pooled in your eyes as you took in his words. "So, you never wanted to leave me?"

"I could never, and would never, leave you. I love you so much. I just wish I knew why you were holed up in your room sooner." He smiled at you, the same adoring smile he gave you the first time you met.

"I love you too. Always." You leaned into his embrace, relishing in the touch you thought you'd lost forever. He whispered his reply, clinging to you just as much as you were to him.

"Always."

a/n: today I discovered I am truly incapable of writing a sad ending. I just like the idea of escaping to a reality where Steve would never abandon me.

Permanent taglist:

@averyhotchner

@jesuswasnotawhiteman

@strawberryspence

@sebastnstn

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers angst #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fluff

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oitommothetease · 2 years

Text

Run

Pairing: Maya Lopez x Female reader

Word Count: ⁓ 900 words

Description: Maya asks you to run away with her.

Warning: hawkeye spoilers, this is sorta based after ep 6, established relationship, smut, a bit of angst?, fluff?

A/N: I got tired of going through the empty Maya tags so I wrote this little thing for myself lol

You shuddered, raking your fingers in Maya's hair as her mouth lapped onto your sex while her fingers relentlessly worked inside you. She had let her hair down today, you noticed. Every morning before leaving for work, Maya would come and sit on the kitchen stool and hand you a hairbrush, indicating you to braid her hair. And you would gently smile and kiss her on the head as you lightly ran your fingers through her hair. You loved these little moments with your girlfriend so much that you carried a hair tie around your wrist just for her.

You liked running your hands in her hair even more when she worked you over and over again until you were a babbling mess. But after your first orgasm, you realized that something was different. She wanted to delve into your most intimate part not to cherish and show you her love—no, she wanted to forget something that day. You didn't know what that something was, you weren't allowed to ask. But you had a clue — you had seen the news, and you were also aware of the kind of people she worked with. It didn't take long for you to connect the dots.

As Maya ushered you out of your thoughts and into a haze as she brought you closer to your release once again. You arched your head, your body instinctively moving away from her tight grip around your hip, but Maya knew your body better. She felt every vibration and every movement of your body—your rising chest, the shiver that ran across your spine, your heartbeat. She knew your limit, and that was why she didn't relent.

Lapping onto your clit in a movement that she knew would have you coming instantly, she inserted another finger. Maya made you see stars on the ceiling of a small apartment in New York, and in that moment, you believed in magic. If you weren't so out of it, you would've realized she intended that when she walked into your apartment that night. She wanted you to be a little out of it—she wanted your compliance as she broke down the decision she was making for you—both of you and your future.

Once you were all cleaned and settled in bed, Maya brought your blissed out body near her, settling your head on her chest as she wrapped you around her. You hummed in relief as she soothingly ran her hand across your spine—fingers so tender and calm that it brought you closer to the land of dreams.

You felt her looking at you, so you gazed up at her, and she instantly took her hands out of to communicate.

“We will leave this place tomorrow,” She signed, swallowing the fear of refusal looming over her head.

“You mean this apartment?” You asked, hoping that she didn't mean what you thought she did. Maybe she was asking you to move in with her, you consoled yourself.

“No, this city. I have made arrangements for us outside.”

You had so many questions. You wanted to ask about your work—you wanted to ask whether you both could even afford moving away— you wanted to ask about your friends and family in the city. And Maya was preparing herself for that, she had all the answers to the worries you could possibly have. But you asked the one thing she didn't expect. “What happened out there tonight, baby?”

Maya's eyes widened a bit, your question clearly took her by surprise. She blinked a few times as she tried to scare away the tears the way she did with people. It didn't work. Instinctively, you placed a hand on her cheek, thumb sweeping under her eye and ridding her face of the wetness. Your girlfriend sighed, nuzzling in your warm hold, and she held your wrist lightly, craning her head to place a kiss on the inside of your palm.

Maya was a lot of things including a killer, but she wasn't a liar, especially when it came to you. So she answered honestly. “I lost someone important to me tonight. I can't let that happen again.”

She dipped her chin in agitation, hoping that you understood how terrified she was of losing you. She knew she couldn't vocalize what she felt, but even if she could, no words could comprehend her fear. Even in death, Kingpin would haunt Maya, and she wanted to take you away from all of this.

You were always going to be in danger as long as you stayed with her. Both of you knew that but none of you wanted to admit and lose the other. And you also knew that one day, the skeletons in her closet will catch up to you and ruin both of you. But that night, you decided to pretend like all of that was false. Like you were a naïve little girl in love, unaware of the monsters looming in the dark.

“Let's get out of this place.” you nodded, a smile tugged at the corner of your mouth and Maya pulled you towards her, pressing your lips against her in a languid kiss.

And as you fell asleep in your lover's arms, you just wished that the next place you found yourself in would be devoid of the horrors from her past.

⁓⁓

TAGS: @bubblespeare @bananapipedreams

#maya lopez #maya lopez x reader #maya lopez x female reader #hawkeye #maya lopez x you

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rodr1cks · 3 years

Text

Sick Day | 2.1k

fluff!! you’re sick and rodrick comes to the rescue.

warnings: vomit, being sick in general

All day you had been feeling extremely ill. The nurse at school was being impossible and refused to send you home, despite your pleas.

“Please Mrs. Williams, I feel terrible you have to believe me!”

She was extremely skeptical, “Child, do you know how many times I hear that in a day? You don’t have a fever, back to class.”

And just like that, you were dismissed. Sent to endure the rest of your classes in misery.

The day went by painfully slow after your trip to the nurse. The fluorescent lights berated your pupils making it impossible to concentrate and worsening your headache.

It was sixth period, the last class of the day. Also your least favorite class of the day. You couldn’t stand the teacher. Mr. Wright. He was your classic asshole history teacher.

You were completely zoned out, trying to focus on not vomiting. Your name being called pulled you out of your haze.

“Miss y/l/n? Do you care to answer me? Unless you’re busy of course.”

Condescending bastard.

You held your tongue, swallowing any smart-ass comments that threatened to spill past your lips. You cleared your throat.

“I’m sorry, what was the question.”

He went through the whole “this is a learning environment” lecture after that. Again, you didn’t listen. You couldn’t have even if you wanted to. Thankfully, he left you alone after that.

Finally, the last bell of the day sounded through the school. You lept from your seat and ran to the bathroom. You practically body slammed the door open. Luckily, the bathroom was empty, most kids having already filed out of the main doors, eager to begin their weekend festivities.

You were hunched over one of the white porcelain bowl, tears filling your eyes.

Today could not get any worse.

After taking a few deep breaths, you were able to compose yourself enough to exit the bathroom.

You crossed your fingers, hoping that the halls had been completely evacuated.

You crept through the empty corridors and out into the parking lot. You were especially dreading the walk home today.

You were walking through the parking lot, enjoying the fresh air when you saw him. Rodrick Heffley.

The two of you were best friends in elementary school but you drifted apart after a while. You honestly developed a certain distaste for him, as he had you.

Please don’t notice me, please don’t-

“Y/n!”

Shit.

“Rodrick!” you feigned enthusiasm.

His brow furrowed, “You look… paler than usual?” You rolled your eyes, classic Rodrick. You wanted this interaction to end, immediately. “Yup. Not feeling well.” You deadpanned, providing little detail.

Rodrick hesitated for a moment, “Well, let me drive you home, kid.”

Kid. Who did he think he was?

“I think I’ll pass, weather is nice today.” The weather was far from nice.

“Oh really, the weather is nice, y/n? Where are you right now? Because it’s raining where I am.”

He sighed, “and I also saw that little performance Mr. Wright gave you...”

Oh so he pities me.

“Rodrick, If I get in your van will you stop talking?”

He motioned, pretending to zip his lips up and throw away the key. A small smile spread across your face but you didn’t let him see that.

A few minutes into the drive, you decided you were glad you let him take you home. The sky had opened up and it was storming.

Oh God.

“Rodrick, pull over, now.”

He looked over at you and could tell what was about to happen. He pulled over quickly and you opened the door. You leaned over and vomited right onto the grass patch parallel to the road, in the pouring rain.

Coyly, you returned to your seat in the van. You were unsure if you should apologize, so you stayed silent.

“Y/n, are your parents home?”

He knew they never were. Ever since you were a kid, your parents had been anywhere but home. Business trips, vacations, retreats, you name it.

You looked down at your shoes, water dripping from your hair, and shook your head.

“Alrighty then, change of plans.”

You protested, “Rodrick that’s really not necessary I’ll be fine.” Part of you knew there was no point in arguing. If he was one thing, it was stubborn.

He reached out, placing the back of his hand on your forehead to prove a point, “Y/n, you’re burning up. You’re coming with me.”

You were closer to his house anyways. That’s how you justified it, at least.

His van pulled into The Heffley’s driveway. Rodrick got out and rushed around the vehicle to open your door.

“Come along, y/n. I know somebody who will be very happy to see you,” he grinned.

The front door swung open and you were hit with a wave of nostalgia. The Heffley’s house was always warm and always smelled spectacular. Somehow, Mrs. Heffley was always baking or cooking something.

“Y/n? What a nice surprise this is!” Mrs. Heffley beamed. She had always loved you. “How I’ve missed seeing your face around here!” She said, placing her hands on your checks.

“You’re soaking wet!” You nodded awkwardly in response. “And goodness, you’re burning up! Are you feeling alright?” She felt your forehead and cheeks, then squeezed your shoulders gently.

From a young age, Mrs. Heffley had looked after you as one of her own. Nothing had changed it seemed.

“No, actually,” you smiled half-heartedly. Mrs. Heffley frowned at you. “Rodrick, get her some dry clothes, would you?.” Rodrick nodded, leading you up the stairs.

You stood in his room, obviously uncomfortable. He was knelt in front of his dresser, digging around for something.

“Ah! Here it is.”

Rodrick whipped out a t-shirt for you to change into. He grabbed a pair of black sweats from another drawer as well.

“Here you are, mademoiselle.” He stuck out the wad of clothing in your direction. You couldn’t lie, you were happy to have some dry clothes to change into.

You stepped into his bathroom, taking a moment to examine your appearance. You looked rough. Intense bags hung low under your eyes and you truly did look more pale than usual. Fantastic.

You emerged from the bathroom, Rodrick’s clothing drooping slightly from your frame. Rodrick was sitting on the end of his bed and he patted the surface.

You joined him on his twin mattress, only because you were exhausted.

“Rodrick, why are you being nice to me?”

He looked guilty. “You’ve had a rough day, y/n…”

He sucked in a breath, “...and y’know I’ll always care about you.”

How could he still care for you? You completely wrote him off when high school began.

“Listen, y/n, the past is in the past, okay?”

A genuine smile appeared on your face. Before the moment could become too sentimental, Rodrick interjected.

“Oh! Be right back,” he chirped.

He ran downstairs and came back with an orange soda and some cold & flu medicine.

Rodrick explained himself, “Orange! Like, vitamin C, right?” He looked too happy with himself, you couldn’t bring him down. At least his heart was in the right place.

Concealing your laughter to the best of your ability, you accepted the beverage and medicine from his hand.

You hated this kind of medicine with your whole heart. The orange soda could be useful honestly, just not for its nutritional value like Rodrick intended.

Rodrick measured out the appropriate amount of the medicine for you as you cracked open the can. He handed you the small cup full of the thick, red liquid.

You threw back the grotesque cherry flavored solution, grimacing as it coated your throat. You chased the medicine with the orange soda. See, it did come in handy.

You leaned back into Rodrick’s pillows, trying to relax.

About fifteen minutes later you felt extremely drowsy. “Rodrick, can I see that bottle?”

“Uh, sure,” he said, confused.

You read the bottle and instantly threw your head back in annoyance. “Rodrick this is the drowsy kind!” You continued inspecting the bottle, “and it’s extra strength!”

With each second passing, it got increasingly difficult to keep your eyes open.

Everything was blurry and you were teetering between consciousness and sleep.

“Rodrick,” you slurred. “I’m so sorry I stopped talking to you… stopped being your friend. Felt like I wasn’t cool or pretty enough… didn’t deserve you.”

Rodrick was extremely confused. You thought you were too good for him? He had to hold back a laugh.

He couldn’t conceal his smile, “Excuse me? Y/n, that must be the nyquil talking.” He rolled his eyes and brushed off your comment, contemplating the sentiment for a mere moment.

You eventually drifted off, unable to ward off sleep any longer.

When you woke up, you first noticed rodrick. He was sitting on his beaten up couch with his headphones covering his ears. You could hear the muffled baseline from your spot across the room.

How are his eardrums still intact?

Rodrick had a shoebox on his lap and he was shuffling through the contents, smiling to himself.

You cleared your throat, obtaining his attention.

“Oh, y/n! You’re up!” He smiled at you, ripping off his headphones.

You nodded slowly, knuckling your eyes sleepily.

“What time is it?”

Rodrick glanced at his watch, “It’s only 8:30.” You nodded again, continuing to rub the sleep from your eyes.

Rodrick stood, picking up the box and walking over to you. “Look,” he said softly. You peered down into the small shoebox and numerous photos and letters.

“This one here is my favorite,” he said quietly. It was a picture of you and Rodrick at the roller rink. You recognized the photo immediately.

“Seventh grade kick off,” you smiled. You took the box from his lap and began looking through each photo, braided friendship bracelet, concert ticket.

You laughed as each item brought back memories you had long forgotten.

You stopped at a photo of the two of you dressed up in ridiculous outfits. You wore a sequined hat and Rodrick held his drumsticks in hand.

“Was this when we saw Good Charlotte?” You asked.

He giggled, “It sure was. I remember thinking I looked so hot that night. Guess not huh.”

“What are you talking about, you looked incredible Rodrick. Seventh grade me was dying to jump you right then and there.”

His face lit up, “Really?”

“No,” you flashed him an expressionless look before breaking out into side-splitting laughter. He joined you.

You missed this feeling of pure, unadulterated joy. Rodrick was the only person who you had truly experienced that with.

You sighed to yourself. Come tomorrow, you’d be back to strangers. Tears welled up in your eyes and your lip quivered. Rodrick was oblivious until a single tear drop fell onto the photograph below you.

He immediately tried to comfort you. He placed an arm around your shoulder, dragging you into his larger frame. It caught you off guard but you allowed yourself to melt into his touch.

Rodrick distracted you from your sorrow. “Look at this one right here.” It was a photo of you and the Heffley Family in their backyard. You and Rodrick were around fifteen, if you remembered correctly.

“This was the day that I realized I had a big, fat crush on you.”

He followed up, “S’lame I know…”

Heat flooded your cheeks, this time the heat was not a result of your illness. Was it anxiety? Happiness? Both? You couldn’t decide.

“You never really explained why you stopped talking to me and coming by my house.”

You shrugged at him, feeling like your explanation would make him mad. “Well, Rodrick, you started getting new friends. Friends that were better than me or cooler than me.”

“Y/n that is probably the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. I could never replace you. To this day, nobody’s ever come close.”

He gave you a playful smack over the head.

“...anyways, to be honest that crush never really went away?”

Before you had time to process the sentence he was gently grabbing your chin, turning your head.

You were facing him now, your lips only inches away from his.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Y-yeah, yes, I think so, yeah.”

He laughed at you and leaned in slowly. Rodrick used one finger to gently move your hair out of your face.

The kiss was gentle and filled with emotion.

You felt like you hadn’t known what you were missing out on until that moment. You felt completed.

“Oh shit, I better not get sick!”

#rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick heffley #rodrick fanfiction #diary of a wimpy kid #rodrick

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novaiya · 3 years

Text

Diamonds & Rust Part II - Arthur x Reader (NSFW)

Part I

Summary: It’s been three years since that fateful night. Three years during which you couldn’t stop thinking about him. Now, the fate once again brought the two of you together. Was it for the last time, or was something else bound to happen?

Words: 8k

Warnings: Cheating, F!Reader, Smut

A/N: If you prefer to read this on AO3, click here. This took me two months to write LOL But in the end, I’m very pleased with how it turned out.

Your hand shook as you held the pen above the crisp, spotless paper. You took a deep breath, writing the date, but couldn’t proceed beyond that. You dropped the pen and planted your elbows on the table, hiding your face in your hands.

It’s been three years since you last saw each other. Three years since you were held in his hands and caressed by his lips. The time you shared on that cold, foggy night felt both lightyears and a touch away. You thought it to be a perfect, picturesque ending to your imperfect relationship, like a final scene in a play, but it seemed it was merely an intermission.

After a few moments of rest you wrote, “Dear Arthur” and spilled out the reason for your letter. Few nights ago, your ranch was attacked by a group of local cattle rustlers. Seeing how well your ranch was doing, they wanted their cut, and when you stood your ground, they were less than happy. They left you alone for the moment, but promised to be back in numbers, and that they were. Not a couple of days later, you were woken up in the middle of the night to the sound of gunshots and a fire outside your window. Like they promised, they were back and ready to take what they felt they were entitled to. You watched them take away your cattle and set fire to your barn as your husband hastily packed up your valuables, and not shortly after, you were on your wagon, bound for your mother-in-law’s house, barely escaping the flames and the bullets.

You signed off with your name and an address of where you were staying, and with fleeing hope, posted the letter the next day.

As you patiently awaited Arthur’s reply or an arrival, a curious elephant entered your household that neither you or your husband were ready to address. The woman that your husband knew you as was a kind, gentle woman who’s biggest crime was accidentally buying two gallons of milk and only paying for one. He never saw, or could imagine you carrying a weapon, and for all he knew, you didn’t know how to use one. The woman he saw during the attack, however, he did not know. She skillfully held the shotgun in her hands, dropped the slugs in without even looking and didn’t fall backwards when the recoil hit. She had a fire in her eyes that threatened to overpower the one outside, and for a second, even he, her husband, was afraid of her. Having been born to a simple family in which his mother was gentle and submissive, serving as a pliable partner to his father, he was shocked to see you so strong and hard. He was still deciding what he thought of this discovery of this new you, and during that time, you could feel him drift away.

You didn’t miss the change in him, how he eyed you from the corner of his eyes during dinner time, or the cold space between the two of you when you went to bed. It hurt and it stung and it made you long for Arthur’s arrival so much more. With him, there were no secrets you had to hide. You never went to bed with a fear that one day your facade would fall apart, and he would shriek at seeing the real you. From the beginning, he knew everything there was to know about you, and accepted it. What some would see as character flaws, he simply saw as character traits that made you who you were. With him, you could be you, something that you realized you couldn’t be with your husband. When the two of your married, you hoped that it would put a final nail in the coffin of your past self, but it seemed that your past self refused to die, and your husband shrieked at seeing the dead corpse.

__________________

“There’s a letter for you, Arthur,” said Miss Grimshaw as she passed Arthur who was hitching his horse to a hitching post.

He thanked her and made his way to his tent where an envelope laid on his cot.

“Let’s see,” he said to himself as he tore the envelope open and pulled out a piece of paper. As he read your name on the bottom of the paper, he felt a familiar pang that the thought of you always brought to him. He skimmed through the rest of the letter, plucking the main points as well as your address before shoving the paper in his satchel and making his way to the back of the wagon that served as a wall to his tent. He looked over a map that was there, calculating how long it would take to get to you. Eight hours, he thought, six if he cut on any unnecessary breaks and sleep. He once again made his way around the wagon and went to a chest at the end of his cot, picking out a pair of fresh clothes and other necessary items for the trip. He was doing everything on autopilot, for his mind was too clouded with the thoughts of you to pay attention to what his hands were doing. He remembered your last meeting, and how it opened so many old wounds and created even more new ones. In that moment, when the two of you held each other, whispered love confessions into the silent night, he felt as if he was on cloud nine, but when he left, the blow was just as strong.

When he finished packing, he looked around; Pearson and Abigail were busy chopping vegetables, with little Jack sitting at his mother’s feet. Dutch and Molly were in their tent, talking (arguing would be a better word). The girls were doing chores, with Miss Grimshaw watching over them and correcting their techniques. Most of the men were out on jobs, leaving only Javier standing at guard duty. Even though everyone had free rein to come and go whenever they pleased, Arthur especially, he didn’t want to be asked unnecessary questions, so he waited until Javier was on the other side of the perimeter to mount his horse and ride away to you.

__________________

As you sat at the dining room table of Bertha’s, your mother-in-law, house, you kept praying that Arthur got your letter and found it in himself to help you. You found yourself thinking that maybe it might’ve gotten lost, or perhaps the rain soaked the envelope and the letter to the point it had to be thrown away. With nothing to do but wait, you kept fidgeting with your dress as you sat by the table, only to promptly raise up when you heard the sound of the hoofbeats approach. You pushed the front door open with a smile as hopeful as that of a child, for it to only fall apart when you saw that it was your husband, coming back from a run to the town for provision. The change in your expression didn’t go unnoticed by him, but he didn’t say anything, and just kissed your cold cheek as he moved past you into the house.

“You still think he’ll come?” your husband asked one morning as he sat at the dining room table and you washed the dishes. It’s been about a week since you posted the letter, and Arthur still hasn’t come. You were beginning to lose hope, but didn’t show it.

“I’m sure,” you said, not turning away from the dishes in your hands. You told your husband that you knew someone who could help, and when he inquired who it might be, you told him it was a friend from your past life, someone who helped you get back on your feet after you lost your parents. That didn’t satisfy his curiosity, so he pried on. Answering his questions was like walking through a field full of landmines. Every answer had to be calculated, giving just enough information to satisfy his curiosity and not to lead to more questions. At the end of the conversation, you were hopeful that the newfound information you shared would bring you two back together, but in fact, it did the opposite, and he felt that there was even more he didn’t know about you.

As you washed the dishes, you looked through the window in front of you and felt thunder run through your entire being. You could never mistaken that mare for anyone else, with her unique coat and her silky locks; it was Boadicea, and with her, someone else you could never mistaken; Arthur. You watched him through the dirty kitchen window as he hitched Boadicea to a tree nearby and made his way to the house in strong, long strides. You dropped the dishes back into the sink with a splash and ran to the door, opening it as Arthur was about to knock.

“Arthur,” you said with a smile that lit up your whole face.

He could feel his heartbeat all over his body as he was met with your face. Your smile made your entire face glow, and he could see sparkles in your eyes as you looked at him. Knowing that he was the reason for your reaction, he could feel the familiar haze of feelings cloud his entire being.

He spoke your name in return, his voice enveloping each syllable with affection and tenderness that couldn’t be mistaken for anything else, and which your husband could hear from where he sat at a dining room table.

The two of you stood at the threshold for a brief moment, caught up in each other’s eyes and closeness. You fought the urge to embrace him, to kiss him and to tell him how much you missed him, and he did the same. Instead, you moved away and motioned for him to get inside. As he did so, he almost instantly met eyes with your husband, who rose up from his seat to greet the man.

“Roy Dorset,” your husband said as he extended his hand.

“Arthur Morgan.”

As you watched, the two men shared an awkward, silent handshake, during which you had a chance to compare and contrast the two of them. You certainly had a type, you though, as you looked at the men before you, both of them tall and handsome. There were, however, noticeable distinctions that differentiated them, and served as a representation of the person you were with each of them. Roy, being a part time rancher and a part time bookkeeper for a general store in your town, was dressed as a man about town with carefully ironed pants, clean shirt and a vest with all the buttons attached. He was a proper god-fearing, law-abiding man who had traditional standards for people, some of which you sometimes felt you couldn’t reach yourself.

Arthur, in contrast, was dressed haphazardly, wearing old, patched jeans, boots that have seen better days and a shirt that has clearly been washed many times over. By his look, you could tell Arthur didn’t care what others thought of him. He wore - and did - what he wanted, without a care for other people’s opinion. He didn’t hide himself behind anything, and that’s what you wished you could do now.

After a moment of pleasantries, the three of you sat at the dining room table to discuss the matter at hand. You sat at the head of the table, with Roy to your left and Arthur to your right. You and Roy explained what happened at the ranch, adding details that you forgot to write about in the letter. At some point as the three of you talked,

your daughter came up to the table. With her grandmother asleep and all of her toys left at home, she had nothing to do, so she decided to join you.

You hoisted her up to your lap and let her stay with you as you continued talking.

Despite the conversation still going, Arthur lost all attention as soon as he saw your daughter. What shocked him first was that you had a daughter in the first place, but what shocked him even more was how little the girl looked like your husband. While still trying to seem as he was listening, Arthur inconspicuously kept looking between your daughter and your husband. While Roy had dark, brown hair, the little girl in your lap had light, dirty blonde locks. Her eyes, which were traveling all over the room, looking for something to busy herself with, were a whirlpool of green and blue, while Roy’s, which at the moment were looking down on his lap, were a dull, brown shade. Suddenly, realization hit Arthur. He started to think back on your last encounter. Could it be? He tried to figure out how old the child was, and tried to remember the time of the year when the two of you were together. He could feel himself getting lightheaded as all the thoughts filled his mind, making him not hear his own name being called.

“Arthur,” you said once again when he didn’t answer you the first time. As if being pulled out from a dream, he looked around, suddenly forgetting where he was.

“I said, what do you think about the plan?” you said, looking at Arthur at the same time as the girl in your lap.

Arthur could feel all the eyes on him, and a color painted his face. He could faintly remember what you talked about a moment ago. Something about the best path to take back to the ranch, how dangerous the road might be with wolves roaming around. After a moment of pause, he returned with, “Sounds good to me,” and the conversation went on, with Arthur still barely paying attention.

_________________

You carefully slipped out of the covers, trying not to wake your husband up, before walking across the room on your tiptoes, opening the door and leaving the room. You couldn’t sleep. With Arthur’s proximity, you found yourself laying in bed with the thoughts of him. You tried to squash those pesky thoughts, turned from one side to the other in your bed as you kept telling yourself that you couldn’t, shouldn’t do it despite how much you wanted to. As you looked at your husband, his face illuminated by the light from the moon outside, you thought of doing to him what you did to Arthur all those years ago. You left Arthur for a search for a better, calmer and stable life, and now you want to leave that life to go back to Arthur.

You leaned against the kitchen counter as you poured yourself a glass of whiskey, looking out of the window into the world outside. With it being late fall, some trees have already shed their leaves, leaving once bushy woods stripped. You could see birds, once hidden from the prying eyes by the leaves now on full display on the branches. They were close enough that you could hear them sing, but not enough to understand what it is they were saying.

Suddenly, you heard the wood planks squeak behind you and smiled.

“Can’t sleep either?” you said without turning around.

“No,” Arthur replied as he went to stand next to you.

Without another word you took a shot glass and poured him one.

“Thank you for coming,” you said as you gave him the glass. “I was worried you wouldn’t.”

“‘Course I would,” he said before swinging back the shot.

At finally having a moment alone with him, you were fighting back the urge to spill everything that’s been on your mind, to ask every question and tell every answer that you’ve been holding for the past three years and for the past few hours that he’s been here. You decided it’s best to start off slowly.

“How have you been? How’s the gang?”

“Fine, I guess,” he said as he turned around to lean against the counter, crossing his hand on his chest. “Picked up a few people along the way. The gang’s twice its size now.”

You nodded at his answer.

“Seems you’ve had an addition too.”

The statement made heat rise to your face, and you swallowed down, nodding again.

“What’s her name?” he asked after a few moments of silence.

“Lily.”

“Beautiful name,” he said. “How old is she?”

“Three,” you said, knowing very well where this was going.

“Is she mine?” His voice was calm and reticent despite the fact that his mind was racing so fast he thought he was going to faint no matter what your answer was.

You closed your eyes, letting the weight of his question wash over you. The question that was lingering in the air since the moment your daughter was born, and that only became stronger when Arthur came today, was finally asked. To your own surprise, you felt yourself relax after a few seconds had passed. With the question being finally asked, you could feel the weight of it lifted from your shoulder.

“I don’t know,” you said, turning your head away

“What do you mean you don’t know?” he returned, somewhat exasperated.

“I don’t know, Arthur,” you repeated, your voice more stern, but still hushed as to not wake anyone up. “I don’t know.” You lowered your head before speaking again. “I don’t know. Roy and I were trying during that time.”

You held yourself in your hands, your head hanging low. About three years ago, Roy and you have been trying for months to get pregnant. Nothing was happening, until suddenly, it did. Roy was overjoyed, feeling that Isis has finally shined her light on the two of you. You, however, knew it took more than an Egyptian goddess of fertility to bring you to the situation at hand. Right away, you did the math, and despite how much you tried to tell yourself that the days could be a little bit off, the numbers didn’t lie. It only became more apartment when your daughter was born; within a few days, you could see traces of him in her; her light hair, her blue eyes. Even her lips and nose looked like his. She was a visual reminder, everyday, of what you and Arthur could have had.

“She looks like me, you know,” Arthur said, walking around to stand in front of you, his proximity making your heartbeat quicken like it always did.

“I know,” you said, your voice barely audible.

“What if she’s mine?”

You didn’t say anything, keeping your head low and your eyes focused on the ground until you felt his hand, soft and warm on your cheek, making you look up.

You felt enveloped in his love as you looked into his eyes. They were kind and inviting as he looked at you, and without saying anything, they offered shelter from all the worries of life.

His thumb traced your lower lip and you involuntarily opened your mouth, gasping. He stepped a little bit closer, pushing you against the counter with his body, making you feel all of him against you, the thin material of his union suit not leaving an inch of space between the two of you.

“I missed you,” he said.

He pressed his lips softly against yours, giving you a chance to slip away if you so desired to. You didn’t, waving your hands in his hair and bringing him closer instead, deepening the kiss. You hated yourself for not being stronger, for not resisting your inner desires. You hated how with just a touch, he had you under his control. His hands ran down your sides, following your curves from your chest over your waist and to your hips, stopping there. One of your hands reached out to touch his cheek, feeling a light stubble there (he went to you right away after finishing a mission, not having a chance to even shave) You remembered the night the two of you shared three years ago, how the feeling of his lips lingered on your for months after.

You wanted to get lost in the kiss, in him, but suddenly, a voice coming from the stairs pulled you out of your reverie, and the two of you broke apart as fast as you came together. You were slightly panting, both from the kiss and from the rush of anxiety at being caught. You looked up at the stairs from where the voice came, and after a few moments, two small feet came into the light, padding barefoot down the stairs.

“What are you doing here, sweetheart?” you said as you kneeled down to look at your daughter.

One of her hands held onto the arm of her stuffed bear, a friend who kept her company at night, while the other brushed the sleep out of her eyes, trying to stay awake long enough to talk to you. “Grandma’s snoring,” she drew before yawning.

You smiled, ruffling her blonde locks a bit before saying, “Well, you can sleep with daddy and me tonight then.”

Arthur stood a few feet away, watching the two of you without saying a word. He could feel resentment bubbling in him at your husband, and at the same time, himself. Despite how much he wanted to put all the blame on Roy (for “stealing” you), he realized that the only person he had to blame was himself. If he wasn’t so stupid all those years ago, if he just took your hand and let you lead him out of the outlaw life, this - a life with a house, a daughter and you as his wife - could’ve all been his. “Darlin’, right now ain’t a good time,” he would say when you would press him about finally making your escape. “We need more money if we wanna start on our own” would be another of his excuses. Truth be told, as much as he wanted to start a fresh, new life with you, he was afraid. Outlaw life was everything he’d ever known. He was raised and became the man he was today in it. He was terrified that out there, in the world of law and order, in which one woke up in the morning to start a day of work, and had proper suppers at the table with their family, he wouldn’t survive.

The sound of Lily’s voice, calling for him, pulled him out of his thoughts. Her clear, blue eyes, looked up at him as she asked him if he was her mother’s friend. You turned around to look at Arthur, and after a few seconds he said, “Yeah, I am. Something like that.” She smiled in return, calmed at knowing that the strange, big man was not a stranger at all but a friend. As you picked her up, ready to take her to bed, she introduced herself to Arthur, and asked him what his name was. He introduced himself, and in return, she said, “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Arthur.” You didn’t know why, but at seeing the scene play out, you could feel tears well up in your eyes. It could’ve all been so different, you thought. The three of you were so close at being a family, practically looked like one right now. You took a shaky breath, trying to calm yourself down before murmuring that it’s already too late, and walking over to your bedroom door with your daughter in your hands. You stopped at the door for a second, fumbling with the door knob. Arthur watched your back as you stood, your daughter’s head peeking from behind your shoulder, before you turned the knob and disappeared into the room.

He stood in the dark, empty dining room for a few more minutes, going over the scene that just unfolded a million times. He could feel the weight of everything crushing him down, breaking his bones and turning them into dust. He leaned heavily against the kitchen counter, shaking his head.

“Idiot,” he said to himself before taking the bottle of whiskey and pouring himself another shot.

______________

The sound of birds singing outside accompanied you as you woke up. It was still early and no one was up yet, so you got ready without any hurry before going into the kitchen to prepare breakfast. Not a while later, Bertha joined you in the kitchen, and the two of you had everything ready right as the men came to take their seats at the table.

You kept quiet as you ate breakfast, with Arthur sitting across from you, Lily next to him, and Roy next to you. Bertha, being the kind host that she was, something that she got used to from the years of marriage to an army Sergeant, couldn’t sit still and continued to check up on everybody, pouring coffee even when the cups were halfway full and making sure there were no empty plates on the table. It was only when Roy said, “Enough, mother” did she take a seat at the head of the table and started her own meal.

As you ate your breakfast, Roy and Arthur talked, discussing once again the best route to take back to the ranch. Despite not planning on going himself, Roy still wanted to make sure his opinion on the matter was considered and suggested the main road, which although would take longer, was safer from wild animals and any “savage outlaws that roamed the plains.” Arthur snickered at his choice of words, and noted that if he wanted to “come back to a ranch and not heap of ash, a shortcut is a better option.” Roy didn’t reply anything and turned back to his meal.

As Bertha sipped on her coffee, she turned to face you and asked, “Are you going too?”

“No,” both Roy and Arthur said in unison, and “Yes,” said you.

An awkward silence fell over as the three of you looked between each other. You could feel the men eyeing you in bafflement, Roy especially, but you looked at Arthur and spoke to him first.

“What do you mean, ‘no’?” you said, disbelief painted all over your face.

Arthur shook his head, looking away and furrowing his brows.

“You’re not coming, it’s too dangerous,” he said, turning back to face you.

You let out a small chuckle before saying, “We’ve faced far more dangerous things than some puny cattle rustlers.”

Arthur dropped his fork and knife on the table with a loud thud and said, “You have a daughter now, I ain’t gonna let you put yourself in harm's way.”

“But you’re gonna let yourself get in harm's way?” you returned, tilting your head and squinting your eyes at him.

“They know who you are, they don’t know me,” he said, the volume of his voice long past what was appropriate for a breakfast conversation. “I can get in and out and they won’t know what hit em”

“And do you expect me to just sit patiently and wait?” you said, throwing your hands around. “What if something goes wrong? What if they’re more dangerous than we thought? Am I supposed to just wait till someone brings in your body?” Your words began to tangle in each other, becoming almost incoherent as you spoke faster than your mind could process. They, however, were cut short as Arthur shouted your name and hit his palm down on the table, making a glass of water spill.

Finally, the silence fell over the dining room once again and the only thing that could be heard were drops of water hitting the floor. Both Bertha and Roy sat wearing similar expressions, their mouths hanging open, eyes wide at what they just saw and heard. They felt like spectators, watching a play unfold before their eyes.

As you tried to calm yourself down, you remembered how back when you were in the gang, the two of you almost never went on missions without each other. At first, it bothered Dutch that if he wanted to send you on a mission, Arthur was bound to come along (and vice versa), but soon, he came to accept that the two of you were a package deal. He even took a notice that the jobs went smoother when the two of you were together, evident by the fact that you would get the job done quicker, and your gains were higher than those that Arthur and you brought when you went separately.

“You know I can’t let you go alone, Arthur,” you said after some time.

As if riding down the same memory lane you just did, he sighted and shook his head.

“I know,” he said before getting up from the table and going over to the room where he stayed.

Slightly shaken up from the intense display that took place, Bertha got up from the table, and without a word started cleaning up, taking empty plates and cups and putting them in the sink. You sat with your eyes closed, taking deep breaths, and bracing yourself for what was to come. You could already feel Roy open his mouth, could already hear his voice…

Arthur was haphazardly throwing his stuff in his bag, crumpling his shirts and pants into balls and pushing them into his bag as if the clothes themselves were at fault for his mood. He remembered how much fun the two of you had when you went on the jobs together. How the sight of blood and the smell of gunpowder did nothing more than excite you. A smile broke through his solemn face at the memory. But now, he thought, it was different. Not only had it been years since you were in the line of fire, but you now had a child. Your life has changed, you got away, broke free from the never ending nightmare in which one has to always look behind their back and sleep with one eye open and a gun under their pillow. He didn’t want you back into that kind of life, if it could even be called that. Deep in his mind, however, he knew it wasn’t for him to decide.

He ran a hand through his hair, leaning over a dresser and closing his eyes. He could’ve probably plunged deeper into his thoughts, but a sound of hushed tones outside got his attention, and he straightened up, inching closer to the door and pressed his ear against it.

“I was okay with your past, but this is pushing it,” Roy said.

“Is my past pushing it?”

“Your past is in the guest bedroom, getting dressed.”

Your shoulders slumped as a heavy sigh left your lips. You and Roy have been bickering for the past five minutes. Truth be told, the bickering has been going on for the past few days, but only now has it culminated. The tension that he felt between you and Arthur just a few minutes ago drove him over the edge - the edge to which he came from seeing you hold a gun, hearing more about your past and now, seeing Arthur - and he found himself not being able to hold his thoughts and feelings in any longer. Just like it always happened with couples who started arguing about one thing, only to move on to a completely unrelated one, you both got defensive. The conversation was fruitless. Nothing of the matter was discussed, no solution was reached and everyone was left thinking the other was in the wrong, leaving the two of you sitting next to each other like strangers in a train station, waiting for the next train.

“I’m doing this for us, Roy,” you said.

“You’re doing this for yourself,” he spit out before adding, a little bit softer, “You’ve changed a lot in these couple of weeks. I feel like I don’t know who you are anymore.”

You felt yourself detach from the world upon hearing his words. You could faintly hear him continue talking, referencing the relationship between his mother and father, and how the former always consulted her husband before any major decision, but you were not listening. You smiled weakly to yourself at the irony that upon showing him the real you, with all your past and your secrets, he said he didn’t know you anymore. Didn’t know, or he didn’t want to, you thought. Your mind instantly went back to Arthur, like it often tended to these past few days, and you thought of how from the beginning, he knew who you were, and without a word, accepted and loved you.

“You ready?”

Arthur’s voice pulled you out of your mind, and stopped Roy in his speech. You looked at Arthur, and then at Roy. For the first time since you got married, you didn’t feel anything when looking into your husband's eyes. You could see him plead, silently, for you not to go.

Without saying a word, you got up from your chair and went to your room to get

ready.

_________________

You turned your head around to watch your husband stand on the porch as you and Arthur roared off to your destination. You wondered what he thought as his figure grew smaller and smaller till he completely disappeared behind the trees. You turned back forward, spurring your horse.

The feeling of being back on a horse, with an iron on your hip and wind in your hair was exhilarating. You could feel life flow through your veins as you held the reins. Through clear plains, mountains and forests, the two of you rode non-stop for a few hours. There was not a single person on your way, only occasional elks, deers, and raccoons accompanying you on the journey. For a moment, you felt like you were once again an outlaw. All of this felt so familiar; you and Arthur, adrenaline in your veins, dirt road ahead. For a moment, you caught yourself thinking that if it weren’t for your daughter back home, you simply would’ve kept riding on.

As you kept going, the sun slowly began to set, painting the road in front of you in orange.

“Let’s make camp,” Arthur said when the sun completely disappeared, and the night loomed over.

As you found a secluded space in the woods, the two of you fell into a long-established routine, with you going out to get some firewood and Arthur hunting a rabbit for the two of you to eat. The night might’ve been a bit chilly, but with the campfire next to you and the rum Arthur found in his satchel, the two of you were nice and warm as you enjoyed food, drinks and conversations that piled up from years apart.

Your combined laughs could be heard all throughout the forest as Arthur told you about the latest predicament that John got himself into, and which he of course had to save him from. Sounds like John, you thought. You couldn’t tell how many times you and Arthur were sent to rescue him from some sort of trouble. Being the youngest, John always felt that he had to prove something to someone, which in the end, only proved that he was still the baby of the gang (despite at that point being a full grown adult).

Gradually, the laughter died down, but the smile still lingered on your lips.

“What are you so happy about?” Arthur said.

You looked into the fire, watching the flames dance and reach towards the sky, as you answered. “It’s been so long since I felt so at ease, so free…” you said.“I just-I’m real happy being here.”

Arthur hummed at your answer before saying, “Ranch life ain’t cutting it for you no more?”

“A woman can only shovel shit for so long,” you said, making Arthur chuckle. You took another swig of the rum before passing it to Arthur.

“I took this all for granted when we was together,” you said, looking around, “the freedom, the nature, the road. And now when I don’t have it, I crave it.”

You looked up, catching Arthur’s gaze and holding it as you continued.

“I find myself so often thinking about the past,” you said and added, a little lower, “about you, how much I miss it all.”

Arthur could already feel the effect of your words on him, could already feel the intensity with which his heart beat faster. Hearing you say those words, sparked a flame in him. Only a few seconds passed before you continued speaking, but it was enough for Arthur to imagine, for a brief moment, a future with the two of you together. Could it be possible? Did he still have a chance at the happy ever after? He always was a firm believer that you can’t expect good things to happen to you while doing bad things, but in that instance, he allowed himself to believe that something good could happen.

“Oh, Arthur,” you said, shaking your head, “I think I made a mistake all those years ago.”

The camp was silent except for the crackling of fire as your words hung in the air. Unlike a few years ago, you didn’t backtrack on your words, didn’t feel embarrassed by them. You meant every syllable and every letter. As much as you adored your current life, with your cows and your ranch, you found yourself thinking more often that you weren’t meant for it. You were tired of playing the role of the doting housewife, a rancher, shoveling shit and milking cows. The real you was out there, among the horses and the gun smoke. The thought only got stronger the closer you were to Arthur, and now that you were sitting next to each other, your thighs almost touching together, it reached its pinnacle.

No more words needed to be said as you held Arthur’s gaze. Everything has been said years ago. You stood up and got into his lap, draping your hands over his shoulders while his instantly went for your hips. The two of you stayed like this for a moment, admiring each other under the moonlight. You were conscious of nothing except the feeling of each other’s bodies against one another. Finally you moved your head closer, brushing your lips against his. You could feel his breath on your lips, the rum that the two of you drank still fresh on them. He closed his eyes, already leaning forward towards you.

His hands tightened on your hips when you pressed your lips against his, slow and gentle like you always were. The two of you quickly found a comfortable pace, your lips moving against each other in a perfect flow, your tongues brushing against one another every once in a while. Instinctively, you started to move your hips against his, searching for that delicious feeling you were craving. Arthur wasn’t holding back either, moving his hips in tandem with yours, brushing his clothed erection over your center. His hands left your hips, moving to your blouse and unbuttoning it, revealing your naked chest.

You helped him completely remove your blouse, throwing it into direction unknown. As soon as it was away, his mouth was on your skin, starting at your neck and moving down to your chest.

“Arthur,” you moaned when his tongue circled your nipple. You tangled your fingers in his hair, gently massaging his scalp and pushing your chest closer to his mouth. You could feel his beard scraping at your chest, adding a slight burn that only heightened your pleasures. One of his hands started palming your other breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers and making you throw your head back, moaning into the night.

He started going up your neck once again, leaving light nips and kisses from your chest, up your collarbone and neck, reaching to your ear. He kissed behind your ear while one of his hands was palming your breast, sending jolts of pleasure all through your being.

“Darlin’,” he said, kissing over your jaw and cheek, “I ain’t never lettin’ you go again.”

When it came to words, Arthur’s were always simple. He didn’t use any extraordinary vocabulary or elaborate euphemism. He always said what he meant, and his words always came from his heart. Hearing him utter this promise now, which held a vision of the future so beautiful you could hardly imagine it, made you teeter on the verge of crying tears of joy. You crashed your lips against his, not knowing any other way to express the sheer mix of love, lust and longing you were feeling.

Neither of you could wait much longer and you untangled yourself from each other, standing up and starting to remove each other's clothes. He helped you unbuckle your belt and throw it aside while you unbuttoned his shirt. His lips were back on yours as he helped you pull his shirt away and went to work on the buttons of your pants. Before long, the little camp you set up was littered with your combined clothes, leaving you in just your drawers and Arthur in his union suit.

It was a beautiful night, with a sky so clear that the amount of stars around was inestimable. You, however, didn’t pay any attention to them, keeping your eyes on Arthur as you slowly pulled down your drawers, letting them fall to the ground. His breathing became haggard as he took in your naked form, flushed in pink from the campfire next to you. He's seen you naked before countless times, yet the sight of our body never stopped to take his breath away. His breathing was caught in his throat as he watched your every movement, following your hands as they reached out to the buttons of his union suit.

You could see the reflection of the fire in his eyes as you stood in front of him, popping button after button of his union suit, revealing his tan skin. Once the last button was open, he helped you take his union suit off, leaving the two of you naked to each other.

He took your hand in his and helped you down to the bedroll, covering your body with his. With the campfire next to you, and Arthur’s body covering yours, you felt warm and safe, protected from any and every thing the world could throw at you. One of his hands reached out, cradling your face.

You placed your hand on his chest, running it up to his head and tangling it in his hair, bringing him down and pressing your lips against his. The kiss was as fiery and as hot as the fire you were laying next to, and in that moment, you realized that you never fell as alive as when you were with Arthur. “Resist it, and your soul grows sick with longing for things it has forbidden to itself,” you remembered a quote from the book you were reading a few weeks ago, and realized you were tired of resisting. You didn’t know what tomorrow had in store for you, but right now, you had Arthur and that’s all that mattered.

Breaking the kiss, he looked you in the eyes and said, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You didn’t even have to think to answer. Your answer came so quick it almost sounded as if the two of you talked at the same time.

The lopsided smile that appeared on Arthur’s lips at your words was so genuine and innocent, it made you smile in return. You made sure to burn the image of it in your memory, just like all the others you got throughs the years when the two of you said, “I love you”.

He settled comfortably between your spread legs and took a hold of his member before slowly pushing in.

“Arthur,” you moaned his name, clawing at his back when he bottomed out. You were practically dripping with how wet you were, yet his girth still gave you that delicious feeling of being stretched.

He kept still for a few moments, letting you get used to him all while whispering praises in your ear and kissing down your neck. When you felt you were ready, you moved your hips.

As if in a dream, silhouetted by the trees, the two of you made love under the starry night sky. The erotic novels would be envious of the passion the two of your shared; your bodies, sweaty, moving against each other in a perfect rhythm, your hands and legs, entangled in each other, your moans and sighs, unbounded, sounding in an empty forest. You were so lost in each other, you didn’t care if anyone heard you, the existence of other people didn’t register to you. The world was only as big as your camp, and the only people in it were the two of you.

You could feel yourself near the peak, could feel your legs twitch each time Arthur hit that delicious spot in you. He could feel it too, with how your walls were squeezing him tighter, and how your eyes were rolling to the back of your head each time he pushed in you. He wasn’t far behind either. One of his hands reached between the two of you, finding your clit and teasing it. It was as if an electric current shot through you; all your energy centered on where Arthur was touching you. You dug your nails into Arthur’s back, holding on to him as you breathed his name into his ear.

“Come on, darlin’,” he whispered in your ear, “let me feel you.”

As if hearing his voice was the last piece you needed to fall apart, you did. You saw white for a few moments as the immense pleasure took over your body, igniting every last nerve in you to life. You kept your body moving against his, your primal urges making you chase every last bit of pleasure you could get.

The sight of you so lost in lust, your face contoured from the pleasure you were feeling pulled Arthur overboard, and he came a few moments later, spilling in you and warming your walls with his seed.

The two of you stayed like this for a few more minutes, entangled in each other, whispering “I love you”s as you showered each other with kisses, from neck, to cheeks, to forehead and lips.

In the end, the two of you moved to the tent, draping a blanket over your bodies and holding onto each other. As the night went on, the tent filled with your combined dreams and hopes for the future. For the first time since the two of you got together, Arthur seriously discussed the possibility of leaving the gang so the three of you (You, Arthur and your daughter) could run away somewhere. You listened to him with your mouth open, not daring to make a single noise in fear of missing even a word he said. Could it be possible, you thought. Could you finally have the perfect ever after you’ve always dreamt of with Arthur? By the tone of his voice and how deeply in details he went as he planned the possible escape, you realized that your new life was right around the corner.

Despite the exhilarating conversation you were having, the two of you remembered you still had to wake up early tomorrow to make it to the ranch in time (the final loose end you had to tie before you were free). Reluctantly, you brought the conversation to a close - hopefully to be picked up again later - and fell asleep in each other’s arms.

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theringers · 3 years

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V-card anon: hi sorry about that first ask i kinda went into a fugue state (spelling?) altered state of reality maybe when i wrote that and damn near outlined a fic in your inbox

The way we played hot seat was either part of a larger drinking game when a certain card was pulled from a deck, or just on it's own. You sit in a circle, everyone has a drink, usually a beer or cider. In the card pull version, the one who pulls the card gets asked a question by every person playing and if they refuse to answer they drink from their drink. In the standalone, you do that but everyone gets a turn being asked until people get bored and leave. Fun way to find out shit about people. Usually the unwritten rule is that you can't lie. I imagine everyone sitting on shitty chouches and chairs in a semi circle around a table full of cups and bottles playing it

Questions i have been asked: are you a top or bottom? Do you like anal? Wheres the weirdest place you've fucked? Body count? Favorite position (sexual)? Fuck marry kill/ignore people in this room (EVERY TIME I PLAYED I GOT THIS QUESTION)? Tits or ass or other? Favorite non sexual body part ex. Thigh? Ideal fuck buddy? Sex regrets? Etc

Also more weird details i have head cannoned out for some drivers and most likely does not fit with irl personalities, do with this what you will, use it or don't i just have feelings. Also everyone is like compressed in age to like 20-27ish except for some of the grid who i will just think of as younger alumns who come back:

Danny R: social chair, owns a jeep he takes the doors off of in the summer, walks girls home at night to make sure they're ok, tries to DJ house events and is rebuffed by literally everyone, has like 30 pairs of vans you trip over in his room, stolen roadsigns everywhere, masters in something arigcultural or physiological, cutoff frat shirts for days, fuckboy but nice, a bit cringe, will drive around with you at night so you can scream, met reader bc she had a band tee on and wanted to talk to her about it (no gatekeeping)

Charles: some kind of engineering or math degree but no one has any idea how the fuck he's gotten so far, 4.0 never studies, games with other house members, will show up at events randomly you will have no idea how he gets on your couch but he is there, the best and worst taste in clothes, is the only one allowed to play the piano in the house, sweet, cannot help you with studies but is always down for helping you out after, has to be reminded to clean stuff, disaster bi, reader met his gf first and they probably met through that

Pierre: good fashion and music taste, shirt is gone halfway through the night, also fuckboy but wholesome, actually studies, plays a sport for sure probably soccer in some way either club or Division he's too good for rec, will hold your hair back so you can throw up, will tell you your outfit sucks, good at math, also part of the squad that games, econ major, workout buddies with reader anday have taken a math class together

Max: is part of the hockey team he will go pro, also actually studies, got into gaming because of Charles, has the nicest car, is serious until he gets a couple drinks in him, he and Daniel are close and roomed together at some point, owns like 30 sets of the same outfit a white tee and jeans, knows reader through Dan and they get dragged by him to some of the same stuff

Lando: is a pledge or new member his big is Carlos, undeclared major, just happy to be here, gaming squad, used to play lacrosse or something equally obscure, king of knowing where the good snacks are, weirdly good at beer pong, growing into a fuckboy wholesomeness level tbd, probably sweet with reader as she helped him through a blackout or something, met her because she's basically house mom for some of the new boys (the kind of mom who will teach you to do laundry or iron ONCE)

Carlos: hockey flow but does not play hockey, actually studies and is smarter than what people give him credit for, came from a private high school and uni really opened his horizons, also good study buddy, gets along with most people, goes to office hours the most out of the actually studies gang, fun at parties, owns the frat dogs, he and reader met at Office hours (they were the only students) and found they had mutual friends too

Lewis: is/was president of frat, great grades greater bod, did full evolution from fuckboy to good man, has the back tests and the moral support, up for late noght talks about life, definitely was a D1 athlete, best fashion game, implemented no hazing policy, fits into notable alum or PhD category

Mick: undergrad like Lando, also plays soccer or something, too sweet, also walks girls home/holds your hair back etc, cleans parts of the house that aren't his responsibility, higher alcohol tolerance than you expect, everyone is bizarrely protective of him, legacy member (his dad was a legend), drives a motorbike around campus and can't decide between law and psychology, actually studies, met reader through the frat and she would die for him, brings her to class on the bike sometimes because the bike is faster

George: business major, frat treasurer, three ring binder business casual in class kind of guy, nice enough, shirt comes off when drunk, runs marathons and a podcast about investments, best notes in the game and great study partner, actually studies, is drinking monster at 6AM but not because he stayed up late, he and reader met through the frat and sometimes drink wine and bitch together

Lance: hockey player, legacy member, studies sometimes, sarcasm on point, great at stack cup, very chill, knows every good nap spot on campus, also has high alcohol tolerance, is the kind of person who does well in the cold but does not like it, wears headphones so people don't talk to him, great one on one but not in crowds, business major and minor in computer science, probably also met thru Lance's gf but vibe as more introverted people and will cover for each other if one does not want to go out

Nicky: a good boy, part of the walks people home squad, sets up designated drivers for parties, good snack game, future in medical field, good listener, pretty good study buddy, midnight snack enabler, met reader through frat and his gf he and reader are on babysitting duty together sometimes when others get too drunk/high

Yuki: also a pledge or new, majoring in games or computer science as they gave me the same energy as him, games squad, bit of a mad lad, has several stolen street signs, good, met reader through frat and Yuki is the only one patient enough to explain some games to reader, they cuss people out on mic

Esteban: good man, has a full ride scholarship, actually studies, also good study buddy, Dan's little, plays soccer but maybe on a rec team because he prioritizes school, very sweet guy as well, probably chose a really practical major/dual major, met reader through Dan and are also dragged similar places by him

Antonio: manbun, philosophy or classics major possibly business dual, generally good natured but can be seen supplying his own wine at parties, used to be really into metal but kept the hair, does not know that people find him attractive, soccer boi, met reader through frat and she's the only one who will (pretend) to listen to him rant about philosophy

Alex Albon: another full scholarship guy, somehow gets along with everyone, switched majors due to an asshole professor, electrical engineering or computer engineering, actually studies, helps with frat pets,will show you pictures of his cats at home, sweetie, another contender for will hold your hair or walk you home, probably met reader through a class or club and found they had mutual friends and that reader is friends with his gf

Notable alums:

Checo - dad, successful in finance somehow (he looks like an really successful accountant of CFO to me idk why)

Kimi - dad but people forget he is, holds the record for most drinks in 24 hours that will never be come close to by anyone else, shows up on random alum weekends with 2 kegs, legally cannot tell you what he does or he would actually have to murder you

Valterri - was good at a sport when he was there, now a very effective lead engineer at an architectural firm

Seb - environmental or mechanical engineering, all around good guy with someone the best grades in frat history

Alonso - legendary for sexual exploits (consensual)

Anyone I put as actually studies is probably the type reader would hang around for more serious stuff/schoolwork and would probably be closer to, with the exception of Dan bc I feel like he'd be like we're friends now :)) we shall hang or Charles bc he will just show up. I also imagine she has a pretty good friendship with any existing gf, however if a driver does have a gf and he is the love interest sorry bb girl u gotta go for the purposes of this fic

Sorry this is so long hahaaaaaaa glad you liked my Charles thoughts ilu

i honestly wasn’t going to share this like the rest of the anon asks i’ve gotten that i keep close to my heart but this was just too good to keep to myself.

LOOK! AT! THIS!

f1 drivers as frat bros/college students headcannon

i’m writing a series - each “chapter” will be a smut with a different frat bro and i’m hoping to post a sneak peek this week some time but here’s something to hold you over and give you some ideas

to my vcard anon - i appreciate this so much. my inbox is always open for ur thoughts bc they are SO GOOD !! can’t wait for you to read the first part of the series bby

PS if some of this doesn’t make sense to u feel free to send in asks (i know a lot of this is focused on american college culture so if u don’t get it i’m happy to explain)

#f1 smut asks #headcanons #f1 imagines #vcard anon #f1 blurb #f1 headcanon #f1 as frat bros

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eclipsedpascal · 3 years

Text

Fucking your stress away

Duncan Shepherd x female reader

You surprised a stressed out duncan when you stopped by his office for lunch, but there was a different type of hunger you needed to satisfy.

Warnings: daddy kink, degrading, mocking, hair pulling, unprotected sex, cockwarming, slightly public sex (they’re in an office) anddd sex being overheard by others.

hi!! i have another duncan fic i’ve been working on that’s like 8k long so far, but I’ve not been able to add anything new to it for the past week without criticising myself too much:/ meaning the random burst of inspiration i received last night was directed into this quick thing instead:)

word count: 2k

••••••••

The soft clicking of Duncan’s finger tips tapping across his computer keyboard filled the silence of his spacious office. You were sat, skirt pulled up over your hips as you perched on his lap with his cock seated deep inside of your cunt.

You had visited him for lunch, wanting to surprise him at work. You hoped it might ease some of the stress he had been under the past few weeks.

Just last night, the two of you had spent hours lying in bed together, limbs tangled and intwined whilst he ranted onto you about how tedious his time at the office had become recently. With his uncle bill constantly nagging on and on about how he thought their app would be best utilised, he had been under a lot of pressure.

You knew Duncan loved his work, but sometimes he simply refused to let himself rest, telling himself he just couldn't until his work was completed. So here you were, making sure he received a much needed break.

“Ah ah, no fidgeting, sweetheart.” He mindlessly grazed his hand over your thigh, reminding you of his previous requests whilst reading what you assumed to be an email.

Of course, it had been his idea for you to cockwarm him, it not being the first thought of yours when considering how to best help him relax. But you definitely weren’t going to complain.

When he first suggested it, you had been sitting in his lap with your legs dangling over his own, the both of you conversing about how your day had gone so far as you ate lunch together. But with the way he kept looking into your eyes and stroking his fingers through your hair so sensually, you just couldn't help but wiggle and grind your ass down onto his crotch a little, hoping he might give you something more.

No matter how long the two of you had been together, Duncan had always seemed to know exactly which buttons he had to press for you to melt in his hands, which made convincing you to do this far easer on his part.

He told you if you just sat on his cock, stayed motionless and silent until he had finished going through the emails he had received before midday, he would give you that something more that you were wanting.

So you had been sat here for what felt like hours now, through realistically, it was probably only about 20 minutes, going unsatisfied for so long was dragging every second out into an eternity. I mean you didn’t mind too much, knowing this was what he needed right now; but still, even the slightest bit of movement from him would have been appreciated.

“Mhhm but Dunnnc! You said you wouldn’t be too long!” you pouted, throwing your head back against his shoulder in a strop, your breathe tickling his stubbled cheek as you whined to him.

“I still have a few more emails to reply to yet Y/N, be patient.” His indifference and calmness almost annoyed you, not really understanding how he could possibly control himself this well within your current shared predicament.

“Fine.” you sighed, resting your forehead against the side of his face so you could wait for him to finish a little more comfortably.

You watched as he wrote out each email, secretly admiring how dedicated he was to his work even when it was causing him so much distress.

You could see him thinking, his lips all scrunched up like a rosebud, they always did that when he was concentrated. You adored it.

“Fucking Bill, he can never just make things easy.” He murmured to himself, massaging his forehead and shifting slightly in his seat, the fiction of it causing a small mewl to fall from your lips.

He chuckled. “Quiet, little one.”

“Mm sorry, daddy. You’re just taking so long and I really reallyyy want you.” You rolled your hips as you spoke, feeling his shaft pressing up into cervix even more that before, and sent him the best puppy dog eyes you could muster.

You couldn’t wait for him any longer, this need fuelled haze had taken over your mind completely.

A low growl sounded from deep in his chest as he grabbed onto your hips, turning his head to shoot daggers into your eyes from his own. “All I asked was that you be patient, Y/N. But you can't even do that, can you?” He lifted your hips up before slamming them back down onto his own.

“Ahhh!-” Digging your nails into the edge of his desk as to steady yourself, you bite down onto your lip, not wanting Duncan’s receptionist to hear anything of what the two of you were up to.

“Well I suppose you have been waiting for 30 minutes now, maybe i’m being unfair on you.” He quietly questioned himself, his hands sliding up to play with the dip of your waist.

“Please, Duncan. Please” You begged him now, coaxing him to fuck you like he had promised.

Taking a hold of your hair, he pulled your head to the side and began to kiss and suckle on the exposed skin of your neck. He thrust up into you again, letting a strangled moan escape his throat.

Though he wouldn't admit it, Duncan had been struggling to keep himself composed just as much as you had. Picturing how beautifully fucked out you would look pressed up against his desk with his cock slamming in and out of you wasn't an easy thought for him to dismiss.

“You know, I do love it when you beg, sweetheart.” He lifted you up again, pushing you forward just enough that he could begin his assault on your cunt.

“Fuck!” He thrusted himself into you, drawing back slowly and watching his thick cock slip out of your folds almost completely, before forcing it back in and setting his rocky pace.

You couldn't hold in your moans, too caught up in the stream of pleasure gushing onto you to stop yourself from screaming. He pulled the chair out slightly, your arms becoming outstretched as to not let yourself loose the balance you had on his desk whilst staying firmly on his lap.

Every hit against your cervix made you cry out, the tears brimming in your eyes threatening to spill with every movement he made.

The two of you did this all the time. Fucking in his office. But usually it would consist of you lazily riding him, your sweaty body bouncing on top of his own and your lips caressing each others as you breathed one another in, but this? This was something else entirely.

All of the stress that had amounted from having to run gardener analytics with his family’s constant nagging the past few weeks, was now being channeled into railing you. Your soft cries did nothing to deter the speed at which he was pumping himself into you.

His desk’s phone started ringing, making you jump at thought of him answering right then, but he never did. His pace not faltering, he didn’t even bother checking who it was calling, far too focused on the euphoria your tight heat was giving him.

“Such a slut. Coming to see daddy at work just so he could ruin this sweet little cunt of yours, didn’t you?” He belittled you, his words only serving to turn you on more.

“Yes I- I want you to.. ahhh!” He stopped hammering into you momentarily, raising himself upwards until hips were pushed flush against your ass, making you take every inch of him. “I want you to ruin me daddy!!”

“That’s right baby.” He continued moving, his hands still attached to your hips as he fucked into you with full force.

His fingers were going to leave bruises, that much you were sure of, but getting to hear all of his grunts and groans whilst he got himself off using you was definitely worth it.

Amongst the sound of skin slapping and your delicate cries, you heard two knocks at the door. Duncan ceased his pounding, pulling you back to sit on his lap properly and adjusting your skirt as he waited to hear further from the knocking’s perpetrator.

“Uhm, Mr Shepherd?” A muffled voice came from the other side of the door. It was Duncans new assistant, Alex. He must have heard the two of you.

“What is it Alex? I’m busy.” You both waited in silence, praying Alex didn’t decide to come in.

“Uh Seth- Seth Greyson is on the line for you, he says it's important.” He sounded hesitant, and you knew that he would usually enter the room to give Duncan that kind of information. Meaning he had definitely heard you.

“Then tell him he'll just have to wait.” Duncan shouted now, clearly just wanting to get back to fucking you, and upon hearing the pitter patter of Alex’s footsteps as he walked away, that’s exactly what he did.

though his thrusts were sloppier now, almost uncaring as he snaked his hand over your thigh to flick your clit seemingly as fast as he could.

“Almost got caught there didn’t we, sweetheart?” He scoffed, His voice gruff, breathy and punctuated by his thrusts.

“And wouldn't that have been something.” You quipped back, finding relief in not being walked in on.

Your words were quickly followed by a scream, getting closer to finishing.

The motion of his finger circling against your clit was going straight to your stomach, creating a pressure so intense you knew you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from cumming even if you tried.

“Mhm daddy.. i’m gonna cum!!” You did your best to warn him, knowing it wouldn't be long now until you came, but luckily he didn't seem too far away either. His speed had picked up even more somehow, and his moaning had grown louder and more erratic.

“Yeah are you gonna cum baby? Gonna cum all over daddy’s fucking cock?” He yelled out, obviously not caring if Alex, or anyone else for that matter, could hear you; Neither of you did now. So washed up with your own release’s that nothing else mattered.

“Yes daddy.. ahhh i’m cumming!!” Your legs began to tremble upon letting go, your walls clenching around Duncan and pushing him over the edge.

“Aghh fuck Y/N!” He shot his hot ropes of seed into you, crashing his hips to a still whilst he caught his breathe and gently pulled you back down to sit on his softening cock.

Resting your head on his shoulder once more, you stared across the room, feeling the warmth of his flushed skin on yours, considering the act the two of you had just partaken in.

“So that what definitely something” you smiled and stood up, pulling your panties back up your legs and fixing your skirt as you watched Duncan thread his belt back through the loops of his pants.

“Hm. I just hope Alex can look me in the eye after this” he chuckled, thinking of how awkward the poor man must have felt talking to him, after surely hearing all the obscene noises coming from the pair of you. You giggled at the thought, crawling back onto his lap and planting a much needed, tender kiss on his lips.

“Shit, I should probably call back Seth.” He frowned, reminding himself of all the emails and calls he was yet to make. He pulled the chair closer to the desk and started to dial for Seth, but then stopped to look at you.

His hand moved to cradle your cheek, his eyes darting back at forth at yours with an admiration so bright it sparkled in his irises. “Thanks for coming in today baby. I really needed that.” He stated the obvious.

You leaned into his hand, smiling back at him with a mirrored love. “Mhmm I know. I think you should fuck your stress away with me more often.”

••••••••

some tags: @ntxoza @blakescoven @ghostangels @dark-mei-rose @sojournmichael @jimmason @fernfiction @brattylovee @7-wonders @angelicmichael @melodylangdon @instincts-baby lemme know if you want to be added or removed! cuz i just kinda guessed who i thought might want to read it😌

#duncan shepherd #duncan shepherd x reader #duncan shepherd smut #duncan shepherd fic #duncan shepherd x you #my writing #stressed out daddy duncan🥺#cody fern

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singingcroissants · 3 years

Text

Patch Me Up

Hello, I’m back friends!! Things have been so busy lately, but I couldn’t stay away for too long! Of course I wrote this at 11 pm instead of translating Homer like I was supposed to be lmao. This is probably terrible but I figured I’d post it bc why not ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Enjoy!

Warnings: language, blood/injury, cheesy a$$ fluff

Note: This fic is aged up, as always!

Eyes heavy and muscles aching, you turn your key in the door.

The routine after a big fight was always the same: kick your shoes off, fumble through your dark apartment, and try not to think about whatever shitshow you just survived. But tonight, your side stung a little too much, and the blood seeping through your white t-shirt sent a shiver down your spine. Once you locked your door, you shuffled over to the bathroom sink to take inventory of your wounds. Lifting your shirt with a wince, your suspicions were confirmed. It was a shallow cut, you wouldn’t need stitches...but it was a pretty long gash, and it was definitely aggravated from rubbing against your shirt. In addition to the knife wound, you had a large bruise on your cheek, and your arms were peppered with little bruises from where the attacker grabbed you. Suddenly you froze, bile rising in your throat at the reminder of his pockmarked face and sadistic grin. Refusing to linger on the memory for too long, you splashed some water on your face, but grimaced when the action sent a searing pain into the laceration across your rib. Your vision turned white for a moment as you swayed, briefly losing your balance. Leaning your back against the bathroom wall for stability, you slid down to sit on the cold linoleum floor, head back, as you rubbed your knees in an effort to busy your shaking hands. Suddenly aware of hushed breathing coming from the doorway, you looked up, startled. To your surprise, Five Hargreeves stood in the doorway, watching you coolly. You two had a complicated relationship, constantly competing to be savior of the city. Over the 5 years you had known each other, you had never seen him smile; he was all business, all the time. What he was doing in your house on a Tuesday night, however, you couldn’t say. You were pulled from your thoughts as you felt his eyes on you.

“What happened?” He asks after a pause.

“On my way home from work I saw the Baxter Street gang following a young woman down 5th avenue, and I tried to take them on my own.” You hesitated, your pride wounded. “...It didn’t go so well.”

Five rolled his eyes, and muttered, “Yeah, I can see that.”

His jaw clenched and unclenched as his gaze slid over you. You watched him back intensely, surprised to catch a momentary glimpse of alarm in his eyes as he took in your bloody shirt and bruised cheek.

“Stand up,” he commanded.

Confused but too tired to argue, you began to rise to your feet, but not without muttering an indignant “What are you even doing here?”

To your embarrassment, the moment you stepped away from the wall you faltered, and he blinked across the room to catch you before you hit the ground. With his left hand resting on your back, and his right gripping your hip beneath your shirt, he guided you to an upright position wordlessly.

Through your haze of pain, you noted deliriously that he was making a suspiciously low number of snide remarks about your current position.

He lifted you up effortlessly and sat you on the countertop.

“Can I take this off?” he motioned to your shirt. Trying very hard to ignore the blush spreading to his ears, you whispered a faint, “Yes.”

The electricity skyrocketed when your eyes met, the tension of the moment visible in the slope of your shoulders, and Five’s bobbing adam's apple.

In a swift motion, he lifted the shirt up and stoically began cleaning your wound. You searched for any sign of concern in his face, but he showed none. Silently he worked, your heavy breathing and the buzzing electric lights the only sounds in the bathroom. Once he had disinfected the gash and carefully wrapped bandages around your waist, he quickly straightened and removed his sweater. Clearing his throat, he looked away and said casually, “Put this on.”

However grateful you were for his first aid skills, you began to grow shy at Five’s unceremonious kindness towards you. Fidgeting with the hem of your bloodstained shirt, you stubbornly said, “Oh thanks, but I’m actually perfectly comfortable in this. It’s actually designer-”

“Put it on,” he interrupted, his tone rising. A voice crack betrayed his attempt at austerity as he reigned himself in once more: “I’m not going to ask again.”

He left you staring, sweater in hand, as he turned to face away from you.

“Fine, fine... Thank you,” you conceded. You slipped off your soiled shirt with a wince, and put on Five’s sweater. It was soft -really soft- and smelled like leather and pine. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

Echoing off the wall came a muffled and surprisingly gentle “You’re welcome.”

“You can turn around now, Robin Hood,” you called, in a half-hearted attempt at sarcasm. You had hoped that in using your usual nickname for him it would ease the tension in the room, but it did the opposite if anything. But maybe, you thought to yourself, the tension wasn’t necessarily unpleasant.

The two of you made your way to the couch in your living room, and within minutes Five had helped himself to your kitchen and returned with steaming mugs of tea.

Now you sat, side by side, staring into the swirling vapor rising from your cups.

Five broke the awkward silence: “You shouldn’t have tried to take on that gang by yourself, especially when you’re not prepared. That stab wound was worse than it looked, y/n. You could have been seriously hurt.” He hesitated,” Or worse.”

“Since when do you tell me what to do, Five?” you responded, heat rising to your cheeks. “You’re not my partner, you’re my competition. And what do you care, anyway? If I died, you’d have everything you ever wanted! They’d hand you the fucking key to the city!” Your emotions overtook you, exhaustion having decimated any boundaries you might have clung to otherwise. “So why the hell are you on my couch, and why am I wearing your sweater, and why does it smell so good?”

Shit.

To your surprise, Five Hargreeves laughed. He sat in front of you, mug of peppermint tea in hand, laughing. Miracles do happen, you joked to yourself, awestruck.

His laughter slowed, and your face burned bright red in the soft glow of your table lamp.

“Do you really not know why I’m here?” he asked in a low voice, suddenly more serious.

You shivered.

Closing the distance of the couch, he reached out and caressed the bruise on your cheek after a brief moment of hesitation. The uncharacteristic warmth in his eyes made yours shimmer with tears, and you weren’t quite sure why. It had been a long time since anyone looked at you like that.

“I’m here because not only would I care if you fell into harm’s way, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. It’s impossible not to notice you when we’re both out there, trying to keep everyone safe. You’re brave, and strong, and kind. To be honest, you’re the reason I keep fighting for this city, your selfless desire to protect and care for others...I just never knew how to tell you. It didn’t seem right. But when I heard you had gotten hurt, I imagined the worst, and I just... well, I just had to tell you.”

Your heart swelled, and suddenly he was kissing your lips, his eyelashes fluttering against your cheek. One hand rested on your thigh, and his other was combing through your hair. The moment was tender and new and so very fragile, the opposite of everything you had known about Five Hargreeves. He shifted his position and leaned down to place a gentle kiss on the bruise on your cheek. You leaned into him, finally allowing yourself to give in to your fatigue from the evening’s events. Five quietly took you into his arms and began rubbing your back, calming you even further.

Normally physical touch made you shrink up, but somehow the man beside you was learning how to break down your barriers at lightning speed. Perhaps you had been closer to each other than you realized for quite some time.

In all the excitement, you felt your eyelids begin to flutter closed as you fought to stay awake.

“Darling,” Five whispered, “You can fall asleep, it’s okay. Let’s just rest.”

That was all that you needed to hear. You drifted off in his arms, his chest rising and falling slowly beneath you. The stinging in your side drifted to a dull ache, and your tight muscles began to slowly unwind themselves as you slept. And it felt good.

Now that you know what it’s like to be taken care of by someone, you don’t think you can ever go back to your old “post-fight” routine.

Five knows you won’t have to.

#five hargreeves #number five #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves imagine #five Hargreeves fanfic #five hargreeves fluff #tua fanfiction #umbrella academy #soft five #five x reader fluff #can you tell i like sleepy fluff scenes

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outerspacesteve · 3 years

Text

headcanon #10: steve and bucky’s notebook

[TFATWS EP. 3 SPOILERS]

So... Bucky is using Steve’s notebook, leave me alone to cry, please :’)

Imagine Steve giving him the notebook after Endgame, because there’s finally some peace and quiet, so he suggests to Bucky that he catch up on some of the things he missed since WW2.

And later, when Bucky is flicking through the pages, he stumbles across a note:

“Buck,

If you ever need grounding, if you ever need reminding of who you are, just come here. I know this is an awful thing to think, and that everything you went through was horrific, and I can’t even begin to imagine what it was like, but I’m glad we got to see each other again.

When I woke from the ice and ran into Times Square, I remember the first thing I thought. It wasn’t confusion, it wasn’t shock or anything like that, no, it was “Bucky would’ve loved this.” It was like something straight out of those sci-fi books you used to read. So, in that sense, I’m happy that you get to see it, that you now have the time, and the peace, to explore.

It’s bittersweet in a sense - they got rid of the old laundromat that was down the road from your ma’s, and the grocery, where you used to sneak some extra food from when Mrs Smith wasn’t looking, that’s gone, too. They replaced it with some modern hipster café thing, I don’t really know, I only went there once. I wouldn’t recommend it though, the coffee wasn’t great.

But he parks are still fairly similar. I never did find out whether our old apartment was still standing. I didn’t really want to know; felt like finding out they’d replaced it would be like cutting one of the last threads tying me to you, and our old life.

But I got you back. Can you believe that? You were sent to hell and back, countless times, and yet we still found out way back to each other. That’s some next-level destiny shit, Buck.

You were the one person who always knew me. The real me, not the Captain America bullshit. Just plain old Steve Rogers, the little scrawny kid who you had to constantly check back alleys for, any time you were somewhere without me. You never did care for the whole stars-and-stripes façade, and for that I’m thankful.

I could write pages and pages of things I’m grateful for, or memories that I treasure, but bottom line is, you were everything to me, Bucky, you are everything to me. I’m not sure what I would’ve done without you. You’re worth so much more than you give yourself credit for. You managed to save my sorry ass more times than I can count. And no matter how many times I told you that I could get by on my own, or that I had them on the ropes, you said you knew, but you stayed anyway.

Remember in ‘37, and winter had just begun, and I had come down with another bout of pneumonia? It was the first time I was bedridden for weeks on end since my ma died. I remember you doing everything you possibly could to help. Of course I was the most uncooperative son of a bitch on the planet.

I must have been a pain in the ass; coughing all night so you hardly slept a wink and would be dead on your feet the next day at work, being too stubborn to let you help me cool down or warm up, refusing any of the soup you would make me. But none of that ever made you leave my side.

I remember, whenever you weren’t fussing over me, or telling me, “Steve, I swear to god, drink this soup or I’m going to force-feed it to you,” you would be telling me about this new book you’d seen in the shop window on your way to the docks.

You said it was called The Hobbit. You said it was an adventure book, about a group of dwarves searching for some dragon-guarded treasure. You practically had the blurb memorised! You couldn’t afford to buy it, what with me out of a job, and you spending all your money on food and medicine, but you went to the bookshop every day, just to look at it. You said you tried to read a few pages each time you went, but that Mr Robinson soon caught on and threatened to ban you from the store the next time you left without buying anything. You even checked the library, but it was a new book and they didn’t have it there, either.

You didn’t let me get a new job that winter, said it was better not to risk getting ill again, and that we would be able to figure anything else out. Obviously, I put up a fight, but eventually, you managed to convince me. I did take up a few art commissions, though. And I managed to scrape together enough money to buy you the book for Christmas.

I remember the way your face lit up. Even though our apartment was freezing, and our Christmas tree was tiny, and dying, and all kinds of pathetic, none of that mattered. I was just glad to see you so happy after all the stress that I’d put you through over the last few months. You said you didn’t mind, and you gave me the tightest hug, and said that your present looked kind of meagre compared to the book. It wasn’t, but even if it was, I would have loved it anyway, because it was from you.

You devoured that book within days. I don’t think I ever saw it more than a few feet away from you. The pages yellowed, became worn and thin, the cover faded and creased, but you still carried it around as though it was your prize possession. I was secretly so happy that it was me who had put that smile on your face.

And then the following spring, when I was once again ill and bed-ridden, you would sit by my bedside, and read The Hobbit to me. Even through my fever-induced haze, I could tell how much you loved the book - it shone through into your voice, into the small smile you’d wear when we got to your favourite parts. I don’t remember much of the storyline, but I do remember you. I think I paid more attention to you than to the book itself.

They wrote sequels, you know? And there’s movies now, too. I never did get around to reading or watching them, though. I couldn’t bring myself to do it without you. Felt like that was something I should be doing with you. You should watch them, sometime. Sam says they’re good.

Anyway, I love you, Bucky. Never forget that. None of it was ever your fault, it wasn’t you. But you’re free now, free to do whatever you want, free to be whoever you want to be. And if you don’t believe that, then believe me, at least until you can believe it for yourself.

Thank you, Bucky. Truly. For everything.

Love, Steve”

And on every few pages, randomly spread throughout the notebook, there’s a little drawing or doodle that Steve has done. Sometimes they’re drawings of memories shared between him and Bucky, sometimes they’re things Steve thinks Bucky would like, and sometimes they’re just completely random things that he felt like drawing. There’s even a cartoon drawing of Sam doing something stupid, and Natasha just stood off to the side, rolling her eyes.

Bucky loves all of them. But the one he likes best is the drawing of him and Steve on the bench at Coney Island, sat shoulder to shoulder, mouths covered in ice cream, and massive grins on both of their faces.

On the bad days, when his head is too loud and he can’t seem to quiet it, he’ll open the notebook. Sometimes he reads the letter, sometimes he just looks at the pictures. Usually, though, Bucky will open the notebook to one of the lists Steve had written when he came out of the ice, and he’ll watch something that Steve had already crossed out, signifying that he had watched it.

He would imagine what Steve’s reaction to the film or show may be, and what Steve might have thought of it. And sometimes, it really does feel like Steve is right there watching with him.

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scribblingfangirl · 3 years

Text

WRITTEN WORDS & WHISPERED WISHES | Julie and The Phantoms - Luke Patterson

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Author’s Note: I wrote this fic for an old fandom of mine and thought I could re-write/re-use it to finally get started on my JaTP bingo card (because my creativity and originality are nowhere to be found) - I hope you enjoy, yet I’m still sorry in advance? (song’s Poet by Bastille but slightly adapted by me)

word count: 1.9k

prompt: ‘Song Fic’ on my @jatpbingo bingo card

summary: It took several sleepless nights, days of throwing up and feeling bad and the pressure of cuddling with Luke to finally discover that you were pregnant.

warnings: teen pregnancy, character death, a very hastly scribbeled down fic idea (this was not beta read (or read over in general) so typos, inconsistent grammar and other faboulous little annoyances (if anyone loves to read my fanfics and would like to volunteer as my beta reader I’ll kiss your feet))

.•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•.

It had been a few weeks since you, well... since you had seen another room rather than your classrooms and your own four walls. You even missed your kitchen and living room. But especially, you missed the boys' studio.

Today, however, has been a good day. You had managed to eat properly without feeling sick and were starting to catch up on some shortly due essays, papers and homework assignments, so you wouldn’t need to do them when feeling utterly sick again.

Luke had come to visit you (or tried to) a few times, needing to use his charm at your door, as you told your parents that you didn’t want him to see you. Your hair was a mess and unkempt, it pained you to stand for a long period of time (so you reduced the times you washed it to a minimum), your eyes had dark circles under them and you were exhausted even if you didn’t do anything the whole day long.

“I brought you food. I know that your fridge only knows like three meals”, he had said once quietly, putting the tray with the steaming meal on your bed, gesturing for you to move a little, so he could sit beside you.

“You mean to say that I and/or my parents only know three meals”, you had coughed laughing and refused to move. You didn’t want him to get sick too.

“No don’t,” you had muttered when he started to push you to the side, “I think I might have a bad bug and Sunset Curve can’t function without its lead vocalist and guitarist. And I can’t eat anyway.”

He had looked at you, confused and concerned. “Still? Alex told me you were able to keep your breakfast in, and I thought that meant you were on your way of improvement.”

“Some illnesses take longer to go away. I just didn’t want you to check on me because things like a normal cold or a little stomach bug can pass without unnecessary medications even if it takes longer.”

That had been two weeks ago. But today, when you were finally looking presentable again and were even able to open the door yourself, it wasn’t Luke that was visiting you.

“Oh… it’s you guys.”

“Geez, thanks Y/N. No need to kill us with all this kindness,” Reggie said laughing and sniffed, “Uh! Smells amazing. Pizza?” Without any hesitation or warning, he entered your house and vanished into the kitchen.

“Pizza? Wow, you must really be feeling better. I remember you throwing up on me a week ago when I tried to feed you chicken soup,” Alex smiled, hands in his pockets and not moving until you invited him in.

“Oh no,” hiding your face in your hands after you closed the door behind you both and groaned. “I’m so sorry about that. Again. Tell me how much the cleaning bill was and I-”

“Chill Y/N, relax. You’ve seen me at my worst and now I’ve seen you at your worst. Sure, I was still way more elegant and not as weak as you, but you just gave me a reason to finally get rid of those shoes.”

“No Alex! You loved those sneakers!” you said horrified.

“Just kidding. Give me 50 bucks and we’re even. Or, you know, better yet, come back to the studio and help us get rid of an overly clingy Luke. Now that you’re better, pleeeease, give him some cuddles!”

You giggled. “You know you have two perfectly fine arms to hug him with as well, right?”

“Yeah!” He said, raising his voice. “But not ALL the time. And I want to be appreciated for myself once too! Not just because I am the only one available to give hugs as an ‘emergency solution’!”

“You make it sound like you actually let us hug you dude, don’t lie,” Reggie muttered through a mouthful of Pizza, throwing himself on your couch.

Throwing Reggie a stink eye Alex turned to you again. “Anyway… You and I will go to the studio now. Yeah?”

“Well”, you stocked, not sure if you could talk to them about it. You had hoped for a few more days to think it over. “You know… It might actually not have been a bad bug, but rather a big bug that I caught.”

At their confused faces, you sighed. “I’m a few days, or even weeks... late”, you mumbled the last part so quietly, you weren’t even sure if they had heard you (if they even knew what you meant).

You were definitely not expecting Reggie to be the one to answer. “Do you want me to drive you to the hospital or do you just want a pregnancy test first?”

You didn’t know who of them had told Luke, or when, but after a few minutes of waiting in the hospital’s waiting room he came barreling in, beanie askew on his head and guitar case on his back. His searching eyes found yours in a haze and you could basically hear the question in his gaze ‘Are you?’. Silently you shook your head, averting your eyes.

Alex offered him his place beside you and Luke grabbed your hand while you waited. A few moments later your name was called and the nurse brought you and Luke to an empty room and told you to wait again. She came back a few minutes later and Luke moved to the side of the bed and held your hand again.

You didn’t feel the cold gel on your belly. Didn’t feel the way Luke was almost crushing your hand in his. Didn’t hear the words the nurse said. You only heard the faint heartbeat of your baby. You were pregnant.

Luke was beaming, looking at the screen where you could see the ultrasound of your baby, but he also looked at you with a little bit of fear in his eyes.

I can't say the words out loud So in a rhyme, I wrote you down Now you'll live through the ages I can feel your pulse in the pages

Even though you were only in your eighth week and not really showing yet, Luke wouldn’t allow you to wear anything else than his oversized hoodies, sweaters, pullovers and flannels (the ones that still had sleeves. And okay, fair enough, it might also have been because he absolutely loved to see you in his clothes.)

He was like an eagle watching over you, flying down as soon as you were doing or were going to do something he didn’t approve of. He even almost convinced his and your parents to move into your room so he could reach you faster in case of an emergency. (It was a clear no from both parents and he even got grounded for that idea - though later on, you learned from Alex that it was because he had said ‘Why not? It’s not like I can impregnate her again!’)

Of course, your parents weren’t happy about the situation, but they weren’t about to throw you out on the street. They both loved you and Luke (after all, they did fall for his charms one to many times), but they never really spoke the words out loud, never really talked about the fact that you two were going to be parents, a family at such a young age.

And Luke and you? While he was acting like an overprotective husband you both weren’t really talking about it either. You both were terrified about the fact that you were going to raise a child while Sunset Curve was trying to make it big, while you were still in High School and it still seemed more like a dream to you both, a dream from which neither of you wanted to wake up and face reality.

That’s why you started to write the letters. Or in Luke’s case - lyrics. Letters to future you’s, letters to your unborn child telling them about your adventures, your experiences and feelings. It was a way to tell yourself all the reasons why it was okay that you were going to be having sleepless nights filled with the cries of a baby, telling you that it was all going to be worth it.

And for the first time, while writing those letters and lyrics, it was as if both you could feel your baby.

Your body lies upon the sheets Of paper in words so sweet I can't say the words So I wrote you into my verse Now you'll live through the ages I can feel your pulse in the pages

Time went by fast. You remembered the first time you felt the little kick very well, as if it was yesterday, but at that time you still could somewhat see your feet and now you couldn’t even stand up anymore without somebody’s help.

School was weird, but you had the boys to help you through it.

You started to draw little babies beside your letters, trying to imagine the different looks it could have. Would it have your hair or Luke’s? His eyes and your nose? Your eyes and his smile?

And then you started to write your letters and lyrics around the baby, making it look like it was cradled by your warm words, hoping that whenever you wouldn’t be able to hold your child, it would be able to read your letters and feel the love, because you surely did.

How could you have known that in just a few weeks these lyrics would be the only words your child would ever ‘hear’ from their father?

I have read you with these eyes I've read you with these eyes I have held you in these hands

You had never seen your parents looking so fragile and broken like the night they came into your room to tell you the boys died.

And then, the next thing you knew was that your son was born. The doctors and nurses said that it was the stress, the emotional overload of being told that your friends, your loves, the father of your child died that caused your water to break.

That’s why it was Bobby and not Luke that was by your side that night and held your hand. It was Bobby, the normally strong and grumpy teenager, that was smiling like a little kid that just got told it would get to eat as much candy as it wanted.

His eyes were glistening with tears as the nurse handed him the little bundle of joy and he started to sway him - Luke - slowly back and forth, knowing that you were too tired to hold him at the moment.

“He is beautiful”, you murmured as he took a seat beside you, his gaze still fixed on his nephew, because obviously, he would be Uncle Bobby (though not for a very long time), “Just like his father.”

You didn’t hear Bobby’s answer as you fell asleep and dreamed of Luke, tucking you in and kissing your forehead before he dedicated himself entirely to the new tiny human in his arms, singing a sweet lullaby.

“We have written you down. Now you will live forever and all the world will hear you and you will live forever. In eyes not yet created, on tongues that are not born, in ears not yet listening. I have written you down, now you will live forever and Sunset Curve will sing about you.”

#luke patterson x reader #julie and the phantoms x reader #jatp #julie and the phantoms #luke patterson #luke patterson imagine #luke patterson one shot #luke patterson oneshot #julie and the phantoms imagine #julie and the phantoms oneshot #julie and the phantoms one shot #jatp imagine #jatp one shot #jatp oneshot #my writing #viascribbles

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gumnut-logic · 3 years

Photo

All of us love a mischievous squid.

-o-o-o-

Everyone knew Virgil was the musical soul in the family. He played, wrote and occasionally bled music. It was a constant in their home and the few times it was missing due to illness or absence, it was painful.

The man could sing if he wanted to, but that was a rare thing. He could dance with the grace of any ballroom dancer, his rhythm and style even outshining his eldest brother, Mr Lady-swooner himself.

Music was part of Virgil’s soul.

So, what happened late one Wednesday night after one too many rescues and ten too many drinks was quite surprising to them all.

The Tracy brothers weren’t big drinkers. They couldn’t afford to be due to their occupation. Both Scott and Virgil had been known to down a late night sniff of whisky on occasion. John had his boutique beers, but honestly, he wasn’t home very often to drink them, and space and alcohol was never a good combination.

Gordon fancied an odd cocktail from time to time and had the liquor stash to back it up, but most of the bottles were dusty and a couple well past their expiry dates. They just didn’t have the time or the opportunity to really let rip.

But it was Wednesday. The last rescue of five had been an avalanche and they always sucked. The boys had congregated in the living room…and it was a living room, not a damned comms room because International Rescue was down for a good forty-eight hours, Grandma’s orders.

They were all exhausted, but none wanted to sleep. They wouldn’t admit it, but there was fear in what they might find behind closed eyelids after such a shitty day, so they just sat together.

At first it was quiet. One or two words, fragmented debrief, until Virgil put an end to it and demanded John come home. Now!

Fifteen minutes later, the middle brother, just as exhausted as the rest, slunk into the living room and made a seat his own.

But there was little talking, each caught up in their own thoughts.

“Screw this.” Gordon jumped to his feet. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.” And he disappeared around the corner.

Scott didn’t pay much attention, his eyes on John, assessing his condition and fast coming to the conclusion that his brother hadn’t slept in at least the last twenty-four hours judging by the bags under his eyes.

“John, have you eaten.”

Turquoise darted in his direction. “Have you?”

A blink and Scott realised he hadn’t. He had been too occupied keeping track of tired brothers. “No.” Honestly, he wasn’t hungry.

“Then you understand.”

A glare in his brother’s direction. John just turned away.

Scott’s lips thinned, but then his attention was taken by Alan, who was slowly tipping sideways on his couch, eyelids drooping. “Alan, you should go to bed.”

“Don’t wanna. Wanna stay with you guys.” His head landed on the couch cushion and two seconds later he was snoring.

Scott sighed.

“I have cake. I have popcorn. I have drinks.” Hurricane Gordon slammed into the sunken lounge and a pile of popcorn, chips, a rather large cake and a bucket of candy landed with him. The whole mess was dumped on the table and the aquanaut disappeared again.

Scott just stared at the pile of food.

“Well, that’s the healthy option.” Virgil’s voice was pure sarcasm.

“Do you really care?” Honestly, Virg.

“Not really, but the principle is there.”

Scott rolled his eyes. Just in time for Gordon to reappear with half his alcohol stash, several of John’s beers and whisky. Glorious, golden whisky.

Now that was a very good idea.

What happened after the appearance of the alcohol involved a movie Scott didn’t pay much attention to, far too much carbohydrate…c’mon, caramel popcorn, yes…and a lot of alcohol.

After all, they were down for forty-eight hours guaranteed and how often did that happen? This was an opportunity for them to focus on themselves and despite their exhaustion, there was finally a little relaxation in front of…the Enterprise?

“Who gave John the remote?!”

“I did.” The feminine AI’s voice danced through the room in amusement.

“Eos! That’s cheating!”

She giggled. “I thought Gordon was cheating when he stuck it in his drink.”

Scott turned to his aquanaut brother who was dressing the sleeping Alan’s hair with popcorn. “Gordon!”

“What?!” The cocktail in his hand had an umbrella and a remote control garnishing it.

“You drowned the remote.”

“Huh?” He looked at his drink. “Oh.” And he pulled it out of the concoction and started licking it clean.

“Augh.”

A blur of red plaid and Virgil snatched the gadget from Gordon’s fingers and flicked it into the nearest pot plant.

Gordon appeared forlorn for its absence for a whole second before turning to his drink and sculling it all in one go.

“Gordon!” This time it was Virgil yelling his name.

The aquanaut had blue curacao for lipstick. “What?!” It was a direct echo of his same exasperated response moments earlier.

“Take it easy.”

“I don’t want to take it easy. I’m having fun.” With that he grabbed a bottle and dumped something red into the same glass with the blue, resulting in a rather unpleasant purple.

Scott groaned.

Which only earned him an assessing stare from Virgil.

A sigh. “Relax, Virgil. We’re home, we’re safe. Let your hair down a little.”

He was going to regret those words later.

The stare turned into a glare, but moments later, Gordon was ribbing Virgil about drinking and somehow he got under the engineer’s skin because there was a drinking contest.

Unfortunately for Gordon, swimmer’s physique or not, apparently Virgil was more brawn and could simply just absorb the stuff.

Gordon ended up snoozing in a sea of popcorn beside Alan.

John started giggling.

Scott raised an eyebrow at the small pyramid of empty beer bottles beside his space brother.

“How many have you had?”

“It’s a tetrahedron. Work it out.” John placed a single bottle at the top of the pyramid and smirked at Scott.

This was definitely a very bad idea.

His own whisky glass was only half empty. He needed to fix that.

It was warm going down.

Gordon started snoring, loudly.

“Okay, that’s it. Time for bed.”

“Don’t wanna go to bed.” Virgil put on the soppiest puppy dog face Scott had ever seen.

John cracked up laughing.

Oh god. “No, bed, now.”

“Okay.” And Virgil stood up.

And took a quick step to the left, then the right, before managing to stabilise himself somewhat upright, but listing slightly to one side.

It was that moment that the movie playing on the holoprojector burst into music.

Music? What the hell were they watching. He stared up into a haze of rebooted retro nineteen fifties and a song about a car and lightning.

“Ooh, I like this one.”

What?

And Virgil was suddenly dancing. Well, it could be considered dancing in some circles, but it mostly consisted of a lot of poorly coordinated butt wiggling and a lot of horizon pointing arms.

The jumping on the couch was really not called for.

“Virg?”

But his brother was lost to the music and dancing his heart and his coordination all out.

“C’mon, Scott, get up and boogie!”

Of course, Virgil was loud enough to wake Gordon, who took one look at Virgil and fell off the couch.

There was far too much butt wiggling happening.

“Virg, come down from there.”

He was completely ignored.

Scott needed more alcohol.

The bottle of golden oblivion smiled at him.

Screw it.

He wasn’t quite sure what happened next, but the result was a broken lamp and Gordon on the floor laughing hard enough to break a rib.

“Eos, play Jailhouse Rock.” John managed that between giggles. Scott idly noticed that the tetrahedron had become modern art and was attempting to defy the laws of physics.

It failed with a smash and rolling of bottles two minutes later.

And Virgil was still dancing.

Classic Elvis Presley at full volume, enough to wake up every lifeform in the caldera.

The butt wiggling had morphed into hip waggling and some kind of leg shaking that threatened to faceplant his brother on the floor.

“Virg, please get off the couch.”

“I am having fun, Scott.” Each word was enunciated clearly as if the man was having trouble putting the syllables together. “Letting my hair down.” A grin and Virgil shoved his fingers into his hair and completely messed it up until it was sticking out in all directions. Suddenly a hand was almost in Scott’s face. “Join me?”

There was something in his brother’s deep brown eyes, something beyond the alcoholic haze, something desperate, something…sad.

Scott never could refuse a brother his help. So, a moment later, he found himself standing on the couch as Virgil shifted his dance moves into something that involved some shoulder rolling and a goofy grin.

Scott found himself grinning in return.

John said something half drowned out by the music and the room was suddenly filled with an old dance favourite from his teens.

Virgil actually let off a laugh and moved into a sloppy dance routine from their childhood.

Scott couldn’t help himself and at some point, he just let go.

-o-o-o-

Alan woke from one of the weirdest dreams of his life. It involved music and Thunderbird Three dancing to a beat, her arms waving about.

It took him a moment to work out exactly why.

The dream was saner than reality. Scott and Virgil were standing on one of the couches…dancing.

Alan blinked the sleep out of his eyes. Was that the Macarena? It was hard to tell. Virgil was so uncoordinated, he could have been servicing Two in his sleep for all Alan could discern. Scott was smoother, but he was leaning at a teetering angle.

Frantic eyes located his two other brothers.

John was sitting on the floor beside a pile of empty beer bottles. He had a dob of cake frosting on one eyebrow.

That left Gordon.

The strawberry blond was sitting on the floor in front of Alan’s couch.

“Gords? What’s going on?”

Gordon turned around and a soft smile curved his lips. “Big bros are letting their hair down.” The music suddenly paused and Gordon sat up straighter. “Eos, Dance Party 2054.”

More music erupted from the overhead speakers and vibrated the glass walls.

Alan found himself bopping to the beat.

Virgil climbed up off the couch and onto the hardwood floor, apparently so he could really let loose. His plaid shirt was undone and swirling around him as he moved.

Scott tripped over the top of the couch and almost faceplanted on that same hardwood, but he saved himself the bruises with those half-sharp reflexes of his. A moment later he was up boogying with his brother.

It was an odd sight.

“Are they okay?”

Gordon’s voice was quiet. “No, but they will be.”

“What about John?”

Gordon shrugged as they both eyed the slouched astronaut. “Not sure he has it in him, fresh down from Five. He’s safer on the floor.”

“What about you?”

Gordon snorted. “I’m good.” He chucked down the remains of his drink before turning to face his little brother. “Wanna dance?”

Alan’s eyes widened. “How are you?” His eyes bounced to the empty bottles on the table, the stained glasses and limp umbrellas.

“What? Do you really think I can’t outlast Virg? The man is a drinking wimp. Only took two good ones to get him dancing with the fairies. Letting him win was the hard part.”

“Win what?”

A snort. “Virg thinks he can drink me under the table. He’s small fry.” The aquanaut stumbled to his feet and Alan eyed him. Gordon had definitely had a few. “You aren’t allowed to kill brain cells. However, you can have fun, dear little brother.” He held out his hand. “May I have this dance?”

He blamed sleep fog for the automatic yes that found him up and out of the sunken lounge, careening around the room laughing his ass off.

-o-o-o-

“John, what is happening?”

The astronaut blinked dopily. Maybe he had had one too many, but with each one, the voices faded just that little bit more. Calls for help he was desperate to answer.

And the silences that followed.

“They’re dancing, Eos.” It was obvious really.

“I’ve never seen them act like this before.”

“Doesn’t happen very often.” If ever. What was Scott trying to do with their father’s chair? “Eos, could you please close the doors to the balcony.” Gravity did suck after all.

He took another swig of Swedish beer as the giant glass doors slid smoothly closed.

“Can you access the room lighting?”

“One moment. I have control, John.”

“Good. Reference the 1970s disco movement and see if you can replicate any of the lighting involved.”

“FAB.”

A few moments later and the room’s lighting went nuts. The holoprojector flickered and shone dancing rainbows on the rafters. The atmosphere changed radically as the whole room pulsed and flickered in beat with the music.

Virgil froze for a whole five seconds in the middle of the room, staring up at the glass ceiling before bursting into a massive grin and throwing himself into a full on fit of dancing to the song that was screaming out of the speakers.

Scott was pirouetting with his father’s chair in great rotating circles.

Gordon was attempting some kind of retro-breakdancing. Though at this point, the only thing that was going to be broken was pot plants.

Alan had a grin on his face and was the most coordinated of them all, jiggling along to the beat with a grin on his face.

Another figure appeared in the entrance to the room. It took John’s entire remaining intellect to realise that it was Grandma.

Something stirred in the back of John’s head, something about getting in trouble, but he had no coordination to connect the dots so gave up. Besides, the Grandma figure was only standing in the doorway watching.

“What is the purpose of all this activity?” Eos’ voice was ever curious.

“It’s fun, Eos. An attempt at stress relief.” To wash the pain away.

-o-o-o-

Virgil was vaguely aware that he was being ridiculous, but he was beyond caring. The music pulsed through him and lifted him up. He just let it all go and rode the beat.

He was too exhausted to care about anything.

Except his brothers.

He always cared about his brothers.

Scott was astride their father’s chair and was riding it across the room in a completely undignified manner. Gordon was laughing his ass off at the sight and Alan was beside him in that. Even John was grinning as the eldest coasted past.

Virgil spun and let the air stream around him.

Round and round and round.

Oh dear, too round.

He staggered to a halt, but the world kept going. He stumbled.

A hand caught him. “Take it easy, honey.”

The blur turned into his grandmother in her dressing gown.

“Grandma!” He drew her in to a massive hug. “I love you, Grandma.”

Her tiny arms hugged him back. “Virgil, you’re drunk.”

“No, no, I’m dancing. Wanna dance, Grandma?”

She was looking up at him with concern on her face.

“Smile, Grandma. You need to be happy.”

He needed to be happy.

She reached up and touched his face, her hand cupping his cheek.

He closed his eyes and leant into her palm as the beat throbbed around him.

-o-o-o-

The sight of his grandmother sobered Scott immediately. The chair beneath him drifted a few more feet before he brought it to a halt.

Grandma caught Virgil as he stumbled and they were hugging. Something about that simple gesture clenched his heart.

He clambered off the chair and staggered awkwardly. Okay, maybe he had a few too many. He forced himself upright, kicking some spine into his vertebrae and made his way over to his grandmother.

Virgil was all plaid and gentle eyes as she cupped his cheek.

“Grandma?” Scott’s voice wavered with his step.

Eyes as blue as his own turned towards him. “Scotty, you need to sit down before you fall down.”

He frowned. He had a chair a moment ago. He looked around.

A hand caught his cheek and drew his gaze back to his grandmother and those blue eyes.

A red arm wrapped around him and drew him in. “Scott, you are my big brother.” The statement was declared with so much love as he was pulled sideways into Virgil.

They almost fell in a heap. It was Grandma who steadied them.

“You boys need to go to bed.” A concerned frown and she called out to the ceiling. “Eos, kill the light show and the music.”

The silence that fell was so sudden, Scott almost fell with it.

Virgil stumbled and Scott held him upright.

An almighty crash off to their left and Gordon upended one of the large pot plants near the glass doors. Potting mix scattered across the floor. Gordon rolled over and sat up covered in the stuff. “Who turned off the music?”

Grandma straightened. “It is time for bed, young man.”

The dopey aquanaut looked up at his grandmother and squinted. “Grandma, is that you?”

She ignored him. “Alan, come here, sweety.”

Alan, who was yawning fit to break his jaw, wandered over as bidden.

“Yes, Grandma?”

She snaked an arm around his waist and drew him in. “Time for bed, Allie.”

Virgil reached out an arm to snag his littlest brother, but suddenly Gordon was in his way and he got an arm full of fish instead.

Virgil did not seem to mind. “Gordo! My wingman, my copilot, my fish in a barrel.” Red plaid squeezed tight. “Love you, bro.”

Scott blinked. That was three. Where was the other one?

A glance at the lounge found John sprawled on the floor up against one of the lounges, fast asleep.

“Oi, Johnny!”

Scott jumped at Virgil’s yell and so did John. Bleary turquoise peered in their direction.

“Get over here, little brother, group hug!”

Wha-? Scott’s head was so foggy.

But John was stumbling to his feet. Something told him this was a dangerous thing. As the astronaut wobbled over, Scott moved to help him, but found himself snagged by cast iron red plaid.

Fortunately, Alan picked up on his fellow spaceman’s difficulties and hurried over to give him a hand. A few moments of wobbly astronaut and John was standing with them.

Virgil immediately reached for him. “Johnny!”

Unfortunately, he didn’t let go of either Gordon or Scott when he did and, damn, Virgil was strong. They ended up in a huddle, Alan and Grandma awkwardly caught up with them.

“I love you guys.” Virgil’s voice was muffled up against John’s shirt. Scott had caught Grandma and Gordon had grabbed Alan. Virgil had his face mushed into John’s shoulder.

John looked like he had stuck a finger in an electrical socket and didn’t know why his hair was on fire.

“We love you, too, Virgil.” It was Gordon’s voice, muffled by Alan’s hair.

Something lodged in Scott’s throat and he found himself hugging the pieces of brother and grandmother he could reach.

Apparently, it was something they all needed, because they stayed there holding each other for a full minute.

Just long enough for Virgil to fall asleep against John’s shoulder and let off a snore. It took Gordon and Scott to catch him to prevent them all from falling in a heap.

The group hug dissolved and the focus became getting certain brothers to their bedrooms. Grandma hovered and helped where she could. Scott took Virgil, while Gordon switched to helping Alan with John.

The family went their separate ways.

Grandma followed Scott up to Virgil’s rooms. The engineer faded in and out, declaring his love for any and all brothers several times on the way up. But by the time they made it to Virgil’s room, the engineer was getting heavy.

“C’mon, Virg, not much further.” Scott was ever so glad of that as his head was still trying to swim against the current.

Letting him gently down on his bed, the man immediately curled up into a ball, fully dressed and obviously not caring. Scott undid green shoelaces, dumped boots on the floor with a clatter and yanked the covers up and over his already snoring little brother.

A hand smoothed crazed hair back into its more familiar style and Scott unfolded from the bed.

A glass of water appeared on the bedside table and he turned to find his grandmother looking at him fondly. He blinked. He had forgotten she was there.

She held out a hand and as he took it, he was drawn into a quiet hug. She was ever so little up against his bulk. “C’mon, Scotty, let’s get you to bed.”

“I’m okay, Grandma. I need to check on the others.”

She sighed, but let go a single nod.

As they left Virgil’s rooms, she didn’t leave his side.

A visit to John’s room found him in bed, but the wrong way around, his feet on the pillow, his head hanging off the end. It took some prodding and yanking, but Scott re-orientated him. A quick check of the gravity support systems in his clothing were functioning properly – the alcohol probably wasn’t helping. Grandma materialised with another glass of water which was placed on John’s bedside table.

Quietly. “Eos, are you monitoring, John’s systems?”

“Of course. He is well, Commander. Do not concern yourself. I will watch him.”

Scott’s eyes closed without permission and he had to force them open again. “Thank you, Eos.”

The AI didn’t answer.

Grandma took his arm and led him from the room.

A check on Alan found him on the floor, but that was nothing unusual. Gordon had probably dumped him there. The kid preferred the rug to his bed and Scott meant to talk to him about it, but…life.

Gordon had fallen asleep in the corridor outside his room.

Scott rolled his eyes. He wouldn’t be surprised if the brat had done that on purpose. After all the entire night’s fracas was obviously engineered by the aquanaut. A fond sigh of exasperation and he pulled his little brother into his arms and dragged him into his rooms.

Dragging fish was considerably easier than dragging two hundred pounds of engineer.

Scott threw Gordon onto his bed and covered him up. Fingers brushed hair off his face.

Scott sighed again and had to prevent himself from curling up beside his brother.

“C’mon, Scotty, your turn.”

Scott mumbled something even he didn’t fully comprehend and let his grandmother lead him out of his brother’s rooms. One of the aquariums blurped at him as he walked past.

And finally, he was in his own rooms and his own bed. Grandma handed him a glass of water. He guzzled it before burying his face in his pillow.

He opened his eyes as a hand brushed through his hair. “We love you, Scotty. Don’t you ever forget that.”

He blinked slowly and managed a smile up at his grandmother, but her fingers caressed the side of his face, forcing his eyes to close again and he drifted off.

His dreams were kind.

And full of loving family.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Gordon Tracy #Virgil Tracy #Scott Tracy #John Tracy #Alan Tracy #alcohol #nuttyfic reblog

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