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photmath · 1 year

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It Was Never Us | Kylian Mbappé

Pairing: Kylian Mbappé x Female Reader

Summary: You had finally had enough.

Word Count: 6.5k

Warnings: ANGST, ANGST, cursing, time jump, lots of dialogue

Note: I reluctantly apologize. I rushed to get this out in time before the semester started so if there are mistakes, I do apologize for that.

FOUR YEARS AGO

It has been three times now. Three times that Kylian had forgotten about your biweekly date night. Three times that you were left feeling like a complete failure. Three times you were left questioning yourself what you did wrong.

The first time he had forgotten about it, he made it up to you by taking you out the next day. The second time: he had made plans with Neymar that day, said that he got the days confused, you just said that it was fine. You weren’t in the mood to argue that day—especially because your team had a bad loss—a match he hadn’t even bothered to show up to, let alone text you ‘good luck’ or ‘sorry about the match.’

But today, today was different. It was the anniversary of your four-year relationship. He said he had the night handled a couple of weeks ago, and that all you had to do was ‘dress pretty.’ You weren’t able to double check with him because of his away match yesterday. He was flying in today and then was going to attend a rehab session to loosen his tight muscles.

He had promised he wouldn’t be back home late.

However, it had been almost four hours past the time he was supposed to come by and pick you up. So now, you are just fed up.

He hadn’t mentioned anything about the anniversary date or your plans. Let alone a text message saying ‘Happy Anniversary.’ You thought maybe he was planning an elaborate dinner, that that was the reason why you hadn’t been sent your favorite flowers or even a call.

Your phone dings again. A timer you had set for yourself to start winding down for the night because you had a big match tomorrow—Women’s Championship League—against Chelsea.

Standing in the kitchen in your heels, dress still on, you couldn’t take your eyes off your phone: a video of Kylian at a restaurant with Neymar and some of his other teammates. He wasn’t doing anything bad, but he was just there. Never did he mention to you that he was going out tonight. The video had been taken over an hour ago.

You don’t even feel angry. You feel embarrassed. Humiliated. But you don’t let those emotions consume you, instead you start packing a set of clothes in a large traveling purse you have. You weren’t going to stay here tonight, you couldn’t.

As you zip up your bag, satisfied with the items you packed, you go back to make you some type of dinner. You hear the front door unlock and you let out a breathy sigh to calm down your feelings as he walks in.

He glances at you, and then does a double take, his head tilting, “It’s a bit late to go out, ma chérie, don’t you think?”

You cross your arms in front of you, Kylian’s confused expression only growing. You give him a calm smile, “You tell me.”

“What do you mean?” He sets the training bag he took this morning on the dining room chair. He props his elbow against it.

“What’s today?”

His cheeks warm suddenly, his mind juggling through birthdays and anniversaries. He stills. His shoulders slack as he rubs his face, “Fuck, fuck, chérie, I’m so sorry—”

“No, I don’t want to hear it. I’m done, Kylian,” you say. Your voice is so eerily calm that it makes him worry.

He looks at you, his eyebrows raised, “What?”

“I’m done.”

“No, chérie,” he walks towards you in a couple of strides. His arms are reaching out for you but you swipe them away. Your heels clack against the marble tile as you walk past him. “Let me make it up to you.”

You let out a laugh, “I can’t believe I wasted this time with you.”

He’s shaking his head but you can’t see him frantically following your pace up the stairs, “Don’t say that, mon amour.”

“You haven’t remembered shit, Kylian!” you whip your head to face him. His face is only guilty and full of shame. “I can’t even remember the last time we cuddled, let alone held hands.”

You knew juggling between matches of you and him, time got stretched impossibly. But the times you were home, Kylian used to never take them for granted, neither did you. The both of you would cherish one another whenever in each other’s presence. Always communicating, loving one another, and supporting each other at games if time permitted.

But then the World Cup happened. You had the time to go to Russia and you and Kylian had the best time there despite you only being able to see him after his matches. His popularity and recognition skyrocketed. He was on everyone’s mind and you couldn’t be any more proud.

However, that was the turning point in your relationship. No longer were you guys able to go on weekly dates comfortably—not with Kylian’s new status. He would have to rent out restaurants or you two would get bombarded. It turned to every other week because it got exhausting trying to make time with him at a restaurant.

Kylian’s hands fumble on the rail, clutching onto them. His eyes tear away from yours and you scoff, continuing up the stairs. His steps heavy and fast, “Chérie, wait.”

“I waited for four hours, I’m done.” You grab your bag and sling it on your shoulder.

He gawks, “Done with what?”

You look up at him, “Done with this. With you and your unkept promises.”

His face falls again and he stops walking closer to you, scared that any move towards you will only push you away. He says, “No, can we just talk about this please?”

“Sure, Kylian, we can talk,” you indulge, your voice laced with sarcasm.

He frowns, his mouth opening but he says nothing. He scratches his neck, searching for words, “I—I’m sorry.”

Your hand teases off the engagement ring from your finger, setting it down on the dresser you and Kylian share. Kylian’s heart squeezes at the sight of you. He can’t stop himself from walking to you, “Wait, please.”

You stand there, eyeing him quietly. His eyes are darting back and forth between your bare finger and the ring. “Don’t do this. Not right now, you have a game tomorrow. What—what did I do wrong? I’ll fix it, chérie, I promise. I’ll fix it.”

His hands find yours and you let him. You had already made up your mind and you weren’t going to change it. You couldn’t keep doing this each time.

“I don’t even know who you are anymore,” you say and his eyebrows furrow. “You’re not the man who proposed to me on my first ever professional football field that I played on. You aren’t the person who used to rent out restaurants for me without hesitation if I said I was craving something.

“You kiss me when you come home but you don’t talk to me. You don’t ask how my day was or tell me yours. We don’t cuddle. You don’t even go to my games anymore so I’m surprised that you remembered tomorrows. And you’ve missed our date nights for the past months, and I’m so tired of it.

“I’ve done everything. I’ve gone to every game I could possibly make and cancel plans with my friends to make sure we have our date night. I’ve talked to you and told you if something is wrong, like how you have told me to do. We talk it out and we’re usually fine, but this—this has been going on for so long now, that it started off small and now it’s just grown.”

Your eyes search his and they’re stuck frozen staring at you, taking in your words. You pull your hands from his and he doesn’t fight them to break away.

You clear your throat, “I stopped complaining because I didn’t want to be that bitchy fiancé everyone complains about, but no, I will not settle with someone who is no longer the person I love. So I’m done. I’m not going to marry someone who forgets or gets too comfortable in their relationship that they stop entirely and can’t even realize it.”

He steps in front of you, halting your movements, his voice shaking “Give me one more chance and I swear it will be the last. I swear on everything.”

“You can’t keep promises.”

You move around him but he’s quick to step in front of you again. His hands desperately clutching for yours, “Wait—we’ve been busy these past few months, okay? I think we’ve both been exhausted—”

You shake your head, “Don’t say ‘we,’ Kylian. I have given you everything even when I was tired. That’s the difference between you and I.”

He nods quickly, “Okay, me! I have been exhausted lately that I just haven’t been thinking right. I haven’t loved you the way I should’ve. I haven’t given you the attention nor the time that you deserve. I did get comfortable, okay, yes, I admit to that and it’s my fault.”

You adjust the bag on your shoulders, “It is.” You move past him and walk down the stairs. “Even if you had texted me I probably would’ve let this slide, but to go out tonight, seriously?”

“I forgot,” he sighs. “I’m sorry, I know you wish to hear something else—” the both of you stop in the kitchen. His breath hitches, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t keep our promises.”

You take in the view of his face. He’s completely deflated and you wish that brought you joy, but it doesn’t. You want to wrap him in your arms and put your ring back on, saying that you were overreacting but you don’t.

Just a few months ago the two of you were celebrating his twentieth birthday, and then a few months afterward he was proposing to you. The face he wore that day, so full of joy and excitement of what the future held. A stark contrast now.

He frowns, tears welling up in his eyes. A shaky sigh escapes his mouth, “I love you.”

You blink away the tears that threatened to pool, “I love you too, Kylian, that’s why I have to do this. I don’t want to hold myself back—I mean I have a fucking final to play tomorrow and here I am still awake. I can’t keep doing this anymore. I don’t deserve to be second in your life. I hope you find the person that you—”

He cuts you off, “Don’t say that.”

“I wish you all the best and success.”

He closes his eyes, nodding. Somehow him not looking made you walk out easier. And once you finally made it to the elevator, you leaned against the wall and bawled into your hands. Your sobs rattled the entire elevator.

------

PRESENT

“Holy shit,” Sergio mutters. Kylian’s eyebrows furrow next to him, Hakimi across from him leans into the iPad Sergio carries.

“On our PSG?” Hakimi asks.

“There’s only one féminine team,” Sergio replies.

“What’s up?” Kylian perks his head up.

“Y/N Y/L, she just got transferred here.”

Hakimi’s brows furrow, “Woah, her name sounds so familiar.” He flicks his fingers, “Agh! I know it, it’s right there.”

Kylian freezes, dropping the band he and Hakimi were using to stretch. It goes swinging to Hakimi and he winces as it makes contact with his chest.

“Really, Ky?”

Kylian ignores him, walking towards Sergio, examining the article.

The headline reads, “Star Defender is Coming Home!”

Sergio beams, “She’s really good. Marquinhos told me about her…”

He keeps talking but Kylian doesn’t register his words. He’s still fixated on the images of you, you wear a happy smile in your FC Barcelona uniform in one of them, and then in the other you hold a PSG jersey up. You had just been on a stellar season, he knew, of course he had known.

He kept up with all of your games since the two of you had broken up. He had tried to follow you on social media, but watching you play and seeing you up close on his phone, he couldn’t stomach both. He was so glad to see you doing well on Barca that he couldn’t comprehend why you would want to leave them.

Sergio furrows, thinking the same thing, “I wonder why she’s leaving.”

Hakimi shrugs, “I guess we’ll have to just ask her when we see her tonight.”

“Tonight?” Kylian croaks.

He nods, “The exhibition match tonight against the women’s team.”

Kylian eyebrows raise, “That’s today?”

“We were just talking about it,” Sergio says. “How did you forget?”

Kylian, still in shock, “No, I know it’s today. I just…I don’t think she’ll be playing tonight.”

Hakimi chimes, “Maybe she’ll just watch, but no she’s definitely here.”

“How do you know?”

Hakimi and Sergio both furrow their brows at their teammate. His sudden different behavior was not going unnoticed. Sergio lets out a nervous chuckle, “This picture is from today, Kyks. Are you okay?”

Kylian scoffs and then lets out a restrained chuckle, “Of course.”

Sergio nods at him hesitantly and then scrolls down to read the article. Kylian watches as his eyebrows furrow and his heart screeches as Sergio reads it aloud, “‘She’s expected to play in tonight’s exhibition match, and it will definitely be a sight to see her and Kylian Mbappé on the same field. Just four years ago, the two of them were expecting to tie the knot, but suddenly called it off, breaking the hearts of many of their fans…’”

Heat pools around Kylian as both of them look at him. He fixates his eyes with one of the medicine balls that lay some feet in front of him, not daring to look at the two of them.

Hakimi nudges him, “Why didn’t you tell me about her?”

Kylian coughs, “We didn’t work out.”

“You fucked it up?” Sergio asks. His voice is blunt.

Hakimi speaks again, “So you were just never going to say that you had a whole fiancé at one point?”

Kylian sighs, “Yeah, I fucked it up, and it’s not something I’m proud of, Achraf, why would I tell you that?”

He shrugs, “I mean, I could’ve helped you or something.”

“It was four years ago, we didn’t know each other by then. Can you guys please just not say anything? We don’t talk about this anymore,” Kylian’s voice is firm.

Sergio and Hakimi glance at each other, their faces betraying Kylian. Kylian lets out a sigh and shakes his head.

Hakimi talks first, “How long were you guys together?”

Sergio then: “This is an engagement though, how could you have stayed quiet this whole time—”

Kylian rolls his eyes, “It was an engagement. Not anymore—”

“Did you cheat?” Sergio asks.

He groans loudly, “God, no. How could you say that?”

Sergio shrugs, “I mean four years ago was what…2019? You had to still be clouded from the World Cup.”

“I didn’t cheat on her, okay?” Kylian knows he can’t walk out of the session no matter how badly he wants to, so he rubs his face and plops down on the floor, stretching out his hamstrings. Luckily, the three of them were a bit far from the rest of his teammates, so they couldn’t hear much of their discussion.

Hakimi nods his head, “So you did something worse?”

“Like stopped showing up?” Sergio guesses.

Kylian suddenly hates himself for befriending two people who are already married—and Sergio was years into his happy marriage.

“Or, forgot something?” Sergio guesses again.

Hakimi groans, “Never forget a birthday.”

“Or an anniversary. I have my phone set to remind me months before.”

Hakimi laughs, “That’s smart. Kylian?”

He sighs, “I forgot our date nights…and our anniversary. And stopped showing her affection.”

Both of them quiet down. Kylian had yet to cool himself from the prior nerves he got from when Sergio first said your name, and their laughter-turned-to-silence wasn’t helping.

Sergio furrows, “You just threw her to the curb?”

Kylian looks at him, angry with his choice of words. He then looks at Hakimi and Hakimi looks disappointed. His face reminds Kylian of how someone feels when their younger sibling’s hearts have just been broken. Full of protection for someone he had never met.

“I didn’t mean to, but yeah, our lives got hectic months after the World Cup…that I just lost it. I couldn’t manage my time, everything was moving so fast. Dates were coming up before I even realized it, and then she was gone.”

The two of them are quiet again, Hakimi definitely couldn’t relate and Sergio was searching for some good advice.

Sergio coughs, engulfing the silence, “You were just a kid at that time, Kylian. Your recognition exploded and you didn’t know how to manage it. I wouldn’t place all the blame on your shoulders if I were you.”

Kylian shakes his head, “It was my fault though.”

“And the worlds,” Hakimi states.

“You young guys don’t know how to handle it until it happens,” Sergio advises. “You guys will think you do, but you don’t. Everything moves fast after you blow up, but you can never forget about the people who stayed by your side.”

Kylian nods absentmindedly. The advice would’ve been helpful four years ago, but he listens either way.

“Head up, you have a girl to catch,” Sergio says, getting up and patting Kylian’s head as he passes him.

------

Kylian wishes Sergio’s words didn’t give him a surge of encouragement because here he was rehearsing the speech he was going to tell you once he got the time. He cringed as he thought of it. What was he even supposed to say?

Warm-ups had gone swiftly. He had seen you warming up from afar and the glimpse of it alone had his heart faltering between beats.

He knew that you would probably have to defend him, so it made him nervous thinking about you so close to him. The closest the two of you had ever been in four years.

The sound of the whistle was the only thing that got him out of his mind. He had a performance to put on. One that he knew would be cut short by half-time to let the youngsters play, so he had to give it his all since the stadium was sold out.

He tried to keep his gaze off of you, knowing that he would probably freeze and choke up the moment you looked at him.

Seeing Hakimi get the ball back, he knew it was time to start sprinting. He sprints around you, nearly tripping on his feet as the smell of your shampoo swarms his nose. It was still the same smell.

He hadn’t realized you were so close to him. He sprints down the line, and you’re following him.

You couldn’t lie and say that you wanted to throw up, seeing him now brought back all the memories of the two of you. And the funny part was that only the happy memories were the ones you remembered and thought of the most. You didn’t think of the bad parts—not that fast at least—until you had to remind yourself why the two of you didn’t work out.

He gets the ball passed to him, but he has to go through you first to get in a cross. He can’t help but to smirk, a nervous laugh escaping his mouth before he can even comprehend that you stole the ball away from him. You kick it to your teammate, slowing down to a jog. You feel him jog beside you.

“Good ball,” he says, jogging past you. His voice sends you chills. He turns around to face you and a ghost of a smile litters his face.

The game goes on. You and Kylian interact only briefly. When he sprints past you and you know there is no way to catch up to his speed, you let out a groan. He’s chuckling as runs past you and you have to fight back a grin.

The halftime whistle blows and you walk to the locker room, a smile finding your face as you clap hands with your new and some familiar teammates.

You find your way to the restroom, having already heard your coach’s words and line up changes. The restroom in the locker room was crowded so you decided to go to the one down the tunnel.

“Hey,” a voice calls out and you freeze. Of course he was waiting for you. You turn around slowly, Kylian already wearing his wind breaker as he gives you a nervous smile, “Are you playing the second half?”

You shake your head, still shocked at how much he’s grown and his presence. “No.”

Kylian motions his head to an elevator, “Want to come up with me?”

“I should probably tell my coach.”

He waves it off, “I already told him.”

You raise your eyebrows, “What?”

“Let's go upstairs to the media box, I want to talk.”

You almost want to laugh at his bluntness. Your eyebrows are raised, “Kylian.”

He walks towards you, his walk full of confidence as a smile tugs on his lips, “What?”

“I don’t think that’s a good look from me to my teammates.”

“They think you’re with Sergio Ramos right now talking about defense strategies,” he laughs. The sound of his glorious laugh and the crinkles besides his eyes almost make you want to hug him. Almost. After all, this was still the man of your first everything since you were sixteen.

“He’s in this too?” You ask.

He nods, “Just come on.” He presses the button for the elevator, holding the door open as it opens immediately. He holds out his hand for you with a growing smirk.

God, did he look so handsome. That glint in his eye used to make you so weak in your knees and it wasn’t failing now.

You grab his hand and the touch makes your nerves radiate throughout your arm and hand. You silently hiss and his eyebrows twitch but then it goes away. He had felt it too.

The elevator closes and he grins, “Welcome back.”

“Thank you,” you say, stuffing your hands into your windbreaker. You were suddenly glad that you decided to change completely because Kylian still had on his grass stained shorts and socks. You stifle a chuckle.

“It was fun beating you,” he snickers. He settles into the corner of the elevator and doesn’t hide his eyes as they skim down you. “Although you did play well, we may need you on our line actually.”

You laugh, “Oh, shut up.”

He hums, “Music to my ears.”

You roll your eyes. Both of you completely ignored the elephant in the room and you were glad. It was nice to see him again. The person you were talking to was who he was before the World Cup. Before he got too in his head. It makes your heart swell to see him happy again.

The elevator door dings open and he leads you to whatever room he was planning. It’s small with a single table and chair. The walls are painted blue and one of them is a whiteboard. A large window shows the view of the field below.

“What is this place?” you snort.

He laughs, “A small media room. Sometimes they do interviews in this room, but new coaches, never the players.”

“And that’s it?”

He smirks as the two of you make eye contact, “Sometimes a hideout the guys and I go to when we get sent off.”

“Like a red card?”

He nods, “Yep.”

You shake your head, chuckling. He pulls out the seat and motions you to take it. After you sit, he sits on the table, his legs dangling as he looks at the field. He’s sitting across from you on the table and has his back to you. The players were starting to make their way back onto the field.

“I promised—well Sergio—promised to have you back down there within twenty minutes,” he says, his eyes still glued onto the window. “I—” He lets out a shaky laugh and it makes you laugh at his nervousness. “They’re upset with me.”

“Who?”

“Sergio and Achraf.”

“Achraf?”

He glances back at you, “Number 2 on the field. Hakimi.”

“Oh, yes, okay I know him. Why are they upset with you?” your eyebrows furrow.

He rubs his neck, “I told them what happened between us.”

You nod your head slowly although he can’t see you. Well, might as well rip off the bandaid now. Time was ticking.

He looks down in his lap, “I’m sorry, chérie. I didn’t really mean to tell them, but they read an article and it said that we were in a relationship. They started asking a bunch of questions.”

“Wait, there's an article?” You’re already on your feet as you round the table. You don’t even have your phone on you to search for it.

He shakes his head, “It’s not bad.”

“You read it?”

He nods and stands up. He grabs a hold of your waving arms, settling them, “It’s not bad. It was talking about your accomplishments and then only mentioned me at the end. Said that it was going to be a ‘sight to see’ us on the field together after we called off our engagement four years ago.”

“It mentioned that?” You didn’t want the media’s attention to be on your previous relationship, it should be on a team.

He nods, his hands still on your wrists, rubbing circles onto them. “It was brief. Not a lot about you and I.”

“Okay, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you. Where were you?”

He gives you a faint smile, his hands lingers on yours as he takes a seat on the table right beside you. He lets go of your hands, “Why did you come back?”

You sigh and rub your palms on your sweats. He wasn’t going to like the news. The media hadn’t even caught wind of it yet. “I’m getting married.”

Kylian can’t help the reaction he lets out. His eyes widen and his mouth falls open. His eyes are on you and you watch as they go from shock to hurt. He looks away immediately, his head looking down as he covers his mouth.

“He wanted to move here, got a job, and then hoped I would follow him.”

Kylian looks up, his eyebrows creased, “You wouldn’t do that though. You would never give up your dreams. Tell me that’s a lie.”

“It’s not.”

“For a guy?”

You sigh, crossing your arms. It was a bit out of character. “I’m back here because PSG needed a defender.”

He stands up, his head shaking, “Tell me the truth.”

“I am.”

Kylian stands only a foot in front of you, he has to look down at you to talk. His voice is serious, “So what happened to your dream?”

“It was to win the Champions League with PSG. I never got to do it,” you say.

Both of you silently think about that night of your break up. The next day, your team had played horribly against Chelsea, losing 3-0. You wish you could say you played well but you hadn’t at all. Kylian had come to that game, watching in the same room you both stood in now.

He sighs, “You won one with Barca.”

“That wasn’t my dream though.”

“I know,” he gives you a meek smile. “I just—there has to be more to the story, chérie, I mean help me understand.”

You palm your forehead, you should’ve known he was going to want to talk about what you were doing here back. You had left that season to Barcelona after the Champions League, wanting to get out of the city you grew up in. But also wanting to get away from him.

“Is that all you brought me up here for?” you ask.

He shakes his head, “I wanted to see how you’ve been.”

“I’ve been good, Kylian. How have you been?”

“Miserable,” he mutters. “Even more now.”

“Mmm, I’m sorry about the World Cup.”

He waves you off, “I was miserable before that.”

“Why?”

“Because I lost you,” he agonizes and you stop yourself from expressing your annoyance.

“Kylian—”

“Does he make you happy?” His arms flop down next to him as he awaits your response.

You muse, “Yes.”

“Everything you wished I gave you?”

You bite onto your lip. Kylian was one of a kind when the two of you first started dating, almost nothing could ever top his morning cuddles and kisses he would give you. He always knew which muscles to massage before your training sessions. Or how you liked your coffee. Or how you would always like to run yourself a bath after strenuous workout sessions. He’d have the water ready for you when you’d get a home.

“Chérie?” He raises his brow. His hand goes to your cheek and he brushes the delicate skin. The both of you almost melting at the contact. You lean into his touch instantly.

“He’s a gentleman.”

“That wasn’t my question,” he whispers. “Why are you here, mon amour?”

You feel him brush away the tear before you even notice it’s there. You open your eyes and his eyes flutter with concern. You step back, wiping away your tears, “I should head back.”

His arms are around you before you can stop and you break down into him. Your head digs into Kylian’s strong shoulder as you sob into him. He still smelled of sweat and outside, but you didn’t care, all you felt was him. He kisses your head as his embrace tightens, pulling you closer to him.

This felt like home. His scent. His arms. The feeling he brought to your chest, you hadn’t felt this way in four years.

He holds you for a couple of more minutes until your crying dies down. He kisses your forehead when he peels you away, “Tell me. I’m not going to judge. I can take the criticism.”

“He wants to have kids,” you frown.

Kylian sneers, “What a jerk.”

You laugh through the tears and he gives you a small smile. You cross your arms, wanting Kylian’s warmth back. “I don’t even want to have kids right now. I’m playing so well and then I’d have to stop. I’m too young.”

He chuckles. He knew he shouldn’t have found this situation comical but it was. You had told him before how you would only want a kid now—when you were both young—or when you were both older, that there was going to be no in between. So he knew you weren’t going to give this man children until years later. This makes the ache in his heart ease, knowing that he would never treat you this way.

“I’m being serious, Ky,” you groan. “I’ve told him all this already and it’s like he doesn’t care. He can’t even see me halfway.”

“You’ve called off one engagement before, why not go for a second?” He teases. He says it so nonchalantly that you jab at his shoulder.

“Stop it.”

“Okay, okay,” he swipes the smile off of his face. “So you’re here because he wants kids?”

“He wants to settle down, and said that he always wanted to live in Paris.”

“Is he famous?”

“No,” you shake your head. “I didn’t want to do that again.”

He clutches his heart, “Ouch.” You don’t respond and he takes a seat back on the table. He folds his arms, looking up at you, “You told me that you didn’t want to be held back. Isn’t that what’s happening now?”

“How am I being held back?”

He shrugs, “You want a Champions with PSG. Not kids.”

“We can have kids in the future.”

“He wants them now.”

“Well,” you sigh, “it’s still an ongoing discussion.”

He huffs.

You keep going: “I missed Paris. I wanted to be back here with my family. My parents and siblings are getting older. I have a niece who I only see on the holidays and I feel like I’ve missed out on her entire life. I practically have!”

He nods his head slowly, but you can see the way the glimmer in his eyes diminish. He was upset. He exhales, “So it’s just a sudden win-win scenario for you? That it’s easy? Two birds in one stone?”

“What do you mean?”

He stands, he looks disappointed. “You come back here to get married. Maybe win a Champions League. You have your family around you. And then you settle down with this man and have kids.”

You didn’t understand the problem. That was exactly what you had planned. You didn’t see anything wrong with it.

“Kylian, it's been in the news about me possibly transferring for months now. He read about it in an article, and then brought the idea up to me, and then I told him that yeah, I’d think about it. Then the next day, he gets a job here and then I suddenly have to think between two decisions.”

He raises his arm to stop you and you raise a brow at him. He doesn’t bat an eye. “You gave up your life in Barcelona to follow him. Not for you. For him. You would’ve never thought about moving back here if it wasn’t for him.”

“That’s not true,” you cross your arms. “I wanted to move back here.”

He shakes his head, “Maybe you did, but it wasn’t for your family.”

“How could you say something like that?”

“I know you, chérie. Your ambition is too high to ever stop to follow someone. Your family has never held you back, no matter how much they have tried to persuade you. Hell, even I tried to persuade you before. When you have your mind set to something, it’s set. Your niece was born four years ago, a little after we broke up, and what? You barely miss them now?”

You scoff. Kylian’s words were harsh. A brutal blow to you and your return.

He’s shaking his head again, “This man took a job without even asking you! And you were fine with that? He’s never even lived in Paris.”

“It’s different.”

“How?” he scowls. “How is this any different than when you would wait for me to change? Instead, it’s as if I had never changed and you just dealt with it. Are you kidding me? You would have never put up with that—and you didn’t.”

“He can actually keep his promises, Kylian. He remembers anniversaries at the very least. That’s already more than what you did.”

A ripple of a sarcastic laugh escapes him, “Our anniversary would be next week, and when I proposed to you, that’s in three months and two days from now.”

“You remembered that a bit too late.”

He sighs, his hands settling on the top of his head, “I just—you’re making a mistake with this man. He wants a kid, chérie, he wants you to stop playing. He’s already got a new job that I assume pays better than his last. He wants you to be a mom.”

“How could you possibly know that?” Your irritation and annoyance only grows into silent anger. “If you think your words are going to somehow make me leave him and go back to you, you’re dead wrong.”

Kylian’s gaze moves to the pitch. It was at the 60th minute. His rehearsed speech was long gone and time was dwindling down. His mind couldn’t stop thinking about what to say next. He didn’t like the idea of you coming back home under these circumstances.

You wipe your face, “And what does it matter to you anyway? You and I aren’t in a relationship, Kylian. I don’t owe you anything.”

He looks at you, “He doesn’t make you happy. I know it because you were happy with me, before I fucked it up. You don’t look like that right now. You don’t have that glow.”

You snort, “And you’re supposed to bring that all back?”

“I can if you let me.”

“Hilarious. I’m done here.”

He steps forwards to you, a hand settling on your waist and you don’t move, frozen by his sudden touch. His eyes glance down to your lips and then back towards yours, “Just think about why you came here. You know the real reason only. The reason you gave me was full of shit. You and I both know it. I know you want to win the Champions League with PSG, but the only reason you were transferred is because you asked for it. Barca would have never let you go just because.”

He stops, his gaze growing more firm, “And say that yes, you wanted this dream to come true because it happened in Barcelona. I get that. I know that. But what happens when you win it? When you retire and realize that you don’t actually love this man the way you think you do?”

“I lo—”

He shakes his head, “No you don’t. You’re waiting. You’re hoping that something changes. That your feelings towards him change. I know that because you have that look. That same look when you were waiting for me to change. Waiting for me to snap out of it and realize that I had fucked everything up.”

He eyes the clock on the field: 64. He was out of time. Fuck.

You stare at him, lost in his words. This was what he wanted. For you to doubt yourself.

His hand presses against your cheek and then he drops it, “I’m not like the person I used to be. I do remember things now. I don’t ever forget because of what happened between us.”

He lets out a small chuckle, “I definitely won’t pester you to have my kids right now. I won’t compromise on your dreams. I won’t ever make you doubt my intentions. I promise to never make you feel this way, or the way you felt when you left. I’d never tell you to stop chasing your ambition, even if it takes years that we never have kids. Because let's face it, PSG has some growth to do.”

He gives you a meek smile, “My heart was only ever yours to have. And I'd love it if you met me at my penthouse, but only come when you’ve broken up with this jerk. You can come whenever you want, your dresser and empty space in the closet waits for you.”

Kylian takes your face into your hands and presses a chaste kiss on your cheek, lingering his face in front of yours as he pulls away. Both of your breaths are faltering and heavy.

“I’ll see you later,” he whispers. He releases you and leaves the media room.

You’re left alone with his looming words replaying in your mind. You had a life-altering decision to make. Especially because he read you well. Read right through your lies.

(Part Two)

#kylian mbappe #kylian mbappe fanfic #kylian mbappe x you #kylian mbappe x reader #kylian mbappe fanfiction #kylian mbappe drabble #mbappe x reader #psg #world cup fanfic #kylian mbappé x reader #mbappé x reader #kylian mbappe imagine

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breanime · 1 year

Note

For the gif drabbles ❤️

"This looks like shit," you threw the money on the table, "Do it again."

Annie and Ruby groaned in tandem, but Beth sighed. "It looks perfect," she said, looking up at you as you stood over her, "We've printed this same design four times--"

"--and it keeps getting slightly less like shit," you cocked an eyebrow, "Look, if you can't hack it anymore..."

"We can!" Annie spoke up, eyes wide. "We can, we'll get it right!"

"It's just..." Ruby chewed on her lip.

You could feel your patience thinning. "Just what?"

"Well," she continued weakly, "Lucy was the artist, so... without her..."

"Ya know, since homeboy did... what he did," Annie added in.

"...It's harder to print. We have her blueprints, but some of these subtler details are just... We need an artist," Ruby finished.

You nodded, scanning the three women before you. Annie looked nervous, as did Ruby, but Beth looked annoyed and defiant.

You were sick of her face.

"So get another artist," you said, getting bored with the conversation.

"Why? So your boss can shoot her?" Beth ground out, glaring up at you.

Your eyes narrowed at the same time Rio chuckled. You turned a bit, angling your body so that you could see him.

He sat on a chair next to a monitor, a hand on his chin and smirk on his face.

"That's funny to you?" Beth spat, anger clear on her face. "You shot a defenseless girl!"

You raised an eyebrow at Rio, but he was still chuckling. If he found her little outburst amusing, then you guess you would allow it.

"Nah," he said, shaking his head, "I'm not laughing about that. I'm laughing at what you said," he smirked over at you, "She called me your boss."

Annie frowned, looking at the two of you. "A... Aren't you?"

"She," Rio gestured towards you, a pride grin on his face, "is my boss. Yeah, see, a real bad bitch don't shy away from the dark parts of this business," he went on, "And so when I told my boss," he pointed at you again, "that I had to kill Lucy cause of your," he looked at the girls, "bullshit, well. She wasn't pleased. And I'm telling you now, looking at her face right now," Rio made eye contact with you, and you could see the pride in his eyes as he looked at you, "My girl ain't letting you dumb bitches fuck our shit up again."

Beth spoke before she could stop herself, "Your girl?"

His smirk stretched over his plump lips, "My boss," he clarified, "and my girl," he looked over at you again, "So, what you think, ma? Have 'em print it again, or have Mick take them downtown and put a slug in each of their heads?"

You turned back to the women, watching the fear swirl in Annie's eyes, the way Ruby stiffened, frightened and trapped.

And Beth's reddening cheeks, you could see the humiliation on her face, now that she was looking at what she could never be, what she could never have, standing right in front of you.

You looked over at Rio, and you thought back on your life with him--meeting him when he was just a runner for your father, Rio remaining loyal to you even after your father died and you took over his organization, the first time you kissed, when you had blood on your hands and he had thought he lost you, the way Rio had grabbed you and held you to him, the first time he ever let himself act like anything but a loyal subordinate to you. You remembered that sick, cold feeling in your gut when you'd heard that he had been shot three times, that he was with the feds. It's what brought you back into his orbit, you'd sworn to keep it professional with him years ago, but that... that pulled you right back in.

You watched Rio watch you, and you felt a wave of protectiveness come over you as you looked at him--the man you loved. You turned to Beth, your gaze cold as ice and as strong as steel, using every ounce of your status as a boss to intimidate her. "How about you choose, Mrs. Boland? You want to print it again this time, and do it right, or would you and your gal pals rather take a ride with Mick?"

"W... We'll print," she said weakly.

Rio's chuckle warmed your soul, and as the ladies worked on the new print, you turned to him. He gave you a special smile, one full of love and appreciation for you, and you turned your back to the girls as they worked.

They didn't get to see the loving smile you gave him back.

That was only for him.

**********************************************************************

Thank you for reading! Lemme know what you think!

#bre does gif drabbles (again)!#rio x reader #rio imagine #manny montana #rio good girls

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vaspider · 8 months

Note

Okay, so I hope I don't come off as really confrontational and I'm sorry if it does. I've started to notice an increasing number of posts on your blog that seem to be critical of things trans women do on an intra-community level. I wasn't going to say anything before, but someone you reblogged mentioned that they were starting to keep an archive of what they called "Trans radfem behavior" and that concerned me a bit.

I have -- for years -- been extremely critical of cop behavior within the community or divisive behavior within the community. I have been critical of fellow lesbians when they have gone after aces and bi people. I have been critical of fellow transmascs when they say shitty things. My most quoted, most reblogged, most 'taken and posted on other sites', most linked on Reddit (fucking apparently) post is one about divisiveness and respectability politics within the community, how those things fail us and set us up to be split up and devoured by the cishets, and a call for radical inclusiveness within the community as the only way forward.

This isn't new. I've always been like this.

I have also always been critical of the idea that identity is a shield for shitty behavior. Whether that's disabled people acting like they can't be ableist, queer people acting like they can't say homophobic shit, Jews who think they can't act in an antisemitic way, or trans people acting transphobic or saying transphobic things, this is not a new concept for me, nor one I'll move away from. It is an unfortunate thing that disabled ableists and trans radfems exist, but they do, and I've gotten tired of the idea that we have to pretend someone isn't saying shitty things because of their identity.

For a long time, one of the topics I shied away from was discussing the divisions within the trans community specifically, because -- quite frankly -- I've seen the dogpiling that tends to happen to transmascs when we criticize the shitty, bioessentialist, 'man bad woman good' behaviors of a very small but very vocal section of the online transfem community.

But shying away from talking about that is just fucking cowardice, and I've never been able to stand for cowardice within myself. So yeah, you're definitely seeing more criticism of shitty intracommunity behavior within the trans community with me. I have never been one to criticize shitty behavior restricted to identity, however, and I have surely been critical of shit behavior regardless of whether or not the person saying it is a trans man, a trans woman, or any other group of people.

You will continue to see me criticize shitty behavior, because I am absolutely fed up with the way that this community treats itself, and you will see me talk about the things that happen as they happen. Right now, there's an awful lot of shitty behavior aimed at trans men and transmascs on this site, including some from trans women. It's absolutely unconscionable to talk about raping people, or to use words like "theyfab," "cuntboy," and "zippertits" to refer to transmascs. That's what's happening, so yep, you're gonna see that on my Tumblr.

The solution here is not to be concerned about me talking about it, but to be concerned about the people doing that. Talking about shit behavior isn't the problem. The shit behavior is the problem, and it's important to both talk about the shit behavior so it fucking stops, and to talk about the shit behavior very clearly as the actions of the people who took them and not the actions of a community. It sucks that there are transfems and trans women who think it's okay to treat transmascs and trans men the way that some transmascs on here are being treated right now. Those transfem folx should know better than to pull that shit, because they know what it's like to be the target of that kind of behavior.

That said, I am absolutely not responsible for what other people say or do. I am not aware of having reblogged or endorsed the idea of starting an archive of 'trans radfem shit,' so I'm very confused as to why exactly you're talking to me about it as if I said it or endorsed it or as if it has anything to do with me, or why it would be bad to talk about the way in which trans people of any gender can fall prey to radfem manipulation. Maybe the person talking about it specified they were tracking trans women, but even the ask you sent me says 'trans radfem behavior,' so I'm assuming it would be trans people of any gender, right? If not, why are you linking those ideas together?

Like, I didn't say it, I didn't endorse it, I'm not responsible for it, but what exactly would be wrong with talking about how radfem mindsets infect our community in the first place? The manner in which too many trans people find it easy to fall into the bioessentialist thinking of radfems is a community problem.

tl;dr: I criticize everybody when they act like fools, and I'm not responsible for some random thing that 'somebody I reblogged' said.

#transgender #trans #spider speaks

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blackbeauty15 · 1 year

Text

summary; He thought you died but he found the women he loved with the sully children, and took her and spider with him. He's not losing you again.

hurt

next chapter

warning; bad writing. angst/hurt. eventual smut in later chapter

Miles stood wide-eyed looking down at his lover from the past, he thought she was dead. but no she was there in front of his face hissing back in hate and in fear for the navi children you were protecting .

Were they your kids ?

he wouldn't be surprised you were everything a man could want. but even after these years he could feel the ivy growing in his chest wrapping around his cold heart and squeezing it.

it's been weeks since you’ve been here. dreamwalkers coming in and asking you the same question ‘ where is jake sully?’ and every time you either hiss or say a smart ass remark in na’vi language.

the general knew you were his past lover and used this to her advantage. she thought maybe if you weren’t talking to anyone else or giving information about jake that miles would be the guy to pull it out of you.

he knew it was gonna be tense and it was , a lot actually.

It made him upset, acting like you don’t know him, like you didn't have an intimate relationship with him.

spider wasn’t any better when being interrogated he would always ask ‘ where is my momma? what are you doing to her?’ He was happy that spider saw her as his mom but hurt that he couldn’t be a part of it, he would never show it though.

snapping out of his thoughts he went to the room he kept you in. you were tucked in a ball in the corner like a scared cat. you hadn’t talked since he found you , well you hadn't been talking english. which made him even more irritated and upset.

slowly stepping into the room miles leaned on the metal table, his tail swaying behind him.

‘ Princess i know you're awake.’ he said smirking, he could see your ears turning to where he was sitting but not your body.

‘ kitten don’t you miss me? the fun we used to have ?’ he said while slowly walking to her.

y/n tensed and slowly raised her head from her knees looking in his eyes . she had not been close to the man she was with in 15 years, of course she missed him but she couldn’t help by feel betrayed by her mind, body and soul for wanting to touch him and wanting him to touch her.

while in thought Miles took advantage of this moment, grabbing her thighs and sliding her legs on the slide of his hips.

y/n hissed ‘ i miss nothing of you’ she said trying to kick her legs out of his grip but he was too strong. miles didn't like that , he didn’t really like what this world had done to you. you used to be submissive and now you wont listen to a damn thing he says.

Miles had enough, ‘ hey, cut that shit out and listen goddammit.’ his voice was stern, the same as you remembered, sending shivers down your spine.

hissing at him again you struggle even more, beating your hands against his chest trying to pull your body from his. ‘ i hate you’ you hissed out.

Miles grabs your wrist , ‘ I know you still know how to follow orders , I said stop goddammit!’

Miles realizes you're not the same person he used to hold, the same person he used to joke around with, you’re not his nerd anymore.he pushes you off of him making you fall on your back , feeling the cold floor.

he stands up quickly ‘ what is wrong with you huh?” pacing back and forwards, stopping when he got no answer.

‘ ANSWER’ he yelled from across the room.

‘ YOU LEFT US’ you yelled staring at him with tears and hurt in your eyes. lowering your head ‘you left us.’ now your voice was nothing but a whisper.

miles ears lowered and looked at the ground. ‘ well you betrayed me.’ he said with hate on the tip of his tounge.

‘ you left us, you didn't even care. you left spider , your own child. you where selfish thinking of no one but yourself. I raised him , I loved him , I fed and washed him. HE CRIES AT NIGHT THINKING ‘ WHY DID HE LEAVE US, WERE WE NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR HIM’. you shouted standings slowly from your spot and slowly walking to him.

‘ YOU BETRAYED ME. YOU LEFT WITH JAKE , YOU HELPED THOSE BLUE FUCKS. I DIDN'T PLAN TO DIE Y/N , I DIDN'T PLAN TO GET AN ARROW IN MY HEART Y/N.’ at this point it was a shouting match. Both navi’s breathing uneven , chests heaving up and down glaring at each other.

‘ you left us.’ you said regaining your breath looking at him with tears in your eyes.

‘i know’ he says he says sighing taking a step forward

‘you left him’

step

‘i know ‘

‘you left and it hurt’

step

‘ i know’

‘but yet you did it ‘

by his last step you guys were nose to nose.

he rests his head on top of yours slowly wrapping his hands around your waist , he notices you how you leaned into his chest with you cheek against him . he took a huge breath hoping that even though there is pain in this moment it could last forever.

‘ I know but i'm here now, ill make it up to you. i'll make it up to him. ill fix this .’ he said kissing your forehead a and rubbing your back letting you cry all the pain he caused you the last few years. he says with tears in his eyes burying his face in her braided hair.

‘ i hate you’

‘i know ’

@shelbythequeen

so what did you guys think ? should i write a second part ?

#neteyam #na'vi avatar #miles quaritch #miles quaritch x reader #hot as fuck #jake sully x reader #jake sully #spider x reader #miles x reader

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violottie · 19 days

Text

if the last 7 months have taught me anything its that this world does not see black or brown people as human beings at all

all the word vomitting from white, tripping over each others to be the first to say black lives matter or theyre not racist or of course they are inclusive of all races in the past decade has meant nothing

because in practice, we can see how fast the world snapped into gear when less than a handful of white people were killed over 40,000-

i repeat

40,000 Arab and Afro-Palestinians. Innocent Indigenous men, women, children, babies- entire, ENTIRE FAMILY LINES WIPED FROM THE FACE OF THE EARTH

but oh that makes sense, that is justified, right? because its not akshually a war crime because you see its just white people doing what they must to "cleanse" "their" land so they can "feel safe" on "their" land for other white people who are apparently native to this middle eastern country

are you thick? are you that dense that you dont see this? that this world is and always has been planet white supremacy? that nothing any non white person does will be enough to even qualify as human in their eyes, and there is nothing white people have to do to be granted that basic dignity

what more words do i have to say? what more words havent been said? how many more of us must be killed until yall feel "safe"? all of us?! because best believe if, and inshallah this does not come to pass, but if these zionist cunts kill every Palestinian in Gaza and the West Bank, suddenly they'll announce how they have finall defeated Hamas.

that is when they will stop. when all of them, all of us ✊🏽✊🏾✊🏿 are dead

white supremacy does not learn. it devours and destroys and kills in the name of religion or "peace"

and i am fucking fed up with this fucking world and all you dickbrained bastards who cannot fucking see or care or fucking do something about this

because we ✊🏽✊🏾✊🏿 are not even actually human in your eyes either. no not even white liberals are free of this dumb shit. we're a token of how sanctimonious and good of a liberal you are.

i hate all of this

this fucking world

all these fucking lies

the lie that is that this world is becoming a better place, that we have made progress. but no. give it 40 years and we'll be back to segregation and no rights for women and we'll be back to the "good ol days" of absolute white supremacy and power, and then all you thin skinned cowards will get yours.

just watch, as youre so fucking good at doing now.

fuck you

fuck. you.

#vent #racism #white supremacy #anti blackness #islamophobia #fuck israel #fuck zionist #fuck zionism #fuck this stupid world

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xxlovelynovaxx · 8 days

Text

Oh lovely, the transandrophobic "trans inclusive" rad/ical feminis/ts are now calling te/rfs "twerfs" (trans woman exclusive radi/cal femin/ists).

Hey, you know how terfs "soured" a lot of people on genuine, intersectional feminism?

You're just them but trans, regardless of your gender. You're JK Rowling and Dave Chappelle in blue white and pink. You're writing essays on the evil predatory (trans) men invading (trans) women's spaces and mutilating their bodies with testosterone and cutting off perfectly healthy organs and rejecting the only good gender as traitors.

That last part is just verbatim, even.

Add trans in front of the genders in any transphobe's horrific ranting and you get your own posts. You're cruel, you're class traitors, you're feds in binders and gaffs too pathetic to even demand pay for the work you're doing for our oppressors.

Trans unity means I never give up fighting for your rights, even as you're throwing them to the wolves just for a taste of what it feels like to have your boot on someone else's throat. You justify it because of who you say has faced the "worst" pain, has been hurt the "most" by (trans)misogyny, because don't you know that women have the right to speak over any other marginalized person on their own oppression because only women really know what it's like to be oppressed?

Merlin's unwashed nutsack, do you fuckers even hear yourselves? You're indistinguishable from ter/fs!

Yeah, I'll keep fighting, because I can understand that even the most sniveling narcs who think they're "saving" people by betraying them, even the people radicalized enough that they actually believe in the bullshit they're spreading, don't deserve oppression.

Quite frankly, this post isn't FOR them, no matter how much it's worded like it is, because rage is not a tool of deradicalization and I refuse to judge even bigots every bit as taken in as your average Jehovah's witness or Amish person for doing harm while being victims of the group they're doing harm for.

(All the same, the accusations of trans people being indoctrinated and taken in by "MRA shit" are not only blatant projection, but also in the rare cases that they are true, pale in comparison to the quantity and scope of harm done by this actual significant growing group of radicalized trans people .)

Since I've mainly seen people with some form of "baeddel", who call people "transandrophobia truthers" or "transandrodorks" doing this, perhaps people need a reminder that baeddels were a group who took that name themselves (after it had fallen out of usage for several hundred years, claiming they were "reclaiming" it) who did a shit ton of harm to transmascs, nonbinary people, intersex people, and transfems.

These trans-woman "inclusive" radic/al fem/inists who actually are dangerous and violent towards every transfem that doesn't agree with you. TWIRFs are not a fucking joke. And to be exceedingly clear, there's a reason I hyphenated trans-woman in the acronym spelled out, because it's an adjective modifying inclusive; trans people of every gender make up "twirfs".

There's a decent chance they'll either take "twirfs" and wear it like a badge of honor, like some t/erfs do, or claim it's a slur, like... oh, like some terf/s do. I've read the playbook, and if there's a play I haven't laid out, I'm sure it'll be just as uninspired and plagiarized from te/rfs. But who knows, maybe they'll come up with something new and horrific and surprise us - every so often, ter/fs do that too.

Anyway, if you see this post and wanna tell me, an intersex transneufemmasc, what a horrible awful transmisogynist I am for acknowledging all forms of oppression I face and not just the single one I share with most of you, fuck off and block me. I've got no time for the usual suicide baiting, florid violent fantasies of me being raped and/or tortured and/or killed, and the like.

Besides, while you are fucking dangerous, I've got worse danger to deal with than you on a daily basis, for being a visibly genderqueer fat disabled person in a place where everything from gender roles to medicine is stuck in the 18-fucking-hundreds. I truly do not have time for your bullshit.

#transandrophobia #transmisandry #exorsexism #intersexism #transmisogyny #ceterophobia

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next-autopsy · 5 months

Text

A/N: Well, hi there! This chapter is dedicated to @malarkgirlypop as a reward 💕

Based on the actors portrayal/hbo show and written with no disrespect to the real life veterans. Also all images found on Pinterest.

TW: none I think? swearing maybe?

Tags: @malarkgirlypop, @panzershrike-pretz

Made of Glass

Chapter twenty three: May I Have This Dance?

Living an ocean away from her family and home town wasn’t as difficult as Birdie thought it would be. She had already been away from them for over a year, she’d celebrated Christmas, the New Year of ‘43 and her twentieth birthday away from the people she had shared her entire life with.

Moving to Aldbourne, England felt meager in comparison.

Due to limited space, the women of the 506th 2nd battalion were made to share barracks with the men in their platoons. There were around twenty to thirty cots set up in each round barn-like building. There were also no specified women's showers or toilets, so escorts were somewhat needed again.

When Easy company was made aware of the new sleeping arrangements, the men of 2nd platoon took it upon themselves to set Birdie up in the corner of the room, nearest to the door. Toye insisted he take the bed next to the woman, while Bill claimed the one opposite to her.

The first night with her new roommates was the hardest.

Bed time came around and the men in her barracks began stripping off as they usually would. The woman averted her eyes, choosing to stare at the ceiling and study each mark and line. As she gazed upwards, Birdie realized she, too, would have to change her clothes in front of all the men.

“You okay, Little Bird?” Bill spoke, noticing her fidgeting hands and the way she bit her lip, she most definitely had something on her mind.

“Uhh…” Her eyesight flicked to the man addressing her, then when she saw his bare chest her vision went straight back up. “Should I- I mean…uh, D-Do I just change here…or…?”

After that little encounter, Toye and Guarnere hung a couple of sheets up to section off a corner giving Birdie a smidge of privacy while she changed.

When Birdie was finally ready to curl up in her new bed and sleep, the snoring started. Sleeping alongside the men was more difficult than she imagined.

Bernadette wasn’t really a morning person but she usually functioned well enough. When she woke, the first morning in the men's barracks, Birdie felt like shit. The constant snoring kept her up and every time she was close to falling asleep, a particularly loud snort would wake her.

“Good morning, Little Bird.” Luz chirped at her sleeping figure. Birdie groaned out as a reply, unable and unwilling to answer with words. He laughed at her and tried again to rouse the woman, but she only swatted a hand in his general direction and pulled the blanket over her head.

“Come on, Birdie. You’ll miss breakfast.” George sign-songed, attempting to appeal to her.

“Fuck off.” She mumbled at him, adding a “Leave me ‘lone.” for good measure. Luz didn’t seem to get her message as he kept trying to wake her. At last, fed up with his persistence, she sat up, pushing the covers off of her and letting them fall into her lap.

“Ah, there she is! You-”

“I am going… To. Kill. You.” Bernadette cut him off. She did not want to hear his voice this early after such a shocking night with little sleep. George just grinned at her threat and the glare stuck on her face.

“Well, someone’s not a morning-oof.” Birdie threw her pillow directly at him, successfully shutting him up.

—------------------------

Being in England meant Birdie could now legally drink, with no repercussions from Lipton or Johnny. And there were more pubs here than she could count. Since she didn’t see the girls every day anymore, they all agreed to make an effort to meet at a previously chosen local pub every saturday night.

This week's meet up was at the ‘King’s Head’ and Birdie was excited. All she wanted was to sip on some whiskey, maybe have a dance or two and chat with her girls.

She was wearing her class A’s with the pencil skirt, stockings and heels. Birdie put on her signature ‘night out’ red lipstick and let her hair down in voluminous victory rolls. She shared a cab with Toye and Guarnere, who refused to let her pay the fare.

When the trio arrived at the drinking establishment, she ran ahead and bought the first round to repay them. While the men complained at her sneaky little gesture, they didn't refuse the alcohol, finding an empty table and sitting to chug the first drink of the night.

“Fancy seeing you here.” The unmistakable voice of Blythe Alderidge sounded from behind Birdie. She grinned into her drink before turning to face the woman.

“Oh, I see they let just anyone in nowadays.” Her joke was well received by the three women who stood with Blythe. They all smiled, exchanging hugs and pleasantries.

“Lucy and Betty couldn’t make it.” Frankie informed, drink already in her hand. When did she have the time to order that?

“Next time.” The ladies took over the table, catching each other up with the events of the week. They yapped and laughed for what might’ve been hours, until one brave British lad approached the group.

“Good evenin’, ladies.” He puffed up his chest and spoke confidently, eyeing up Birdie specifically, “Might I steal a dance?” He was staring at her, arm reaching out to her as an invitation. It took Birdie a second to realize he was waiting for her answer. She was about to politely decline, before she could get the words out, Charlotte answered for her.

“Of course you can…” she gave her friend a shove, “right, Birdie?” Smiling sweetly while throwing Birdie to a wolf. Her jostling had pushed Bernadette towards the stranger and to balance herself she had grabbed onto his outstretched hand. He took that as her accepting his request for a dance and led her to the area designated for bogeying.

“Birdie? What a beautiful name.” The man spoke up, his accent made it hard for her to understand him as he talked so fast.

“Oh uh… thank you.” She needed another drink if she was going to have to put up with this small talk. He spun her once, bringing her closer when she twirled back to him. Birdie noticed his not so slick move and was not impressed.

“What an accent… where are you from, love?” Her head tilted at the nickname.

“Mississippi.” She paused, then remembered how conversations worked, “And, you? Are you from around here?”

“Me? Nah, I'm from London.” He told her before spinning her yet again. After that the conversation dulled down and Birdie began to feel uncomfortable. The man let his hand slide down the curve of her back ever so slightly, but Birdie still noticed.

When the song concluded, the mystery man offered to buy her a drink. While that was exactly what she needed, she found herself trying to come up with an excuse.

“I should probably check in with my girls.” Birdie took a step away from him, praying he would get the message and that she wouldn’t have to elaborate.

“Oh, okay, I'll come with you.” He stepped in her direction, smiling. Birdie's shoulders sagged, she really didn’t want to be rude to this guy, he hadn’t done anything wrong, she just wasn’t feeling it and wanted to spend time with her friends.

“That’s okay. You don't have to do that.” She was doing her best to shake him. She didn’t even know his name, did he seriously think this was going well?

“I want to-” The British man was interrupted by an American voice, one Birdie recognised.

“Take a hint. She’s not interested.” Liebgott stood nearby, smoke hanging out of his mouth. His posture was nonchalant, like he was trying too hard to look cool and it made Birdie giggle, which gained the attention of both men. One smirked at her and the other glared.

“You what, mate?” The stranger straightened his stance and stepped towards Joe, who didn't move at all, completely unfazed.

“She’s obviously trying to get rid of you.” Lieb explained, shrugging his shoulders.

“Are you?” Birdie’s brief dance partner looked over his shoulder at her.

“Well… I was trying to be polite.” She winced, she really was trying to spare his feelings but he was persistent.

“See?” Joe smirked, inhaling his cigarette and exhaling into the man's face. This only seemed to piss him off, Birdie could see an upcoming altercation and positioned herself closer to the two men, in case she had to break something up.

“Why don't you shut your mouth, stupid fuckin’ yank.” Both Birdie and Joe dropped their jaws, though Lieb covered his reaction. This guy had nerve. Bernadette was at her limit, she didn't appreciate him barging in on her precious time with her girlfriends, she hated the stupid small talk and he was a shitty dancer. And now, he was insulting her friend. That was enough.

“Excuse you?” Her pitch went up, “You don’t get to talk to him like that! Who the fuck do you think you are?” He had upset her and now she had the urge to fight him. Where was Frankie and her knife when she needed it?

“Whatever,” The Brit started to walk away, but very quietly (not quiet enough though) he muttered under his breath, “A whore like you ain’t worth it.”

He didn’t take another step. It was only a second after he uttered the words and he was falling to the floor. Lieb had swung in record time, hitting the man with such force that he toppled to the ground.

Bernadette moved closer to Joe, grasping onto his forearm firmly, letting him know that was enough. He had done his job of protecting her honour and now they could leave the poor guy on the floor. Joe seemed to silently understand this as he turned and the pair made their way away from whoever that guy was.

“Thanks.” Birdie spoke once they sat down, “For hitting him.”

“No problem. He shouldn’t of called you that.” Joe was shaking his head, disgusted with his gender.

“It’s fine, I-“

“But it’s not.” His tone was angry but not at her. He was just angry, angry that she was about to say she was used to it. Joe had met a lot of women and, while he didn’t love the word, some of them would be classified as whores. But not Birdie. She was too kind, too funny, too pretty, too sweet, too stubborn, too intelligent to be considered a whore. She spent all day around men, living, eating, training with men and not once had he seen her flirt.

“No it’s not.” She could tell his anger was stewing inside that brain of his, she took it upon herself to try to calm him, “Not really, but that doesn’t change the fact that he said it. It’s no use letting some jerk like that ruin our night.”

Liebgott let her words sink in. ‘Our night’ she had said. Our. Me and you. Us.

“Wanna get out of here?” Joe spoke before he could stop himself. He just wanted to be alone with her, where no one could steal her away for a dance while he watched helplessly. He wanted to talk to her without having to compete for her attention.

“Sure. Just let me tell the girls, okay?”

A/N: Hope y'all enjoyed x

~ Nex ~

Chapter twenty four

#band of brothers #easy company #hbo war #joe liebgott #made of glass #band of brothers fanfic #fem oc #oc #next autopsy #made of glass chapter twenty three

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deadpool15 · 7 months

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YOUR BEAUTIFUL

Unlucky. That's all I felt when I woke up this morning. From the very beginning of my days to the very end. It's all I ever feel. I used to tell myself, "People will like you if you just be yourself. And if they don't then fuck them". That was my thought process, until I realized I am the fucking problem. No on wants to be around me or tries to get to know me, then I start to feel like 12 year old girl eating lunch in the bathroom because no one gave a shit about her.

I get up to make breakfast, only to see the eggs and pancakes sitting front there waiting for me with a note. "I'll be back in a couple of hours baby, make sure you eat. I will check before you try to lie. Love you." My girlfriend, Tatter. When I first got to Korea, I had no one and could barely speak the language until I met her. My Sun.

Flackback

"I'm literally never going to find this place. I could've sworn that nice-looking lady said, "Take a left. Now that I think about she didn't look that nice and now that's what I get for trusting old people." I start to rush around the street trying to find a bus stop, it's getting dark outside and I have no fucking clue where I am. Until I bump straight into someone, already fed up with everything I immediately go off on them.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, can't you look or see at all? I'm literally going through shit right now and everything is shit and omg fuck." I yelled out at the person without looking at them. Then I hear laughing, which pisses me off even more, and I look uo ready to fight at this point until I see her. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to knock into, but I've kinda been watching you talk to yourself and have a meltdown for a minute. I thought you were crazy. " She says, trying to hide her laugh.

I'm not paying attention to anything she is saying. It's hard to focus, she's so fucking beautiful. Then I realize I'm staring, "Guess you are no help." She gives me her hand to help me up. That's right. I've been sitting on the ground staring at her for the past few minutes. So, not smooth, Kat. "I actually was going that way. You can come with me. Unless you would like to continue your conversation with yourself." I stare at her for a while again. "I'll come with you, but only because you know that way." She laughs loudly. "That's fine, I'm Tatter, by the way. I look around, confused. "That's a unique name, I'm Kat short for Kathleen." I said smiling maybe we might become friends.

Present time

Looking back is such a weird thing for me. How different I was is wild. You see, dating Tatter is amazing. It always has been until well I happened, I guess. It's like my brain has never allowed me to be happy. From being extremely insecure to unhappy, I don't know how she deals with me. The thing that bothers Tatter most is my body dysmorphia. Almost everyone I see are people she hangs with, that's skinny, beautiful, talented girls. And as much as I try to hate them, I hate that I can't ever find any flaws. Unlike me, whose flaws are so evident. I've never been skinny, I am I'm a thick girl. Some would say slim thick.

Until they see the belly, and the stretch marks all on my thighs and stomach. I try to work out, but it's hard. I mean, going to the gym is scary. All those people around me are judging my size and weight. Then Tatter is a dancer, a great one at that. She always tries to get me to show up to her classes or hang out with her friends, I know she will eventually feel like I'm blowing her off, but I'm ashamed. Ashamed of myself, my girlfriend is the most beautiful woman I've ever seen and hangs out around other beautiful women. Yet her girlfriend looks like a fucking horror movie.

I've been sitting her losing track of time before I her the door open and Tatter stepping in with a bag in her hand. "Hey, bubble, I'm back. And you won't believe it while we were at the mall just window shopping. I saw the most beautiful dress. And I got it." She tells me while smiling. She is always smiling, ughh she is so fucking gorgeous it hurts. She pulls out the dress to show me. It's a long, backless dress, with a slit going down the right leg. "You seeing was literally made for you. It's pretty right? Well, it's gonna look even pretty with you in it tonight, at the crew dinner." Oo shit, crew dinner, I forgot that was tonight. It's too late to make my an excuse on the spot and bail. I just look at her nodding, "yea it's pretty."

She pushes me in the room and tells me to start getting ready. I sit there contemplating my life while staring at the dress. It's really pretty, but will it still look the same on me. I turn my hand and notice Tatter is walking around getting ready as well. She is wearing pants, a and sweater. Though it's really tight fit to her body and makes her curves pop. I paid attention to the dress again and finally decided to put it on. "OK, I mean this sint that bad. It could be worse." I tell myself until I hear my phone go off. So much for motivational pep talk. It's a notification from some random girl I don't remember following on Instagram. "Hey, her dress is similar to mine."

There it is, happening like always. I start to overthink and analyze every detail about myself. Making comparison after comparison. "We look like we're wearing two completely different things." I notice, what the fuck did I expect. She is skinny and pretty, and I'm me. I look out the bedroom door to see Tatter, happily walking apurnd the room finished with getting ready. "What am I doing? This is stupid." I walk outside the bathroom and tell her I'm ready she notices my expression and stops." What's wrong?" I just look at her. What could she possibly like about me. "Nothing, let's go." I tell her to end the conversation before it even starts. I'm not gonna fuck this up for her, I'll just hand with her crew and come home and cry about it later. It's not her fault I'm like this.

She grabs my arm as I walk out of the room. Turning me around to face her. "You look beautiful." No, no, please don't do this now. I was so close to keeping it together. "The dress was made for you, baby." I look at her with a pleading face. "Please stop, don't lie to me, I'm aware of how I look." She immediately frowns up when I start to cry. I was seriously trying to avoid this. "What are you talking about? I'm not lying. Why are you crying, baby? What happened?" I really can do this right now. " I happened, how can you stand here and tell me this fucking delusions. I look fucking disgusting, I always look nasty and hard to look at. So let's just get this over with and go see your friends, please." She grabs me and stands right behind me.

So closely, I can feel her breath on my neck. I look up, and we are facing a mirror. I try to move or pull away, but she has a firm grip on me. Keeping me in place, being forced to stare at myself. "Look, what do you see? I stare back at her. "Our reflections, what else would I see. She cuts me off before I can throw out another remark. "No, tell me what you really see. Do you want me to go first? I see the most beautiful women I've ever laid eyes on. The same woman I bumped into on that dead-end street that cursed me out for a solid 5 minutes. The same woman that lights up a room whenever she walks into it. The woman who works so hard not only takes care of others but makes sure to put everyone above herself. But most of all, I see the absolutely gorgeous curvy girl tempered girl I fell in love with the moment I walked her to the bus stop. I don't love you because of your looks baby. I smile while crying fully now, "That sounded like a backhanded ass complement Tatter", I say while slightly laughing.

"My love, will you shut up and let me finish or so help me, God? I continue laughing and gestures for her to continue. "Like I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, I don't love you because off your looks, they are simply a bonus to the full premium package you've come with. My view of you hasn't changed since that day. You're beautiful." She tells me while kissing my shoulder and rubbing my stomach. "I love you to Tatter, so so much. You wouldn't even begin to believe." She smirks before saying, "My speech was better, but I'll let you live. "Wow, and you are an asshole." I tell her before she grabs my waist holding me. "Now let's go to that dinner, baby. I'm pretty sure Bada is ready to call the fire department to check on us."

(P.S. this is a shoutout to all my insecure girlies, including myself. Remember, you are beautiful. We were made with diversity, and that's a beautiful thing. Big, small, and midsized are just different versions of gorgeous.)

#street woman fighter 2 #swf2 #Tatter #street woman fighter x reader

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strawberrybyers · 1 year

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idc hailey bieber has my full support. the amount of hate she’s been getting for the past 5 years has been insane and the vile stuff that’s being said to her right now is a disgrace. people get their info from tiktok and just run with it and think it gives them justification to harass people or wish death upon them. also, selena commenting on those tiktoks was instigating shit. she’s done stuff like that before and it’s weird. i truly do not understand why her or her fans continue to post things or are liking/sharing stuff that has to do with justin and hailey. its fucking weird. they’ve been married for 5 years now. they used to date back in 2015/16. clearly they’re in love and are just minding their business. this hate campaign that’s happening towards hailey in the name of selena is sick in the head behavior. i thought selena promoted about taking care of your mental health, supporting women, and being kind?? harassing someone, bashing their looks, shaming them, bullying them, and saying they should die doesn’t fall in line with anything your so-called fave promotes.

i truly believe society loves any opportunity to shame and harass women. female celebrities get harassed more than male celebrities who have actually caused harm to people. people love to find any way to make women miserable and hurt them. they love to revel in their trauma and misery. they also love being the cause of it. and because there’s this belief that social media isn’t a “big deal” because everything’s online, people don’t care about any of the repercussions of their actions or words. they don’t see the hurt or trauma someone experiences from what happens online, and when that person comes out to express how they feel, they’re told they deserve it or should suck it up because they’re in the spotlight and that’s just life for them. why are we tolerable towards spreading hate to others? why are people so comfortable with finding gratification in that? in my opinion, this hailey/selena situation is much bigger than some celebrity drama. the conversation we need to be having is why are people willing to say and do the most extreme things on the behalf of celebrities, the harm of parasocial relationships and worship culture, and how tearing down women is a hobby of many men and women.

all in all, i don’t give a fuck whether you like hailey or not. there’s something seriously wrong with you if you believe someone, a HUMAN BEING, should receive hate in this way. if you don’t like her, don’t pay attention to her! it’s very easy! but just something i think everyone should think about is if you would feel comfortable if people associated with your partner’s ex was constantly harassing you? probably not!! i actually think you would be quite fed the fuck up!! so why put someone else through that??

#people only care about kindness when they’re on the receiving end of it #i truly believe social media has damaged the way people interact with others #the acceptance of being hateful is terrifying #people are worried about mean girl behavior when the only ones commenting mean shit is YOU!#projection at its finest smh #justin bieber #hailey bieber #hailey baldwin #jailey

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eaaaazygurl · 2 years

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Violet Flowers

Pairing - Arthur Morgan x F!reader

Summary - You find John Marston staring at you longer than you'd come to appreciate. As you confront your friend, he can't help but let it slip that Arthur has a big surprise for you.

Wordcount - 7000+ (a long read! May need some time to finish.)

Notes - Slightly modified Canon: Sean was taken by O'driscolls instead of Bounty Hunters, the events of RDR2 take place over the course of years in the three states rather than just one year (because only playing as Arthur for 1 year in game time is CRIMINAL and this is an established long term relationship!) Fluffy Morgan obviously, Dutch being a dick without actually making an appearance, John being a supportive best friend and brother.

PS: My apologies if I have irritated anyone. I've reposted in hopes that the read more works. I didn't realise you actually had to add a read more! So thank you to the person who kindly pointed out that adding one would be a good move ^^

Marston was staring at you again.

The scarred Outlaw stood at the steaming stewpot, sharp eyes stuck to you, unaware that you had obviously taken note.

It was just past 7pm, you had been taking in the thick, pungent aroma of the Bayou Nwa swamps that surrounded the Van Der Linde's new camp; Shady Belle, a quaint rundown plantation house that had been without repair or proper inhabitants for what looked like a decade now. Whilst somewhat unpleasant, you had been here in the stagnant water and shit-filled silt before when you were once just a small posse of seven men and women, all of them friends and family, off to explore the supposed wonders of Saint Denis just beyond the border of the Bayou - or rather - you had gone to scope any easy pickings and see the potentiality of robbing the city's main bank before heading back to your camp in the Heartlands of New Hanover. So yes - you were already accustomed to the smell of rotten corpses and Alligator excrement by now.

You sat idle upon the rotting wooden bench just beside the plantations main doors where you and Sadie had shared a good laugh on the situation of things; Little Jack had returned, saved by the men of the gang. You had never seen Abigail beam a smile so bright as she charged through the commotion to lock her young son into a death grip of a hug, tears of joy streaming down her rosy cheeks as she cried out many thank-you's to the boys. There had been a party that night, one that descended into an entire gang sing-along whilst Javier struck the cords of his trusty guitar. John and Abigail had retreated just after one song, wanting to make Jack comfortable in their new camp, and you had scouted around the group to find your partner: Arthur Morgan.

Your relationship had blossomed the day he returned back to Clemens Point, black and blue and horrifically injured by Colm O'driscoll and his boys. Your extensive knowledge on tending to injuries had come in useful that night and you were able to clean the awful gun wound to Arthur's shoulder whilst effectively voiding any fever or infection. Your feelings towards the Outlaw had been apparent for months; having been good friends for just over a year beforehand, running the O'driscoll Boys from the Heartlands so that your posse and Arthur's gang might be a little safer. Clearly you had pissed them off one too many times, and you spent the next few weeks blaming yourself for Arthur's kidnapp. During those weeks of you aiding Arthur; washing him, tending to his beard and hair and making sure he was well fed and hydrated, you had both admitted to eachother your true feelings. The entirety of the Van Der Linde gang had caught on many months prior but you both had been blissfully unaware until then.

It had been - and still was - a beautiful, fruitful relationship. You were both extremely gentle with eachother, attempting to outmatch the other with gifts, words or physical affection. But, you were also an unstoppable duo when it came to getting jobs done. Wherever your names were known, people knew not to piss the both of you off when you came into town, lest they want a bloodbath.

A deep sigh of relaxation escaped your lungs as you sloped down on the bench in deep thought as you remembered back on the events prior to Shady Belle, ignoring the seats complaints as the beams of wood creeked under your weight. Sadie had left a little while earlier for a small scouting mission around the Bayou alongside Lenny, voicing her goodbyes with a 'See ya later.' Kieran passed on by with a little wave and small nervous smile, prompting you with a cheerful "Afternoon, Duffy."

Your eyes met the little pot of stew just ahead once again, investigating who had gathered round to take a bowl before you decided to go in and offer yourself some of the contents: Tilly, Jack and John were huddled around the pot, Jack attempting to take himself out a ladle of the sloppy liquid.

You eyed John once more out of instinct, feeling his eyes burning into you yet again. You were confused, feeling irritation begin to bubble in the pit of your stomach. Marston knew your relationship with Arthur and he knew what consequences he would be facing if he attempted anything - even now he would be getting a rather hard clip around the back of the head for staring as much as he was. Besides, he had Abigail and they seemed happy! Happier - at least, and yet, he still hadn't taken his eyes off of you. That's when you decided to act, pulling yourself up with a stretch and then sauntered over towards the pot with a lick of your lips, your stomach aching. You were hungry, afterall.

"Wolfbite." You addressed John as such, a silly little nickname Arthur had given him when you had both found John drunk as a fool and harassing the general store clerk inside of Rhodes. You had to drag him out of the shop by his arms, and as you recall Arthur had berated him for such actions; "God dammit Wolfbite, you go five minutes in the town and yer already tryin' to get us shot at!"

John shot you a displeased glare at the comment, but he knew ultimately it was just a fun little nickname - nothing as irritating and uncomfortable as Micah's retorts. Besides, you were one of John's closest friends within the gang, irritating eachother for the fun of it was just in both of your nature: "Y/n." He addressed you back, watching as Jack struggled aimlessly with the ladle.

You watched intently as John eventually came to his son's aid, gripping the handle against Jack's little hand, "Here, this is how you do it," He pulled the ladle down so that the bowl of the object took a big dip into the stew. Jack studied the way his father brought the ladle up some and then spilled the contents into the silver bowl; "Now you try, without my help."

Jack pursed his lips, focusing hard as he preformed a very similar action to his father, taking a dip and then pouring the liquid into his bowl, "I did it!"

"You sure did, Jack." John praised the boy with a ruffle to his brown hair, then began nudging him away, "Now go on, back to your mother before you drop your hard work all over the floor."

"Thanks, Pa." Jack had turned to reply, and although you spotted a brief flinch from the man, he relaxed rather quickly and replied with a, "You're welcome, son."

Jack soon made his way back, leaving you and John alone at the pot. You bent down to take your own bowl, draining some stew into it, "I'm proud of you, ya know."

"Why?" John took a small step back to allow you some room.

You drew back after filling your own dish, glancing up at John with a smirk, "Just you and Jack. You've really changed your way with him since Horseshoe."

John awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck as he too bent down to collect a bowl, "You weren't even with us at Horseshoe Overlook?"

"No," You took a spoon of soup, "but Arthur tells me a lot. Said he didn't understand why you shyed away from your own son for so long, how you and Abigail were fightin' all the time." As you blew on the hot contents within the dip of your spoon, you watched curiously as John let out a deep sigh, waving his empty bowl around as he groaned, "Of course Arthur tells you everything. What else has the old man rambled on about?"

You gave John a soft laugh and shrugged, taking a mouthful and swallowing, "Nothin' much. Just how you bellyache all the time, especially since you became a wolf's chew-toy. But between you and me? Sean had the biggest mouth," as you mentioned Sean's name, you frowned deeply.

The events over the course of the past few weeks were awfully troubling and your escape from Clemens Point had forced you all to leave Sean behind. The Greys had put a bullet through his head - he hadn't even been on the defensive from what Arthur told you.

You could see the pain in your lover's eyes as he explained the situation, how Sean had been dishonorably shot, Bill too although he had survived. How the boys almost wiped out the entire Grey family and dealt with the drunken Sheriff. The locals might have said that ridding the town of those two parasitic families was a blessing, but all blessings come with their consequences, and poor young Sean had been the unknowing sacrifice. He was your friend long before you knew of the Van Der Linde gang and Arthur. You recalled many a night of drunken laughter with Sean and your posse. He had even been the one to properly introduce you and Arthur, pushing the Cowboy to help you out when Arthur had freed you after the raid on the O'driscolls to save Sean himself. Now, Sean was gone, and even if the Irishman could be a little gutter-brained and irritating at times, you all missed him dearly.

"I do miss that kid, even if he was a little shit at times. He was an annoying little brother in a way." John was now filling his bowl though a little sluggishly as he shook his head at the reminder of Sean Macguire.

"Arthur said the same." You reply, taking another mouthful and briefly looking towards the sky as if in search of something. You then clear your throat to remind John of your previous talk before the sore subject of Sean came up, "Anyway... about Arthur."

"What about Arthur?"

You hush John with a sigh, leaning more on one foot than the other as you squint slightly to capture the man's attention, "He worries about you John. He just wants you to bond with Jack, to have what he didn't because of..." your voice trailed off, but John carried the conversation onward: "Issac and Eliza... yeah, I know." He took a small stroll over towards where a small campfire had been smouldering, setting himself down onto one of the wooden crates whilst you took your place at a fallen log.

John continued, "I've got something that he had and cherished, and that was taken away from him. I was throwin' that all away whilst he was suffering his losses. I'm a damn fool."

"I don't think you are." You chimed in quickly. You'd had a conversation of some sort similar to the one you were having with John now, remembering how Arthur understood his little brother's worries but wished he'd come and confided in him before running off for god knows how long. What you said next was almost a direct repeat of what Arthur had said to you: "I think you're misguided yes, but not a fool. Besides, you're making an effort now. That's more than enough, and Arthur seems to think so too."

John glanced up at you from his stew with a small startle, "He does?"

A soft laugh escaped your throat as you finished your meal, throwing down the bowl to rest your arms against your knees, "He's happy for ya John. All he wished for was that you and the boy got along. Seems like that wish is coming true."

John shared the smile with you, appreciating your little talk. You gave it a few seconds before prodding John with the question you had originally planned on asking him: "So, there's another thing I was gonna ask you,"

John placed his bowl below his feet in a patch of sodden boggy grass, "What's that?"

What you said next had John freeze, tighten his lips and sit up straight.

"Why were you staring at me? Wasn't hard to realise concidering I had full view of the camp from the plantation house." You leant forward slightly, a brow raising as you smirked, "Y'do realise if Arthur found out he'd have your head?"

There was a brief silence, and then John answered with a short and stubborn, "Wasn't nothing like that and you know it. You got Arthur and I got Abigail. B'sides you're my best friend who would I-"

"Easy there John you might end up losin' your voice at this rate! I'm just jokin' with ya," You shook your head, amused when John slowly forced his jaw to shut, eyes narrowed and mouth pouting as though he had been a child scolded by their mother, "I was just lost in my own head okay?" He managed to speak out bluntly.

You clearly weren't satisfied with his answer and at the right time, too. Thundering hooves alerted you to someone's return. As you and John both glanced over towards the hitching posts, you spotted Arthur skidding to a stop upon his white Arabian mount, gracefully slipping from her side to give her a gentle brush and feed before hitching her up.

You slowly twisted your gaze back round to John, a smug look crossing your face, "Great timing on Arthur's behalf. Sure you don't want me to call him over?"

"No!" John had snapped back, not out of anger, but anxious fear, and not the terrified fear but one that he usually felt when Arthur was mad with him, like a scolded child, "No- please don't. Arthur WILL have my head if I tell you."

"Tell me? Tell me what?" That statement had confused you, and clearly it hadn't meant to slip because John was now writhing awkwardly on his perch, cursing under his breath. You wanted to pry further, now completely invested in knowing what it was John was trying to hide, "Marston, are you and Arthur upto something? Come on tell me, I won't say a word. Promise."

John tried to throw his mind onto something else but to no avail. He tried averting his gaze but it was too much. His eye briefly caught Arthur, still tending to his horse. The pressure began to mount. Your eyes were staring with an intensity that almost burnt: "A robbery? Some sort of big job? Please tell me, pleassseee?!"

"Okay fine! I can't tell you everything, that would ruin it but-" He ducked a little and brought himself forward so his voice could be lowered, quickly checking on Arthur to make sure he wasn't striding over. Your confused expression only deepened as John shuffled closer and quietly spoke, "Arthur's got a surprise for you, but I can't say anything else." You guessed that, so you frowned, displeased. John then hissed a whisper, eyes wide with warning, "It would really ruin it- and don't say anything! If he finds out you even have the smallest idea he'll throw me into the swamp!"

You knew the threat of Arthur launching John into the water was one that made his body shudder. It was common knowledge within the camp that John Marston could not swim, and a common joke shared amount the many to tease him with. Even Jack took a few digs from time to time, leaving John to snap back a "Don't you start imitating your Uncle now!"

And so, you agreed, placing a hand onto John's shoulder in reassurance, "Okay, I won't say a word. Promise."

"Say a word about what?" Arthur had somehow managed to come up behind you and John without a sound, a brow raised with a dark shadow falling over his eyes from the brim of his hat. He rested his large hands upon your small shoulders, leaning down so that his mouth came to your ear, "Is Marston botherin' you darlin'?"

"Oh no not at all!" You gave Arthur a soft smile, pressing your cheek against his own, his short beard tickling the soft velvet of your skin.

John sat upright and smiled awkwardly, holding his hands upwards in a gesture, "We were just talkin'."

"Yeah I guessed that, but about what?" As Arthur spoke, the beard tickled earning a little giggle that made the Outlaw internally melt.

"About little Jack. John's been teaching him how to pour his own dinner. He's even gonna take him fishing soon." You gave John a look as if to say 'go along with it.' Whilst not entirely a lie, John had just showed Jack how to handle a ladle, the fishing part was false.

Arthur's interests had peaked at the mention of fishing. John hated the water, so this was a first, "You? And water? Fishin'? Well I never thought I'd see the day! You really are trying to bond with that kid,"

John gave Arthur a slow nod. He was anxious and he knew exactly where this was going. He couldn't escape this now...

"Looks like you an' me are goin' fishin' then, Marston! Not now, obviously. But soon. Proud of ya, brother." As Arthur gave John a gleaming smile, he cleared his throat, gently cocking his head a few times to encourage Marston away. Almost instantly he clocked on, grabing his bowl and yours too, "Well I'm off. I'll get these cleaned for you Y/n, no need to thank me. See you soon." John threw his hand to the side in a 'goodbye,' scurrying off into the crowd.

"Hey there, sweetheart." Arthur, now finally alone with you, sat to your side and gently nestled you into his side, placing his chin against the top of your head, "You okay?"

"Better now you're here," You enjoyed the warmth Arthur's broad chest brought you, inhaling the scents of tobacco and various herbs, mint being one such iconic scent. It wasn't often you and Arthur could settle against eachother without the threat of danger lurking nearby. Usually Arthur would be hurled into one of Dutch's crazy plans, hunting for the gang or out on scouting missions. You often joined him on them, but Dutch had been strict on making sure you two were in for the job rather than the time spent together. You weren't one of Miss Grimshaw's slaves luckily, Dutch and Hozier saw your great potential and wanted to put that to good use.

Now you could just relax, taking in the gentle chatter of the camp and quiet cooing of an owl overhead. Distant gurgles of Alligators could be heard some ways off. Your ear then met the gentle thudding of Arthur's heartbeat. Bliss could not come in many forms but this just had to be one of them. Usually Arthur wouldn't be so forward and open with his emotions in front of prying eyes, he tended to keep that confined to less crowded areas but tonight was different, Arthur simply didn't care for what others thought. He was still the same tough man that could load two hay stacks onto his shoulders and walk a mile without a bother as much as he was the gentle, kind and sweet man that had won you over.

Eventually Arthur pulled back from you, eyes gleaming and face a slight dash of red. You'd noticed it in the orange glow upon his face - his eyes had brightened and cheeks darkened slightly, giving away his blush. His hand found the rim of your jawline and gently nudged your head upwards to meet his gaze, "I got somethin' for yer."

"Oh?" Intrigue had your eyes widen as you sat up a little more, shoulders lax and smile cheerful. You never got used to the little gifts Arthur would bring back for you, and so you were excited to see whatever it was next. A new gun, perhaps? Maybe even a fine bit of jewellery he'd managed to pickpocket. Whatever it was, you were curious. Arthur took your hand and stood, you following suit close after. He was walking you past the plantation house towards the overgrown garden that bordered the swamp. In the near distance your eyes could pick up the glow of amber and a structure you'd never seen before. It was something like a bandstand but smaller, a wooden gazebo, creeping vines completely overtaking it's structure with little white flowers growing from each stem. From what you could gather at a glance, the shrubbery had been cut back extensively and the vines looping the wood prunes and trimmed to give it a much neater appearance. The murk had been swept away and cleaned to the best of it's ability.

You were now inches away from the structure. Awe overtook you as Arthur gently ushered you onto the steps, your eyes meeting a number of half melted candles, their flames dancing in the soft breeze. Little purple flowers were scattered across it's interior - the same flowers from Big Valley, yours and Arthur's favourite spot. There were also yarrow petals from what could have been Clemens Point, and tiny yellow orchids from up in West Elizabeth. Slowly, you began to make a connection: these flowers were from key areas you had been in during yours and Arthur's time together. The yellow orchids reminded you of the day Arthur had freed you from the O'driscolls, the yarrow a flower you had used to heal Arthur's injuries from his own kidnapp and the purple flowers in Big Valley, the place where you had both realised your feelings.

"It's beautiful Arthur..." those words escaped your gaping mouth, Arthur watching you with a wide smile as you examined the decor with sparkling eyes; "I'm glad you think so, darlin'."

"You didn't have to go through all of this effort for me... it must've taken you days to get to all of these flowers." Curiosity began to ebb once more. Your gifts had often been small and sweet, picked up by chance on the cowboys adventures across the states. Only this time... these flowers hadn't been picked by chance.

Arthur simply replied with a small nod, "It did. Three days, in fact. That's why me and John were gone three days but uh- don't tell Dutch." He cleared his throat and lowered his tone, smirking, "He jus' thinks we went out on some robbin's across the states."

"Got ya, I won't say a word." You gave Arthur a small gesture that imitated locking your mouth and throwing the key before you returned to studying the flowers and candles, "You really outdid yourself this time. How am I going to get you a better gift now?"

"There ain't no need darlin' this ain't a competition." Arthur chuckled sweetly as drew his fingers through your soft hair, gently removing some of the debris that had accumulated where you could not see - bits of grass and sticks from what he could only assume was haybales for the horses. You'd been busy.

"Still doesn't seem fair to not get you anything in return though..." You whimpered quietly. Arthur brought his hands to your face, his right hand palming your soft cheek whilst brushing his thumb across the velvety skin whilst his left thumb gently trailed across your bottom lip. Your eyes met his brilliant pools of ocean, dilating as you gave his thumb a gentle kiss. Your eyes then danced around the gazebo, attempting to take in every fine little detail. It certainly must have taken days to get this place into shape, for again you'd never noticed it before. You wondered how Arthur had found it, let alone cleared it without you noticing. You were now completely turned from Arthur who had stepped back to give you some room, your back facing him as you studied the interior some more, "Honestly Arthur how on earth did you manage to fix this thing up without me realisin' you was upto something?" The Outlaw remained silent, a little out of character to not respond to you with something sweet or sarcastic, "Oh, I get it. I ain't allowed to know. It's a secret then?"

By the time you'd finished speaking, the wooden floorboards of the gazebo creaked, and you felt a sudden change in pressure. It as if by instinct that your body decided to turn in a slow fashion. Arthur was no longer stood, but crouched. He was bent down. On one knee. His eyes wide and full of anxiety as he pulled a hand out to hold just underneath you.

"Y/n." He began, a slight stutter forming as he spoke, "The day I met you was the day I felt my world change. Ain't nobody else that has ever made me feel this way."

Your eyes were wide, bright. You stood there, your head cocked downwards meeting Arthur's gaze. From the corner of your eye you could see a brief movement within the treeline and recognised the frilly dress of Mary-Beth and the hat of Sadie. Had the gang been watching you and Arthur all this time?

"We've been on our fair share of dangerous missions, had a lot of close calls... so I guess what I'm tryin' to say is-" Arthur's throat convulsed as he took in a deep breath, taking your hand in a vice-like grip. You could feel the heat radiating from them despite being gloved - an obvious sign that his palms were sodden with anxious sweat.

"Will you take my hand in marriage?"

The world became silent, still. It was as though time itself had stopped, because you swore you couldn't feel your heartbeat anymore. Even the gentle noises the Bayou made were all but noisy. It was dead quiet.

You felt an excitement build in your stomach and a deep blush fill your cheeks. Your eyes were in a state of shock, glittering in the moonlight overhead and the flickering of candle fire below. Arthur Morgan was asking for your hand. You! You'd never even imagined a man as handsome and kind-hearted as Mr Morgan would want you in such a way, and now you were on the precipice of becoming Y/n Morgan. You wanted this so bad, but the anticipation of your longer than comfortable silence had Arthur squirming, his grip on your hand loosening. Before he could pull away in shameful defeat however, you tightened your own hand and yanked the Outlaw up, letting out an excited "Yes!"

A perfectly wide smile overpowered Arthur's emotions as he beamed happily at your response, taking you into his arms and spun with you, the most brightest and extatic laugh erupting from his chest as he brought you back down into a loving embrace.

An eruption of cheering and applause had the both of you startle before Arthur could shower you with tender kisses. He let out an irritated "Christ sake!", his eyes narrowing at the crowd. Once he recovered from the startle Arthur brought you into a tight embrace once more sighing softly against your hair, "Of course Hozier told the entire gang..."

Your eye caught Hozier skipping down from the Plantation house like a youthful young man once more, his face glowing with pride and happiness as he began to stride a little quicker over to you both with open arms, "Congratulations my boy! Oh look at you both!"

"Hozier," Arthur tipped his hat, one arm coiled around your waist, "Thank you for uh... helping me set this all up."

Hozier had been Arthur's fatherly figure alongside Dutch since adopting him into the gang all those years ago. Unlike Van Der Linde, Hozier had more of a nurturing approach, teaching Arthur how to read and write and hunt. Many of the things Arthur could do was all taught by Hozier, even horse riding, whilst Dutch was more or less the one to teach Arthur the ways of the Gunslinger, how to pickpocket and rob and strengthen himself up. With Hozier, there could have been no better man to help him organise this. That's how you hadn't noticed the Gazebo preparation. If Hozier wasn't distracting you with stories and tales, Arthur was at your side.

"Oh my pleasure Arthur, I did the same with Bessie. Only it wasn't in a swamp... or under a rotten gazebo- but you get the point." Hozier flailed his hands in the air before placing them upon Arthur's shoulder, "I am so proud of you. Both of you."

Hozier hadn't only taught Arthur. When the man had taken his hiatus with the gang alongside Bessie, they had found themselves within these here states, mainly New Hanover and Ambarino. He had actually stumbled upon you and your twin brother, Archer, along with a few members of your posse. You must've only been about seventeen at the time, maybe a little older, but you could hardly read or lift a bow. You had been the daughter of a rancher family, made an orphan when the O'driscolls had burnt down your home and everything you knew over an 'unpaid debt.' Even Hozier had been rather surprised and concerned that they had made it this far East, but alas, it had only been a small portion of the gang and the O'driscolls were plentiful. Colm had still been back where Van Der Linde's gang settled, butting heads with Dutch in a rivalry that felt as old as time itself.

You had spent many months alongside Bessie and Hozier. He had taught you how to hunt and fight as well as handle yourself with a gun and Bessie taught you how to cook - properly. It wasn't until Bessie had become gravely sick that Hozier left you and your posse. He had originally planned to take her to a doctor and return, but a man whose heart had truly belonged with his gang? You understood. Hozier had returned to Dutch and it wasn't until spotting him in the streets of Valentine that you reunited.

"Thank you Hozier, truly." With your face pressed against Arthur's chest, you sighed deeply, a smile overtaking your features. Arthur somehow managed to bring you closer, "So where's Dutch?"

"Upstairs I'd presume. He knew this was going to happen, but you know what he's like when he's in a mood." Clearly that was a dig. Hozier narrowed his eyes towards the plantation house, a scowl forming. He and Dutch had been neck a neck recently, you even recalled Hozier accusing Dutch of being way over his head, cocky and arrogant. You had to agree, Dutch had been running loops around you all recently, getting you into more trouble than it was worth. He'd even ignored Hozier's warnings of Colm's fake parley which had ultimately gotten Arthur into a life threatening situation those few months back at Clemens Point.

Arthur frowned. He had expected Dutch to at least make an appearance and congratulate you both, but he hadn't. Clearly it had gotten under his skin, so you brought Arthur's hand up, removing a glove to plant a gentle kiss against the back of his hand, "I'm sure he'll come down eventually. If not, talk to him tomorrow."

Hozier bowed his head in agreement, "Yes, let him have his moment. Besides, we've got a wedding to plan and little time to do it!" With that, Hozier scurried away, his face bright with excitement. You turned your attention to Arthur who glanced back down at you, a soft smile forming, "I'm sorry I couldn't get you an engagement ring. Figured if we're always on the brink of death then why not get wed in say... a couple of days?"

While many woman would startle at the sound of a wedding so soon, you understood the risks of an Outlaw's life. You had lived it for many years afterall, and you wanted nothing more than to take Arthur's name and call him your husband. Besides, the camp's spirits were already at it's peak with Jack's return. The Pinkertons wouldn't find you for the next few weeks, at least. There was no better time, and so, you agreed with a nod, looping your fingers around your soon-to-be husbands, "I'd want nothing more."

A couple of days had passed since Arthur's proposal. Whoever had remained awake that night congratulated you with excitement and chatter, and the next morning wasn't any different. The girls were all around you within an instant, prodding and poking you with ideas and questions alike; what dress did you want? What food? Did you want any decorations? To each of those you politely declined, knowing the gang's funds were needed for food, medicine and ammunition. Nevertheless, they all still were successful in making some arrangements.

Arthur on the otherhand found himself in conversation with Javier, Charles, Lenny and John that following morning. Bill had no desire to talk about love, but despite that, he was happy to be given an excuse to drink on the eventual day of the wedding, and Arthur knew deep down Bill was happy for him. Dutch hadn't been seen since the proposal, off gallivanting around Saint Denis with who Arthur assumed would be Micah. Hozier was more than displeased with that man's behaviour as of late, especially not showing for a majority of their adopted sons proposal and planning. Kieran in Dutch's absence had offered to make trips around the city to gather goods to which Arthur gratefully agreed, it would be the first time Kieran could leave the camp grounds without Dutch tethering him down with an iron fist. You could tell by the twinkle in Kieran's eye that he was most excited to be able to actually escape the confines of the gang.

Midday soon rolled around. Arthur was at your side, messing with your velvety hair as you both took refuge in your shared room from prying eyes and endless questions, "It ain't gonna be a big fancy weddin', gonna have to have it here cause of the Pinkertons. We ain't got the money for anything much either-"

"Arthur." You paused him in his tracks, smiling up at him innocently, "I don't care about all of that. All I care about is being able to call you my husband. Nothing more, nothing less."

The idea of calling Arthur your husband tickled you. Two of the West's greatest Gunslingers unified in marriage - a danger to truly behold. Nevertheless, you were overjoyed to take Arthur's last name. Y/n Morgan. It had a nice ring to it.

"So, who's gonna be your best man?" You quizzed Arthur curiously, slowly laying downward to rest your head against the Cowboy's lap to which he began carding his fingers through your hair.

Arthur paused for a second, humming to himself. There was a slight nervous energy and you could see his jaw muscles working themselves, "Guess I'm stuck between John and Lenny..."

"Oh?"

"Lenny's a brilliant man and a great friend. The youngen' definitely has life to him, got me out of a few binds now. Dare I say he's probably one of the members I'm closest to- aside John." Arthur dug fingers into his stubble and scratched, indicating that he was deep in thought. It was one of the many small things he did that you took notice of with a sweet smile.

"Marston and me? We're practically brothers. I've known him fifteen years. Sure, he ran from us for a time but he's proven his loyalty. Ah- I don't know..."

"Well," you squinted slightly to get a rough idea of what you were going with, "Why don't you make one of them the ring bearer and the other your best man?"

Arthur's brow rose slightly, jaw parting in a little gasp of triumph before he turned his gaze to you with a wide grin, "You little genius!"

"Eh what can I say? I'm good with organisin'." Your shrug was half arsed with a smug smile plastered across your face. Quickly you were hoisted from Arthur's legs and your head embraced by his giant hands only for him to bring you upward, planting a heavy kiss against the tip of your nose. Arthur was obviously excited, it had you fluster and giggle sheepishly. After all this time with you swooning over eachother Arthur still found ways to make you shy and giddy.

"Well then Cowboy, if the weddin' is tomorrow you'd best get your arse off the bed and go organise your new ring bearer and best man!" Your eyes shifted to the sky outside, noting that midday had well and truly passed. There was still a lot to do and time was seeping through the cracks faster than you liked. Arthur took note of your suggestion with a low hum in agreement and a nod, gently shifting you aside. He scooted towards the door, paused, galloped back to place a soft kiss against your lips and was off once more, only this time he'd actually left. You could've sworn you heard a hushed giggle of excitement echoing down the hallway as he scampered down the stairs of the plantation house.

Rolling your eyes with amusement you hoisted yourself up and shifted yourself towards the outside balcony just ahead of you. You had already ran your plans by Miss Grimshaw and the girls, so you didn't need to go and make any last minute changes or decisions. You'd been up most nights to arrange that, so fatigue gripped you like the talons of an Eagle. You'd rather spend the rest of the day resting up for tomorrow.

Leaning your arms heavily against the banister of the balcony, a fresh cigarette finding your lips, you scanned the clearing below. You spotted Arthur over towards Pearson's stew pot exchanging happy conversation with Marston and Lenny. Grimshaw was pacing the entire camp with a keen eye, making sure the girls were hard at work on whatever it was they were tasked with; sewing clothes, fixing up the camp and discarding debris - you name it.

Javier, Bill and Swanson were exchanging sharp glares, their hands gripping firmly onto cards that they had tucked against their chest around an old wooden table. Whatever sort of card game they were playing - it was serious. You caught a glimpse of Kieran running his hand slowly through the mane of his own mount and surprisingly exchanging words with Sadie, the both of them smiling and giggling with eachother. Who'd have thought... Mrs Adler making amends with an ex-O'driscoll? Kieran was a fine soul, an anxious mess and hardly an O'driscoll at all. The poor kid couldn't even lift a gun without chewing five layers of skin from his lips. Nevertheless, you were happy the two were exchanging words without Sadie threatening to remove his jugular.

You struck the matchstick, carefully lit your fag and took a long drag, allowing the smoke to escape through your nostrils as you took a deep sigh outwards.

"Hey." The voice behind you had you almost drop your freshly lit cigarette from your lips, though the paper had luckily stuck to the bottom of your lip, flopping around before you nestled it back into the left hand corner of your mouth. Spinning, you came to face the man who had almost ruined your moment of tranquility: John Marston. He had left Arthur and Lenny's side some time ago whilst you studied the rest of the camp, and now Arthur was sat beside Hozier under the canopy of one of the tents, his arms flinging to and fro in some mad explanation of god knows what.

You turned your attention back to John, patting the wooden rail beside you, inviting him to take a spot beside you, "almost made me drop my cigarette," You gave John a narrowed glare, watching as his expression went from relaxed to anxious within a matter of seconds as he met your gaze, "Oh- sorry y/n I didn't mean to scare ya-"

"Oh shut up ya big wuss I'm only jokin'!" You gave Marston a gentle shove against the shoulder, earning an amused smirk from one of your best friends within the camp. Aside from Arthur, John had always been there for you. He saw the chemistry between the both of you before anyone else, noticed the way you both gazed at eachother and even teased Arthur a great deal around camp before you'd even been invited into the gang. You couldn't even count the amount of times John had saved your arse on missions, and whenever a robbery had came up, it was always you, John and Arthur to take the call of the wild. You as a trio were truly a force to be reckoned with.

"Thanks for not gettin' me in shit today. I'm really happy for you both y'know," John had whipped out a cigarette of his own, now giving you a hearty shove whilst tweaking his eyebrows, "Jokes on you, I've got premium cigarettes! Not those flimsy shit sticks you got hanging out that gobby mouth of yours, half-eye."

"Uhm!" Letting out a playful snigger you crossed your arms and removed the now stumpy butt from your mouth, pinging it from the balcony with an agile flick of your fingers, "I'll have you know I still have both my eyes, Marston." You made emphasise on 'Marston', earning a soft chuckle in response as he rest his arms against the beam of the balcony, eyes tracing the camp to find Arthur now red faced and scoffing at a very pleased looking Hozier whome fiddled with Arthur's ring finger, tongue poking from the corner of his mouth in concentration. Your eyes too caught the scene, smiling softly at the sight before you, "Hey, does this mean I get to call you brother now too?"

John tipped his head, his bottom lip pronounced a little more in thought as he spat his own cigarette butt from his mouth and turned to face you, "Y'know what, I think it does."

"Well then, I'm gaining a pretty cool brother tomorrow too," You shot John a little smile, watching with a smirk of amusement as John blinked, stood and began to imitate himself throwing up. He then snorted a laugh, opening his arms and beckoned you in for a friendly embrace, "All things considered though Y/n, that man down there?" His thumb pointed down towards a now very chipper Arthur listening to Hozier's rambling. You gazed down with a soft smile and returned your attention to John, taking a step back with hands against hips leaning heavily to one side as John continued, "He loves you. Loves you one hell of a lot... don't think I've ever seen him this happy before."

"Well it's a good thing I love him one hell of a lot too then ain't it?" A buzzing sensation passed through your spine as you sagged yourself halfway over the banister, sighing happily as you watched Arthur and Hozier, a rosy blush filling your cheeks.

John slowly nodded, "Yeah, it is good. Everythin's good... well, Arthur made me his best man and Lenny the ring bearer so I guess I'll be off. Got plannin' to do."

As John went to leave, you turned your attention to him, calling for him to stop before he disappeared. John peered round the corner of the balcony doors at you, a questioning gaze.

You simply smiled, a genuine smile of happiness and thanks as you softly sighed, "Thanks for keepin' me company. You know you mean a lot to us both, right?"

John huffed a sigh, a wide smile in response, "Yeah, I know. You know where to find me if you two need a helpin' hand." And then he slipped away, presumably in search of his own little family.

Taking in a deep breath whilst steadying yourself on the rails with your hands, taking in the rather relaxed atmosphere, you dipped your head in comfort, a gentle smile dawning your features. All was well, all was pleasant... the sound of chittering Sparrows and the low rumble of Alligators brought a rather fair harmony to the Bayou, you'd all by now gotten acquainted with the smell of rotten bog water, and for what it was worth, everything felt perfecrly balanced for once in such a long time.

Arthur turned his attention up towards you, watching on as the golden rays of sunlight glowed against your soft features, awestruck and beaming a lovestruck smile as the wind caught your hair ever so gently.

Nothing could encompass this feeling - such a rarity that you longed to last forever.

Pure bliss.

#arthur morgan #rdr2 arthur #rdr2 community #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption #rdr2 #arthur morgan x reader #red dead redemption 2

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kayrockerqog · 6 months

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ITS THE DAY TODAY! The beginning of @ygoc-week and my rapid descent into publicly talking about some of my characters. Or, well, just the one, but it's a step!

So, since I've already blabbed a bit about her, allow me to properly introduce her into the fold! So, for Day 1: Introductions, allow me to present to you all Miss Music herself, Musa Vogel!

:D!! With a funky little ref sheet I tossed up from scraps I had saved. This woman, I stg, she has been rotting my brain for years now and she means so much to me. More of my rambling under the cut vv

I'm just, she,,,, her,,, one of the default responses I had to watching GX again back in like 2019 was "okay seriously where the FUCK are the Ra Yellow women why are they only Blue or Rei-" and as per my usual response to such questions I made an OC

She is one of the top students in Ra during their first year, academic and duelling rivals with Misawa for the top spot. Story-wise, she doesn't necessarily become relevant until second year, after Sho gets promoted and Kenzan is introduced, and hoo boy her introduction. For the narrative I have in my head, Duel Academy still has regular classes amidst all the duelling-focused ones, and it's in this music class Medici is forced to sub in for because Napoleon is ill that she emerges. Medici is so out of touch with the material he's teaching that, after answering and nitpicking several of his questions, he gets fed up and tells her to teach the class "if she's such a musical genius." Well, considering this is quite literally her life's passion, Musa silently stands up, walks to the front of the class, turns everyone to a certain part of their music, and has them play. actually, lemme get the silly written drabble I did for this-

(he wanted to sit with Judai, fyi)

LIKE THIS SHIT IS SO DUMB BUT SO IN LINE WITH GX HUMOUR TO ME??? and she's so silly without even trying, GOD she's very fun, I have so much fun with her, she is quite literally a living statue most of the time and she's so outta touch with the others around her it's amazing to imagine

me with her frfr (also if anyone wants to dm me questions about her and stuff please please PLEASE do I'd be so jazzed to answer and I might doodle a response too she's so fun to draw)

#my baby....baby girl....wah...#i love her so much man #yugioh gx #yugioh oc week 23 #yugioh oc #oc || musa vogel #kay's arting #kay's yelling about musa again

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xanadontit · 1 year

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My friend D really wants me and E (aka Beloved Uncle E to her toddler) to come up to visit their new house, ideally for an overnight, and theoretically this would be fine. I enjoy her company and the kids are great and we can take them to the park or just hang out. Whatever works, and I know toddlers and babies aren’t predictable so I’m willing to go with the flow as far as plans.

But I’m not sure I will be able to resist lunging at her husband or shoving his pitching wedge up his ass if he doesn’t get his shit together.

A refresher: they have a 3.5 year-old (the toddler who adores E lol) and a five month old baby girl (who is being breastfed as much as D can, with some pumping and regular formula). They just moved about 2 hours from here, the couple is both WFH, and the kids are in daycare. It’s been a lot of change in the span of 5 months! But all things they discussed at length and part of The Plan.

On Sunday D wasn’t feeling so hot and turns out she had a fever; this is after a few days of being primary caregiver for the baby who had an ear infection which came on the heels of toddler bringing home some kind of day care funk. D managed to convince her husband she needed some rest and he’d need to mind the kids once she showed him the thermometer which...wtf. He regularly naps and leaves her to entertain both children and doesn’t even have the decency to say “since I got rest I’ll do dinner or bath” or something useful.

Yesterday she was feeling better, nursing the baby, and asked her husband who was getting himself some water in the kitchen if he could prep a bottle (it’s not unusual for her to “top off” the baby with some formula after a nursing session). Dude freaked out about how frustrating it’s been to have to hold her hand through this post partum time and that he’s struggling with how she can’t seem to manage both kids. Please bear in mind that he was not on his way out the door to perform life saving brain surgery, and it was a request along the lines of “since you’re up, can you do this when you’re done with your thing, please?” All the supplies to make a bottle were at his fingertips. Truly some bare minimum shit. Also, she managed both kids during her maternity leave and he has yet to be alone with both of his children. So who’s not managing what now?

Why wouldn’t you want to hold your partner’s (metaphorical) hand after she had your child? Why wouldn’t you want to be part of making sure your children are fed? What is going through this person’s head?

I know E and I have it pretty easy: no kids, we’re both able to manage our own stuff, and we have a division of labor that works for us for the most part. I’m trying to imagine a life where one of us is struggling and the other person’s response is “this is annoying and I wish you were more fun.” Like what if when E’s dad died I said “your crying is really bumming me out - could you please get happy?” What in the Cluster B Personality Disorder is that? Sometimes I get scared that if we had a child things would be different between us, given how many women say “I didn’t think it would be like this. I thought we were partners.”*

I love my friend dearly and want to support her but it’s getting harder not to say “leave him - you’ll be fine and he’ll be back to eating In N Out for dinner every day” even though it’s absolutely true.

*This is from hetero couples, I’ll acknowledge that.

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a-room-of-my-own · 10 months

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During the Arab Spring I was sitting with my family and we had a friend from New Guinea over. He was a black man, Muslim, and I had known him my entire life. He was one of the nicest, most laid back people I've ever been around, polite, good with children. We were watching the news as they covered the unfolding events. We would usually have non-alcoholic drinks whenever he was over because of his religious beliefs, so we were all chitchating and having a drink. And out of the blue, he says, pointing at the tv.

"This will all end up being a big pile of nothing. Africans don't understand democracy".

And I remember thinking that was such a scandalous thing to say, such a racist thing to say, especially coming out of a black Muslim man who was from an African country. And now after a decade, and event after event, I'm starting to understand what he was trying to say, and I wonder what he has experienced in his life for him to say that.

People will claim this as racism, but I don't think these people are more prone to certain behaviours because of their skin color.

I do think that cultural attitudes, especially pertaining as to how violence is an acceptable way to solve conflict, coupled with the eternal victim narrative, gives leeway to this destruction. I used to be very anxious to the rise of far right parties in Europe and now I feel nothing. It is so predictable why it's happening. It's so predictable that when people wake up day after day, going to work their jobs that don't pay that well so they can pay bills, and they see the same types of people burning shit down and destroying their transportation, their businesses, their community services, their homes etc, they will get fed up. And then the commies will cry racism thinking it will solve the issue, and for a time people will be taken aback and prostrate themselves to social justice mafia. And then a time will come when they're so tired of being called racist and islamophpbes for noticing who's always destroying things, and for talking about it, and they will say. Yes. Fine. I guess I am racist then. Because you won't allow me the speak on the obvious. And the animosity will grow, and people will come increasingly fed up with the ones ignoring the core issue and thus the people who do speak about it, who do call a spade a spade, and who belong to once fringe groups and who are obvious authoritarians will be voted into power. Not because they are competent leaders or have solutions, but because they can at least point out the obvious.

And everytime a Boris Johnson, a Trump, a Meloni, an Orban happens, people will say "how can this be? Must be those racist islamophobes who hate minorities" and they will learn absolutely nothing. And the eternal self-victimizing narrative will deepen.

It's all so obnoxiously predictable.

It’s extremely predictable in the sense that at least in my country, it’s been 20 years that some issues are left to the extreme right to talk about, and it can be things as obvious as everyone has the right to be safe in the public space or religions should be a private matter basically things everybody agree on. The only reason for that is that the left is completely taken by a perverted definition of anti-racism that is basically cultural relativism. When you abandon common sense to the extreme right the problem is it makes their actually extremist solutions suddenly worth discussing which they aren’t.

Then for the people coming from Africa in the Middle East, I think there is a naivety that tends to believe that someone who comes from a very authoritarian country / culture can convert to liberal democracy pretty much overnight. You have a many people coming to Europe and other western countries, who are perfectly capable of wanting to be free individually, and not to suffer from political brutality or corruption, but it doesn’t mean that they agree with the whole package. It’s especially visible as far as women’s rights are concerned ; you can have men who absolutely want to be free but who still want their women to be oppressed and controlled like they are at home.

The influence of religion is also something we could discuss. What we are going through now has happened to North Africa starting in the late 1970s. Intellectuals there have been warning us for years about the terrible influence of Saudi / Gulf extremism that led in their countries to political unrest, riots and even civil war. The Arab Spring is a recent phenomena but yes, in the West everybody thought it would bring modern democracies, but we were only listening to urban, college educated people. The majority wanted more religion, more conservatism, and the diaspora always vote for the extreme right - we saw that in Turkey just recently.

Of course the influence of the west is something that should never be forgotten. At a time our leaders could have supported democrats in the Arab world and in Africa, but between decolonization and the Cold War, they preferred supporting Islamists and tyrants rather than risking seeing countries rich in natural ressources align with the USSR. We’ve been paying for that ever since.

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cecilebutcher · 5 months

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For the people out there still saying silent about what’s going on in Gaza, from the bottom on my heart. Fuck. You.

A lot of you had no fucking problem supporting Ukrainian people in their time of need. No problem supporting blm when it was happening. No problem support a shit of movements when they were happening. But now it’s too complicated?

Let me dumb it down for you absolutely fucking idiots. Someone has been getting bullied for fucking years and doesn’t say a single thing, one day they get fed up and slap their bully. But for some reason people are seeing the bully, who is now breaking that persons bones, as the victim.

Still don’t understand how bad the Gaza situation is? Ok then. Most of the people dead are children. Men and women are loosing their kids. The people of MY age, class of 2023-2024, are all fuckinh dead. Parents are holding their kids bodies in plastic bags. Children are now orphans. A few years back a CHILD was baked alive in front of his dad, who was later on forced to join him.

And don’t you fucking dare say it’s complicated because it’s not. The only reason you aren’t supporting Palestine is because you don’t think of them as people. We Muslims and Arabs have been dehumanized so fucking much in the media its sickening. You eat our food, enjoy or songs, love the culture, but won’t help us.

So genuinely.

Fuck

You

#free gaza #from the river to the sea palestine will be free #free palestine #gaza strip #gaza #gaza genocide #save gaza #I’m not saying the movements weren’t important #they were and I’m so glad for everyone who didn’t get hurt because of the #I’m just saying you guys fucking suck sometimes

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depravity-n-savagery · 2 years

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「 Third Wheel 」°•.

❦ Pairings: Robin Buckley x (fem)Reader ▪︎ [feat. Some Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington]

❦ Summary: You and Eddie get unexpectedly invited along to Robin and Steve's movie night. When the two guys become wrapped up in each other (leaving Robin fed up and tired), you decide it's time to finally make your move.

❦ CW: Angst in the beginning, Steddie in the background, heartbreak, they beat Vecna in '86 and nobody died, Fluff, Mutual pining (Steddie), Friends to lovers, coming out

🛑 18+ MINORS DNI 🛑

❦ Word Count: 2.1k

❦ A/N: Inspired by this cute ass fanart I saw. (it was Eddie & Steve making out while Robin was in the front/corner of the pic looking like 😑. I lost track of it but if I find it again I'll link it here.) The Fruity Four have had me in a chokehold today so why not contribute to all the fics I've been reading lolz.

The heavy sigh that pushed through Robin's lips had been building up for a long time. Starting sometime around the end of her shift at Family Video. The day was long and tiring, due to it being a Friday. Every family and couple in town, it seemed, wanted to spend a cozy weekend inside. Escaping the chill of late fall heading into winter. Huddled or cuddled together in front of a lit screen and a generous stack of rented movies. Movies that her and her buddy Steve were tasked with supplying.

She couldn't judge them too much. Her and Steve's evening plans were similar. Made on a whim during a conversation earlier that day. Somehow banter, and a debate about movies based off of novels, became a promise to watch movies tonight. A promise that initially didn't include the long-haired lanky boy that came rushing through the doors just before closing.

"Shit!! WAIT! Don't close yet!"

Eddie shouldered his way through the double doors, all clumsy limbs and stumbling over his reeboks with two tapes tucked under his arm. "I gotta….return…these movies…" He huffed out between deep breaths. Hunching forward to catch up to himself. The situation was typical for someone like him. Not that Robin had any issue with Eddie, in fact, they had gotten along quite well after trauma bonding in The Upside Down. Part of accepting him (or anyone really) as a friend included accepting their flaws. Like Eddie's habit of being tardy. To class (before he graduated), to hangouts, and now to returning movies.

"Hmmm… I don't know, Mr.Munson." Robin teased, mocking the voice of the one teacher they both shared during his last year at Hawkins High. "Your tardiness holds you back more than your lack of effort in my class." She tutted, wagging her finger at him from behind the counter. The plum-polished tip of her finger caught the only light left in the store. The light from the 'employees only' back area. The ones for the main area have already been turned off.

Those chocolate doe-eyes of his didn’t have the effect on her that they had on other women (and men), but they were impossible to ignore when he pouted like that. Resembling a sad puppy left out in a cardboard box during a thunderstorm. It tugged the heartstrings in an unfair way that even she couldn't manage whenever she attempted to. Although Nancy would say otherwise. To add salt to the wound, Eddie whimpered softly, shuffling over to the counter just low enough to rest his chin on it and look up at her. "Come oonnn, Robin. Wayne asked me to do it earlier, but I forgot, and I don't want him to deal with the late fees." He cooed her name in such a babyish way, it almost made her gag and snort at the same time. "Just this one time? I'll even wash Steve's car."

"How would washing his car help me?"

"You ride in his car. Why not ride in style? Hmmm?~"

The amusing bargain was interrupted by a third party, finally stepping out of the back room once he heard the distant male voice. It wouldn't be the first time he's had to chase a guy out that insisted on barking up the wrong tree with Robin, even after she rejected their advances. Though Robin would scold him afterwards because she 'could handle herself'. Funny how she never scolded Nancy whenever she was the one to do it. Still, Steve stepped out and walked up beside Robin at the counter, happily surprised to see Eddie Munson instead of some creep. "No, no Robin. Hold on. Let's hear the guy out."

Of course he'd say that. Robin knew it was a losing battle the moment Steve joined the conversation. From the way Eddie turned up the sad tremble in his poked-out bottom lip, he must've known too. Steve was putty in his hands (no matter how much he covered it with snark and sass). "I reeeally need to return these tapes for Wayne." My God, did he- did he just bat his eyelashes??

Mission accomplished.

Like any of the fictional monster bosses he put against his friends during D&D, Steve attempted to put up a fight. Throwing a stern word or two at Eddie, and even threatening to say 'no' just to teach him a lesson. But overall, he fell. Taking the tapes in hand and beginning the process of putting the information into the computer. While Steve's eyes were occupied by the screen Eddie grinned at Robin and stuck out his tongue. Receiving a matching smirk and a middle finger. All normal parts of their friendship. Eddie made a mental note to ask her where she got her plum polish, on the rare occasion that he grew tired of his usual black nails.

"So, what are you two up to tonight?" It was a given that the two of them weren't going to just part ways after their shift. Where there was one, the other was never usually far behind. It was an unspoken fact. Steve and Robin were joined at the hip. "I got Y/n in the van waiting. We weren't really sure what we wanted to do after this."

Robin's face twisted as a thought entered her mind. One she wished she could erase from existence. "Oh ew, was that the reason you were late returning these tapes?"

"What? NO!" Eddie spat out, a bit too defensive. He reigned it in and forced an awkward chuckle. "Eh, it's nothing like that. We were just.. okay we were possibly a little high. We smoked a little and hung out. Time sort of flew." It surprised both you and Eddie how much your friendship resembled Steve and Robin's. In more ways than one. Things were never physical between you two because you simply didn't swing that way. A secret that Eddie was dead set on protecting until you felt comfortable with revealing it yourself. Robin, as of a few months ago had finally come out to your friend group (although still closeted around strangers). It stirred a small hope in you that maybe, just maybe, you might be brave enough to do the same. Just… not so soon.

Steve finished and tucked Eddie's returned tapes under the counter, clearly not in the mood to put them back on the shelf. It was two minutes to the end of their shift, and there is no way in hell they were about to put in overtime at this godforsaken place. "Me 'n Robin were gonna watch some movies at my place. You guys wanna join?"

Thus, you ended up here. Spread out in front of Steve's impressively large television, in his also LARGE living room. The fireplace was crackling softly, basking the room in heat and a comfy ambience. It was homey, in such an ironic way. Steve always described his house as cold and felt the need to constantly have company over, since his family was never around. Robin was practically moved in by now. Sighing once again as she moved to sit by the fireplace. Moving as far away as she could from the heavy panting and moist smacking of Steve and Eddie currently swapping saliva on the couch. It seems a few drinks and a sentimental movie scene was all it took to get the two of them to finally loosen up and explore that tension that always lingered between them. Good for them. You were happy for your best friend, genuinely. Maybe even living vicariously through him. Maybe someday that'll be me.

Robin didn't share your positive opinion. The taste was bitter on her tongue. One by one all of her friends were finding themselves. Falling in and out of love, and sharing stories about passionate nights and romantic dates. Yet here she was, stuck. Alone. Third-wheeling once again and striking out every time. When would it be her turn? She thought that taking a leap, even if it was small, would reward her with a maybe equally small victory. She took that leap in revealing herself to Nancy (and the gang). Heart in her hands with a silent question in her eyes. Could we try? Steve had finally moved on and even gave Robin his blessing. Jonathan had broken her trust with his lies about college and distancing himself from her. Maybe… just maybe… the closeness that was steadily growing between them meant something more. But it didn't. Nancy bounced back to Jonathan last month, even moved in with him once he got his own place in Hawkins. Shattering Robin's heart into a million pieces. Now every romantic advancement she witnessed from her friends just twisted the knife.

She was tired. She was lonely. She just wanted to have a simple damn movie night with her best friend. Not this.

"Movie kinda sucks, huh?" You made your presence known, coming to sit down beside her. A quilt wrapped around your shoulders. If this was late fall, then the winter was going to be harsh this year. Robin was already internally frozen. "I'm surprised Steve picked something like this. Always figured he'd be more of a Top Gun kind of guy."

"Clearly you haven't seen his account at Family Video." Robin replied, voice rasped and void of its usual humorous tone. "He's rented Dirty Dancing like twelve times and it's only been out for a few months."

"Let me guess-"

"Patrick Swayze." You both said in unison. Clearly aware of Steve's unspoken bisexuality. He never really said it, but he never really hid it either. Just sort of went with the flow.

Feeling a surge of confidence, you edged a bit closer to Robin. Just barely touching her with your knee as you sat criss-cross and loosened your grip on the quilt. Letting it slip low enough to expose your shoulders and the shadow of your cleavage. Your distressed Judas Priest crop top left a lot of skin available for viewing pleasure. "The mystery is, does he want to be Patrick Swayze? Or fuck Patrick Swayze?"

"Well clearly he's more into the 'Van Halen' type." Robin gestured toward the couch. Eddie and Steve were still going at it. You expected nothing less from years of pent up mutual pining. It was the bite in Robin's response that gave you pause. Along with the fact that she knew anything about Van Halen.

It dawned on you that this wasn't her original plan. When Eddie returned to the van earlier tonight after turning in the tapes, he skimmed over the fact that you and him had been invited along to plans that already existed without you two. This night wasn't supposed to end up like this.

"I'm sorry if me and Eddie kinda crashed your movie night. I didn't expect it to turn into, well- this."

Robin shrugged, keeping her eyes on the dancing flames. "It's fine. I guess I'm just tired of being a third wheel."

"Wellll… That's why I'm here. I guess. The fourth wheel to even things out." You offered, borrowing every scrap of confidence you could muster. This was your one chance, and Hawkins be damned, you would sooner let The Upside Down swallow you whole than screw this up this opportunity.

The hint flew over Robin's head. Entirely too consumed with forcing herself to accept that she'll be single forever. Telling herself that she had to be the only lesbian in the entirety of Hawkins, and if there were any others they were too old or wouldn't want her. She thought your offer purely meant a chance at friendship and that was probably the last thing she wanted right now. But you were sweet and so damn cute, so she couldn't continue being cold towards you. Instead she turned her gaze on you and gave you a sad but thankful smile. "Thanks, but it's not really the same thing."

"I… I could make out with you too. If that would help."

There it was. Out in the open. For the first time, spoken to another person (besides Eddie). The realization crashed Robin's system and fried her brain. She needed a reboot. She needed to hear it again, to be sure she heard correctly. That would be too much to ask. Saying it at all was risky enough for you, and she knew that. She felt that. Felt the same rhythmic pounding in her chest. A pounding that seemed to happen every time you thought about her. It all made sense. How defensive Eddie got whenever someone insinuated that your friendship was more than what it seemed.

"Yeah." The fire and the quilt didn't generate nearly as much warmth as Robin's voice did. Hushed and bordering on flirtatious. "I think that could help a lot."

♡

❦ A/N: Robin is such a babe ♡ That's all. 🤣💞 Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated.

Masterlist, Ao3 ☆

#robin buckley #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x y/n #steddie #lesbian #platonic soulmate!Eddie

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