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sjsmith56 · 2 days ago

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Assignment Bucky Barnes, Chapter 3 - The Gift

Summary: Bucky surprises Ariel with a gift, then admits he’s fallen quickly for her. Fearing for her objectivity, she consults Merton, her supervisor.

Length: 5.7 K

Characters: Ariel, named OFC, Bucky, Merton, Peri.

Warnings: Warning bells about Bucky’s intensity, concerns about Ariel’s objectivity.

Author notes: All sorts of foreshadowing here but good luck trying to figure it out, lol. We’re also peeling back the layers of Bucky Barnes, what he lets others see about him. Ariel has impressed him already which is one of the reasons he’s so open with her.

<<Chapter 2

Ariel laid in bed for some time the following morning. She could hear Merton get up and prepare breakfast. He knocked on the door and stuck his head in.

"I made some scrambled eggs," he said. "They're in the oven keeping warm. Come down whenever you're ready. It won't be busy until after lunch. I'll pick something up from the delicatessen for us."

As she watched the beams of the sun move across the room she revelled in the relative quiet of the room. Bucky was right about that, there was a distant hum of traffic but it was a rather calming sound, almost white noise-like. Her thoughts drifted towards all manner of things. She thought of the number of exceptional people born and raised in this time period considering how their abilities arose even with the limitations of the educational and health systems. For all the atrocities that would be uncovered by the coming war there were also signs of extraordinary growth and determination in this generation of people. After a while she decided to rouse herself and stepped out of the bed, going over to the window to look outside, finding a flower, a daisy, on her windowsill.

"That didn't get there by itself," she said out loud and looked around to see if her benefactor, presumably Bucky, was still around but there was no sign of him.

Smiling she brought it in and went to the kitchen, filling a glass with water and putting the daisy in it. She brought it back into the bedroom and placed it on her night stand, touched by the sentiment. Pulling a journal out of the nightstand drawer she entered a note about it, writing it as one would write a diary entry, in case someone from this time read it. She would ask Merton if he knew the symbolism of a daisy. Gathering her clothes together Ariel went to the bathroom and undressed, then turned on the shower, and stepped in to clean herself. When she finished she wrapped her hair in a towel and dried off, then dressed in the bathroom. Back in her room she put some lotion on her face then combed her hair out and pinned it in place. Prior to her arrival in this time her hair underwent a process that would allow the curls to remain in as her hair dried naturally. It was necessary considering that her hair was normally quite straight but the women of this time did their hair up on a regular basis to curl it, a skill not shared by Ariel. She rather liked how it looked and wondered if she could continue with the process after her return. Going into the kitchen she opened the oven and took out the food that Merton left for her. The eggs were still tasty and along with a couple of pieces of toast and a coffee were enough to satisfy her. After washing and drying the dishes she put them away then headed down to the shop where Merton was trying to repair a broken chair. He looked up at her as she entered the store.

"I found this the other day on my way to the garage," he said. "Just left out on the street. It's a perfectly good chair and I'm sure I can fix it enough for someone to buy it. Look at the carving on the wood."

She leaned in closer and smiled at him. Certainly in their time something like this was seen as a symbol of quality workmanship. She had a couple of pieces of furniture herself from an earlier time, an end table from the 1960s and a Bauhaus inspired chair.

"How well does this business do?" she asked.

"Not bad," he answered. "Enough to pay the bills for the space and the apartment, plus food. The van was bought with cash about three years after I got here. I get gold jewelry from time to time, that I sell to a dealer as it's worth more than trying to sell it as jewelry. What would you like to do?"

"Dusting?" she said, looking at some of the furniture for sale.

He nodded and took her into the back room where he half filled a pail with water, put some Lysol in it and gave her three rags, one to wash the dusty surfaces, the other to dry them, and the third to apply a few drops of liquid furniture polish to bring out the sheen of the wood.

"If you try to dust with just a dry cloth it all flies up in the air," he said. "The solution will clean the surface. You better put some rubber gloves on to protect your hands."

She began at the other end of the store, starting with the furniture that was on display in the window. At one point she came back to Merton and asked if he had a jacket or large shirt to protect her dress and he went into the back room again, returning with a large apron that tied around her neck and waist. After putting that on she resumed cleaning and was doing that when Bucky knocked on the front window to get her attention. She smiled and gestured for him to come inside.

"Hi," she said, as he walked in the door. "Is it lunch break already?"

"It is for me," he said. "I have something for you but you have to close your eyes and raise your hands."

She looked at Merton and he raised his eyebrows. After taking off her gloves she stood patiently, closed her eyes, and Bucky reached inside his coveralls bringing out a ginger coloured kitten. Gently placing it on her hands he stepped back to see her reaction. Immediately opening her eyes, she smiled.

"Oh my goodness, you brought me a kitten!" she said excitedly as she placed the kitten against her chest and began to stroke its head. "What is its name?"

"Whatever you want," he said. "It's a female. It reminded me of your hair."

Ariel continued making a fuss over it and Merton realized she wasn't acting. The act had truly touched her even though she was expecting it.

"Why don't you two go on up to the apartment," said Merton. "I'll go pick our lunch up at the delicatessen. Bucky, can I get you something there as well? My treat."

"Sure, a smoked meat sandwich would go down good," he replied. "Thank you."

Ariel and Bucky went up to the apartment while Merton locked the store up and put the Closed for Lunch sign out then headed for the delicatessen. Up in the apartment Ariel put a saucer out on the floor and poured a bit of milk in it for the kitten. She looked at Bucky with what he thought was a beautiful smile.

"Thank you," she said. "I'll have to think of a name."

She came close and beckoned him to bend over, putting a soft kiss on his cheek. He smiled at her and sat at the kitchen table while she put some fresh coffee on. Her apron was still on and Bucky watched her intently as she measured out the ground coffee in the pot and poured the boiling water on then let it sit. As she opened the cupboard she had to reach for some cups but they were too high up so Bucky came over and stood next to her, reaching above her outstretched hand then gave her the cups. His fingers reached for her hair again and he played with her curls.

"You're so beautiful," he said in a low voice.

"I'm sure you say that to a lot of girls," she said, looking away.

"It's true with you," he replied, then leaned down to her face again and kissed her softly, gently touching his tongue to hers, lingering longer than the kiss the previous day.

The cigarette taste was stronger this time but she didn't have a chance to ask him about it. They heard the sound of the door at the bottom of the stairs opening and he stopped the kiss, stepping back a little then sitting down at the table again. Ariel felt her cheeks go hot and turned away, wondering why she was reacting that way. She had been kissed before, harder and more passionately than that. What was it about this kiss that made her feel weak inside? Merton came in with the food and placed it on the table. If he noticed anything between them he didn't say. Ariel put some plates on the table while Merton brought out sandwiches for each of them, along with a pickle each. The coffee was ready and Ariel strained it into another pot then poured each of them a cup. She sat down and picked up the sandwich.

"We don't have these in Missoula," she said. "I've always wanted to try one." She bit into it and both Bucky and Merton watched her face as her eyes grew wide. She chewed for several moments before swallowing. "That is so good! I can't believe how tender and tasty the meat is."

Bucky took a bite and nodded his head in appreciation. For several minutes none of them spoke as they ate the meal. Keeping his eye on the clock Bucky ate quickly then suddenly finished his coffee.

"I have to go," he said. "It will take me a while to run back to the docks. Mr. Burnett, I'm more than happy to meet Ariel at the Library to get her home safely tonight."

Merton glanced at Ariel and then looked at Bucky with an appraising gaze. "It's out of your way, isn't it?" he asked.

"Not really," said Bucky. "I'm sparring at the gym tonight. It's only a couple of blocks from there."

"Well, I was hoping to begin restoring a painting that I acquired," he said. "It's badly stained from cigarette smoke and I wanted enough time to give it a preliminary cleaning this evening. Ariel, are you alright with Bucky walking you home?"

Ariel tried not to seem eager even though she felt a surge of anticipation in her stomach. "Yes, that would be kind of him," she said.

"Alright, thanks Bucky," said Merton. "Take your time. Looks like it will be a beautiful evening tonight."

Bucky stood up to go and Ariel offered to walk him down to the street. At the bottom of the stairwell he leaned over her again and this time the kiss was more forceful, as he gripped her arm and kissed her firmly, pressing his soft lips onto hers. When he was finished he caressed her face with his hand.

"So beautiful," he whispered. "I'll see you at nine."

"Bucky," she said, just as he was about to leave. "Thank you for the daisy."

He smiled softly. "I don't know what you're talking about." Then he was gone and she watched him run in the direction towards the docks.

Smiling she closed the door and went up the stairs. Merton was just finishing up his sandwich and looked appraisingly at her.

"He's moving fast," he said. "You sure you can remain detached enough to get impartial observations?"

"I have to admit that he is having an effect on me," she stated. "Is this normal behaviour for him ... buying a girl a kitten? I didn't tell you earlier but he left a daisy on my windowsill. He must have dropped it off before I woke up. I thanked him for it but he said he didn't know what I was talking about it."

Merton studied her. "A daisy?" he said. "That's something new. I have a book in the store about the language of flowers. I'll look it up. To be honest, he's not following his usual routine with you. He started out as he normally does, with the wolf whistle and calling you doll but since that first day he's been more respectful. Did you do anything that would have him change his opinion of you in any way?"

"What do you mean?" Her brow furrowed slightly as she struggled slightly to understand the meaning behind his question.

"What you saw of him on the afternoon we arrived here reflected his usual attitude towards women," said Merton. "Dominant, somewhat flippant in tone, like he knows exactly what he's doing. Yet, when he walked you home yesterday he had Steve with him, not a frequent occurrence when he's with a lady as many don't care for Steve. He kissed you but you said it was very respectful. Did he kiss you goodbye before he went back to work?"

"Yes, it was more intense but still not disrespectful," she said. "When we were walking after stopping at the pet store window yesterday I did take Steve's arm. Bucky thanked me for that, saying a lot of women don't like him. Steve is just shy but he's as much a gentleman as Bucky. He's been touching my hair as well. I should ask him why."

"Hmmm," said Merton. "Let me think on this for a bit. Come down to the shop when you've finished eating. I'll look up that flower in the book."

Ten minutes later Ariel joined Merton in the shop and he tossed the book towards her, opened to the page about daisies.

"New beginnings and true love," he said. "I think he has actual feelings for you."

"Is that alright? Or did you want it to be more of a physical relationship?" asked Ariel.

"It's unexpected," he said. "Historically we weren't aware of him having any significant relationships. It doesn't mean there weren't any just that nothing was ever noted down."

"Do you want me to turn him down and only observe from a distance?" she asked.

He considered her question for some time then made a decision. "No, let it progress," he said. "It could be an infatuation or it could be a brief and intense relationship that ends as quickly as it started. Keep yourself as detached and objective as possible without making it seem clinical. If it is something else then it's a new aspect to Bucky Barnes that was never noticed before and you will have contributed to a new line of research."

Satisfied with that answer Ariel returned to cleaning and dusting the furniture. A couple of hours before her start time at the Library she excused herself to get ready for an early meal and to change into something more professional. At 4:30 she left to walk to the Library. On the way there she passed the construction site and was somewhat mollified to get some respectful nods and no rude comments. She arrived at the Library with 5 minutes to spare and put her jacket and purse away in the back. Miss Warren was on with her along with another librarian, the assistant manager, Mrs. Houseman. They met in the back staff room where Mrs. Houseman told Ariel that she and Miss Warren were on the circulation desk, while reference work would be handled by herself.

Without the presence of Mr. Grayson it ended up being an enjoyable evening as the three women developed an excellent working rhythm. Both of the other women were witty and friendly to their patrons. It was obvious that the majority of people there were regulars by the relaxed familiarity they had with each other and the other two librarians. The evening progressed quickly and when closing time arrived the three of them were able to get the area straightened out quickly. Mrs. Houseman offered to drive Ariel but she told her that a gentleman was walking her home. When she saw who it was she came over with Ariel.

"Mr. Barnes," she said kindly. "It's been some time since we saw you here. I was worried that you were no longer a friend of this library."

"Never," he replied. "I was here during the day yesterday and walked Miss Black home then. I'm acquainted with her uncle and offered to walk her home this evening. You'll see me often, I hope."

"I'm glad to hear it," she said. "The latest Raymond Chandler book is in, Farewell My Lovely. Perhaps you can stop in and pick it up the next time you walk Miss Black home. Good evening both of you."

She walked off towards her car and Bucky stepped closer to Ariel gently taking her hands.

"How was work?" he asked.

"Fun," said Ariel. "Mrs. Houseman, Miss Warren and I got along well. We had a good time."

"She's a good egg," he said. "When Mr. Grayson retires I hope they make her manager. She's got a good head on her shoulders."

He turned and offered Ariel his right hand, which she took. He picked up a gym bag which had been resting on the ground. "How was sparring?" she asked.

"I had a good workout," he said.

They walked in the darkness between the small pools of light that the street lights gave off. It was warm out and a slight breeze kept the warm air from feeling stifling. There was no hurry and the couple walked silently for some time just enjoying the feel of the other's hand in theirs. Suddenly they both turned to say something and laughed nervously.

"You first," said Bucky.

"I decided to name the kitten Rosie," she said. "When I was getting ready for work she sprawled out on my bed and watched me get dressed. She's very sweet."

"I'm glad you like her," he replied. "Once she gets older you can have her in the shop to keep the mice down."

"That's a good idea," she said. "What did you want to say?"

He said nothing for some time but she could see he was formulating his thoughts in his head before he spoke. As she watched his face she studied his features, noticing his strong jaw, thick eyelashes and those piercing blue eyes. He turned to speak and noticed she had been gazing at him.

"I told you I have a bit of a reputation but that was an understatement," he said. "I have a big reputation as a ladies man. It's not that I try to be but it just seems that I've been looking for something that I haven't found in the past."

"What's that?" asked Ariel.

He stopped, put his gym bag down and took her other hand in his. "Someone to commit to," he said, looking steadily at her. "Someone that considers herself a man's equal and has more than frivolous thoughts in her head. Sounds terrible when I put it that way but it's true. I couldn't afford to go college but I've always read a lot and absorbed a lot of knowledge along the way. I like to think I'm an enlightened man but when I've tried to talk to most girls about art, or literature or anything of consequence they turn their nose up at it and I resort to treating them in the way my reputation says I will. I don't want to do that with you. You deserve better than that."

For a moment Ariel felt a sense of panic that she had portrayed herself as something other than a woman of this time but then she thought about it for a moment. Her persona had a college degree in library science, and she had already made the comment to Mr. Grayson that her accomplishment was with distinction. She was a modern woman of the 20th century in every sense of the term and had shown Bucky flashes of it from the start. Her panic was replaced by a sense of accomplishment that this handsome, intelligent 20th century man was telling this 22nd century woman that he found her interesting and not just for her physical attributes.

"I like you too, Bucky," she said. "Uncle Merton told me that you're a voracious reader and I admire that. I'm not a shrinking violet, which some people think librarians are. The profession is one of the few where a woman can be in control of her career, even if a man is her boss. Can I ask you a question, a personal one?"

"Sure," he said, looking intently at her.

"How many women are we talking about?" she asked. "Just an estimate."

She could see his face colour at her impertinence but he didn't shy away. "At least 50 since my first experience when I was 17."

"So, you're very experienced," she said then made an impulsive decision. "Would it shock you to know that for a woman I'm considered experienced as well? I've been with seven men and one woman, which was different but not as enjoyable as my experiences with the men were. If it shocks you that I would admit this to you, then I would say I don't care what you think. Do you still want to get to know me better?"

She looked defiantly at him, and even though she could hear her inner voice say she had revealed far too much she didn't care. Bucky Barnes was infinitely more interesting than any man she had ever known at any time and she was asking for herself now, not for the historian who was given this assignment. With deliberation he put his arms around her and drew her in close, looking down at her upturned face.

"I want you more than any woman I've ever met," he said with conviction. "Not just physically, but emotionally, and intellectually. I know it's only been a couple of days but I think you're the woman I've been looking for all along. We can dive in headfirst or we can take it slow. It's your decision and I will honour it."

"Then we take it slow. If it's real then we'll know because I don't want us to be a flash in the pan."

Slowly he smiled then he lowered his face down to hers and kissed her intensely. It was different from the other kisses they shared as those were like someone testing the water, checking the temperature first. This one was like dropping into the deep end of the pool and embracing the experience. After the kiss Ariel placed her head against his chest where she could feel the fast beat of his heart through his shirt. He had gambled a lot on his admission to her and it was evident he was entering new territory. So was she and that could be a problem. He sensed the shift in her and stroked her hair.

"What's wrong?" he asked softly. "I won't hurt you. You're safe with me."

"I don't want to hide this from Uncle Merton," she lied. "I think he'll understand but will you let me tell him in my own way and my own time?"

"Alright," he said, after a few moments. "I want to tell my parents about you. It doesn't have to be right away but I want you to meet them soon."

She took in a deep breath then nodded her head against his muscular chest and closed her eyes. No matter what happened in the future, at this moment she felt hopeful that this could be an important relationship for her in either century. After some time they resumed walking, still holding hands. When they arrived at the store front it was all dark and the steel gate was closed and locked. The exterior light beside the stairwell door was on and they stood under its glow gazing at each other. Once again he touched a section of her hair and played with it while a soft smile appeared on his face.

"What is it about my hair you like?" she asked playfully.

"How much like the dawn and the sunset it is," he said. "I envision waking up to it on the pillow next to me or caressing it before I fall asleep each night. I have always preferred red hair but have met few women who come by it naturally like you."

"How do you know it's natural?" She looked at him with a level of disbelief.

"Those that use dye to redden it have a different texture," he said sincerely. "Henna makes it too bright for a few days until it fades a little but the shade is the same on all the strands of the individual hairs. Yours has always been soft as silk and the colour of the strands are composed of different shades that combine to form the overall colour."

"You're very observant," she remarked then she looked at the door to the stairwell. "I should go up."

He nodded and placed his arms around her again, only this time he backed her up against the wall and kissed her passionately pressing his tongue deeply against hers. It surprised her in its intensity and she responded instinctively to it, running her hands up his back under his jacket and feeling the firmness of his muscles under her fingers. One of his hands reached for her neck and caressed it, his fingers slipping under her collar and touching her collar bone. As he removed it he brushed his hand down the front of her jacket before he stepped away from her.

"What happened to taking it slow?" she murmured.

"That was taking it slow," he whispered, leaning forward so his mouth was beside her ear. "Do you want me to stop? That's all you have to say." Ariel swallowed and looked up at him, his eyes now dark with desire. She tried to say something but her mouth couldn't form the words and he smiled at her. "I'll pick you up at 6:30 tomorrow. For our date, remember?"

She nodded and reached behind her for the door knob. His hand reached for it over hers and opened it behind her.

"My bounty is as boundless as the sea, My love as deep; the more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite," he whispered.

Then he stepped back and watched as she went inside. She closed the door and could hear him whistling as he walked away. Shakespeare again ... he quoted from Romeo and Juliet. Merton opened the door at the top of the stairs and looked down at her. Surprisingly, she felt apprehensive about his inquisitive look.

"I sense you might need to talk," he said. "Come on, I have a bottle of scotch needing a couple of drinkers."

Slowly she went up the steps and dropped her purse and jacket off in her bedroom. She slipped her shoes off and undid her stockings then shrugged and took everything off, changing into her nightgown and a robe. Merton handed her a glass and gestured to the big armchair in the living room while he sat on the couch. Rosie curled up on Ariel's lap.

"I guessed something momentous happened when it took you more than an hour to walk home," he said. "What happened?"

"I made an impulsive decision to not be as objective as perhaps I should have," she admitted, "He's already falling in love with me and I might be feeling something for him. After telling him I wanted to take it slow he kissed me in a way that made it clear he wants more than just sex. He wants commitment."

The older man took a deep breath then sipped his scotch. He thought for some time then leaned forward.

"I don't see a problem with that," he stated. "History doesn't record him having a long term relationship. Whatever this is doesn't last, at least it's not recorded as lasting. Which means your relationship fizzled out quickly enough that it was regarded as just another one of his flings or ...."

"Or what?" said Ariel. "That I didn't publish it? Why would I go to all this trouble, risk my standing as an objective observer of history to get involved with him and then not publish? Why would I do that?"

"The future is fluid, even here in the past," said Merton, calmly. "We know historically that Bucky and Steve go back to art school in 1941 because that's where they were when they heard about Pearl Harbor. It's possible that could change without changing the timeline drastically if you're in a relationship. We know that Bucky registers for the draft in 1940 and he receives his notice in December 1941, then is shipped out to England in June of 1943. We know about that and about everything military that happens because it is a matter of already recorded history. We don't know if he was in a relationship with Ariel Black from July of 1940 until whenever because it was never written down, not in any official documentation."

Ariel took a drink of her scotch and grimaced as the liquid burned on its way down her throat. Then she rubbed her forehead while Merton watched her impassively.

"So you think I should jump into the deep end of the pool with Bucky Barnes and immerse myself in a relationship with him, and not just a sexual relationship, a full blown romantic all the bells and whistles relationship. I just want to clarify that before I begin to cry."

The tears started to come and Merton shifted so she could curl up with him on the couch. He put his arm around her and stroked her back. When her sobs began to lessen he squeezed her shoulder.

"Perhaps what has been missing from previous attempts at studying the man has been someone willing to take that step with him," he said softly. "Certainly, I've seen all the attempts and every one of those women historians wouldn't have been able to handle the intensity of the emotional commitment he seems willing to invest in you. The sex between them wasn't enough to sustain the relationship and he soon lost interest, relegating them to just observer from a distance status. I think Peri sent you here because she knew you were capable of being what he needed while still fulfilling your duty as an objective observer. Now, if that means that you don't publish then maybe that's what history shows and your love affair remains just between you two. Would that be such a bad thing?"

"To fall in love with a doomed man?" she asked. "Yes, it would hurt and I don't know if I would ever recover from that."

"Or it could be the most glorious love affair you ever have," said Merton. "Something that you could look back on when you're old and grey, and remember as the best time of your life."

They talked back and forth for at least an hour, with Merton filling up her glass several times until she passed out. Then he carried her into her bedroom and tucked her into bed. He left a glass of water on the night table knowing she would need it for the hangover then he closed the door and stood outside. Going to the bathroom cabinet he pulled out the bottle of Carter Little Liver Pills and took out the key for the third floor.

Sitting in front of the ersatz radio set he opened up a communications channel and requested a video call with Peri Wayne. Her holographic image came up within moments and her face brightened.

"You have something to report," she said.

"Can you talk freely?" he asked. She nodded. "He wants a relationship with a commitment. She thinks she's fallen in love with him but she's torn about losing her objectivity if she enters into such a relationship. Are you sure you want her to do this? It could ruin her career, not to mention break her heart when he falls. She is still ...."

"I know what she is," said Peri, as she nodded with understanding. "You also know that I'm one of the few with deeper knowledge of his timeline. The signs were there that he did have an intense relationship that ended shortly before he left for England. We need to know who it was with, why it ended and more importantly why it wasn't recorded. I'm sure she's the one who can provide the answers. If she is then you'll make sure she returns here after the end of the relationship. I will support her and encourage her to publish the observations. Her career will unfold as it should without interference from any of us. We both care about her for good reason which I won't say out loud because one never knows who might be listening. She's an extraordinary woman for both past and future. Barnes senses it and it's likely why he is already committing to her. Support her in this Merton. It will work out, I promise you."

"Very well," he said. "I hope your deeper knowledge confirms that but I wanted it known that I'm already attached to her in a way I didn't anticipate."

Peri smiled at him. "She is something, isn't she? It will be alright, Merton."

He broke the communication and shut down the radio. Peri Wayne was the first historian to attempt observations on pre-war Bucky Barnes and although she failed to reach this state with him he knew she still had an emotional attachment to the man. It was also why she was regarded as the expert on his life as she directed all of the attempts since then, even risking her own career, not to mention his by their close association. He wondered if the fact she had personally recruited and prepared Ariel for this very assignment was known by others, not just him. It would make better sense if that was the case. Then again, the things about Ariel that were secret were that way for a reason.

Chapter 4>>

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neo--queen--serenity · 8 months ago

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Lena losing her patience and furiously berating Gwen for potentially endangering the staff members of the OAIR is quite literally the opposite of how Elias ran the Archives.

Elias used the Archival staff—as well as his Archivist—as pawns that can be readily replaced as needed. His patron offered them minimal protections at best (the Archivist’s privileges notwithstanding), and even then, he would never actually intervene to save any of them if they were in danger, much less take precautions to protect them at their headquarters. They are used as bait, as sacrifices, as currency, as objects. The listener knows, eventually, how easily he could discard them if his plans called for it.

But Lena. This episode showed us that Lena keeps her entire organization running through keeping her subordinates hidden, safe, and unnoticed by the Externals. It’s quite clear through her conversation with Gwen that such a safety risk has never happened before.

As far as we know, Lena has successfully kept all of her employees alive, watched them come and go, bemoaned the turnover rate, and then got them to look the other way while they documented and dutifully filed the horrors.

But most impressive of all, she’s kept her real work hidden from her subordinates, and her subordinates hidden from her real work—a feat Elias had no interest or desire to accomplish.

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chuluoyi · 11 months ago

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࿐ ࿔ 🕰️ 「 08:25 P.M 」

tw: pregnancy. overall, just some domestic dad-to-be gojo trying to show how much he loves you even with how your body changes and all <3 based on a request!

a part of gojo's love entries

don’t think that satoru hasn’t noticed how you linger in front of the mirror these days, touching your body all over—particularly your baby bump. seeing your face twist into a sad frown dampens his spirits too.

on the other hand, you understand that it’s a natural process, but you have never gained this much weight before, and despite already having your husband reassure you before, you still feel somewhat meh about yourself.

“how’s my favorite girl and little rascal doing today?” he flopped down on the bed beside you as soon as he returned from school, caressing your belly. “ready to come out yet?”

you throw him an unamused look. “no, satoru. and don’t make it sound so effortless. i’m the one pushing him out.”

“ahh, but i can’t wait though~”

his palpable excitement actually made you smile as you placed your hand over his. but then your smile fell a bit and he was quick to notice it.

“what’s on your mind?” he asked then. “talk to me, hmm?”

“no… it’s nothing.” you looked away, a bit ashamed. if satoru says he’s not bothered by your figure, you really shouldn’t be thinking about this any longer. you didn't want to make him worry… but it really wasn't easy to let it go.

“hmm, my baby mama can’t be sad,” your husband pouted, and suddenly he pulled you closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “she’s the cutest when she smiles.”

you looked up to him, feeling the security in his arms and yet still a hint of uncertainty in your voice. “am i just cute… to you?”

you wanted to be beautiful too. like how he used to sing you praises during your school days.

satoru grinned. and it’s the kind of toothy grin that makes your heart soar.

“no. you’re also pretty.” he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. “and you’re smart, kind, nags a lot, gets pouty easily… and you're sweet like a dango, makes me want to gobble you up.”

“so now i’m a dango?” you nestled your head against his broad chest, feeling your face start to heat up, and a smile beginning to curve your lips. stupid satoru. he said all of them so easily it was making you giddy and felt silly for doubting him at all.

“just because our baby is going to be a mochi. and look, you’re so close to carrying him to full-term,” he rubbed your swollen tummy again, this time with a more sincere smile. “i love you the most for it.”

your eyes took a shine, processing his words, and you could’ve sworn that right now, nothing could’ve shaken your feelings for your silly husband.

suddenly your baby kicked you hard as if to reprimand you too for your insecurities, and you winced.

“hurts?” satoru questioned, slightly concerned when you nodded. “wait i’ll tell him off.”

he cleared his throat and began making circular motions on your abdomen, as if to summon him.

“yo, brat. you can’t kick your mama like that too often these days. you’re accumulating karma and she counts it. when you come out, she’ll forbid you from eating our favorite mochis and—”

“satoru!!”

and then the two of you just burst into giggles, and once again, you utterly and thoroughly fell in love with him. for always making you feel safe... and loved.

“you know, satoru...” this time it was you who hugged him, breathing in his scent for comfort. now you were totally worry-free, the softest of smile on your face. “i’m really grateful that... we found each other.”

at your heartfelt confession, satoru felt his chest tighten with warmth and his cheeks flush. he is so blushing and he tries covering it with a chuckle. and the words lingering at the tip of his tongue were—

“heh, aren’t you glad you married me?”

yeah... i’m so glad that it’s you too.

#𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk imagines #jjk drabbles #jujutsu kaisen x reader #dad!gojo #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru fluff #jjk fluff #gojo x you #satoru gojo fluff #jjk x reader fluff

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milkloafy · 7 months ago

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SILENT BUT RECKLESS — TODOROKI SHOUTO

⋆｡˚ ❀ summary: in which pro hero!shouto saves you from getting run over by a car and finds himself immediately enraptured by you. ⋆｡˚ ❀ contents: pro hero!shouto, fluff, gn!reader ⋆｡˚ ❀ wc: 1.3k ⋆｡˚ ❀ a/n: aka…pro hero!shouto is a pr nightmare and no u cannot convince me otherwise ! ahdjskc but frl this is so unserious but i miss the og anime loml so here we are :>

Shouto wasn’t exactly known for his talkative nature.

It was quite the opposite, in fact, with news agencies and magazines often referring to him as the quiet one of the Big Three. Though, he supposed that was better than being known as the one with the family trauma.

But people often mistook his silence for thoughtfulness, he realized. Or an intense observation of sorts. And while at times that was the case, most times, it was simply because he didn’t have anything to say.

Shouto blinked as he realized the situation he was in.

He had just stopped a villain from robbing a luxury clothing store for the third time this month, nothing too exciting, yet the journalists showed up each time for an interview with him after.

“Sir, we are live,” the reporter reminded with a nervous laugh. “We asked if you had a message for any…”

She kept talking, but Shouto was unable to concentrate. Not because he had heard it millions of times before, but because he noticed a strange movement from the corner of his eyes.

This was one of the times he was both silent and observant.

Shouto spotted you crossing the street on your phone, staring at your screen and completely oblivious that a car was headed your way with little to no sign of stopping.

Without thinking of how it would look to the public for him to ditch an interview mid-sentence, he ran over to you before he even processed his legs moving. Throwing his right arm out in front of him, he sent a wall of ice up to block the vehicle’s predicted path, reaching you just in time to sweep you off your feet and carry you away from the road as the ice began to shatter from the impact.

The ice wall was thick enough that the car slowed before fully breaking through, but that didn’t stop Shouto from instinctively shielding you with his body in the event that ice shards propelled towards you.

Once he heard the sound of a crash and alarms, he figured the vehicle was fully stopped and the authorities arrived to assess the situation themselves. Would he get scolded by his agency for putting up an ice wall and potentially damaging someone’s vehicle? It was likely so. But that was better than someone actually getting hit by a car instead.

The world wanted heroes, but only when they fit into their ideal mold. And while rules and regulations helped keep order in the world, in moments like these when someone’s life was in danger, Shouto couldn’t be bothered to care.

Slowly, his body relaxed and he was able to finally take a look at you. At the person who, for some reason, was so focused on their phone they didn’t notice a car coming at them.

Any criticisms that threatened to come out of his lips stayed there once he got a good look at your features. He found himself taken aback by how beautiful you looked, though he quickly cleared his throat and recovered from his blatant staring.

“Be careful when you’re crossing the street,” said Shouto, walking over to a section of grass and away from the commotion that was happening on the road, with you still in his arms. “What was keeping you so occupied?”

You looked up at him guiltily, your phone clutched between your hands. “I was trying to order my food…”

He blinked. As a pro hero, he shouldn’t be one the judge victims. But he couldn’t help but raise his brow just a bit.

“I was really hungry,” you said sheepishly, hiding your face in embarrassment. “But I can’t believe I was so focused on my order I didn’t realize the car wasn’t stopping!” You sighed to yourself before meeting Shouto’s eyes once more. “Thank you for saving me, Shouto. I’m sure you had much more pressing matters to attend to instead of saving some random person off the street.”

He shook his head. “That’s the most important part of the job. Saving people.”

You smiled gratefully at him and he almost had to look away from your dazzling grin. “Well, thank you for saving this idiotic person right here.” You gestured towards yourself. “Still, I hope my order went through…”

A mixture between a snort and a laugh escaped his lips. You had almost gotten run over and your biggest concern was whether or not your dinner was on its way?

“It’s didn’t!” you cried in exasperation as you peeked at your phone. “Well, I might as well get a convenience store meal at this point.” Sighing, you leaned your head against his chest for a brief moment of comfort. “By the way, you can set me down now. I think people are taking pictures of us.”

“Oh,” said Shouto, “right.”

Carefully, he loosened his hold on you and set your feet carefully onto the floor. Before fully letting go of you, he made sure you were stable and steady. For some, it took a while for the events to process and the panic to settle in, and he wanted to ensure you were truly okay.

You had a worried look on your face as you noticed the video cameras still focused on the two of you.

“Will you get in trouble for this?” you whispered, leaning close to his ear.

“For rescuing someone from a getting hit by a car and talking to them after?” He considered things for a moment. “Most likely. But it’s okay. The most important thing is you are safe, both physically and mentally.”

Giggling, you nodded, reaching up to pat him on top of his head. Shouto was startled by the sudden touch, but he didn’t pull away.

“Who knew Shouto was such a worrywart,” you teased. “I’m safe and unharmed, all thanks to you. In fact, to show my gratitude… Why don’t I treat you to some convenience store dinner? On me, of course!”

Shouto was silent for a bit. There were plenty of things he should be thinking about right now. The headlines that would be made about Pro Hero Shouto saving someone and then going on a “date” with them right after. The damage it could do to his reputation. The overtime hours the agency would make his public relations team work.

Instead, his silence was used to think of what he exactly he wanted to get at the convenience store.

“Okay,” Shouto said once he made up his mind. “I’ll take a curry bun.”

You laughed and gestured for him to follow you to the nearest convenience store. “I like that, too. You have good taste.”

He followed along beside you, pleased with himself when he heard your captivating laugh.

“I think I want an egg sandwich tonight,” you stated, a thoughtful look on your face. “Or maybe some fried chicken. Or an egg sandwich and fried chicken? And a smoothie for a drink and dessert all in one item! But maybe I want a crepe instead…”

As you rambled on, Shouto suddenly understood how you were too engrossed with trying to order food on your phone that you didn’t realize a vehicle was approaching you earlier. And while that was dangerous, he found it slightly endearing. Just as long as you were away from any cars.

Shouto was so focused on listening to you that he hardly paid attention to the look of shock on the reporters’ faces and the influx of calls he was receiving from his agency.

Right now, he simply wanted to hear you talk more and eat a curry bun.

The rest, he could deal with later.

#todoroki x reader #shouto x reader #shoto x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #todoroki x you #todoroki x y/n #todoroki imagines #todoroki fluff #my hero academia x reader

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flwrior · 1 month ago

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤDAYDREAM

ㅤㅤ ❀﹑𝖦𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗆𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗄𝗂-𝗄𝗂-𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌

엔하이픈 OT7 ୨୧ interrupting you with a kiss , fem reader | 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 kissing, skinship, slightly suggestive, petnames ﹑ （taglist）

✉️ ,, the joy of online shopping 🔛🔝

𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆

It was definitely not his fault that he stopped listening to you during your impromptu physics lesson. Zoning out on your round lips tempting him to pull you into a kiss, he figured there would be a better moment to hear about physics. Seemingly unbothered by his lack of concentration, you droned on about the quantum entanglement and the scientific romance behind it. “And the fact that both of them are connected together but so far apart proves how deep real love should be.” You continued, until you abruptly stopped, unable to continue because of his lips crashing against yours. “Shut up, you nerd.” He mumbled, deepening the kiss by placing his hand on your cheek.

𝐉𝐀𝐘

“I was already telling him that he would get in detention if he did that but he didn’t listen to me.” You complained, turning to look at your boyfriend who nodded earnestly to your anger. He had invited you to dinner at his house for an overdue date after his endless schedule but ended up listening to your complaints. After losing focus for a few more minutes, he watched your red lips pout in irritation while speaking and found a better way to interrupt you. “And I ended up stuck in that room with a bunch of delinquents who probably got in for actual things.” Breaking off the rest of your sentence, you were silenced by his soft lips pressing into yours. “You talk too much.”

𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄

Flinching at your irritated voice yelling in his ears, he listened as you droned on about how he should stop distracting you during class. “A person’s lips should not be that attractive.” He mumbled, under the noise. Indifferent to his words, you continued. “I get that you’re top student and everything comes naturally to you, but it would really benefit me if you shut up when I’m trying to-” Interrupting your sentence, he cut off your air flow by pressing his lips against yours and making you move to the rhythm of his lips. “Was just trying to get your attention, baby.” He spoke against your lips, grinning in the satisfaction of getting what he wanted.

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍

Tutoring a playboy was not a part of your schedule until the principal himself persuaded you to do it as if you had a choice. Having the habit of over explaining, you rambled on, doing your best to explain each section thoroughly. Losing focus on the lesson, he stared at your pink-tinted lips and the way you pursed them together when trying to finish an equation. Turning his attention to the silver glasses resting on your nose bridge, he decided to act on impulse. “To answer this equation, you need to take your variable and move it here.” You explained, suddenly cut off by your lips connecting with his soft ones. In between the kiss, he tugged the glasses off your nose and rested them on the desk. Pulling away to look at his work, he grinned triumphantly. “You look better this way.”

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐎𝐎

Patting light fingers on your skin, your boyfriend attempted to put on your lip gloss like you asked him to, finding it difficult to do so because of your eagerness to chat. “We haven’t seen each other in ages.” You chirped through puckered lips. Listening to your excited chatter, he struggled to make the wand meet your lips. Just barely swiping the lip product on your lips, he sighed in exasperation at your busy lips. “I hoped it wouldn’t turn out like that but you had so many concerts, so I couldn’t see you.” Shock laced your features, barely processing his lips pressing against yours. Melting into it nonetheless, you relished the nostalgic feeling. “Stop talking so I can do your lip gloss.” He spoke.

𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐖𝐎𝐍

Focusing on the project wasn’t an option for him when you were there. Listening to you correct his every move, he spaced out on your lips, watching how you gently bit down on them when trying to perfect your work. “Don’t click that, click this.” You demonstrated on your computer, doing it too fast for him to follow. “Why aren’t you focusing?” You began formulating your other sentence before his lips crashed into yours, moving slowly and then speeding up. Pulling a few inches away from you, he spoke in a hushed manner. “You talk too much.”

𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐈

“Good job getting us in detention for the fifth time this week.” You spoke, grumbling into your chair. The boy sitting in front of you turned around and met you with his usual cocky grin, resting his arms on your desk. “And why do all your stupid missions have to include my involvement?” You complained, mourning on behalf of your perfect attendance that had been destroyed since you decided to befriend him. “I already told you that feeding the cats could be done after school and that trying to jump over the school gate wouldn’t work.” Before you could start your next sentence, you felt his lips press against yours, stealing the words out of your mouth. Pushing his chair closer to yours with his legs, he muttered against your lips, “Just shut up.”

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crescenthistory · 2 months ago

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Hi I really love your fics and was hoping to send in a request! I was thinking a fem!reader who’s also a swan animagus, and partners with any or all of the marauders (minus Pete). She’s a very clumsy person, constantly stubbing her toes and bumbing into corners and walls, so when the boys find out that her animagus form is something so graceful they’re just baffled. That’s all I got really, so with that as you please if you please ❤️

this was such a sweet request darling, thank you so much<3 i made this into a general view of what her animagus process looked like + the boys' reactions to what she became

Words: 3.5k

Warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n, remus' pov, loads of anxiety and fearing for safety of a loved one, post-hogwarts with references to oncoming political turmoil but it is not canon compliant, reader is regulus' best friend, flirty bullying lol, mostly fluff and some hurt/comfort

Note: this is my first official poly!marauders fic, and i absolutely adore writing their dynamic

When you began your animagus journey, Remus was unsure of what to expect.

Back when James, Sirius and Peter did it, none of their animagus figures came as a surprise, the picturesque manifestations of the personalities Remus had come to love. Sirius, the loyal guard dog, looming and intimidating in your periphery or on the battlefield, but playful and loving by the fire in his own home. James, the noble and brave Head Boy turned stag, equal parts beautiful and fierce, able to balance out and maintain the worst and best in the rest of the boys. Peter, the quiet and mousy dry-humoured boy they came to love much in the same way you love your pet rat, slippery and smart, able to wield what he has to his advantage. All of it made sense to Remus, which provided a balm for the anxiety that settled in his chest at the thought of the lengths his friends and partners were willing to go for him.

With you though, nothing seemed to make sense. Never really had, it was just right somehow.

You came in later in the Gryffindor friend group, a year younger than the rest of them and best friends with Regulus. It was seemingly a buy one, get two deal when Regulus was finally able to escape the Black household and join Sirius at Potter Manor at last. He refused to leave you behind, knowing all too well what it felt like. Neither Sirius nor James could argue with that, and Remus quickly found he didn't want them to.

No, because when you were integrated into the friend group, hesitant for a mere second – mostly out of respect for Regulus it seemed – before allowing your full personality to prosper at its natural breadwidth, Remus was infatuated. You weasled your way into his heart, knocking against every surface on the way there, leaving him breathless.

He was beyond relieved to look at his two boys – his two lovely boys – and see the same longing in their eyes.

In a relationship that already housed a half-blood half-breed, a disgraced son of a most ancient and noble house and a blood-traitor himbo-jock, Remus had not fathomed there would be room for one more. Until that one was you in all your clumsy-bodied warm-hearted glory – then suddenly, it was unfathomable not to have you.

Despite his shock, Remus found himself quite pleased when finally sat in your shared flat a year after Hogwarts, with you held securely in his arms while Sirius and James were commuting home together from their apprenticeships as aurors at the Ministry. The picture of domesticity. The life he never dared imagine. With your scent filling his nose and your cheek pressed against the skin of Remus' throat, he was sure there was nothing else he could ask for.

"I did something today," you murmured absentmindedly then, trailing patterns on his arm, careful not to snag him with the edge of your nail that broke a few hours earlier that he had not bothered filing down yet.

"Mhm, and what was that, dove?" he replied in the same tone, only half-paying attention as he drowsed in the warmth of you.

"I applied to become an animagus."

Suddenly, Remus was no longer tired nor warm nor comfortable nor nuzzled into your hair as he jerked back to look at you in shock.

"You did what?" His voice somehow didn't convey his immediate turmoil, but he's sure his eyes did as you bit your lip sheepishly.

"I applied with the Ministry to become an animagus," you restated as if it was the simplest thing in the world. "Dumbledore's suggestion. Though if one person in our household is properly registered, it could be easier to avoid any suspicion should the order need you to utilise it more often."

The rest of the night was spent with you explaining what was surely a sound and reasonable plan, but that still lit Remus' veins alight with fire. As was the next few weeks, awaiting the pending response, spent with you and James – who quickly jumped onboard, eager to support you – reassuring Remus and in part Sirius that the plan was sound and reasonable and you would be fine.

"Honestly, I'm beginning to think you have zero faith in me," you joked one evening when you were all cuddled up on the sofa.

"It's not that I don't trust you, dovey," Remus began despondently.

Sirius preferred to cut to the chase with a deadpan. “We just prefer for our darling girl who has never once gone a day without a single bruise to not be undertaking dangerous magical transformations that largely depend upon precision.”

"I have gone a day," you muttered petulantly at that, to which James began rubbing your arms up and down whispering something in your ear about "pick battles we can win, angel".

Remus smiled a bit hesitantly at the sight of his two loves sat opposite him, while he himself was currently held in Sirius' arms and unable to see his face. He could, however, feel the tension in his grip though, likely at the thought of all that could go wrong.

"I understand why it has to be done," Remus started. "And you know I support you always, dove. I just can't help but worry."

You cooed at what Remus was sure was a slight pout on his face before leaning forward out of James' arms to kiss it off him. At that, a genuine smile spread across his lips and into your kiss, breathing you in as a sign of defeat.

"I may stumble, but I can do difficult things, my love," you whispered, brushing your thumbs over his cheekbones. "And with you here, I'll always be alright, won't I?"

"I suppose," Remus faux grumbled, to which James leaned forward to ruffle his hair.

"You are so cute," James all but exclaimed. "So, so cute."

"Alright Jamie, that's enough of that," Remus tried but James kept on playing with his hair, though with slower movements.

"Look at you caring for our little clutz." You let out an undignified "hey" at that. "With big Moony on watch, we will never have to worry."

"And big Padfoot!" Sirius exclaimed from behind Remus, causing the latter to roll his eyes fondly at the boy's not-so-fake fear of missing out.

James caught it too with a hearty laugh, slipping off the sofa to slide to the floor beside Sirius with a soft "of course, baby" before littering his face with a sickening amount of kisses.

As Remus watched you giggle, he pulled you closer. Sickening indeed he thought as he stared down at you with overwhelming love in his throat.

The cycle of worry and reassurance continued well into the animagus process when your application was approved, which Remus suspected Dumbledore also had a hand in. Though, for these, you often couldn't reassure him as much with your words, with the mandrake leaf and everything, but James was your perfect advocate, speech ready on his lips, and your hand never strayed far from Remus' body, keeping his anxiety at bay.

When you fell down the stairs one day or when you ran into doors, Remus' breath caught in his throat like never before, the implications of your clumsiness far more prominent than ever before. You were always alright, and Remus knew he just had kept telling himself that until it was over.

You're alright, you're alright, you're alright. A mantra, a prayer.

"She will be alright, right Siri?" A broken sob into his lover's chest on nights you were away to complete the process.

"Always, always, always." A murmured response that weighed a tonne in his chest.

He never did tell you about those nights, he knew you didn't deserve the guilt or the fretting that would overtake you at the knowledge, not when you were doing something to support your loves, your family, your cause. He could never tell you that while you, in all your clumsy chaos, was being brave, he was being a coward.

And you never did tell him that you knew, that you saw, but you held him closer the nights following them.

While one the precipice of oncoming political collapse, one is rarely allowed full reprieve from anxiety, but Remus found himself washed with immeasurable relief and calm when the front door opened on the final night and he heard two sets of boots and laughter as you and James walked into your flat.

The lightning storm in the background required for the final night of the process was still raging outside, but your flat might as well be on another planet for all Remus cared because you were inside, you were alright and you were laughing.

Only James could follow you to it, as you had to go through the very final bit alone and Sirius convinced Remus you should be surrounded with calm and reassurance before you took those last steps alone. He agreed, always wanting what was best for you, but it did not help his roaring fears to not be able to go with you.

Thus, the homebound boys immediately shot up at the sound from where they had been anxiously perched on each their chair in the living room, running towards the front door. The latter placed his hand pacifyingly on Remus' shoulder, a silent I'm here, it's alright, she’s alright.

You were.

You were alright.

You were also being laughed at, they now realised.

Chucking off your boots, drenched to the core with hair plastered to your face, you looked awfully displeased with James who - equally as drenched but thrice as enthusiastic - was bent over against the wall, face scrunched up with delight. Remus supposed some of the water drops trailing down his face were actually tears of laughter.

"It's not that funny, James," you grumbled, but the twitch in your lips gave away that perhaps it was.

Ignoring whatever petty squabble for half a minute, Sirius swept you up in a hug and twirled you around, the squelch of your clothes and your own giggle filling the room. "My love!" he exclaimed with glee. "Oh you did it my darling, you did it."

Remus walked towards your embrace with reverence, laughing a bit wetly with relief. You looked at him with so much love in your eyes he wasn't sure if he could take it – and then you opened your arm to invite him into your hug, and he knew he couldn't.

With a shaky breath, Remus let himself fall into you with a few tears rolling down his face and an immense smile across his lips. He murmured some sweet nothings into your hairline that not even he could quite make out.

Pulling back just enough to see your now-wide grin, he kissed you searingly in the exact way he had dreamed of doing on this day.

Safe in his arms, at last.

At the thought, he could almost hear you whisper back that you always were.

"Thank you," Remus whispers against your lips. "Thank you."

"What for?" you laugh back into him.

He opens his eyes to gaze warmly into yours. "For being okay. For being brave."

A soft cooing sound escaped you as you gave him another lingering kiss that seemed to promise you always will be. He felt Sirius' lips drift between each of your foreheads, an eternal comfort in all of Remus' worry, even when he had his own.

"Is this the part where you lie to me and say you knew I could always do it?" you tease as you look between the two boys pressed up against you.

At the same time, Sirius gives you a resounding "yes" while Remus shakes his head at you with a laugh.

"It's not a lie," he begins, continuing despite your light scoff. "I always knew you could, you can do anything you set your mind to. I just love you too much not to freak out about the what ifs."

"You absolute sap," Sirius laughs at him, resulting in you slapping his arm lightly in defence of Remus.

"Do you disagree with him?" you question with a raised brow, challenging smile tugging at your lips.

Sirius' humour was washed away to be replaced with soft fondness. "Of course not, doll."

Behind you, James cleared his throat.

The three of you turned around to see your final boy leaning against the wall, admiration written clearly across his face as he took in the picture before him with heart eyes. It didn't escape Remus, though, that you tensed in his arms beside him nor that James had one of his most mischievous smiles across his face.

"Yeah, angel, we are all super duper proud of you now and forever and always." James says it in a way that makes Remus suspicious he has already told you as much a hundred times over while you were out together. "Now can we skip to the fun bit?"

You groan, throwing your head back against Sirius' shoulder – who whispered a petulant ow! – and promptly pulled out of their grasp. Remus tried to focus on whatever bit was about to come from James to ignore the feeling of loss.

"Fine, but I am going to need so much flattery from you after this relentless bullying, Mister." You threatened as you pointed your wand at James, first in replacement of an accusatory finger, and then to vanish the water from his person. You did yourself the same favour, then grabbed Remus' hand to direct your boys to the living room and its wonderful fireplace that Sirius kept alive for you while you were gone.

"You know I will, baby!" James called after you as he grabbed some water bottles from the fridge on the way to follow you, handing one to you unprompted.

"Now? What's so funny?" Sirius asked impatiently as he perched himself on the end of the sofa, directly in front of where you and Remus stood before the fire.

James' grin came back in full force as he looked at you devilishly. "Can I be the one to tell them?" At least he had the decency to ask you.

"You're the one who thinks it's so bloody funny, so you ought to." Remus chuckled at you, pulling you closer into his side, protecting you from James for once.

"So we all know that your lovely, lovely girl here does not have the best track record when it comes to, you know, general spatial awareness?"

Sirius barked a laugh at that and Remus had to pull you back from kicking his shin, resulting in you stumbling slightly. You shot him a half-hearted glare that seemed to scream don't prove his point!

"Yeah," Remus agreed readily, shooting you a smug smile at the betrayal.

"I have yet to meet a table she can outsmart." Sirius nodded solemnly.

This all seemed to excite James even further. "Right! Or a cart she can't run over her foot, or a door handle she can't smash against her hip, or a staircase that won't make her eat-"

"Okay, okay!" You threw your hands up in defeat. "We get your point, Jamie, gods."

James' smile almost turned rueful, but your cute expression was not really helping your case here. Remus couldn't blame him as James reached out to pinch at your chin.

"And we love you all the more for it, angel, really."

"Yeah, yeah," you grumbled, waving his hand away and placing more weight against Remus. "Get to it, Potter."

"Moony, Pads," James said, looking at them with levity, as if he was about to disclose serious news. "Our beautiful little klutz is a swan animagus."

There was silence for two seconds, as Sirius' jaw fell on the floor and Remus' eyes widened. Remus regretted to disclose that he was the first to break it as he snorted a laugh, prompting Sirius to immediately match James' previous hysterics, clapping his hands together.

"No way!" he laughed as you crossed your arms in further petulance.

"A swan?" Remus questioned with mirth to no one in particular.

"A swan!" James confirmed excitedly.

"And what about it?" you grumbled, stepping back so you could more easily glare at all three boyfriends at once. "What's so so funny about it?"

"It's nothing, dove, it's just-" Remus' placating was undercut by him laughing through it "- swans are know to be, like, elegant."

"I can be elegant!" you retorted. Sirius just snorted at you. "I can be!" you continued, nodding your head in that endearing way you do when you try to insist.

"You certainly look elegant," James relented. "But, my absolute love, you are anything but."

"Again, stairs." Sirius said it as if the word "stairs" in and of itself was an argument. Knowing your past, it most certainly was.

"Grace and elegance are often considered opposites of clumsiness and incoordination, dovey," Remus explained.

"I know that," you seethed in response, but the fight was already running out of you.

"It's just a tad bit ironic, isn't it?" James fought to calm his laughter.

Sirius did no such thing. "Understatement of the year, Prongs."

"Maybe the grace my animagus refers to has something to do with my inner grace in handling you lot," you grumbled, to which James cooed – effectively not helping his case. "And they represent wisdom and understanding, not to mention that they bite so you watch yourselves now." Your glare was withering as you couldn't help but laugh a little at your own joke.

With another breath of laughter, Sirius rose from his seat to reach for you in a hug, but you stepped out of the way. "No hugs for rude boys," you said simply.

"Oh, come on dollface, let me appreciate our little swan." You put up little effort as Sirius tucked you under his chin, chest still rumbling with laughter. “I just cannot believe you're a swan, baby."

"I can," Remus said, letting affection take over the humour in his voice once more. "They represent love too, you know."

James' face scrunched up in laughter as he roughly pulled the wolf into his arms, squeezing him tightly. "You're killing me, Moons, you can't say stuff like that."

"Why the hell not?" Remus grumbled all the while holding James tighter, eyes trained on you and Sirius.

"Because I’ll love you too much." At that, Remus laughed, kissing James' cheek softly.

"Regardless of any humour and irony, you did something incredibly difficult, dove. We're so proud of you." This was not just placation, Remus believed it with his whole chest. You could evidently tell as you almost shied into Sirius' chest.

James walked his embrace with Remus towards you and Sirius, so you were all standing close to one another in front of the sparkling fire.

"Is it okay to say I'm really proud of myself too?" you asked then with a slight self-conscious smile.

Sirius shut down any insecurity with the searing kiss he pressed to your forehead. "Of course, baby. It would be a tragedy if you weren't."

Remus could feel James tilt his head in thought. He couldn't help but pry. "What is it, Prongs?"

"Just that," James began. "Because of our animagi, I'm Prongs and Sirius is Padfoot. But you've always called Y/N dove just because – and now she is a bird, so should we all call her that now? It's not the same bird, but close?"

"No," Remus and you said quickly and shared a small smile. "Dove is mine, you lot can find your own bird-name for her," he teased.

James just laughed. "The possessive streak runs deep in this wolf, huh?"

"What nicknames can be derived from a swan then?" Sirius wondered out loud. "White Wing sounds too much like a superhero name."

"We are not calling me White Wing." You laughed, leaning your head on Sirius' shoulder. "I quite like what you've always called me. If we need a codename later we can come up with it then."

Remus was sure his irises could melt from how soft his gaze on you felt. "Sure thing, dovey. Tonight we just do whatever you want to celebrate."

Your smile was relaxed in that domestic, beautiful way that Remus felt the urge to frame. "We're already doing it. Just being with you three."

"Sap," Sirius whispered in your ear, accidentally tickling you, causing you to giggle and twist in his arms.

As Remus' body shook with both his and James' laughter, he knew that you had once again gone and done everything he never expected. If he was lucky, you would do that for the rest of his life – and that is what would make it good.

"Oh, I have to go tell Regulus!" Sirius exclaimed, running off - with you hot on his heel.

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fandoms-x-reader · 4 months ago

Text

Period Cramps

Requested By: @olivia-willo-w

Summary: The brothers find out (thanks to Satan) what a period is and try to help you through yours. The Seven Demon Brothers x Reader Word Count: 2,257

Periods are something that has become so normalized in the human world.

It's a natural thing that happens to women and it shouldn’t be something to be embarrassed about.

But, in the Devildom, the only other human you had was a male.

There was no one down there who would understand the process your body goes through once a month.

And that made it hard to talk about it.

You figured it would just be easier to keep them in the dark rather than try and explain it.

But, sometimes when you're on your period, it had a mind of its own.

You were having a bad cramp while at dinner with the brothers and you did your best to hide your pain.

But, Satan could tell you were in pain and he was worried about you. Not to mention, he couldn’t pass up an opportunity to show his brothers how smart he was.

See, Satan was your resident human expert.

When he found out that a human was coming to live with him and his brothers, he read every book he could find about humans and when he was done with those, he grabbed all of the specific books about females.

He wanted to know everything he could before you got down there.

So, when you were having your period in the Devildom, Satan immediately knew what was happening and was well-versed in the subject.

You had all of the tell-tale signs - mood swings, food cravings, headaches, bloating.

Whatever symptom you had, it pointed to it being your time of the month.

There was a conversation already going on amongst his brothers, but Satan ignored it in favor of asking you, “Are you on your period?”

Everyone froze in place at Satan’s question and your face burned a bright red as all of the attention was on you. Who just asks a personal question like that?!

Satan didn’t mean any disrespect. The way it was presented to him in the books was as a natural, common thing that all women go through. So he didn’t you would have any reason to be embarrassed about it.

And maybe if he had approached you about it on his own, things would have been different. But he just blurted the question out…in front of everyone…in the middle of dinner.

Before you could even respond, Mammon asked, “What’s a period?” And your cheeks felt even hotter as you began to slowly sink down in your chair, wishing you could disappear from this conversation.

“You don’t know?” Asmo asked with a glint in his eyes. Of course, the Avatar of Lust would know what a period is. Considering the amount of human women he had probably met you were sure he was as knowledgeable as Satan was about it.

But there was no way the fourth-born would allow his little brother to take his thunder. “Allow me to explain,” Satan stated.

And for the next few torturous minutes, you had to uncomfortably sit there as Satan explained what a period was in vivid detail.

You watched the brothers’ faces go through a whirlwind of reactions until they were all left sitting there speechless and somewhat bothered.

“Well?” Lucifer’s question broke the silence and you turned to face the eldest. He was making eye contact with you and he continued to ask, “Are you?”

“Is that why you look like you’re in pain?” Belphie asked. “Wait, do periods hurt?” Beel questioned in response.

“Do all female normies go through that?” Levi questioned, his cheeks threatening to burn as bright as yours at the question.

Your cramps weren’t backing down and you were feeling more than overwhelmed at the sudden bombardment and soon everything felt like it was too much.

“I think I’ll skip dinner tonight,” you stated plainly before abruptly getting up from the table and making your way to the bedroom.

The brothers watched you leave, confused and worried about you. Was it something they said? Or was it because you weren’t feeling well?

Lucifer was in a state of surprise when you left the dining room table.

He knew about periods, and he knew it was something female humans experienced.

But, it wasn’t something he had prepared for.

In all of the things that he had done and gathered to ensure you would have everything you need for your stay in the Devildom, that had somehow slipped his mind.

It took him a moment to gather his bearings before going to check on you.

He showed up to your room with a glass of water and medicine to help with your cramps.

He gave you a small smile when you gratefully took the medicine and allowed him in your room.

He looked a little lost, unsure of how exactly to help you. But, if you tell him what you need, he will move heaven and earth to make sure you get it.

You were his responsibility after all. He couldn’t disappoint Diavolo by allowing you to be in pain. And he couldn’t trust his brothers to do a good enough job.

Or maybe - just maybe - he wanted to be the one who took care of you.

Either way, he won’t leave your side for the rest of the night, and if you show any sign of discomfort, he’ll find a way to soothe you.

Mammon was still freaking out about all of the information he had obtained that night.

Periods sounded awful and he couldn’t believe that it was something that happened to female humans - every month.

Mammon was trying to process everything when you left the table and that’s when his mind went from his own train of thought to you.

From all of the facts he was told, one stood out more than the others - you were in pain.

And Mammon was supposed to protect you, so he couldn’t have that.

He excused himself from the dinner table as well before quickly doing a search on his D.D.D. to find out ways to help you.

About a half an hour later, Mammon showed up at your bedroom door, his arms full of miscellaneous objects.

He had everything he could think of - a heating pad, pain medicine, chocolate, and your favorite snacks.

He wasn’t sure what out of those items would help, but he hoped at least one of them would.

He also offered to stay in your room that night and watch a movie with you, which inevitably ended in you falling asleep in his arms, while he held you close.

Mammon is just happy that you felt safe enough with him to let him help you when you’re in this vulnerable stage.

It is a known fact that Levi panics in intense situations.

And you abruptly leaving the dinner table was something he would classify as an intense situation.

He didn't necessarily understand all of the intricacies of your period, but he did know that he wanted to help.

Levi didn't have any idea where to start, so he went to his default of bringing videogames and DVDs to your room.

You bit back a chuckle as you opened the door and saw Levi struggling to hold everything he brought.

You let him inside, grateful of the fact that he was trying and Levi quickly got to work setting up yours and his favorite game.

The fun that you were having with Levi was enough to distract you from the pain of your period cramps.

But that didn't stop him from checking in - quite often - and asking if you were alright.

Levi offered to get you food, something to drink, medicine - anything you would need.

And if you did ask him for something, he moved faster than you'd ever seen to get it back to you promptly.

He may not be an expert in what was going on with you, but he would do just as good of a job as any of the others when it came to comforting you.

As stated, Satan was an expert on everything to do with your period before you even got it.

He didn't need to search anything up or refer to his books.

He figured this would happen sooner rather than later and he was prepared for it.

Like Mammon, Satan gets everything you need. But, unlike Mammon, it’s all already prepared in an emergency kit that he’s kept in his room.

Satan grabbed the bag and went to your room in a matter of moments.

When you opened the door, Satan offered you a brief apology about the events that occurred at dinner. He felt guilty about putting you on the spot like that.

But, he offered to make it up to you by helping relieve your pain.

When you allowed him in, Satan was as strict as a doctor, almost in an overbearing way.

He gave you the medicine to take and instructed you to lay in a way that allowed for the ideal positioning of the heating pad.

And even if it wasn’t the way you wanted to lay, when the heating pad started working, you were thankful for Satan’s expertise.

He stayed with you for the rest of the night, sitting next to you and gently running his fingers through your hair as he read one of your favorite books to you.

It ends up being much more comforting than you would have expected from the Avatar of Wrath.

Asmo may not be like Satan or Lucifer in knowing all about a human period.

But he has had his fair share of experience with it.

And he’s a pro at rest and relaxation.

Asmo let you calm down in your room for a little bit while he set things up in own room.

He was sure you were upset at all of them for bombarding you at dinner like that.

But, he was hoping that you would let him help you anyway.

When he was ready, he asked you to join him in his room, and after promising he wouldn’t try anything risque, you agreed to go.

When you got to his room, you were met with an overwhelming aroma of essential oils and the sound of soft music playing.

The lights were dimmed so that the room was bright enough to see, but dark enough to relax.

Under normal circumstances, you would have assumed that Asmo was trying to come on to you, but he had promised he just wanted to help.

He led you to his bed and asked for permission to give you a massage.

Being the Avatar of Lust, Asmo’s knows the human body very well, and he knew every technique and every spot that needed to relax, and you felt all of your tension release and your cramps subside.

Asmo had a small smile on his face as you slowly drifted off after feeling relaxed enough.

He would always be there to help pamper you whenever you needed it.

Beel was a bit confused when you left the table.

He didn’t really understand the gravity of the situation.

And so, playing to his kind and innocent nature, Beel thought something was wrong with the dinner.

He quietly finished the food on his plate before disappearing from the House of Lamentation.

When he came back, he went directly to your room with bags full of all of your favorite food. No one should skip dinner.

You had to keep yourself from laughing as Beel explained why he brought all of your favorite food and you invited him in to share the food with you.

Beel noticed the pained expression you flashed every so often and when you told him about your period cramps and how that was the reason you left dinner early, Beel wanted to do everything he could to help.

He immediately engulfed you into his arms, holding you tightly into him as his hands rubbed soothing circles onto your back.

You felt your pain slowly going away as Beel’s body warmth underneath you acted as a heating pad and his hands relieved any tension you were holding.

He might not know exactly how to help you, but he’s just as effective in soothing your cramps nonetheless.

Belphie's help almost always came with a witty remark or some teasing no matter who you were or what the situation was.

But, for this particular situation, Belphie tried to be on his best behavior.

From what he heard, this was a hard time for you and he was certain the wrong remark would set you off.

So, he played especially nice.

He came to your room and asked you if there was anything he could do to help.

When you let him in, he asked a few questions about your period and got you a few things.

But, if that doesn't help, Belphie will escalate things.

When most people think of the Avatar of Sloth, they only think about him sleeping a lot.

They don't often recognize the power he had over other people's sleep.

And if you continue to be in pain throughout the night, Belphie will reach a point where he believes sleep is the only way to help you.

And it will be the best sleep of your life, full of amazing dreams to keep any pain of your cramps far away from you.

Naturally, Belphie will spend the night in your room, cuddling you.

But it's just to make sure you get a restful sleep the whole night!

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likesomeoneinlovee · 1 month ago

Text

𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓’𝐒 𝐖𝐀𝐘

Arthur Morgan x f!reader, word count: 10k +, 18+

This was an older fanfic I wrote in my notes a little while ago that I decided to - try - to revive and post while I work on other fics. (I swear I'm gonna write about other characters other than Arthur lmao--)

Summary: ( Based on the stranger mission: ''an artist's way,, in CH4 ) You run into Arthur while on an errand in Saint Denis while he invites you to come with him to Charles Châtenay's gallery. Afterwards you two go out for a drink, then eventually to a local hotel where you find out Arthur had been drawing you in Charles' "style"

Warnings: smut with plot HEAVILY based off the game's mission - Reader briefly mentioned to be a virgin, fingering, unprotected PIV sex, riding, creampie, oral sex M!receiving + F!receiving. Younger woman reader, Arthur's a big boy, canon that he grabs the headboard sorry not sorry.

More and more you’ve found yourself becoming the gang’s “errand boy” which was often Arthur’s job, though he’s been gone more often now, either on bounty’s or doing the dirty work in the gang. So Dutch had you do the clean work. You’d say you didn’t mind it, the running around at least, after all it was one of your only excuses to get away from camp. You’d jump when Pearson needed more herbs or vegetables from the store or if Dutch needed some cigars. You usually went to Saint Denis most of the time, it was the closest to camp after all -and something about running these errands in the city made you feel right at home. The gang was a downgrade from growing up in the city of course, still not completely used to it: the running, it was as if every time you were comfortable everyone had to pack up and move to a whole new location. Hell, sometimes it means crossing states.

You had just walked back to your horse after buying some goods from the general store across the street, packing your purchases into the saddle bags of your hitched horse -some canned fruits and vegetables, cigarettes as per request from most of the people in camp, and some ammo Dutch asked for, just to stock up I suppose. As you worked on buttoning the flap to the saddle bag back down, making sure none of your goods would be seen by people walking by, after all you spent your hard earned -ahem, stolen money- on those things, you could’ve sworn you heard a man ask for directions, a man with a voice as familiar to you as you own.

You looked over your shoulder to see the man, the sandy brown locks under the gambling hat told you enough, why was Arthur in the city? You didn’t think Dutch had any chores for him today, thus why he asked you to go to the store. He held a small card in his hand, looking from the back of it before his gaze fell back on the woman passing, the one he had asked for directions. Once he got them he’d nod to the woman, eyes falling back onto the card as she walked off.

You’d pat your horse on the neck before walking onto the sidewalk where Arthur stood, he didn’t notice you til’ you tapped on his shoulder. “Arthur?” You were sure he nearly jumped out of his skin. If your voice wasn’t so familiar he probably would’ve elbowed you out of pure defense.

“Christ–! you tryin’ to kill me sneakin’ up on me like that?” He’d pause for a moment as if his brain finally processed that it was you. “The hell are you doing here anyway?”

“Good news, you’ve been replaced.”

“Wha–” His brows would furrow together as his mind cranked to figure out your meaning, that was until you pulled your little shopping list out from the satchel swung over your shoulder. “Oh, that.”

Of course he couldn’t care less about being ‘replaced’ in that department. It was usually a pain in his ass –And honestly you were a pain in his ass too. It’s not that he didn’t like you, you were just ultimately too spunky for his nature. He’d gladly admit you were a good shot, a good killer. So with that you made a good member for this gang. Personality wise he couldn’t help but wince at your jokes while others would laugh, the tiniest amount of attitude that laced each of your sentences. He wasn’t one to like immaturity, especially from someone who was an adult. Though, you were barely even that.

“Have fun runnin’ around with that list of yours then. Seems you’re really movin’ on up.” He’d scorn.

He’d look down at the card in his hands, then back up to look around his surroundings.

“Do you know where this is?”

He handed you the card, the finished paper now warm from him holding it for so long now against your fingertips. It was an address to one of the buildings on this street, you were surprised he hadn’t realized by now.

“That woman didn’t tell you? It’s right on this street.”

“No.” He’d roll his eyes. “She looked at me like I lost my mind.”

You’d snicker at that, now walking down the sidewalk with him, both of your boots clicking against the stone sidewalk. Then you stopped in front of the brick building. ”Here, I think.” You’d give that card one last look, noticing the name on the back of the card, you’d squint to see if you were reading it right -Charles Châtenay? you could’ve sworn I heard that name–

My eyes flicked up to the poster on the side of the brick, looks like it was what I thought after all. I usually pick up the paper when I go this route. The route of aimlessly following Dutch’s list as I walk or ride around the city, gives me something to read when I get back to Shady Belle. Seems the artist had an open gallery today. you couldn’t help but snort, the thought of you, Arthur Morgan going to an art gallery full of practically- well, pornography, now that just might be the funniest damn thing you’ve heard all week. -Your immaturity was truly striking.

“Mr. Morgan, Mr. Morgan.” You’d snark. Of course when Arthur wasn’t acting like the man he was -the same man with five-thousand dollars on his head alone, the same who’s murdered more than a person could fathom he was just your regular ol’ suck up.

“Don’t start with that now, I’m already annoyed I gotta go to this thing.” He tapped his boot onto the sidewalk, taking that card back from you and putting it back into his satchel. “Well, ‘less you wanna come in with me. You’d have a field day with this kinda thing. Châtenay seems like a man who’d entertain you anyway.”

You’d think it over for a moment, you could hear chatter already coming from the windows of the building that were open just a crack. Surely you’d find entertainment in it but you were also fond of the arts as well. Though paintings of women laid out nude wouldn’t strike something in you as it would in a man, you’d be surprised if you were the only woman in that building other than the ones on canvas. –At least this would bring some entertainment to your day.

“I’ll keep you company. Lead the way– or, shall I? Seeing you’re horrible with directions.”

“Up the stairs and to the right.” He’d recite the directions written on the back of that card. “I think I can remember that.”

You two walked into the building together, up the stairs and to the right and you were there. The first hall was filled with sculptures, beautiful paintings hung against the blue walls, the next room you two stepped in was Châtenay’s, you and Arthur’s gaze met with women’s breasts and men’s cocks painted with oils on the canvases. It surely was– something. Arthur tugged his collar to clear his throat.

The room had more of a variety of guests than you thought, actually more women than men which came as a shock up until you realized these women were actually the models conversing with the other models. They seemed quite proud of their work, respectably so. Arthur had spotted the french artist across the room chatting one of the models up, he wouldn’t want you to get mixed up in his own charades so Arthur would squeeze your shoulder for your attention just for a moment.

“Why don’t you stay here, pretend to be a model or sumthin’, princess. Wouldn’t want you to get your ear talked off by Charles.”

Your eyes fell on the french artist as he stood distracted across the room, you could barely hear nor understand the words that he was blabbering out through his thick french accent. Something told you maybe it was a good idea for Morgan to handle what he’s gotten himself into with this man before you were stuck talking to someone you could hardly understand, stuck replying with ‘mhm’s’ and ‘uh-huh’s’ as if you knew what he was saying. Although you’d feel a bit awkward standing there and staring at the intimate paintings of both men and women while standing in the same room as the people being portrayed in oil, it’d probably be best for you at least, you were only here to keep Arthur company and today you felt you’d be less of a nuisance to him by obeying his wishes.

“Sure thing.”

You watched as Arthur walked away from you all the way to the other side of the gallery leaving you alone with the model’s dressed in their elegant, expensive attire that you could only dream of owning. And unfortunately due to the paintings you now know what’s under the rich clothing.

– That evening only got more interesting from there on. It was quite ridiculous, you and Arthur couldn’t have been there for more than fifteen minutes before all hell started to break loose. The husbands and wives of the models had practically raided the building before shouting at their spouses, you couldn’t really tell what was happening between Châtenay being attacked by the men and the women, being hit with a variety of chairs, purses, and of course, fists. Before things could get out of hand with you in the mix Arthur came over to you. He had a wide smile on his face, could’ve sworn this was the first time you’ve seen him laugh so hard he had developed tears in the corners of his eyes.

“You should probably get outta here before you get in the mix of fists, sweetheart–” His voice quickly cut off by a crash as he escorted you out of the gallery. “Wait outside.” He’d pat your shoulder, leaving you standing at the top of the stairs as he left to go help the artist.

“Sure– thing.” It was like that turned into your only response.

You didn’t really have time to leave with a jest, or something more than two words, not to be a pussy but you really didn’t feel like being hit by a stray flying chair, so you just walked down the stairs and back outside. You’d laugh to yourself as you walked down the street and away from that brick building, of course the highlight of the day only lasted a short moment, it was quick and rushed, but really you didn’t need to stare at those paintings any longer than you already have. -You felt as if Charles or the gallery wouldn’t be mentioned or thought of again, at least in this moment. But you’d be wrong about that. -The sun was setting now, it looked beautiful against all the buildings that made up the city, you found a bench to sit on, figured you’d read that paper you got earlier while you waited for Arthur. Your eyes would skim the words but nothing would really register.

____

A little while had gone by and after the sun finally set, the stars scattered against the dark sky as you stayed patiently waiting on that wooden –and quite uncomfortable bench, constantly finding yourself adjusting and shifting to get more comfortable, ‘course it didn’t work . You heard footsteps, looking up from the newspaper you felt you read about a hundred times by now out of pure boredom you were relieved to see that it was Arthur.

“Jesus, I thought you’d never come back. Why’d you take so long?”

“Had to escort the dumbass home so he didn’t get killed. Seems he had a whore waiting for him an’ everythin’.”

You’d let out a short breath at that, not quite a laugh, you felt your body getting a bit tired but you quickly shook off the feeling, rubbing your eyes with the back of your palm before standing from the bench, leaving the paper behind you, you had a bit of a ride back to Shady Belle, wouldn’t want to fall asleep on the back of your horse. You also had to get all that food and goods you bought back to the camp –though you weren’t quite sure how urgent we needed the provision.

You and Arthur started walking down the sidewalk, side-by-side, the night air now nipping at your skin through the thin fabric of your blouse. It had been too long without a good tease from you to purposely annoy him, clearing your throat to prepare to speak.

“How do you know that artist anyway?”

He’d look down at you as he walked, that was a fair question to ask.

“I met him in the saloon –not the big one down the street here, the smaller one. Don’t know if you’ve ever been there.”

You’d shrug. “I’ve passed by it.”

Arthur would nod. “Met him in there and somehow he convinced me to go to that little show. Gave one of his–” He'd stop his words looking down at you before shaking his head.

“Nevermind”

Charles gave him one of his many artworks, a nude woman, an illustration that he embarrassingly kept safely in his satchel since. And now he’d especially not want to tell you, you were already amused that he even went to the damn show which he himself had more fun that he should’ve. Though, to mention, he didn’t start having fun til’ Châtenay was getting his ass handed to him.

You on the other hand were now dying to know what he gave Arthur, –can’t just start a sentence without finishing it. You had a feeling begging him for the answer wouldn’t work of course, you’d try anyway.

“Oh come onnnnnn.” You sneered. “M’sick of you doing that, you’ve been on this earth long enough to realize you can’t just start a sentence without finishing.”

‘N’ I’ve known you long enough to know I shouldn’t be givin’ you any more reasons to laugh at me.”

“I don’t– laugh,” You’d scoff. “Five months isn’t long either, you barely know me.”

Morgan let out a sigh, tying to think of a good excuse to kinda brush away what he said. Something to finish the sentence he started. “He gave me some money, paid me to go to that exhibit. Don’t want you goin’ around thinkin’ I’m a pervert who went for a good time.”

You’d look up to him after he said that. If that’s all it was –money. “I wasn’t thinkin’ that.”

Well, maybe it crossed your mind once or twice. But then again why would he stop himself from saying that? Right now you couldn’t bother to make sense of it, you just shrugged it off. –Now the walk was silent for the most part, there wasn’t really anything to say. Once you got to your horse you’d pat the saddle bag, feeling that your goods hadn’t been stolen, letting out a sigh before turning back to Arthur.

“We should both get back to camp before someone gets worried.”

Really, you didn’t know who would get worried, you’ve stayed the night at a hotel in the city more times than you could count just so you could sleep in a comfortable bed ‘stead of your worn, hard cot.

“No one will be worried. Come on I’m the one who made you stay out here longer than you intended, I’ll buy you a whiskey or sumthin’.”

You’d look at him, almost surprised to hear the offer. It was rare for him to be sweet, if that was the right word for offering you a drink. It sounded good, the thought alone of the cool alcohol burning down your throat already waking you up a bit more than you were.

“That’d– that’d be nice.”

_____

Not too long after those words were shared you and Morgan had made it into the saloon, the faint playing of the piano heard from across the street now loud along with the chatter between people sitting and eating at their tables to the men around their table playing poker. Since it was a bit later in the day –the night now fully taking its course, it was like a signal for men and women alike to flood the saloon. You and Arthur had found a booth to be separated from the crowd at least a little bit. You both set your satchels down on the corners of your seats, Arthur’s finger tapping against the finished wood that made up the table before he took out a cigarette from his satchel along with his lighter, flicking the flame before holding it against his cigarette to light it, Adjusting to stuff the lighter conveniently into the pocket of his pants, inhaling the tobacco into his lungs before blowing the smoke away from the booth.

“I’ll get up, get us some drinks.”

“Mhm.” You’d hum as you watched him shift out of the booth, walking away to go to the bar. You’d notice something in his empty space, a piece of paper had fallen out of his satchel. You didn’t think anything of it of course, didn’t bother reaching over to put it back in for him. Curiosity killed the cat.

A few minutes later Arthur came back with a couple bottles, sitting back down into the leather seats of the booth with a sigh, the bottles clinking against the table as he placed them down.

“Thanks.” You'd nod, popping the cork out the bottle with your thumb.

“Just two beers, don’t wanna get too drunk, not here.”

Boy, was he wrong.

After those two beers Arthur had gotten up again to get another. Once beers were out he went to whiskey. One whiskey was out he grabbed any alcohol they had at that bar. Two turned into four. Four turned into six, –eight… Ten.. Fuck.

To be fair you didn’t have as many drinks as Arthur deciding to play responsible tonight, but it was still enough.

The once clean table turned into a mess of empty bottles, glasses, Arthur’s cigarettes and the ashes from made a mess of the ashtray pushed to the side of the table. Random splashes of golden liquid dripped on the table. Now piss drunk in a booth with an also piss drunk Morgan was… Actually a real fuckin’ good time. A peep could escape your lips and Arthur could double over the table with laughter, same with you.

One idiotic conversation after another you finally thought of it again even through your drunken haze –whatever that artist ‘gave him’ to persuade him into going to the gallery. Why was it clawing at you so much? You usually weren’t so interested in him or his life. Maybe it was because you knew he was blatantly lying to you.

“Now– you tell me the hell that– that artist gave you– remember?”

Finishing the sentence with a hiccup you’d look back at Arthur. Now since you both were a couple more shots away from passing out onto the sea of glasses that made up the table, both of your tongues were loose, of course.

He let out a laugh, shaking his head as he reached into his satchel. “Goddamn, guess you know how to loosen a man up–” He pulled out that piece of paper that was earlier peeking out from the top of the leather. “--Gave me this pretty little drawin’. Ain’t she a fuckin’ ‘beaut, eh?”

The picture he slid over to you from the other side of the table was a photograph of a nude woman of course, her bare breasts on a perfect display as she perched on a chair. You couldn’t help but laugh, was he really carrying this around all this time? Sure– that creep of a man could truly draw, but Arthur wasn’t one to keep aimless gifts close to him, definitely not directly in his satchel for safe keepings –though you couldn’t imagine what he was actually doing with this picture. If it’s what you thought that would be pretty damn pathetic.

“He surely can draw– that man–” You’d slur, sliding the illustration back to Arthur, wasn’t something you really needed to study. “--Now, you don’t–” You’d clear your throat “Surely you don’t–” “Now princess, I’d need a lot more than a sketch for that.”

You’d laugh, his words melted right off his tongue from the alcohol. Right now you couldn’t even force yourself to think anything of the words he was saying, and anyway, the thought of a man –even Arthur jerking off to a measly sketch of a woman sounded more unappealing than something that’d get you going. Why would it anyway? Arthur was– well, he was Arthur. You’d often be cautious to even call him a friend of yours. Though right about now in the haze of booze that clouded your brain and same his, he’d most definitely call you his friend as an introduction at least.

The music, the chatter, the yelling and hollering in the saloon was echoing through your head. You were sure the pianist practically banging on the keys of the piano would split your ears open if you stayed in that place any longer –you’d ignore it for now, hell maybe even another drink would solve that problem.

“...I didn’t need to know that information.” You’d finally get past your lips with another giggle, slouching over the table with that damned empty bottle still in your grasp, being swung around to enunciate all your sentences.

Arthur raised an eyebrow, he couldn’t help the grin that pulled at his lips –blame the brandy for that. He leaned back into the leather seats of the booth, his arm lazily draped onto the table, tapping his finger against the glass bottle he held –completely empty.

“You asked.”

He shrugged, taking a long sip from the glass bottle, savoring the feeling of the cool liquid slipping down his throat, feeling unnecessarily in love with the burning. You’d pout, tap your finger against the bottle you held, but the corners of your lips betrayed you, a smirk quickly replaced how your bottom lip would stick out from your top.

“Didn't expect an answer– not like that–” hic “–not from you.”

“What are you– drawin’ these types of things too? Psh– maybe you needed the reference.” You’d mock him, that brought a scoff from his lips as if you just said something so fucking absurd, he shook his head, slamming his bottle back down onto the wooden table as you swirled your empty bottle around the table. His gaze was seemingly stuck on the table as if he was examining the grooves and knots in the wood, running his finger along the imperfections.

“No, I–” His voice was conveniently cut off by a bang coming from one of the tables, more loud hollering, yelling –looks like someone won a poker game at least, the table surrounded by wasted men, all a bit too excited to be here tonight. Arthur was clearly getting antsy and the alcohol was even clouding your vision.

Imagine a radio overlapping ten different songs over each other and now replace the songs with the not-so pleasant sounds of men who’d been guzzling booze all night screaming over losing their money by their own stupid and idiotic decisions, women cackling over the city’s pointless gossip– that damn piano! You were ready to smash your beer bottle over the pianist’s head–

You tried to take a swig from your empty bottle before tossing it onto the table with the others. With a groan Arthur buried his face into his worked palms, he seemed just as sick of it as well.

“Goddamn–” He’d groan. His hands pressing harder into his face as if he was desperately trying to wipe away the noise. “Fuck. Fuck…”

You two just couldn’t stand it anymore.

__________

So, why stand it?

You and Morgan made it out of the bar successfully without beating someone with one of the bottles from the mess you had carelessly left on the table –you two getting out of there in time for the bartender to say anything. Swinging your satchels over your shoulders you two left the godforsaken noisebox that saloon had turned on, now all the ‘’hootin’ ‘N’ hollerin’,, was a faint sound heard from the distance as you walked down the sidewalk.

You rubbed your temple with the pad of your thumb, feeling a little better now without all the over fucking excitement.

“Gah– fuck.” Arthur would lean up against the brick building beside him, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand before looking forward, noticing the lit sign for the hotel in the distance. It was quite obvious you two wouldn’t want to be riding your horse back to camp right now. Morgan checked his pocket watch, the arms of the clock pointing to 11:35. ‘Kay, not too late.

“You don’t wanna ride all the way to camp right now, do ya?” His voice deeper than normal from all the drinking, the slurring.

“Not particularly,”

With a pause your head turned to the sign of the hotel, it’d be better just to go right straight there, once again you might’ve gone it anyway tonight just for that comfortable bed that comes with the deal –Hell, two dollars could get you a bed with two rooms if you’re lucky enough.

A hum escaped your throat as you nodded. “I–”

“Dont– don’t worry I’ll be payin’”

As if you didn’t have two dollars to spare you perked up a bit at that. Guess it was all you needed to hear.

No more excuses, you’d be spending the night with this drunken fool.

You two both were wobbly on your feet, of course with the amount of shots and bottles practically swallowed whole you could go figure that. You walked into the front doors as you tried to adjust your clothes, Arthur pushed his hat up so it wouldn’t be slouched over his eyes.

“Ah, may I help you two?” The clerk at the front desk had one of those fake overexaggerated smiles on his face.

“Just lookin’ for a room to stay the night. Nothin’ special.” He’d clear his throat, trying to shake off the drunken slur that was making his voice. “Two beds.”

Of course he had to clarify that– er, it only made sense anyway. It’d be really awkward if you and Arthur had to share a–

“Sorry, we don’t have rooms with two beds here.”

Shit.

Well it was logical at least, why would they? Let’s think. Who actually gets hotel rooms – commonly it’s men who’ve bought themselves a whore for the night or someone looking for a place to rest on their ventures. Not often you have two drunken outlaws stumbling in asking for two beds.

“Fine. M’That’s just– fine.”

Arthur would pass some money over the desk to the man behind, in exchange he received a key to the room.

“Upstairs, first room to your left, enjoy the stay folks.”

Jesus, you could’ve sworn that smile was melting off that clerk’s face as he spoke. You’d rub your temple again as you and Arthur just said a quick ‘’thank you,, in unison.

Both of your boots would stomp heavily up the stairs. – upstairs first room to your left. Once there you turned to it, Arthur put the key in, turned it, opened the door. The rusted hinges creaked as it opened, though despite that sound the door opened to reveal a very nice looking hotel room. The bed was made, a thick quilt and were those– satin pillows?

Surely this was paradise.

Arthur’s eyes looked around the room, other than the bed, a dresser in front, couple nightstands and an oil lamp to give the room a nice warm light –there was an arm chair pushed to the side of the room.

“I’ll take the chair.”

He groaned as he shimmied his coat off of his shoulders, lazily throwing it onto the arm of the chair. Now with this action he also removed his satchel, it hit the nightstand by the bed, narrowly missing the lamp and hitting the edge before his palms met with his forehead again.

“M’gonna try to find a bathroom in this place–”

You’d let a scowl cross your mouth as he said that, watching as he stumbled out the door, closing it behind him.

Well, at least you could get some peace and quiet– is what you would say if there wasn’t the sound of the bed creaking clearly from rocking back and forth and a quick pace wasn’t coming from behind the drywall of your own room. Whatever, somehow that could be easily ignored by you.

You did notice something more interesting than that though –something you couldn’t seemed to ignore: Arthur’s satchel had fallen from where he had thrown it, landing onto the floor as all his things fell all of it –a mess of papers and money, a couple packs of cigarettes too. You’d click your tongue as you went to pick it up, noticing his journal had fallen out too.

You crouched down to start putting his things back into the leather bag, the money, the cigarettes, though your hands lingered on the worn leather back of his journal for a bit longer than they should’ve.

No, you shouldn’t.

But what if you just– one peak wouldn’t hurt.

Arthur would probably take a while anyway figuring he went to presumably empty his body of all the alcohol he had drank in just one evening.

Though as you looked more at the mess on the ground below your knees you’d notice the papers more, one was right side up but underneath the journal, so you’d lift it. Doing so revealed the full drawing done in pencil–

A sketch of a nude woman much like one Châtenay had drawn. But this one– it seemed different. There was more detail, more fluidity to the art, it looked all the more real. Down to the freckles drawn down the valley of her breasts.

You flipped over another stray paper, this one of the same. A naked woman, her breasts on full display, detailed. You’d flip another

And then another.

You’d open his journal.

Flipping through the pages where he’s drawn various things, trees, animals, beautiful scenery of places he’s traveled with the locations written in the corners, some pages filled with chicken scratch of his thoughts– you’d pay no mind to those. You started to notice the pages that were ripped out from his journal yet kept in, more drawings.

Were you going crazy or did these drawings turn from your average woman with long wavy locks and bright eyes to– you…?

You felt a coil in your gut as you looked down at the images, not the bad kind of coil that you’d get while you’re being chased by an armed man or the kinda coil you’d get as a kid when your parents caught you stealing from the cookie jar– no, you could tell it wasn’t that kind from the additional heat that pooled in your tummy.

Your breathing would pick up, your eyebrows knitted closely as you looked down at these drawings. Your eyes. Your lips. Your nose. Quite obviously your hair too–

Fuck. You were beginning to hear footsteps stumbling down the hallway. You’d quickly shove the contents of his satchel back in, you surely didn't have time to worry about where everything went– if it’d just fall out again, if he’d notice it had been ran and rummaged through. Once it was all in there you quickly latched the button and placed it back on the nightstand, quickly standing from your knees as soon as he opened the door.

“Hi–”

How could a two letter greeting sound guilty as ever?

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as a grunt escaped the back of his throat, though now looking at him maybe you didn’t wish you were as drunk as him right now –even if it probably meant you’d be forgetting about those drawings by now, maybe you’d just brush it off.

He closed the door behind him as he coughed into his fist, gently guiding you out of the way so he could get to the satchel on the nightstand–

Fuck.

As he undid the button he reached in to grab a packet of cigarettes when he noticed one of them was missing.

“You take one of these?”

He’d say, popping the last one of the packet actually still in his satchel between his lips before lighting it.

“What– no! No– I don’t smoke…”

He’d look at you with his half-lidded gaze he’s had since the saloon, furrowing his brows at your reaction, frazzled for no good reason.

“Christ, girl. You don’t take your liquor well.”

That was funny, you’d think it was the other way around.

“I think it’s quite the opposite, Arthur.”

You’d see his gaze shift to the floor as he looked around, where could’ve that pack gone? He was sure he had a second one– no, he knew he had a second one since he just went out and bought it earlier in the day and– Ah, there it was. Halfway to being pushed completely under the bed Arthur bent to pick it back up. He was too delirious to think of why it even got there.

You swallowed the lump in your throat as you looked at him, his body– those fingers that you now knew were once holding a pencil to paper, sketching you, what he imagined to be underneath those pretty blouses you wore, those skirts that stopped at your ankles.

This was killing you. Even though you hadn’t said a word to him you still felt like you were lying to him, deceiving him. You never had a problem with that before anyway, why start now?

You knew what else you always were –that damn loud, snarky girl he always hated to be around. The one who’d let any words leave her mouth without a thought and now you’re here, standing in silence, you’d think your mouth was sewn shut.

Under the shadow of the bed Arthur saw something else– a paper.

Shit.

He tapped his boot on top of it and dragged it out, the sound of the paper sliding across the wooden floor heightened your senses again. Course it was one of those drawings, those drawings. It was his turn for his heart to rapidly thump against his ribs.

“Fuck.” You’d hear him groan as he bent down to pick up that paper now, looking it over, it wasn’t one of the drawings of you, one of the quick sketches of a woman he hadn’t named.

“You didn’t–”

…

“I did.”

The room fell silently quickly after that, how could it not? There was no point of you mustering up a flustered, messy defense in a long drawn out blabber that’d escape your lips so you’d just admit it. It wasn’t nothing you did wrong anyway. Arthur sighed, rubbing his hand over his face once more as he shoved the drawing back into his satchel, easily frustrated now he’d just crump it up into a ball before getting it into the leather bag. He braced his hands on the edge of the night stand, taking in a deep long breath before letting out an even deeper and even longer breath out.

You should say something– say something so he could look you in the eye.

“I– didn’t ask for those.”

“I know.” He’d breathe.

“I didn’t even realize you considered us friendly– I had no clue you–”

“I know.”

Your fingers would twitch at your sides, swallowing hard.

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me…”

At first in his head those words sounded– like they could be angry, it might’ve been his brain telling him that. Then he heard that tone– that almost breathless tone in your voice. He finally got the courage back to look you in the eyes, his fingers peeling away from the edge of that nightstand, if his nails dug into the finished wood any harder he would’ve left indents.

“You should be angry with me.”

“I’m not. I mean– I couldn’t be farther from that.”

You’d stop a moment, his breathing was heavy and so was yours. Arthur would push and twist his cigarette into the ashtray to put it out, blowing out the rest of the smoke through his nostrils with a suppressed, small cough.

“What are you then, princess?’

The name he had been calling you all day now sounding completely different in this heavy tone. You knew exactly what you were. Voicing that would be a little difficult. You felt if you did end up blurting something out it’d either kill the moment or kill him. His voice still had a slur to it from the alcohol, his tongue felt heavy in his mouth. Your own throat ran dry as you flicked your eyes to his plump, pink lips.

A man like Morgan knew what that look you gave meant, he’s had his own fair share of whores over the years, working girls were his usual go-to after Mary at least, before too. I mean, Christ, the man had himself a son once he knew what your eyes alone were saying.

“Why don’t you find out…” You’d finally blurt.

His boots clicked against the ground as he walked close to you, his hand reaching out to cup the nape of your neck.

The way his face slowly, so carefully slowly moved towards yours you’d think he was going in for a slow, gentle capture of your lips– not quite.

His face twitched– leaving you with a brief flash of micro emotion before he would collide his lips against your own, his fingers curling and tangling in your locks of hair.

___________

His tongue delved into your mouth before your own body got the chance to respond, your arms quickly wrapping around his neck as you moaned into the kiss. His hands slid down your shoulders, arms, the curve of your waist, hips, all the way down to your thighs, hands moving to the back of them to hoist you up against his body, his palms laid flat against your ass.

Your legs locked around his hips, finding difficulty to find a place to settle your hands as his tongue fucked your mouth, his shoulders? His arms? You’d eventually give them a home on his vest-covered chest, your fingernails digging into the black leather.

He could feel the denim of his pants stretch around his growing cock, he hoisted you higher, your clothed breasts practically at his lips now, those lips quickly parted from your lips to move down your neck, sucking at your pulse point.

You would never consider yourself noisy, not ever. Your life so far had never called for sex, sure men had given you their eyes, licking their lips seemingly to grab your attention but they never did, failing miserably instead of getting what they wanted from you. Playing with yourself was a lost cause but you’d count it as experience, the frustrated pumps of your own fingers into your pussy weren’t enough to draw pleasure, relieve the ache in your stomach, it only made it tighter.

Arthur had sucked a hickey into your skin, he made sure it’d be hidden by your hair since it was so far up on your neck. His roughened hands still would squeeze your ass cheeks, fingers working you like dough before giving it a quick, hard spank. Almost just muscle memory for him.

With a grunt he’d lower you two down onto the bed, his mouth quickly returned to yours with the same –nearly violent pace. The bulk of his muscles pressing into your more so petite form. His hand roamed your body – your legs, thighs, stomach, moving up to cup then squeeze your soft breast, the pad of his thumb teasing your budded nipple through the thin fabric of your blouse rewarding him with a moan from your sweet lips.

Just the feeling of his clothing rubbing against his body was driving him mad, ‘’uncomfortable,, couldn’t even express it anymore, it was hell. His hands reluctantly pulled away from you, at a quick pace his thick fingers undid the buttons of his heavy vest, when that was gone, quickly discarded to the floor he finally felt like he was gaining - at least some - of his breath back, now it was a matter of his shirt, quickly undoing the buttons of that next. Fuck, he needed you.

He needed you right fucking now.

He shimmied the shirt off of his shoulders, down the muscles of his arms before it dropped to the floor behind him –he was on top of you again. His hips bucked into yours quick and hard. Grinding. Rubbing.

Your hair would splay behind you on the bed, always thought in moments like this your eyes should be closed, that seemed like common knowledge, your half-lidded eyes still refused to fully close, especially now that his shirt was off. You’ve of course seen Morgan with his shirt off before, tending to his wounds, his cuts, bathing in the lake out by camp– close up like this it was different. His biceps pulsing as his hands braced on either side of your head, fingers curling into the blanket. Puffs of hard breaths would escape him, it was almost like a pattern before he’d grab you by the sides of your thighs tight.

Arthur would let himself fall back against the pillows that piled against the bed frame, dragging your body right onto his lap –now it was obvious how hard he was, that mass between his legs pulsating against your ass, your back pressed against his chest as he snaked an arm around you, quickly so fucking fast. He’d begin unbuttoning your blouse, tugging it right off of you, you were surprised he didn’t tear the fabric off of your pretty little body. His hands moved up, groping and squeezing your tits from behind, one of his hands moved down your body, down your sternum, stomach, and past the hem of your skirt, dripping your hand under it before his thick fingers found your panties.

Fucking hell you were soaked.

“Jesus christ… Fuckin’ hell you’re soaked…”

He’d grunt, he hadn’t spoken in a while, so focused on his movements, breathing. This was something he couldn’t ignore. He placed a kiss on your nape before his fingers would slide past your wet underwear, his hips involuntarily thrusting into your ass, squeezing your tit harder as he pushed two of his big fingers into your hot cunt. Your head lolled back against his shoulder as you practically squealed.

“Arthur–!”

Your mouth was wide open, sharp, sinful moans escaping from you as his fingers curled inside you, fuck. If you couldn’t even handle his fingers how would you handle his cock. You can only imagine how fucking big it was. Big hands, muscles, body, it’d be one of god’s greatest jokes if it didn’t live up to the rest of his body.

Your cunt would clench around his fingers- it had been this whole time. His fingernail scraped across the tip of your erect nipple again, you’d squirm in his arms, your own fingers digging into his massive biceps, the tip of your finger tracing the vein that ran down it, his muscle would twitch.

With a wet squelch from your tight pussy Arthur would withdraw his fingers from your walls, you weren’t finished. Wasn’t his concern. The coil in your gut felt like it’d burst any second, your cunt left throbbing, empty without the fill of his fingers.

He was gonna give you something better than his fingers.

“Lift up…”

His mouth was pressed against your ear feeling the hot breath fan onto your lobe. His hands gripped onto your hips, pulling that pretty dark skirt right down the length of your legs, you could hear the clinking of his belt behind you, making your ears perk.

“Up.”

Another command escaped his lips, you’d nod as you shakily got off of him, kneeled onto the bed. Arthur blew out the oil lamp on the bedside table, the room now lit by the paleness of the moonlight that shone through the windows, the curtains spread. It wasn’t like people would see anyway, though it’d be a good show.

Once he had unbuckled his belt he threw it to the ground– Arthur didn’t wear briefs, why would he? They caused him more discomfort, an extra layer of tightness to his balls and shaft. One tug of his work-pants and his hard, thick cock sprung from the confines of the black denim, the light from the window reflecting on the bead of precum that beaded off his cockhole. His size was impressive, sending a signal through your body– you couldn’t control yourself anymore. You ripped your underwear right off of that poor bundle of nerves that it protected, tossing the wet lace down onto the floor.

You practically crawled to him, his hands reached for your hips before pulling you on top of him, walking on your knees over him, his cock shooting straight up as it twitched with your pussy like it was fucking magnetic. You’d sink your body down onto the thickness, moaning his name as you sheathed him into your pulsating cunt. His hand wrapped around the headboard, gripping it for dear life as he pumped his way into you–

“Fuck!” Your hands braced on either one of his hips before one trailed up to his chest.

“That’s it– that’s fuckin’ it, princess.”

His thrusts quickened, his back arching up with each fast pound of his pelvis. His cock slipping deeper into your gummy walls with each snap. His dick curved inside of you, the head of his shaft kissing your g-spot, he felt so painfully good, your teeth bit into your thumb to try to muffle the sounds escaping your mouth, your body shaking.

You didn’t want to let yourself be this –a mess on top of him. Riding him. You had to gain some control even with his cock slapping inside of your sore hole. His eyes opening up, releasing the headboard to trail back to your breasts, those scarred, calloused hands - once again - giving the tender mounds another generous groping. Your hands would run to rest on top of his own big ones, the size of him consuming every sense –not only his dick, his hands, his body. Looking down and seeing the muscles in his stomach tense and twitch, his head arching backwards into the comfortable pillows behind. He was close. Surely you were too.

His hand ran to the small of your back as he helped you a bit, pushing himself up against the headboard so his body was lazily sat up now, your hips rolling back and forth into his as you ground down, making a loud, throaty moan release from the back of his throat, his balls slapped against your ass, now you’ve got it. Bouncing up and down on his cock leaving him with no mercy.

“You’re gonna make me cum, princess– you’re’mmmm–”

His eyes locked onto the sight of your perfect tits bouncing up and down as you took his cock, he felt his sack tighten up, that unbearable sensation deep in his gut, he was gonna cum. He needed to cum. Though you were still chasing that high as his fingers dug into your waist, your skin there raw and pink from the tight hold. The base of his cock rubbed against your clit, the coarse hair crowning it scratched against the sensitive, swollen bud, the sensation making you lose every bit of yourself to him.

With one more curved thrust from him you’d climax, your body collapsing over top of his as you did. Making sure to cry right into his ear. Your trembling fingers clawing and digging into the broad, tense muscles of his shoulders. His eyes rolling back into his skull as his orgasm followed yours, strings of hot semen coating your inner walls as he fucked it into you, making your pussy milk out every hot, thick rope of cum, his head falling foreward between the valley of those pretty tits he’d been admiring all night.

“Oh fuck, princess.”

His voice wavered as he tried desperately to catch his breath back though it seemed it’d all been stolen from his lungs.

“Oh, Arthur…”

That desperate whine squeaked from your lips. A kiss was planted on your clavicle before he’d guide you so you were underneath him again, careful not to jar you too much after all he was well aware of how hard he had just fucked that tight little hole of yours. He’d pull his shaft out from those walls that were spasmed around him just a second ago, watching all that access, hot seed spill out from your pink petals.

Did you think that was it? Surely you had to return the favor.

Arthur had a cigarette lit and hanging from his lips that were wet with his own salvia, your head between his legs bobbing up and down on that thick cock that was still coated with your own juice. His fingers tangled up in your hair, fucking your mouth with the same force as he had with your cunt just moments ago. The cigarette in his hot mouth was the only thing suppressing his noises, taking it between his fingertips just to let out a loud long moan.

You’d gag when his swollen tip hit the back of your throat unexpectedly, your hands digging into his thighs as your eyes held close so fucking tight tears welled up in them, making your vision blurry as you looked up at Arthur, eyes closed, puffing on that cigarette. Your left hand went to wrap around your base as you pulled him nearly completely out of your mouth, your lips still wrapped around his cockhead, your tongue tracing his hole.

“Goooooood fuckin’ girl… Keep going–”

Your hand jerked him off now as your abused throat got to catch a break, though it’d still need to be put up to work, hm? You hopped onto his thigh as your hand now caressed his chest, trickling your fingers down his thick chest hair that covered the tan skin. Your thumb teased his red hot tip, before you kept rolling your hand up and down –he was close, you now leaned to tell when that vein that ran down his low stomach all the way down to the middle of his shaft began to twitch and pump you’d get to milk the man dry a second time. A mix of your drool and his precum dripping down his length.

Your fist tightened around him as your mouth locked with his as he held the smoking cigarette between his forefinger and his middle, his hand wrapping in your hand to the nape of your neck, hips bucking into your palm, he cums again. Hard. Right into your fist.

Arthur was panting like a damn dog, you had jerked him off just right to get his legs to tremble as they spread for you. He broke away from your mouth to catch his breath that you stole from him. You trailed a kiss to his neck, he had been marking you all night you thought it was only fair to give him some too, sucking a purple mark into his skin before trailing your mouth down.

“Good girl— good fuckin’ girl…” He was a mess.

His praise was always a godsend to you, ringing through your ears, you craved it. Your tongue ran down his collar, his shoulder, then down his arm, those pulsing muscles that were smooth to the touch, glistening with his sweat. The way his chest began heaving heavily as you traced the thick vein that ran down his bicep with your tongue.

Receiving was something that his body needed. But giving was something that he craved. Just hearing the sweet moans and cries from a woman’s mouth as it hung agape was something that could get him off more times at just the thought of than a blowy.

–Though now your legs were on his shoulders as he pumped his tongue into your walls, running it up and down your slit as he - messily - ate your pussy, he was starving for it after all. Your back was arching upwards but his hands were too occupied holding your ankles to the dips of his shoulders to touch you anywhere else, his nose pressed against your clit –even his nose could find work. Your pants were hot and labored, all you can let out those sharp, gorgeous whines of his name, the one you’ve grown so accustomed to.

“Arthur!”

Again.

“Fuck- fuck, Arthur–!”

His name learned to roll off your tongue like honey, it seemed to be becoming the thing that came natural to you in life. He loved it, his mouth sucking feverishly at your clit, he knew all those sweet-spots, you weren’t a religious girl, - if you were you wouldn’t be in your right mind to let Arthur do these truly sinful things to you - but you’d thank god to every whore, every woman that taught him these tricks.

Your thighs would squeeze his head til’ it was about ready to pop, though that’s just what Arthur wanted, mumbling praise into your sweet, slick folds as his fingers moved into the mix too, forcing your body to that high you’d been desperately chasing, the pad of his finger pressing against one of your soft spots.

You’d cum hard on his face, your glistening climax now coated his beard as he removed his face from your thighs, looking at your heaving, shaking body now beneath him. Resting your legs down he’d slowly lower himself back onto you, his lips kissing from your navel to your lips, his body - and yours, of course - finally feeling a bit heavy.

“You’re too good f’me, girl…”

At the moment there was not enough oxygen in your lungs to give him a vocal response, you’d just nod, your cheeks flushed a pale pink. His hand moved to brush some hair away from your face, strands stuck to your cheeks, forehead, it was a sight for him. He’d pick you up, pulling you to sit in his lap as he held you to a tight embrace, nipping and kissing at your neck. He was so needy for you.

______

The night had settled, only a bit. You found yourself tucked in Arthur’s arm with the warm quilt thrown on the hotel bed covering your bodies, both sore and spent.

Arthur had been flipping through the pages of his journal now, it only felt right to shamelessly show you the works he’s done of you now, of course those were only a couple.

“I stopped doin’ them for a while now… Most of them was from when I was drunk. Foolish.”

He’d explain, though it didn’t seem like it needed an explanation anymore, you didn’t care after all though you appreciated it. Your hand would reach out to touch the page, feeling the rough paper beneath your fingertips.

“I don’t mind…”

“Yeah well, maybe now you can model f’me, hm?… I’m always better working with a reference.”

You couldn’t help but giggle.

“It's a date then.”

You two had both fallen asleep shortly after, his sweet praises in your ear til your body was limp against his own, his fingers combing through your hair —a moment of intimacy and peace like this after he had fucked you so thorough. Not a thought of worry in your pretty little head.

'Cept maybe how the ride back was gonna feel on that soreness between your legs–

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minus-plus-zer0 · 4 months ago

Text

His Cologne (and Yours)

♡ Genre: Fluff ♡ Pairing: Bakugou x Reader

Did Bakugou always wear cologne?

He probably didn't, not until he met you. Once you entered his life, he was busy trying to figure out what the hell these "stupid feelings" were and what to do about them. And more importantly, how to get you to feel these "stupid feelings" too.

So he wears cologne now.

Although Bakugou was basically new to all of romance, Bakugou at least had enough sense not to spam the cologne all over. So you didn't notice the change immediately until you walked a little too close to his desk, and you realized you actually liked the smell.

But you couldn't exactly go around telling him that! So instead you subtly started spending more time around him and his desk, which was only natural given your guys' budding relationship.

And then, when you started hugging him (also a never before seen occurrence), you started to notice that the smell rubbed off on you. Even hours later, you still noticed that damn cologne stink as if you had sprayed it on yourself.

Bakugou took that as a personal win. Once he found out, he would be teasing you about it until you took 10 showers to get it off, and then he'd just get sad about it being gone until the next time you hugged him and the process repeated all over again.

"The hell's that smell?" he would ask one day as you walked by his desk. "You wearing the same cologne as me?"

You scoffed over your shoulder. "Bakugou, we've been over this like 5 times! Get a new joke!"

"Get some new cologne then!"

"Maybe I'll hug Kirishima and see what he smells like!"

"KIRISHIMA YOU'RE DEAD YOU BASTARD!"

"...What did I do?"

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pressureplus · 5 months ago

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I actually have this request in my head for a while now... but I'm not sure if you be up to do it so thank to let me know if you will do it or not. Fem! Reader who is happily married and live together with Sebastian (when he still human). Until, Sebastian was arrested and sentence to dead. Reader found no long after his dead that she was pregnant. Years later, Sebastian manage to escape Hadal Blacksite probably very injured in the process. He was soon spotted by the kid that look similar to his human self (the kid probably be now close to be a teenager now), as the kid call up their mother. Sebastian was shocked to see his wife come to view.

I'm looking 👀

Love this dramatic shit, I'm SO here for it!

I'm going to be referring to your son as S/N, so y'all can name your boy yourselves! (I'm real interested in the stuff you might choose, so if you wanna put them in the replies, I'd love to see your baby names!)

Smaller Hands

Pairing: Sebastian Solace x Fem!Reader

Au: [Unnamed]

Warnings: Mentions of Pregnancy, an Absent Father, injury, and Imprisonment

◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟

He had been running a very long time before he got to where he was now.

Escaping the Blacksite was only the beginning of his long, long journey home. He had wrestled himself from the depths of the deep ocean and fought his way all the way up to the light far, far above him.

Breaking through the surface of the water had provided him with a hope he never thought he'd see truly grow into something he could really hold. Sunlight and open air and a horizon that stretched endlessly in every direction... Sebastian hadn't known freedom in over 10 years, but there it was.

The way the natural light caught the glint of his wedding ring had him already tearing through the water with a grin, energy back in his tired body. It certainly wasn't his original ring, no, that one wouldn't fit on his new, much larger hand anymore, but the replacement that he got so he could wear a ring on his hand and not just as a pendant was enough of a visual reminder of his love, sending him treading the water the way this body was made to do. He had to get to his wife.

He had to see his Y/N again. That's always what his efforts were for.

It was days before he even reached a beach, and weeks of dragging himself through the shadows and the alleyways, keeping himself out of sight. He would squint at road maps and try to figure out how he was going to get himself home, not very well able to get on the public transport or drive himself there with a body like this. He had to be more than a little creative with how he was going to cross the countless miles between his lover and himself if he wanted to make it there at all. He'd spend his seemingly endless days hopping trains and swimming rivers just to close the distance faster, like it may wash away the last decade he's had to go without her.

Sebastian could only hope she waited for him, though those chances were next to none. She had been there the day he was 'executed', watching him get taken back to the chair that was supposed to put his story to its end. She has every right and reason to think he died that day, and he could never be angry or upset if she decided she still needed to be held the way his other hands used to hold her... Would these hands even fit her anymore? They'd outgrown his first ring... Would they be too big to hold hers anymore? The painful thought was a reoccurring one, and it plagued every dream he had in the moments he would manage to rest.

He's nearing his old cottage now, beaten and scarred from the long trip home, more than a little bit tired and definitely hungry. He's barely going to make it if he manages to get to the doorstep at all, but more thankful than ever he'd made his home with her outside of the city and out into the woods so he might have a moment to his thoughts. He could very well find her with another man, or he could find a completely new family, or even find nothing but flowers and trees- The life that he made with her could be all but ashes on a breeze that swept this place years ago. She could be a memory and this could all be for nothing just as easily as anything else. He wouldn't even have a right to be angry... He wouldn't even feel a right to cry if she's decided to move on.

"SNAKE MAN! SNAKE MAN!!!"

He's shaken from his pondering by an unfamiliar voice, a starry eyed child fumbling out of the bushes like a little animal.

He nearly panics and flees before the brave, feral little boy reaches out for his hand and looks up at him like something right out of a story book- Which, he supposed may be fair given the way that he looks now.

"Are you a forest monster!? Do you grant wishes and eat people and stuff?!" It's clear the boy doesn't know fear, young and small still, with new eyes... But familiar ones.

Sebastian's heart drops into his stomach when he begins to recognize the thick, dark hair and deep brown eyes. This boy is the spitting image of the way he looked when he was around 10 or 11... It's like he's been pulled right from Sebastian's old childhood photos.

Too dumbfounded to speak, Sebastian stands there, every muscle in his body tense while his eyes flick around the boy's face trying to figure out how this could be.

"S/N! What are you doing talking to strangers, you were supposed to be at least playing in the yard and not the woods before the sun started setting." Y/N rounds the trees with a stubborn look on her face and immediately freezes when her gaze meets Sebastian's.

The air is knocked out of the both of them, leaving them only able to stare, and he notes the way she's remained nearly the same as the day that he was forced to leave her behind. Like a flower that never wilts, she stands as beautiful and as amazing as she was when he had first met her. Frozen with an expression he can't place, she makes no motion to do anything at all. The larger man acts first at the realization she must be frightened of him, going to put his two unheld hands up and open his mouth to explain himself-

"You said not to talk to strangers, this is CLEARLY a forest monster." Little S/N beats both of them to the punch and confirms to Sebastian all at once that his attitude is as strong in his blood as that unruly dark hair is.

"Heed your mother, would you? I could very well eat you." Sebastian ushers the child forward with a playful threat, the boy in reference pouting and looking back up at him.

"Come on, I'm only out a little bit late! It's not dark yet! Monsters only eat people in the dark." The boy argues, unfamiliar with the idea of real danger, it seems, but certain of himself the way only children really can be.

"Sebastian I can't believe it... Is it you? Am I losing my mind?" Putting the scolding and corrections on her son's statements off for a better time, Y/N looks up at the mutated form of her lover, hoping she might be right. When Y/N speaks, it's soft and uncertain, a hand going to rest on her child's shoulder so as not to lose him while she's distracted.

"You recognize me?" His heart practically jumps into his throat and he struggles to cope with how quickly she's guessed it was him.

"If not for the way one soul knows another, then for your voice and... Our ring." Unafraid just as well, she walks right up to the towering creature and brings her hand up to the necklace it's strung onto around his neck.

"Am I too late?" Sebastian asks, still scared.

"You're late, but never too much. You had better come home now though." She gets firm near the end and he laughs, melting.

"Awe that's no fair! I'm in trouble for being a few minutes late and he gets to be gone forever!" The boy whines and Y/N seems to laugh when she ruffles his hair.

"You can be out of trouble because it's a special day. Now, let's go home and get you to bed." Y/N's eyes stray back up to her husband, the fondness that was there in those beautiful eyes he fell in love with was something that had grown blurry and hard to recall until now. The way her gaze rested on him so softly brought him back like he'd never left in the first place.

"I think I have some things to talk about with your monster, here." She smiles at him and goes to slide her hand into his, the cold feeling against his palm of her own ring -the matching one to his from the promise that they'd made at that altar a long time ago- made him feel warm again, and made him feel alive.

"Yes, I've got a lot of things I've been waiting to tell her for these years we've spent apart."

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moonstruckme · 1 year ago

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i cannot stop thinking about oblivious reader and remus where she’s talking about how she’s never been with anyone before bc no one likes her so remus is like i like you!! but she’s like haha ok yeah bc we are friends!! and he has to be like no i like you but she just thinks he’s taking piss but he’s actually being real with her i’m so 🤧

Thanks for requesting :)

cw: mention of alcohol

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 870 words

“Ugh, they’re disgusting.” You take a sip of your drink, looking at James and Lily over the rim of your cup. Lily’s eating an ice cream sandwich she’d found in Sirius’ freezer, offering James bites while he traces lines between her freckles with his pinkie. “I want to be them so badly.”

Remus hums. It’s the tail end of one of Sirius’ parties (or his soirees, as he insists upon calling them), and the atmosphere is heavy with a pleasant lethargy. The music is still playing from his record player, some slowish, bass-heavy rock, but most everyone has cleared out, and Sirius himself has fallen asleep on the opposite side of the couch from Lily and James, his mouth hanging open.

“I wonder what it’s like to be in love,” you sigh. Remus turns to you, catching the longing in your look just before you hide it away.

“You’ve never been in love?” he asks you.

You give him a funny look. “No.” You shrug. “I’ve never dated anyone before.”

Remus hadn’t known that. He has to remind himself, again, that he doesn’t know all that much about you. You’re new to their little group, a coworker of Lily’s that she’d started bringing around recently. Remus doesn’t know you very well, but he’s found the learning process surprisingly enjoyable. He likes being around you.

“How’s that?” It slips out before he can think it through, brash and unlike him. He backpedals immediately. “Sorry, that was rude, I only meant that I’m a bit surprised. You don’t have to answer.”

“No, it’s okay.” You give him a smile, infinite in your benevolence. “People just don’t seem to think of me that way. No one’s ever liked me.”

You sound so casual about it, but Remus can’t help but think that must not be a nice way to think of yourself. He’s sure you’ve been considered romantically by plenty of people, even if they never had the guts to tell you about it. You’re lovely. You deserve to know it.

He musters his courage. “I like you.”

You laugh, and he thinks Sirius is going to have to mop his self-esteem up off the floor tomorrow morning as part of his party cleanup.

“Thanks,” you say, “but you don’t count.”

��Why the hell not?

“I mean, I’m glad you don’t mind me,” you go on, taking another sip of your drink, “but it’s different when you’re friends. I meant that nobody’s ever liked me, like, romantically.”

You go a bit shy at the last word, self-consciousness pulling your shoulders almost imperceptibly upwards. Remus forgives your oversight instantly.

“Do you really think it’s so unlikely that anyone could like you romantically?” he asks, refusing to lower his gaze even when you shrink a bit at the question. “You’re a catch, love, trust me.”

You shake your head and smile, frustratingly good-natured. “Easy for you to say, you don’t have to date me.”

“Have to?” Remus’ voice rises incredulously. He glances towards James and Lily on the couch, lowering it. “I would love to.”

“Ha ha,” you monotone, rolling your eyes and raising your cup to your lips.

He can’t believe you think he’d joke about this. He can’t figure out what’s more cruel, the way you keep inadvertently shooting him down or the fact that you seem so heart-wrenchingly prepared to be made fun of. “I mean it.” Remus lets his voice drop into a more genuine register, and something in your look softens. “I would date you. I want to, if you do. You’re far from impossible to like.”

Your lips actually part in surprise. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, I…” He looks over at the couch, but James and Lily are effectively as dead to the world as Sirius, and at the volume you’re both speaking he doubts they’d be able to hear you over the music anyway. “I think you’re really lovely. I’ve been meaning to do something about it, I just…I didn’t know how. But would you want to?”

“To go on a date?” you ask, looking a bit dazed. Remus smiles, but before he can confirm you laugh at yourself, the sound rich and sweet as dark chocolate. “Sorry, that might be a stupid question. I haven’t done this before.”

“I can’t believe that.” He shakes his head, astounded. For a girl like you to never get asked out? Well, it makes things a bit easier for him, jealousy-wise, but objectively it’s criminal. Remus supposes he’ll have to make up for it himself. “But yeah, I’d like to go on a date.”

You nod, smile sticking on your face. “Me too. I’d like that.”

“Good,” he says, finding that your smile seems to have stuck to him too. “Tomorrow, maybe? We could go for coffee.” He looks out the window behind you, where a faint line of gold on the horizon shows promise of sunrise. “I think we’ll both be needing it.”

You laugh again. Remus decides that he likes it better than any song Sirius has played all night. “That sounds perfect. Thank you, Remus.”

He’s not sure what you’re thanking him for. He’s the one who gets to take you to coffee tomorrow. He ought to be thanking you.

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anxiousnerdwritings · 7 months ago

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if obscurial!aunt!reader ended up teaching at Hogwarts for like muggle studies or something you know all the Slytherin kids with parental issues end up subconsciously calling her “mother” at least twice by the end of the year.

Theodore Nott is the only one who knows who owns it and call her “moms” regularly which infuriates Harry but eventually there’s a whole Euphemia/Sirius dynamic going on cause Theo lost his mom when he was super young and his dad is a pureblood twat so she begins to mother him pretty much and the day he turns sixteen he shows up at Spinner’s End with a suitcase

I fucking adore this ask so much, anon! You have no idea. 🥰🥰🥰🥰

I could wholeheartedly see most of the school viewing Obscurial!Muggle!Aunt!Reader as a mother figure, but especially the Slytherins. At first, it’s completely unconsciously and a slip of the tongue, but eventually it grows into something deeper for a majority of the snakes. The Reader ends up becoming their solace away from home, not that any of them want to or would ever admit it (at least not right away). And they take full advantage of it, not that any of them do it in front of others but in the moments when they have the Reader’s sole attention they bask in their warm and comforting presence.

If Yan!Bellatrix is at the school too working as a professor I could see her nudging the Slytherin kiddos towards the Reader, knowing how naturally nurturing and attentive the Reader is to anyone in general but especially with how good she is with the students. Just Bellatrix subtly encouraging them to seek out and open up to the Reader when they’re in need of comfort and someone to listen to them.

I especially love the idea of Reader’s family home on Spinner’s End becoming a safe haven for whoever needs it. It was for Harry, whether he was there as a baby or when he ran away in his third year. It then became a place for the Weasley’s and Hermione when they came into the Reader’s life. And one by one the people from the Marauders Era found their way there too.

I imagine Theo being the first one out of the Slytherins to show up at the Reader’s door, even being the one to stay there the longest, but eventually a number of others pop up too. Especially with the war nearing closer and closer. Hell, I could even see some selective parents showing up with their child to seek sanctuary at the Reader’s house too. You can bet Narcissa is pulling up with Draco, before and or after the war. Without Lucius. Mrs, Zabini and Blaise are rolling up too.

I just can’t help but imagine all these terrified Slytherins when the war starts rearing its ugly head and them not knowing what to do, only for Bellatrix to put the idea in their head to run away to the Reader. (I love the idea of her being a spy for the Order due to her obsession for the Reader, similar to how Snape was, and in the process helping some of the kids get out of becoming Death Eaters.)

Even after the war is over and things are semi back to normal, the kids (and some adults) who came to the Reader end up sticking around, basically being adopted by the Reader and becoming this big ass happy family.

#anxious answers #yandere theo nott #yandere harry potter #yandere bellatrix black #yandere bellatrix lestrange #yandere harry potter concept #yandere concept

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scudslut · 10 months ago

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Ok hear me out. Reader and Daryl go on a run for supplies with a few other people. Reader makes a mistakes and almost gets seriously hurt/ near death experience. Daryl gets pissed at reader, maybe yells at her. Reader laughs it off and acts like she doesn’t gaf. Daryl later finds reader all shaken up and crying by herself. Love if you don’t, love if you do!

stay with me

daryl x fem!reader

wc: 2k

warnings: typical twd gore/violence, mentions of death, mentions of trauma/ptsd

a/n: absolutely love me some good fluffy angst, thank u nony❤️ i hope you like it:))

As much as you tried to prepare yourself for the inevitable situations runs would put you in, the blood-chilling reality of it never got any easier. No amount of mental prep could stove off the sounds and smell of the dead, nipping ravenously for a taste of your sweet living flesh.

Of course, over time you’d learned just to shut your brain off and fight. Fight as hard and tirelessly as you possibly could, but mistakes could still be made. Shit happened, whether it was your fault or not.

Hours earlier, a group of you went a few miles east of the prison; Daryl having spotted a little strip a few days prior, not too overrun that he thought might be loot-worthy.

It was a simple run really. Keep close, hit a few shops in and out, then head back home. That’s it. Follow the plan, get as much useful shit as possible, and get the fuck out of there. You guys had it down to a science at this point, runs becoming so second nature it was almost too easy to let your guard down nowadays.

“Hey D, I’m gonna go check the storage room back here. Might have something we could use,” you voiced to your partner a few isles down, still keeping your tone as low as you could.

“Gimme a sec, I'll come help ya,” you heard him say but you kept moving. You two had already cleared the main area, you could handle a walker or two if there actually was any behind the small door. You figured you would’ve heard something by now, some sort of banging or grumbling to announce their presence, but there was nothing, the coast presumably clear.

You should have waited.

Crossing the few miscellaneous isles you reached the back door, giving it a small rattle. Still complete silence, not even the faintest groan or shuffle. Knife at the ready, hand clamped over the cool metal handle, your heart rate picked up a notch as it always did before opening into the unknown.

“You got this, come on,” you muttered to yourself, before throwing the door open, bracing for attack. The door flew wide, only to reveal a dark, empty room. Squinting through the dimness, a few high, dusty shelves were visible, stocked with all sorts of canned goods. Fuck yea, that was certainly useful.

“D! Come look what I found!” you rasped, dropping your knife into its holster and shuffling in. You unslung your backpack from your shoulders, digging through it for a flashlight excitedly. It’s been so long since you’ve found this much canned food, surely enough to keep the group well stocked through most of the winter that was approaching. A loud creak from the left caught your attention as you sped forward. Hands finally finding purchase on the flashlight, you flicked it on, scanning across the room to the sound.

Dust caked the air, making the already dark room fuzzier and your eyes took a minute to adjust. You took a few smaller steps closer, peering wearily ahead and then you saw them.

Beady, soulless eyes staring back. A whole rickety staircase of them, heads turning one by one to the light source in your hand.

“Oh fuck.”

There had to be at least 10 of them that you could see, the top of the stairs pitch black and unrevealing.

Your feet stumbled backward, hands desperately reaching for the knife at your hip, dropping the flashlight in the process. It rolled and caught under your heels, knocking you on your ass as the corpses advanced, jaws snapping.

These were those moments. When you felt your heart in your throat, brain stuttering on action. Time moved so slowly that the fragments were almost visible and every thought screaming in your mind sounded like gibberish. You know you should move, is that what it was screaming?

The first one got to you, grabbing your leg trying to crawl up and finally, you were kicking, scrambling, grabbing onto the knife and slamming it into its skull with a loud squelch.

“Daryl!” you yelled. You needed him. Now.

3 more dropped before you, slinking towards you and you were trapped — the first corpse lying heavily over your midsection.

“Yea, yea girl. I heard ya,” you heard him respond, still sounding a few isles away.

No no no, this was not how you were gonna die. Not today. Please.

You kept stabbing, each kill taking everything out of you as you struggled against the body weight atop you. They just kept piling, you could hardly feel your legs anymore, the circulation surely cut off below your knees. And more were coming, a never-ending stream of hunger.

Another one landed before you and you had just enough time to catch its shoulders before it was inches away, snapping at your neck. Your arms burned, tears welling in your eyes as you realized this could be it. You didn’t know how much longer you had before they gave out and rotting teeth would be sinking into you, tearing you apart.

The walker kept snapping, so close you could see the layers of rotting flesh peeling from its face. You had been close to walkers before, had stared into the lifeless eyes too many times to count, but this was different. More were coming and the face in the reflection of its eyes was barely recognizable — terror painting every feature you’d known on you distorted.

The bones cracked in its left shoulder and it dislocated, dropping down to centimeters from your skin.

“No,” you sobbed quietly. Daryl wasn’t going to make it, you knew that. He was going to walk in and find his girl as dinner. You hoped he just booked it, and didn’t waste his time trying to save what would long be gone.

The walker fell limp in your arms and you flinched harshly, expecting excruciating pain to follow as it bit. But there was nothing.

“The fuck are ya doing! Get up!”

Daryl was suddenly right before you, ripping each body off your aching limbs and you were now acutely aware of the larger pile by the stairs, all with arrows and stab wounds littering their heads. When had he gotten in here?

You didn’t hear his words, adrenaline coursing so loudly through your system that all that could be heard was a loud, shrill ringing.

“Goddammit girl, wake the fuck up!” he shouted, grabbing you by the shoulders in an attempt to lift you. Your brain caught up then, as he harshly placed you on your feet. Walkers scattered the floor around you, and a grumble at the stairs announced it wasn’t the last of them.

Daryl reached down, grabbed your dropped items, and shoved them in your dumbstruck hands. “We’re gettin’ outta here, now,” he seethed, dragging you along and slamming the door behind you both, crossing the lines of isles quickly to the front entrance.

The fresh, afternoon air hit your nose in a gust and the last of the fuzz chipped itself from your senses slowly.

“Hope yer fuckin happy with yerself. Can’t ever listen to a goddamn word’a mine, can ya?” Daryl quipped beside you. His eyes were slits as they dug into you, so fuming you could see the heat radiating off his skin in the early autumn brisk.

He was angry at you, you knew that. But you also knew it was because he was scared. Hell, you were fucking terrified to stone back there, but if you wanted to calm him down at all, you knew you had to act unfazed.

Gathering any remaining wits about you, you took a deep inhale, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting them.”

He didn’t respond, wouldn’t even look at you anymore as he began to pace the graveled parking lot.

“Hey don’t stress Dar. I’m alive, we’re good,” you attempted to soothe further.

“Don’t stress? Yer a real piece a work, y’know that! Always fucking up everyone’s shit cause ya don’t wanna use yer brain, huh?”

Well, that did not go as you expected.

The rest of the group had started shuffling out of the other shops around you, making their way to the vehicles.

“Jeez, you need to lighten up,” you brushed past him, head high. You couldn’t let his words affect you, not with all the other emotions coursing as well. You didn’t understand what he meant. You had never put anyone other than yourself in danger, how could you possibly be fucking over everyone else?

You decided to wait in the car as the rest of the group went back for the cans, tag-teaming whatever walkers remained. The loot had decently filled both trunks and everyone was happy to call it a day and head back.

Your eyes followed Daryl as he jumped into your car, eyes trained on the windshield, “Ya alright at least?” he muttered glancing at you briefly while shifting the car into drive.

“I’m good, you big grump,” you huffed with a tight-lipped smile. “That much food will last us a long time. I believe a thank you is in order, don’t you think?”

You were not good. Not at all, but there was no reason to worry him anymore, putting him through enough today as it was. Your hands were shoved tightly under your thighs, so he couldn’t see the tremors racking through you.

You had smelt death so many times it didn’t bother you much anymore. Today you had smelt your own. Saw your life in that walker's eyes, mere seconds away from demolition. It was safe to say you were shaken to your core.

The journey back was silent, both not in the mood to chat for very different reasons, and the whole time you were trying to keep each breath of yours steady.

You helped unload as much as you could, before slipping away discreetly to your cell. You didn’t want anyone to see you like this, you felt kind of pathetic honestly. This was life now, it had been this way for a long time now, you shouldn’t be so shaken up as you were but the terror just wouldn’t leave your body.

Panic washed over you once again as your eyes hit your dim cell. Your mind was quickly slipping back into those last moments, the darkness and dust all too similar. The fear you had felt coating your veins icily and your breaths started to become agitated. There was nowhere else to go though. If you left the cell someone would see you.

Subconsciously, you backed yourself into the corner of the room, crumbling down to the floor with your head in your hands. Deep down you hoped your hyperventilating would knock you out. You didn’t want to think anymore — see it anymore. Tears were burning the back of your throat as you held down sobs, feeling the walker's hands and weight atop of you all again.

A small yelp escaped you when the hands became real. Pressure on your shoulders and waist and your head snapped up from its hiding spot, reflexes already prepared to fight whatever presence was with you.

“It’s jus’ me, hey, hey,” you heard through your panic, his blue eyes just recognizable through blurry tears. “S’okay, relax.”

You couldn’t calm down this time, vicious sobs finally breaking their way out of your frame. Running was your first thought; you didn’t want anyone to see you like this, Daryl or not. Emotions were never a strong suit of yours and would always find yourself dealing with them in private, away from sympathetic words and pitying eyes. But Daryl was never like that, he drew you in and held you tight, uttering no more words other than the ones to confirm it was him. If you asked him to say more, he would, but he knew this was what you needed. Someone to ground you back onto Earth and out of whatever images tormented your head.

So that’s what he did. Held you for hours as your body expelled all its terror and lingering adrenaline. He’d give quiet coos through each wave of shakes, grabbing a blanket to warm you through the cold sweats. And finally, once the fear faded to exhaustion, he scooped you up off the stiff concrete and into your soft cot.

“Stay with me?” you rasped, throat parched and raw from crying.

It wasn’t a second thought for him. He was never truly angry with you, and he knew you knew that. He needed you safe with him.

“Always.”

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