#YES I DREW A HORSE LETS GO

[vonlipvig]

megan, this is a horse.

what a great day to remember that jeremy interviewing the most attractive horse is technically canon (unless he was joking, but considering how sick and tired he was during the heatwave then yeah, this totally happened multiple times).

[fallstaticexit]

Prev / Next / Beginning / Pillowfort

TW: Sex, Sim Spice

Transcript under the cut

Client: I mean this respectfully, Nancy-

Nancy: Mrs. Landgraab.

Client: Right, right.

Client: We’ve done business with Mr. Landgraab for over two decades. He knows what we’re looking for.

Nancy: With Mr. Landgraab's pending retirement, he will be personally involved in very few projects. Any upcoming initiatives will be managed by me. My track record speaks for itself, and I assure you, I will not let you down.

Client: [sighs] You seem like a nice gal, Nancy-

Nancy: Mrs. Landgraab.

Client: We don’t doubt you’re a professional, considering who your father is but I think we will proceed with Mr. Landgraab, even if there’s a wait. With all due respect.

Nancy: I would like to remind you that he will retire, and I will be assuming leadership of the company.

Client: [chuckles] Well, he ain’t off the horse yet, missy. You take care.

Nancy: Wait- fuck. [sighs]

[snickering]

Nancy: Now WHO left this tasty little snack for me!

Jonathan & Malcolm: [squeals]

Nancy: What are you two doing here? You supposed to be in school. You’re not playing hooky are you?

Jonathan: I asked the driver to bring us here first. We wanted to surprise you with Dino. He’s lucky.

Nancy: Is that so?

Malcolm: Do we have to leave, Mommy? I wanna stay here with you!

Nancy: Oh, absolutely. You two are way too distracting and I need to focus. I’ll see you at dinner.

Jonathan: 6:30 sharp?

Nancy: 6:30 sharp. Malcolm, please behave today.

Malcolm: No promises!

Nancy Narrates: [Being a woman in a male dominated field felt like a crime. Being a mother was somehow worse]

Nancy Narrates: [My name alone wasn’t enough to gain their respect. I still had to work twice as hard]

-

Nancy: What issue? How is this possible?

Worker: There’s an issue with the plumbing. I called for our site manager to speak with you about it. We followed the blueprints, ma’am.

Nancy: [mutters] Damn it.

Manager: We can fix it, no problem but we’ll need new plans no later than tomorrow morning, bossman. Shouldn’t set us back but maybe 1-2 days tops.

Geoffrey: Oh, no! No, sorry, I’m not the architect-

Nancy: I drew the plans, actually. You can discuss the details with me.

Manager: My apologies, miss!

Nancy: Mrs. Landgraab will do. Where can we sit and chat?

-

Geoffrey: Ok, I have a joke. What has five toes and isn't your foot?

Jonathan: [snickers] What?

Geoffrey: My foot.

Jonathan: Pfftt! Dad! That was awful! I got one too!

Jonathan: How does a wiener go camping?

Geoffrey: [laughs] Oh boy. How?

Nancy: Jonathan, please, no wiener jokes at the table.

Jonathan: In a Wiener-bago.

Geoffrey: [laughs]

Geoffrey: Hey bud, your steak is getting cold. Come sit and eat.

Malcolm: Nuh-uh. I like watching Mommy. I’m going to be an architect too when I grow up. I’m gonna be the best, just like you.

Nancy: You sure will, my darling. It’ll be me, you and Jonathan.

Malcolm: And Daddy?

Nancy: Well, someone has to file all the paperwork.

Geoffrey: [laughs] Hey!

Jonathan: HA! Mommies can make jokes too!

Geoffrey: So, I had the world’s longest day, the boys are out cold for the night and you look so gorgeous right now. Thinking what I’m thinking?

[both panting]

Geoffrey: [whispers] Want to turn over?

Nancy: [whispers] Yes. Ok, try that.

Geoffrey: Hey, do you just want to stop?

Nancy: [nods]

Nancy: I’m sorry.

Geoffrey: Don’t apologize. You know it’s ok to stop, right? And we don’t have to have sex just because I’m in the mood for it.

Nancy: [sighs] I want to be in the mood, I just...I don’t know. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.

Geoffrey: Maybe you’re stressed about work?

Nancy: [sighs] Maybe. My father is ancient, and he would rather work himself ragged instead of letting me step into his role. He doesn’t trust me. Hell, he doesn’t even know me.

Geoffrey: You’re right, he doesn’t know you. If he did, he’d know how capable and ready you are.

Nancy: I’m just tired of feeling invisible.

Geoffrey: Well. Make them see you. Be loud. Be in charge. You got it in you.

-

Nancy Narrates: [I knew there was something inside me that craved more. I wanted to be more than just a mother and wife. I wanted 'something’ so badly, and it drove me mad not knowing exactly what it was that I wanted ]

Nancy: I hear you’re lucky, Dino. What do you have in store for me?

Nancy Narrates: [What I didn’t know was that all that wanting was not done in vain. That day that Judith Ward walked into my office changed my life]

Judith: Knock, knock! I hope you don’t mind taking a walk in.

Nancy: Oh! Oh, Ms. Ward, not at all! Please, have a seat.

Judith: Call me Judy, I insist, please.

Nancy: How can I help you?

Judith: When I purchased land in The Pinnacles, I knew I wanted a home designed by a sharp, feminine eye.That’s why I picked you to design my dream home, The Ward Den. Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?

Nancy: It would be my absolute pleasure, Ms. War- Judy. May I ask what made you of all people choose me specifically?

Judith: Look around! The future is female! I make it my business to hire female cooks, female hairdressers, female designers, you name it. Men are only good for one thing these days, well, two if you count my male guard dogs. You know-

Judith: Wah wah wah wah wah.

Judith: Wah wah wah wah wah. Wah wah?

Judith: You know what I mean?

Nancy: Um, yes. Yes.

Judith: You have no idea how excited I am, hon! I just know all those B list bitches will gag when they see my new home on the hill. I’m going to throw the biggest party of the decade just to show it off. Everyone will be dying to have their home designed by THE Nancy Landgraab!

Nancy: I will make sure it is my best work yet. I’ll start right away.

Judith: I know you will! I have a great feeling about this, Nancy Landgraab!

[nataliasquote]

Mustang | cowgirl nat au

Summary: The mayor’s daughter. A bounty hunter. One has freedom, the other does not. But will one fleeting night be enough to convince Natasha to leave everything she’s ever known behind?

Warnings: Natasha is a hot cowgirl, cowboy slang

wc: 4.3k

note: this is for all the cowgirl Nat simps out there (yes you know who you are @katyaromanoffpetrova ). And also for @milfs69420 who drew the inspiration for cowgirl Nat in this scene (i’m obsessed with that drawing no joke). I hope this lives up to expectations!

-⧗-

A loud yell echoed across the grassy plain, rising above the sound of thundering hooves and the distant shriek of a stream train whistle. One lone rider, racing across fields she knew like the back of her hand. Strong thighs squeezed the flanks of the midnight horse beneath her as she raised her arms above her head and tilted her face up to the sky, letting the golden rays of the sun soak into her skin. Not once did her balance falter, years of riding making her feel like an extension of the steed beneath her. Her cheeks started to burn with how hard she was smiling, so she placed both hands back on the reins and kicked her horse to speed up.

There really was nothing that Natasha loved more than riding. It was her escape, her outlet, her way of breaking away from her usual daily duties. Was she out on her horse a bit too often? Her father would say yes. But if there was one thing Natasha Romanoff hated, it was being told what to do.

She’d caught up with the train rolling steadily along the tracks and Natasha leaned forwards, scarlet hair, tied in a single braid, flying behind her from under her hat as she raced beside it, trying to keep up. She could feel the muscles of her horse flexing with every stride they took and the rusted green walls of the carriage were almost in reach of her fingertips if she stretched out towards it. The smoke puffing out of the chimney tainted the air that she breathed in, but she barely noticed it through her euphoria. She knew where this train was headed, towards the larger cities, so she broke away and turned back to her hometown, slowing up as they trotted under the town’s welcome sign.

Most walked their horses through the streets on foot, but Natasha stayed seated, guiding her horse through the swarms of townspeople and down to the large house at the end of the main street. She hopped down and tied him to the fence temporarily, making sure he had enough hay and water before she strolled into the house.

Not even bothering to take her boots off, Natasha waltzed into the kitchen and flopped down on a chair. She tossed her hat onto the table and let out a sigh, staring at the small red symbol on the front of her hat.

“Natasha,” a gruff voice called after her. She rolled her eyes. “Where the hell were you?”

“Out,” was all she replied. She didn’t turn around but could feel her father’s eyes boring into the back of her skull. And his disapproving tone was nothing she wasn’t familiar with.

“You were supposed to be home two hours ago, for the opening ceremony.” Without looking at him, she knew how he was standing. Arms folded across his chest as he took up almost the entire doorway. “Yelena was upset you weren’t there.”

Natasha scoffed. “No she wasn’t, she couldn’t care less.”

“I felt betrayed, actually.” Great, now her sister had joined in. “You’re always choosing Liho over me, don’t you feel my pain?”

“I’m sure you’ll live,” Natasha deadpanned, wanting nothing more than some peace and quiet.

But that was a rarity as the mayor’s daughter. Her whole life was scrutinized, and many people disapproved of her non-traditional ways. “Is there anything else required of me? Or can I leave now?”

Yelena appeared in the corner of her vision, leaning against the kitchen countertop. “Well, I was going to ask if you would come by the range, seeing as you-“

“Ok, so that’s a no.”

“Natasha, be nice to her please. It’s Yelena’s big day!” Alexei’s voice seemed to be in constant ‘public speaker’ mode, which was fine for pretty much everything except quiet conversations in the kitchen. He was too close, and Natasha scraped her chair back and reached for a glass to fill up from the pitcher of sweet tea on the table. Reluctantly, she offered one to Yelena, who accepted with a soft smile. Alexei took their ignorance of his statement to disappear back to his office, and Natasha breathed a small sigh of relief.

“I knew you liked me really.” Natasha deadpanned her comment but Yelena only stifled her giggle behind a sip, the sweet beverage coating her tastebuds deliciously. “I’m not mad, it’s fine. But promise me you’ll shoot this week?”

“I was planning to anyway,” Natasha admitted. “Do you have riding targets too?”

Yelena let out a ‘ha’ and leaned back in her chair, chin tilted towards the window. “What do you take me for, an amateur? That’s like asking if Barton sells beer.”

“Speaking of, fancy a drink?” Yelena gestured to her half full glass with an eyebrow raised. “I was going to go down to Barton’s if you want to join me?”

Yelena thought for a moment, watching a lone ice cube float around her glass. “I would, but I promised Kate I’d meet her at the stables and you know what she’s like if I cancel on her.”

“Suit yourself,” said Natasha. Ok, so maybe she did feel a little remorse over missing the ceremony, but never would she admit that out loud. “I’ll see you later. Oh, and tell Ma to not wait up for me at dinner. I’ll sort myself out.”

“Roger that,” Yelena gave a mock salute and Natasha just rolled her eyes in jest. She grabbed her hat, slipped it on her head and wandered back out of the door, but not before she slipped a few snacks for her horse. Liho was still waiting patiently for her and he swished his tail as he approached, rather fed up of just standing around in the sun.

As Natasha brushed him down and gave the stable a quick tidy, her mind wandered back to the open grassland. What she’d give to never return home, just riding to her heart's content and staying in whatever town she came across. Or just sleeping under the stars, listening to the howls of the coyotes and the thundering hooves of wild horses echoing behind the mountains on the horizon. She craved the freedom that the cowboys had and the small taste she could get would never suffice; she lusted for more.

With a small threat to Peter, the stablehand, to not hurt Liho, Natasha wandered back into the town centre, stopping off at the ammunition store on her way for a magazine refill. She shot the test targets to pieces purely for the fun of it, knowing her aim was impeccable. The owner just rolled his eyes but let her continue; this behaviour was expected. After all, Alexei was a well respected and slightly feared man, which rubbed off onto his daughters too. And Natasha’s fiery temperament was almost as famous as her father was. No one with any brains would ever challenge her to a duel if they wanted to keep their life.

The redhead’s eyes cast over the centre-most building, the brim of her hat concealing the sign on the front. But she didn’t need words to tell her what it was- she knew her second favourite place like the back of her hand. The heels of her boots clicked against the tiled floor as she pushed the wooden saloon doors to swing open, hitting the walls beside them with a crack.

With her hat still dipped low, she paused, surveying the entirety of the room in one fast sweep. Partially content with what she saw, Natasha tipped her hat from her head and tucked it under her arm, feeling strands from her messy braid to fall and frame her face. Green eyes darted across every familiar face, occasionally leading to the subtle tug of a smile to play on her lips if she felt particularly fond of someone, but not many had that blessing. She didn’t pay two minds to the rest of the townspeople once she’d locked on the one person who didn’t think she was completely crazy.

Wild yet utterly desirable, Natasha somehow held every single person captive within her presence. The general chattering subsided as she moved between the tables, even the men who spent their days airing their lungs over bottles of brandy and rum paused their drinking to take a good look at her. If Natasha even cared, she’d be repulsed, but noticing the way the men of the town looked at her had become a thing of the past. She would never settle down so why bother?

The red velvet-topped bar stools were smooth under her jeans as Natasha slid onto one, her hat coming to rest atop the wooden bar. She unbuttoned the cuffs of her green plaid shirt and rolled her sleeves up to her elbows, exposing her forearms with a sigh.

“Didn’t see you at Yelena’s gun range opening today,” the bartender commented as he slid an open bottle of beer in Natasha’s direction. He knew her well, and he should, as her childhood best friend. And Natasha may be unpredictable but her beer choices never wavered.

“Oh don’t tell me you were there too. I swear, if one more person asks me about that I’m going to put a bullet in someone’s head.” Her hand fell to her holster for effect, making the bartender step back, hands raised in surrender. Natasha rolled her eyes and smirked before taking a sip of her beer. “My Pa gave me an earful when I was barely through the door. I don’t see why it matters, Barton, it’s just an opening.”

Clint threw the tea towel he was holding into the sink over his shoulder. “I’m just talking, but she’s your sister, so isn’t it in your duties to go to that kind of thing?”

Natasha shot him an unimpressed look, her brow bone casting a shadow across her eyes in the dim light. “You mean that as her sister, or as the mayor’s daughter? I plan on using the range anyway, so why do I need to show my face now? It’s not even about me.” She puffed out her cheeks and rested her chin on the hand that was placed on the beer bottle rim. “If I was Lena, I’d be happy my sister didn’t show up. She can have the spotlight for a change.”

“Where did you go, exactly?” Clint was the only one who would listen to Natasha’s tales, so he just let her talk whilst he worked. Gave him something refreshing to think about instead of his unruly customers.

“I caught wind of a new group riding out by the Ridge yesterday, so I wanted to check it out. Saw nothing but Ol’ Joe moving his cattle. Swear that man digs for his cannon ev’ry chance he gets.”

“Well, he’s not the best with people,” said Clint, only realising afterwards that he’d just stated the obvious. “Is that what you want though? A group like that?”

Natasha pursed her lips. She hadn’t thought through the logistics of what her future looked like, she knew it involved a lot more open space and a lot less… people. “Not a group, I couldn’t handle that.”

“Nat, you know it’s not safe out there on your own. You need your home, a family.” Clint was family orientated to the core, but the same couldn’t be said for Natasha. “You know it’s even worse for women.”

“I can handle myself,” Natasha scoffed, feeling rather put out by his insinuation. “I don’t need a bunch of asshat guys telling me what to do!

“I know, but-“

“If I wanted an argument, I would have stayed at home,” she pointed out. Clint’s mouth opened before he closed it with a huff, thinking better than to protest again. Natasha’s hands tugged her hair out of her braid, reveling in the feeling of it falling loose around her shoulders.

She chewed on her lip, trying to suppress the anxious feeling bubbling low in her stomach. With each passing day, the small town life rattled her and the walls of the village seemed to close in. It had taken root in her chest since she was a child, that feeling of longing never quite subsiding.

Clint moved off to serve customers further down the bar, leaving the redhead lost in her own mind. Slender fingers tapped rhythmically on the glass bottle.

What did she want? Natasha knew how her dreams played out, but Clint was right; where was her stability? The thought of being alone was heavenly, but that was coming from someone who had never truly experienced it. She’d been surrounded by people since the day she was born, and those fleeting moments of freedom with just Liho for company were the best she’d felt.

But what did a future full of that entail? She’d idealised it to the point where she was biased, getting defensive whenever anyone tried to make her see sense. She may not see eye to eye with her father anymore, but the stubbornness she inherited from him was a clear determiner of her roots and more importantly, her home.

A cacophony of whistles erupted from the tables behind her, snapping her out of her spiral and Natasha turned on her stool to take a look at the source of the commotion. A woman stood in the doorway, dressed similarly to Natasha, which was rather uncommon in this town. Most of the women wore skirts, so seeing another in jeans that wasn’t Natasha, Yelena or Kate had heads turning.

Natasha watched the way the stranger’s hand instinctively flew to her holster as her eyes adjusted to the darkened room, a bitter contrast to the sun blazed street just outside. The saloon was always kept dark, just the way Natasha liked it, but it did look a bit intimidating from an outsider’s perspective.

Ignoring the outstretched hands of drunk men that grabbed at her from their seats at the closest tables, the woman picked her way through the crowd, her hips swaying in her jeans and brown fringed chaps as she rounded the final table and slumped down onto a stool. Natasha peered at Clint out of the corner of her eye and tried to hide her smile, taking a long sip of her beer bottle as the stranger sat four seats over.

“What’s the strongest stuff you’ve got?” The stranger asked Clint, her hat still sat squarely on her head. A strange move in Natasha’s eyes, but it added to the air of mystery around her and the redhead couldn’t help but watch her reflection in the glass opposite.

“I’ve got a couple bottles of whiskey if that’s what you’re after?”

“I’ll get a glass of that, thanks.”

Natasha pulled a face, impressed. “Going for the hard stuff, I see.”

The stranger didn’t turn her head, keeping her eyes down and focussed on her hands that rested atop the bar. “Something like that.”

There was something different about her, something refreshing. Natasha stood up, grabbed her beer bottle and wandered down the bar, now appearing on the seat beside the stranger. She leaned on the bar, one leg crossed over the other, accentuating the curve of her hips in her jeans. The stranger’s head moved slightly, trying to get the best view of Natasha that she could.

Clint read his friend’s body language like he was fluent, and quickly swapped her bottles so she was presented with a fresh drink. Natasha waited a couple of seconds before striking up conversation again, not put out by the stranger’s lack of enthusiasm.

“Is this seat taken?”

The stranger shook her head and scooted over, nursing her glass of whiskey with both hands. She was nervous and guarded and Natasha saw the twitch of her fingers that seemed uncontrollable.

“I’ve not seen you before. You not from around here?” Her southern drawl was laid on thick, emphasising the rasp in her voice that came out when she spoke properly. Natasha’s skill set didn’t stop at shooting. She was incredibly proficient at flirting and Clint loved to just stand back and watch her pick her next target that wandered into his bar.

The stranger finally turned to Natasha and lifted her hat from her head, revealing her face and piercing eyes that bore into Natasha’s. “Is it that obvious I’m not from around here?”

Natasha laughed around the rim of her bottle and readjusted her stance, using her movement as a way to take in the woman with a quick flick up and down. “I know my people,” she replied, gesturing to the full tables behind them. Her eyes fell to the stranger’s lips. “And I’d remember a face like yours, darlin’.”

The mysterious woman’s cheeks flushed red and she took a swig of whiskey, welcoming the burn that flooded her chest. The hot feeling racing through her body was purely alcohol induced… wasn’t it?

The brunette ducked her head down, embarrassed. “I’m only passing through. Had to stop off at the stables to get my horse’s hooves checked. Ran across a thorn patch, she did.”

“Well, Bishops’ will take good care of her. And in the meantime, does the gorgeous woman have a pretty name to match?”

Whiskey was by far the best choice she could have made- it could account for the now permanent flush that took residence in her cheeks. The woman turned on her stool and let her knees fall open loosely, her body language much less guarded.

“I’m Y/n. And you are..?”

“Natasha Romanoff, at your service.” The redhead quickly put her hat on and tipped it forwards, eliciting a laugh from the woman opposite. Clint eyed their interaction as he dried some glasses, grinning to himself at how effective Natasha’s charm truly was. She turned it on with the tip of her hat and a flash of her smile, making men and women alike stop dread in their tracks.

“You’re the mayor’s daughter?” Something flashed across Y/n’s eyes but it was gone as quickly as it came and Natasha couldn’t decipher it.

“Yeah,” she trailed off, frowning slightly. “Is that a bad thing?”

“Not at all,” Y/n gave her a smile, nodding to the stool beside her. Natasha sat far too quickly, like an obedient dog. One glance from a gorgeous woman had turned her to mush- what was happening?

A couple of loud thuds resonated from the back of the room and Natasha rolled her eyes, knowing exactly who sat there regularly. “Hey, Romanoff, give us a dance, will ya?” A leering voice echoed above the general hum of conversation and Y/n watched as Natasha rolled her eyes and adjusted her gun that sat in a holster on her hip.

“Give it up, Stark, you’re barking at a knot.” The man in question jeered at her and banged his beer bottle on the barrel table, several men around him doing the same. “If you wanna watch me dance, you better pay me for it.” This only gained her more nonsensical yelling and a man on Stark’s table threw a dollar bill in her direction.

But Natasha just stood up, squared her shoulders and fired her handgun in their direction, the bullet slamming into the wall mere inches above Stark’s head. She blew the smoke off her gun with a cocky smirk and shoved it back in the holster. The entire saloon fell silent, aside from Clint’s mutterings about yet another hole to fix thanks to his fiery friend.

Natasha waited a second longer, almost daring Stark and his guys to test her again. But they didn’t, now only watching her warily as she turned back to her new woman who was watching with a slack jaw. Natasha felt a burst of pride surge through her chest and she puffed it out slightly, sinking down into her seat with one foot up on the footrest, her legs manspreading.

“I’m sorry about that, that was no way to treat a new lady.”

Y/n snickered, shaking her head. “Oh please, I ain’t a lady. I’ve seen worse men than that in towns over, they really never change.”

Natasha’s gaze had drifted to the way the brunette’s hair fell over her shoulder, and how soft it looked despite being so exposed to the elements. But at the mention of different towns she snapped, eyes wide.

“You’ve visited other towns?” She tried to keep her cool, but there was truly no hiding her excitement. This woman had everything Natasha wanted and more.

“I’m a bounty hunter,” she admitted, watching Natasha’s face change. “But I ain’t got much work at the moment. There’s not many people that trust a woman to do what a man can do.”

“So you’re just… floating between towns?”

Y/n nodded, taking a sip of her whiskey. “Yup, it’s just me and my girl. And the occasional over-friendly landlord who tries to get up in my business.”

Natasha’s mind was racing like a mustang. She felt almost childish, wanting to hear stories of her travels and what the world was really like. Y/n could see her curiosity, it was too apparent to mask, and it was like a breath of fresh air. All too often she was met with disapproving glances and was often the butt of circulating gossip, housewives and prostitutes judging her uncommon way of life. But she was happy, and no one was about to take that away from her.

“Where are you from?”

Y/n’s smile faltered and she traced the rim of her now empty whisky glass. “I don’t think about that. Doesn’t matter where I’m from, I’m never going back. There’s nothing for me there. My life is out here now.”

“I wish,” Natasha muttered, more to herself than anyone else. Y/n heard it but didn’t comment. After all, they were just two strangers in a bar, nothing more.

“So, if you’re the mayor’s girl, you must know what there is to do around here.” Her words had an element of teasing to them, which didn’t go unnoticed by Natasha.

Natasha shook her head with a laugh. Ten minutes in and already poking fun at who she was. Why was that so attractive? “There’s a barn dance later if you want to come?” Natasha suggested. “That is, if you’re sticking around for that long.”

“I’ve got a compelling reason to now,” Y/n teased, toying with the hints Natasha had been sending her way.

Natasha quirked her brow and raised an arm behind her head, her bicep flexing slightly under her scrunched up shirt sleeves. “Well, I never turn down the chance to take a pretty girl to a dance.”

“Sounds like you have experience.”

Natasha narrowed her eyes in playful accusation “Is that a problem to you?”

“Not at all. I like a woman who knows what she’s doing.” Her words were heavy and even Clint raised his eyebrows, having been listening in to their conversation whilst he polished glasses.

“Then you’re in for a real treat, darlin’.” Natasha held eye contact and took a swig of her beer, licking her lip as a drop escaped. Y/n stared back at her and then coughed, using that as her excuse to look away. Anyone could feel the air shift and Clint walked away, shaking his head with a smile. God, Natasha certainly knew how to play this game.

“Where did you say you were staying?” Natasha continued, probing yet more information out of the poor woman.

“Here, actually,” Y/n answered, gesturing towards the door that led to the small assortment of lodgings that the saloon housed “ ‘S the only place willing to take someone like me.”

“Barton!” The man in question looked around guiltily. “Keeping things from me now, are we?”

“You were out! When was I gonna tell ya?”

Natasha grunted and jutted her chin out at him, furious that he’d watched their interaction knowing exactly who this woman was. And Y/n found the whole ordeal rather funny, having made the connection that they knew each other a little while ago.

“Well, if you’re stayin’ here, I know where to pick you up later.”

“Inviting me to a dance and picking me up? Do all foreign girls get this treatment from you?”

Natasha winked coyly, sliding her hat along the bar where she’d left it. “Only the special ones.”

“Oh you’re flannel-mouthed!” Y/n exclaimed, to which Natasha only shrugged cockily. “I’ll be waitin’. Right here, so don’t be late.”

“Roger that,” Natasha responded, mimicking Yelena from earlier. She stood up with a flourish, placed her hat on her head and took Y/n’s hand to place a kiss on the back of it, treating her like a proper lady. Clint wolf whistled her, receiving an insult thrown his way before Natasha had disappeared back through the doors she’d come through, leaving them swinging back and forth with the momentum.

“She’s a wild one, watch out.” Clint nodded after the redhead, silently laughing to himself at her dramatics. Always one for the exits, she was.

But Y/n didn’t even notice his amusement. She was gazing at the gunshot hole left in the wall across the room, and more specifically, thinking about the woman that put it there.

“The wilder the better, I always say,” was all she replied, her mind now miles away. Sure, she said that about horses, but Y/n was starting to think that applied to the women she surrounded herself with too.

[rafesangelita]

here’s my take on rafe and sofia…. if they make his character all soft and simple and straightforward it will ruin his whole character!!! rafe is this complex deranged guy with issues and it makes no sense for that all to be resolved because he suddenly gets into this relationship with someone. i also think it’s a bit off character for him to be with a pogue…. i also think that the only reason they added her is to give the viewers the idea of what it would be like to be in a relationship with rafe (cause let’s be real rafe is one of obx main money makers)

i have no doubt that the writers are giving drew a run for his money and doing fan service for us! i’ll make that very clear, because i agree that they don’t know what to do with his character now that ward is dead. BUT as for everything else that you stated, let me go one by one and tell you why i disagree.

“if they make his character all soft and simple and straightforward it will ruin his whole character!!!”

guys.. rafe is STILL rafe. he’s far from being the ‘soft’ guy everyone is making him out to be rn. is he softer? yes. but soft all the way? definitely not. (he literally collided with jj’s bike so the pogue’s couldn’t win the race, he didn’t think anything about the turtle incident and told ruthie ‘good shit!’, now he’s an alcoholic, he was talking bad about sofia behind her back, AND he’s stubborn as a damn horse and would rather have sarah talk to him first..)

“rafe is this complex deranged guy with issues and it makes no sense for that all to be resolved because he suddenly gets into this relationship with someone.”

he still very much has issues. he is still very much deranged. rafe was already changing a little bit in season three (hence the reason why he was out trying to make a deal with the cross for his family!! the only reason why he veered away from that was because ward tried to stay in charge of something rafe was already handling). we still have rafe who doesn’t know about what sofia did behind his back, so there’s that still! this idea that he’s becoming soft SOLELY because he’s in a relationship now is just incorrect tbh. he lost his dad, the main reason for him being a psycho was because he was constantly doing things for ward’s approval, let’s not forget that! ward is gone now, and he wants to have his family together again, i don’t think just because he has sofia he’s acting this way. now he has to form his own life, without his dad (AND mom, sarah hates him, wheezie is with rose and he most likely doesn’t have contact with her) ALL he has is sofia.

“also think it’s a bit off character for him to be with a pogue….”

i think they had a very specific reason as to why the writers wrote this out. conflict aside, sarah herself is a pogue, and i think when the writers wrote sofia and rafe to be together, they were setting up potential for rafe to view the pogues differently. they were setting up rafe to get the perception that pogues aren’t at all what he thinks they are, which also opens up the possibility of rafe and sarah AT LEAST being on good terms.

[sanjoongie]

𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝔽𝕠𝕦𝕣: ℙ𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕚𝕔 𝕊𝕖𝕩

🥀Pairing: Cowboy! San x wise woman! Reader (f)

🥀Genre: Smut

🥀Rating: 18+, Minors Do not Interact

🥀Au: western au, cowboy au, witch au

🥀Trope: fwb to lovers

🥀Summary: When San comes to you, the local wise woman (read rumored witch), to get a bullet wound dressed, he's also looking to convince you to let him under your skirts, and your heart

🥀Kinks: Public sex, penetrative sex with no barrier, San's a sweetheart and a tease, yes the cowgirl position with cowboy san 😆, thicc dick san

🥀Warnings: mentions of a gun fight, bullet wound, blood, tending to wound

🥀Word Count: 1,931

🥀Betas: @mejuii

🥀Day Three: mirror sex 🥀Mini Masterlist 🥀Day Five: Dacryphilia

You were tending to your herb garden when San cantered down the road to your cabin tucked against the mountain. You raised your hand to block out the sun and knew immediately who was making so much dust your way. If you didn’t recognize his white horse dappled with gray or the way he tilted his hat, you sure recognized the big ol grin he sported, defined by his dimples.

“San,” You greeted him as he drew his horse abreast of you, dusting off the dirt on your skirts.

“Ma’am,” San tipped his hat graciously, and then winced.

You clucked your tongue immediately. “What kinda trouble did you get into now?!” You demanded.

San’s smile widened. “Just a few bandits trying to get away with Hongjoong’s cattle.”

You jerked your head to the shed you used to treat the few brave townfolk that dare come to you for any illness. They swore you were a witch but you were just educated--unheard of in these parts, but then again, that’s why you settled here.

San swung his leg over and dismounted from his horse. San clucked his tongue at Silver Light, and lightly wrapped the reins around the post before your cabin, letting the horse drink water from the trough.

“Can you even take your jacket off?” You scolded your new patient, washing your hands quickly with the lye soap you kept near the basin.

“I--” San hissed as he moved his arm again and you sighed heavily.

“When are you going to use any sense of self-preservation?” You said with your hands on your hips, after wiping them on a rag.

San paused jacket half pulled off, held up his elbows. Instead of answering your question he sent you a wounded look. “Help?”

You grumbled about men having less sense than a chicken but carefully helped him off with his heavy, long jacket. You cast an analytical eye over San’s injuries. “Lie to me, San.” It would be better if San kept himself distracted by talking.

San took a seat in the only chair in the shed and began to weave his tale. “Well you see, the bandits don’t have any wrangling experience so the herd was pretty much running with their own instincts and no matter of hooting or hollering was making those cows go where the bandits wanted them to,” San told you, more than happy to speak of a story that would probably make him look good in your eyes.

You fetched forceps to pull out the bullet clearly lodged in San’s arm and a bottle of whiskey. You splashed the forceps with some of the liquid before handing the bottle to San. He took a swig. It wasn’t his first time in your chair and it wouldn’t be the last, the damn fool. The only tells that he was hurting as you dug for the bullet were tiny creases at the corner of his eyes, but for the most part, he didn’t whimper or whine, not once.

By the time you had extracted the bullet, San had told you about leaping from Silver to the lead bull’s back and forcing it to turn by grabbing the bull’s horns firmly and turning its head. You rolled your eyes and San laughed, high-pitched and light, at your response.

You dipped a clean rag in some of the whiskey and dabbed at his wound. This time he groaned and you slanted a glare his way. San pushed out his lower lip. “Come on, Darling, give me some sympathy. I saved Hongjoong’s whole herd!”

You finished bandaging his arm up. “You will get no sympathy from me, Choi San,” You refused, “And what did I tell you about calling me darling?”

San’s good arm wrapped firmly around your waist and brought you onto his lap. “You told me to never call you darling again,” He told you solemnly. “But I can’t forget about that night we shared.”

You rubbed your eyebrow. “San,” You said his name in warning, “You can’t be associated with me. The whole damn town thinks you’re a local hero. If they think you’re warming the bed of the local witch--”

“I don’t care what they think,” San said, voice getting low and husky, “I care about--”

You laughed bitterly and got up. Or tried to. San’s damn arms, one injured or not, were strong. You weren’t a frail Bank Owner’s daughter but you still didn’t stand a chance against that man. “Let me go, San.”

San sighed, defeated, and let you go. “Okay, Darling, don’t get your skirts in a twist.”

You let out a screech of frustration and stomped out of the shed, slamming the door. San’s eyes were wide at your tantrum and your reaction only made him chase after you. “Wait, I didn’t--”

You made it to the well before San caught up with you. “No, you didn’t, San, and that’s the point. You don’t think and every day I see someone galloping up that road, I’m sure it’s going to be one of the other boys to tell me you got yourself injured or worse!”

“You keep talking like that a cowboy might start thinking you were soft on him,” San teased you.

“Don’t you start!” You waggled your finger at San. San was back to grinning again and you rolled your eyes again. “You’re incorrigible!”

“My mama always told me that,” San nodded, conceding to you. “But she also told me that if I ever found a woman who had a soft spot for me to--”

“San, no,” You shook your head. You turned around to lower the bucket into your well and draw up some new water.

San’s callused, uninjured hand covered yours on the well lip. “Darling, please.”

You shook your head. “You’ll be ostracized. They’ll spit on you. What if Hongjoong doesn’t want to employ you at his ranch anymore? We can’t get married, they won’t let me within yards of that church. Any children--”

San pushed your shoulder with his good one. “Children, huh?”

“San,” You said, “I’m serious.”

San’s eyes were hooded and your stomach dipped. “I’m serious too. Let me learn your body again, Darling?”

You swallowed, the lack of moisture having everything to do with the cowboy in front of you. You put your hands on his chest, smooth over the leather vest and then pulled him closer. “You’re going to regret this.”

A slow, crooked smile pulled at San’s lips, flashing his teeth at you. “I don’t regret anything I do in life, other than when I let you push me away the first time.”

His head dipped and he captured your lips between his. His kiss was slow and sensual, giving you all the time in the world to push him away if you chose so. And when you didn’t, he tilted his head to suck your lower lip between his. You moaned into his mouth. He chuckled against your lips and pulled away. “You’re gonna have to help me with your skirts, Darling. I’m one arm down and that’s a sin when I’m finally able to fuck you good.”

Your eyes widened. It was almost high noon and almost anyone could come this way. “San, surely not out here?”

“Yes, out here,” San said, husky voice only adding moisture to your nether regions.

“I’m not going to let you mount me like a damn saloon girl!” You protested.

San tilted your head up with his good hand and kissed you again, softly. “Give me a thrill, Witchy Woman. You know half the town doesn’t dare come up here ‘cuz they think you’re going to be naked and covered in chicken’s blood. It’ll be fine.”

“Get hard at the thought of that?” You challenged him.

“Hell yes,” He chuckled.

Your eyes scanned the outdoor area. There was a real soft patch of grass near the big oak tree. “You lie down, cowboy. I’m not the injured one.”

San wrapped an arm around your waist and meandered towards said tree, unwilling to let you go farther than an arms length from him again. “You gonna ride me, Darling?”

“San,” You growled a warning again.

San laughed again and your heart beat against your chest. “If I was afraid of a strong woman, I wouldn’t have come to you the first time I got beat up after that young stallion bucked me when I was trying to break him in?”

San laid down on the sweet patch of grass in front of your oak tree. He was already hard and pressed up against his jeans, chaps only outlining his hard-on. You freed his cock, and then pulled up your skirts to slot it against your wet entrance.

You sunk down on him, slowly taking his girth. San’s hand rubbed your hips through your skirts, encouraging you to take your time. Staring down his nose, he looked delectable lying under you. His arms bulged from restraining himself, free from his heavy jacket, and only his vest covering the ample chest you knew was under.

“S-san,” You stuttered, still struggling with getting him fully inside of you.

“Your cunt’s so sweet for me,” San cooed at you, biting down on his lip, “So wet and inviting. It’s like I’m coming home.”

“Shut up,” You said half-heartedly, “Who ever heard of a cowboy who waxed poetic. Aren’t you just supposed to grunt while you fuck me?”

San chuckled. “But you’re fucking me, rememeber?” San whimpered when your walls clamped down on his length at his remark. “You like being in charge, Darling?”

“You’re hardly--hnnnffff--in any position to not listen to me--ahhhhh--” You rolled your hips experimentally and found that you were wet and opened up enough to move.

“Gonna fuck me good, Darling?” San continued to encourage you. “Fuck,” He bit down aggressively on his bottom lip again, practically sucking it in, “You really do know how to use those hips of yours.”

“Hnnnnn--San,” You whined, “You’re too--oh god--” San had tensed his pelvis muscle and suddenly you were able to bounce more aggressively against him.

“Come on, sweetness, give me everything you’ve got.” San locked gazes with you. He practically had hearts in the center of each of his irises. Goddamn it, this man was so sweet on you, and you felt your walls melt under his adoring gaze.

Your knees were getting stained by the grass under you but you were past the point of caring. You worked San’s length inside of you until the both of you were a whimpering, whining mess. You came first, shouting his name and seeing stars behind your eyelids. San felt your walls flutter around him and then he was a goner as well, attempting to hold you down on his cock as he unloaded inside of you.

“That’s it, Darling, you milk me dry. It’s all for you,” San groaned loudly, eyes rolling into the back of his head. He was smiling like he was a cat with milk, however. “With that orgasm, I’ll be rolling out of your bed tomorrow morning, good as new.”

Your eyes widened at his declaration. Before you could protest, San shook his head. “I’m staying and you can’t talk me out of it. You gotta take care of me. I’m injured.”

You sighed heavily but this time it wasn’t serious at all. “You really are incorrigible, Choi San. What am I going to do with you?”

“It’d be nice if you fucked me when the sun is pretty and setting but that might be wishful thinking on my part,” San mumbled with an adorable pout.

🥀Day Three: mirror sex 🥀Mini Masterlist 🥀Day Five: Dacryphilia

[dragon-kazansky]

When the raven calls

Morpheus x Female Reader

You, his raven, die protecting Jessamy while rescuing the Dream Lord. When Morpheus returns to his realm, he mourns your loss, only to find a stranger waiting for him in his throne room. The stranger claims to be you, now in human form. He doesn't understand, but his raven will always watch over him.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Chapter Five - The oldest game

☆☆☆

The demons of Hell were all excited as they cheered. It probably wasn't too often the game got played, which made it all the more exciting you supposed.

Morpheus and Lucifer stood facing one another. You remained sitting on the floor wrapped up in Dream's warm coat. It was all that was protecting you from the eyes of others. You kept your eyes on Morpheus.

He had to win. There was more than his helm on the line now.

Choronzon stood on the balcony with the helmet in his hand. Lucifer and Morpheus stood on either side of him.

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen. Today, for your entertainment and delectation, a formal challenge."

The demons cheer.

"The challenger is Dream. Once the master pf the Realm of Sleep."

The demons boo.

Morpheus turns slowly and looks at you. You look back at him. He steps away from the balcony and makes his way toward you while Choronzon announces Lucifer as the other player. The demons cheer for their ruler.

Morpheus kneels down in front of you.

"Are you alright?" He asks softly.

"Yes. You don't need to worry about me." You tell him.

"I always worry about you." He admits. "I will not let Hell have you."

Your gaze on him softens. "You don't need to worry, really. You should have accepted the trade... you'd have had your helmet back by now."

"I would not trade you in this life or any other. You are not a bargaining chip. You are my raven, my companion, my friend." His voice turns so soft as he speaks. You wished you could read the expression in his eyes.

"If anything happens to me, flee. Return to the Dreaming. If you stay there, Lucifer can not have you."

"No. I will not leave you." You sound determined. His lips twitch into a little smile.

"Always so loyal."

"You know it, Dream King. Now, kick some Devil ass and win. The sooner you do, the sooner we can go."

Morpheus smiles softly at you. He lifts his hand slowly, about to reach out and caress your cheek, but Lucifer's voice breaks the moment and he lowers his hand.

"Morpheus, am I interrupting a premlinary of some kind?" Lucifer asks.

"Just a little pre-game pep talk." You say. "Your majesty." You bow your head. "We came for the helm, and we're not leaving without it," you talk more to Morpheus now.

He looks at you again softly.

"We shall see," Lucifer says, amused.

Morpheus stands, and you sit up. You have your hands through the sleeves now, so you don't have to keep holding the coat together. You fasten a few buttons to hide your body.

Morpheus likes how you look in his coat, but he doesn't have time to admire your human form now.

He needs to secure your safety first.

"As the challenged, I set the meter and take the first move." Lucifer says.

"Very well. Make your move."

You sit with baited breath as you watch the pair of them. Your eyes linger on the Devil.

"I am... a dire wolf. Prey-stalking, lethal prowler."

You turn your eyes to Morpheus.

"I am a hunter. Horse-mounted, wolf-stabbing."

Lucifer grunts as they receive a wound through their body. That's the first hit. Morpheus drew blood from Lucifer. You watch carefully for the next move.

"I am a serpent. Horse-biting... poison-toothed."

Your eyes are drawn to Morpheus as the poison floods his veins. You bite the inside of your cheek, a new and unfamiliar sensation to you. His breaths come out in short, ragged puffs.

"I am a bird of prey. Snake-devouring, talons ripping."

The poison leaves his body. Lucifer receives three long slashes across the face. More blood is drawn.

"I am a butcher bacterium. Warm-life destroying."

Morpheus falls to his knees as his flesh appears to be eaten away. You gasp and slide across the floor, placing a hand on his back. He looks up.

"I am a world." He says slowly. "Space-floating, life-nurturing."

His body heals. You look up at him in awe.

"I am a nova." Lucifer says. "All-exploding, planet-cremating."

Morpheus lays on the ground, his flesh scorched. That was a big hit. You kneel beside him, hands placed on him gently. He tries to get up, but falls back down again.

"I am a universe." He whispers weakly. "All things encompassing, all life embracing."

"I am anti-life. The Beast of Judgement. The dark at the end of everything."

Morpheus goes cold. He lays there, unable to lift his head. His breathing is shallow, and it worries you.

"What will you be then, Dream Lord?"

He tries to move, but he can't. You shield his body with your own and take his face in your hands gently.

"Come on," you say softly. "Say something. Anything. You have to win, remember? You have to win for me." You look at him so gently. Your touch is soft against his cold face. He can feel your thumb brush along his cheekbone.

"Still with us, Dream?" Lucifer asks, amused by this display.

"He is! And it's his move, Your Majesty." You say, glancing up at Lucifer. You turn back to Dream, who looks up at you. "Come on. You can do this. I believe in you." You whisper to him.

"There are no more moves." Lucifer states. "What can survive the anti-life?"

You continue to caress his face gently. He stares at you through dark eyes. He sees the look in your eyes.

"You can survive the anti-life," you whisper. "Dreams don't die. Not if you believe in them, and I believe Dream of the Endless would never leave me here alone with Lucifer. He would never leave me. Not when we just found each other again..."

He sees the way you look at him. That look sets something alight in him. He wants you to keep looking at him like that.

"I... am..." Morpheus gets up on his knees. You keep a hand on his back as you watch him. He looks up at Lucifer. "Hope."

Morpheus rises to his feet.

"Hope." Lucifer speaks softly.

You smile softly as you look up at him.

"Well, Lightbringer?" Morpheus asks. "It's your move. What is it that kills hope?"

Lucifer knows they have lost. They turn to the demon. "Choronzon. Give him his helm."

"No. I won't. It's mine. Please."

Mazikeen throws Choronzon off the balcony after taking the helmet from him. Morpheus approaches the demon and takes the helmet from her, thanking her in the process. He returns to you. You stand on wobbly legs, still wrapped up in his coat.

"Thank you, Lightbringer. The Ruler of Hell is honourable, indeed. I will not forget this."

"Honourable? You joke, surely." Lucifer walks closer to where you two stand. "Look out there, Morpheus. The billion Lords of Hell stand arrayed about you. Tell us. Why should we let you leave? Helmet or no, you have no power here. After all... What power have dreams in Hell?"

Morpheus smirks slightly. "You say I have no power here. Perhaps you speak truly. But to say dreams have no power in Hell... Tell me, Lucifer Morningstar, what power would Hell have if those here imprisoned were not able to dream... of Heaven?"

Lucifer is clearly seething under that calm exterior. You can see it in their eyes.

"One day, Morpheus... we shall destroy you."

Morpheus leans in close, seemingly bowing, and looks Lucifer in the eye. "Until that day, Lightbringer."

With his helm in hand, Morpheus walks away, grabbing your hand as he goes. You walk with him out of the castle, not daring to look back.

You knew Lucifer was beyond pissed off after today.

Far from the castle, you stand with Morpheus. He was still in his battle gear. You still had his coat wrapped around you. He looked at you and then at his helm.

He puts his helmet on.

"Can you actually see in that thing?" You ask. You had obviously seen him wear it before, but it had been do long ago.

"I can. I can see the ruby."

You stand a little closer. Morpheus reaches out for you gently.

"Come here." He speaks softly.

You reach for his hand, but find yourself swept off your feet. Literally. Morpheus picks you up in his arm and holds you close to his chest. You look up at the helmet on his head.

"The sand, it's in my pocket. Get it for me."

You reach into the coat pocket and take the pouch out. He says nothing, but you understand what he wants. Carefully, you tip the pouch out into your other palm. Morpheus uses the sand to transport you out of Hell.

All the while keeping you in his arms.

You arrive at a storage house. Morpheus keeps you in his arms.

"Remove my helm."

You reach up and take his helmet off him, holding onto it carefully. He carries you to the door, refusing to put you down just yet. He takes you inside.

"I can sense it. My ruby. It's here."

He puts you down on a closed box nearby and finds the glow of his ruby emitting from a crate on the shelf. He reaches out and smiles as he takes the ruby from within. He holds it up and looks at it.

"Something is wrong."

You frown and are about to ask what was wrong, but as he touches the ruby, it explodes with power in his hand and sends him flying backwards.

"Dream!" You hop off the box and hurry to his side. "Dream?" You scoop him up in your arms. He's unconscious. "Wake up. Please wake up..."

The door to the storage unit opens, and you hear someone enter. A man in a long coat and slippers kneels down and picks up the ruby. It doesn't seem to affect him.

You watch him walk away with it.

You turn your attention to the man in your arms. In your current form, you can't fly back to the Dreaming, and you wouldn't dare use his sand without permission.

"Please get up." You whisper, holding head close to your chest. "Wake up, Morpheus..." You feel tears in your eyes.

"Please."

☆☆☆

@missdreamofendless - @kpopgirlbtssvt - @sitkafay - @snowsatsu - @ladyofdreaming - @thoughtsfromlayla - @modest-irish-goddess -

[hwasoup]

Tale As Old As Time

@kit-and-wolfe drew this for me in the server so, now imma use it :') Omg hi guys, Ik its been a while since I last updated but it's mainly bc I'm not ready to say goodbye to this series yet TT there's about 2 chapters left guysss so I hope you guys understand how much I'm edging it. Anywho the chapter is finally here !! I hope you enjoy !!

warnings: fearmongering, manipulation words: 1.8k

ch.6 | next

Chapter 7: The Mob

The days have passed since y/n traveled back to the village

Eddie was simply lounging around nearby Y/N’s home, as per Ben’s instruction from a couple of days ago to alert him if Y/N was home. He was just sitting by a bush minding his own business until he looked up and saw in the distance, a woman riding on a horse as fast as the animal could take her. He squinted a bit and realized it was Y/N. Immediately he got up and ran to where Ben was located, obviously in his tavern. 

Eventually after a bit of running, he manages to catch Ben before he leaves on a hunt. Gasping for air, he holds onto the cuff of his sweater. “She’s…. She’s back…” Ben stops in his tracks and smirks to himself “well then…. it's time to initiate the plan…” On the other hand, back at the humble inventor’s cottage. Y/N swiftly made her way back home and immediately into her father’s room. She looked at him and gasped at how sickly he looked. His eyes looked sunken, and it was clear that he hasn’t exactly been able to take a bite of food in a couple of hours. Y/N quickly walked to his bedside and grabbed the nearest towel and dunked it in some cool water that was in a bucket in the corner of his room. She wrings it out and proceeds to approach him and wipe his face, hoping that his fever would subside a bit. Mauricio’s eyes slightly flutter at the feeling of cool water drying on his face, he looks up groggily and mumbled “Mija?” Y/N’s heart melted, and she whispered “shhh, no te preocupes…I’m home.”

Mauricio took a minute to process her words. His eyes widened when he fully registered that his precious daughter was sitting right before him. He immediately adjusts his posture and tries to sit up to the best of his ability "…. I thought I would never see you again...” Mauricio immediately leans in for a hug. Y/N happily returns it to him and rests her chin on his shoulder “I missed you so much…” Mauricio tightened his hug with his daughter until he remembered a specific detail... “But…but the beast. How…how did you even escape!”

“Papa, I didn’t escape…he let me go..” She says fondly. Mauricio looked at her shocked “what? The Beast did ??” Y/N unknowingly smiles fondly at the thought of the man… “yes…Miguel let me go...” Mauricio raised some eyebrows “MIGU-” he started furiously coughing. Y/N patted his back to help him ease his lungs from all of his coughing. His voice was strained from his coughs, and he cleared his voice a bit. “That…ese monstruo ?”  Y/N immediately shook her head “not a monster…he’s different…he’s quirky, silly, and incredibly gentle..he’s…. he’s changed…” She bites her lip and looks up at her father until she hears a knock on the door. “I’ll be back papa.” She stands up from sitting on the edge of the bed and goes to attend the door. A man stood at the door with a menacing grin “erm…con que te puedo ayudar..” she says hesitantly. “Vine a recoger a tu padre” he says with an eerie voice. “Wait…my papa ??” she says in surprise. Y/N stands there looking at the man with confusion in her eyes, as well as worry as she hopes that her father didn’t do anything to further tarnish the broken reputation he has in the village.

“Don’t worry senorita..we’ll take care of him” the man says as he moves from her sight and shows her a locked wooden carriage, on the side saying Psiquiátrico de alocado. Surrounding the carriage, she noticed the villagers all surrounding it, with torches and pitchforks ready to use them as weapons if it comes to that point. Y/N immediately registered what was happening and immediately protected her father “MI PAPA NO ES UN LOCO” she said with fierceness in her voice. She was pushed aside by two villagers who barged into her home and forcibly dragged-out Mauricio and threw him inside the carriage. Y/N got up immediately and tried her best to try and get him out, but all she could do was just be pushed away. Tears threatened to fall from her eyes as everything suddenly started to look hopeless. “Poor Y/N…it really is a shame about your father...” “Ben!” Y/N looked at him desperately as she held onto the hem of his shirt “please, you know he’s not crazy” Ben hummed as he played faux innocence “but you see Y/N your father… he’s been making absurd claims, but….I am able to…well clear up this small misunderstanding…if…” Y/N looks up at him desperately “If what!” Ben chuckles and grabs her by the waist making her body be pushed against his. “If you marry me” he says with a grin. Ben leans down and tries to sniff her soft hair “one small word Y/N that’s all it takes…” Anger bubbled in Y/N’s body, and she pushes him away, her nonverbal actions speaking in volumes as to her response to his manipulation tactic. Ben scowls at her and gruffly says “Have it your way then...” and he walks away to the crowd until Y/N yells “WAIT” 

“WHAT CLAIMS WAS MY FATHER EVEN MAKING” she yelled out. Ben turned to her and chuckled “oh…why about a Beast..” Y/N in that moment remembered she had the magic mirror in the pocket of her apron and she pulls it out “PLEASE ITS TRUE… I HAVE PROOF.” She looks down at the mirror and softly spoke to it  “Show me The Beast”

The mirror glowed a green color and rose into the air, a bright flashing light arose and projected an image on its reflective glass surface and revealed Miguel and his beastly appearance. Every villager, including Ben gasped at his ghastly sight. Even Eddie stepped back a bit after seeing it

In awe Ben ripped the mirror out of the air and approached the villagers “look at this sorcery, look at this BEAST!” He turned the mirror around to show the villagers “LOOK AT HIS FANGS, HIS CLAWS!”

Y/N’s heart broke at how people saw him and tried her best to defend him “No..please…don't be afraid…He’s gentle…and kind” Murmurs were heard throughout the crowd…but Ben…he was appalled…the woman he desired so much to be his wife…was calling the Beast KIND….words that she had never said to him. He turns to her in anger, anger that the Beast has clearly won her affections and in an accusatory tone pointed at her 

“The monster has her under his spell…. IF I DIDN'T”T KNOW BETTER I CAN SAY SHE CARES FOR HIM” “HE'S NOT A MONSTER BEN…YOU ARE” Ben’s face grimaced, but he had to mask it in front of the villagers “I’ve heard of the effects of Dark Magic, but never like this…” Ben decided on what to do. “THIS IS A THREAT TO THE BANE OF OUR EXISTENCE” The villagers cheered in agreement as they truly believed that Y/N was under a spell and that she is now a danger.  “WE CAN'T HAVE HER WARNING THE CREATURE, LOCK HER UP TOO !”

Y/N’s heart shattered as she was immediately grabbed by the arms of Ben, the man of the carriage opened the doors and allowed Ben to throw her inside the wooden box alongside her father as well and closed the doors of it as well. His face was filled with fury, until he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Eddie.. “Ben… with all due respect but-”

“SHUT IT OR YOU'LL BE WITH THEM TOO, AND FETCH MY HORSE”

Eddie’s voice reduced to a whimper and he looked down…He knew this was wrong…what was originally a menacing plan had now become just pure cruelty. He knew he couldn’t fight against an angry Ben so he stayed silent and left to do what he was instructed.

Ben then proceeded to initiate a riot with the villagers, to prepare to fight, to encourage them to kill the Beast. Each villager went into their homes and brought out muskets, pitchforks, knives, torches, anything that could be used as a weapon. After what seemed minutes, Ben led a mob of angry villagers and used the magic mirror to find where the castle was located and led them out and directly into the woods.

______________________________________________________________ Inside the carriage however Y/N was huddled beside her father as she tried to check on his health despite the severe conditions they were in. Y/N was scared for Miguel…she wanted to warn him desperately, but she also needed to watch her father. She thought long and hard until she decided that she needed to warn Miguel.

“Papa…I need to warn him..” Mauricio looked up at her and coughed “Ay Mija..but…I- I’m scared for you…It will be dangerous” Y/N crouched beside him and nodded “yes…it will be..but, he did everything for me…he even gifted me his library..” Mauricio’s eyes widened “a library ? How many books are there ?” Y/N chuckled “more than what this village can even hold, Papa..trust me…he saved me from the wolves and now..I must repay him..” Mauricio looked into her eyes and saw a look that he had never seen in his precious daughter’s eyes. He used to have that look when he was younger and when his wife was alive. He then smiled softly knowing that well…his daughter is all grown up now, even if she hasn’t realized it herself. “If it what your heart desires…then…I could try and pick the lock” Y/N smiled as she listened to her father ramble “After all, it's only just gears and springs” he reached his hand outside the bars of the carriage to get a hold of the lock. “ But..I would need something..” he turns to look at her “shar…p” Y/N was already holding a hair pin on the palm of her hand. Mauricio chuckled and took it into his hands “perfect” He then placed his hands back out of the bars and took a hold of the lock again and used the pin to start picking at it. He eventually finally opened the lock and pushed the doors of the carriage open, quickly getting himself out as well as y/n. He turned to her and ran with her to the stables and whispered to her “take Felipe as well as this coat and go warn your friend” Y/N nodded and whispered a small thank you to him as she quickly packed everything and immediately got on Felipe and rode on him, holding onto the reins as she prayed that the trusty steed would gallop as quickly as possible to the castle.

Maurico watched as she disappeared back into the forest and smiled softly, reiterating the thoughts he had before…

 his daughter was in love…even if she hasn’t realized or admitted it yet.

taglist:

@cupcakeinat0r , @miguelhugger2099, @mcmiracles,@xxsugarbonesxx,@codenameredkrystalmatrix,@deputy-videogamer,@lxverrings,@miguelzslvtz,@itsameclinicaldepression,,@ricekrisbris,@loser-alert , @thedevax, @uncle-eggy, @m4dyy, @freehentai, @synamonthy, @razertail18, @s0lm1n,

@badbishsblog, @faimmm, @keendreamknight, @texanadmirer, @stargirrls, @itzsab,@delectableworm,@jadeloverxd @pinkmistart, kishimiest,

[sc0tters]

Helping Hand | Mat Barzal

summary: Mat’s son meets his next door neighbour and quickly befriends her, what happens when Mat falls for her much like she does for him?

trope: single dad

request: yes/no

warnings: none.

word count: 1.64k

authors note: I asked who got the child and you requested Mat so here he is as a dad! We are going to act like Tito was never traded because this piece isn’t dated but I miss him as an Islander. If you want to check out the rest of the celly you can do so here!

It had been the longest day of your life.

All you wanted to do was run yourself a bubble bath as you went to sleep for an early night. That was why when you stood in the elevator your couldn’t help but smile as some kid stared up at you.

Your mother always said that when a child stared at you for just being you it was a compliment because clearly you were pretty “I like your croc,” you pointed to the child’s stuffed animal that he held on to for dear life.

His nanny couldn’t help but smile as you crouched down to talk to him “what’s his name?” You added as you saw that your floor was still another thirty away.

Drew held the crocodile out so that he could place it on your hands “that’s Danny and I’m Drew,” he introduced himself as he sent you a gummy grin that was due to his two front teeth missing.

You pretended to study the teddy as you nodded along with what he was saying “I’m y/n,” your introduction was more so to the lady that was with him “Agatha.” She nodded as she let the two of you get back to your conversation.

By the time the elevator doors opened you knew all of Drew’s favourite facts about himself, his favourite colour was blue, he likes horses. Chicken nuggets and fries are his favourite food but his dad doesn’t let him eat it that often. The part that probably made your heart warm was that the young boy sang his fathers praises as he made it clear that his dad was a cool dude “you promise you’ll come meet my dad soon?” Drew asked as you walked them to their door realising that he was actually your neighbour.

You nodded as you held your pinky out “I promise,” his small finger locked itself around yours and you had to resist the urge to aww at the sight “have a good day you two.” You added as you softly ruffled the boys hair eliciting a laugh from his lips.

The duo watched you make your way down the hall “bye y/n!” Drew called out as he waved before he walked into his apartment.

The young boy played on your mind for the entirety of the next day so when you were back in the hallway walking to your apartment and you came across Danny who seemed to have been dropped on the floor you knew what you had to do.

It wasn’t often that you got yourself involved in other people’s business but after listening to Drew highlight the importance of this stuffed animal you knew he’d appreciate it “you are not the postman.” Mat blurted out as he opened the door to be met with your empty hands.

You sucked at your bottom lip as you furrowed your eyebrows “you’re not Agatha,” your comment made him laugh “she’s got the day off.” He explained as his eyes went down to your hands “thank god you found that stupid animal.” Mat added as he realised that Drew no longer had to rip up his bedroom trying to find that.

Part of you wanted to remind him of the crocodiles name but the other part of you knew it was best to just keep your mouth shut “y/n!” Drew let out a cheer as he saw you stood at the door.

Mat was surprised when he realised that you were actually a real person but that you were also an adult “I believe this is yours,” you smiled as you bent down to hand him Danny.

The young boy wrapped his arms around your neck as he almost knocked you off of your feet “thank you!” Drew repeated those words drawing a laugh from both you and his father “don’t mention bud,” you smiled as you patted his back.

His dads eyes never left yours as he crossed his arms and leaned against the frame of the door “do you want to ask your friend if she wants to come in?” Mat proposed as he rubbed his hand along his chin.

Drew’s eyes lit up at the thought “do you? Do you really?” He asked as he squealed with excitement.

You let out a laugh as you stood back up straight “I don’t even know your name,” you pointed out as you looked at Mat.

The boy groaned “tell her who you are daddy!” Drew pulled at Mats pants as the older Barzal remained quiet.

Mat shook his head as he snapped himself out of it “Mat, Mat Barzal.” The hockey player introduced himself to you as he held his hand out for you to shake.

His tone made you think that you should have known who he was but still you remained oblivious “y/n l/n.” You never that by listening to Drew it would start the most interesting month of your life.

Now you still remained unaware of Mats true profession but that was because you never seemed to ask and besides thinking he was some rich businessman each time he left the apartment in his suit was much more entertaining.

So instead after a busy week where you hadn’t seen a lot of Drew or Mat you knew the perfect way to apologise to the boy for not seeing him all week after Agatha sent you a text saying the boys missed you.

It wasn’t clear to you why Mat would have been involved in that statement but you didn’t look into it “you sure that I can’t meet her?” Tito groaned as he kicked his legs.

Drew had been playing away with his toys on the carpet “I don’t want you guys to scare her.” Mat explained as he shrugged “she wants to meet them.” Drew announced as he didn’t look up from his train set.

That was music to Tito’s ears “see she wants to meet us!” He cheered at the boys phrase.

Mat rolled his eyes “I’ll see when she has time.” The Canadian proposed as there was a knock at the door “so I’ve got four different cupcakes so take your pick but just not-” you walked into his apartment just like how you always did.

Tito locked eyes with you as he smiled “you’re friends with the Tito Beauvillier and you never told me!” You gasped as you sent Mat a glare only causing his teammate to laugh.

It wasn’t often that Mat was jealous but this was one of those few moments “how do you know who he is but not me!” Mat furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at you.

Drew ran over to you “hi y/n!” He giggled as he wrapped his arms around your legs.

You smiled as you looked down at the boy “the guy I sit next to at work has his poster above his computer.” You explained as you crouched down to be eye level with Drew “which one do you want?” You added as you opened the box for the boy to see the different cupcakes in your box.

Over the next two months you learnt all about how Mat was a hockey player and you even went as far as to meet his teammates. Twitter began to think that you were more than just Mats friend as a video came out of you playing rock paper scissors with Drew in the family and friends box.

After an afternoon game Mat convinced you to go for a round a minigolf. You were for the most part unsure of it, you had grown fond of both Drew and Mat but you didn’t want to put your feelings above the young boys.

What you didn’t know was that Mat felt the same way about you. The fights he had gotten into recently on the ice were because of chirps about you, your style, your body, anything about you that they could say to get under his skin about your they said it. After every game though you always landed up back at his place to play nurse “Mat!” You laughed as the boy wrapped his arms around you to stop you from swinging the club “no cheating!” You added as the scruff from his beard rubbed against your neck.

He smiled as he put you back down “I’m just helping my cause,” he explained as you spun around to face him.

The smirk was present on your face “your cause?” You cocked your head as you licked your lips.

Mats hand went to your hair as he smile “got a pretty strong plan.” He confessed as he dropped his club to the ground “want to tell me about them?” You wriggled you eyebrows as your heart rate increased.

Alarm bells should have rung in Mats head as he studied your face “dinner, maybe even a second date?” He proposed grateful that he had booked the course out so they didn’t have anyone watching them “kiss me.” You blurted out as you couldn’t take it anymore.

All of the temptation and the waiting had built up in your bones “you sure?” Whilst it was all Mat wanted to hear he still didn’t want to cross a line you didn’t want him to.

You nodded “so sure it’s painful,” you gasped as the boys hands went to your cheeks before he kissed you.

It sucked the air out of your lungs as you kissed him back when your club hit the ground with a clang as your hands went on top of his.

A muffled giggle came from your lips at his neediness “wait, what do we tell Drew?” You gasped as you remembered that he was sat at home with Agatha.

“I don’t think he’ll mind if his favourite girl is around more.”

[sn0wjam]

RYUGA AND GINGA ROLESWAP

Ryuga

Bey is now Storm L-Drago

All except the facebolt is swapped with Storm Pegasus so his new special move is called Draco Meteor I guess lmao

I swear someone on twitter mentioned that but I can’t find the reply

He’s like the metal fury version with a bit of metal fusion mixed in

He’s always bickering with Kyoya lol

“Pay your fucking repair tabs.”

“Later.”

OK SOO LORE STUFF

Umm so basically Dark Nebula is now the Nebula Organization

Their mission is to protect the forbidden bey, Lightning Pegasus, and prevent it from getting in the wrong hands

Unfortunately Hagane Ryusei, who now has Doji’s role, has other plans <3

He and Ginga steals the bey

Doji, who allegedly dies in this event, tells Ryuga he needs defeat Ginga and get it back

Ryuga is more pissed that the guy he lost to shit talked him than the fact that his GUARDIAN is DYING

So he’s like “You don’t even need to tell me!!”

And Doji is like ugh of course. And he launches Storm L-Drago to him before dying

And so his adventure begins!!

Before metal fusion, he didn’t really understand the point of having close allies(he means friends but he refuses to use that word) and didn’t bother to make any

And so over the course of the fusion and masters he learns to open up more and let people into his life

I like to think that after the defeat of Ginga, everyones celebrating and hes like damn.. This is nice. And he has a sincere little smile

And then Kyoya and Madoka are like “OH MY GOD???? HE’S FUCKING SMILING???? GUYS ARE WE SURE THE DARK POWER IS GONE….. ARE WE SURE IT DIDN’T SOMEHOW TRANSFER TO HIM??!@$@#$&@^#*&@!#@^??”

Hagane Ginga

I still feel a little iffy about his outfit colors but this’ll do for now…

Yes, I like Kid Icarus

And Fire Emblem

Anyways

So yeah his bey is Lightning Pegasus, this universe’s forbidden left-spinning bey

Ginga now is like metal fusion Ryuga, just louder and energetic

Post metal fusion he’s still a loud asshole but hey no more dark power

Like I said earlier, he stands on his toes at all times so his feet look like horse legs

Bro his calves are RIPPED

I didn’t think about that part until after I drew him tho so you can’t really tell lol

I don’t feel like adding that detail rn… 

He is also very particular about his wing scarf

If you get them dirty he WILL kill you

I think that when he was a kid he was lonely and didn’t have friends

So similar to the song kirai kirai jigahidai (https://youtu.be/0c9958OoTL8?si=OlwGSQeuU6NBRjhB), he uses being strong at beyblading to try to get friends

But oh no he’s strong and being an ass about it so he doesn’t make friends

He makes up for it by being loud on top of that so everyone’s attention is on him

He wants to keep getting super stronger! So Ryusei (Sorry Ryusei) manipulates him to use him as a tool to harness the dark power

Post metal fusion, he regrets what he’s done

Still an asshole

But anyways, like the song again, he forgets his own self outside of beyblading

So he’s like fuck. People hate me for being an ass, how am I gonna make connections when I don’t have any other personality trait?

So then he’s going places just chilling and fucking around in hopes to find himself again

And then ta dahh he dies in metal fury and says to Ryuga like “Do you think we’d have been friends in a different universe?”

Corny but whatever you get the idea

Initially I wasn’t planning on having him die, but also omfg figuring out his outfit colors took away 10 years of my life so this is what he gets…

[bellarkeselection]

Knew Better But Still Picked You pt 2

Gif belongs to @miyagiverse

Part One Part three

Jackie has some rules set for the reader and Cole that might be hard for them to follow.

Tag list- send me an ask to be added @cognacdelights @connieisthesun @bbabycass

Cole shrugged some jeans up his legs while I tossed one of his tea shirts over my head. Tying my hair up in a messy braid. Jackie had stomped out of the bedroom and down the stairs clearly frustrated. “So how bad do you think she’s going to be about…us?”

“I have no clue. I’ve never seen her this concerned for me before since we’ve been friends forever.” I responded by slipping some socks on my feet sitting down on his bed.

Cole throws a blue tea shirt on coming over to me wrapping his arms around my waist tugging me to his embrace. “We could just stay upstairs for the day. To avoid my parents' possible wrath on both of us. What do you say?”

“Cole..” I warned him by draping my arms over his shoulders.

He leans down since he was taller than me, kissing me slowly. “How about now?”

“We can’t hide away.” I attempted to say while he kissed me again a little more passionately as if that would convince me and I hate to admit that it might be working.

The older Walter boy in front of me cupped my face in his hands. “The way you’re reacting says otherwise….jump.” I leaned into his embrace, moving my arms around his neck threading my fingers through his honey hair. He moaned when I did so and he moved his hands down where I jumped wrapping my legs around his waist but that’s as far as we got.

“Cole. Y/n, can you come downstairs now!” His father hollered where we broke the kiss.

Cole sighed and I could feel his muscles tense up. “Oh boy. Are you sure we can’t just sneak out the back door and go to the riverside?”

“Unless your parents don’t know about that place and Jackie’s phone has terrible cell service she’ll find us no problem. We have to go, Cole.” I explained to him running my right hand through his hair getting some of it out of his bright green eyes.

He lowered me to the wooden floor and planted a kiss on my forehead. We still held hands coming down the stairs until we reached the third to last step. His parents and my best friend were standing in the kitchen with angry looks on their faces. “You wanted to talk with us?” Cole stated calmly.

“Do you want to explain to us why Jackie is saying she wants us to forbid you two to be together?” His mother Catherine scowled hands on her hips.

Cole pretended to play like he was clueless. “I have no idea.”

“Me either.” I shrugged my shoulders following along with him.

Cole's father glared at his son. “Cole, don't joke around about this. We know Jackie isn't a liar. So I'd suggest you tell us the truth.”

“I don’t have anything to hide.” I replied.

Jackie stomped up, ending up in between us and the Walter parents. “Come on, you two. I know that you're lying to them. I saw you two laying in his bed this morning!”

“Okay, fine. Yes we were sleeping together in his bed. But not in the way that you think I swear.” Holding my hands up I figured it would be safer if we only lied about the horse riding and kissing last night between us.

His father glanced at his son, leaning against the fridge. “Cole, just tell us exactly what happened and your punishment won't be as bad since we already learned about you sneaking girls out of the house without our knowledge.”

“Which will never be acceptable in this house ever.” Catherine waved her index finger at him.

Cole dropped his gaze to the wooden floor and I felt him reach for my hand. I wanted to support whatever he was about to say but I still drew back keeping my hands clasped together in front of me. “Look you guys, I am not hooking up with Y/n. I just hung out with her last night and she didn’t want to wake New York up so she slept in my room with me.”

“Fine, if that’s all you're going to tell me then let's get onto the part that I came up with.” Jackie turned on her feet to the Walter parents. “Are you still open to the ideas that I came up with for going behind my back?”

Catherine shifted her gaze between us. “Jackie is very upset that you two lied to her about this. So we have decided that you two are grounded here for the evening.”

“What-” I gasped, never being grounded before in my life.

Mr. Walter leaned his palms on the island. “And if you don’t get all the chores done then you can't go to the homecoming prep rally.”

“I didn't want to go anyway. “ Cole shrugged his shoulders not fazed.

Turning my head in his direction I admit weakly. “I want to go. I've never been at anything like that in the city.”

“Oh…” Cole replied giving me a guilty expression.

Jackie moved forward grabbing my arm and dragged me out onto the porch so we could talk alone about this. “Jackie, this is ridiculous. We didn't sleep together.”

“But you did do something with him. I can see it in your eyes, Y/n. You're closer to him than you were a few days ago. He reached for your hand I saw it.” She throws her arms away from her sides.

Dragging my hands down my face I groaned at her. This was getting ridiculous that she is so concerned for my heart. “Jackie, I don't want to be having this conversation with you. You also had no right to involve his parents in this.” I appreciate it the support. But I haven't had a boyfriend yet so how was I supposed if he would be bad or good for me.

“If you just tell me what happened last night I'll go inside and tell them I overreacted. You just have to tell me the truth.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

Shoving my hands in my pockets I huffed. “I shouldn't have to tell my whole life story. You're supposed to just trust me since I'm your best friend and you consider me to be your sister.”

“If I consider you like family then there's no problem in telling me.” She pressed onward.

Stomping my boots into the gravel drive I snapped at her not being able to handle it anymore. “Urgh! You wanna know what happened between Cole and me…we kissed. We kissed after he took me horse riding to see the stars. That's what happened between us!”

“You freaking kissed him!” Jackie raised hee voice at the same time the front door opened and Cole walked past us seeing her death glare as he went straight for the barn.

Whipping my head around I ran toward the barn leaving my best friend ending our conversation with her. “Cole!” Leaning in the doorway with my hands on either side of the stall with his horse, he avoided my gaze brushing his horse.

“Hey Y/n.” He mumbled.

I opened the door coming to stand closer to him so he'd possibly look me in the eye. “Cole, please look at me. I didn't want to tell anything about last night. Last night was something that I wanted to be my own thing that no one could take away from me. But now she's made me put it out in the open.”

“It doesn’t matter that she knows about the kiss last night. I just don’t want to talk about it anymore we have chores to do.” He grumbled walking out of the stall and gently pushing me out of the way so he could lock the stall.

Spinning around in my boots I snapped back at him. “If you’re bring an ass to make my best friend right I don't like it. I already told you that I chose you when everyone else tells me I should stay away.”

“I'm not trying to make her happy. I am trying to stay away from you. But I can't avoid being around you.” Cole spun around on his feet getting close to me where there was almost no space between us.

I parted my lips eyeing the side of his jacket pocket where I knew he had slipped his keys inside before we went downstairs and clearly his parents didn't know. “Then let's run away somewhere they don't know about. Like Romeo and Juliet but obviously not dying.”

“Are you sure you're not a little afraid of any danger, Y/n?” He questioned me, focusing his green eyes.

Closing the gap I wrapped my arms around his neck pressing up against him as much as I could. “I'm choosing to be with you aren’t I Cole Walter. Danger can be my new middle name. So let’s run away for the night.”

“Running away isn't showing them I'm a good influence on you…But I don't want to be apart from you now.’ He declared looping my hand through his and he peaked around seeing that the lights in the house had been shut off meaning everyone was asleep. He led me to his truck and I climbed in hearing him Starr the engine racing away from the ranch.

Pulling out my phone I turned my location off knowing Jackie would track me. Leaning back in the seat I put my hand over his freehand. “You are honestly more fun then I'd thought you'd be, Cole.”

“I was thinking the same thing about you, Y/n.” He intertwined our fingers together and the rest of the drive through the night was comfortable silence with both our hearts racing with adrenaline and fear.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[sassenach77yle]

||COUNTDOWN ||SEASON 1 EPISODE 12 || LALLYBROCH ||

#83daysofoutlander☆

Broch Tuarach means “the north-facing tower.”

From the side of the mountain above, the broch that gave the small estate its name was no more than another mound of rocks, much like those that lay at the foot of the hills we had been traveling through. We came down through a narrow, rocky gap between two crags, leading the horse between boulders. Then the going was easier, the land sloping more gently down through the fields and scattered cottages, until at last we struck a small winding road that led to the house. It was larger than I had expected; a handsome three-story manor of harled white stone, windows outlined in the natural grey stone, a high slate roof with multiple chimneys, and several smaller whitewashed buildings clustered about it, like chicks about a hen. The old stone broch, situated on a small rise to the rear of the house, rose sixty feet above the ground, cone-topped like a witch’s hat, girdled with three rows of tiny arrow-slits. As we drew near, there was a sudden terrible racket from the direction of the outbuildings, and Donas shied and reared. No horseman, I promptly fell off, landing ignominiously in the dusty road. With an eye for the relative importance of things, Jamie leapt for the plunging horse’s bridle, leaving me to fend for myself. The dogs were almost upon me, baying and growling, by the time I found my feet. To my panicked eyes, there seemed to be at least a dozen of them, all with teeth bared and wicked. There was a shout from Jamie. “Bran! Luke! Sheas!” The dogs skidded to a halt within a few feet of me, confused. They milled, growling uncertainly, until he spoke again. “Sheas, mo maise! Stand, ye wee heathen!” They did, and the largest dog’s tail began gradually to wag, once, and then twice, questioningly. “Claire. Come take the horse. He’ll not let them close, and it’s me they want. Walk slowly; they’ll no harm ye.” He spoke casually, not to alarm either horse or dogs further. I was not so sanguine, but edged carefully toward him. Donas jerked his head and rolled his eyes as I took the bridle, but I was in no mood to put up with tantrums, and I yanked the rein firmly down and grabbed the headstall.

The thick velvet lips writhed back from his teeth, but I jerked harder. I put my face close to the big glaring golden eye and glared back. “Don’t try it!” I warned, “or you’ll end up as dogsmeat, and I won’t lift a hand to save you!” Jamie meanwhile was slowly walking toward the dogs, one hand held out fistlike toward them. What had seemed a large pack was only four dogs: a small brownish rat-terrier, two ruffed and spotted shepherds, and a huge black and tan monster that could have stood in for the Hound of the Baskervilles with no questions asked. This slavering creature stretched out a neck thicker than my waist and sniffed gently at the proffered knuckles. A tail like a ship’s cable beat back and forth with increasing fervor. Then it flung back its enormous head, baying with joy, and leaped on its master, knocking him flat in the road.

“‘In which Odysseus returns from the Trojan War and is recognized by his faithful hound,’ ”

I remarked to Donas, who snorted briefly, giving his opinion either of Homer, or of the undignified display of emotion going on in the roadway. Jamie, laughing, was ruffling the fur and pulling the ears of the dogs, who were all trying to lick his face at once. Finally he beat them back sufficiently to rise, keeping his feet with difficulty against their ecstatic demonstrations. “Well, someone’s glad to see me, at any rate,” he said, grinning, as he patted the beast’s head. “That’s Luke—” he pointed to the terrier, “and Elphin and Mars. Brothers, they are, and bonny sheep-dogs. And this,” he laid an affectionate hand on the enormous black head, which slobbered in appreciation, “is Bran.” “I’ll take your word for it,” I said, cautiously extending a knuckle to be sniffed. “What is he?” “A staghound.” He scratched the pricked ears, quoting“Thus Fingal chose his hounds:Eye like sloe, ear like leaf,Chest like horse, hough like sickleAnd the tail joint far from the head.” “If those are the qualifications, then you’re right,” I said, inspecting Bran. “If his tail joint were any further from his head, you could ride him.” “I used to, when I was small—not Bran, I don’t mean, but his grandfather, Nairn.” He gave the hound a final pat and straightened, gazing toward the house. He took the restive Donas’s bridle and turned him downhill. “In which Odysseus returns to his home, disguised as a beggar,…” he quoted in Greek, having picked up my earlier remark. “And now,” he said, straightening his collar with some grimness, “I suppose it’s time to go and deal with Penelope and her suitors.” When we reached the double doors, the dogs panting at our heels, Jamie hesitated.

“Should we knock?” I asked, a bit nervous. He looked at me in astonishment. “It’s my home,” he said, and pushed the door open.

26THE LAIRD’S RETURN ~ OUTLANDER

[lunchinamerica]

𐙚ᣟ݂﹒𝐛𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 - 𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤﹒

୨୧﹒﹒𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭. ۫ · ㅤ ˖ㅤㅤ۫ㅤ ˚ ۪˖𓏲﹒ your bully, derrick, defends you ﹒ 　 ⊹ 　⤷ cw: lowercase intended, slurs

taking the one-thirteen bus to work was always your least favorite part of the day because it also happened to be the time your least favorite people needed to go to track practice.

brandon and derrick.

every day you would take this bus, and every day they'd be there waiting for you to enter and once you did you were smothered with inappropriate questions. they were never violent with you; they were just insulting. you weren't too sure why they chose you to pick on when there were multiple other people to choose from.

today was no exception.

"hey fuckpie, you here to be double stuffed?" brandon, a tall boy with black hair spoke, derrick's laughter soon followed.

you never entertained their words and usually just stared out the window and let them go on with their antics. the things they said never got to you in any way, it was more annoying than hurtful and you found it was easier to ignore them than stand up for yourself as they commonly got bored after a few minutes of no reaction.

"say, d, if she was an animal what animal would she be?" brandon asked derrick as he leaned on the yellow standing pole next to your seat. derrick was standing on your left side, looking directly down at you.

"a horse," you heard someone say, it didn't sound like derrick or brandon. the voice drew the attention of the boys and you. you hadn't expected someone else to join in on the targeting, nor did they.

only one of the boys laughed at the stranger's jokes, which was brandon, derrick on the other hand was simply staring at the stranger in the other row opposite your seat.

"what'd you say, faggot?" derrick said, stepping closer to the stranger. brandon's laughter had died down after hearing derrick's reaction, seemingly confused on why he was so mad; you were just as confused.

"i just called her a horse, pal," the stranger said, standing up out of his seat and getting close to derrick, "got a problem?"

"yeah, i do," derrick's hand swiftly pulled the stop string as a robotic voice filled the bus.

'a stop has been requested'

the bus pulled off to the side of the road, looking out the window you noticed the bus came to a stop in front of a park.

derrick wasn't sure what had come over him, but hearing someone other than he or his friend speak to you filled him with rage, a rage he couldn't understand at that moment but he knew he had to do something.

"d, we're gonna be late for practice," brandon spoke up as derrick grabbed the stranger by the collar of his shirt and dragged him off the bus and onto the sidewalk.

you quickly followed the three guys outside to see how the situation would go, your mind kept replaying the situation, unsure of what could've ticked derrick off so much. the only other time you've seen him this mad was when someone insulted their tracksuits. it seemed to be a very sensitive topic. but this stranger hadn't insulted derrick or his tracksuit, he insulted you.

"hold him down brando" derrick demanded.

brandon promptly held the stranger's arms behind his back as he thrashed around in brandons grip.

brandon was sure derrick had his reasons for beating this random person up, he just was not sure what they were. he almost felt bad for the stranger.

with one swift motion derricks fist met the random person's face, knocking him half unconscious, letting brandon know he could let go of him as his limp body fell to the sidewalk with a thud.

everyone was quiet as you stared at derrick.

"don't speak to her again, faggot," he spoke up, spitting on the person laying half unconscious.

derricks eyes met yours as he turned away back towards the bus, people staring through the windows in shock.

he had always thought you were beautiful like you were bathed in sunlight, and while yes he could've gone a different route to talk to you instead of insulting you every chance he got, he knows he doesn't mean it, and he doesn't want anyone other than him, or sometimes brandon, telling you shit.

"got something to say, tard?" he spoke out to you as brandon brushed past him and onto the bus stairs.

"thank you," you replied meekly, still in shock of what had just occurred.

derrick hadn't expected a reply from you let alone a thank you, he felt heat rise to his cheeks, why was he acting this way? why do you have such an affect on him?

"come on d, were gonna be late!" brandon yelled, leaning against the doors.

derrick didn't reply to you, he would've, and he should've but he knew he couldn't be late to practice anymore.

୨୧﹒. ۫ · 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ㅤ ˖ㅤㅤ۫ㅤ ˚ ۪˖𓏲﹒ part two soon!

[esquilone]

Creamy Strawberry Cake🍰2/2

RDR2 | Arthur Morgan x female reader part 1

Summary: this story takes place two years after the breakup of the Van Der line gang now Arthur is 38 years old (Arthur has not had tuberculosis) currently Arthur finds himself working on his parents farm as a rancher taking care of the farm and the horses in exchange for housing and money, one day you have to go out shopping in Saint Denis and Arthur has to go with you.

Genre Tags: possibly explicit, MDNS, SMUT, fluffy, angsty, teasing, virginity, p in v, verbal harassment other than from Arthur, attempted strangulation and possibly murder.

WARNINGS: Age difference between the reader and the character, the reader will be 20 years old and Arthur Morgan will be 37 years old.

~CONTINUED~

“Have you ever been fucked by someone, darling?” He asks in a direct and natural way.

Her eyes widen.

- "Huh…Mr. Morgan, what-what?!"

He lifts his head and looks at you, now directly in your direction.

“Don't play innocent with me, girl,” he says in a harsh voice. “Answer the damn question. You. are. A virgin. ? ”

The adrenaline rose so quickly that you couldn't form any words to him. Within seconds, he took long strides and cornered you on the wooden counter you were leaning on, you looked like a frightened horse being cornered so suddenly. Arthur laughed. You looked so distressed. Poor thing

“It's all right, it's all right. Calm down, girl,” he said, putting his big hands on your waist and you seemed to shiver and redden

”You're a good girl, I understand. You're no harlot. You're too pure for that, anyway. Now…” his hands descended lower, now on your thighs, and you let out a faint murmur of a muffled moan, squeezing your thighs together. He pulls your thighs apart.

“Spread your legs. "

“Huh! That doesn't sound right Mr. Morgan, I don't know how to do that kind of thing, and…if Dad knew he'd be upset and wouldn't forgive me.” you say breathlessly and desperately. He looks at you, his eyes slightly squinted, and you can feel his ears and neck burning with shame and anxiety.

“Your daddy's not here, is he, darling?” He said that 'darling' in a slurred, thick voice. Before you could protest he was quick enough, crushing his lips to yours, you could sigh with euphoria, the exchange of saliva and caress he exchanged with you was strangely…good? yes, you could feel the euphoria gradually coming over you.

“By the way, you're a grown woman now…you can make choices.”

A twinge in your gut along with butterflies seemed to keep you more lucid about what was going on. You had barely noticed that he had now lifted his shirt, now pulling away from you and breaking contact with your lips. Lips swollen, face red and hot. He lifted your nightgown over your arms and head, pulling it off your body.

And there you were, your breasts exposed to his eyes, he seemed paralyzed for a few seconds, then grabbed the last pieces underneath and removed them completely from your legs, now you could feel shy and ashamed in front of him avoiding looking into those greenish blue eyes at all; now painted in a shade of dark grayish blue. “Holy shit.” He broke the silence, his voice slightly broken. His hands crawled over your warm body in front of him, one of his hands went up to one of your breasts and squeezed it, this drew a moan from you, now embarrassed you turned your head down looking away in shame, then immediately you felt his breath on one of your breasts and barely had time to process it until you felt him covering it with his mouth. You moaned so suddenly in surprise, you felt a twinge in your gut, you could feel your thighs moistening, God what is all this?

The way he sucked, bit and squeezed them was slightly pleasurable and at the same time a little painful, but in a good way.

“Fuck, you've been hiding this little feast from me for a long time, darling,” he murmured.

he murmurs. He moves a hand from your thigh to spread your folds with two fingers. Lucky you're not wearing pantaloons. You sigh. This is all so new to you. You've never felt anything in that restricted area - you haven't even touched yourself. You're a good girl. A modern woman made into a trophy wife. You've never wanted to touch yourself.

“What? Is this a new sensation, doll? Yes… look at you, imagine if we used glitter on that wet, baked pussy? Hmm? You'd slide out of me like a block of butter.” Bringing my face close to your neck again, smelling your scent and licking and kissing your hyoid bone, then your collarbone, biting and leaving slightly dark marks. Preventing you from being caught and discovered by Dad by showing your neck, but so that YOU wouldn't forget it so surely.

“Mmmm….ah awwn, I-I…” you mumbled in non-existent words, your tongue completely numb as you felt the stimulation, which made Arthur let out an amused, mocking chuckle. Evilly increasing the massage on your clitoral folds and pearl ten times faster and sometimes slower and more torturous. “Easy girl, you're all right,” you barely heard him, feeling him pat your swollen and sensitive folds, now swollen and practically crying out for more attention, with his middle finger. You soon felt yourself shivering from the heat reverberating and radiating from your body. God, had you peed? Oh… no, from the middle of your body oozed a light liquid that was half white and half transparent, was that yours?

It looked like milk porridge

God, you couldn't think for a moment.

Relax, I'm going to enter you now, okay?” he said, leaning his forehead against hers and stretching his head down to see the head of his cock resting on the edge of her pussy. “You tell me if it hurts.” Lightly rubbing in circles and up and down.

Teasing you.

“Ar-Arthur,” she stammered at the sudden stretch.

With a gentle sway of his hips, he slowly pushed himself inside her. Slowly, inch by inch. And with every almost inaudible sound she made, he dotted her forehead with soft kisses. The pressure in her stomach suddenly snapped, and she moaned in pain, her walls contracting around him and her nails digging into his skin. “Well?” He arched one eyebrow slightly as if to question her. “What's it like? Mm?” Those gray-blue eyes could drive you crazy and keep you quiet for a long time.

“AAwnnn…oh it hurts…a lot even, but now-”

He thrust hard against her, making her moan in surprise, his hard cock buried inside that rebellious pussy, sticky and hot as coals.

“SShhhh…shhh” kissing her neck and cheeks lovingly, but still wildly. Calming you and your storm. Arthur treats you well and not so roughly, as satisfying as it is to see you like this - so whiny and needy.

And now he could be buried inside you like a shovel digging into the earth.

You could feel every ridge and vein of his cock, you could feel the tip of it practically kissing your cervix. You weren't lying when you said it was huge. He's almost opening you up with it!! “You'll be fine, I'll take care of you darling. “ in a gentle, drunken voice, kneading the flesh of your thighs and looking deep into you. God, if you were a hare, that wolf would have taken you by now. What would you tell yourself about your past? That shy, reserved little girl? You know you've had fantasies about Arthur, and with Arthur, fantasies you barely understood and felt ashamed of long after you'd imagined him in such ways. But now? God, did he think that too? As rare as it was for you to imagine this kind of scenario of Arthur touching or embracing you, apparently it wasn't you who had been thinking it. You could feel his hands burning around you, every light scratch and firm squeeze, the way he slowly slipped in and out of you, violating your intimacy that had never even been touched or breached before.

“Nahh! A-Arthur” you groaned in hurt, he had withdrawn from you completely, his cock pink and swollen, some of his veins slightly bulging around the shaft, he shuddered as he felt the air return, now completely out of you he, but before you could protest he pulled you by the waist lifting you off the counter, the memory of the complete nudity of your body made the redness rise to the rest of your face, you squirmed completely on his shoulders, which made him slap you hard on your buttocks, his hand on your buttocks. on your ass, his hand felt like a sheet of paper thrown on fire and then placed on you. Making you stiffen in his grip. “That's better now.” He picked you up in his arms again and before you could look around, he threw you onto the mattress of the bed, now on top of you. You looked up to see him looking down at you with his usual slight smile and frown, his chest rising and falling, the dim light in the room preventing you from seeing him completely, now he was moving away from you, throwing his hat on the floor and opening the buttons of the black shirt he was wearing, then his pants, finishing off his union and now…. pushing them down and stepping out and now being really naked, just like you.

“You look so nervous… relax again-” now climbing on top of you on the bed, grabbing you by the legs and pulling you towards him, turning you on your back, now on your stomach. ”-then I can make you come again.” Kissing the middle of your spine, he lifted your ass towards his hips, entering you again with greater ease. Making you moan slyly into the pillow, and every time you tried to stifle your moans he seemed to slam into you harder and deeper, pounding into your crotch making it burn, which brought a louder and more desperate moan from you. And he grabs and spreads your thighs wider, awkwardly on the mattress, and lifts them with a grunt of irritation - as if they were in the way or something. The new position allows his cock to reach even deeper inside you, which makes your back stiffen. The sound of skin on skin echoes through the kitchen. Arthur slams into you again and again, his low grunts mingling with your panting 'Ah! Ah! Ah!'

Arthur laughs again. “Do you like that, darling? Like me screwing you like a common whore? Hm?” He picks up a rhythm, his thrusts getting harder and faster. His pelvis slams against yours, he bites your neck and kisses your back. He smiles, now placing one of his hands under her belly, touching and rolling her clitoris between his index and middle finger.

“I'm getting close, baby. The greedy girl is sucking me right in and out. I'm going to fill you up like a glass of milk, okay, baby? Make you full of me.” You don't answer - too focused on trying to get used to the sensation of the monster cock filling your pussy. Your vision going white and your eyes rolling back, God it felt like you were the only one here who felt like you were dying or were going to black out at any second. “P-stop! Hmmp… you can't cum inside me!” Your words in a meaningless sob, everything you said seemed confused and jumbled, but Arthur only responded by moving faster. “hmm…” he growled. You could feel every ridge and vein in his cock, you could feel the tip of it practically kissing your cervix. You weren't lying when you said it was huge. He's almost opening you up with it. Now it didn't hurt any more, it felt like you needed more and more and more until you were gushing like a waterfall.

And there you were, moaning and crying your release, sweaty and wet underneath him Arthur let out a deep, exasperated moan as he released milky jets inside you. Both of you sprawled on the bed, sweaty and totally stimulated, Arthur now holding onto one of your arms behind you and throwing himself onto his side, lying next to you calming his own shaky breathing, he was exhausted after years of sexual frustration for so long, he wasn't the type to sleep with just anyone, but having spent all that energy he'd been storing up was good, but now he was exhausted. This was exhaustion of the positive kind, after mind-blowing, delicious sex. You too, pussy throbbing and dripping with Arthur's sperm. feeling tired and breathless and the weight of drowsiness coming on.

....

In the middle of the night, you wake up with a jolt, your eyes wide and your breathing ragged, as sweat drips down your back and forehead and makes your body stick to the sheets of the cot. His vision is becoming accustomed to the scenery around him, the room is shrouded in dimness, the silence cut only by the hurried sound of his breathing. Now he sits awkwardly on the bed, his hair clinging to the damp skin of his neck. “crap”, mentally cursing herself for having slept instead of going home, God! You're still here with Arthur, come on get up! Pray that Dad didn't decide to come home early and kill you before you could think. Your gaze wanders from the floor to your clothes, it's time to get up. You search for your clothes on the floor and move to get out of bed. When you try to get up, you feel his arm gently wrap around your waist. For a brief moment, you hesitate, the touch of his slightly rough, thick hands is comforting, but the weight of the fear of reality is stronger. Delicately you try to untangle yourself as if you had a snake clinging to you, now letting go of his embrace. With quick, precise movements, you hurriedly put on your nightgown, trying to be as quiet as possible so as not to wake him up behind you. Now dressed and with your hair lightly combed with your fingers, you pull yourself together and walk to the door.

pain

Your legs wobble slightly. They feel wobbly and uneven beneath you. Oh, God, they're so fucking sore, like you've been running or standing for half the day.

Yes. Your pussy hurts too.

You're panting slightly and massaging your sore pelvis after what happened earlier in the night. Just as you're about to open the door, the silence of the room is broken by a hoarse, amused laugh behind you, startling you for a few seconds like a poor deer, frozen in place by the doorknob. Turning to him, he's half up, his body wrapped in the covers, and watching you with a slightly mischievous smile.

“Are you all right in there?” he asked softly, referring to the gesture you had made earlier, massaging your pelvis with a slightly uncomfortable expression.

You felt your face burn again, a mixture of embarrassment and shame. You hadn't expected him to be awake, let alone to notice your discomfort in the dark.

“Do you want me to help you with that?” he still smiles and jokes, his voice low and warm, but there's something else in his gaze, a silent care and concern. God, he's so sweet!

I'm fine…” you whisper, still unable to completely disguise your nervousness.

“I have to get back, it's late.” You say quietly now, his kindness making you want to hesitate once more at the door, as if a part of you didn't want to leave so quickly.

“Bye-” he says softly, letting out a sigh again, ”see you again tomorrow, darling.” You open the door and take off down the stairs and run home, how would you look at him again? Even more so in front of Dad? Running and entering the house.

Luckily for you, Dad hasn't decided to come back yet.

extra!

Over the next few days you ran into him a few times, whether you wanted to or not, sooner or later you would cross paths at some point; living on a ranch and sharing the same land made you see each other, not that you were avoiding him, but you were nervous and embarrassed that Dad would see you acting so agitated. But then it happened again, when you bumped into him again, you were showering at home until you heard someone knocking on the door, so you wrapped yourself in the towels and went to answer it, Arthur. The way he seemed to raise his shoulders at you, and seconds later you were fucking inside the house. And so it went on, you'd already started this, why not finish by getting to know everything?

That time you were having dinner at home, the big tablecloth stretched all the way to the floor as you ate your dessert, little did anyone know that there was someone under the table sucking you off while you pretended to be eating, but his head buried on your thighs without you really being able to see it, made you weepy and horny, licking you like a dog licks a pot of food, without dispersing, making you jump on the table and then forcing you to pretend you were coughing to avoid being caught in his work. You were rooted in more than you could have imagined and all this with Arthur, that was unexpected to be honest.

Being broken up with by a cowboy.

[who-knew-a-sheep-can-write]

Siren Songs: Arthur Morgan x Siren!Reader

You sneered at the outlines of the men before you, your nails scratching faint lines into the thick glass. Your tail thrashed in the water, kicking up the dirt that sat thick at the bottom. The water tasted odd, like metal had been rusting in it for years, it didn’t taste clean. It made your skin start to ache.

You missed the taste of the sea.

Even in your deepest of dreams, you could still taste the salt on your skin and smell the brine that pooled beneath your body. How long had it been since you and your friends were snatched up from the sea? Years?

You glared at the men who had their backs to you, making sure to avoid eye contact as they laughed and regaled at how much money they had made off of you all. You could still feel the eyes of what looked to be thousands of people staring at you from beyond the thick glass and murky water you were all kept in.

They always made sure to keep the lid on tight, lest another “accident” happens and you all drown and maim another one of their men.

They had made a stop for the night, settling in some little town riddled with filth if the water they had rehomed you in was any clue. They had stashed your tanks in a stable amongst the four-legged beasts they call horses. Your heart tugged; Some of them were in the same shit show you were in: Forced to perform for the masses because of how different you were from humans. At least they could taste fresh air and even fresher waters.

Your eyes remained pinned on the men before you, narrowing your eyes and wrinkling your nose when one would turn to look at you before laughing with his “pals” only for them all to erupt in laughter.

“Come away from there,” one of your friends called. “It’ll do you no good just staring at them like that.”

A bitter taste settled at the back of your throat as you finally let go of the glass.

Just as you turned to swim towards your friends, the stable doors suddenly were yanked open.

“Dutch, are ya sure ye know what yer doin’?” Arthur didn’t even look over to the other men to his side.

He drew his bandana over his nose and unholstered his revolver as the older man just chuckled.

“Arthur, my boy, think of how much money we’d be gettin’ from this! In no time, we’ll be off in T-”

“Arthur’s right,” Hosea piped up. Dutch shot him a look. “They are dangerous creatures. They’ll think we’re just like their captors. One wrong move and we’re all goners.”

“It’s too late to back out now.”

Dutch unholstered his own revolver and started towards the stable that shockingly wasn’t very guarded.

Arthur followed close behind, eyeing the carts holding dangerous wild animals who eyed them all like they were walking hunks of meat ripe for eating. A shiver ran down his spine at the memory of that damned lion for Margaret that nearly took him down for good. Arthur snuck around the carts with Lenny and John while Dutch, Hosea and Micah took to the front.

A few shots rang out before Arthur and the others raced towards the front doors, already seeing a few bodies on the floor while Dutch had the rest getting on their knees.

“What is it? Money? We can give ya money!” one of the men pleaded.

They were all dressed nicely, better than anyone he’s ever seen in Saint Denis. They had to be from somewhere like New York City with clothes like that; Rich silks that were getting dirty from kneeling on the grimy floorboards covered in horse dung and God knows what else.

“Although ‘m honored for the offer, you fellows have somethin’ else I’ve had my eye on for awhile now,” Dutch smirked.

“Take it! It’s yours! Just let us go!” another of the men pleaded.

“Where are you fellows keepin’ the sirens?”

All of their eyes widened at the question.

“Wh- You can’t! They’re our star attraction!”

Dutch cocked the revolver and pressed it against the man’s forehead, the poor bastard was sweating through his expensive linens to the point where he could smell that pompous aftershave and cologne from where he stood.

“I ain’t askin’ again, gentlemen. The sirens?”

“There’s a wagon there,” Micah sneered, motioning towards the back of the stable with his gun. “What’s in it?”

Just the look on Micah’s face made Arthur want to silence him. Hell, everything Micah did made him want to shoot him dead where he stood.

“Arthur, go check it out,” Dutch motioned to the wagon.

Arthur swallowed thickly but slowly peeled away from the rest of the group. He was careful to step towards the wagon, noticing right away on how huge it was and especially how odd-looking it was. It was the same maroon wood with gold accents and wheels locked into place, but instead of large iron bars to keep whatever is in, it was thick glass.

With a lot of scratches on the inside.

Arthur stepped closer, noticing how murky the water was and how it was pushed back into the darkest corner of the stable away from the horses. The water must have felt so cold and disgusting.

At first, he didn’t see anything in the large tank.

And then he saw multiple pairs of eyes cutting through the darkness. Various shades of colors, but the pair of yellow eyes in the front stuck out to him the most. They were judging him, eyeing him up on whether he was prey to them or a predator. He couldn’t blame them, especially after how long those poor things have been in captivity. It made his heart twist in his ribs.

Dutch had been following this entire thing since Blackwater. It was his next big thing besides all of the other “plans” he had in that odd head of his. He was going to steal the sirens from this traveling circus and pawn them off to the highest bidder.

Dutch came up behind Arthur with a lantern in hand and gun ready in the other. His eyes widened at the sight of multiple eyes glowing the in the murky water and raised the lantern to the glass.

The entire pack of them flinched away from the light, but he really only got a good look at the one in front with the yellow eyes. Their scales had started to lose their color so long ago, there was just a faint trace of blue in the dull scales. Overgrown claws that had been neglected, a long tail curled and twisting the water, a wide fin that had little tears at the ends. He could only imagine how the others looked.

It was cruel to keep them in such disgusting conditions.

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” Dutch gawked. “Let’s get ‘em outta here and back to camp.”

It was late at night when Arthur left the confines of his tent, staring at the tank wagon at the edge of camp and started towards it with a lit lantern in hand. He saw the bodies in the water all huddled together, clinging to the edges on the tank fast asleep. Except for you.

Upon feeling eyes on the tank, your own parted and stared Arthur down as he walked up, a fire lit under his ass and burned him with determination. He saw you tail thrash a bit in the water, your claws sank a bit into the lip of the tank, the gills on your throat flared. You were trying to intimidate him, to drive him away; Yet you didn’t use your voice to do so.

“Why are you here?” your eyes narrowed.

He mulled over his words, his eyes pinned to yours in a hypnotic trance.

“‘M sorry.” Your eyes widened just a bit, your grip on the edge of the tank lessened. “I know you all’ve been through a lot. Made out to be some monsters, gettin’ looked like yer freaks. It ain’t fair to you all.”

He doesn’t know how long the silence enveloped you both. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours; But you softened up and finally let go of your death grip on the tank and freely floated on the water’s surface.

“You’re not… afraid of me?”

“No.”

“Then why are you here?”

Arthur’s throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly. The way your inhuman eyes searched his, the way the sun shimmered off of your dull scales. It made his stomach flutter in an odd way.

“‘M gonna get ya out of this mess.”

[tiddygame]

Ghoap god type au part 6!

Ao3 /// part 1 /// part 2 /// part 3 /// part 4 /// part 5 /// part 6 /// part 7 /// part 8 /// part 9

hello once again beautiful people! like i said, new chapter much sooner. the next one might be a bit more of a wait as it's not even fully drafted yet, but fuck it we ball :)

there will be 11 chapters on here [10 on ao3 as 1 and 2 are combined over there] so we're just at the halfway mark! I think this chapter might be my favorite so far, i hope you enjoy it as well!

@imjustheretofightforlove / @pieckyghost / @life-as-a-gamergirl

[and lmk if you want to be tagged!]

“Any more injured soldiers who need rescuing?” Ghost asked, not looking up from sharpening his hunting knife.

“None that you could help,” Soap answered, ignoring the sarcasm in Ghost’s tone and joining him by the fire. He was somehow completely dry despite having walked in from the downpour outside.

The little overhang he had set up his camp under didn’t offer much protection from the rain. It looked like mother nature decided to give up on making a cave as soon as she began, but it was enough cover that his meek fire and (incredibly ungrateful) horse would have at least some protection from the encroaching storm.

Ghost didn’t respond, instead choosing to focus on keeping the correct angle as he dragged the blade along the whetstone, the grating noise muffled by the rain. Taxes snorted her own greeting but still sounded rather upset that Ghost had the audacity to put her in a situation where she got her coat a little wet.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Soap pet Taxes and run his fingers through her mane, walk around his hastily put together camp, look out at the rain, and eventually meander back to sit across from Ghost. Soap’s leg was bouncing; he obviously wanted to talk about something that had him antsy, but Ghost was perfectly fine to let him stew in his anxiety.

Soap managed to sit still for one whole minute before he tried to start a conversation. “You’ve been doing that for a while…?” he prompted, hoping Ghost would want to talk about his current task.

“Yeah,” he answered, still not looking at the god nor for conversation. The edge of his knife had rolled a few days ago and it was not a quick task to grind it back and resharpen it. Lightning crackled and Ghost counted the time between the boom of thunder; As viscous as the rain was, the storm was still a ways away.

Soap nodded slowly and began tapping his fingers on his leg, turning from him to look around at the rain, almost intentionally awkward. “So…” Soap drew out the word, apparently finding a new topic to try, “What are you doing camping in this weather?”

Ghost wasn’t in the mood for whatever the god was trying to pull and grunted dismissively, “Could ask you something similar.”

“Aye, but I asked first,” Soap childishly retorted.

He paused his sharpening and scowled at the god but eventually acquiesced. “Hunting.”

There was a moment of silence, Soap expecting (and hoping) for more information, but Ghost stopped there. He let the silence linger before continuing his sharpening, cutting through the quiet and giving a clear indication that he was done with his answer.

“Well, what were you hunting for?” The god asked, still trying to have a conversation. His effort was admirable, though likely ill-fated.

“Food.”

Soap bit his cheek and tried for the fifth time to prompt him into a chat, “Yes, what kind of food?”

“Edible.”

Soap groaned loudly in frustration, his accent heavier in his annoyance, “Yer a pain in the fucking arse, Ghost.”

“Thank you.”

His gratitude didn’t help and Soap huffed and crossed his arms as he glared at Ghost. 

Soap, the god of death, was pouting. Ghost determinedly stared down at his task, trying not to laugh at the display. 

Gathering himself, he figured it was about time he got his weekly kindness out of the way and answered, “Stocks were running low — I offered to go hunting and the general agreed, but the rain caught me off guard.” 

Soap was disproportionately happy at the fact that Ghost was humoring him, excited that Ghost offered more than a one word answer.

Then again, he was the only one the god could talk to, so maybe it wasn’t disproportionate for someone who’d— No, no. He was not going to be tricked into feeling bad for a fucking god of all things. Even if he did feel oddly compelled to talk to the god after seeing how happy he got at his simple reply.

“Did the general actually agree or…?” Soap asked, knowing Ghost’s tendencies.

“He did. And no, I don’t know why either.” Considering his last “hunting trip” ended in a he-said, she-said shouting match he was just as surprised that the general agreed, but he wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Are you sure it’s not a trap?”

“No.”

His simple answer got a small chuckle, though one tainted by worry. He didn’t care if it was a trap, he got the go ahead to be away from camp for four whole days without a search party going after him. There were very few punishments that could make him regret agreeing to that.

Soap sat in thought before he asked, “You really don’t like him do you?”

Ghost scoffed, “The general? Fuck no. I hate that bastard.”

He could see the question Soap almost asked before he changed his mind and switched to a less intrusive question. “You always call him general—”

Ghost grunted in affirmation, inspecting the freshly sharpened edge on his knife. Still unhappy with it, he added a bit more water to his whetstone and got back to sharpening.

“—Why?”

Ghost was confused for a moment before he remembered that he was talking to Soap and not just obsessing over getting his knife to his impossible standards.

“He never cared to learn my name so I never cared to learn his.” It was unfortunately not a joke. He thinks he might have known it at one point, but his passive aggressive response had gone on for so long that he genuinely did not know his name.

Soap asked, “He doesn’t call you Ghost? What does he call you?” 

“He does call me Ghost,” he corrected with a confused glance.

Soap tilted his head like a confused puppy. “Is… that not your name?”

“No?” Ghost more asked than said, confused. “What the hell kind of a name is Ghost?”

Soap began, “Well I dunno—”

Ghost huffed a small, quiet laugh and when he saw the god looked embarrassed he clarified, “It’s just a nickname.”

“So this entire time I’ve been calling you Ghost…” Soap looked more than embarrassed, horrified at the idea that he had been calling Ghost by the wrong name. 

Ghost tried not to chuckle but the abject horror from the other over such a simple thing made him snicker. When the god’s face fell further, he did not feel bad for him, but he did decide to throw him a little bit more kindness and clarified further, “I’m being petty towards the general. You didn’t get my name wrong.”

Soap heaved a sigh of relief but still looked put off by the revelation. It was hard to hold onto his fear of the god when he always seemed so… so earnest. For fuck’s sake, it looked like he was going through the worst day of his immortal life over a possible nickname mishap.

“And no,” Ghost added before he could ask, “I’m not telling you my name.”

Soap slumped, even more put out and Ghost certainly did not smile at his apparent disappointment.

He continued his sharpening in silence, or, well, neither of them were talking at least. The rain was still hammering away with occasional lightning and thunder. The wind was harsh, pushing in and making sheets of rain look like curtains billowing in the breeze.

Ghost examined the knife again and was much more pleased this go around. He stood slowly, his joints popping along the way, and held the knife under the rainfall, rinsing it off. He rolled up his sleeve and tested the sharpness by shaving some hair off of his arm, satisfied to find it was able to cut through with ease.

He carefully wiped off the knife and found his holster, safely storing it away. He dropped it by where he had been sitting and grabbed his dagger from his satchel,  inspecting the edge on it as well. It wasn’t as bad, but he might as well sharpen it while he has the time.

He turned to go back to the fire but stopped when he saw Soap had scooted over, examining the hunting knife Ghost dropped. It was a basic knife, the only interesting thing about it was the shitty construction of the handle that led to the wood below the last pin chipping off on one side. It seemed to have Soap enraptured nonetheless.

Deciding not to bother with asking, Ghost took his place by the fire once more, making sure to give Soap space, lest he suddenly get any grand ideas with that knife. He rewet the stone and got back to work, keeping the god in sight.

When Soap was done with his inspection, he turned to watching Ghost work, surprisingly content with watching the simple task in silence. Which meant it was time for Ghost to return the favor of disrupting the peace.

“You never said why you decided to grace me with your presence,” he pointed out, sarcasm dripping from the regal phrasing with the raspy noise of the dagger dragging across the stone punctuating his sentence. The god had leaned closer in his curiosity, watching the slow process like it was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen.

“Hmm?” Soap asked, looking up from where he had hunched, not paying attention but processing the question before Ghost had to repeat it. “Oh, right… I just felt lonely.”

He would have believed it if the god weren’t refusing to even look in his general direction. That was the other thing that made it hard to cling to his fear — the bastard was an awful liar.

Ghost paused his handiwork and stared him down, admonishing, “Soap.” He didn’t add anything else, he didn’t need to. Soap squirmed a bit but cracked quickly.

“You didn’t leave an offering this morning,” the god mumbled, looking down at the ground. 

Ghost had to think for a moment, only then realizing that he forwent breakfast that morning to get away from camp as quickly as he could, meaning he also forwent leaving an offering when he ate “with” the god as he normally would have done. 

Soap didn’t look angry, but if he came down from the heavens expressly because of a missed offering, then maybe Ghost had misjudged him. Maybe Soap was actually a fantastic liar and just carefully crafted these supposed slip-ups to make Ghost lower his guard. Maybe Soap was—

“I was worried,” Soap said, still refusing to look at him. If part of his preplanned ruse was to look like a kicked puppy, then he nailed it.

Staring him down, Ghost dropped his tools and blindly reached for his bag, searching for one of the apples he brought for Taxes. As soon as his hand wrapped around it, he threw it to the god with a little too much force for how small the distance between them was.

Soap was unprepared and caught it against his chest. Once he realized what it was, he, if anything, looked sadder. Ghost was unsure if Soap was disappointed in the meager offering or disappointed that he lost the potential leverage over him.

Thunder bellowed. 

“This… is not what I meant,” Soap sighed, “I thought you had given up on food offerings.”

Ghost shrugged, “You’re not getting my knife or my whetstone.” He punctuated the sentence by dragging the knife across the whetstone slightly faster, making the noise just a bit more audible under the pounding rain.

“That’s not what I meant either.”

“Sucks for you,” Ghost retorted like a petulant child, inspecting the edge. The dagger wasn’t perfect, but it was better than it had been and his hands were starting to cramp, so good enough. “I don’t have anything to offer.” 

Ghost let the white lie roll off his tongue with ease. He wanted to see how the god would react to such a blatantly false statement. Everyone always had something that could be taken if it was not given. “Take it or leave it.”

“Leave it,” Soap said, throwing it back with notably less force than Ghost had. He caught it and stared at the god, unimpressed, before dropping it to the floor uncaringly.

Soap stated with conviction, “I didn’t come down here to collect my dues, you don’t owe me anything.” Then he added on as if he were reluctant to admit, “I was worried about you.”

“Why?” Ghost asked simply, busying his nervous hands with cleaning off the dagger.

“You’ve given me offerings every morning. I was worried you got hurt and I didn’t notice or something even worse,” the god replied, managing to dodge answering the one and only question Ghost asked. “I think you’ve spoiled me,” Soap said with an almost sad grin, “One morning without an offering and I’m a mess.”

Ghost did not match the smile as he asked more pointedly, “Why were you worried?”

Soap was lost on how to answer, “Because I… didn’t know if something was wrong? I’m— I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean.”

“Why did you—,” Ghost huffed, giving up on pursuing an answer as soon as he began. “Forget it. You’ll get your offering in the morning.” He stood, taking the apple over to Taxes, who was thrilled at the development and ate the rejected offering happily.

He didn’t know what answers he wanted nor which questions to ask to get them. But he did know very well that when ignorance and vulnerability reared its ugly, stupid, unwelcome head, impudence made for a fine replacement.

“I’m sorry? Have I done something to upset you?”

It was said with an air of sincerity; It was far too kind of a reply for the brashness he had undeservedly received. 

Ghost needed to be suspicious of Soap, he needed to keep his guard up and always be on the watch for whatever tricks he would try to play. He reminded himself of that fact every time he left an offering or entertained a chat with him but it had yet to stick. 

Soap was making it very difficult for him.

“I’m sorry if I said something wrong—”

For the first time in his life he was unable to cling on to the mistrust and suspicion that had kept him alive thus far. Anger took up where they failed.

There was a voice in the back of his head that sounded an awful lot like someone he used to know, telling him that directing his anger towards those who didn’t deserve it wouldn’t help anyone. But that someone was dead and had been for a long time.

“I… I know you don’t trust me, but I—”

Something snapped. He seethed at himself for the truth behind his own words as he admitted with too much anger, “No, my problem is that I do trust you and I don’t fucking know why!”

“...I’m sorry?”

“Just shut up.”

And the worst part yet? He did. The god of death abided by his request.

Soap was surprised at the outburst, shock and… and not fear because he’s a god, the god of death, he has no need for survival instincts and time wasters like fear. Yet he held his hands up in surrender like Ghost could hurt him anyway.

Ghost was significantly more human and all of the emotions he had felt bubbling up ever since he first left that apple at the feet of a forgotten shrine were finally spilling over, making the fire within his brain crackle and pop at the unwanted intrusion.

“Why?” Ghost demanded, marching forward slowly as he grabbed his newly sharpened dagger. “Why, why, why do I want to trust you!?”

The god didn’t say anything, just kept his hands up while making a vague shrugging motion. Soap stood carefully like he was being cornered by a wild animal and took a few small, slow steps back. 

“Why have you decided to fuck up my life!?”

Soap stayed silent, somehow looking even sadder at his harsh statement. Soap shouldn’t be calm, he should be angry. And yet, he did not fight back. The storm carried on. Ghost was advancing faster than Soap was retreating.

“I cannot kill you, I cannot hurt you, so why do you fall back!?” 

Ghost held the length of his dagger up to the god’s throat, threatening to break the skin and reveal whatever was underneath his guise. Soap froze, standing stiff and looking up at Ghost with eyes full of emotions he couldn’t even begin to decipher.

His anger had pushed them both to the edge of the overhang; Soap was fully in the rain yet still dry while Ghost had some cover but was getting soaked. It only made his tempestuous emotions worse, the painfully obvious display of the divine differences between them.

“Why do you act like you’re scared!?”

Even with him raising his voice, Ghost could barely be heard over the rain. Soap looked at him with something that wasn’t patronizing enough to be pity but he didn’t want to risk trying to put another word to whatever it was.

Soap confessed, “I’m scared for you.”

The anger was failing now as well and he could feel that old snake vulnerability slithering up his spine. “Bullshit.”

“Is it?” Soap asked, with concern, tenderness, sympathy— every emotion he needn’t feel for himself written plain across his face.

“Don’t you dare condescend to me. I may just be a stupid, puny mortal in the eyes of ‘Death almighty—’”

“You’re not—”

Ghost pressed the blade closer. On anyone else, any human, blood would have been welling up. 

“—But I know a hungry animal when I see one. If I die, you die too, isn’t that right?” Ghost asked, an air of enlightenment in his voice, like he could pretend hard enough that he found the answer he’d been seeking. He felt no such relief or realization.

He laughed humorlessly, “Gods, you’re like a bloody vampire aren’t you? Poor little thing has to keep a mortal alive to get offerings from!”

He felt like he could barely breathe; He wasn’t sure he could lie to himself that it was just anger making him tremble anymore. Soap remained silent. Ghost needed him to say something, anything, he didn’t care what. He could feel the last strings holding him up snap as they sat in silence.

They had yet to break eye contact, Ghost continuing to stare down at him. Soap carefully reached up, wrapped his hand around Ghost’s, and slowly moved the knife away. He didn’t even take the opportunity to disarm him, just played along like Ghost was capable of defending himself against the god of death.

Soap grabbed his arm with his other hand, gently pushing Ghost out of the storm’s wrath like he was something delicate.

Yeah, no shit dumbass. You pulled a knife on him for being nice. Of course he’s treating you like a ticking time bomb.

“Come on,” Soap muttered with that stupid fucking look of not-pity. “You’re gonna get cold.”

Ghost’s brain misfired.

He’s gonna get cold. Says the god. The god of death. Whom he just antagonized. And threatened to stab. In the neck. With a knife. 

You’re gonna get cold.

What the fuck is happening?

Ghost doesn’t know if he said that out loud or if he’s just that easy to read, but Soap, the god of death, answered the unasked question, “If you want to slit my throat, that’s fine, but do it by the fire where it’s warm.”

Unable to vocalize his thoughts in any articulate way, Ghost asked in a voice that was as accusatory as it was stupefied, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Soap laughed too kindly for the statement that caused the reaction, “A lot, probably.”

He could do nothing but watch, puzzled, as the god sat him on the ground next to the fire, adding on another log before joining him. Ghost hadn’t even processed that he was cold when Soap draped something over his shoulders, a cloak— his cloak, and scooted just a little closer.

“Can’t have ye’ getting sick, right?” Soap asked with a smile that might have been charming if Ghost didn’t feel like his brain was actively imploding.

“You… are not attacking me,” Ghost pointed out. He couldn’t tell if he was thinking too fast or not at all. Either way he was lost.

“No, I am not,” Soap confirmed, “And I do not plan to.”

Ghost was exhausted. He felt tired and sad, he wanted to pass out, he wanted to slam his head against the rocks, he wanted to make sense of reality again. None of which seemed to be within his wheelhouse.

“I’m sorry I cannae give ye’ the fight you want.”

His last string snapped, and he slumped in on himself, his head hanging low. Perhaps the others at camp were right. Maybe he was the bloodthirsty monster they feared.

They had both been accused of the same, but where Soap actively defied humanity’s accusations, Ghost only ever seemed to validate them. Here was someone, not human but a person all the same, who was trying to show him kindness and he attacked them for it. Ghost tried his best not to be their beast, but maybe his best wasn’t enough. Maybe violence was the only thing he was capable of.

The monster who refused their labeling smacked him in the back of the head. Soap said not unkindly yet still firmly, “Whatever it is you’re thinking, quit it.”

Ghost slowly turned with a scowl that lacked the anger he was clawing at, upset at having his brooding interrupted, and demanded, “Why?”

“Because,” Soap huffed, “I can’t even read minds but I can hear you sulking from here.”

‘From here’ was right next to him, but Ghost wasn’t in the mood to argue pedantics. Mostly. Somewhat. Kind of.

“I’m brooding, not sulking,” Ghost corrected. He was always in the mood to be a pain in the ass.

Ghost shivered slightly, his now wet clothes chilling him through the cloak. Soap put his arm around his shoulder, pulling him closer. It was only then that Ghost realized they’d been sitting that close ever since Soap dragged him over, close enough to be well within arm’s reach. 

While the god had plenty of warmth to share, his body heat didn’t. The air always seemed a little bit warmer when Soap was around, the biting cold fading to a comfortable level, but he still was not a living being. Beneath his skin might have been flesh and perhaps a bone or two somewhere in there, but he had no heartbeat, there was nothing within him to provide physical warmth the same way a human would have.

Ghost wondered if it was part of an ages old reflex, pulling someone closer to keep them warm.

“Yer not a damn bird…” Soap corrected back, absentmindedly running his hand up and down Ghost’s arm, assumedly another reflex from a time long since passed. 

Ghost didn’t mind; A prideful bastard he may be, but he had never experienced a true cold a day in his life. He knew good and well he should be thankful for the warmth, and considering he was almost soaked to the bone while it was cold as balls, Ghost would let his pride take the hit so long as it kept him hypothermia free.

“You do have a lot wrong with you, don’t you?” Ghost asked as if it wasn’t obvious from the start.

“I already told you tha’ much.” Soap said with that smile that you can only get after an emotional breakthrough, the kind that was genuine yet sad yet hopeful yet tired, all in one small smile.

Thunder roared loud enough that Ghost could feel the reverberations through the ground he was sitting on. Looking outside, the woodland was obscured by a haze of white, rain falling with such speed and vigor that it hid everything beyond their shelter. He watched the way the sky darkened even though it couldn’t have been noon; it would appear that the storm finally arrived.

Wind tried to blow the rain closer and closer but errant raindrops that should have been pelting him and threatening his fire never seemed to land and he knew he had the god to thank for that. 

Ghost had to take a moment to appreciate that the god of death, a being capable of unimaginable power that presided over the most prevalent part of life, had been demoted to an umbrella and space heater.

“I think you could kill me if you wanted.”

Soap’s sudden statement pulled him back, turning from the deluge outside to look at the god in confusion, slowly processing his words. Ghost scoffed, genuine in his demand but without the malice that would have been there a few minutes prior, “Don’t pity me.”

“I’m not!” Soap defended as if he were stating the obvious, “We both know damn well that if I fucked up and pissed you off, you wouldn’t stop until I was dead.” 

A grim statement made in a jovial tone with the manner of someone convinced they were infallibly correct. He acted as if he were offended by the notion that Ghost couldn’t kill him.

“A mortal going against a god is not a battle, it’s a slaughter,” he corrected. It was something he’d been told over and over when he was younger, back when he was still naive enough to have faith (albeit with rather different wording).

Almost every bedtime story he’d grown up with had the same lesson: Do not go against the gods. Story after story and tale after tale about supposedly greedy men that tried to take on the pantheon only to be sentenced to eternal suffering as punishment. Back then, it was worded in a little cutesy, kid friendly way but the lesson stuck. Ghost wasn’t that stupid… mostly… Regardless, he knew his limits, and killing an immortal being was certainly not within them.

“Yes, but for you, it wouldn’t be the mortal getting slaughtered,” Soap argued the point like they were debating over which color was the best, not Ghost’s ability to kill death.

Ghost scoffed, “Sure.” He had no idea what the god was getting at but he knew he wouldn’t be able to convince him otherwise.

“You know it's true, you just don’t want to accept the compliment!” Soap argued, annoyed at the dismissal.

“Is someone telling you that you could kill them a compliment?” Ghost asked, more curious for Soap’s answer than anything else.

“How would it not?”

Yeah, Ghost doesn’t know what else he expected from the god of death, to be honest. He settled back, pulling his cloak closer to himself, slowly drying off, and warm in spite of the freezing thunderstorm mere feet away. 

He still had hundreds of questions and half formed worries plaguing him, but well, as he said, he felt exhausted. Not physically, sleep was a long way off but he still felt like he could collapse.

Ghost tried to think but as soon as he grabbed at any thoughts, they slipped away into the mist. It was only after several minutes of silently watching the leaves shake in the storm that one question solidified into something more tangible. He didn’t know how to phrase it, but eventually gave up on finding the right words and hoped to stumble into them along the way.

“Shouldn’t I be…” Ghost regretted his plan immediately but it was too late to go back. “…Spreading the word? Singing your praises? Getting people to ‘worship’ you?” He felt weird even as he said it but he tried to keep the disdain out of his voice.

“No.” Soap’s reply was sudden and resolute, like he wanted to shut down the notion immediately. “No, please don’t.”

“No?”

“No,” he confirmed. “I… know that if I want to— to stay around then yes, but… No. Not yet. I don’t want to repeat what happened before.” 

The god had a sullen, far away look in his eyes, one Ghost had seen on several soldiers and fighters before and likely one that he himself has worn as well. It was the most Soap had ever talked about his time from before.

Ghost didn’t like the way Soap had said it and he liked the spike of sympathy even less, but he had a feeling he would have to get used to emotions he didn’t like so long as he continued following the god.

The words hang over them like a lead weight. Usually, Ghost didn’t mind letting awkwardness linger, enjoying the squirming of others but this felt different. It wasn’t someone trying to push Ghost beyond his limits, but instead more like the other way around, Ghost uncaringly pushing against a sore subject for the god.

For the god. You shouldn’t feel bad for him, he’s— 

Oh, shut up.

He’s well past the point of no return. Feeling bad for Soap was the least of his worries now, whether he liked it or not. Besides, if not pity, why else would he have continued offering Soap whatever he could get his hands on? 

It’s not like he’s on the precipice of doing something stupid, he already did the ‘something stupid.’ Ghost saw the edge of the cliff and the warning signs around it and still hiked on.

Ignoring everything in him yelling at him not to, he leaned into the god’s side. The words felt alien even to himself as he muttered, “Maybe someday.”

Soap smiled, and the edge of the cliff came closer as Soap muttered back, “Maybe.”

[theprenderelliepalace]

College AU

Damon x reader

Summary: y/n always had a thing for bad boys in leather jackets. Too bad she's a day late and a dollar short. When the infamous Damon Salvatore rolls up to her literature class, with his stupid smirk and all-black wardrobe, she should be done for, but y/n's heart was broken a long time ago. So what're two wild cards to do with two broken hearts on a college campus?

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, bad break-ups, Katherine (our favorite baddie), wasted coffee, fluff (implied smut) and school stress

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"Please leave." I paused. "You look like you're dressed for a funeral and it's depressing me." I was walking across campus to my next class, the incarnation of trouble and arrogant bad boy, Damon Salvatore, hot on my heels.

"Oh come on! I bought you coffee. Doesn't that score me some brownie points?" He caught up to me. His strides were long and languid, like he was having no trouble at all harrasing me in broad daylight while I was breathless and almost sprinting to get away from him.

I stopped and turned on my heel to face him. He was taller than me, alarmingly so. His hair was swept against his forehead in that heart-throbbing, 'Damon way', that made my knees weak. "Technically, you didn't make me brownies- he gave me a look, "and yes, that is what it should mean. So no. You bought me shitty coffee, asked me out on a date I would rather drink toilet water than go on AND you have the nerve to follow me around like a lost puppy!" He shook his head with a silent smile that made him look so gorgeous I almost passed put, then and there.

I cleared my throat. I threw the cup that had been shoved unceremoniously into my hand five minutes ago, across the campus courtyard. It hit the side of an unassuming trash can with a dull thud. "Go fetch." I shook my shoulders as if to shake my resolve over me like a veil of iron. "Or chase your tail or something. But leave me out of it." He stepped in front of me, his shoulders were set and his jaw was hard, yet there was a mischievous twinkle in his eye that told me trouble was near...

"You have a big mouth for something so little. Makes a guy want to knock you off your high horse." He leaned in, his lips inches from my ear. His breath was warm, a comfort against the icy November gloom. I shook my head and started to shove past him, he caught my wrist and pulled me into his chest. "So you can ride something else-"

My face flushed the deepest shade of red I could imagine." ALRIGHT. Thank you Salvatore, for that lovely mental picture! I'm going to pretend you don't exist now!" I rushed to the other side of the courtyard. My heart was beating at a million miles an hour as I turned my coat collar against the wind and to hide my face from the rest of the world (I hoped my coat would just eat me alive then and there). All the while that I ran, I could hear his unbridled laughter echoing across campus. It followed me like a shadow and clung to my very heart. It was a sound that made me want to laugh too, but I couldn't.

I wasn't about to let my heart break over another mistake like Damon Salvatore. Right?

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

I was alone in my dorm when it started to rain. The sound was unnatural this late into the year, but welcoming. It made me forget about my leather-clad stalker and my 400 page paper due next week. It made me forget about home and work and stress.

It made me remember the cheap whiskey hidden under a loose floorboard under my roommates bed.

I decided I would head up to the roof. It was quiet enough. I just wanted to relax. Let loose and forget about the world for a while, let all my troubles wash down with the pitter-patter of the rain. I opened the door and what was the first thing I saw?

"Oh, fuck you." He turned. This excruciatingly jerkish grin plastered on his face. His hair was slicked back and damp with the rain. His leather jacket hung loosely over his sweatshirt, it drew my eyes down to his jeans. The way they hugged his- "Aren't stalkers supposed to do recon too? Like, don't they sit FAR, far away and take stupid pictures for their creepy alters?"

He ignored me. He walked over and stood under the awning in front of me. "See something you like?" His voice was low, almost hungry in its desire. Suddenly the rain didn't make me feel cold anymore. I couldn't speak, I couldn't move. He smiled at me, grabbing for the bottle that i hadn't realised was still in my hands. He scrutinized the brand. "Remind me to teach you to have better taste." He tutted.

He walked along the side of the building, sitting on the bench at the edge of the awning. I stared at him. I was so out of it at this point, I might as well go out with a bang and a shot of whiskey.

I sat next to him, falling into place like I was supposed to be there. "Why do you like me Damon?" I scoffed. "Do you even like me, or do you just have a thing for girls who say no? If so, get a life." He snickered and took a swig from the bottle. I reached out for it and took another.

"You are a lot more like me than you want to admit." I must be drunk already, because I gave the bottle back to him and glanced up. He had this sad whisper of a smile dancing across his lips. A torment in his eyes that I should've known all too well.

"How so?" I asked. I shivered with the gust of wind that seemed to bring the first real silence that I had ever experienced with Damon.

"You don't want to admit you have a heart. It's funny because none of us ever do. We just assume that we survive on words and thoughts, it's always a matter of the heart and the head..." He took another swig. "No one ever tells you how to survive when both are broken."

"You say that like you've never heard of duct tape before." He laughed as I drank. I slumped down against the bench, my feet dangled out in front of me and I watched the rain drops splash against my boots. "What was her name?"

It was a long shot, a drunken guess that I never expected him to answer. "Katherine. She, was something..." Suddenly, this raging pyscho that I thought I knew as mean and brutish was vulnerable. It felt like he was almost human.

"I had someone too. I don't think my heart can take another fuck-up. It's not like my head's doing any better." I ran my hand through my hair. I looked up at him, he was smirking at me. That charming smile that I had come to know to mean trouble had a different meaning behind it now. Almost like he knew a secret.

"Is that why you threw my coffee and missed the trash?"

"Uh, no. You have terrible taste in coffee." He shrugged. "Plus, I don't have a very good throwing arm." We looked at each for a moment before we burst out in a fit of giggles that was drowned out by the roar of thunder.

We talked until the bottle was empty. We kissed until the rain stopped and the wind picked up. It howled at ripped at our clothes. I pried myself out of his iron grip, my lips were swolen just like his were. Except he wore that stupid smirk on his stupid face.

"I hate that." I pointed to his lips with my index finger, he ran his tongue down the digit, "Hey!",and brought my palm up to his mouth. He kissed the center so tenderly but his eyes were dead serious. It made my stomach clench. A gust of wind shoved me forward and I landed against his chest. He caught me with ease and steadied me.

Damon winked as he picked me up bridal style and carried me towards the exit. "Hey Mr Bad-boy, don't buy me coffee." He rolled his eyes at me.

I opened the door for him and then wrapped my arms around his neck as it swung closed behind us. "Buy me dinner." I smiled.

"Yes Ma'am." He grinned.

I kissed him, he shoved me against the wall. We never got dinner, but he did make me pancakes the next morning.

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First ever one-shot man! Sorry it's fluffy but dang if I don't like me some banter

REQUESTS OPEN

Comment and reblog what you think. It would make lil' old me very happy :)

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