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osarina · 6 months ago

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ᡣ𐭩 WICKED LOVE WILL LEAVE ME BLIND

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: dangerous games are played between you and dazai during one of the most important events of the year for the japanese underworld. you're never this risky, not when your reputation is on the line, but fuck being near him just seems draw out all of the worst in you.

(wordcount: 4.5k; ņsfw; fem!reader; port mafia member!reader, jealous!dazai, possessive!dazai, public sex, spitting, unprotected sex, gagging dazai w/your panties, switch!dazai, switch!reader. lmk if anything is missing!)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: WOOWWWWWWW u all can thank tumblr user mioblobby for this one, she sent in an ask 3 days ago and this consumed me so badly that i dropped all of my wips to write this. anyway, enjoy dazai & pmreader being absolute FREAKS in public

His gaze hasn’t left you once all night. You can feel it dark and heavy from where he’s leaning against a wall on the opposite side of the room, black coat hanging around his shoulders and a cold, unapproachable expression on his face, looking every bit the wraith people claim him to be.

Chuuya is off somewhere to your side, smooth talking two of Mishima’s daughters, surely planning to end the night in one of their beds to get those loose lips moving about the meeting that their father had with Cao Xueqin of the Red Chamber two weeks ago, something he’s been unnervingly tight lipped about when Mori pried.

You’re entertaining two of the younger members of Mishima’s upper echelon, Abe Kimifusa and Ibuse Masuji—they can’t be much older than you, early twenties max, and they’re delighted by the attention you’re giving them. Ibuse is half hanging off your shoulders, arm wrapped around you, too many drinks in as he leans in close and laughs at some comment Abe makes about one of their fellow executives. You smile idly as you listen, resting against him as you take in their words, trying to pretend to be engaged with the conversation to not give away how you’re hyper-focused on a certain black-haired executive in the distance.

Usually, he would join you and Chuuya in your attempts to gather some easy intel on the Sun and Steel—that’s what he’s done the past year and a half, at least, targeting some of the older members of Mishima’s upper echelon who would sell half of their organs and their soul for a night with the untouchable Demon Prodigy. The thought leaves a bitter taste in your mouth now, knowing what he told you, but you still can’t help but be a little surprised that he’s not even trying to put up a facade of charm and wit, rather spending his time skulking in the shadows watching you, especially when his usual targets are so blatantly staring at him, waiting for him to make a move.

You think it’s hypocritical the way you’re so pleased over the fact that he’s not entertaining anyone tonight, because the thought of him letting any of those men drape themselves all over him like Ibuse currently is with you leaves a very sour taste in your mouth.

You also think that’s why you’re letting Ibuse take it as far as he has—to see Dazai get wound up about it. You don’t typically let people get touchy with you unless you plan on taking them to bed, and you have absolutely no intention of fucking Ibuse Masuji. He’s pretty enough with dark hair and a nice smile, but too stupid for your taste—maybe that’s a good thing though, if he’s already so loose-lipped now with only a few drinks in him, you can’t imagine how much he’d let slip in a post-orgasm induced haze.

You start to reconsider your decision on Ibuse, looking up at him contemplatively as he makes a snide comment about Kamatsu Sakyo—an older executive of the Sun and Steel, one of the ones you know have spent a night, or more, with Dazai, so your smile is a bit more genuine when you hear the way Ibuse drags him for being incompetent and useless.

“The older generation has to go,” Ibuse hisses, shaking his head as his arm tightens around you, leaning back against the wall. “They’re running us into the fucking ground. That fucker Kamatsu wants us to take that deal from the Red Chamber-”

“Masuji,” Abe warns, giving you a careful look, not as drunk as his companion. You raise your eyebrows at the comment from Ibuse, looking at him questioningly.

Ibuse waves off Abe haphazardly. “The Port Mafia did it right,” he says bluntly, taking another sip of his drink. “Wiped out the whole old regime after the previous boss died. That’s what the Boss should’ve done when he took over from his father. All of these old fucks need to drop dead.”

“The meeting with Xueqin went that poorly?” you ask casually, sure to keep the interest out of your tone as you look up at Ibuse.

“Don’t even get me started,” Ibuse scoffs. “That fucker wants-”

You’re careful to keep the irritation off your face when you hear the telltale sound of Mishima preparing to give his annual ‘thank you, fruitful alliances ahead!’ speech that always bores you to tears. Next to you, Ibuse sighs and pulls his arm off of you, pushing off the wall.

“We’ve gotta go up there with him. I’ll find you later?” he asks you, eyes a bit too hopeful, voice eager as he waits for your response.

“Definitely,” you say—the things you do for information.

With most of the attendees of the ball distracted by Mishima’s speech, you slip away to make your way over to the far corner where Dazai is waiting. Still, he tracks you—from the moment you make your subtle escape from the crowd until you’re standing right in front of him in the shadows where he’s lingering, his gaze remains trained on you, intense in a way that lets you know that he’s unhappy, if the way his jaw is tight didn’t.

“You’ve been having fun tonight,” he drawls, voice low as he looks down at you, arms folded across his chest.

“Is that what it seemed like?” you say lightly, taking a step closer, casting one last glance behind you to ensure that all eyes are pinned on Mishima before hooking your fingers into his belt loops to tug him closer to you. “At least I’m doing my job properly then.”

“It’s your job to let Mishima’s whore of an executive drape himself all over you?” Dazai tilts his head to the side, one hand sliding behind you to close the small distance between the two of you, leaving your chest pressed to his.

No, you let that drag on just because you could tell how irate Dazai was becoming over it, but Dazai doesn’t have to know that. So instead, you play coy.

“I have appearances to keep up,” you say, tilting your head up with a simpering smile, enjoying the way his gaze immediately darts down to your lips, lingering there before he has to forcibly drag it back up to your eyes. “You know that.”

“Yeah?” Dazai hums, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. His gaze drifts above you. “Maybe I should be making more of an effort with appearances then, Kamatsu has had his eye on me all night.”

Your eye doesn’t twitch at his words, but your grip on his belt loops tightens. “You don’t want to play that game with me, Dazai,” you warn, keeping your voice deceptively mild.

“And why is that?” Dazai drawls, looking too smug for your liking as he looks down at you as if realizing how much his threat bothered you.

“Because I’ll win,” you say easily, fingers slipping from his belt loops to slide your hands up and down his sides before settling them on his slim hips, relishing in the way his lashes flutter at your touch. “You know that. It’s unlike you to pick losing battles.”

“I won’t lose,” Dazai says with a scoff, and you walk him backward until the back of his knees hit a chair, guiding him back to sit down in it as Mishima finally starts a long-winded speech that’s going to last at least twenty or thirty minutes.

You give Dazai another teasing smile as you stand in front of where he’s sitting, lifting your hand to his chin, tilting his face up toward you. You lean down, lips brushing his as you murmur, “You already have.”

“Have I?” Dazai asks, amused. He unconsciously leans forward to capture his lips with yours but you shift just out of reach before he can, raising your eyebrows pointedly at the annoyed look he gives you.

You make quick work of undoing his tie, slipping it from his neck before wrapping it loosely around your wrist, hyper aware of the way his gaze is trained sharply on your face, studying your every move. You bring your other hand back up to his face, cupping his cheek gently, and your breath catches as he leans into your touch, eye lidded as he looks up atwith you. He tilts his head to the side to press his lips against your palm, keeping eye contact as he lifts his hand to cover yours, shifting it so he can graze his lips against the pulse point on your wrist.

“You have,” you agree, grateful that your voice isn’t as breathless as you feel from the combined intensity of his gaze and his lips on your skin.

“How so?” Dazai looks entirely too smug, probably can feel the way your pulse is racing under his touch, and you itch to wipe the smugness right off of his face.

“I’m meeting Ibuse after this speech,” you tell him, now entirely too smug yourself as Dazai expression drops and goes icy, fingers stiffening from where his hand is still pressed over yours. “Need to get him to spill about the meeting with the Red Chamber, he already started getting into it before. If I get him alone, we’ll know everything we need.”

“Go ahead,” Dazai sounds deceptively calm, you’d almost believe he didn’t care if the look in his eye didn’t betray him, cold and promising bloodshed. “I’ll kill him.”

“You’ll start a war,” you say absently, the tips of your fingers brushing through his dark hair.

“I don’t care,” Dazai replies, and you know that he’s serious—it should worry you, he could throw all of your work with the Sun and Steel out the window in a split second, but instead you only find yourself giddy, tongue pressing behind your teeth and a smile curving at your lips as you look down at him.

“Careful, Dazai,” you breathe out, “almost sounds like you care.”

He does care, you know that and he knows that, but he refuses to admit it out loud. Refuses to put a label on anything between the two of you. You think it’s his way of maintaining some semblance of control over things; he thinks that if he actually admits what’s going on between the two of you, it’ll be a loss of control over himself that he can’t afford.

As if threatening to start a gang war with the Mafia’s most important ally because you’re planning to sleep with someone for vital information isn’t a loss of control in itself.

You also think it might have to do with the broken gasps he’d let out over the phone during the assassination plot on you a few weeks ago, when he thought that he’d miscalculated and they called his bluff, that they were going to get to you and no one was going to be able to get there in time to protect you.

“Everything I never want to lose is always lost the moment I obtain it.”

You wonder, maybe, if he thinks that not making things official with you is his way of protecting both you and himself.

But it’s fucking frustrating. It’s frustrating dealing with his hot and cold—days where he’s so clearly enamored with you, spending hours laid up with you admiring you while you do work, looking at you with eyes that should only be reserved for long time lovers, and then there are days where he can hardly bring himself to look at you, avoiding you at every given chance, cold and aloof. It’s frustrating, and it’s exhausting, you just want to be with him.

His eye darkens, jaw clicking at your words, but he doesn’t respond other than that.

You’re not sure what exactly compels you to take another step forward, you watch as his gaze tracks down to the low cut of your dress, as he shifts in his seat, legs spread, clearly withholding the urge to adjust himself in his pants. A dangerous thought crosses your mind, one that you know you should toss away because of where you are, how many people are just on the other side of the room, but you find your body moving before you can stop yourself.

You watch him inhale, gaze tracking down to where your hand has slipped into the high slit of your dress, casting one last look over your shoulder to make sure the two of you are at an angle that no one would be able to easily see you before pulling down your thin black panties—the ones you know he loves and wore just to see the way the pupil of his visible eye becomes blown wide at the sight of them, breath hitching.

You shift closer to him, balling them into your fist, one hand sliding behind the back of his head, fingers entwined with his dark hair as you tilt his head back, eyes tracing the exhilaration on his face as he looks up at you, realizing what you’re going to do, where you’re going to do it.

“You’re crazy,” he breathes out. The words are reverent, he speaks them in the same way you imagine he would tell you he loves you, it makes your breath catch. “Here? What're you gonna do if one of them looks over and sees you stuffed with my cock, hm? How're you gonna explain why you're full of cum when you go meet that clown?”

“You talk too much,” you note, stepping forward. “Open up.”

Dazai’s lips part instinctively, but before you stuff his mouth with your panties, you lean over him, fingers hooking around his bottom lip as you force his mouth a little wider, watching as his breath hitches and his lashes flutter when you spit right into his open mouth, swallowing it immediately.

Your lips curl up as you lift the hand holding your panties, taking in an unsteady breath as he lets you push your panties between his lips; he lets out a muffled groan around them, eyes sliding shut as if savoring the taste of them. You shift your dress around slightly so you can comfortably straddle his thighs. His hands immediately fly to your waist, but you click your tongue lightly, pushing them off and sliding his tie around his wrists once you’ve got them behind his back.

He tilts his head to the side, giving you a heavy, judgmental look. He doesn’t even have to speak to know what he’s thinking: “You really think this is going to stop me?”

You give him a sweet smile, leaning in to graze your lips against his jaw, feeling the shaky breath he lets out around your panties. “If you free yourself from them,” you murmur, lips brushing his ear as you speak, “I’ll stop.”

You don’t wait for his reaction, directing your attention down toward his slacks, loosening his belt and unbuttoning his pants. You ease his cock out of his briefs, weight heavy in your hand, tip flushed pink and leaky. You give it an experimental pump, using his own precum as lube, and watch as he tilts his head back, giving a full body shudder.

“You’re so easy to rile up,” you sigh softly, shifting forward so that his cock slides between your slick folds, you press your lips to the underside of his jaw to smother the moan you almost let out when his tip catches on your clit. “I love it.”

You know he’s trying to shoot you a withering look, but the effects of it are severely diminished with how his face is flushed pink and his eyes are unfocused. You give him another saccharine smile, and that’s the only warning he gets before you’re sinking down on his cock.

You can feel every inch of him stretching you open, filling you up until the tip of his cock is nudging right up against your cervix. It takes all of your self control to bite back the loud gasp that nearly rips from your lips, not wanting to have to bury your face in the crook of his neck just yet, watching as he lets out a choked noise that’s loud even with your panties stuffed in his mouth, eyes rolling to the back of his head.

“Careful,” you warn, leaning in to drag your lips up his neck to the corner of his lips. You lift one of your hands to hold the back of his head again, gripping his hair as you force him to look at you again, fingers tugging hard at his hair. His gaze is unfocused, lips parting as he heaves around your panties, throat spasming—he looks fucking divine, and for a moment, you regret doing this here because you might have to kill someone if they see him when he’s looking like this. “You don’t want them to see you like this, yeah?”

You can hear the whine that builds in the back of his throat, trying to rock his hips up into yours. The sloppy sound of his cock driving into your cunt is too loud—Mishima is still speaking loudly, drowning out any noise that could possibly be coming from your secluded corner, but it’s so risky, you almost don’t know what’s gotten into you. If anyone happens to wander over this way…

“God, what do you do to me?” you gasp, leaning in so you can graze your teeth against his neck, threatening to bite down.

You’re never this reckless—not when it’s your reputation on the line, you’ve spent years honing it into the weapon it’s become, and here you are risking it all just because Dazai Osamu decided to give you bedroom eyes during one of the most important events the Port Mafia attends. Fuck, he drives you insane.

His head lolls forward, forehead resting against the side of yours, lips brushing your ear. You can feel his heavy pants, each one catching over a moan muffled by your panties. You rock your hips back and forth quickly, each drag of his cock against your walls making you hot and lightheaded. Whether it’s just from the sheer pleasure of it all—the way the tip of his cock pressees right into that sensitive spot deep inside of you, the way he’s so quickly coming undone beneath you, body trembling and drool pooling at the corner of his lips around your panties—or if it’s because of the way anyone could wander over in this direction, catch you fucking Dazai so brazenly when there’s a crowd of one hundred and fifty, two hundred of the most important people in the Japanese underworld just on the far side of the room, you don’t know, but heat pools in your abdomen so quickly that it’s almost impossible to control.

You can feel his breath ragged, his body tense, each roll of your hips against his has Dazai falling apart, and you can feel the telltale sign of his cock twitching inside of you, signaling that he’s about to finish. You tug his hair, pulling his head back from where it's fallen against you, and you lift your other hand quickly up to his lips, pushing them inside of his mouth to hook your fingers around your panties, pulling them out of his mouth.

Instantly, Dazai is pushing himself forward to press his lips against yours, freeing himself of his own tie so his hands can fly to your waist. You let out a low moan into his mouth as he pushes his tongue into yours, one hand sliding from your waist to your back, keeping your body flush to his as he grinds you down on his cock hard.

“Fuck,” Dazai groans into your mouth, voice choked. You can see the way he can hardly keep his gaze steady, the way he’s gripping your dress to try to keep himself grounded. “I-ah, shit-I’m close. I’m-”

You lean in to swallow his moan, kissing him hard as his eyes roll to the back of his head, hips stuttering as he spills his cum deep inside of you. Your breath catches at the feeling of his cum filling you up, warm, heavy, so much of it that you can feel it dribbling out from where his cock is still stuffed deep inside of you; it’s the last thing you need to push you over the edge, mind blank and jaw falling slack as your body shudders in his arms.

Black dots spot your vision, your nails dragging down his black coat, your whole body consumed with pleasure—it hits you so hard that you think maybe you might’ve passed out for a split second. The feeling of your release sends a shockwave through Dazai, you can feel the way his body spasms and jerks when your walls suddenly tighten around his sensitive cock.

“God,” Dazai breathes out against your lips, eyes glazed over as the two of you come down from your high, an expression so adoring on his face that you think for a moment, you might be imagining it. “You’re so…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence, leaves it to your imagination, and you want to press, but you don’t have the chance because you’re slapped hard with reality when you hear Mishima’s speech coming to an end, eyes widening. Your legs are shaky as you push off of him, hissing at the feeling of his softening cock slipping out of your cunt—you almost snort when you see how Dazai twitches and winces at the sudden movement, still sensitive.

“Clean yourself up,” you tell him sharply, straightening your dress and fixing your hair, trying to catch sight of yourself in the reflection of a nearby glass, watching from the corner of your eye as Dazai stuffs himself back in his pants, wiping your cum off of his expensive black slacks before sucking it right off of his fingers. He grabs his tie from where he’d let it fall to the ground, and then your panties, winking at you before he stuffs them in the pocket of his jacket.

His gaze lifts to you as he rises to his feet, drifting lazily over your form, lingering on the way your skin glows with a soft sheen of sweat, the loose strands of hair that cling to your forehead—something you hope you can play off considering the air condition in the ballroom isn’t on. Then his gaze settles down on the lower half of your body, lips curling up into a slow smirk.

He takes a few steps closer to you, holding his tie out to you. “Re-tie it?” he hums, and you roll your eyes because you know he can do it himself and you know he has some sort of ulterior motive right now, but you take it from him regardless.

You quickly slide the tie around his neck, trying to tie it quickly before anyone catches sight of the two of you, but with you so focused on getting this done, you miss the way his hand sneaks forward until you feel it slip into the slit of your dress.

“Dazai,” you warn, keeping your voice low, but your breath catches when you feel him gather up all of the cum that had dribbled out of your cunt, head falling against his shoulder as you try to force yourself not to react when he uses two fingers to stuff it right back inside of you.

You can feel the wicked grin against your ear as he leans down to tug your earlobe gently. “Good luck explaining this to Ibuse.”

Then he steps away, dark eye glittering dangerously as he looks down at you.

“I’ll find you later,” he says before turning to walk away.

You’re not sure if it’s a threat or a promise and you don’t have time to make a snide comment asking, because you hear Ibuse approaching you from behind, giddy and excited until he catches sight of Dazai’s infamous black coat retreating, swallowing thickly and eyes flickering nervously between the two of you—a common reaction to the executive’s presence, knowing how dangerous and unpredictable he can be.

You wonder if Dazai would make Ibuse half as nervous and uncomfortable if he’d known he just spent the last fifteen minutes with your panties stuffed in his mouth and his hands tied behind his back, whining and whimpering, muffling all of his sounds so people didn’t overhear the two of you. But you dismiss that thought—that’s knowledge for you to keep to yourself, you don’t like sharing.

“Let’s get out of here?” you hum, drawing him out of his thoughts before he can spiral.

He lights back up again, but you can tell he’s still nervous from Dazai’s brief appearance. “Yeah, c’mon.”

Two hours later, you wander out of one of the back rooms in Mishima’s mansion, intent on getting back to headquarters. You don’t get more than two feet before you feel a hand wrap around your wrist, tugging you backward hard until your back meets a familiar chest.

Your heartbeat stills from the brief bout of erraticness when you felt someone grab you, relaxing back into Dazai, tilting your head back and to the side to look up at him as he holds your hips, keeping you flush to him.

“Did you fuck him?” Dazai asks, voice low and expression unreadable.

You have half a mind to say yes, just to see what Dazai plans to do if you did. He can’t kill Ibuse, not even he is reckless enough to start a war with the Sun and Steel right now, but you don’t think you want to risk it.

“Didn’t have to,” you say honestly. “He was babbling out everything I wanted to know before the doors even closed.”

Dazai searches your face for a moment as if trying to decide if you’re being truthful, when he does, one of his hands slips off your waist into his coat, and you hear the familiar sound of Dazai flipping the safety of his gun back on.

“Dazai,” you snap. “You can’t just-”

“I can do whatever I want,” Dazai interrupts you with the type of confidence that lets you know he had every intention of putting a bullet through Ibuse’s head if you fucked him, regardless of the consequences. The thought of that alone makes your blood run hot, pupils dilating as you look up at him; Dazai’s lips curve up slowly as if he knows just what’s going on in your head. He looks behind you curiously before focusing back down on you asking: “Is he passed out in there?”

“Mhm,” you agree, watching him curiously as you try to figure out what he might be thinking. “Drank too much.”

“Good,” Dazai murmurs, walking you right back into the room you’d come out of, a sharp smile on his face. He closes the door behind the two of you, gaze flickering over to where Ibuse is unconscious on the couch before he backs you up until your knees hit the corner of the bed, pushing you back onto it. “Let’s see if we can wake him up then.”

#dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai smut #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bsd smut #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu x you #dazai osamu smut #bungo stray dogs x you #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs smut

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celestie0 · 1 month ago

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hi my friends! hope you're all doing well. just wanted to come on here and share a little updates w you guys (if you're still here lol)

i guess it's been like a month n a half since i formally went on hiatus, and it's been nice! i got kinda sick for a little bit lmfaooo which was tough to manage w school, but i'm better now

although i took time away from my blog, i still delved in writing here n there. i haven't written anything for kickoff since tbh i'm in such a slump w it. but i still have big plans for stuff that happens after ch13, so hopefully i can just push through this next chapter and get to a better place. thanks so much to anyone that is still interested in the story, it means a lot to me. i know i'm so slow w updates and the story has been going on for almost a year now, but the continued support is so sweet! even though i didn't work on writing it these past one n a half months, i still really love it and plan to finish it.

i'm not sure if many people remember that i had this sort of "apocalypse" gojo x reader au about an asteroid being set to hit the earth in three days, and reader n gojo are ex lovers n the impending end of the world makes them break no-contact...yeah i finished writing the first chapter for it and i really love it so far! it's like set in new york which is really fun haha i love stories where new york is kind of its own "character" if that makes sense...it will definitely be a limited series w only 4 chapters or so, but i kinda wanna finish all 4 chapters before i start posting it bc i don't want it to be a drawn out series in terms of posting since i think it'd be best enjoyed in frequent succession if that makes sense

as for ihm, i think i wrote the most for ihm during my hiatus. i finished three chapters for it, but they are shorter chapters (around 3-4k words). i kinda realized one of my biggest reasons for burnout w my fics were the reaaaaallly long chapters...like didn't i have a 22k chapter for kickoff or sumn lol. idk i can't remember. but anyways, yeah the mindset behind the longer chapters was bc i liked each chapter to kinda have its own conflict, build up, tension then resolution in a sense. but it was exhausting to write that way tbh lol. so i think moving forward, for ihm, i will have shorter chapters. i just don't wanna think to much about things anymore, and write from my heart, bc i have a lot of things planned for ihm, and among the criticism i've received for my writing choices vs my own vision for the story, i've realized during my hiatus that the only way i can finish ihm, or any of my storeis for that matter, is if i just.........stop giving a fuck about it. lol idk if that sounds strange to say, but like, i don't want to over-edit anything. i don't want to think too much about redundancy. i don't want to flower things up or cut stuff out. i'm at the point where imma just write a first draft, check for grammarly errors, and then post it. i guess the reason i'm sharing this is because idk if this means that people may enjoy my writing less since i will admittedly be spending much less time on it than i did before, but tbh i realized i find the most joy while i'm writing, and not while i'm editing. so i want to spend as little time on the latter as possible, and if that changes the quality of my work, then so be it.

anyways, hmm as for hiatus. i guess i'm off hiatus now? i really enjoyed being off of tumblr tbh this app has a lot of questionable content at times (esp in jjk community) and it also did wonders for my studying bc i wasn't spending time doomscrolling or shit posting anymore lmfaooo. but as for writing in particular, i think i will start to post ihm again exclusively. i can't say anything about kickoff or my other projects, but i feel comfortable to start posting ihm again.

sorry, i know that i have kept my replies and ask box off for a long time. but i will open them again once i start posting chapters because i really miss interacting with you guys.

anywho, these are my updates lol i'm like not sure how many of my readers are still here or which ones have moved on but that's ok, i'm grateful to anyone n everyone. hope to see you all soon again!

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unlimitedbutchworks · 25 days ago

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the one funny thing about detrans spaces is how the trans guys there like, literally do everything in their power to shut everything else out to listen to insane people. every post on detrans subreddit by a questioning guy is like “I’ve been on t for a few months and I know I don’t like being a woman and prefer being masculine, wearing my masculine clothes, and going by masculine titles, but I’m thinking about stopping t anyway because I Know that passing as a man is an impossibility for me and I’m worried about not transitioning fast enough. I’ve exhausted all the opinions of all my friends in the lgbt community, who have given me a variety of responses supporting and giving me options while telling me t needs time to work and get the changes I want, so now I come to you. Should I just drop it and accept being a feminine AFAB NB?”

and the comments (barring a few nice ones about how you can still transition that never get attention, if they aren’t downvoted to hell) are all always like “yessss yess the line between butches and trans men is thin anyway there’s a lot of room to be female don’t rush into anything and mutilate your body testosterone has so many effects and related procedures can really cause so much irreversibility and there’s actually a lot of ways to cope with dysphoria which honestly can come from so many places you might not even be trans or nb at all dude 🫶” and op goes “wowww thank you everyone for the kind words and the perspective 💖 I think you are right, those darned tras just made me think I had to act now :) ” and we all clap. but on tumblr one thousand tme ppl still beat you with hammers if you say detransitioners are shitty because their hot lesbian mutual who keeps posting about liberal male violence says the trans community pushed her into transitioning

#meanwhile most saddest depressed 18 you’re old closeted transfem is getting needled for being agp #kvetching

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revelboo · 3 months ago

Note

I've seen people talk about waiting impatiently for another chapter of a story. I've never actually experienced it myself until now.

I just want you to know that these little posts about Starscream and the little human are my first experience actually setting my tumblr to alert me when someone posts and then frantically scrolling to read it lol.

Your writing is phenomenal and I love the physical descriptions you use for sensory type stuff. Just..... BRAVO!

I genuinely get a jolt of endorphins with each post!

And I hope you are doing well and having a nice day!

Awww, thank you! I’m glad you like my nonsense! Starscream’s pretty fun to write.

Everything is Alright Pt 18

Starscream x Reader

• Venting loudly, he tips his head back against his berth. Can feel you still staring at him anyway, but he doesn’t look. Doesn’t need to see those pleading eyes, because his resolve will crumble. Just needs this contact, the warmth of your small form and the steady drum of your heart to ground himself. To prove you’re really okay. “No,” he growls, the word a firm warning that he couples with a gentle, but firm warning tap of a servo to the back of your head. “If you’d run into anyone smarter, you wouldn’t have survived.”

• Something he really doesn’t want to think about, but that his processor is delighting in torturing him with. You’re just so fragile. Breakable. With any luck, Scrapper immediately forgot all about seeing a human. With how many blows to the helm the mech has taken over the decades, his processor isn’t the most reliable. It’s honestly amazing he remembers his own name sometimes. “The cassettes kept me safe,” you protest, pushing up and he immediately pins you flat again under his palm. The cassettes. Why exactly you think they’re safe, he’s not sure. They certainly tossed you right at him on sight to save themselves. Denta working, he shutters his optics to keep from snarling. He’s not jealous of the fact that you seem to like their company. Of course not.

• He’s not sleeping or whatever passes for it in Cybertronians, just ignoring your protests. The hand laying across your lower body to keep you in place isn’t still. One single servo slides over the back of your head down between your shoulder blades again and again. Stroking almost absentmindedly, but it still slowly drains the tension out of you. And him, too you’re pretty sure. Cheek laying against him, you can feel the thrum of whatever it is inside him and smell him, a spiced scent with a metallic bite. Not unpleasant, just different.

• Blowing out a frustrated breath, you swallow a groan. You were so sure the cassettes are your get out of jail free card. Or at least, a day pass from spending the time he’s out and about doing whatever his alien robot job entails staring at the walls of his quarters alone. Pestering is just likely to make him angry and you don’t want to ruin this fragile peace. Or try to figure out what exactly you are to him, because it’s unlikely to make you feel better. And that brings you back to the look that has been on his face. That violent fury that had just fallen away because you were okay. He’d been worried. Maybe even terrified. And it makes your heart ache.

• He’s told you that he’s the second in command before while grumbling about his leader, this Megatron with a mix of sneering revulsion and an uneasy fear that’s only betrayed by his wings. What you know about the Decepticons is pretty sketchy at best, but you get the distinct impression that being second in command isn’t exactly glamorous. Maybe more like others constantly gunning for his spot by any means necessary. Which almost makes a sort of sense. If you are seen as a weakness of his, you might be targeted. It might be safer to be kept a secret. And trapped in his quarters for your own safety. Even if you hate it, you never want to see that stark fear on his face again.

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#transformers #starscream x reader #idw starscream

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lovecla · 3 months ago

Text

TAKE YOUR PAIN AWAY | quinn hughes.

chapter five:

➴ chapter warnings: none!

➴ word count: 3.9k

💌 from me to you: honestly, today was a lot! i broke my phone yesterday and had to buy a new one today (i’m now poor :,) and i deadass forgot my email and i lost all of my works AHAH (quinn’s voice: it’s funny but it’s not funny). thankfully, i had already saved all of TYPA chapters here on tumblr so they’re safe and well. anyways, enjoy! 🤎

౨ৎ

2024, APRIL.

lavieenrose

Vancouver, Canada

liked by madisoncarter, adrianalima, zayn and 528,012 other people

lavieenrose We are thrilled to announce our newest Flower, Madison Carter! Welcome to our garden, gorgeous! 🌹

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madisoncarter i love u guys thank u so much

user1 I love Madison employed era 🤭 like yass girl pay your bills

bellahadid proud of you, sis xx

madisoncarter bellahadid <3

user2 she looks kinda fat in this 🤢

maddiecarter_updates user2 girl that’s ur momma

imgmodels That’s our girl!!!

౨ৎ

“SO QUINN Hughes is your childhood best friend?” Victoria sounded amused.

You chuckle. “Something like that, yeah.”

“What a small world we live in!” She raised her arm, making prayer hands. “God, if you’re out there, make my dream of fucking Luke Hughes come true.”

“Oh my God, you’re the worst.” You joke, watching as she winks at you, going back to her rambling about how funny it was that you and the Hughes were familiar with each other.

It was the week before your first official fashion show in Vancouver, and things were extremely busy. Today you and the other models had to visit the hall where the show would happen so you could practice your walk and get familiar with the runway’s layout.

Victoria wasn’t a model per se, even if she was one of the most gorgeous women you have ever seen, but she still made sure to be there with you so you wouldn't be totally alone.

The other models were nice to you but you were still extremely shy, and it usually took you a while for you to get used to new people. Thankfully, Victoria could help you just fine.

“But like,” she raises her voice again, staring at you funny. “Should I tell Gil to send the Canucks some invitations?”

You raised your brow at her, ready to say no. After that night at your house, a week ago, you and Quinn were… different. Being one hundred percent honest, you were different with Quinn. He was still the same as always, texting every day and asking about how you and Bella were doing, since he was away— again— and couldn’t check on you in person.

And you thought it was sweet.

Awfully sweet.

Dangerously sweet.

After the thoughts you had while he sat on your couch that night, thick thighs spread cozily across your couch, dress shirt opened and hair falling perfectly on his face, you decided that being away from him was probably the best thing you could do for your relationship.

“I don’t think they’ll be interested in coming,” you lie, shrugging. “It’s not like they’re interested in lingeries.”

“Hum—”

“At least not in the way you want them to be!” You quickly added, not letting Victoria’s mind wander to horny places.

“I don’t know about that, Mads,” she clicks her tongue, watching as the crew move around you both, lunch break already about to end. “We could invite only the single ones. What do you think?”

You laugh and joke: “I think that’s a great idea.”

Obviously, it wasn’t. Nothing about Quinn seeing you in lingerie was a good idea, but who were you to crash Victoria’s dream? Besides, the Canucks would never actually go to a fashion show unless they were forced to, so you had nothing to worry about.

“Okay, Madison, I need you to walk up there again.” Rory, the casting director called you, and you promptly got out of your seat to do what he needed you to.

And just like that your thirty minute lunch break was over.

౨ৎ

“THIS IS the day you all have been waiting for, girls,” James yells, loud enough to be heard by all the fifty girls standing backstage. “I need you all to shine today!”

You could feel your hands sweaty and your heart beating faster than ever. Today was the fashion show you've been preparing for everyday ever since you moved to Canada and watching it all unfold in front of you was anything but not stressful.

This was the first fashion show you did in months and you knew people were expecting something big.

“Madison,” James calls you, and you immediately go to his side, excluded from the other girls. He looks at you with his fierce, cat eyes and you almost gulp. “Today’s your night. The majority of the people are here to see you, they’re here to see Madison Carter. Do you understand that?”

You nod, blinking fast. “I do.”

“Great,” he crosses his arms over his chest. “I didn’t say this in front of the other girls because I don’t want them to feel bad, but having you here is pure gold, and the press is ready to put any mistake in a headline. So, can you be my prettiest flower tonight, baby?”

You smile, feeling confident all of a sudden. You had to remind yourself that you were pretty, even if sometimes your brain liked to tell you otherwise. People were here to see you, they paid money to watch you walk down that stage, and you’d give them a show.

You’d prove to everyone that you were just that girl. Even your own family.

“I can, J.” You confirm, shaking your arms slightly.

“Then great. You know when you have to enter the stage, don’t you?” You nod again, of course you did. You all rehearsed this so many times that it would be hard for you not to know. James turns around and starts speaking loud again, trying to talk to all fifty girls at once. “RAYE is here tonight and even though your job is to walk, I want you all to interact with her and her songs. I want you all on time and I want you all on your best behavior.”

Celestial Allure was the name of tonight’s collection, all of you wearing different shades of white, pastel pink, blue and purple, not to mention the tiny golden details in your hair and heels. Your makeup consisted in white eyeshadow, heavy eyeliner and big, angelic lashes. You had little to no blush in your cheeks, the focus on representing a pale, unreal face. Your lips had a natural pinkish color and you had highlighter all over your collarbone and nose.

Your opening outfit couldn’t even be called an outfit; it was simply a white, twinkle strap lace corset with matching panties, heels that adored your legs and reminded you of something Barbie would wear, your hair was perfectly styled with waves falling down like a waterfall.

You took a deep breath, the first notes of Escapism echoing through the entire place, and you knew it was the time for your entrance.

After saying a quick prayer, you enter the stage, immediately putting on your work mindset, not letting any of the hundred eyes make you feel nervous. One step and then another, your body moved alongside the music’s beat, RAYE’s warm smile and powerful presence making you feel less nervous. You made sure that your body was moving like James and Rory had instructed, lightly and featherly.

The camera flashes didn’t hurt your eyes anymore, thankfully, because there were so many of them that even if the building had dim lighting, the stage looked as bright as the sun.

“A little context if you care to listen, I find myself in a shit position,” you mouthed the words, walking down the stage like you owned, because, in fact— you did. “The man that I love sat me down last night, and he told me that it's over, dumb decision.”

You waved to some of the cameras, smiling from ear to ear, genuinely happy.

Even if it was a hard world, the happiness you got from modeling and wearing beautiful, delicate pieces like the one you were wearing right now was unbeatable.

Outfit after outfit, walk after walk, you made it to the end of the show, letting your eyes get shiny with tears when James grabbed your hand and walked with you to the end of the stage, raising your arm and bowing with you. You smiled, watching as people clapped for you and shouted your name.

Backstage, you ran around hugging the other models, all of you so emotional and happy. Your favorite part about working with La Vie en Rose was that they prioritized girls who supported other girls, and not girls who tried to get on top by dragging other girls, something that happened daily in the fashion world.

Victoria also hugged you, taking pictures and handing you your outfit change so you could talk to the press.

“Madison, Madison,” your name was on every reporter’s mouth, flashes and cameras being shoved in your face. You smiled through the uncomfortable feeling of all of your actions and breathing being recorded and pointed to one of the interviewers there, letting her speak.

“You were absolutely divine today. How are you feeling?”

“Honestly, I have no idea,” you smile, shaking your head. “This is the first show I’ve done in a while and I’m still getting back from the high.”

“The crowd’s reaction was amazing. Did you expect such a strong response?”

“No,” you laugh, sincerely. “I am used to my supporters in Los Angeles but knowing this many people would show up here in Vancouver? It’s insane. But I’m grateful anyway.”

“Speaking of moving to Vancouver, what can we expect from your Canadian side?”

“Everything. I’m always open to new opportunities and signing a contract with a brand as special to me as La Vie en Rose can mean a lot of good things.” You move to the next reporter, who was almost shoving the microphone down your throat.

“What can you say about the Canucks team being here? Do you know any of them personally?”

That caught you so off guard you had to hold back a gasp.

“What do you mean?” You ask carefully, trying your best to keep your smile from falling. “The… Canucks are here?”

“You didn’t know?” The reporter scoffs. “We have players like Quinn Hughes, Brock Boeser, Conor Garland and Elias Pettersson in the audience.”

“Oh,” you say, moving your head to the side, trying to see something past that sea of cameras. “Hum. I didn’t know they were here. I think it’s, hum, great and… yeah.”

“Time’s up, fellas!” Victoria shouts, grabbing your shoulders and pulling you to the side. “The other models are right there, ready for your questions. Thank you all, bye.”

“Thank you guys, have a good night,” you say before heading backstage. You turn your head to Victoria’s direction, eyes doubled in size. “Did you know the Canucks are here?”

“‘Course I did. I sent the invite.” She answers like it was nothing.

“You what?”

“Well, basically it wasn’t me, it was Gil, but I was the one who told him to invite them— and why are you so surprised anyway? We talked about this and you said it was a great idea!”

“I was joking, obviously,” you shout-whisper, walking around the room with Victoria beside you. “You’re crazy.”

“Well, now they’re here and we have to greet them.” She smiles, walking around people with a gorgeous smile plastered on her face. “Hi, good night.”

You had to set your apprehension aside and greet the other people there, so many designers, fashion students and artists congratulated you and asked for pictures. You were happy people were as pleased as you about you moving to Canada and even happier to see that you had so many supporters.

“Oh my God, there’s Quinn Hughes,” Victoria whispers beside you, making you snap your head in his direction.

And there he was. Wearing a gorgeous, dark blue suit, hair slicked back and hands in his pockets, standing there like Prince Charming himself. He was surrounded by three other men, who you could only imagine were his teammates, chatting quietly with one of them.

“Let’s go say hi.” Victoria grabs your hand and makes her way to their little chatting circle, Quinn noticing you before anyone else.

His eyes held a different kind of feeling that night, with him eyeing you up and down. His eyes discreetly trailed your body, the tiniest smile adorning his lips when his eyes met yours.

“Maddie.” He said your name with that raspy voice of his, making you shiver internally.

You smile shyly, watching as he leans down and kisses your forehead.

“Hi, Quinn,” you greet him back, face warm with all the attention. “Hum. Hi, guys,” you greet the other men, as six pairs of eyes stare back at you. “I’m Madison.”

They all give you a cheek kiss and a hug, broad bodies embracing yours like a giant blanket. They introduced themselves, and you were right; they were Quinn’s teammates.

“This is Victoria,” you introduce your friend, who eagerly hugs the players as well.

“Did you guys enjoy the show?” She asks and you watch as they all laugh and nod.

The one you remember being called Conor speaks first. “Honestly when we got the invitation I thought it was really random. But it was actually fire.”

“Yeah,” one of them, Pettersson, you think, agrees, putting his hands inside his pockets. “The girls are pretty. You’re pretty.”

You ran your fingers through your hair, smiling and thanking them.

“We were just going out for drinks at a bar just down the street, do you want to join?” One of them— you didn’t remember the name— asks, and before you could even think of what to say, Victoria jumps in front of you with her eager yes.

You looked at Quinn, watching as he stared right back at you, pointing to the entrance with his head.

You all walked out of the event hall together, photographers going crazy with the flashes and you knew that besides talking about your performance that night, people were also going to talk about your proximity with the Hughes and the Canucks.

The other players chatted with Victoria in front of you, while you and Quinn walked behind them, close enough that your naked shoulder touched his covered arm.

“Aren’t you cold?” He blurts out of nowhere, and you smile, shaking your head no.

“Not really. I’m still coming down from the high from earlier.”

“You were amazing, Mads,” he praises you, licking his lips. “Never seen you like that before. Just… stunning.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, not sure why Quinn’s compliment made you feel better than if it were anyone else’s. “Did you like it?” Even though Victoria had already asked them this question, you asked it again, because you wanted to know what Quinn had thought of it.

“Yes,” he winks, smirking at you. “Yes, I did.”

“Great.”

You continued to make small talk on your way to the bar, underestimating how crowded it would actually be. Thankfully, there were a lot of Canucks fans there, and a group of random people let you stay at their table in exchange for a picture with their captain, Quinn, which he promptly took.

“Do you want to drink anything?” The handsome brown-haired fella, Garland, you think, asked you, a few seconds after you sat down.

“Let her breathe first, idiot,” you heard Quinn mumble beside you, making you laugh.

“Maybe a Sex on the Beach?” You said simply, not really interested in Conor’s flirting. He’s hot, but he isn’t Quinn.

Maybe it’s time for you to stop thinking that you can actually have anything with Quinn, you thought, feeling yourself deflate just a little.

“Freaky,” Connor answered, before moving to the bar with the other guys.

“You won’t drink anything?” Victoria asked Quinn, since he was the man who stayed at the table.

He shrugs. “I’m driving.”

“Oh, we love a responsible king,” she nods to herself, giving you an approving smile. What she was approving was still a mystery.

Quinn eyes you, silently questioning you where you’d found that girl, and you only smiled, raising your shoulders.

The rest of the team took a while to come back, something about the bar being too crowded, but Conor handed your cocktail and winked at you.

“So, Madison,” he starts, sitting in front of you. “Are you single?”

Boeser whistled while Pettersson laughed out loud, hitting Conor’s shoulders.

“You’re very straightforward, aren’t you?” You retort, roiling your eyes but smiling nonetheless. “But, yes, I am. I’m not interested in anything serious at the moment, though.”

“One step forward for Conie here but at what cost?” Boeser shouts, clicking his beer on the table. You can hear Victoria laughing with Pettersson beside you, and you seriously want to pinch her cheeks.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Quinn speaks beside you, and suddenly all eyes are on him, yours included. He seems to realize what he had just said because his cheeks turn a very light shade of pink. “I mean, with a face like yours, I’d find it pretty hard to believe that any woman would be interested in you.”

“Fuck you, Cap,” Conor gives him the finger, sipping on his beer before winking at you. “Maddie here knows what’s good.”

“Don’t call her that,” Quinn hisses and both you and Victoria share a stare with each other.

Thankfully, Vic’s really good at changing topics and after five seconds she got all of the Canucks players talking with her at the same time. Garland seemed to have forgotten about you momentarily, and you were thankful for that.

You turned your head to the side, staring at Quinn who looked like he was having the worst time of his life. You frowned.

“What got you so upset?” You whisper, watching as he stops staring at his water bottle to stare at you.

“I’m not upset.”

“This little thing here…” you place your finger between his eyebrows, watching the furrow disappear underneath your finger. “…tells me a different story. Was it Conor?”

“Why would I be upset with him?” He taps his fingers on the table, once, twice.

“I know that you don’t like it when people call me Maddie.” You tell him, smiling softly. You would never confess it to him, but you didn’t like when people called you that too. Quinn had been the first person to call you that, to give you a nickname, and you wanted to keep that one between you both.

“He just can’t keep himself inside his pants,” He admits, and you smile even wider, finding the entire situation entirely funny. “It’s not funny, Madison.”

“It is to me,” you rest your chin on your hand. “Well, I know he won’t get inside my pants any time soon.”

“Yeah?” He smirks, and, finally, you watch his face transform into something that wasn’t a scowl or a frown. “Good.”

You gulp and pray to God that he doesn’t notice the way your thighs slowly close together, your body clearly desperate for something. Something that anyone else could give you, but you wanted it from the only person who was out of your league.

But perhaps God wasn’t listening to you like He usually did, because the way Quinn’s blue eyes turned into a grayish shade before he calmly placed his right hand on your left thigh told you a different truth.

Then he somehow inserted himself back in the conversation, leaving his hands on your thigh for the rest of the night, while you tried to keep up with what they were saying but failed miserably since all you could think was how his hands looked so big on you that maybe, just maybe, some of his other parts would be big too…

You sighed, forgetting for a few seconds that you were in public. Being around Quinn made your head work in the wrong way and trying to get back on the right path was tiring and exhausting.

“Are you not having fun?” You scared yourself with how close Quinn actually was, his lips almost touching your ear.

“‘M just tired,” you mumbled, feeling bad for interrupting Quinn’s conversation, even if the rest of the people at the table were still talking animatedly between themselves. “And I miss Bella.”

You hear his breathy laugh beside you. “I miss Bella too. Come on, let me take you home.”

“You don’t need to,” you say, shaking your head slowly. “I’ll call a cab.”

“You’re funny.” he says before opening his wallet and placing two hundred Canadian dollars on the table. “Madison and I are going home.”

“Uh, well… bye?” You say, uncertain of what you should do. It seemed rude to you to just leave like this, but you also knew Quinn wasn’t backing up now, and you were telling the truth when you told him you miss Bella. “It was nice meeting you all.”

“The pleasure was all ours, baby,” Conor says, winking at you. “Come see our next game. We’ll save you and Vicky a spot.” You tell him that you will, and then you smile politely, kissing Victoria’s cheek.

“Do you want me to take you home?” You ask, and she turns the cutest shade of red, eyes staring at Boeser for just a brief second before turning at you again. Oh. “Alright. Call me if you need anything.”

“Will do,” she winks, kissing you too. “Drive safe.”

You briefly hug the other players, wishing them a good night before you leave the bar with Quinn’s hand on your lower back, gently guiding you to his car. The drive to your house was quiet, with Quinn making tiny remarks here and there, but you were so close to saying fuck to all of your beliefs and kissing him that you realized that staying quiet was probably the best move.

It wasn’t like you thought Quinn wasn’t into you. You weren’t dumb, and you knew what the stares he gave you meant, but you also knew that what you had with him, your friendship, was precious and not something that happened to everyone.

Even if you’d just restarted seeing each other a short while ago, it was like you hadn’t stopped talking at all. He still took care of you like he did to young Madison years ago, and he still let you take care of him like you would’ve done if he’d stayed in your life when you grew up.

So risking it all just because you were horny? Not a chance.

“You’re so quiet,” he points out, making a U turn. “Do you miss Bella this much?”

You smile, resting your head on the window. “I do, yeah. But I’m also just tired. Today was a lot.”

“I was telling the truth when I said you were stunning, Maddie. You owned that stage. No one was looking at anyone else.”

“Oh, stop it, Quinn,” you tried to hide the fact that his compliments made you want to start running around while shouting his name. “It’s just my job.”

He raised his eyebrow at you, but didn't say anything else, what was probably for the better. If he complimented you again, you wouldn’t sure that you would be able to stay in your seat without climbing on his lap and begging him to fuck you.

Quinn parks in front of your apartment building and smiles at you, tired eyes shining like the moon that decorated the sky that night. “Want me to go upstairs with you?”

“No, no, it’s fine, I know you’re tired,” you bit your lip, fidgeting with your fingers. “Thank you for coming. And for the ride too.”

“I enjoyed tonight. We should… we should do this again.”

You smirk, playfully. “And invite Conor too?”

He groans, laughing softly.

“No, definitely no,” he shakes his head. “I know that dork already invited you but… if you want to come watch our next game, just give me a heads up. I’ll get tickets for you and your friend.”

“Only if we get to stay in that seat where we can watch the players beat each other up from up close.” You joke, watching as he laughs, wrapping his hand around his abs.

“Consider it done, M,” he blinks, an adorable smile adorning his face. “I’ll text you the details, alright?”

“Mhm,” you nod, removing your seatbelt and pushing your body forward, until you place a light kiss on his cheek, feeling his stubble softly scratch your lips. “Night, Quinn.”

“Bye, Mads.” he whispers, watching you leave the car and only driving away when he sees you enter your building.

You sigh out loud, trying to understand what the hell happened tonight.

౨ৎ

liked by vic_alonso, _quinnhughes, imgmodels and 828,023 other people

madisoncarter little dump from tonight. thank u all for coming 🌟 lavieenrose

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raye this show was yours. Prettiest woman in the world. Xx

vic_alonso we look soooo good in that pic babe

vic_alonso also lowkey wanna kiss u again

user1 vic_alonso 📸🤨

madisoncarter @vic_alonso ‘m all urs baby

user2 why is my husband liking this when he doesn’t even know how to post a picture without Jack’s help pls I need answers

user3 oh both luke jack and quinn liked this we are cooked

maddiecarter_updates We don’t know if we want to be you or have you 🙂‍↕️ stunning as always, queen!

taglist: @hischierswhore @ru-kru @alwaysclassyeagle @he6rtshaker @nope-i-am-done @nngkay 🤎

#quinn hughes x oc #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes angst #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes fluff #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes smut #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes #nhl x reader #nhl players #hockey #TYPA

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hearts4golbach · 11 months ago

Note

Hi! can you write a Johnnie x fem reader fluff to smut? 🙏🏼

Blushed.

Johnnie Guilbert x Fem!Reader.

Authors note: I have seen this idea used a few times on tumblr from a few different people, so this is unoriginal, but I've really wanted to write this.

warning: smut.

"What's up guys, welcome back to my channel!" I hollered, imitating certain YouTubers. I had always found intros to be hilarious. "Today, I'm with my boyfriend, Johnnie Guilbert." I wrapped my arm around his shoulders. "I'm going to be making him normal."

Johnnie rolled his eyes and smiled. "Yippee. I'm being tortured." he made jazz hands.

I covered his mouth quickly, attempting to act suspiciously. "This was his idea.. anyway!" I pushed him so he was sitting on my bed. I pulled the first product out of my makeup bag. "This is primer, which you know about, obviously. so there's nothing new there."

I stood in between his legs and began to apply the primer, smearing it all over his face. he gripped my waist softly, looking up at me with a sweet smile. I glanced away, trying not to get too worked up over a simple gesture. I smiled to myself and finished rubbing it all in.

"Great!" I said sarcastically, moving so the camera could see. "shit, I have to pin up your bangs." I grabbed two clips from my dresser. I parted his hair in the middle, clipping his midnight black hair on either side of his face.

he slapped his hand over his forehead, "Not the six head." he snorted before removing his hand.

"You do not have a six head," I rolled my eyes, placing a kiss on his forehead before moving on. I pulled the next product out of the bag. "Funny story, I had to go out and buy Johnnie a whole different foundation because he's too pale for mine."

Johnnie made a finger gun, pointing it at the camera and sticking his tongue out with a laugh. "it's because all I do is play fortnite." he smirked.

"I know." I retorted as I wet my beauty blender. I placed dots of foundation around his face, fighting the urge to kiss him as I did so. "Okay, cute! perfect shade match." I moved put of the cameras view.

Johnnie checked himself out in the mirror, raising and dropping his eyebrows. "Uncanny Valley."

"Okay, well, I've barely done anything yet, so.." I trailed off, digging through the bag. "Next, concealer. Which, you also know of because I'm sure you go through a lot of it." I teased, tapping his nose before standing in front of him again.

his hands made their way to my waist as I focused on putting the liquid in the right place to highlight his face. he slowly moved his hands down, so they were on my ass.

"johnnie!" I scolded, "im going to have to edit that out."

he smirked, laughing at my comment. "I'd leave it in."

"Yeah, I'm sure you would." I retorted, going back to blending the concealer.

he had moved his hands back up, and now they were on my hips. his thumbs rubbed circles into my skin, making me shiver under his touch. I cleared my throat awkwardly as he laughed under his breath at my reaction.

I pulled away, revealing his face to the camera. I tapped his cheeks before moving on. "Next, we have blush, contour, and bronzer." I picked up the 3 products, showing the camera.

I began working on his face once more as he hummed, I wasn't sure what song. I stuck my finger under his chin, "Look up at me." he did as told, gazing into my eyes. "Thank you, baby." I smiled before getting to work on his contour. his cheekbones contoured nicely, making me grow more eager for him by the second.

I turned around, clearly distracted. "uh, next step." I stuttered, reaching into the bag. "highlighter."

my brush grazed over his cheeks and nose before gently tapping the inner corner of his eyes. "ah! my eye clit!" johnnie blinked rapidly.

"oh my god." I rolled my eyes, "okay, the last couple steps are mascara, eyeliner, and eyeshadow."

using a light pink eyeshadow, I colored in Johnnie's eyelids. I did a small wing before curling his lashed and putting mascara on them.

"what if I put lashes on you?" I pondered, putting up the mascara.

"oh, god." he replied dreadfully. "can I see myself now?"

I sighed before grinning at him. "I guess." I handed him a mirror and impatiently waited for his reaction.

"damn, would I fuck myself?" he pondered, furrowing his eyebrows.

"I mean, its how I do my makeup every day so..." I joked. "wait! I forgot your lipstick, how could I be so stupid?" I pulled out a musty pink lipstick and quickly applied it. "okay, now youre done."

I recorded my outro, desperate to shut the damn camera off. after turning it off, I grabbed the makeup wipes.

"you ready to take it off?" I asked him.

he eagerly nodded. "yes, please."

I climbed into his lap, "you did so good, thank you for recording that with me."

he hummed at the praise, I felt his member grow slightly under me. "anytime." his hands moved down to my ass once more, gently squeezing.

I bucked into him, trying not to make any noises as I wiped off the rest of the makeup. "shit, johnnie."

he smirked and kissed me softly, his hands moving down my thighs. I leaned into the kiss. Johnnie's hand made its way up my shirt, gently massaging my boob while the other kneaded my inner thigh. "you're such a tease." he whispered onto my lips.

I hummed in response. he quietly groaned into the kiss, his body pressed against mine. my hands flew up to his head, getting tangled in his hair. I began to deepen the kiss, wanting more. I moaned quietly, making his hips roll up against me. "God, you're so hot." I say breathlessly before smashing my lips onto his.

his tongue danced with mine as his hands explored my body. "you're killing me, I need you. now." he said desperately.

I nodded eagerly, "please, johnnie." I pleaded, moaning as he began kissing down my neck.

he trailed kisses along my collar bone, nipping and sucking at the tender skin. he left light hickeys all over, groaning into my skin. "I'm so crazy for you."

"johnnie, i-" I was cut off by a moan as he went back to attacking my neck.

I felt him smirk against my skin. "I love it when you say my name like that." I felt his erection pressed against my clothed pussy. "lay down for me, babe."

I did as told, crawling off his lap and laying back on the bed. he slipped off my shirt, leaving me in my bra as he kissed down my stomach. I wiggled under his touch, wanting more. he undid my jeans and pulled them off, tossing them somewhere in the room. he kicked off his own pants and shirt aswell, leaving both of us in our underwear. I bit my lip, moaning softly at the sight of his erection.

"you're so beautiful," he whispered, tucking my hair out of my face before kissing me again. "you ready?"

I nodded eagerly. "please, johnnie. I need you so bad." I whimpered as he positioned himself between my legs.

"tell me what you need, baby." he whispered, lust burning in his eyes. I tried to pull him closer, but he pulled away. "use your words."

"fuck, I want your cock, johnnie." I whimpered.

"atta girl." he smirked, pulling my panties off and tossing them along with my jeans. "Jesus, you're so beautiful."

I moaned quietly as he nibbled at my neck. I clawed at his back, pulling him closer. "stop teasing." I pleaded.

he nodded, listening to my request. I felt his hard tip press against my entrance. he slowly pushed inside of me, groaning at the feeling of filling me up. "so fucking tight." he muttered.

"oh my god, yes." I moan quietly.

johnnie groaned, pushing the rest of the way inside of me. I gasped as he began to thrust slowly, making my walls grip tightly around him. "God, I love the pretty sounds you make."

his words made my jaw fall, letting a low moan escape. he picked up his speed, his hips slapping against my wetness as he thrusted deeper. "jesus- oh, shit." I stuttered.

johnnie groaned, rolling his eyes back as he lost himself in pleasure. "oh, fuck- thats it. give it to me."

"keep going, oh shit!" I moaned into his neck. he moved sweaty hair out of my face before kissing me roughly.

his thrusts became harder and faster, his hips slammed against mine as he took me roughly. "fuck, you're amazing." he whimpered onto my lips.

"fuck, give it to me, baby." I moaned, digging my hands into his back. he growled softly as he pushed deeper inside of me, pausing for a moment before pulling out and slamming back into me.

his thrusts became ever more forceful, his cock hitting my cervix with each powerful thrust. "does this feel good, baby? fuck, you're so good." he kissed my neck.

"yes, o-oh my god, yes. don't stop. i-im close!" I panted.

his thrusts became more erratic, his hips slapping into me one last time before he released inside of me. I came along with him, my orgasm rushing through my whole body. I went limp, watching as he collapsed next to me.

"Oh my god." he whispered, kissing me softly. "I love you so much."

"I love you more."

#fanfiction #fanfic #smut #johnnie guilbert x you #johnnie guilbert x reader #johnnie guilbert

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howlett-n-morgan · 2 months ago

Text

Take Me Home

6. Down The Road

Arthur Morgan x Texas Red!Reader

A/n: i just was scrolling through tumblr and saw a post that a girl on twitter made and it was talking about a hot dad and I was like 'that's so me' and then at the end of the post it talked about how he called her miss aven and I threw my phone across the room because my name is also aven and i guess I am not the only one but anyways yeah all aven's are hot if ur name is aven ur hot.

Summary: The men of camp have begun to act strange, and Arthur seems to be the only one standing out... until a particular train job goes terribly wrong, then all bets are off.

Warnings: Not many, just some angst, canon typical violence, misogyny, and arguing... oh and some blood :)

WC: 12.5k (I went very insane last week)

He sensed your awkward reaches, even if he didn’t see them. He adjusted himself on the saddle before meeting your hands behind his back and pulling them around his sides to hold on. Your breath caught in your throat from how casually he’d done it, and how softly he touched you. “That’s a nice flower in your hair, by the way,” he muttered, not even looking back before grabbing the reins and leading the horse out of camp.

It was nearing fall again, and a year since you first arrived at camp, but things were beginning to get hectic. Not just with the attitudes of people in camp, but with the local law of Agua Fria getting more involved in the jobs the gang was pulling. You weren’t quite sure if you should be thankful for the distraction, or worried that it could make things worse for you. As far as you know, there’s not been bad feelings towards you, but there certainly weren’t friendly ones, either. It’s strange, since right after everyone found out your secret, they almost revered you in a way they hadn’t before. You supposed the walking on eggshells had to cease eventually.

The only people brave enough to talk to you now are Arthur and Hosea… you can’t say you don’t understand why. The lies finally caught up with most people, and it seemed to only get worse as time went on.

The men weren’t the only ones shunning you, either. The women, minus Tilly, were very straight and to the point if they had to speak with you, and if they didn’t, they just avoided you at any cost.

It was beginning to feel more lonesome, almost like before you joined up with the Van Der Linde’s.

The moment that all of it came to a head was around the campfire one night. You hadn’t spoken a word in fear of being over-talked or interrupted. You wouldn’t give anyone the satisfaction of cutting you off.

Bill was the first to become irrationally drunk. Sean and Mac were next. You could swear Javier was drunk, too, but with every drink he took, his guitar rhythm never stuttered. Arthur was teetering on the edge of drunkenness, but the man was a unit, and it took a lot of alcohol to turn his mind.

You felt relaxed enough to hit the bottle that Sean had set down, but then all eyes were on you.

You forgot. The women don’t drink unless there’s a special occasion, though you aren’t quite sure why. You set the bottle down and let your eyes stay on the ground when you do until the conversation starts back up again.

Arthur doesn’t really participate, he stays out of most of it, as do you. If you’re being honest, you don’t know why you sit at the fire with them anymore, because they don’t seem to give a shit if you do, and don’t seem to revere you like when they hadn’t been exposed to your secret.

When the drunken chatter of the Agua Fria women comes up, you’re glad you took enough of a swig to boost your confidence.

“I think they’re fine and what not,” Bill stumbles over his wording, barely making any sense. “Them girls in Charleston Town were better…”

“Better at what exactly?” You chimed in, finally taking part in the conversation.

“Screwin’, mostly… other things too I guess,” he coughed a little after speaking, taking yet another drink out of his mug.

“Why’s it matter?” Sean started in, and though you understood he was a good kid and just mildly outspoken, you hated how these little talks seemed to only have started now that they knew about you. Almost like they’re pushing it in your face.

“Maybe because it don’t sit right with me, comparin’ girls like that,” you shook your head. It’s like talking to a sack of bricks, and it won’t change anything, but you try anyway. It angers you, how they used to talk about interesting things around the campfire. Sure, sex came up from time to time, but it was never just about their views of women and the only things they’re good for.

“You don’t needa worry, we ain’t comparin’ you,” Bill laughed, and even got the Calendar boys snickering under their breath. They should be keeping their mouths shut, since they were out of camp when everyone found out about you in the first place. They didn’t even realize it when they came back.

“That’s because you’ve never had me,” you argued, and you could feel Arthur tense up beside you, almost like he was bracing himself for what he knew was coming.

“I could if I wanted to.” The pure audacity, and all because of some drunken words. Bill was never your favorite amongst camp goers, but he’d grown on you when he got to know you as Charlie… Now it seems he hates your guts and will do anything to antagonize you. “I bet you’re nice n’ easy, huh darlin’?”

“You’re the last person in camp I’d let have me, jackass.”

Some colorful words for a pretty girl like you. At least Bill thought so.

“You say that now… but I bet it didn’t take too much convincing to get you to spread 'em’ for Arthur,” he motioned to the gruff and stone-faced man beside you.

“Knock it off, Bill,” Arthur chimed in, knowing that if he didn’t, the man would push you to your limits and then maybe you’d shoot him. Knowing that you didn’t miss your shots was a good reason to step in, even if he knew you could hold your own.

“You can tell me, ol buddy,” Bill kept on, leaning forward. “Was it smooth as silk, or drier than the texas desert?”

Everyone else in the circle was pretty damn quiet by this time, just watching as Bill repeatedly made a bigger fool of himself. They had participated, but only to a certain degree… but this felt too messy, and they didn’t wanna chance stepping in it. Especially where Arthur was concerned.

“I said knock it off,” Arthur was more stern, but felt the need to defend your honor further, and clear your name. “She ain’t done nothing with no one in this camp, ya hear me?”

Bill let out a low and long whistle, looking back to you and seeing that your face was flushed. You were thankful for Arthur sticking up for you, but with the look on Bill’s face, it may have been just a touch too far.

“Alright, Arthur… I believe ya,” he chuckled, eyes narrowing in while everyone still watched on. “You know, seein’ things clearly makes me think you’re the opposite of what I said.”

“What do you mean?” You furrowed your brow in concern. You should have never asked.

“Boys,” he laughed out, nudging Mac to his left and slapping his knee in gleeful manner. “I’d say we’ve got ourselves a virgin.”

Your eyes widened, and immediately you were panicking. You’d never felt unsafe in the camp until right now, with the gaze of half the men in camp beginning to take you in as if it were for the first time. The way you reacted, they knew it to be true, and you weren’t sure what you could even say or do to hide it at this point.

“You ain’t got any idea what you’re talkin’ about, Williamson,” you tried to defend, and Arthur jumped on the bandwagon.

“That’s enough,” he grumbled, standing to his feet, offering you a hand to yours. “You’re all too damn drunk to even be livin’ right now.”

He issued a few less kind words that ushered them off to bed, and they dispersed from the circle, most of them to their sleeping arrangements.

Arthur went with you to your tent, and at first you weren’t sure why he stayed so close. When you went inside and he tried to close the flaps you stopped him.

“I can close up, I’m not quite tired yet…”

He gave you a respectful nod, but still held the flaps in his hand. “I just think that maybe you should close ‘em. I’ll stay outside here for a while just to make sure nothin’ happens,” he explained, but now you were fearful.

“What would happen?” You ask with the same amount of fear creeping into your voice.

“Nothin’, I won’t let it,” he assured you, but even though he brought some ease to your mind, he didn’t answer your question.

“Arthur, what would happen to me?”

“I don’t know… I don’t think they’re stupid enough to try anything, but…” he trailed, his voice leading off into a soft spoken tone.

“But?”

“Bill is very drunk right now, and he’s had some problems in the past,” he didn’t want you to think Bill was some sort of evil man, but if only for right now, he wanted you to be cautious of him. “Just want you safe, is all.”

You looked at him for a moment before concocting an idea. Probably a bad one, but that remains to be seen.

“Would you come sit with me a while?”

He looked back outside the tent, where across the camp, a few of the men still lingered, watching from a distance. Looking back to you, he couldn’t say no. It’s been part of his new curse, unwilling to see you upset or in need of anything at all. He doesn’t even know why, but his brain won’t let him function like he used to.

“I s’pose, but it’ll fuel their rumors that we…” he let his words fall off, but you knew what he was getting at.

“That’s the point,” you told him, a nervous smile on your face. “If you don’t mind the rumors, that is.”

“M’not understandin’,” he shook his head. Wasn’t that the whole reason he had to interject in the first place? To clear your name of any intimate relations with him that had been suspected?

“Even if it’s just lyin, maybe they’ll leave me alone,” you explained. The thought of people thinking you were impure was a strange one, but you’re sure it beats the feeling of being hunted like prey.

“Alright,” he nodded, looking at you with a decent smile. “Yeah, it’s alright with me, Red.”

You smiled in relief, suddenly all too focused on how he was looking at you. His hat was tipped slightly, so the brim framed his eyes in the moonlight from outside. You closed the flaps and sat back down with him, trying to think of something to say.

“How long do you think we oughta stay in here for?”

He shrugged, leaning back against the furthermost tent pole. “For them to actually believe it? I’d say a few hours…”

“Oh, really?” you teased, crossing your arms and giving him a cynical look.

He smirked, nodding his head around some. “I’m only kiddin’... mostly. But you can kick me out whenever it suits you.”

“So long as you’re willin’ to help me, stay as long as you want.”

He smiled again, genuinely, and though he could barely see your face in the dim light of the closed tent, the small hole in the fabric ceiling made for the prettiest glow in your hair. He got to thinking, and of course that’s a dangerous thing, but he had to ask.

“If you don’t mind sayin’ so… why haven’t you uh-?” His gesture towards the campfire outside, still going but soon to be snuffed out by the desert winds.

“Honestly?” you searched the files of your mind for something that didn’t sound too privileged. You knew you had it good growing up, and no one here could compare, but you still had issues that eventually changed your entire life. “My mother taught me to save myself for my husband.”

“Oh,” he furrowed his brow. Your wild and careless nature didn’t match what you were saying. “I didn’t take you for someone who would.”

“I’m not… but, I’ve been Charlie Brooks ever since I ran away, and no one ever knew me otherwise until you.”

He seemed surprised, but it did make sense when he pieced it all together. You’d gotten so good at playing the role of a young man, that countless people believed it. So much so, that you’d never been able to take a lover, though multiple women tried.

“And what about now? You ever thought of it?” He asked gently, his questions, though a bit intrusive, didn’t feel hard to answer. You knew he was curious, and after what just took place, you felt you owed him at least a few things to be resolved.

“I have, a few times,” you admitted, your voice becoming softer when you realized what you were about to share. It didn’t really matter, though, you trusted him more than anyone else in this world as it were, and knew he wouldn’t mock you. He acts all tough, but he’s a soft and gentle creature deep down. “I think I’m still gonna wait until I can give it to someone I love.”

He dipped his head. He definitely understood, and only wished he’d been wise enough to do the same. There was a time in his life before where he wishes he’d waited for a certain girl… but that was ages ago, and he knows his count is higher than it should be.

“Do you think you’re close to findin’ that someone?” his voice was just above a whisper, now, and he knows that the question he’s asked is risky. He doesn’t know if he wants to know the answer, but without thinking, you give it to him.

“Real close,” you told him, looking down at your hands when his dim-lit stare became too much.

“Yeah?” he smiled, genuinely and with a hope he hadn’t felt in a while.

You nodded to him, tilting your head as you took him in. Not tonight… you’re not ready, and you know you won’t be for a while. It’s just then, however, that you’ve decided it will be him. You nearly decided that on the day you first arrived at camp. That day when he teased you and you swore on your life that you didn’t like him all that much… but then the very next day he went and surprised you. His kindness and gentleness will never be forgotten.

“Thank you for doing this, Arthur. I know I’m probably dooming you to a whole list’a questions tomorrow, but I’m grateful.”

“You don’t needa thank me,” he shook his head, being his generous and benevolent self. “I’ll always help you, whatever ya need.”

You stayed silent for a moment until he chuckled under his breath. “What?”

“Oh nothin, just thinkin’ of the look on Bill’s face tomorrow.”

You gave it a single thought and it made you laugh, too. It would probably be a terribly inappropriate slew of nasty questions after a round of congratulations, but he would deal with it, not you.

You crawled over next to him, sitting on the ground by his side, and leaning your head on his shoulder. He didn’t mind, nor did he say anything. He just picked up your hand that was laying strewn on your lap, and threaded your fingers together. It was a silent action, but both of you understood immediately what it meant. We’re gonna be something, just give it time.

You sighed in contentment and turned your head to look at him. His profile stared on into the edge of the tent wall, until he could feel your eyes on him. He looked back down at you, but didn’t make a move. That’s not what tonight was about, and there would be plenty of time for all of that soon, he was sure of it. He squeezed your hand and turned back to face the tent wall, dipping his hat a little. Maybe he’d fall asleep here, and it would be the perfect crime scene for everyone to experience the next morning. You’d no doubt let him slumber here throughout the night, but you’d likely drag him into the bed, knowing how sore his back got every now and then.

You wanted to make sure he was comfortable, you wanted to take care of him. You knew by now all of his little quirks and strange necessities, and were willing to bend over backwards to make sure he got them. You were willing to do anything it took to make sure he smiled at you like he’d just done seconds ago, to keep that look on his face whenever your eyes met, even in a crowded room.

You’d lasso the moon for him if he asked, and pull it down so he could know its beauty from a closer perspective. You’d come to the conclusion that no matter which way you framed it, you were in love with Arthur Morgan. Had been for some time, but denial was a strong presence within you, and you were stubborn as hell when it came to admission.

You both eventually fell asleep like that, leaning against each other on the ground, and no effort of getting into the bed came about.

Bill’s face was indeed priceless, but you think you got more of a laugh from Sean. You didn’t even need to see his face, you heard his hollering from across the camp. You’d been cleaning rifles when the other redhead’s bellowing voice made you giggle. You’re sure that Arthur was annoyed as hell, but you’ll thank him for putting up with everything later.

The strangeness of the men lingered only a bit longer, but when a few days passed, and Arthur started acting more protective out of nature towards anything that was said about you, they backed off. In their minds, you were Arthur’s girl… Off limits to everyone else.

There were of course more than just the men who had heard about your ‘all nighter’ with Arthur.

The women, albeit a bit nosy, were actually quite fun to gossip with. It seemed like faking the loss of your innocence with Arthur did wonders for the whole camp and their acts of shunning you. Did it bother you? Only slightly… it would have been worse if you’d actually gone through with it and appeased the camp

“Is he a good kisser? He did kiss you, right?” and “Did it hurt? I bet it hurt, he’s a big man…” were your favorite contenders for questions asked. You did as you needed to, alluding to the facts without actually saying anything of substance. To be very clear, nothing happened in the tent that night, or in the morning before he left. You had no actual idea if anything you were hinting at was true, but that was the fun of it.

“You measured your cycle, didn’t you? You don’t wanna end up like me,” Abigail chimed in, Jack thrashing around on her hip while he cried. He was a sweet baby, but sometimes he was just a mess to deal with, and being in a camp full of outlaws didn’t help anything.

“Yeah, I did…”

“Did he uh… prepare you first?” Karen chimed in with her own curiosities, and a small giggle followed. They knew that Arthur was the best of the men, and he was good to women… but none of them had gotten up close and personal proof of that fact.

“Yes?” You answered with a bout of confusion… preparation? Your mother never mentioned nothing about damn preparation.

“Lucky girl,” she sighed out, her eyes rolling dramatically. “You really are, I hope you know. Arthur’s the best of the men.”

“Oh I know, trust me,” you snickered at just how lucky you were. These girls were drooling over the details you gave them. All were false, but you knew he’d own up to every single one of them, because he was just that good and kind to you. He was like a loyal dog, Dutch said, and he was right. You were more than lucky to have his care and protection, and it started to feel intimate in a way that sex never could.

There was a word for that, you think… devotion.

“So, are you Arthur’s girl, now?”

That one caught you off guard, because even with a fake answer, you weren’t quite sure what to say.

“I don’t… I don’t know,” you answered truthfully for the first time that morning, and it was almost refreshing to speak something that wasn’t just a blatant lie.

“It was just a one off, then?” Abigail furrowed her brows. Since she’d rejected Arthur’s offer, she’d been starting to feel some regret. He was indeed the best of the men, and she’d turned him away in favor of a man who left her. How silly that was… but she knows it’s too late, now.

“I hope not,” you said nervously, again with truth.

“You’re fond of him, we can all tell…”

You looked at them with surprise and a bit of alarm. “Since when?”

Karen leaned in on her elbows with a small giggle at your reaction. She quieted herself as to not draw more attention to this side of camp, in fears Miss Grimshaw would come force them all to start back on the chores.

“It’s funny, when we found out you weren’t a boy, everything kinda made sense,” she chuckled.

Abigail kept nodding along, her smile broadening. “You used to follow him around like a puppy, we all thought it was because you looked up to him, wanted to be like him.”

“Even I could tell, and I’d been pretty blinded by my own fondness of you,” Tilly joked, nudging you in the arm as you’d come to the realization that even under the guise of Texas Red, you had absolutely no subtlety.

“Was it that obvious?” you asked in annoyance with yourself. You dipped your head into your hands when they all nodded in the affirmative.

The girls were about to start round two of questions when Dutch and Hosea came out of the center tent, Dutch commanding the attention of all the members in the camp.

“Everyone, listen up!” His large and brutal steps seemed angry, and you waited patiently to find out why. “We’re moving camp!”

Everyone was immediately caught up in the new announcement, conquests of nights past becoming completely forgotten. Questions of ‘Why?’ and ‘What happened?’ were uttered, as this seemed very sudden. The cash flow from Agua Fria was rather booming, and it didn’t seem like there needed to be a move.

“I’ve just gotten word from Davey that the Pinkertons know we’re here. They’re looking for the camp as we speak, so we’ve got to go.”

His intense speech was followed by everyone leaving where they were, running around and trying to get things packed into the wagons, tents included.

You were new to the ‘being on the run’ part of outlaw life, as even before when you were just a gunslinger, the law never chased you. You’d earned a reputation for killin’ folk, but the law deemed you harmless when they found out that you only shot those who wanted to shoot you first. You’d not ever committed a real crime among the citizens, and even paid your way for everything. It was only after becoming a Van Der Linde that you figured you were about to be in trouble.

You had your entire living situation torn down and packed up within the hour, tying it all together and slinging it in the back of Arthur’s wagon. You came around the corner and saw that he was still packing up. Being here longer meant he had quite a few more belongings to take care of.

“Need some help?” You smiled at him, ready to lend a hand.

“You done already?” He responded to your question with one of his own, pleasant surprise in his expression.

“Not much to pack away,” you reasoned, no longer waiting for him to answer you as you started dismantling his cot and rolling up the canvas around the iron bar pieces.

You were happy to help him get done faster, you’re sure with his strength and size he’d be needed elsewhere soon. You did have a few questions for him, though.

“I don’t think I ever asked… When did you all get here?”

“Not long before you did, I reckon. We used to be able to stay years in the same spot, the law would never catch us…” he shook his head, tossing some picture frames he had into a sack. “Times are changin’ for folk like us.”

“You were here before me?” You asked in confusion. Obviously they were at the camp before you… but you’d been in Agua Fria for over a year yourself.

“Yeah, and we’d all heard the stories about Texas Red before we even met ya,” he chuckled, his speed increasing the more he saw other members of camp rushing with panic to get moving before sundown. “The day Dutch brought you back, I almost thought he was kiddin'.”

“Glad to know I made a good impression,” you teased, a laugh being huffed out with slight annoyance while you heaved his clothing chest up and into the wagon. Probably a heavier item you should have left for him, but then that wouldn’t be helping.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” He assisted you in shoving the chest further in the wagon, since you struggled just slightly, and didn’t want to bend over in your skirt. “I just had it in my head that you’d be all big n’ scary.”

“You mean more like you?” you taunted, giving him a smirk to show you didn’t actually think he was big and scary.

“I guess so,” he shook his head, throwing his sack of belongings in with the other junk. “But then I first saw you, talkin’ with Tilly and Abigail… you looked all scrawny and what not. I thought, this can’t be the kid I’ve been hearin’ about.”

“And what do you think of me now?” You asked honestly, stopping the haste of the afternoon for only a moment to share a gaze with someone special to you. He stopped too, a side smile pulling at his lips when he answered.

“I think you’re much scarier, now…” he trailed, reaching his hand to touch your hair where it had grown just below your ears.

“You think I’m scary?” You raised your eyebrows in disbelief, his eyes meeting yours.

“Terrifyin’...”

He started to get closer, and in the setting light of the day, you almost thought he might close the small gap, but then-

“Arthur!” Pearson’s shrill voice rang out loudly, and you flinched away from the moment, coming back to reality. “I need you over here!”

“Just give me a damn second!” He shouted back, but by the time he’d turned his attention to you again, you’d jumped away from him from the startle, and the moment was cut short. “I better get over there…”

“I’ll finish up for you,” you waved him off, moving to the barrel with his shaving kit. It was one of the last things that needed packing.

“I’ll owe ya,” he nodded, tipping his hat forward before having to run off.

He wouldn’t owe you a damn thing.

The gang traveled north and west for several days, until coming to a clearing in a nice little town called El Paso. What could be so great about this town? Well, for starters, the law was mighty thin in this region, and there were roads nearby that had rich folk traveling as well. Dutch said it was like an outlaw’s paradise…

He’d also mentioned there was a railway station in the next town over, something to look into.

Arthur had done so right away, leaving the newly set up camp for a few days to scope out the area and put on a good cover. He was always the best man for the job, so you couldn’t complain about him being away, but there was of course a downside. Neither you nor Arthur pulled a stunt in the new camp like you had at the old one, and with him being gone, it gave the men a bit of leeway to behave as they did before.

It wasn’t as sexual as it had been, but their bad attitudes towards you, and now that you’re seeing it, the other women as well, was atrocious. You’d been so blind to it all when you didn’t have to deal with it first hand, but now that you did, it was constant.

Bill was the worst, as you knew him to be. He often didn’t even wait for Miss Grimshaw to collect the laundry anymore, just throwing dirty shirts and trousers in your direction and telling you he needed it cleaned the next day.

“Not my job, not my problem,” you threw the articles of clothing at him every time, and every time he’d just scoff and go to the next woman, who would do as she was told because, even though you’d lucked out in skill, the others still had to earn their keep somehow.

Lucking out in skill didn’t even seem to be helping you recently. Every job you suggested you could help with, Dutch turned you down. It had even caused a fight with Hosea, who wanted you to go in his place.

Hosea had kept his distance with you when your secret was first revealed. Not to be cruel or unfair, but because you’d been embarrassed about the whole thing, and he could sense you didn’t want to open up to anyone right away.

He did, however, become far more acquainted with you on the journey to El Paso.

“I think you’re a mighty brave person, you know,” he’d struck up the conversation.

“Me? Brave? I just shoot folk,” you shook your head, watching the horses in front of you both as they towed the wagon you sat on. “Ain’t nothin’ brave about that.”

“Not for shootin’ folk… I think you’re brave for bein’ on your own as long as you were. Especially a young woman.”

“Well, I appreciate you sayin’ so… but nobody knew I was a young woman, it sort of helped.”

He’d nodded sweetly, giving you a smile and a pat on the shoulder. The gentle and comforting talks between you became common from then on.

Arthur had come back to the camp one morning, when everyone had woken, bringing a few different things. His first stop was Dutch, obviously, giving the intel over so a plan could be formed. The next job was going to be important. If it went down well, then this little town could be a great place to settle for the months to come, but if not, it would allow you all to know just how involved the law in this town actually was. You’d heard it wasn’t much.

When Arthur came out of Dutch’s tent, he made a beeline to you… or more specifically, your tent. He actually didn’t even see you sitting across from your living quarters when he approached it, but you watched him with great curiosity on what he was doing. He’d been distant since leaving Agua Fria and arriving here, and you wondered if he was trying to rectify that.

He left your tent just as quick as he went in, and met your eyes with a small nod and a soft smile. He’d been caught. He just went on his way after that, and didn’t even bother to greet you properly.

You furrowed your brows, dropping the rifle you were cleaning before going inside your tent. He obviously didn’t take anything, you knew that. You didn’t keep anything of value except for your pistol, thirty-two notches now carved into the stock, but you always kept it on you...

When you looked at your cot, you found only one thing out of place. A pretty orange flower laying against your rolled up woolen blanket. Its bottom petal was slightly bent, and you wondered if he had kept it in his satchel on the ride back to camp.

It was very sweet of him to think of you, and bring it back. You don’t think you’ve ever told him how much you like the color orange, but you reckon he just brought back the flower without even thinking about the color.

You wanted to go and thank him, to talk with him for the first time in several days. You missed him whenever he was gone… you always hoped he missed you, too. He probably missed everyone, but he brought you an orange flower.

He was somehow already on the other side of camp, hassling Pearson about something nonsensical you’re sure, getting the man riled up over probably nothing. Pearson was a decent guy, but he was a little obnoxious, so teasing him was something you could definitely condone. You thought about just marching up and breaking up the scene, but then thought it might be better to instead make a lesser deal of it, just like he did.

The men left the flower with no words to be said, so you’d thank him for it the same way… unless of course he broke the silence first.

You tucked the flower behind your ear, letting the orange color sit nicely against the similar shade of your hair. You ran over to Arthur’s shaving barrel, close to the edge of your living area, and checked how it looked before walking nonchalantly towards Pearson’s kitchen.

They were still grobbling over nothing, but when you came to the table, leaning forwards on it they both stopped.

“What can I do ya for, miss?” Pearson asked, having become a much kinder, albeit a little bit more sarcastic person to you since your secret came out.

“Just wondering what’s for dinner tonight…”

“How about that, Arthur, she wants to know what’s for dinner,” the man laughed, hands on his hips when he looked back to the younger counterpart.

“I’m goin, I’m goin,” he held his hands up in mock surrender, clearly knowing he was the one responsible for hunting today. He’d just gotten back, but of course they made him do damn near everything. “You wanna come with me, Red?”

“Me? Huntin’? I’ve never been, I’d probably scare ‘em off…” you resisted slightly, but knew that if he asked you a second time there would be no hesitation.

“I’ll teach ya,” he offered, nodding his head towards the horses. “Not like they’d get far with your shootin’, anyway.”

You followed him immediately, picking up your skirt and rushing up behind him. Hunting with Arthur seemed like a mighty good idea at first, until you realized Dutch would probably be upset with you for not finishing the rifles… Tossing it over in your head for only a moment more, you neglected the prospect of the rifles.

You could tell that Dutch was slowly trying to keep you out of the shooting jobs, even if you were the fastest gun in camp. Somehow learning you were not a man had tainted his idea of you… the one he’d spoken so highly of that first day to Arthur and Hosea. You supposed that going along with Arthur could only help you in the long run.

You went to saddle your horse, but he stopped you, a gentle hand on your wrist, letting go as soon as he had your attention. “We don’t need ‘em both, just ride with me.”

You nodded, doing as you were told and trying not to make a big deal out of it. He’d helped you up first, hands placed carefully at your waist when he heaved you upwards. He climbed up in front of you, and suddenly you didn’t know where to put your hands. You’d never ridden behind a saddle before, you never needed to.

“That’s a nice flower in your hair, by the way,” he muttered, not even looking back before grabbing the reins and leading the horse out of camp.

The train job had been decided, but not without long and strenuous arguments about the roles to be played.

The first draft of said plan excluded you, and you didn’t even have to wonder why. None of the other women were included, either.

The second draft of the plan included both you and Abigail, but as mere pawns instead of actual roles.

The final plan will go as follows:

Abigail is going to make it so that a certain man never boards the train with his colleague. Fair enough, she is definitely the woman for the job, as even having her in the near vicinity of a man is distraction enough. You will board the train with the colleague, and lead him to believe that you’re frightened of the journey ahead, getting him to drink with you and become more ‘comfortable.’ After that, it’s up to you to lure him to the back of the train, where Arthur, Bill, and Dutch will be waiting to interrogate this man, and find out where his private safe is. From there, Javier, who will be at the front of the train, will cause it to stop by sticking up the enginemen so you all can hop off at a designated point.

From there you’ll go find the man’s safe, and rob him before he even has a chance to understand what’s happened to him. This is the only chance you will have at this job, since the man in question will be leaving El Paso once and for all.

It sounds like a solid plan, except for the fact that it was suggested you don’t even need a gun.

“Of course she needs a gun, Dutch, she’s the fastest one here,” Hosea argued, a hand running over his face.

“If we’re not planning on shooting, what makes you think she needs to bring it with her? It could blow our cover,” Dutch insisted, arms waving around for emphasis. He didn’t even make a good point, because as it were, you always kept a gun on you in the holster on your thigh, a little present from the man you gave you flowers.

“You’re sending her to do the most dangerous part of the job, she needs a weapon.”

“If Abigail doesn’t need one, then she doesn’t need one, either,” Dutch reasoned, but that just made you chime in.

“Abigail should have one, too. Everyone involved on a job should have protective assurance, just in case,” you shrugged, uncrossing your arms and leaning on the table. “I don’t even leave camp without my pistol.”

Dutch sighed, having dug himself into a deeper hole the more he kept on talking. He was smart, and he had a way with words, but he wasn’t going to be able to pull something like this and now he knew it. You’d been attached to that pistol for far longer than you have been to the camp.

“Alright,” he nodded, continuing his explanation of what happens after they find the man’s personal safe.

The man in the plan was named Albert Templeton, and he apparently was a very wealthy man, looking to make it big in the west by covering as many territories as he could with his canning factories. From what Dutch says, he seems to be a very selfish, very ambitious, and very rich man.

You agree to this job, unknowing of the way it will unfold, but when you finally board that train, handing over your ticket with your hands shaking, you don’t know what to do, suddenly.

Everything is going according to plan, except for the fact that you have absolutely no experience in trying to get a man drunk on purpose.

“You look, a bit frightened, miss, are you alright?” Mr. Albert Templeton asked, right after you ‘accidentally’ bumped into him.

“Yes… Well, no… I’ve never been on a train before,” you huffed out, your stressed tone coming across perfectly for the job. “You seem like you’ve been on many.”

“That I have, my dear,” he smiled eerily, moving an unwanted hand to your hip to try and guide you to the bench he was sitting at. “Come and sit with me, perhaps I can ease your mind.”

“How gracious of you,” you played along, sitting down beside him in the seat closest to the window. You didn’t like feeling trapped between him and the wall, but there was no difference. You still had a gun up your leg if he tried anything stupid.

“So, where are you headed?”

“Oh,” you had forgotten to think of a backstory, so as quickly as you could, you made one up. “I’m going to visit my aunt. She’s very Ill, otherwise she would have come to see me. She knows I don’t like trains.”

“How unfortunate for her,” he nodded, snaking his arm behind you on the back of the bench seat, caging you in further. “I’m sure she’ll be happy for your company.”

“I hope so, we’ve always been a great comfort to one another.”

The conversation kept on like this for a while, until you realized you were getting closer and closer to the point of which Dutch needed him in the back, but he hadn’t even gotten to the bar of the train car yet.

“Would you have a drink with me, sir? I feel that maybe it would ease my nerves a bit.”

He laughed, a smile on his face when he leaned back to you. “I never drink on trains. But I would be much obliged to buy you one, yourself.”

You started to panic from there.

You smiled at him and nodded, getting him to stand up… however, before you got him to the bar, you tried to carefully and quietly take your gun from its holster, pressing it against the rib of the man before you. He froze, knowing what was happening immediately.

“Don’t make a sound. Just keep walking until I tell you to stop, you hear?”

He nodded, making his way to the end of the car, going into the next one, and the next one after that until you could see three familiar faces sitting and waiting for you.

“What the hell is this?” Dutch asked, his eyes narrowing in on the gun in your hand.

“He wouldn’t drink, had to come up with something else.”

Arthur ran a hand over his face. This is why you usually rode with him. You did things the way he would, and not with the gentle and intelligent touch of a female outlaw like Abigail. For all intents and purposes, you'd always been a man, and this was breaking the cycle for you.

“Please don’t hurt me, I have nothing you could want.”

“The hell you don’t,” Dutch manhandled Albert onto a cargo box, pulling his own gun and holding it to strike fear into the man. “We’ve heard about the safe.”

“What safe?” He played dumb, and then Dutch immediately got angry.

“You see? This is why he needed to be drunk!” Dutch took out his anger for the situation on you, even though the majority of this was not your fault.

“Told ya, she should be back at camp fixing buttons and shit with the others,” Bill shook his head, and you were about to pull your gun in his direction if he said another word.

“He wouldn’t drink, it ain’t her fault. She still got him to us… I say we make him talk,” Arthur stood up, clenching his fists and intimidating the man by coming closer. “S’nothing I ain’t used to.”

“Do what you can, Arthur… and you,” Dutch pointed in your direction, his brow still angry. “Go back up there and make sure no one saw you pull that gun.”

You nodded, taking yourself away from the scene in order to keep your composure. Arthur stood up for you, but you could tell that even he was upset about straying from the plan. This was a big job, with many key elements. One thing going wrong could ruin it all.

You made your way back, but saw Javier rushing towards you in the bar car, his gun out as he tried to reach you.

“Brooks,” he started to shove you back to the car you came from, and just over his shoulder you could see the men trailing not too far behind, looking like train security. “We have to go, they know we’re here.”

You started rushing for the last car again, tripping over your skirts here and there. This dress was not practical, and was far too formal for a job like the one you were pulling. You much preferred the one Arthur bought you, but Dutch insisted it didn’t ‘sell the story’ that you were trying to tell.

“Why in God’s name are you back here?”

Dutch didn’t have a minute to grill you, because Javier took the floor first.

“They know we’re here, there’s about five men heading this way, now. Maybe more.”

Arthur sighed heavily, pulling his fist back to his side. He’d only hit Mr Albert Temlpeton a few times, but it seemed the job was going south, and he hadn’t said anything anyway.

“Arthur, turn him loose, the rest of you, find cover… we’re gonna have to shoot our way out.”

Albert taking off through the doors only allowed the train guards to know exactly where you all were hiding. With guns blazing, the five of you were able to get past the small group that had headed for you… but once you got to the civilian travel cars, there were more, and they had bigger guns, too. You got scared to pull a gun in a heavily crowded train car, especially one that had innocent men, women, and children inside. You held your aim, like always, but got scared when the second round of guards came for you.

“Drop your weapons!” The man at the front of them shouted. “Get on the ground, now!”

“Or maybe we could walk right through,” Dutch was the first to shoot, nailing the man right in the face. It was challenging to stay focused on the task at hand, when so many people were screaming.

A child was crying, and most everyone was just trying to duck in their seats as the bullets flew. You were too scared to shoot at first, seeing the windows break around you, and the high speed of the train causing the winds to blow inside the car, making it hard to hear anything.

You tried to hold your ground, knowing you were a better shot than anyone here… but there comes a time in everyone’s life, when the chaos prevents them from doing the one thing they know how to… this was that moment for you. Everything was caving in. You’d completely ruined this job, and it was going haywire because of you. You put your friends, no, family, in a very dangerous position, and most of all, you put innocent men, women, and children on the front lines to fend for themselves. All because you strayed from the plan.

You saw it, but it was too late… the man had pulled his gun directly towards you, and you barely had any time to react this time. You still fired first, and still shot him dead first, but his bullet still left the barrel, skewing downwards because of your own shot, and hitting you directly by your left hip.

You collapsed into a seat, trying to get yourself back up. You started bleeding profusely with every steep movement you made, and once the last Guard had been shot down, Arthur saw what happened to you.

“Red!” he shouted, reaching for your body, making sure you’d not been hit badly. He was relieved to see it was a hip shot, but the amount of blood concerned him greatly. “Can you stand?”

“I can try,” you groaned out, holstering your gun before using him as a lift.

The others went to the front of the car, not wasting any time, but as soon as they looked through the broken window, they could see more men quickly approaching.

“Shit, we can’t stop the train.”

“We’ll have to jump from the back of this car,” Javier responded to Dutch, who was pacing back and forth, glaring daggers at you out of the corner of his eyes.

“Are we close enough to the exit point?”

“It doesn’t matter, the ground is even now, we need to jump before the bridge.”

Arthur was freaking out, trying to hold pressure to your hip and hold you upright, while they were talking about jumping off a train. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so stressed out about a job before.

You start to get light headed suddenly, and sway in his hold, trying to keep yourself balanced, though the train is making it hard to do that anyways.

The sound becomes fuzzy, but you can here when Dutch calls everyone back to the door of the cabin car.

“Stay with me,” Arthur tells you, watching your head tilt forward and your eyes get heavy. He knew you would pull through, because even though you were losing a decent amount of blood, you were still on your feet, moving along with him. You were a fighter, he’d known since he met you. Probably because you liked fighting him on damn near everything he said.

He stood at the edge of the rail, the only thing separating the gang from jumping the transport was a little dingy chain that hooked onto the edge of the cabin car.

“It’s up here!” Javier shouted, removing the chain and getting ready to disembark.

“We gotta jump, Red,” he tried to keep you conscious, and you nodded, but you were clearly too weak to do this yourself right now.

You felt yourself being tucked closer to Arthur, his arms coming around you. You finally closed your eyes, unsure if they would even stay open on their own anymore. Then there was a lift and a jump. You felt the air around you flying fast until the wind got knocked out of you, hitting the ground. Arthur took the harder fall, but to be fair, he hadn’t been shot.

You opened your eyes in a rush of adrenaline, but once you caught your breath, it started to fade again.

Everyone stood up, including you, but you were still wobbling back and forth.

“Well,” Dutch looked to Bill and Javier, “We’re alive, but we got nothing.”

“S’all the girl’s fault,” Bill spat out some blood from his bleeding lip and shook his head.

You didn’t even have the motivation to call him out right now. Didn’t have the energy to stand, either. Before Arthur could even steady you, your head started throbbing, and you hit the ground again, hand over your open wound.

The sounds were familiar when you came to. The usual ruckus of the camp, nothing strange or out of the ordinary… except for when you tried to sit up you were immediately pushed back down. You had a look around and saw that you were not in your tent, but lying in Arthur’s cot. His gentle push was what kept you laid back, and you saw the look on his face when he found out you were awake.

“Don’t get up, I gotta fix you so ya don’t bleed out.”

You didn’t say anything, just obeyed his instruction.

He’d gotten that stupid puffed sleeve nonsense off of you, leaving you in a corset and chemise and a small petticoat. Of which he was having a hard time figuring out how to untie.

“I’ll get it,” you leaned up slightly, groaning when you did. You untied the petticoat, and worked off the corset while you were at it. Being in a chemise and bloomers in front of the camp wasn’t an irregular thing, as it was standard sleepwear when on the run. There were not many normalities when being an outlaw, but even still, you nearly felt embarrassed being in such a skimpy state of dress, especially when he wasn’t even done.

He looked to you, his hands on the hem of your chemise, and you nodded to him in permission.

He pulled it back, only enough to see where the blood was seeping through. His face twisted in disgust of the wound before shaking it off and getting to work. You laid back and waited, knowing that when all was said and done, you didn’t want to watch yourself get stitched up. You’d never had to do it to yourself before, and thank God for that.

“It was stupid, what you did…” He brought up, cleaning the wound with some whiskey on a rag.

“I know,” you winced, squeezing your eyes shut. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

He paused his wording, unsure of what else to say to you. He’s sure getting shot was a revelation for you that you weren’t invincible, but he also wanted you to know you weren’t blameless in this endeavor, either.

“You got some innocent folk killed today.”

When the first and second stitch went in, you were about ready to die. Him telling you this was not helping with the outstanding pain.

“You know I never meant for it to happen…” you trailed, thinking about those poor children that you heard screaming in the train today. Such a sad and significant moment, and you’ll never forget it. You knew you’d been the one to cause them such distress, and some of those innocent folk were dead now.

“You sure about that?” He looked up at you from his task, his hands still gently working your skin back together. His actions and words confused you, because they were so opposite right now, and you didn’t know why.

“What do you mean?” You met his gaze, a furrowed brow on your face.

“As I see it… you used to kill a lotta folk just for fun before I met you.”

Why is he even bringing this up? You’d told him why you did what you did, and how much of a toll it took on you… so why now, when all this has transpired, would he bring up the origins of your gunslinger facade?

“Arthur… I did what I had to. They would have killed me first. I ain’t never started a duel in my life, n’ you know that,” you reminded him, and he seemed to understand that it was wrong of him to say. He didn’t apologize, though… just kept on with what he felt he needed to say.

“Look, all I’m sayin is… you had one job today, and it felt like you went off the road just to spite Dutch,” he argued, tying off the thread that pulled your skin closed. There was still cleaning to be done around the wound, and some sort of bandage would need to be applied, just in case of excess bleeding… but you sat up, stopping him from finishing anything.

“Is that what he told you?” you asked, referring to Dutch, of course.

“No, I was wonderin about it myself.”

“I wasn’t tryna get anybody hurt. Dutch used to put me riding with you, remember? I always did good. Now he wants me to do a job he thinks a woman is suited for, and I’m not so good anymore. Why do you think that is?” You asked, the annoyance written all over your face and dripping in your words.

“You could’ve called it off. We could have just told Javier to come back and wait it out until the next station. We’ve bailed on jobs before when it got too dangerous…” he explained, his voice raising just slightly again to meet your level of ferocity.

You took a second to breathe when he spoke. In all honesty, you’d never had to leave a job before, because when you started riding with them as Texas Red, the jobs always went through. No one told you about the bail out rule.

“I didn’t know that...”

“Well you should’ve at least told us he wouldn’t drink. Then you wouldn’t be to blame.” He didn’t quite meet you at the calm state, his anger still peeking, even when yours had come down. Saying what he just said was about to make matters so much worse, though.

“You think I’m to blame?”

“I think you played a massive part in this shit hole, yeah…” he huffed out, nodding his head and looking at you as if that should somehow get you to agree with him.

“I don’t wanna hear this anymore,” you scoffed, standing to your feet and grabbing your belongings. You felt the sting of the stitches pulling, and tried to be mindful of them, but the way he was speaking to you, especially while you bled on his cot, was not something you could take.

“Get back here, I ain’t finished cleanin’ you up.” He stood to his feet, trying to take steps after you, but even injured, you were stubborn and quick on your feet, pulling away from his reach.

“Abigail will help me.”

“You stubborn ass, why can’t you ever just listen when you’re wrong?” He shouted after you, which had you turning on your heel to shout back to his face.

“Maybe because I’m not!”

Your face didn’t even read anger as much as in did pain. Not the physical kind. The ailments you faced with your body, you took like a champ… but this pain in your heart and mind was far more complicated, and when he saw how saddened you were by him, he didn’t know what to do… but of course, his anger was still rising, though yours turned to something else.

“Damnit, Red… you’re gonna find yourself in a nice deep hole someday, and you’ll have pushed away everyone that cares to help you out of it.”

“I can climb out of it myself, then.” You muttered, taking the steps back to him so he could really look you in the eye when you said this… “I used to think you cared about me… wanted to help me. But you’re just like him.”

“Like who?” he asks, jutting his chin out for a moment to seem tough.

“You’re just like Dutch… just want me to play the part of the sweet little pet that lures the men into your jobs. I won’t do it… I can’t do it, clearly.”

“That ain’t what this is about,” He grabbed your wrist as you went to turn away again, and you pulled it loose. “You know I think you’re talented with that gun.”

“Then why don’t you ever fight for me to use it? Why is it that every time Dutch wants to make me into something I’m not, you stand by and watch it happen?” You weren’t meaning it as a hypothetical question, you really wanted an answer. Standing here, the camp noise having been drowned out by your argument, you watched as he searched for something to say, but he couldn’t find anything… nothing that could save him, at least. “That’s what I thought… just stay away from me, Arthur.”

“Red?”

“Leave me alone!”

You took to the new town, the argument with Arthur the days prior still fresh on your mind. You knew you’d messed everything up, and it was most definitely your fault. You can only see it now, Dutch giving a big speech while you’re away to convince everyone that you shouldn’t be doing big jobs anymore. If only he’d just given you Javier’s place on the train, and had Abigail or Karen go after Albert Templeton, the gang might be a couple thousand bucks richer right now.

You’d not just taken to the town as the girl they wanted you to be, because that girl didn’t exist.

There was only the girl you grew up as, and Texas Red, no in-between. It wasn’t the sweet Miss Brooks going into the bustling saloon of El Paso, it was Texas Red, the unkillable.

Maybe that’s where you’d gone all wrong. Wearing dresses, letting your hair start to grow, and even wiping the muck off your face whenever it gets there… you’d practically handed them a reason to treat you differently.

All of this is your fault. The mistreatment, the exclusion, the job gone wrong, everything.

It’s the heavy weight on your mind when you roll up to the bar, gun hanging heavy on your hip, the now thirty-three notches becoming a bigger and stronger presence every time you reach for it.

“Whiskey, double,” you knocked on the wooden bar slab, a grimace on your face while waiting for the drink. You put the money down immediately, just as always. It became a habit as soon as interruptions became common anytime you went for a whiskey.

You threw back the first drink then ordered another, throwing that one back, too. You got into a steady rhythm until there was a tap on your shoulder.

You turned around, eyes becoming glazed, and hands becoming tightly fisted. Whoever was bothering you has no idea how much of a mood you’re in, but if they aren’t careful, they’re gonna end up dead.

“Hey, I know you,” the man spoke. He looked to be about early forties, with silver lines in his dark hair, and smile lines over his cheeks.

You gave him a look, up and down, before you decided he was mistaken.

“No, you don’t.” You turned back to the bar, but he tapped your shoulder again, and the pistol at your side was feeling oh so heavy, waiting for your hand to pull it.

“Yeah, I’ve seen you,” he laughed, a broad and excited smile. “You’re that Texas Red fellar from down in Agua Fria.”

“Just ‘cuz I got red hair, it don’t make me Texas Red,” you slurred, slightly, the alcohol buzzing your senses, but not your reflexes. Your hands are practically itching to shoot something, or someone, and this guy seems like the perfect target.

“Nah, I know s’you,” he seemed a little drunk, too… but probably not drunk enough to walk away. “Seen your face when you shot that farmer.”

“Farmer?” You don’t even recall a farmer-

“Robert Sims… good man that fellow,” he droned on, seemingly hesitant to get to the point. “But you were the better shot.”

“M’sorry if he was a friend’a yours,” you gave condolences, hoping it would shoo him away, but as you remember, they never go away. “I didn’t wanna shoot ‘im.”

“Nah, he wanted to shoot you,” the man nodded, backing away only slightly before pulling his coat back, revealing a pistol of his own, right on his hip. No notches. “I wanna shoot you, too.”

You rolled your eyes and heaved a breath, looking to the man with a direct gaze. “You’re too drunk, you’ll die.”

He tapped the wooden counter, where your unfinished drink was sitting. “You’ve been drinkin’ too, been watchin’ ya.”

“So you think it’s fair?” You laughed, knowing you were nowhere near drunk enough to miss even a moving target, and be fast enough to hit him first. Maybe your fingers had been itchin’ for a reason, and this was it.

Shooting this man may not bring you joy, but it would bring some security. You’re still as good as they say, despite Dutch and some of the others back at camp. You’re still Texas Red, and you’re still unkillable. Earning the respect of this town, just as you did in Agua Fria would bring you that feeling of confidence that you had slowly been losing in the gang.

“I think I like my chances,” he quipped, earning some oohs from the crowd in the bar. By now you both held almost every ear within the reach of your voices, and the attention was deafening.

They always say that… Why do they always say that?

“Alright,” you turned back to the bar, slamming your drink. “Let’s take it outside.”

The cheering, followed by the chants of your challenger’s name were louder than you expected. They don’t know you, but they will.

You set your pistol, taking thirty paces away from your opposer. As soon as you turn around, there’s a silence amongst the whole town. You watch the man’s hands, the alcohol doing nothing to stop your trigger fingers from getting ready. You never draw first. It’s already an unfair fight, why make it worse?

“Need me to count?” the man says, and you shake your head, thinking you ought to just shoot him. He’s an obnoxious bastard, but he’s cocky and confident, you’ll give him that.

“I ain’t one for countin’,” you yelled, and saw that he almost seemed a little nervous, now. He was always nervous, but now it was on his face. He was drunk, and this was stupid. You should just shoot him in the hand and let him walk away… but you don’t.

You’ve been angry since what happened with Arthur, and you have to take it out somehow. If you can’t drink in peace without ass-hats like this bothering you, then you just have to take care of the ass-hats.

Suddenly, you see his hand dip, gripping the stock and beginning to pull it. You reacted like always, your hand on autopilot while your brain was elsewhere.

The man was dead in less than a second, and you came back to reality with a hammering soberness once the shot rang out.

Thirty-four....

It was the adrenaline, finally kicking in, only long enough to give you a moment of clarity… and looking up from the dead man, across the way by the general store, stood Arthur. He was probably getting supplies for the camp.

He’d stopped to watch, a look of disappointment on his face. He doesn’t think himself a good man, but he’s never had to go from town to town, striking fear into those he meets. He tries to be kind when he can, earning the trust of people, unlike you. You haven’t even earned the trust of the people in camp. You’ve lied to all of them.

The crowd’s cheers and encouragement pull you out of your haze, and a man jumps in front of you, separating your vision of Arthur. You didn’t want to see his sad eyes, anyways.

Everyone pulls you back inside the saloon, and the music strikes back up again… maybe this ain’t so bad after all.

Ten drinks is a lot for anyone, but especially for you, who already had multiple drinks upon first walking into the saloon. No one else dared challenge you, nor did they want to. The drunker you got, the crazier you seemed to act, your reserved gunslinger facade melted right away, and you turned into something of a wild man. The people were very entertained by your stories, the ones about Agua Fria, and then of course traveling with a gang to explore the west. You left names out, of course. Just because you were drunk, didn’t mean you were stupid.

It was after you started stuttering over your feet that two working girls came up to you. They were some of the most gorgeous women you’d ever seen, busty around the chest, with low necklines, and stunning faces framed by their bouncy brushed out hair.

“Can I help you ladies?” You tipped your hat to them, a smirk on your lips from the last joke you told to the crowd.

“We were hopin’ we could help you,” The blonde one spoke, and with a smile she started to lean against your arm. “We’ll knock the price for two…”

“That’s very kind’a you, but I ain’t gettin’ a room,” you told them, the same excuse you always had used for women of the night in Agua Fria.

“We’ll get the room, handsome… just pay the price of one for a night,” the brunette girl said, trying to hang off your shoulder, running her hands over it. You had to slide back into the bar to avoid getting her hands on your chest. If she did then you’d be in deep shit.

“How about I make a trip back here some other time, then I’ll come n’ see you two?”

The blonde girl didn’t seem to be holding back, her lips trailing mighty close to your ear. You always knew how to play the part, but you never expected that women would be falling over you this way. It was both alarming and reassuring.

“You sure? Why don’t we just take a ride out back?”

You were getting woozy, the way they pulled at your arms while you were leaning against the bar was swirling your head.

“There ya are, Red!” Came a familiar voice from the side of you. “Knew I’d find you in here…”

“Arthur?” Your vision was only slightly fuzzy, but you could always make out the clear silhouette of the most towering and strongly built man you knew.

“Thanks for findin’ my brother, girls,” he played it off, reaching for your arm to pull you forward. You resisted him at first. “C’mon Red, let’s get you a nice place to sleep tonight.”

“No,” you pulled out of his grasp, unwilling to be manhandled by the same person who told you all those awful things just a few days ago. “I wanna stay with my new friends.”

“They ain’t your friends, kid. C’mon, let’s go.” He tugged you forwards, heaving you up to stand on your own two feet, before picking you up like a hay bale, letting you dangle under his arm as he made his way for the stairs.

“Hey! Let me down!” You cried, squirming in his hold.

He’d already paid for a room for the night, but getting you up there was hell. “Would you stop fightin’ me?”

“No, I wanna go back downstairs…” You trailed, getting stood upright again as he shoved you into a room and closed the door.

“If you do that, Texas Red is as good as dead.”

He locked the door and made sure to put a chair under the knob. He didn’t necessarily know how the folk in this town behaved yet. You’d seen more of it than he had since arriving.

“Ain’t no man ever killed me,” You droned on, your words pouring out like that of a child, with little to no thought.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“You mean them pretty girls that wanted to take me for a ride?” You laughed, letting him push you until you were sat on the bed. He knelt down and helped you take your boots off before tugging your hat from your head, throwing it in a chair.

“S’not the kinda ride you were thinkin’,” he sighed, unsure of if you even knew how drunk you were.

“You mean the other kinda ride?” Your obnoxious and bellaring voice could nearly pierce the walls when you were this inebriated.

“Would you stop bein’ so damn loud? Whole place is gonna hear you n’ yer blabberin’...”

“You’re just jealous cuz the girls were fallin’ all over me instead’a you.”

He rolled his eyes with a scoff. Those girls were seein’ an easy target. They thought you were a man they could distract and rob, and maybe have a little fun with along the way.

“I’m sure that’s it… lay down and shut up, will ya?” He shoved you back into the bed, and you groaned, your head hitting even the soft pillows was jarring, and you were sure you’d be feeling it tomorrow.

You figured you better do as you were told, with this situation feeling less ideal the more sober you got. Each minute passed by made you realize just how much shit you would be in with him once you woke up tomorrow. Still, you were drunk enough to start raking over all the earlier thoughts that lead you here in the first place.

“Arthur?”

“What?” He laid back on the other side of the bed, crossing his arms and trying to rest… but of course you weren’t done.

“Do you think I’d be better if I were a real man?”

“No, I do not.” He huffed, his tone flat and his motionless figure unchanging.

“Why?” You turned on your side to look at him, and boy, he looked handsome in this light. Barely illuminated through a window, but you could see the dark outline of his features.

“You’re just fine as a woman,” he claimed, still unchanging in position.

“But everyone hates me as one, they love when I’m him.” You liked being him, too. You were confident as Texas Red. Stronger, Faster. Braver…

“They don’t hate ya, they just have different ideas about ya… not that it’s right.” He thought that maybe you’d drop it from here, maybe pick it up another time when he was less tired, and you were more in your right mind.

“What are your ideas?”

“Huh?” He finally turned to face you, unsure of what you were even talking about.

“About me… what are your ideas?”

“Well… I happen to think you’re real strong, and smart. I think you’ve got gifts that even I don’t understand, and you’re good at using ‘em… I also think you’re a caring person, even when you shouldn’t be.” He listed only the things that came to mind, but he knew there were so many more that he was only not remembering.

“Those are all good things…” You supposed.

“Guess so,” he nodded, watching your face contort, as if you were debating on telling him something. You were still stone cold drunk, even if there was a hint of normalcy to you at this point. You wouldn’t remember any of it tomorrow, of that he was sure.

“I think I love you, Mister Morgan,” you let out, looking at him, but not waiting for a reaction. Even in your tarnished state, you’d just wanted him to know what you were feeling.

“No you don’t, s’just the whiskey,” he argued, his whole body tensing up in fear of how to respond to this drunken revelation. Drunk words are sober thoughts. Everyone knows that.

“I do, I love ya more than anything,” you rambled on, completely entranced with the silhouette of him against the cool light of the moonlit windowsill.

“If you really do, you gotta tell me when you’re sobered up,” he instructed. He wanted it to be true, hell, he’d thought it might have been true when first arriving here… but the train job seemed to put you both at square one again, and he was getting tired of it. There was so much he wanted to say to you, but he couldn’t risk being wrong about you feeling the same way. He’s lost too much love in this life to blindly pursue it again. He was tired of getting his heart stomped on.

“I’ll tell you… Swear it,” you crossed your heart, giving him a doe eyed smile. “Do you love me?”

“I can’t tell you yet,” he shook his head, looking back up to the ceiling.

“But I told you…”

“I know, sweet girl… just be patient, alright? I’m gonna get there, promise.”

You nodded, turning on your own back and staring up at the ceiling, a single crack in the painted plaster going along the corner of it, keeping you distracted enough to stop thinking about Arthur and fall asleep next to him.

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