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allysunny · 3 months

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Hello 👋 can I pls request dating and jealousy headcanons for Bale! Batman? The reader works in his company and is very sweet and generous? Thank you ❤️

Dating and Jealousy Headcanons | Bale!Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader

Words: 6k words

Warnings: None, I would say? Workplace relationship, if that's a tag, hahaha. Jealous and overprotective Bruce, one (1) makeout session and I don't think anything else? Do correct me if I'm wrong.

A/N: Hello everyone! Here's another one of my Bruce asks! I had a really fun time writing it - I love this man so much omg. I hope you guys have as much fun reading it as I had writing it!

Also I apologize if I got any of HR functions and tasks wrong, please do not kill me if they're not correct, I had to do some research, hahaha! Also, I've just realised how vague the information on Wayne Enterprises is. Like, what the hell do they do? I've been rewatching the movies because my family never has, and they're never clear about it lol. Except for the first movie and the whole "Thomas Wayne wouldn't want us to build war weapons" plot, what the hell do they do there???

At first, he had no idea who you were.

And honestly, could you blame him? He’s the owner of this enormous company that employs at least a hundred people.

You were working in the Human Resources department and were praised by every single one of your coworkers. You were the one keeping everything in check, from analysing performance and helping everyone set goals on what they wanted to achieve at work, to organising databases and generating reports. Those jobs should technically be made by at least 3 different people, but you were efficient and very professional, and most of the time took it upon yourself to oversee things and make sure all was running smoothly.

Bruce ran into you for the first time when you were checking on the Applied Sciences department. You had been sitting next to Lucius Fox, keeping a record of all the important work he’d done the last month, as well as going over the paperwork that outlined whatever his job entailed – while still in the AS department, Lucius was now a member of the board once again, and you wanted to make sure he had everything under control – as always, he did.

Bruce had walked in and raised an eyebrow. He’d never seen you before, were you one of his employees? Some relative of Lucius’s? His partner? Who the hell were you, and what were you doing in here?

“Ah, Mr. Wayne.” Lucius said with a nonchalant smile, standing up to shake his hand in a warm greeting. “As always, it’s a pleasure to see you. I was going over my Monthly Workplace Wellness Check with Miss [L/N] over here, and it seems all is in order.

“Mr. Wayne,” you greeted him, standing up and offering him your hand. This was your boss – the Bruce Wayne, the Prince of Gotham, arguably the richest and wealthiest man in the city, the boss, the man you’d never actually seen, but everyone spent no expense in talking about. And they did not lie – the man in front of you was handsome, with dark brown hair carefully slicked back and warm brown eyes that scanned you over carefully. He looked far too good in his navy suit, and you tried your best not to let your gaze linger on him – it would be unprofessional, and you wouldn’t want to be fired for sexual harassment.

Bruce, on the other hand, thought you were the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes upon. Your body was being snuggly hugged by a pretty, dark pencil skirt, and you wore a white dress shirt with flowy sleeves. The first two buttons were open, exposing a small patch of delicate skin and a leaf pendant. Cute.

Slipping his aloof mask back on, he shook your hand, relishing the feel of your hand on his. Your grip was firm – you were clearly trying not to be intimidated by him, but there was also something very tender about it.

“Miss [L/N], is it?” he asked, leaning back and placing his hands inside his pants pockets.

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ve never seen you around here – are you new or something?”

You tried not to flush in embarrassment. It’s only normal he wouldn’t even know who you were. After all, he’s got a whole company to take care of. And it’s not like you hung around the top floors a lot – your work was among everyone else, not the board. They had their own assistants for that.

“No sir – I’ve been working here for a few years. I’m HR Director.” You replied, trying to sound confident. This was your job and you’d been doing it very well – extremely well – and you were proud of it. It was a great opportunity to let your boss know of how great of a worker you were.

“HR Director, huh?” Bruce hummed, turning to Lucius once again. “You familiar with Miss [L/N]?”

“Yes sir,” the older man replied, smiling confidently at you. “She’s been overseeing most departments for about five years now. She’s the reason everything’s going so smoothly.”

“Really?” Bruce raised an eyebrow. “That’s a lot of responsibility.”

“Yes sir, it is,” you nod. “I’m very proud of my job.”

Bruce took one good look at you once again and nodded.

“Fox, I wanted to check on you about some of the, well, some of the orders we placed last week. But seeing that you’re busy, I’ll return later.”

Lucius nodded and sat back down. Unlike you, he felt comfortable around Bruce, even if he was his boss. After all, who else had helped Bruce Wayne spelunking?

“How about I fax you when I’m done?”

“Oh, I can – I could come back later if you wished to talk to Mr. Fox right now?” You asked, quickly turning to your desk to retrieve your clipboard and pens.

“No need, Miss [L/N],” Bruce responded, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t want to interrupt an employee doing a good job. I’ll wait for Fox’s fax.”

You placed your clipboard down and nodded, offering him a small smile.

“Thank you, sir.”

Bruce found himself returning it, before turning to Lucius and nodding in acknowledgement and then walking away.

“I’m quite sure he’s gone, Miss [L/N].” Lucius announced, an amusing smile playing in his lips. You nodded, trying to get that flustered look off your face.

The man next to you supressed a chuckle – he was sure the first thing his boss would do when he got to his office was do a thorough research on his HR Director. And it’s not like he hadn’t noticed the heat that seemed to have crept up on your cheeks. He shook his head and turned to you, focusing on the Wellness Check.

Lucius was right. The first thing Bruce did when he got to his office, was do some research on you. Who you were, what job you held exactly you held, how long you’d been in the company. Not in a creepy way (or so he tried to convince himself), more in a “How come I’ve gone so long without knowing my HR Director? Who knows what kind of people are working in my company, and how come I don’t know them all? Who knows what their true intentions are” kind of way. Not that he doubted you – Lucius wasn’t the type to lie – but he was… Curious. Very curious.

He also decided to ask around about you. No one would know you and your work better than the people that interacted with you daily.

The word around was that you were an exemplary employee. Professional, hardworking, and kind to a fault. Everyone told Bruce about how incredible your work ethic was, and how helpful you were. How you always offered an arm when asked for a hand, how you’d go the lengths to help your coworkers even if it meant you would work overtime.

“She’s quite incredible, Mr. Wayne. Very efficient, very focused,” his board members would tell him, going over the fantastic things you’d done for the company. “She’s actually personally trained each of our interns herself – that’s why they’ve picked up on their work so quickly.”

“I don’t know about your department, but we work better when she’s overseeing us. [Y/N] is really kind, she’s very firm in her job, but never rude. You know what I mean?”

[Y/N], huh? Pretty name.

“She’s an excellent communicator, fights barely happen when she’s around because she makes everyone feel heard and understood.”

“Her initiatives have significantly enhanced our company culture, that’s for sure.”

“Her consistency to always go above and beyond in her efforts would make Thomas Wayne proud. This is what he would’ve wanted Wayne Enterprises to be about.”

There were many the people that mentioned his father’s name along with yours. How he’d be proud of you, how he’d give you a promotion right away, how workers like you were exactly what he needed in his company. And Bruce was intrigued. Because, how come such a gem was working under him, and he had no idea?

He had to change that, clearly.

“Miss [L/N]?” he asked you once as you were about to leave for the day. You turned around and couldn’t hide the way your eyes widened in surprise. What did your boss want? And how come he’d remembered your name?

“Yes, Mr. Wayne?” you looked up at him and tried to focus. A million thoughts were running through your head. What did he want? Why had he chased you? Oh goodness, had he chased you? Had he run a background check on you of some sorts and was unsatisfied with the work you were doing? Were you going to be fired? You couldn’t – you’d been working here for about five years and never once slacked off. This couldn’t be happening, could it?

“I was wondering if you would like to join me to dinner later this week.” The words rolled smoothly out of his mouth, practiced, precise. He knew what he wanted and was not going to play around.

“Dinner?” you repeated, furrowing your brows. “This week? With you?”

“Dinner, this week, yes. That’s what I said.” Bruce nodded, and patiently awaited a response. He knew it might be weird. Your boss, whom you did not know, suddenly asked you for dinner?

You stared at him, running his words over in your head. Your boss wanted to have dinner with you. Your boss. Bruce Wayne wanted to have dinner with you. Part of your brain told you this was a terrible idea. Everyone knew what the papers said about Bruce Wayne, that he was a womanizer, a playboy. You didn’t want to be just another name in a long line of women he slept with.

But there was something inside of you that kept screaming “GO TO DINNER WITH BRUCE WAYNE PLEASE. YOU LITERALLY HAVE NOTHING TO LOSE”.

Except perhaps, your job. What if he asked something of you, something you couldn’t give him? What if he punished you for it? What if, all along, this was a big ploy to check his sources and get you fired?

“Miss [L/N]? Is everything alright?” Bruce asked, looking at you in concern.

Screw it. You were a damn good employee. There was no way your boss was going to fire you, murder you, or whatever other silly ideas were going around in your head. You shook them away and looked at him once again, smiling.

“Yes, sorry. Everything is fine. And yes, dinner sounds really nice. Thank you for inviting me.”

Bruce gave you a polite nod, before looking behind you, where his limo went.

“I will send you the details later then. Is Thursday okay?”

“Yes! Thursday is fine.”

Bruce nodded again, and looked at his limo, this time with a tad more urgency.

“Miss [L/N], I would offer you a ride home, but I have quite the long list of errands to attend to. I will see you later this Thursday then.” He smiled – he smiled – and made his way towards a black limo, where an older man dressed nicely opened the door for him.

You couldn’t help staring as the car drove away.

You were going to dinner with your boss. With Bruce Wayne.

Surely, there was no need to panic, right?

Turns out, there hadn’t been no need to panic at all.

In fact, things went great.

Dinner with Bruce had been surprisingly pleasant.

It started out a bit awkward, with you not really knowing what your position there was, but after Bruce reassured you there was nothing wrong with your performance at work, you relaxed.

And surprisingly, so did he.

He found himself conversing with you the way he hadn’t done in a long time – casually, truthfully, openly. Sure, he didn’t tell you all of the secrets he kept, but he was genuine in his answers about his favourite memories from his childhood, or his hobbies, what season he liked the most, or whatever other question you had for him.

It felt nice to have a companion who wasn’t merely interested in his name or title or wealth. You didn’t seem to care about those, preferring to get to know Bruce Wayne the man, as opposed to Bruce Wayne the name.

He asked you about your life and you replied truthfully as well, telling him stories from when you were growing up, sharing some of your hopes and dreams, and opening up about yourself.

Bruce thought you were fascinating – at first he thought the things people said about your kindness were just polite office talk, but after spending 20 minutes with you, he realised how true they were. You’d smiled at everyone on the way to the restaurant, letting an old couple go inside before you (even though you two had arrived much earlier), refused to ask for anything without a gentle “Please” at the end.

And he could tell you weren’t fake – he was often met with fake smiles and faux politeness everywhere he went, but he could tell you were genuine, and it just made him even more interested in you. After all, not only you were beautiful, with your hair carefully tucked behind your ears, and a fitting dress that, while modest, still managed to make you stand out, but you seemed to be beautiful inside as well.

By the time you got to dessert, you were laughing heartily, head thrown back as joy overtook you. Bruce had been telling you about the worst excuses he’d made to get out of social events, and the last few truly were something. You then realised he was not the man media portrayed him to be. No, he seemed much more down to earth, more focused, more sensible. Not at all the reckless playboy gossip magazines painted him as. It was a pleasant surprise, and you were enjoying every minute of your evening.

At the end of the night, he drove you to your apartment (more like gave you a lift, since his driver – whom you learned to be his butler Alfred – was the one who had taken you to the restaurant in the first place) and walked you to your door, like a true gentleman. You giggled and swayed a bit, having drank a tad too much of wine. You weren’t drunk, no, but you could feel that pleasant buzz flowing through your veins, the one that made you gigglier and happier and made everything a bit funnier.

Bruce steadied you by letting you hold onto his arm and caught you when you tripped on the stairs to your building. You laughed loudly and he pulled you up, allowing you to face him clearly. Your breath caught in your throat, and you giggled once more when you realised how close you were, and how you could feel the alcohol on his breath.

“I really liked tonight,” you said, nodding along to your words. You had been drinking, but you weren’t dumb, and weren’t going to ruin the lovely night you’d had. As far as you were concerned, this could simply be a dinner for him to try and get to know you better, and not anything remotely romantic.

His next words changed your mind.

“Me too,” he said. “I’m sorry if my invitation was abrupt. You’ll have to forgive me, but when I saw you working with Fox that day, I was curious.”

“Curious?”

“Yeah. Everyone said wonders about you, and you seemed like a great worker, and not to mention you’re quite beautiful – “

“You asked about me?” you giggled, covering your mouth with your hand. Somehow, that was the line your brain picked up in this whole conversation. “You’re a stalker!”

“And I apologize for that.” Bruce steadied you once again when you leaned back to laugh and let out a dry chuckle. “But I really enjoyed our evening. I was hoping that you’d accompany me to dinner some other time?”

You looked at him, eyes now getting heavier. The wine was working its magic, and instead of moving around, you stood very still, enjoying the feel of Bruce’s arms around you.

“Dinner? Some other time?”

“Yes.”

“Like a date?” You don’t know what prompted you to say that out loud. That’s what you were wondering, yes, but you weren’t actually going to say it out loud, too scared to face rejection, too scared that this whole thing was a misunderstanding, and he wasn’t interested in you at all.

Bruce looked at you, surprised by your forwardness. Not that he wasn’t thinking the exact same thing – he was – but he thought he’d have to be the one doing the pursuing. After all, he was the “stalker”, as you put it.

“Yes, [Y/N], as a date,” he nodded. “Like a date. As I said, I’m interested in you. I know it might not be appropriate, seeing as I’m your boss, but I won’t lie and say you haven’t caught my eye, and I would really like to go on another date with you.”

You smiled, hands resting on the collar of his coat.

“This was a date?”

He shrugged, “If you want it to be.”

You pretended to think, placing a delicate finger on your chin, and looking away.

“Hmmmm…. I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it.” Playing the part, you stepped away from him and tried to climb the stairs to your building door. Unfortunately, your foot caught onto one, and the floor went flying on your direction.

Luckily, steady arms wrapped around your waist, preventing you from falling face first. Bruce pulled you to him once again, and this time he swore he could see all the specks in your pretty eyes. Heat rose to your cheeks, and you couldn’t look away. Bruce’s eyes fell to your lips for a brief second, and you followed his gaze, wishing he would close the distance between you too.

But Bruce Wayne might be a lot of things and do a lot of things – but he wouldn’t take advantage of you. Not right now, when the wine was clearly getting to your head. He was going to do this properly.

He pushed away from you and gave you a friendly pat on the arm. Upon seeing the way your face fell, he mentally kicked himself. Shit. It was the wrong thing to do, wasn’t it? He should’ve just kissed you. But you weren’t thinking straight. And he didn’t want to take advantage of that.

“Goodnight, [Y/N].” He said, offering you a smile.

“Why are you such a goddamned coward?” A tiny voice in your head asked repeatedly. Why didn’t you just kiss him? You had a great time, didn’t you? He said so himself. He called it a date. He wanted to go on another. Why were you always so scared of going for what you wanted? Why dint you just take the plunge and do what you wanted to for once in your life?

Shaking away your nerves, you stepped forward and planted a kiss on his cheek.

“Goodnight, Bruce.” You said, nodding in contempt and walking towards your building. By the grace of some god up above, you found your keys rather quickly and didn’t have to deal with the awkwardness that would’ve surely followed, so you just walked inside and closed the door behind you.

It was Alfred who had to break Bruce out of his trance.

“Perhaps you could take a picture of the building and take it with you, seeing as it is far too cold for you to stare at the real thing the entire night.” He said in a sarcastic manner, causing Bruce to stare at him and get in the car, but not without shooting one last look at the building.

He’d see you again for sure.

Things went smoothly after that.

You went out a few more times, and within about two months, he officially asked you to be his girlfriend. You accepted of course – after all, you were just as head over heels for him as he was for you.

You had to settle some boundaries for your office life to work out. You didn’t want anyone thinking you were shagging your boss for a promotion, or financial extras – not at all. So, you set some ground rules.

No PDA at work – this was rule number one, and it was the most important one. After you two started dating, Bruce found himself seeking you out more during the day, just to catch up or look at you (he was whipped). You’d noticed, and it was hard keeping yourself away from him. PDA was a big no-no. You two had to be professional and keep your personal relationship out of the office.

No pet names, no endearment terms, and minimal contact as it was. He’d once nearly gotten himself in trouble, having to switch from “My dear” to “Miss [L/N}”. It was tough and some employees looked at him funny, but he just walked away with his Wayne confidence, and no one said a word.

If you two did want to meet, it’d have to be after work hours, or during breaks, and in private. You would often bring him lunch, sit by his side in his office and just talk about your day and go over work stuff. He liked the privacy his office offered. He could have you in his lap, laugh about whatever silly reality show the Gotham gossip channels had on, and just enjoy some time off work.

No special treatment of any sort. This was very important. He couldn’t turn a blind eye to any problems you’d caused or any work you hadn’t done properly. Thankfully for him, you’d always been an excellent worker and he never had to reprimand you nor scold you. But he also couldn’t just praise you for every little thing you did – at least not at work.

It was hard, to say the least.

At home, you enjoyed being close to him, away from prying eyes, doubtful employers or clingy assistants who wanted his everlasting attention. And you could manage just fine at work as well – sure, you didn’t like seeing other workers drool all over him and beg for him to look their way, but you were also always far too busy to pay them any attention. After all, you had so much work to do.

But Bruce couldn’t say the same thing.

He’d go down a few floors to check on one particular project, or to supervise a series of workers, and find you busying yourself around with tasks, giving orders, keeping files in check, and turning in reports, and you’d look so great doing all of that. Efficient, hard-working. That’s what everyone had called you.

But then he’d see every other person had noticed the same. He could see the way other men looked at you, calling you over to ask questions and chit chat with you. They’d try to make you laugh, offering you charming smiles when they achieved so, and Bruce had to control every fibre in his being not to walk over to where you were and punch those smug grins off their faces.

Their games didn’t work on you though. You’d politely decline their advances, and declare you were taken, but some of them were too damn persistent. To those, you simply wished a good day and returned to your tasks. Something inside Bruce beamed with pride, and he would be lying if he said their upset faces did not bring him joy.

“C’mon [Y/N], it’s just one dinner. What wrong can that do, huh? I’ll take you to some place real nice,” a man in the same department as yours once pleaded, holding your hands in his. Bruce’s jaw twitched and you firmly moved away from him.

“Sorry Joe, I told you, I’m very busy. And even if I wasn’t, I have a very loving partner, and would never cheat on them.” Your voice was calm, but he could tell you weren’t comfortable with the way he touched you.

Joe scoffed.

“Some partner you have – you leave by yourself every single day. How come they never come pick up their missus, huh? If I had a girl like you, I’d come pick her up every day. What kind of douchebag leaves his girlfriend all alone? C’mon – one dinner with me and you’ll forgetting all about that idiot.” Joe moved towards you once again to grab your arm, but you moved away, looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

“I told you; I wasn’t interested. And please do not touch me. Now, you should get back to work. Your monthly reports tell me you’ve been slacking, and I would hate to have to give you a warning.” You said firmly, raising your chin and gripping your clipboard tighter.

Joe scrambled for words, and you walked away. While brushing past Bruce, you could feel the smirk in his voice as he whispered “That’s my girl” for only you to hear.

But sometimes, he had to jump in and save you.

Well, perhaps save wasn’t the right word.

Because you didn’t need saving – he was just jealous.

You were taking a break from your weekly roundups, sitting at your desk, and chatting happily with your closest work friends. You leaned forward to whisper in a woman’s ear, and the both of you leaned back in laughter.

“Good morning, ladies,” a man in a nice-looking dark blue suit said, approaching the two of you. His blonde hair fell loosely over his eyes, and he did little to nothing to tame it.

“Raph! Hey – you’ll not believe what [Y/N] just told me,” your friend smiled, and “Raph” bent over to listen closely to what she whispered to him. He widened his eyes in surprise, before snorting in response.

“You’re kidding.” He turned to you.

You shook your head, biting the pencil you’d taken to your lips. Bruce had half a mind to walk over to you and claim your lips then and there.

“Nope. Saw it with my own eyes.”

The three of you laughed again, and Raph quickly looked around. He clearly did not notice his boss staring at them from across the room, so he pulled up a chair nearby and sat down.

You three engaged in lively conversation, and Bruce fumed at the sight of you leaning towards him every so often and giggling, bending over to whisper in his ear and touch his arm. Why were you so god damn close to him? Was there something going on between the two of you? Why the hell did he not keep his hands to himself?

Bruce’s patience snapped when he saw Raph take your hand in his and place a dramatic kiss on your knuckles. You looked at him and rolled your eyes, doing your best to pry your hand from his.

“Let go of me Raph, you’re absolutely disgusting.” Bruce noticed the way you smiled as you spoke each one of your next words, and something twisted in his stomach. A very ugly feeling that told him he did not like the way you seemed so close to Raph, nor the way he seemed to touch you so effortlessly. Why the hell was he touching you in the first place? Did he not know you were taken? He decided then and there this had to stop. This man needed to get his hands off you, right this moment.

“I’m serious – ugh – get off me, you’re sick! Get away!”

“I believe the lady has told you to let go of her hand.” Bruce’s voice echoed in the room, and nearly everyone stopped what they were doing to look at him. Your breath caught in your throat and Raph, who was sitting next to you, quickly stood up, brushing his suit.

“Sir – Mr. Wayne, I wasn’t – “

“Working? Clearly. Shouldn’t you be occupying yourself with your tasks at hand, other than harassing your coworkers?” The words left his mouth with venom, and he looked very angry – part of you had to stifle a laugh.

“Mr. Wayne, I promise I wasn’t harassing, I was – “

“Get back to your job before I do something about it.”

Raph shot you an apologetic look before scurrying away.

“Miss [L/N]?”

“Yes?”

“A word.”

You shrugged bashfully at your friend and followed Bruce. He led you away from your department, looking inside each passing room to find one that was empty. Once he found what he was looking for, he pushed you inside, locked the door behind you, and pressed himself against you, kissing you passionately.

A gasp left your lips before you returned his kiss, hands instinctively wrapping around his neck and in his hair. He licked your lower lip as if asking for permission, and you granted it with a soft whimper which he swallowed, hands deftly pulling your hips closer and closer to him.

When you broke away for air, you noticed how flustered he was, and how his lips and chin were covered in lipstick.

“What was – what was that for?” you asked, panting.

“Couldn’t stand to see that bastard all over you,” Bruce muttered, before moving on to press kisses against the column of your neck. You sighed in pleasure and ran your fingers through his hair.

“Raph is just a friend.”

Bruce snorted.

“Yeah, and he’s clearly interested in you. Idiot. Doesn’t he know you’re mine?”

At these words, you pushed away from him and burst out laughing.

“Mind explaining what’s so funny?” Bruce asked you, raising an eyebrow.

“Bruce,” you managed to say in between laughs, “Honey, Raphael is gay!” You kept laughing, staring at his dumbfounded expression.

“What?”

“Honey, he’s gay! We were talking about how I found his work crush sending dick pics to some random guy on Grindr!”

Bruce stopped in his tracks; brows furrowed in confusion.

“Gay?”

“Yes! He’s not interested in me silly – we’re just friends.”

“Oh.”

You resumed laughing, before adjusting your clothes and trying to wipe some of the lipstick off his face.

“Bruce, were you jealous?” you asked, cocky grin playing in your lips.

“No – I wasn’t – “

“Oh gosh, you were!” You smiled warmly at him. It was flattering, and you felt slightly bad for him. He had been worrying over nothing. “You don’t have to, you know?”

“They’re all after you. I know it.”

“They’re really not,” you replied, giving him a chaste kiss on the lips. “And even if they were, I only have eyes for you. You know that right?”

He nodded, kissing you again.

“Besides,” you pulled away for air, fiddling with his tie. “If anything, I should be the jealous one. Every woman in this building is in love with you. And your personal assistant has tried not once, not twice, but three times bending over your desk, so you’ll look at her chest.”

Bruce shook his head, brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

“I couldn’t care less. I only have eyes for you.”

“Well then, you have to learn to behave. This is still my workplace, and I still have to interact with all of these people. And unless you want everyone finding out about us, you’re gonna have to learn how to deal with your jealousy better.”

He sighed, dropping his head to rest it on your chest. You smiled and ran fingers through his hair absentmindedly.

“I only have eyes for you, you know.”

“And I only have eyes for you.” He replied, before straightening up and fixing his hair and clothes. He looked at you for confirmation and you nodded, wiping whatever lipstick he had on his face, and fixing his tie and shirt. “Perfect”, you mumbled.

Bruce gave you a quick kiss and you walked outside. He’d wait a few minutes before following.

He really needed to work on those jealousy issues.

And he did!

Sort of.

He tried not to think too much about it when coworkers of yours praised and complimented you. “Hey [L/N], heard the turnover rates stabilised thanks to you! Good job!”. “Nice outfit, [Y/N]. Makes your eyes stand out. Very nice.”. “Hey, you saw this week’s morale reports? They skyrocketed – you’re too good at your job, we should all just quit.” It made his blood boil.

He tried not to think too much when your colleagues brought you any sorts of gifts. Coffee, when you were feeling tired, cookies or some other snacks when you were hungry, some even offered to go get you full fledged meals like salads or other dishes from the cafeteria just so you could keep working. You were so kind to everyone – it was only natural the ones around you reciprocated. And Bruce loved it – he loved that people recognised how generous you were, how downright good you were, and wanted to repay in kind. But it still made him somewhat envious.

So, he decided to take action.

One particular morning, he found you in your floor, working tirelessly. It had been a very stressful week, and you’d been far too busy to even visit him at the Manor or have dinner with him. He missed you. Missed your smiles, your laughter, your voice, your touch. Alfred was positive he was behaving like a child whose favourite blanket had been taken from him. It was endearing, yet also somewhat pathetic.

He approached you from behind, ignoring the surprised and stunned gazes everyone around you gave him. He embraced you from behind, dropping his head to your neck, and kissing you there.

You gasped in surprise, face covered in an expression of astonishment. What was going on? Was that Bruce? What was he doing here? And why was he kissing your neck? You were in the middle of organising a few very important reports and did not have time for distractions of any sort.

“Bruce – what are you doing?” you whispered, voice laced in shock.

“You’ve been working so hard, my love,” he said, intentionally loud for everyone to hear. “You should take a break.”

“Bruce, we’re working – we can’t – why are you – “ you had no words. No PDA, no nicknames, no special treatment. Why was Bruce breaking these rules all of a sudden?

“I missed you, of course. You’ve been exhausting yourself. Look at what I brought you,” he placed a cup of coffee on top of your desk, and you gasped. It wasn’t just any coffee; it was a very special brand that you only got one or two times due to how expensive it was. “You need sustenance.”

“Wow, Bruce, I mean, thank you so much, but you didn’t have to – “

“Of course I had to. Can’t have my beautiful girlfriend burning out, now, can I?” He lifted himself up and faced you clearly. He then proceeded to dip down and capture your lips with his, hand cupping your cheek and rubbing gentle circles with his thumb. He parted from you slightly, and whispered against your lips, “I couldn’t pretend anymore. Couldn’t stand being away from you. Screw everyone else. If they have a problem, they can come and talk to me. I’m the boss, after all, aren’t I?”

You looked at him through your lashes and offered him a soft smile. You couldn’t lie; you too missed Bruce, and it was getting harder and harder to pretend you didn’t know him at all. You gave him a soft tug on his tie and pressed another kiss to his lips. He could feel your smile against him, and it only made him smile in return.

Bruce then stood up, straightened his suit, and caressed your cheek.

“I bought lunch. Meet me in my office in two hours?”

“Yeah. I’d like that very much.”

He stole another kiss from you, causing you to chuckle, and walked away, as if he hadn’t just shocked the entire HR department to hell and back with his actions.

It didn’t matter.

They all knew you were his now.

A/N: And that's it! I hope you guys enjoyed it! I love this man so much okay. And wish me luck, going to rewatch TDKR with the family. Yesterday we watched TDK and I don't think my family understood the sheer magnitude of that movie... 😔

Oh well! It'll be fun!

Once again, thank you very much! And please keep your eyes wide open, I have a surprise coming up for everyone!

Have an amazing day ahead!

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne x you #bale!bruce wayne #bale!batman x reader #bale!batman #bale!bruce wayne x reader #the dark knight #the dark knight trilogy #nolanverse #the dark knight fanfic #the dark knight fanfiction #nolanverse fanfiction #bruce wayne fanfiction #batman fanfiction #batman x reader #batman x fem!reader #bruce wayne x fem!reader

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wonderlandwalker · 4 months

Text

Remember | Finnick Odair x Reader

THG Masterlist / Taglist / Inbox

Summary: The capitol has taken you from him, but he won't let them keep you. You can find pt. 2 here!

Content Warnings/Tags: Violence, bullet wounds, major character injury, blood, needles, angst, fluff, no use of y/n

Word Count: 4.0k

Requested by Anon: omg I love your writing and I have an unhealthy addiction to reading angst so could you please write something about the reader being with peeta and Johanna when they where taken by the capital and her being with finnick and recovering while she’s in district 13? 🫶🫶

A/N: The way I smiled when I saw this request I swear. This one has been in the works for a little while and I thought it fit perfectly. It is angst you ask for and it is angst you shall get. I'm considering writing a part two but I'm not sure how to yet. My bad habit of not proofreading happened again and with this one especially it was way too long so if I made any major errors pls do let me know.

The Capitol.

You are currently in the Capitol.

At least that’s where you think you are. You remember being in the arena, you remember running towards the general direction you last saw Finnick, remembering the marks you had gone by in case you had to take a different route. You remember seeing Finnick's face through the plantation, you’d be able to recall those features anywhere. You remember something hitting you from behind and falling to the ground, too caught up in catching up with him to check your surroundings. You remember crying out in pain, hoping he’d hear you. But the next thing you remember is the vision of him slowly going out of focus and losing consciousness not long after.

At least that's what you think happened.

At least you can still remember, that’s worth something right? You remember your past, and you remember the reaping that led to the arena. The flood of relief that went over you as you finally found your way back to him. You don’t know what happened to Finnick, he was there too after all, but you had needed to split up early. Maybe he had been caught off guard too. Maybe he escaped. Maybe they never even found him. Maybe with him being the idiot he could be, he was probably already on his way here, looking for you. Just like you would have done for him, and he would have called you an idiot then too.

You would get out of here one way or another, that much you knew, but you needed to remember more, you needed to remember the last look on his face, you hadn't had much time to take it in, but you remembered the furrow of his eyebrows, the same expression he always had when he was trying to concentrate, you needed to remember that.

You knew that once you did get out of here, Finnick would be furious, telling you that you had been reckless, that you shouldn't have let your guard down, shortly after telling you how worried he had been. And it would feel like coming home.

Your mind becomes hazier, and it is harder to remember. You feel your head throbbing, and you move your hand towards it until you feel it can move no further. You open your eyes slowly, trying to adjust to the bright light that covers the room. You can't see much, can't move your head much.

You remember the rendezvous point you had talked about. You remember the quick “don't get yourself in trouble” and the kiss he gave you right before you parted ways.

You remember the layers of plants and trees you moved through, seeing some of them cut down, letting you know someone else had been there

But you know there is more, more that you missed. The stomped-out ashes that you ran past, you know you should have paid closer attention. But you can’t remember

You need to remember what happened. How you got here. Who got you here. If you really are in the capitol. But your mind doesn't want to cooperate anymore. The room is getting darker and darker, even though the lamp above your head is still dutifully buzzing

You wake up, you still remember where you are, or at least where you think you are. You still remember yesterday, was it yesterday? Why couldn't they just hang a clock in here?

You look up, and you see a device set up, not too far from where you're lying down. You try to get a better look but the light above your head is too blinding to see anything else in the room. You don’t fully understand it until a man walks into the room with a video camera in his hand and an expression on his face that seems just a tad too happy.

The camera starts blinking a red light, signalling you that it has started recording. The man has a sort of laser that he presses into your lower stomach, it doesn't breach your skin but it hurts like it does. It takes all your energy not to show him the satisfaction of it.

“Come on now darling, work with me a little.” He says after a while, changing the setting on the laser. The last bit of your energy is gone, and you can't keep the screaming from escaping any longer. It echoes off the white walls around you and when you hear yourself, you barely even recognize it. He seems satisfied with the result and finally puts the laser down. You look down but don't see any burn marks or indication of what has just happened.

He comes closer and you can see he is holding a sort of crowbar, but you're not sure why. You remember how you always left one outside your window in the districts, in case the wind had shut it and you needed to sneak back in. You remember Finnick finding out, giving you a serious, disappointed look, but not telling you to stop.

Before you can think of anything else, the bar hits you with full force, right above the spot he was previously focused on. You didn't expect it, and it knocks the little breath you had left out of your lungs. He hits again, not in the same spot, but close, he is very clearly aiming for your ribs. The switching between high-tech and old-school weapons has you puzzled, but you can't deny the result either of them has.

After a while, he stops, and with the added difficulty and pain that now comes with breathing, you are more than certain he just bruised a few of your ribs.

He walks back, taking the camera in his hands. He aims it at your face and you close your eyes to try and collect yourself as much as your current state allows. Your hair is a tangled mess and you are rather certain there is blood smushed over your face from the cuts you got in the arena.

“Smile for the camera sweetheart.” He asks, even though it sounds more like an order than a request. You open your eyes to look at him. He is so close, and you want to drive your thumbs so far into his eye sockets you can feel the front lobe of his brain, if he even has one. But you can't do anything, no matter how much you want to fight, you are powerless here. You close your eyes again, trying to block everything out and remember.

You remember District Four, the way the light summer breeze would always carry the smell of the beach to your house, no matter how hard you had it, it always livened you up. You remember the first time Finnick tried to teach you how to surf, being so gentle with you no matter how many times you fell off it, always there to catch you again. You remember your last birthday, well, the day after, but you couldn't even complain about that. He had picked you up from your place and brought you to one of the lakes with him. He told you the story of one of his birthdays when he was younger, along with all the embarrassing details, but of course, it only endeared him further to you. You told him about the presents you got and all the people who came to wish you a happy birthday. You told him everything you could remember. You remember last seeing his face, maybe it was the last time you will have ever seen it. No. No, you remember it, but you’ll see it again, you have to.

“I’ll make sure your loverboy gets to see this, wherever he is, wouldn't want him to miss out on the fun.”

Finn. Finnick. You remember Finnick. You remember when you returned from your first games. The black eye and broken arm you came home with. You remember how he lost it when they didn't immediately treat you for it. He would now either throw a fit over it for everyone to see or be so stoic in his thoughts even Johanna would get a little concerned.

You see the man standing up, walking to the table, and picking up something new. A syringe, it's a syringe. He walks over and pushes it into your upper arm, and before you know it, your vision turns black again.

You remember waking up to gunshots, and you panic. But after a few seconds, you figure out they’re not near you. There is, however, someone in the room with you, it's the same man again. He looks a little panicked, but you can’t figure out why just yet. The gunshots are becoming louder, and closer, and he seems more startled now. His arms drop to his sides from what he was doing and his eyes widen. Screams are echoing and you can hear footsteps.

You remember that pattern of paddling feet, and you recognize the second pair of steps too, but you can't remember much else.

The man gets closer to you, placing his hand over your mouth, pulling out a gun with his free hand and telling you to stay quiet. You never understood why people say that, it means he has something to lose, and you want to scream out, but your voice doesn't remember how to.

It's even closer now, right outside the door, and you can hear talking. You remember his voice. How he always asked you so sweetly how your day had been, the way he whispered sweet nothings in your ear as you fell asleep.

You hear the door jiggle, and it makes you want to scream out for him, but your sore throat won't let you. For a moment you think that is it, you had your chance, and you let it go by. He’ll move along the hallway to the other doors and leave you here. But then you hear another gunshot, and they must have shot the lock, because right after you hear someone running into the door with an echoing thump as it breaks open.

The man next to you had his gun pointed at the door, and he changes it to point at you instead.

You were right, by the gods you had never been so thankful to have been right. Finnick walks in, and you can see the colour drain from his face as he does so.

The man standing next to you is starting to get nervous, you can see the sweat starting to drip down his face. He must realize he has been matched, because there are more people by Finnicks side. But the man still has his gun pointed at you, and this isn't over just yet.

You can't keep your eyes open anymore, and when you close them, you remember. You remember your first kiss with Finnick, how nervous he had been at the time. He had been shaking a little and told you he was embarrassed by how much you got to him, but it only endeared him further to you. He yells at the man to let go of the gun, he sounds nervous again.

But he doesn't let go, he decides to shoot.

You hear the bullet leaving the gun, and for a single moment, you think it's over. The last thing you’ll ever see is Finnick, but he’s not himself. He’s upset, and even though you know he’s not upset with you, it still tugs at you. Except when you feel the bullet piercing through your skin, that's exactly what you realise. You can still feel it. He didn't shoot you right in the heart, he didn't shoot towards your head, he shot you in the abdomen. You’re not sure why, not sure why he didn't kill you, but you will never know, because not even a second passes as you hear a second gunshot, and he falls to the floor.

You can't seem to remember how to open your eyes, but you can hear Finnick rushing over and right as he reaches you, you fall. You fall into his arms and the memory of it gives you hope. Something comes in contact with your stomach, and the agony of it makes you want to scream out. You can feel him lifting you, and the shift of your body makes the bullet move, making you want to scream again. And if you remembered how to, you would have.

You know he’s talking to someone, but it sounds more like buzzing to you. You can only make out certain parts of the conversation, something about needing to leave, something about infections, and something about an aircraft.

You can hear him talking again, and this time it’s directed at you. There’s a strain in his voice, and it sounds like he’s crying. It makes you want to comfort him, but you don’t remember how to.

“Please darling, just open your eyes."

But you’re afraid, youre afraid that if you open them, everything will turn out to be nothing but a dream, and he won’t be here anymore. But even if this is a dream, you need to see him. Even if it will turn into a haunted memory, you need to see his eyes looking back at you. It takes you some effort, but you open your eyes, looking at him. You can see tears flooding his face, you can see his lips moving, silent pleas coming from them for you to stay awake. He’s telling you how good of a job you’re doing, he's telling you to hold on. He promises that he won’t let anything bad happen to you ever again and that he won’t let go of you anymore.

You remember how he cried when you were reaped for the 75th games, and how you had told him everything would be okay, how you had comforted him, but you don't have the energy to comfort him this time. You remember hearing his sobbing, his shaking voice when you close your eyes again, not being able to keep them open any longer, even if you wanted to.

You wake up again, and for a moment you think it had indeed all been a dream, that you were right back where you had started, But then you remember the bullet in your stomach. You look down and see a bandage over it, even though it’s already soaked in blood. They must have taken it out.

You try and concentrate, and you can hear Finnick talking to someone. “Just tell me, I know it’s bad but I need to know.” “Finnick, it won’t make a difference.” The person he’s talking to sounds desperate, and you remember how stubborn he could be when it came to you.

But you don’t remember more, because your head starts to feel light again and you give in to the feeling.

When you wake up again, you manage to open your eyes, and you can see someone sitting in a chair next to the bed you're in. He’s slumped over, his face half pressed into the mattress and half into your stomach, both of his hands are holding onto one of yours. It hurts a little, but you don't mind, because it reminds you, even when you look away, that he is still there. You remember the way he always softly snores, and the way he wiggles his nose when your hair falls over it.

You think you're connected to a monitor, because something is beeping in the same rhythm you can feel your heart beating, and it gives you a headache. So you close your eyes again, and once again, you give in to the feeling of sleep that looms over you.

Since you had been brought to District 13, he has barely left your side. He keeps putting cold washcloths on your forehead to try and break your fever. It won't help, and he knows it, but no one has the heart to stop him.

You haven't shown a single sign of life since they had found you. It was unsettling, the silence that filled the room, none of your usual laughter and banter there to replace it.

It’s only when Finnick's head shoots up that the others notice it as well. The steady beeping that has been imposing the silence in this room for weeks picking up its pace. The beating continues to go faster and faster, your body shaking up from the bed in almost the same rhythm. But right before anyone can do anything about it, it stops. It all seems to stop, you stop moving, and the monitor stops beating.

He starts giving you chest compressions, and someone rushes into the room holding a small bottle, they fill a syringe with the clear liquid and inject it into your arm. Within a few seconds, your heart starts beating again. But it’s only after a minute of the monitor showing him a steady heartrate that he stops his actions.

It’s dark in the room when Finnick wakes up, and if it wasn't for the soft light and the beeping of the monitor, he would've thought he was dreaming, but it seems the reality won’t let him escape. He struggles not to fall back asleep, and every few minutes he does, but every time he wakes up startled again, scared that you’ll be gone if he doesn't open his eyes every once in a while. It was easy to see the toll it had taken on him. His posture was slouched, his face less well-groomed than usual. But no one could blame him, because they could see the way he looked at you, as if you were the sun and your dimmed light turned his world dark.

He knows the chance you can hear him is small, but he feels the urge to talk to you nonetheless.

“I don't think I can hold this in any longer. I remember some studies that have shown people in comas do hear what's going on around them, but maybe it’s for the best that you don’t, because you would never say yes.”

He continues but he feels his voice choke up, and he runs a hand through your hair to calm himself down, his other hand still holding onto yours.

“We talked about it once, I still remember every single word you said. You came at me with all your logical reasons for why it would be a bad idea. But what you never understood is that when it comes to you, I'm not able to think rationally, because my love for you will overpower anything else.” He chuckles softly as he recalls the memory he’s about to tell you next.

“I remember when I opened up to you for the first time. I had always held things to myself, but you were so calm as I talked to you. I thought for sure I had screwed it up somehow then. Everyone always tells me now how happy you make me, and they're right. Ever since you came into my life there has not been a single moment when the thought of you did not bring me joy, even when we fought my memories of you could still somehow bring a smile to my face.

I remember when they showed me the video, they hadn't wanted me to see it, but you know how stubborn I can be when it comes to you. I saw you, I saw the way in which they were hurting you. And I started yelling, ironically enough in that moment, you were the only one that could have calmed me down. I remember yelling at them, fighting with them not to wait any longer, that they couldn't let you wait any longer, they had to have me sedating until they came to a conclusion."

He reaches into the pocket of his trousers, taking a small ring. It was his mother's ring, he had found it a while back and had carried it with him ever since. He had thought of moments to give it to you, but every time there was one, every time he was about to ask you, something had happened, something had interrupted him. But there was no one interrupting him this time. “I have thought about asking you this every time I see you, and I can't hold it in any longer. So when you wake up, not if you wake up, because I know you will. I know you will wake up because you have to. So when you wake up, will you marry me.” A little part of him had thought you'd wake up, that you’d answer him. Even if you said no, it would still be better than what's happening right now, because he didn't care if you'd say no, if you’d say you weren't ready, because nothing could be worse than the silence that followed him. And so he slid the ring onto your finger delicately, as if you were to disappear if he wasn't careful. He put the ring on your hand because he knew that even if it wasn't today, and it wasn't tomorrow, someday you would marry him, and he wouldn't let you slip away.

At first, he thought he was imagining it, sleep deprivation and desperation playing a trick on his mind. But then he saw it again, in the beams of morning light he could see your hand moving, as if it was trying to grasp onto something, trying to pull you back into this world. It woke him up in an instant. But it was all followed so fast, the way your eyes slowly opened, squinting at the light. Before you had even awoken for a second, he moved from where he had been right beside you in order to hug you. And he was about to get lost in the thought of your moving lips, tears falling down his eyes, about to get lost in a kiss full of built-up pain and desperation when he noticed, something was wrong. Your eyebrows were knitted together and the corners of your mouth turned down just a little. He looked at your expression, your body language, something was wrong. You looked vulnerable, you looked like you wanted to protect yourself from someone.

It was only when he looked into your eyes that he truly understood something was very wrong.

Your eyes looked as if you were in pain, but it wasn't a look of any physical pain, it looked as if something was endangering you, but he couldn't understand what it was. He slowly moved so as not to startle you and asked you “Darling, what’s wrong” And at first you didn’t respond, but when he kept looking at you, expecting him to answer you, you started to speak. “Am I supposed to remember you?”

He immediately flinched back at the statement, his shoulder sunk and his eyes dimmed. Someone told him it wasn't uncommon for brain injuries to cause short-term memory loss after a coma.

So slowly, and surely, he made it work. But it was crumbling him down every time you didn't remember the unconscious acts of affection, so foreign to you now. A quick touch on your arm as he walked towards you made you flinch slightly as if his hand had been on fire. The subtle smiles he gave you when entering a room were now met with you looking down. The way that even though you were physically here, you really weren't.

He promised himself, he vowed to himself that he would make you remember. That no matter how long it took, he would wait for you. He would wait for you to remember, make you remember. Because he had very quickly learned that he couldn’t live without you anymore.

Part 2: Trying to Forget

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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 2 months

Note

omg i really really love your blog<3 you are such a sweet person and so kind to all your followers and others on here and your writing is absolutely amazing!

i saw ur requests were open and i was wondering if you could write something for poe dameron? a hurt comfort because in your rules you said you wouldn't accept full angst which honestly is so real of you and i completely agree :D its just, ive read so many fics where poe's best friend or squadron member is either in love with him or fwb with him and he starts dating someone and they look rlly in love but then he leaves the person for the best friend and i cant help but always wonder how the person he left is feeling! and i was wondering if you could write something along the lines of this but he doesnt leave the reader and hes not really in love with his best friend or anything im so sorry this became really long but you can totally ignore this or say you cant do it its absolutely alright!<33

thank you sm though and i hope you have a good day!

Anon, thank you so much for such lovely and kind words! You are AMAZING! (Seriously, they have absolutely made my day/week/year!)

This ask has killed me (positive), my subconsciousness had a lot to say, it seems.

Tangerine, Tangerine

Poe Dameron x GN!Reader Rating: M Masterlist | ao3 | want to be tagged?

Warnings: angst (but with a happy ending), thoughts that a partner is cheating, blood, x-wing fight, swearing (not star wars swearing, because even though Kriff is great, I need to say fuck), Moonbeam as a nickname, typos, rail road sentences, please let me know if I’ve missed a warning!

Word Count: 4494

_______________________________________

It was just a kiss. It was just a kiss. It was just a kiss.

You’d misunderstood, you’d read the situation wrong, you’d seen incorrectly. It was just a kiss. It was just a kiss. It was just a kiss.

Your radio crackled, “Green Leader, checking in. We’re manoeuvring in 5. Call out.”

“Green Two check.”

“Green Three check.”

It was just a kiss.

“Green Four check.”

It was just a-

“Green Five check.”

Just a-

“Green Six check.”

Just-

“Green Seven,” you swallow. “Check.”

It wasn’t just a kiss.

You patted your helmet twice and rolled your neck, breathing deeply as you settled in. On your left, you could see some of Blue Squadron.

This mission was straightforward - on a holopad.

Two teams to escort The Harbringer, the resistance supply ship. It had been damaged by a rogue blast from a tie fighter just as it jumped to hyperspace and had had to make an emergency landing on one of Tre’Ral’s desert moons.

The crew on board had managed to fix all they could. But without proper materials, there was little chance of the ship making it out of the moon’s thick atmosphere and entering hyperspace. So Blue and Green Squadrons had been dispatched. Blue 1-4 had already made contact, jump-starting The Harbringer enough to get it airborne.

Due to Tre’Ral’s sun and planet density, the gravity on the moons was a little stronger than most world’s atmospheric pressure.

Green Leader, Sena, had repeated through briefing at how this would affect flying. How to be ready for it. And she hadn’t been wrong, it was different flying here. Tougher. And you loved it.

You’d grown up on Para, a planet with a high gravity density. You’d learnt to fly there well before you’d flown in space. Being here on this desolate moon almost felt like home. Your movements seemed smoother, precise. No longer needing to overcorrect for your naturally ingrained harsh movements. No longer spinning out and fighting low gravity, finally working with the tide.

The manoeuvre would see the ships escort The Harbringer out of the moon’s atmosphere and then the rest of Blue squadron would form a sort of 3D star formation around the cargo ship. All jumping to hyperspace at the same time to carry it along with them.

Simple.

In theory.

Everyone had spoken about how practically textbook it was, how easy.

But then, of course, why was Green Squadron going?

No one at the briefing had asked, why would they when the answer was so obvious. This part of the quadrant was teething with First Order. With a slow, busted supply ship you were all practically screaming for them to come and play target practice.

You swallow.

You should be focusing on that, on the mission. Instead of the utter nonsense that was ricocheting around your head and piercing your heart.

I hadn’t just been a kiss.

You and Poe had gotten together clumsily, three months ago, your normal awkwardness drowned out by so much Polanis Red that you almost couldn’t see straight. It had been after the battle of Hurthwen, a nasty dogfight that had everyone hyped up on adrenaline.

He had been drunk when he kissed you, you remembered that.

Maybe he had thought… maybe he had believed he was kissing her instead.

It made a lot more sense.

Sena was the Green Leader, she was a great pilot. One to be reckoned with. She was kind, she was fun, she was beautiful. She and Poe had joined the resistance together, risen the ranks together. Basically inseparable. Always laughing and joking. She had been in the same squad as Poe, under his command before she was promoted to leading one of her own.

They had always been close. Always. Best friends.

Sickness bubbled in your throat.

You remembered Frizz and Hank talking offhandedly, well before you and Poe were a thing. Both of them sure that Sana and Poe were dating or ‘knocking boots’ as Frizz had so elegantly put it.

“Two people can just be friends, you know.” You’d said, trying to hide your little crush on the commander.

“Yeah,” Frizz laughed, “But not them. You seen them together?”

Hank chortled.

Nonsense. You’d brushed it off then. Allowed it to creep into your thoughts when it was dark and the base was quiet. When Poe’s breathing was soft and light behind you, his arm around your waist.

Him and Sana just made a lot more sense than him and you.

“Yeah, but not them. You seen them together?”

Yeah. Now you had.

The Harbringer came into view over the horizon. The seemingly endless stretch of desert was cut through in the distance by a fearsome outcrop of crocks, leading up into a field of formidable mountains.

Blue 1-4 were already hooked up to the cargo ship, all five hoovering moving together as they flew towards you to meet.

You wouldn’t have said things were difficult with you and Poe. Well, you wouldn’t have said that before. It was complicated for everyone on the base, most staff were on different call schedules, off-world or on a mission at all times. Having a relationship wasn’t straightforward. There were stretches where you wouldn’t even be on the same planet for days, but…

But you had thought it was…

It didn’t matter.

You’d gone back to the briefing room, just before take off. You’d wanted to tap the main holoscreen twice, for luck. A little ritual you’d adopted early on. Most pilots were a superstitious bunch.

That’s when you’d seen them. Sana and Poe. Locked in a tight embrace, their lips pressed together in a deep kiss.

Your heartbeat had thundered so loud you’d been surprised they hadn’t heard it. But they’d been too preoccupied to notice your presence.

It was cliche but time had almost slowed, calmed and stretched like the moment you take aim, the second before you fired your ship's canons.

A flash of the control panel had flickered into your mind when you saw them, your fingers twitching as if you had the trigger in your hands.

You’d turned and left without a sound. Without a word. Without letting them know you saw. Leaving them to… whatever they did next.

Was it their first kiss? One of many? Had this been going on well before Poe had taken your hand and led you outside so he could clumsily name all the constellations, making up new ones and backstories to make you smile?

“That one here, you see it?”

“Yeah?”

“That one’s the best one, best in the sky. It’s orange and it’s right next to that other orange one, like they’re holding hands.”

You’d laughed.

“That’s me and you Moonbeam.”

Moonbeam. That stupid nickname.

You’d gone to your room quickly, the one that you and Poe shared, and taken off the necklace he’d given you.

“I want you to wear it for luck, Moonbeam.”

That stupid smile he’d given you as he’d slipped it from his own neck and onto yours. That stupid kiss he’d given you after. You’d thought that expression was cute when you’d seen it, pure. Now it just seemed like he’d been laughing at you, playing some sick joke. ‘How long can I string someone along?’, ‘how far can I go before they realise it’s all pretend?’

You’d left the necklace with the ring slipped through on the small set of shelves in the corner, the one Poe normally kept his holopad on.

It was idiotic, but your neck felt… empty without it. Cold. Every now and then you touched at where the chain normally lay.A subconscious action only brought to the forefront of your mind by the sensation of your own skin instead of metal.

Something caught your eye in the distance, a flash of sunlight glinting off the horizon. Dread twisted in your stomach as realisation dawned a second earlier than your scanners. The extra gravitational pressure and high quantity of magnetic metals in the sand affected everyone’s ship computers, causing a brief information delay.

Your alarm sounded out inside your ship, the radar blinking into life as tie fighters approached from the rock outcrop. They’d used the high mineral concentration to hide their energy signatures.

“Fuck.”

The radio screamed into life, orders out pouring over orders. Blue squadron rushed into position while Green scrambled.

“Blue in place now!”

“It’s gonna be rushed, but we haven’t got a choice!”

“No time!” “Incoming!” “Green half split! Evens left, odds right, let’s keep those fighter’s off The Harbringer and Blue squadron! Gamma pattern!”

“How far away is the Delta?”

“Calling in attack pattern!”

You swing to the right, falling in with Hank and Petal and bank hard, it takes less than a second for you to notice that your squad's movements aren’t as precise and well-timed as usual. The stronger gravity throwing everyone, except you, off their game.

That didn’t bode well.

You climb for a second, punching hard on the acceleration to get some height and a clear view of the oncoming and flick on your targeting system. The image glitches, doesn’t hold steady even as you focus. Off by half a fraction.

Shots fire out from both sides, most missing.

“Targeting not working!”

“It’s out!”

“I can’t get a clear shot!” “The read is malfunctioning!”

“Half a click 4/8!” You shout, as you take your shot, hitting two tie fighters head-on.

“Good shot Green 7!” You can hear the joy and relief in Sana’s voice. “Half a click 4/8, you’ll all have to manually adjust!”

You dive, swirling around two fighters before skimming close to the ground, trying to draw their attention away from the cargo ship. You spin, slamming your control harder than you would need to in any other situation as you turn and spike past another fighter, taking out one in the process.

“Wooooo!” Hank yells over the intercom.

You laugh. “Bet you never thought you wished you grew up on Para right?”

“Every day new things surprise me.” He banks left, you right, Petal dives down.

It’s too much of a rush, everything all at once, patterns and shots flying, your ship’s systems screaming as you push the engines a little too hard.

The tie fighters aren’t moving as fast as they normally do, bogged down even more than the x wings by the gravity. They can’t make their normal quick turns and it’s affecting their strike patterns.

Good.

But there’s so, so many of them.

Explosions fly debris out, and you climb higher. Needing a clear view and unable to rely on your targeting systems.

More shots fly out, The Harbringer is taking a battering but so far its shielding is holding the hull together.

The radio keeps screaming, overlapping voices that blur into background noise. You’re trained to only hear your call signal, direct messages. You vear off, narrowingly missing a blast to your wing.

“-On my tail.” Frizz’s voice cuts through the noise, a sharp stab of dread slicing you open as you turn, automatically looking to the reader, it’s still not clear.

You climb, twist, fall, see a Green ship, followed tightly by two fighters. Accelsorate, bank. You fire. You’re aiming in a panic now, not adjusting right, not breathing through.

The shot hits one, before you have to swerve to avoid being struck head-on.

“Thanks 7!” Cril yells over the speaker, managing to shake the other fighter.

There’s a scream, a crackle of sound over the system. A sound you know too well. You see the ship crash into the desert, exploding before it even hits the ground as the a tie fighter’s shots hit home.

Frizz.

“No…”

“Check!” Sana yells, unable to tell who went down with the system glitching. “Green Leader!”

You swerve around another fighter, everything moving so fast, too fast.

“Green Two check!” Cril.

“Green Three check!” Petal.

Nothing.

“Green Four!” Sana yells. No call replies. Balna. Not Frizz.

The momentary rush of relief at Frizz being alive is cut horribly short by the image of Balna’s kind face that bursts behind your eyes.

You bank left, right, swerve, take aim, twist.

There’s a chance, a good chance that you’ll win. All of Blue is in place, The Harbringer is moving up with them. The tie fighters are taking more hits than the resistance, their less aerodynamic design hampering them more than usual with this gravity.

All you need is…

Another alarm.

“Oh… fuck.” You slam on your intercom. “Z-Fighter!”

A chorus of yells answer you.

A Z-fighter, a quick moving ship a fraction bigger than The Harbringer, with two powerful front guns. A few shots would take the cargo ship out completely.

And with how slow the supply ship was moving, that wouldn’t be hard.

The Z-fighter storms in, moving fast but not firing, they were obviously having problems with their targeting too, needing a close clear shot.

“Take out the main cannons!” Sana yells, the panic in her voice cutting through the chaos. You turn, aim, take out a tie fighter but have to veer up at the last second. Twist.

Someone comes in after you, aiming for the cannons, a fighter clips their side and they can’t correct quick enough. They spiral off, their ship crashing into the Z-fighter. Obliterated on impact. The Z-fighter seemingly unaffected.

You loop back, adrenaline blinding you to everything, anything that’s not the goal. Take out the canons. Take out the canons. People are counting on you. Take out the canons.

You fire, a clear shot before you bank to the side to avoid a direct hit to your hull.

It’s not enough.

You need to pass again, and again. Other x wings flying in, taking shots, the gravity making them slow, imprecise. Only one blast hits and it’s not full on.You’re the only one hitting directly and it’s not enough.

It’s not enough. It’s not enough. It’s not enough.

There’s shouting and screaming, the zipping of the fighters as they cut through the sky. Someone yells your name and you don’t hear it.

Another hit lands. One canon out. Only one left. You can do this. The Harbringer is nearly in the upper atmosphere, they can jump from there. Just a few more seconds. You can do this.

“Black Leader!” Poe’s call sign cuts over the dim, followed by the call signs of half of the Red Squadron.

They must have scrambled after first contact.

The canon’s powering up, a quick glance to your panel tells you that The Harbringer’s shield is barely functioning. They won’t survive a direct hit. With how close they are and the Blue Squadron ships that are attached there’s no way they wouldn’t be pulled down too if The Harbringer fell.

The canon needs more than one hit to take it down, more than five. No way you can shoot five times before they fire.

You twist, full force. Pumping the acceleration. Fire. Fire. Fire. Three hit. You don’t slow down. Fire. Fire. Fire. They hit. The canon is still operational.

Sana is screaming orders, so many shots fire at the canon, none of them hit right, hit full on.

Two chances left.

One to fire. If it takes out the canon you just have enough time to serve up, to avoid getting smashed to bits.

Poe shouts for you over the intercom.

You don’t answer.

One to fire. If it doesn’t take out the canon then… then you crashing into it head on will.

Poe yells again, this time cutting over everyone else, sending you a direct call.

You don’t answer.

You fire. Hit.

Poe screams for you, his voice painful and panicked. He’s already worked out your plan before you had even thought of it.

The canon doesn’t go down.

You cut the call to him. Blocking out his signal. You don’t want Poe to think you did this for him.

You don’t want him to think you did this because of him.

“Green Seven!” Sana yells, seemingly knowing what you’re going to do.

Hank screams your name over the radio. It hurts. You think it’s the worst sound you’ve ever heard.

“Moonbeam!” Poe’s voice is ripped raw from yells, Sana has patched him through over her signal. You were wrong. That was the worst sound you’ve ever heard.

You dip at the last second, not hitting the canon straight on but smashing your right wing into it. The force surprises you, even though you braced for it. The impact sending you spiralling. You try to regain control, try to turn into the spin. Training taking over even though you're a wing and half a ship down.

Shouts over the radio, you barely make out-

“-cannon’s down-”

“-Jump!-”

A spark hits, your console explodes into flame, shards hit your side and you yell. Sky and sand tumbling over each other over and over, and you manage to hit the eject button.

The force rips you upwards, free briefly from your burning ship. But you’re too close to the floor, not enough time to slow down your velocity. There’s-

The impact of the ground hurts. Pain explodes along every nerve despite the ejection seat dampening. You scream.

Agony is everywhere, everything. You can’t feel anything else, can’t comprehend anything except floods of pain.

You hit your belt, falling out and to the desert floor. Looking up just enough to gauge where you are, where your ship fell. It’s an exploded, fireball mess far off. At least it’s not an immediate threat. You crawl to the side and sob.

There’s blood falling into the sand from your head, the right side of your face. You can’t see properly out of your eye and your left leg is definitely broken. Shattered. Still, you drag yourself forward, digging your hands in and pulling as something ribs and tears in your side, warm liquid soaking into your fight suit.

The resistance will jump to hyperspace, they’ll get out. They’ll make it.

You just needed to get away from your ejection seat, when the First Order doubles back they’ll see it, they’ll see you. You just needed to get to an outcrop. Hide.

Make it look like you had a weapon.

Make them shoot you first instead of taking you for questioning.

Can’t let them take you alive.

There's the faint sound of a ship somewhere above, landing gear coming down.

For a second you freeze, panic gripping your heart, you dig into the sand hard, pull, pull, pull yourself closer towards the outcrop of rocks. The air seems to be leaving your lungs, your breathing ragged and hot.

You cough, red hitting the dirt, iron hitting your tongue.

You crawl, pull. The pain is making you light-headed. You gasp, trying to get in a full lung full of air. It's not enough. It's not enough. It's not enou…

When you open your eyes your first thoughts are simple. Clear.

I'm dead.

You were either shot in the head in the sand or simply succumbed to your wounds.

But then things begin to feel… fuzzy. Not painful, but not right either.

And that's when you smell the Bacta. And then the light starts to change to distorted shapes, and finally, you recognise Hank sitting next to you.

“You better not be dead too,” you whisper your voice dry from lack of use.

Hank jumps up, goes to grab your hand and then stops himself. There are tears in his eyes. He softly places his fingers on yours and you squeeze back.

“You're a fucking idiot you know that?” He grins and you laugh. Which hurts a little, but feels good.

“One sec,” he moves away just to speak to someone outside before he comes back. “I'm the one that picked you up, you know?”

“Now who's the fucking idiot?” You smile but your chest aches, heavy with the weight of his words. “You shouldn't have done that.” You whisper.

“What?”

“You were under fire, you should have just jumped-”

“I saw you eject. Saw you moving. You think I was just gonna leave you there?” He sits. “Besides, I was closest. The commander would have blown up the whole planet to get to you.”

You swallow, turning away slightly. Going cold at the mention of Poe.

Hank mistakes the look for guilt, and squeezes your hand again. “Hey, look,” he smiles, “you took out the canons, you're a fucking idiot but you know how to fly in heavy gravity.”

You snort.

He smiles.

“Who did we lose?”

Hank sighs, “three…”

You nod, closing your eyes for a moment.

“There-”

There was shouting from outside, a crash and then Poe stormed into the room, med staff close behind him.

You swallow, sickness building in your throat.

He looked awful, drawn out and worn thin like he hadn't slept or eaten in days. His eyes red.

He rushes forward, Hank moves out of the way, so Poe can take your hand in his. He leans forward and kisses you softly, carefully stroking your cheek, being gentle with your bandages.

“Moonbeam…” he mutters and you flinch back from him. He looks at you with sad, confused eyes.

“Look, I can only allow one visitor in here.” The med staff member says.

Hank stands, and speaks when you frown. “I'll see you later, Poe’s the one that hasn't left your side. The only reason he wasn't here when you woke was because I made him go take a shower.” Hank smiled, “you can thank me for that later.”

Both you and Poe are quiet as the others leave. Poe searching your face for something, while you look away.

“Moonbeam,” he says again softly, but there's an edge to his words that you're not used to. “What the fuck happened on that mission? What the fuck is this?” He holds up his hand, his necklace and ring wrapped around his palm. His eyes are shiny as he speaks. “Were you trying to kill yourself? What the fu-”

“Poe,” you breathe. Best to get it over quickly. “I saw.”

He frowns. “Saw? Saw what?”

“You and Sana, in the briefing room… before take off.”

The small frown on his forehead relaxes slightly for a moment as his eyebrows raise. “You… saw?”

You nod.

“You, but, I didn’t see you when I pushed her away?” His voice cracks at the end, a splinter running into the muscle of your heart.

“You pushed her away?”

“You didn’t see that?” He frowns again, blinking hard, “you just, just saw and walked away and what? Took this off?” He holds up the necklace again. A tear falls from his eye and he rubs it away furiously as if it had scorched his skin. “Just, just left it and… and…”

“I didn’t know you didn’t want it…” You say quietly, emotion is making your chest tight and constricted. “I didn’t know you didn’t want her…”

“What?” He breathes, moving closer and squeezing your hand. There’s disbelief in his voice, confusion. Anger, it’s deep down and controlled but it’s there. “No, look, she kissed me. I pushed her away, I, I even logged a report, I’ll pull up the god damned camera feed to show you.”

He’s not lying. His gaze is unwavering and he’s got that painfully earnest look in his eyes.

“You thought…” he shakes his head slightly, his voice pained, “you thought I’d-”

“You both make sense together.” You blurt out. “She’s… and you’re…” you shrug and sigh, on the verge of tears yourself. “You’re both the best of us.”

“No,” he shakes his head fiercely, “Moonbeam, no.” He wipes roughly at his eyes again, glancing down for a moment and you lightly touch his head.

He looks up instantly as you stroke his curls, still lightly damp.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper.

Poe shakes his head again, grabbing your hand and kissing your wrist. “I’m sorry.” He kicks off his shoes and clambers into bed next to you a little awkwardly. He’s trying to be careful, trying not to hurt you but needing closeness so badly it’s suffocating.

You scooch to the side as quickly as you can in your current state and lean into him as he wraps his body around you softly and kisses you sweetly.

“Love you, love you, love you,” he repeats after every kiss, pressing his lips to every part of your skin that he can reach.

“Why are you sorry?” You mutter as he holds you, “I’m the one that messed up.”

He shakes his head, “I’m sorry that I don’t make you realise how special you are, how perfect.” He kisses your cheek, “you’re the best of us Moonbeam.”

You tut but his grip tightens and he holds you tight.

“And one hell of a pilot.” He grins.

You scoff.

“You are.” He kisses you again.

You nuzzle against him, settling into his touch. Knots have formed in your chest, pain that’s loosening. His warmth is comforting. Home.

“Sana said she didn’t know I was in a relationship,” he says softly, resting his chin on the top of your head. “I don’t know if that’s true, but… I do believe her.”

You nod. “She’s a good person.”

He moves so he can look you in the eyes. “Please, Moonbeam, I… don’t,” he bites his tongue, closing his eyes for a long second. “I want to tell you, I want to say, don’t ever do something like that again… don’t… don’t put yourself at risk.”

You touch his cheek lightly.

“But it’s not fair is it?” He smiles sadly. “We both do that every day… You know you were gonna be in my squadron at first?”

You shake your head in surprise and he nods.

“You were, but… well,” he blushes ever so slightly. “I was so embarrassingly head over heels in love with you,” he laughs lightly. “For months I could hardly talk to you, you know I had to down five Polanis Red’s in a row after Hurthwen just so I could ask you out? I knew I wouldn’t be able to function right if you were in my squad. I knew that I’d put everyone else at risk because if it came down to it… if there was a choice between everyone in the squad dying, everyone on the base, or you… I’d let the resistance burn instead of lose you. Every single time.”

You close your eyes, fighting the emotion that needs to break through and squeeze his hand like a lifeline. “I love you.” You whisper.

Your fingertips brush against the necklace, the ring hooking around the first knuckle of your index finger by chance.

Poe slowly moves his hand from yours and unwinds the necklace from his palm before carefully placing it over your head, giving you plenty of time to move away if you wanted.

“I love you Moonbeam,” he mutters, his voice low, reverent. Then leans in to kiss you. You kiss him back with all your heart.

____________________________________

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crybaby-bkg · 1 year

Text

His Muse

Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader Warnings: Yandere Bakugou, Obsessive Tendencies, psychoanalyst therapist reader, smut, extremely dubious consent, stalking, kindapping (tagging to be safe), cunnilingus, unprotected sex, creampies, kitchen sex, strength kink, threats of violence (not to reader). please let me know if I missed anything! Word Count: 6.5k Notes: this isn't a more violent yandere fic, and has lots of bargaining and dub con, just as a warning!! but I can't believe I came up with this idea in November omg I move so slow when it comes to full fics. also I tried gradient style for the title and I love it lol it was so fun to try. anyway, please enjoy!! Minors/blank/ageless blogs DNI! Also available on ao3!

When Bakugou comes to you to be his therapist, you don’t think twice about it. He filled out his application correctly, he answered when you called, his insurance went through, his problems sounded legit. You had become wary taking on new patients in your field—dealing with criminals, those with hardened and extensive records, people with all kinds of issues that an everyday therapist wouldn’t be able to handle accordingly. But you did it all (someone had to), so your vetting process was a little heavier than usual, if the therapy wasn’t state mandated.

But Bakugou Katsuki passed with flying colors. If anything, he sounded a little too normal for your line of work, but he kept promising that his issues would be better discussed during sessions. With a little hesitance, you agree and take him on.

He’s…okay, for the most part. A little gruff, rough around the edges and snappy when you try to touch on certain topics of his life. But in general, he’s a great patient; he pays on time, shows up five minutes early, doesn’t linger when your next patient comes buzzing, doesn’t try to touch you or seek out personal information from you.

If anything, he still seems a bit too strait-laced for you. That is, until he starts to delve into why he really wants to come to therapy—to deal with his tendencies of rage, lashing out, and obsession. You had told him that you didn’t deal much with Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, but he had assured you that, no, his obsessions and compulsions weren’t about checking the locks a certain amount of times on a Wednesday, but instead about people.

He obsessed over people, and when things wouldn’t go his way, his rage would rear its ugly head. He still hasn’t told you what his rage specifically looks like, especially with how he momentarily glances over at your little message pinned on your wall that warns people about admitting criminal acts that you’d have to report, damn the confidentiality.

“When did these obsessions start?” You ask him, body tilted toward him even though your eyes and hands move to your open computer. You document what he says, take note of it all, skimming over previous notes from other appointments.

“Maybe about eighteen months ago?” Bakugou’s voice is gravelly, deep and grating against the column of his throat. As he answers, he shoves his hands in his sweats pockets, scoots down a little further on your adjacent couch, looks around the room as if he hadn’t been in here a few times before.

“So this is a more recent development?” You ask, humming under your breath and nodding when he grunts an affirmation. You type, obsessive tendencies over people started less than two years ago, could be trauma based, and you wonder if he can read the words through the reflection of your glasses when you look over to see his eyebrows screwed down.

“Was it sudden for you?” You cock your head to the side, before shaking your head. “Let me rephrase; did these tendencies ever show their faces in other aspects of your life? Different time periods, situations? Or was it just a sudden thing that happened, something you realized once the obsession had already begun?” He starts nodding his head before you can even finish, his ash blond bangs shadowing his eyes for a second in such a way that sends a prickle of chills up your arms. You don’t know why, so you try to swallow the feeling down until it burns at the back of your throat, shifting a little in your cushioned seat. Bakugou watches you for a second before he opens his mouth to speak.

“It was sudden.” He answers, plainly, doesn’t offer up much else until you cock an eyebrow at him, signaling for him to go on. He rolls his eyes and huffs under his breath, shifting again before he shrugs dramatically with his hands still in his pockets.

“I dunno, I was fuckin’ normal until I wasn’t.” You chuckle a little at his tone, crossing your legs under the desk, watching how Bakugou’s vermillion eyes dart down to catch the sight of them, before they slide back up to your face.

“You’ve been in a relationship before?” You state more than ask, eyebrows slid high on your face in question, watching Bakugou roll his eyes a little before he nods.

“Yeah.” He offers, his mouth set in a thin line, obviously not wanting to offer up too much information on the topic.

“How many?” You push. How the hell does he expect you to help him when he keeps giving you short answers, nothing to work with? Why even seek out your help if he acts like being here is such a nuisance to deal with?

“Two.” Bakugou says through gritted teeth, eyes cutting at the decorations you have hung on the walls. “What does this have to do with anything, anyway?” He spits, cuts his eyes at you once more as you narrow your own at him.

“I’m trying to find a connection between your sudden obsessive tendencies with your relationships with people in the world.” You clarify for him, sitting up a little in your seat as his own irritation bubbling off of him starts to sink into your pores, too.

“People rarely have sudden personality flips and switches with no leading causes beforehand. Did these tendencies start because of preexisting mommy issues that were suddenly uncovered after being repressed for years? Were you in a long and committed relationship, which ended in such a way that it wasn’t necessarily on your terms, even if it was ultimately your own call? Was it an accident you were in? Have you always been like this and never realized it? Do you understand what I’m saying, Katsuki?”

…

Bakugou isn’t taking in a single word that you’re telling him. He wishes he could; he’s sure you’re saying some real shit that he should most likely take into consideration. But its so hard to focus when you look at him like that, when your neck rolls a little with every word, when your foot bounces under the desk, the way your lips curve just so.

You’re the reason he’s even here right now. The bane of his fuckin’ existence, but also the only thing that matters to him in the world.

You are his obsession. His muse, his fantasy, his daydream turned reality. And it’s all your fucking fault. With how you prance around your home with your curtains open, wearing nothing but slutty little shirts and no bra, no pants, just panties that sink into the curves of your ass and thighs. How you just go about your life without a care in the fucking world, always so oblivious to everything around you.

You hadn’t even noticed him, the months he spent watching over you. Didn’t catch his lingering stares, or how his ash blond head of hair always seemed to be at least ten feet behind you with every step you took. How your long time neighbor from across the hall suddenly disappeared, how a new tenant moved in when he knew you’d be out. How you forget entirely too often to lock your door, to put your used panties in the hamper. How you tease him with everything, how you’ve been fucking leading him on for over a year and a half now.

So, he had to get desperate. Had to search you up and find what qualifications he needed in order to be seen by you, a psychoanalytical therapist for those who want to be reformed.

But Bakugou had no plans on reformation. There was nothing for him to be reformed on. He just wanted you, and goddamnit, if he wasn’t going to have you.

“I understand you, doc. Loud and clear.”

***

It was your day off, and you had plans on spending it in your bed, catching up on some reading and maybe finishing that one show you started a while ago. But, lunch time came around, and you were craving something specific and didn’t have all the ingredients that you needed. You figured you could go out to the grocery store to grab them, get some fresh air on the way there, and maybe stop at that book shop you had been eyeing for a while.

You get ready quickly, closing your front door behind you, pausing for a second to stare at the door across the hall. You still can’t believe Ms. Hayashi had so suddenly moved out, especially after living in this complex since it was first built. She hadn’t even said goodbye, and you never got the chance to return the Tupperware she lended you.

It wouldn’t have been as weird if someone hadn’t supposedly moved in the next day. You were a gossip with your landlord, a nice older lady, and she gave you all up the updates on the people who lived in the complex. She had said that he was a nice guy, kind of scary and intimating in stature, but respectful the whole time. Said that he didn’t even look at the apartment before giving her the first six months rent and despot in cash. She told you to ever call her if you smelled meth cooking from that apartment, as no one who works a regular job just has that kind of money laying around.

You shrug to yourself, coming to the conclusion that maybe the new owner just needed to get out of town, away from somewhere or someone else. Everyone has their reasonings, and you can’t analyze every single move someone you haven’t even met before has ever made.

You continue down the steps until you’re out of the building, unaware of the crimson eyes that follow your every movement. The walk to the store is a little longer than you’d like for it to be, but you figure that the exercise can do you some justice, and it’s always nice being out in nature. You stop and pick a flower that grows from a crack in the sidewalk, twirling it in your finger the whole way to the store, finally tucking it behind your ear when you have to grab a grocery cart.

And still—and still—you don’t see the eyes that watch you. The figure that follows your every move, that disappears behind walls and aisles every time you turn your back. You feel it though, he can tell, because you move a little quicker and look over your shoulder more than usual.

You go to the self checkout, trying to hurry now, as an uneasy feeling starts to wash over you. You get these often, especially working in the field that you do with the patients that you choose to take on—hardened criminals, fresh out of jail and still ready to harm society, people that just like to see the world burn for the fun of it.

The therapist is typically one of the first few people to be taken out, after parents. You’re always too high on the list for your liking, despite loving your job.

You keep trying to scan an item, but it’s not working, and that only makes your panic settle in deeper into your bones. You try to remember the techniques that you give people when they start to feel overwhelmed by their emotions and what goes on in their heads, but its hard when that sinking feeling only grows deeper and heavier by the moment until—

“Need some help with that?” You jump away quickly, eyes wide as you hold up the can of soup you were gripping tightly like a weapon. You let out a breath though, only in slight relief, to see that its one of your patients standing beside you—Bakugou Katsuki. He looks different than he usually does in your sessions together; he’s wearing a tight compression shirt that hugs his wide shoulders, navy blue in color, sweatpants that wrap around the thick muscles in his thighs, and plain running shoes.

For some reason though, the panic in your stomach doesn’t fully quell at the sight of him.

“No, I got it. Thanks though, Bakugou.” You tell him politely, smiling shakily. Why does the sight of him unnerve you so bad? You’ve run into patients before on the street, and they never make you feel like this, this uneasy, even when it was dark and you were dressed more scantily than you are now, with your baggy pants and too big shirt.

“You sure?” He grunts, cocking his head at you as he gently pries the can from your still tight grip. “I watched you struggle with it for like, two minutes. Let me.” He tells you, never taking his eyes off of you as he scans your item easily enough. He only looks away when he bags it for you, and starts to scan the rest of your things as if you weren’t standing there.

“Oh no, it’s okay, I can finish that myself.” You wave him off him with a shaky smile, finally breaking out of your stupor when he’s damn near finished. You reach out to stop him, but Bakugou only waves you away with a grunt.

“’S alright. It’s the least I can do for you helping me figure my crazy out.” Bakugou shrugs at you, a joke you’re presuming, as he glances over at you with a tiny lilt at the corner of his mouth. It calms you, only for a second, before something ever so slightly changes in his eyes, in the way he looks at you and takes you in, makes you feel like something sinister is sinking deep into your bones. Your stomach tightens again, and you have to force a smile when he finishes, before it drops when you see him reaching for his wallet.

“Oh, I really can’t let you pay for my groceries.” You tell him, stepping up to him before pausing when he looks at you out of the corner of his eye with an expression so terrifying, that it makes stone drop into the pit of your belly.

“Let me.” Bakugou tells you more than asks you, and you nod slowly, swallowing the thickness that has settled into the back of your throat. You can only watch as he pulls out a wad of cash, counting through it before inserting it into the machine, mouth set in a thin line all the while. You try to take him in, figure out where his own groceries are to be in this section, where all this money is coming from, if his address that he put on the file is even anywhere near this area.

It’s not.

“Cmon.” Bakugou snaps you out of your trance, big veiny hands holding all of your groceries as he nods his head to the exit. You’re stuck there, wondering if this is really happening, if these are just boundaries being crossed or a crime about to be committed. You feel tears stinging at your eyes as you try to blink them away, hiccuping slightly as you slowly shake your head.

“Please give me my groceries, Bakugou.” You don’t even recognize your own voice, soft and shaky and purely terrified. Bakugou fixes you with another deadly expression but this time—this time he smiles at you, and its everything but friendly. All big white teeth and too sharp incisors, all falsely charming and all weaponry, all threat with no escape from his drooling maw.

“I think we should go home, now. Don’t you?” He asks you with a cock of his head, body still turned to the exit, his stature eery with how the veins in his neck throb with every second you stay rooted in your spot. “Before something happens to these nice people in here, right? Before they have to bear witness to a massacre, all because you don’t want to walk home with me.”

You have to bite back your sob that bubbles up in your throat. You’re terrified of what will happen to you, but you’re a caretaker first. You have to put yourself before these people, put yourself before the monster that wants you as a sacrifice before he burns an entire village down for you.

So you nod, and take the hand offered to you as he switches the groceries to one hand, just to squeeze yours in the other.

You leave out of the grocery store with tears muddled in your eyes, a quivering chin that you try to conceal, hope no one wants to be a hero and find themselves hurt, or worse, because you can’t school your expressions.

This was taught in a psychology course you took in college, you remember. One of your classes after you started working on your highest degree—what to do in real life situations as a psychologist. How to avoid more conflict when a patient is erratic. How to deescalate. How to survive.

Everything you’ve ever learned has gone out the window now.

You and Bakugou walk down the street hand in hand, looking like a normal couple for the most part, besides your trembling jaw and shaky steps. You glance up to him, watching him squint in the sunlight before he glances down at you, squeezing your hand gently, as if to comfort you, as if he weren’t the cause of your panic. You notice that he’s walking right in the direction of your apartment, as if the route were memorized.

“How do you know where I live?” You ask shakily, mouth full of cotton as Bakugou keeps his head forward, grinning. He glances at you again, eyes bouncing between the delicate flower tucked behind your ear, and the terrified expression your eyes carry.

“I should be asking you the same thing.” He shrugs nonchalantly, doesn’t offer up anymore information until you stand outside of your building. “You know, for you to be a therapist to fuckin’ weirdos, you don’t watch your back good enough for my liking.”

You didn’t think your stomach could sink any lower, but it does. It does when the realization settles, when his words kick in—that he’s been watching you, but for how long? How could you not have noticed? Did he even contact you because he needed help, or was this only a way to grow closer to you, to his obsession?

Before you know it, Bakugou has walked you up the stairs until you reached your floor. Your body turns to instinctively to your door, but you’re pulled in the other direction.

“Wha—” you go to ask Bakugou, before you notice he’s set your groceries down to fiddle with the key to…to the apartment across the hall from you. You feel the tears flood again, letting them flow this time since no one is around to try and save you and put themselves in harms way anymore.

“It’s been you? This whole time?” You ask slowly, starting to pull away when Bakugou opens the door to Ms. Hayashi’s apartment, still decorated the same before she mysteriously disappeared—you don’t think its so mysterious anymore.

“Of course it’s been me.” Bakugou scoffs as he grips your hand tighter, pulling you closer until you near the doorway. “I had to watch over you—do you know how careless you are with everything? With your life?” He snarls, whirling around on you when you plant your feet and try to keep him from pulling you into his lions den. Bakugou is all snarls and teeth, invokes such a deep fear within you that you can’t help but shrink under his gaze.

“Now come on. I’ve been waiting for this for entirely too long.” His voice is downright salacious, eyes turning sharp and hungry, and in a way that makes you feel like nothing more than hunted prey.

Bakugou damn near drags you within the apartment, despite your whimpering and pulling at him—he’s just too strong. He walks you a few feet inside before he dumps the groceries on a coffee table, finally letting go of your hand so that he can lock the door, emerging a key from his sweatpants pocket to one of the many, many locks, an insurance policy of you never leaving him unless he allows it.

You try to put on your therapist boots for a minute, swallowing your fear as you try to reason with him, swallowing thickly when he turns around and takes your trembling form in.

“Bakugou,” you start shakily, “this doesn’t have to end bad for us. You can just let me go, and we can pretend this never happened. I won’t report you, or anything. Please, please, PLEASE!”

He comes rushing at you before you know it, on you in seconds, despite trying to turn and outrun him before he pounces. But it’s too late and he’s too big and too overwhelming, and he grabs you up in his arms, shushing your screaming with his mouth pressed against yours.

So this is what he wants, you think to yourself, terrified to say you’re slightly relieved. You’ve worked with men who liked to torture women for fun, and you were scared that he was secretly one of them, but it looks like he just wants—

“You.” Bakugou whispers with a swallow against your mouth, hot and breathy. “I want you so fuckin’ bad, wanted this for so long, fuck.” He’s wrapping you up within him in seconds, arms crushing your ribs, tongue sneaking into your mouth, hands grabbing handfuls of whatever he can reach.

You’re stunned, mostly. Finally putting the pieces together of everything that is Bakugou, his coming to you about his obsessions, his secrecy despite needing your help, the way he always looked at you, how he devours you now like a mere schoolboy. It all makes sense now. You pull away from him, eyes round and wide as you take in his lowered ones, how he dives back in to nip at your jaw and chin and cheek.

“I’m your obsession.” You whisper shakily, hands on his shoulders, despite them making no moves to move the large man back. Bakugou groans at that, damn near sinks to his knees at your realization, wraps you up even tighter as he buries his face into the skin of your neck.

“Fuckin’ finally. Thought you would’ve caught on sooner by now, dumbass.” He scolds you, licking up the expanse of your skin as you shiver and try to back away. But Bakugou only holds you tighter, and you whimper at the bulge that nudges your hip.

“Why didn’t you tell me? We could’ve—could’ve worked on exposure therapy, had someone there to monitor you for our safety, could’ve—”

“Too much work. I just want you.” Bakugou moans, nipping at your skin, grabbing handfuls of your ass when you squeak. He walks you backwards until your back meets a wall, the breath being knocked out of you as you gasp, eyes wide when he finally pulls away from your skin.

You’ve never seen him like this, all fucked out and relaxed and even a little excited. Always saw him with a bored or irritated expression, one of indifference. But now, Bakugou looks high on euphoria, with kiss swollen lips and low eyelids as he takes in your still shocked expression.

“Let me taste you,” Bakugou rushes out in a quick breath, diving in once more to lick at your mouth before he pulls away, big hands squeezing at your waist and ass excitedly. He’s like a dog with a bone, like a pup with no master, waiting for you to give the command, the permission to go.

You wonder if you have more control of this situation than you originally thought. So you try your hand, see how far you can push before you can wiggle your way out of this entire thing and get the chance to call the police.

“Bakugou,” you start, quickly being cut off by him with a sharp nip to your chin.

“Katsuki,” he corrects. You nod.

“Katsuki, if I—if I let you do this, this one thing of…of tasting me, will you promise to let me go?” You try to reason with him, cupping his cheek when his eyes wander over your form instead of your face, leaning into your touch instinctively.

“We can,” you pause with a swallow. “I can do this. I can create a therapy plan for you, for your obsession over me, and it can be fully consenting and healthy, but you have to let me help you and let me take control.” You try to reason with Bakugou, hope he understands what you’re saying, that he won’t catch on to this just being a trick. But he only groans and turns his head, sucking your thumb into his mouth, eyes fluttering shut at your gasp before he releases you with a pop. He turns half lidded vermillion eyes to you, frowning as he rests his heavy head in your palm.

“Whatever you fuckin’ say, just let me taste you, goddamnit.” He mutters petulantly. You can only hold your breath, wonder if what you’re agreeing will hurt you in the long run before you nod.

“You can—you can taste me, Katsuki.”

You think you might’ve sealed the deal with a devil, with the way you can practically see horns protruding from his forehead and a tail flickering behind him when he drops to his knees. Bakugou is too quick for your liking, yanks your pants around your ankles too fast, hurries you out of them, rips your underwear away from your skin until it tears and falls limply in a pile on the floor.

You squeak when his face is suddenly pressed right against your cunt, his nose buried into your pubic hair, the sound of a big sniff echoing throughout the room. You can’t help but cringe, but don’t dare push him away—people need to be exposed to all aspects of things in order to overcome them, even if those things are sniffing what lies between your legs.

“Fuck, smells so good.” Bakugou grunts under his breath, huffing a few times before he forces your legs further apart until you can accommodate the wide expanse of his shoulders. You grunt from the stretch, trying to make yourself comfortable, but Bakugou picks up on it quickly, and grabs your knee to hike your leg over his shoulder to rest on.

It creates a better angle for him anyway, with your lips glistening with your arousal—you were aroused. Turned on by him just as much as he was with you. You were wet, even if it’s not as much as he would prefer, as he would get you to that amount in only a matter of time.

You throbbed when his tongue traced the hood of your clit, of your lips, your folds. You twitch hard against his mouth when he keeps licking and licking at you, until your slickness and his spit mingle and he doesn’t know where you end and where he begins. Until it makes a mess of his mouth and chin and the floor below him, and you, with your pretty moans and grabbing hands.

Bakugou has waited for this moment longer than he can really care to remember, at this point in time. Waited to worship you on his knees, be able to look up from between your soft thighs and see the scrunch of your brows when he sucks your clit between his lips and runs over it with the flatness of his tongue.

It’s an addictive feeling, really. Makes him feel higher than any drug could ever take him, makes his eyes roll back and his cock throb so hard that he has to grab it from beneath his sweats to keep from busting his load already.

You can only stand there and take it—take the incessant licking around your hole, and the dipping of his tongue inside of you, and the sweet little kisses he plants on your clit. You try to reason with yourself, convince yourself that this is an improvised session with a client that needed your help so badly that you decided to take him on your day off. Try to tell yourself that this is all apart of the therapy that he needs in order to get over you.

You only hope that the taste of you doesn’t become so addictive, that your plans for him will go flying out the window the moment you try to reason with him.

But its hard to reason even with yourself when Bakugou is sliding a thick, middled finger inside of your dripping hole as he noisily sucks your clit between his lips. You cry out at that, knees wobbling, but he’s there to catch you with his free hand, his shoulder. Holds you up steady like a pillar as he lashes his tongue against you, twists his finger, curves it slowly, before he’s adding another one before you can even register what’s happening to you.

“Shit, Katsuki,” you moan out, cursing yourself for letting him make you feel so good, for getting so wrapped up in this ‘therapy’. You can only hope that the board doesn’t take your license if they were to ever find out about it.

“Thats it, baby, ride my fingers just like that.” Bakugou breaks you out of your trance with his groan. You hadn’t even realize how your hips were moving against him, grinding down on his digits that curl up inside of you, that slide against that swelling spot that makes your knees weak and your eyes cross.

“Gods, you’re so fuckin’ sexy.” Bakugou whispers against your mound, trailing spit from his mouth down to your clit once more, eyes never leaving the pleasured look on your face.

Did you know he imagined this, in damn near every session he’s ever had with you? While it wasn’t plenty of sessions (he had only started seeing you about six months ago), it was all he could think of. Every Tuesday at 2:45pm, in office number 218, first door on the right, the mint green office—all he could think of was you. Even when you asked him questions with a professional and friendly smile, even when you were covered head to toe, even when you ripped him a new one for his shitty answers and responses.

This was all he wanted, all he craved to see. The way your mouth dropped open when he starts damn near directing you in how he wants you to ride his fingers. How your hips move and swivel and tremble when he keeps bringing his fingers close to his face, inside of you. How you grip so tightly at his hair and pull when he won’t stop sucking and licking and messily kissing your clit. How he damn near makes out with your hole, tongue drooling and smacking against your soaked skin until he feels himself about to burst in his pants.

This was all he wanted, and Bakugou always gets what he wants. Even if its you—especially if it’s you.

“I’m—oh, I think I’m—shit!” Your brain is damn near fried when you start to orgasm, an earth shattering moan slipping from your throat as you throw your head back, hips bucking against Bakugou’s face and hands. He has to hold your entire body up steadily, fears that you may fall from how hard you’re coming, how you shake in his arms.

His fingers are steady inside of you, and only slows when you start to finally come down from your high. Bakugou kisses the inside of your thigh sweetly, nibbles at it when you groan and complain about feeling too weak from the intensity. But that’s not a problem for him at all.

“Hey—what are you—” Bakugou cuts you off with a wet kiss pressed to your mouth when he stands to his full height. His tongue slides against yours and you can’t help but moan when you taste yourself on him. He doesn’t give you a chance to step away and try to slink back to your own apartment, instead hoisting you up quickly in his arms as he starts to walk to a room behind you.

Before you can protest, you’ve been dumped on the kitchen table, Bakugou pressing you down with a hand to your sternum when you try to sit up, shooting you another one of those eery looks from earlier. You still instantly, before slowly lowering yourself back down on the table, eyes wide again when he levels you with a stare for a beat longer before he steps back to yank his shirt over his head.

“I thought,” you mumble, trying not to stare at how well built Bakugou is, how his biceps might literally be bigger than your entire head. “I thought that we agreed for you to only, um, taste me, and then you’d stop.” Its hard finding your voice when Bakugou stares at you like that again, not scarily, but hungry like before. Hard to fight back and push him away when he grabs your shirt in two hands and rips and pulls until your torso is exposed, like the fabric meant nothing to him.

You clench your thighs at the display of strength and hope that he doesn’t notice. (He does).

Bakugou shrugs at you, pulls your bra down until your tits are on display, grabbing a handful of each and massaging them in warm, sweaty palms. He ducks his head down and gives a sweet kiss to both of your nipples, licking one crudely before he stands back up to his full height, your breasts still in his hands. You think he must’ve forgotten what you said, or simply didn’t care to answer, but he surprises you when he squeezes your tits tightly and speaks,

“Think I need a little more exposure before I have to be reduced to doses only, doc.” Is all Bakugou gives you, squeezing your chest one last time before he pulls away. You try not to show the panic on your face when he reaches to pull his sweats down until they bunch around his corded thighs, cock damn near bursting from its confinements.

Bakugou reaches inside of his boxers, biting at his bottom lip when he touches it directly for the first time since he’s gotten you, groans a little at your gasp when he fully exposes himself. He’s thick, curved a little to the side, his head a dark flushed color, a fat vein forking up the side of his shaft. He rests his cock over you, makes a soft little noise in the back of his throat when the precum slides from his tip and pools in the dip of your bellybutton.

“Shit, I love you so fuckin’ much,” Bakugou mutters under his breath as he positions himself at your entrance. Your eyes bulge at his confession, but before you can even touch on what he’s said, he’s already sliding his way inside of you.

Your head falls against the kitchen table, the dull pain quiet compared to the overwhelming pleasure that settles low in your pelvis. You groan, thighs hooked around Bakugou’s waist as he fucks his way inside of you, a moan on his tongue as he watches the way your lips split and suck him inside so, so sweetly.

“Sorry, sweetheart, but I can’t wait anymore,” Bakugou mutters against your mouth. As he soon as he settles inside of you, he’s pulling out until his tip kisses your entrance, before he fucks his way back in. You shudder, his cock warm and heavy inside of you, his tip brushing against your sweet spot with every stroke until you start to cling to him and ask for more, more, more.

And Bakugou gives it to you, with feral growls, hiking your legs up higher until they rest on his shoulders, hunching over you with every wet slap of his balls against your ass. The position forces him even deeper, makes your feet dangle entirely too close to your face, Bakugou leaning over to kiss you sweetly on the ankle.

“So, fuck, what’s the diagnosis, doc?” Bakugou taunts you, grinning down at you when you blink bleary eyes up at him. He’s sweaty and golden and has a halo of light behind his ash blond hair from the overhead light. He’s prettier than you want to admit, but its hard trying to keep a face of professionalism when his cock keeps kissing your sweet spot and his chest pressed against yours makes your nipples harder than rocks.

“Huh? What happened to that fucking smart ass that would lecture me in our sessions?” He teases, smile wide and feral as he holds your cheeks tightly between his thick fingers. He forces your mouth into a pout, kissing it, when you blabber nonsense up at him.

“Fucked you dumb already? All those years of college right out the door, huh, baby?” Bakugou’s so mean, makes you whine and claw at his shoulders and nape. You could answer him, give him your professional opinion—not like you even had one in the first place—but he makes it so hard to think. When his cock is balls deep inside of you, when he looks at you with his teasing and yet adoring little grin, when he keeps shaking your face at him with a taunting coo, when he sneaks a hand between your bodies to circle your clit.

“It’s okay; I can think for you. You don’t have to use that pretty little head even once when you’re with me.” Bakugou’s coos sweetly, reaches down and pecks your forehead and mouth when you whimper pathetically up at him with teary eyes.

“Gonna cum? Yeah?” He asks you, hips never faltering as he fucks you into the table, his mouth pressed against yours as you grab him tightly, feeling the oncoming orgasm starting to flood your system.

“Yeah,” you whine softly against his mouth through your puckered lips, making Bakugou groan as he fucks you through your orgasm. You tighten up around him so deliciously, sound so pretty with your fucked out moans and hoarse voice, look so gorgeous all high out of your mind and pliant on his kitchen counter.

How could he ever remember to pull out?

You try to protest when Bakugou holds you tight and starts to cum inside of you, but your complaints fall on deaf ears. He only holds you tighter against him, groaning loud in the skin of your neck as his cock spurts his hot seed deep inside of you. When he finishes, he collapses on top of you, breathy and sweaty, and you’re in no better position. Its quiet for a while, despite your legs and back aching, and the cooling feeling of his cum starting to spill from around his softening cock still buried inside of you.

“So,” Bakugou starts, and you’re almost fearful of what he might say next. “Can you start scheduling my appointments to your apartment instead of your office now?”

You’re at least a little thankful that he has plans to let you go back to your life, even if he’s forcing himself to be apart of every little aspect of it. You nod tiredly, wondering how and if you’re going to tell your boss.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

#—new treat in the streets! 🍫#bakugou treats! 🍬#tw: yandere #tw: stalking #tw: dubcon

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joekeeryswife · 1 year

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Weeee I’m here to send you a request!

So imagine Eddie as a sort of Rockstar Dad in a similar vein to Ozzy Osbourne, where he’s doing an interview or something and just casually had his and Reader’s baby on his lap and goes “let’s hope [Baby’s Name] doesn’t puke on me again!” And just Eddie being so soft with his kids and balancing work with his home life 🥹

Dad duties - e.m

hey my gorgeous angels! i’m sobbing 🥹 reading these dad! requests always melt my heart omg. this is adorable. i just know rockstardad!eddie would just adore his babies so much omg. set in 1995! anyway, i hope this is okay! enjoy reading 🩷 ⚠️reader is a model and is 24, Eddie is 29⚠️

taglist (feel free to add yourselves🩷) : @eddieamoremio @theshireisonfire @thankingjoe @livsters @sadbitchfangirl @hellfire1986baby @ladyapplejackdnd @alexxavicry @juleshadalittlelamb @hollandweather @lovurry @bibieddiesgf @plk-18 @m-rae23 @sheisjoeschateau @hargrovesswifee (if there’s a line through your name i can’t tag you, make sure your tags are on!! x)

he was in the interview chair with baby Rowan sat on his lap, chewing on her small fist as she looked around the large room. the last time she had been in an interview with him was four months ago, it was very rare that she was with Eddie whilst he was working but today you had to see your manager for a meeting about an upcoming runway show and he had insisted on taking her with him.

Corroded coffin had released a new album which had sold out in minutes, it was incredible how much fame the boys had gotten over the past few years. they had also announced a new tour after their album was released which meant Eddie and the rest of the boys had to do quite a lot of press. he loved being with Rowan, she was just so perfect and he hated being away from her so bringing her to this interview was a must for him.

she was such a character, her little personality just starting to shine through as she grew older and he loved it. the interviewer sat down opposite him, giving Rowan a little wave and a smile before she checked through her queue cards, making sure they were all correct and in order.

"let's hope she doesn't throw up on me this time" he joked to Gareth who was sat next to him who laughed and nodded his head. when she was with him last time she had thrown up all over him just before the interview ended and now that he looked back on it, it was hilarious, but at the time he was not pleased that he had sick all over him.

"i hope she does, it'll be so funny" Gareth looked at Rowan who had been cooing at nothing. Eddie adjusted her in his lap so she was sat sideways. she looked up at Eddie and smiled widely, fist still in her mouth but he could see her two small baby teeth popping through. he bent down, his hair falling all over her face making her giggle and scrunch up her face. he laughed and gave her a quick kiss on her forehead before sitting up straight and focusing on the interviewer.

"i see we've been joined by another rockstar" the interviewer joked and Eddie only laughed and nodded. "she is a rockstar, better than me and i've been one for years" Rowan cooed loudly and looked up at her dad, Eddie looked down and smiled at his baby girl. "i didn't realise how much she looks like y/n, from what i've seen she pulls a few faces and they look a bit like you but she just looks so much like her mum"

"i think the only things she got from me was my eyes and hair, everything else is her mama. i mean i'm not complaining, she's beautiful. even some of the faces she pulls it’s like i’m looking right at y/n, i know it’s because y/n’s her mum but i didn’t expect Rowan to be exactly like her." both Gareth and the interviewer nodded agreeing with what Eddie had said. you were beautiful, considered one of the most beautiful women in then world and Eddie, a "freak" from a small town had not only been able to get on a date with you, but marry you and have a kid.

“what does y/n think of the new album? i know she’s quite invested in your work” Eddie adjusted Rowan on his lap and nodded agreeing. “she’s very invested, always helping out which i’m very grateful for, i think y/n has a good ear for music, she knows what sounds perfect that’s why the album is so good. i mean she doesn’t typically listen to rock music but she always says whatever we make she loves and i think this album is her favourite one so far”

“what do you think fans will love most about this album and what’s different about it compared to your other ones” this time Gareth answered leaving Eddie to focus on a babbling Rowan. “i think there’s a lot more thought in this album and a lot more meaning, not to say we weren’t focusing on the other ones but this one is just different, i think the band agrees that this is definitely our favourite album so far”

“your fans seem to think so as well, everyone has been raving about it. i’ve even listened to it myself and i’ve gotta say it’s incredible” both boys thanked her, it was nice to hear positive feedback from something they worked so hard on. “this isn’t related to the album but the two of you have families, are they going to come on the tour with you? i mean Eddie you’re a dad now will Rowan come watch one of your shows?” you and Eddie had been talking about this since the idea of a tour came about, you wanted to be there and let Rowan watch her dad on stage even though she was only seven months old it was Eddie’s dream for his family to be with him at his shows.

“it was a hard decision because she’s only seven months but it’s important to me for them to be there so we decided they’ll both come to a few shows here and there, Rowan can’t come to them all because-” Eddie was cut off by small coos and babbles coming from Rowan “dadadada” she said grabbing ahold of his hair and tugging it harshly.

“ouch honey, no pulling please” Eddie was still trying to get used to her pulling his hair, even though Eddie was 100% Rowan’s favourite parent (the little girl loved you so much it but it was obvious Eddie was the favourite) she still loved to hurt him, obviously she didn’t know what she was doing (or maybe she did) and her small hands pulled his hair in a way it burned his scalp.

“dadada” Rowan babbled which made his heart swell, even if she was inflicting pain on him he couldn’t get mad at the adorable little girl. the interviewer and Gareth laughed at Rowan and Eddie. he nodded and smiled, luckily he got his finger in between Rowans fingers and his hair. “i know sweetheart but no hair pulling for now please, daddy’s working” he unwrapped her hand from his hair.

his attention then went back onto the interviewer, Rowans hand was now wrapped around Eddie’s finger, chewing on it but Eddie didn’t care. it wasn’t hurting him and it was distracting her from his hair so it was a win win situation. “sorry about that, because obviously she’s still a baby and the music is very loud, she’d be wearing ear protection but it’s still quite loud so if she was at a show every night it would really affect her hearing”

the interviewer nodded and looked down at a distracted Rowan who was now more focused on looking at Eddie’s finger then chewing on it. “don’t apologise, i just have to say you’re a really good dad. Rowan is really well behaved” Eddie nodded and smiled “yeah she is”

a few days after the interview aired, the clips of Eddie being a dad went viral and Rowan was a hit, everyone loved her. newspapers which focused on celebrities and music had photos of Eddie and Rowan all over them and if Eddie was being completely honest the footage and pictures of baby Rowan were adorable and he would definitely be bringing Rowan to a lot more of his interviews.

#fanfiction #imagines #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson imagines #rockstar!eddie #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie imagine #rockstar!eddie munson x reader #dad!eddie munson x reader #dad!eddie x mom!reader #dad!eddie munson

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jesi555 · 7 months

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𝐖𝐄𝐓 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐒. | © jesi555 — kinktober 2023

𝐏𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐙𝐙𝐈. | nami

warnings. | wlw sex yessir, fem reader, recording, twt vids [im compensating for the fact that im shit at writing smut], camgirl, hints at vivi x nami, cunnilingus, scissoring, making out yum. im not super proud of this :( lmk if i miss anything.

tags : @aizensgf, @wolflover384, @bun-parade, @3v37773, @guccilaw, @immindingmyown @ruledbyproblematique

Nami loves her followers. After all, they rain money on her. Her tip menu is pricey, but her followers were down bad and As her no 1 fan, so were you. Sometimes Nami thought you were some pervy old man based on your tip, But money is money, and Nami loves money.

Nami felt generous recently, so she announced a competition. 131: one lucky winner, three entries max, one video of both of us, Her community post read. It was a tempting risk, so you mindlessly entered the competition.

At around 9:30 on a Thursday night, you silently studied at your university's library, a few other students doing the same. You were in the zone until a silent vibrating buzz broke your focus. Irritated, you checked your notifications, your eyes bulging out as you saw the email from @namimi. A soft squeal left your lips as you read over the contents of the email.

Congratulations ___! You have won the 131 competition. Your proof of winning is in this email. Please take a screenshot of this email along with the attached verification number and send it to me on Instagram as soon as possible! love, Nami!

You leaned back in your chair, your chest heaving. After a silent scream, you hurriedly headed back to your dorm. After screaming into your pillow and thoroughly contemplating the reward, you finally texted Nami.

___: hii! I received an email saying I won the 131 competition! here’s a screenshot!

You awaited her response for a few minutes, but as it turned into an hour and another, you slowly lost hope. You honestly felt disappointed. Your fave just flaked out on you!

Before you could wallow in sadness anymore, a buzz got you running towards the device.

namimi: omg hi! I'm so sry for the late response! I was getting my hair done. I see you're the lucky winner!

Before you could reply, a small notification popped up, '@namimi followed you'. You quickly accepted the request and waited.

namimi: hold on, you're a girl?! thank god. I was not looking forward to having sex with a middle-aged Discord mod.

you laughed and messaged her back,

___: haha no I'm very much a girl. so do you need any information from me?

namimi: just general stuff, I'd prefer it to be face-to-face though, is that okay with you?

___: Absolutely!

namimi: cool! I'll text you the location soon!

You bit your lip nervously. Nami was coming to meet you. The Nami. Your leg bounced up and down, waiting for her arrival. A few minutes pass as you see a head of orange hair enter the cafe. She looked around for a second before she saw your smiley face.

"Damn, you're even hotter in person." she chuckled, "do you wanna make the video today? I'm free tonight. You look good as it is."

Your mouth slightly fell open as a small 'huh' voice out of your throat. "I mean Yes!" you quickly said.

"Awesome, let's go back to my place then."

Her home was nice. It smelt like tangerines.

"You're okay being recorded right?" she asked. Nodding in agreement, you looked over her room.

"Alright, the camera's set up. do you want a dom or sub role?"

"girl do anything to me," you spoke without thinking, processing what you said. she laughed out and asked you if you were ready.

"yes"

"good. then strip"

A new notification spelled out 'namimi is live', and soon hundreds and thousands of followers joined the livestream. To many of them, the stream was pure heaven. 2 hot girls making the fuck out? Yes, please!

namiismymommy sent 10$: holy fuck namisslut sent 2$: wait is that @princessvivi? ilovevivi sent 4$: Nah bro that's the lucky winner namisslut sent 5$: I'm so jealous

"Are you reading the comments?" Nami whispered in your ear, both of you, skin to skin.

namiismymommy sent 20$: eat her out.

"My lovely followers are asking us a favor" she moaned, "let's give them what they want baby."

You dropped down in front of her cunt, giving her lips soft kitten licks until she pushed you into her pussy. Nami getting eaten out by an equally hotter chick was a God-sent gift.

This was probably Nami's best video yet. Not to mention, the scissoring was a highlight.

As the live stream ended, the two girls looked at the comment section.

ilovevivi sent 50$: Vivi, Nami and lucky winner threesome when?

It seems like you'll frequent her channel soon.

꩜ 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐣𝐞𝐬𝐢𝟓𝟓𝟓 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐫. 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐮 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠!! 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 !!

#꩜ from jesiya.#one piece smut #one piece nami #one piece #꩜ one piece.#nami smut #nami x reader #op nami #nami #cat burglar nami #straw hat pirates #꩜ kinktober 2023.#kinktober 2023 #one piece kinktober #kinktober

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littlexscarletxwitch · 10 months

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── ༊*·˚⋆ 𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗴𝗮𝗺𝗲

paring: florence pugh x fem!reader

tag(s): fluff, based on endgame by taylor swift (you don't understand how much i'm loving this song), cute gf flo

warning(s): grammatical errors, unedited

word count: 2.2k

note: omg, it's finally here. I'm so sorry it took me sooo long, it just I was super busy. Was this inspire by Ms. Taylor Swift? Yes, yes it was. I really hope you guys like this one. I'm not a native english speaker, so please let me know about any sort of mistake. Love you all so much <3

note 2: guys, I'm currently reading 'Delilah Green doesnt' care' and it's giving me so many ideas for fics. So would any of you be interest in more mum!florence? Please let me know. Xoxo, M

requests are open! + check my rules here + masterlist <3

Your eyes were closed, your head was on her chest listening to her steady heartbeats, a soft smile formed on your lips.

“Promise me this is forever,” you whispered.

You knew she was awake, she was doing the same thing as you, enjoying the moment, living in the present.

Your eyes found hers already looking at you.

“I promise,” she said, her smile mirroring yours.

Her lips found yours as if sealing the promise forever, but nothing ever lasts forever. The kiss that was first sweet and soft and filled with love, turned bitter, harsh and cold. You pulled back confusion written all over your face.

You blink once then twice, and suddenly you were waking up on your bed, alone. You cursed yourself at the stupid memory. It was so pathetic to still think about Florence that way. You two were history, long forgotten, just a memory of your adolescence.

You shook your head, trying to wake up your foggy brain from the nap you had taken. And decided to get some work done as a way to clear your head from your silly old fantasies.

You made yourself a cup of tea, grabbed your notebook and put your headphones on. You only had three more months to finish your second album. The deadline wasn’t much of a concern of yours, what bothered you was the lack of inspiration. Every lyric you would write down was just trash, it was as if you were missing something. So far you had only five finished songs, and you needed ten more to have the album finished.

You were humming, moving your head to the beat as you let your brain come up with the right words, but it felt as if you were stuck.

“I wanna be your endgame,” you sang to the beat. “I wanna be, I wanna be your… ” you threw your head back in annoyance, frustration getting the best out of you.

You had been sitting on the floor for the last hour, trying to finish this one song but you were not even close to it. You took a deep breath trying not to lose your shit. Your phone buzzed, the screen lighting up with a new notification and that took your whole attention.

“Y/n Y/l/n and Drew Starkey spotted out for dinner,” you read out loud and couldn’t help rolling your eyes at the link your manager and best friend had sent you.

According to the news, you were dating both Drew Starkey and Joe Keery. You also almost got engaged the week before to Rudy Pankow, but apparently cheated on him with Maya Hawke. You knew better than to actually pay attention to fake news, but you couldn’t help to. After all that was now your life, the life of a startpop in the making, so much for a boring Oxford kid.

Your reputation precedes you, in rumours you were knee-deep. But there was nothing you could do about it. Exhausted from your social life and the poor lack of motivation to do the one thing you loved the most, you decided to go out on a walk, hoping it would help to clear your thoughts about both the fake news and Florence, who you tried to ignore from thinking of. But ever since that dream you found yourself thinking about her more often.

You knew she was as famous as you were, maybe even more. You had to admit to yourself that some nights you found some kind of comfort in her movies, watching her cute pouty face, the one she was most known for.

She was your first love, she taught you how to love, what it was to be loved. Of course it wasn’t easy to forget about her, even after all these years, some part of you still craved her love. It wasn’t that you didn’t love each other when you both decided to go separate ways, it was because things weren’t so simple anymore. You two weren’t just two teenargs in love, you were slowly becoming adults. She had booked roles and you were making your way into the music industry.

And without the two of you knowing you two just drifted apart, the two of you too caught up in your careers. But you loved her, so you decided to let her go, hoping and praying to the universe that maybe she would come back to you one day.

Your thoughts were interrupted as you opened the door to your local cafe and someone bumped into you.

“Sorry, I wasn’t… “ but you stopped cold once you saw the strangers eyes.

“Y/n?” she asked, her voice as soft and raspy as you remembered. “What are you doing here?” a smile formed on her face, as if she was genuinely happy to see you.

You shook your head trying to clear out your mind, was Florence really in front of you? “I, um, I lived here,” you blinked once, twice and she was still there. “Just around the corner,” you added, cursing yourself for being so awkward. “What are you doing here?”

Was this a sign of the universe? Have your prayers been answered?

“Visiting my family,” right her family, you thought. “Well, not just that, I’m also working,” she scratched the back of her neck. “I was actually hoping to see you, too.”

“Really?” that had to mean something, the universe couldn't be messing around with you this cruelly. Right?

“Yeah, I have, um… I have been thinking about you.” she smiled at you and you felt the butterflies in your stomach. “I think we should talk.”

“I, um,” what were you supposed to say? Were you willingly going to agree to spend time with the love of your life as if the two of you were going to be just friends? What was that supposed to mean?

“Yeah, sure. When are you free?” you finally agree.

You mentally checked your schedule, you were supposed to finish your songs but taking a break wouldn’t hurt anybody. Plus, you were going to get your coffee and get back to it right away.

“Um, what about now?”

Shit, you thought. She wasn’t going to give you any time to prepare yourself. Well, you better get into it, rip it off like a band aid.

“Okay, I was going to get a coffee and then we can…”

“Yeah, yeah, take your time. I’m going to find us a table.”

You order your coffee while mentally preparing for the conversation the two of you were going to have. What was she on about? Was it really a big coincidence? Did the universe put her in our path for some reason? You shook your head, you needed to stop thinking about the universe’s way of working for a second.

They handed you your coffee and now you had no more excuses to avoid her, not that you wanted to. Some part of you long to be near her, but you were scared of what this whole thing was about.

“So, um, what’s up with Drew?” she tried to pretend she didn’t care but was actually dying to know if you were actually dating him, not that you noticed it.

“Who?”

“Drew? Starkey?”

“Oh, yeah, Drew,” you chuckled, silly you for forgetting your own friend. “He’s just a friend, a really good friend,” was it your imagination or did she just let out a breath of relief. “What about Ashley?” you asked before taking a sip of your coffee.

She smiled at you, “She’s also a really good friend.”

“So, um…”

“Listen, Y/n…”

The both of you chuckled.

“You go first, Flo”

That nickname. It was stupid because everyone who knew her would call her ‘Flo’, but coming out of your lips felt different. She had missed hearing her name on your lips, she had missed you.

“I’m just going to say it, okay?” you only nodded. “I lied earlier, I’m not here for work or visiting my family. I came here to find you,” your lips parted in disbelief. “Ever since we broke things apart, I had been feeling like something was missing, Y/n. And I recently realised it was you. Well, I saw the article about you getting married and all I could think of was that something wasn’t right.”

“Florence I…”

“No, please let me finish,” she cut you off. “I understand that we are strangers to each other, but I would love to get to know you once again. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, it can be like a fresh start. I just really need you in my life, Y/n. I miss my best friend.”

You took another sip of your coffee, stealing time before giving her an answer. The truth was you already knew what you wanted, you knew it the moment you sat at the table, but you wanted to mess with her just a little bit.

You put your cup down, and finally your eyes found hers, “I would like nothing more.”

[...]

Ever since that day, Florence and you had been spending everyday together. Catching up with each other and going back to old habits.

The more you hang out with her, the more you could feel your old feeling coming back. But you didn’t want to rush things just to ruin them again. But one particular afternoon you couldn't hold back anymore and decided to do something about it.

She had fallen asleep 30 minutes ago, you chuckled as you realised her current state because she had picked out the movie but turns out she was more tired than what she let you see.

You headed to your small studio and decided to get back to the song you were working on before running into Florence. You knew exactly what you wanted to say, having found your new inspiration a few weeks ago.

You pressed play and the music started playing, you already had a few things written down in your notebook you just needed to put all your ideas together.

You were so lost and immersed in finishing the song, going at it back and forth, changing some lyrics, singing some ideas, writing and crossing out some bits, that you didn’t realise someone was watching you just when you were about to finish.

You had already recorded the whole song and were just checking it out when Florence leaned in the frame door.

Florence smiled as she listened to your sweet voice. She wondered who this song was about.

Knew her when I was young, reconnected when we were little bit older

Both sprung, I got issues and chips on both of my shoulders

She didn’t want to get her hopes up.

Reputation precedes me, in rumors, I'm knee-deep

The truth is, it’s easier to ignore it, believe me

She felt her heart shrinking in her chest.

Even when we'd argue, we'd not do it for long

And you understand the good and bad end up in the song

She listened closely to the song as you hummed to it.

For all your beautiful traits and the way you do it with ease

For all my flaws, paranoia, and insecurities

Her heartbeat and body temperature were rising.

I've made mistakes and made some choices, that's hard to deny

After the storm, something was born on the 4th of July

I've passed days without fun, this end game is the one

With four words on the tip of my tongue, I'll never say it

She couldn't take it any longer.

“I like it,” she said, getting closer to where you were sitting. “It’s catchy,” she said, trying to shake her feeling away. That song could be about anyone.

“I feel like something’s missing,” you scrunch your nose.

“Sing the corus to me, please,” she looked at you with her doe eyes and you swear you could have melted in that moment.

You shook your head with a smile on your face and compiled, “I wanna be your endgame, endgame,” you finished singing the chorus. “And then it goes. Big reputation, big reputation. Ooh, you and me, we got big reputations, ah,” you sang, trying to not look at Florence.

“You know, it sounds awfully familiar,” she teased, wanting nothing more than for it to be true.

“And you heard about me, ooh. I got some big enemies,” you kept on going.

“What are you trying to say, Y/n?” she kept on pushing you.

“Big reputation, big reputation. Ooh, you and me would be a big conversation, ah. And I heard about you, ooh. You like the bad ones, too,” you finished, trying to tell her that you were thinking exactly what she was thinking.

She was so close to you now, her knees brushing against yours, sending electricity throughout your body. You could feel her hot breath on your lips.

“I want to…” she didn’t finish her sentence because you were already nodding and she smashed her lips to yours in a second.

You felt as if a wave of cold water was washing over you. Her lips felt both familiar and new at the same time. You felt at home as she wrapped her arm around your waist and her other hand cupped your cheek. You didn’t want to ever stop kissing her, but both you and her needed to breathe so ultimately pulled apart.

She rested her forehead on yours, both of her hands cupping your cheeks, caressing your skin with her fingertips.

“I wanna be your endgame,” you quietly sang to her.

She chuckled before kissing you again and again and again.

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3

-M

#florence pugh #florence pugh x reader #florence pugh x fem reader #florence pugh x y/n #florence pugh x you #florence pugh fluff #florence pugh imagine #littlexscarletxwitch's fic #Spotify #[🎧⊹♡] based on songs i love

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meownotgood · 2 years

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♡ on cam / hayakawa aki ♡

♡ kinktober 2022 ♡

pairing: hayakawa aki x fem!reader

word count: 1.7k

content: camgirl reader, soft dom aki, lots of praise, toys, exhibitionism, your boyfriend fucks you in front of all your viewers

this work contains explicit content intended for 18+ individuals. please read the tags and do not interact if you are a minor.

"Look at you — So pretty, baby. Everyone thinks you're so pretty."

"Shit… I think they saw me."

bunnyy34: OMG HIS FACE

demonic_6: so handsome woww

pochit4: holy shit he's hot

pochit4: is that ur boyfriend?????

Aki leans backward, adjusting your laptop on the bed, tilting the camera. He turns his attention back towards you once he's made sure the view is perfect. He presses the glittery pink vibrator to your clit firmer, then leans down. His voice is sultry, barely more than a whisper when he mutters into your ear, "Does it feel good, baby?"

"Yeah, yeah," You mumble, your legs quivering, your whole body tense from the pleasure. Aki grabs your thigh with his free hand to steady you, rubbing in circles with his palm, then gently squeezing the soft flesh.

Between his deep gaze locked on yours, his warm touch, his voice — You're doing so well for me, I love showing you off to everyone like this — the thought in your head that hundreds of people are watching you get off, and the buzz of the vibrator between your legs increasing as he cranks it up a level… It's hard to speak, or hell, even think. The only thing you're able to stammer out is, "Please, please, need you."

"Fuck, I need you too," Aki cups your face; his palm is warm, and you whine when he drags the ridges of the vibrator against your clit. He sounds just as desperate as you, maybe even more so. "You want me to fuck you? In front of all these people?"

Of course you want him to fuck you. This was your idea, after all. You're the one who begged Aki to make an appearance on your camgirl stream, who promised him you were sure it'd bring in loads of donations. He's always willing to help in your livestream endeavors, but he was hesitant about being on them himself. I'm sure they don't wanna see me. They just wanna see you, pretty girl.

kon_1990 tipped $100!

kon_1990: please fuck her already

bunnyy34: she's so fucking cute

dev1lhunter: damn he's lucky

dev1lhunter: bet he gets to stick his dick in her whenever he wants to

Well, Aki has to admit a few things: One, that he assumed wrong, because your chat seems to really get a kick out of seeing the both of you. And two, that he enjoys this way, way more than he thought he would.

Honestly, there's something about playing with you in front of all of these people, seeing the comments they make, and knowing he's the only one who gets to fuck you that has him whipped. He's the only one who gets to touch you, and he damn well knows he can make you feel better than any toy can.

Aki's gonna have you screaming his name for your whole audience, he's sure of it.

"Tell me," Aki commands when you don't answer, his words shaking ever-so slightly. He swallows before he speaks again, "I need you to tell me what you want. Tell me how you want me to fuck you in front of everyone."

"Yeah, 'course I want you to…" You beg through broken gasps, hardly able to speak as Aki doesn't let up with the vibrator against you. You're so sensitive, so wet; you can feel the way your thighs are soaked, how you're dripping out onto the sheets. "Want all of them to see."

Aki's eyes flicker to check the laptop screen for a moment, and when they do, his gaze lingers, a little smirk forming on his face as he reads what your chat is saying. He addresses your chat directly, his voice taking on that familiar, serious tone: "I can fuck her better than good. She's gonna cum on my dick harder than she does on any of her little toys."

ea5yrev3nge tipped $30!

ea5yrev3nge: I'll tip 200 if u show us how good u can fuck her

angelicaura: aye I got here late what's happening

bunnyy34: topknotluvr is gonna get fucked by her bf lol

His hand moves to your chin, where he carefully grabs your face and tilts you towards him, forcing you to look at him. He asks, "Isn't that right?"

You're already lost in the moment, in the pleasure on your clit and the way he's so unexpectedly into this. His gaze is deep enough to drown in, his eyelashes heavy. You babble, "Right, right…"

Aki pulls the vibrator away and finally clicks it off. He tosses it to the side on the bed and reaches for the laptop, adjusting it again. This has to be perfect. He needs everyone to get the most perfect view when he fucks you, when he puts his cock inside you. God, the thought of it alone, of everyone seeing and watching and knowing that you're his — It makes him feel lightheaded, and Aki quickly fumbles to pull down his sweats and his boxers to free his stiffening cock.

He grabs your hip to pull you in closer, and the head of his cock throbs when you feel it nudging your entrance. It's pretty and thick, certainly enough for your viewers to ogle at, and he's already so hard, dribbling sticky precum over the shaft. He wraps his hand around it, giving your audience a bit of a show as his nimble fingers pump his cock, palm swiping over the tip to get it wet. He's been waiting for this just as long as you have, practically aching to be inside you.

demonic_6: omfg

_futurerules: can she even take that

snowball97 tipped $125!

"Spread your legs wider for me, baby," Aki commands breathlessly, and then affirms, right after, "There you go. Good girl. I want everyone to see how you take me."

He settles his hands on your waist, adjusting your hips a bit more before he presses inside. He gasps, breath hitching as he buries his dick in further, muttering something you hardly catch, something like, So tight. Slowly, he fills you, letting your viewers see how you take every inch of his cock. When he's all the way in, his hips flush with yours, he groans, his head falling to your shoulder.

You tangle your fingers in his soft hair as he starts to fuck you. Nice and slow, allowing everyone to watch the way his cock stretches you each time he presses in, the way your cunt grips him every time he pulls out, the shaft glistening with your slick, with how wet you are.

Aki acknowledges it, speaking quietly into your ear, voice strained and trembling, "So wet for me, God..."

"Hah, s-shit," Aki stammers, and his eyes flicker to the laptop screen for another brief moment. He presses his soft lips to your neck, then to the shell of your ear, and finally whispers, "They want me to fuck you harder, sweetheart. You can take it, yeah?"

demonic_6 tipped $75!

demonic_6: fuck her harder

dev1lhunter: im gonna cum already

"Uh-huh, please," You babble, nodding your head feverishly.

"That's my girl."

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Aki is wasting no time fucking you harder, burying his cock in deeper, giving you more. It's so messy and sloppy, your thighs soaked. Your room is filled with the obscene, wet sound made as he fucks you, your quiet moans, and his shaky breaths. You wrap your legs around his back, pulling him in even closer.

You've been so caught up in the moment that you almost forgot how everyone is watching. All your viewers and adoring fans: their eyes are on you as you get fucked by your boyfriend, by Aki. The thought alone makes your heart flutter and your cunt tighten around him.

You mumble his name, desperately, "Aki- Don't stop."

"God, baby," Aki groans, voice bordering on a whine; it's hard for him to speak now, too. "Say it louder. I want all of them to hear you."

bunnyy34: did anyone catch that????

angelicaura: cute

snowball97: oh my god was that his name

So you oblige, chanting his name over and over again, louder and louder — Aki, Aki, Aki — even though your voice has gone weak and hoarse, words fraying at the edges. Aki finds your hand, intertwines his fingers with yours and squeezes tight.

His moans are becoming noisier, more needy, his heart skipping a beat and his cock throbbing every time you say his name; he places hurried, messy kisses to the nape of your neck to shut himself up. You can feel his breath fanning out over your skin, warm every time he gasps for air.

Although he's overwhelmed, Aki focuses his attention on pleasing you; he finds your sweet spot, like he always does, hitting it with every thrust into you, until your eyes threaten to roll into the back of your head and you end up squeezing his hand back even tighter. You're getting close, feeling a knot of tension grow in your core, and your words slur when you beg, "Really close, Aki please. Wanna cum for you-"

"Yeah? Oh, babygirl," Aki falters for a moment, his pace growing ragged, more desperate as he approaches his own high. "I'm close — Gonna cum with you, let everyone hear how pretty you sound when you cum for me."

You fall apart for him then, your legs squirming where they're held over his back. Your cunt pulses, squeezing his cock tighter, and he can't hold back; Aki rides the same high as you, fucking you messily through your orgasm, spilling his cum deep inside, his cock twitching and throbbing from the aftershock.

You're chanting his name over and over, and he's saying your name in unison, under his breath, quiet enough so only you are able to hear. "You did so well, you're okay," He whispers, "Just breathe."

Aki gives you a moment to relax before he pushes himself off of you, brushing his messy hair from his face. He asks, "Want me to turn off the stream now?" And when you nod, he's reaching for your laptop.

ea5yrev3nge tipped $200!

angelicaura tipped $170!

_futurerules tipped $50!

_futurerules: that was so hot

bunnyy34: does anyone know if he's gonna be on her next stream??

kon_1990: I hope so

demonic_6: probably, I think she made it to the front page

You peer up at him, his eyes glinting and earrings shining in the low light of the laptop screen. You ask, "How did it go? Did they like it?"

"Yeah, baby… Wow. So many donations," Aki closes the browser, shutting the laptop, turning back towards you with a little smile on his face. "How about I take you on a shopping spree tomorrow — What do you think?"

#aki hayakawa x reader #aki x reader #aki hayakawa smut #chainsaw man x reader #chainsaw man smut #aki hayakawa

1K notes · View notes

blythings · 3 months

Text

BAD IDEA RIGHT? | TOM BLYTH

— pairing: tom blyth x filmmaker!oc (fem.)

— summary: she thinks she is really, really smart unless it's about tom; and then she is really, really stupid.

— tags: exes-to-lovers, named oc, attempts at humour, mentions of other celebrities.

— notes: some parts were lifted from i-D mag's feature on emma seligman!

series masterlist | send me an ask →

liked by ayoedeberi, filmupdatesmain and others

alexisnakamura support women's rights and women's wrongs by watching bottoms, out today in theatres across the us and canada! ❤️🥊

this movie is our baby and i feel so lucky to have been able to make it with some of my best friends 🥹 special thanks to @/mari.arai for letting me cover the walls of our nyu dorm with dick jokes and agreeing to play isabel 💞

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nicholasgalitzine So proud of you guys

↪ alexisnakamura nicky 🥺❤️

mari.arai 🫡😘❤️ LOVE YOUUUU

↪ alexisnakamura went a little too hard with the dorm room manifestations and now we made a movie together??? INSANE

guzzlingplastic1000 the best dick joke writer of all time

❤️ by alexisnakamura

↪ user ruby accept my follow request PLEASE

user THIS IS MY FIGHT CLUB

user do you have any pics of mari and ruby covered in blood it's not for anything weird i promise hahahahaaaaa

user omg tom blyth liked this post

↪ user who??

↪ user he's gna be in the new hunger games movie!

↪ user wait i think i've seen him on ali's insta before

↪ user where? i just checked her profile and he's not in any of her posts

↪ user maybe she deleted them????

liked by kaiagerber, tomblyth and others

i_d Bottoms is a delight because it’s a rare breed of big studio production with a compelling original premise, following Josie (Ayo Edebiri) and PJ (Rachel Sennott), two queer teen dirtbags on their circuitous quest to get laid.⁠ ⁠

The movie been called “one of the most quotable films of the decade”, “blisteringly funny”, an “exercise in kamikaze feminism” and more, whilst holding a score of 96% on reviews aggregator Rotten Tomatoes.⁠ ⁠

But when we speak, director @/alexisnakamura only wants to lament on her new bangs. “Impulsively cutting your bangs at 5am is peak girlhood,” she says with the jittery intonation of a girl in her twenties.

Hit the link in bio to read Alexis's full interview with i-D on imposter syndrome, meeting friend and close collaborator Mari Arai in college, situating her bisexuality in her filmmaking and more.⁠

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user relatable queen

user she's so pretty 😩

user she sounds exhausting to be around LMAOO

↪ user ^^^ ↪ user fr it's not a good look considering she's relatively new to the industry ↪ user so she's meant to just be nice and likeable? give me a break 🙄 also "relatively new" is a stretch when bottoms is her 3rd movie

user "i feel like i'm constantly going through something" same

user is she dating tom blyth?

↪ user i think she used to but they broke up ages ago ↪ user they still like each other's posts tho ↪ user an amicable breakup then? ↪ user omg i want them to work together

liked by user, user and others

nakamuraupdates ali's stories from this morning!

user not death by a thousand cuts

user someone check on our girl

#tom blyth x reader #tom blyth x oc #tom blyth imagine #tom blyth fic #coriolanus snow imagine #fic: i wish you would #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow x oc

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anime-rambles · 1 year

Text

Safe with Us: Part 2

Pairing: Alpha!KiriBaku x Omega!MidoriyaTwinReader

Type: Angst, hurt, forced scenting.

Word Count: 3300+

A/N: Thank you all so much for the support and love for my work, Part 2 is here, many new fics to follow. I have a new taglist form follow the link below and it will bring you too it. Much love as always, Tiff <3

(Please read update post)

Summary: You were Midroiya's twin, Bakugou's mate but life isn't easy and one day you were kidnapped, stripped from everything you know. Many years have passed, Bakugou has moved on but only now have you been able to escape, to return to your family. A family that has moved on.

Permanent Tag List: @jasmine2042003 @jazzylove @amypop122 @misssugarless @plutounderbridges @butterscotch-babie @backoftheletter @gojosslvt @himi-yuu @ebiharachan @black-rose-29

MHA Tag List: @hornehlittleweeblet2 @mystiqueewrites @belzeblitz @moonygeno413 @ace-the-side-character @unlogical-ella @moonseye @vaellee @corruptowlette @pasteldaze @24-7-multifandomsimp @yetoadet @ninetyeightrins @kirissluttypebble @elaineplayz @phantomalchemist @tigerd-draws @kunaigirlx44 @jujutaku @adventures-in-a-heartbeat @cmars59 @upinacloud @yourdragonsfire @uwiuwi @burningbluegalaxy @kirislilwhorewife @kuzusouda-and-terumaru-blog @kat-perdue @ebiharachan @lazyafgurl @bratty-fics @eraserheads-sleeping-bag @eijiandkatspebble

TAGLIST

MASTERLIST

Bakugou held your hand the entire way to the door and before stepping inside Bakugou squeezed your hand one last time and walked in. The entrance way was huge and you could hear noise coming from a side room. A big booming laughter sounded from the room and different smells burst in your nose. You held Bakugou’s hand tighter just to make sure he was still there. You rounded the corner and you could see Midoriya which made you relax more. You looked around at everyone and could see about seven different people, you were not quite sure what their genders were because you are not used to using your senses but there was one thing for sure. The big red one at the back was definitely an alpha and he definitely was checking you out.

“OMG DEKU, SHE’S ADORABLE” A high pitched voice sounded in front of your face and all you could see was pink. You backed up a little and didn't make eye contact, opting to hide at Bakugou side. “Look at that, green hair and all, definitely a Midoriya.” Another voice sounded to your right and someone was pulling at your hair gently. Bakugou just held you tighter, not saying much as he was used to the group. You whimpered slightly and tried to turn away again. You look at Midoriya and he was on the phone calling someone, you assumed it was his mate that was on patrol and you honestly couldn't wait to meet him but right now there were a lot. “Look at those cute freckles” Another voice said really close to you and you whimpered again, Bakguou went to speak but a loud voice sounded from across the room.

“That’s enough, y/n has come a long way to be here and to join us, you can get to know her soon but right now she’s scared and half of you have to get to work, don't you” Kirishima said and raised his eyebrow and crossed his arms. You looked at Kirishima and nodded as a thank you.

“So she can stay?” Midoriya asked as he put his phone away. Kirishima smiled and made his way to the large couch and sat down. “As if i would say no to your twin and Katsuki’s mate, stupid alphas.” Bakugou laughed and pulled you into a hug. He brought the two of you to the couch that Kirishima was sitting on, and he had placed you in the middle but you weren't squashed near him or anything. Bakugou was just letting you get used to the alpha. Midoriya sat on the other sofa, happily watching you.

Bakugou reached for the remote and turned on a random film that had come up. He relaxed into the seat and tucked his arm around you. You couldn’t help but look at the mass of red beside you. You stared at this alpha, at his long red hair in a ponytail, you stared at his scar on his face, you stared at his lips and down his neck. You found yourself sniffing the air to see what he smelt like, Kirishima could feel you staring at him so he released some pheromones in the air. His arm that was resting on the back of the sofa was lazily rubbing Bakugou’s arm and his alpha was quite happy with the two of you. Your eyes met and Kirishima gave you a massive grin, causing you to giggle.

You all could hear a crash at the front door and a lot of shuffling. Kirishima was up in an instant and Bakugou and Midoriya followed standing in front of you.

“FOR THE LOVE OF GOD SHINSO, LET ME THROUGH, I NEED TO KNOW SHE'S SAFE,” A voice shouted that you recognised. Kirishima took a step forward and left the room.

“You can’t just barge in here, hawks, what is it you want?”

“She’s here right, let me see here, I need to know she’s okay” the voice pleaded and it snapped in your brain, it's Tango. He’s alive. You shoved forward and ran to the front door.

“TANNNGOOOO” You shouted and threw yourself at the man.

“Oh thank god y/n.” He held you tight and spun you around. Bakugou growled at the male which caused Kirishima and Midoriya to join him.

“Tango? Hawks, explain yourself NOW.” Kirishima ordered. You raised your eyebrow at Tango and the male released you but bopped your nose first, causing you to giggle.

“Right okay, I will explain myself but first to y/n, not you.” Tango turned to you.

“Okay baby bird, my name is Hawks, well Kiego, I was undercover in the league of villains and my job was to get omega’s like yourself out and home. You were my last mission and I have tried for years to get you home and I finally did it, you-” You cut tango, no hawks off. “I'm home, thank you.” You threw your arms around hawks. Bakugou growled again and Kirishima smacked the back of his head.

“That explains it then, no wonder you’ve been coming and going all these years but why wouldn't you tell us, she’s my sister.” Midoriya asked. Hawks looked at him and took a breath. “I was too risky, this was an operation set up by Allmight, he believed if you were to know who he had found the both of you would rush in and save her-” Baukgou cut in “Damn right we would have, without question.” Hawks just looked at Bakugou like he had just proved his point. “Which is why you couldn’t know, there was a lot more omega’s needed saving if you were to jump in guns blazing then I would not have been able to save them.” Hawks turned to you again and held your arm. “I’m sorry it took so long baby bird, but he was so close to you and I couldn’t get you alone”

You opened your mouth to speak but the front door opened, Midoriya bounded over to the new person. As hawks took a step to the side the new person's scent entered the room. It caught in your throat, and you froze on the stop. That smell, it was Dabi, he’s here to take you away again. You began to panic, tears left your eyes and you began to shake. Bakugou stepped forward to pull you into his arms but Kirishima had already done it as you started to lean towards him. He held you tightly not really knowing what was going on, Bakguou joined your side and tried to calm you down as best as he could but nothing was working. Midoriya made his way through the crowd that had formed and held someone's hand.

“Y/n this is Shoto my ma- hey wait what’s going on” Midoriya pulled his hand from Todoroki who stood there awkwardly. You started to give into your panic and you could barely hear anything anymore. You could only smell and feel Dabi, his face entered your vision and you began to try and scratch the feeling of his hands off your skin. “Hey, hey, hey ‘mega stop, what’s going on, talk to us” Bakugou spoke and Kirishima knelt on the ground holding you tightly.

“He’s here to take me away, please don’t let me go, I don’t wanna go, I don't wanna go” you said over and over again as you sobbed into Kirishima. “No one is going to take you away little one, tell me what’s going on” Kirishima said.

“Dabi, he's here, it's Dabi” You whispered to the red head. “What does my brother have to do with this?” Todoroki asked. Midoriya held his mate in his arms. Hawks spoke up, “Well now you know who’s had her all these years, and she didn’t have her own room, it was his and her nest was all him.” You began to shake. “Shoto my boy, as someone who has been around your brother a lot, I will say you smell like him, you're a little sweeter but it's still there.”

Todoroki was crushed, his mate’s twin sister already hated him and probably couldn’t be around him. Todoroki went to take a step back but Hawks blocked him. “I said they were similar, not the same. Y/n’s been through a lot, let her get used to your scent and she’ll be okay.” He nudged his shoulder and then nodded at Midoriya to take him away quietly.

“Listen boys, I am used to integrating Omega’s back in society after ordeals and she's been through a lot, from what I heard she also never had a heat because someone marked her all those years ago which I'm guessing was you.” Hawks gestured on his neck to Bakugou who just tck’d. “So, with her finally being next to her mate and a dominant alpha, take her upstairs, calm her down with a bath, make a nest she can always fix it later and use your pheromones to coax her omega out. It will have to happen sooner rather than later. Once all this happens, her omega will recognise Todoroki as someone else and not as D-A-B-I okay, cool” Hawk stood to his feet and nodded at Shinso as he left the house. “Gives us a call if you have any questions, laters''

You had fallen asleep in Kirishima's arms and he looked at Bakugou for a moment who looked devastated. Once the red head stood up with you in his arms Bakguou joined him. Kirishima couldn’t stop smiling, his alpha was so happy right now. You were so cute in his arms and he was even more excited at the prospects that he could be very overprotective over you. He loved minding the omega’s in the pack but he could not overstep too much as all of them had mates. Bakugou would often let him be overprotective of him like he was an omega, mothering him really, but only when no one was around and less often than Kirishima would want.

Kirishima had often asked Bakugou about his mating mark but Bakugou would never really answer, only bypass the question so Kirishima just let it be but now it all made so much sense. Why him and Midoriya would often disappear on Midoriya’s birthday for a few hours and come back often very sad and in need of comfort. Kirishima reached his own room as he had the bigger bath. As he reached for the door Bakugou growled at him, Kirishima looked over his shoulder at the alpha and raised his eyebrow ignoring it and reached for the door again, Bakugou responded the same. As Kirkshima turned to look at Bakugou, you woke up and were looking at Kirishima.

“Hello little one, we're just getting a bath for you, so I’m going to place you on my bed for a moment. Is that okay.” You looked up at him as he entered the room, Kirishima ignored the growling Bakugou outside who seemed to be struggling with his alpha at that moment. You nodded and released a happy chirp at him, making Kirishima chuckle.

“Looks like someone’s omega is happy with me then.” Kirishima said as he placed you on his bed. He watched as you instantly sunk into his pillows and tried your best to squish and hide yourself in his blankets. “Make yourself at home, we’ll be back in a minute.” Kirishima made his way to the door and as soon as Bakugou made eye contact with him his demeanor changed. He was no longer cheerful fun alpha, no, he was the strong alpha, the strongest in the pack, a dominant, the pack alpha.

Kirishima closed the door, and as soon as the door clicked shut, he reached forward quickly grabbing Bakugou’s throat and shoved him up against the wall, not giving him time to react. He pumped threatening pheromones in the air and he’ll his throat tightly. Bakugou struggled at Kirishima.

“You want to explain to me, Katsuki, why you were growling at me?” Kirishima stared deep into Bakugou’s eyes.

“I, I, don’t know Eiji, i do-” Kirishima held his throat tighter.

“Don’t you ever growl at me again Katsuki, how are we supposed to be altogether if you alpha only sees her as yours.” Bakugou choked slightly but Kirishima hold stayed, this was not about Bakugou, this was about forcing his Alpha back to submission otherwise this would never work. Bakugou knew this deep down, that why he wouldn’t fight back,

“I’m sorry Eiji, I’ll try better.”

“KNOW.YOUR.PLACE” Kirishima used his alpha voice on Bakugou and stared into his eyes. It was like he could see Bakugou’s alpha back down. Tears started to fill Bakugou’s eyes which caused Kirishima to release his hold. Bakugou fell forward and Kirishima caught him, holding him tight in his arms and Bakugou cried.

“I'm so sorry Eiji, I don’t know what happened, I want us all to be together so bad because I know you’ll love her but my alpha-” Kirishima cut him off, “is just being your Alpha, stubborn as always.” Kirishima kissed his head and wiped his tears away. Once Bakugou's breath returned to normal, the pair broke away. “Come on, we have an omega to take care of and train.” Kirishima smiled at Bakugou, entering the room.

He froze, Bakugou bumped into him. “What the hell shitty hair.”

“Hey bro, wasn’t there an omega on our bed?” He questioned as Bakugou joined his side. Once he saw that you weren’t there he ran to the bathroom to check.. nothing .

“Where the hell is she?” Bakugou frantically looked around the room, under the bed in the wardrobe, while Kirishima just stared at his bed, at the nest you began to build out of his clothes. Pride filled his chest.

“Don’t panic, she’ll be back.”

“Don’t panic? Don't panic? Are you kidding me,where the hell is she” Bakugou shouted at Kirishima. The redhead simply grabbed his shoulders and pointed at the bed, at the nest. “What?” Bakugou asked. “Silly alpha look again” Bakugou stared at the bed and back at Kirishima.

“What? Its your bed, with a nest” Baukgou looked at Kirishima again like what he said did not click in his mind. Kirishima raised his eyebrow and waited for the shoe to drop. “SHE’S BUILDING A NEST” Bakugou shouted,with a grin plastered on his face. “Yes she is.” Kirishima said and placed a hand on his shoulder.

You entered the room, your arms filled with things from Bakugou’s room. It was not hard to find. You simply followed your nose. You honestly did not know what you were doing but it felt right. You stood beside the two males for a moment and looking in the same direction. With your arms filled of Bakugou's clothes you moved forward, placing things around your nest making it comfortable. You climbed in, removing some of your clothes, and rubbed against all the material.

Closed your eyes for a moment, and kept on rubbing at your scent glands on your neck and wrist. They were swollen and were very sore and itchy. You opened your eyes and looked at the alphas and huffed.

“Awh poor little ‘mega, you need help with something.” Bakugou said and made his way forward to you, placing a hand on your chin and moving your head to the side to get a look at your glands.

“Look Eijirou” Bakugou gestured for the other alpha to join him on the perimeter of your nest. Kirishima looked at your neck and you began to feel impatient with the two of them. Pulling your head away from Bakugou you huffed again and tried to itch the glands.

“Hey, hey, hey, stop, don’t do that little one.” Kirishima spoke and held your hands away from your neck.

“Help, they’ve never done this before, they ache badly.” You whimpered to the alpha. Kirishima sat down on the bed, for a split second you growled at the alpha but he only raised his eyebrow and your omega stopped. Rubbing his hand on yours, he made his way to your wrist and slowly massaged your glands there. You whimpered under his touch, it hurt at the beginning but now it felt amazing. You bit your lip and closed your eyes, breathing in the scents in the room.

“Katsuki, can you go get some gland ointment from the bathroom,” Kirishima spoke and still rubbed on your glands.

“It’s okay little one, it's just your body reacting to being around us. You’ve probably never used your pheromones so much before huh?” You looked up to him, tears coming into your eyes. “So i’m a freak then”

“What no? Why would you say that?” He asked.

“Don’t know how to be an omega, don’t know what's going on with my body, don't know anything really.” You sniffled.

“Well if you don't know how to omega as you’ve said, then how have you made such a beautiful nest then? Or these beautiful smells you're giving out” You purred at his compliment.

“You’re glands just need a little massaging, many omegas get blocked glands every now and again. You should see Denki when his get at him, we have to put mittens on him to stop touching them, but we don't have to do that, do we little one.” Kirishima says and he nods behind you. You feel a shift behind you and you can feel Bakugou there. His nose tickles the side of your neck and he gently kisses your glands. Next you could feel him massage a cool gel onto them. It felt devine and you lent back into him, moaning as he worked the gel into your glands.

You slowly could feel yourself getting lost in this comfort from both alpha’s, you could also feel yourself getting hotter and hotter and trying to get rid of more clothes that you were wearing. You wanted to lay down with both of them and tried to pull them with you but both would not budge. Sighing loudly you lock eyes with Kirishima who just laughs at your frown.

“If you want us in your nest little one, all you have to do is ask but you also should know as to what that means for us all.” you frown again and look at Bakugou behind you, who has the same expression as Kirishima.

“I might not know alot about being an omega, i know what inviting you both into this nest means I want that, I want to learn, I want you both to teach me and i-i—---i” You stutter, a deep pain within your catches you by surprise and you mean in response to it. After you catch your breath you look at the alphas again, something has shifted in the room and it excited you.

“You what ‘mega” Bakugou asked.

“Iwantyoubothtobemyalphaiwanthatverymuchindeed.” You mumble. Kirishima chuckled and looked at Bakugou. “Yup, she’s definitely a Midroiya.” Bakugou laughs at Kirishima's response and both wait for you to continue.

“I want you both to be my alpha, I want you both in my nest.” You say looking at your hands.

“Thought you’d never ask little one.” Kirishima said, bring your hands to his lips and kissed them. Bakugou shifted again behind you, entering your nest. His skin feeling very hot behind you, he lost his shirt at some point. He pulled you back onto him, pulling your lips towards him and kissed you fiercely. You felt the bed shift again and you looked at Kirishima who also had lost his shirt and smirked.

“Now little one, let’s begin our lessons shall we?” He asked, grinning widely. You could see his canines perfectly, another pain shot through you which caused you to moan out loud. Both alpha’s chuckled.

“This is going to be fun ‘mega.” Bakugou said into your neck, and as Kirishima moved to hover over you, sandwiches you between the two, you had to agree with him. This was definitely going to be fun.

#bakugou x kirishima x reader #bnha fanfiction #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima x reader #alpha!kirishima #alpha bakugou x reader #bakugou x kirishima #alpha kirishima x reader #alpha!bakugou #bakugou x reader #kiribaku x y/n #kiribaku x reader #alpha kiribaku #alpha bakugou

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prince-liest · 22 days

Note

The specific phrasing of “hurt very pretty” is. I knew before this series I was more into the soft sadism/dom thing but it’s soooo rare to find someone who does the exact flavor I’m into and I think that phrase in my head sooooo often

Ahaha, I'm so glad you're enjoying it! I've always really liked, as you describe it, soft sadism, where it's about the intimacy, the connection, and the sort of delightfully recursive loop you get when the suffering is enjoyed, and the enjoyment of the suffering also contributes to the suffering, whether it be via enthusiasm or humiliation. Funnily enough, despite the kind of stuff that I write, S&M that feels genuinely callous and miserable is fully capable of squicking me if it hits just wrong. I really like writing sadism that feels tender, even when it's violent.

Five more asks under the cut! If you sent something about 666 in the past 24-ish hours, it's probably there!

Your newest channel 666 fic had me so mixed on how to feel "Oh ok they're drunk and Al's on his lap... that wasn't in the tags oh no vox isn't advancing... nevermind he's electrocuting Al, i get it, a little something to get the blood pumping oh no wait he's actually electrocuting him oh good lord he's screaming in pain"

Hahaha, god, tagging this chapter was really a fucking nightmare - if there's anything you think I missed that's important to include, PLEASE let me know, because I tried to cover my bases but I really had to give up after a bit. It's just One Of Those Chapters and the first time I've used the Graphic Violence archive warning for something that was just fully consensual sexy times, haha. I hope it was at least enjoyable overall! Alastor certainly had a good time.

I've binged your 666 series and it irreversibly changed my brain chemistry It's more canon than everything that happened in the show itself to me - @grimfeywizard

Ahhhh, thank you so much! >:D I definitely tried to mimic the style of canon for the characters, especially for the first installments before they kinda went their own way character development wise, haha. I'm glad you like it!! <3

I was at a convention all weekend and when you updated BOTH times I snuck out of my group and into a corner to read them I am completely obsessed with this series 🙏🙏🙏 -@urlocal-cryptid7

Omg, glad to add the cherry on top of your con experience, hahaha. Thank you so much!!

hey there, just wanted to say i’m absolutely enraptured with the 666 series! it’s absolutely amazing and one of my favorite fics out there right now. i’m always looking forward to it and checking for updates, great work!!!!

Ahhhh, thank you for the kind words!! I'm really enjoying writing it in all of its weirdnesses, so it's always so nice to hear that people are enjoying the odd directions it goes!

Another fun radiostatic song: The Masochism Tango by Tom Lehrer - @butwhyaretheycalledstrawberries

This is 100% what I had playing in the car on repeat when I wrote one of the previous installments, hahaha. It's a fantastic radiostatic song, especially with the level of sadomasochism I write into 666.

(Anon who was awaiting the drunk Alastor shenanigans here) Me, pre-installment 8 of 666: Oh My God, it’s happening. Everybody STAY CALM- Me, post-installment 8 of 666: *ugly sobbing* it was everything i could ever hope for, your honor. The Prince(TM) is good and merciful. So yeah, expectations met as always 👍

Omg, ehehehe - drunk Alastor was honestly SO fun to write, because it's just... taking away a lot of his worries and inhibitions, and the behaviors that normally accompany them. I took what Mimzy said about him being a kitten when he's had a few drinks and lets loose and ran with it, and it turned out very enjoyable. I'm glad you also had a good time reading, hahaha!

#ask #personal #Anonymous #nsft #grimfeywizard #urlocal-cryptid7 #butwhyaretheycalledstrawberries #t

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allysunny · 3 months

Note

hiii! first of all, congratulations for 200 followers! im so proud heheee! and second, i just read your nanami's fic (patching up wounds) AND IT'S SO GOOD 😭😭🤍🤍 WE LOVE FLUFFY FLUFF NANAMI

and third! i wanna make a request hehee

15+28 with a make up prompt with nanami 🤍

"Is it someone else?" + "Do you trust me?" / "Always" + Make up x Nanami Kento

Words: 4.3k words

Warnings: Angst, mentions of infidelity, arguments, some angst? Some suggestive themes, but nothing downright explicit, I would say? I'm so bad at tagging omg if I missed anything!

A/N: Hey everyone! Here's another one of the entries for my 200 Follower Event!!! I missed writing for my man Nanami sm, I love this man so bad... <3<3<3

Anyway, I would ALSO like to say that my Event is now CLOSED!!!! I'll of course finish the requests I have in my inbox, but regarding this event in particular, I won't be taking any more! I feel like if they keep on coming, I'm going to panic and not be able to finish any of them.

Thank you for everyone that participated and sent in their great ideas; they're all genius and I am having a blast writing them. Thank you so much!

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this little piece!!!

You'd long stopped waiting for Nanami to come home

Asking him to please come at a more decent hour, and letting you know whether he was going to make it to dinner or not proved to be useless, as he often did not check his phone, and even when he did, he'd give you one-worded replies that did nothing to soothe your nerves. You loved your husband; knew him inside out and loved everything about it. But sometimes, these little quirks managed to annoy you.

Were you being selfish? All you wanted was for your husband to come home to you, have some dinner, ask how your day was, maybe make love to you once or twice. But as days turned into weeks, it seemed like none of those were a possibility.

Dinnertime together became "Sorry. Won't be able to make it in time. Don't wait for me." texts, casual conversations about your jobs became "I had an exhausting day. Can we not talk about it?", asking your husband for a bit of affection became "I'm really tired. Some other day." It was starting to become unbearable.

You knew Nanami to be a hard worker. He was a very thorough man, efficient and determined, and he always gave 101% of himself in whatever he did. But lately, it seemed that he was lacking in terms of your own life. It hurt to eat by yourself, it hurt to read or watch TV on an empty couch, it hurt to go to sleep in cold sheets.

You'd tried to talk to him once, ask what was happening. Not only did he brush it off as him simply being busy, but he also failed to provide you with information as what to what kept him busy. He was never a man of many words. You knew this. But it was one thing for him to be quiet and reserved. It was another to simply refuse to tell you certain information about what he did for a living.

All he'd told you was that he worked at a high school, as a teacher. Taught something about finance. On one hand it made sense. All the books and certificates inside his study were clearly not for show, and he'd always been extremely intelligent. But on the other hand, it was weird. Nanami never expressed much interest in teaching. Hell, you didn't even know he had the qualifications for teaching. But apparently, he did, and that's what he wanted to do from now on.

He'd told you it was a high paying job. He wouldn't be as miserable as he was as a salaryman, and you two would be able to take that lovely vacation in Malaysia, the one you'd been envisioning for years now. But how did a high-school teacher earn so much? And why did he have to spend so much time at his school?

The sound of the door broke you out of your thoughts, and you looked behind you from your place in the couch. Your husband walked home, hair slightly dishevelled and jacket hung on his arm.

"I'm home," he said softly, before taking off his shoes and hanging his coat.

"Hey," Your feet instantly carried you from the couch to him, as if second nature. Your feet would carry you anywhere Nanami Kento was, that is how deep your love for him run. Because where was home, if not by his side?

"I stopped by the bakery on my way home," he mumbled, placing a white paper bag on top of the couch. "Brought you those croissants you like."

There he was, your sweet husband, remembering you even when you worried and worried. Here you were, chewing the inside of your cheek out of sheer preoccupation, and he was out there buying you croissants. You felt a little bit guilty.

"Thank you," you smiled, returning to his side, and continuing to speak, "How was work?" It was when he flexed visibly in front of you when you moved to undo the knot of his tie that you had realised, you'd asked the wrong question.

"Tiring. I don't want to talk about it," he answered, moving past you towards the kitchen.

The guilt you'd briefly felt earlier washed away, if only a little bit.

Dinner was uneventful, as usual. It was nice having his company, but it was almost as if it didn't even make any difference. He was quiet, more so than usual. You tried getting a few conversations going, talking about your day, gossiping about your coworkers, but only received one-syllabic words, or soft hums of acknowledgement. You tried to get him to talk about his work, but he wouldn't budge. You asked about his students, and he shut you down. It seemed as if there was a barrier coming up between you and your husband, and you didn't like it one bit.

He offered to do the dishes for you while you decided to go take a quick shower, and when you came back, you found him sitting on top of your bed, quietly reading a book.

"Aren't you heading to bed?" you asked.

"I came home late enough the other days. I'd like to enjoy a book for a while before I go to sleep. Is that so wrong?" There was a slight harshness to his voice that you didn't like, and you became defensive.

"I'm sorry – it's just, you've been so tired every other day, I thought you'd maybe like to get some actual sleep."

Nanami must've realised the tone he'd taken with you and took a deep breath to calm himself.

"I appreciate your concern, honey, I really do. But I'd like to relax for a bit. I promise to get enough sleep."

You nodded and grabbed the remote, turning on the TV in front of you to zap through a few channels. When you couldn't find anything that amused you, you picked up your phone and scrolled through social media, internally sighing at the photos of your friends and their respective partners on their own private vacations. It reminded you of Malaysia, and it made you frown just a bit. You had half a mind to ask your husband, but there was no way you wanted him to think you were annoying, so just kept quiet.

After a while, he put down his book and walked towards the bathroom to get ready for bed. You would've done the same, but he closed the door behind you, causing you to wait for him. When you were able to brush your teeth and go through your whole skin care routine, you returned to bed.

Nanami was already lying down, facing away from you.

It hurt. A lot. You used to sleep pressed close against each other. He would hug you close to him, and you'd fall asleep to the beating of his heart. It nearly made you cry, until you realised you were made of tougher things, and would do your best not to let it get to you.

You laid down, pulled the covers over your body, and looked at your husband's back, admiring the broad planes of his shoulders and the pale skin you so adored to touch and kiss. It had been a while since you'd done both.

You don't know what made you do this. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe you just missed your husband too much and seeing him like this before you awakened memories in you that had your cheeks heat up and your thighs clench instinctively. But something made you press against Nanami's back and snake your arms around his chest.

He all but whispered your name, and you couldn't tell if in exasperation, or desire.

"I miss you so much," you mumbled, pulling your body up to sit beside him, and leaning down to press kisses against his neck and jaw. You felt him tense, and something inside you churned. Why was he tensing before you? Before your touch? He was your husband. Were you so unfamiliar that he would flinch away from you?

"I'm tired," he sighed, rolling so his body would stay even more out of reach.

"We don't have to do much;" you mumbled, scooting closer to him. Your hands carded through his hair. "I just miss you. Miss your touch, miss your body," each word was punctuated with a kiss on his jaw, and you heard Nanami sight. "Please, Kento. Don't you miss me?"

Why you kept going, you had no idea. He had arrived home extremely tired and had not given you any signal that he wanted this. In fact, the only thing he'd demonstrated was wanting distance, peace, and quiet.

But still, you kept going, kissing his soft skin, and playing with his golden hair.

"I have to get up early in the morning," he said, but you could tell his voice was breathy, husky. You gloated internally, happy over the fact you still had this effect over him.

"We can be quick. Can't we?" He could. You could. Nanami liked to take his time with you – and lord knew how much you liked it when he did. But you also knew he was efficient. You'd been pressed against several walls inside bathrooms or broom closets, mouth against the column of his neck to stifle your broken moans to know it. "Please? You know I'll make you feel good."

Nanami remained quiet for a few seconds, and for a while you thought he might say yes. Then, he promptly moved away from you, his voice cold as ice.

"I'm tired. I need to get up early tomorrow, I don't have the time for this."

"But Kento – "

"Can't you listen to a word I say? You've been going against my wishes all night." This time, he turned to face you, a hint of cruelty in his eyes, something that made you tear up immediately. "All I want is to get some rest. I can't do that with you all over me."

You said nothing, staring at the man before you. Is this how he felt? That you were all over him? That you'd been going against all his wishes? It's not your fault you wanted to talk to your husband, to be worthy of some of his time.

"I just wanted to spend some time with you," you replied, brows furrowing in confusion. "What's so wrong with that?"

"I've told you before, I'm tired. I got home late today; all I want to do is just get some sleep – "

"You're always getting home late now!" You raised your voice, sitting up completely and crossing your arms over your chest. "And you're always tired. What am I supposed to do?"

"Not disturb me, when I'm working so hard for us."

"At a high school? I love you, Kento, and I love how dedicated you are to your work, but what's a high school got that makes you get home at nearly 11PM?"

"It's complicated," he muttered, looking away.

"Is it now?"

"Yes! It is! And I wish you would just let it go and let me sleep. God knows I need it."

That's when you ask the question that's been plaguing your mind for a while, the one you'd never been brave enough to ask, the one you never wanted to ask, afraid of what the answer could be.

"Is it someone else?"

You could've asked anything, and yet Nanami would've never guessed what you'd just said. Why would you ever think such a thing? Did he ever give you reasons to think he loved anyone else other than you?

It seemed almost silly to ask, because as soon as he thought the question over in his head, he realised just how much he'd been neglecting you.

"It's not," he reassured you, sitting up and turning to face you, now sitting up as well. He hadn't realised you had started to cry, only noticing it when he saw small tears running down your lovely face. He'd made you cry. He had been an asshole and now you were crying because of him. Just great.

"I'm just working hard. For you. For us."

"Don't give me any of that bullshit. No high school teacher has to stay inside the school until close to 11PM. You can't even make it do dinner most nights. Just what the hell are you doing in there? Is it someone else, Kento? Fuck – just tell me if it is because I can't take this any longer! If you’re just staying with me because you can’t be bothered to get a divorce, then I don't want it!" You said, crossing your arms over your chest. You couldn't control the tears that had escaped, and once they started to fall, you feared they wouldn't stop.

"It's not someone else!" He said, running a hand through his blonde locks. "Look, darling, I only love you – "

"Then tell me why the hell you stay in there until so late."

Nanami was stunned into silence.

You'd never really asked about his job. He had told you he was a teacher and made up some believable enough financial-like class. You'd believed it, and he thought it would be the end of it. But Nanami should've known better. You were curious, and worried about him a lot. It was very endearing, and he loved you even more for it, but sometimes – like now – it could be a tad impractical.

"I'm working," he whispered.

"Bullshit. Again, with that stupid excuse – I don't believe you, Kento." It was the first time in 6 years together that you had ever doubted your husband. And it tasted foul. Doubt tasted foul, taster bitter in your mouth, and you hated how quickly its taste spread over everything you said. "Just tell me the truth already!"

"I'm telling you the truth, I'm a teacher, and I'm working!"

"I know high school teachers, Kento!" you yelled, "And they might bring some work home, but they're usually there in time for dinner. Hell, every teacher I've spoken to gets home much earlier than you, and everyone has said that your working hours are unusual. And there's of course, the matter of the bruises."

Some big, some small, but it has become more and more usual for your husband to arrive home injured. At first it was nothing. A paper cut. An accident while cutting bread. He slipped. He tripped. He fell. The excuses started getting weirder and weirder, and you’d become suspicious as hell.

"They're just accidents honey, I told you – " Nanami's words do little to soothe you, instead enraging you even further.

"No, they're not! You've never been clumsy Kento. You've never tripped, never fallen, never had accidents with knives! Just tell me what's going on? Have you gotten yourself into something dangerous, Ken? What is it?"

Nanami looked at you, at your eyes wide with worry and heartbreak, at your pouting lips and cheeks wet from the small pearly tears. And as much as the sight broke him inside, this wasn't the time nor the place to try and talk sense into you. He couldn't tell you about what he did, couldn't introduce you to the world of Sorcery and Curses. He'd only endanger you, and that was the last thing he wanted.

Nanami sighed.

"I think you should need some sleep. We should both get some sleep and continue this conversation in the morning."

That was the last straw. How dare he dismiss this conversation, as if it weren't something important and worthy of your attention? As if your whole relationship, your trust, your life wasn't on the line?

It was too much.

"Out." You uttered, pointing at the door.

"What?"

"Out." You repeated. "How am I supposed to share a bed, let alone a life with a man I don't trust, with a man who insists on lying to my face like this? I can't sleep on the same bed as you."

"Honey, you can't be serious – " Nanami pleaded, but you were intent on interrupting him.

"Out! I won't share a bed with you until I trust the man sleeping beside me!"

With this, Nanami nodded silently. He got up and promptly left the room, leaving his pillow where it was on the bed next to you. He knew you – you might be upset, but you still loved him, and you couldn't fall asleep with some sort of presence from him next to you. He'd found you once or twice hugging his pillow as you slept, and it made him smile. Ever since, he’d sprayed it once or twice with his cologne or aftershave, to see which scents made you relax more. It was corny and lame as hell, yes. But it helped you a lot, and he was glad for it.

Once the door of your bedroom was closed, you simply let go.

Loud sobs erupted from you, and you hid below the blankets, hoping the small fortress of cloudy fluffiness would save you from all the anguish you were feeling, and wishing sleep would take you soon.

With Nanami's pillow hugged close to your body, you found that it did, and you were out in just a matter of minutes.

The following morning, you woke up to the smell of pancakes and orange juice.

Weird, you thought, who the hell is making pancakes?

You got up and ready, going through with your usual morning routine before putting on some clothes and walking downstairs. You’re not used to having company on your day off, let alone wake up to some delicious as hell smells.

When you walk into the kitchen, you spot your husband in front of the stove, a spatula in his hands, whistling some tune he seems to be hearing from the radio.

It was as if last night hadn’t happened at all, as if instead of refusing your touch and walking away, he’d turned to you and reciprocated everything.

Nanami turned to you, having heard the soft thud of your fuzzy slippers against the floor. He was wearing his “Kiss the Cook” apron, the one you’d jokingly gifted to him a few years ago and hadn’t seen him wear in a long time. If you weren’t so upset at him, it’d have made you smile.

“Good morning,” he said, placing a plate of pancakes and a glass of orange juice on your usual spot at the table.

“What’s all of this?” you asked, hesitant to sit down. Was he going to pretend it was all okay?

“An apology.”

You stopped in your tracks. An apology. Huh.

“I behaved terribly last night,” Nanami sighed and placed the rest of the pancakes on a separate plate, also putting it on top of the table. “I’m sorry.”

You nodded and sat down, taking a sip from the orange juice. It was great, and it took you every bone in your body not to jump on your husband and shower him with kisses. It’d been a good while ever since he prepared you breakfast like this.

Well, since he’d gone out of his way to do something nice and apologise, you wouldn’t play games. You and Nanami had long gone past that stage.

“Surely, you understand everything I said came from a place of worry,” you told him, grabbing your favourite jam (that Nanami had so attentively put in your reach) and smearing it all over a pancake. Your voice was calm. Not too sweet; firm, but still somewhat soft. “You’re barely home nowadays, Kento. And I miss you. You come home with scratches on your face and bruises on your arms. What am I supposed to think?”

Your husband sat before you and grabbed a glass of orange juice himself, before starting to speak.

“I understand. And I can guarantee that everything I have told you is the truth.”

You stopped your arm, fork up in the air.

“The truth? Please, Kento, I’m tired of that.”

“I’m serious.”

He shifted in his seat and sighed.

“Look – I didn’t lie to you when I told you about my new job.”

“Hm. But?” you asked, taking the forkful of pancake to your lips.

“But – “ he sighed again, “I wasn’t entirely honest either.”

“I see.”

“The truth is, I can’t tell you all about my job.”

You raised an eyebrow. Is this how he was planning to get on your good graces again?

“I’m a teacher, yes. But my job, it’s… It’s hard to explain. It’s dangerous. And I don’t want you tangled up in that world.”

Your stomach twisted in an unpleasant knot. Dangerous?

“Kento, did you get involved with the wrong people?” you whispered. Surely, that couldn’t be true. The sweet man before you would never dabble in those nasty, sketchy business you always saw out there, the kind that would have him trapped for life and made a slave to their every whim.

“No! No – Christ, no,” he was quick to reassure you, reaching out to hold your free hand. You decided not to move it, allowing the warmth of his palm to spread through yours. “It’s not like that. I did not get involved with any kind of bad people. I promise you that. But my job is dangerous, and I would be putting you in danger if I told you all about it. But I can’t stand keeping you in the dark like this – it hurts to see you suffer.”

Now you were getting scared. What the hell had your husband gotten himself into? A dangerous job? That would put you in danger? What was he talking about?

“Fuck, it’s,” he released your hand, and you immediately missed his touch. Nanami rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and shook his head. “It’s so complicated. I don’t even know where to start. I don’t even know if you’ll believe me. I just… I just need some time. Please. If you’ll have me, if you love me. I just need some time, and I’ll explain everything to you.”

“Is this what you want to do?” You asked

“Yes.”

“And you’re saying it’s dangerous.”

“It is.”

“Is that why you’re injured sometimes?”

“Yes. But I promise you – everything is okay. Everything is fine. I promise you darling – it’s okay.”

You looked at him, and he looked at you.

And there was something in his eyes that made you understand.

Not what he did, or how he did it or when.

But that he was having a tough time explaining it to you. You could see his internal dilemma clearly, and it made you ache a bit, because you saw just how conflicted he was. You loved reading. Books of all kinds. Long, short. Fun or emotional. But even after all these years of reading page after page after page, it wasn’t books you’d learned to read best.

It was your husband.

He reached out to hold your hand again. It was warm and it provided comfort. So much comfort – something you needed more than anything right now.

“Do you trust me?” he asked, speaking to you in that barely-a-whisper voice of his, the one he uses to murmur soft words against the skin of your shoulder, the one he used to say his vows to you on your wedding night, away from prying eyes, the one he’d used when he first told you he loved you.

You knew all of Nanami’s voices. Knew his monotone one, directed at coworkers and bosses; knew his warmer one, the one he used when thanking shop clerks, baristas, waiters, workers; knew his joyful one, the one you got to hear every once in a while, deep and rich and warm, accompanied by one or two chuckles if you were lucky; knew his husky one, saved especially for late-night lovemaking or mind-blowing quickies; knew his sugary sweet one, saved only for you.

And of all the voices you knew your husband to have, this was the one you trusted the most. It meant he was serious. It meant he wasn’t lying, it meant he was offering you the whole truth; he’d offer you the whole world with this voice, and you would take it.

“Always,” you found yourself replying, turning your palm, and giving his a soft squeeze.

Because it was true. You’d follow Nanami Kento to the ends of the earth. You trusted him, more than anything. And if he told you he had a hard time telling you, then you would believe him. If he told you everything was going to be fine, you would believe him. You trusted him to tell you what this dangerous job of his was and were ready to support him until the end.

You'd long stopped waiting for Nanami to come home.

But you’d start doing it. Again, and again, and again.

You would wait for him until he came home.

Whether he came home early or late, it didn’t matter. You would know he had been working. You’d know he hadn’t broken the promise he made to you the day you got married and would not lie with someone else. You’d patch up his wounds and kiss his injuries and shower him with love – so, so much love.

All that would matter, is that he would come home to you, and you wouldn’t worry.

Because you loved him, and he loved you.

And as long as you held on to that promise, you knew everything would be okay.

A/N: And that's it! I hope you guys enjoyed this little piece! I love Nanami so much, he'd be the most understanding husband, and a great communicator okay.

Once again, I ask for your patience, as uni is kicking my ass real bad, and it's taking me longer to write stuff. I fear it's only going to get worse, and I may have to take a break.

But I'll keep trying until then!

I hope you're all doing well, and have an amazing day!!! <3

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ozzo-the-wozzo · 2 years

Text

Guys so uh…. Pretty concerning heads up in regards to season 5 🤡

Apparently, the ENTIRE SEASON 5 BIBLE was leaked and while it hasn’t gone public yet, a decent amount of people have it and are sending it around.

Everyone is in a freak out because, while so far everyone who has it is spreading it via dms, it’s only a matter of time before someone leaks it publicly for clout.

For those of you who don’t know, a Bible in tv shows is a general outline of the season/series, so a season 5 Bible will be an outline for the entire season and essentially spoil, wait for it… EVERYTHING.

So keep an eye out! I have a lot of free time so I’m following this closely, and if it goes public I’ll try and let y’all know so you can put up the filters, but…yeah. if this thing leaks it will be literal hell, so let’s just hope it doesn’t 💀

UPDATE: the Bible is over 100 PAGES LONG and very few people are already starting to post spoilers on Twitter. Their accounts are being taken down fairly quickly but please watch out omg.

UPDATE 2: someone dropped the link to the Bible in the main tag on Twitter, I checked out the first page (I didn’t get spoiled just wanted to check the formatting and stuff) and yeah, it’s legit. A lot more people have access to it now so… please stay off of twitter. More info here. Also, all things related to this will be tagged #ml season 5 Bible drama on my blog.

UPDATE 3/4: I read a lot of it. Here’s info on how spoilery it gets, but also why I personally believe, amongst many others, parts of it are outdated/ fabricated.

(Sources under cut, dw they don’t have spoilers)

View on Twitter

(Translation for 2nd tweet: It seems that they’ve leaked the Bible for all of season 5, we don’t know where it could have leaked from but I hope that it isn’t shared because it would ruin the entire season)

#pinning since a lot of people are coming to my blog for this info now #OFC THIS HAPPENS THE DAY BEFORE THE PREMIERE ARE YOU FR #please rb and share to keep people aware #I am. losing my mind I’m so done #this fandom bro #tales of ladybug and cat noir #mlb #miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug: tales of ladybug and chat noir #ml #miraculous #ml season 5 #ml news #mine #ml season 5 bible drama

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cowboydisaster · 1 year

Text

The Fire In Your Eyes

part VII: horshoe overlook iii

pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

word count: 15.2k

summary: You and Arthur take Lenny to drown his anxieties at the saloon, and it ends up bring more trouble than you would have imagined. The gang finally deals with that O'driscoll, and Arthur opens up more about his past when Abigail asks you both to take Jack out. You meet a couple of threatening strangers.

a/n: highly recommended playing 'a quiet time soundtrack' when you get to the bar scene. This chapter was so fun to write omg. Lots of set up in this chapter, along with plenty of fluff, angst and more talking about our feelings. You're still in denial, Arthur is opening up, its a whole thing. P.S. if you aren't sure who Nils is, just google him on yt. Please please check the warnings before you read! beta read by @margowritesthings <3

warnings: Violence, gore, blood, attempted/implied mention of SA, its very brief and we kill him hehe, wanted to add the tag just in case)

hotlinks: TFIYE on AO3 & official series playlist

SERIES MASTERPOST

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

series taglist: @catnotbread @chxosangxl @globetrotter28 @justalittlerayofpitchblack @fruittiest-of-loops @randomidk-123 @heyworld-whatsup @btsiguess-kpop

“Okay, pick a color. We have pink, red, orange or white.” Marybeth asks, excitedly weaving her fingers through your hair, neatly braiding it. You smile, glancing over to her basket of wildflowers.

“How about white?” You suggest, looking at the assortment of flowers in her basket, eyes honing in on the pale white jasmines and baby’s breath.

It's a warm evening, with golden light peeking over the mountains as the sun begins to set. You had ventured down the hill towards the Dakota River with Marybeth earlier, and she had picked from a patch of wildflowers, bringing home only the most beautiful specimen. Tilly and Karen sit around on the ground next to you, and you chuckle as the three girls giggle and gossip.

“Marybeth, you oughta do me next. I can’t be goin’ out on the town with hair like this.” Karen jokes, and Marybeth lights up, excited to share the time with you girls.

You bite into an apple, crunching and savoring the sweet flavor as Marybeth braids your hair down your back. You glance into the mirror, the one Marybeth stole from Arthur’s shaving station, noticing how much your hair has grown since you’ve joined the Van der Lindes. She ties the bottom of the braid with a little white knot, smiling as she plucks some white flowers from her basket.

“You’re gonna love it.” Marybeth sighs, eyes sparkling as she begins to tuck the stems into the creases of your braid, leaving little white flowers embedded in your hair. She’s missed a few tiny pieces around your face, and they fall down, framing your cheekbones. From across camp, sitting outside his tent like an overseer, Dutch keeps his eyes on you. You ignore it, purposefully refusing to meet his glance.

You glance around, people watching as Marybeth finishes up her work. On the other side of camp, Uncle is wasted, Strauss is scribbling away in a journal, and Abigail is having a hushed argument with John. It's all so normal.

"I heard Abigail and John yellin' again this morning." Tilly tsks, shaking her head with a sigh, glancing to their tent.

"What about?" You ask, eyebrows pulled together. Marybeth releases your braid for a moment, allowing you to turn towards the girls.

"The usual." Karen bites, irritated by their bickering, and Tilly elaborates.

"Well John ain't exactly been… a great father to Jack."

"John's an ass. Jack only wants his daddy, but he knows his daddy wants nothin' to do with him." Karen explains, scowling in the scar-faced outlaw across camp.

"Poor Jack…" You frown, familiar with the feeling of being unwanted.

"How does Abigail do it all?" Marybeth asks, pulling and perfecting your braid and the flowers lined in it.

"No idea." Tilly mumbles. It grows quiet for a while as you all get lost in thought. You think about what Arthur had said, just a few weeks ago, about his son, and you sigh.

"Done!" Marybeth chimes and you smile at her as she holds Arthur's mirror up, letting you see. She's done a beautiful job, leaving the braid tight enough so it won't fall out, but loose enough for it to be beautifully messy and comfortable. The little white flowers are an intricate touch, just enough of them to add dimension to your hair without overpowering it.

"Marybeth, it's beautiful!" You say, smiling sweetly at her before reaching into your satchel.

"For your troubles." You whisper, winking as you slide her a candy bar. Marybeth's eyebrows pop up in surprise as she takes the little sweet, tucking it into her skirt.

"Thank you, Marybeth." You say, standing up and stretching your knees. You address the other girls then, nodding to them.

"I'll return this to Mr. Morgan, thank you for your good company." You say, taking his stand mirror from the ground and walking away from their wagon. Arthur's tent isn't far, and within a few moments you stand outside his covered wagon, placing his mirror back down on his designated shaving barrel with a hum.

A throat clears behind you, startling you as you whip around to find the source.

"Stole my mirror, huh?" Arthur jokes. He's standing in front of his wardrobe, wearing only a pair of jeans as he digs through the clothes in search of a shirt. He's looking down in the chest, and you swallow thickly, watching the muscles flex as you blush.

"Yeah uh, well Marybeth took it to do my hair. I'm just bringin' it back." You mumble, running your finger along the barrel lid to distract yourself.

At the mention of your hair, Arthur looks over at you. His eyes wrinkle with crows feet as he smiles, a little warm grin. The white flowers frame your face, and you look up at him with those eyes. He's sure you've fallen from heaven, looking as innocent as a lamb. How deceiving, because your temper is anything but.

He comes toward you, still shirtless, though he holds a deep blue patterned shirt in his hand.

"You uh," Arthur nods to the white flowers that crown your hair like a halo. "Your hair looks real pretty." Arthur says, pulling the shirt over his arms before buttoning it up.

You huff, pulling one of the flowers out and dropping it to the ground.

"Marybeth." You explain, just as hooves sound out like war drums from the outskirts of camp. Without a second thought, your hand rests on your holster, prepared for the worst. You jog towards the camp entrance with Arthur just as Lenny gallops through the trees on Maggie, both out of breath. Lenny practically throws himself out of the saddle in a panic, and Maggie rears up.

“They-! They got Micah!” Lenny hollers, running towards the two of you.

“Arthur! Star, Dutch! They got Micah, they got him in Strawberry. They nearly lynched me!” Lenny yells, hands resting on his knees.

You rest your hand on his shoulder, making sure he's okay, as you all try to catch up.

“What is going on?” Dutch asks, striding out of his tent and straight up to the three of you. Your braid flips over your shoulder as you make sure Lenny is steady before letting him go. He takes a breath, calming down before continuing as Dutch joins.

“It’s okay, son, breathe.” Dutch pats the younger man on the back.

“They got Micah at the sheriff’s in Strawberry, and there’s talk of hangin’ him.” Lenny explains, and you raise an eyebrow, unsure of what the problem is then. Arthur seems to be sharing a similar train of thought as he mumbles under his breath.

“Here’s hoping.” Arthur bites, and Dutch looks at him with a comically shocked face.

“Arthur.” He scolds, as if disciplining a dog, and you snort.

“Micah deserves to sit in that jail for a while. Let him get nervous, let him rot a little more, it’ll do him good.” You point out, leaning down to strike a match of the bottom of your boot.

“She’s right. You know my feelings’ bout him Dutch.” Arthur warns, voice low and you nod, lighting a cigarette.

“He is a fine man. But she’s right. He’s brought this on himself. Go get him in a few weeks, Me and the lady’s faces are plastered all over Blackwater, it’ll have to be you, Arthur.” Dutch explains, and Arthur groans with a sigh. They continue their bickering, and you leave them to it, walking over to where Lenny sits at the wooden table.

“You okay?” You ask, sitting on the table, placing your boots onto the seat of the chair next to Lenny.

“Yeah, just shaken up. I hate ridin’ with Micah, it’s like he loses his mind.” Lenny whispers, eyes far away as he shakes his head.

“Yeah… I seen it too.” You mumble, scowling. Arthur and Dutch wrap up their conversation, and then Dutch walks over to the two of you.

“C’mon kid. We’re gettin’ a drink, Dutch’s orders.” Arthur chuckles, and you slide down from the table, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

“I’m comin’ too.” You chime, following the two boys to the hitching posts.

“Maybe just one or two will calm my nerves.” Lenny sighs, climbing back up into Maggie’s saddle.

You pet Athena, giving her a mint as a peace offering for taking her from the hay before mounting up.

“We even allowed to go in the saloon after all that ruckus you caused?” You ask, raising an eyebrow at Arthur. Lenny turns in his saddle to look at you for a moment before spurring Maggie further into the evening.

“What trouble have you boys been causing now?” Lenny directs at Arthur, hollering over the sound of cantering hooves.

“Nothin’ much just some good n fair bar fightin.” Arthur says, downplaying the situation.

“Ha! Yeah, Arthur, just some friendly punches. How much you wanna bet that the windows’ still broken from your ass flyin through it?” You holler, and Arthur laughs, crossing over the railroad tracks into town.

“It’s all done with now, and at least nobody died.” Arthur points out to which you nod. Good point.

You trot up the main road, pulling your horses in front of the new Blacksmith building. Typically you would just hitch in front of the saloon, but the bar must be packed tonight because horses line the street in front of Smithfields. You jump down from Athena, petting her neck while looking at the new building in front of you. There's some light inside, a candle or two, and an ‘open’ sign on the front door. Outside two men talk, one wasted.

“Y-You open mis-” he hiccups, “Mister?” The one man asks, a plain looking feller. But the man he is talking to, presumably the shop owner, is a small man with small features and a big white beard. He wears a red beanie hat on his head, and his face is bright red.

“Okay…” The peculiar man says with a strong accent. Your eyebrows draw together, and you chuckle. Maybe he doesn’t speak english.

“I need a hammer… you see I'm building’ a house, buildin’ a house down the road..” The drunk man slurs, barely able to keep steady as the smaller, foreign man grabs the drunkard's arm, pushing him inside the shop.

“Okay!” The small man says, and you laugh at his oddity. You remember Hosea telling you about this shop owner, and the strange little things he sells in his shop.

“Star? You comin’?” Arthur asks, and you turn around, realizing you’d been eavesdropping on the strangers. You turn back to the shop for a moment, eyeing its peculiarity before sheepishly turning back to Arthur.

“I'm gonna go check this place out for a minute. I’ll be over shortly.” You smile, looking towards the shop excitedly, remembering that you have a little cash from your box on you. Lenny rests against a beam under the porch of the general store, out of earshot from you and Arthur’s conversation. He only knows that you’re both doing a whole lot of talking and not a lot of drinking.

“You two comin, or what?” Lenny hollers, and Arthur gestures towards you.

“We’ll catch up, just give us a minute.” Arthur yells back, following after you towards the shop entrance.

“I’ll start a tab.” Lenny chuckles, walking up the sidewalk towards the bar.

“You need somethin’ from the blacksmith?” Arthur asks, holding the door open for you as you step inside.

“No, just wanted to look is all. Hosea said there was some more stuff in here than tools, the man likes to work metal into all kinds of things.” You say at a volume so that only Arthur can hear you. He nods, and you take in the shop. The little building is split into two sections. On the right, the bigger section, all sorts of home made tools hang from nails in the wall, for sale. There's hammers, screwdrivers, bits, and all sorts of other things that you don’t care about. You glance to the left side of the shop, and your eyes light up. Shelves line the wall, and the little foreign shop owner sits on the checkout counter beside them, swinging his legs. The shelves are lined with hand crafted metal cups, decorations and jewelry, anything one can think of. He has little metal spoons, crafted and twisted beautifully. There are necklaces, belt buckles and rings, none of them resembling another, all unique. Your eyes light up, and Arthur watches you with a sweet smile as you run your hand down the expanse of one of the shelves, taking everything in. A few other people mill around, looking as well.

“Arthur, look at all this.” You gasp, bewildered by the handcrafted, intricate things that this odd man has made. Arthur walks with you, falling into pace as his spurs click against the floor. He’s mesmerized, alright. But the trinkets on the shelf have little to do with it. The flowers in your hair, the excitement on your face from such a small pleasure, the stars in your eyes that shine brighter than any night he’s ever seen.

Arthur steps away, walking towards the other side of the shop as you come up to the accessory section. Particularly what catches your attention is the hat accessories, and you pick a few up, wondering what they might look like on your own hat, back at camp. Then it catches your eye. A smaller hat accessory rests closer to the back of the shelf, and with your eyebrows pulled together in concentration, you pick it up. It's a piece to be added on the side of a hat, a small bundle of feathers, bound with twine and wrapped in beautiful, coiled metal. But what catches your eye is the teal agate, embedded into the metal that wraps around the bundle. It’s a color you've seen time and again. A throat clears behind you, and you turn, meeting eyes of the same teal.

“Ready?” Arthur asks, not noticing the little gift that you’re hiding behind your back. You nod, glancing at the older shop owner for a moment.

“Yeah I’ll be right over, but first could you… could you give me a minute?” You ask, and Arthur nods, looking a little confused or worried.

“Sure. Everythin’ alright?” Arthur asks, and you nod. He steps back, tipping his hat to you lightly before walking out of the shop. With a breath, you pull the accessory back in front of you.

The agate is the same color as Arthur’s eyes, and you look over the gift with great fondness. No because of the accessory itself per se, but because of the man you’re going to gift it to. Holding the feathered accessory up to the light, you gasp, seeing almost unnoticeable stars stamped into the fine metal. You want to give Arthur something new for his hat, something that he can use to make it his own. Damn his father, and the fear that Arthur feels every day, wondering if he’s turning into the bastard. You want Arthur’s hat to be his, something he can pass down to his children or whomever one day with good memories, not bad ones.

With your mind made, you walk up to the shopkeeper.

“How much for this?” You ask, placing it on the counter where the man sits. He hops down, not saying a word as he walks around the other side of the counter. He takes a piece of paper from under the register, writing some things down in a language you can't understand. Then, he opens the cash register and looks up to you.

“Ja, Okay.” He says, holding his hand out for you to place cash into and you chuckle, sighing.

“You?- Alright mister.” You chuckle, reaching into your pocket and pulling out a five dollar bill. A man, leaning against the wall laughs, filling you in.

“Yeah, that there is Nils. He don’t really talk much, he understands though. A Norwegian fella, not even sure he speaks English, but he’s a damn good smith.” The man says, picking up a belt buckle and looking it over.

“That he is.” You hum as Nils hands you back a few odd cents.

“Names’ David Geddes.” The informant smiles, reaching to shake your hand. “I work with Nils here. He’s helpin’ me to build a ranch up in West Elizabeth.” Mr. Geddes says, releasing your hand. You smile, hearing that northern West Elizbeth is beautiful territory.

“If you’re ever in the market for tools or land, you know where to find us.” Mr. Geddes smiles, and you nod, knowing that you’re never going to need either of those things. You keep it in mind, though.

“Thank you Mr. Geddes, pleasure to meet you. You as well, Mr. Nils!” You smile at both men, giggling as Nils says ‘okay!’ when you walk out the door. Proudly, you place the little gift in your satchel. You want to wait until the perfect time to give it to him. Smiling, you walk past the few shops towards the saloon. You can hear the music from outside, a pianist enjoying himself on the keys, probably drunk as a skunk. You were right earlier, the window is still smashed out from Arthur being thrown out of it.

You push the saloon doors open, walking in just as a man was walking out. Your shoulders hit off each other, and you scowl deeply at him before moving towards the bar. A loud game of poker is being played at the table, with drunk, laughing players. Working women linger about, draped over chairs and men, waiting to be taken upstairs for the night. You squeeze past the people, slipping onto the bar beside Arthur and Lenny, with Arthur in the middle.

“Boys.” You greet, waving down the bartender. The saloon is loud, and you have to yell over the music to hear each other, even with the close proximity.

“Now just one or two. Right, Arthur?” Lenny asks as he clinks his bottle against Arthur’s.

“Course, just a drink.” Arthur responds, tapping his glass against the counter before taking a long swig.

“Hey!” You yell to the bartender, irritated. He doesn’t pay you any mind, and you huff.

Jumping up onto the bar so that your stomach is on the counter, you grab a bottle of whiskey from behind the counter. It’s nearly empty, and you groan. Arthur shakes his head as you slide back down to the ground.

“I don’t plan on staying too long.” Lenny reiterates, and you nod, tapping your fingers against the bottle to the rhythm of the funk music.

“Me neither.” You say, swallowing the little bit of drink left over before tossing it over the counter.

Another man slides onto the open space of the bar beside you. He’s already been done in by the drink, eyes glazed over with red cheeks. Arthur keeps an eye on him, not too comfortable with the way this man is looking at you.

“Hey- Hey miss?” He asks, and you turn to him. Arthur watches it unfold as you bat your eyelashes, and at first he’s confused as you look up to the sleazebag with doe-like eyes.

“Yes, mister?” You ask, twirling your finger around your hair.

“Can I buy you a beer?” He asks, smiling like an idiot. You smile, resting your hand on the man’s chest. Ah, a pocket watch,right in his vest pocket. You feel the outline of the fine metal through his shirt, and you smirk.

“She likes whiskey.” Arthur bites, not seeing your scheme playing out. You elbow him lightly, and his eyebrows pull together.

“Hey, Hey a beer for this fine woman!” The drunk man calls out, and as he leans over the bar to pay the tender, you sneak your fingers between him and the bar, gently pulling the chain until the pocket watch emerges from his pocket. Very content, you slide it into your pocket, smirking up at Arthur. He looks bewildered, amazed, as he laughs, elbowing Lenny and filling him in.

“For you, m- m’lady.” The drunkard says, handing you a beer. You take it, no trace of a smile on your lips as you slide it down the bar to Lenny. The drunk man scowls angrily, slamming his fist down on the counter.

“What the hell?” He asks, face turning red with anger. You smile, leaning against the bar, acting as if he doesn't exist.

“This what a feller gets for bein’ nice?” He huffs, and you bite your tongue, slipping your eyes closed to quell your rage. Arthur orders a whiskey, and places the glass in front of you.

“Tried to tell you partner, this lady likes her liquor.” Arthur chuckles, toasting another glass with Lenny. You swirl the glass in your hand, sipping from it while putting all your attention into not killing this man.

“You owe me!” He yells, spittle flying. Even Arthur tenses at your side, pointing a threatening finger to the drunk.

“Shut your mouth, buddy.” Arthur warns, and the music grows louder, more intense, as does your grip on your drink.

“Or what?” The man laughs maniacally, sizing you up and down and concluding that you wouldn't hurt a fly.

“Leave this idiot alone, he ain’t worth it.” Lenny interjects, always the voice of reason. The man laughs at that, turning to you three like he's an old friend.

“Leave me alone? Well people been leavin me alone for nearly ten years! I say that's their loss, I’m a great guy, bought this bitch a drink-” The man rambles on, and your shoulders set, eyes glazing over as a rage fills you. You slam your drink against the counter, spilling most of it before grabbing that damn idiot by the back of his collar. You slam his head down onto the bar in one swift motion, and it cracks. Sparing him no time to recuperate, you tear him away from the bar, dragging him towards the door where you literally kick him through the saloon doors.

Lenny whistles under his breath as you come back, wiping your hands on your jeans before picking your glass back up.

“Where were we, boys?” You ask, turning to the men.

— AN HOUR (OR TWO?) LATER —

‘Clink, clink, clink’ is all you hear as bottles and glasses continuously toast against each other. You’ve lost count of the amount of drinks you've been handed, or stolen off the bar. Arthur laughs loudly over the music, a contagious sound that has you and Lenny giggling like fools. You feel good and warm, a buzz running through your veins and filling your head with a fuzzy cloud.

“You want another one, Arthur? Star?” Lenny asks, laughter dying down as he waves to the bartender.

“Sure, we’re already here!” Arthur hollers, words slurred as you nod your head.

“Yeah but first, I- I gotta go play that piano!” You holler, picking up your glass and dancing your way down to the pianist.

— A WHILE LAETR—

You sit up on top of the bar, laughing so hard that you can barely breath. You don’t remember what was so funny, but it sure was. You slap your knee, cackling at something with Arthur. Lenny’s laughing too, leaning down against the bar to stop from falling over.

“You! You are a hilarious feller, Arthur Morgan!” You snort, taking a big long swig from your bottle. You think it's whiskey, but you're not sure. It doesn’t even burn anymore, just going straight down.

“Arthur!” You call, grabbing his biceps to shake his attention. He jumps, startled, and then laughs. Being on the bar has you sitting a little taller than him, and he looks up at you with a dumb expression.

“You ever-” You hiccup, “-had a dog?” You ask. It's a very serious inquiry, and you need to know. Arthur’s brows pull together as he thinks, and it looks kind of painful.

“One time… bout a million years ago.” Arthur squints, dead serious, staring at the wall behind you. You erupt into a fit of laughter, smacking the outlaw on the shoulder.

“What the hell is a million years?” You ask in between chuckles. The music is loud, the mood is good. The sun has set, and more patrons have joined the saloon.

“I don’t know, but I bet it's at least a thousand.”

You nod, concluding that he’s probably correct on that account. You turn to your right, right where Lenny was sitting, to ask him his opinions on the matter.

“What about you Lenny? You ever-” You stop, dumbfounded when you realize he’s not there. Surely he was just a second ago.

“Lenny?” You ask, turning your head around to find him.

“Oh no.” Arthur mumbles, looking around as well.

“Arthur, he's disappeared!” You yell, panicked, but Arthur grabs your waist, pulling you down to the ground. Once you're down from the bar, Arthur keeps grip on your hips for just a moment longer.

“We’ll find him, don't you worry. If anybody can come back from disappearin’ it's Lenny.” Arthur explains, and you nod. That makes sense.

“Should we split up?” You ask as Arthur leads you to the center of the saloon. Arthur nods, stumbling lightly as he pulls you through the crowd.

“Yeah, youse smart. We can cover-” Arthur burps, chuckling deeply for a moment, “We can cover more ground if we split up. I’ll go upstairs.” Arthur explains, and you nod, pushing past people.

“Smart thinkin. I’ll go upstairs too.” You say, following him up.

“Good plan.” Arthur approves, stumbling up the staircase while pulling you behind him.

“LENNY!!?” Arthur yells, looking around for your lost friend. You see lots of people, but you don’t see Lenny, least you don't think you do.

“Lenny!?” You mimic Arthur, chuckling as he pulls you around the fenced in overhand that overlooks the bar downstairs.

“There you is!” Arthur calls, and you look around until you see him. Lenny is leaning on the little fence, trying to balance a glass on his nose.

“Whatcha doing?” You ask, both confused and amazed. Lenny laughs, swaying so as to not drop it from his nose.

“I- I don’t know!”

The glass falls, and Lenny tries to catch it but his delayed reflexes do him in and the glass falls down the overlook, shattering onto the saloon floor downstairs. You all laugh like it’s the funniest thing in the world, doubling over as you try to breathe from cackling.

Then somehow you all have more drinks in your hand, and you’re toasting them together, cheering loudly. You don’t even know what you’re drinking, but it sure goes down nice. Lenny hooks his arm under yours, and you do-si-do, tripping and stumbling and laughing like you’ve never laughed before. Arthur switches spots with Lenny then, hooking his arm under yours and dancing around. But Arthur lacks Lenny’s grace, or maybe he’s just more drunk, and halfway around the circle he accidentally trips you, sending you straight to the floor. Your drink smashes against the ground, and you lay on the floor for a while, arms and legs spread out as you chuckle.

Arthur pulls you up, nearly falling over himself, and then you all lean against the railing with more drinks.

“Arthur why ain’t you never married?” Lenny asks, and Arthur’s mouth hangs open as he thinks.

“No one would have me.” Arthur sighs, a pathetic, sad little noise. You slap him on the back, trying to encourage him.

“Whaddya mean no one would have you, Arthur everyone wants you! Hell I’m sure you had ladies lined up round the block back in the day.” You say, and he nods, thinking it over.

“Well maybe, but I did not see them!” He responds, toasting his drink to yours.

— LAETR?—

Arthur jumps up and down, stomping against the floor with his arms flailing.

“I’m doin’ it!” He screams, earning multiple annoyed glances from other patrons.

“You sure are! I- I don’t know what you’re doin’ but it’s somethin!” You yell back, laughing.

Then suddenly you’re sitting on the poker table, legs swinging over the side. You’re not even sure how you’ve gotten here, but your head is so fuzzy and relaxed you don’t care. Arthur stands on the ground, in between your knees looking up at you.

“Why ain’t you never sweet on no one?” You ask, fingers tracing stars on his right shoulder. Arthur’s hand rests on your thigh, and he looks up at you, confused.

“Huh?”

“Karen said you- you didn't like girls. I mean- Karen said you didn't like any of the girls in camp. They're all beautiful, young n kind, why haven't you gone sweet on em?" You ask, drunkenness loosening your lips and releasing some of the questions you've been holding back for ages.

"Well I am sweet on someone, dumbass." He says, laughing and you slap his shoulder lightly.

"Who?!" You holler, eyebrows pulled together in confusion. He's not sweet on anyone that you can think of, but you can't really think right now. Arthur's hand gently squeezes your leg before he backs away, downing the last of his beer.

"You're funny, y'know. Askin all kinds of questions, but I can't even think right now." Arthur's lips form a little confused pout, "least I don't think I can…"

"Yeah, you're right that's a lot of thinkin'." You say, nodding your head. Arthur comes back forward, placing his hands on the table on either side of your legs.

"It's easy thinkin' bout you though. That's somethin' that don't make my head hurt." Arthur whispers, fuzzy eyes transfixed on the pout of your lips before they trail up to your sparkling eyes. A blush creeps over your cheeks, and you slide down from the table, sneaking under his arm towards the bar.

"Buy me another drink Mr. Morgan!"

— LNENY?—

You cackle, leaning over the bar sometime later. The sun has long since set, but you have no idea what time it is. Arthur's on one side of you, and you look over to where Lenny-

You look over to where Lenny used to be.

"Wait, where'd Lenny go?!" You slur your words as the room spins, flashing all sorts of different colors.

"DAMMIT LENNY WHERE YOU AT BOYYY-" Arthur yells, slamming his drink down on the counter.

"We gotta find him, he's probably lost." You conclude, looking around the room.

"Yeah or maybe he's stuck someplace."

You wander around, losing Arthur as you yell for Lenny at the top of your lungs. You can hear Arthur yelling too, and you giggle. Lennt must have vanished, like those magic shows in the city.

"Leave the kid alone, you goddamn animals." Arthur growls, and you turn to see him walking down the stairs. Lenny is standing up on the bar, yelling at a group of men in front of the bar. The man in front of the bar, who Arthur was yelling at, turns towards Arthur.

"And who might you be?" The man hisses, growing irritated with you all. Arthur looks mighty confused for a moment, and you stumble towards the scene playing out.

"They call me Arthur, n' people who don't call me Arthur? Well I guess they do not know my name." Arthur whispers, chuckling.

"What-?" The other man asks, and you stride right up to him, punching him straight in the nose.

—SUME TYME LTAER—

You line kick, arms intertwined with Arthur's and Lenny's, hoisting your legs up in the air with a bunch of other people, you laugh carelessly, dancing away.

Then you're not dancing- you're laying on the staircase next to Lenny and Arthur, drinks in hand.

"I gotta piss." Arthur says, tapping your knee before standing up.

"You should probably do that. You can't drink more if you ain't peed." You explain, and Arthur frowns, thinking.

"Really?" He asks, and you nod.

"It's true Arthur! I read that once. I- I think I did anyhow." Lenny chimes in, and Arthur runs outside.

You sit with lenny for a while, feeling light as ever, drinking your fill and then some.

— ??? —

"I got a quesstionn…" You say, pressed up against the wall by Arthur's hands.

"Hmm?" Arthur asks, eyes heavy as he tries not to fall over, arms bracing themselves on either side of your head against the saloon wall. You're outside, and the walls buzz from music and banter.

"I probably don't know an answer but… but I'll try." Arthur says.

"Back in Colter, in Horseshoe durin' that storm, up in the hills in your tent… why’d you do all that?" You ask, a sense of clarity overcoming you even though you're drunk beyond help. Arthurs' trying to think back, but his head hurts.

"Huh?"

"You- you laid with me, held my hand till I fell asleep. Why'd you do that?" You ask as Arthur's hands slide away from the wall, down to his belt. It hits Arthur then, all the things he'd done, things he knows he shouldn't have done, but couldn't stop himself from doing.

"I- I don't know. Guess… you was sad. I wanted to make you feel better." Arthur mumbles, eyes downcast. You smile, buzzing.

"Did it work? Do I make you feel better?" Arthur whispers. His voice is low and deep, that familiar, gravelly tone. You smile up at him as one of his hands comes back up to the wall beside your head, trapping you in.

"You make me feel great, Arthur. Real great." You breathe out, veins pumping with adrenaline as Arthur leans closer in towards your face. His eyes are dark, pupils blown and you can smell the whiskey on his breath with the proximity.

"I bet I could make you feel even better, Star. I could make you feel lots a' things." He growls, eyes trailing from each of your eyes to your lips. You laugh, pushing him away from you lightly.

"Well maybe! But you can’t beat me at poker for shit!" You laugh, pushing the saloon doors open and walking back inside. Arthur follows behind you, laughing all the same.

"You seen Lenny?" He asks, looking around.

"Dammit!" You curse, pushing through the patrons of the saloon towards the steps. You grab onto Arthur's hand, dragging him along with you.

You see a few doors there, and thinking Lenny might be hiding in a room, you push one open. You gasp, laughing loudly as you open the door on a man and a woman having intimate relations. You laugh, apologizing as you swing the door shut, but Arthur screams.

You turn to him, chuckling and confused.

"You n-never saw a naked woman before, Arthur?" You ask. He looks like he's just seen something traumatic as he points a finger towards the door, rubbing his eyes with his other hand.

"That weren't a woman." Arthur bites, the image of Lenny riding Lenny burned into his mind forever. But you're clueless as to what he's just seen.

— …..?—

You laugh uncontrollably as Arthur pushes that man from earlier into the pig's water trough. He dunks the man's head under one more time before tossing him to the ground. You leave the pig pen, oinking and wheezing with laughter.

"I'm a- a police!" Arthur laughs, slipping in the mud as he jogs after you, down the main street.

"I'm gonnaa get'cha!" He yells as you run down the road, sliding and laughing.

"YOU CAN'T! You can't get me, HA-" You scream, running towards the stables, jumping over a fence, tripping and falling into the mud.

"Fuck!" You yell, unusually colorful language for you as the sheriff and a deputy approach you from the road.

"Hey! You two, come here!" Sheriff Malloy hollers, jogging after you. Arthur picks you up from the mud and slings you over his shoulder.

"Arthur! They're- they're gonna get us, we gotta run!" You yell from his shoulder as he bolts, slipping and sliding.

"WE'RE AMERICANS! YOU'LL NEVER CATCH US ALIVE!" Arthur screams into the night, approaching a mighty high fence.

"Yeah, we got RIGHTS!" You yell.

Arthur tries to jump the fence, but he's so drunk, and with you on his shoulder he doesn't even come close to clearing it. The fence breaks as Arthur lands down on it awkwardly, and you both land in the mud.

— — — —

The light hurts your eyes as they flutter open, and you squint, head throbbing. Everything hurts, your head feels like it's been filled with lead and if you move too quickly you know you'll throw up. You finally come to, and realize you're laying on a wooden bench. Arthur is laying on the floor next to the bench, awake but not moving. Then you realize where you are.

You spot the unmistakable metal bars, and you groan.

"Arthur, what did we do?" You ask, not remembering an ounce of the previous night. From outside of your shared cell, Sheriff Malloy stands up, grabbing a cup of coffee from a percolator.

"Well the typical stuff for folks such as yourselves: harassin people, causin trouble, bein loud and breaking shit. But you also waterboarded a fella within an inch of his life, and stole a pig, this man here carried it around half the town oinkin and causing a ruckus. Although it sure was something to see, I don't appreciate being pulled outta bed with the wife at five in the damn morning." He says, taking a sip from his coffee before sitting down in his seat, propping his feet up on his desk. You look around, wincing from the movement.

"Well where's Lenny?" You ask as Arthur groans loudly, holding his stomach as he sits up on the bench beside you.

"Only brought in the pair of ya." The sheriff shakes his head.

“However you two managed to drink that much without passin’ out or dyin’ is beyond me.” Sheriff Malloy whistles, shaking his head.

Arthur stands up, slowly walking over towards the front of the cell. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a bill fold before handing it through the bars.

“Should be enough to cover our bounties, and some extra for your troubles.”

Sheriff Malloy takes the cash and stuffs it into his pocket, silently grabbing the keys off of his desk.

“Go on. Get. And how about layin’ off the hooch for a while?” The sheriff asks, and you nod. He doesn’t need to tell you twice. You and Arthur walk out of the jail scot free. As soon as you’re out of the building, you lean against the wooden support beam, heaving.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” Arthur winces, pulling your now very messy braid behind your shoulder as you throw up. You cough, wishing you were dead as the sunlight burns your eyes, killing your already throbbing head.

“Here.” Arthur hands a rag from his satchel down to you, leaning on your knees as you clean yourself up.

“Just one or two, huh? Jesus-” You take slow, deep breaths, trying not to puke again.

“You even remember what the hell we did last night?” He asks, and you shake your head.

“Nothin. I remember nothin.” You admit, standing up from the beam. Arthur hums, he remembers it all.

“Come on, let's get you home, you need a lie down.” Arthur groans, feeling like shit as he whistles. Luckily somehow, the horses stuck around and they trot up the main street.

The ride back to camp is very quiet, and very slow. Neither of you push your horses past a walk, not wanting to sicken yourselves even more. The silence is comfortable, a mutual understanding that opening your mouth to speak right now would be too much, and you just need to lie down and feel sorry for yourselves. Upon arriving at camp, you find Lenny is there, passed out in the grass next to his bedroll. You dismount Athena, groaning as your feet touch the ground.

“Here, take this. It’ll make you feel better. I’ll go make sure Grimshaw doesn’t give you any trouble.” Arthur mumbles, handing you a glass bottle of tonic.

You take it, quietly thanking him before dragging your heels to your tent. You’ve never been this hungover in your life, you’ve never had reason to drink so much. After closing the tent flap to prevent any extra light from coming in, you drink the whole tonic and flop down in your bed, groaning.

— — — —

You wake up, about twelve hours later, to the sounds of maniacal laughing and screaming. You groan, sighing and covering your ear with your pillow to drown out the noise. It proves futile as the screaming and crying continue, and you figure you should probably go check it out. You get up from bed, mood sour as ever, but you’re feeling a little better. Pushing the flaps open to your tent, you’re met with the pros and cons of living with twenty people.

“Mornin” Arthur chuckles, eyebrows raised at the state of your hair. Your braid is half fallen out, and the few flowers that have managed to stay in your hair are wilted. You groan, rolling your eyes before pulling the band out from the bottom of your braid and finger brushing the flowers out.

“What's got you so sour?” Arthur asks, looking fresh and cleaned up. He's washed up, taken a bath and trimmed his beard. He looks good, and you look like you just barely escaped a natural disaster.

"How the hell are you even awake right now, let alone bathed and cleaned up? I'm pretty sure I still got puke on my shirt." You sigh, re-braiding your hair neatly, but loosely. Arthur takes a sip of his coffee.

"I can actually handle my whiskey." Arthur jokes, "Go back to Valentine, buy a bath."

"Firstly, I don't think you can, considerin' what happened last night. And on account of the bath, I can't. I don't have enough cash." You sigh.

"A bath is only a dollar, thought you had some cash on you?" Arthur raises an eyebrow as you roll back on your heels.

"I did. I spent it."

"On what?" Arthur asks, sure that he'd paid for the drinks last night, except for the ones you stole.

"Just a little present, it ain't much." You smile, sighing and gripping his hand to pull him into your tent. You lead him through the tent flap, pulling him along by his hand.

"What're you doin, woman?" Arthur chuckles as you pluck his hat from his head.

"Don't make fun of me. I saw this yesterday, n' it reminded me of you." You whisper, pulling out the hat ornament and attaching it to the rope band on his hat, on the left side.

Arthur watches on fondly as you attach the little accessory. A warm feeling spreads through his chest, knowing that you'd thought of him. After you've finished, you hold his hat back out to him. He takes the hat back with a shocked expression on his face, and you're worried he doesn't like it, so you rush to reassure him.

"If you don't like it, or think it's dumb- maybe this was stupid I just, it reminded me of you, and-" You ramble, stopping to prevent further embarrassing yourself.

"It's perfect." Arthur smiles, looking down to the agate, feathered ornament, dappled with little stars that remind him of you. He means it. The little decoration is perfect. The teal agate matches his eyes, the imprinted metal ensures that you're with him all the time, as if you don't already linger in his mind 24/7. He couldn't have picked out something more perfect if he tried. The accessory is fashionable, a fancy and intricate piece to add to his hat, and he's excited to wear it.

You blush, smiling happily as Arthur fondly runs his finger over the accessory before placing his hat back on his head. You lean up, adjusting it correctly while on your tiptoes.

"You carry a lot of bad memories with this hat," You whisper, thinking of Arthur's father, "Figure it's about time you make it yours, start makin' some good memories with it." You explain.

"It's perfect, Star." Arthur all but whispers, and you sheepishly nod, blushing. You’re proud of the little gift, and Arthur is shocked by the thought you’d put into it.

“Looks real nice. You needed somethin’ to match those eyes.” You nod up to his hat as he leads you out of your tent. He opens his mouth to speak, but much to your growing annoyance, he is cut off by another yelp from across camp.

“Goddamnit, what is happening?” You groan, nodding for Arthur to follow you to the source. You’re ready to beat the hell out of someone, irritated and hungover. You stomp towards the scout fire where the screaming and yelping comes from, with Arthur following behind you.

The scene in front of you is nothing short of insane. That O’Driscoll from Colter is tied up to a tree. His pants have been pulled down to his knees and you make a point to avert your eyes from his… nether region. His bare quads scrape painfully across the treebark as he fights to get away from Dutch. Your eyes boggle when you see Bill come around the corner of Dutch’s tent with a steaming red pair of gelding tongs.

“What are you idiots doin’ to this poor feller?” You gesture to the O’Driscoll, wincing at the way he shoves himself further into the tree to avoid Bill’s eager tongs.

“We’re takin’ his balls!” Bill laughs maniacally, looking all too pleased at the idea. He snaps the tongs a few times for good measure. Your jaw drops a little, and your eyebrows draw together in a mixture of shock and confusion.

“They’re only balls, boy! You probably weren't using them anyway!” Dutch chuckles, slapping Bill on the back.

“You’re- You’re ‘taking his balls’? Really, Bill? What the hell is this, a farm? Get out of my way. Someone please pull his goddamn pants up.” You sigh, ordering the men around. Bill just looks at you for a moment, but you glare at him, and remembering how hard you can hit, he obliges. You sigh, bracing your hand against your nose as Bill drops the tongs and fixes Kieran’s jeans. Then you push past Bill, shoving him out of the way to take his spot in front of Kieran. The O’driscoll is terrified, shaking like a leaf on the tree as if you’re about to torture him. You eye him over curiously before turning on your heels and looking at the men before you.

“What exactly do y'all want outta this feller?” You question, making a plan to get some answers that doesn’t involve castration. Your hands rest on your gun belt, tapping the grip of your revolver in thought. Dutch’s eyes grow dark as he spits something onto the grass.

“We want Colm.”

Turning back to Kieran, you eye the boy up and down.. He’s a weaker looking fella, the kind you would have stolen off of back in Tumbleweed. He’s terrified, and you know he’ll do anything to avoid a beating, including giving up his old pal, Colm. He’s surely hungry and thirsty. They’ve only been giving him enough water to stay alive, and you don’t know if he’s eaten.

“You hungry mister? Thirsty?” You ask, watching as tears fall down the O’driscolls mud-caked face. He frantically nods his head up and down.

“Oh yes! Yes please, please. I'm so hungry, I- I’m so thirsty, miss.” Kieran whimpers, and you nod. Without another word you push past Arthur, Dutch and Bill, straight to Pearson’s wagon. Arthur looks at Dutch, tossing his hands up lightly before following you. He comes up to your side, watching as you dip a metal cup into the barrel of water. Arthur lightly grabs your elbow to get your attention.

“You sure about this? He could be playin’ you.” Arthur warns.

“Yes, I'm sure. You wanna help? Get me your map.” You say, leaning over the table to grab a piece of salted venison from the table. Arthur isn’t sure about this plan, but he trusts you. He nods, taking his map out of his satchel before following you back to the tree.

“You.” You nod to the O’Driscoll, and he nods frantically, terrified of you, but glad that you’re not approaching him with some torture device.

“Y-yes ma'am?” Kieran whimpers, and you hold the deer and water up.

“You want this?”

Kieran nods, and you raise an eyebrow.

“Good. Point me to Colm n’ you can have it.” You give him an ultimatum, knowing that he would rather deal with you than the boys any day. Kieran nods, flinching as you pull your knife from its sheath. You hold it up in front of him for him to see.

“Try anything, and this’ll be lodged in you, okay?” You warn, moving behind him before cutting him free from the tree. Kieran winces, rubbing at his wrists once he’s free. Dutch and Bill look irritated with you, but you pay them no mind as they file away. Arthur has laid his map out on Pearson’s table, just as you’d asked him to, and Kieran rushes towards it. The O’Driscoll eagerly leans over the map, following the roads with the tip of Arthur’s pencil before stopping and circling a small area north of Valentine.

“They’re holed up here. It- It's called Six Point Cabin, and Colm will be there. It should be easy, they’ll all be drunk and asleep if you go now.” Kieran offers, looking past the horizon where the sun is starting to set. You look at the circle on the map, then up to Kieran. He has many reasons to lie, but you dont think he's loyal to Colm. You don’t think he’s dumb enough to lie to you either. But… just for good measure, you grip onto the collar of his shirt, threateningly.

“If this is a lie, or you’re leading me into a trap, I will let this sick bastard take your manhood. You hear me? All. of. It.” You threaten, pointing to Bill behind you. The O’Driscoll frantically nods his head, audibly gulping at your promise. Quickly, you release him from your grip, dusting his shirt off a little from where your iron grip has left wrinkles.Once he’s been thoroughly threatened, you turn to Arthur, trying to ignore the sickness in your stomach as you hear the starved man gulp down all of the water, and tear into the venison..

“Good! Now that that's settled, John, Arthur, you’re with me. The three of us should be able to get this done quickly.” You tell the men, who are standing in a crowd behind you. John is wide eyed, shocked, but of course, Arthur isn’t. With a smirk, you pace through the wet grass towards Athena. Everyone mounts up and rides out pretty quickly, not wanting to waste another ounce of the limited daylight.

“When we get here, we should do it quietly. Arrows, knives. There’s no reason to start shooting if we can take them out quietly, one at a time.” Arthur yells over the pounding of Balius’ hooves. He’s right, doing this quietly will give you the best chance of getting to Colm before he can run.

“I agree. John, you know how to use a bow?” You ask.

“Ha! Little Johnny Marston over here can’t shoot a bow. Not that I should be surprised, he can’t do much of anything. Can’t even swim.” Arthur pokes, chuckling in his saddle at his own stab.

“Oh shut the hell up you big bastard.” John counters, irritated as usual. It's quiet for a bit as the three of you enter Cumberland Forest, moving into a single file line to fit on the narrow trails.

“How’s your leg holdin’ up?” John yells up to you. Instinctually you trace the scar that's hidden under your jeans.

“It’s fine now, healed up nice for the most part.” You chuckle, hollering back, “How’s your face?”

“Ugly as always.” John chuckles.

“Hey, quiet, I think we’re close.” Arthur says back to you both, slowing Balius down to a trot. You all grow quiet, trotting the horses into the woods and hitching them off of the trail a ways. After dismounting, you offer Athena an oatcake for her work. The boys wait as she finishes it, and then you grab your bow from her saddle. Arthur and John crouch behind a fallen log, and you get down, coming between them.

“That bastard weren’t lyin’.” Arthur whispers to himself, shocked.

The camp has one large cabin surrounded by various tents and wagons. Campfires scatter the place alongside a decent number of drunken idiots. Most of the O’Driscolls have retired for the night, snuffed out their lanterns and hit the hay. Some of them voluntarily went to bed, others passed out, completely wasted. A few O’driscolls with greasy hair and green bandanas sit around a campfire, not far from where you’re all perched.

“Arthur?” You ask, waiting for some instruction. You and John both look to him as he formulates a plan, getting a headcount of the O’Driscolls and peeking around for other vantage points.

“Okay we take out the ones at the fire from here. I count four. I'm good with knives, so I'll take two and you each take one.” Arthur grumbles, pulling out two throwing knives from his satchel. You’re curious if he has the skill to take down two so in such quick succession. If he’s just a split second late, the O’Driscoll will alert others. Glad that your job is easy, you grab your bow from your shoulder, steadying it in your hand as you squint to aim for one of the awake O’Driscolls. You exhale, releasing your hand just before the arrow lodges into the man’s chest. Within two seconds the other three men fall, thanks to John and Arthur.

“Good job with the bow.” Arthur whispers, and your breath hitches in your throat when his hand squeezes your elbow with a small, proud smile. He doesn’t miss the hitch of your breath, and unbeknownst to you, he blushes, removing his hand from you and shaking his head. John looks over to Arthur with a raised eyebrow and a chuckle. Oh, he's gonna chastise Arthur for that later. Rolling your eyes, you glare back at the boys.

“Stop foolin’ around,” You hiss, “We sneak in and look for Colm. I'll take the cabin. John, go see what's worth stealin’ from their tents, but don’t wake anyone up. Arthur, cover me if I need it, please.”

With that you stay crouched, jogging off in the direction of the cabin. You have to step over the sleeping men, and be extra careful not to wake them as you go. Colm better be here. If he’s not, you'll hand that O’Driscoll straight over to Bill tied with a ribbon. You gave him a second chance, and by god, he’d be a fool not to take it.

Approaching the cabin, you take a quick glance through the windows. The glass is very dirty, and even squinting through the dirty glass, you can't see much. There's no light emitting from the cabin, so you assume its empty or everyone is asleep.

You quietly step around to the front porch, hoping that this isn’t one big waste of time. Your spurs click ever so quietly with every step as you approach the front door. You lean down a little, readying your bow in case someone jumps out. Just as you reach out for the door handle, you hear a sharp, quiet whistle, one that you’d recognize anywhere. Your head snaps around and you spot Arthur down a ways in the middle of the camp. He leans his head down a little, warning you to be safe before he gestures to your bow and then to his knife. Despite the fact that hes signaling you without speaking, you know exactly what he’s saying.

He's telling you to put your bow away and pull out your knife instead, you curse yourself, realizing that you’d neglected to use your head. You need two hands to pull the bow, and opening the door leaves you vulnerable. The knife is a better option. You nod to Arthur in thanks, and swing your bow back over your shoulder before grabbing your hunting knife. You pull it out of its sheath, readying it as you grip the door handle. You hear a loud grunt from the camp, and as you snap your head over you see that one of the O’Driscolls had woken up, and Arthur knocked him out. You need to hurry.

With one hand gripping your blade, the other turns the door knob. You push it open quickly, holding up your knife in defense. It's pitch dark inside the cabin, and it takes a few moments for your eyes to adjust as you step inside. The cabin is pretty standard, across from you is a fireplace, a large table and some bedrolls laid out. You step further into the cabin and find two half-empty bowls on the table. They’re filled with some sort of mushy, brown looking stew, and they’re still steaming…

You connect the dots too late. By the time you whip around, the men who were hiding in the shadows of the cabin slam the door shut so you can’t escape. Your eyes grow dark, and you back up as they step towards you until your back hits the far wooden wall. The two O’Driscolls are tall. They could be twins, black hair hidden away by bowler’s hats, green scarves around their thick necks. They repulse you.

“Get back you bastards, ‘less you wanna end up like your sorry friends.” You threaten, holding your knife up in warning. The bigger one chuckles while the smaller one slides a chair under the handle of the door.

“Oh, Gabe, she’s a fiery little thing.” He says with a sickening, greedy grin on his lips. You hear Arthur try the door knob, cursing that it’s locked.

“Anyone touches a hair on her goddamn head I’ll kill the whole lot of ya!” Arthur yells from behind the door. You can hear him dropping his weapons, and you know he’s going to try to kick the door down, but he won't be able to with the chair. You’re on your own.

“She’s a little one. She’ll be easy to handle,” The other man says before directing his attention to you, bringing up his knife and running it along the jut of your cheekbone. Your knife is in your hand, hidden behind your back as you come up with a plan to take them both down. You know his threat isn’t empty. You know what the O’driscolls have done to women, proudly, with no shame. You’ll be damned if you go down without a fight.

“Hey, sweet thing, is that your man out there? Cause I want him to hear what we're gonna do to y-” You take a deep breath before plunging your knife into the man’s throat with a roar. Blood shoots out from his jugular, spraying all over you. Just as quickly as you had inserted it, you tear it out, and he falls to the floor, clinging to his neck. The sound of flesh tearing sounds through the room as you aim for the second man. Just as you bring the knife down towards his chest he catches your hands. You can hear the loud, angry thumps and screams of Arthur trying to beat the door down, along with his string of threats and curses towards the O’Driscolls. Shots ring out from around you, presumably you’ve woken up the entire O’Driscoll camp and now John is dealing with them. You struggle against the man for a while, as you try to push the knife down into him, and he tries to turn it around. Arthur gives up on the door, instead running around the side of the building to smash in one of the windows. He doesn’t know what's happening, he can't see who’s winning this fight, or what's happening to you, all he knows is that you’re struggling and yelling. As the glass shatters, you hesitate, letting your guard down. A painful sting slices along your abdomen, and you glance down to see that the man has cut your stomach through your shirt. It’s not very deep, but it could have been.

“You goddamn bastard!” You hiss as the O’Driscoll backs away. He smirks, watching you struggle. Arthur wastes no time jumping through the shattered window before running and tackling the O’Driscoll to the ground. Arthur starts beating the O’Driscoll, knocking chairs and items down, and after he gets a few punches in, Arthur smashes the mans head against the wall, killing or knocking him out.

“Colm aint even here!” You seethe, holding a hand against your stomach to ease the sting. Arthur looks up, seeing you covered in a spatter of blood. Immediately, he rushes over to you.

“How much of this blood is yours?” He asks, running his eyes down your shirt until he sees the tear in it.

“Not much of it, I’m fine Arthur, just a scratch.” You sigh, looking down at your destroyed shirt, “Shit.”

It was a good shirt, and now it’ll be joining the burn pile when you get back to camp. You groan, realizing you’ll have to ride back to camp like this.

“Is John okay? And where the hell is Colm?” You ask, pulling up your shirt a bit to look over the cut. It’s just over the lip of your jeans, not deep, but a few inches wide. You won’t need stitches, thankfully.

“Johns fine, lootin the camp now, and who knows where the hell Colm is.” Arthur says, eyes fixated on the bleeding patch of skin in between your jeans and shirt.

“You think that boy Kieran set us up?” Arthur asks, making a mental note to buy you some poultice, considering how much you use it.

“No. He’s not that stupid, or that brave. Don’t think he wants to lose his balls just yet.” Arthur chuckles. He motions for you to follow him out, but you raise your finger up signaling him to wait.

“All this, and we ain’t gonna rob the place?” You ask, and Arthur watches as you climb over the scattered items and corpses. As if you knew exactly where it was going to be, you walk up to the chimney, reach into it and pull out a wad of cash. Quickly, you run your fingers through the folds, counting six hundred dollars. Arthur huffs, forever amused by you, especially as you walk towards him and then stop. You turn on your heels, looking up to the double barrelled shotgun resting on the mantle, and with a satisfied hum, you strut right over and pluck it from the wall.

“Okay now we can go.” You say, walking past Arthur with a smile, soaked in blood.

“Whatever you say, boss.” Arthur mumbles, whispering the last part before you glare at him .

— — — —

You’d stopped in Valentine on the way back, breaking off from Arthur and John to take a bath at the hotel. You’d taken your time, using almost every bath soap and oil just to try them out. Each one smelled so good, it was well into the night before you’d finished. It was a refresher that you needed, and deserved. With a new hundred dollar bill in your pocket from the job, you’d rented a room for the rest of the night, and then bought yourself some new clothes in the morning. You picked out a nicer outfit than usual, a dark burgundy shirt, over the shoulder styled with ruffles on your arms. It’s beautiful, and fancy, something you’re not used to. You tucked the shirt into a new pair of black jeans, and smiled contentedly in the mirror before braiding your hair down your back and heading back to camp.

Much to your surprise, Arthur convinced the boys to let Kieran live, and to keep his manhood. Now as you peel potatoes next to Sadie at Pearson’s table, you watch him talk to and pet Athena with a small smile. Sadie follows your gaze, scoffing.

“You should have just killed him. Can’t trust any of those damn O’Driscolls.” She hisses, garing daggers at the man, causing him to tremble lightly as he feeds Athena a mint.

“He ain’t hurtin’ nothing. Sides, same thing could be said about us.” You point out, and Sadie doesn’t argue back, but she shakes her head in disapproval. You haven’t seen much of her since meeting in Colter. She’s kept to herself, hid amongst the shadows and cried herself to sleep most nights. You can see her bottling up, hardening. She’s turning into you

“Star?”

You look up, drawn out of your thoughts to see Abigail smiling down at you. There is a subtle redness to her eyes that indicates she’s been crying, and your eyebrows draw together in worry.

“Everything okay?” You ask, standing from your seat and dropping your knife to the table.

“Could we talk for a minute?” She asks, a hand sheepishly toying with a piece of her hair.

“Course… What’s goin’ on?” You ask, smiling back to Sadie in an apology before following Abigail towards her tent.

“Well, it's the boy.” Abigail says, biting on her nails as she leads you into her A-frame. Before the flap falls closed, you glance out of the tent to see Jack playing with a toy horse. He seems fine, just playing as children his age do. You look at her, confused, as she sits down on the corner of his tent.

“He’s real sad, Star.” Abigail exhales, tears forming in her eyes that she pushes back, “John don’t- John don’t really care about him like a father should.” Abigail sighs, and you move to sit on the open space beside her.

“Arthur’s always been there for Jack, even when John left…” Abigail says, and you make a note to ask Arthur about it, you don’t recall hearing of John leaving.

“I'm sorry to ask, and I know it’s unfair to, but could you or Arthur take him somewhere, or do somethin’ with him? He looks up to you both so much.” Abigail explains, and you place your hand over hers, nodding. You can’t imagine how she does it all. This life is an unkind one, and raising a child amidst it? You’re sure it's tough. Your heart aches for Jack, and you understand the pain of wanting to be loved by a father that chooses his life over his kids.

“Of course, Abigail, I’d be happy to. I miss Jack, haven’t gotten to chat with him in a while.” You explain, and Abigail smiles bittersweet.

“Thank you so much, I’ll owe you.”

“Nonsense, you don't owe me nothin, this’ll be fun. Let me find Arthur, we still have some time before dark.” You respond, pushing the tent flaps open before walking out. The sun is just beginning to set over the mountains, and you reckon that you have a few hours yet. You manage to find Arthur carrying a bale of hay across the camp, and he drops it to the ground in front of the horses.

“Ride with me?” You call to him, and he looks over at you, pausing for a moment to take in your new shirt, and the neat braid running down your back.

“Course, always.”Arthur says, entranced by the way you look in the dark red blouse. He debates telling you that you look beautiful, but decides that it would sound odd, so he coughs awkwardly and follows you.

“Where we goin’?” He asks, dusting some hay splinters off of his hands.

“That's up to you, mister. We’re takin’ Jack out.” You say excitedly, leading him towards the boulder where the boy sits. Arthur watches as you sort of skip along, smiling to himself.

“How about fishin’?” Arthur asks, and you stop dead in your tracks, turning around to squint at him.

“You gotta take a lady and a child out for fun and you wanna fish?” You ask, lost on his decision. But Arthur looks pretty excited, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Well sure, fishin’ is fun.” Arthur defends, covering his heart in mock pain.

“Yeah and so is dysentery, are you serious?” You huff, chuckling with a shocked expression. Arthur looks at you like he can’t fathom why anybody would think fishing to be boring.

“Fine, we’ll go fishing, but you gotta do something that's actually fun with me later.” You chuckle, approaching Jack. He’s playing with a wooden horse, a sad little frown on his face.

“Hey buddy, do you like fishin’?” You ask him immediately, kneeling down to his level. He looks up to you almost offended.

“Aunt Star, fish are smelly! I hate fishing!” He says, looking up to you with drawn together eyebrows.

“Well we’re goin’ fishin, so go get your pole off of Uncle Hosea.” Arthur says, and Jack sighs, stomping off towards Hosea’s tent.

“Arthur Morgan.” You chastise, looking at him with an open jaw.

“What? It’ll be good for him, he’s practically the man of the house now, considerin’ John’s contributions-” Arthur starts, sarcastically and you swat his chest to shut him up.

“Go get on your horse with your damn pole, I’ll meet you over there.” You sigh, waiting for Jack to come back with his little pole. You smile sweetly at him as he jogs back towards you, a grumpy little frown on his face.

“I don’t even know how to fish that good, but at least I get to stay up past my bedtime!” Jack says, handing his pole out to you, “Can I ride with you? Uncle Arthur’s horse looks scary…” Jack mumbles, looking at the huge black stallion with trepidation. You chuckle, thinking that Athena is definitely more of a force to be reckoned with, but you trust her.

“Sure buddy, c’mon.” You nudge him towards the horses with your hand. Arthur has the horses all tacked up, and is tightening the last cinch on Athena’s saddle when you approach him. You climb up into the saddle first, sliding back as far as you can against the seat, and then Arthur lifts Jack up with a groan, placing him down right in front of you.

“You got a spot picked out?” You ask, turning Athena towards the trail out of camp while Arthur mounts up.

“Yeah, head down to the Dakota, there's a nice spot down by the bank.”

Per Jack’s request, you lope down the slope towards the river. You make sure to keep Athena at a very slow, steady pace so that Jack doesn’t lose his balance. Athena seems to be aware of the fragile life on her back, and takes extra soft steps. Jack giggles the whole time, a belly aching laughter as he hangs on to the horn in front of you for dear life. He’s upset when you have to slow down, but grateful for the fun that it was.

“Here should do.” Arthur says, pulling Balius off the road. He’s chosen a spot in the river with a deep pool off the bank, a nice spot. The grass comes down almost to the water, and wildflowers and big rocks scatter around the area, creating a perfectly peaceful resting spot. It’s a perfect place to read or chat, but of course you’re here to catch fish. Arthur dismounts, coming over and lifting Jack down from the saddle onto the grass. You follow, and both of the horses step aside to munch on the sweet grass.

“Either of you know how to fish?” Arthur asks, hands resting on his gun belt. You and Jack both shake your heads and Arthur nods, moving firstly to Jack. You stay quiet, watching on as Arthur adds a worm to Jack’s hook. He shows Jack how to do it, and then gets him cast out into the water. Despite his predisposition to fishing, Jack seems rather proud of himself

“Real good, Jack!” Arthur smiles, patting Jack on the shoulder. You conclude that he must have been an incredible father, it all comes so naturally to him. Jack looks up to Arthur, so proud of himself, and your heart aches for the whole situation.

“Now, when you got a bite, let me know. We can reel it in together.” Arthur says, nodding to Jack before coming towards you.

“I think I’m gonna sit this one out, Arthur” You chuckle, and Arthur nods.

“Fair enough.”

Jack waits for a long while next to Arthur, and both have their backs faced to you as you sit in the grass behind them. You pluck some pieces of grass from the dirt, and then bored, you grab your little journal. Arthur and Jack talk about nothing and everything at the same time, waiting for something to bite. Eventually, Arthur gets a catch, and he shows Jack how to gut and store it, and then they’re back to waiting. The whole process is a bit mind numbing for you, and your attention is focused solely on the pages of your journal as you update it.

New horses, new blacksmith, and a newfound sobriety after the other night. Lots of things are changing, and yet lots remain the same. It's a confusing thing, and I find myself so caught up in between what I should do and what I want that I fear it’s breaking me in two. Honestly, its getting harder to tell the two apart any-

Your pen stills, as you look up to where Arthur and Jack stand. You’re sure you heard what he’s just said, but still you find yourself analyszing it.

“Y’know I taught another boy to fish once.” Arthur says quietly, head turning towards Jack. Jack looks up at Arthur with his eyebrows drawn together, mirroring exactly your expression.

“Lenny?” The boy asks, and Arthur chuckles, recasting his line.

“No, not Lenny. This was long before I even met Lenny. Hell, before you was born too.” Arthur sighs, recounting just how many years it's been. Sometimes he’s grateful that his life doesn’t require the modern calendar. The passing of time would be far too painful if he was more aware of it. Jack’s confusion turns to excitement, as he once again misinterprets Arthur’s words.

“Oh! What is his name? Could I meet him? I’d like to have a friend…” Jack says, not quite old enough to understand the passing of time, and the growth of children to adults. He’s never been around other children before, and you can’t blame him for his naivete. Arthur’s head dips down, and a bittersweet smile tugs at his lips. You watch on, connecting the dots with an ache in your heart.

“Nah, don’t think you’ll be able to meet him, buddy. He woulda liked you though, was only a few years older than you.” Arthur whispers, swallowing thickly as a fish tugs on his line. He doesn’t even bother to reel it, staring blankly across the river, lost in thought.

“Oh. What happened to him, Uncle Arthur?” Jack asks innocently, pulling on his rod too quickly while trying to attract a fish.

“He passed away.” Arthur mumbles, and the night grows silent save for the buzzing of frogs and the quiet splashes of water. Arthur gives Jack a few more pointers, but after a bit, Jack is tired of fishing, and he sets his pole down, yawning as he walks over towards you.

“I’m bored now.” Jack states, sitting beside you while plucking a few wildflowers from the grass, “Maybe I’ll make a flower necklace for momma.”

Smiling at the kid, soothed by the sounds of Arthur’s pole splashing in the river, you lean back against a boulder, looking up at the night sky. It’s still early, and streaks of orange and red paint the sky alongside dark blue. It’s a beautiful night, and even though its early, you can still point out a few weak constellations.

“What are you looking at, Aunt Star?” Jack asks, curiously tiptoeing towards you with a bundle of flowers in his hand. He plops down right beside you, sitting against your waist as he starts to weave the flower stems together. Now Arthur is the one eavesdropping, pole dipping into the water as he listens to you and Jack’s conversation.

“Oh, the stars, I guess.” You chuckle, thinking that you find yourself answering that question with the same answer frequently. But you just can’t help but eye them, they’re so beautiful, so free. Jack yawns, leaning his head against you as his fingers slow down on his little project.

“You like looking at stars, don't you?” Jack asks, eyes never leaving his flower necklace. Arthur chuckles, asking you the same question in his head. They seem to follow you like a trail, leaving star-shaped kisses on your heart.

“Yeah, I do. I think they’re fun to watch. Aren’t they just beautiful?” You ask, watching as the whole sky twinkles and flickers. Jack nods, yawning again.

“They sure are.”

You watch them for a while, occasionally glancing ahead to watch the slopes of Arthur’s back as he packs up his fishing pole, retiring for the night. After everything is all packed, he starts to make his way towards the two of you. Jack snores lightly against you, and surprised, you look down to find him asleep. Arthur smiles at this before sitting down against the rock at your side with a groan. He rests against your side opposite of Jack, and as he takes his hat off, dropping it to the ground, your hand reaches out to rest over his knee.

“Y’okay?” You ask, turning your head to gauge his eyes. Arthur’s eyebrows draw together, and he nods.

“Sure, why?”

“That must have been hard to talk about.” You nod towards the bank, recalling Arthur’s memory to the conversation about Isaac. Arthur sighs deeply, removing the weight of the world off his shoulders as his hand covers your own on his knee.

“It’s gettin’ easier.” He admits, but his eyes are far away, lost somewhere decades ago.

“Tell me about him.” You invite, leaving the decision up to him. You won’t be upset if he chooses not to talk about it, you understand isolation better than most. But if he chooses to open up, you’ll be there. A supporter, a friend, an ear, whatever he needs.

“There’s a lot to tell…” Arthur huffs, squeezing your hand lightly.

“We got time, if you’re comfortable.” You whisper, hand instinctively running up and down Jack’s sleeping back. Arthur nods, tongue darting out over his lips for a moment. He’s never told anyone the full story before, but as he looks into your warm, familiar eyes, he knows he can trust you.

“About fifteen years ago we was stayin’ in this town, we were there for a while,” Arthur toys with your hands, avoiding your eyes, “Got to know this waitress, god- she was just a kid, only eighteen at the time… Eliza was her name. We had- well it was nothin’ special, just someone to spend the night with. First time it happened we were both drunk, both hurtin’. Then everytime I was in town I’d stop by her place.” Arthur shakes his head, disappointed in his actions, “It was wrong, but we were young and stupid and lookin’ to feel somethin’ other than hurt I guess.” Arthur whispers, a crease in his forehead from the way his eyebrows are drawing together in pain. You squeeze his hand gently, letting him know you’re still present and listening before he continues.

“One day, after we’ve been doin’ this a while, I rode up and I just knew somethin’ was wrong… Said she was pregnant, said it was mine.” Arthur brings his knee up, resting his arm on it as he recalls memories that he has spent years shoving down, “I knew it was. I didn’t know what to do, I was so lost, Star. I knew I wanted to do right by her, so I made sure she had enough money so she wouldn’t have to work no more…”

You lean your head against Arthur’s shoulder as he runs his thumb over your knuckles. You’re terrified of the end of this story, and you wish there were something you could do to ease his pain.

“I wasn’t ready to be a dad- not in the least. I had no role model worth a damn, and I was so afraid of turnin’ into my daddy…” He whispers, and your eyes glance to his hat on the ground, and the new accessory adorning it.

“But then he was born.” Arthur chuckles, a little huff at some good memory in his head, “He looked just like me, and he was growin’ so fast.” Arthur has a joyful smile on his lips, but it dies out the longer he stays silent, thinking about the next chapter to Isaac’s life.

“I stopped by when I could, always brought him somethin’ from my travels… He’d get so excited when I rode up, Eliza was always hollerin’ after him for runnin’ out the house.” Arthur whispers, an ache in his red eyes.

“I taught him how to write, how to draw, even how to fish and ride. My lord, did that kid love horses.” Arthur huffs a chuckle, “Boadicea especially, she was just under saddle then, a handful of years… He named her- named her after a queen from one of the books I read him. He liked history too. He was such a good kid, Isaac. Smart like his momma and stubborn as all hell like his daddy.”

The smile from fond memories fade away, and are replaced by an old pain. One so deep that you know you could never attempt to reach the bottom. His hand shakes lightly, encased over your own, and he swallows thickly, looking down at his lap.

“One day I was goin’ back like always, but this time I had a real big surprise for him. Saved up for a long while n’ got him his first pony, a chestnut like Bo, his favorite… I rode up the trail, it had been about a month, soon as I got up the path I saw two crosses out front and I just knew.”

Tears trail down your cheeks, and you squeeze Arthur’s hand. It’s all you can do to let him know you're here, feeling this with him. He knows. You’re here, and that's more than enough. Jack is still blissfully asleep in your arms as Arthur finds the strength to continue, unshed tears in his eyes that he won’t allow to fall.

“Found her daddy, he said some gang had come through. Robbed n’ killed them for ten goddamn dollars,” Arthur inhales deeply, and that tear finally falls as he whispers, “And Star- his grave plot was so small. He was there and then he wasn’t, and poor Eliza. She deserved so much better than that, than what I provided, they both did…” Arthur regains his composure, hiding his face from you as he sniffs and wipes the tear away.

“I fell hard into the bottle after that, didn’t come back up for a long while.”

Arthur looks over at you then, and at the sleeping boy in the crook of your arm. You’re shocked, speechless, and hurting for a loss that you never had to grieve. The trauma that Arthur’s gone through, the loss, and he still gives so much, he has such a big heart and yours aches for his.

“Arthur I- I’m so sorry.” You breathe out, tear tracks running down your cheeks, “I’m so sorry you’ve had to carry that alone.”

Sitting in silence for a few moments, offering eachother little glances and touches of support, a question pops into your head.

“You a religious man, Arthur?” You ask, looking up to him from against his shoulder. His eyebrows pull together, not expecting this question as he shakes his head.

“I don’t know, not really.” He explains, having heard a lot about church and god, but never having actually listened, “Why, you believe in all that?” he asks.

“I believe that some way or another, we all get what we deserve in the end, whether that be redemption or mercy or suffering. And kids? They gotta be granted somethin’ good.” You mumble, thinking about it all. Arthur purses his lips, placing his hat back on his head as he looks down at you.

“N’ what about folks like us? What do we deserve?” Arthur asks, looking at your intertwined hands. You could have pulled away by now, but you haven’t. You sigh, contemplating his loaded question before coming up empty handed.

“I don’t know.”

Arthur nods, holding your hand up to exaggerate the fact that you’re holding his hand, pressed into his side.

“What are we doin’ here, Star?” Arthur finally asks, a question that has been on his lips for a while. You bite your lip nervously, looking at your intertwined hands before pulling yours back, and placing it over Jack’s sleeping form.

“It’s nothing, Arthur.” You say plainly, anxiety panging in your chest at his directness, and he sighs.

“Is it?”

“Arthur, stop.” You warn, wanting the conversation to be over. You don’t want to talk about this, not now, not here.

“Why do you keep closin’ up on me?” Arthur begs, having just poured his heart out to you, and you can’t manage to speak to him about anything. You don't speak, eyes purposely avoiding Arthur as your cheeks burn red. You want to cry, to scream, to tell him everything, but you can’t. You can’t because people you love get hurt, and people you love hurt you. Arthur sighs, watching as tears pool in your eyes. He’ll wait.

You’re about to wake up Jack, to take him back home. Just as you start to move, a pair of horses trots down the road, pulling off the bank where you sit. Arthur is up in a second, confronting the people riding up in the night. It happens so shockingly quickly that you don’t even have time to ask questions. Jack stirs awake, confused and sleepy as you shove him behind you.

“Good evening! I’m Agent Milton, this is Agent Ross.” A man calls out, climbing down from his branded chestnut morgan. His uniform is identical to his partner’s, stamped with a damning Pinkerton Detective Agency seal, and you gasp.

“Mr. Morgan, and you,” The bald man, Milton, looks to you then, scowling, “I hear they call you Star now, right? Though it’s not the name on the bounty poster, is it?” He chuckles, humorless. Then, he gestures to Jack hiding behind your legs.

“I’d ask if he’s the both of yours, but you ain’t been riding with these degenerates long enough.” The agent nods to you, as you fume.

“Tell me, Mr. Morgan. Did you coax this poor woman into joining you? Did you tell her all about your philosophy? Your code? Or was that all old Dutch?”

“What do you want?” You hiss, ready to kill these men. Your hand has flickered to your holster more than once, but you hesitate, not wanting Jack to see.

“We want Dutch. You give us him and we'll clear your names. You know what they say about a king-less monarchy, hmm?” Ross says. Arthur steps forward then, feigning innocence.

“We ain’t seen Dutch, not in a long while.” Arthur explains, but Milton chuckles, shaking his head.

“Yeah that’s what Mac Callander said too, before I shot him, it was really more of a mercy kill.” Milton hisses, and your jaw falls. Arthur is filled with rage, hands clenched tightly as he holds back for Jack’s sake.

“He didn’t talk though, don’t worry.” Ross chuckles, walking back towards his horse.

“You best think over our offer, you’re running out of time.” Ross hisses, climbing back onto his horse.

“Have a good night, kid. You don’t got many more of them.” Milton addresses Jack, and you shove the boy behind you as they gallop off.

“Arthur-” You exhale, shocked and terrified. The Pinkertons have caught up, and if they’ve chased you this far, you doubt they’ll ever stop.

“This ain’t good. We better get the boy home, talk with Dutch. He ain’t gonna be happy about this.” Arthur says, low with a dark edge. Nervously, you watch them ride off.

“You think we’re gonna have to move again? We just got here.” You exhale, emotional at the thought of leaving. This is one of the first places you’ve felt at home in a long time.

“I don’t know. C’mon, we’ll get Jack back and see.”

— — — —

Dutch isn’t worried about the Pinkertons. No, he's furious. He sees it as some personal stab at his ego. Your eyes roll, sitting beside Arthur outside of Dutch’s tent.

“I don’t think you understand, Dutch, they know where we are. They killed Mac.” Arthur growls, trying to get Dutch to see reason. But Dutch’s mind is clouded by delusions of grandeur. He believes he can win the fight against the agency, and you think he’s a fool.

“They’re testing us, son. They’re pushing us. They think they can herd us? Me? They’re wrong. We are NOT abiding by the rules to their twisted games. We are staying here!” Dutch yells, and Arthur sighs, begging Dutch to cut his loses, but the man is insistent. Arthur tries to speak, but Dutch cuts him off, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Son, in the morning I need you to go get Sean. We are not losing anyone else.” Dutch orders, then he moves towards the fire where John is. You and Arthur share a worried glance before following him.

“John! Gather what you need, we are HITTING THAT TRAIN!” Dutch calls out, smiling brightly as if his master plan is falling together, “Watch them try to control this crew. We’ll hit their bounty hunters, hit their train in the same goddamn day. This is going to be beautiful.”

Your stomach turns as you recall Dutch’s orders about needing your level head on the robbery. You have a bad feeling about this train, a real bad one. But as John and Arthur start packing to head in separate directions tomorrow, you realize that there’s no way out of it. You’re a van der Linde now, and you follow his orders.

#arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan #arthur morgan angst #red dead redemption two #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfic

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