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margowritesthings · 2 years ago

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Fate: A Word Meaning Destiny

PART I

PART II BY @cowboydisaster COMING SOON

pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!readersummary: you're a ranch-hand, when your home is attacked by bandits. a mysterious stranger comes to save your life, but who is he? word count: 11.9k words warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, PLEASE READ WARNINGS BEFORE READING, I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR MEDIA CONSUMPTION, violence, murder, attempted sexual assault, sexual relations, fingering (r receiving), penetration, loss of virginity, mentions of virginity, talk of trauma a/n: here it is!! finally!! this is the longest piece I've ever written, and I'm so fuckin proud of it!! It is a collaboration with the incredible @cowboydisaster, who will be releasing part 2 when it's ready!! I worked so hard on this, so I hope you love it!! <3

taglist: @cowboydisaster @inkandbloodbound @beea-nie @cloudynoiire@punctillous @missvanderlinde @twola @pine4pple-b0i @alice-vanderlinde @photo1030

The day started and progressed like any other, with absolutely no indication that your life would be changed forever until it did. Free time slipped through the cracks in your packed schedule of chores while the sun rose and fell again, casting brilliant orange and pink hues across the sky you now sit in awe of on the porch of your lodgings. Your muscles ache from a full day's work, but it’s a satisfying sensation, one begat from happy horses, milked cows, and a fence fixed by your own hand. Sure, your work earned a mere grumble from Mr. Varner, but throughout the 6 months you’ve worked on the ranch, he has never once had a conversation not directed at your breasts, so you’re not too upset to not have received praise tonight.

Honestly, you’re just glad to be able to relax. The ranch hands rarely speak to one another outside of work, and there isn’t a damn thing to do around here, but it’s better than shovelling shit in the sweltering heat. You’ve even got a glass of fresh apple juice, a rare delicacy to celebrate the end of the week.

Every so often, when the breeze dies down and each animal agrees to quiet, there is an almost absolute silence surrounding you, and you close your eyes to bask in it. This moment would be the perfect time for a feeling or an intuition that everything is about to change, but it doesn’t come. You feel nothing but peace. Years from now, when you look back to this night, you’ll be grateful that the sense of foreboding didn’t hit you until it was too late, knowing these are the very last moments of the life you once knew.

The first sense that something is wrong doesn’t come until the gunshots dart through the darkening coral sky and scatter the birds out into it. Your brows pull together, eyes squinting to search for the origin of the disruption to your peace. They’re distant, for now, but the silhouette against the horizon is unmistakably coming closer to the ranch, rifles and pistols pointed to the heavens by a group of men whooping and cheering as they ride straight towards you.

Everything seems to slow but your racing heart, and it feels like hours between your drink leaving your grasp and the glass shattering all over the porch. Shards disperse over the wood, along with the golden liquid pooled at your feet. In the mere seconds you spend glancing at the floor, the group has advanced and the time you have to figure out what the hell you’re going to do has quickly declined. You’ve heard of gangs hitting up ranches for supplies, heard stories of outlaws on benders pillaging and hunting people simply because they can, but it never crossed your mind to be worried about it. Whenever your momma told you all about the criminals hiding just past the horizon, you’d roll your eyes, chalking it up to a cautionary tale to get you to stay close to the house. Now, your heart hammers against your chest as you realise that if you don’t act now, you’ll become one of those stories, passed down to worry children into obedience. I knew a girl once, shot by bandits for taking too long to hide…

Not today.

The fear of becoming folklore finally overtakes the fear that has paralysed you for what feels like hours and hours, letting you stand and rush into your cabin, shutting the door behind you. Shaking hands reach for the wooden chair by the tiny kitchen, sliding it across the floorboards and hooking it underneath the handle to barricade the door. It won’t keep anybody out for long, but will at least warn you if someone is trying to get in.

Your cabin is small, made up of only one room, and while you’ve always thought it was cozy, right now it feels claustrophobic. The gunshots and laughter are getting louder and you’re scared. Your Momma spent so long teaching you how to stay away from outlaws, but she never told you what to do when they found you. You have nothing but a kitchen knife, which you clutch close to your chest as your eyes frantically dart around your room, searching for anything else you can use to protect yourself. There is nothing, thanks to a minimalism forced upon you by a barely livable wage. You can afford to feed yourself, just about, but life saving luxuries like weaponry or a heavy bookshelf are out of the question, so here you are, back against the log wall, a measly blade normally used for bread gripped close to your body.

Hooves pound against the dirt outside and you swear the ground shakes beneath you. You can hear everything so clearly: spurs clicking against stirrups, heavy boots on the earth, sneering men reloading their guns and thankfully walking towards the main house instead of the smaller cabins you and the other ranch hands reside in. Back pressed against the wall, you wait until the voices dwindle, before you peer out of the little window to get a better view. Some of the fences are already smashed in, including the one you’d just fixed, and somebody has opened all the gates, letting cows and chickens and horses run free amongst the chaos. They’ve reached Mr. Varner’s door, kicking it down with a thud that echoes around the whole ranch. Two of the outlaws go inside, emerging after only a few seconds with Varner’s collar firmly in their grasp. They throw him to the floor and he falls to his knees, and even though you’re at the other side of the ranch, you can see the absolute terror in his eyes. He’s vibrating with fear and you’re not much better, especially when the supposed leader of the group begins to reload his pistol.

You can’t hear his pleas, and even the people who can hear them aren’t listening. The leader lifts his arm, finger resting on the trigger. You’ve heard gunshots before, but none that shake the Earth quite so much as this one.

You don’t hear Mr Varner’s last words, and the aftermath of his murder couldn’t possibly outmatch the ringing in your ears as your chest heaves with pure panic. They killed him. They killed him, and there is absolutely nothing stopping them from coming for you next.

“No… no no no no- fuck!” you whisper to yourself, to any deity out there who might be listening, hoping that they don’t mind the colourful language. You have to get out of here, lest this ranch become your grave. Tears prick at your eyes while your brain works ten thousand miles a second. You’ve retreated back to the floor, not wanting to be spotted by wandering eyes while the outlaws start to ransack Varner’s house.

Your eyes wander desperately around the room, finding only the small window above your bed. It leads out back, so they wouldn’t be able to see you escape, and if you’re stealthy enough you might just be able to make it to the barn. If you’re not, they will find you and surely kill you, but at least the choice of where you’ll die would be in your hands. A small dignity, but a dignity nonetheless that you grasp to with all your might. Most of the horses have fled after the shock of the gunshot that killed your employer, but if you’ve counted correctly there should still be a couple in the barn that you could escape on.

It takes exactly six deep breaths to quell the shaking of your joints enough to stand, stash your knife in your boot and make your way over to your former bed. From the corner of the room, you take a second to look upon your home, knowing it’ll be the last time you see it whether you live or die here. There really isn’t much, but a sad fondness lingers. Everything looks rosier through the lens of somebody being forced out of their home for fear of death.

The window sticks to its frame like it’s covered in treacle, and for one awful second you fear that it won’t budge open, but a desperate push manages to force it just enough to fit you through. Your boots hit the ground with a soft thud and you peer around the corner to find the gang still pulling any valuables they can find from the main house. It’s enough distraction for you to run as swiftly and quietly as you can, tunnel vision stopping anything but your destination from infiltrating your thoughts. With the way the ranch is laid out, you can’t get in through the door without being seen, but you can get to the back of the wooden structure and in through another window, where you will hopefully have more options for getting out of this alive.

When you reach your destination, you don’t even think twice about using your elbow to smash the window in on itself when you realise there’s no hinge. The crack of glass is loud, but nowhere near loud enough to beat the hollering and whooping of the gang. Shards slice through your shirt and skin, crimson quickly pouring from fresh cuts but you hardly notice. It’s pure adrenaline that drags you through the freshly made entrance, and you land on a pile of hay that is quickly decorated with splatters of your own blood.

You’re in.

And you’re alone.

It feels like your fate becomes sealed, shut up with a lock and key you can no longer reach. There are no horses here. There’s no way in hell you can outrun a bullet, nor any man with a horse of their own, so you’re faced with the only option left: hoping they don’t notice you. There’s a chance they’ll go for the cabins over the barn, going after the other ranch hands and their measly belongings instead of piles upon piles of hay. It’s not a chance you’d like to bet your life on, but you no longer seem to have the luxury choice. Your frame fits into a gap in the hay, hidden by a ladder and some crates. For the first time in your life, you’re grateful for your messy colleagues not cleaning up properly. You curl into as small a ball as you can, wrapping your limbs around each other as if it will protect you. You won’t let yourself cry, even after more gunshots start to shatter the air around you. It sounds like they’re getting louder, and you can almost picture a great big flashing percentage chance you’ll survive this decline by the second right above your head.

Your chest tightens to the point that breath can no longer move around in it when the large barn doors creak open, the streak of light cast on the dusty floor almost bright red in hue now. The skies are on fire, your equilibrium in flames as two of the bandits saunter into your makeshift sanctuary.

“See, I told you. Just a buncha’ hay, ain’t even no horses.”

“Just shut up and search over there, bastard could’a kept his stash anywhere.”

You’d snort if you weren’t so debilitatingly terrified, if it wouldn’t be the very act that had you murdered. Varner could barely scrape enough money together to pay you on time and still have his nightly whiskey, there was no way in hell he’d leave a stash of cash lying around in here. But they weren’t to know that, how could they? Who knows what he told them to try and save his own skin.

Spurs scrape across the floor, creating a noise that makes your skin crawl, getting louder and louder as one of the men approaches. You hold your breath until your vision blurs in the corner and you can feel your struggling pulse in your temple, but it is futile. You see his boots first, and somehow force yourself to drag your eyes up his body, finding poorly patched up jeans, an empty holster hanging by his hip, a deep green waistcoat clasped close with a silver chain, long, greasy, graying hair, and an expression you’re sure will burned into your darkest nightmares for the rest of your life. His grin feels as though somebody is pouring acid over your back. Neither shivers nor chills truly justify whatever happens to your skin when the stranger lifts his ivory pistol to you.

Because you refuse to let the tears pooled in your eyes fall, they tremble in droplets along your waterline, your sight flicking between straight down the barrel and back to its wielder.

“Ain’t no stash, but I sure caught me a pretty treasure…”

Logically, it could only have been a second of silence, but time hasn’t worked right for you since you were on that porch, far away from danger. To you, there’s hours. Hours of watching a monster reach for you in slow motion, claws digging into the flesh of your arm with a bruising force. It feels like he tears your skin apart, and if you didn’t know your wounds had come from the shattered window you’d believe the deep gashes were his doing. You scream loudly, half from the sheer panic, half in agony as your blood coats his hands and he drags you across the floor by your injured arm. It doesn’t phase him, at least it doesn’t seem to. Your scream is a droplet in an ocean of pain and terror inflicted by him, it simply joins the chorus of victims you hope haunts him when he’s alone at night.

You kick and claw, but it serves little but to amuse the bastard, who chuckles lowly at your writhing, waving his equally greasy companion over with his pistol.

“Hey, Timmy! Look here what I got!”

It doesn’t take Timmy long to walk over, sneering at you while you try your hardest to do nothing but glare. Your knife feels all too present tucked in your boot, but you know if you tried to grab it now they’d shoot you dead.

“Ain’t she a purty thing, Ace?”

“W-What do you want from me?” You ask, swallowing the rock forming in your throat down, “I ain’t got no money- I-I ain’t got nothin’, just let me go.”

“Oh, you’ve got somethin’, pretty little thing you are…”

No…

The smirk Timmy and Ace share tells you everything you need to know. It feels like your chest is about to crack open from the way your heart pounds against it, longing for release from your body just as much as you are right now. There is nobody to scream for help, no way out, and even if you did escape the barn there’s at least ten more outlaws waiting outside with just as much intention on you as the ones looking at you like a meal in here.

You will never forget your own scream when Ace lunges for you. The taste of cigarette ash and gunpowder on your lips when he clamps his hand over your mouth will be ingrained in your senses forever. The tears finally fall down your cheeks, mixing in with your own blood from your arm as you try and claw at Ace’s arm. It’s fruitless, as even if you could match his strength, Timmy is right there behind him to grasp your arm and pull it painfully behind your head.

“Who’s goin’ first then? I reckon she’s a wriggler, one of us’ll have to hold her.”

“Quit squealin’, I can’t hear myself think!” Ace demands, landing a swift punch to your gut that really doesn’t help the nausea. You can barely feel the pain of anything, so consumed in your panic that you could probably have been shot and wouldn’t notice. Hell, you’d prefer getting shot to having these men’s hands on your body for a second longer. His hand isn’t enough of a barrier to stop the ear splitting noises completely, only dull them a little, but they still don’t deter either man.

“You don’t ever think, what’s the difference?” “Shut up, dumbass, and hold her down proper!”

Their teasing would have floored you, if you weren’t already pinned there. They speak as if mocking each other in the saloon, as if it’s another day, while they hold your life in their hands. If you live to see the end of today, you’ll never forget it. This trauma is one to be carried until the end of your days, and they act like it is merely just another Thursday.

Vehement screams intensify when one set of hands, you don’t know which, begin to pull at your shirt, exposing your shoulders more with each seam that rips. Your eyes are screwed shut, wanting to close off as many senses as you can as the tears freely fall down your cheeks. Their touch feels like acid, bubbling and burning on your skin. You try to bite down, but Ace’s grip is too tight. You try to kick at him, but from his vantage point it is easy to swerve. It seems your fate is sealed, and your heart breaks in a way that can never be truly fixed, a way that changes the course of the remainder of your life. You’ll think back, eventually, and wonder if it would have been different had he arrived just minutes earlier, but he didn’t. He doesn’t. He arrives now, emerging from the fiery sunset like an angel disguised as a demon.

You don’t spot him until Ace falls to the floor, clubbed over the head with the handle of the peacemaker held by the mysterious stranger. You don’t know what to do, who to be scared of and who to be grateful for, he could well just want you all to himself. But when he spots you, covered in blood, sweat and tears, that petrified look in your eyes, the surprise is evident in his features. There’s only a split second for the two of you to exchange confused glances, before Timmy lets go of your arms to grab his own pistol and point it at your saviour. You’re not the only one this man’s intense presence is affecting, it seems, with the way Timmy’s sweaty hands start to shake.

“H-Hey! She’s ours, mister. Get your own!”

That seems to piss him off, a low growl emitting from deep in his chest.

“She ain’t nobody’s. Let her go. Can’t get your own ladies without forcin’ yourself on one, huh? Makes sense I guess, lookin’ at you two…”

There isn’t anything holding you down anymore, but you’re frozen to the spot, pinned down to the floor by the sheer energy of this stranger with the chiselled jaw and the most striking ocean coloured eyes you’ve ever seen in your life peering out from under his gambler’s hat. His face is cast in shadows from the brim, but you can tell he’s handsome, right down to the rugged scar on his chin. You have no idea who he is, but something tells you to trust him.

You’re so lost in him that you don’t notice Ace waking up from his brief stint of unconsciousness, grasping at a handful of your hair to pull your body flush against his on the floor, craning your neck to fit his pistol under your chin. All you can do is claw at his wrist, leaving rosy scratches on his skin that don’t appear to bother him in the least. There’s a sharp pain shooting from your neck down your spine thanks to the strain he is forcing on your vertebrae, which forces a whimper from you. You’re truly stuck in the crossfires, with Timmy’s gun pointing at the stranger, who is pointing his barrel at Ace, who has his pistol right up against your chin, leaving indents of the metalwork in your skin from the pressure of it.

“You drop that gun, or I’ll blow her pretty little head off, ya hear? Drop it!” Ace demands, shoving the weapon even further into your flesh to prove his point. You can’t help the tear that escapes when he does so, this awful reminder of your mortality prodding oh so painfully into your jaw. The stranger only thinks about it for a fraction of a second, holding one hand out in a surrender, while the other leans down to place his peacemaker on the floor slowly.

“Alright, easy.” His tone is much calmer than before, his eyes never leaving yours despite everything going on around the two of you. You’re terrified, and he knows it, but even though you’ve never met before this moment, the way he looks at you soothes you, almost like you’re conversing with no words spoken at all, “We can all put our weapons down and talk, huh?”

Ace seems to relax at the sight of the stranger disarming himself, which you can tell by the way his grip on your hair slackens a little. It’s still mighty uncomfortable, and having his clammy hands all over you makes you want to cut your skin off with a-

Kitchen knife.

The metal of the weapon you’re just remembering burns into the skin of your ankle, glowing like the bright white light to freedom. If you play this right, it could be. There’s always the chance you could mess up and get blown to pieces, but if the choice is that or more of having to breathe the same air as these scum bandits, you’re willing to take your chances.

The good lord seems to smile down on you for the first time today when He wills both Ace and Timmy to reach for the discarded peacemaker at the same time, leaving them distracted enough for you to throw your weight into elbowing Ace in the gut and grab the knife from its makeshift holster.

Time slows again, the next few seconds playing out like confusing hours, the four of you a mess of limbs as everyone attempts their separate feats. Timmy goes for the gun, while Ace recovers his breath enough to try and wrestle the blade out of your hand. The mystery man boots Timmy in the face, knocking him out cold and out of the way, and he manages to kick the peacemaker out of anybody's reach too. You don’t see what happens next, as Ace pins you to the ground, slapping you hard across the face. The shock causes you to drop the knife, which he swiftly recovers, raising it high above your head with a maniac, unhinged grin on his face. For a moment, you’re almost glad of the fate you see sealing before you, as you’re sure that image would have haunted you for the rest of your days anyway.

They say that life is supposed to flash before your eyes in your final moments, a speedrun of your best and worst moments laid out before you while you take your final breaths, but it isn’t your past you see when you realise that this is how your story is going to end, your own damn kitchen knife about to be plunged into your chest. No, you don’t see what has happened, you see everything that could no longer be. You see the ranch you’ll never own for yourself one day, the children you’ll never get the chance to bear, the wedding you’ll never attend… You let your dreams go in that moment, watching them fly further than you ever will again.

You shut your eyes tight, determined to block out the horrendous last view you think you’ll ever have, so you don’t actually see your knight in dusty leather throw his body into your attacker. His weight is no match for scrawny Ace, who hits the floor with a thud. The stranger grapples at Ace’s throat while he splutters helplessly. When you see him lift the knife, after managing to sit yourself up and slide out of the way, you shout out, but it is too late. Ace impales the man in the shoulder and he cries out, though it comes out as more of a growl. You wince at the sight of it as the stranger pulls together all the adrenaline from being stabbed to punch Ace in the nose. The crack seems to echo in the chaos, followed by a quiet just not possible when the two bandits were conscious.

The fire in your lungs burns hot, your chest struggling to contain the breaths you’d resigned yourself to never take again as your mind starts to attempt to catch up. It is just you and this man now, both wounded and covered in blood, neither knowing what exactly to say next. You pray your intuition to trust this man is right, though with the way he looks at you, you’re sure he couldn’t mean harm to you even at gunpoint.

You look like a deer caught by a rifle, wide eyed and unable to move save for the frantic shaking you can’t seem to stop. The man winces as he removes the knife from out of his shoulder, but you’re so desensitised to everything right now that the sight of blood running down his arm and pooling through his shirt doesn’t bother you.

“It’s alright now, Miss. They won’t wake up for a while yet, you’re safe.” He speaks while reaching for his gun, worried, tired eyes never leaving you, “They hurt you?”

The shock has paralysed your tongue and slammed your jaw shut, your molars grinding together near painfully, but you manage to shake your head. They did manage to get a few hits in, but besides a slightly winded feeling in your gut and a slinging where you were slapped, the wounds they left are far more intangible. Spiritual.

He watches the trauma immobilize you, and you see his heart break for you, right in the crease between his eyebrows and the way his features soften, “Hey, sweetheart, it’s alright. It’s gonna be alright, I promise.” He approaches you, slowly, holding his empty hands out in an act of surrender to you. When you don’t flinch or move away after his first step towards you, he continues his journey to you, good arm gently wrapping around your frame, careful not to bleed on you or harm your own wounds, “Shh, you’re safe. I’ve got you’.”

The comedown comes hard, the sobs erupting from your lips nearly the second you feel his touch on you. It all becomes real, hitting you, body and soul, like a freight train, crushing your bones and spirit like they’re nothing.

“They-they-” “I know, I know… it’s okay. I’ll get you outta here, I promise. You got someplace else to go?”

You shake your head, sniffling to attempt to gain control over the sobs wracking your body. Using the circles this man is rubbing into your back and his soothing words as a compass, you find your way back to him.

“It’s alright, miss. I’ll get us outta here. You okay to ride on my horse for a while?”

You nod, starting to feel the true sting that smashing a window with your bare hand should incite without adrenaline numbing your senses. The tears wet your cheeks, mixing in with god knows whose blood splattered across your features like crimson freckles. You feel a warm, calloused thumb pad rub a tear track away, before the stranger stands and extends his hand out to you. Both of you have injured your left side, so interlink your right hand fingers so he can help you to your feet. Standing is hard when it feels like your bones igniting and shattering through your flesh, but you manage with the help of this man’s strength.

“I took care of those guys outside, but the law could be here any minute. Boadicea’s just outside- don’t let her size fool you, she’s friendly enough. We’ll get you somewhere safe, alright? Figure out what to do next…” He guides you outside with an arm around your shoulder, whistling a stunning chestnut Hungarian half-bred over to you. He mounts the mare, patting her on the neck and murmuring “Good girl,” into her ear.

On a better day, you’re more than capable enough to mount a horse by yourself, but you just can’t bring yourself to deny the man when holds an arm out to you. You fit perfectly behind him, your chest moulding against his hard back, wrapping one arm around his waist. Despite the whirring in your mind of everything that just transpired, you manage to pick out that he smells like a wonderful mix of whiskey and tobacco. Normally, you can’t stand either of them, far too strong and smoky for your tastes, but somehow it suits this man. You cling to him while he kicks Boadicea into a gallop, inhaling in his scent and letting it soothe you. The wind whips your skin and you shiver, glancing back only once at your former life, watching the flames lick at Varner’s house as it crumbles to the ground. It’s spreading fast, and you can’t imagine Timmy and Ace will wake in time to escape before the barn is taken. Ironic, that their demise will come from their own destruction.

It’s a near silent ride, where all your energies have to be put into not breaking down all over again. You know that if you start to cry, you just won’t stop. Everyone you know is dead, you’ve lost your job, your home, and almost had a part of yourself stolen that you’ve never freely given to anybody before. It’s too much, but you force yourself to focus on anything but. You think about the feel of this man’s shirt on your cheek, the way the muscles of his back ripple beneath your supple chest each time he moves to ride Boadicea. You hear the occasional wince, especially until he senses you’re far enough away from the ranch to slow down a little. He’s hurt, clearly an outlaw in his own right, and you struggle to understand why exactly he’s helping you instead of protecting his own back and leaving you there in the flames. But you’re too tired to be skeptical, running completely on empty.

Boadicea carries the two of you into the woods. It’s getting dark, and you’re surprised at how well she navigates the trees and branches, following the winding path until you reach a clearing.

“Here alright?” Your saviour asks, glancing over his good shoulder at you. You nod wordlessly, still clutching right onto his waist despite the fact you’re now stationary.

He dismounts first, holding both arms out to you despite the clear pain written across his face. You dismount Boadicea, the front of your body sliding down the mystery man’s thanks to how close he’s standing. Your legs still feel like jelly, but you somehow manage to stay standing.

“I’ll set up a tent. You know how to make a fire, sweetheart?” He asks, starting to rifle through a satchel he wears across his body. You nod again and take the flint and steel he’s offering out to you. Your hands brush, sending a shiver down your arm.

While he uses just one hand to hammer some tall branches into the ground to hang the canvas from, you set up the fire, finding enough dry wood around to not have to wander far at all. It isn’t long before you’re both sitting beside the fire, a makeshift roof over your head while the stranger plucks some items from his satchel.

Your wounds appear to have stopped bleeding, leaving dark pools of a near maroon hue seeping through your shirt around gashes that wind around your flesh like ivy. You didn’t get the chance to properly look before, too engulfed in panic to notice how deep they are.

In the glow of the firelight, the lines etched into your saviour's face seem harsher, telling the tales of the pain he’s in and betraying the heroic facade he’s so clearly trying to put on for you. You know it all too well right now as your arm throbs, a stinging, aching mess of sensation that scrunches your nose up as you try to flex your fingers.

“You’re hurt.” He states, watching you intently as your hand shakes from the strain,

“I’m okay.” You manage, the very first words you’ve spoken since being back at the ranch, “I had to smash a window in to get to the barn. Figured there’d be something in there to help me, but…” you trail off as he nods knowingly.

“Can I help you with your arm? I ain’t no doctor, but I’ve had enough scrapes through the years to know what to do.” He offers and you nod, trusting him more than you have the sense to. You don’t even know his name.

The man moves slowly over to sit beside you, the heat of the flames and the closeness between you setting your cheeks alight. You don’t really understand it, you just got assaulted by bandits, and yet all you want to do is shuffle closer and bury yourself into this one, letting everything melt away while he tells you it’s gonna be alright.

His hands are upturned to the stars, awaiting your arm which you give him without question. There’s a tugging need to trust him deep down in your gut that allows you to do whatever he asks of you.

When he looks over the torn, stained fabric of your shirt, his brows pull together. The mud and paint from the ranch is barely noticeable for all the blood, but neither of you can really see the cuts to your skin.

“Shall I take it off?” you offer, not particularly eager to undress but smart enough to know he can’t help you without.

“‘Fraid you might have to, miss. You can trust me, I ain’t nothin’ like them men, I promise.”

“I trust you.”

Your words are spoken so quickly, barely audible, but they still echo around the tiny space the pair of you occupy. You start at the bottom button, knowing that it will start to hurt when you reach the halfway mark because you need to bend your arm. He notices your discomfort, probably in the way your bottom lip slips between your teeth and your jaw flutters when you grind your teeth together to have another sensation to focus on.

“Let me.” he mumbles, a hint of a growl catching his low voice. You let your hand drop back to a comfortable position to do as he says. It feels as though your breath gets stuck in your chest when the hardened skin of his hand brushes over your belly and the contact burns through your chemise. The tension in the air is palpable, both suffocating you and keeping you breathing just so you can experience whatever is to come.

You’re both silent as he works the buttons through their tiny holes, looking like a giant manoeuvring something so delicate. You can easily get the shirt off one shoulder, but he has to help with the other, his hand sliding down your arm with the pooling fabric before he can carefully peel the shirt away from you and discard it to the floor.

The air chills your skin, leaving goose pimples scattered all over you. You feel exposed, but somehow not uncomfortable. Your chemise is a simple one, with a bodice that clings to each curve unseen by another. And yet here you sit, in front of a nameless man who swallows thickly as he tries to keep his eyes trained on your injuries.

“You got a name, mister?” You manage, watching him rip up a bandana he found in his satchel and dousing it in water from a flask. He seems to hesitate, before eventually answering without meeting your eye.

“Call me Callahan, for now.”

For now?

“That a first name or a last name?”

It looks as though he hesitates for a moment, before he starts to clean your wounds and the blood begins to flake off your skin.

“S’just a name.”

Strange answer. Evasive answer, but if he truly is an outlaw going round town rescuing strangers from bandits, it makes sense to not go around advertising who you are.

You wince at a particularly deep cut and Callahan apologises, renewing his efforts to clean your arm as if restoring an antique painting that could tear apart at any moment. It stings, but you handle it. It’s nothing compared to what you’ve already experienced today.

“How ‘bout you, miss?”

You pause, for the first time in your life not quite knowing how to answer such a simple question. Of course you have a name, but it feels wrong to twist your tongue to say it. It no longer fits you, like a jacket worn long before you truly grew into yourself. Your name belongs to a woman who lives on a ranch and loves nothing more than a fresh painted fence and a glass of ice cold apple juice… but she doesn’t exist anymore. She died in the barn, along with that fierce naïveté you’ve held so close to your chest for your whole life, the one that believes in the world and the kindness in it, the one that thinks you work hard in life to earn your place and that goodness will be rewarded. It’s all gone, replaced with the images of Varner’s skull shattered across his own land, his life's work up in flames at the hands of men who refuse to follow the right path.

In the end, you give him your name, knowing deep down that it will be the last time you ever use it. Every single person who knew it, your family, employer, friends… they’re all dead anyway. And now so are you. To the world, the young girl they knew perished in the barn fire.

“S’a pretty name.” he mumbles, seemingly pulled into the focus needed to not hurt you again. He’s good, really good at patching up wounds, you notice, despite his calloused hands being so huge. With the concentration etched across his face, and him sitting so close to you, you can finally get a proper look at him. Those ocean eyes you noticed back in the barn are just as stunning without being the last thing you think you’ll ever see, framed with little crows feet at the corners of his lids. His face is tanned, scattered with light freckles you don’t think you would have noticed if not for the privilege of being so close to him. He has sandy hair and stubble that covers his whole jawline, save for that little scar on his chin. He is without doubt the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, body and soul, and you feel your heart fluttering against your ribcage and your skin tingling at his contact.

He expertly ties strips of the bandanna around your arm, and while the pressure stings, it also feels a lot less like your flesh is being pulled apart.

“I think you’re gonna be alright, miss. Might scar, they’re mighty deep, but they’ll heal well enough with time.”

“T-Thank you.” You stutter, holding your arm out to survey his handiwork.

“Don’t mention it.” He dismisses, though you notice he doesn’t move any further away from you. You’re glad for it.

“No, not just this… everything. Thank you. I didn’t get the chance to say it back there, but… I think you saved my life. And saved me from a far worse fate than death, I… I’ll never be able to thank you enough.” You mean every word spilling from your lips, and suddenly, with your hand still placed in his, fitting more perfectly than anything personally made for you ever could, you watch your fate seal. You know what you want, and after the most prominent life lesson you’ll ever receive that life can be cut short at any moment, you know you have to get it.

“It’s what any man would do, sweetheart… I ain’t a good man, believe me… but I couldn’t stand by while those bastards took advantage of ya’.”

The reminder (not that you needed it, with Ace’s unhinged grin permanently burnt into your eyelids) pulls your brows together as sadness etches across your face. Callahan notices, giving your hand the gentlest of squeezes you might have missed if your body weren’t in hyperdrive around him, every slight brush setting you alight. Your fingers entangle together, and you don’t quite know who initiated it, but it feels right. Comforting. Everything.

When your gaze roams from your entwined hands to his face, you stop at his shoulder, suddenly feeling foolish for letting him patch you up while he has an open stab wound.

“I can help with your shoulder, if you like.” You nod towards his injury, trying not to think about what it was like watching the blade be plunged into his flesh. He doesn’t hesitate to nod, managing to undo his buttons and take off his shirt without aid. At first, your eyes fly to the stars, before realising there’s no escaping looking when you’ll have to clean him up.

When you look back, it takes everything to not audibly gasp. What is clearly a lifetime's worth of hard and manual labour has sculpted him into something beautiful, with thick arms, wide shoulders, and a defined chest adorned with a trail of hair leading right down to…

You clear your throat to drag yourself out of that train of thought, a somewhat strangled sound that leaves a flush of pink on your cheeks. You can hardly be to blame: for the first time seeing a semi-naked man, you pretty much hit the jackpot.

The glow of the fire is just enough for you to see what you need to, though you shuffle just that bit closer to Callahan until your knees brush against his and it feels like embers scatter over your skin. Years of being the careful one means you’re no stranger to cleaning up injuries, but they pale in comparison to being stabbed with a kitchen knife. Luckily, it doesn’t look too deep, but you’ll still need to clean it and it’ll hurt.

You use a fresh piece of fabric to wash off the blood. Callahan sucks in a pained breath, but the curses you expect to fly from him don’t come. From the way his cheek hollows, it looks as though he’s biting into it to keep restrained.

“Sorry. This might hurt a little.” You admit, feeling his muscles twitch and flex under your touch.

“S’alright, I’ve survived worse.”

Another elusive answer, one that has you fighting a strange urge to ask him all about all the times he’s been hurt, all the adventures he’s been on. Up close, you can see hints of a life well lived, from each scar to the battered black hat he’s wearing that looks older than you. Everything about him seems to tell a different tale, each more intriguing than the last.

A comfortable silence settles around you, broken only by the crackle of the fire and the occasional pained hiss from Callahan. The wound doesn’t seem as bad without the copious amounts of blood framing it, but it still looks rather painful.

Attempting to clean a particularly deep section of the cut has you leaning up close, so much so you’re all but sitting on Callahan’s lap. You’re so engrossed in trying to help him that you almost miss the way his heart pounds when your breath tickles his skin, how he tenses at your touch, feeling a fire of his very own burning through him.

With the angle you’re leaning into Callahan’s body, it is all too easy for a stray piece of hair to escape from behind your ear, the end of it brushing against his chest. You go to push it back, but he beats you to it, hand remaining by your cheek firmly as your gazes lock into each other's. The air changes. You don’t understand it, but it does. It gets thicker and thinner all at once, the world melting away around the two of you. The cogs in your mind begin to whir frantically.

You’ve never lain with anyone before. Not for some religious reason or personal rule, you just never found anyone who felt special enough to share the intimacy with. Honestly, it felt like too big of a moment to share with any of the boys you knew back home or on the ranch. But in those moments in the barn, with Ace and Timmy’s hands all over your body, you regretted it. You wanted to make the choice of who and when, not some low lives with just about enough IQ points to reload a gun. You felt powerless in that moment, when you thought they’d take whatever they wanted from you, and the second survival became a possibility you swore to yourself you’d take that power back for yourself. You grasp it, hold it close to your chest. You’re never going to relinquish it again.

Callahan watches you intently, watches you process everything with his hand on your cheek, his skin on yours, and you suddenly know exactly what you want to do with your power of choice.

“Will you kiss me?”

The words fall out of you before you can even really consider them. You’re tired of considering, tired of being the good little girl who spent her life hiding from danger only for it to find her anyway. What is this fight for safety and survival, if you’re not going to live anyway?

Callahan’s surprise is evident in the creases in his forehead and the way his crows' feet disappear as his eyes widen. His lips part, stutters spilling from them. Your heart falls for what feels like forever when he takes his hand from your cheek to take off his hat and run a hand through his dirty blonde hair.

“Christ, sweetheart, I-I… I dunno if that’s the best idea.”

A heat unrelated to the fire before you bursts across your face as the rejection stabs you hard in the chest. You thought you’d figured it out. The way his eyes lingered on your every move, the way his hand stayed on your hip just that second too long when he helped you dismount Boadicea, the spark… you couldn’t be the only one who felt it. It was unspoken, ethereal, but just as real as the cuts on your skin or the boots on his feet. You were sure of it, even if there was nothing else in your history to compare it to.

“You don’t want to?” You don’t mean for it to sound desperate, or desperately sad, but it might just have come out that way. He notices the way your fingers anxiously pick at one another and grasps your hand again, electricity shooting out from the point of contact all over your body.

“No, no it ain’t that- I-I do. Very much so, but… you just went through somethin’ real traumatic, darlin’. I don’t wanna take advantage of you.”

You understand, thinking about how pathetic you must look right now. He rescued you, patched you up while all you could do was try not to cry. In the exceptionally short time he’s known you, he’s done nothing but save you. How could he see you as anything but the damsel in distress you so feel like right now?

“You wouldn’t be. You couldn’t- I…” You take a breath, knowing just how crazy you must sound to this man, this stranger, “I ain’t ever slept with anyone before. And when those men came… I thought my first time was going to be stolen from me. It terrified me, Callahan. I never want to feel that way again, that powerless... I want to choose. I want to choose you. And I ain’t gonna go all crazy on you and cling to you and make ya’ marry me, this doesn’t have to mean anything, I swear it. I just… I want my power back. I don’t want that choice ever made for me, any choice ever made for me again. I want to do this.”

Your words process across the cowboy’s features, your heart quickening with each inch he leans in towards you. His hand feels cool against your burning cheek when he cups your face, the ocean from his eyes washing over you as he studies each and every minuscule detail of your beautiful face.

“Are ya’ sure, sweetheart? Cause if I kiss you, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop myself…”

“I’m sure. I’ve never been so damn sure. This is what I want. Please.” You plead, shuffling forwards so your legs are tangled together by the fireside.

“Well, who am I to deny a lady so beautiful as you?”

When you were young, before caution sunk his possessive claws into your mind and made you too sensible for your own good, you got stuck in a rope swing, suspended over a pond by your ankle. You only spent a few minutes in the air, mere inches from being plunged into the cool water on that sticky, hot summer's day, but it felt like hours until the twine snapped and you fell in. Those few seconds come right back to you in those moments between Callahan moving towards you and the pair of you falling into the cool water together. His lips connect with yours, and the relief of no longer hanging on the precipice of the unknown washes over you, with it the euphoria of your choices.

Your lips fit together like long lost puzzle pieces, drawn together by a thread weaved in fate itself. It tugs you closer, until your chests are flush against each other and your uninjured arm is reaching to tangle your digits in Callahan’s hair. You feel his muscles stiffen for a moment, thanks to the stab wound in his shoulder, but he still manages to wind his hand around your waist, resting on the small of your back. When your lips part, his tongue delves into your mouth, eliciting a soft moan from you. He tastes like everything you’ve always been too sensible to do, just how you imagined when his smoke and whiskey infiltrated your senses back when you were riding with him.

Of course you’ve been kissed before, but never like this, and you’re surprised at how quickly you pick it up from him, teasing your own tongue into his mouth. He growls, God help you, a hint of a not-so-honourable outlaw hiding under the caring cowboy shell he’s treated you with since you met. You feel something coiling tighter deep in your core that hints at what is to come, a seed of desperation fed and watered with each movement, sound or touch Callahan makes.

When his lips retreat, the loss is so prominent you have to hold back a whimper.

“Christ, darlin’… I-“

But you don’t let him finish, grasping onto his neck with both hands and dragging him back into you. A hunger burns in you, shown in the way you nip at Callahan’s bottom lip with your teeth, pulling out another growl from him. It’s a silent plea to not treat you like you’re breakable, one that he responds to by pressing his lips more firmly against yours until you have no choice but to lean into his hold and let him carry some of your weight. He wraps both arms around you, his skin so warm against yours it fans the flames of whatever is burning inside you. He feels so safe, despite every piece of common sense telling you he’s a stranger, who really shouldn't feel safe.

You don’t speak, neither one of you wanting to stop kissing the other for even a second, but you can follow his wordless instruction as he pulls you onto his lap. You straddle him, winding your legs around his waist. An ineffable wave of something you’ve never experienced before ripples through you, starting between your legs, where you feel Callahan’s hard bulge prodding against your core. You can’t help but arch your back, dragging your hips over Callahan in the process. The pleasure shoots through you and you can’t stop the gasp that parts your lips from his, your eyes flying open.

The sight you look upon is one you’ll never forget. Callahan’s eyes are tight shut, his features twisted in a look of bliss. His jaw is so tense you see the muscle fluttering. He’s so beautiful it takes your breath away. His finger’s clutch onto the flesh just above your hips, and you can feel the tension of the restraint he’s forced to employ to not hurt you or push you too fast. This huge, muscular man, who saved your life tonight, is falling apart beneath you.

You can’t help but reach to his mouth, running your thumb so faintly over his bottom lip, still wet from your kisses. He looks to you, eyes locking onto yours as you drown in his seas.

He speaks so softly, “If you wanna stop, or we’re goin’ too fast, you just say the word and we’ll-”

“I don’t want to stop. I want you, please.”

He growls again, and you squeak as he scoops you up with him when he stands. Your legs are wrapped around his waist tight, your core brushing his member every time he makes a step towards the makeshift tent he put up earlier. He carries you with such an ease, kneeling down to lay you on the bedroll laid out on the floor. Even with his injury, he puts all his weight into his arms so as to not crush you, pressing more kisses to your lips as you writhe beneath him.

“God, you’re so beautiful…” He whispers, his kisses reaching the corner of your lip and travelling down to your neck, “From the second I saw you, I thought you were so beautiful…”

Your heart aches with his words, and you’re sure at this moment it beats only for him, your saviour, your knight in shining denim. The hours you’ve known him stretch into a lifetime, tears welling in your eyes from the purest of emotions.

You mean to reply, but when his lips latch onto the pulse point in the crook of your neck, you melt into the earth. It feels nothing short of heavenly, and you can’t imagine what is to come if this man makes you feel these things from simple kisses. You’re purring for him, the heat pooling between your legs becoming near torturous, coiling every one of your nerves into a messy bundle inside you.

There’s a moment where Callahan looks to you, a silent question of permission as his hand hovers over the strap to your chemise. You nod, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth so hard you’re scared it might break skin. The tingles from Callahan’s touch ripple from your shoulder as he pushes the fabric down, exposing both breasts to the cool night air. He wastes no time in taking one of your nipples into his mouth, suckling oh so lightly and pulling a moan from your lips. He laps you up, your back arching against the wool of the bedroll to give as much of yourself to him as you can. His hands work your pants, impressively considering his attention is elsewhere on your body, unbuttoning them with ease and sliding them down your legs as far as he can reach without leaving your contact. You manage to kick your boots off and slide the jeans off completely, leaving just a layer of cotton covering you.

Your fingers entangle in Callahan’s locks, scratching at his scalp as he licks and nips at you.

“God, please,” you moan, feeling that coil inside you tightening to impossible levels,

He’s quick to look up, a lust burning in those irises, “What do you want, sweetheart? Tell me, and it’s yours.”

“Everything.”

Your patience is hanging on by a thread, your need for him growing and your heart pounding faster with every passing second. When he takes his hands to the fastenings on your undergarments, you could sob from the relief. With one slow pull at a ribbon, the chemise falls from your body, and Callahan opens it up like a present at Christmas. His eyes roam over you, and while you always thought you’d feel exposed when you were first bare to a man, nothing could feel more natural than being naked underneath him, to have his skin on yours as he rubs his thumbs over your nipples, before dragging a hand gently over your stomach, hovering just above your weeping cunt.

“Can I touch you, darlin’?” His voice is gruff, threatening to crack from the restraint he’s deploying by not taking you with the urgency tearing him apart right now.

“Yes. Yes, please, I… I feel so…”

“I know, I know… Let me take care of you, alright beautiful?”

Your back flies off the bedroll when you feel two fingers plunge into your cunt, curling upwards slightly. It feels incredible, in spite of a strange stretching sensation that quickly ebbs away. He starts slow, sliding his fingers out and back in, dragging against your walls deliciously. You cry out, eyes shut tight and face contorted in pleasure. You don’t see how he watches you, smile tugging on his features as he remarks to himself how beautiful you look like this, but know that it happens.

Sweet moans fall from your lips in time to the thrusts of Callahan’s fingers, your body singing for him. You’re climbing, higher and higher to a destination you don’t even truly understand. It is then that Callahan presses a thumb to your sensitive bundle of nerves and a gasp is ripped from deep inside you, your eyes flying open.

“Oh, God, I-”

“I know, baby, easy… I got you, let go, angel.”

And you do.

Without even knowing where exactly he’s leading you, you follow, falling over an uncharted precipice into ecstasy. It ripples throughout your entire being, doubling your vision. Callahan leans back down to you, heat and want radiating from his bare skin like a burning flame.

“That’s it, sweetheart, good girl.”

He closes the gap between you, catching wanton moans in his mouth and swallowing them gratefully, needily. It feels like forever lasts in just that moment, waves upon waves of a pleasure unlike anything you’ve experienced crashing over your body and curling your toes.

The waves turn to ripples, which dissipate into a pleasant tingle that buzzes more intensely wherever Callahan’s skin is on yours. Your legs are entwined together, and you’re not sure when he removed his pants, but you can feel his warm skin against yours everywhere. It’s dizzying, the heat of him and the size of him stretching over your body. Your eyelashes flutter up at him and you reach to run a hand over his cheek.

“Wow…” You breathe, “That was…”

“Was? Oh, I’m not done with you yet, darlin’...”

Your cheeks flush, a melodic giggle escaping you. This whole experience is so much more comfortable than you could have ever imagined your first time would be, with laughter and looks of such adoration you forget you’ve only known this man a few hours.

“I wanna show you more…” He whispers into your skin, pressing soft kisses wherever he can,

“There’s more?” You joke, knowing full well what happens next but wanting so badly to make him chuckle again. You’re addicted to the sound, and he supplies it, shaking his head ever so slightly,

“Are you ready, beautiful?” “Please, I need you, Callahan. Take me.”

He doesn’t make you wait long. Your breath hitches in your throat when you feel the head of his cock pressing against your entrance. Nerves take over, but only for a second, numbed quickly by more kisses pressed on your forehead and nose. You haven’t actually seen his member, almost too shy to look, but God can you feel it when he slowly slides in. It’s a stretch, and you hold your breath until the pinching feeling falters. Callahan waits there, deep inside you, until you nod your head to wordlessly reassure him you’re okay.

“Good girl…” another kiss, “you beautiful,” and another, “good girl.”

His praises wash over you, relaxing your muscles to the point where there is no pain, only the intense pleasure of you gripping and rippling around his cock.

“O-Oh… Feels… So good.” You manage, scratching your nails into his back and pushing at him to move. Ever the gentleman, he obliges, slowly retreating and pushing back into you. Your eyes roll back into your head as you get filled so wonderfully it’s hard to breathe.

Callahan’s arms shake around you and you watch him grasp on his composure. It’s taking him everything he has in him to not slam into you and fuck you senseless, but he clearly wants to make sure you feel safe. It swells your heart and piques your curiosity all at once, wondering what would happen if he let go in a way you know he won’t right now.

“Y-Yeah? You feel alright, sweetheart?” He stutters, hips spluttering slowly as he thrusts gently in and out. You’re already coiling, reaching that blissful state, but you want him to feel the same. He’s growling and groaning and it’s music to your ears, but you want more, you need all of him, every last unrestrained molecule of this man.

“I feel wonderful… Please don’t hold back. I’m not breakable, I need you, please.”

How could he refuse? Hearing such sweet pleas and begs, he’s putty in your hands.

“Baby girl, a-are you sure? I don’t wanna hurt you, and you feel so damn good, I-I don’t know if I can hold back…”

“Please, Callahan.”

It doesn’t escape your notice, how he winces whenever you say his name, but you can’t think straight about it right now, not when you feel his cock reaching every last inch of you and prodding that sweet spot he seems to have a map to. You’re delirious with pleasure, even when he’s holding back.

When he lets go, you scream, tears of pure intensity forming in the corners of your eyes. Callahan pulls back, completely out of you, before diving back in. The tears fall down quick tracks on your skin, and he kisses them away, growling deep in his chest. His pace picks up, and now you’re used to it it doesn’t hurt a bit. It’s heavenly, it’s ecstasy.

“F-Fuck, angel, what am I gonna do with you?” he asks, his lips pressed against your collarbone to muffle the words. His teeth scrape against your skin, leaving white hot trails that will be burned into you forever, you’re sure.

“T-Touch me, p-please- oh!” Your pleas are interrupted by a particularly wonderful movement and Callahan grins at you, loving watching you fall apart like this for him.

He can’t say no to you, would never want to when you ask him oh so nicely. He snakes a hand down between your two bodies, tickling your clit with the pad of one finger in slow, delirious circles. In response, you involuntarily squeeze around his shaft and he moans loudly in your ear. It might have just become your favourite sound in the whole world.

“Christ, darlin’, I-I’m so fuckin’ close I can’t last much longer, baby.”

You respond with a kiss, a passionate, almost loving kiss, where your tongue licks up the roof of Callahan’s mouth to chase his taste. You catch his desperate groans, feeling how the rhythm of his hips falters the closer to losing it he gets. His fingers get sloppy, rubbing in an indescribable pattern and bringing you right where he is, whimpering and writing beneath his body.

You cum together, your cunt constricting around Callahan’s cock, feeling every vein pump and twitch as he too comes apart. He parts his lips from yours, only to breathlessly moan your name into your ear, his hot breath tickling your lobe and scattering an inexpressible feeling over your skin. He’s pounding into you and it hurts a little, but you feel far too good right now to care. Your pulse hammers for him, over every inch of you, blood rushing around your body carrying something magical with it. Callahan groans loudly, almost fully retreating his length before thrusting a final time, deep inside you. His lips connect with yours again, the tear tracks on your cheeks wetting his own skin from how close you are. You feel his cock pulsing as he releases the last of his spend into you, with no care in your mind for the consequences.

When you open your eyes, still coming back to earth, he’s there for you, looking down with an expression you could only describe as blissful.

“You are… somethin’ else…” He whispers, reaching to push a stray piece of hair from your face.

═══════☆═══════

In all your years, there has never been such a comfortable silence as the one you and Callahan are existing in now, disturbed only by the gentle thrumming of his heart against your ear. There’s no awkwardness, wasn’t when he slid out of you and helped you get cleaned up either. The moment is peace, especially when you feel your own heart beating to the exact same rhythm. If it weren’t for this man, it might not have been, and now you’re synchronised to him.

A clean shirt from his saddle bag is wrapped around your shoulders, while Callahan’s fingers gently run over your hair. You want to thank him again, but the silence hanging around you both seems too precious for you to break.

Your anxious mind is kind to you, allowing you a few more minutes of complete peace in this heavenly sanctuary, before everything comes crashing back down to Earth, dragging you with it.

“... God, what am I gonna do now?”

Callahan doesn’t hesitate.

“You could stay with me.”

You freeze, leaning up on your good arm to look him in the eye, hair cascading over your face once more. As always, he pushes it back, though there’s something in his expression that tells you he’s surprised those words left his mouth so freely.

“Stay with you? Where?”

“Well… I run with some others, folk like you who have nowhere to go. We keep a camp together, keep eachother safe and fed. I… I’m sure they’d welcome you.”

“You’re outlaws, right?”

The great unspoken question. It lingers between you for a moment, and Callahan swallows hard.

“Yeah, outlaws. But we ain’t as bad as those others, we… we try n’ help people, where we can. I could talk to Dutch, get you somewhere to sleep ‘till you get back up on your feet.”

Your mind races, setting itself off faster than a spooked horse spotting a snake. Outlaws killed Varner, outlaws tried to rape you, and would have surely killed you had they had the chance… Outlaws were bad news, everything you’ve ever been warned about in your life…

And you slept with one, and now had a standing invitation to join them??

He must sense the turmoil twisting your previously calm features, and quickly goes back to that soothing motion across your hair.

“Hey, just think on it, alright? You’ve had a pretty damn rough day, ain’t no use doin’ anything but restin’ now. We can stay here tonight, talk about it in the morning.” “A-Alright…”

For now, you let his words wash over you, his gruff voice trying to pull you back to that tranquil state. It works, and you rest your head back on his chest, careful to avoid the makeshift bandages you tied around his shoulder.

You shut your eyes, intertwined with your saviour while the moon watches over you both.

“Thank you, Callahan…” you mumble, sleep already grasping you with its tempting claws.

You’re the first to drift, while Callahan stays awake as long as he can to make sure you’re alright. He watches you sleep, watches the gentle rise and fall of your chest, the way your lashes flutter every so often.

“It’s Arthur, by the way…”

═══════☆═══════

You’re pulled out of the realms of sleep when an owl hoots nearby. For a second, you panic, expecting all the comforts of your own bed and finding the open air. It comes crashing back all too soon, the bandits, Varner, Callahan…

He’s right where you left him, arm wrapped around your frame to keep you safe from the elements and otherwise. His handsome features are illuminated by a moon glowing high in the sky, fast asleep, and you know it’s now or never.

You’re not sure when you make your decision, whether it was when he first asked you, or some wider wisdom from a dream you can’t remember influenced you. You’ll regret it a hundred times over and thensome, but you know that even when you’re doing it.

You allow yourself a kiss, just one soft kiss on his sleeping lips, before somehow managing to slide out of his embrace without disturbing him. He stirs, and you freeze, but a tiny snore later and he returns to complete slumber.

There are tears welling in your eyes when you approach Boadicea. She looks at you solemnly, as if she knows exactly what you’re doing, but she lets you do it anyway. Every movement pains you in a way you’ve never experienced before, your heart aching more violently than any mortal flesh wound ever could.

Boadicea stays still while you look through her saddle bag, picking out a couple of tins of food and one of the opened tonics, though you leave most of the provisions. It feels wrong, stealing from him, but you know you have to to survive. You’re on your own now.

Just when you’re about to wrap everything up to go, you spot a book in the back pocket of the bag, a stick of charcoal poking through the pages. Glancing at Callahan’s sleeping body, even for the fraction of a second you do so, hurts so much you can barely breathe.

You pick the book out, flicking over stunning sketches of landscapes, animals, and a few portraits. You’re careful not to read the words, fearful that knowing any more of his soul could change your mind in an instant. The charcoal scratches at the paper as you write, more grateful than ever that you learnt how to in your free time on the ranch.

I can’t. I’m sorry.

Each step out of the woods pulls at that tether, the one you noticed before when you first kissed him that resides deep in your heart, the one that feels like fate. But you’ve met her before, and she scares you. Fate means destiny, yes, but she also brings doom. And that is no longer a risk you can afford to take.

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maryleclerc · 2 years ago

Text

𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐦𝐫𝐬.𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬

quinn hughes x reader

summary: quinn and y/n as a newlywed couple

social media au!

warning: english not my first language, all images credit to owner, i do not own any of these images

reblog, like & follow me for more smau!

_quinnhughes

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_quinnhughes Today i can finally ask my Y/n to marry me, my one and only love just for you. I love you baby

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y/username I love you too Quintin bear ❤️

quinnhughesfan.43 Gosh so sweet & CONGRATZZZZ

canucks We all so happy for you!

y/username

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y/username Can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you,

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elblue6 Welcome to the Hughes Gang Y/n 🧡

y/username Thank you Mrs Hughes ❤️

lhughes_06 I will be the greatest uncle EVER!

y/username Oh shut up Luke 😂

jackhughes @lhughes_06 No i’m better than you

lhughes_06 Are you sure u Lil Jizzy

kyliejenner My girl is engage now!!! love u two so much!!

y/username Yay finally!!

_quinnhughes

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_quinnhughes 12/20, my mrs.hughes

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y/username Hi my hubby 😉

elblue6 I remember it’s clear as day, when me and your dad hold you for the first time, its always so special moment with your first born first time being a parents to take care of a newborn and he’s a family man now

_quinnhughes Mom you gonna make me and Y/n cry again

y/n.hughes43 Mom i’m gonna cry

elblue6 I don’t mean to make you cry, me and Jim are so so happy for you both, but we both waiting for my grandbabies

_quinnhughes Me and Y/n will be work on it soon

y/n.hughes43 Hey

quinnntin43canucks I still don’t think she deserve you Quinn

fanofy/nandquinn Couple goal 🎉

y/n.hughes43

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y/nhughes I am now stand here wearing this gorgeous wedding dress and call you my husband, i am the luckiest person on this planet ever exist. Let’s build our own Hughes family together Quintin ❤️

Dec 20 💍

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y/m/n My baby is a women now, so so proud of you and quinn

_quinnhughes I will take really good care of Y/n mrs.Y/l/n

y/m/n Oh Quinn just call me Mom 😁

y/m/n I know you will Quinn, you gonna be a great husband and a great dad too

elblue6 Y/n you are so sweet

y/n.hughes43 Thank you Mom 🥺

trevorzegras Beautiful Bride

_quinnhughes Excuse you? That’s my wife

trevorzegras Wow okay okay Huggy Bear

y/n.hughes43 Aww my Huggy Bear is jealous huh?

y/bf/n You look stunning in that dress

y/n.hughes43 Go and ask Trevor out sis!!! I’m sure he like you too

_quinnhughes

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_quinnhughes Owner of my heart

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hated.u.y/n He seem so obsess with her, everything, every post is just about her, what she did to him like this

y/nandquinnlovers Ofc, girl you’re just so jealous that Quinn not your husband right? He just about his wife, what’s wrong about that? Isn’t that what husband should do????

ethanblues She’s so fine

j__04 I just wish that i’m her

y/n.hughes43

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y/nhughes Just chillin’ and watching the sunset with my love

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y/dad/n Y/n your mom just got me puppy

y/n.hughes43 No way, i’ve beg you to get me a puppy since i was 13 and you said no pet allow in the home

y/mom/n Sorry baby, i just have to rescue this little fluffy baby golden retriever, someone abandon her on the middle of the road

y/n.hughes43 Can i name her Layla?

elblue6 ❤️

y/n.hughes43 ❤️❤️

_quinnhughes ❤️❤️❤️

_quinnhughes

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_quinnhughes Baby Hughes is 7 weeks now, see you in November mommy and daddy

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elblue6 Is Y/n have bad morning sickness?

_quinnhughes She is having a bad bad morning sickness, i just don’t know to help her feel better

elblue6 I’ll bring some decaf tea to help her sickness

_quinnhughes Thank u mom

jackhughes So cute already

lhughes_06 That baby will gonna look like Y/n, that would be so freaking cuteeee

_quinnhughes Ofc it’s gonna look like both of us Luke

y/n.hughes43

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y/n.hughes43 Good morning w.41 and 4 days left (!)

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_quinnhughes Things are def growing

trevorzegras Any name yet?

y/nhughesNo not yet, any ideas?

y/bf/n He’s gonna name its Trevor for sure, he told me yesterday 😂

y/n.hughes43 What if it’s was a girl? Trevor too

y/bf/n Yeass

y/u.hughes43 Oh hell nah

elblue6 I’m so excited to meet our first grandbaby!!!

_quinnhughes I’m so nervous and excited to be a dad

y/n.hughes43 You’re gonna be a best dad ever

jackhughes And me, i’m gonna be the greatest uncle

_quinnhughes

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_quinnhughes Welcome Quintessa May Y/l/n - Hughes, the latest Hughes edition is finally here. Y/n you’ve done a very very great job to bring our baby girl into this life, i’m so proud of you and will never forget all the stage of your pregancy. I will always love you and our baby girl unconditionally.

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elblue6 I always love the idea of Quintin and Quintessa since you tell me her name Y/n

_quinnhughes I love that name too, and Y/n she already chose name for next baby, its will be Quintina..

y/n.hughes43 She’s gonna be a daddy girl

_quinnhughes Don’t be jealous of your own little daughter

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x y/n #quintin hughes imagines #quintin hughes #quintin hughes x reader #quintin x y/n #maryhughes stuff

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mlmichaelharrison · 11 days ago

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HSS Family HCs

Saw someone complain that there weren't great back stories for the characters's family lives, and they are SO RIGHT >:( So here you go!

Warnings, it gets real angsty.

Caleb

Caleb's family is H U G E

Which means giant and exhausting family gatherings and way too many dates to remember.

Auntie Anna and Uncle John's anniversary? No clue. Grandpa T’s birthday? Fuck knows. Ezra's next gig? Shit, should probably memorise that one…

(ADHD does not help)

Losing his grandma was really tough on family dynamics.

His mom hopped on the bandwagon with blaming one of her brothers for not taking care of her as much as he should have, as the legal carer.

The funeral was one of the hardest things Caleb had to go through.

Everyone drifted apart a bit, until Caleb finally convinced his mom finally reached out to invite them over for Christmas, like old times. He knows that's what his grandma would have wanted.

After that, they were reunited, and have been inseparable since.

Which means more dates to remember, but that's okay, because everyone is happy again.

He and Ezra get along extraordinarily, always joking at the table (which his parents don't love), playing pranks on each other, and competing like their lives depend on it on Super Smash Bros, Mario Kart, and Mario Party.

They get together in Ezra's room at least once a month to catch up on gossip (Ezra is very keen to hear Caleb's opinion on the new kid). They throw on a movie and chat over it the entire time (unless there's some really bad acting or visual effects).

Ezra can be a little pushy for personal details during these hangouts, but Caleb has learned to trust his brother, or lie.

He loves his mom and she loves him, so much. They have a very kissy and cuddly relationship (which gets embarrassing when she kisses his forehead goodbye in front of his friends).

He will ALWAYS be a Mama’s Boy™

He gets along with his dad well, too. He has never missed a game, even standing out in torrential rain to watch Caleb play soccer with seven friends when he was six years old, still cheering him on and shaking his umbrella in celebration.

They all come along to his big games, even when he tries to tell them not to, but it always brightens the game up when he looks to the seating and sees his family, beaming at him, holding up ugly hand painted signs they've had since Caleb was ten.

Now we get to the angst >:) GET OUTTA HERE, GOLDEN BOY!!!

Emma

Obviously, Emma's family is split apart. Parents divorced, sister siding with their father, and no family close to the Cove.

The divorce was tough, especially when it came to her parents fighting over the kids and the battle of bribery that ensued.

Since her mom works so often, she has a lot of time to herself.

Sometimes she wonders if she made a mistake, staying with Julia, but she shakes that thought immediately when her father comes to mind.

He's… not the nicest man. Emma used to sit at the top of the stairs to listen to their arguments. The insults and swears she'd learned by the age of ten would concern every teacher.

He had all the money, a very good job, and that's why Robin followed him to the city. Better than this deadbeat town. Emma is sometimes jealous of the lavish life they have together, but when her mom comes home with that tired smile and opens her bag to show lemon meringue pie, Emma's favourite, Emma knows she's made the right decision.

She and her mom try to do things together when Julia has a day off: typical kid’s days out, like the fair, the roller rink, bowling.

As much as Emma appreciates these outings, her favourite part is watching trashy TV on the sofa, and the warm smile of appreciation she gives Emma every time she brings a fresh cup of tea.

When she's lonely, she's grateful you came into her life and built an (unlikely) chosen family with her. She genuinely considers the gang her siblings, and never misses an opportunity to show her appreciation.

Maria

She adores her dads, and they love her to absolute pieces . They had to fight for her, so she means a lot to them. A LOT.

They always reserve time for each other. Every week, shuffled around, they have a board game night, video game night, a collaborative from-scratch cooking night, and theatre night.

They love to dress up for these events, too, just to keep them feeling special.

(Except cooking night. Jose learned that the hard way when he spilled a can of tomatoes down a cream suit jacket.)

However, Maria does get lonely sometimes. Not having siblings or any extended family members (since her dads had to cut themselves off from their families when they got married on the first day it was legal) leaves her feeling quite isolated.

She loves her cats, though.

Aiden

Strict parents, no siblings, he gets even more isolated.

They get him diagnosed with autism when he's young, and since then have mostly kept him from social situations to “protect” him. Their hearts are in the right place, but it takes a toll on his mental health and means he doesn't learn very good social skills.

He resents them a little. Quietly, of course, but if a jab at them ever does slip, they're prompt to punish him by grounding him, isolating him further. Genius.

He sneaks a second phone into his room so he can chat with Myra, who he honestly considers to be his sister and best friend.

She listens to him bitch for a few minutes before she changes the subject, which takes Aiden's mind off of things quickly.

(Especially when it involves a certain someone)

Glen and Bridget's expectations have always been high, and not just for music - he is grounded immediately if a single subject’s grade is below a B.

That does, however, provide its own distraction of studying. No need to do anything against the rules this time. Little wins?

One time, Glen catches him on his phone during grounding. Yelling about disobedience escalates to conversations around mental health (they don't believe that “anxiety” is real) and sexuality, and how he's distracted thinking about the wrong thing. Bridget smacks him when he talks back one time, which left Aiden with a small mark that he brushed off as a bow snapping in his face.

Michael

Michael doesn't get along with his parents.

Or his older sister, for that matter. She stayed at Hearst when Michael moved, and she loves having a reason to be rude to him.

Only his immediate family live in Cedar Cove: the rest live in New York, where Alex was until age fourteen. He misses his cousins a lot, and a couple of aunties and uncles, but he can take or leave the rest.

His grandfather used to put his cigars out in Michael's skin if he ever misbehaved, which has left him with nasty, circular scars running up both arms.

His mom tries her best, but rarely gets it right. She tries so hard to support his mental health, but it's too much for one woman to take, and her check-ins become less frequent as Michael grows up. She has a nasty habit of manipulating him, but he becomes a little less easy to manipulate every year.

He's still not all the way there, though. She still sometimes gets under his skin and in his head, and he agrees to things that he doesn't want to do.

His dad is abusive, and the worst part is that everyone knows it.

It's mostly emotional, but every now and then Michael turns up to school with a couple of bruises. He always brushes it off with a smile.

He had a LOT of pressure put on him, particularly around sports and arts.

His father owns a big camera company, which is why he has so much practise with cameras, and so many wonderful and expensive bits of tech.

He works for his dad by testing out their new products. His dad will always find a way to punish him for not being good enough, but will use Michael's artwork for advertisement anyway.

His parents are why he starts rebelling - firstly with fights (against them and people at school), then with B&Es, joyriding, hacking, then with drugs.

He steals his dad's money, which gives him a few heavy beatings.

Starts with cigarettes and alcohol, then weed, then starts slipping into stuff like cocaine, ketamine, and acid.

He thinks if he can fuck his life up enough, maybe they'll back off.

They do, but he's been left with a criminal record and a couple of dangerous addictions.

(Bonus: Michael + Gay!M!MC)

Michael's dad is massively homophobic.

Never towards Michael, he never suspected a thing, but he would often open political conversations with Michael to make sure he was still his son, his puppet, regurgitating every opinion he has.

It works for a while. Michael is completely brainwashed into believing that homosexuality is wrong, so when MC turns up in all his powerfully gay glory, Michael takes some time to adjust.

He teases MC sometimes, at first, calling him names and telling him to man up. It's a defence mechanism, because in reality, Michael noticed how much he liked him immediately.

MC wasn't even the first boy he liked, or even kissed. But those were such drunken/high/adrenaline fuelled/‘fake’ experiences that he wiped them from his mind as soon as he could, terrified that his dad would be able to read it from his brain when he got home.

It took Michael a lot of time to soften his exterior and apologise to MC. A lot of sleepless nights. A lot of lying to his family if he ever asked what was wrong. A lot of breakdowns.

When Michael and MC finally figure out their relationship, he carries that secret around home with complete and utter fear.

His mom is the first to find out, and tells him they always wanted him to be “perfect” and have a “good” and “acceptable” life.

His dad finds out accidentally and beats Michael for the first time in over a year. Michael runs away to MCs house, still bleeding and crying, and Scott instantly agrees to let him stay for the weekend.

A lot of Michael's story is taken from my OC from a novel I've been writing, so if you read a novel that has an eerily similar plot, hey! Maybe it's me :)

Didn't proof read soz I'm lazy xoxo

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moodybluezzz · 1 year ago

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Hairstyling w/ Team Bucciarati

[Content: SFW, gender neutral Y/N]

[Word count: 1.1k]

Bucciarati

When you ask Bucciarati if you can style his hair, he agrees as soon as he sees the smile on your face. "You can certainly try, Y/N." This man would let you get away with practically anything if it meant making you happy.

Since Bucciarati's hair is so short, your options are limited. However, you can curl it. He has no objections, even commenting that he’s curious to see how it would look since he's always had straight hair.

Bucciarati sits perfectly still and talks casually to you through the entire process, watching you wrap his hair bit-by-bit in the curling iron and expressing his excitement after each section is done.

In the end he places his hairpins back in and chuckles as he fluffs his curls. "Well this is certainly different. And I can't say I don't like it." He thanks you and decides that he'll have to invite the gang to dinner just to see how the others will react. You wonder how the others would look with curls or if they'd let you style their hair at all.

Abbacchio

"Absolutely not." Unsurprisingly, the moment you ask Abbacchio to style his hair he shoots you down. However, after a bit of insisting and promising to do it in private, he agrees. "Fine. But if anyone sees, you're dead."

Abbachio sits in front of you, his shoulders tense as you start running your fingers through his hair. "Just get on with it already, will you?" he comments impatiently, crossing his arms.

Since Abbacchio has the longest hair out of the gang, you decide to have some fun with it. You work his pale hair into a wrap-around braid on each side, merging into a half-up ponytail in the center.

To your surprise, Abbacchio doesn't speak up again for the rest of the process. He gradually relaxes under your touch, eventually closing his eyes with a faint smile. Though he'd hate to admit it, he secretly loves the feeling and doesn't quite want it to end.

By the time you're done Abbacchio is disappointed that you've finished so quickly. He opens his eyes to look at the final product and smiles wide, resting his head in his hand. "I'm impressed. Maybe I'll let you do this again sometime, mio tesoro."

Giorno

Giorno smiles softly and happily agrees to let you style his hair. "Of course you can. Just make sure it looks good," he jokes. He takes a seat and sighs, having needed a break like this. Becoming a gang-star is hard.

You carefully remove the bands holding his current braids and curls together, letting free an ocean of golden waves. You hadn't realized just how long his hair was, falling just below his shoulders. It almost looks too good to re-style, but you can't stop now!

Already knowing Giorno’s hair looks good in a braid, you decide to put a twist on his usual look. With some trial and error, and a bit of help from Giorno himself, you manage to put together a unique half-up style - the top braided into the shape of a flower and the bottom left down.

Giornio gazes into the ornate mirror in front of you and smiles, turning back and forth to see your work from every angle and make a few adjustments. "Perfect! Thank you Y/N, I didn't know you were so skilled at this. We can do this more often if you'd like." He kisses your hand politely, excited for the others to see what you've done.

Fugo

"Why me?" Fugo wonders why you want to style his hair, of all people. His reputation as the hothead of the gang has undoubtedly been drilled into your head and there's certainly more eager candidates than himself. Nevertheless Fugo doesn't feel like disappointing you today, especially if it would mean being berated by Narancia and Mista for not having enough fun again. "You know what… fine."

Fugo sits in front of you, somehow even more tense than Abbacchio. Sensing how uncomfortable he is, you decide you'll give him a quick and easy style. He watches your every move in the mirror as you start running your hands through his hair, preparing to tie it back. You catch his sharp purple eyes in the reflection and he glances away, blushing. He didn't expect to enjoy the feeling and trust your process so much. He almost wants to tell you but he isn't sure how. He stays quiet and lets you do your thing.

You pull Fugo's hair into a spiky ponytail, sticking up boldly in the back with long bangs left down in the front. When you're done he brushes his hands over the spikes of hair, smiling ever-so-slightly. "This isn't usually my thing, but… It's not bad. Thank you. Really."

Narancia

"REALLY? OF COURSE YOU CAN!" Narancia is more than excited to have his hair done. Judging by how unkempt it usually is, this must be a rare treat for him. "I want it just like Fugo's!" By now nearly the whole gang has shown off their styles and Fugo's spikes caught Narancia's eye immediately.

Narancia sits in front of you and asks how you convinced the rest of the gang to agree to this. You laugh as you tie his hair up just like Fugo's. Despite how quickly you're done, Narancia is still overflowing with excitement. "Awesome! I can't wait to show Fugo! Hopefully he isn't mad I copied him… Oh well!"

Mista

"Oh, well… I don't have much hair for styling… But you can play with the hair I do have as much as you want," Mista says with a wink. You've somehow never seen what's under Mista's hat, so you can't help but be surprised when he removes it to reveal a head of short, dark, and very curly hair. He motions for you to sit in his lap on your styling chair and you happily oblige.

You reach up and ruffle his curls with a chuckle. He smiles and blushes, loving every second of it. "You should take your hat off more often! You're handsome without it, you know," you comment. Mista blushes but keeps a confident face. "Oh reeeally? Anything for you, mia cara…"

When you're done, Mista puts his hat back on and together you head back to the rest of the gang. Mista pouts as he looks around the room. Everyone is showing off their new hairstyles - it's amusing but you can't help but feel proud. "Damn it, how long do I have to grow my hair for this! ...Better yet, how the hell did you get Abbacchio to agree to this!"

#jjba x reader #jojos bizarre adventure #anime #golden wind #vento aureo #anime fluff #jojo #jjba #jjba fanfic

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darkcrowprincess · 1 year ago

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Goldenlight week 2023💜💛: Day 1 New Beginnings/Intertwined Fates

"Your souls are tied together. Odd but not unheard of. It's seems you two knew each other in a past life," replied the fortune teller in the booth as she turns over the first tarot card. Hunter and Luz stare, simliar brown golden eyes widen at this announcement. Behind them, the rest of their friends look on in confusion.

Second times the charm. The gang was hoping this year's Gravesfield Halloween Festival would be different from the last. No horrific surprises. Taking a break from rebuilding the boiling isles, Luz and friends decided to go again this year. All dressed in costumes, everything was going well till the lady in the fortune teller booth demands to give Luz and Hunter a free tarot card reading(and only them). "It's just something about you two. Your fates are intertwined, and I would certainly fail as a Wiccan if I don't sniff out the reason why."

Humoring the lady, they both sat down at her request, and together picked three cards. "Three, always three. For the past, the present, and the future."

To hear that in the past they knew each other, brought a chill down Luz's spine. It makes her think of things she did not wish to think of. Mindscapes, dark trees, and golden masks hiding a horrible truth. Sensing this Hunter brings his scarred hand to hold hers in comfort. Feeling this she smiles at him. He smiles back, fragile but no less meaningful.

Continuing the fortune teller turns over the second card. The present. "Right now you two are dealing with the aftermath of great trauma, caused by a man who caused you both pain many times. The shadow had a hold on you. But now with some time and healing you're both are trying to move on. Fair warning two you two. Trauma brought on by shadows, creates a bond if it's shared by two people with fates intertwined . It will be very difficult for you to be able have a connection with anyone else."

Amity at this scoffs, but Willow and Gus shush her. They both wish to hear more as well. Hunter and Luz don't look at each other. But they can feel the tension. This was turning stranger and stranger. Hunter squeezes Luz's hand. She grips back hard.

Finally with a mischievous smile the fortune tell her turns over the last tarot card. The future. This card had a couple in each others embrace in a dark forest. The only light was a golden heart above them.

Hunter and Luz both blush at this card. They let go of each other's hands in embarrassment. The fortune teller smiles softly, as if she's finally figured out something about Luz and Hunter.

"The Lovers card. In the future position it has several different meanings, but this Major Arcana card usually predicts that a new relationship is about to head your way, or that you will have to make a difficult but rewarding decision." At that the women eyes Luz. Than the women with her long dark nails points to the golden heart on the card above the lovers. "The golden heart, a heart of light. Indicates a strong lovers bond. It has been building for a long long time. It is a safe haven this love, and will protect from future troubles. In simple terms you two will be each others family, no matter what." With that the fortune teller smile turns back to being wicked and mischievous smile. As if her last words had a hidden meaning. As if shes poking fun at some other higher power. She grabs the three cards and brings the back to the deck to reshuffle them. "Thank you for indulging me my dears. Doing a reading for you two has been very entertaining." Hunter says nothing, his face a pretty dark red blush. Awkwardly tries to avoid their friends looks, he runs his fingers through his blonde hair. Luz is blushing too, but tries to be polite, giggles to ease the tension, "No problem, Miss a? We didn't catch your name?"

"DarkCrow. Madame DarkCrow. Princess of darkness and all things wicked." The women gets up winking at them. " Hope you two are very happy together. New beginings always are. Especially on Halloween"

(Don't like don't read. Post hate and I'll block you)

#the owl house #lunter #huntceda #goldenlight #luz x hunter #goldenluz #my writing #yes I'm a lunter shipper.#goldenlight week 2023 #Don't like don't read. Post hate and I'll block you #💜💛

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clefmogus · 4 months ago

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The 8 Stages of a McDonald's Date [Childe x Zhongli] 3k words

Summary: Childe asks Zhongli out on a date... to McDonald's.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: Stage 1 :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

At the prestigious private high school of Teyvat, where the rich and the intelligent began the beginning sparks of their future business careers, a monumental moment worthy of the history books was about to take place.

Childe was about to ask Zhongli out on a date.

After 8 months of encouragement and private (public, too, sometimes) counselling from the twins and the gang, Childe felt like he was finally 4% prepared for this life-changing event. He did, afterall, pass his original goal of 2.9%.

Yes, Childe was ready for this whether he was ready or not.

He was not.

“Zh-Zhongli…”

A head turn.

“W-will you… go out with me? Like, uhm, on a date?”

Zhongli blinked. “Where?”

Oh shit. Childe had not thought this far ahead. In all their 484 sessions of running through scenarios, never once had Aether or Lumine mentioned the location of where the date would take place. It always ended with brutal rejection or a simple acceptance.

Think, Childe, think. Where would be the best place for a first date?

And like an anime side character who lay dying in a pool of their own blood, Childe recalled enough events from his lifetime to fill 6 episodes. Why, of course. How could he have forgotten the holy shrine of golden arches that sat just a block away from the school.

“McChicken nuggets.”

“Ok.”

Childe jumped with joy.

Zhongli wept. He could finally eat after 5 days.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: Stage 1 Complete :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

ﾟ+:ꔫ:﹤　Stage 2　﹥:ꔫ:+ﾟ

How does one bring about the topic of holding hands?

As Childe and Zhongli made their way across the campus after class hours, Childe began to plan out ways in which he could incite illegal homosexual romance on school grounds.

“H-hey, Zhongli…” Childe began hesitantly.

“Yes?”

“Haha, um, do you… m-maybe want to, um, h—”

Blond hair whizzed by, cutting Childe off short.

“Childe! Let’s go ho—” Aether paused.

Childe wanted to go to heaven.

“Oops, haha, my tongue slipped.” Shooting Childe a devious smirk, Aether turned around and ran off towards his sister, who stood at the entrance gates of the school.

“Hah,” Zhongli sighed, “those two are always scampering off and getting into trouble. We should have invited them to join us on our outing.”

I-invite them? Was he really that uncomfortable to be around?

“B-but isn’t this a date?”

“Precisely. Were you not the one who stated ‘the more the merrier’ when you invited me to the karaoke place with your friends last week?”

“I—”

Childe stopped. He had no words. Did Zhongli even know the difference between a date and a hang out? Well, no matter. Childe was going to make him find out. He rolled up his sleeves and tried again.

“Zhongli, l-let’s hol—”

“Hey man!” A smooth voice suddenly interrupted his love proposal, casting Childe into the depths of despair. A moment later, a heavy arm was slung around his neck. Childe almost coughed up blood.

“Kaeya,” Childe grumbled underneath his breath.

“Childe.”

(“Zhongli,” said Zhongli.)

“So, where are you two lovebirds heading off to?” Kaeya grinned, digging his knuckle into Childe’s head.

Your days are fucking numbered, bitch.

“Hey, leave them alone, Kaeya!” A loud voice came from behind the group. Childe never thought he would be so happy to see another person who was not Zhongli.

A few feet behind them stood Amber, the perky and energetic class rep who always seemed to have your back—if you didn’t get on her nerves, that is.

Amber, you are my shooting star, my white knight, my angel in the midnight darkness, my ride or—

“They’re just friends. There’s nothing going on between them.”

Fucking bitch.

“Ah, actually, Zhongli and I…”

“I do not see a problem with them coming along with us. After all, weren’t you the one who said—”

“AH! Is that Jean and Diluc walking home together?!” Childe thought fast, pointing in the opposite direction of the road.

“Huh? Where?” Amber turned.

“This I have to see.” Kaeya let go of Childe, and turned away from them, following after Amber.

“Ugh, finally they’re—no, not you, too!”

“But I wanted to—”

Fearing that Zhongli might follow after the two idiots, Childe grabbed onto his hand, pulling him down the street towards the golden arch palace.

As they ran past all the other students walking home from their hours of suffering, Childe could think of nothing but the warmth of Zhongli’s hand pressed tightly against his. His surroundings blurred into one huge, colorful blob.

Childe crashed into a metal pole.

He had to let go.

(“Heh heh, sorry about that,” Childe laughed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I think I would be more concerned about the blood dripping from your head.”)

ﾟ+:ꔫ:﹤　Stage 2 Complete　﹥:ꔫ:+ﾟ

‧͙⁺˚･༓☾　Stage 3　☽༓･˚⁺‧͙

After thoroughly wiping off all the blood from his head and nose with a handkerchief provided by Zhongli, Childe was finally able to enter the restaurant without getting kicked out. He politely held the door open for Zhongli because he was a gentleman.

The line stretched on for about half the length of the building.

Now’s my chance. I’ll clarify that this is a date and not a friendly hang out once and for all!

“Zhongli, um, I… I…”

“Hm?” Zhongli blinked quizzically, waiting for the other boy to continue.

“I… need to take a dump.”

For the next ten minutes, Childe stood on top of the toilet seat chanting warding spells against the spirits of bad luck.

He was getting tired of running his one-man clown circus.

“Welcome back,” Zhongli said calmly as Childe dragged himself back into the line to stand next to him.

Please tell me that everyday when I get home from work after we’re married.

“Did you have a nice defecate?”

Never mind.

“N… No.”

“Next!”

The awkward silence was interrupted by the friendly voice of the girl behind the counter. They stepped up to order.

“Hello, welcome to McD—” The girl, Sara, grimaced as soon as her eyes landed on Zhongli. “Oh. It’s you again.”

“Do not fret, I brought my wallet this time,” Zhongli announced, shoving Childe forward.

Am I a joke to you?

Sara blinked, but made no comment.

“What would you like to order?”

“What do you have?”

“We… we have a menu, you know…”

“Excellent,” Zhongli said, hardly sparing a glance at the large TV displays of food. “We’ll take it all.”

“…”

“Zh-Zhong—”

After eight hours and 13 surgeries to remove his kidney, blood plasma, and any other organ that he could live without, Childe was finally able to pay for everything that Zhongli wanted on the menu.

‧͙⁺˚･༓☾　Stage 3 Complete　☽༓･˚⁺‧͙

＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚　Stage 4　˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊

The weather reports had said that it would be a brutally cold, drafty day with winds strong enough to knock down small trees. So, bearing the freezing gales in nothing but a thin school uniform, Childe sat having his McChicken hamburger at the edge of a steep cliff overlooking the ocean.

God, why must you punish me so?

After Childe had finished payments for their unnecessarily excessive meal (which included a ten year pay plan with interest), Zhongli had promptly walked out the door, leaving Childe to carry everything and follow him.

Bitches be like “I know a place,” then bring you to the edge of a cliff to have a McNugget picnic.

“A most excellent meal,” Zhongli declared, opening his homemade bento box and grabbing a pair of chopsticks.

Y… you’re not even gonna eat it?!!

Zhongli looked up from his meal.

“Is something the matter, Childe?”

“Yeah, I’ve fallen in love with a dumb bitch.”

“Really? What are they like?”

“Dumb and bitchy.”

Zhongli then proceeded to take out a portable stove and began heating up some water.

“Would you like some soothing tea for your heartache?”

“Yes, please.” Childe brought his knees up to his chest and stared out at the churning gray waves as they crashed against the side of the cliff.

He ate his McNuggets in silence.

It started raining.

I think I’m going to go die now.

“Hup,” Childe grunted as he pushed himself back onto his feet. “We should get going now. You’re going to catch a cold.”

Zhongli packed up his things and Childe compressed his year’s worth of food into his backpack. Maybe he could give it to the gang later.

“Um, Zhongli,” Childe called from behind Zhongli as he led the way down the cliffside path. “Why… why did you choose to be here of all places?”

The other boy paused.

“Why?”

He turned to face Childe.

“Because I heard it was romantic, of course.”

Childe’s eyes widened and he felt his face begin to flush, even in the pouring rain. He trained his eyes on the floor, barely able to contain his grin.

“Zh-Zhongli, I also—”

Before Childe could finish his sentence, a loud crash came from behind him. He whipped around seconds before a large wave crashed into them.

＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚　Stage 4 Complete　˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊

⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ Stage 5 ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆

Romance is dead.

The two boys trudged home in complete silence, neither one of them daring to bring up what had just happened on the cliff side.

They were both completely drenched to the bone in sea water, and the pouring rain didn’t give any indication of stopping soon. Their date had ended in the worst possible outcome.

This is so fucking awkward…

“Well, this is me,” Zhongli announced, stepping towards one of the nearby neighborhood homes.

“Ah, y-yeah,” Childe mumbled, looking anywhere but Zhongli. “I-I’m heading off, then.”

He turned away, completely ready to finally flee the scene of the crime. Childe begged to every single god he could list off the top of his head that Zhongli would not open his mouth. He just wanted the day to be over with as soon as possible.

“Wait.”

Goddammit.

“Would you care to come in and dry up?”

C-come in? As in, go into his house?

“I-I don’t think that’s a good idea…” Childe declined hesitantly, rubbing the back of his neck. Knowing their luck that day, they would probably somehow manage to commit arson faster than Klee.

“At least let me get you a towel,” Zhongli pressed, turning away before Childe could protest.

Oh, fun.

Zhongli returned a few minutes later holding onto a fluffy, hot pink D*ra the Explorer towel and handed it to Childe as if there was nothing wrong.

“Um, wh-why…”

“Worry not, it was just washed yesterday.”

“That’s not the issue here.”

Childe reached out to grab it, training his eyes intensely onto D*ra’s scrunched up face.

“I… I had fun today.”

Faster than lightning, Childe snatched up the D*ra towel and turned away as fast as he could.

“G-g↝oodnight!” Childe exclaimed. His voice cracked in the most embarrassing way possible. And as Childe raced down the road, he could feel his face heating up and his heart pumping (a bit too quickly) in his chest.

He ran the wrong way.

⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ Stage 5 Complete ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆

.｡❅⋆⍋∞* Stage 6 ∞⍋⋆*❅｡.

Well, I’m never going to school again, Childe decided.

On the way home, he had dropped by the Mora Tree shop and bought himself a humongous bulletin board.

Finally, somewhere to hang all of my Zhongli creep shots. Haha, just kidding.

(I’m only hanging up some of them.)

Instead, Childe began to plan out every single possible route he could take on campus in order to get through all his classes without bumping into Zhongli even once.

“So, if I go down the H-wing hall right after history before turning into the G-wing and ducking between the two portable classrooms, I can avoid Zhongli’s line of site as he exits his class in the F-wing. Then, I’ll wait for him to pass by before sneaki—”

Briiing. Briiing.

“SKIIIYAAAA!” Childe shrieked. He whipped around to find his phone buzzing on his bed with an incoming call.

“Bitch, don’t scare me like that!” He screamed into the phone the second he picked up.

“Gee, did you get dumped or something?” Aether teased.

“Fuck you.”

“Sorry, I don’t swing that way.”

Childe wanted to punch a dumb blonde underclassman.

“So, how’d your date go?” A new voice piped up, belonging to the second half of a chaotic duo.

“Lumine, don’t talk to him! He’s dirty.”

“The hell…?” Childe was now going to add a slap to the punch.

“Actually, I bet you were sitting in your room crying just now and planning out every possible route you can take tomorrow in order to avoid bumping into him.”

Childe sat in silence.

“I’m right, aren’t I?”

“… Ok.”

He hung up.

.｡❅⋆⍋∞* Stage 6 Complete ∞⍋⋆*❅｡.

*̩̩̥͙　•̩̩͙-ˏˋ⋆ 　Stage 7　⋆ˊˎ-•̩̩͙　*̩̩̥͙

As the early morning sun began to rise over the horizon, shining its brilliant light upon the prestigious high school of Teyvat, a certain orange haired cretin sat hunched over beneath the bushes outlining the school. He had covered himself up from head to toe with joggers, a hoodie, and a face mask and was now looking through his extra handy $1 W*sh binoculars.

Basically, he looked like a pervert.

“Zhongli, Zhongli, Zhon—”

“What the fuck?”

I’ve been seen!

“Childe?”

“Wh-wh-wh-wh-who???”

“C’mon, man,” Childe felt the overhanging branches being brushed aside as a tall, nosy ice lord shoved his way into Childe’s stakeout spot. “Is this about Zhongli dumping you?”

“Why does everyone think he dumped me?!!” Childe whined.

“I mean, you’re literally sitting underneath some bushes on a school campus peeking out of binoculars.”

“… point taken …”

“Look, if you want my advice—”

“I don’t.”

“If you want my advice,” Kaeya repeated through gritted teeth, “you have to think of first loves like lice.”

“Bitch, go the fuck away from me.”

“If you only look at the negatives, then all you see is a scratchy head and a dry scalp. But thinking about it like that only makes it seem much worse than it actually is. Because if you really think about it, these lice will stay with you as your companion for the rest of your life.”

“…”

“Whether you’re sad or lonely or happy, your lice are there with you through all the hardships. Even when your friends betray you, or the rivers begin burning up with fire, or the world falls entirely into chaos, at least you will always have your lice there by your side. And when you wake up each morning, that familiar itchy tingling in your scalp will feel like a good morning kiss.”

“I—”

“Just some food for thought.” Kaeya grinned, standing up and walking off into the sunrise.

“I neither want to eat or think again.” Childe muttered, staring after Kaeya’s retreating figure. How anyone could find such a man attractive was beyond him.

Childe took one last sweep around the school quadrangle and spotted Aether and Lumine standing on the opposite side, laughing and bantering.

“Aetherrrrrr,” Childe called out, running up to them. And before the blonde boy could land a kick in, Childe had wrapped his arms around his neck and began crying profusely.

Childe was emotionally unstable.

“Aether, I don’t know what to do, I—”

Through his watery vision blurred by tears, Childe could barely make out a large brown smudge standing beside Lumine. Was that…?

“Yeah, yeah, just get your marriage dispute over and done with,” Aether grumbled, shoving Childe off of him and towards the figure. “Geez, no need to drag the whole country in on it, too.”

“Uh… haha…” Childe laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

“May I talk to you for a second?”

The bell rang.

“Haha, would you look at the time!” Childe flashed a smile and began to turn away, but was stopped by Zhongli grabbing onto his shoulders with both hands.

“Wait. A-after class… I need to tell you something.”

Childe glanced to the side, his face quickly heating up. “A-after class sh-should be fine…”

*̩̩̥͙　•̩̩͙-ˏˋ⋆ 　Stage 7 Complete　⋆ˊˎ-•̩̩͙　*̩̩̥͙

ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ Stage 8 ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

After class was not fine.

As soon as the bell rang to dismiss the students for lunch, Childe ran through the survival guide he had created last night. He hurried down the H-wing, ducking behind the G-wing classrooms before—

“Augh!”

Standing with his arms crossed and back leaning against the classroom, stood Zhongli, as if he had been expecting Childe to show up here.

“I thought you would be here.”

“Am I that easy to read?”

“No,” Zhongli straightened up and strode towards Childe, closing the distance between them in just two swift steps. “I just know you well.”

“Ah…” Childe trained his eyes on the floor.

“And about the other day,” Zhongli went on, “I apologize. I should not have acted that way, especially on our first date.”

Oh my gosh, he said the ‘d’ word!

“You know,” Zhongli unconsciously leaned closer, and Childe's senses suddenly amplified. “You should not go along with everything I say, even if it is on the first date.”

“Y-yes…”

“You are looking kind of red. Are you okay?”

“M-mm-hm.”

“Want to be my boyfriend?”

“Mm, su-sure…”

Wait…

…

,,,

“WH-WHAT?!!”

“Boyfriend.”

“A-are you sure?”

“To be honest, no, I am not,” Zhongli said, taking a step back. Childe finally found the courage to look up. Zhongli, who was usually so stoic and indifferent, was now blushing so inordinately that Childe was at a loss for words.

“But, these past few days, I have had the honor of looking through a window into your life, and,” he swallowed, “it has made me conclude that I really want to get to know you. I want to laugh with you and be the cause of your laughter. And if you say ‘yes,’ I promise I will do my best to make you happ—”

“Uuuuunnnhh,” Childe groaned out, covering his reddening face with his hands. He leaned his head against Zhongli’s shoulder, who, in turn, wrapped his arms gently around Childe’s waist in a shy, but comfortable hug. “I… I need a moment.”

“Is it okay for me to take that as a yes?”

“Y-yeah… idiot.”

Zhongli reached up to grab Childe’s hands, pulling them away from his face.

“May I…?”

Without thinking, Childe swung his arms around Zhongli’s neck, pulling him closer and gently kissing him on the lips.

Zhongli blinked when Childe pulled away.

“I was asking for your number.”

“Oh.”

Childe began construction on a guillotine for himself.

ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ Stage 8 Complete ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

No one dared to comment on how or where Childe managed to get so much McDonald's for lunch.

---

Hey, I'm Clef. Thank you so much for reading!

I've been posting my fanfictions on ao3 for a long time, but I wanted to try out tumblr. I used to read a lot of fanfictions on here, but I never fully figured out how to use it. This is an old fic from 2020, but I really enjoyed writing it.

I'll probably be uploading a few of my other old fics onto here so stay tuned if you enjoyed this one!

Read it on ao3!

#genshin impact #genshin #childe tartaglia ajax #fanfiction #genshin fanfic #genshin fanfiction #zhongli #zhongchi #zhongchi fanfiction #childe x zhongli #comedy #comedy fanfiction #tartaglia

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thruheavenandhighwater · 2 years ago

Text

Pairing: Eddie Munson/ Steve Harrington

Requested By: NA

Word Count: 2,932

Series Summary: Eddie left Hawkins in 1986 with no reason to ever return. But now, a few years have passed and life has changed. Eddie finally returns home and has to deal with everything he left behind, including Steve Harrington. This story starts in May 1991.

Chapter Summary: A peek into the Munson's future together. This takes place in 2008.

Stranger Things Masterlist

Steddie Masterlist

Series Masterlist

~~~~~

"We're gonna be late!" Eddie called up the stairs for the third time in five minutes. "Listen, I know I'm cooler than Dad, but you don't have to be exactly like me, Lu!"

Lucy bounded down the stairs with a smile. Her hair and makeup were done, dress on, shoes in hand. She sat on the bottom step and slid one tan sandal onto her foot, fussing with the buckle as she did her best to fasten it as quickly as possible.

"She's not exactly like you, babe," Steve said, rounding the corner to join them at the stairs. "Lucy's graduating on her first try."

"And you're not cooler than Dad," Lucy said as she stood from the step. "I just tell you that so you'll let me borrow the car."

"I've been doomed to live the rest of my mortal life in a family of really mean, not funny comedians."

As much as Eddie whined and complained when Lucy and Steve would gang up on him, he wouldn't trade it for anything. The past seventeen years with them had been the best of his life. Probably the best years ever, if he were to guess.

Eddie and Steve had become official two days after Eddie kissed him in front of his uncle's house. Three months later he and Lucy moved into Steve's apartment. Then, once Lucy was old enough to need her own room, into an even bigger apartment. And finally, in 2001, they bought their forever home. It wasn't anything fancy. Two floors, three bedrooms. But it was theirs. They were even able to get themselves a dog. Not a golden retriever, to Steve's dismay. But a big, hyper German shepherd that Lucy had named Sully. Their life was perfect.

Together they'd seen it all. Lost baby teeth and skinned knees. Lucy's first crush and school dances. Even a trip to California the year Lucy found out about "gay days" at Disneyland and absolutely insisted they all go as a family. "You guys are gay!" She said almost too excitedly, earning exhausted eyerolls from both of them. "It's like, meant for you!"

They'd only heard from Billie twice since that November day in 1991. Once, when Lucy was six she'd tried to take Eddie to court again. But when her lawyer showed up and she didn't, the case was dismissed. And then earlier this year she'd found Lucy online and wished her a happy 18th birthday, two weeks after her 17th birthday. It had hurt Eddie to see her so upset, clinging to Sully as she asked her dads why she didn't have a mom like everyone else's.

But through it all, their little family stayed strong. When Wayne fell at work and cracked a rib, Steve was there every morning to check on him. And when Steve's mom passed away from liver failure, Eddie had held him every night for eight months while he mourned a woman who had been out of his life by her own choice for nearly a decade.

"Call your grandpa and tell him we're on the way," Steve said as he opened the door to usher Lucy and Eddie outside. He loved both of them more than anything, he really did, but the Munson gene of being habitually late to everything was not going to work. Not today.

Once they arrived at the high school Lucy had just enough time to run inside and slip into her rented green robe. Eddie, Wayne, and Steve bid her goodbye and good luck, each of them giving her a hug before watching her walk through the glass doors of Hawkins High.

The ceremony itself was exactly the same as Eddie and Steve remembered. The principal led the faculty out onto the stage, where they all sat in a line of folding chairs behind him. He gave a speech, more or less the same speech he'd given at every commencement ceremony he'd ever done.

"And now," he said, the microphone cracking with feedback as he picked up the stack of note cards he'd been reading from. "The valedictorian of Hawkins High School class of 2008, Lucy Munson."

Eddie and Steve stood from their seats immediately. They both clapped and loudly shouted as they watched Lucy walk to the podium. Wayne clapped along with them, staying in his seat and tucking his cane between his knees. Eddie didn't even try to hide the few tears that were falling down his cheeks as he watched his daughters brown curls bounce over the shoulders of her green robe. He felt Steve's arm wrapped around his back. He leaned his head onto his shoulder, wiping his cheeks. The two sat down as Lucy cleared her throat, leaning away from the microphone just like Eddie had taught her. He placed his hand on Steve's knee with a sigh.

"How did we raise a valedictorian?" Steve asked. He could hear the pride in his voice.

"No idea," he answered quietly. "More importantly, how the fuck is Higgins still principal?" Steve giggled, pressing his cheek into Eddie's hair as Lucy began to give the speech she'd written.

"To all of the family and friends with us today, I want to say thank you, from all of us, for being here. It wasn't an easy road for any of us, and I think I can speak for everyone when I say that it means a lot to us for you all to be here."

"She's good," Steve sighed.

"She gets it from me," Eddie answered with a shrug.

Steve laughed just a little. He turned his head, his lips resting atop Eddie's head. He closed his eyes as he kissed Eddie's hair. It took everything Steve had not to cry. He listened to Lucy through the speakers, talking about her teachers and her memories of her time in school. But all he could think of, all he could see in his mind, was Lucy at six months old. The day he met her. The day he knew that he was going to love her for the rest of his life.

He heard her start to talk about prom and how it was the last time their class would all be together, hearing the smile in her voice. He remembered eight months ago when he took her to the small bridal shop in town. The way her eyes lit up just like Eddie's did when she found the perfect dress to wear, a baby blue strapless gown. He remembered the way he and Eddie had both shed a tear the exact moment her dates car turned the corner.

"And finally, before I hand the ceremony back over to Mr. Higgins, I want to take a moment to thank the men who raised me to be the person I am today." All three of them sat at attention when they heard her sniffle into the mic. Steve turned to face the stage just in time to see her reach up and wipe her nose before resuming her speech.

"My dads, Steve and Eddie Munson. The best dads anyone could ever hope to have. And my wonderful, funny grandpa Wayne." Lucy sniffled once more, taking a deep breath as she looked up to the stands, easily finding her family in the front row.

"I'm lucky enough to be loved by the three most incredible men in the world. I was raised in a house full of music, and fun, and terrible jokes, and love. From Sunday night football with my grandpa, to dinner time dance offs in the kitchen with my dad. Even having to listen to Anthrax while my daddy taught me to drive last year."

By now even Wayne was getting misty eyed. Eddie nudged him with his elbow, smiling as his own tears fell freely over his cheeks.

"They have always done so much for me. My entire life none of them have ever told me 'no.' Perks of being the only child and the only grandchild," she joked, earning wet giggles from the three of them.

"But the most important thing they've ever given me was my attitude. My adventurous and hardheaded spirit. They worked together for the last seventeen years to teach me that life… Man, life is though. But Munson's are tougher. And for that, I want to loudly and proudly say thank you. And I love you all more than words could ever say. Thank you."

There was not a dry face to be found among the Munson family as Lucy took a step back from the podium. Eddie's chest swelled with pride as he watched her walk across the stage, down the stairs and to her seat. Lucy was happy. She was healthy and thriving in a town that he had tried so hard to get away from.

The following afternoon was Lucy's graduation party. Steve stood at the grill in their backyard, burning hotdogs and burgers for their friends. Eddie was playing his favorite role, busy housewife. He was in and out the back door a thousand times. Bringing more meat to Steve for the grill, refilling drinks, opening fresh bags of Doritos.

"Daddy, relax!" Lucy called from the picnic table she was sat at with her friends. "Sit down and eat something before dad yells at you."

Steve clicked his tongs twice in her direction. She was right and everyone at the party knew it. Eddie rolled his eyes dramatically and picked up a green paper plate from the stack on the food table. He sidled up to Steve and bumped his hip into him.

"Scared of your daughter?" Steve asked with a smile as he turned a row of hotdogs.

"No," Eddie scoffed. "Scared of your daughter. She's mean when she acts like you."

"Sometimes you need to be humbled," Steve answered with a shrug. Eddie smiled as he wrapped one arm around Steve's waist. He turned to look over his shoulder. He saw Lucy surrounded by her friends, laughing as one boy snapped off pictures with his new digital camera - a graduation gift.

"She's a good kid, huh?" Eddie asked, his eyes still on Lucy. Though she was nearly grown, he had a hard time looking at her and seeing anything other than the half bald little baby he'd brought back to Hawkins seventeen years before.

"She's an awesome kid," Robin stated matter of factly, suddenly standing on Steve's other side. Eddie jumped higher than he thought was possible, muttering a string of profanity under his breath as he begged his heart to stop beating out of his chest. Robin laughed, shaking her head as she held her plate out in front of her. "Man, that never gets old. Honestly, though, you did a good job on her."

"What about me?" Steve asked, his mock offense almost seeming real.

"I watched her drink pickle juice out of the jar when she was nine," Robin told him, her voice suddenly very serious and monotone. "I have yet to be given a reason that that wasn't your influence at work."

Steve scoffed and dropped a burnt hotdog on her plate. "The only influence I've had on her is that she brushes her hair every day. Other than that, poor girl is all Munson." Eddie let out a small laugh, his smile bright as he looked down to his feet. Steve nudged his shoulder with his own, pulling his attention back to him. "But, I guess there are worse things."

Lucy's party spanned the rest of the afternoon and into the evening. All of her aunts and uncles made appearances, bringing with them hugs and cards and congratulations. Lucy spent most of her party alternating between spending time with her friends and running around with the kids who were, for lack of a better word, her cousins. Watching her play hide and seek with Max and Lucas's twins was nearly enough to bring a tear to Steve's eye.

Eventually, the sun began to set and their friends and family slowly started to trickle out. Lucy hugged Will and Jack goodbye, ruffling their daughters hair as they turned to leave. As they walked around the house to their car Lucy walked over to where her dads were standing with Robin, watching the last few embers of the grill die down.

She had her hands clasped in front of her as she walked. She ducked her head, revealing the best puppy dog eyes Roane County had ever seen when she finally looked up at Eddie. The picture of innocence.

"Daddy?" She started quietly. "Can I pretty pretty please stay the night at Lindsay's?"

Eddie looked over her shoulder to where the friend in question was sat on a patio chair, anxiously watching the interaction. "Dunno, kid," Eddie started with a sigh. "It's a Sunday. Don't you have school tomorrow?"

Lucy immediately dropped the innocent, pleading act and turned to Steve. "Dad? Please?" Steve looked from Lucy to Eddie, who was wearing the textbook definition of a shit eating grin.

"Oh, be nice," Robin admonished him, landing a soft smack to his shoulder.

"Fine," Steve relented. Lucy bounced on her toes, Lindsay stood from the patio seat behind her. The girls ran into the house, Steve calling out behind them. "We're doing thank you cards tomorrow!"

A few minutes later Lucy reappeared in the doorway. She stuck her head out and announced that she and Lindsay were leaving.

"Get your ass over here," Eddie told her. She rolled her eyes, set her bag by the door and walked towards her dads and her aunt. "Just 'cause you think you're grown now don't mean you can get out of hugs, young lady."

Lucy hugged each of them before retrieving her bag. She turned back to them, "Love you guys!" She called out, waiting for a chorus of the same sentiment in return before letting the door fall closed behind her.

Eddie leaned into Steve's side, hugging him close as they listened to the girls leaving for the night. Steve wrapped his arm around Eddie's shoulders, pulling him tightly to himself and placing a kiss to the top of his head. "We should make a new baby," Eddie sighed. "Ours is old now."

"We haven't had any luck yet, but I do love trying," Steve answered, his voice low as he purred the final words. Eddie lifted his head only enough to capture Steve's lips with his own.

"Disgusting," Robin gagged dramatically.

"Don't you have your own house you could be at?" Eddie asked, dropping his forehead to Steve's shoulder.

"But I wanna hang out with my husband," she whined. "And my husband's husband."

Eddie sighed, moving to hide his smile against Steve's shoulders. "That joke hasn't been funny for like, 15 years."

"It was actually never funny," Steve asserted. "It's always stupid. Can't believe you thought I'd marry her."

"It was funny for a little bit, baby," Eddie told him softly.

"It was kinda hot that you got all jealous on me," he relented. "I liked seein' ya get all squirmy on that stool when you thought you didn't have a chance."

Eddie smiled up at him as the sun continued its descent in the distance. He moved forward, kissing him softly. He heard Robin groan behind him. He felt Steve smile into the kiss. For a moment he considered putting on a show, just to annoy her. He moved his hands to the hem of Steve's old t shirt, his skin soft and warm against his palms. Just as he was beginning the move up towards his chest, taking the cotton with him, she spoke up.

"Okay, oh my god," she whined. "I'm leaving. At least wait until I'm out of earshot to start your nastiness, please."

Both men hugged her tightly before she rounded the side of the house. They listened, waiting for her usual send off. They heard her car door close, then the engine roared to life. "Peace out, husbands!" Before she backed out of the driveway and turned left towards home.

Steve and Eddie began to clear up from the party. Eddie followed Steve around with a trash bag, holding it open for him. They moved the grill back to its spot on the back porch. Eddie complained about having to eat leftover hot dogs for a week as they packed away the uneaten food. He was placing a plastic bowl full of Wayne's famous potato salad when Steve appeared suddenly behind him.

Steve placed his hands on Eddie's hips. His lips ghosted over the sensitive skin of his neck. His hand began to move, his fingertips dipping into the waist of his jeans.

"I got a hot dog for you right now," he whispered.

Eddie shivered against him. "I hate that I'm already in love with you," he sighed. "That was the worst fucking pick up line I've ever heard."

"But did it work?"

"Yes, but I'm homophobic now."

Steve chuckled, his lips curling into a smile against Eddie's skin. He pulled his hands away from Eddie only long enough for him to turn around. They heard the refrigerator door close behind them as Steve led Eddie upstairs. They both giggled as they almost tripped over Sully, sleeping at the bottom of the stairs. Once they were upstairs, in their bedroom at the end of the hallway, they were like kids again. Neither said as much, but both of them knew that no matter what, they'd always be those two early twenty-somethings who were hopelessly in love and trying to figure out life together some seventeen years ago.

~~~~~

previous part

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Oh, how I've loved sharing this story with you all. I hope you've enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing this. Also! I used my own baby pictures for this because it felt weird to me to try to find pictures of random children online. Please appreciate how cute I used to be 😅

I'm going to make an official post in a few days, but I figured I'd let my loyal readers know first. I'm not at all ready to leave these boys and their little family behind. So I'm asking for requests for them! If there is anything you'd like to see the Munsons get up to, please let me know!!

#steddie fanfiction #steddie fanfic #steddie fan fic #steddie fluff #steddie imagine #steddie au #steve harrington/eddie munson #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson/steve harrington #eddie munson x steve harrington #steve/eddie #steve x eddie #eddie/steve #eddie x steve

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dream-this-nightmare-over · 2 years ago

Text

Tancrede de Hautville imagine (special guest: louis x)

This one is for my fellow knight @lllostgirlll

You can find this imagine and lot more in my book of Imagines that is being filled continuously by new stories.

Hope you enjoy!

From smoke and remains of Acre, Rashid has saved y/n. Again.

Tancrede told her to run, but she wouldn't leave her friends to perish in cries that started from the ramparts. Only solace he found in days and months that followed, was Rashid's promise from that night when he came to warn them, that he will track her down and make sure to keep little rascal out of bloodbath way. Even though, both men knew, it was more likely y/n will be saving one of them than vice verse. But Tancrede had to do something before everything was lost. He held onto echo of imagined answer to his prayer, that she found tunnels and reunited with brotherhood of light that was waiting on the other side. Sometimes he thought all he brings is darkness.

He killed Nassir when he couldn't tell him if you are with them in Paris nor where you are, and started going on instead about ultimate downfall. It was stupid and careless thing to do, but he didn't want to risk your name finding way to streets of Paris. Mention of doom that's waiting for them, was like echo back from acre, you were doomed as long as he is around. Why couldn't you just ran off anywhere else, why did you tie yourself to grail? He cursed and spitted on rules that didn't allow women to be part of order.

Y/n was born in Outremer and quickly became entangled in web of deceit and power hunger. Rashid was first to notice her talent, and offered to horn her skills for greater purpose. But he didn't know the whole depth of her involvement with Christian knights. He knew she and Landry struck an alliance before brotherhood revealed itself to templars, offence otherwise punishable by death, if it didn't prove to be so lucrative. Exchange of information, assistance in action, dividing the spoils, bonded by secrecy of truth neither really understood without the other. You were link between two pillars that held east together. And yet somehow, by virtue of survival on your own, you belonged to neither. Rashid had soft spot for you since you joined as orphan, but you were wild untamed thing that only wanted one special templar to be king of your heart. It was holy grail you weren't trading.

Y/n sneaked into castle grounds with golden trio, the gang back together at last just like in golden days of mischief, following Landry's mad dash for one last rush of adrenaline as he settles Paris' debts once and for all.

But soon it became apparent y/n is chasing her own agenda.

She didn't need them, she could deal with it on her own, and was already dashing down corridors, when Tancrede caught up with her, grabbed her by forearm pulling her back to look at him. "Are you mad? This place is swarmed with king's knights. They will have you served as roasted dessert before you realize you are dead." Just then four knights passed and Tancrede pulled you with him behind wall. "You aren't doing it on your own. We aren't separating again." He whispered shouted.

Gawain added as he moved forward when he made sure air is clear. "Landry boy wouldn't appreciate losing his ranks." Short lived discussion was over for him, his mind was made up without it. He is willing to indulge all the wishes just to be out of here as soon as possible.

"Glad to see you alive. Knew you would make it" Tancrede said with smirk.

Now that he finally found her (when he was taken by Rashid, who had penchant for drama so it wasn't far fetch in imagination to think he orchestrated whole thing just to witness happy reunion), they were running in exile again. But this time together; last time the doom fell on them, everything was no man's land except love they saved for each other.

"Not thanks to you"

"You didn't need to save me" Tancrede still believed he would get out of rashid's game, if it wasnt for help from within.

"We can settle it buddy. Right now." y/n says turning form wall they were hiding behind and toward Tancrede in what looked like challange on a fight. if anyone saw them, two bickering behind back of third who is crouching keeping guard spying the hallways trying to figure out next move, while hushing other two with agitated hand movements that are being ignored, one wouldn't need more proof to assume Order is truly dissolved duo to madness that poisoned their ranks. It's easy to understand why superstitious propaganda could lit a zealous pier in absences of context.

Tancrede and you fell in bickering teasing that had been turning bitter since you saved him from Rashid and wounded his pride of taking care of everything on his own, which in return made him insufferable prat, specially because he didn't understand what you weren't saying: you did it not out of doubt for his knightly skill but rather out of knowing Rashid too good and knowing very well that pothead needs reasoning every once in a while. Moreover when he is faced with man who kills to save your name. Like you can't protect yourself. Just because their Rules were devoid of belief in women strength, is didn't mean you weren't worthy of knight title.

Papa Gawain grumpy old cat tired and irritated, down to last morsel of every everything, tired of you two, poor man just wanted some break, had to put a stop to this before yet another Landry's 'great idea' is jeopardized and they are sent back to piers.

'Stop it you two, will you?' he hissed.

Just then lone hooded figure came their way and abruptly stopped in it's tracks. "What-"

y/n had knife to his throat in blink of an eye.

Tancrede rolled his eyes. "no. just no."

"Gawain, i see you brought your friends" Garry didn't even tremble. it was almost like he was ready for anything. perhaps previous confrontation with Phillip gave him boost of bravery. Standing up for yourself, letting go of pretense, they say does miracles to people.

Gawain came closer, sighing heavily "Where is louis?"

Suddenly y/n ran off down the corridor, embers of light gliding down her cloak as she passed torches.

With a nod to each other of approvement, Tancrede moved out of the way so Gawain could strike old sly with hilt of a sword, making him pass out so they could finally get going. Knight couldn't find it in himself to kill yet another person. Besides if Landry does his part, and from what they heard that went down in court room, they have chance of being far away before Garry reunites with a new ruler. Calling de Nogaret by sobriquet y/n gave him, was another sign he was again falling under influence of his old ally.

'Hurry' Gawain called out as they chased after y/n

In Louis room y/n and young king were having a duel. Moon casted whole room blue, shadows slithering around them like even night knows it's dawn of time.

"Give me back what's mine and I might let this damned country still be a monarchy" y/n demanded with patience running out, as she held sword point at velvet chest.

"if you kill me, someone else will come. it's never going to stop." Louis said like it humored him to be a prophet, like he is talking from brick of hopelessness where man has nothing to lose anymore. His dopey eyes reflecting the blade coming up his throat. His face ashen, but eyes full of manic understanding he was challenging his little spy to disapprove. "Do people always have such pleasure doing business with you?' he said sarcastically.

He backed y/n off aiming for her ribs but y/n caught his sword with hers and deflated the attack. Clash of metal ringing through dance for destinies.

"Tell me where is it! We had a deal! y/n throws Louis off balance and he falls on his bed.

"Why is it so important? It's just a necklace. Oh let me guess. It will pay the way." he snickers tiredly. In death of your world, everyone's can go to waste too. "You cant save them. they are all dead man." he says darkly.

He stays there staring at pattern on duvet transfixed or lost in day's events taking toll on his young mind that can only take so much, and y/n uses the chance to stalk across the room and go through his drawers.

Louis reaches in pocket of his pants looking like he will exhale last pieces of his defeated soul. when he brings it out, y/n nudges aside his sword that was laying on the floor where he dropped it, coming closer.

"I should feel gratitude," he says dangling the chain from his fingers. "But i feel nothing."

The boy smiles, girl snatches the necklace keeping eyes on his, consumed by sudden urge to tuck piece of hair away from his face just to give him some warmth in return but she knew he is wounded wolf who will consolidate his reign again, and pain will stay with the night in which she has to disappear as well as any trace of their business affair.

And that's how kings die, y/n thought. Teach them they can have anything, then teach them they have no power to save the only thing they really want.

Aren't they all just Achilles in different time?

His voice is haunting lullaby cautionary tale of prince who had to lose to gain, bitter wisdom, why is there price for everything?

"There is no way out. you wont make it. You can run but you wont outrun yourself."

Y/n picked up his sword and layed it next to him on bed, but he didn't even move or gave signs he even registered, then joined others.

'Let's go" y/n urged them as darkness filled castle.

They reunited with Landry on the dock and y/n wondered if he found absolution he was looking for. Everyone knew Landry playing saint, putting everyone in danger to settle exuberant price for love affair, wont stop further persecutions, but they didn't stop him when he jumped off the ship and ran back into night that is alive with claws and swords. Gawain cursed as they tied the boat, someone asked if they should send quick prayer to find it again, but time was slipping away too fast and their friend was chasing trouble and they were chasing after him to cover his trace to jump in if he misses a pair of hands or a blade and it all felt for less than a moment because time is not theirs anymore, like they were back in East, surviving in unlikely alliance, still heroes of their story.

Tancrede gave her that necklace back in Acre. It was token of friendship and love and honest faith in better world. Y/n used it as secret compartment to get a message to Louis about his love. She thought it served its purpose almost like it was meant to serve as container of hope in grim world of politics and war.

Louis was right.

She didn't feel accomplished for telling him where Margaret was. Just emptiness of every soul she failed to save, all the ghosts traded for freedom.

Once on deck, warm hand on her back promised there is a way to live with shadows. His hand found hers under cloak. three squeezes. Like in old time. She looked up and he was giving her his most ardent loyalty from storms raging in his depths.

"I didn't mean-" he started

"I should have left you to rot."

"Maybe. Maybe i deserved it." He will never forgive himself for leaving her behind. Even if he knew she would never run away from danger. Fighting together in acre, until battle divided them and he lost sight of his heart; everything set in motion too fast: extracting the grail boarding the ship, eaten to death by grief of not being more persuading more valorous when it comes to standing up for things that really mattered to him. But deep down he knew, acre was y/n's home and she would find a way to make it out alive from every hell. He knew there was side of whole grail mystery that dwelled just out of peripheral in fata morgana they will never come to fathom as anything more than scorching ordeal, but he hoped all along, it will serve its purpose to save life of it's protector. Are we born with grief, or we wake it up with actions that shake the grounds of innocence?

"I should have saved her" she could have got Margaret out if only she wasn't so set on saving already damned knights.

"We all should have been better."

He kissed crown of her head and she closed her eyes as his beard tickled her cheek and whisper warmed her insides as it found way to her heart. "but you are one thing i have no regrets about."

As laundry and gawain managed the sails, y/n looked back one last time toward Paris in heavy fog of change. Nothing will be same from tomorrow. History in making, will we be remembered or all the secrets we keep will take us with them, was it worth it all the secrecy if end finds you either way whether you leave legacy or die in stables looking for revange on your dead lover's murderer? Will someone else carry it out on your behalf when you aren't around anymore?

Y/n thanked louis in her mind for keeping his part of bargain and clearing the posts of prying eyes. They sailed into the night unnoticed, gone from history book pages, it was only beginning of yet another adventure.

Locket safe under tunic. Heart heavy but in arms that loved.

Y/n are running away with the remnants of the greatest.

They didn't know where their ship was bobbing but it was carried by unanimous hope of sailing into the port of some new sunsets that won't pull them apart again. If nothing, they will build one themselves.

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