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tarjapearce · 10 months

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Bad Teachings (Pt. 4)

WARNINGS: Nerd talk, Miguel into Work Mode, Relationship Building, Slow Burn, mild fluff, awkward meetings, british slang, mutual help.

Summary: A little peek into Miguel's daily life. Returning favors, rocky starts.

Pt. 5

Hope you like <3

Pairings: Miguel x Fem!Reader

The alarm beeped, and you rose from bed. You'd usually sleep in late and just chill the evening away if you had the free time for it, if not, you'd work ahead to declutter your to-do list. Something that adult life had taught you was to make the most out of your time and keep a balance between resting and work life.

You washed your teeth and showered, adding a mental note to buy more shampoo and conditioner later. Fifteen minutes after you came out, and did a brief skin care routine to finally get ready. You changed into some baby blue high waisted jeans, a white tank top and cardigan along some white espadrilles. You packed in some work tools such as your laptop, an usb docking station and your usb's.

Need you at 9-

Miguel had texted you around 10 pm, and now you were on your way to his home.

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

You knocked on the door and held the two cup holders tightly as your working bag hung on your shoulder. The heavy yet familiar steps approached and soon, the door was open, revealing a sleepy looking Miguel, black sweatpants and robe on. A smear of toothpaste foam on his chin. Baggy eyes are a bit more prominent.

"Coffee?" you smiled sympathetically as he let you in. You then offered a napkin

"Clean your chin." He did with a grunt and took a sip of the coffee.

"Didn't know how you liked it, so I just got it plain with two pieces of sugar."

"It's good, thanks." He mumbled and rubbed his face, tiredly.

Now that your hormones were under control, you actually paid attention to your surroundings, the floor was covered in marble-like textured tiles, and the walls were painted in a soft cream. The overall layout displayed before you.

You were standing in a soft rug, to remove all dirt from outside, to your right there was a small hall and a door at the bottom, the broom peeking out made you guess that it was the cleaning supplies storage, if you walked straight, you'd find the dining table and behind it, the kitchen, a small breakfast island separating the spaces.

Oddly enough the chairs underneath looked as if they hadn't been used in a while, they looked almost brand new except for one that had child-like doodles on it, in different colors. If you walked to the right of the dining table, you'd find the living room.

An L shaped couch along a dark wooden coffee table, a tv set with some shelves full of books and few portraits on each side of it. There was a wall dividing the livingroom and the bedrooms, as another one limited the kitchen, creating another hall between.

The windows in the dining room and his bedroom were made out of thick glass, letting enough natural light to illuminate the spaces. However they were both covered by curtains. Miguel rubbed his eyes as he guided you to your work station. meaning, the dining room. Paper files spreaded all over the glass table.

"You'll work with these. Easy task. Each file is labeled with a letter, the main information is tagged in capital letters, the sub files, or the one related to the main file, are tagged in lowercase letters and a number, it dictates the page." He pointed to the bottom corner of the pages

"But, the lazy ass people I work with just gave me this bundle of papers." He sighed and put on his lenses once more.

"Once you are done organizing, hand them over to me. I need to revise which ones are outdated."

"Wait, so you're working with obsolete information?"

"No, with projects that should have been revised a week ago but were never revised due them being incomplete. Tal Vez una junta y un memo hacen que estos pendejos trabajen bien." He grumbled the last part more to himself than anyone else.

You didn't want to add to his stress, so you picked up the loose paper sheets in the file. He gulped the last remains of caffeine in his cup as you sipped yours.

"Excuse me." You put your work bag on a chair and soon began to follow instructions.

"If you're stuck in something, tell me. I'll be in the living room. " Your paper cup was taken from your hands and he sipped it, then walked back to the living room with a tiny smirk. You were about to protest, but seeing coffee had gotten him a bit more alive, your lips remained shut.

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

The only sounds in the room were either you flipping and organizing pages or him typing away on the keyboard. A bird chirping somewhere occasionally, or some faint music from a neighbor. You had glanced his way a couple of times, only to find him buried in his work, his figure was something impossible to miss. His lower lip jutted as his brow furrowed as he looked at the screen.

You on the other hand had organized one complete file, it was a short one. And from what you could read, it was about recreating a Japanese pink strawberry in some labs to see if it was feasible enough to start commercializing them. Miguel had done the whole research by himself.

"Y'know? I apologize for giving your intelligence little credit."

He looked at you with a quirked eyebrow

"Did you just call me stupid?"

"W-What? No! No. I didn't mean it like that. Like, I knew you were smart, but, this is a whole new level of smart."

He just chuckled and continued his work.

"Seems you're easy to impress."

"No, it means I just need to increase my standards. And I don't even ask for much really."

He stretched and yawned before taking some papers.

"And what are those?"

You stared at him, a bit taken aback that he would actually ask such trivialities.

"Well... I like a man that knows what he wants. Honest, loyal, not a clown but neither a stuck up guy, someone smart that can teach me stuff, in the same way that is willing to learn about new experiences. Sure of himself, someone I can trust and vice versa, good at communication and someone that has gotten over his ex. Or at least do not repeat patterns that they used to do with their ex."

He huffed at the last bit in mirth.

"Good luck with the last one."

"Yeah, That's why I don't head first into it. And the one that kind of met those requirements had to leave to another country" you shrugged and started on the second file.

"But yeah, anyway. I'm impressed that you alone lead these sorts of investigations. Not a good team player?" you smirked and he shook his head.

"Not really. "

"Oh... Well, sometimes it is more about the people you work with than the job itself, I guess."

He stared at you, eyes full of quiet wonder, but the beeping of his phone interrupted his train of thoughts.

"Hold on, gotta pick up"

You nodded and continued your work. He disappeared into his bedroom.

The second file was about rectifying the propension of field corn in getting infected by fungus. And the third one was about creating a substance or reactive that could reveal any anomalies in pregnant animals raised in captivity to preserve the species. The more you read about said files the more your admiration grew. And so the need to make things right.

"Feeling hungry?" He spoke from the hall, the clock had ticked 12 midday. You both were so engrossed in your respective works that you forgot about time.

"Uh, a little."

You kept organizing files and separating the projects, reading and learning about them on the go.

"What do you wanna eat?"

"You're ordering or cooking?"

"Ordering."

"Uh, a poke bowl sounds nice."

"A what?" He scrunched his nose and you giggled.

"It's a hawaiian dish made out of raw marinated fish and veggies or rice. Quite nutritious and delicious."

"Sounds nice, except for the raw fish."

"Haha, don't worry, there is a place that sells them with other cooked protein. I highly recommend the salmon glazed one. My treat"

"No. You got me coffee in the morning. We're even."

"Alright. Lemme get you the place´s number."

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

"So... how do you eat this?" You grabbed the chopsticks and grabbed a piece of glazed salmon.

"Just like that. Give it a try. " you smiled as your hand passed his packed chopsticks. He stared at them for a second and sighed.

"Please?

"If you just wanna laugh at me, say it"

You couldn't help but chuckle and shake your head.

"Pfft. It took me a while to get used to them too. But yeah, this will be funny."

"Sólo porque me lo pides de por favor..."

You always gave him a confused look whenever he spoke in what you could guess whas his mother language. He ripped the small package open and separated the sticks.

"Now, put the lower stick between your thumb and index finger, like tha- , No, no. Yes! Like that! And the other one must be held by the thumb and the middle finger"

There were two main emotions going through his face, frustration and determination. It turned into complete frustration when the small piece of protein fell off his chopsticks.

"It's fine if you don't get it at the first one. Takes a bit of practice." You handed him a plastic fork and smiled, he took it with a light scowl as you kept eating with the chopsticks.

"Besides, once you master them you can eat anything with it. Even snacks so your fingers don't get all... sticky."

"I'm staying with forks and knives, thanks."

You both couldn't help but chuckle.

"What has been the most difficult project to you, so far?"

"The ADA reactive in animals."

"Anomaly Detector Algorithm, right?" The corner of his lips curved slightly upwards at your response.

"Glad to see you're doing your homework, guapa."

"Your work is interesting. By the way, the Corn Field Fungus one is incomplete. Couldn't find the other pages"

He shrugged and finished eating.

"Not my fault. They are not doing their job properly, so of course it was incomplete."

"Sounds... stressing. Your job I mean."

"It is when incompetent people are in charge of things they shouldn't be. But when people know what they are doing, it's different."

"So, basically your job is modifying DNA from things to make things better or create alternative solutions if things don't get better?"

"Simple as that" He nodded, "We gotta check those files before creating the digital copy"

He stood and you quickly finished up your meal, smearing some sauce on your chin, you were about to retrieve the empty plastic bowl to put it in the trash when he cupped your face with a single hand and pulled it gently towards him. He used a napkin to clean the smear and nodded.

"That's better. Get to work" He went back to his work spot and so did you, after cleaning the table. Cheeks flushing.

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

"I'll send you the first transcribed file, so you can check it out as I'm finishing the third one."

"Sure."

He stretched once more to then give the last sip from another mug of coffee. The man lived on caffeine, or he was beyond exhausted and coffee kept him up. You had your work tools out. The noises of your typing mixed with his, almost as fast as he was.

"Want more coffee?" You offered as his eyes drooped.

"Not really. Can't surpass my fifth one."

"Then you should rest your eyes a bit. Take a break of five."

"We're almost done."

"That's precisely why you need five minutes off. Is the light bothering you?"

"A little"

He rubbed his eyes as he pinched his nose bridge. Gruff voice coming as a rough whisper as you turned the unnecessary lights off, leaving the living room's on only. Then you soaked a clean handkerchief with cold water and returned to his side.

"Here." you offered the cold and wet piece of cloth with a small smile. "Close your eyes and put it on."

He didn't seem convinced that it would do anything, but your willingness to alleviate his distress made him take the cloth and put it on his eyes. He exhaled at the coolness the item provided.

You sat next to him and continued your job, as quietly as you possibly could. Even after the five minutes passed, you didn't move him. He was exhausted. The living room was lit enough to give you a small glimpse of what the shelves had.

Books on Genetics, probably from college, maths, engineering, some spanish titles you quite didn't understand. What threw you off guard was some children's book and stories in one space of the shelf.

Titles like "El Principito", "Cuentos Por Teléfono" "A Bear Called Paddington '' among others with colorful pictures of dinosaurs, soccer balls and some tattered coloring books.

Your eyes squinted as they settled for a portrait, It was a little girl, Black hair as Miguel's combed in a high ponytail as a red headband adorned her front section of the head, keeping the smaller and wild hairs under control. Her smile was cheerful as she held a golden trophy with a soccer player motif on top.

The words "Mi Sol" written in the left corner. The only picture of her in the portraits Miguel jerked awake and your eyes were casted back to the screen.

"Feel better?" He just nodded and exhaled.

"Here's the other two files" You mumbled and passed the usb to him, his large hand covering yours for a second. You waited as his eyes dragged across his screen.

Eyes going from squinting, frowning to widen gently. He gave you a rusty smile.

"Good job."

"Thanks. Glad to help." your smile was genuine, almost smug. You exhaled, relieved. Clock ticking 7 pm.

"Is there anything else you need help with?"

" All done.Thanks."

"Alright, I shall get going then. It's getting late"

"Then, Stay." You looked at him with a pout.

"As much as I'd like to, you are exhausted, slept on the couch for more than five minutes, you need sleep."

It was his turn to give you a smug smile and you rolled your eyes.

"And stop drinking that much caffeine. You'll get a heart attack."

"A myth, by the way. Five cups is fine"

"If you say so"

Smiling, you put your tools back in your work bag and went for the door, he followed you.

"Thanks for the help"

"Anytime." You nodded.

He just stood on the doorframe, watching you as your nerves rioted inside you, was he expecting a hug? a kiss goodbye? You didn't know.

"Uh, Bye then. Don't forget to sleep" You ended up waving, unsure of giving a more intimate farewell. He seemed amused at your choice.

"Pasa linda noche, muñeca" You heard him mutter before the elevator's door closed.

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Your elevator's door slid open, revealing the ever long hallway, work bag slinging on your left shoulder as your keys tinkered upon grabbing them. You tried to open the door but to your little surprise the door wouldn't budge. You groaned in annoyance as you pushed, to no avail. All happiness from a good deed done, drained away.

"Fuck." You heaved as you tried once more and failed. Taking your phone out, you recorded a small video for evidence, to send it to the landlord.

No matter how much you pushed the door, or turned the key, the door was stuck. You couldn't help but kick it, but regretted it instantly. Shoes too soft against a sturdy metal door.

"Fuck!" you whined, both in pain and exasperated.

"Seems ya could use some help"

British deep voice from behind you

"Be my guest. This thing wouldn't budge."

"Been having troubles with it too?"

"I already sent the evidence to Mr. Cufton. Hopefully he will fix the damn thing for real this time."

"I'm sure the bloke will be buzzin' when he sees it"

Hobbie stepped closer and took the keys. He turned them around a couple of times and pushed against the door with all his might.

"Goddamn..." Your eyes widened as he opened the door for you, he seemed unfazed, almost used to it.

"Thanks, Hobie."

"No problem." He stepped out of your apartment with his hands stuck in the pockets of his jacket.

"Have a good night." He nodded your way with a lax smile, you closed the door and opened it a couple of times to make sure it would work in the morning.

You prepared the food for the week, your clothes and a small presentation that was sent to you to be corrected last minute.

And soon went to sleep.

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

You were having a bad day as it is, the door was jammed again and made you get one hour late since Mr. Cufton barely replied your way, and had another neighbor help you out. Traffic was insane, and when you got to your office, ready to start your day, the usb storage box wasn't in your tote bag.

Panic surged through you as your hands frantically searched for the small plastic box. You not only had a couple of months worth of work in them, but also some other coworker projects that would be presented in a couple of days.

It didn't help that the newest client was bitching about the little flow of movement her new beauty products' line was receiving. The responsibility falls directly on your both superiors and you.

Then, your superiors reprimanding you for not having the usb on hand to show the manager the newest projects to be soon developed in the firm and Mr. Cufton announced the door wouldn't be replaced until next week. As soon as 5 pm ticked in, you bolted out the place.

You couldn't help but cry out of frustration, however a ding on your phone prevented you from weeping in the parking lot.

I believe this is yours?-

He had sent the image of the usb box you had looked up. In all your haste, you had barely thought of it staying behind at Miguel's.

Forgot to mention this in the morning-.

Of course he would. He was super busy. You couldn't help but actually cry, relieved that at least one of your problems, one of the biggest problems was solved.

-You literally just saved my ass from being fired... Thank you so much. I'll pick it up at your place. Is that ok?

Give me your location, I'm not home yet.-

Stuck in traffic.-

-Neither do I, but I'll be there in 15 minutes.

You shared your home location, and drove home. Traffic only held you back for five minutes. You parked the car in the usual numbered spot assigned with your apartment number. Then took the elevator, work tote bag in hand, face still red from your previous crying, and finally you managed to get home and let Miguel know you were already there and your apartment number.

You knew you had to open the door to at least put your things away, and make yourself look less beaten up by life. Sadly there was no Hobie or the other friendly neighbor to help you out. The only times you saw Hobie was around seven or eight pm, and there was no sign of the other guy. You prepared mentally to struggle against an inanimate object.

First time was worthless, the second time was even worse. You had only slammed your body against it, earning another pain in your tender shoulder's muscles. Just when you were going to try a third time, Miguel called you from the hallway. You were on the verge of tears again, your face flushed like a tomato.

"You ok?"

You shook your head as you tried your best to keep the tears inside.

"Shitty day but, you saved my ass, again."

"What's wrong with the door?"

"It's stuck and the landlord will replace it until next week. Got an hour late at job because I got trapped inside" your voice was the first thing in breaking.

Miguel stared at you for a moment and then put his things down on the floor with a sigh. He rolled up his sleeves and grabbed your keys that felt tiny on his large hands. He could feel the weight of the door against the doorframe, knowing that if he was too rough, the whole door would cave in and make the problem worse.

He just stared at it's structure for some minutes, evaluating what could be wrong with it.

The elevator dinged open, revealing Hobie with a bag of groceries. He entered his apartment to drop the bags and then came your way. Eyeing the situation from afar.

"You gotta push against it, mate" He wore ripped jeans, his red boots, a sleeveless and irregular neck shaped shirt and studded bracelets.

Miguel acknowledged him with a glance before focusing on the door again.

"That's probably what messed up the hinges last night."

Hobie's eyebrow quirked as he deadpanned.

"If I push the door open, the whole thing will cave in and it'll make everything worse" Miguel spoke as he gently took the doorknob and pulled back, the door creaked but it didn't cave in, but it fell back on the floor with a metallic thud.

Miguel looked at the back of the door and grunted.

"That's the problem. Hinges are rusted, and the screws are loose."

"Hobie? Could I borrow your tools for a second?"

"Haven't unpacked them yet, birdie"

If there was a staring contest, you were sure it was a tie. Miguel's ever present frown deepened slightly as Hobie gave him a complete poker face. Tension in the air, you saw your other friendly neighbor coming through the elevator with his dog.

"It's okay, I'll ask him." You smiled nervously at him and approached your neighbor to ask him for some tools.

Hobie huffed with a slight smirk at Miguel

"Good luck with that dead naff door, mate. Imma leg out."

He turned around and left, giving a quiet smile your way.

"Charming" he mumbled once he was out of hearing

"Told you to be nice. He helped me out last night." you gave the screwdrivers to him, "Need any help?"

"I'm good. Yo me encargo"

"Yeah, Y'know I might start learning spanish cause... I don't understand what you're saying sometimes"

He smiled mischievously as he effortlessly held the door and began screwing it back to its place.

"What's the fun in that then?"

"I mean, for all I know you could be making fun of me or worse" you spoke as you picked up his belongings and yours to take them inside.

" Or worse? Hm... probably"

"You're mean. But I'm grateful you're helping me out. Again."

"At this point I'll start keeping tabs."

"Ouch."

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Miguel fixed your door, but explained to you it was a temporary solution, lucky you'd know how to fix it in case another incident happened.

"Here" you gave him a glass of water as he looked around, taking in your surroundings. He then gave you the storage box.

"What happened today?" he drank from the glass

"Oh... uh, I told you shitty day. Got trapped here, got an hour late at work, the client was pissed she wasn't getting the numbers right of her products, blamed my boss and me," you sighed, annoyed

"Then the manager scolded me for not having the data on hand, cause it's in one of these little things, then the landlord told me my door is getting replaced next week, traffic and the door. But now, at least three of those issues are solved."

You slumped on the couch. exhausted

"Sorry for always dragging you to help me around"

"You apologize too much. "

You were about to open your mouth to apologize but remained shut. His frown decreased a bit and his face relaxed.

"Gotta go"

"Sure, Thanks for the help. I really appreciate it."

"De nada, hermosa"

"Might call you one day to help me out with some furniture that needs to be assembled"

He deadpanned and you giggled.

"Of course I am joking. I know you are really busy."

He picked up his things and you went to the door with him.

"Might do some time for that"

"Really? I might prepare something to eat then. Or maybe you could show me some cooking skills"

"I'll think about it"

You nodded with a bashful smile.

"Thanks, Miguel."

"See you"

You closed the door, it didn't lock you up this time.

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Tal Vez una junta y un memo hacen que estos pendejos trabajen bien.- Maybe a meeting and a memo will make these fuckers to work properly

Sólo porque me lo pides de por favor.. - Only cause you're asking nicely

El Principito - The Little Prince

"Cuentos Por Teléfono- Telephone Tales (Highly recommended btw <3 By Gianni Rodari)

Mi Sol - My Sun

Pasa linda noche, muñeca- Have a nice night, doll

Yo me encargo - I've got this

De nada, hermosa - You're welcome, beautiful

Taglist ❤️

@vyxvi

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#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv miguel #female reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel ohara x you #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel spiderman #miguel x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel x you #slow burn #Rocky start with Hobie

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nburkhardt · 6 months

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Wrote most of this while high, so it’s a silly thing! 🥰

Face flushed and mind on pause, heart beating fast. Eddie’s eyes are a little wide, watches as Steve smiles before falling back on his side of the couch. There’s giggling as he brings his hand to his mouth to muffle it, it’s a losing battle though.

It’s like all the sound around him is gone and only Steve’s giggle is all he can hear as his mind finally reboots, Eddie shakes his head before focusing his eyes back on the other boy. Steve’s still giggling, hand finally away from his mouth and there’s a twinkle in his eyes.

“Did you- did you really just say boop and proceeded to boop my nose?” Eddie finally finds his voice again, finger touching his nose.

Steve nods, giggle starting to fade and all that’s left is a smile. “Yeah, what about it?”

Opening his mouth and then closing it, Eddie just shakes his head, leaning back on the couch. He just looks at Steve.

Maybe it’s the weed, maybe high-Steve is a silly giggly type. Has a thought and immediately does it, kind of person. It’s gotta be that, but he still asks; “Why?”

Steve shifts to sit up, smile still in place. His hand moves and wraps around Eddie’s wrist.

“Got a cute nose, it needed to be booped”

Eddie’s gaze snaps up to meet Steve’s and finds the twinkle. This time, it brings a flush to his face. “Yeah?”

Steve nods, looking way to serious for this, “I really wanted to do that, like, all day.”

He hums, looking back at Steve’s hand on his wrist before shaking the hand and moving it to hold hands with Steve. “Wanna do anything else?”

“Maybe, will you freak out?”

Eddie shakes his head, “if what I’m thinking is right, I don’t think I will”

It’s quiet as Steve nods and moves closer to his face, it’s slow and Eddie can barely breathe as Steve brings his free hand to his face and Eddie’s eyes close.

It’s a little quick thing and Eddie’s already obsessed. Yet, all Steve did was a simple kiss; a chaste kiss. But the thing that makes him obsessed, makes him want more is the after.

Steve leans his forehead against Eddie’s and when Eddie opens his eyes again, Steve’s are closed and there’s a content smile.

“Stevie, think we can do that more?”

The smile on his face grows, and immediately shifts to press his lips against Eddie’s again. It’s simple, it’s easy, it’s filled with something more that shouldn’t be spoken just yet.

I’m gonna end it there because if not I’m gonna go on forever. I saw a thing saying “booping noses & giggling” and while high decided “that’s STEVE!!” So this came to be! Hope everyone enjoys it 🥰

Also, just so you know, I could not for the life of me type out “chaste” it was in my head just swirling around but my hands and mouth refused to work it out. I ended up finding the word in a fic and copying it. Does that happen to anyone else?? Like the word is there in your head, but you cannot get it out?

Permanent tag list: (if you would like to be added OR removed, let me know!)

@spectrum-spectre @itsfreakingbats @mysticcrownshipper @artiststarme @thereindeerlady @justforthedead89 @ronniescontinuum @freyaforestafay @littlewildflowerkitten @gregre369 @zerokrox-blog @flustratedcas @carlprocastinator1000 @marvelmwah @solliesolesito @navnae @i-less-than-three-you @grimmfitzz @estrellami-1 @cartercaptainofthemoon @strangersteddierthings

#steddie #steve x eddie #first kiss #nburkhardt writes #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie fic #ficlet #steve is a sweetheart #eddie is so in love #eventually in their life Eddie calls Steve ‘Lovebug’#and steve will always respond by kissing Eddie’s nose

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photo1030 · 11 months

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Leather and Lace - Chapter16: Feelings Revealed

PART 2 - WHERE DO WE GO FROM HERE?

Summary: After Arthur’s rejection, tensions run high between the two of you and decisions need to be made.

*As always, special thank you to my best-y @rivetingrosie4 for beta-reading and all the helpful notes & encouragement.

*Full disclosure: The line about “the moon and stars” further in the story is based on a meme I read. And I have images from @red-dead-simp and @regwishesshehadmagic in here.

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

*This stunning image comes from @red-dead-simp

Tag List: @rivetingrosie4 @bimbo-dollz @pine4pple-b0i @redwritr @kuri-chans-blog @queer-sadie-adler @joelmillerswifey @gimmethosedaddymilkers @pcotarelo @delilah-grimes @maemortem @wistfulwisteriawitch @lilacxxdreams @mentallyillfrogs @absolutegeek @spurz @sophiaj650 @uniqueclodzinevoid @lookingformaurice @pawoui @randomidk-123 @yyiikes @eddiemetalheadmunson @twola @kmartkiddieisle @red-dead-simp @regwishesshehadmagic

*I tagged people who expressed interest in the continued story. If you’d like to be added or removed, please let me know.

The ride back to camp from the overlook is terribly awkward. Your mind is blank and foggy and your body numb as you sit slightly slumped in Blue's saddle. You are reeling from the preceding events. You keep your horse moving at a quicker pace to stay ahead of Arthur's as you head home. Any time that you hear him approaching closer to you, your muscles tense up and you spur your heels into Blue's side to encourage him to go just a bit faster to maintain the distance between you. You can't even bring yourself to look at Arthur for fear of shattering into inconsolable pieces out of humiliation.

For Arthur, the entire ride back is riddled with regret and second-guessing. He casts his gloomy eyes on your backside the entire way home, without so much as a glance back or sound from you. It causes his heart to break in two. And oh, how he wants to give the other half of it to you. But as he looks down at his gnarled hands and the worn metal of the guns that hang so naturally on his hips, he knows this is the way it has it be. He is going to keep you safe, whether you like it or not. You may hate him for it, but at least you'll be alive to do it.

When you hit the treeline of the camp, you push Blue just a bit faster and lead him to the far end of the hitching posts, determined to stay as far away from Arthur as you can for the time being. You quickly dismount, with the hair on the back of your neck standing up as you feel his eyes watching you, while keeping your back to the man. Once you have Blue settled in for the day, you make haste to head to your tent, walking briskly and keeping your head down. Your eyes stay focused along the soft grass at your feet, desperate to avoid any attention from anyone else in camp. Somewhere in the distance, you can hear Karen calling your name, but you pretend not to hear her. You are not in the mood for visiting and carrying-on with your friends right now.

As soon as you reach your tent, your trembling fingers fumble to draw the sides down, a clear indication that you do not want to be disturbed. You can only hope that no one hears you sobbing quietly within the canvas. You are numb, totally and completely, as you fold your arms around yourself to keep from shaking. You cannot wrap your swimming mind around what has just happened. You poured your heart out to Arthur. You literally begged the man to be with you. And he rejected you. And worse yet, he basically severed himself from you in the process.

Arthur slowly climbs down from his own horse upon arrival, and silently watches you walk away and head to your tent. Regret coats his insides like water pouring over a river rock. But he doesn't have time to wallow too long. The man isn't even in camp for five minutes and Dutch is calling his name. He lets out a heavy groan, accompanied by a long sigh, at the sound of Dutch's voice carrying through the camp. Dutch is the last thing he wants to deal with right now.

Of course, Arthur's heavy footfalls and scowl are lost on Dutch as he approaches the older man's tent. Arthur is his guard dog; Dutch is used to seeing him angry and sullen. In fact, he almost prefers it. Dutch needs him this way. Arthur stands in front of Dutch's tent, his gaze unfocused and mind wandering as Dutch speaks to him. The man's deep voice sounds muffled in Arthur's ear as he half-halfheartedly pays attention to what is being said to him, his mind somewhere else entirely.

"Think you can handle that?" Dutch's words finally catch Arthur's attention, snapping him out of his listless thoughts.

Arthur lifts his eyes to meet Dutch's expectant gaze. "Whatever. Just make sure the tip is solid and I'll make it work."

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

Arthur takes advantage of the quick job Dutch sends him on the day that you have confessed your feelings for him. He smartly uses the opportunity to give you some breathing room and time to calm down a bit. After checking in with Dutch upon his return, he heads over to his tent to put away his things and takes a minute to breathe. Arthur stands with his thumbs hanging from his gun belt as he surveys the camp, checking the state of things. His body naturally falls into this stance whenever he stands still for a moment. And right now, he is more weary than he’s been in a long while.

His wandering eyes eventually find you working alone in your med-tent. Your hair is pulled back and out of your face so you can work, but a few tendrils of soft locks have escaped and dangle to frame your face. Your hands move slowly, practically dancing around the bowl that has enveloped your attention. Arthur takes in the heavenly sight of you, standing in a simple white blouse and green skirt set comfortably upon your hips, mulling over what he should do, as he nervously chews his plump bottom lip for a moment. Eventually, he decides to see how things feel between you two and tentatively makes his way over to your med-tent.

Arthur kneads his thumb into the palm of the opposite hand nervously while he waits for you to notice him standing there outside the tent. He stands with an uneasy grin, fidgeting slightly. "Hey you.”

You briefly look up from the steaming bowl of herbs and boiling water that you are stirring, careful not to look him in the eye for too long. "What can I do for you, Arthur?" Your voice carries none of the usual excitement that he hears when you see him.

Arthur's face drops, disappointed with your short reply. He clears his throat to attempt to dislodge the knot there before trying to continue. "I was out earlier and found some of that yarrow and dandelion root you use all the time. Grabbed some for you." He reaches into his satchel and pulls out a bundle of the fragrant herbs. He carefully unwraps them from the white cotton rag he's kept them in and holds them out to you with his large hands. A hopeful look sits upon his brow as he cranes his neck a bit to see if this peace offering will get you to look at him.

"Thank you. You can set them down on the table there," you instruct softly, pointing to the end of the table with your wooden spoon. Usually you'd jump at the chance to take something from Arthur, seizing any opportunity to touch his hands and for your fingers to teasingly graze across each other’s. But not this time. And this deviation in your behavior isn’t lost on Arthur, either.

"I could take you out and show you where I found it, if you like? In case you need more?" He gingerly sets the bundle of plants down, watchful for your reaction.

“Actually, that bundle there will last me awhile. But thank you.” With a quick and awkward smile, you return your full attention to the steaming liquid in front of you.

“Sure” he murmurs, feeling crushed. Arthur stands there a moment longer, as there is usually some sort of chatter from you. You always try to utilize his attention as much as you can when you have it. But now, you venture nothing else for him. So he turns and walks away, his boots slow to move in the grass. He does not notice that you discreetly reach up to wipe a rogue tear that escapes and cascades down your cheek as he turns away.

And so it goes on this way for a few days. You speak to Arthur only when he speaks to you, and even then, it's simple exchanges. There's no more joking or banter between you. Gone are the stolen glances and discreet blushes when catching each other staring. You have no harshness towards him, of course. But you can't bring yourself to maintain the flirtatious nature of your relationship either. You are not mad at Arthur after your revelation at the overlook, nor are you mean to him. You simply treat him like anyone else. Which, as it turns out, is something that Arthur is not prepared for. He is used to your smiles and greetings just for him. He is used to being special to you. But now, Arthur is just like everyone else in the gang.

This change in the dynamic weighs heavily on Arthur. His feelings aside, he simply misses you. It's been a long time since Arthur has had someone he can talk to and confide in. For someone who is generally annoyed by other people, Arthur has found that he enjoys your specific company. Your conversations and activities together range from the profound and insightful to the delightfully mundane and ordinary. In fact, he has come to need your companionship to balance the negativity of his life. Your softness counteracts the harshness that he experiences every time he is away from you. He craves the blissful distraction that your honey-sweet voice offers him.

One afternoon, Arthur decides to make another attempt to talk about this precarious situation. He catches you by the laundry while you are hanging today's wash to dry. You notice him out of the corner of your eye making his way over to you and you can feel your stomach start to churn as you avert your eyes to the task at hand.

He stops just in front of you as his hand comes up to rub against his chin nervously. "Y/N? Can I talk to you a minute, please?"

With a blank stare, you say nothing in response. You slowly lower your hands from the clothes line, twirling the clothes pins in your hands in distraction.

"Look, I know you're not happy with me right now, and I understand that," he starts. "But I was hoping we could still be friendly and all." Arthur's sapphire eyes search yours, looking for some indication that you are willing to put this unpleasantness behind you both.

Nibbling on your bottom lip, you hesitate before you answer him. "Did you change your mind?"

"No," he shakes his head, glancing down at his boots. "No, I can't go about that. But I want things to just go back to how they were between us." Arthur is a simple man, and he is also a creature of habit. He is used to your presence in his life and, more importantly, the impact that you have on it.

“It doesn’t work like that, Arthur." You furrow your brows at him, finally speaking more than a few words at a time. "I understand your reasoning, I suppose. I don’t agree with it, but I accept it." You pause, looking down as your eyes begin to flutter at the emotional wave that you are trying to halt in your gut before you continue. "You’re allowed to feel what you do about it. I suppose I can’t be angry with you for that." Rolling the smooth wooden clothespins between your fingertips and inhaling deeply through your nose, you lift your chin to catch his gaze again. "But don’t expect me to act like nothing happened, Arthur.”

"I just can’t go down that road again, (Y/N)," he says, gesturing with his palm out, imploring you to understand. "Besides, I just want you to have a normal life."

With a slight shake of your head, you look up into his face. "Arthur, I have no interest in a 'normal life'. And besides, my life has been anything but normal already."

His only response is an eye roll before looking off to the side in frustration, trying not to start a fight with you again. The movement causes a pang of annoyance to strike in your chest as your hand plants onto your hip.

"I don't need your constant protection, Arthur." Your statement comes across a little more harshly than you intend to when you notice he is trying not to look you in the eye.

It is a comment that makes him slowly turn his face back to you with a sarcastic scowl. "Oh, I beg to differ on that one." God, the condescension is almost tangible.

You let out a deep and disappointed sigh as you study him a moment. "Nevermind. You just don’t get it." Shaking your head and dismissing this whole conversation, you bend over and harshly snatch up the laundry basket at your feet. You maneuver around him to head back to the tents and leave him standing there.

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

By this point, you have become quiet and melancholy around camp. Everyone notices that you're not your usual bubbly self, as you seem to float through camp now, rather than be a part of it. Always observant, Abigail has had enough and pins you down to ask what the hell is going on with you.

"Why are you and Arthur so odd lately? Did something happen? Did you have a fight or something?" She eyes you suspiciously, handing you a cup of coffee while you and the girls take a break from chores and sit at one of the tables. The weather is still fairly warm today and everyone is bustling about to prepare for the oncoming colder months ahead.

You look over at Abigail with a woeful look as you accept the hot cup. "I told Arthur how I feel about him."

The girls all gasp in excitement, eager to finally talk about this thrilling topic. But your somber expression immediately halts their celebratory giggles.

"I don't understand, (Y/N), why aren't you more excited about this?" asks Tilly, leaning in closer to you from across the table to know more, astonishment draped across her cherub face.

You stare listlessly at the cup in your hands. "He turned me down. He said no."

“He said what?!” Abigail’s eyes shoot wide before quickly screwing down in confusion.

“No! Why would he say that?” breathes Mary-Beth in hushed wonder, bringing her hand up to her mouth in shock. She exchanges a confused glance with Tilly before looking back to you, anxious for details.

You shrug softly with a sorrowful smile. “He doesn’t think he’s good enough for me, I guess.”

“Well, duh, of course he isn’t!” Karen blurts out with a wave of her hand before it slams down onto the table with a loud clap next to you. “But let’s be honest, there probably isn’t a man alive who is.”

“He’s entitled to his decision,” you quietly repeat the worn excuse you had given to Arthur already. “Besides, he’s been hurt before. I suppose I can’t blame him.”

“This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard," argues Karen, her pouty red lips frowning. "Do you want me to go talk some sense into him, honey? I’ll put my foot in his ass and set him straight.” Her doll-like eyes burn with intensity as she crosses her arms over her chest in a huff.

“No, no." You can’t help but smile at your friend's defense of you as the image of Karen taking on Arthur makes you chuckle a bit. "I can’t force him to be with me and I wouldn’t want to anyway.”

“It just doesn’t make any sense, (Y/N),” Mary-Beth points out. “I mean, we’ve all seen the way he looks at you. And when you two are dancin’ by the fire… I wish I had that.” Mary-Beth is so sweet and always the hopeless romantic of your circle. And while all of the girls have been pulling for you and Arthur to be together, it is always Mary-Beth who is the biggest supporter of it. When you had your hang-over confession of your crush on Arthur after your drunken night out with Karen, Mary-Beth told you that you and Arthur are like a real-life story out of one of her romance novels. At the time, you dismissed the silly notion as nothing more than a foolish daydream. But, still, it was a comment that made butterflies flutter in your stomach.

With a dejected sigh, your chin lands into the palm of your hand. Your shoulders sink as you lean onto the table. "Well, doesn’t matter now, does it?"

There is an awkward stillness as this discussion settles amongst your little group. Frankly, the girls are speechless. But your quiet moment with the girls doesn't last too long before Ms. Grimshaw saunters over and disperses you all. As long as there is daylight, there is work to do, and she will make damn sure that it gets done. Dividing up the chores between you all, the matriarch ushers you and Abigail over to Pearson's wagon to start prepping vegetables for tonight's dinner. You grab yourself a cutting board and a bowl of potatoes and amble over to a small work table to start peeling.

Once she has Jack occupied, Abigail grabs a bowl of carrots for herself and sits down across the table from you. She watches you with a heartbroken and disappointed look as you set about your task. You and she have become quite close since you've come here to join the Van Der Linde gang. While she certainly cares for Arthur as her own family, she feels just awful for you. She knows how much you care for Arthur. It's so obvious in everything that you do. And she knows that you could make Arthur truly happy, too. 'Damn him,' Abigail thinks to herself. 'Why does he have to be so god-awful stubborn?'

"I’m sorry, (Y/N), really I am." Abigail's voice breaks the painful silence as the two of you work. You look up at her with the eyes of a puppy that's been kicked. "I don’t know what’s gotten into Arthur. I really thought he’d jump at the chance to call you his," she insists tenderly.

You nod in understanding, but honestly, the whole situation is becoming exhausting. You've tried so hard to come to terms with it, but it's becoming harder than you expected. “Maybe it was a mistake to come here," you admit softly, your voice slightly broken. "But back home in the east, I have nowhere to go, and I can’t go back to Rosewood." You reach into the bowl of potatoes again, your fingers working as you precariously drag the knife over the starchy vegetables. "But, I don’t want to be a problem here either, though. I’d leave here but I'm afraid to even do that." You cringe internally at how pathetic you sound, especially complaining to Abigail who has had her fair share of hardship in this world.

She observes you with a sympathetic click of her tongue being the only sound she is able to muster at the moment as you continue.

"You know," lifting your eyes back Abigail, "Arthur said I shouldn’t even be here. Suppose he’s right about that. As usual." You roll your eyes a bit. "I guess I just don’t belong anywhere."

Abigail reaches over the table and wraps her hand over top of yours. "Oh, (Y/N) please don’t say that. Of course you belong here." She affectionately squeezes your hand a bit more. "Don't listen to that fool. You're one of us now." Chuckling, she adds, "Whether you like it or not."

You finally stop peeling potatoes and give her a tired but appreciative smile. "It's times like this that I really miss my father, you know? At least we were misfits together.” Your face drops a bit at the memory of him. You and he came out west together to start a new life and, well, that is certainly what has happened. You have forged a new path for yourself with this gang of thieves and miscreants and found a new family within it.

But still, you miss your father terribly, as he was always your one true and unyielding ally in this world. There have been many moments where you have caught yourself in tears and heartache over his abrupt death. While the members of the Van Der Linde gang have been most gracious in welcoming you into their circle, that pang of sorrow still lingers like a fresh wound. And now in light of this situation with Arthur, it seems to have come back to the surface ten-fold as you're not sure what to do now. Your father was always such a kind and understanding man, very pragmatic. You’d give anything just to have his council again.

After the two of you are done helping Mr. Pearson with dinner, you head back to the privacy of your tent to nurse a throbbing headache, and Abigail wanders over to the fire with Jack in tow. While her boy plays with his wooden figurines at her feet, Abigail sits cross-legged on the ground with her chin in her hand, staring into the crackling flames with a contemplative scowl on her face. Soon enough, an all-too familiar raspy voice catches her attention.

"Oh boy, who's on your shit-list now?" jokes John as he playfully tugs on the few wisps of hair that hang from her loose bun and dance along the nape of her neck. He slowly lowers himself to sit next to her, leaning out onto his knees with his elbows. "I'm hopin' it ain't me." He bumps into her shoulder with a smirk.

She snorts in his direction. "No, for once, it's not you. It's that idiot brother of yours."

John listens to Abigail vent her frustrations out to him as she goes on for a good twenty minutes. (Honestly, it feels good to him to not be the target of her ire for a change.) And after hearing of what is going on between you two, John decides to talk to Arthur about it. He actually agrees with his woman for once and wants to see if he can nudge Arthur in the right direction. You and John may have gotten off on the wrong foot when you first came to join the gang, but since then, he has come to be quite fond of you. He appreciates the friendship you have provided for Abigail, and you’ve helped him to create a better relationship with her. And, as much as he and Arthur bicker, John has to admit that you are good for Arthur. Plus, if he doesn't talk to Arthur, Abigail certainly will. And John will try to spare his brother her wrath that he knows all too well himself.

John finds Arthur over by the horses, getting them fed and watered for the night before everyone settles in by the fires. He saunters over to Arthur, no announcement, no greeting. He just blurts out “Are you crazy?!"

Arthur halts in his movements, looking over his shoulder and giving John a confused look. "What in the hell are you goin' on about now, Marston?"

"You have a woman like (Y/N) throwing herself at you and you say 'no'?! Jesus, I don’t ever want to hear you talk about how stupid I am!” John plants his hands on his narrow hips as he scolds the man in front of him. Arthur just gives him another confused look. "Abigail told me," replies John. "Apparently (Y/N) is all upset and was talking to Abigail about it."

Arthur rolls his eyes to the sky. "Shit..."

"And before you get all mad at (Y/N) for blabbin', Abigail had to drag it out of her," John says quickly. "She was wonderin' why (Y/N)'s been actin' funny the last few days. "

"Oh..." Arthur sighs. He tosses the horse brush that is in his hand into the bucket at his feet and shoves his fingertips into his eye sockets in frustration. Great. Now the whole damn camp is going to know his business. "It ain’t that easy, Marston." He offers John his feeble excuse with a dismissive wave of his arm towards his brother.

John rolls his eyes in exasperation. "Well, what’s so damn hard about it, Arthur? She likes you, you like her - and don't tell me that you don't!" he quickly points his finger at Arthur before the man can even deny it. "It don’t get much easier than that!"

"What if..." Arthur's hand waves haplessly in the air, his eyes scattering across the camp, as he tries to find the words. "What if I get her killed? Huh?" A long, depressed sigh escapes his chest as he turns to lean his burly arms out over top of Buck's backside as he thinks. "Or, what if she decides that she really doesn't like me after all?" His chin turns back over his shoulder to meet John's questioning gaze again. "What then?"

"Well, that's a real possibility. I mean, I've known you for years and I still don't like you," John snickers.

"Don't be an ass," Arthur snaps back.

John proudly places his hand over his chest. "I can honestly say that for once, between the two of us, Arthur, I am not the ass in this situation here."

“She deserves better than the likes of me,” Arthur continues, flipping his hand about wildly again to indicate himself and the camp. And as he hears his own words hanging in the air, Arthur knows he's trying to convince himself more than John right now. Deep down, he's desperately trying to justify the huge mistake he knows that he is making.

“Well, that goes without saying." John walks a few steps closer to Arthur, casually patting Buck's hind quarters as he speaks. "But I say, if you really want (Y/N) to be happy, then just give her what she wants. And for whatever reason, that’s you, jack-ass." He looks his brother in the eye, an impish grin on his thin lips. "(Y/N) is not dumb, Arthur. Did you ever stop to think that if someone like her fancies you, then you can’t be all that bad?”

Arthur thinks on this for a moment, stunned by this idea. He's never considered it from that perspective. His vividly colored eyes dart around as the notion rolls about in his head. "You know, Marston, you may not be all that dense, after all."

John simply snorts in response. "Well, ain't that hard, considering the company that I keep."

"I can't believe I'm taking relationship advice from you of all people," Arthur mutters, as he draws his hand over his face in disbelief.

"I know, right?" John chuckles a bit as he slaps Arthur on the shoulder.

To Arthur's surprise, his talk with John actually makes him feel better. He decides to try to make things up to you, or to at least make the focused effort to go back to how things were before. But to his dismay, you resist his advances. You are trying to keep your distance from him at this point, avoiding him whenever you can, as you find that it's just too painful to be around him. You eat your meals in your tent, and you keep to yourself when you work. You are not unkind or rude to Arthur, using only simple one word answers when you have to talk to him. But there is no fondness or attachment with him as usual. The familiarity between the two of you has dwindled like a dying candle flame about to be swallowed in a bed of used wax.

You strategically place yourself the furthest away from Arthur whenever he is in camp, volunteering for any task that Ms. Grimshaw has available to keep yourself preoccupied. Grimshaw hates it when you girls are interrupted from whatever work she has dictated you to do. So you will use her iron-will to your advantage to shield yourself from Arthur if you can.

Aside from washing laundry all day, you run errands with Mr. Pearson, run scouts with Javier, and try to get out of camp altogether whenever you have the opportunity. You jump at the chance to go hunting with Charles any time he offers. In fact, you have come to rely on Charles quite a bit lately. Charles naturally has a calming presence about him and he has become a great comfort to you. He himself is also a bit of a loner and outsider in this group, and you have found a kindred spirit in him.

At one point you are in your tent cleaning up and turn to head out to find Charles. You are not paying attention, looking down as you shake out the jacket in your hands and you run right into Arthur, almost bouncing off of his chest. He has come to try to talk to you yet again, and corners you by your tent. He is standing in front of you with his thumbs tucked into his gun belt, as he usually does, but this time he has a slight scowl set upon his face, his eyes dark. If you didn't know him better, you'd be intimidated by his demeanor standing there.

You gasp, jumping slightly and placing a hand over your chest in surprise. "Jesus, Arthur! You scared the hell out of me!"

“Figured I had to sneak up on you lest you run away from me again," he retorts, his voice carrying a tinge of annoyance to it. "What, are you trying to make me jealous by hangin' 'round with other men, now?”

You halt at his accusation, your face twisting up. "Excuse me?"

“You’ve been hangin' 'round with Charles quite a bit lately." His eyes level at you with a cold and mirthless stare.

"Have I?" Your reply is sarcastically innocent. You do not care for his insinuation in the slightest, and now it is you who is getting annoyed.

"Yeah, you have," Arthur pushes. "You won’t go out hunting with me, but you’ll go out with him.” He juts his thumb over his shoulder back at the camp behind him.

“I like Charles," you counter harshly. "He doesn’t talk much. I don’t have to worry about stupid shit coming out of his mouth.”

"Is that a fact?" His slow drawl is clearly an indication that he is not amused at your statement.

"Yes, it is. Is that a problem, Arthur?" You are not about to back down from him, no matter how much he towers over you as he steps even closer to you now while you glare up at him bitterly.

He waves his hand at you in irritation. "No. No, you do whatever you damn well want.” You can tell he is getting riled up now, as his eyes are flashing, and you can see his jaw clenching, even under his beard.

“Good, because I plan to," you snap at him again. "Besides, what am I supposed to do?" You toss the jacket that you are still holding onto your cot behind you before crossing your arms defensively over your chest. "And where’s this coming from, anyway, Arthur? I thought you wanted no part of that?"

He just stares at you, not really sure what to say to that. The argument is right there on the tip of his tongue, ready to strike its ugly head. He wants nothing more than to grab you and hold you tight, never letting you go; needing you to just stop lashing out at him for a damn second. But he can’t. He just…can’t. So instead, he stands there like a mountain; silent and not moving.

Anger begins to build in your chest, causing the brows above your beautiful eyes to crease. You can feel your heart beating painfully faster as the adrenaline courses through your body. And you can sense that your mouth is about to pour forth words that will be an unstoppable waterfall.

"First there’s the glances, the lingering touches, taking me out places, talking to me all the time," you start rambling, your composure quickly crumbling now that you are speaking to him again. "Then all of a sudden acting like I'm nothing to you-“

"Hey! I never said you were nothing to me!” he interrupts with a shout as he takes another step closer to you.

"- only to be jealous, now?!" Your voice squeaks as it hits the louder decibel.

“I ain’t jealous and I never promised you anything! You’re the one who made it complicated!” He points his large finger in your face, mere inches from your nose.

"Right, my error. My miserable error for giving a damn about you!" Your arms shoot straight at your sides as your voice continues to rise in anger, your eyes dangerously brimmed with tears that threaten to spill forth and betray your hard front.

You lower your head to your hands, driving your fingertips into your temples, desperately trying to keep your brain from exploding. "What are you doing, Arthur?"

"What?" he snaps defensively.

"What are you doing to me?!," you holler at him, lifting your face back to his. "You want me here, but you don’t want me here. You don’t want me, but you don’t want me with anyone else, either. You can’t keep stringing me like that! What is it that you want, Arthur?!"

"I don’t know what the hell I want!” His voice roars into your face, standing nose to nose with you now, so close that you can feel his hot breath across your cheeks.

"Well that’s obvious," you say flatly.

And as you fearlessly hold his stony gaze, it occurs to you that you're going to have to let this fantasy of yours die. You've tried so hard to make him see what’s in himself, and to see you; to get him to see that your heart is here for his taking and, more importantly, that he deserves to be loved in return.

But he’s a broken outlaw. And you're going to have to come to terms with that and let him go. The reality of this idea painfully nets over your heart as your gaze flutters before it drops from his angry eyes to his heaving chest and finally falls to the ground to his dusty boots.

Defeated, your shoulders drop. You shake your head as you turn away from him, not able to look upon his face anymore. "Just…get the hell out of my tent, Arthur." Your tone is quiet and broken now after all of the yelling. He's done it. He's won the argument and finally gotten what he's been pushing you for. You're done with your childish fantasy of making this fearsome outlaw a partner to you.

Arthur stands there staring at your back for a moment, the corner of his eyes stinging slightly. Rage electrifies and radiates throughout his whole body as his hands flex in and out of a fist at his sides. Finally, he turns and storms away from your tent. "God damn it!" he mutters harshly to himself. Why is it that everything he touches turns to shit?

From where he's been watching this whole exchange, Hosea quickly stands up from his chair, alarmed, as he watches Arthur stalk angrily away from your tent.

“Arthur!” Hosea calls out, his face clearly laced with concern. For an "angry Arthur" is a "dangerous Arthur" for sure.

"Not now, Hosea!" Arthur snaps, waving the older man off without so much as a glance in his direction as he stomps off.

Arthur is so infuriated right now, he's not really sure what to do. He's irrationally upset with you. He keeps replaying that day at the overlook when you revealed your affection for him. Why in the hell did you have to do that? It ruined everything. The two of you could have remained friends, and if he longed for you, he could just do it secretly as he's been doing since he's met you. But no, you had to push the idea and now the two of you are either hollering at each other or not speaking altogether. Why did you have to come here and be so nice to him? Why did you have to make him fall for you?

But he soon realizes how foolish he is being, chastising himself. It's not your fault, but his. He never should have let it get this far. He should have kept his distance from you from the start. He should have known he’d be weak-willed and defenseless against someone as good and pure as you.

Arthur stalks back to his tent and as he does, he looks up and sees Charles sitting outside of his own tent. He's sitting upon a log as a makeshift chair, his attention acutely fixated on the materials in his hands. Looks like he is making more arrows. 'Probably so he can take (Y/N) out hunting again,' Arthur sourly thinks to himself.

Arthur walks over to Charles, knowing he probably shouldn't right now. All of his reasoning argues that he should just stop and try to calm down. But unfortunately, Arthur is not thinking rationally at the moment. Charles casually lifts his head as he sees Arthur approach out of the corner of his eye.

"Arthur." Charles greets him with an air of caution, as he can see the tension on his friend's face. He could hear you and Arthur arguing just a few minutes ago. From where his tent is situated in camp, it is farther from yours, so Charles couldn't hear exactly what was said, only the volume and tone with which it was.

"Charles," Arthur coolly greets in return. "What you workin' on there? Hmm? More arrows to go huntin' with?" He cocks his head to the side as he coldly stares down at the items in Charles' hands.

"Yeah. I promised (Y/N) the next time we go out that we'd work on her bow skills. Been working with her on tracking lately. But she really wants to get a grasp on working with a bow."

Arthur looks on with disdain as Charles’ large fingertips delicately wrap the end of the arrow shaft with feathers.

"Oh, I'm sure she wants to get a grasp on somethin', alright," Arthur retorts bitterly.

Arthur's tone makes Charles hesitate. He looks back to Arthur and measures his words carefully. "You got a problem with me taking (Y/N) out hunting, Arthur?"

"Maybe I do."

Charles is not a violent man by nature, but he will stand his ground if need be. He has no designs to "steal" you from Arthur, if that is what the other man thinks he's doing. He has no intention of fighting over you, either. But Charles will fight for you if he has to. He puts the shafts and string in his lap down on the ground next to his feet. Arthur doesn’t move a muscle of his large frame as Charles slowly stands to square off and meets him at eye level.

“If you got a problem with (Y/N), Arthur, that’s between you two. She and I are only hunting together. That's all." Charles's voice is low and even. He doesn't want to provoke his good friend, but he also resents his tone. "Apparently, she's looking to get out of camp a lot lately, looking for some peace and quiet. And, she's a good shot, damn good shot, in fact. So she is welcome to hunt with me whenever she wants." Charles pauses, standing a little straighter, pushing his chest out a bit. "Besides, she’s my friend, too.”

Arthur cocks a knowing eyebrow at Charles. “Yeah, and we all know how friendships can go.”

“Mind yourself, Arthur,” warns Charles, pointing his finger at his chest and giving his friend a look that is more of disappointment than anger, before he sits back down and calmly resumes his work. He understands Arthur's frustration, and understands that he is not the target of the outlaw's anger. He also knows Arthur is better than this pettiness, too. But more importantly, Charles won't stand for anyone speaking badly about you, regardless of who it is.

Arthur says nothing else, realizing that he is not getting anywhere with Charles. So to avoid ruining yet another relationship that he has come to rely on, Arthur smartly buttons his lips and walks off to sulk in the solitude of his tent.

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

This stunning image comes from @regwishesshehadmagic

The morning following your fight, Arthur is awake before the sun. He watches with bleary eyes as the crisp morning sun begins to fracture into his tent between the opening in the canvas. Not being able to sleep all night, he drags himself to sit up on his cot with a groan, rubbing his hands through his disheveled hair. Despite his overwhelming fatigue, he is so restless, he can’t stand it. Feeling as if he is on the edge of going crazy, Arthur quickly gets himself together and rides out of camp before anyone is aware. He doesn't know where he is going or what he is going to do, only that he has to get out of this godforsaken camp and clear his head.

He spends the next two days out in the woods, thinking about what to do and what he really wants. He is being torn apart by this rift between you and him, torn between what he wants and what he feels is right. Arthur sits among the trees, silent as a statue, while the forest life goes on about its merry way around him, and rolls his doubts and misgivings over and over again in his mind, along with what Micah had said. Torturing himself with angry and hurtful words, the man blames himself for allowing himself to be in this situation to begin with.

As the long day draws out into the night, Arthur still sits, legs stretched out before him as the small campfire illuminates the now-encroaching darkness. And of course, Arthur also thinks of you. He takes his journal out and reads over the entries. Refreshing his memory with thoughts of you, he relives the moments you've spent together. Each passage brings forth a plethora of emotions, each stronger than the last. Your image is scattered throughout the worn pages in various forms, from the details of your eyes and lips, to the graceful curve of your neck, visible when your hair is pulled up, to a full-body likeness of you standing with Jack on your hip. His rough fingers trace over the lines of your face as he sits in deep thought, a small smile involuntarily blooming across his features.

But most importantly, he thinks about what you said at the overlook. His eyes relax and stare unfocused into the dancing flames of his fire, and Arthur's chest tightens as he vividly remembers the look on your face when he declined your affections and sat there and did nothing as he watched your eyes rim with tears. Your voice still booms in his ears: “What is it that you want, Arthur?!”

Arthur’s fingers move as if combing through mud as he pulls a cigarette out of his satchel and lights it. Pulling a long drag off of the end, he lets out an extended and tired sigh. What does he want?

He knows he’s lonely. He hates to admit it, but he is. Cold nights and empty beds; no warm arms waiting to welcome him home. But the fear of exposing himself to love again, only for it to end horribly, is terrifying, even to a fearsome, hard outlaw. Losing Eliza and Issac shattered his heart. And Mary’s rejection has left him bitter and angry. Over the years, Arthur has channeled his hurt and pain into an armor until he has become someone else altogether; a shell of what he once was, and he wasn’t all that great to begin with. He’s no good, like a rotten apple that’s fallen from the tree that no one wants to take. Arthur doesn’t think he has it in him to do it all over again. And now, he is in a position to be stuck between living his life and running from it.

But you are different. You are not as young and naive as Eliza was. Nor are you as self-serving as Mary. Though he cared for and loved both women, Arthur knew, even then, that he was doomed, for these women did not fit with his family and lifestyle. But with you, that burden is removed. Not only do you accept the gang, but you have embraced it. And you are someone who cares for him, not for what he does, but for who he is.

You are delightfully chaotic; quite the beautiful mess, in fact. Arthur finds you to be wonderfully out of place in his life, but maybe that is as it should be. Kind of like when you see the moon during the daytime. You’ve turned your broken into beautiful and made your strength look invincible. You have never asked Arthur for the moon and the stars, but only to lay in the damp grass at night with you to watch them. And to Arthur, this means more than anything. The way your nose wrinkles when you smile. The way your eyes light up when you see him. The way you snort sometimes when you laugh. The way you get impassioned when you speak of something that touches you. Even the way you walk away from the fire at night to head back to your tent. Arthur wants it all.

And it is then that Arthur is hit with a profound realization. His eyes open wide and the air is sucked out of his chest as if he's been thrown from his horse. Arthur loves you. He loves you. And, more importantly, he wants the two of you to be together. More than anything. But can he do that?

He knows it's not the safe path, and probably not what is best for you. But John is right: if this is what you both really want, why not do it? He finally comprehends that he’s spent so much time being strong for everyone else that he’s never allowed himself to be happy. Maybe that needs to change now.

With resolve in his veins, Arthur quickly packs up his makeshift camp, literally tripping over himself in his haste, and heads back home.

As Arthur comes down the path back to camp, his eyes immediately notice that your horse is gone. Disappointed, but not discouraged, Arthur thinks about his next move and decides to ask Abigail and Mary-Beth what to do. If he is going to fix this great divide between you and him, he is going to need help to do it, as so far, he clearly doesn't know what he's doing on his own. He needs to bring "the big guns," as they say. And fortunately, Arthur finds the very two people he needs sitting together at a table.

“Can I talk to you ladies a minute?" Arthur calls over as he walks with purpose in their direction with a very determined look upon his face. The two women halt their conversation upon hearing him, curious about what he could want.

Mary-Beth smiles up at him as Arthur gets close to their table. "Sure, Arthur. What do you need?" He sits down next to Mary-Beth, pausing to organize his thoughts before he just comes right out with it.

"(Y/N) told me how she feels about me. You know, that she likes me an’ all. And like a fool, I pushed her away.” His eyes dart back and forth from both of their faces before shamefully down at his own hands that fidget on the table. "I guess I underestimated how I’d feel about that."

Abigail sits up straighter as a huge smile begins to cross her lips. “Are you saying that you want to be with her then, Arthur?”

"The question was never if I wanted to," he says to Abigail. "But she won’t even speak to me now." He holds his hands up in defeat before letting them fall haplessly onto the table, and looks to the women with a pathetic face, pleading for help. "Every time I try, we end up yellin’, and I make it worse."

Abigail gives him a scolding look. "Well, Arthur, you wounded her pride and broke her heart. What do you expect?"

“Maybe you need a grand gesture?” suggests Mary-Beth, gesturing with her arms in emphasis. Her eyes go wide with excitement, eager to help usher this new relationship into existence. "(Y/N) can be stubborn, for sure. So if she won't talk to you, Arthur, then make her listen. Maybe you need to show her how you feel?"

“If you’re going to do something, you may need to do it soon, Arthur," warns Abigail, tapping her finger on the table. She goes on to tell him that you feel as if you don’t belong and have been distancing yourself from the whole camp.

"She's up and out before anyone else, and when she is in camp, she rarely leaves her tent now." This worries Arthur because what if you decide to leave? Then what? He’s scared to lose you even though you're not his to lose.

Arthur sits quietly, taking in all of this information. He tries to think of what he could possibly do while Abigail and Mary-Beth both stare at him, waiting for the answer. "Thank you, girls. I appreciate your help," he finally says. "Do me a favor though, and don't mention this to (Y/N), please? I don't know what I'm doin' just yet, and I don't want to disappoint her even more than I already have."

"Sure, Arthur. Whatever you say," Mary-Beth answers with a hopeful grin. “Good Luck!”

He then looks to Abigail, who just stares back obstinately.

"Abigail?"

"Ugh, OK fine! I won't say anything. But you had better do something, Arthur Morgan!" as she points her finger at him. "Or so help me-"

"OK, OK!" he holds up his hands in surrender as he stands up. "I don't need two women in camp after me. I'll take care of it." And he smiles to himself as he heads to his tent to plan.

After mulling over his options, Arthur decides to ride back to Rosewood where you came from to see if he can find anything of your father's there. If you are missing your family, as Abigail told him, Arthur is hoping to bring back some sort of remembrance of him for you. After a quick check-in with Dutch, Arthur immediately heads out of camp and on his way to Rosewood. It's a few days' ride, so he needs to get going so he can hurry and get back.

Meanwhile, back at camp, you notice Arthur has been gone intermittently since your revelation, and now he’s been gone for several days after your fight. Things seem to be going from bad to worse. Figuring he’s outright avoiding the camp itself because of you, you don’t know what to do. This is his family, his people. And if you're the one making things difficult, then you will need to be the one to leave. So, you start coming to terms with the idea that you will need to find a new place of your own.

This evening, as the sun starts to crawl back behind the mountains, you find yourself sitting outside of camp by yourself. You stare out into the watercolor-painted sky, thinking over where you'll go and what you'll do. The idea of leaving is terrifying. You'll have to start over yet again. You'll miss everyone in this camp who you have come to love so dearly. You’ll surely miss Abigail and Jack. And of course Hosea. You'll miss Arthur.

You draw your knees up closer to your chin and wrap your arms around them as an overwhelming fatigue cascades over you. You are so lost in your own thoughts that you do not hear footsteps behind you.

“(Y/N)? What are you doing out here?” You hear Charles' soft voice cut through your thoughts. When he didn't see you at dinner yet again tonight, he decided to come to check on you.

You hastily wipe away a few tears from your cheeks and try to smile for him. “Hi, Charles. What can I do for you?”

He cautiously approaches you as one does a wounded animal. His brows knit in concern when, even in the setting sunlight, he can see the red-rim of your wet eyes. "Arthur ain’t gonna be too happy if he finds out we’ve let you wander off by your lonesome.”

You scoff at that. "Oh, I highly doubt that," giving Charles a sad smile. "Although Arthur is the expert on what I shouldn’t be doing, it seems." You turn your attention back to the horizon, watching the last flecks of golden sunlight begin to fade for the day. "Besides, he won't have to worry about it much longer."

Charles freezes before nervously shifting his weight from hip to hip. "What do you mean by that?"

"Oh…nothing. Forget I said anything." You wave off the comment as if it is nothing more than a rambling thought, but you still avoid his dark eyes.

"(Y/N)…you OK?"

"Yeah…sure. I’ll be fine"

Charles steps closer to you, studying your face and countenance, not believing you for a second. "Listen (Y/N), I know you and Arthur are in a weird place right now-“

"Oh, Charles, I really don’t want to talk about Arthur. Really, I don’t,” you insist, shaking your head vehemently. Your eyes have a glassy sheen that causes Charles to cringe in pity for you.

“OK,” He’s silent for a moment. "Can I do anything for you?" His hand tentatively reaches out to you, not really sure what, if anything, he can do.

"No, sweet man, I’m OK. Thank you." You try to give him another smile for reassurance. "Go ahead back to everyone. I won't be out here much longer. I promise."

Charles hesitates a bit longer, before turning to head back to camp. "All right, if you're sure you're OK, then."

When you see him disappear amongst the tents again, you turn back to the horizon. The sun is gone now. The light has been snuffed out, leaving a cold and lonely atmosphere in its wake. The first few pin-pricks of starlight begin to emerge in the purple sky. You sigh deeply as your shoulders drop even more and your eyelids fall like stones.

"I'm not sure of anything anymore," you whisper to yourself.

A/N: *Oh my goodness, half-way there! More drama to come, but I promise, we’re getting there, and it’s definitely worth it (I hope anyway)

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x f!reader #rdr2 #Read Dead Redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan x reader angst

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siriusleee · 9 months

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Like Blood on Iron | Part 2

Historical Executioner AU

Summary: The executioner has always been an enigma to you - drawing you in. His sword drawing a line in the dirt as he made his way to the village center, and leaving back to his cottage on the outskirts of town. However, your curiosity can't stop the future your family has planned for you.

Warnings: mentions of blood, family dynamics, semi-forced marriage mention, implied age gap, future smut, future blood and gore.

Word Count: 4.6k

A/N: I fall off in second chapters. Odd-number chapters are really my strength. Anyway, if you like the story and you'd like to donate to my ridiculous expensive wisdom teeth removal, consider donating a dollar. I only need 2,000.

If you'd like to be added to the tag list, comment below. If I cannot tag you, I will reply to your comment to let you know next chapter has been written.

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part one

part 3

Neither of you moves; the lighting crashes in the distance - electricity crackling in the air. Your anger at your family overcomes your fear of him; you stalk towards the water, hands reaching behind you to try and unlace the stays. The dress pulls uncomfortably at you, and you can't reach the back.

"Are you just going to stand there? Or are you going to lecture me like last time?" You yell at him across the sand.

You come to a stop feet from the water, hands still fruitlessly trying to unlace your dress. He doesn't speak, and your anger grows. Your hands turn from trying to unlace your dress to being balled at your side.

"You're bleeding," his voice is low, nearly inaudible over the waves that threaten to crash into the two of you.

"It's nothing. Just a scrape." You feel his eyes on your hand; you move it behind your back so that he can't see it.

The silence grows, and your anger starts to wan - it feels strange to just stand there and say nothing so you turn away from him; you stare out at the dark ocean and rolling storm and wonder if you'll have to stay here all night. You don't know if you can go home and face your mother and father.

"You're unhappy," the execution says - voice flat and firm. As if he knows what's happened at home.

"You're the observant type."

He comes to stand beside you, cloak swishing on the dark sand. His presence is imposing, pushing you out of your comfort zone. You get the feeling that he's waiting on you to speak. It takes a moment of your thought; what repercussions could happen from explaining yourself to him? Who would he tell?

"My parents are forcing me to marry a man I don't want to marry. And I'm stuck in this stupid dress." It comes out of you all in one rush, a confession you didn't know you were making. You feel silly telling him your problems, but there's no one else to speak to.

"Is he a bad prospect?"

You scuff your shoe against the sand, carving a line between the two of you.

"No - that's the difficult part. He's perfectly fine. Perfectly nice. Nothing wrong with him at all - I don't like being forced into things."

Another pregnant pause.

"What would happen if you refused?"

You snort, and it hurts your ribs.

"I'll be sent to the convent to be a sister for the rest of my life."

"So you're unable to refuse." His voice is flat, empty but leading enough to make you want to talk.

You don't want to agree with him so you choose to ignore what he said, turning the conversation around to him.

"What are you doing here? I don't see anyone in need of beheading."

"I can't leave my own home?"

"I didn't say that."

You sink to sit in the sand and pull your shoes off. When your bare feet hit the sand you sigh, digging your toes into the warmth. After a moment, the executioner lowers himself down beside you; out of the corner of your eye you observe his clothes: black tunic and black pants, tucked into black boots. You suppose it comes with the occupation, the need to dress like midnight.

It's uncomfortable to sit there with the dress laced so tight, so you do something risky.

"Can you untie this dress, please? I can't breathe."

His hands twitch against his thigh.

"I can."

You turn slightly so that he can see the stays. His fingers are gentle, you can hardly feel them as he pulls on the string.

"I can't get them undone; whoever tightened them is an expert."

You let out a mirthless laugh at that.

"You can cut them for all I care - the dress is ruined anyway."

Out of the corner of your eye, you see him shift, a flash of silver coming from beneath his cloak. He grabs the stays, pulling them back. There's a small snick and the bodice loosens all at once. You take the first decent breath you've taken all evening, your hands coming up to hold the bodice in place across your chest.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

He slides the knife - the blade as long as your forearm - back into a sheath at his waist. So many questions clamber to the forefront of your thoughts. Why are you out here? is the one that slips from your lips first.

He answers you with a question of his own.

"Why did you come out here tonight?"

In the distance, you see something flash in the water. You keep your eyes trained on the horizon waiting for it to appear again, but it doesn't.

"I just needed to get somewhere I could breathe," you admit, thinking about the storm brewing at home.

"Likewise."

You trace patterns in the sand with your fingers before you speak again.

"How many times were you out here when I was?"

How many times did you see me through my chemise?

"A handful of times."

"And you never thought to say anything to me?"

He doesn't answer your question. The waves pull in closer, the tide coming in just reaching the two of you. A boldness takes over you - you push yourself to your feet, your bodice falling open. You pull the dress over your head, struggling for a moment before getting it free. You feel almost embarrassed by the thinness of your chemise, but you ignore it as you throw the dress to the side.

You don't look at the executioner as you wade out until the water is at chest level - everything is hidden. On the shore, the executioner looks politely to the side.

"You can look now! I'm assuming you have before."

"I've always looked away."

His tone is almost affronted. You can't help the grin that breaks out on your face.

"What is your name?" you ask, the warm water making you bold again. "I don't want to keep calling you 'the executioner' in my head."

"Why should I tell you my name; I don't know yours."

"You tell me your name, and I'll tell you mine."

You think of the fairy tales Mother used to tell you when you were young: about fae in the woods, merfolk sunning on the beach, ghouls under the bridge. Never tell them your name she'd whisper dramatically, because your name has power in it.

"You can call me Ghost."

"That's not your real name is it?"

"No."

You level a look at him - his brown eyes barely visible in the darkness. It's part of being the executioner, you know, the loss of the name you were given under god as a child. You wonder if you can remember the last time anyone knew his real name.

You tell him your name, calling across the water to him. The power is his now.

You dive under the water until you can touch the bottom, scraping the dark sand with your fingertips. You push yourself towards the shore, skimming the bottom until you have to resurface for air. You keep yourself down in the water so that everything is still covered. Ghost has shifted in the sand, one leg stretched out in front of him.

"Why do you wear the hood? Do you ever take it off?"

"Sometimes."

"And the mask?"

"Don't you think you're asking a lot of questions?" His timber goes down half an octave - a warning for you to stop prying. He speaks again, getting you off of the subject of himself. "Do you plan to stay out here all night?"

"I suppose I have to. If I go home now my mother will probably use the whip on me."

"Has she done it before?"

"Once when I accidentally set my sister's bed on fire."

"Accidentally?"

"I swear."

Lightning crashes, close enough now that you can feel the vibrations; the sound is like a cannon in your ears. Pushing yourself out of the water, you clamber back toward your clothes. Ghost keeps his eyes on the horizon as you lift the dress, too ruined to put back on.

"Damn it," you mutter, "I'm going to have to run home in this."

"I thought you weren't going home?"

"Where else am I going to go in the middle of a storm? I'll just have to brave the whip. Unless you know somewhere I can hide for the night."

There's the sound of Ghost standing behind you; you're too busy trying to plot a way to make it home without anyone seeing you notice how close he is to you until he drips his cloak over your shoulders, heavy and warm. The smell of him envelops you.

"My mother is going to whip me if I come home in this," you mutter to yourself, pulling it around you - it pools at your feet, too long for you to hold up.

"Tell her you stole it," Ghost says, stepping around you, and for the first time, you see him without the cloak. Without the cloak, he seems larger, with a black tunic and pants, tucked into black boots. His mask, smeared with white ash, wraps around and covers everything but his eyes. The smell of him envelops you as you pull the hood of the cloak over your head to protect yourself from the coming rain.

"Yes, because that will make everything better."

You try not to stare at him as rain droplets start to fall, heavy and fat against the hood of the cloak. It feels almost intimate to see him like this, to see the distinct curves of his body, the way his tunic falls open, just slightly at the top.

"Anyway, I need to get home before the storm rolls in. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Like before, he walks up the steep and slippery path before you. You follow, far enough behind that you can stare at him as he walks, committing his shape to memory. At the top, he leaves you and you watch him until he disappears into the darkness. The rain is heavy and fast when you finally turn back home. Your feet squeal in the mud as you walk, the bottom of the cloak becoming caked in it, your shoes held in your hands to save them from the mud.

The house is cold when you walk in - lighting thrashing in the background. You're met with silence; you step on the sturdy spots of the floor, trying to keep anyone from hearing you. It's dark and you have hope that everyone is asleep and you can clean up and slide into bed without anyone noticing. But that hope is dashed when you hear Mother's voice from the sitting room.

"You finally made it back."

Her voice is like swallowing a sliver of ice.

"Get in here."

You don't dare disobey - the half-veiled threat of the whip is barely hidden in her voice. You keep the cloak pulled tight around you as you step lightly into the room. She's still completely dressed - her hair so perfect there's not one flyaway. She doesn't look at you as you walk in, hesitating in the doorway. The light from the oil lamp bounces off of her.

When she finally looks at you, her eyes narrow, eyeing the cloak. Your heart picks up, wondering what she's going to say about it.

"Sit down."

You ease into the seat across from her, trying to keep the fact that you've left Maggie's dress behind. The silence grows pregnant by the second, until Mother leans across to you, a letter in her hand. She holds it out to you, shaking it when you don't take it. It's heavy in your hand, the parchment thicker than a usual letter.

"What is this?"

"Read it."

You unfold the parchment and read with growing horror. Each line is a nail inside a proverbial coffin.

"You can't be - how long have you had this?"

Mother doesn't look at you as she smoothes the invisible wrinkles in her skirt. She chooses each of her words carefully, biting them off in small chunks.

"I obviously can not stop you from sneaking off to wherever it is that you have been going at night, or stop you from seeing whoever you go see," her eyes linger at the opening of the cloak, a sliver of your underdress showing. "But I am tired of having you act like a child. Your sisters have no problem with following the rules around here - I don't know why you can't."

You try to interrupt her, but she holds her hand up to stop you.

"I contacted the covenant last year. They have a spot ready for you. I can send you today if you wish to be rid of here that badly. But I am tired of this. You made an embarrassment of all of us. By some grace, Jonathan is still willing to marry you; although it does make me question his judgment. You will marry him as soon as he gets back."

"Gets back? From where? When?"

"He is going on one of your father's boats on its trip. It leaves tomorrow evening - and should be back in six months. He was going to tell you that last night."

Your stomach rolls, and you feel like throwing up. She stands, and even though she's no taller than you, she seems like a giant at that time.

"I will not stop you from doing whatever it is that you do when you sneak out at night or stop you from seeing whoever it is. But I will send you away if I need to. In six months you will be a wife or you will be gone. And that is the end of this conversation."

She doesn't look at you as she sweeps out of the room. You can hear her walk up the stairs, and then the door of her bedroom slam shut.

You tread up the stairs lightly, listening for sounds of Lily or Maggie, but there are none. Your room is empty, the bed made up and everything swept away. You drop down to the end of the bed - completely frozen by the idea of being sent away to be locked up behind a habit.

Stiffly, you strip your clothes off. The wash basin water is ice cold, but it does good enough to rise the mud and ocean off of your skin - you know tomorrow it'll be hell to get the knots out of your hair, but that's not a problem you want to worry about right now.

The bed is cold without Lily in the bed, and the sound of the storm racks your nerves. You think of Ghost, walking in this storm to the edge of the village, and wonder if he's made it to safety. After a moment, you pull the cloak up, forgetting the mud at the bottom, and drape it over yourself, the smell of Ghost washing over you to lull you to sleep.

You're woken by the sunlight hitting your face and a banging at the door. Maggie bursts in, hair damp with a sour expression.

"Do you need to wash your hair? There's still warm water if you need it." She crosses the room and jerks Ghost's cloak off of you. "Where did you get this? It's disgusting."

"I stole it," your voice is thick with sleep, "and thank you for telling me."

"Well, I figured you would want to wash after being out last night?"

"Why are you saying it like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like I was out up to no good."

"Seriously? You came home without my dress and with a stranger's cloak. It has to be a man's, no woman in the village is this tall. I'm not stupid."

"I told you I stole it."

Maggie sighs, her wet hair leaving a small damp spot on her shoulder. Her hands wring at her skirt, wrinkling the material - something you know she's going to fret about later. She hesitates in the doorway and then crosses quickly to the end of the bed.

"You know last night-"

"Please don't start Maggie, I am not in the mood to hear you lecture me. In fact, I would appreciate it if you just kept it to yourself."

Maggie stares you down before turning on her heel and storming out. Your head is thick as you push yourself up to stand. A headache threatens the back of your eyes, a pressure that threatens to build throughout the day. There's a stale taste in your mouth that mixes with iron like you've bitten your cheek in your sleep.

You hear the general sounds of people downstairs, the heavy tread of your father's boots on the floor, and the sound of the front door slamming shut. You dress quickly, washing your hair until the ocean salt is gone.

Lily waits for you at the bottom of the stairs, twirling her hair around her fingers - a nervous habit no one has ever been able to break her of. You drop down beside her, pulling her hair from her fingers gently.

"You keep doing that and you're going to go bald."

"Where were you last night?"

You shrug dramatically, leaning back so that your elbows are supporting you.

"I got lost, and then I had to fight off a wild roving band of bears. That tore my dress, so I had to sneak into someone's backyard and steal their cloak from where it was drying. Then I got caught, so I had to run through the mud and rain home."

Lily giggles at you before her hands find her hair to tug on it again.

"You know everyone is mad at you."

"I do. As long as you're not, it doesn't matter."

"Mother is going to make you get a wedding dress this week. I heard her tell Father that we needed to take a trip to the seamstress."

You sigh, fingers tracing the worn wood grain of the steps. Years of your family tracing a passage up and down has written the story of the house: your grandfather, carrying your father downstairs in a wrapped bundle, your Mother so heavily pregnant that she needed a cane to walk, you and Maggie bashing your knees against the wood chasing your father, you carrying Lily up on your back when the sprained her ankle last spring. And in six months you'll be a memory to it.

"I figured she would do that soon. I look horrible in white. Maybe a nice black; I can always wear it again in mourning." You lean forward to look into the empty kitchen. "Where is everyone?"

"Maggie went out - I don't know where she didn't say. Father went to see his ship off, Mother went to the church. It's just me and you."

A plan hatches in your chest, radiating outward in the seconds of silence that come through the house. You stand, pulling Lily up with you.

"Come on. I have an idea."

***

"We shouldn't be here - we're going to get in trouble," Lily whines, one hand on the back of your skirt, the other holding a basket.

"No, we're not. If anyone sees us, what are we doing?"

"Looking for Danesblood and yarrow." She repeats back to you what you coached her to say before the two of you left.

"And why are we doing that?"

"Because you twisted your knee last night and you need to make an ointment for the pain."

"Right."

The two of you crouch in the thick underbrush across from Ghost's cabin - a building off-limits to everyone in the village save for the judge and the council. In the daylight it's small and unassuming, the slight smoke curl wafting from the chimney almost pastoral. You remember once when Father had to visit the old executioner, the day before an emergency execution to sign off on it with the other council members. He'd come back shaken and refused to speak about it.

"What are we even doing out here?" Lily asks, breath hot against your neck as you crouch down, scanning the road to the left and right to see if anyone is near.

"I need to return this cloak," you tell her, holding the neatly wrapped cloak in your hands. You'd quickly scrubbed it free of mud, pressing it to your face to breathe in the smell of Ghost before running downstairs to pull Lily into the street with you. She'd worried the entire time here, nettles snagging at your skirts as the two of you crept through the woods to keep from being seen.

"You stole it from him!" she squeaks, voice rising to a pitch only dogs can hear.

"Hush!" You chide, pressing one finger to your lip before turning back to the street. "And yes. I stole it right off his drying line. It was very brave."

"You're a liar!" Her voice rises a pitch.

"Just hush and stay here. Don't move no matter what."

"What if he kills you?"

"You can go home then."

You take a deep breath, gather your skirts in one hand, and dash across the road. At the door, you drop the cloak, knock on the door once, and turn on your heel to run. You can make out Lily's face, eyes pale as she peers in fear. You make it beside her, turning just in time to see the door shut.

"Do you think he saw me?" You ask Lily, breathless.

"I think he did. Do you think he'll tell anyone?"

You don't answer her, just pull her back towards the village. At the edge, the two of you pause before melding back into the streets. You grab her hand, pulling her towards the bustling market street to seem like you've been there for hours.

"Come on," you say, pulling her, "let's get home."

The walk is tense, the two of you expecting at any moment to get caught by someone who can feel what the two of you were just doing. But no one stops you as you walk - no one stops you as the two of you cross onto your street, no one-

The sound of your name stops you and Lily short. Behind you Maggie walks, a quick shuffle, her hair falling around her face. She strides towards the two of you; grabbing Lily's wrist she pulls her away from you and tries to tuck Lily behind her back.

"What were you up to?"

"Nothing, we-"

"Don't be a liar."

You've never thought about hitting Maggie, but at this moment, you think about shoving her down into the dirt. Maggie breathes hard through her nose, her grip on Lily's wrist bruising.

"Lily doesn't need you dragging her into the messes that you keep getting yourself into."

"Maggie I swear-"

You don't get any words out, your anger blistering as you watch Maggie drag Lily back towards the house. Lily looks over her shoulder at you, her eyes apologizing, her feet causing rivets in the dirt. You watch as the front door of the house swings shut.

****

That evening finds you on the pier, your feet dangling toward the water, a sense of freedom finally overtaking you for the day. Here with no one ignoring you or speaking to you as if you were simple, and no one in the village whispering about your engagement behind your back.

Boots hit the wood behind you, and you recognize the tread pattern. When he's close enough to you, he speaks.

"Not hiding in the cove tonight?"

"No - I figured that my mother is hell-bent on running my days and that I will do what I want with my nights." You turn towards him, expecting his normal cloak, but instead being met without it. He looms over you in his all-black attire, eyes shining around his mask.

"You know I returned your cloak today."

"I saw that, thank you. Does my presence scare you so much that you needed to run?"

You scoff, moving over so that he can come to stand beside you.

"No. But my little sister is terrified of you, and I didn't need to scare her by stopping to have a chat."

You push yourself to your feet, your head coming to Ghost's shoulder. You turn on your heel, heading back towards the shore - you turn to see Ghost still standing at the end of the pier, eyes cast towards the horizon.

"Are you going to stand there all night or would you like to go on a walk?"

It takes a moment, but he turns back towards you.

"A walk?"

"Yes. I'm not sitting on this uncomfortable pier all night long, and I don't feel like swimming tonight. I'm going on a walk - you're welcome to come with me if you wish."

Ghost catches up to you by the time you reach the end of the pier, falling into step beside you, hands clasped behind his back. The two of you stride back towards the main section of the village, window shutters closed tight on each house.

"You're not worried about being seen with me?" Ghosts ask as the two of you round a side street - shadows long and thick across the road.

"Who is there to see us? It's long past midnight. Everyone is asleep but us."

The sound of your feet on the hard ground reverbs off of the houses, the swish of your skirt, and the sound of his boots filling the air. The air is blistering, the moisture from the storm steaming in the night air.

"Do you intend to walk the streets every night?" Ghosts ask, voice deadpanned.

"Well, considering no one in my house is speaking to me and my mother is going to make me go to the seamstress for a wedding dress this week, I think the nighttime is the best time for me to be out."

"Seems like a waste of money since every dress you seem to own ends up covered in seawater and sand." You can't tell if he's teasing or not, but you cut your eyes at him anyway. You give a sarcastic laugh, clasping your hands behind your back in a pantomime of his posture.

"My mother is probably going to tie me up on the wedding day so that I can't leave the house. So you will just have to do without seeing me strip that dress off."

Ghost lets out an annoyed 'humph' that you can't help but smile at. Your feet carry you onto the main street - the execution platform ahead of you two. Your feet falter, Ghost pausing alongside you. Even in the dark of the night, the execution platform has a dark hue around it.

Ghost starts ahead of you, erasing any questions you have from the air. His spine is rigid, and you can sense his discomfort rolling in waves off of him. Neither of you speaks until the platform is behind the two of you.

"Do you ever sleep?" You finally ask as the two of you walk down the market street.

"Why does it matter?"

"Well, most people sleep at night?" You say as if you're explaining something to a small child.

"You're here with me."

"I sleep once I get home. But do you sleep?"

"Occasionally."

The conversation drops until your house looms in the distance. You stop at the front, Ghost pausing with her.

"This is where I stop for the night. I do need sleep after all."

Ghost doesn't speak, just stares down at you with blank eyes.

"I may see you tomorrow night. Goodnight."

You don't wait for him to say goodnight, but as the door shuts behind you, you swear you hear him whisper it.

tag list: @silverianni, @milfs4lifee, @koi-feish, @shirabeastly, @pookie90, @ghostlythots, @hearts4sky, @devcica, @crystalizedtime, @the-worlds-tempest, @myconglomerateromance, @elena-ph, @chaoticgoblindev, @pipocfamily, @canadianmilkbag, @caspertheassholeghost, @2512121morningstar, @glitterypirateduck, @elli0th3r, @clairdelunelove, @captainprice4life, @generaldestinychild

#my fics #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost cod x reader #cod fanfic #ghost cod #cod #cod x reader #cod mw2 #cod modern warfare #cod mwii #call of duty #mw2 #modern warfare 2 #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty modern warfare #modern warefare 2

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crowleys-hips · 1 month

Text

Touch Forbidden

another Crowley pov poem

i have never known how to be human i watch them, and i mimic try to replicate their gestures, the way they breathe, move, speak, love my hands itch for touch forbidden so instead i’ll bury my hands in soil grow a garden in barren land watch plants starve for light they have never known as they inch closer, closer, closer to the sun i’ll light flames from my fingertips and paint the whole sky until time crashes and all my creations explode in supernovas i’ll stroke piano keys no, pummel them until i or the instrument bleed i’ll drown the silence in the violence of grieving sonatas let the black and white between my fingers blur into shades of gray as i try not to think of how your hands would feel interlaced with mine instead i’ll write you love letters you will never read until my hand cramps and breaks until i run out of ink or my veins are drained i’ll sink to the bottom of endless bottles of liquor until the image of you is a cloudy haze until i can’t feel my skin anymore crying out for the touch of yours i’ll render my hands useless as i grip the wheel of my car and try to outrun my thoughts bolting out at lightspeed going interstellar and try to find a home hidden among dead planets that have never known warmth i’ll dig myself a hole there and become rootbound maybe then my soiled hands will forget your shape my skin will dissolve and cry no more for touch forbidden

tag list under the cut:

@wibbly-wobbly-blog @phantomram-b00 @crowleys-bentley-and-plants @charlotte-zophie @crowleys-curl @quoththemaiden @thewibblylever @genderqueer-hippie @lickthecowhappy @halcyonnnn @celestialcrowley

if anyone wants to be added/removed let me know

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littleseasiren · 1 year

Text

Alpine

Summary: Your long-time crush Bucky has a secret, a tiny white kitten. She's the cause of some interesting situations between you and the handsome super soldier. When Bucky's secret gets out, will it bring you closer together or break you apart?

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Warnings: Mainly fluff, mention of animal cruelty, threats of revenge on the abuser, Tony being an idiot until the reader makes him see sense.

Words: ~ 5800

A/N: Grammarly is my beta reader, so any mistakes are my own. Comments and reblogs will be appreciated. Please let me know if you want to be added or removed from my tag list. Thanks for reading!

"Bucky!" Your voice echoes in the empty hallway.

The super soldier looks like he is going to ignore your call but halts after a few seconds. He turns around, eyes wide open in innocence.

"I didn't do anything..." he mumbles softly. "I gotta go."

He turns around once again and starts walking to his room, his steps rushed.

"Wait!" You run in front of him. When he doesn't stop, you walk backwards, keeping him in your sight. "Where were you? We were supposed to have lunch together?"

"Crap," he sighs. "I'm so sorry doll. I got held up and forgot."

"It's ok. I saved you a plate. Why don't you come with me then you can eat it?"

"I, uh... can't."

"Why? What's wrong?"

His eyes don't meet yours. "I just don't feel well. I gotta go."

He sidesteps you when a strange sound comes from his zipped-up hoodie.

"Bucky, what was that?" You run after him, his strange behaviour making you suspicious.

"It's nothing." When he sees you don't believe him he rubs his forehead in apprehension. "Uh, it was my stomach."

"Bucky, for a spy, you suck at lying to me."

When another sound is made, you realize it kind of sounds like a meow. When your eyes widen in shock, he firmly pulls you into his room and locks the door.

"Please, don't tell anyone." His eyes beg you, the blue seeming to hypnotize you until he carefully zips down his hoodie and pulls out an ivory-white ball of fluff, and holds it in his hands. The ball of fluff meows and turns to look at you. You gasp when bright blue eyes meet yours, the kitten seeming tiny in Bucky's large hands.

"I know we're not allowed to have pets. Trust me, I didn't plan on getting one. She just happened."

"She? It's a girl? Are you sure?" You move closer to him, reaching out slowly and rubbing the little cat's head and ears, making her purr softly.

"Yeah, I had to take her to a vet. He confirmed it." Bucky shifts his hold and that's when you see it. A small pink cast is on the kitten's back leg, along with a bandage on her small tummy. You can't stop gasping. Something bad had to happen to the little girl.

"What happened to her?" You ask Bucky as you both move to sit on his couch. From his hoodie, he pulls out a small bag and puts it on the table next to him.

"Humans happened to her. I was on my jog when I saw this car speed into an alley. He threw a box into the dumpster and just sped off. At first, I just thought he was a prick that needed to throw away some trash. But then I heard a faint noise. The closer I got to the dumpster the more I could hear. The box he had thrown away? It had her in it, all bleeding and crying for help. I couldn't just leave her there. So I took her to the vet to be patched up. Thought maybe they would be able to look after her, but since it's the holidays, they are full. So I had to bring her home."

You can't help but tear up at the thought of what the little kitten had gone through. "People like that should never be able to have pets, ever. They should cut something off too, just to remind him what he's done."

Bucky chuckles next to you but his eyes are dark with anger. "If I get my hands on him, he'll be lucky to make it out with his life. People that abuse animals belong in the ninth circle of hell."

"That's for sure." When she cries out loudly, you both startle. "She must be hungry. Did the vet say what to feed her?"

"Yeah, he said I have to give her this formula for now." He picks up the bag and shows it to you. "He says she's almost 4 weeks old, but since she's a bit malnourished, I need to feed her a little bit every 3 hours. I need to gradually begin to increase the time between feedings before I start introducing wet foods too."

When she cries again you both chuckle at how cute she is. "Guess it's feeding time," he smirks at you as he stands up and walks to his small kitchenette. "Do you want to hold her?"

You almost squeal in delight, your smile lighting up the room. "Yes, please!"

Bucky decides to call the kitten Alpine, due to her snowy colour. You completely agree with him, the name fitting her like a glove.

The two of you work together to feed Alpine before you offer to go out and buy toys and kitty litter for her, secretly hiding it beneath bags of clothes.

When you come back, the two of you set up her supplies and settle in for a long evening of watching movies and feeding the cutest cat in the world.

You wake up to warmth beneath you and a small pressure on your lower back.

You moan softly, feeling safe and peaceful when a gentle touch runs down your side. Your eyes blink open in surprise and find blue eyes smiling up at you.

"Bucky, I-" you move to get off the big supersoldier but he stops you by grasping your shoulders gently.

"Easy doll, Alpine's going to fly off you if you get up. She's laying on your back."

"Oh," your eyes widen at the situation you find yourself in. You're laying on your stomach, your head on Bucky's shoulder as he lays beneath you. Your stomach to his chest, legs intertwined with a sleeping kitten on the small of your back.

You've never been this close to Bucky before, seeing for the first time the sprinkle of tiny freckles on his face, his full lips and perfect white teeth open in a smile. Why is he smiling?

Your cheeks burn in humiliation as you realise you've been staring at him and he's noticed.

Before you can apologise, he's talking, voice a little hoarse. "I'll lift Alpine then you can climb off. Just give me a second. I'll try not to wake her..."

"Ok," you whisper, eyes unable to meet him. When his arms creep up your sides, you have to hold in a moan that threatens to burst out of you at his touch. The man you had a crush on for months was touching you, but not in the way you wanted him to.

You pretty much hold your breath when his biceps sandwich you on both sides as he gently scoops up the sleeping kitten in his hands then holds them high in the air as you wiggle out from above him.

When he whimpers you look up at him but his eyes are the epitome of innocence so you must have imagined it. There was no way he liked you too, you weren't so lucky.

His muscles ripple beneath his shirt as he slowly stands up and walks to the new cat bed you had bought earlier, softly laying Alpine down as she continues sleeping.

When Bucky straightens and your eyes meet, you can't help but smile at how gentle he is. A lot of people think he's a miscreant, a bad man born from years of fighting, but he is the sweetest, kindest man that you have ever met. And Bucky holding a small kitten in his hands, so gently like she was made of glass? It just made you love him more.

The heavy look between the two of you is broken when someone knocks on his door.

"Bucky? It's me," Steve's voice calls out from the door. You freeze, not knowing what to do. You quickly duck down next to the sleeping Alpine, hidden from view by the couch.

You hear Bucky walk to the door and crack it open slightly.

"Hey, what's up?" Bucky asks casually, making you smile at his words. He's definitely picked up some slang since he joined the Avengers.

"Hi, Buck. Is Y/N here with you?"

"Uh, no she's not here. Why would she be?"

"Well Buck, unless you started wearing her perfume then I'm guessing she's here." You can hear the smirk in Steve's voice.

You take a deep breath and rise from your position behind the couch. "Hi Steve," you say with a small wave.

"She was...uh...helping me with something," Bucky says to Steve, arms crossed in discomfort.

"I bet she was." Steve's grinning like an idiot, his eyes twinkling with laughter.

"Tony needs your help on a project," Steve says to you as he looks around the room once again. "Are we going on our run?" He asks a brooding Bucky.

When it seems like Bucky is going to object, he quickly continues, "We'll be quick Buck. Thirty minutes tops."

Bucky sighs but relents. "Fine. Give me ten minutes then I'll meet you downstairs."

Steve winks at you as he exits, gleaming.

Finally, you and Bucky are alone again, neither of you knowing what to say.

The silence is broken by a small cry, Alpine letting the two of you know it is feeding time.

"You go doll. I'll quickly feed her then meet Steve and come back as soon as possible. Hopefully, she'll sleep while we're away." He smiles at you, his blue eyes twinkling with some emotion that you can't place.

"Ok, I'll try and be quick too, but with Tony, you never know. See you soon," you add as you exit the room.

A little more than half an hour later, you're back in Bucky's room, calling out softly but no one answers. Thinking he's not back yet, you enter his bedroom in search of Alpine.

She's on his large bed, napping peacefully when the bathroom door opens and Bucky walks out in what appears to be the tiniest towel that he owns.

"Oh, hey doll. Didn't know you were back yet. I just forgot to grab my clothes."

"Uh-huh." You nod automatically, eyes focused on the beautiful man in front of you. His sculpted chest is the first thing you see, his muscles so much bigger up close. In the corner of your eye, you notice his scarred shoulder where it meets his metal arm, but you gaze away quickly, knowing it makes him uncomfortable when people stare at it.

Your eyes focus on a bead of water in the centre of his chest, slowly rolling down his sternum and between his well-defined abs, the ridges causing the drop to roll slower and slower until it reaches the edge of the towel he's holding in a clenched fist.

When he clears his throat, you snap out of the trance his amazing body seduced you into. Cheeks on fire, you glance up at him, seeing a confused smile on his face.

"You alright doll?" His voice is rough, husky even.

You bring an unsteady hand to your beating heart, hoping he won't hear how hard it's pounding. Eyes wide, you stare at him. How long had you been ogling him? Before your treacherous eyes could dip down again, you take a small step back.

"Me? Oh, fine." Your hands clench together as you do your best to concentrate on your words. "The, uh, cat... Yeah, I need to feed..." Crap, your eyes move down on their own, this time noticing just how large his right arm is, the muscles bulging as he holds onto his small towel.

"You need to feed... the cat?" He's smirking now, his blue eyes shining in the morning sun.

Focus! "Uh huh," you mumble before turning around and starting to walk out of the room. It takes you a second to realise you forgot one crucial element to your plan as you spin around again and pick up Alpine before shutting the bedroom door behind you.

You catch your breath as you lean against the door, Alpine reaching up with her small paws and rubbing her head against your chest in comfort. "Oh, Alpine. My mind went completely haywire in there."

The second you said the words, anxiety fills you once again as you pray that Bucky didn't hear you speaking to Alpine. Having a super soldier as a friend was sometimes very tricky...

When the bedroom door opens, you're busy playing with Alpine, making her run after a feather tied to a string. You feel his eyes on you but you do your best to avoid looking at him. He watches the two of you for a moment before his voice fills the room, his body moving towards the door.

"Um, I'll go get us some food. You must be hungry?"

"Thanks, Bucky. That will be nice." You look up at him and give him a quick smile before moving your attention back to Alpine.

"Ok, I'll be right back, you two." He says as he opens the door then stops instantly, seeing Steve standing outside.

"Uh, hey Stevie. I'm gonna go get some food, you want to join?" He mumbles quickly, trying to distract Steve from what he had said earlier.

"You two?" Steve's eyes are wide open, a look of astonishment on his face. "Please tell me you don't have two women in there?" Before Bucky can say anything he continues. "You've always been kinky, but two at the same time? Maybe you should see-"

"Steve!" Bucky shouts, breaking Steve's tirade. You watch the exchange, too stunned to do anything. Steve is instantly silent until a loud meow comes from in front of you.

Bucky sighs as Steve pushes through the door and drops down next to you. "Why is there a cat in here?" He whispers to you.

"Bucky rescued her. The ass that had her decided he didn't want a cat anymore and threw her out like trash. Bucky saved her and brought her here." You inform him as he sits cross-legged on the floor.

"I know we're not supposed to have pets, but I couldn't just leave her. And the shelters are all full." Bucky joins the two of you on the floor and smiles as Alpine rubs her head on his knee before moving to Steve slowly.

The kitten looks up at him before slowly moving closer as Steve extends his hand, giving her a chance to sniff him before she rubs her side on his stretched fingers.

"Hi sweetheart," Steve says as Alpine climbs into his lap slowly, the cast on her leg making her slow. "She was injured then?"

"Yeah, I took her to the vet before I bought her here. I swear if I ever see that-" Bucky clenches his jaw so hard, you're afraid he'll break something. You reach out and hold his hand, showing him you understand. "I'll throw him out like the trash he truly is. Except he won't be alive when I do." He huffs out.

"You've always had a soft spot for animals, glad that hasn't changed Buck." He scratches Alpine's head before he starts giggling. "So, technically, I was right. You do have two women in your room. One's just a feline."

"Yeah, we all know what you were thinking Steve. So much for Captain America being a gentleman."

"Haha, I am a gentleman. I just never said I was innocent. And neither is he. I know him, he's still kinky. There was this one time one of his dates asked him to-"

"Steve!" Bucky whisper-shouts. Steve just winks at you in reply. Just what did she ask Bucky, you ponder.

Bucky blushes when his eyes meet yours for a second.

"Why don't you leave me with the cat and you two go grab some food? The others are becoming suspicious of your absence." Steve says as he strokes Alpine softly.

You and Bucky glance at each other and nod in agreement.

"Her name is Alpine," Bucky says on the way out. "She's been fed, so just keep her company. Thanks, Steve."

"And please don't tell anyone about her, she's our little secret," you add on the way out.

Bucky's making his way to the kitchen when you pull him to the side. If your hand stayed on his arm a few seconds too long, you chose to ignore it.

"Um, maybe I should go in first, then you follow in a few minutes? Or do you go in first? If they see us entering together..." your voice trails off, the implication of your words clear to him as his eyes widen and his breath catches.

"Uh, yeah sure. You don't want to give them the wrong impression." His jaw clenches for a second, eyes turned down before he continues. "Maybe I'll check if Sam is still in his room first." He turns around and starts walking in the opposite direction, his sudden departure astounding you. Just what was his issue now?

He and Sam enter the kitchen a few minutes later, his gaze fixed on the plate of food he fills.

"So Bucky, haven't seen you around today," Natasha says in a sultry voice. You know she's with Steve, but you can't help your hackles rising at her tone. Were you jealous?

He glances at the two of you swiftly before focusing on his food again. "Yeah, I've been busy."

"Very interesting... Y/N's also been busy today."

"Well Nat," your voice is full of irritation, "we are Avengers. So we should all be pretty busy, don't you think?"

The beautiful redhead just looks at you before bursting out laughing. After a few seconds, you can't help but join her.

Sam and Bucky just look at the two of you in confusion.

"That was good honey," Nat says between giggles as you continue eating.

By the time lunch is done, Bruce and Tony had made an appearance too.

You were just grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge when Bucky approached you, the others having left earlier.

"Doll, I gotta ask," Bucky says as he bites his lower lip, "Before when you said I make your brain go haywire... did you mean that in a good way or in a bad way? I know I can be a lot to handle sometimes..."

You suck in a deep breath, your heart racing. So he did hear you earlier. You start to deny it when you see the look in his eyes. Did he really think you could ever think anything bad of him?

"Oh, um. I had hoped you wouldn't hear that." He's standing close so you have to tilt your head up to look him in the eyes. "But I meant it in a good way." When he doesn't seem to believe you, you continue. "Bucky, you were standing in front of me with just a tiny towel on, of course, I meant it in a good way. You know you're attractive..."

Blue eyes light up as he smirks at you. "So you think I'm attractive huh? So when can I see you in just a tiny towel? To even the odds?"

"Keep dreaming big guy," you reply as you gently punch him on the shoulder.

The two of you giggle together before Bucky looks at you with adoration in his eyes.

"Maybe I will..."

When you don't answer he clears his throat softly.

"Um... hypothetically, if I stopped being a wuss," he swallows hard, "and I asked you out on a date, what would your answer be?"

Some part of you wants to tease him and make him suffer, but you don't. "Hypothetically, if you asked, I would say yes. Definitely yes."

"Yeah?" His smile is huge, making the corners of his eyes crinkle.

Sam appears in front of the two of you, trying to reach for the fridge.

"Sam, not now!" Bucky groans at the man, lightly pushing him away.

"But I want a cupcake!" Brown eyes cry out.

"You just had lunch! You'll get indigestion! Now buzz off!" Bucky forces him to turn around and pushes him forward, making Sam huff in frustration.

When Bucky looks at you expectantly, you simply nod in answer. "Yeah, Bucky. But you still have to ask me," you tease him.

"You little minx! Fine." He takes a deep breath, "Will you go on a date with me? Tonight if you're free?"

"Of course Bucky." Your smile drops, making Bucky anxious. "But who's going to look after Alpine? Can we ask Steve?"

"Yeah, he and Natasha can look after Alpine."

You stare at Bucky, trying to understand him. "Nat and Steve?" You inquire.

Bucky snorts in reply. "There's no way that punk hasn't already told his lady about Alpine. The fact that he's dating a spy hasn't helped him be able to keep secrets. Not from Natasha."

"Are you sure of that? I think we should give Steve the benefit of the doubt. I'm sure he can keep Alpine secret for a while..."

"You wanna bet doll? $100 says she already knows."

"Sure, but let's make it interesting. Let's see," you tap your index finger on your chin, "if I win, you have to... take me shopping."

Bucky groans in defeat. You know he hates going shopping. "And if I win? What do I get?"

You eye him up and down, "What do you want?"

The corner of his lip lifts in a half smile. "You really shouldn't be asking me that."

"Keep it PG, Bucky!" You say as you tap his shoulder.

"Fine," Bucky lifts his hands in defeat. "If I win, you have to kiss me."

"Deal!" You're way too fast in your answer, making Bucky laugh. "Come on, let's see who wins!" You hook your hand into his elbow as the two of you make your way to his room.

Steve's guilty look is the first thing you see when you enter the room. Natasha is lying on her stomach next to him, running her finger on the floor, laughing as Alpine chases after it.

"Steve! How could you?" You cry out in mocking anger. "I defended you, yet you caved so easily?"

"Sorry! I tried but she saw right through me!"

"See doll? I've known him forever, he's a weakling!"

"Hey!"

"Well, it's true isn't it Steve? You lasted like, what, two minutes?"

"Five," Natasha giggles next to him. "Good thing I like that he can't keep secrets from me."

Bucky's eyes are beaming with the promise of your kiss. "So, when do I get my reward?"

You grab his shirt and pull him down to you, clasping your hands around his neck. You lean in closer, your breath mixing with his, before you lean to the side and kiss him on his cheek.

You're giggling as you pull back, a look of astonishment on his face. "Hey, that's cheating!"

"Sorry Bucky, you never specified where the kiss had to be." You giggle as you join Nat on the floor. Your gaze fixed on Alpine stumbling around.

Bucky is smiling as he joins the small group on the floor. Alpine's movements become slower and slower before she admits defeat and climbs into Bucky's lap. A tiny white ball of fluff on Bucky's thick thighs.

"Guess it's time for a nap," Steve says as he helps Natasha up from the floor.

You know you're in trouble when Natasha's green eyes meet yours. "I think it's time we had a chat."

Bucky picks Alpine up slowly, making sure not to wake her as you, Natasha and Steve depart.

"So, what's going on with you and Bucky?" Natasha asks as soon as you are far enough away to prevent Bucky from hearing. Steve had left to get lunch.

"He asked me out on a date," your stare ahead, a big smile on your face.

"Finally! You two have been pining for each other for months! And the kiss on the cheek?"

"That was a bet. He believed Steve had already told you and I thought he would keep Alpine secret a little longer. So he won and I owed him a kiss."

"Uh-huh. Anything else happened with him? I picked up some tension between the two of you at lunch."

"Um, I might have fallen asleep with him last night. When I woke up I was lying on top of him with Alpine sleeping on my back. We had to wiggle to get up without waking her." You bite your lower lip, "Then this morning I was looking for Alpine when I kinda walked in on him getting out of the shower in a tiny towel. I swear Nat, seeing those muscles up close almost made me pass out!"

"Seems like Alpine is the perfect matchmaker! She's getting the two of you into great situations!"

Natasha is bubbling with laughter as the two of you make your way to the training room. You are eager to work off some nerves before your date.

"Ok Alpine, what about if I take her to a fancy restaurant for dinner?" You hear Bucky's voice softly through the door, a small meow being the only answer.

"Yeah, you're right. It's a bit normal for a first date right? I don't want her to think I'm boring." It's quiet for a second then you hear his voice again.

"A movie?" Another meow, softer this time.

"Nope, she won't be able to sit still unless it's a very interesting movie. So what then?"

"I know, I'll -"

You knock on his door, not wanting to hear what he has planned and spoil all his fun.

You hear him say something on his way to the door, and Alpine seems to agree enthusiastically if her loud purr is an answer.

When Bucky lets you in and closes the door, you see Alpine sitting on his shoulder, nails holding onto Bucky's shirt for stability.

"Hey, doll. Watch this!" He's beaming as he takes a seat on the couch and removes Alpine from his shoulder. He puts her on the couch and wiggles his left hand. She drops down into a crouch then runs up his metal arm, her back leg struggling along, nails fitting into the grooves of his metal arm perfectly until she's back on his shoulder again, a loud purr coming from her tiny body. "Pretty soon she's going to be able to do all kinds of things. There's no stopping this lady!"

When Alpine's gaze falls on you, she meows and rubs her head against Bucky's neck then stares at you again.

Getting the picture, you move closer to the two of them and bend down to rub her adorable head. Her tail is curled around Bucky's neck as she leans forward into your touch, purring loudly in happiness.

Bucky pulls you softly forward, making you sit on his knee, his arm around the back of your waist holding you close. His smile is enchanting, a similar grin forming on your face. When he leans down closer, your breath catches. This is what you've been waiting for, a kiss from Bucky Barnes will certainly kill you with pleasure. You've barely begun to feel his lips on yours when his bedroom door shoots open, Steve's imposing figure standing in the doorway.

"We got a problem, Buck." He hastily says as he closes the door and moves closer to the three of you. You climb off Bucky's lap and sit down next to him, watching as Steve approaches.

"Wanda and Vision just came back from their mission. Wanda has a concussion so her powers are a bit wonky. Natasha and I were busy whispering about how to help you keep Alpine a secret. Wanda heard our thoughts and got so excited that you have a cat that she repeated it out loud and... Tony heard. He's on his way here now and he doesn't look very happy."

You gasp in surprise and turn to see Bucky running his hands over his face, knowing what is to come.

"Maybe we can hide her?" You begin to say but are interrupted by the knocking on the door.

"He won't believe it," Steve sighs in defeat.

"You two just stay out of it, ok? I can take whatever he throws at me. He hates me already anyways." Bucky stands and walks to the door. Alpine held onto his shirt, cuddled up into his neck.

Tony looks Bucky over, eyes hardening in anger. "Barnes, I give you food and shelter, pay you for going on missions, I take care of you even though I can't stand to see you some days. And all I asked for were a few rules to be followed. One of those rules was no pets. Am I correct in my assumption that that is a cat on your shoulder?"

Wanda, Natasha and Sam creep into the hallway, watching the scene unfold.

"Yes, Tony. I'm sorry. I found her and the shelters are full for Christmas. I didn't have anywhere for her to go."

"Well, either the cat goes now or you both go. Your choice." Tony doesn't even blink when he gives his ultimatum.

Bucky's brows drop in concern, eyes wide open. "You can't be serious Tony. Give me some time-"

"I don't care Barnes. The cat goes right now."

"Tony you can't!" You shout from the doorway, Steve behind you.

"I can do whatever I want. This is my Tower in case you've forgotten that. I'm willing to overlook your involvement in this but don't make me regret it. Any of you." He says as he faces the others.

"It's ok doll," Bucky says softly as his fingers rub your hand for a second. When he faces Tony again his jaw is clenched with anger. "I'm not going to abandon her too. Alpine and I will be out in 10 minutes."

Bucky walks into the bedroom, his meaning taking a few seconds to sink in before everyone pushes into the room, talking a huffing Tony with them.

"Bucky no," Steve calls out as Bucky grabs a bag in his room, starting to fill it with a change of clothes.

You face Tony, your anger making you shake with adrenaline. "I thought you were better than this Tony. Bucky found Alpine being thrown away like trash, her leg broken, ravenous with hunger. She's barely a month old. Now you're going to punish him for doing the right thing? For following his heart and taking care of a helpless animal? You are an asshole if you punish him for that. You're just letting your anger towards Bucky cloud your judgement. If Bucky and Alpine have to go then so will I."

"Doll don't-" Bucky starts but you interrupt him.

"No Bucky, I don't want to work for someone who hates innocent animals and would prefer to keep them on the streets. I refuse to work for anyone like that. I'm just disappointed that the mighty Tony Stark is like that." You glare at Tony, brown eyes meeting yours for just a second.

"Don't leave without me Bucky. I'll be back in five minutes." You start to walk out of the room but Tony stops you.

He stares down at you for a moment before he sighs in defeat. "Her leg's really broken?"

"Yes, it's really broken. Bucky saw a man stop in the alley and throw the box in the trash, luckily he heard her cries and rescued her. He took her to the vet and the vet fixed her up. She's a tiny kitten, Tony. If it was you who found her, would you have just left her there?"

He doesn't answer you as he turns to Bucky's bedroom. "Let me see her."

Bucky gently wraps his large hands around her tiny body, being careful of her cast before he softly puts her in Tony's outstretched hands. He watches Tony like a hawk, analysing his every move to make sure he doesn't hurt his baby kitten.

Tony brings her closer to his chest, his right hand stroking her head softly as sky-blue eyes gaze at him in appreciation. "I don't hate animals. I just can't have everyone running around with their pets. This is a dangerous place, and we can't have dozens of animals staying here. If I allow one person to have a pet, the others would want them too."

"Maybe Alpine can be the Team's cat? She already has a bond with Bucky but animals have so much love, they give it to anyone who loves them in return." You grasp Bucky's hand and give it a squeeze. "Besides, a cat has a mischievous side too, the more people who engage with her, the more fun she'd have. It'll help her stay out of trouble."

"You'd be willing to share her?" Tony asks Bucky hesitantly.

"Of course, I hate having her cooped up in my bedroom, the more she can explore, the better. Besides, this cutie needs all the love she can get. Together we can show her that not all humans are bad."

"Fine, Barnes and Alpine can stay." Tony relents, making the others cheer in response. "But I'm cuddling with her in the living room first!" Tony calls out as he walks out of the room, mumbling to Alpine that he will buy her the best of everything, including a big climbing set as soon as her leg gets better. The rest of the team follows Tony, each adding to the list of what has to be bought for the best kitten in the world.

"So Bucky, you get to stay, after all."

"Thanks to you, doll. What you said was amazing, I've never seen someone rip into Tony so easily." Unsure blue eyes meet yours. "Would you have left with me? If he hadn't changed his mind?"

"Yeah Bucky. I would have. What I said was the truth. I'd go anywhere with you."

"You're so sure I'm worth it? That I'm good?"

"Bucky, you saved a helpless kitten. You did it because you cared, not because you wanted praise or attention. Hell, you tried to keep it a secret! Anyone who cares so much about animals that they are willing to walk out on what they know just to keep them safe can't be bad. It's impossible. You're the best Bucky. And now that Alpine has a whole family to look after her, I think it's the perfect time to go on that date you owe me."

"Of course, doll. Anything you want."

"Anything?" You smirk at him, wickedness in your eyes.

"Anything," he replies as he drops his head down, hands wrapping around your waist. Your arms circle his neck as you stand on your toes to meet him, kissing him like you've wanted to for months. And he's all too happy to reciprocate.

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