#it's sort of mentioned off hand that oh no she's better now she feels bad now that

[niccerooniererer]

imagine living in the miraculous ladybug universe, in Paris, and one day.

waking up to a 15 year old spoiled (and traumatised) teen being the mayor

[xhoneygirlxx]

Juicy

Eddie Munson x big boob fem!reader

summary: the heat causes you to let the girls hang free and it causes Eddie to be a flustered mess

warnings: she/her pronouns used, reader has breasts and wears feminine clothing. skin color/ethnicity is not mentioned! Eddie being a flustered cutie. idiots in love :) mentions of high school jocks being gross. 18+ MINORS DNI. smut: heavy making out, grinding, titty sucking, premature ejaculation. mentions of titty fucking and cumming on tits. shitty writing and not proofread.

a/n: hello my honey buns!! i wanted to get something out while i work on some of my current wips. i got inspired to write this bc i have a tig bitties and every time i wear a bra i feel like i'm dying and i'm too insecure to not wear one lmao. also, i just wanted to say that all different shapes and sizes of bitties are beautiful!!! also please be kind! smut is not my strong suit.

The late August heat made living in Hawkins unbearable. That might be an over exaggeration since you've never traveled anywhere outside of your town, but it still felt like the underside of satan's ballsack.

You regret agreeing to hangout with Eddie the minute you saw the afternoon weather forecast and regret it even more when you got into the metalhead's van. With no working a/c in the vehicle, there was no choice but to have the window's down to get some sort of circulation.

It wouldn't be so bad if there was a breeze but the air was dry, burning your lungs with every single intake of oxygen. You could feel the sweat rolling down your spine, making the thin cotton tank top you had on stick to your skin.

The cotton shorts you had on didn't quell any heat that you were feeling, only making your thighs stick together uncomfortably. Eddie being the angel he was, had already stopped at the gas station, picking up whatever snack he thought you might want, including a cherry icee that was already melted.

The sweat the beaded at your hairline, falling down your face like raindrops, matched the sweat on your cardboard cup. Syrupy sweetness coated your tongue as you drank it, coolness going down your throat to extinguish the flames within your body.

You needed to get out his car as soon as possible and into some air conditioning. Eddie on the other hand looked as cool as a cucumber. His cut band tshirt blowing through the warm air, black jeans tight on his lower body, and his brown curls in a low bun.

You almost wanted to hate him for being so calm, never showing any discomfort when it got hot like this. God, you hated the way he looked so relaxed, puffing on his cigarette and driving with one wrist on the steering wheel. The sun shining off of his ringed fingers, the band squeezing at his tiny waist, the black ink on his alabaster skin dancing with every move he took- he was so beautiful and it was making your temperature rise even higher.

When he pulled up to his trailer, you were up and out of the van before he could even pull the keys out of ignition. To your dismay, he was taking his sweet time getting out of the car, making you wait in the blaze of the sun. If you didn't know any better, you'd think the cheeky asshole was doing it on purpose. As he rounds the car, a plastic bag dangling from his wrist, a playful smirk paints his lips.

He's definitely doing it on purpose. Asshole.

"Where's the fire, Cherry?" he jests playfully at you, making you scowl even more.

"It's going to be in your hair if you don't hurry the hell up." You yell back at him. A small laugh leaves his pretty lips, shaking his head as he pulls out his key to unlock the door.

"I'll open the door faster if you say please." You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest. Playing up the part even more, Eddie takes his time putting the key into the door.

"Oh please Eddie, would you be so kind and unlock the door?" You smile sarcastically up at him. He mimics you, straight white teeth flashing brightly in your eyes.

"Now was that so hard?" Scoffing at him, you push right past his body and enter the trailer.

The small a/c unit the sits in the window works overtime, buzzing and rattling loudly, to cool down the small trailer. It feels like heaven when you walk in, the immediate temperature drop makes goosebumps rise on your skin.

Plopping down on the well loved couch, you sprawl your limbs out trying to cool every inch of your skin. Placing the bag of treats on the table, Eddie makes his way into the kitchen to retrieve a beer from the fridge.

"Is Wayne off today?" The absence of the older man only coming to your attention.

"Yeah, he went to Darla's house." Eddie mutters his response as he works the cap of the beer bottle off.

Darla was Wayne's new girlfriend he had been seeing the past couple months. You had fallen victim to many of Eddie's rants about his uncle coming home late and never calling letting his nephew know he was safe.

Humming a response, you turn your attention to the television that's currently playing reruns of The Golden Girls.

Now that you've been in the cool air for not even five minutes, the creeping heat comes back into your body. The culprit being your chest, heat radiating in the cups of your bra. It was uncomfortable already with the weight on your back and shoulders, not to mention the sweat that collected in the fabric.

Jumping up abruptly from your slouched position, you work your hands around your back preparing to take off the article of clothing. . Before you it off, you remember that you're not in your own home and that it might make Eddie uncomfortable.

As he walks in from the kitchen, sipping on his chilled beer, he catches your stare. Raising a brow and removing the bottle from his mouth, he turns to you.

"You okay over there?" He questions you, eyeing your posture and how you look like you've been caught in the act of something you shouldn't be doing.

"I need to take my bra off but I didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

Oh boy is he caught of guard, choking on his spit loudly. His cheeks are tinted a deep red, eyes wide and bulging from his face. Of course he didn't care, you guys were friends and he always wanted you comfortable. The only problem was that you would be braless, sitting next to him.

It's not like you haven't before, any time you wore big baggy shirts he knew you didn't have a bra on, but the extra material of your shirt blocked the visuals of your loose breasts.

When you cock an eyebrow at him, he shakes his head, brown curls bouncing with the movement.

"Y-yeah sure. Ya know what we Munson's say, this land is your land, or whatever." He chuckles nervously eyeing you from where he stands across from you.

Letting out a roaring laugh, you reach your hands under the hem of your shirt, undoing the hook.

"I'm pretty sure Woody Guthrie said that, Eds." Forcing out a small laugh, he watches as you pull the straps down your arms and then pulling the material out from under your white tank top.

Yeah he's going to die right here in the middle of his living room. When you finally pull it from your sticky skin and discard it somewhere on the floor, your nipples pebble up from the cold air. You lean your head back and release a sigh of satisfaction.

You don't see how Eddie's drinking you in right now, how he's staring at the way your nipples are visible through the wet cotton of your shirt, or how he can see the fullness of your chest.

It was no secret that you had a bigger bust than most of the girls in town, earning the nickname of Cherry from all the jocks at school, which you took pride in and eventually took ownership of.

Unlike the jocks, Eddie never made any comments about your bust. Not that he didn't think of them when he was beating off in his room every night, but he never commented on them to you which you appreciated. To him you were just you, double d's or not.

While you were in pure bliss, Eddie was living a nightmare come true. The girl he's had a crush on since middle school is braless in his home, right in front of him. He didn't know how he was going to sit next to you now with the way blood was rushing to his cock, the stiff material of his jeans didn't help his discomfort.

"So, what are we watching today?" Cracking your eyes open to look at your best friend, you could still see him standing in the same spot, staring right at your chest.

Oh. OH. He was staring at your chest. You could have so much fun with this, give him a little taste of his own medicine for his little stunt earlier, making you wait longer in the heat.

"Eds?" Your tone was sinfully sweet. Placing your arms on either side of you, you used your forearms to push your boobs together as best as you can.

"Huh? O-oh yeah. Um, we ugh, we could watch Nightmare on Elm Street." He was tripping on his tongue every other word.

Quickly moving from his spot, he knelt down in front of the television to pop in the horror movie. The boy who was so unbothered by record breaking heat, was now a sweaty, heavy breathing mess because of you.

After starting the movie, he slowly retreats to the couch but as far away from you as humanly possible. Maybe it wasn't that he was hot and bothered by you, maybe he was just uncomfortable with your state of dress.

For the first twenty minutes of the film that's all you could think, trying to figure out what you could do to make the situation better. Without thinking, you take a lollipop out of the bag of goodies he bought, popping it right into your mouth.

You took your time, swirling your tongue around the red candy, hallowing your cheeks every so often. You weren't really paying attention to what you were doing, staring straight ahead at the glowing screen. Eddie was paying attention though, growing unimaginably harder than before.

The movement of Eddie taking the pillow from behind his back and placing it right on his crotch, brings your attention the boy next to you. He wasn't as smooth as he thought, the placement of the pillow gave it away right away. His sweat soaked bangs, bouncing leg, and red cheeks definitely gave it away.

Removing the lollipop from your mouth, you place it down on the discarded wrapper laying on the table. Turning to him, your knees criss cross, you say his name softly.

His head turns with speed when you call him, chocolate brown eyes replaced with the darkness of his pupils.

"Are you okay? You don't seem, well you seem bothered. If it's me not wearing a bra, Eddie I can put it back on." You sputter out, worry rising in your stomach at the thought of making him feel awkward with your braless tits.

Releasing a loud sigh, he runs a hand down his face. "Cherry, I'm not bothered by you not wearing a bra. Well, okay, I am but I'm not uncomfortable."

He's staring right at you, almost like he's waiting for you to catch on but you don't. Eyebrows furrowed, you try to understand what he had just said to you. Before you can ask, he reiterates himself.

"Baby, I'm not bothered because you don't have a bra on. I'm very much the opposite and because I'm a gentleman, I'm trying to make myself calm down the best I can. It's just hard to do that when you're deep throating a sucker right next to me." The last part comes out as a joke, dimpled smile to prove it.

So you were right, he was hot and bothered by you. Just like he made you wait for him, you made him wait even longer to rid himself of his discomfort happening in his pants.

"Well Eds, you know if you wanted to see them all you had to say was please." You tease and he groans loudly, throwing his head back.

"Please, Cherry." He begs and you give in, lying back on the old couch. Beckoning him over to you, you spread your legs to give him room. Like a panther, he pounces on you, smacking his lips to yours.

Its heavy and animalistic the way your tongues attack each other. The lingering taste of beer mixes with the cherry from your candy. When you push your hips up to get some friction on your aching heat, he whimpers in your mouth.

He takes your motions as permission to grind into you, the pressure making both of you moan in unison. Pulling away from your mouth so you two can breathe, he moves to his next target.

The warmth of lips meet the chilled skin of your neck, he kisses all around the precious skin to find that sweet spot. When a wanton moan falls from your red stained lips, he thinks he's hit the jackpot. Sucking and kissing the spot under your ear, you're sure there will be a blotch of purple there.

You hiss out when he runs his teeth along the spot, jerking your hips up in excitement. Moving his face so that he's looking at you, you can see the spit that coat his red swollen lips, the lust the pool in his eyes. He's so pretty like this, so fucking pretty and he's all yours in this moment.

"Can I see your pretty tits, Cherry?" He asks so sweetly, like he didn't just sinfully makeout with you. Nodding in approval, he shakes his head at you.

"I need words, princess." He waits for you, who is currently looking up at him like he's hung the stars and moon. You look so fucked out and so disheveled. He's always known he was going to marry you but when he looks at you he has no doubt that he's going to marry you.

"Please, Eds."

That's all he needs to hear before he's pulling the front of your shirt down, revealing your chest to him. He stays there for a minute, looking unbashful at your tits, like they were the eight wonder of the world.

His unwavering gaze starts to make you insecure, worrying that maybe they weren't as nice as he thought they would be. They were heavy and slightly sagged due to the weight, you had stretch marks that decorated the skin like a zebra.

Pulling your arms up to cover yourself, he grips your wrists and pulls them down. Moving his gaze back up to you, his eyes are much softer.

"Don't hide, please don't hide. Not when I've waited so long to see these." A tingling sensation fills your face, making you smile giddily up at him. When you nod at him, he goes in face first into your chest.

"Fuck, I've dreamt of this for so long." You want to respond but you can't when his mouth is placing pecks to the delicate skin of your breast.

Resuming his motions from before, his hips roll right into yours like a wave crashing on the shore. He's everywhere, filling all your senses. Eddie.Eddie.Eddie. That's all that's in your mind, especially when he places your pebbled nipple in his mouth.

"Fuck, Eddie." You hiss out, reaching your hand to the nape of his neck, placing a gentle pressure to keep him there. His switches between swirling his tongue around the numb and sucking on it.

His other hand snakes up to your abandoned breast, groping the fat of it before his fingers pinch the nipple. It's sinful the way it feels, his hard cock hitting right where you need him, the warm of his mouth, and the moans that you release.

Eddie groans, causing your skin to vibrate. Removing himself from your abused breast, he moves to the other one, finally giving it the same attention as the other.

"Fuck, you're so hot." He groans out, eyes closed in ecstasy, high off the scent and taste of you. His movements start getting faster causing him to moan even louder.

Moving away from your chest, he looks down at you, the way your tits bounce with every roll of your hips. He looks at the mark he made on your neck, and how your skin shines with his saliva and your sweat. Your pupils are blown wide, lips puffy and shiny. Then he moves his eyes back to your tits, imagining what it would feel like to run his dick on your sternum, how pretty they would look coated in his pearly white cum, and how hot it would be to titty fuck you.

Every possible scenario plays out in his head when he looks at you and it's too much. With one finally grunt, pulled deep from his stomach, he hangs stops all his motions, collapsing onto of you.

Dazed and slightly confused, you let him catch his breathe. When he brings his face out from the crook of your neck, he has a boyish smile pulled on his cheeks.

"Ed, did you just-"

"Cum in my pants like a teenager? Absofuckinglutely, but if give me about five minutes I'll give you everything you want." You reach your hand up to his face, pushing some of the loose hair that fell from his ponytail, behind his hair.

"If you say please, pretty boy."

He didn't need five minutes, instantly getting hard from the sultry tone of your voice.

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[phyrestartr]

Icarus Drabbles (Pt.2) | Sukuna x M!Reader

W/C: 3.7k [#Modern AU, ABO dynamics, bottom!reader, top!sukuna, Mob Boss!Sukuna, Alpha!Sukuna, Street Doctor!Reader, Omega!Reader, toxic relationships, age gap, sukuna is mid 30s, yuuji gang and reader are mid 20s, sukuna and yuuji are brothers, sukuna has FEELINGS, but he is BAD AT FEELINGS, nsfw, fluff, hurt/comfort, cheating, zenin family mentioned, lightly edited lmfao]

Note: There will prolly be a third drabble thingie lol I just wanted to post SOMETHING

tag: @better-imagination-9

1. Restless

Sukuna finally bagged you, the omega he pined over and hunted down for over a decade, and knocked you up, made you move in with him to ensure he could keep an eye on you and that growing baby bump. His alpha had rejoiced, running its victory lap around Sukuna’s chest, but then it slowed, yawned, and curled up, satiated. 

Now, his human side was left to its own devices, and it was bored. 

Probably because you were boring. Or, well, you’d become boring–you and your omega seemed more in-tune with one another, both settling down as soon as you both agreed on staying with Sukuna, with your mate. To Sukuna’s human instincts, that meant you were about as exciting and fun as doing his taxes. Yet, at the same time, he couldn’t fathom letting you go. Whenever the hypothetical crossed his mind, that second set of eyes would open and stare, tear bared, anger rippling. And Sukuna would agree with it. He didn’t want to lose you, yet he didn’t always want you either. 

And he was bored. 

“Hey,” you cooed, leaning over his shoulder as he stared into space on the couch. “You okay?”

Sukuna blinked a few times and rubbed his face tiredly, finding himself growing pissed off at the dull delight your presence brought him. “Yeah, ‘m fine. Need something?”

“Well, Christmas’s coming up,” you reminded. “Wanted to make sure we were still–”

“Can’t.” Bitterness rose in the back of Sukuna’s throat. God, he didn’t even want to look at you right now. “Gotta work.” He finally spared you a glance, but only after a long stretch of silence. You didn’t look perturbed or mad, not really sad or disappointed, just…placid. 

You looked at your phone, staring at something just for a moment before returning back to him with a slight nod of acceptance. “Alright.” 

Sukuna's other bristled. “Alright.” 

“I knew you couldn't really be taken ‘n tied down, Sukuna-sama,” Yorozu cooed as she cozied up into the spot between the man's legs, her hands smoothing up and down his thighs before deftly unlatching his belt and ripping it off. “You're too good for that sort of life.” 

“Don’t you have somethin’ better to do with that mouth?” The nice part of Sukuna asked. The less nice part of him wanted to rip her head off and punt it at the stupid fucking moon. Luckily for her, he was trying not to throw as many things at the horizon these days. 

Yorozu's eyes shone with pure delight. “Oh, of course, of course.” She unzipped his slacks expertly quick and pulled free his half-chub, excitedly stroking it to get him to full-mast. 

Sukuna sighed and sank back in his chair, trying to focus and enjoy the attention and spice he so sorely missed, but it was hard. Well, not hard, which was the problem–his mind wasn't finding this (cheating, getting a blow job at his desk, having a woman with tits on his knees for him) exciting. Thankfully, though, his body reacted in his mind's stead, and decided to not embarrass him. 

He closed his eyes and focused on the small hands grasping his base and holding his thigh–but your bigger, stronger hands held him better, digging in without the lethality of acrylics threatening harm. At least her mouth was warm, her lips soft--but your lips were soft, too, and you knew where he liked to feel your tongue press down. Her hair was silky and thick enough to fist his hand in–but yours was just…better. He couldn't describe it, but–

Knock it off, he growled. He needed a break from you, from how mundane you made everything, that was the whole fucking reason he ditched you in the first place. You were boring. You were making life boring. You–

What were you up to, actually? 

Sukuna sighed, this time in defeat, and snatched up his phone while Yorozu gave him head. He scrolled through whatever socials he knew you had, but saw nothing new, nothing Christmas-y. 

Who the hell is he visiting again? He looked to the side, gazing through the huge windows looming behind his desk as he thought, and then remembered. 

Sukuna tapped open your text thread and grimaced–it was so blatantly one-sided. The sight of his flippant convo-killing responses hit him with a wave of psychic damage that probably couldn't be fully healed for as long as he lived. He wasn't a fan of texting, but he was a fan of you. But-wait, didn't he loathe you?

5:05am went to see my mom for christmas

5:05am getting picked up dw

5:06am hope work doesn't suck too much

Right. You went to see family. Right. Sukuna was supposed to meet your mother. 

Damn.

“Fuck's sake,” Sukuna muttered moments before fisting his hand in Yorozu's hair and pulling him off his softening cock. “We're done.” He stood and tucked himself away, ignoring the indignant scoff the woman sent his way. 

“Sukuna–” 

“Leave.” He sent a text your way instead of tuning in to whatever Yorozu said as she picked herself up off her knees:

10:49pm When should I pick you up?

Of course he was gonna pick you up. He wasn’t about to let someone else take care of you for a second longer. 

“Clearly you're unhappy,” Yorozu finally cut in. 

Sukuna saw a read notification pop up in the chat. 

“Clearly that other one isn't satisfying you fully.” 

He watched the three dots pop up as you replied back. 

“After he has your pup–”

10:52pm you can come now

10:52pm if you're free 

“--you should reconsider your choice in mate–” 

Bang.

10:53pm Send me the address.

He stepped over her and the pooling crimson on his way to the door, texting Uraume to call the cleaners to take care of a mess in his office while he went to pick up his baby mama. 

Picking you up had been eventful.

Firstly, Maki and Mai had refused to open the gate for Sukuna in favour of mocking him and exclaiming, “are you kidding me? You're the baby daddy?” while incessantly prodding him for information. You'd managed to bat them aside to let him up to the house, though it took some effort on your part. 

Next, Toji Zenin himself was waiting at the front door, arms crossed, totally unbothered, dressed in his hideous Christmas jumper that his woman had apparently made him wear as punishment for something. Sukuna ribbed him, hiding just how confused he was about the entire thing–he didn't fucking get why there were so many Zenin assholes here. The outcasts, sure, but what the fuck was that about? 

“Oh. Toji's my stepdad,” you said when you had finally squeezed your dragon's hoard of gifts into the car and got in the damn thing to go home. Sukuna left it at that for the time being–he didn't want to think about what the fuck that meant now that the two of you were together. He had time to ask a thousand questions another day.

His mind still whirred in the elevator, though, and when he helped carry your only-child gifts into the penthouse like a servant put under a spell. You said something to him that he only realized a solid fifteen minutes later was, “I'm taking a bath. There's room for two,” and a fire suddenly lit under his ass. 

“Huh, so you can bear to look at me,” you hummed from the bath. It was large and oaken, filled with yuzu thanks to Uraume's thoughtfulness, and it overlooked snowy Tokyo and all its bustling, light-filled glory and–wait, what.

Sukuna scoffed as he pulled off his clothes methodically. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

You watched him undress shamelessly. “It means you still have lipstick on your dick.” You poked away one of the yuzu that bumped into you. “It's not really my colour.” 

Sukuna clenched his teeth and kicked aside his clothes before grabbing the showerhead to wash off before joining you because he was going to join you. No matter the case. No matter the objection. 

But you never objected. You leaned back in the tub and watched him while you rolled another yuzu between your palms. “Did you have fun fucking her?” Fuck, you could be so scary sometimes. And you didn't even have to try.

Sukuna found it hard to answer. He found it hard to even speak. Christ, was this shame? “Look–I didn't fuck her. Didn't even get close.” 

“So she just sucked your dick.”

“Tried. Didn't finish. Couldn't.” 

“So sad. Why not?”

“‘Cause she's not you.” Sukuna finished with the shower and slipped into the bath, sitting across from you with a content sigh. “You give better head.” 

“That went from being somewhat meaningful to annoying,” you grumbled. Still, you scooched over to him and pressed up against his side, clearly in the mood to forgive his stupid little attempted fling. “So. Then you're sure about this.” 

“Sure about what?” Sukuna wondered, suddenly feeling more at ease with the rich scent of you pooling through his senses. He leaned into you when you carefully smoothed his hair out of his face with that usual, simple gentility he'd come to desire so desperately every day. “Sure about you?” 

“Yeah. Us. Everything.” You nuzzled at his neck, dutifully scenting him up with kisses, nips and licks. “You started pulling away like a pussy, so I figured you regretted it.” 

Sukuna had to laugh. “You're callin’ me a pussy?” He half-growled before yoinking you into his lap and squeezing you up against him. His grin widened when he saw you hold back a smile. “I think you should apologize.” 

“You cheated on me with your stalker. Why do I need to apologize?” 

“You hurt my fuckin’ feelings.” 

“Oh. Hm. I see.” Your fingers, bigger than a woman's yet still elegant as a piano player's, danced across his firm shoulders in thought. “I think you need to have feelings for me to hurt them.” 

His hands found their rightful place (on your ass) and kneaded your skin thoroughly, squeezing and pinching wherever he felt most enticed. “You know I have feelings, sweetheart. Why do ya think you're here in the first place, huh?” 

Your scent flared with bashful approval. “Guess that's good to know. These days, you've left me wondering.” 

Sukuna grew placid gazing upon your features, listening to your words. If he really tried, behind that diamond mask of nonchalance most Zenin brats wore, there existed soft, vulnerable skin--tired and ragged, worried and creased. He'd done that to you. Why had he done that to you? 

He lifted a hand from your curves to cup your face gently, his touch breaking through the shields you so bravely put up to tell the world to fuck off. And you leaned into that touch so eagerly, so hungrily, with a sigh that sounded like you just remembered how to breathe. 

“‘M sorry,” Sukuna mumbled. The word felt foreign on his tongue. He didn’t know if he even said it right.

Your eyes squeezed shut just a little tighter, holding onto whatever you could of your crumbling shell as your hand rose to rest on his. “You know I love you,” you said while diamond dust turned to quicksilver.

Sukuna wiped the glimmer from your lashes. “Love you too, runt. Mean it.” Those words still felt strange, too, but he loved those words. He loved the way they made you glow from within, how they solidified you and stopped you from collapsing into a melted mess in the face of his betrayal and swift try at redemption. 

You nodded a little, the hard line of your mouth softening. Sukuna relaxed and hugged you close to him, purring deep in his chest in rhythm with you as you wholly accepted him in return and buried your face into his neck. He did the same, scenting you the way you had him, enjoying your company and weight against him. Because he loved you. He really did. 

So, he said once again, “Sorry.”

2. Family Matters

“Sukuna,” Wasuke warned. The attention of the younger alpha, leaning against the counter, was on you as you yapped on about this and that with his little brother.

Sukuna grunted and looked over his shoulder at the old man, though, silently and curtly asking, what? even though he already knew what was coming.

“Leave that boy alone.” 

Sukuna stared at his grandfather. It'd become more and more common, the way the young man challenged his elder, maintaining hostile eye contact that threatened the beginning of the end if the older broke first–but he never did. The old fuck was too tough. Molded by whatever his own colourful irezumi put him through. 

Once, when he was younger, Sukuna wanted to know how to break his elder. He wanted to crack him open and rip those secrets from him, find out how he could use that knowledge to his advantage to never feel so small in the eyes of another ever again. He hated it. He hated the dominance held over him, the humility that came with it. 

But, like always, Sukuna broke first, looking away with a grumble, reinforcing his place in the food chain.

Sukuna sighed. The old house was the same–far too traditional, too plain, too normal. It irked him to his core. Here, amidst all the boring normal shit of his past, his status in society no longer mattered; here, he forfeited first place, and took up second.

“Hey,” came your voice, muffled by the car window separating you from your lover. When Sukuna looked over at you, he saw his little nugget tucked safely in your arms, only half-awake as she nuzzled into the warmth of your chest. 

But then there was you. A face full of confusion, annoyance, and exasperation greeted Sukuna. You went for the door handle to wrench your man out of the car, but he locked it, watching you yank on the handle a handful of times before you knocked on the window incessantly. 

“Get out of the goddamn car, you little shit,” you hissed, looking between Sukuna and the front door of the house frantically. You stared at him hard, then, your frustration building every second your alpha refused to budge and end the embarrassment crashing down on you. 

A terrifyingly calm expression took over your face, before you adjusted the little pup in your arms and fished something out of your pocket. Sukuna didn't realize what it was until you leaned over and slammed your fist into the hood of the car, tearing into it easily with the fucking key in your hand. 

“You gotta be shitting me–” Sukuna scrambled to unlock the door and swing it open. He hopped out and slammed the car door closed. “You little–” 

“Oh, good, you found your balls.” 

Sukuna groaned as he looked at the damage you left. “Baby, you know how expensive this is gonna be to fix? Fucking hell, why're you such a crazy bitch?” 

“Well, look who I'm stuck with,” you said lightly. “Obviously you've corrupted me. It's not my fault.”

Sukuna grumbled and turned to you, grabbing you and pulling you close; but instead doling out a punishment as his past self was so accustomed to doing, he aggressively nuzzled the top of your head, viciously scenting you up and squeezing you against his solid frame while he grumbled and growled. 

“I'm splitting you in half when we get home.” 

You sighed, dramatic. “Oh no. I'm so afraid. But I guess I deserve such a brutal punishment. Sigh.” You nuzzled him back before tiptoeing up to kiss his chin, then his lips when he leaned down to meet you the rest of the way. “Ready?” 

Sukuna took a deep breath and looked over your face, running the back of his fingers against the rise of your cheekbone. He loved touching your face these days (more than usual). You still held onto a bit of pregnancy plushness that filled in the hollow angles of your handsomely beautiful face and other once-bony parts of your body. You'd never panicked about it, but you bitched and moaned, loudly lamenting about the way your clothes fit a little differently or how you just had to keep stealing Sukuna's shirts to replace your own. 

Touka, your little one, mewled from her spot smooshed between her parents. Sukuna sighed as he pulled back to look down at her, hoping she'd take most the heat off of him when he faced his grandfather again. 

“Let's just get this over with.” 

Yuuji was the one who answered the door. He lived with Wasuke, claiming it was just easier and cheaper than getting his own place, but most knew the younger was a worry wart; he couldn't stand by and let his grandfather get put in a home or quietly tough out everyday life on his own in his elderly years. Yuuji stayed for the sake of family, and Wasuke quietly welcomed it. His brother's goodness nearly struck Sukuna with guilt. 

But any chance at guilt died the moment he met the old bastard's stony gaze. 

“Itadori-san,” you cooed pleasantly, a far cry from the demon that'd keyed Sukuna's car. “It's good to see you again.” 

Wasuke quirked a brow and walked up to you, nudging Yuuji aside so he could get a good look at you and the pup nestled to your chest. Sukuna took a breath and looked away. He didn't need to see the critical stare of the old man while he processed the fact that Sukuna had indeed not stayed away from you. Ugh, the idea of being scolded made the alpha itch. 

“We're far beyond honorifics, boy. You know that,” Wasuke lightly scolded, and you beamed. Sukuna could imagine a little shiba inu tail on you, wagging fast enough to take flight. “I'm glad to see you in one piece after taming my grandson. It must've been a damn ordeal.”

Yuuji cackled impishly, pointing at Sukuna. “Oooh, burn.” 

“Sorry, who got the omega in the end?” Sukuna quipped back, making Yuuji sprout a grumpy look and cross his arms with a mumbled you suck. 

“Quit the fighting and come in,” Wasuke ushered. “And you,” he snapped, looking at Sukuna with chronic disapproval, “Take off those sunglasses. You're trying too hard. Look like an idiot.”

You stifled your laughter as Sukuna grumbled and plucked his shades off. His very cool, very neat, very fancy, very expensive shades.

Wasuke ushered you all inside, gesturing to the kotatsu prepared with food and drinks and starting off on a grumbling rant about the shitty cold mornings and warm afternoons that came with Spring. Obviously, he'd complained to break the ice, and it worked. 

Small talk turned into easier conversation. Whenever Sukuna seemed to struggle with being cordial, you would lean into him more, squeezing his hand tightly whilst purring under the radar. That worked, too. As much as Sukuna was an asshole, he didn't want the afternoon to fall apart. Better he stay quieter than say something to regret. 

“They've calmed you down,” Wasuke said, snapping Sukuna's mind to attention. It was then that he finally noticed Yuuji had effectively kidnapped little Touka and was giving her a tour of the house like she actually gave a shit. 

“Hm?” He grunted, so eloquent. 

You rolled your eyes and shook your head, leaning into your partner more with a sigh. “Words, not grunts, Sukuna.”

He huffed. “You grunt at me all the damn time.” 

“Not at our elders.” 

“Tch.” Sukuna rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Whaddaya mean they've calmed me down, huh?” 

Wasuke, for once, looked somewhat amused. “Your pup. Your mate. They've made you human.” 

“Ha? You're actin’ like I was some four-armed, two-faced freak or some shit.” 

“Some days you acted like it,” Wasuke scoffed. “Doesn't matter if you agree or not, I can see the change in you, kid–that wild thing inside of you is finally settling down.”

You hummed and looked up at him. “I've noticed, too. You're less pissy. More tolerant. Still annoying, but that's just a personality flaw.” Sukuna growled and nipped at you, but you faced him so very bravely and suffered no such nip. 

“I'm glad for you, kid,” Wasuke interjected, breaking up the petty fight that was about to go down. The two of you looked back to the eldest. “You were a real pain in the ass, and you fucked up a lot along the way, but you made things work out. You should be proud.” 

Sukuna would never be able to put his feelings, the utter rush he felt getting his grandfather's approval, into words. 

“So where does this end, kid?” Wasuke asked. 

“What?” He asked before he could properly think it through. 

“This life. Your ‘profession.’ How long're you gonna keep that up, huh?” 

Sukuna could feel you lean into him more, letting more body weight ease your shared worries about the life you shared and the professions you'd taken up. Both unpredictable. Both in the crosshairs of dangerous beasts.

“You think we'll end up six feet under like mom ‘n dad, that it?” Sukuna rasped. He looped an arm around your waist and squeezed you against his side in reassurance as Wasuke's expression grew gloomier.

“You're more like your mother than you know, kid. You don't–”

“‘Course I don't know,” Sukuna interrupted, firm but not vicious. “Mom was a fucking moron ‘n knocked up whoever the fuck she could to get an in into one of those big-name clans. No shit they'd get pissed off and kill the bitch.” 

Wasuke scowled, but didn't argue. It was hard to when his daughter in-law was in the wrong, when she dug her own grave with every child sired before slipping and falling in on her own. A sad story. An incredibly stupid one, too. 

“That won't happen,” you offered mildly. Sukuna looked down at you, suddenly feeling the urge to shoot another baby into you as you spoke up on your own. “I trust Sukuna as much as I trust myself; he's worked hard to create an untouchable empire, and I have the connections to supplement it.” You glanced up at him. “If it's not Sukuna, then it'll be someone else running Tokyo. I couldn't think of a better king.”

A beat of silence passed before Wasuke asked, “And you, kid?” You afraid? 

Sukuna willed his mind out of R-rated territory to look at his grandfather. “You know me,” he started with a troublesome grin, “I can't stay away from what I want.” 

[tan1shere]

Slumber Party pt 2

A/n: think I've sorted it ! Yayy so if you would like a part 3 let me know ;) (repost)

Summary: like the song slumber party. Ellie thinks she can treat you better then your shitty girlfriend

Warnings: heavy smut, cunnilingus, Dom but soft Ellie (in a way???), riding, touching, alcohol, mentions of smoking, strap usage, pet names. If there's anything else I missed, pls lmk !!

Pt 1 here ! ~ pt 3 here!

It had been a few weeks from the last incident. Everything was pretty normal (for your living) Isabel would occasionally scold you for this or that but never yelled since that one time. You were happy about that as it always made you feel so empty inside like someone had grabbed your chest, yanked your heart and stomped on it. Even if you didn't necessarily love Isabel anymore the situation was hard. You knew you could go to Ellie, but that left you with that weak feeling again. Like you couldn't fend for yourself. You refused to reach out for help until it got to the point where it was bad. Incredibly bad. And that was today. A day before Isabel was suppose to go away to New York. You were cleaning, cooking meals.

You even packed her bag for her while she was at work. Like you had been asked to do. You were always like this growing up. The relationship didn't change you. You always go by the rules and making people happy. If you didn't you felt empty. You felt like you failed them. "I'm home." She calls out sounding tense, dropping her bangs down in an angry manner, but you didn't hear her as you were in the shower. She looks around to see some food. Ones she would take with her and the dinner for that night. She noticed something she didn't request on the list. First mistake of the night. She came into the bedroom to look for you finding her suitcase. She looked at it done differently to how she usually does it. You come out of the bathroom wrapped in your towel. "God you're pathetic. Can't follow simple instructions. Can you!"

You stand there shocked. "I've had a shit day to come home to more. Shit." "Iz-" She strides closer looking furious. "You are so fucking useless." She spat with fury. Raising her hand landing a slap to your face. You quickly put your hand over it before your gasping, widening your eyes, as she wraps her hand round your neck. "You will get changed. Do the meals I ask, and pack my suitcase the way I want. Got it." You nod desperate to get some air into your lungs. Relieved when she finally let's go. You let out a few coughs, watching as she walks out of your bedroom.

You start to bawl your eyes out as you try to calm down, when you get a call from Ellie but you're too scared right now to even answer. Getting dressed and trying to regain your composure as you start on your bag. Now, this was very unlike you to ignore her calls, and especially not say anything on why, soon after. She starts blowing up your phone panicking. You haven't told ellie about the abusiveness. But she's had a bad feeling for awhile now that she may hurt you. You go to look at your phone for a quick second.

"Oh no you don't." You see Isabel coming over to you, snatching your phone. "Hey!" She does the unspeakable and smashes it on the floor. "No!" You look down at it then at her. "What did I say?" You stand there out of pure shock. "Answer me damn it." You look back at her. "I- I was about to-" She stares at you, about to turn away when you think of Ellie and how strong she is. Embody her Y/n. Do it. "No." You whisper slightly, but she hears. "What was that?" You keep looking at her. "If you don't like it you should've done it yourself cuz I've been working all day on i-" She storms towards you nearly knocking you off your feet with a punch to the face. Inaudible.

You feel frozen, stunned. Like everything has stilled, you start to hear a ringing in your ear at the impact. "Dont EVER speak to me like that again. Do you hear me?" Tears flow like a streaming river. "Do you fucking hear me." Blood can be felt dripping. "Y-yes.. sorry." You try and gain balance but feel incredibly light headed. "I'm sick of this." She says, heading for the front door, she is met with an angry and concerned looking Ellie. "Do whatever the fuck you want I don't give a shit anymore." She screams as she leaves for the car. Ellie knits her eyebrows together as she watches her leave. She walks in the house, beginning to hear sobs, she sprints into the bedroom to be met with you on the floor, blood dripping down your nose, it smeared on your hands as you try desperately to stop it from flowing even more. "Shit, fuck."

Ellie curses as she comes closer to you, kneeling on the ground. "I- I yelled at her and it- I got-" You try explaining. "Shh sh. Tell me later ok?" You just gently nod as she tries to get you on the bed, on a more comfortable surface. "Don't panic, I'm just going to get some towels and such, I'll be right back." You nod yet again. Trying to focus on her. Her words. She comes back not long after with the supplies she will need. "Hold this to your nose and tilt your head back a bit, can you do that for me?" Again, you nod, doing exactly as she says. She sighs. "I had a feeling she was like this. Why didn't you try to tell me?"

She softens her look. Her voice. "I was afraid she'd find out and do worse.. I'm sorry." She shakes her head. "Never be sorry for something that isn't your fault." Once she's done she looks at you, looking at the bruises on your face. "I'm sorry she did this to you angel, I really am." You look down at your hands. Not sure how to speak right now. But she knows that. She goes closer to you bringing you in for a hug. You sink into it. Into her touch. You missed being held like this. It felt special, especially when she was the one hugging you.

You woke up the next morning to Ellie being gone. You were saddened but you look to your side to see a note. 'When she leaves tomorrow I'm coming to pick you up. You don't need to be there, there's no point.' It was obviously Ellie who wrote it you can tell by her messy handwriting. You look at the clock that was on the wall reading the time. It was right when Isabel was suppose to be leaving. You had slept for a few hours. You touch your nose remembering the events of yesterday, feeling it had dried but still sore. Suddenly you hear the front door being opened and a suitcase being dragged on the hardwood floor. Getting up to go see her leaving. "I'll be back in a week." She says coldly. You nod gently, watching as she leaves. Once you know she has you let out a deep sigh, looking around the room, going to the fridge as you were hungry. Scavenging for something tasty you settle on a

cheese stick. Simple but enough for you. That sentiment reminded you of Ellie a little bit. She was very simple, the way she lived her life. But enough for you. She was perfect. You shake your head out of those thoughts like you always do but a tiny bit linger. It was no lie how she would make you feel, whenever she would talk about space, art, dinosaurs. Your heart would flutter. You loved listening to her pretty voice talk about her interests. It inspires you to dive into your passion. But that'd never become reality. Just a simple dream. You wanted to be a designer. Whether it was clothes. Furniture. You loved making everything tidy, and pretty. In an order that was well planned out. It was your little thing. And the only person who knew of this dream was Ellie. She'd tell you to chase after it, but with how you lived, there was no chance of that ever happening. So you like to daydream about it. You walk over to the couch sitting down, only for a split second when you hear a car pull up outside. You listen. It was Ellies car. It was old but she loved it. Which made you love it. You finish your cheesey goodness before grabbing your shoes and heading out to the car, you smile as she notices you. To which she returns that smile. "Hey you. Sleep alright?" You give her a small shrug. "It was alright. The pain wasn't subsiding at all though." You let out a breath through your nose at the thought, whincing as the cold air makes it sting a bit.

"We will just have to take it easy. I still think you should consider my offer-" You immediately shake your head. "Its fine, maybe this trip will do her good." You state. "Or make her more agitated." Ellie mumbles. You hear her clearly. "But we aren't worrying about that we are having a fun filled week. I have a new drawing to show you. I went down to the beach and sat in my car, I saw these seagulls fight over a burger bun. Quite entertaining if you ask me." That makes you let out a soft giggle. "Can't wait to see how you drew that." She smiles at your giggle. "You're gunna love it!"

Once you arrived at Ellies home you take a breath in. It always smelt earthy, in the best way possible. "You can take my bed-" She began but you cut her off. "I'm staying here?" She nods. "While she's away, I'd hate for you to be alone." You look around for a second. "You really want me here?" You look at her. "Why wouldn't I?" She laughs slightly at your question. You nod, going over to the couch. "But please, I can take the couch, this is your place after all!" She simply shakes her head. "I want you to be comfortable." "But I am Els. I'm always comfortable when I'm here." She takes a moment to look at you, then remembers. "Ahah! Almost forgot to show you the amazingness." She stands up fully, going over to her art room and coming back with her sketch book. You wait in anticipation to see this drawing. She opens it out so you can see it. "Tada!" She speaks in triumphant. You smile wide as you observe the sketch of the seagulls. "I adore it Els!" She then goes to turn the page, you guessed to show something else but she realizes what it was soon after. It was a sketch of you. "Oh fuck, that's not important but, the seagulls were going crazy over that burger patty, I started cracking up laughing-" You can't help but think of the drawing of you. "You've drawn me before?" You look at her, puzzled but interested. "It was just-" She sighs.

"You were just sitting there, you looked so peaceful. I guess you inspired me.. you inspire me alot actually." She goes to flip the page again showing you more. "I never wanted to say anything in case you thought it was creepy or something." You have known Ellie for how long and she's still thinking like this? "Els. I'm so flattered. I could never be creeped out. If anything I'm honored to inspire your art." She smiles at you. "Well I'm glad because I'd really like to do more. Ones where you're actually looking at me. I tried to do already existing photos but it didn't feel right. Wasn't in the moment." She states. You love how beautifully she would always words such things. It made your heart swell. Was that wrong? You were with someone already. Not a very nice someone, but thats besides the point. Not to mention Ellie was your best friend. You shouldn't ruin that as she's the only true person in your life right now. You gotta push these feelings aside. "So what happens in a day to day life of the Ellie Williams?" She smiles at your words, plopping on the couch and leaning back into the cushions. "Well nothing that exciting. I mean I can do whatever I please whenever I please. Usually I'll wake up late, maybe have something to eat. Watch TV. Just boring stuff. Maybe have a small time to smoke but that's about it."

You nod as you listen. That's one of the things she loved about you. How you'd listen. Especially when she'd say something stupid (Only she would think that) You would just give a gentle smile and nod, signaling that you were taking in everything she said. "Why don't you draw me now?" She looks at you. "Yeah?" You nod. "Alright then." She stands, heading to her art room to get some stuff. "Here wear these." She hands you some petite round glasses, with a thin black rim. "You have props?" "Why ofcourse I do." You smile at her and put them on. They had no lense so you could see just fine. You look at her waiting for what she wanted you to do. She looks at you thinking. "I want you to hold this book. Put your legs up and rest them on your knees. Then." She ponders some more. She goes to ruffle your hair a bit. "Els!" She shh's you. "Let me do ma thang." She moves a bit of your hair over your face having one of your beautiful eyes poking out with the glasses. "And perfect. Not that I needed to do much."

She smiles. You feel heat rise to your cheeks. She always talks to you like this, why are you now reacting? She begins to sketch, while you sit there looking at her. Admiring how concentrated she was. She would occasionally chew on her lip as she looked at the page, even sticking a bit of her tongue out while biting it. You saw the way her features lit up as she looks at you. You were infact. Falling inlove with Ellie. And you don't think there was any way of stopping it.

It was a few days later, you were in the kitchen making food for the both of you as she then walks in the room. "Woah there whatcha doin?" You turn around to look at her. "Just making breakfast." You smile wide at her. She chuckles. "Uh uh. You aren't in that hel lhole no more, you don't need to be doing that. We can just order something. Relax for once." She flops on the couch. And for once you decide to do so going over to her and sitting by her. "I was thinking of inviting my friend over tonight, you remember Dina right? She will possibly bring her boyfriend but I just wanted to see what you thought about it." You look at her. "Sooo like a small party?" She thinks of a response. "I guess so, but it'll just be the 4 of us, I would really like if you got to know them, they will really like you I promise!" She smiles at you. "Sounds fun to me." You return the smile.

Things had been going good. You were all laughing, enjoying yourselves. You were into your third drink now. Just honestly glad you decided to. "I was really missing out!" You take another sip but Ellie takes it and sets it down. "Slow down angel- you don't want to rush into it." You just giggle, making her smile at your slightly tipsy state. "Remember old times in school. We would always play truth or dare, or. What are the odds!" Dina explains. "Oh no, I know where this is going. 'Let's play it'." Ellie mocks her voice. "Well duh, lets do it!" Ellie shakes her head laughing. "What are we 12?" Dina nods. "Yes. Yes I am. Right who's starting?" At school you'd never get invited to parties. (Is it obvious?) Even if you did, you'd never attend one. It wasn't your thing. So you never had played nor known much about these games. "Y/n. Truth or dare?"

So when Dina asked you, you decided to go for the safest option. As you had seen on TV in random romances. "Truth." You smile softly. "Have you ever had a three way?" She smirks. "Dina she probably doesn't know what that is." You think back to all the things Ellie has told you about but you never once heard her utter those terms. "I haven't no." You look at Ellie. "Guys you should know she's not really into this sort of thing." Dina looks at you. "That's ok, we can do something else if you don't want to play this." You look at her as she gives you a smile.

"Oh no that's alright. I don't mind playing it's just not going to be very interesting as I haven't done anything." She furrows her brows. "Nothing? At all?" "I've only ever kissed someone and that's my partner currently. She's the only one I've kissed." Ellie looks at you. "Wait only her? You've had other girlfriends-" You nod as she's right. "We weren't really with eachother long enough for us to get to that stage." Dina smirks. "And you said it wouldn't be interesting. If anything this is more intriguing." You laugh gently at her words.

You were saying your goodbyes to Dina and Jesse. You turn around, facing Ellie once they're gone. It might be the alcohol talking but she looked really good right now. You stalk closer towards her. She smiles at you. "Come on I think you need some rest." She takes a few steps closer but you just look at her dumbly. "Did you know you're all I've been thinking about all night." You blurt out, unable to control anything at the moment. "Y/n you're drunk. Let's get to bed-" "kiss me." She widens her eyes in shock. Not exactly sure how to respond. "Go on Els. You can." She sighs. "I wish you had this much confidence sober." She goes to grab you bringing you to her bedroom to get you to lay down. She had made you sleep in her bed. There was honestly no turning it down as she kept insisting on it, so that's where you slept the whole time you were there.

"Ellieeee." You whine out. "Go to sleeeep." She trys to get you to stay down. Failing as you're a mess right now. "Atleast stay with me." She sighs again. "Pleaseeee." You try and Ellie being Ellie, she caves in. Getting in with you and bringing you close to her. You look up to her smiling. You decide to just lean in anyway and give her a messy peck to the lips. She's shocked to say the least. She freezes. In all honesty, she can't believe it had happened at all.

She would always think about it. How soft your lips would be. How much she'd be able to kiss you better then that asshole you're with. She knew she could. She let her thoughts wander. Thinking about your body, how she'd treat you just how you should be treated. She wanted to badly. She snaps out of these thoughts as you snuggle into her. She let it. This has been what she wanted. She couldn't though. What on earth was she gunna do now.

You woke up the next morning to a slight headache. Not horrid but it was definitely there. You genuinely don't remember much, that is until you turn your head to see Ellie fast asleep. You widen your eyes, suddenly regaining memory of the events. Oh shit. That's incredibly embarrassing. You kissed her? So carelessly. That is not how you wanted that to go whatsoever. You gently sit up, feeling her stir at your dumb attempts to be quiet. "Good morning you." She looks at you with a tired expression. Then she remembers. Sitting up also. Awkward. So incredibly awkward. It's not like you haven't hugged Ellie before or anything. Nor cuddled.

So why is it incredibly awkward. Because your dumbass kissed her. Better yet while drunk. You remember how it felt though. Amazing to say the least. Incredible even. But she's your best friend. Not to mention you're still with Isabel. Oh my god. You cheated. That begins to play over and over in your head along with the lines of 'you're a bad person' You don't even want to think about it. So you get up and head out into the living room, leaving Ellie to feel more awkward and confused. This wasn't good.

It was a day later from the mishap. You didn't even speak to one another. You still panicked over the fact you had 'cheated' you were going stir crazy. Ellie was also thinking similar. Not about the 'cheating' because in all fairness she couldn't give a shit, she knew Isabel would have deserved it. She's worried about you, and your thoughts. Are you going to distance yourself from her? Are you going to try forget the moment. She tried to guage your emotions. Something she would always do pretty well. But not this time. You were currently watching TV. Ellie had, had enough of the silence. "I enjoyed it." Was the only thing she thought to say.

Only thing that seemed less stupid that came to her mind. You turn around to look at her. "W-what?" You were confused, but also starting to get nervous. "I like you. There's no doubt about it. Actually, no I don't like you Y/n I love you. And I can't just sit here and watch that bitch keep on hurting you when I know for a fact I could treat you so much better, and that kiss is doing all sorts to my brain right now I can't stop thinking about it. I can't stop thinking about how stupidly I didn't kiss back-" You stand to meet her, still smaller than her but you swiftly grab her shirt and pull her into you. Forcefully kissing her again. She was shocked, but this time kisses back almont immediately.

She grabs ahold of your waist pulling you impossibly closer to her. It was heating up. And fast. You two pull away for air, to think about this all. But neither of you wanted that you just wanted to do. She grabs your cheeks to kiss you again. Missing the feeling of how soft they really were. And in all honesty. They were better then she imagined. She slowly pushes you gently onto the couch, climbing on you, not once breaking the heated kiss you two were having. She moves her knee in between your legs subconsciously. You let out a small breath at the feeling. She starts to move the kiss to your jaw. Then your neck. "Els.." You let out a content sigh. "Is this alright?"

You nod, eagerly, for more. "I'm not going to lie to you Y/n. I've dreamt about this. Dreamt of how I was your first and how I could make you feel amazing. Better then you even think she could." You stare at her as she speaks. "God I've been waiting for years." She says hungrily going in to kiss you again, starting to take your shirt off leaving you with nothing as you usually didn't really wear a bra. She devoured the fact you didn't. Immediately leaning down to suck on your newly hardened nipples. You let out a long shakey moan at the feeling, finally getting what you've wanted but been too scared for. There was no denying it. You were not, scared no more. You wanted it all. You wanted her. And she couldn't of folded for you any more. She trails those sucks down slowly to your small shorts.

She takes them off with the same pace. Letting out her own slight moan as she sees more of you. Sees how the thin fabric of your underwear clings to you, especially now that she's gotten you worked up, wet. She hums to herself. "Wonder who did that. Huh, baby?" She taunts, knowing it was her work. She goes to take them off completely leaving you completely naked. You didn't mind but you grab at her bicep. She got what you were hinting at. "All in good time angel. All in good time." She wanted to savor this. Make it longer. But she also didn't want to wait any longer then she had been. For years on end. And neither did you. You wanted to feel all the amazing feelings. Especially with Ellie. She strips off her hoodie leaving her in her wife beater.

"I can't wait any longer." She dives down to your needy core, wasting absolutely no time, eating you out like it's her last meal. She knew she should go slow but she just couldn't resist. You obviously don't mind. "Els.. Fuck-" You let out a slightly louder moan at the way she's moving her tongue in you. It was long, there was no doubt about it. And very skilled. She twists and turns it, occasionally moving up to your clit, flicking it every so often for a different sensation. You roll your hips into her mouth and arch your back. Making your head lay back into the couch as you relish in this beyond amazing feeling. You shakily sigh as you begin to feel a indescribable feeling in your lower tummy. Ellie feels you clench around her tongue so she knows you're also close.

But she suddenly gets a small idea before she makes you have the most jaw dropping orgasm. She takes her phone out and gets Isabel's number, she had from awhile back when you gave it to her just in case of- anything really. She goes to type, feeling so pussy drunk right now. She was enjoying how you taste like crazy.

She smirks against your skin at the reply, setting her phone down and speeding up her movements. "Ellie..." You sigh out, in between a moan. She hums. "Let go for me pretty. I've got you. Yeah baby. Cum all over my face." That just about makes you break, with her words, her voice, her tongue her mouth- you let out one of the loudest moans that you've ever mustered up. Feeling your body shake as you cum all over Ellies face. You watch as her eyes roll back enjoying that way too much. She eats it all. Laps it up. Running her hands along your thighs, soothing them from the shakeyness. You lay there, incredibly out of breath, wondering what on earth had just happened.

"I'm not done with you yet sweet girl. Whether or not this is the last time I get to do this, I'm making it worth it." She says standing up off the couch, holding her hand out. You take it, cautiously standing with her. She takes you to her bedroom and gets you to lay down. "I think about using this on you. How you'd struggle." She declares, holding the strap in hand. You only know what its called because of her, how she'd use it on all these girls. Now you get the privilege of getting fucked by her with it. "But I don't want to rush you. Even if you are ready." She sits on the bed, maneuvering to lay down. "I want you to come sit on my lap, and ride it. You think you can do that for me?"

You nod, swiftly going to her lap, excited to. "Good girl." She breathes out going to put it on. You feel weak as she says that, and for the first time in, well. Ever. You don't even care. Once she's done you go to hover over it, her slender hands holding the base. "Sink down for me- there you go baby." She grunts as you lower yourself slowly but surely. You let out a small whimper at this new profound feeling. Resting your hands on her torso, once you're comfortable enough you begin to move. Easing yourself into this feeling of complete and utter pleasure. You let your mouth hang open as she grabs ahold of your hips. "That's it, shit. You learn so fucking well. So incredibly good for me aren't you." You nod, biting your lip with a small whine. "God I can't wait to fuck you dumb into this mattress. It will happen I count on it."

The way she says these filthy things makes your pussy flutter, she leans her beautiful hands up to your breast, squeezing with ease. "I feel you hugging me tight angel. I know you're close." She knows she can't truly feel it but she feels the way your struggling as your walls begin to squeeze up around the strap. You let out a struggled hum, feeling as though you could burst at any moment.

"Come on pretty girl. Let go for me." She says softly but oh how dirty it really was. You nod, as you can feel it approaching.

"That's it, such a good girl." She grunts, leaning a hand to your aching clit,  rubbing small circles. It sends you over the edge, cumming with another loud moan, feeling the liquid drip down your thighs. She then feels herself cum in her boxers. The harshness of your movements causing the friction to impact on her, she felt just as amazing. You flop onto her chest, exhausted and heavy eyed. You feel her strong arms wrap around your tired, fragile figure, feeling warm and content. "You're mine. And you always will be. No matter what, or who. Mine, angel. Mine." She says into your hair, as you fall into a deep, blissful sleep.

[saltwaterburns]

even my phone misses your call, by the way

Summary: Elle knows perfectly well that it's a bad idea and that she'll probably regret it when she sobers up, but she still picks up her phone and dials the number of the one she misses the most - you.

Pairing: Elle Greenaway x fem!reader

Warnings: Mentions of a slightly graphic event that happened to the reader, allusions to smut, a few y/n's, no happy ending (for now?)

Author's note: It's day 3 of me watching season 2 after Elle left and it's safe to say that I'm still incredibly wounded, so what better way to project my feelings onto everyone else than writing this! :D For a girl who hates reading angst I sure do love writing it, so buckle up. I'm dedicating this to @bbbbadoobee i hope u like it pls dont hate me

Word count: 4,4k+

Elle knows she shouldn't. She left the BAU for a reason, and it's late. She glances at the clock on the wall, wincing as the time reads close to 3am. But as she sits in her bleak living room, her third bottle of vodka sitting unfinished on the table right next to her phone, she doesn't care about making good decisions. She's lonely. Desperate.

Leaving didn't make her feel any better. She's been lonely for years. She found a home within the BAU, and she doesn't think she'll ever be able to get over it. Get over her team, that at one point became her family.

She's drunk, and she's tired. She should go to bed. Instead, she picks up her phone, and calls you. She misses your voice the most.

It's been years. She doubts you'll answer. She listens to how her phone calls once, then twice, and on the third time when you pick up, she relaxes. "Y/n...it- it's me."

"...Elle?" You ask groggily, sitting up on your bed and trying to rub the sleep away from your eyes with the back of your hand. Wait, what? Elle? You voice your thought.

"Wait, what? Elle? Elle Greenaway?"

Her heart immediately lurches towards you at the sound of your sleep-ridden voice. She can see you so clearly in her minds eye, how you're sitting on your bed, the strap of your sleep top falling off your shoulder, how the freckles painted on your skin form constellations, the same ones she used to trace with her lips.

"Surprise, I guess." Elle responds, her tone a bit off in attempt to seem casual. Her heart is racing right now, but her voice remains steady. "Did I wake you?"

You stay silent for a beat. You don't notice it at first, but the hand you just used to pull the blanket tighter around you and now is resting on your lap is shaking. You can feel your throat constricting and your eyes beginning to sting, both from the lack of sleep and the emotions you're feeling.

"Yeah, yeah you did, but it's fine. Is- is everything okay? I didn't know you still had my number."

Her heart sinks, hearing how off you sound. Your voice quivers a bit, and she can only imagine your face right now, probably pinched and hurt.

"Of course I do." Elle says, and her voice softens a bit. Maybe she shouldn't have called. What was she thinking would happen?

"I just..." She struggles to articulate her thoughts as she rubs a hand over her face. "I needed to hear your voice."

"I, um, I miss you, Elle. We miss you, back at the BAU," You whisper, looking up at the pale ceiling of your room, taking a deep breath to force the tears down. "How are you?"

Your question feels like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, she can't speak. Because how is she actually doing?

"Oh, I..." She hesitates, and swallows the lump in her throat. "I'm...I'm fine." After a few moments, she adds sheepishly, "And I, I miss you guys too..I miss you a lot."

"Did you continue with some sort of federal work at your new um, home?" You ask as casually as possible, the word home leaving a bitter taste in your mouth, because her home should be here, with you, not wherever she is right now.

She's glad you're not prodding her for more information, asking more questions that would be too difficult for her to answer. But she does cringe a bit.

"...No." She finally replies, and her voice is more than a bit embarrassed. "I went...in a different direction."

"That's, that's good, actually. I hoped that you wouldn't. Thought that it would be better for you to leave this life behind, get a chance to heal."

A moment of silence follows that. You don't know what else to say, so you're twisting a strand of your hair around your finger as you wait. But you've always been curious, always digging a little too deep and as you're speaking to her for the first time in years, you can't help but ask.

"Are you happy, Elle?" Was you leaving us worth it?

She listens as you speak, and her heart hurts because when you say it like that, it sounds like you know what's best for her. She thinks for a moment you might tell her to come back, to heal with all of you.

But you ask her if she's happy instead.

And her heart hurts even more because it's the most difficult question you could've asked her.

"Define happy." She says, finally.

From those two words alone you know that she isn't, not fully at least. The perks of being a profiler, you suppose.

"Can you sleep without waking up in cold sweat? Have you managed to stop reaching for a gun that isn't there? Have you stopped being hypervigilant when walking on the street?"

She swallows thickly once you ask her those questions. And the fact that she can't answer any of them with a yes makes her temples ache.

"I..." Her voice trails off, and she shakes her head as if you can see it. "I don't...no. No, not really." She finally says with a sigh. "I can't sleep, I still reach for a gun, and I'm paranoid as ever that someone is after me."

You rest your forehead against your knees that you've tucked under your chest and you bite your lip hard enough to draw blood to keep your tears at bay. All that pain, and and suffering and everything that she's gone through still haunts her, as if her leaving this life behind hasn't had any impact at all.

"I haven't seen you in so long. Did you grow your hair out? Or did you keep the bangs and the bob?"

"The bangs and the bob." She says, and she winces as she realizes how much she actually misses you. If she concentrates hard enough, she can almost feel the ghost of your hands playing with her hair. "I have a few more grays now, though. I'm a real old lady."

You can't help but let out laugh at that, but it comes out wet. You cringe at that. An average person might've missed it but you know that she heard and you know that she has put it together that you're crying. You cringe even more.

"I'm not the youngest anymore either, Greenaway. Sporting a few greys myself under these luscious curls. Thankfully it's not too visible."

You're right - the wetness in your laugh doesn't go unnoticed. Her eyes immediately tear up as well, and she swallows against the lump of guilt in her throat, because she knows she's the reason you're crying right now.

"Yeah, well, you're too pretty to go grey anyway." She's teases right back, but her words are also laced in bittersweetness.

"Always the charmer, huh?" You bite your lip in a smile, feeling giddy for a moment. "Is there, um, anyone special for you nowadays? Are you tied down?"

"No one special, no tied down." She says quickly, maybe too quickly for it to be casual. After a few moments of silence, she adds, hesitantly, "Is there someone special for you right now?"

You shake your head, because how could there ever be someone who isn't her in my bed and in my heart, but then you remember she can't see you so you somehow manage to utter a soft "No."

"There isn't. There hasn't been one, really, ever since you left. You're always in the back of my mind." Your voice quietens as you say the last part.

She can feel her heart start racing when you respond, her body tensing up. She can't believe what she's hearing. There's no one special in your bed, no one in your heart...not even in these last YEARS since she left?

There's this strange, overwhelming sensation that rises up in her. One part of her wants to be angry that you've wasted away waiting for her. But the other part of her, the part that has her heart racing can't help but feel happy. Hopeful.

You keep talking, not giving her a chance to say something in between. "I know what you're gonna say. I can imagine your face and your expression so clearly. You're mad that I've wasted years waiting for you, even though I knew that the chances of me ever seeing you again were close to none. But I just couldn't help it. You can't blame me for that."

She actually laughs aloud at that, because you know her so damn well. She's frustrated, because of course, you've guessed right. She doesn't want you to have waited for her, especially in vain.

She never intended to see any of you again, especially you. And of course, you couldn't help it, because that's who you are. Loyal to a fault.

"You're right, I'm pretty damn frustrated right now." She responds, and her tone is more fond than angry.

"How can you expect me to move on after what we had, Elle? After those nights in the jet? After the nights curled together under the sheets? After we've taken bullets for each other, after I've stitched you up with my bare hands and bailed you out of jail? After that night we spent together right before you left the next morning, leaving me to wake up to an empty bed?" Your voice breaks in the middle of your ramble, and you can feel the hot trails your salty tears are leaving on your cheeks.

"How can you blame me for waiting when you're the only woman I've ever loved?"

You leave her, for the first time in a while, completely speechless. Every event you name flashes before her eyes, so familiar yet so far away. There's so much she wishes she could say, but she's always been a coward when it comes to voicing what she feels.

"Why did you call me, Elle?" You ask, your voice no louder than a gust of wind. Your bed feels extra cold tonight, too large for you to sleep in it alone. You curl up on your side, clutching your phone in your hand.

Why did she call you? She asks herself the very same question, and the guilt begins to chew on her when she realises she doesn't have an answer for you.

"I...." Her voice breaks. "I don't know. I just...I wanted to hear your voice. I missed you, I guess."

Her answer is as unsatisfying as you guessed it would be. For some reason you hoped that she'd confess her own love for you as well, telling you everything you've longed to hear for all these years. But her answer is as vague as always, and the disappointment burns.

"Did you know that Gideon left, too? And that Hotch and Haley got divorced?" You ask meekly, toying with the silky sheets under you.

She knows. She hates herself for it, but she's kept tabs on all the team since she left. She knows about Gideon, about Hotchner's and Haley's divorce, about Haley's ....

Every single time she finds herself reaching for her phone, about to type in a phone number, she has to remind herself that it's healthier for her not to reach out. But each time, it has gotten more and more difficult.

Her voice comes out soft and remorseful. "Yeah, I know, I...I've heard."

Oh.

"I got taken hostage a few months ago. Barely made it out alive, was in a coma for two weeks. Did you know that?"

Her blood runs cold in her veins as you say that, her heart rate increasing immediately. Her hands begin to shake and her eyes widen.

"No. I- no, I didn't know that. You...?" Her voice falters as she begins to ask that question, and she pauses before trying to finish that sentence. "You were in a coma? What happened?"

There's something satisfying about hearing her panic, however cruel that might be. It feels good to know that she didn't reach out because she simply didn't know.

"There was a bomb. I was too close. Hit my head against a block of concrete so hard my skull fractured and my two of my ribs broke off, piercing my lungs."

The moment you say all of that, she actually feels dizzy with panic.

Imagining you lying on the floor in pain, struggling to breathe, struggling to stay alive.. She can feel her nausea rising as her stomach twists.

Elle can't speak as she thinks about all of it. You could've died. She almost lost you and she wouldn't even have known. Would Garcia have told her?

"I'm okay now, though," You whisper softly with a smile, hoping that she can hear it through your voice. "Sometimes I get really bad migraines, but the doctors say I shouldn't have any other complications."

She tries to collect herself, steadying her breath as you tell her that you're okay. Mostly okay, she should say. But you're here, so that's what matters.

"Y-yeah?" She asks, her voice a bit shaky. "How long ago was this, baby?"

Baby. She always used to call you baby. It used to fill you with fluttering butterflies but now it just feels like swallowing acid.

"I think it was at the beginning of the year. It's July now, so 5 months at least." You hum in thought, counting back the months on your fingers. A car drives past your window, the lights flashing, and it feels melancholy. You can't help but let your mind wonder and imagine it's Elle, coming to see you. But she won't, you know she won't.

"Five months..." Her heart aches to think of you going through all of that, dealing with that alone, while she didn't even know. Didn't even check up on you. She hates herself for it, even more than usual. She feels like she's going to throw up.

"Y-you never, did you..?" She can't even get out her question, swallowing heavily. "...call me?"

"...I tried to. I asked Garcia if she could find any way for me to contact you, but she never managed to. You disappeared pretty good on us." You laugh a little, but there isn't any humour behind it. Just a little hurt.

Her heart sinks at your answer, and she closes her eyes in anguish. Goddamn it. Of course you tried to call her. Of course you wanted her there.

"Yeah, I..." She tries to speak, tries to find her words, but she can't. Not when she knows how badly she hurt you.

"M'sorry." She finally murmurs, a bitter feeling bubbling up her throat.

You coo at her. "It's okay, Elle. I'm fine now, aren't I? And you're on the other end of the phone. No need to fret about it now. I didn't mean to make you feel bad with all of this, by the way. I wasn't trying to rub it under your nose. I was just curious if you knew."

She swallows at that. Even now, even after she's abandoned you, left you behind, caused you pain, you're still trying to comfort her. Trying to make her feel better, trying to tell her what she wants to hear.

She doesn't know why she expected something else, but she hates it.

"You're too kind for your own damn good, you know that, Y/n?" Even saying that is hurting her.

You don't know what to say to that. You've never been good with compliments or praises of any sort, so you just blush and change the subject.

"Did you know that Spence and Morgan still talk about you? Oh, Elle would've known this and Elle would've liked that gets thrown around the office pretty often."

A faint smile tugs on her lips and a small laugh escapes her.

Thinking about Spencer and Morgan still having her in their thoughts doesn't make her feel exactly good, but it makes her feel something.

"Really now?" She asks, her voice still a bit rough from earlier, trying to mask her excitement. "What do they say about me?"

"They still value your opinion very highly, even after all this time. It wasn’t always like that, though. Your name has a lot of respect at Quantico now, but it was a very sensitive topic for a good while. You're missed....I miss you, too." I reminiscence, letting my eyes fall shut. If I try hard enough, I can pretend that she's here and that we're talking face to face, not thousands of miles apart.

"Where are you? Are you still in the US? Or did you leave?"

"I'm still in the US," She replies softly, the corner of her lips pulled back in a sad smile. "I'm in New York. I...couldn't imagine going farther than this from here."

"The Big Apple, huh? I've never been. It sounds awesome, though. I'd love to go one day as a tourist, not as a profiler. Fly economy and all that stuff." You laugh softly, turning to lay on your back.

She grins widely because the thought of you walking around New York, on a vacation, having a good time - it seems like a faraway dream to her.

"It is awesome.There's quite a bit to do, and to see. Especially for a tourist that's not on call."

The hours of the night are catching up to you and you can feel sleep pushing it’s dull claws into you, but you don't want to tell her that. Hanging up could mean never talking to her again.

"Is the subway really as dirty as they show in movies?"

She responds with a snort and an eye roll. "It's worse. Far worse."

"Yeah?" you ask, giggling quietly. "You're having hand to hand combat with the rats?"

"It feels like it, honestly," She grins at your question. "Fighting them for a seat, that is. I feel like I've seen more rats and roaches than human people."

You let out a loud laugh at that and cover your face, letting your phone drop from your hand, your heart feeling light.

A genuine laugh escapes her at that, and the sound of it surprises her. When was the last time she had laughed like that? Was it back when she had just started at Quantico?

For a moment, it feels like the years between the two of you have disappeared, and she's in your bedroom, laughing with you as the night deepens. As the noise calms down and both of your breathing returns to normal, you feel tears prickling in your eyes yet again.

"Will I ever see you again?"

Her body goes rigid at that. She was just having a good moment with you, giggling and laughing, and now...her stomach is in knots.

How could she answer your question? She wants to say "yes, of course", but that wouldn't be true. She wants to say "no, probably not", and that wouldn't be fully true either.

Instead, she swallows and says, "I-I don't know, Y/n. I don't know."

You expected that.

"Tell me that I will, Elle. Tell me that you'll be here tomorrow morning, that you knocking on my door will wake me up. Even if it’s a lie. Please tell me." You beg, a sense of urgency and desperation in your voice.

Her heart thumps wildly inside her ribcage as she listens to you. It's like her heart and mind are having a mental battle, because they want completely different things.

She wants to be there. She wants to be the one to wake you up by banging on the door, she wants to see you in all your glory, hair and clothes messed up from sleep, your cheeks puffy...she wants that more than anything in the world.

But it's not so simple. Her mind is reeling with all the reasons why this can't happen, why she shouldn’t grant you the peace of her saying it, but she can't help it. You’ve always been her vice.

"Please tell me that I'll see you tomorrow." you plead again, your voice cracking. Your heart is constricting inside your chest.

Her resolve begins to crumble at your desperation. God, you're begging her. And she can't find it in her to disappoint you.

"You'll see me tomorrow," She finds herself saying, her voice barely above a whisper. It hurts her to say it, because it's a lie. Because it won't be true come the morning, which means she's setting you up for that same disappointment she tried to avoid just now.

You quickly wipe the tears from your cheeks with the back of your hand, nodding along, feeling reassured. Kind of.

"Will you- will you hang up, now?"

She doesn't want to. She wants to keep talking to you, but she knows she's keeping you up. She can hear the tiredness that’s laced in your voice.

"Yeah..I should," She murmurs begrudgingly, her voice thick with emotion.

Your resolve breaks.

"I love you, Elle. I don't think I'll ever stop," You can't help but confess, the words feeling like shards of glass leaving your mouth.

Her heart shatters into dust when you say the words. It's the most beautiful and yet the saddest thing she's heard in years.

She knows, of course she does. She’s always known that you loved her. Back when you were sneaking around with each other, when you were convulsing around her fingers, your climax having you cramped up, the three words always fell from your lips one way or another. She just didn’t have it in her to say them herself. But now, she has to cover her mouth to stop herself from confessing the same. Her breathing wavers and her hands shake.

"Don't say that, Y/n. Don't say that," She all but begs, her voice strangled and strained.

"You know that I do. My heart is yours and yours only. You know that, too." you keep on going, your voice thick with emotion.

The words pierce her like a dagger right into the heart. She can't deny it and she can't tell you to stop, so instead, she responds with a soft, broken, "I know, I know you do. And you know that I feel the same.”

"Say it, Elle. Please? Say it properly." You plead her gently, toying with the straps of your sleep top. You suddenly notice that it's one of Elle's old shirts that she left here. You swallow back a sob.

She feels her heart beating erratically as you urge her to say the words. It's such a simple thing, just three little words. Three words that she's wanted to say to you for years, but always held back.

"I love you, Y/n," She finally confesses, her voice quavering. "God help me, I love you."

You laugh softly and close your eyes as you finally let the tears stream down your face freely. Hearing her finally say those three words was probably the most painful thing you’ll ever experience, but it feels euphoric. After all these years.

She isn't sure how to label what she’s feeling. Relief? Anguish? Saying that she loves you should make her happy, but all she feels is a deep aching pain because she knows that it isn't going to change anything. But what’s done is done. She can't take it back now, and she's just made the whole thing so much harder.

"I'm sorry," She apologizes, her voice cracking now. "I'm sorry, Y/n. I love you, I've always loved you, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, honey. You know I'll always forgive you, and this time it isn't even your fault. Thank you for loving me. I love you, too. I'm ready to hang up now, if you want. I know this can't be easy for you either."

She can't speak past the lump forming in her throat. How do you always manage to forgive her? Saying that this time it's not her fault. You're so kind, too kind. But you’ve always been like that, and she feels sick for taking advantage of that. She wouldn’t deserve you even in a million lifetimes.

"Yeah," She manages to croak. "I should go, and you have to get some sleep. It’s late."

"I don't know if you'll call me ever again, but thank you for doing it today. It feels nice, talking to you again. I missed you terribly."

Her heart breaks hearing that you think this might be the last time she ever calls, even though there’s a high possibility that it is. She wants to tell you that she'll call you again, and again and again, but she can't. She can't promise you that. She can't make you false promises, not anymore. So instead she just murmurs, "I missed you, too. Night, baby."

"G'night, Elle.." you whisper, barely audible, and press the end button. A small click sound echoes around the now eerily silent room and you let out a wail, falling on top of your pillows in sobs.

Elle can't move for a few moments after you hang up, just sitting and staring at the wall. She feels numb. Cold. Empty. Why the hell did she do that?

She can still hear the sound of you crying, it was so distinct and full of pain, even through the phone. She's the one that did that, she made you cry. It’s just like the day she left.

With a pained cry, she brings the phone down to her lap and buries her head in her hands, squeezing her eyes tightly shut.

You don't know whether to hate or to love her for picking up that phone tonight and pressing that call button. Your heart feels strangely light after finally being able to free itself from all the emotions it’s had to carry over the years, but your soul feels terrifyingly empty. What now? You just go back to your everyday routine and pretend that tonight didn't exist?

The same thought is racing through Elle's mind. There's a small part of her that's glad she managed to hear your voice again, but everything else...god, she just made things so much harder for the both of you.

You're going to wake up tomorrow morning, and there won't be anyone at your door.

That realization, that she did that to you...it kills her. But right now, she can't undo it. What's done is done.

It's stupid, but as you lay on your cold sheets, alone yet again, falling in and out of consciousness, you can't help but hope that you’ll find her behind your front door as the morning comes.

hi please excuse the repetitive words and the medical talk idk if your ribs piercing your lungs is either survivable or puts you in a coma

[fillingthescrapbook]

Let's Talk About: A Change of Plan

Not episode-related but… is anyone else seeing the yellow oval shape on the bottom right corner of their screen when they watch anything on Dropout's website?

That out of the way--

Brennan making Evan a long-backer was not on my bingo card… but it makes sense. Regardless of how Erika, Danielle, and Aabria feel about it. Evan's energy from the very beginning was giving plank-body.

And since we're on the subject of Evan-- I am definitely vibing more with this aggressive and allowed-to-be-angry side of Evan more than the poor little meow meow we used to get before. Like, sure, I get that he wasn't sad all the time during the first season, but the energy was there. He was a sad boy. And I am learning now that I really really do not like sad boys.

Last episode, I mentioned Erika as being exceptionally great at shrinking. I did say that Lou and Danielle were doing amazing jobs as well (although not with those words exactly), but this week's MVP is Danielle Radford. Those lines of improvised dialogue that were a mile-a-minute long were simply incredible. Impeccable. And that's not to mention how she had Sam react to Evan freaking out about the discovery of how he died. "Together. Alone. Not us." Indeed.

Oh and that small reveal about Sam's family life? I want to hug Sam (to)B(decided).

And then we get to Cocaine Sam. And having her be the one to greet Boudy-boots. Amazing. Exceptional. No notes. (Also: Cocaine has to be an integral part of the Never Stop system mechanics now, right?)

Now, I'm not gonna go through everything that happened one by one. I never do. But here are the things that really stood out to me this episode, and why Misfits and Magic Season 2 is winning me over from my…lack of enthusiasm for the first season.

Number one: The breaking of wands. Erika's was sort of an accident. As explained in the Adventuring Academy, Erika saw that a tiny score was made on her wand. To allow it to break more easily. This discovery helped inform her decision to break it "accidentally" in the previous episode. The other players then realized that all their wands had been scored. And that a mechanic has been put in place for when said wands were broken. A mechanic that has now been fully explained in this episode.

I love this mechanic. I love that it--whether intentional or not--is a symbol for breaking Misfits and Magic off from "the franchise." Because the wands have become so intrinsically linked to said franchise. Although, I must admit--from a sentimental point of view--it hurts to see them break the wand. Although, at the same time, I guess that's why it's so powerful. It's their link to the magical world. It's one of the first things that showed them their potential. Much like the franchise was for many of us. And it's become very important for us to break off that connection to see that there's more magic to explore. That we are not limited to the wands. And the brooms. And the familiars.

And oof. The familiars. Aabria caught me off guard with that reveal. Like the road we were walking on were paved with figurative bones but the confirmation still took me aback. Because funny season, ha ha! We killed a player's character. We killed a major NPC. And we're killing familiars. Funny!

That's not a dig at Aabria. I love what she did. One of the most affecting episodes of television I've seen in recent memory is from How I Met Your Mother. It had a visual gag of a countdown. And the whole episode was filled with mishaps that were propelled by humor and love. And then when the countdown reaches 1--it punches you in the gut. And you were warned. But you still didn't expect it. And it feels so bad--but it's done so well. That's what Aabria did.

And that brings me to my second reason why Misfits and Magic is beginning to win me over.

Aabria is handing us character progression that is steeped in gray morality. Characters who rubbed us the wrong way are learning to be better people, while still being their snotty selves. Characters we liked have found themselves getting lost not because they're inherently evil but because of inaction, because of self-preservation coupled with their avoidance to step out of their comfort zone. There's grace in the way Aabria shows the players how their friends have fallen. And I think it's beautiful.

So, yeah, I am coming around to Misfits and Magic. Will it beat both Burrow's End or A Court of Fey and Flowers as a better Aabria season? I don't know. ACoFaF is one of my favorite Dimension 20 seasons ever and Burrow's End is also pretty high up. So probably not. But will I look back on Season 1 more kindly now? Definitely yes.

Last two things I wanted to mention:

First, the sudden volume drop when Evan stopped yelling-- I can't imagine what the poor sound guy who got the full burst of Brennan's highest vocal had gone through. Thankfully, Sam Reich takes care of the Dropout crew well.

And last, when K responds with "maybe the Tumblr users are gonna help?" to Evan's diatribe? Oh, K. Most of us are already struggling with one thing or another and are paralyzed by bigger things. If we had wonky magic to deal with on top of that? Oh ho ho, K. Oh ho ho.

[eyesxxyou]

𝖕𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖑 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖊𝖆 🏴‍☠️🐚

| vi. six | over the hill, between the palm trees

🐚・・・pirate!Hobie x mute!siren!reader.

𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔫𝔱: mentions of death. mentions of running away. hobie crying. mentions of Hobie and reader not talking.

↳ ❝ dis life we got, it's too short fo’ you to ‘old on to dis rage ❞

𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱

The chatter of the market made Hobie remember how much he missed being surrounded by people. Oh, how much he loved humanity. The merchant men trying to make a decent living for their families, selling clothing made by their wives, and fruits and vegetables cultivated from their farms by their children. It was harvest season and everyone presented their very best.

He and his crew had made their way to land for more supplies. It would be a brief visit. A single night and they’d be off at sea again. Spending weeks upon weeks out at sea meant that just the idea of being on solid land excited everyone. The entire ship buzzed with the news for days. Life at sea was often boring and draining. Sea sickness of the mind set in and soon one was ready to toss themselves off the ship to escape the monotony. It was easy to get excited over something as small as standing on something other than wood.

Two young children rushed past him, their bare feet stirring up dirt as they ran and let joyous laughter escape their fruit-filled mouths, markings of a happy childhood. They ran to an older woman who he presumed was their mother who held their hands and walked them through the market. For a moment, he mistook her for his mother. The same silhouette, the same scolding face, she even wrapped her head the same way. But he knew better.

Hobie lowered his head and kicked a rock in front of him before turning around to go find the oranges he was looking for. You had eaten all of them, sneaking them in the night and eating them alone in the storage room where you slept. You did not come back to Hobie's door. He never tripped over your curled up body again.

You and Hobie did not speak for the last 4 days you were out at sea. It was a rather difficult task–avoiding each other. There were only so many places the two of you could be at once that didn’t happen to be where the other was. For once, you turned your pearly gaze from him every time he entered the same space as you and he ignored you as if you weren’t even there.

Did he feel bad? In an odd sort of way. But that song was sacred and triggered something within him, something primal. You had no business even knowing it, much less letting it rattle in your throat. But maybe he shouldn’t have snapped at you so harshly. There was no use in apologizing though, he figured. Your wound was healing. Your bandage (now managed by Gwen) was no longer spotted with blood in the mornings. You’d be gone soon and at this rate, you’d be more than happy to leave.

Hobie walked through the market he knew well in his youth. No one seemed the recognize him. He had changed so much over the years from a hardened life at sea. He was grateful for it. Didn’t need anyone asking him where he went, where he’s been, bringing up the unfortunate fate of his mother. A tragedy that still seemed to linger around the island. Hobie heard mothers scolding their children about going near the water. “Ya don’ wanna end up like tha’ poor woman.”

He rounded the corner only to bump into a small woman, knocking her basket to the ground.

“Oh, ‘m sorry.” Hobie rushed to pick up her things and place them back into her basket. The lady stood there, staring at him. She was old, petite, with a wooden cane and graying hair peeking out of her headwrap. “‘Obie?”

Hobie hadn’t heard that voice in many years, since he ran away from this small island and became a pirate. It was a bit fraile now, but just as recognizable.“‘untie?”

His Aunt Maya had taken him in when he was just a boy after his mother walked into that ocean and never came out. She was not blood related but she was family all the same. It was a shame that he had left her but he could not bear to remain on this island anymore longer.

He stood up with her basket, towering over her small fragile frame. “‘untie, I didn't tink–”

“Dat I still be ‘live, huh?” She smiled with the coy playfulness she always seemed to display. She lightly slapped him on the arm. “Look a’cha. All big ‘n strong now. Wha’ happen to da wee lil’ boy I cared fo’?” She looked him up and down, examining him. She felt his arms and stomach and clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “You no’ eatin’ ‘enough, ‘Obie. Why don'cha gimme a hand and take dis stuff back ‘ome? I’ll make us some tea.” She turned and began to walk and with an obedience he hadn’t had in a long time, he followed.

Maya still lived in the very same place he remembered, on a hill tucked between palm trees ripened with coconuts. She grabbed him for stability as they hiked the hill together in silence and made their way to her home. 

The door was still partially broken. It got stuck easily. Hobie immediately went ahead of her and barged the door open for her as he did when he was young. He held it open, watched as she waddled passed him with her cane, setting it down beside the door. “Now, put dat down ‘n gimme some love, boy.”

He put the basket down beside the door and gave her a long, warm hug. So small, he could have picked her up off the ground if he wanted to, she hugged him back as if he were her very own. She raised him the same way. It contained all the love and acceptance of being hugged by a mother. Hobie would not insult her by calling her a surrogate, she was far more.

When he released her, she waddled away to start a fire. “No ‘untie. Lemme do i’. You sit down.” Maya shooed him dismissively with her hand and grabbed some wood from the corner. “Don' treat me like ‘m old. I been doin’ jus fine wit’cha gone. Si’ down.”

The words sent a pang through his chest. He had left her with her so much as a proper goodbye and fled in the night to board a random ship to take him to sea. He was young and stupid. He never thought of how that would have affected her. He lowered his head almost in shame. “‘m sorry, ‘untie.” It was a shameful thing what he did, leaving her so unceremoniously.

She shuffled about with her small fire. “Don't ‘pologize. Ya did wha'cha had t’. I though’ you was dead fo’ a while bu’, I had faith that you was okay. You always been a survivor.” She placed a pot of water over the fire and fanned her hand over the smoke to keep it out of her face.

Maya wasn't mad at him though she had every right to be. She mourned him for many years and with time she learned to understand his decision. He was young and he was scared in a world without his mother, what was he supposed to do? Stay? Let the memories haunt him? Pass his mother's home on the way to the market and mourn for the rest of his life? He needed to leave to free himself.

“Yer no’ mad?” He asked softly, looking at her with a disgraceful frown, brows furrowing.

Maya shook her head. Her lips  “‘m no’ mad. But I hafta wonder wha’cha come back fo’. I expected to neva see ya ‘gain.” She came and sat with him while the water took its time to boil. It was just as it was before, as if he never left, as if his departure had been all but a blip in time.

Hobie thought of what to say for a long while. “I jus’ missed ya.” This island was not the closest to them when he decided they needed more supplies. He went out of his way to come to this one. Against all odds, he missed home. “‘m a cap’tn of a ship and I came here for supplies…”

“‘N t’ see if I was still here,” she finished. Hobie nodded slowly. He felt like a child again, fingers fiddling and tugging at each other. “An’ t’see if you was still here,” he echoed.

There was silence. Hobie took his time looking around the home he had spent such a brief part of his childhood. Nothing had changed, everything was just the same. His eyes lingered on the unfinished basket in the corner, his mother's. The basket that would never be finished.

“Ya still got this ting?” Hobie got up and went over to it. He picked it up with a grunt and felt the brittle fragility of it in his hands, like it would wither to dust if he held it too hard. He pressed it close to him as if he’d be able to feel the lingering presence of his mother on it. Her fingers fiddling with the straw and weaving it with such meticulous care.

Maya sighed softly to herself and shook her head. “How could I eva get rid of i’? It means so much t’ya. ’M surprised ya didn' take it wit’cha when ya left.”

“Had t’travel ligh’.” Hobie murmured distantly. He was back in front of that fire with his mother, working diligently on this very basket. The very last thing her nimble hands touched.

He remembered it so clearly. Falling asleep in her arms and waking up to a distant melody. He mother was gone, nothing left of her but the basket and her headwrap. He tugged at it, hanging from the belt around his waist. He carried it around with him, always.

The water was boiling over now, Hobie nodded to it and Maya got up to tend to it. “Take i’ wit’cha. Was made fo’ ya afterall.” She took the water off the fire and got some hibiscus to let it steep.

Hobie looked at this basket and thought of you. Your destroyed basket, the fear in your eyes, the anger in his voice, the broken lantern. He wanted to yell again. He wanted to destroy the godforsaken basket like he destroyed yours, he wanted to toss it into the fire. He wanted to cry. He wanted to burn. There was rage in his eyes, it exuded from him like a wave. His hand tightened against the basket. Maya could feel it.

“Da anger you got ‘Obie, you need to le’ i’ go.” She hummed with a voice meant to soothe. “‘T do ya no good. ‘T will ’old ya back. Dis life we got, it's too short fo’ you to ‘old on to dis rage.” Maya poured the tea into a small cup and shuffled over to Hobie, frozen where he was with tears streaking his dark cheeks. She took the basket from his hands and replaced it with the tea cup.

With gentle hands, Maya reached up and wiped his cheeks. “Fo'give. Yourself and whatever took ‘er from ya. Le’ ya self live. Do ya some good.” She lightly patted his cheek and took him by the arm. “Now come sit ‘n drink ya tea. ‘M sure ya can' stay long.”

So Hobie sat with Maya and spoke to her of his many adventures at sea, carefully working around the very real siren he was housing on his very own ship in fear that she may simply pass away due to the excitement of it all. He enjoyed the small taste of home and almost wept again with the emotion of it all.

He stayed for hours, until the sun began to set over the horizon. “I can't stay, ‘untie.” It broke his heart to leave her but Maya seemed quite fine with him going. She made her peace with the way things are. Hobie had to learn to do the same. He lived in too much regret, lingered in the past. He couldn't let go. But he could learn to.

“I know ya can' but come ‘n visit more of’en, boy.” She reached out and pinched his cheek endearingly. “Take tha’ basket wit’cha. She would've wan’ed ya t’ ‘ave i’.”

He took the basket with him as he left, holding it in his arms with the tenderness something so old and sacred deserved. Walking down the path back towards the harbor, he looked over the horizon painted in broad strokes of peach and tangerine.

And in the distance, over the hill, between the palm trees, he could see his mother's old home sitting over the horizon.

𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱: @lovelyygirl8 @humungus-mythology-geek @shutingstar @pixieofthesun @hobiesbf

[exhaslo]

Corruption Ch11

(Villain!Miguel x F!Hero!Reader)

Ch1, Ch2, Ch3, Ch4, Ch5, Ch6, Ch7, Ch8, Ch9, Ch10

Warning: Minors DNI, mentions of sex, violence, blood, murder, twisted thoughts, experimentation, language, wannabe fluff, established friendship/relationship? SMUT, Fingering, oral (male receiving)

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

Two Months, Ten Days until D-Day

There were a select few of people in all of Alchemax that were exempt from receiving the Rapture. Those people were the IT department. Those in the IT department had a different reason to stay working for the company.

Fear.

They learned things that they shouldn't know. They were the ones who had to fix all those horrible machines and computers that helped kill and torture people. Whenever something happened, those in the IT department were always the sacrificial lambs.

If they pissed off the wrong person.

Aaron was one of those people. He knew that Miguel was not fond of him. Some of his coworkers were already distancing themselves from him in fear of them catching Miguel's wrath. Miguel was the son of the CEO of Alchemax. You piss him off, you're dead.

Sitting on his computer, Aaron cursed lowly. It wasn't his fault that Miguel had it out for him. All he wanted was to ask you out. Aaron wanted to free you from Miguel's slimy grasp.

"He needs to pay, but how?"

"Looks like (Y/N) is requesting help again. Her heater died again. What's with her?" One of the IT workers whispered.

Aaron glanced at his screen, seeing your notification popped up. Miguel will defiantly be there if he replied, but this was the only chance for him to see you.

"She's just as bad as Miguel! Helping him all the time! How many coworkers have we lost to Rapture?"

Rapture? Aaron chuckled lowly as he accepted your request. Now that was an idea.

---------

"Miguel, you're going to be late if you stay like this." You sighed softly as he rested his head against your lap.

"I still have time. Let me think."

You pouted slightly, hiding your blush from Miguel. You were sitting on his desk like a trophy, but his head was buried against your lap. It felt so nice, having him give you this affection. You gasped quietly as Miguel's hands gripped your thighs.

"Miguel!" You huffed.

A shiver ran down your spine as you felt his hands stroke your thighs. His hands felt so warm. Trembling as Miguel groped your legs once more, you tried not to think about him pinning you down on his desk. Miguel was always handsy, but he hadn't fucked you yet.

Oh, how your wet dreams got more vivid with each passing day. Miguel's hands always roaming your body as if he was checking you, turned you on so much. You wanted to ask Miguel why he hadn't made a move yet. Why he was waiting so long?

"Alright, it's time for my meeting with my father and the shareholders. I trust that you'll be a good girl and stay here to sort my schedule, hm?"

"Yes, sir," You whispered as Miguel kissed you. Miguel just smirked,

"Hm, I might have to punish you later for calling me 'sir' again." His smile turned wicked, "Don't complain, understood?"

"Yes, Miguel." You replied, feeling trapped in a daze.

As Miguel left, you shivered in delight. Miguel was so cruel to you, but you loved it. You knew that Miguel was twisting your common sense and reason, but you couldn't stop him. Part of you wanted Miguel to taint you.

"I need to work on Miguel's schedule." You hummed.

---------

Miguel was quiet as he approached the elevator. Lately his father had been dragging him to more of these ridiculous meetings. Miguel had better things to be working on. More important things to be working on.

With a heavy roll of his eyes, Miguel scoffed as he arrived on the final floor. These meetings were just preparing him to take over Alchemax. It wasn't like Miguel didn't want to take control, it just wasn't in his interest right now.

"Ah, Miguel. Good of you to arrive on time." Tyler Stone spoke, Miguel's father.

"With how often you have me join, I have unfortunaly gotten into the habit." Miguel spat.

"This is for the best." Tyler hummed, leading Miguel into the board room, "Before the others arrive, I wanted to ask you about your assistant."

"(Y/N)?" Miguel's lazy gaze turned into a glare, "What about her?"

"Couldn't help but notice you spending more time with her. Now, I won't interfere with your love life, son, but her? You and I both know there are better."

"Ha, small thinking for now." Miguel snickered, "Give it time. You'll come around."

Everyone will come around once Miguel becomes an advance human like you.

"I've also noticed your new status in the city. I'm quite impressed with the connections you've made, son. I actually called this meeting for you to announce your new status."

"So they can seal their fate to us? Haha, as if my title is needed for such a simple task."

Of course not. Miguel was only destroying villains for you. He wanted to show his dominance, but it ended up turning into more. Miguel underestimated these villains. They kept coming back. If they weren't killed, they would not stop.

Either way, Miguel was enjoying the fight. He knew this wasn't why you became a hero, but this was a damn good feeling. Miguel enjoyed destroying the lives of others and tormenting other villains. They were nothing compared to him.

Nothing compared to you.

Miguel was enjoying the life of a villain.

"We also need to do something about that Spider-Woman. She's been seen around Alchemax and our warehouses." Tyler spoke.

Miguel resisted a chuckle. How cute of you. Trying to 'save' Miguel and stop the oh so evil Alchemax. This just meant that Miguel had to corrupt you more. He had to teach you a better lesson. Something that would really make you break.

"Ah,"

Something that will ease the both of you.

---------

Miguel had been in the meeting for a good while. You were still waiting in Miguel's office since yours was still cold. Twirling around in Miguel's chair, you started to think about your plan again. You were officially starting to bring down Alchemax.

It was a long and hard process, but you had found some good help. You were getting good information to take down Alchemax, now it was just a matter of concrete evidence. That was going to be hard because if you hacked into the system...well...

"Argh, this is annoying." You huffed.

You needed to get information without being spotted. Perhaps you could get someone in IT to cover your tracks. Remembering Aaron, you smiled at the thought. He might be able to help you hide from Alchemax's tight cyber security!

"At least one of us is still entertained." Miguel huffed as he entered his office. You gasped and hurried to him,

"Welcome back! How was your meeting?" You asked. Miguel raised a brow as he stroked your head,

"I need to destress."

"Ah, I'll give you a massage!" You chirped. Miguel just gave smirked,

"I was thinking of more than a simple massage."

Ohhhhh, you felt your panties get damp. Miguel grabbed your hand, leading you to his desk. You could feel your heart nearly leap out of your chest. Was this really happening? No, maybe Miguel just means something else.

"Come here," Miguel chuckled, patting his thigh.

Without hesitation, you sat on Miguel's lap. His hands roaming your body once more as he kissed you. As you made out with Miguel, you could faintly see smoke in the city. Why did there have to be trouble now?

"Will you do me this favor?" Miguel whispered in your ear, his hands reaching his crotch.

"M-Miguel," You gasped.

You were folding hard. Ignoring the city, you unzipped Miguel's pants and let him push your head down. There you were, kneeling before Miguel with his dick hard in front of you. This was something you've only dreamed of.

"S-Sorry in advance if...I'm not good," You apologized.

--------

How cute. You looked so shy and innocent as you kneeled before Miguel. His hand rested against your head, motioning you back towards his dick. You had a job to do and another one to ignore. Miguel smirked since you had made your decision.

Gritting his teeth, Miguel resisted a groan as your tongue licked and swirled around his cock. You were so inexperienced, so innocent, so pure...all because you were waiting for him.

Your hands were holding onto Miguel's thighs as you finally took his dick in your mouth. Ah, how good it felt to have you submit to him. Obeying his every whim and need.

"What a good girl, (Y/N), sloppy, but good." Miguel chuckled lowly.

You whined with his dick in your mouth, sending a vibration up Miguel's spine. How fucking tempting you were. You hummed and started to suck on his dick, giving Miguel pleasure. The warmth of your mouth, sending Miguel into a small frenzy.

This was something that Miguel never cared for. Something that was just in the way of his work. If only he knew how good this would feel having you suck him off. Miguel was going to have to get you on your knees more often.

"Mhm!"

"Keep sucking, you're doing so good." Miguel groaned as he pushed your head more.

Miguel tried his best to control himself, but he couldn't help it. His hands moved on their own as he moved your head. You were moaning and whining as you sucked against his dick, rubbing your legs in the process.

--------

Tears formed in the corner of your eyes as you felt Miguel's dick hit the back of your throat. Your panties were soaked and you were desperate for some relief of your own.

Feeling Miguel's dick twitch in your mouth, you knew he was close. You stroked faster and sucked harder, wanting to touch yourself. You couldn't breathe. You couldn't think. Miguel gripped your hair and grunted as he pushed you down, causing you to wince and nearly gag.

"Swallow." He demanded.

You shivered at his tone and flinched as you felt him cum in your mouth. Coughing as Miguel removed his dick, you swallowed hard and started to pant. You felt dazed. Air was finally entering your brain as you stared up at Miguel with lust.

"Good girl, now I believe you deserve an award." Miguel chuckled darkly.

Gasping as Miguel placed you on his desk, you whimpered as he took off your panties.

"Someone's been really patient."

"Mhm, I-I have," You whimpered, your cunt clenching to air.

"But, you'll have to be a little more patient. Just until...I know you deserve the ultimate reward."

You let out a small whine, but gasped as you felt Miguel's fingers against your clit. He spread your legs and watched as you twitched and moaned against his touch. Your body felt like it was on fire, but you wanted more.

Moving your hips, you tried to match Miguel's pace, but he held you down. His fingers moving faster against your clit, causing that burning knot to tighten in your gut. You arched your back, feeling your brain fog up again as you cried his name.

"M-Miggy!" You moaned, cumming hard. Miguel chuckled lowly,

"What did I say about that nickname?" He asked.

"S-Sorry-Ah~" You flung your head back as Miguel inserted two fingers inside you, pumping them deeply, "Ah~ M-Miguel~"

"Now you'll have to wait longer,"

Your vision blurred as you focused on his fingers curling and thrusting inside you. They were so big, much better than your toys. If only Miguel would bully you with his dick instead. You would have to behave more in order to get that reward.

"I-I'll behave, Miguel! Ah~ mhm,~ I promise~!"

-------

Music to his ears. You were breaking so easily for him. Miguel, himself, was tempted to fuck you, but he couldn't. Not yet. He couldn't risk you getting pregnant yet without his own genes enhanced.

"Miguel~" You cried, your body arching once more.

"How sensitive." Miguel whispered as you orgasmed, "That will be enough for today. I do expect more of these...personal destress sessions in the future."

"Mhm....Y-Yes, Miguel," You panted, taking a moment to catch your breathe.

Miguel just chuckled in response as he wiped his hand with a napkin. All he could think about was your so called, 'stamina'. How easy were you to cum and fold from his touch. You were so cute twitching from his fingers alone.

Glancing down at your damp panties that laid on the floor, Miguel just hummed as he picked up them and put them in his lab coat pocket. They were going to be used for his tests later.

"Allow me to take you home. It's been quite a day,"

---------

You hummed to Miguel, finally composing yourself. Your head was still dizzy and your gaze blurred. Your body was still aching and desperate for more, but you had to behave. Behave for Miguel so he could reward you later.

Your gaze shifted from the smoke in the city, back to Miguel. You wanted to please him. To do as he said.

"Thank you,"

Oh, how your super hero days were numbered.

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Next Chapter

(Still on small hiatus, Final Fantasy is AMAZING!!!!)

@tojishugetiddies @miguelsfavwife @foulsharkheart @club-danger-zone @ivkygirly @jollystrawberrycycle @amber-content @weirdothatwritess @smartyren @mangoslushcrush @nyxzoldyck6 @migueloharastruelove @chaoticlovingdreamer @sukioyakio @killjoy-nightshadow @heyohalie @the-pan-liquid @bokutosprettylittlebimbo @kpopscoups17130000 @pochapo @killerwendigo @barbiecrocs @miss-galaxy-turtle @oscarissac2099 @lazy-idate @lauraolar14 @safixiovi

[rollinouttahere-writes]

Pfft hear me out yandere trio Luffy , Zoro and Nami reaction when female reader admits that Buggy kinda cute (HE IS !! Don’t judge me 💅) since it’s a running gag in the show/movies that this trio always pulls a face hearing his name XD😘

please !🙏 He’s a clown but he’s my clown 🥰🤣

I can't judge, I get it. Goofy men are cute and you're 100% correct

What the Heart Wants

Yandere Luffy, Zoro, and Nami x Fem!Reader (plus Buggy but he's only mentioned)

1.9k words

This was risky, you knew it was, but it happened on an impulse and it was too late to turn back now. Your pulse quickened as you snuck off into the girl’s room with your newest acquired treasure. You paused at the door and pressed your ear to it to listen for anyone else heading this way.

Nothing. You’re in the clear.

Scurrying over to your bed, you fish the rolled up piece of paper from your sleeve. You didn’t even think about it when you saw the bounty poster on the wall. It was like your hands had a mind of their own, ripping it down and stuffing the poster into your sleeve without your brain even fully registering the action.

Sure, this could backfire if someone finds you with it, but so long as you’re careful it should be fine.

Unrolling the paper, you can’t help but giggle and kick your feet at the sight of the man on the poster. It felt silly to be so giddy over just seeing a picture of the man, but you couldn’t help it. Buggy had this sort of goofy charm to him, and it had a chokehold on you. You’ve always found people like that endearing, it’s a majority of the reason you joined Luffy’s crew. 

This time though, the endearment went beyond being platonic. Instead of simply feeling a warm fondness towards Buggy, you found your heart beating erratically when you thought about him too much. The last time you’d seen him in person and made eye contact, you immediately felt blood rush to your face and had to avert your eyes.

In short, you were down bad.

You were so transfixed on the poster, that you didn’t hear anyone approaching the room until the door was thrown open. In a panic, you leap up from your bed and held the poster close to your chest in an attempt to shield it from prying eyes.

Nami was standing in the doorway, looking confused and slightly startled by your strange reaction to her entering your shared room. She wasn’t dumb, much to your chagrin, and quickly took note of how flustered you look. Then her eyes drifted down to the poorly concealed poster and you could practically see the lightbulb come on over her head.

Her lips curled into a grin, “What’cha got there, (y/n)?” The way she stalked towards you was downright predatory, making you feel like a mouse being cornered by a house cat.

“Nothing! Nothing at all, just a piece of paper!”

“Just a piece of paper? I don’t know about that, it looks like a bounty poster to me,” her smile looked downright malicious as she circled you, trying to get close enough to take it from you. “I wonder why you would be keeping a bounty poster to yourself like this?” Nami definitely already knew the answer, but she wanted you to say it.

“No reason! I just- Um- I don’t even know how this got here! It must have slipped into my pocket while we were out! Yeah!” You internally cringed at how bad that lie was. Even Luffy was a better liar than this.

Nami cackled at your attempt, “Oh really, that’s the story you’re going with? Come on, just be honest with me. We’re both girls here, you can tell me about your crush!”

You whip your head around to glare at her, “I don’t have a crush!” You absolutely did. 

With a speed you didn’t think she possessed, she leapt forward and snatched away the paper. You tried to get it back, but she held it out of reach and used her free hand to push you away, “Yes you do~! I can’t believe you would keep this from me, we’re friends! We’re supposed to talk about things like this.”

Nami danced out of your way, and you swear it felt like the world was in slow motion as she finally pulled the poster down to be able to look at it. Immediately, the mischievous glint in her eyes went cold and her smile dropped. The once coy and amused expression morphed into one of pure horror as she looked between you and the poster in rapid succession.

“No,” was all she said as she shook her head in disbelief, “you can’t be serious.”

“How about you give me that, and we can forget all about this. Please?” You wanted to crawl into a hole and never be seen again. This was the one thing you didn’t want to happen, and her reaction is precisely why.

You can assume she didn’t like your response based on her soured expression and the way her hands crumpled the paper in her tight grip. Without another word, she ran out of the room. 

With. The. Poster.

That was how you got to where you are now. Forced to sit at a table with three of your crewmates sitting with you. Nami, Luffy, and Zoro specifically.

“Guys please this is so dramatic!”

“It’s not! This is a serious matter, one we can’t let slide!” Nami slammed her fists onto the table that you were all seated at. Why were you all gathered here? For an intervention regarding your taste in men. 

It was bad enough that she knew, but why did she have to drag your other crew members into this? You can’t say you understand her choices either. Luffy was hardly the type to weigh in on someone’s love affairs, and Zoro wasn’t even awake. 

“Why are we all here? Are we gonna play a game or something?” Luffy was drumming his fingers on the table impatiently.

Nami slams the partially crumpled wanted poster on the table, “This is why we’re here!”

Your face was buried in your hands and you let out an over the top groan from the sheer embarrassment of the situation. 

“Buggy? What about him?” Luffy perks up, “Oh! Are we gonna go kick his ass again?!”

“No. Well, yes but not yet,” Nami explained. “(Y/N), would you care to explain what you were doing with this poster?”

“Nope, sure wouldn’t,” you didn’t bother taking your hands away from your face. 

“You and me both know why you have this, so how about you just tell the truth so we can fix this,” Nami sounded like a mother scolding her child.

Luffy was looking back and forth between you two, trying to put together what was going on. You could practically hear the gears turning in his head, “Are you planning to fight him? Oh, I know! You’re trying to be a bounty hunter!” He looked to Nami expectantly, hoping for confirmation that he was right.

She pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a sharp sigh, “No, Luffy, she isn’t trying to become a bounty hunter.”

Whatever, you’re just going to go ahead and rip the bandaid off, “I have a little crush on him, okay? There! Are you happy? Can I go now?”

“No! How can anyone be happy knowing that?!” Nami yelled. “Why him of all people?! He’s literally a clown!”

“... He makes me laugh.”

Luffy exploded into laughter, “What’s that got to do with it? I make you laugh all the time, more than he does I bet!”

You tried to get up and leave, but Nami’s hand latched onto your wrist like an iron shackle. With one yank, you fell back into the chair.

“Please just stop! Why are you even doing this? It doesn’t matter if I have a crush on him or anyone else for that matter, so can we please act like none of this ever happened?” You wanted to cry from the humiliation of being shamed by your friends over a little crush. 

Luffy shrugged and nodded along, “It is pretty funny, but I agree with (y/n). Why are you so mad about it, Nami?” Bless him. Even though he did laugh at you previously, at least he was attempting to deescalate the situation now.

“Because she is crushing on Buggy the Clown of all people!” 

“Why is that such an issue?! He’s cute!” You tried to defend yourself (and him).

“Eww! No he isn’t!” Nami full on shuddered at you calling him that, “What is wrong with you? At least fall for someone good looking!”

“Well maybe I care more about personality!”

“What are you talking about?! He’s an egotistical weirdo who has a temper tantrum if he so much as thinks someone said something about his nose!” Nami looked like she was ready to rip her hair out.

“He can be nice when he wants to be, and like I said before, I think he’s funny!”

“There’s a huge difference between someone actually being funny, and someone doing stupid stuff that happens to be funny,” she slapped a hand over her face and dragged it down exasperatedly.

She had a point, and you hated it. You huffed, “Yeah, well, I don’t care. He’s my type and that’s that.”

Nami gagged like the drama queen she was dedicated to being in this moment, “I almost want to set you up with someone else just to give you better taste, how is a clown your type?!” She ground her teeth in frustration, “Okay, new rule: you’re not allowed to leave the ship if Buggy is around.”

“Why is everyone yelling?” Zoro yawned and stretched, looking around the table with mild curiosity.

Nami slapped the back of his head, “I brought you here to help, not to sleep! (Y/N) is crushing on Buggy and we’re trying to stop her.”

“Oh,” Zoro didn’t look all that concerned. “So are we gonna kill him or something?”

“NO!” You shrieked at him. What is wrong with these people?!

“That would take care of the problem,” Nami hummed thoughtfully. “We can’t risk letting this become something more, what if she tried to leave to be with him?”

Luffy laughed at that, “It’s not like I’ll let that happen!”

“What do you mean you won’t let that happen?” That honestly threw you off a bit. What was that supposed to mean?

“It means that I won’t let him take you away from us!” Luffy flashed you his usual blinding smile, but there was something slightly… off about it. It felt a little too wide, and weirdly tense.

“Take me away? No one is trying to ‘take me away’. Besides, if I wanted to leave to be with someone, then I’m allowed to do that,” you were distinctly not a fan of how he was talking about you as if you were a piece of treasure being fought over.

The entire atmosphere of the room changed the second you finished speaking. All eyes were on you, “See! This is what I was talking about! If she gets a crush on someone, she’s going to want to leave!” Nami’s hand found its way to your wrist again, you were sure you’d have a bruise from how tight her grip was.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, let’s all calm down! I didn’t mean I was going to leave just like that! I like it here, really!” You tried to placate your crewmates, but your pleas did nothing to sooth them. It was too late to backpedal now.

“We’ll have to get rid of him next time we see him,” Luffy nodded resolutely.

Zoro shrugged, “Should be easy enough.”

You should have never taken that poster. Now you’ve unintentionally put out a hit on Buggy, and have no idea how to stop it.

[queenie-ofthe-void]

A Desperate Fool - Part 8

Part 7

Last time: Nancy finishes filling Eddie in on what he's missed

~~~

“Ok, Wheeler,” Eddie says a little too loud. He claps his hands together and rubs them back and forth, hoping the friction and heat will help him burn away his anxious energy. It all comes down to this. He’s dreading and anticipating the conversation in equal measure, so it’s better to rip the band aid off sooner rather than later. After all, Nancy was right. He came all this way for answers only she could give him. “Tell me about her.”

She sighs, like she’s been gearing up for this part of the conversation. "I introduced them in July, but they've known each other for a while. It took me a bit to convince Steve to agree to a date, but Becky was so head over heels for him that–"

"Wait," Eddie cuts her off. He repositions himself so his legs are tucked under him, curled up against his corner of the couch. Nancy changes her position and mirrors him. "Becky? As in, the Becky you work with? As in the Becky I just met earlier today? That Becky."

Guilt flashes across Nancy's face before she tucks it away again. She sits up a little straighter and yeah, now Eddie's ready to start an argument. He feels like a complete idiot. No wonder Nancy looked so uncomfortable while the woman was here, she clearly wasn't planning on Eddie crossing paths with her. Becky seemed awkward, but in a normal sort of way. Like she didn’t even know–.

"Oh shit," Eddie says absently, "she doesn't know who I am, does she?"

Nancy sighs, shaking her head, "no, she doesn't know about you." Her eyebrows scrunch, and she wiggles her hand back and forth, like maybe she's backtracking a bit. "She knows you're mine and Mike's half brother." Nancy holds up a finger, ticking off each fact about his existence, the only pieces of him that matter anymore. "She knows you're a rock star. She knows you're estranged on bad terms with Mike and I. That's why she thinks no one talks about you."

"And what?" Eddie gets up, burning off the energy by pacing around the room, waving his arms and generally making himself larger to gain some space. Big and scary and dramatic enough to chase his problems away when he's afraid. "They’ve been seeing each other for more than six months. They’re fucking engaged, and somehow no one's ever mentioned that Steve and I were together? Not a single person has ever slipped up?"

"Eddie, other than Mike and I, no one mentions you at all. Ever."

He freezes, mouth dropped open to argue, arms raised with angry emphasis. His initial burst of energy now kindling into a fury, all but snuffed out by a simple sentence. His body slumps to the floor, and Eddie wants to cry, to release the disgusting sense of rejection by his own family. Except it seems they only support his Angel. No sympathy for the devil, and all that.

"It's like I never existed?"

"I told you," Nancy says softly, reaching out to cup his cheek. He hadn't noticed her move, crouched next to him on the floor. There's pity in the thin line of her lips and disappointment in the creases of her brow. "Steve asked us not to, so we didn't. It was the least we could do to help."

Eddie nods his head, a hollow agreement if only to get Nancy to stop talking. Let him take a breath to process. How is he meant to react when she makes it sound so easy to forget him. Easy enough to pretend his life with Steve meant nothing at all, so unimportant that Steve’s spending the rest of his life with someone who’s missing eight years worth of information. And apparently everyone’s just ok with that.

~~~

Part 9

Tag List!!!

@sadisticaltarts @5ammi90 @blacklegsanji21 @jaytriesstrangerthings @thewickedkat

@stripey82

[deathbyhertouch]

Pheromones

shameless flirt phoebe x f!reader

warnings: smut (18+, mdni), mentions of alcohol, dry humping, pussy eating, orgasm, tit worship, sleeping

word count: 1k

“Damn baby, what’s an ass like that doing with a girl like you?” You could’ve thrown up right there. You whipped around, facing some douche that was fairly drunk. Before you could retort back, this asshole was on the floor. You saw the flash of white hair, seeing your ex-girlfriend clutching her now bleeding fist. You smirked, walking over to her.

“Sorry, darling, was he bothering you?” Pheebs winked at you, wiping the blood onto her shirt. You snorted, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Not your darling, but I suppose I owe you a thank you.” You cooed at the shorter blonde. She flashed a toothy smile, wrapping an arm around your waist. She guided you to the outdoor patio, finding a secluded spot to talk. 

“Don’t suppose I could talk you into wasting some time with me tonight?” She proposed to you. In all honesty, it wasn’t a bad idea. You didn’t even know why you were at this party, your friends long abandoned you hours ago, and no cell service to call an uber. You don’t know why you stayed, but frankly you had nothing better going on. Sitting and flirting with your ex girlfriend was certainly an option to pass the time.

“Alright, I'll bite. Yeah, why not?” You huffed, looking down at your half-drunk cup of whiskey and coke. 

“You look real good tonight, Y/N. I missed seeing you all dolled up.” She was always quite the charmer, bearing a cheeky smile that made you sopping wet weak in the knees. You winked at her, scooching a bit closer.

“Oh yeah? What else have you missed about me?” You teased, looking over at her. She chuckled, wrapping an arm around your waist. 

“Everything- the smell of your hair, your cute little laugh, the way your pussy tastes- nothing out of the ordinary.” She whispered, her mouth brushing against the shell of your ear. You leaned into her touch, laying your forehead against hers. 

“Anything else?” You purred, daring her to make a move on you. She pulled you up onto her lap, so your legs were straddling her thighs, making your skirt bunch up around your waist.

“Yeah, I want to bend you over and fuck you so hard you won’t even want me to leave in the morning.” She growled, before pressing a wet, open-mouthed kiss to your neck. You moaned, feeling the arousal pool in your panties. You squirmed a bit, grinding down on her ripped jeans to attain some sort of friction. She chuckled, sucking a dark bruise to your collarbone. 

“Pheebs- I need you, right now.” You gasped out, absolute putty in her hands. She nodded against you, tapping your thighs to signal you to stand up. You did, and she was quick to follow. 

Phoebe grabbed your hand, pulling you back into the crowded house, and up the stairs to find an empty room. You downed the rest of your drink, mostly to calm your nerves. The first time you see Phoebe in over a year and she’s about to make you see stars. She pulled you into an empty bedroom, slamming the door behind you before scooping you into her arms. She slammed you against the door, before catching your lips against her own. She licked fervently, moaning into your tongue. You tugged at her locks, tightening your legs around her waist. She carried you to the bed, dropping you against the fluffy mattress. She backed up, taking in the sight before her. 

There you were, hazy-eyed, dressed up, for her very own eyes. She could see the growing wet patch adorning the rose colored panties. The top you had on was tight, and pushing your tits up together. She loved your boobs, loved sucking on them, marking them, they were hers. She even went as far as naming them, not that she had ever told you. 

She grabbed your feet, pulling off your heel, chucking them somewhere over her shoulder. She moved her hands up your bare legs. She pushed your skirt up around your waist, gawking at the sight of your cute pink panties.

“my, my darlin. You look good enough to eat.” She murmured, face just inches above your aching cunt. You whined, bucking your hips up to her face, but she grinned devilishly, pulling back. 

“tease….” you huffed at her. She laughed, pressing a kiss to your thigh. She tugged your panties off, slipping them into her back pocket for later. She pushed your thighs apart, winking at your face once more before finally diving in. Her tongue parted your folds, gathering your slick and swirling it around your nub. You squealed, throwing your head back against the pillows. Her hands moved up, pulling your tits out of your top so they were on full display. She pinched your nipple between her fingers, rolling it and kneading it. You moaned, the sensation of her hands and mouth on you, almost too sinful for you. 

She slipped two fingers into your pussy, setting a moderate pace as she suckled your clit into her mouth. She flicked her tongue over the bud, making you scream out in pleasure. Your thighs clamped around her head, shaking as they closed themselves around her. She moaned into your pussy, pumping her fingers faster as she coaxed your first orgasm out of you. You felt hot tears roll down your cheeks, eyes rolling back into your skull. Her mouth was a work of art, she knew how good she was with it. 

Your eyes fluttered open, taking in the sunshine that peeked through the curtains. You sat up quickly, instantly regretting it as your head began to pound.

“Fuck” you muttered, rubbing through your scalp, trying to recount last night’s events. 

“I can do it again, but i was hoping to get some breaky first, babe.” Your eyes widened, you slowly turned your head, seeing Phoebe naked lying next to you with her arms behind her head. You froze, putting the pieces together as to what happened last night.

“Did we?” “mhm” “did I?” “yup” “and you?-” “oh for sure”

You nodded, settling back into the blonde’s arms. She kissed your forehead, running her fingers through your tangled hair. 

“ So breakfast, huh? Like a date?” You asked, glancing up towards her. She smiled, leaning over to kiss you sweetly.

“ First of many, figured we should talk some things over.” She replied. You smiled, blushing harshly before pulling her back down to kiss you.

Love, A

[quitealotofsodapop]

One thing I don't think is mentioned enough is the fact that during the journey, a lot of Celestials took the opportunity to just... outright FUCK around with Wukong. Like, they'd send all sorts of demons their way intentionally just to intervene and say "Oh hey! You found my favorite pet!" Even Guanyin hadn't been innocent of this considering she had this huge fit over her pet goldfish. And if they weren't using their pets they were finding other methods to delay or otherwise force the Pilgrims off the beaten path and into danger out of some sort of test, spite, or pettiness.

Now, think about how in the both JTTW and Slow Boiled au Wukond actually was pregnant or not during the journey, and in Century au, the Heavenly Court BELIEVE he was pregnant. So imagine how those guys feel after they decided to fuck with Wukong put of spite and found out they unknowingly were stressing a pregnant monkey out!?

Yeah! Characters like Gold Star hide their identities to aid the main characters, while some are just... doing it for fun? Are they LARP-ing? And Monkey has Gold-Vision; why does he always not recognise these people even from his Celestial days?

Guanyin set up a whole honey trap knowing that half the squad ain't into it, and dropped the gang on their way home cus they missed 1 story event. The abbey with the Ginseng tree were pretty rude af. The Buddha's own servants tried to fleece the gang of the scriptures. Multiple kingdoms suffered cus King Who-Care shot somebody's bird-cousin, or knocked over a table of offerings. And the 28 Lunar Mansions took almost 13 years to realise that the Wood Wolf was missing.

Lao Tzu's lab assisants literally run off with his stuff and become demon lords for lulz (or they were the assisants that let the Rhino King/Buffalo out and were scared that they'd get in trouble). And lets not forget RHINO KING. Bruh, you somehow lost track of a gotdang celestial Bull-Rhino!?

Guanyin's not immune from this; TWO of her pets became horrific demons (Goldfish and Sai Taisui) and are arguably the most irredeemable of all the villains faced.

Lady Earth Flow/Albino Rat/Bat spirit is even described as Li Jing's adoptive daughter - how the f that happen?? How did he lose track of a whole kid so bad that she became a vampire-esque demon?

Manjusri let their cat (Azure Lion) out TWICE. And they cursed the Wuji kingdom for tossing them in a sewer for preeching.

After a point, I'd imagine Wukong in the stone egg aus would just throw his hands up and start yelling at the gods directly. He's even bolder in the Jttw Stone Egged au given that he has Macaque as back-up.

You know that chapter where Rhino King steals all of the Heavenly Army's powers and weapons, and the immortals are all infighting so hard that Wukong has to be the voice of reason?

Imagine a tiny hormonal monkey just going nuts at these gods. He's screaming in their faces. He's demanding Nezha lift him up so he can look General Li Jing in the eye. He's telling them what good are they as fighters if they only feel safe with their weapons and powers? Wukong has a *damn* good reason he ain't taking on Rhino King in a 1-v-1 rn, whats all these gods excuse?!

The gods are too surprised and intimidated to argue back. And you better believe a certain alchemist is getting a smack for letting a whole animal loose from his lab.

[angel-of-the-moons]

Pavitr x reader where his wife or gf does end up pregnant? Idk maybe one where they find out they are and how they'd react to it, or one where reader has been pregnant a while and they do some...activities.

Canon Events

Pavitr x Wife!Reader

TW/CW: Anxiety, Miguel's Canon Event™ PTSD, Pregnancy, Pregnancy anxiety, baby talk!

Pavitr is obviously aged up in this fic

A/N: I'm going to work through my asks a bit to help take my mind off the grief and stress, so I simply had to make this fluffy. I might make a second part to it where it gets spicy, once I feel better.

🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷

"Wuh-oh." Lyla said, swiping through the pop-up monitors surrounding her tiny yellow frame.

"What is it, Lyla?" Miguel asked, sipping his coffee. His deep chocolate eyes focused on the AI's persona as she squinted at the data.

"New canon event detected, Migs." She said, typing faster than any human could ever fathom.

"Where." He said, immediately setting his coffee down to furrow his brows at her.

Already he could feel his body tense at the news, after what happened with Miles and his canon event, not to mention Miguel's own...

He couldn't handle another mutiny, not when everything had finally been settled back into place, the web repaired and strengthened.

"Whose universe is it? Which one?"

"It's... Pavitr's." Lyla said, her eyebrows rising considerably behind her heart-shaped glasses.

He sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. Great. What horrible situation did fate have in plan for that particular Spider-Man, now? His Aunty Maya dying? One of his friends? You?

He knew Pavitr understood the importance of canon events, but...

"How bad?"

"Actually it's..." Lyla let out a startled chuckle, tipping her head to grin at Miguel with her crooked teeth. "It's... well, okay, depending on your point of view it could be good or bad, but I think Pavitr might consider this a good one--"

"Lyla..." He sighed, tapping his foot.

"Alright, alright big guy, don't get your panties in a twist." She snorted, "Pulling it up now."

Miguel turned his thick frame to peer at the hologram as an image of you materialized behind him.

It looked like you were in some kind of doctor's office. Judging by the pictures on the wall, some sort of women's health center.

He squinted at the posters, every inch of the room, until his eyes finally focused on you, holding papers in your hand, shaking, the gold band on your ring finger catching the lights above and glinting a little too brightly for his eyes.

Miguel slowly began to circle your image as you read the papers. Your face looked cold and clammy, a bead of sweat trickled down your brow.

Cancer? No, no, Lyla said this was good news, for once.

So, what...

His brows shot up, the creases in his tanned skin deepening as he leaned in to peer over your shoulder at the paperwork.

He rapidly scanned each word. Your flu tests came back negative, no allergens to report, no life-threatening diseases...

But the blood results are what intrigued him.

Estrogen levels were elevated...

As were prolactin and progesterone levels.

Miguel had to step back and let his jaw go slack as he looked at you, holding the papers that, printed at the bottom...

Reported a strong, tiny little heartbeat.

You were pregnant. And judging by the levels of hormones in your system, you were halfway through your first trimester.

He watched as your eyes welled up, fat tears burning hot as they broke over the dam of your lashes, dripping down your cheeks. Your doctor handed you some tissues and rubbed your back, smiling sweetly as she calmed you down.

"I know, I know, honey. It's overwhelming... Just breathe." She coos.

You wipe at your eyes and take a few shaky breaths. "I just... I'm sorry, it's hard to control it all. Ugh, I've been wondering why I've been so moody lately, but my period was late!"

"Mhmm... hormones will do that to a mama." She says patiently. "What will you tell your husband?"

"I think--"

Miguel raised his hand to Lyla to stop the hologram. This was something deeply personal, and it didn't sit right in his gut about this, that he found out before Pavitr...

He pulled up his gizmo and pulled up Pavitr's frequency, his fingers moving a little too fast so he had to backtrack a couple of times.

Finally, the voice to the chipper, younger hero came through.

"Hi, boss! Uh... What's up?" He said awkwardly.

"Go home, Pavitr, I'm assigning someone else to your workload." He said, his tone a bit softer than usual.

"I--whuh--huh?" He could hear the bewilderment in the man's voice as he stammered for a reply.

"Just go home, Pavitr. That's an order."

"I... Eh. Uh. O-okay?"

Miguel sighed as he terminated the connection.

He hoped Pavitr was ready for this.

🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷

"Heee-llo my beautiful wife!" Pavitr called out, dropping his duffel by the door, a bit of a pep in his step as he walked through your apartment to look for you.

Pavitr called your name once or twice, and his brows creased with worry when you didn't respond. Were you out? No... No. Your shoes were by the front door.

He spotted you, sitting at the island in your kitchen, a cup of hot chai in your delicate hands.

You giggled softly as he kissed your shoulder and cheek on excessive pecks and loud "mwah's" before dropping his chin onto your shoulder.

He looked at your social media feed (actually it was some kind of forum that you quickly closed) and chirped, "Whatcha looking at?"

"Oh, just... stuff." You say evasively, squirming in your seat.

"Oh? What kinda stuff?"

"Oh, I..." You say, splaying your hands over an envelope. The logo on the sticker was from your usual doctor's office, and his brows pinched in concern.

"Sweetheart, what's up? You said you had a doctor's appointment today. Is everything okay?"

"W-Well, I... I mean..." You swallow thickly. "It's... I-I mean..."

"Are you okay???" He spun your stool around to hold your shoulders, his big dark eyes wide with concern for you as he scanned your face for any signs of... anything.

"I..." You cast a glance back at the envelope. The words felt like cotton in a dry mouth, choking and unable to utter.

Why were you so nervous about this? You talked about this together, brainstormed the "what-ifs" a million times during late nights, limbs tangled as sweat cooled on your bodies beneath the sheets.

You knew Pavitr would never be... angry about this. With you.

So why was there a nasty pit in the deepest part of your stomach right now?

Pavitr looked at the envelope, and slowly reached out for it, waiting for you to tell him to stop or if you were uncomfortable.

You wrung your fingers together and chewed the inside of your cheek anxiously as you watched him read your papers, mumbling about how everything looked okay.

But...

Then his eyes got to the last page. Your pregnancy test results.

He lifted the paper--almost comically--close to his face.

For agonizing milliseconds that felt like ages, the papers hid his face from view. All you could see was how he trembled, his fists clenching around the paper.

Finally, he lowered them, and those big, beautiful, dark eyes were glistening with tears and his lip was wobbling.

"I'm l--I'm--I'm gonna be a dad?" He blubbered near-incoherently.

"Y.... yes." You peep.

The papers were immediately forgotten as he buried his face into your chest and full-on started to ugly cry, babbling about how much he loved you and how happy he was.

Why on Earth were you ever afraid of how he'd react to the news?

You sniffled and hiccuped, his high emotional rollercoaster hitting you, too.

Immediately, he lifted his snot-covered, tear-stained face to look up at you, and his hands went to your cheeks, wiping your tears away.

"Hey, hey, hey! I love you! I love you so so so so so so so--"

"Pav..." You sniffed.

"Right, right." He muttered lifting his head to look down the hall. The room you two had turned into a room for your sewing projects was across the hall from your room. A little small, compared to yours, but...

"So if we can move stuff around, your machine can come out here, then we can put the crib in there..."

You blink dumbly at him.

"W... wait so you... You're serious? About.... about this?"

Pavitr turns to you with a grin, grabbing a paper napkin from the counter and completely cleaning his face, taking a fresh one and dabbing your tears away.

He kissed the tip of your nose, then your forehead, your cheeks, and finally, your lips.

Pavitr's hands moved low, pressing over your belly ever so gently. His eyes flicked up to yours once again.

"You and this... our little baby, are the most important things in my life." He swears. "I'm never going to back out on either of you."

He kisses you on the lips one more time, pulling away enough to touch your cheek, a grin on his charming, handsome face.

"So! Wanna look at baby stuff online? We can order takeout and chill!"

You didn't know why you were ever worried in the first place.

[cowboydisaster]

The Fire In Your Eyes

part VIII: horseshoe overlook iv

pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

word count: 15.2k

summary: it's time for the train job, the biggest job you've ever done. You've got a bad feeling about it, and by the end you wish you would have listened to your gut.

a/n: Surprise! Early post! Thank you for your patience with this chapter! Yall know I always upload on Wednesday, but i was so sick that i couldn't write, and i had to go to the ER on tuesday night to get fluids. Anyway, this has been the scariest chapter to write ever. Don't kill me please and please don't give up on this series... love yall, don't yell at me and please trust me. This chapter was too long and got split into two parts: part two will be posted in three days time.

beta read by @margowritesthings

warnings: violence, death, minors dni, 18+

series extras

SERIES MASTERPOST

Arthur leaves long before you even wake up, heading back down to Blackwater to find Sean. It gives you a sick feeling in your stomach, but you trust he’ll be okay. Arthur is smart, and even though he's good at getting himself in sticky situations, he's equally good at getting out of them. It doesn't do much to help your worry, but it’s all you can cling to for right now.

You swirl your half empty cup of coffee in your hand, leaning down for the percolator to reheat it. The fire is warm, alongside the sun, and you find yourself grateful for the off the shoulder shirt you’d picked up a few days ago. It's the perfect temperature you think, tasting the bitter coffee. You're startled out of your thoughts by a weary presence.

“Penny for your thoughts, ma’am?” Kieran asks, walking passed to sit down opposite of you on a crate. He looks nervous, like he was afraid to come sit, and you feel sorry for it. Kieran seems like a nice man, just someone who was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“Just thinkin’ about all that's goin’ on… I see they let you live, huh?” You chuckle, and Kieran nods, nervously. 

“Well Mr. Morgan convinced Dutch to let me stay, I thought maybe that was your doin.” Kieran says, and your eyebrow pings up in shock. 

“Did he now?” You hum, surprised by Arthur’s choice, “No, That was all Mr. Morgan. Well good for you, I just hope he won’t regret it.”

“Oh he won’t! I'm real good with horses, miss, worked in a stable most my life. I’m sure I can be of help with anything you folks need, especially in that regard. I can do anything, even latrines. I’ll earn my keep, miss, I will.” Kieran stutters and you nod, eyeing him over. 

“But speakin’ of horses… that palomino over there, the blue eyed one, is she yours?” Kieran asks, nodding towards Athena, who has her neck to the ground, tearing through the bale of hay there. You smile, watching as she pins her ears at Old Boy, keeping the hay for herself. 

“Yeah, she’s mine. Just got her since we’ve been here.” You smile, and Kieran takes note of her configuration. 

“She looks like a thoroughbred. Nice and tall, lean and muscular.” Kieran points out, and you hum at his accuracy. 

“She is.” You respond, eyeing whether or not Kieran has a motive or if he's just a lover of all things equine. You sip at your bitter coffee, letting him speak for himself.

“Y’know palomino thoroughbreds are of the rare sort, n’ with those blues? Well you got a real fine animal, miss.” Kieran says, doting over your mare. You smile, making a note to mention Kieran’s knowledge of horses to Arthur. Maybe that could be his designated contribution. At least he’d be doing something he enjoys instead of getting harassed and threatened by the gang all day. 

“Thank you.” You hum, drinking the rest of your coffee. 

"Well I reckon I better take my coffee and head back to shuckin' corn till they give me a better job. But it was real nice talkin' to you, miss. You're the first person who's treated me like a person rather than an animal since I've been here." Kieran smiles, filling up his cup with the percolator before nodding to you and heading back to Pearson's wagon. You frown, feeling sorry for him. You were lucky enough to have been found by Arthur, but it could have gone any other way. O'Driscolls could have found you first, and you could be in Kieran's shoes right now. 

Sighing, and taking your cup of coffee, you stand up and walk past Strauss's tent, ignoring his greeting. There's a little log sitting near the edge of the cliff behind his tent, and it's a perfect little spot to sit and think. Not wanting to be bothered, your eyes stay pinned on the log as you make your way towards it. The view is breathtaking, you can see everything from the Dakota River to the tops of the Grizzlies from the spot as you sit down, drinking in the warm air. It's a secluded little area, far enough from camp to get away from the arguments and bickering, but close enough for safety. You're enjoying your solitude, watching two bucks fight down below the cliff, they're antlers are stuck together as they rip and rug. It's an interesting sight, until it's interrupted by a throat clearing behind you. 

"John." You sigh, annoyed not with his presence but the fact that you know why he's here. 

"Nice to see you too." John chuckles, bringing his leg over the log to sit next to you with a cigarette between his lips.

“Gotta get some supplies for this train job, I could use an extra hand that ain't a dumbass.” John asks, leaning backwards to stretch. You sigh, not wanting to even think about the damn train job. But nonetheless, you nod. 

“Sure. What exactly is your plan for goin’ about it?” You ask, scooching towards John as he pinches the cigarette between his fingers, shaking it before tossing it on the ground. He pulls a map from his pocket, unfolds the heavily used paper, and holds it out for you to see. 

“Trains' comin’ from Riggs Station. It’s dropping off its security detail in The Heartlands, and after dark it’s heading down to Rhodes to pick up the next regiment.” He explains, tracing his finger over the paper from Riggs Station to Rhodes. 

“So it’ll be completely unguarded for this whole stretch of tracks?” You ask. It sounds too good to be true, but you know that John and Arthur have done this enough by now. They know how to get proper information. But the idea of the train job still makes your stomach flip with anxiety as you’ve never robbed anything as big as a train. 

“Well, not exactly. The security that they’re payin the big bucks for won’t be there, but we expect a few armed passengers, and some local boys guardin’ the train for extra cash. It won't be completely unguarded, but it sure as hell won’t be a militia like you’d expect.” 

You nod, taking the map from his hands gently, and looking it over. 

“Where do we board, n’ how are we boardin’ it?” You ask, and John places his index finger over a little area labeled Dewberry Creek, just past the Lemoyne/New Hanover stateline. 

“Here. We’ll have to stop the train, or it’ll take us right into town. I figure we get an oil wagon, ease it over the tracks. When that train comes through and sees that oil? It’ll stop just fine. We board her, encourage those rich bastards to give up their grammy’s pearls and we ride out.” John explains, tucking the map back into his pocket.

“Alright… seems like a solid plan.” You admit, ignoring your gut, “Where do we get a full oil wagon?” You ask, dusting some dirt off of your new jeans. 

“That’s where you come in. Only place I reckon we find one is the oil fields, out in The Heartlands, you know of it?”

You shake your head no, “Uh-uh.”

“Well it's well guarded for the most part, but most of those guys sleep or drink on the job. And they don’t get paid enough to give a damn. I’m heading over now to scout the place out, get an idea of the schedule. Thought maybe you could tag along, put that head to use instead of washin’ clothes for old Susan.”

You raise an eyebrow, unsure if he's just complimented you or insulted you, but still, you nod. 

“Alright. Let me pack some stuff, I’ll meet you by the horses.” 

John nods as you walk back towards your tent. With a sigh, you pull the canvas open. Your saddle bag is sitting on your bed, and you stuff it with some provisions and a change of clothes, then decide that you’ll need to grab some more ammo from Arthur's tent just in case. Once everything is all packed and settled, you swing your saddlebag over your shoulder and head back out. You stop around the back of Arthur’s wagon, picking up a few cases of express bullets and some throwing knives from the makeshift armory. 

“What does she want from him now? I never liked hearin' about her…” Marybeth hisses, and you look up, startled, realizing she is standing in Arthur’s tent. You’re peeking around the back of the wagon, eavesdropping as Marybeth places a crisp white envelope on Arthur’s bedside table.

“I always thought Mary was nice…” Tilly responds, picking up the envelope and looking it over before returning it. 

“Nice like a patch of poison ivy.” Marybeth bites, and Tilly rolls her eyes. 

“You didn’t even know her. Not when she was really around, anyway. She was always kind, just… didn’t agree with our life. Can you blame her?” Tilly sighs, and they walk out of the tent together. 

Your eyebrows pull together, and you walk around the outside of his tent until you're at the entrance. You hum, looking at the envelope before striding through his tent towards it. It’s upside down on his table, and you know you shouldn’t be snooping through his mail, but you pick it up and flip it over regardless. Written in sloppy cursive is ‘Arthur’ and you look after the lettering for a while. The paper is fancy, the kind that is expensive and only available in the city. Your finger trails over the lettering, and it itches to tear the red seal off and read the contents, but you restrain yourself. You know if the roles were reversed Arthur would respect your privacy. Sighing, you place the envelope back and meet John by the horses, wondering who Mary might be the whole way over. John is just climbing into the saddle when you approach. 

“Ready to go?” He asks, settling himself down over Old Boy and checking the straps on his saddlebag.

“Sure.” You mumble, mounting up onto Athena and giving her a nice pat. Once you’re settled, the two of you start cantering out of the trails, nodding to Karen who is keeping watch. Instead of riding towards Valentine, John leads you out towards the Heartlands, into unfamiliar territory for you. You can’t help but think about those men, Milton and Ross, and wonder why in the hell you’re all robbing a train right now.

“Why does Dutch keep pushin’ this job?” You holler up, squeezing Athena to run faster after John.  

“I got no idea.” He yells back to you. Once you run over the tracks the terrain changes from grass to dry, sandy dirt, and you try to keep Athena on the trail to avoid getting any rocks lodged in her shoes. 

“It don’t make sense, we should be leavin. Now I don't want to, not at all, but there was Pinkertons right next to our camp, just a stone's throw away.” You shake your head, unbelieving of Dutch’s terrible call. 

“Do you think they know where we are?” John asks, turning in his saddle a bit as he gallops on. 

“No. No if they knew where we are they would have just came to camp… But still, approachin’ us like that when we had Jack with us? Tellin’ us, in front of him, what happened to Mac? They can all go to hell.” You hiss, and John goes quiet for a minute. All you can hear is hooves pounding as you wait for his response. 

“You and Arthur had Jack?” John asks, like he's angry, but mostly surprised. Your eyebrows draw together, unsure of why it’s a big deal.

“Well, yeah. Abigail asked us to watch him for a bit, just to cheer him up.” You respond as he leads you up the bank towards Citadel Rock. John huffs loudly, rolling his eyes and shaking his head as if he disapproves.

“You got a problem with that?” You bite, noticing the tension in his shoulders, and his quiet, aggressive demeanor.

“She acts like I ain’t there… for her or the boy.” John hisses, shaking his head. It grows quiet again as you think back to Abigail’s pleading tears, begging you to take Jack because John wouldn't.

“Are you?” You ask, with some judgment. John really thinks about your question, slowing Old Boy to a trot as he comes up near the slope of Citadel Rock. He left them, but he came back, that counts for something in his eyes. Surely, it counts in Abigail’s eyes too…. 

“Well yeah!” John says defensively, “Im tryin’... tryin’ to get money for them at least, so she can raise the boy up proper.” John says, stopping his stallion at the edge of the cliff, overlooking The Heartlands. You pull Athena up alongside him, stopping so you can look him in the eyes. 

“Money don’t matter if you ain’t there for ‘em.” You whisper, no harshness or judgment in your eyes, although he takes it with such, pulling back and scrunching up his face in anger. 

“The hells that supposed to mean?” He bites, dropping his reins and throwing an arm in the air towards you. You keep your calm demeanor, only wanting to help the little family. You have no quarrels against John or his parenting, but you’re the one in camp watching Abigail comfort a crying Jack when his daddy isn't there to tuck him in night after night.

“It’s just…” You think over your words, tongue darting out over your lips, “Your boys' real upset, he misses ya John. Abigail won't admit it but she misses you too.” Your wrist rests on the horn of your saddle, toying with the leather reins as you watch John’s face soften. He sighs, eyes downcast as he runs his hand over his face, careful not to catch the healing stitches on his right side.

“You think?” He asks, looking up to you, and you nod your head up and down, sure.

“I don't know what I’m doin’ Star.” John sighs, doubting himself. It’s not that he doesn’t want to be there for Jack and Abigail, he doesn't know how to. He doesn't see himself cut out to be a father or a husband, and he has a hard time believing his family wants him around. 

“None of us do,” You huff a laugh, thinking of your own situation with Arthur, “You just gotta try your best to do right by them.” 

John nods, offering you a small, sad smile as he leans over to tap your knee in thanks. Without another word, but with a mutual understanding, you both dismount your horses. Then it’s time to get down to work. John takes both the horses, and he hitches them down the bank a ways so they can’t be seen from the roads or the fields. As he takes them away, you pull out your binoculars. Crouching, you look through the glass and take in the infamous Heartland Oil Fields. There is one big building, the factory, on the left side of the tracks that run straight through the place. On the right are smaller buildings, you’re presuming bunks, outhouses and storage rooms. The entire place is fenced in, except for where the tracks run through and the main entrance, guarded by two armed men. You search for an oil wagon, and find a few but you’re not sure which are empty or full. Armed guards stand all around the place, and there is a damn moat of oil ponds on the right perimeter. You pull the binoculars down, hearing John return as he walks up beside you. He too is eyeing the factory, face drawn up as he thinks over a plan. 

“How do you reckon we go about this?” You ask, handing him over the binoculars. He takes them, and does the same look around that you’ve just had. 

“We stay here and figure out their routine. They have a checkpoint at the front gate, so if we watch them long enough we’ll know which wagons are full and when. Then we slip in at night, once the workers have gone home. We’ll only have to get past the guards.” John explains and you sigh, nodding. You look up at the sun, holding your fingers up to the horizon. It’s nearly 4PM, you’re gonna be here for a while.

“Why don’t you make us a fire or somethin? And grab my bedroll too. This is uncomfortable as hell.” You ask of him as you plop down on the dirt, taking the first watch. 

— — — — 

“Star?” John mumbles, and you groan, eyelashes fluttering. You curl your knees in tighter until John shakes your shoulder.

“Star, get up. It’s time to go.” John says, and those four words alone pull you from your slumber, it's time to go.

In the past six hours you and John had traded shifts a handful of times, and both picked up the same pattern. A wagon is filled every hour on the hour, and then left for only ten minutes while the guards do their rounds. Once the ten minutes are up, the wagon is taken out the front gate by a heavily armed detail, and sent off. You had suggested earlier that it might be easier to steal the wagon after it leaves the oil fields, but John had said the risk of the oil wagon getting shot would be too high. So you stick with the original plan, leaving you only ten minutes to sneak into the place and sneak out with the wagon. It’ll be hard, but it’s your only option. 

“They just started their rounds, hurry up.” John explains as you scramble to your feet. You notice he has the camp taken down already, and the fire is nothing but smoking ashes as you quickly roll up your bedroll. Quietly whistling for Athena, you wait for her to arrive before strapping down your bedroll and jumping onto her back. The ten minute countdown has already begun as you and John gallop down the hill. 

“Which way do we go in?” You ask, running after John towards the right flank of the fenced oil fields. 

“We're gonna come up on the right side, ditch the horses a ways out, and jump the fence. Wagon should be sitting right there. Then we just drive it right out the front gate.” John hollers back, slowing Old Boy down once you can see the fence. Coyotes yip and howl in The Heartlands, making the night even more eerie as you approach the factory. With the dark and the distance, none of the guards can see your horses as you both dismount and break for the fence. You shoo both horses, signaling them to flee. And then you're running, keeping your breaths controlled and steady as you watch out for any straggling guards. John reaches the fence before you do. It’s not very high and he easily jumps over it. 

“C’mon!” John whispers as you throw yourself over the fence, landing painfully on your ankle with a wince. He grabs your elbow, pulling you along with him. Once you're inside, you take a look around to get your bearings. You see a few swinging lanterns in the distance, all guards on watch, but none of them look in your direction. Most of the lanterns near the bunk houses have been snuffed out for the night, leaving you to the shadows. You turn in the other direction and see exactly what you're looking for.

“Right there!” You whisper, pointing ahead to the wagon. It’s pulled in front of one of the tents, and John helps you run towards it. Two white shire horses are hooked up to the wagon, and you’re glad to see that they’re strong and agile. 

“Go on, get up there. I’ll drive.” John says, hushed as he breaks away from you to get on the left side of the wagon. You’re not sure how much time you have, but surely it’s not much. Your heart pumps loudly in your ears as you climb up the side of the wagon, ignoring the slight pain in your ankle. John clambers up, and just as he reaches the bench seat you hear a low, deep growl. You snap your head around to catch the source and the blood runs from your face at the sight of a massive bloodhound. A guard dog. His jaw snaps as he snarls at you with a warning. 

“John…?” You whisper, so quietly that he barely hears. He turns and sees the dog, and his eyes flicker from it to the guards walking on the other side of the factory. The dog's hackles are raised as it snarls, showing its teeth. You know that if it barks, or alerts the guards in any way, you’ll both be caught. John shushes it and slowly starts to roll the wagon away, quietly cueing the horses onward. The dog snarls again, snapping its jaws as you quietly ride the wagon away. 

“What do we do? What if it alerts someone?” You whisper, heart racing. If the dog alerts a single guard, you’ll have every person in the facility shooting at you. 

“I don’t know, drive like hell, I guess.” John offers as you watch the dog. John has the horses going at a nice trot towards the entrance, and sweat runs down your brow as the dog runs after the wagon. You’re just about to breach the front gate when it happens- when the bloodhound does what bloodhounds do. It bays, and it bays loud. 

"What is it boy? What ya find?" Someone hollers, and a lantern flicks on in one of the tents. John flicks the reins over the horse's backs harshly and they pick up a canter towards the front gate. 

“Shit!" You hiss as the dog continues, head tossed up in the air as guards start to come out and find the disturbance. One man comes out from a tent, still in pajamas with a rifle in hand. Your eyes widen as he stares directly at you. 

“Right there! They’re takin’ a wagon!” The barely clothed man yells, and John curses as he smacks the horses with the reins again, and they take off. More guards and workers seem to come out and see you all escaping, and everyone readies their rifles. John steers the horses out the main gate just as bullets start to whiz past your head. 

“Stop them!” Another guard calls out, “Get the damn law!” 

Bullets ping against the wooden wheels of the wagon, and buzz through the air past your head. You lean your head down to protect yourself as you grab your carbine from around your shoulder, good thing you grabbed those bullets. 

“Shoot somethin’!” John yells, maneuvering the horses along the roads in the direction of Dewberry Creek. 

“Im tryin!” You yell back, loading your carbine before popping up and taking down two guards who were shooting from behind the fence. A few bullets ping against the side of the wagon, and you gasp, realizing how quickly it could go up in flames. You pop up from the bench again, and fire into the chests of three men who were running after the wagon.

“Watch the damn oil, you morons!” One of the guards yells to his men. You shoot down three more men before you have to reload again. John is getting you further from the oil fields, and the flashing of gunfire gets farther away until two riders come out after the wagon. You’re still filling up the magazine when they ride up on you, and John ducks, yelling something. A few more bullets whiz passed before you stand up and shoot both men down from their horses. You pant, ducking as three more riders gallop after you both. John has the horses running at a dizzying pace as you stand, taking down two men. You're extra careful not to shoot or hurt the rider's horses as you come up and shoot the last man. 

“Is that the last of them?” John yells as you pant, wiping sweat from your brow and slumping back into your seat. 

“Yeah, that's all.” You breathe heavily, tossing your carbine strap back over your shoulder. You whistle, and turn around to watch for Athena. John does the same, and luckily after a few minutes, both come running behind the wagon. 

“Where we takin’ this again? I know you said the creek, but specifically?” You ask, taking your hat off and setting it in your lap to untie your braid. You pull the cloth tie out, running your fingers through the waves that are now down your back. 

“We’re droppin’ it near this torn down house. I’ll leave the horses go and we'll come back for it when the train comes through.” John explains, and you nod. 

It’s a bit of a ride, especially with the pace you go at. The horses are exhausted and scared from the shootout, so John doesn’t push them past a trot. It's nice to just relax in the passenger seat, and you focus on the humming of bugs and frogs while your heartbeat settles. It's a cloudy night, the kind where a cold fog settles over the place, but you don't mind. It's still beautiful. The moon pokes through the fog in a hazy glow, offering some light for John to lead you to Dewberry Creek. He winds the wagons down the open hills until you reach a small trail along a big dried up creek bed. 

"Guess the creek ain't fairin' so well." You point out, watching as coyotes yip and run through the dried up creek. 

"Guess not." John offers, pulling the wagons toward a structure. It looks like a little house that burned down. The foundation is intact, along with the fireplace and support beams, but the rest has burned away. 

"We pull them off right here." John says, turning the horses to walk in between the house and a patch of trees. He starts to slow them down, and you hop from the wagon before it stops. Immediately you jog around the backside to check the cargo. 

"Shit, John! Shit!" You hiss, taking in the oil wagon that is riddled with random bullet holes. There's about five or six, and no more oil leaks from them. You knock on the side of the wagon as John jumps down, groaning when the wagon sounds hollow. 

"All the oils' gone." You sigh, rubbing your face as John paces around the backside of the wagon. Athena grows antsy from the upset, and she stomps and rears lightly. 

"Now what the hell do we do?" You ask angrily, calling Athena over to comfort her. You hand her an oatcake to munch on and stroke her neck as John comes up with a plan. Athena's gentle nickers calm you down, and you take a deep breath as she leans into your hand. John is standing back from the wagon, hands on his hips as he thinks it over.

"It'll work just the same. The conductor won't know if it's full or not." John says, biting his cheek and you sigh. 

"We can't just go get another one." John huffs, "That oil factory is on high alert now." 

"You're sure it'll work?" You ask, stepping towards him with raised eyebrows.

"It'll work." He reassures you. You nod, sighing and waking towards the front of the wagon where the two white shire horses are hooked up. John does the same on the other side, and you both slice the leather harness straps, freeing the horses. 

"When's it comin' through?" You ask, patting the shire horse to run off. 

"Tomorrow night." John says, and your stomach aches at the thought. Only twenty four hours until your first train job. 

Athena and Old Boy are grazing next to each other just a short walk away from the wagon, and you and John silently walk towards them, sheathing your knives and watching as the pair of white shire horses run up over the hill, bucking and whinnying.

"You ever rob a train before?" John asks, looking over at your anxious expression. You shake your head, coming up to Athena. 

"No, afraid not. Just drunken idiots usually." You chuckle, and John smiles. 

"Y'know I'm glad it was Arthur's watch you stole, and not mine back in Tumbleweed. I probably never would have noticed, and you'd still be runnin' all over hell in the west." John chuckles, and you smile at the memory, mounting onto Athena. 

"Still can't believe he brought ya back like he did, but I'm glad for it." John says, climbing onto his stallion. Your eyebrows pull together lightly at his remark.

"Why's that?" You ask, cueing Athena into a canter with John behind you.

"Arthur, he ain't never brought someone back to camp before you, and he throws a big fuss when someone new comes in. He gets all pissed and leaves for a few days. He says it's 'easier to lie low with less people.' Musta seen somethin' in you, though." John hollers up to you, and your features soften. You wonder why Arthur chose differently for you, why he brought you back to camp. 

"He's different with you." John says, galloping alongside you, and you have to push Athena further ahead to hide the blush on your cheeks. You want to quip something back, but you come up short because you know he's right. You've heard the same testament from each of the girls, Hosea, and Arthur himself. 

It grows quiet as you gallop through The Heartlands, avoiding the roads and any lingering lawmen. It's late, near midnight when you finally get close to camp. You can hear the cheers and laughter from the road, and you smile back at John.

"Guess they found him." You chuckle, trotting Athena under the fallen tree into camp. When you breach the trees, coming into the little opening, the sight has you laughing. Camp is lighter than it's been in a while. Sean is standing on a crate giving some grand speech with everyone gathered around, and by the sound of it he's already drunk. You hitch Athena, and John nudges your elbow. 

"Reckon I'm gonna go be with my family. Thanks for your help." John pats your back before walking off towards the camp. You smile, taking off the straps of Athena's saddle and placing it over the hitching post before walking towards the crowd.

"Get a load of this bastard." Arthur huffs, walking up beside you with two whiskeys in hand, gesturing to Sean. He hands you a drink, and you smile, glad to be home. 

"Found him strung up in a damn tree surrounded by bounty hunters." 

"A-and I owe my life to old English over 'tere!" Sean points to Arthur, "Yep, 'tats right! Old grumpy Arthur Morgan! Come to save me, ya did! You're my brother, ya arsehole!" Sean laughs heartily, jumping down from the crate and approaching the two of you. 

"Miss!" Sean calls out to you, and Arthur chuckles, sipping his drink. Sean comes to you with a big toothless grin, a contagious one, and wraps you in a hug.

"Ah, I've already got the gossip from Ms. Jones, callin ya Star now, eh?" Sean asks, letting you go before nudging you with his elbow, "It's fittin! Y'know they say you twose are tied together like glue!" Sean winks at you lightly, nudging you and gesturing to Arthur. 

"I know a couple good spots for a shag if you two need a getaway. N' I know an Irishman if you get tired a' this ol'-" Sean starts, pointing to Arthur, but Arthur has had enough.

"Would you please shut up?" Arthur bites, hand pulling away from the bridge of his nose as you giggle. Sean puts his hands up in mock surrender. 

"I was just teasin'! Only pullin' yer leg!" Sean chuckles, tipping his hat to you before backing away and rejoining the crowd. 

"I did not miss that kid." Arthur sighs, leading you towards the campfire where Javier sits, playing a tune. Everyone is in good spirits, especially as Hosea enters with Dutch and two huge, full cases of alcohol, announcing the return party. 

"Yes you did." You tell Arthur, smirking as he sits down on the wolf pelt covered log. You sit down right next to him, closer than what's expected, but you're growing used to the proximity, finding comfort in it even. Sean is talking loudly to the girls as everyone gathers around the crates of hooch. The bottles pass around quickly as Javier picks up a new tune. It's one that everyone knows, and you smile. 

"Cielito Lindo." You remark with a chuckle as Javier picks up the rhythm on his guitar. More people gather around the fire. Dutch, John, the girls, Uncle, Lenny, even Abigail and Jack join in as Javier starts to play. Jack sits on John's lap, nestled right next to Abigail, and you smile at them. 

"¡Ay, ay, ay, ay! ¡Canta y no llores!" Everyone hollers out, not sure of the lyrics or their meaning, but enjoying the energetic song. Even Arthur sings along, and you giggle at his steadily behind, off key tune. 

"¡Porque cantando se alegran, Cielito lindo, los corazones!" Javier sings out, passionately stringing the guitar as a few people clap along and laugh. The smile on your face is brighter than it's been in a while as you watch the weight lift off of the gang's shoulders. Arthur is smiling, and for that you are very grateful. You'd do anything to see him like this more often, carefree and happy. Javier continues the song verse, and everyone claps along until the chorus comes. 

"¡Ay, ay, ay, ay! ¡Canta y no llores!" Everyone calls out again, and you hold your drink up a little as you sing it. Javier continues the song, and you chuckle as Jack pulls Abigail up from her seat to dance with him. He spins around and hops with very little rhythm, just having fun. Arthur chuckles beside you, eyes bright as they lay upon the same scene. 

"You want another drink?" Arthur asks, noticing that your first is nearly gone. You shake your head. 

"No thanks, think I'm cuttin' myself off for the night." You say, handing the bottle over for him to finish. 

"I'm surprised you drank at all after that mess in Valentine." Arthur chuckles as Javier sings out the song's verse. 

"I only had one. Don't plan on bein' that sick ever again, and we got one hell of a job to do tomorrow." You whisper, mind lingering on the train job. You'd like to drink, just to forget about it, but heading into it with a foggy mind is the opposite of what you need. Arthur sighs, digging the heel of his boot into the dirt. 

"We do." He remarks, eyes flickering up to Dutch. Arthur can't understand why Dutch is pushing this job right now with the Pinkertons so close. But he trusts Dutch, and knows he'll lead them out of it. You're not so sure. Dutch is watching you from across camp, a snake-like glint in his eye. You can see the way he wants to use you, to play you like his chess piece and defeat some great power. It's useless, it's ridiculous. An outlaw runs from the law, but Dutch is challenging it, intentionally aggravating it. It's a dangerous game. 

"I got a bad feeling about this job, Arthur." You bring up that gut feeling again, and you know you're right. You don't trust this job, and something is going to go wrong. 

"I know you do… You and John get that wagon today?" Arthur asks as Javier picks up a different song on his guitar. 

"We got the wagon just fine, but it's empty. We were caught red handed and they shot it to hell, all the oil leaked out." You sigh, embarrassed to admit the failure to Arthur, "John says it'll work just fine though, the conductor won't know if it's empty or not." You add as Arthur curses. 

"Enough about that, why don't we just enjoy the party?" You ask, wanting to talk about anything other than the train job and the damn empty wagon. Arthur taps your knee with his knuckles. 

"Sure." He says, offering you a small smile and you release a breath. Javier is playing a new song now, one you don't recognize, but it's a joyful tune, light and happy. 

"Arthur!" Marybeth calls from across the fire, giggling and trodding over towards you both with a big, bright smile. 

"Yes, Miss Gaskill?" Arthur asks as Marybeth comes forward and grabs one of his hands. 

"Dance with me?" She asks, leaning back in an attempt to pull him from his seat. He chuckles, looking over to you for a moment with a rosy blush on his cheeks.

"Oh, I think I'll sit this one out-" Arthur starts, but you shove him upwards by his shoulder, laughing. 

"Go on!" You encourage, shooing them with your hands. Marybeth giggles as she pulls Arthur away, and he turns around to shoot you a glare, with pink cheeks. You chuckle, looking after them as she takes him away from the fire. She pulls him just near the back of Dutch's tent, beside the poker table. He takes her hand, standing awkwardly far from her as the other rests on her waist. You can't help but snort as he starts to dance.

He's awful. Truly the man can't dance, but it's just another quirk that you love about him. He swings side to side with her, arms loosely flinging about, and even though it looks ridiculous they both have huge smiles. A few others have joined, and now Dutch spins Molly around eloquently, and Karen and Sean cling to each other, drunk as ever. Your eyebrows pop up in surprise at the two of them. You had only seen Sean in passing before Blackwater, but Karen had never mentioned they were together. 

Your eyes flicker back to Arthur and Marybeth. They still dance merrily, but Marybeth seems to be scolding Arthur over something, arguing with him. Your eyebrows pull together as he huffs, bickering with her like a sibling would. Javier's song crescendos to an end, and as the claps die down, he starts a new one. You recognize it immediately, Ángel de Amor. It's a slower paced song, a sweet and romantic one. People join their own conversations as the song begins, leaving Javier to quietly carry the tune on his own. As it begins, Marybeth and Arthur's argument seems to come to a head as Marybeth gives him one final scold, and then walks away from him with a big smile. Confused, your eyebrows pull together as Arthur returns to you, but he doesn't sit down. He stands in front of you, extending his right hand down to yours. 

"Dance wit' me?" He asks, and you chuckle. 

"I don't know, you gonna trip me?" You ask, smiling up at him. The nervousness breaks away as he chuckles. 

"Not tonight." He says, and you take his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. 

"C'mon." He whispers, leading you past the campfire towards the front of his tent, far enough away from the campfire for some privacy.

Arthur pulls you into the same goofy dance as he did with Marybeth, and you smile brightly. Arthur's sure that your smile could outshine the stars, evoking that joy from you is one of the better things he's done in his life, something he wants to keep doing. 

"¿Quién te cortó las alas, mi ángel? ¿Quién te arranco los sueños hoy?" Javier sings softly as Arthur dances with you. 

"Y'know, I'm sorry to say this Arthur, but you can't dance for shit." You chuckle, glancing down at his feet that move with very little rhythm. 

"Oh I can. I'm just havin' fun. You shoulda seen me in my ballroom days." Arthur quips, and you laugh. You're sure he's joking, how Arthur could willingly be put in a ballroom is beyond you, it's surely a joke. Arthur raises an eyebrow at your laugh, wondering if you're seriously doubting him.

"You weren't never in a ballr-" You start, but are cut off with your own gasp as Arthur pulls you tightly against him. His hand snakes to your waist, his other clasps your hand tightly as he stands up straight and tall with a raised eyebrow. His body is stiff, but relaxed all the like, he's collected in his movements, experienced, as he leans you down, dipping you. Your eyes are wide in shock, as he holds you in the dip with a cocky smirk. Your heart rate pounds with him pulled so tightly against you, your neck exposed and hair cascading down as he bends you backwards. Then he brings you back up, chuckling. 

"You continue to surprise me more and more every day, Arthur." You chuckle, still in disbelief, "Where in the hell did you learn that?" You ask, heart beat returning to normal as he pulls you against him again, swaying you in a very simple slow dance. 

"Had to take lessons once when I was younger. Didn't care for it at all, but I was an idiot back then." Arthur says, and you hum, wondering if these fancy dancing lessons have anything to do with the letter in his tent.

"Ángel, Ángel, ángel de amor. No te abandones." Javier continues the song as Arthur pulls you a little closer to him, hand warm on your waist.

Your cheeks flush, hidden away in his chest as Arthur sways with you on the grass. A few eyes linger on you both, but Arthur turns your back to them so you never know. He's enjoying the moment. You haven't left yet, haven't walked away with blushed cheeks or made an excuse as to why you can't dance with him, and that has to count for something he's sure.

 It grows quiet between the two of you as you rest your head against his shoulder and sway with him. Soon your arm grows tired, so Arthur snakes both of his around your waist and you place yours on his chest. It's incredibly vulnerable for you to be like this, but you trust Arthur. He hasn't pushed you. Abigail nudges John across the camp, nodding her head to you, and a few more eyes linger on you both. Arthur ignores them, keeping you in a position so that you can't even see the nosey stares. 

"You look beautiful." Arthur whispers, eyes looking down at you, watching as the wind tousles your hair and your dark red shirt brings out your complexion beautifully. Your eyes sparkle up at him, but you blush and hide them away in his shoulder as he sways you to the music.

"Arthur, stop." You chastise, cheeks red as you hide them. You're a bit upset that he's ruined the mood, taken your mind from simple dancing to the conundrum of your heart. He hums deeply, nodding his head. 

"You ain't ready yet, I know… I'll wait 'til you are. For you, I will." Arthur whispers, and tears begin to pool in your eyes, "And if you decide you don't want any a' this, that's okay too. I'm still your best friend." Arthur whispers, and tears run down your face silently, soaking into his dark shirt. 

"I'll dance with you for real one day, somewhere nice." Arthur whispers, and you look up to his green eyes. They soften when they see the tears falling from your own. You're thinking of a proper response when Arthur speaks up for you. 

"S'okay. You don't gotta say anything." Arthur whispers, thumb wiping away the tears from your cheek. You sniffle, hands clinging to the lapels of his shirt as the music continues on for a bit longer. 

"Yo no siento el que me hayas querido. Yo no siento el que me hayas amado." Javier sings, strumming his guitar. 

Arthur's heart aches, holding you like this, swaying with you and knowing you won't allow yourself to open up. He places his chin atop your head, inhaling deeply before letting the breath go with his worries. You're here now, that's all he can ask for.

Your heart aches just the same. It's torn in two,  both sides fighting for different things. One is fighting for what you know: independence, freedom, and solitude in the west without being held down by a gang. And the other is fighting for what you want: family and friendships, the safety of numbers, purpose and most of all him. 

You sigh, squeezing your eyes shut while blocking the thoughts out, letting yourself enjoy the moment. 

"I'm sorry, Arthur." You whisper, and he leans back, unsure if he's heard you right. 

"What on earth are you apologizin' for?" He asks as Javier's song comes to a bittersweet end. 

"Me… us." You whisper, gesturing to him and yourself. You're a mess, unable to get your feelings in order, unable to figure out what you want, and to tell him. You feel awful, dragging him along without ever fully opening up to him but it's so hard. 

Arthur takes your hands in his own, and you look up to his eyes. 

"Cut that out. Don't you apologize to me, ya hear? Not for this." Arthur says, no room for argument and you nod. 

"Now c'mon. Plenty of people waitin' for us at the fire." Arthur says, pulling you by the hand towards the camp. You pass by John's tent, feeling a little better.

With a small smile on your lips, you walk on with him. That is until you hear a shuffling from John's tent, and a groan. You stop dead in your tracks, looking up to where John and Abigail sit next to Jack by the fire. If they're at the campfire… who's in their tent?

"C'mere ya little minx!" Sean chuckles from inside the tent. Your jaw drops, and your hand falls slack from Arthur's. He turns at your reaction, catching the same scene. 

"Isn't this John's tent?" Karen asks, and you hear the ripping of buttons immediately. You look at Arthur with wide eyes, and a slack jaw, chuckling in horror.

"Eh, it's not like he's usin' it anyways!" Fabric hits the floor as you and Arthur stare at the closed tent in shock, "Ah, you're beautiful Karen Jones, beautiful, I love ya! And I love these too!" Sean chuckles and your cheeks burn red.

"Oh." Karen whispers, disappointed in something as you start to laugh. 

"Meet Macguire junior!" Sean hollers, and immediately Arthur clasps his hand over your mouth to quiet the loud laughter that was about to fall from it. 

"Is- is that it?" Karen asks, and you're nearly wheezing as Arthur keeps his hand over your mouth, chuckling himself until you're out of earshot from their tent. 

"Oh my god." You laugh until tears form in your eyes, and Arthur is laughing as well. You've managed to escape in front of Arthur's tent to avoid the show those two are putting on. Once your laughter dies down, you wipe your eyes, moving them to the campfire once more. 

Abigail has taken Jack into her lean-to next to Strauss's wagon to lie down for the night, and some of the girls along with Dutch and Molly have retired for bed. 

"You comin' back to the fire?" Arthur asks, following your gaze. You look up to him, then to the festivities, biting your cheek. 

"I think I'm gonna go to bed, actually." You whisper, feeling bad for bailing so soon. You're exhausted from the oil wagon today, and you want to be well rested for tomorrow. Arthur’s face falls a bit as he glances at the party behind him, then to his pocket watch. 

"So soon?" Arthur asks, looking a little disappointed. 

"I'm sorry Arthur, it's just with the train tomorrow… I want to be well rested with a clear head." You whisper. 

"I understand." He whispers, it's past one in the morning, and he knows you're tired, "I reckon I'll stay up for a bit yet, keep these boys in line… Get some sleep, Star." Arthur whispers, coming forward to gently chastise you, tapping your temple, "and stop worryin' about the train. It'll go just fine." He offers with a smile before backing away. 

"Night Arthur." You mumble, attempting to follow his instructions and release your anxieties. 

"G'night, Star."

— — — — 

The next morning, you wake up earlier than expected. You don't know what time it is, still haven't replaced Arthur's pocket watch from where it was left behind in Blackwater. But it's quiet enough for you to know that no one else is up. You stretch in bed, enjoying the feel as your achy joints pop. You flex your ankle, noticing that the ache has subsided from your less than stellar landing yesterday, and then you're getting up.

You pull on a dark green overshirt, one of your favorites, a black pair of jeans that button up the whole way, and a little white neckerchief, tied in the front. It's a cute outfit, and you hum, checking yourself over before re braiding your hair and topping it with your black hat. Then you're on the move, in search of some coffee. 

You find that you were wrong, you're not the only one up. You chuckle as Jack whizzes up to you, more excited than you've ever seen. 

"Aunt Star!" He jumps excitedly, taking your hand and pointing to the hitching posts, "look!" He shouts, giggling. 

Your eyebrows knit together at the sight of Kieran taking on the role of the camp farrier. He has a very grumpy Balius with him, and he's working on pulling the nails from the shire's massive shoe. 

"Kieren's shoin' the horses…? You ask, confused as to why Jack's so excited, then a chuckle sounds out from your right. Arthur is leaning over his shaving station, face partially covered in shaving cream as he trims his mustache and beard with a barber's blade. You smile at the sight, something you've not seen him do before. Of course he shaves with an incredible amount of detail and care, just like everything else he does. 

"Well…" Arthur taps the blade against his pail of water before returning it to his cheek, "when Kieran's done, little Jack here will have four new shoes for playin' horseshoes' with everyone. We haven't been able to play in a long while, not since before you joined us." Arthur explains, and you smile at the idea. 

"Well then I can't wait!" You say, rubbing some dirt off of Jack's cheek before he runs off, on his way to tell his very hungover daddy about the ordeal. 

"You're good with him. He really seems to care about you." Arthur remarks and you smile. 

"Ah, it's nothin'. He's a good kid." You mumble, remembering your earlier task of needing coffee, and you spot the percolator from across camp near Pearson's stew pot. You wonder if it's even full, with so few of the gang members awake. 

"I'm gonna go make some coffee, want some?" You ask, but Arthur stops you.

"Already made ya some. It's sittin on my table, should still be hot." He says, wiping the extra cream from his face with a damp towel.

"On the ball this morning, are we?" You ask, chuckling as you move inside his tent to find a steaming tin cup of coffee. You gratefully accept the bitter coffee, enjoying the way the cup warms your hands and the caffeine wakes your mind. 

"Well I need a favor." He asks, turning towards you, "Ride with me?" 

You raise an eyebrow at him, seeing that he's bribed you, but you nod anyway. 

"Sure, where to?" You ask as he comes around the side of his tent, leading you to the large map plastered to the side of his wagon. 

"Think right here is a good spot." He taps the map right over a little marshy field labeled Heartland Overflow.  

"Why are we goin' all the way out there?" You ask, eyeing over the map. The marsh is near a spot marked Emerald Ranch, a place you haven't heard of before. 

"There's a feller nearby that runs a fence. I managed to steal some stuff from the camp where they had Sean, reckon I'll head down and sell it off. Then I figure me n' you can spend the mornin' there. I know you're worried about this train, we can just rest away from camp till it's time." Arthur explains, pulling out his hunting knife to sharpen the blade as he does. 

"Okay, that sounds nice." You smile, releasing a breath before taking a sip from your coffee, "Should I take my stuff for the train or will we be back?" You ask, gesturing to your tent. 

He follows your gaze, thinking for a moment. 

"Ya better take it, I don't know how long we'll be out." He mumbles, and you nod before walking back towards your tent. Amidst your anxieties, you had packed everything you might need for the train: your guns, mask, canned goods in case you get stuck away from camp, extra ammo and the shotgun you'd found at Six Point cabin. Looking over your bed and nightstand just to make sure you haven't missed something, you back out of the tent. 

"Kieran done with Balius?" You ask, keeping your voice quiet as to not wake up the many sleeping, hungover gang members. 

"Looks to be just about." Arthur says, nodding to where Kieran drops Balius's back hoof to the ground, giving him a pat. 

"C'mon then. I'll lead the way." He adds. 

You both take your time tacking up the horses. For once, there's no rush to be anywhere. You brush Athena's golden coat thoroughly, petting her and sneaking her treats while Arthur does the same for his stallion. You ease the saddle on her, tightening the cinches just enough before mounting up. 

"Ready?" You ask, looking down to Arthur with a chuckle as he is just putting Balius's bridle on.

"Just a minute." He says, rather grumpily. And you wait for him, loosening your reins so that Athena can graze while he clambers up onto his massive horse. Once he's up, he nods for you to follow him out of camp. It's a decently long ride. Emerald Ranch is pretty far out there, but it's close to Dewberry Creek, so at least you won't be far from the train come dark. You focus on the scenery, watching the way the landscape changes the further you ride on. As you get closer, the jutting cliffs turn to grassy plains, and bison cause the ground to shake as they thunder across the fields. 

"Are we close?" You holler up to Arthur. Your back is a little sore from the long ride, and you slip your feet out of the stirrups to give your legs rest. 

"Sure…  Why? You feelin alright?" Arthur turns in his saddle, glancing over your form to check. Really you don't feel alright. You didn't sleep much last night, truthfully you're not sure how Arthur is awake because he slept less than you. You're still not able to shake your nerves either. 

"Yeah, just tired is all." You semi lie, but Arthur isn't fooled. 

"I'll take you to the Overflow first. You can set us up a proper picnic while I run this stuff down to the fence. Sound good?" Arthur asks, turning Balius off the main road. 

"Yeah. You brought a picnic?" You smile, noticing that Arthur's saddlebags are bulkier than usual. You should have noticed earlier that they're stuffed to the brim. 

"I did. Nothin' fancy but I figured you might get hungry while we're out here." Arthur answers, and you chuckle, wondering what treats he's packed for you. You trot through the grass, coming upon a little collection of grassy ponds. This must be Heartland Overflow. It's beautiful, and wildlife runs about, scattering at the sound of the horse's hooves. 

"Why don't you take my bag n' find us a nice spot?" Arthur asks as you ride up alongside Balius. He turns in his saddle, untying the knots that hold his saddle bag on before slumping it over Athena's croup. 

"Okay. Don't take too long or I'm gonna be havin' this all for myself." You admit, chuckling as you turn Athena away, separating from Arthur. 

Arthur shakes his head with a smile before pushing Balius into a canter towards a green-roofed barn in the distance. Once he's down the other side of the hill and you can't see him any longer, you turn to your surroundings. 

Across the pond is a large weeping willow. It provides a perfect amount of shade, and makes a beautiful spot for the morning. You kiss to Athena, urging her to walk through the ankle deep water toward the other side. Water splashes up and soaks onto your boots as Athena trots through it, enjoying the coolness on her legs. Once you're on the other side, under the weeping willow, you slide down from your mare. You don't bother to hitch her. She trusts you enough to come when you call, and you want her to enjoy the grassy fields while she can. You take the heavy saddle bag and toss it to the ground under the willow before sitting on your knees to go through it. 

First you take out a blanket, it's a big blue one, and you stand to spread it out on the grass. The wind works to your advantage as you sprawl it out, making a perfect cushion for you both to sit on. Then, seated on the blanket, you pull out two cans of peaches, two bread rolls, a can of strawberries, two slices of beef jerky, and a chocolate bar. You eye the food hungrily, laying it out nice for when Arthur comes back. Then, just to double check, you reach back into the bag. Your fingers brush against an unfamiliar smooth texture, and your eyebrows pull together as you grip it, taking it out. 

Immediately your eyes go wide as, from the bag, you bring out Arthur's journal. You hold the precious book in your lap, looking down to the heavily used pages before looking up at the ridge.

You shouldn't… but Arthur won't be back for some time and you really want to know what he's written. You've only seen the contents of his journal once, back when he showed you in Horseshoe. 

Releasing a breath, you curse yourself, deciding just to flip to one page and then put it back. You run your thumb across the pages, flipping to one of the more recent entries. Immediately you smile, chuckling as your eyes run across the page briefly. It's a drawing of you and Lenny. He's leaning on the bar, drinking a beer and you're dancing in front of the pianist. Arthur had managed to capture the moment perfectly, as if he had paused time and drawn it. You scan down your smiling face, looking back to you in the form of Arthur's sketching. Even in the drawing you can see the drunken haze in your eyes, the freedom as you danced to the piano to your heart's content. 

Then your eyes flicker to the other side of the page where a neatly written entry is scribbled diagonally on the paper. 

In some ways I hope I never forget this night. In others, I wish to wipe it from my mind entirely. It seems that alcohol loosened Star's lips, and I guess it loosened mine too. I just hope I don't come to regret the things I said, the things I remember at least. 

You look up from the journal, jaw slack as you attempt to remember what happened that night. What had you said? What had Arthur said? 

You swallow thickly, looking down to the journal with some worry before flipping to the next page. 

Mary sent me a letter. Said she's in town and heard talk of us in Valentine. She wants to see me, said she misses what we had. I used to. I used to miss her a lot, but I reckon that's all old business now. I think I've finally put Mary in the past, moved on after all these goddamn years. I got some hope now, something good for once. 

You look up from the journal with your jaw open again. His journal has left you with more questions than answers, and you huff. Mary clearly meant something to Arthur at one point, perhaps an old fling? But the girls knew of her, so she had to mean something more. 

With a newfound sour mood, you tuck Arthur's journal back into his bag. Is it jealousy you feel? Or anger? You're not sure, but without having met her, Mary manages to get under your skin. You wonder if she's pretty, and if she has the money to wear nice dresses and makeup. Then you sigh, frustrated. Even though his journal is stuffed back into his bag, you can feel its leather cover burning into your skin, bugging you. 

Hooves sound out from the ridge line, and you look up to see Arthur appear over the hill. He's cantering down towards you, satchel lighter now that he's pawned off some items. Even though you're glad he's back, you can't help the annoyed curiosity that bubbles up in your stomach. 

Oblivious, Arthur rides up to the blanket before dismounting. 

"Good spot." He says, sending Balius off after grabbing a flask from his satchel, "Turns out old Seamus sells too." Arthur chuckles, tossing the moonshine flask down onto the blanket by your legs. 

Attempting to crack a smile, you take the flask and unscrew the lid. Arthur rests down on the blanket beside you, sitting just a few inches from you. Once the lid is undone, you take a swig of the alcohol. It burns, more so than anything you've ever drank, and you cough, throat raw from the stuff. 

"Jesus." You cough, handing the flask back to Arthur. 

"Moonshine. Nasty stuff." Arthur jokes, taking a drink from the same flask. He doesn't seem to mind it, only groaning once it's down. Arthur sees the distant look on your face, he notices that you haven't touched any of the food laid out either. 

"You okay?" Arthur asks, a little crease in between his eyebrows. You look upset, and Arthur hopes that you're not worrying about the train. 

"Who's Mary?" You blurt out, not even realizing you've actually said it out loud until Arthur's face draws up. 

"What?" Arthur asks, looking almost offended, and very surprised. 

"I asked you, who's Mary?" You repeat, looking up to Arthur. Your tone is irritated, and you realize that you're ruining the picnic, but you can't bring yourself to stop. You're mad, mad because Arthur has managed to keep this from you, and apparently you're the only one in the damn gang that doesn't know about her. 

"How do you even know about Mary?" Arthur scoffs, eyes squinted as he leans back from you. 

"Jesus, I didn't realize she was a secret. I guess I just wanna know why she's callin' you out to her house all the sudden when I haven't even heard of her before." You bite. 

Arthur's demeanor changes then, shifting to the angry, threatening man that you've only seen a handful of times in action. Part of you wants to shy away, but you push your shoulders back and meet him head on with the same stubborn aggression. 

"Did you read my damn mail?" Arthur hisses, glancing at you, and then down to the bag at your side. Everything seems to click in his head then, and he huffs humorlessly. 

"No. No you read my goddamn journal, didn't you? Just couldn't keep your nosey eyes off them pages huh?" He bites, picking up the bag just to toss it at your feet. The contents spill out in your lap, and his open journal falls out alongside the candies he had brought for you, the yellow ones. 

"Y'know I hope you read it all. I hope you read every damn page, cause then you won't have to ask anymore questions. We wouldn't be playin this damn game…" Arthur hisses, pacing as he begins to berate you. "Why do you have the right to ask me about Mary when you haven't told me shit about your past? You can't even talk to me. You can't open up at all, closed off like a damn bottle, but you have no problem pryin' into everybody else's lives!" He growls, waiting for you to bite back.

On the ground, feeling like a fool, your lip trembles. You know he's right. He's hit the nail right on the head with his assumption, but it hurts nonetheless. You've stepped too far, you know, but it doesn't stop Arthur from overstepping too. 

"Heard you was pryin' into John's business too. God- you're a hypocrite. Did you think at all about your inability to handle your own shit before you went and did that?" Arthur fumes, and you bring your knees up to your chin. Arthur is waiting for your retort, for your comeback. He knows it'll come, but with his back to you, waiting, it doesn't. You always have a retort, and your silence is louder than any insult you could have thrown back at him. When he turns back towards you, already realizing he's crossed a boundary, he sees the tear track running down your cheek.

"Don't." You whisper, sniffling back the tears that fall so often now, "I can take this from anyone but you." You whimper, head falling to your knees. 

When Arthur's eyes land upon you he doesn't know what to do. You look so small, crumpled up on the ground, a mess. He wants to argue with you, to be mad about the journal, but at the same time he wants to comfort you. He knows what you're battling right now, and he knows he shouldn't have brought it up. Feeling like an ass, Arthur slumps to the ground at your side again. He lays back against the blanket, looking up at the sky before sighing. 

"Mary was my fiancé. Long time ago. Ain't talked to her in years." Arthur admits, and you peek up from your knees, wondering what sparked the change in his tone. 

"Now that's all I'm giving you until you tell me somethin too. But for now, eat somethin. We gotta get movin soon." Arthur says, coldly. 

— — — —

It's nearly dark. There's just enough light for you to make the trip over to Dewberry Creek. You lead the way silently, still not having said a word to Arthur since the argument. You don't know what to say. Apologies aren't exactly your strong suit. You're mad. Mad at Arthur, but mostly mad at yourself for ruining the day with your selfishness, your hypocrisy as Arthur put it. 

You can hear Sean rambling as you approach the old building, and you trot Athena up to where the wagon is hidden. 

"Why the hell are you here?" Arthur snaps at Sean, clearly still irritated from earlier. You've put him in a sour mood, one that everyone is going to have to deal with. 

"Oi I’m just taggin along! Back for a day n’ already jumpin inta the action! My da always used to say that jumpin in was better than jumpin’ out! But I think he was talkin about gettin some arse!" Sean chuckles, not skipping a beat over Arthur's attitude. 

"Oh, shut up." Charles groans, and at the sound of his voice you notice him leaning against one of the beams of the burned down house. John is already in the driver's side of the wagon, and Taima and Old Boy are hooked up to the front. You dismount, walking over to the wagon behind Arthur. 

"Look at us! Four strong shootin men, and a lady!" Sean chuckles, climbing up on the wagon beside John who rolls his eyes. 

"Shouldn't we be going over the plan?" Charles points out, climbing onto the side of the wagon to hang on, just as you and Arthur do on the other side. The wagon begins to roll out of the trees as John smacks the reins over the horse's backs. 

"We roll the wagon over the tracks and leave the horses go." John explains, "They'll see the oil and stop. It's easy." 

Sean turns in his seat, looking over the wagon before turning back to John. 

"Yeah but t'eres no oil in the wagon." Sean points out, and collectively everyone else rolls their eyes. 

"Well the conductor don't know that, so it don't matter!" John bites, irritated with everyone's doubts and questions. 

"I don't like it…" You whisper, gripping onto the metal bars of the wagon as it rolls down the road, inching closer towards the train tracks. 

"We ain't got much of a choice." John replies. Once the plan is set, Arthur begins ordering people around, crafting a more detailed plan for the job. 

"As soon as she stops, board her. Charles, deal with the conductor and the front security. John take the passengers. Sean and Star, as soon as she slows, head to the baggage car." He orders, and you roll your eyes at the assignment he's stuck you with. 

"And what are you gonna do?" Charles asks. 

"I'm gonna make sure she slows." 

John pulls the wagon forward, slowing the horses to a stop once the oil wagon is situated over the tracks. You jump down as John and Arthur begin untying the horses from the front, sending them away into the woods.

"Is everyone good with the plan?" Arthur hollers, and you look around, realizing that this is happening. It's inescapable now, and you'll have to deal with the anxiety in your chest. 

"Yeah, we're good." Charles answers, and you nod your head, eyes fixed on the bed in the railroad tracks where the train will be approaching shortly. 

"Alright everyone get in the woods!" Arthur orders, pulling his mask up over his nose before placing one of his boots on the iron track. Charles notices your hesitancy, and grips your arm to pull you towards the treeline. 

"Hey, you alright?" Charles asks, pulling your neckerchief up over your nose as you've forgotten. You nod, a little too quick for his liking. 

"Just nervous." You admit. 

"Just stick with Sean. You'll be okay." Charles offers, squeezing your shoulder lightly. You nod, focusing your attention back on Arthur. 

You feel the vibration of the train long before you see it coming. Arthur's boot shakes against the track, and once he feels it coming he climbs up on top of the oil wagon. You gasp, eyes going wide as he holds his carbine in front of him, in a threatening stance on top of the wagon. He looks like nothing short of a criminal up there, a cold hearted killer. He stands on the wagon with a threatening stance, symbolizing everything that the government wishes to destroy. Feet planted on either side of the oil barrel, it doesn't appear that Arthur will be giving the law a break any time soon. The sight of him standing up on that wagon is one you're sure you'll never forget. If you didn't know Arthur, you'd be terrified. 

Nothing can be heard but uneven, anxious breathing as the train comes around the corner. it's far off, too far for the conductor to see Arthur, but once the bright white headlight peeks around the bend your breath hitches in your throat. 

Arthur cocks his repeater, and you watch as the train comes closer. You expect the train to blow its whistle, for the conductor to do something to warm off Arthur, but he doesn't. Your eyebrows draw together as the train continues to barrel forward, unbothered by the obstruction ahead.

"Why ain't it slowin'?" You ask, breath uneven as your heart rate picks up speed. 

No one responds, watching as it continues forward. Even Arthur seems to lose his composure, stance faltering as the train continues on. It's getting closer to the wagon, and you're not sure if it'll have time to stop before it crashes. 

"There's still time. Hold on." Sean says, eyes flickering up to the rapidly approaching train. 

"John?! Why ain't it stoppin?!" You beg, looking frantically between Arthur and the train. Charles pulls out a pair of binoculars, looking through them to the engine car. 

"Shit! He's dead or he's asleep, but either way the train isn't stopping." Charles says, stuffing his binoculars back as anxiety pangs in your chest. The train is too close now, it can't stop in time even if the conductor were to wake up.

"ARTHUR JUMP!" John screams as all four of you jog out of the woods. Arthur glances between the group of you and the train, unable to hear over the rumbling and screeching. 

"JUMP!" You plead, screaming. Arthur glances at the train once more, and getting the message he jumps as far out as he can. He hits the ground hard, rolling down the slope before he stops. It's only seconds later that the train smashes into the oil wagon. You thank god it's empty, and there's no explosion, but the metallic screech hurts your ears as the train pushes the wagon over in a huge crash. Sparks fly as metal scrapes off metal, but the train carries on forward, pushing the oil wagon in front of it until itfalls off to the side. 

"Why the hell didn't he stop?!" Arthur yells, whistling for Balius.

"The conductor is dead!" You yell, "Are we really still doin' this?" 

Four horses come running up the hill towards you, and the boys mount up ahead of you. 

"Yes! Now mount up, we can catch it before it gets to Rhodes!" John yells, and you leap onto Athena, urging her forward before you even put your feet in the stirrups. The chase is terrifying. It's hard to see in the dark, and you put full trust into Athena as she barrels forward after the train. Sean is the first to catch up, and he jumps from his horse onto the train's roof.

Your heart pounds in your ears as you run forward, watching as Charles, John and Arthur all jump onto the train. 

"Star, cmon!" Arthur yells, and you try to breath as you stand in your saddle, barely able to balance. You jump as far as you can, hoping that you'll make it. The jump is terrifying, but worse is the pain as your body slams against the side of the train. Only your hands have made it to the top as you grip onto the roof, feet dangling down to the rapidly passing ground below. Then a hand grips yours, and pulls you up into the roof. You gasp, looking up to yours and Arthur's hands, muttering a small 'thanks' between trembling breaths. 

"Plan stays the same. Charles, get this thing stopped!" Arthur orders, just as two armed guards climb up onto the roof.

"They're fixin' to rob the train!" One of the boys yells and starts shooting from his revolver. You unholster your own, balancing on the quick moving train as you fire twice into the man's chest. The second man breaches the top, and Sean takes him down with a headshot. The train makes you motion sick, and you have to bite down bile, forcing your eyes away from the ground. 

"We're gettin' too damn close to the town!" John yells, firing into more men as they climb up onto the roof. 

You whip around, looking for Charles to see if he's made progress in getting to the engine car. You don't see him on the roof, so you assume he's close. 

"John! Get down there, me and Star will hold them off. Sean, get to the baggage car!" Arthur yells out. They follow his orders, jumping down to the train cars from behind you and Arthur. 

"Why's there so many?" You yell over the noise as two more men fire toward you.

"I don't know, sure are a lot for an unguarded train- goddammit!" Arthur yells back. 

You lose your balance as the train quickly starts to slow down. Sparks fly and metal screeches as the train begins to slow. You release a breath, reloading your revolver as more guards shoot at you from across the train cars. The train never stops, instead in one fluid movement it slows enough and then starts going backwards.

"Wait- wait, shit!" You yell as the train starts moving in reverse. Just as quickly as the train has stopped, it starts accelerating in the wrong direction, back towards Valentine. 

"What the hell is happenin?" You scream back towards the engine car. You fire into one last guard, and then they stop coming up to the roof for now. 

"We're goin' too fast!" You point out, losing your balance again as trees start to blur by, making you dizzy. 

"Shit, I know. Just get to Sean, I'll see what's happenin' up front!" Arthur hollers, bracing himself as he jumps onto the next train car. 

"Star?" Arthur yells, and you turn around, "Don't get hurt." You nod, and with that he turns, running on the rapidly reversing train towards the engine.

You try to calm down your breathing as you run across the tops of the train cars, jumping as far as you can between each one. Your heart pounds rapidly in your ears, and the train accelerating is nothing but a background noise in your head. Revolver in hand, eventually you make it to the baggage car. 

"Sean you alive?" You yell, bracing yourself as you jump from the roof down onto the platform below. The land sends an ache through your knees, but you do land. 

"Yeah makin out real good down here!" Sean hollers back as you enter the caboose. 

"Why the hell are we in reverse?" Sean asks, stuffing a saddle bag full of cash and jewelry. You immediately get to helping him, ripping open the cupboards and stripping them of their content before shoving the precious items into Sean's bag. 

"I got no idea. Arthur n Charles are dealin' with it." You respond, glancing out the window and gasping when you see that you're nearing Flatneck Station. You've crossed the state line back into New Hanover, and in less than five minutes you'll be crossing over Bard's Crossing, the infamously high railroad bridge. 

"Oh my god, fuck." You curse, stuffing the bags even quicker. Shots ring out from the roof, and you gasp, neck snapping up. 

"That's gotta be Arthur or Charles." You gasp. You look down the train cars to see John pistol whip a man for not giving up his money. 

"Go help ‘em! I'm alright here for now!" Sean hollers, and you nod, running out of the car. Momentarily holstering your gun, you leap up onto the roof, pulling yourself up. Arthur is up there, shooting at a couple of men across the train as you run up to help him.

"You guys got the money?" He asks. 

"Yeah! Why ain't we stopped?!" You yell, shooting at the men, and clipping one in the neck. He falls off the train, and you wince as his body cracks against the quickly passing ground. Just then, Charles comes running across the cars, jumping over the gaps towards you. 

"Conductors dead! Doors locked and he fell on the reverse lever. I can't stop it." Charles explains, "We gotta go NOW, it's not stopping!" He yells, just as two more boys climb up onto the roof. 

"Rot in hell you bastards!" One yells, and you go to reload your revolver, but it's empty. You curse, looking ahead to where the caboose is barreling towards the bridge. 

A man climbs up from behind you, taking you by surprise as he knocks the gun from Arthur's hand. Arthur turns around and punches him right in the face, nose cracking as blood pours from his face. 

"Get off the train! I got this bastard!" Arthur yells, and you hyperventilate, glancing between him and the bridge. Sean and John have already jumped, and you see them riding alongside the train with Athena, Taima and Balius. Charles jumps down, just as Arthur kicks the man off the side of the train. He hits the ground with a sickening crack, and Arthur turns to you, no longer asking. 

"Star, go!" Arthur commands, and you gasp as another man comes up from the side of the train, pulling Arthur into a chokehold from behind.

"Get down here! We can't help him till you're out the way!" John screams up to you, and panicking, you leap. The jump is terrifying, and the land onto your saddle knocks the breath out of you. But then you're safe on Athena, barreling towards the cliffs edge where the bridge begins, waiting for Arthur to deal with the last guard. 

"Does anyone have a shot on him?" Sean yells, gun aimed up at the man who is fighting Arthur. Arthur's body is bigger than the man, and at the angle you're at, it's impossible to kill him without killing Arthur. Arthur struggles, elbowing the man in the gut to break free from his chokehold. 

"No!" John yells back. 

"Arthur!" You scream, though futile, watching as the train gets closer to the bridge. 

"I got this bastard." Arthur chokes out, coughing as he elbows the man enough to get away from his grip. You slide Athena into a stop to avoid running off a cliff as the train starts to go over the bridge. The wind howls in your ear from the elevation as you watch on in horror.

"What do we do!? John-" You whimper, feeling useless and helpless as Arthur punches the man, fists raised as they brawl atop the train. 

"He'll be okay. He will. He'll get down on the other side and we'll run over and get him." John replies. All you can do is watch as the train accelerates across the bridge, and you've never been so afraid in your life. Arthur takes a punch in the gut, leaving him vulnerable. 

"Does anyone have a shot!!?" Sean screams, gun raised. But Arthur is still in the way, and no one can help him, he's on his own.

Somehow the next moment happens in a lifetime, and a fraction of a second. Arthur takes a punch straight straight to the gut, and he doubles over, left vulnerable. The guard steadied himself, lifting his leg until the sole of his boot meets Arthur's stomach. The train is rolling right over the highest part of the bridge as the guard kicks out. Arthur stumbles, and the kick sends him falling over the side of the train. 

All the air leaves your lungs, your eyes go wide, and everything stops as Arthur falls. You're frozen, watching as Arthur falls down past the bridge. It's a high drop, too high. Your eyes go wide as Arthur's arms stretch up, attempting to grasp onto something that isn't there as he plummets two hundred feet down to the lake below.  

"No-" You breathe out, just barely a whisper as you stumble down from Athena, nearly falling from the saddle. 

"Arthur!-" John gasps.

"NO!-" You scream, breaths coming in quick, uncontrollable pants as tears fill your eyes and fall out in thick rivulets. You stumble to the ledge of the bridge, on the tracks, gripping the fence so tight that your knuckles turn white. 

The other three men are slack jawed, horrified. They all gasp, stunned beyond being capable to speak. When you look down, you see the rippling water where Arthur had landed, landed but not come back up.  

"NO!!" You sob, unable to hold back your tears as you fall back, hands never leaving the fence. Your cries are shoulder shaking, and you can't bring yourself to care that you are sobbing in front of the other men. 

"Get back to camp right now and don't get followed." John orders Charles and Sean, tears in his eyes that he quickly wipes away. They comply, silently nodding before turning their horses and galloping home, shell-shocked.

You're too stunned to notice what's going on around you, but your sobs have slowed, turned into aching, painful heaves as your nails dig into the fence, as if you holding on to it will pull Arthur back up to you. 

"Star?" John whispers, so quiet from behind you. You shake your head, knowing what he's going to ask of you. 

"Star, we gotta go. The law will be here soon." John tries to reason, fighting his own internal ache. You're not having it, not leaving, and John places his hands on your shoulders, begging you to come with him. You can't stop looking down at the rippling water, waiting for him to come back up, and tearing your eyes away when he doesn't, a vicious cycle. 

"W-we can't leave him John. What if he- what if he's down there and he needs help?" You cry, lungs aching. 

"I know. We won't. We won't leave him. But we can't help him if the law gets to us." He says, and you nod frantically, thinking over his idea. 

He tries to pull you backwards, away from the bridge. You make it two steps back before the anxiety of not seeing the water wins over and your body practically shies away from John. 

"I can't- I can't go, he…" You begin, biting your cheek until it bleeds, stuck in a state of shock that you can't shake. 

"John, what if he didnt-" You sob, unable to finish the sentence that plagues your mind along with the image of his plummet. 

"He did… Star I ain't goin back to camp missing two people, please come home." He pleads, turning as law whistles sound in the distance. 

"No. I can't." You say, stern in your choice. Because what is there to go back to without him? And what if he needs help?

"Where will you go?" He asks, glancing to the whistles in the distance. 

"I guess across the river so I-" your face crumbles at the idea, "so I can look for him." 

John nods, whistling lowly for Old Boy. The horse trots forward, and John quickly unwraps his camp kit from Old Boy's saddle before tightening it onto Athena's. 

"My camp kit. Take it, you'll need it." He turns to you then, red eyes looking into yours. "Be safe out here… and don't lose yourself. Arthurs my brother. But if he ain't back in a day or two, you gotta come home. He'd want that." John says, voice even raspier than usual as he deals with his emotion. You nod, tears filling your eyes as places his hand on your shoulder.

"If he comes back to camp I'll come for you right away." He offers, and you nod. 

And then he's mounting up, offering you a bittersweet tip of his hat as he rides away. And you're suddenly alone. There's no one here to pick up your broken pieces, so you pick them up yourself, climbing into the saddle and cantering away from the approaching law whistles. You don't try to stop the tears. Some are silent, sliding down your face and dripping into your saddle, but some are loud, and you have to leave go of the reins to sob into your hands. You make it to the other side of the river thanks to Athena, with Balius trotting beside you the entire way. No one tells you what to do when something like this happens. You're lost, left to figure it out as you operate like a shell of a human being, going through the motions to avoid the law. 

Once you're across the Dakota, situated just on the treeline close to the bank you slide down from your mare to sit in the grass, knees held up to your chin as you watch the water. You've never seen it so still. There's not a ripple other than the steady flow out to the lake. The law whistles get louder, and you listen for them as you numbly watch the water for hours, lost in your head. Eventually the law dissipates, giving up and going home.

You don't know if he's dead or not, but the chances of him being okay right now are bad. The bridge hangs over the horizon like a tyrant, a constant reminder of what's just happened. You try to avoid looking at it, try to avoid seeing the fall, the fear in his eyes as his feet left the train. 

You can't help but drift to the fact that your last real conversation was an argument, and you ache to go back in time and spend the day at his picnic like he'd planned. He was right about you. You're a hypocrite. All Arthur has done since you met him was offer kindness when you didn't deserve it. He gave and gave and you took and took. He told you his feelings time and again through his words and his actions. And you rejected him again and again. All because you were afraid. He said it when you went fishing with Jack, he said it when you danced at Sean's party and when you were drunk under the stars. Arthur told you he would wait. He would wait until you were ready. And here you are. It appears your time is up, and Arthur has waited all he can. 

You think back to that first night in Colter, what you'd told yourself that rang out to be true… good people die. 

Nothing happens for a long while. You don't move, and your limbs ache from your curled up position, but you don't care. You've been watching the water for hours to no avail, but then it happens. Something small washes up on the shore, something black. And as soon as your eyes flicker towards it your face crumples, and falls into your knees with a sob. 

"No, no, not him- please." You whimper to yourself quietly, realizing that he's really gone.

You wipe away your tears, finding the strength to stand up from the grass and pluck the object from the shoreline where it washed up. In your hand is an all too familiar black leather hat, wrapped with rope and adorned with a one of a kind hat ornament. 

You place it on the ground by your legs, curling in on yourself as the grief overtakes you, causing your body to ache and your lungs to burn from the sobs that erupt from them. 

taglist: @margofiore @mrsarthurmorgan7 @woman-with-no-name @tillith @luvliewriting @pine4pple-b0i @photo1030 @dudsparrow

series taglist: @catnotbread @chxosangxl @globetrotter28 @justalittlerayofpitchblack @fruittiest-of-loops @randomidk-123 @heyworld-whatsup @btsiguess-kpop @how-the-heck-would-i-know

[luna-andra]

The Shadows Return | Simon 'Ghost' Riley x OC Retired AU | Chapter 5: Apologies

Summary: Ghost has to make up for lost time somehow, and figure out what the hell is going on in his backwater village

Author's Note: Already working on chapter 6, this story is starting to ramp up!

Content warning: slow burn, eventual smut, 18+ only, fluff, mentions of mental health

If this is the first time you're seeing this, Chapter 1 is here. You can find the rest on my masterlist! Next chapter

Word count: 5.8k

Johnny only caught the tail end of their conversation. Andra sounded pissed. Oh yeah, she really gave the door something to fear with how hard it slammed. Johnny turned to Simon’s direction, “What happened?”

His glare could cut a man. “Nothing.”

Johnny went to open his mouth but said nothing. He came back to the front for something work related, and he really didn’t want to get in the middle of whatever went down between the two.

He knows Simon has been reclusive the past several days. Or has it been a few weeks now? Either way, this was feeling like one of his inevitable episodes. The kind that makes him shut everyone out, starting with the people less close to him. Johnny gauged it that way, and he knew if it came down to Simon shunning him out, then it’s getting bad.

Johnny put down the tablet on the countertop beside Simon’s arm. “Thomas completed the diagnostics on the red sedan, call ‘em for me will ya’?”

A comprehensive grunt was all the acknowledgement Johnny was going to get out of Simon right now. He pivoted on his foot and headed straight back into the garage. A minute later, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

Thank you for helping me out these past few months.

Johnny’s lips fell into a thin line on his face. Does this message have anything to do with what went down in the lobby? He didn’t like how finite her words sounded, like she was bidding the both of them farewell out of her life.

Andra took a while to respond back to Johnny, giving him time to focus on the brake pad change he needed to finish up. He wiped his hands clean before picking up his phone.

Sort of.

Okay, yes.

I don’t want you to feel obligated to keep in contact with me now that everything is gonna go back to the way it was.

Johnny sighed, shaking his head softly as his fingers flew across the screen. You’re OUR friend now, you’re not getting rid of us that easily, lass. He made sure to put ‘our’ in big letters.

This would pass. Johnny knew that, Simon would come around once he’s had his fill of solitude, but Andra didn’t see it that way. Understandably so, she had every right to be upset. She’s given Simon a level of grace and patience that would only come from a caregiver. Johnny has noticed the way she would shake her head and sigh after reading the short, one-worded messages she would get from Simon, and to be frank, Johnny couldn’t excuse his best friend’s behavior any longer. 

He could feel a pair of glaring eyes burning into the back of his neck from his supervisor, so Johnny shoved the phone back into his pocket and returned to work.

Simon was being a real prick.

-----

It was Andra’s first Sunday morning with her truck. After she picked it up from the shop, she drove it around for a few hours, having to blow off the irritation she felt after that interaction with Ghost.

It was running, alright. She made it drive out to a neighboring village and then back home. Even when she came home, the spurn of Ghost treating her that way kept nagging at her like a mosquito bite on the back of her neck. It shouldn’t have bothered her for days on end, but it did.

But today was Sunday, and Andra was determined to start the week off on a better note. Fixed truck, crop rotation was only a few weeks away from a new season, she had much to look forward to. Along with an empty seat at the stand.

She thought until a familiar truck drove up her driveway.

Andra finished tethering her trailer to her truck and went out to meet Johnny at the front. “Hey, what are you doing here?”

Johnny shut the door and hit the lock button on the key fob, setting off the short chirp of the horn. “What does it look like? You didn’t think I was gonna stop comin’ just because you got your truck back, did you?” He clicked his teeth and shook his head with faux disappointment and a smirk. “Besides, I like havin’ more money in my pocket from not goin’ out to the pub to drink it away, our Sunday mornings have been keepin’ me sober.”

She couldn’t help the smile escaping her. “That’s good to hear. I’m almost done loading everything, just help me with the table and chairs.”

“You got it.”

Autumn never fails to bring the gloomy overcast for majority of the season. And with the temperatures dropping enough, it allowed for Ghost to wear a light hoodie to keep the misty sprinkles of rain off of him. He tried to ignore the out-of-place energy that worked hard to veil over him. It was one thing to wear the mask in the shop, or when he was at least around Johnny, but going to the farmer’s market made him feel severely out of place.

He took one more second before grabbing the paper-wrapped parcel and left his truck, then followed the sporadic groups of people heading towards the vending stalls.

To think he had driven past this parking lot several times on Sundays and never thought to shop here. Ghost didn’t even like doing his own grocery shopping, that’s why he spends so much money on grocery deliveries. And purchasing anything else felt like a waste on him, unless it was ammunition and new guns.

As he neared the rows and rows of stalls, the chatter of customers and sellers became coherent. If people were looking at him, he paid no attention to the curious and apprehensive eyes. He was looking for Andra, gripping the now faintly damp parcel a little tighter. After wandering through the second row, Ghost spotted the forest green truck chockfull of crates of vegetables, parked in reverse and the tailgate open to the little figure with chestnut brown hair, loosely curled.

Her hair has grown.

That’s what happens when you don’t see someone for a while, Ghost sniped at himself.

He rounded the corner and strode closer to her stall, customers in his path giving him a wide berth, and caught sight of her lost in concentration as she packaged a customer’s brown paper bag. Her warm smile of farewell did something to his stomach. It was his turn to approach her.

Andra lifted her head long enough to see him, and her face relaxed from the smile she had. “Hi, stranger.”

Whatever he had prepared to tell her, it went off like a land mine and left him with nothing. There was a passive-aggressive tone in her voice, not that he blamed her. He basically cut her off with nothing to justify as to why. Guess this was part of seeking forgiveness.

“Surprised to see you here.” She kept prepping more brown bags as she waited for his response. “Or were you looking for Johnny?”

“No, he’s probably trying to slip out of his date’s bed.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “So you knew about his date with the girl from the chip shop, too? Glad to know he didn’t get the cutoff I did.”

His eyes looked down at her moving hands. “I deserved that.”

Andra stopped concentrating on the bags and rested a hand on her hip the way a fed-up mother would. “You deserve a lot of things, Ghost, but I don’t have it in me to be cruel.” Her eyes caught a glimpse of what Ghost was clutching to before she looked back down. “Found something you like at one of the vendors?”

“Actually,” his hand placed the wrapped parcel onto the table and slid it towards Andra. “It’s for you.”

Andra's expression shifted to curiosity. “Is it some kind of peace offering?” She picked up the rectangular parcel, probably knew what it already was given the shape and the weight of it.

“You could say that.” Ghost watched with apprehension as she meticulously peeled back the wrapping, sliding out what she discovered was a hardback cover of the next book in the series she was reading.

Her eyebrows relaxed; a softness overwhelmed her eyes. “You got your hands on a hardback?” she tilted the book to see the pages. “With the sprayed edge?” Her fingers traced the pattern of sigils and swirls decorating the pages. “This is a special edition…” Andra looked back up to him, her expression had his insides tangling. “I haven’t even seen one of these.”

Ghost didn’t know what to do with his hands, so they stayed by his side clenching and relaxing over and over. “The cranky, old stager that runs Raven & Crow helped me get my hands on it.” He wasn’t going to bring up how much of a pain in the ass the geezer was for him, nor was he going to bring up how the old man knew immediately who he was trying to get this for. He told Ghost a lovely young woman was coming in frequently looking for the sequel, but by the time she showed up, the one or two copies he ordered were gone. The payoff was well worth it.

Andra held the book to her chest like a schoolgirl clutching a textbook, tapping her index finger on its back. “I’ll have to think on your apology.” Ghost was about to nod when she gave him a smirk. “Okay I forgive you.”

His shoulders fell and he let out a gentle laugh. “That’s wonderful to hear.” There was a couple of people behind him that formed a line, agitated with how long they have been waiting. “I’ll let you get back to your business –“

“I have an hour here left,” Andra spoke up before he could move. “If you want, I have another chair that you can pull up. That’s if you don’t have anything else to do…”

Ghost stepped aside to let customers walk up. “I was going to find things to keep myself busy. I’ll help you bag, but I can’t guarantee I’ll be as useful as Johnny.”

Andra laughed hard at that. “You give him way too much credit.”

It had been years, more like decades by now, since Ghost had done any sort of grocery bagging. It brought him back to his first part-time job at the corner convenience store he had during his last few years of secondary school. The money always found its way into his mom’s wallet or purse when she wasn’t looking since she never accepted it from him directly. It was unfortunate when his dad got a hold of it, using it for booze and drugs instead of the water and heat bills. It was even more unfortunate when the old man ended up with a bloody nose for leaving them cold.

Ghost enjoyed watching Andra work in her element. This was her expertise, and everyone delighted in her energy. It even had Ghost grinning beneath his mask. There were a few patrons that gave Ghost double take looks as if they wanted to say something but didn’t.

He found himself scanning the faces of her patrons and passersby that took a glance at stalls here and there. Old faces, young faces, faces of children, faces shrouded by umbrellas or hooded jackets. And a face that he swore he’s seen more than once, coming around again and again in the time he decided to sit down with Andra beneath the canopy. The person’s behavior and body language made him tense.

Andra’s patient explanation about difference between the various species of squash and tomatoes pulled him away from the man that caught Ghost staring him down.

“The B grade-lookin’ veggies go in that crate,” Andra pointed behind her. “I take them for myself, or in this case I’m gonna take them to the ranch for the breeder’s animals.” There was excitement in her voice. “I’m gonna visit my new goats.”

His eyes went back to the spot the man last was, only to find someone else in his place buying from another vendor.

“I remember you saying something about them.” Ghost recalled, suddenly feeling shame since it was on the day she was picking up her truck. “Are you taking them home?”

Andra shook her head. “No, they have a few more weeks with their mama.”

Ghost looked at her with mild surprise. “There’s multiple?”

“Just two, they’re twins.” Andra said goodbye to the last customer for the day and started to pack up. “Would you like to come with me to meet them? Since it sounds like you have time in that busy schedule of yours.”

Ghost didn’t miss the nibble Andra took at her lower lip. “I can fit some time in.” He quipped back.

-----

The book looked like it belonged on her shelves. Andra grinned to herself as she angled it just the right way to stand out, giving the book its own moment of fame amongst her collection. A really smooth apology gift, in her opinion. Andra was simply happy that Ghost came back around.

Even though Ghost didn’t explain his sudden absence, Andra had a feeling that this was one of those times Johnny had warned her about. She just wasn’t prepared for how much it would impact her. At least he seems to be doing good; the bags underneath his eyes weren’t as dark as the last time she saw him.

Andra locked up the house with a happy Sammy in tow, letting her roam free off of a leash. She was bringing Sammy along to meet the new goats, part of the process of making sure the animals weren’t going to be a threat to each other and getting used to each other’s scents.

Ghost had transferred the crate of B-grade veggies to the bed of his truck on his own accord. Andra was about to ask when he started, “You mind if we take my truck?” He scratched the back of his masked head sheepishly. “I only ask because I got more leg room in mine…”

Andra held back a giggle as she approached the passenger door. “Not at all, as long as you’re okay with Sammy in the back.” He gave her a nod of the head, leading Sammy to the back of the opened tailgate and shutting it once she hopped up. “I’ll punch in the address in your Maps.” She slid in for what started to feel like an all-too familiar truck, and realized she didn’t have to adjust the seat like she’s done before. Andra tried hiding the grimace from the blossoming thought of another woman being in his truck.

She realized how ridiculous that was when he easily passed an open phone to her. Not even to his navigation app, but the home screen with the default earth background still on it. Before opening the navigator, she opened the camera and angled the phone to catch a shot of her and Ghost on the screen. “Hey.”

Ghost glanced in confusion, and blinked after he heard the sound of the fake camera shutter. He shook his head with a soft laugh and started the truck. “I trust you with my phone for the first time and you’re over there snappin’ pictures.”

Andra’s fingers tapped against the screen as she typed in the address. The navigator started and Andra placed the phone on the dock Ghost had set up on the dashboard. “Who told you it was a good idea to do that?”

Ghost shifted the truck’s gear to drive and made a U-turn to drive towards the shared road, the navigator chiming away its directions. The ETA displayed a twenty-minute drive, and Andra comfortably filled the silence with conversation.

He missed how magnetic her energy is, making his guilt come back with a vengeance. But listening to her talk about how business is going, how the truck has been running better than it was before, and how she was preparing for the winter season made all of that melt away.

If Andra wasn’t holding it against him, he needed to put it to rest.

“And what about you?” Andra turned to Ghost. “Anything interesting with you?”

Her sudden pivot to him threw him off. “No, just work.”

She sat up in her seat, her eyes still fixated on him. “Just work? You don’t have any hobbies, or places you like to go to mull things over?”

Ghost just shook his head. He didn’t really know what to say. Okay, that was a lie, but he didn’t want to go in depth with how he got too close to her, how her jasmine and vanilla scent wouldn’t leave him, the same way her scent was now filling the cabin of his truck once more. He didn’t want to explain how feeling her silky skin took days, weeks, to leave the calloused pads of his hands, and how it took all of his will to pull away from her.

Andra continued. “Or how about a night out at one of the pubs to find yourself a pretty lady to share the company with only to regret it in the morning?”

He fought the urge to roll his eyes. “I’m not Johnny. And what about you?” He challenged. “Found a lad to take you out on the town?”

She laughed at that. “No, there’s no one coming to pick me up and bringing me back before eleven.”

Ghost’s hands gripped the steering wheel a little too hard. So, who’s black sedan was driving down the road then? His motion sensors had alerted him of a car he’s never seen before a few times throughout the time span they weren’t in contact with one another. He thought about looking up the license plate a few times, but let it go out of respect for Andra’s privacy.

That hesitation went right out the window with this new development brought to him.

Andra shifted in her seat, relaxing further into the drive. “I guess we’re alike in some ways.”

“How do you reckon?”

“Too busy focused with work to let anyone else into our lives.” There was a tone of sadness in her voice she was trying to hide. “But I have a feeling you’ve grown too comfortable with being alone.”

Ghost felt like she was peering into him, and he didn’t know how to feel about that.

Andra took a second to speak again. “Did you distance yourself from me because of…” she couldn’t finish her question, but she didn’t have to for Ghost to know what she was alluding to.

Every muscle in his body tensed, and his mouth went dry.

“Your destination is on the right.”

The navigator interrupted the tension between the two of them. Ghost turned into the gravel road, passing underneath the wrought iron gate that displayed Blue Crescent Ranch.

Ghost parked a distance away from the other vehicle on the property and killed the engine. Andra looked straight ahead as she murmured, “You don’t have to answer that, sorry I brought it up.” Before she could open the passenger door, Ghost reached across her and stopped her, his hand gripping hers.

Andra’s head twisted to face him, her honey eyes wide with question. Fuck, that look did things to him. “It wasn’t your fault.” That wasn’t necessarily a lie; he wouldn’t blame her for his self-destructive tendencies. “I needed some time alone.”

Her eyes darted back and forth, looking into his eyes as if she was trying to delve deeper into a place she shouldn’t be. But she nodded. “Okay.” That single word was charged with so much trust and understanding, it twisted his heart.

Ghost removed his hand from hers, pulling himself back from the extreme close proximity he had put them in. “Let’s go meet your goats.”

A smile returned to her lovely face. “Okay.”

 Andra couldn’t say enough good things about Jasmine. She had met her at the farmer’s market – shocker – a few years ago and stayed in touch with her here and there after she had bought the chickens off of her. In truth, Andra wanted to be close friends with her, but both of their jobs kept them busy enough to not have any time to catch up very often.

Such was her life about all of the cool and wonderful people that have come and gone in the past years.

-----

A gorgeous, umber, brown-skinned Jasmine strolled out from her lovely cottage home to meet her guests, sporting fitted blue jeans and a long-sleeve plaid shirt and boots, her dark kinky hair wisping in the gentle breeze. Her jade green eyes crinkled with her smile as she went in for a warm hug, and Andra accepted her graciously, taking in her scent of orange and bergamot on her hair. “So good to see you again,” Jasmine greeted, her accent just as rich as Ghost’s.

She pulled away and acknowledged Sammy’s bubbly presence, giving her a good rub down and cooing praises. After the happy canine had her fill, she found Ghost lingering behind Andra like her shadow.

Before Jasmine could ask, Andra reached out to Ghost, summoning him to her side. “Jasmine, this is my neighbor, Simon, but we call him Ghost.” Something about saying Ghost’s first name made her stomach flip, and by judging his body language, it must have done something to him, too.

Jasmine extended her hand out politely, and Ghost shook. “A pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

Jasmine turned to Andra and waved for the two of them to follow her, walking on a path that led them to the acres of rolling, green fields. “Ready to meet your kids?”

Andra beamed a wide smile. “I’ve been thinking about them all week! How did mama do during labor?”

“She did so good!” Jasmine turned to Andra once she walked beside her. “I had those kids delivered in the middle of the night. She started contractions early in the day, I had everything prepped for a week now.”

Andra crooned an ‘aww’, the smile on her face growing brighter. Talk of the goats made the conversation in the truck fade away, and it felt like Ghost was putting it on the back burner as well as he started asking Jasmine about her ranch.

Jasmine had inherited Blue Crescent Ranch from her family and cared for her aging father while running everything. It was massive, and from the look of it she had several employees to help her take care of all of the animals. Goats, sheep, cows, horses, alpacas, and some emus.

They arrived at a cowshed that was housing the mother goat and her kids. “I am letting them bond before they go out and meet the rest of the goats, so that means Sammy is going to meet them before the rest of the flock.”

Ghost stood at the entrance of the cowshed. “I’ll let you have the first moments with ‘em.” He crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned against the doorway.

Andra nodded and handed him her phone for him to hold on to, then kept following Jasmine to the back stall. Jasmine’s voice was low, “So, your ‘neighbor’?”

Her cheeks warmed at the insinuation. “Yes, my neighbor.”

“And when did you start talking to your neighbor who happens to wear a mask?” Jasmine’s eyebrow shot up.

Andra looked over her shoulder to make sure they were out of earshot and found Ghost occupied on a phone call. “We met in the summer, he found me off the side of the road after my truck died on me, and fate had it that he’s a mechanic and he helped me get it fixed.”

“Right,” Jasmine nodded as if she’s processing this information, “And why the mask?”

Andra leaned against the wooden post she stopped beside. “He’s ex-military, I don’t really know why.”

“Have you ever seen his face?”

Boy, she was getting the full interview right now, and it had been so long since she thought about what she felt about his decision to hide behind a mask. It was unsettling for the very first time they met, but when Johnny treated it with just as much normality as if it were a N-95 mask, Andra never pushed the subject with Ghost.

“No.” Andra answered, trepidation apparent in Jasmine’s eyes as if what Andra was saying was completely insane. It probably was. “But I respect it.”

Jasmine blinked. “So I have no description to go by but a man in a skull mask if you ever go missing.”

Andra nudged her. “He’s nice. He’s never given me a reason to feel in danger and I’m friends with his best friend who served in the forces with him.”

“I think I’ll stop asking questions while I’m ahead.” Jasmine started walking again, and Andra followed. “Here they are.”

Andra squealed as she saw the two little black baby goats nursing on their sleep-deprived mother, little tails wagging faster than Sammy’s ever could. Sammy’s nose pressed against the bars of the enclosure, sniffling curiously.

They were adorable. Both of them were jet black, one of them had a tuff of white on the end of its tail.

“Both of them are boys,” Jasmine began to open the stall while Andra commanded Sammy to stay, “Did you want to come in?”

Andra was so ready to meet them. She had to gain the trust from mama first before she could get close to the kids, and it took a minute before mama allowed them to hop onto her lap. She sat on the clean bed of hay with the babies, giggling in immense joy as they sniffed and licked her.

Ghost met up with them after attending to his phone call to find Andra snuggling the baby goats. She caught his silhouette in her peripheral and looked up with a wide smile. “Aren’t they precious?”

Andra swore he was smiling beneath that balaclava. “You got names for them yet?”

Her focus returned to the wily kids competing for her attention, thankfully she had two hands to pet both of them. “Oh yeah, I got names for them already.” Andra picked up the jet black kid to showcase him to Ghost. “This one will be Phantom,” then she picked up the other in the same fashion, “And this one is Shadow.”

Did his eye twitch? It made her mischievous grin harder to hold back. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“You had things to say about me naming my chicken Ted, so I figured I’d take a page out of your playbook.”

Jasmine was holding back her laughter and turned away.

Andra was too consumed by the copious amounts of affection the animals were giving her to realize what Ghost was doing until it was too late. “Andra.”

Her head shot up at the sound of Ghost saying her name to find him holding up a phone in a similar angle that she had done not too long ago, crouching down to make sure he had her in the frame. “Say payback.”

Ghost took the photo, and her mouth went slack in surprise. “Is that my phone!?”

Sammy trotted happily up the steps of the front porch and sat with a windshield-wiper tail on full blast, patiently waiting for Andra to open the front door. The energetic dog darted inside seconds after Andra swung the door open and left it open behind her. The two of them lingered on the front porch, Andra leaning against the threshold and Ghost standing close with his hands fisted in his jacket pockets.

“Thank you for coming along with me.” Andra started. “It was good seeing you again.”

“It was a pleasure.” Ghost looked out to the gray skies, the sprinkle of rain continuing its descent like it had been the whole morning. “I hope I didn’t make your friend uncomfortable.” He turned back to Andra to gauge her reaction.

“Oh no, she’s really lovely.” Andra’s lips turned up into a grin. “She’s just looking out for me.”

Ghost nodded. “I get why she was asking if you knew what I look like underneath the,” he pointed a finger to his masked face.

Now it was Andra’s turn to look away, nibbling at her lower lip from learning that he still heard what they said. “I just told her that... I respect it, and I honestly don’t mind.” His eyes were intense when she looked back at him, and her insides turned hot. “Is that weird?”

He let out an amused huff. “Completely bizarre.”

Andra shifted her weight onto her other foot, standing straight now and looking up to meet his gaze. “I respect your choice to remain hidden.” Her hands began to feel warm and clammy. “I had made the assumption in my mind that you pretty much wore it through your time in service, and – I don’t know...”

Andra struggled to manifest the thoughts into words even though this was something she has thought of before, but Ghost waited patiently, giving her his full attention to what she had to say. “Maybe it’s a physical metaphor of not being able to put that all behind you. As if the shadows have returned.”

Ghost looked extremely uncomfortable from her deduction. “The shadows haven’t returned, they just never left.” It sounded like he was struggling to keep his voice from faltering, and instead his response came out gruff.

Andra’s heart dropped to her stomach. His shadows were comparatively darker than hers, but they both had shadows all the same. She recognized that conviction in his words, believing so firmly that he’s still damaged and haunted by things that won’t stay buried. Her eyes softened once her gaze returned to his. “I hope this doesn’t mean you’re gonna disappear on me again.”

The pleading in her gaze pierced him in the chest. “I’ll do better.”

Her face turned up with a glimmer of faith. “I’ll accept that.”

“I’ll do you one better.” Ghost removed his hands from his pockets, palming his phone in one. “If you’re not doing anything Saturday morning, I would like to take you somewhere.”

Andra held herself back from looking too eager. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

“Doesn’t have to be a date. Just a little morning excursion if weather permits.”

Ghost really was trying, and it swelled something fierce in her heart. “Then I accept this invitation for our not-date.”

“I’ll see you Saturday morning, then.” Ghost left her front porch and hurried off to his truck to avoid getting rained on. Andra watched his truck drive back down the gravel path and make the left turn onto their shared road.

Her phone started to buzz in her pocket, Jasmine was calling to finish the conversation they had started. “Hey, no I’m free I just said bye to Ghost – oh my God, you’re impossible.”

-----

Ghost booted up his laptop after receiving Laswell’s brief message letting him know she sent over any information she could dig up with the license plate number he had given her. He had called her when they were at the Blue Crescent Ranch and while Andra was fawning over her goats. Shadow and Phantom... that woman. Ghost muttered a curse to himself after looking over the registration documents.

It was a dead end.

The license plates were registered under a 65-year-old woman, and the make and model of the vehicle did not match the black sedan that were sporting the plates.

Ghost sighed and leaned back in the chair, staring at the screen as he pulled off his balaclava. This new development put his defenses on high alert. There shouldn’t have been any reason for a person driving with stolen plates to be coming down their road as frequently as this one has been. Shouldn’t have stolen plates at all. A one-time occurrence wouldn’t be enough for him to look into it, but after reviewing every motion sensor alert, this car had traveled down the road and back a total of seven times since July. A week after Andra had gotten her truck from the shop.

It was now September.

Ghost detested himself for feeling some kind of relief when Andra first had told him she wasn’t seeing anyone. He still felt that way, but the distress of this unknown person superseded that. He also remembered that Andra didn’t have any form of security on her property.

He would have to rectify that. She would most likely agree with him that it would be rational to set up at least a few cameras around the outside of her house, and maybe he could convince her to set one up near her mailbox as well. There were a couple of spare cameras he had in storage from when he first set up his own security system back when he moved in.

Johnny, much to his chagrin, had helped him set up the cameras. He had set up his own at his flat, but it seemed like he only checks his doorbell camera every time he gets packages delivered as of late. He wasn’t as concerned about being hunted down the way Ghost was; the 141 had faked his death a year before they had actually completed their contract. It seemed like no matter how many times Ghost had faked his death, it felt like someone out there still knew that he would never stay dead.

Christ... Ghost rubbed his burning eyes and closed the laptop. What was he doing? He recalled what Price told him the day they were on their flight back home. Let Simon have a life now. It was clear what he meant; put away the mask, live a civilian life, find a nice woman, or man, to warm his bed.

Ghost wouldn’t allow himself the luxury of living, he managed to sabotage any connection that wasn’t Johnny, Price, or Gaz. He was certain Andra would have told Ghost to jog off after the cold shoulder he had given her.

Until she hadn’t.

And then she had to go and showcase how much she just might understand his issues. Her metaphors of shadows made his knees feel like they were ready to give out. It was like he was out in an open field with no cover, and she had him in her sights of a scope. Vulnerable.

Ghost picked up his phone sitting beside the closed laptop and found himself looking at the photo she had taken in the truck. He saw her cheery smile on the screen, reaching up all the way to her eyes. With his unexpecting glance in her direction in the background. There was an iridescence about her eyes, it had him looking for what felt like several minutes. He didn’t want to think about what those eyes looked like the day she left the auto shop.

A message from Andra startled his train of thought. What’s the dress code for our morning rendezvous?

The corner of his mouth turned up slightly as he responded. Wear sensible shoes for walking.

----------

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[purplemninja]

Little Nightmares hot takes

[Feel free to comment or reblog with hot takes of your own]

Someone on the LN subreddit asked for people's hot takes and I commented a bunch of spicy ones that I have, which I will copy and paste here (though the last one will have something added to it):

1- People who say that Mono is an uwu-softboi or portray him as such are awful and are doing him a disservice. Like, you can not look at his battle against the Thin Man and pretend that he's a pacifist, not to mention the other kills he made in-game. His fight against the Thin Man and moving the tower towards himself is his most badass moment and these rougher edges to him make him a much more interesting character. So by taking that away and acting like he wouldn't hurt a fly really doesn't do Mono's character and arc any favours, it just ruins it, so people have seriously got to stop thinking that he's a 'pwecious widdle angel' when he clearly isn't, especially when it hurts his character and story.

2- I'm pretty sure that people are expecting this one but the fandom needs to lay off Six, and way the fandom makes it so that Six must either be totally good or totally bad and is not allowed to be morally grey (in between) is so irritating. Just like with Mono, taking away Six's rough edges or smooth ones hurt her character and make her way less interesting. Also no surprise that I say this but the way that the anti-Six people treat her is so awful.

3- In addition to what I said about the golden child Mono stans in number 1, the way that the FNAF books treat Henry is very much like how the fandom treats Mono - only his suffering matters, screw everyone else. Or some go even stupider and treat all of the characters in LN except Six sort of in the same way that the FNAF books treat Henry, basically like "Six and her suffering? She should shut up and suck it up" or even going as far to say that she deserves her suffering. While just about all the other characters (Mono most especially) have their suffering dealt with a gentle hand.

4- I'm pretty sure this is ghost-pepper level spicy but it's so dumb that the fandom claims that Roger is nice. Like bruh, he literally has blood stains on his vest, chases kids, you can hear one that he catches whimpering as he takes them away, wraps them up to be taken to the kitchen, and there's a bloody guillotine in vicinity. Just because he doesn't kill Six or RK on-screen means he's nice? What?

5- They should've made a LN2 DLC where you play the game as Six and get to see her perspective of everything that happened, especially that scene. Make them step out of their Mono/Thin Man tunnel vision and focus on Six and her suffering too for a change instead of making Mono's overshadow everything.

6- Six being the Lady would be disappointing AF and lazy that they're recycling Mono's fate. I'd be better off if Six was the next Lady and not the same one encountered in LN1, but I still prefer a different way for her story to go (or maybe make my new depressing interpretation of her ending (where she's not the lady but is still stranded at sea with no innocence or humanity left, making everything she went through all be for nothing in the end) the actual ending for her).

Plus, you're telling me that the remaining staff on the Maw (The Twin Chefs) were like "Oh, this kid that we tried to murder earlier is our boss now" and Six is like "Oh, I'm not going to kill these guys who tried to add me to the menu earlier. Plus I'll hire an exact copy of the Janitor and get a replacement for the one and only mirror I was able to fight the Lady with since it broke and try to board it up in the same room that I found it in. Yeah, it tooootaaaally would prevent another me from being able to get it in the exact same way that I did".

Not only that but they also put a child in charge of dealing with other business-related stuff on the Maw like shipments of coal and vegetables (or maybe someone else did that)? So stupid.

7- Runaway Kid's name is not seven!

8- The ridiculous double standards of self defence. Why are Mono and Runaway Kid allowed to defend themselves from monsters trying to kill them but Six isn't?

Mono - Smashes a bunch of bullies, pulls the trigger on the gun to shoot the Hunter, beats some living hands to death, probably burns the Doctor alive, kills some viewers by electrocuting them to death or luring them off of a ledge, and probably broke every bone in Thin Man's body before Thanos Snapping him.

Fandom - Eh.

RK - Electrocutes the Granny to death and disintegrates the Shadow Kids with his torch.

Fandom - Whatever

Six- Helps Mono shoot the same Hunter that kidnapped her and locked her in his basement (and she didn't take the gun off the hooks, Mono did), kills one bully after being kidnapped, tortured and hung upside down by them for who knows how long (which will eventually kill you), cuts off Roger's arms with a door when she was cornered, eats a rat when there's no other food nearby, eats a Nome instead of a sausage that she knows is made of human flesh, eats the Lady when there's no other food anywhere, and kills some guests who are reaching over to try and eat her on her way out of the Maw.

Fandom - Monster.

Now, I'm not saying that what Six did was good or what the boys did was evil, but people have to stop acting like it's okay for one character to kill to save their own lives but not the other.

9- This stems more from a certain artist that I won't name to avoid people going to harass them, but on top of the self defence standards, people also have to stop with the double standards of bad things happening to a character due to another character's actions. What I mean with this is that while yes, Mono had no way of knowing that Thin Man was behind the door and getting Six kidnapped by him was a mistake, that does not, however, undo the fact that Six still got kidnapped or that her kidnapping is not that big a deal all because it was an accident on Mono's part. Especially when people won't give Six the same leniency when it comes to Mono becoming the Thin Man. Six had no way of knowing that Mono would survive the fall, let alone him being stuck in a room on a chair for decades and turning into the Thin Man, yet that is a big deal despite her not knowing but her kidnapping isn't because it's also an accident?

And lastly,

10- Another ghost-pepper level spicy but AUs where Six pulls Mono up yet all the suffering she has to go through before that is 100% the same as in-game makes her a way, waaaayyyy better person than Mono. This goes double for AUs where Six realises that he's the Thin Man (you know, her kidnapper and tormentor) but decides to pull him up anyway. Like, Mono as Thin Man decides to kidnap and torture an innocent version of Six, cursing her with the hunger and making the child Mono have to torture her to save her, but Six decides to pull him up despite all of the pain he put her through. Even more so when she realises that he is her kidnapper. That makes her a much better person that him. Though it also makes her kind of spineless. I'm not saying that she should drop him, but in-game the player can abuse Six in some ways (running when holding her hand, which makes her stumble, throwing stuff at her, bash her with weapons (even if they don't do anything to her) getting her to fall off of stuff (yes, she respawns or teleports, but still), blinding her with the torch) but not once does Six retaliate until Mono attacks the music box, making her a bit of a doormat TBH. Yet some people in the fandom portray Mono as the doormat instead, it's like the fandom goes out of its way to get Mono and Six as backwards as possible.

Additionally, fan content where Mono doesn't apologise for getting Six kidnapped in the first place, or torturing her during his fight against her monster self makes him a huge jerk. Like, this girl has to suffer because of his actions (unintentional, perhaps. But as I said, that doesn't make the pain Six suffered go away or not matter) and he doesn't even have the decency to at least say sorry for the hurt he caused her? It pleases me whenever there's fan content where he does apologise, because not being sorry for hurting Six makes him a huge jerk.

It's long, but those are my hot takes.