#little details that people can moss | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

the-fiction-witch · 4 months ago

Text

Bracken Bunny P2

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Davos Blackwood Couple - Davos X Reader Reader - (OC) Lady Y/n Bracken Rating - Smut (Non-Con) Word Count - 1900

Requested -

More please! Lowkey (highkey) into part 2! Would you consider it? I absolutely loved this Please part 2 Can we please get a part 2 of Bracken bunny?? I need to read what happens next 😫 MORE DAVOS PLEASE In desperate need of a part two for bracken bunny! So devious and wild

I contorted and writhed desperately trying to get myself out of his grasp. But Davos kept his hand locked around my upper arm leaving me with no choice but to walk with him. Often I tried to adjust myself slightly and to turn us around in circles but it never lasted long as he soon saw we were off-path and adjusted us back the way we needed to go. I screamed, swore and cursed his name a thousand times but it came out as nothing but muffled and mumbled grumbles from under the gag. If ever I tried to scream too loudly or draw attention to myself he would slap me hard on the ass to force my silence.

Finally, I saw it, Raventree Hall, The tall hall stood with ancient stone walls covered in climbing earthy moss, Large Square towers and a deep stone-lined moat.

I knew once I was inside it was too late, there would be little chance for my escape. And I hardly had hope of Davos letting me go, I used almost every last bit of my strength to try and get out of his grip but he forced me to the drawbridge, the only way across the deep moat.

“Who goes there?” A voice called out from the gate,

“It’s me you fuckwit!” Davos yelled,

“Ohh- Sorry- Who’s that with you?”

He chuckled, “Just a little bunny I found out hunting,” he purred, “Open the damn Gate!”

The thick wooden bridge slowly lowered revealing a well-kept courtyard, Davos dragged me inside with him walking me through the courtyard making sure no one saw my face.

The courtyard was busy with people. Many came and went from farming the various fertile lands House Blackwood owned, Blacksmiths working to make more and more weapons, and soldiers training and preparing. All ready for a battle at a moment’s notice, Likely a battle with my family.

He forced me inside the keep itself. The walls were tall and dark with a muddy smell to the air, and the timber rooms of the keep seemed cavernous and expansive with large dark oak beams high above it all. The walls were adorned with wollen tapestries, every piece of wood had intricate carvings, every door a detailed latticework, and each window had panes of diamond-shaped glass.

He forced me up through the Keep’s corridors until we reached a room, with stone walls lined with dark oak beams, a wooden floor, a stone fireplace in the corner, and a wooden bed lined with woven wool blankets with a window to the godswood above it.

I was thankful it wasn’t a prison cell, but fearful to be in his chambers.

He tossed my body onto the bed without care and locked the door behind him.

Davos came over to the bed leaving his weapons by the door, he pulled down the cloak and rested his finger in front of my nose. “You are not going to scream. You are not going to yell. I will remove the gag but you will not make a single sound. Do you understand me my little Bracken Bunny?”

I sighed knowing I didn’t have a choice, if I screamed the rest of his Blackwood family would come and I’d end up locked in a cell, or dead… or worse. So I nodded,

He smirked licking his bottom lip, “That’s a good girl,” He slowly untied the ribbon,

I quickly caught my breath staring into his dark brown eyes,

He grabbed my jaw hard, “I didn’t hear a thank you?”

“Thank you.” I spat,

“Humm that's a good little bracken bunny,” He smirked letting me go,

“What are you going to do with me?” I asked trying not to let my fear seep through,

He chuckled, “I am going to send a raven to your father, and we’re going to find out just how much Lord Bracken values his precious little daughter.” He growled, “You, my little bunny are going to stay here with me,” He crawled over me pinning my hips to his bed, “And we are going to have a lot of fun.” He stroked some hair from my face, “I am going to put a price on every little inch of you little bunny, your hair, your skin, your … maidenhead. All of it will have a price that your father is going to have to pay if he wants left intact.”

I tried to squirm out of his grip but he was far too strong, “My father would bring his army and burn Raventree Hall to the ground,”

“Oh, would he? Shall we find out how much he values you? Exactly how much he values? Down to the gold dragon?” he smirked forcing up my dress,

I squealed but he clamped a hand over my mouth,

“Quiet my little bracken bunny,” He growled licking my cheek,

“Don’t you dare,” I whispered,

“Don’t I?” He growled forcing me over onto my stomach pushing my head into the pillow and my feet on the floor so I’m bent over his bed. He forced my dress up to my waist exposing me completely to him,

I whined in humiliation at being so exposed, I kicked my feet trying to keep him away but he grabbed my ankles and forced my feet to the floor,

“Umm… such a cutie, “Humm… I best prep the raven now, I don’t know how long I can look at this cute little ass without ravishing it,” He growled his hands stroking my ass and digging his nails in as he forced my cheeks apart as far as they would go,

I squealed against the pillow in pain as he kept me like this for a solid minute making sure he got a good look at me, “If you do anything to me… It’ll start a war.”

“Will it?” he smirked, “Now that will be a war worthy of a song,” He growled slapping my ass hard,

“Ahh!” I complained,

“Ohh yeah do that again,” He growled slapping me again,

“Ahhh! Stop!” I pleaded,

He forced me up again by my hair and cut my hands loose with his knife,

I immediately went to hit him but he grabbed my hands and forced my wrists into chains that he attached to the bedpost of his bed, he chuckled slyly as he waved his knife around me and paced the half circle around me before he pressed the blade to my stomach,

“I think I have been very merciful, I could gut you, From cunt to cranium if I wanted to.” He growled, “But I have been very merciful, and I feel very reasonable. You are my prisoner, and you have my word that I will only harm what your family doesn’t pay to protect, So be a good little bunny and behave or your father gets a head arriving home to Stone Hedge,” He smirked cutting my dress and forcing it off me leaving me naked and utterly at his mercy, “Fuck… look at you,” He chuckled pacing around me once more, “I am gonna enjoy every last moment of this,” He growled in my ear, as his hands gripped me one on my hip and the other between my legs as he loomed behind me pressing his chest against my back,

“Ahh!” I squealed as he touched me so aggressively with no way of stopping him,

He chuckled lowly, “You are such a pretty little bunny,” he began to roughly hold my mound with his palm, his fingers slid over my lips,

“Let me go. Stop this! You gave me your word!”

“I gave you my word that I wouldn’t harm anything your family pays to protect. So… I won’t cut your hair if they pay for it, I won’t break your fingers if they pay for it, I won’t… deflower you if they pay for it.” He growled his finger circling my entrance, “But this,” He purred pushing two of his fingers inside me,

“Ahhhhh!” I screamed,

“This is fair game little bunny,” he purred,

“Stop! Please!” I begged,

“Ohh you sound so cute when you beg,” He chuckled moving his fingers fast and hard moving them in and out with no mercy for me at all, “Where’s that cute little thing threatening me in the field?”

“You gave me-”

“I said no harm, all I’m doing is having fun with you.” He smirked, “And we are going to have so very much fun the next few days… or weeks… or months. However long till your family pays up to get you back,” He smirked his hand moving off my hip and coming around to rub my clit mercilessly,

“Ahhhhhh Please stop!” I screamed my legs already shaking as he worked, standing behind me one hand thrusting his fingers at a merciless pace, the other hand rubbing my clit,

“I’m not stopping till you cum,” He growled nibbling my neck, “Ohh yeah I can feel you trembling, I can feel how wet you are, I know your gonna cum, and I’m gonna force it out of you whether you want to or not. So… Come on my little bracken bunny cum for me.”

I squealed and screamed trying not to hold back but he moved so fast and so hard I didn’t really have a choice, my body responding to the stimulation even if I didn’t want it to, I knew I was close and I tried everything to keep it back and stop it from happening not wanting to give him the satisfaction, of my satisfaction.

“You’re going to be good while you’re here, aren’t you? You’re going to behave, and be a good little bunny for me? Let me touch you and play with you?” He growled as he gave my neck a hickey,

“..Okay,” I whined, knowing I was close and there was nothing I could do to stop it,

“What was that?” he purred,

“Okay!” I yelped in frustration,

“Okay, what?”

“Okay, I’ll behave.”

“Say it,”

“What!”

“Say. It.”

“I will behave,” I said through gritted teeth my knees almost buckling as my hips and legs trembled,

“Properly bunny,”

“I promise I will behave,”

“Almost… little more,”

“Uhhhhh please stop!” I screamed clenching around his fingers trying not to drip down his hands even if it was already too late for that,

“Come on, you can do it,” He growled, “Say it. Properly.”

“I promise I will behave lord blackwood,” I screamed,

But before he could say anything I hit my orgasm, screaming out as my body was flooded with pleasure, my toes curling against the wooden floor.

He chuckled as he watched me, slowing his fingers and letting me ride it out until I was nothing but a gasping mess in his arms, “Good little Bracken Bunny,” He cooed kissing my cheek, “You did so good,” He purred his fingers slow but they hadn’t stopped,

“Please I-” I gasped as his nonstop rubbing and thrusting was sending my body into overstimulation,

“And as for war my little pet bunny,” He smirked thrusting his fingers hard and fast inside me faster than he ever had made me scream for mercy, “I would go to war for this cunt. A Thousand times over.” Before he pulled them out leaving me to gasp, “Get some rest, I’ll go send the raven.” He smirked licking his fingers clean,

“Yes my lord blackwood,” I gasped,

“Good girl,” He smiled giving my lips a kiss, “Such a good little bracken bunny,” He smirked before he left the room shutting and locking the door behind him.

319 notes · View notes

gojoux · 1 year ago

Text

『 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐑 』

· Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader

· Summary: In the middle of your mission, he makes a move on you, until you realize that's not the case.

· CW: 3.8k // Sensitive content (SA). Hurt/comfort. Act of deception.

Please do not proceed if it could trigger you.

“Why are you with me again?” You look at him who is walking casually by your side with his hands in his pockets.

“Why not? I have nothing better to do right now.” Gojo shrugs. “And besides, a second pair of eyes can always come in handy.” He looks at you. “Plus, I can keep an eye on you and keep you safe.” He grins.

“Aww, are you trying to play the prince or something?” You grin back at him, nudging his side with your elbow.

He smirks at your answer. “If the shoe fits.” The sunlight shimmers off of his white hair. A few strands fall into his eyes, making it seem like he’s trying to peek at you.

“So, what's our objective on this mission?” He looks at you. “Any details?”

“I've been informed about a grade 1 cursed spirit between the abandoned buildings.” You answered with your eyes looking forward, analyzing the buildings in this less crowded place.

He listens quietly as you fill him in on your mission. He nods at your words, absorbing the information. He reaches up and scratches his neck lightly, and a smile spreads across his face. “A grade 1 cursed spirit?” He pauses. “They should be no problem to take down.”

“Easy for you to say, Mr. Strongest Sorcerer.” You roll your eyes playfully. He grins at you, “Exactly.”

“A Grade 1 Spirit will be no problem at all. No need for you to worry.” His eyes twinkle in amusement as they meet yours. “We'll finish this mission in no time.”

“I thought this was my mission?” You look at him with a raised brow. “I can handle this by myself, Satoru.”

Your conversation with Gojo is always lighthearted no matter the situation. But you do appreciate his offer, even though you're confident that you can finish this mission yourself, without his help.

“Sure, sure. You could take this cursed spirit down by yourself. But why do that when you could have your best friend with you?” He tilts his head with a chuckle.

“I'm fine on my own.” You brush him off as you feel like you're getting closer to your destination. “Just go buy some ice cream while you wait for me or something.”

Gojo’s lips quirk up. “How about, no?” He glances at you and the side of the road. “No use in fighting me. Unless you’ve got a secret crush on me or something? I mean, who wouldn’t have one?” He gives you a teasingly-wide grin.

“We're here.” You ignore his words as you both stand between the two empty-looking buildings, or it's just not many people who live around here. The dark hallway leads to another wider place way further back. The sunlight could only expose so little.

You take a deep breath before walking forward. He follows you into the dark hallway. He looks around, his head tilting to the side as he takes in the surroundings. “Looks like nobody has stepped foot here in a long time.” He adjusts the glasses on his face.

“Yeah.” You slowly walk further until you see a smaller building at the end of the hallway. ‘Strange.’ You thought to yourself.

The gray building looks like an old abandoned house with peeled-off dry paint and moss sticking on the sides of walls, not to mention it's dusty and smelled unpleasant.

Gojo peers at the old house, his hands in his pockets. He looks around, scanning the area around you for any possible signs of cursed spirits. “Seems... quiet right now.”

“Are we about to enter a haunted house?” He says casually with his playful grin. “Yes, we are.” There is no door at the entrance, so you just walk in and you look around the dark interior.

He steps inside the house beside you, his eyes taking in every detail of the abandoned house. “This place looks like it hasn’t been used in decades.” He glances at you. “Well then... let’s start hunting for this cursed spirit.” He looks around, his eyes darting.

“I'll take upstairs and you'll take down here, okay?” You say as you step on the stair, ready to go up while you wait for his response.

He nods. “Got it.” His eyes follow you as you walk up the stairs to the second floor of the abandoned house. “I’m sure I’ll be fine down here all by myself,” his voice is laced with sarcasm.

Gojo looks around the first floor as he searches for any traces of a cursed spirit. He checks the living room, the kitchen, the bedrooms, and the bathroom. “Man, what a creepy place.” He mumbles to himself.

You check around upstairs, but you find nothing but old, unused stuff covered in dust.

You found interest in a particular room at the end of the corridor. You check inside the room for a while, analyzing your surrounding as you try to sense anything in your surroundings.

“Found anything yet?”

You jumped back at the sound coming by the door before you let out a shaky exhale of relief. “Oh, it's just you.”

You didn't sense his cursed energy, probably too busy looking for a cursed spirit or any residue.

Gojo chuckles as he hears you speak. He leans against the door, a cocky smile on his face. "Yeah, it's just me. You look like you're scared of this old abandoned house."

“I'm not.” You mumble. Gojo walks towards you. His footsteps are eerily silent. He pauses, glancing at you. “What? Lost your senses, hmm?” He crosses his arms and tilts his head.

His eyes fall on the dark corners of the room, on the objects inside. He notices the old abandoned chair on the far side of the room. “Did something scare you? Scared of the boogeyman?” He smirks.

“I'm not scared. Just caught off-guard, that's all.” You continue to check around the big room.

His smirk widens. “Right, right. I thought you’d be more jumpy.” He lets out a small chuckle. “You sure are more relaxed than usual. You should be more vigilant.” He crosses his arms again.

Gojo’s eyes glance at you, a smile creeping across his lips. “So, you wanna tell me what you found there?” He gestures towards the room behind you, still keeping his attention on you. “Not much. Just some old stuff.” You answer, not looking at him.

Then, Gojo’s arms wrap around your waist in a surprise hug. “Boo~” He whispers, his lips grazing your ear. “Did I scare you?” He leans in closer, his voice whispering softly. He bites your ear lobe teasingly.

“S-Satoru!” You got startled this time, more like from his sudden gesture, and you feel tingly when you feel his lips on your earlobe.

His smirk widens as he hears your startled reaction. He presses himself closer to you, his arms squeezing you tightly. He whispers in your ear. “You’ve got such a cute scream.” He chuckles. “I swear, your reactions are so cute.”

“What are you doing?” Your heart is beating fast from the closeness of your body, the feeling of your ridiculously handsome best friend's body against yours. How can you not be flustered?

His lips form a smug grin. “Just teasing my favorite person right now.” He pauses briefly. “Are... you nervous?” His gaze is locked into yours while his arms are still wrapped around your waist.

“Ha, ha, very funny.” You pull yourself away from his embrace and turn to face him, trying to play it off with a nonchalant attitude. “Really, what are you doing, hm?”

He chuckles, noticing how flustered you look despite you trying to hide it. “I’m teasing you with physical touch.” He smirks and steps closer to you. He leans his head towards you until your forehead is almost touching and his fingertips holding onto your chin.

“Would you like some more teasing?” Your flustered face is an endearing sight for his eyes. His eyes dart back and forth between you and your lips. His thumb caresses your lips softly.

“I’m actually... in love with you.” He whispers. He pauses for a moment as he takes in every detail of your face. “I’ve liked you... No, I’ve loved you since we met. I’ve kept my feelings hidden for a long time because of how I thought you’d react.” He leans in, his fingertips gently caressing your cheek. His eyes never leave yours.

You were stunned by his sudden confession, can't believe that your best friend just said those words to you. “You're just joking, right...? This is not funny.” You shake your head to shake the thoughts off as you pull your face back from his.

He lets out a chuckle at your reaction. “No, no, it’s true. I'm in love with you.” He raises one of his eyebrows as you look away from him. His eyes follow yours, trying to grab your gaze. “Look at me. I want you to listen and realize how much I meant what I said.” He pauses before continuing. “Don’t dismiss my feelings. I mean it.”

“Is it that difficult to believe that your best friend for years now, has a crush on you?” He strokes your cheek with his thumb gently. “I like you as more than just a friend. Why don't you believe me?” His words end in a whisper.

Again, you shake your head at his confession. “Don't joke with my feelings like that... Is not funny.” You frown at him as you back away from his touch.

“I'm not joking.” He replies. “I swear to you that I'm serious.” He reaches out and grabs your wrist. “Don't push me away so soon. How can you say no to me after all we've been through together?” He shifts closer to you again and grabs your chin, forcing you to look at his eyes.

“Let's get back to our mission, shall we?” You chuckle awkwardly to change the subject. But he doesn't let go of your wrist. “(Y/N), please.” He looks at you with pleading eyes. “I've just opened up to you. You can't be serious about rejecting me.” He frowns a little. “Do you really think I'm joking?”

“I mean, you joke a lot.” You shrug, not knowing what to say in this sudden situation. “And why would you even confess like this? We're on a mission, you know, get serious.” You brush him off as you continue to wander around the room.

He grabs your wrist again, pulls you back, and turns you to face him. His voice is now serious. “You are not walking away from me yet.” His grip tightens once again.

“Look at me.” He pulls you closer to him, his breath heavy against your skin. He looks you over from head to toe, his other hand resting on your waist. “My words might not mean much to you, but my touch certainly does.” He leans down until your faces are just inches apart.

“What?” You look at him in surprise at his sudden change of demeanor. You know that he does get quite aggressive sometimes, but he doesn't really do it to you like this.

He moves his hand away from your waist, placing it on your cheek and stroking your neck. “Come on, (Y/N). Your heart is beating at double speed, and your breath is slightly ragged.” He leans in again, his touch becoming a little firmer on your face. “Just this once, let me take what's mine.”

“Hey, hey, what do you mean ‘what's yours’?” You pull yourself away from his grasp again. By now, you're already freaked out from how odd he's behaving.

He puts himself in front of you again, and once more, places his hands on your waist. “I want to kiss you, (Y/N). I want to taste you.” His fingers move to the hem of your uniform jacket. “Let me love you.”

“Enough!” You swat his hand away from your jacket. He holds you back against your arms, firmly trying to bring you close once more. “There's something special between you and me. We can do this here.” He whispers to you. “No one will know.”

“Satoru. Enough with this nonsense. And take your hands away from me.” You glare at him this time, your tone is serious. But he doesn't budge when you tell him to take his hands away.

“No.” He lets out a harsh breath. “I've been trying to show you my feelings so you'll understand. I want you. All of you.”

A smirk creeps its way across his face. “Or would you prefer I tear all of your clothes off and take you right here?” He presses his body closer to you once again.

You widen your eyes in disbelief at his words. Is this the Gojo Satoru you know?

“You're unbelievable...” You feel tears gathering in your eyes. “Oh, is it?” His voice is filled with amusement with your reaction. He slowly reaches out and tilts your head up once more, his fingers stroking your cheeks.

“You're so easy, you know that?” He smiles. “Maybe I should just tear you out of your clothes right now... But I'll be gentle with you if you want.” He lowers his voice now, smiling seductively. “Just let me have you, (Y/N).”

“No.” You shake your head, trying to get off from his grasp. He lets out a groan, growing frustrated as you continue to reject him. His hands grab your arms now, and you notice his expression darkens.

“I'm done asking.” He whispers. “I'm going to take you now.” He leans in towards you, and his breath becomes hot as your face is almost touching. “Say you're mine.” He demands. “If you don't listen, I'll just have to take what's mine with force.”

Your heart beats faster, this time not from being flustered by him, but rather from fear. “Are you... trying to attempt something?!”

You really don't see the playful and carefree Gojo Satoru now.

“I'm not attempting anything, (Y/N).” He becomes more serious. “This is me taking what's mine.” He pauses for a minute, his thumb slowly tracing across your lips once again. He closes the gap between his lips and your neck to lick your skin. “Say yes. Or I'll make you say yes.”

You shake your head again, feeling helpless by now. You feel weak, not as a sorcerer, but as a human. You're alone in this secluded place with someone you trust, yet he turns out to be like this.

“No... I don't want it... I don't want this...” You look at him in disbelief and disappointment.

His finger is still softly stroking your bottom lip. “I can be gentle with you...” The tone of his voice changes back to seductive once again. “Please, let me take you.” He bites down on his lip, his other hand slowly moving up and down your thigh. “You know that you want me to touch you.”

“Stop! Stop!” You yell at him before pushing him away with the remaining of your strength and running out of the room.

You bump into someone once you almost reach the stairs until you fall on your ass. And when you look up, much more to your shock, you see him.

“Satoru...?” You feel like your breath is being sucked out of your lungs. “Wait, what...? But you- you were...” You look at him back and forth between the man in front of you and the room you just ran off from.

He immediately kneels down to your level in concern. “Hey, hey, are you—” but he cuts himself off when he realizes that you're backing away from him. “— okay...?”

Gojo stares at you for a moment as you look at him with so much fear. “Why are you scared?” He tilts his head, his expression is filled with concern.

He slowly moves towards you once again, his hands up in the air as he shows you that he isn't planning on touching you. “It's me. I'm not going to harm you.”

He's focused on you, and he's genuinely concerned and confused about why you're acting like this. You were just fine a while ago.

You shake your head, refusing to be touched by him. “No... You're... Inside the room...”

“What is it, (Y/N)? Talk to me, please.” His voice is soft, he doesn't want to push you further to the edge like you already are.

He's also careful to not move too close to you, not wanting to push you away in fear. He remains calm, although you can see that his hands slightly shake when his hand stops midway reaching you.

“Y-yo-you are Satoru, right...?” Your breathing is ragged while you look at him closely.

“Yes, (Y/N). It's me, Satoru.” Gojo's voice stays calm as he speaks to you. He watches you nervously, hoping that you don't see him as a threat now.

”But... you were there...” You look back towards the room far behind you. His expression becomes concerned once more. “What did you see? I was downstairs the entire time.” He tries to reach out more to you but hesitates once he sees how scared you still are.

He pulls his hand back and his fingers fiddle with his sleeves as he speaks, his mind racing with thoughts. Are you scared of him? How does he convince you that it's actually him?

Then, his Six Eyes caught something from the way you came running from. The end of the corridor. “Wait here, okay? I will be quick.”

He stands up and walks towards the room you were in before. You rest your back against the wall, trying to calm yourself down and process what just happened.

And before you knew it, he came back and sat in front of you with his legs crossed. “(Y/N)...” He calls out your name softly, he tilts his head to meet your gaze better.

“I'm going to explain to you real quick, okay?” He talks to you carefully, his fingers nibbling his sleeves once more. “You were inside the cursed spirit's domain. In that room, which I guess is where you came from earlier.”

Your confusion lasts only a moment before you realize that you were talking to a cursed spirit that had pretended to be Gojo.

That was the cursed spirit you're supposed to exorcise yet you were caught in its trap without realizing it. Who knows what could have happened if Gojo didn't come with you in the first place.

He takes a short breath before he continues. “I think you saw something, right...? Whatever it is, it's not real.”

Your gaze shifts from the floor to him. “You...” Your voice is quiet and still shaky. “I saw you.”

He looks at you in silence for a moment. “Me?” He asks, wanting you to repeat to make sure he's hearing your words right.

“You were... there... trying to...” You don't even want to finish your words. You don't want to be reminded of what could have happened if you didn't gather yourself that time to push fake Gojo and run away.

“Trying to what?” His voice is calm and quiet, but he can't help but notice how she still won't make any eye contact with him.

His eyes silently scan you, searching for any wounds. His eyes then linger on your damp cheeks and the expression of fear on your face.

He moves his hands away from his sleeves and places them together in front of him, hoping that he'll be able to convince you. “Are you... scared of me?” His tone seems to shift into sadness when you don't answer him, guessing what could possibly be the problem that made you like this.

“You were touching me... and...” You can't continue the rest as you look away from him.

“Was I doing... what I think it is?” Gojo seems caught off guard when you describe the situation. His face darkens when he realizes what he must seem like to you. “(Y/N), I would never do anything like that.” You can see that he's genuinely worried about losing you now. “You have to trust me... I would never betray your trust like that. Just look at me. It's me.”

You shake your head while avoiding looking at him. You just want to shake the thoughts off, and seeing his face reminds you of what happened back then.

“But it is me, (Y/N).” His voice grows quieter as he speaks. “Do I really seem like that kind of man? I know that I've teased you and said some inappropriate things, but I would never force myself onto you.”

His words may be filled with emotion, but his eyes remain filled with genuine worry as he watches you avoid his gaze.

He scoots closer to close the gap between the two of you, grasping your hand as he speaks. “Please, look at me? Just give me a chance so that you can trust me.” His words are filled with desperation now. “That's all I ask.”

His voice becomes a whisper as he speaks, his hands shaking, “Please, don't be scared of me.”

You finally look up to meet his gaze. He is rarely this soft. You realized that the fake Gojo back then lacked the warmth that this Gojo has, and you can feel it when he grabs your hand and how he speaks to you.

“Can you... comfort me?” You ask quietly, letting yourself be vulnerable in his presence. “Please?”

“You want comfort?” He smiles softly, his grip on your hand tightening as he speaks. “Then let me give it to you.”

He pulls you closer to him, placing your head against his chest so that you're able to hear his heartbeat. “That's my heart, (Y/N)... It beats for you and you alone.”

He lowers his voice once again, wanting you to be able to hear him clearly. “Whatever you experienced earlier, that would never be me. I promise I'll never hurt you."

“I was so scared...” Your body is slumped in his embrace.

“Shh… don’t be scared anymore.” Gojo strokes your hair gently, rubbing comforting circles on your head as you rest against him. He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead and whispers into your ear. “You’re safe with me.” His words are quiet and soothing as he keeps holding you close. “Just let me hold you until you feel better,” he whispers.

“I didn't expect anything like that to happen in my mission…” You murmur. “I'm glad that I didn't shoo you away to eat ice cream.” You try to lighten up your own mood.

He laughs softly, his head moving to the side to look down at you. “You're right.” His voice is soft as he continues to cradle you in his arms. “It’s over now.” His tone is once again calm and soothing, hoping that you’ll be able to relax against his chest.

He gently rubs his thumb across your cheek, but only does so for a moment before he stops. “Keep leaning on me. Just rest in my arms for now. We'll talk whenever you're ready.”

He kisses your forehead before resting his head against yours. He’s already thinking about how should he confess to you, and promise to himself that he’ll keep you safe.

He's thinking of an ice cream date, actually. But for now, he’s content in giving you the comfort you needed.

“I’ll take care of you.”

1K notes · View notes

fortheloveofwonderland · 1 year ago

Text

Summer Heat | S.R

Summary - By orders or the director, the BAU must undertake a team building hike in the woods. You and Spencer have never gotten along and not even the summer heat seems to be able thaw the ice that exists between you. But then you get yourselves lost and while waiting for rescue, you have to find a way to pass the time…

A/N - set somewhere in the realms of s15. This is my second entry for @imagining-in-the-margins Summer Sunshine Challenge.

Pairing - Spencer Reid / BAU Fem! Reader

Warnings - enemies to lovers, Spencer’s awkward info dumping about hiking related deaths, swearing, public urination, talks of bladder control techniques, treating wounds, Spencer is touch starved, mentions of prison and Cat Adams and Max, Spencer and reader are oblivious idiots, make outs, handjob, fingering, public sexual acts, interruptions.

WC - 8.9k

The potency of the early afternoon Virginia sun infiltrating the towering thicket of loblolly pines caressed your skin, peppering its honeyed kisses across your flesh.

The warm earthy scents combined with the aromas of moss and the sharp, almost sweet notes of the pine trees engulfed you in a blanket of mother earth's creation.

You hummed to yourself as you trekked up a grassy incline barely registering the weight of your oversized pack on your back. You were no stranger to hiking or the heat and you were barely phased by it.

Unlike some people.

Doctor Spencer Reid was equipped for neither physical activity or the weather, despite the fact he grew up in desert climates. You could hear him huffing and puffing behind you as he struggled up even the smallest of hills.

You reached the brow and turned back to him with your hands on your hips. His face was flushed red from a combination of the sun and exertion. His hair stuck to his sweaty brow and his chest heaved with his breaths.

When he reached you, he doubled over, hands on his knees and he fought to catch his breath. You rolled your eyes and waited somewhat impatiently for him to stand again.

“Are you really this out of shape?” You scoffed.

He glanced up through a curtain of hair, puffing uneven breaths out between parted lips.

“Clearly.” He bit back.

It wasn’t a secret that the two of you didn’t exactly see eye to eye. You’d been with the team for almost a year now, but you and Spencer had never been close.

You’d gotten off on the wrong foot on your very first case. He’d spent almost all day on the phone to someone talking about his mother and you’d made a flippant comment about him being a mama's boy.

This led Spencer to launch into a rant about how his mother suffered from schizophrenia and altzeimers and how he was talking to her doctor because she was struggling to adjust to the new home he’d put her in DC.

He didn’t stop there. He continued to inform that she had been moved to DC because she wasn’t responding well to medication or her living facility in Vegas. He detailed how he’d moved her to the east coast and then gotten arrested in Mexico whilst trying to procure some experimental medicine.

He was seething by the time he told you that the same woman who’d gotten him arrested then had his mother kidnapped and almost killed.

He wasn’t as standoffish towards you as he used to be, his iciness thawing somewhat over time. But you were never going to be his favourite person. And as a result, he wasn’t yours either.

He forced himself to stand up straight, grabbing his canteen from where it was hanging from the strap of his backpack and taking a hefty sip before wiping the back of his hand over his mouth.

“It’s just a little hike. It’s not like you’re running a marathon or anything.” You clucked. “Can we continue now?”

“Just a little hike?” He groaned but started walking nonetheless. “It’s ten miles! And I have to do it with you.”

“Oh you poor, unfortunate soul.” You rolled your eyes as you fell in step with him.

The hike had been an idea which was floated down from the director. A team building exercise it had been dubbed. Although it wasn’t strictly mandatory it would look bad on those who didn’t participate.

So the BAU was spending a rare weekend off on a ten mile hike through the Shenandoah National Park followed by spending the night camping at the valley’s campground.

The Shenandoah National Park was more than five hundred miles of hiking trails extending along the Blue Ridge Mountains which included a section of long distance Appalachian Trail.

As someone who relished in the outdoors you’d always wanted the chance to visit Shenandoah but had never had the opportunity. And if you were paired up with anyone other than Spencer you might have been able to enjoy yourself.

Garcia had everyone draw straws in order to team up for the hike before you would all meet up later at the campground. You’d quite literally drawn the short straw with Spencer whilst Penelope was paired with Matt, Luke with JJ whilst Tara, Emily and Rossi made a group of three.

Spencer was the least athletic of the BAU members, the least outdoorsy, and so far had not stopped complaining.

You regarded your GPS as you walked to ensure you were headed in the right direction and the two of you fell back into silence.

Spencer breathed heavily even when the trail was flat, groaning a little every time you came to another incline.

You watched him out of the corner of your eye. It was a strange sight to behold, an academic who was far more comfortable indoors trekking through the woods like this. But what was even weirder was his outfit.

You’d never seen Spencer out of a shirt and slacks but he’d tried to at least look the part of a hiker today. He wore a thin black t-shirt and a pair of cargo shorts which showed off his surprisingly toned legs. You didn’t even think he would own such an item of clothing.

He’d tried to look the part, probably only taking into account the heat and not the fact that he was leaving his legs exposed to bug bites and poison ivy. You wouldn’t be the one to tell him that though.

He’d ditched his satchel in lieu of a backpack but still had his trusty converse on with obligatory mismatched socks. You’d told him converse would be hard to hike in, their thin soles alone not conducive to walking on the forest floor.

Judging by the way he grimaced with nearly every step, he was starting to wish he’d listened to you.

You continued to walk in silence, watching the way Spencer’s wary eyes cast around through the thick tree trunks, ears pricking at every tiny sound.

“If you didn’t need to stop and catch your breath every five minutes we’d be back by now.” You couldn’t hold your tongue.

Spencer’s head turned towards you, brows furrowed.

“If we hadn’t taken such a hilly trail I wouldn’t need to keep stopping every five minutes. Did you know hikers use twenty eight percent more energy when traversing uneven terrain as opposed to flatter land?” He grabbed his canteen again and took another sip.

“Don’t come crying to me when you’ve run out of water.” You ignored his statistical rambling, increasing your gait a little.

“I won’t run out of water. I’ve calculated exactly how much I can afford to drink per hour when approximating how long it will take to walk ten miles.” He told you smugly.

“Of course you have.” You rolled your eyes, picking up your pace a little more.

“I can’t believe the bureau is making us do this. Do they not realise that hiking related deaths have been on the rise? They’ve increased as much as twenty one percent in recent years.” He grumbled as he tried to match your pace.

“Oh please, do tell me more.” You huffed and clearly Spencer either didn’t sense your sarcasm or he chose to ignore it because he did tell you more.

“Fifty percent of all hiking related deaths are caused by a fall or drowning. Men make up seventy two percent of those victims.” He pulled a face, focusing on the ground beneath him now he’d drawn his own attention to that fact.

“Well you for one are particularly clumsy.” You replied, your tone one of boredom.

“The other fifty percent are due to medical conditions such as heart attacks while engaging in physical activity.”

“What kind of physical activity?” You smirked suggestively, nudging him in his arm.

Spencer shook his head as your childish insinuation.

“Oh grow up, Y/L/N.” He spat.

“I’m just saying if there is a man out there so good in bed he can induce a heart attack, I wanna meet him.” You chuckled, seeing him roll his eyes in your peripheral vision.

“And I’m saying, hiking is inherently dangerous.”

“We chase serial killers for a living.” You huffed, checking your navigational device again.

“Which I am well versed in due to years of hands-on experience. I am not educated in outdoor pursuits.” He scoffed.

“You seem to know a lot about hiking related deaths.” You cast your gaze upwards towards the sun peaking between the high trees.

You could hear faint rhythmic buzzing from insects nearby, distance scuffling through the underbrush. Every now and again you picked up on various bird songs as they chirped from the high branches.

It made a smile blossom on your features, being one with nature, the summer air cleansing your lungs. The sounds and the smells were a comfort to you, taking you back to childhood memories camping and trekking through forests just like this with your family and fond recollections of years spent at summer camps.

Summer was without a doubt your favourite season. It elicited waves of nostalgia, taking you back to years spent at camp lake edges, eating ice cream hurriedly before it melted, giving you brain freeze.

It evoked images of burning campfires, the smell of the wood as it smouldered and the marshmallows roasting ready to be made into s’mores. Dulcet tones of an acoustic guitar played under the moonlight by Andy Duncan, your camp crush.

And later when he’d walked you back to your cabin and bestowed upon you your first ever kiss. Summer held some of your best memories and kindled your sentimental side.

You toyed with the GPS device in your hand as you walked, twigs and leaves crunching under foot. You didn’t realise Spencer was staring at you.

“You okay?” He spoke up, snapping you out of your reminiscing.

“Huh?” You glanced at him sideways.

Spencer had a hint of amusement in his eyes as he looked at you, something you’d never seen on him before, not directed towards you anyway.

“You look awfully wistful.” He shrugged.

“I just love summer I guess.” You mirrored his action.

“That makes sense.” Spencer turned away and looked back at the ground so he could avoid any potential trip hazards.

“What does that mean?” You swatted at a bug that landed on your arm.

“It means I’m not surprised you like summer, arguably the worst season.” He clucked.

“The worst? Oh please. Let me guess Doc, you’re a fan of gloomy winter? That would make sense.”

“Winter isn’t gloomy. Winter is oversized sweaters and hot cocoa by a fireplace. Huddled under blankets, the holidays. Sometimes even snow.” He told you as if you’d never heard of winter before. “But it’s not my favourite season. My favourite season is fall.”

“Hmm, dark and moody tones, nature dying. That tracks.” You spoke in a clipped tone.

“It’s not dying, it’s the start of rebirth. Shedding one layer so it can grow into something more than it ever thought it could be. It’s hauntingly beautiful really. And autumnal tones are stunning, all those earthy hues and streets littered in leaves. It makes me think of cinnamon and old books. Reading in the park with my mom when she was lucid and watching the leaves fall from the trees all around us.” It was Spencer’s turn to grow wistful.

You noticed his eyes glaze over slightly, his lip quirking up at the corner as he got lost in a fond childhood memory.

Spencer never talked to you about his youth or his mother after your initial falling out. He’d never been so candid with you before. As if he realised this, he shook his head, snapping himself out of his own revere.

“I, uh, didn’t mean to share all that.” He grumbled, grabbing his canteen and sipping the water just for something to do.

“I don’t mind.”

“Well I do.” He spat, slowing a little as the two of you neared another slight slope. “You’re the last person I want to talk to about my mother.”

You slowed with him until you both stopped. You folded your arms across your chest and glared at him.

“Reid, come on. It’s been a long time. I’ve apologised for calling you a mama’s boy multiple times. How could I have possibly known about your mother?” You shook your head.

Spencer’s jaw tightened, the muscle in the side of his face pulsing as he stared at you. You could all but see the cogs turning in his head as he fashioned a response.

“I don’t want your apologies, Y/L/N.” He huffed out.

He suddenly started walking again, ignoring how much his legs ached as he started up the small slope. You watched him go for a moment or two, feeling awash with anger.

You’d been looking forward to this hike, to an excuse to spend the weekend outdoors in the sun. You were not going to let Doctor Spencer Reid ruin that for you.

***

You carried on walking for another hour or so and not another word was spoken between you. It was tense and awkward and the sun was getting lower in the sky.

It wouldn’t be at all long before it started getting dark and you were growing a little concerned that you might not make it back before the sunset.

Spencer was clearly thinking the same as his brows had been furrowed for at least the past ten minutes and he was furiously chewing on his lip.

You halted in your tracks and pulled the GPS device back out. You stared down at it with a heavy frown, feeling the heat radiating off of Spencer as he drew closer to you. He peered at the GPS over your shoulder with a scrunched brow similar to your own.

“That says we’re only a few hundred yards from the camp. We should be able to see it.” Spencer looked up but all he saw was trees.

He turned a complete three hundred and sixty degrees but was met by trees as far as the eye could see.

“I think…I think it’s busted.” You groaned deeply, the sound reverberating out into the forest.

“No? No!” Spencer snatched it from your hand and shook it as if that would help matters. “Call someone! It’s going to get dark soon!”

You did not miss the blatant panic in his voice and if you didn’t feel the same you might have made a jab at him for it.

You reached for your phone in your pants pocket and unlocked the screen but groaned as soon as you did so.

“Fuck, I have no signal.”

“What?” Spencer scrabbled for his own device and huffed seeing he had no bars either. “We’re stuck out here?”

“Uh,” you glanced around. “Yes?”

“No, no. I am not dying out in the woods with you.” His tone was even more fraught.

“Trust me, you are not my first choice of death partner either.” You scoffed.

“If we’re out here long enough we could dehydrate! Or get hypothermia! I told you fifty percent of hiking related deaths are caused by medical conditions.” He was spiralling.

“How many hiking related deaths are caused by homicide?” You shot him an unamused look.

“Eighteen percent of 990 deaths at national parks were considered intentional. That includes suicide and homicide.”

“It was a rhetorical question.” You shook your head. “Maybe if we get to higher ground we can get some cell service.”

You started to walk but had no idea where you were going. You just had to hope you would find some higher ground.

Spencer followed you for lack of any better suggestions. He was sulking like a petulant child, clearly there was something on his mind as he huffed a few times as he trailed behind you.

You walked no more than a few minutes before his constant sighing and pouting caused you to stop again.

“What?” You spat. “What is it?”

Spencer frowned, halting in his tracks too. He was rolling his lip frantically between his teeth now and jiggling a little where he stood.

“I, uh,” his cheeks flushed red. “I need to use the bathroom.”

You closed your eyes for a second, pinched the bridge of your nose.

“I hate to break it to you but there are no bathrooms way out here.”

“It’s a figure of speech.” He grumbled. “I need to…pee.”

“Okay, well take your pick.” You motioned around to the copious trees surrounding you.

“I’m not a dog.” He rolled his eyes.

“I’m sorry princess but it’s the best I can offer you.”

Spencer sucked in a deep breath, clenching his hands at his side. His leg was still jiggling with his need to urinate.

Spencer had developed an extremely strong bladder in his time in prison. The toilets on offer at Milburn were some of the most unhygienic he’d ever seen and as such had used them as little as humanly possible.

He’s trained himself to strengthen his bladder, exercising his pelvic floor in order to reduce the amount of times in a day he needed to use the bathroom.

As such during the hike he hadn’t been once while you had been multiple times. And now it had snuck up on him, coming out of nowhere and he wouldn’t be able to hold it long.

“Goddamn I hate nature.” He grumbled, glancing around for the largest looking tree he could use to shield himself from you.

You watched as he turned his back on you, hurrying off in one direction, further than was strictly necessary. You rolled your eyes with a shake of your head.

“Don’t worry, Doc I’m not looking to catch a glimpse.” You called after him. You heard a tut in response but he didn’t rise to it.

Spencer pushed forwards through some bushes and weaved in and out large pines before he found a tree trunk far enough away from you that he could have some semblance of peace while he expelled himself.

He made sure the trunk was blocking his body before he unbuttoned his cargo shorts and freed himself from his pants. Within a fraction of a second he was already urinating.

He let out a relieved sigh, holding the base of his cock in one hand for aiming purposes whilst leaning the other on the tree.

He closed his eyes as the blissful sensation of his bladder emptying consumed him. He didn’t relish doing this in the woods but he couldn’t deny how nice it felt.

It felt so good in fact he didn’t even notice the itching of his calves. He finished his business and tucked himself away before buttoning his shorts.

He swung his pack off his back and rummaged in the side pocket for a little bottle of hand sanitiser. He squirted a little in his palm and rubbed his hands together.

Returning it to his bag and putting it back on, he noticed a stinging in his left calf but ignored it as he walked back over to you. As he walked his other leg started to sting too.

When he reached you he subconsciously reached down and started scratching the backs of his bare legs with his blunt nails. You stared at him curiously.

“You okay?”

“Just a little itchy. Think I’ve been bitten or something.” He grumbled.

You walked around him and regarded his legs. His skin was flushed red with little raised blisters dotted up the backs of both calves.

“Reid,” you took his wrists and guided his hands away from his frantic scratching. “I think you’ve walked in poison ivy.”

He snapped back to his full height, eyes wide.

“What? No? Come on!” He moaned, glancing back at the rash forming. “Could this day get any worse?”

“I’ve got a first aid kit in my bag, I’m going to need to treat those. If you keep scratching they could scar. Maybe this will teach you for wearing shorts on a hike.” You put down your backpack and rummaged for the kit.

“It’s nearly eighty degrees.” He scoffed. “And I’ve never been hiking before.”

“Just shut up and stand still. Give me your water.” You knelt down on the ground behind him.

“You’ve got your own water.”

“I’m not wasting my water on cleaning your rash because you were the idiot who wore shorts. Give me your water.”

Spencer huffed out a breath to show he wasn’t happy but then he unlatched his canteen from his bag strap and passed it back to you. So much for his calculations.

You uncapped it and poured a little on the back of each leg causing him to shudder. You used a small hand towel you had in your backpack to dry them off before sanitising your hands.

You located the hydrocortisone ointment in the first aid kit and squeezed a little on the pads of your fingers. You cautiously started on his left leg, massaging the cream into the small blisters.

Spencer hissed and his legs buckled a little. He was silent though and allowed you to treat his rash. Soon you were moving onto the other leg and although it stung Spencer couldn’t deny he enjoyed the skin to skin contact.

As much as he hated to admit it, Spencer was touch starved. He hadn’t felt another set of hands on him in such a tender way since before prison.

He’d deliberately kept everyone at arms length since, not trusting himself or deeming himself worthy to be so close to another person.

He’d almost allowed himself to go there with Max, to succumb to the kind of pleasure he’d sorely missed. They’d kissed but ultimately that was the furthest he’d let himself go.

And somehow your benevolent touch was more intimate than kissing Max. Or perhaps that was just wishful thinking on his part.

He was sure you knew the real reason he was so brusque with you wasn’t because of what you’d call him during your first case. He was annoyed about it at first but he hadn’t held a grudge over it.

His curt behaviour towards you stemmed from his almost overwhelming crush on you. He’d pushed you away because when he met you he wasn’t ready to be close to someone. But in doing so he had inevitably sealed his own fate so that now when he might actually want to pursue something, you could barely stand him.

He tried to omit the feeling of your fingertips on his calves and focused his attention on the warbling of a nearby bird. Its song wasn’t the prettiest he’d ever heard but it had a certain cadence to it which he found oddly calming.

All too soon you were finished and your touch was gone, leaving Spencer feeling dissatisfied. You wrapped both of his rashes in gauze bandages but your fingers barely ghosted over his flesh again.

You stuffed the kit back away and pushed yourself to your feet, brushing the dirt off of your knees. Spencer looked down at his newly bandaged legs with a small frown.

“Do you have a change of clothes? Some pants perhaps?” You asked.

“No, for all my planning and research I did not think to bring long pants.” He shook his head at his oversight.

“I know we don’t always see eye to eye, but you could have asked me what you should bring. The whole team knows I’m big on hiking and camping.” You turned away from him, looking back out through the trees to try and ascertain the best direction to head. “I also could have told you that converse was a dumb choice for hiking. I can only imagine how much your feet hurt.”

Spencer made a noise that sounded somewhat like he agreed with you but didn’t want to say it out loud. You pulled out a piece of crumpled paper from your backpack and unfolded it, staring intently at it for a few moments.

Spencer came closer, glancing down at the wrinkled paper in your hands. It looked to be a topographic map of the area. Finally something Spencer understood about hiking.

“Didn’t know Garcia gave us those.” He spoke as you studied it.

“She didn’t. This isn’t my first rodeo, I would never have come out here without one.” You didn’t look at him.

“So I can read this but how do you work out where we are? There’s nothing but trees for miles.” He scratched the back of his neck.

“Observation. We passed a small body of water about a mile back. I didn’t see it but I could hear it off to the west. And this incline,” you pointed in front of you. “Will help figure it out.”

“Okay, so a small body of water and an area where the contour lines aren’t too close as the hill isn’t too steep.” He nodded.

“Exactly.” You agreed. “And if my bearings are right I believe we’re facing north east.”

Spencer looked around briefly before a smile tugged at his lips.

“Because of the position of the sun.”

“Yep. And the moss.” You nodded towards the trees. “It’s not an exact science but in the whole moss tends to grow on the north side of trees in the northern hemisphere.”

Spencer watched while you ran your index finger along the map, trying to draw on everything you knew in order to get the two of you to higher ground.

“Wow I’m…I’m actually impressed.” He chuckled a little and you looked up at him with a frown.

“Are you patronising me?”

“What? No! I mean it. I’m really impressed.”

“Oh,” you looked back at the map. “Thanks.”

A minute or so later and you’d estimated a few miles worth of trail you believed the two of you to be on. If you were right you were still miles from the camp and wouldn’t make it there by nightfall.

Your plan was to find somewhere to get cell service so you could call the team and hopefully they could get park rangers out here to find you as they were the only ones equipped to traverse the forest after dark.

Spencer followed you while you kept the map in your hand. The two of you walked for another mile or so, by this point Spencer’s water rations were nearly depleted.

Eventually you stopped at the foot of a large, steep hill and Spencer looked up at it with a dubious expression.

“You want me to climb that?” He whined.

“Well we have a better chance of getting cell service when we have two phones.” You rolled your eyes, folding the map and slotting it in your pocket.

“Can’t you just take mine up there with you?” He pulled a face. “I really do not possess the physical prowess for this.”

“No kidding.” You scoffed. “But we’re in this together. I could get hurt or something, I need you for backup.”

Spencer groaned, pouting his bottom lip like a child.

“Oh jeez, fine.” He huffed. “But I will complain every step of the way.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less.” With a shake of your head you started forward and Spencer reluctantly followed you.

You got less than twenty paces before he almost slipped and fell on his face. To steady himself he instinctively reached for your hand. He didn’t let go the whole way up.

You hated to admit it but there was something oddly comforting about Spencer’s hand in yours. His hand was warm and surprisingly soft and it was so much larger than your own he all but encompassed yours.

He held onto you tightly, fingers squeezing your hand every time his foot slipped a little on the hilly ground. A part of you didn’t want to make it to the top because you didn’t want him to let go.

But of course as soon as the ground levelled out he slipped his hand away and all but collapsed onto the damp ground below, huffing and puffing. You watched him grab his canteen and finish the water without a second thought.

He removed his pack and rolled onto his back, relishing in every last drop of liquid and clearly not concerned he had now emptied his reserves. He closed his eyes and pushed his hair back off his sweaty forehead.

You pulled your cell phone out and unlocked it. You had one tiny bar of signal which you hoped was enough to make a call. You nudged Spencer in the ribs with the toe of your hiking boot. His eyes shot open and he stared up at you, the exhaustion heavy in his eyes.

“I’ve got one bar, I’m going to try and call Prentiss.” You informed him, bringing up your contacts.

You found Emily’s name quickly and hit the call button before putting the device on speaker. The dial tone was crackly and you knew the signal could cut out at any minute. It rang four times before Emily answered but her words were muffled and you only caught a handful of what she said.

“Y/N…are you?...Gone hours…thing okay?”

“Emily, we got lost. Our GPS was misprogrammed. We need help.” You had no idea how much she could hear of what you were saying.

“...are you?...send a rang…coordinates?”

You reeled off your approximate coordinates, explaining that you could be anywhere within a few miles of that spot but again you don’t know what she heard due to the spotty service.

“Hold tight…get a ranger…be okay.”

“Thanks Emily.” You finished before hanging up.

Spencer was still on the floor on his back, his brows furrowed in concern.

“How much of that do you think she got?” He was rolling his lip between his teeth.

“I have no idea.” You pocketed the phone again. “I’m almost certain Garcia would have brought her laptop with her. If she can get to the rangers station and get on the WiFi she might be able to locate us.”

“Yeah, good point. Garcia is the best.” His eyes closed again, a strangely dreamy smile on his lips.

“What are you doing?” You kicked him again and his eyes quickly opened and he stared at you.

“Resting, what does it look like?” He scowled.

“Reid, the second the sun goes down the temperature is going to plummet. We need to make a fire.”

“Goddamnit,” he pushed himself to a sitting position. “I hate the outdoors.”

You chose to ignore him and didn’t help him to his feet, instead started wandering around in the search for some sticks for the fire. Spencer eventually got himself up and started to help. The sun was barely a sliver in the sky by the time you collected enough wood.

You created a crisscross on the ground with the kindling, explaining to Spencer this type of fire would burn for longer and not need as much wood. You had no idea how long you would be out here and you needed to stay warm. The smoke would also help draw attention to your whereabouts.

You retrieved a pack of matches from your back, Spencer once again impressed by your preparedness. He simply watched while you went about lighting the fire, in silent awe. It was several minutes before the fire started to grow and he shuffled closer to it, sitting cross legged on the dirty forest floor and holding his hands towards the flames.

You sat down next to him, but not too close. You got out a fleece hoodie from your bag and slipped it over your head. As if jogging some kind of memory for Spencer he opened his own bag and found his oversized CalTech sweatshirt, thankful he’d had the forethought to pack this even if he had overlooked bringing pants.

Sitting by the fire you felt the fatigue wash over you. You could quite easily curl up and fall asleep after the day's events. Spencer noticed your fluttering eyelids and how you were desperately trying to stay awake.

He suddenly felt extremely bad for how difficult he’d been all day, complaining and moaning while you tried to keep him safe and alive. He huffed out a breath and the sound caused you to look at him.

Half of his face was illuminated by the glow of the fire, the other side set in deep shadow from where the sun had now almost completely vanished beneath the horizon. His golden brown eyes shimmered as he looked at you.

“I, uh, I’m sorry I’ve been such hard work today.” He rolled his lip between his teeth.

“Reid, I’m used to you being hard work.” Your lip twitched at the corner.

“I’m sorry about that too.” He swallowed. “Do you…do you want to lay your head down on my lap? You deserve to rest.”

You frowned a little sceptical, mildly concerned by the offer as Spencer had never been so nice to you. But you were too tired to question it and the idea of laying down sounded wonderful. You nodded slowly, prompting Spencer to uncross his legs and stretch them out in front of himself.

You sucked in a breath, shuffling in the dirt so you could lay on your side with your head in his lap while you stretched your own body out on the ground.

Without meaning to, Spencer's hand was soon brushing through your hair. You couldn’t help the hum of appreciation that you let escape and it goaded him to continue.

His touch elicited the sweetest sounds from your lips, some sounding dangerously like moans. Spencer was only human and his body reacted of its own accord at the noises.

He could sense the blood rushing south, feel the swelling in his shorts despite how much he willed it stop. He stilled his movements on your hair, hoping if you weren’t making those delirious sounds it would stop the blood rushing and he wouldn’t get hard enough for you to notice…

…You suddenly sat up, looking right at him with wide eyes. Of course you’d noticed, his crotch was right beneath your head.

His cheeks instantly flushed red and he pulled a face full of apologies and mortification. You continued to stare at him and he felt more uncomfortable with each silent second.

“Please,” he whimpered. “Just…don’t mention it.”

“Kinda hard not to…pun not intended.” You frowned at your own choice of words and Spencer groaned.

“I’m sorry,” he shook his head. “It has been a long time since I’ve had any kind of closeness with another person. I can’t be held responsible for my body’s carnal reactions. Especially when you’re making such sinful noises.”

Your own cheeks turned red now and you glanced away from him towards the fire.

“I, uh…I didn’t realise I was. Sorry.” You croaked. “Full disclosure, it’s also been a long time since I’ve had any kind of closeness with another person.”

Spencer’s brows furrowed as he regarded you. He found that incredibly hard to believe. You were just so beautiful he imagined men fell at your feet everywhere you went.

“Seriously?” He couldn’t help but ask.

“Seriously.” You confirmed with a huff as you turned back to him.

“But why?”

“Why what? I don’t understand.”

“I mean…you’re you. You’re beautiful and smart and charismatic. Surely you could have your pick of men?” Spencer was really frowning.

“I’m…fussy I suppose? And I don’t really like the whole casual sex thing…” You trailed off with your own frown. “Wait did you call me beautiful?”

“And smart and charismatic.” He nodded.

“Uh, thanks?” You were rightfully confused, Spencer had never said anything nice about you. “What about you? You don’t have women lining up at your door? And weren’t you dating someone?”

Spencer let out a hearty laugh at this, shaking his head dramatically.

“Max and I broke up not long after Cat and her games. We never…you know…and trust me when I say women do not fawn over a neurotic, socially awkward ex-con.” Spencer sighed sadly.

“Oh, I didn’t realise about Max, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It wouldn’t have worked out even if Cat hadn’t interfered.” He pulled a face, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. “You didn’t know me before prison. I’m not the same man I used to be. I had to do things on the inside just to survive and it changed me. For a long time I didn’t trust myself to get close to anyone. A part of me still doesn't but I’m trying I guess? Max was the closest I came to allowing myself to be vulnerable again.”

You simply stared at him, unsure what to say. You’d never spoken so personally with Spencer before, he’d never opened up to you in such a way and you didn’t know how to respond.

You knew you needed to tread lightly, not wanting to risk him clamming up and shutting you down. You were making progress for the first time since you’d met him and you didn’t want to give him a reason not to continue.

“I didn’t know you before prison and I have no idea the things you would have gone through in there. But I do know you now. I know you shield yourself behind these huge walls to keep people from hurting you, probably because you’ve already been hurt enough for one lifetime.

“You kept me at arms length because you don’t like change, you worried I would threaten the team dynamic. But once you realised that wasn’t the case, you were too far gone and it was easier for you to keep treating me with disdain rather than thaw towards me.”

Spencer was silent while you talked, ingesting your words, mulling them over in his head. His expression tightened, his eyebrows knitted together and his lips drawn into a line.

“I guess you’re right, at least about some of it.” He exhaled. “I was always guarded to a degree even before prison. People have always disappointed me I guess and so I learnt not to rely on anyone, not to let anyone get too close. It’s easier to be alone than to risk getting hurt.

“But you’re wrong about why I kept you away. Your comment about me being a mama’s boy stung but I didn’t hold it against you. I needed to put distance between us because from the first time I met you I knew how effortless it would be for me to fall for you.

“I was too raw at the time, I wasn’t ready to give my heart away to someone who might not even want it. I had to keep you at arms length because it was safer than letting myself develop feelings for someone who probably wouldn’t reciprocate. But I guess the jokes on me because my plan was far from foolproof and I managed to fall for you anyway.

“I don’t expect anything from you in return, and I’m hoping once we’re rescued we can just forget this whole thing ever happened. But I suppose you deserve to know why I am the way I am with you and maybe going forward we can try to be…I don’t know…friends? Or at the very least I hope we can get along better.” He sucked in a breath when he finished speaking, looking completely exhausted and utterly heartbroken.

You couldn’t speak. You took in every single word, toyed with them in your mind and tried to make sense of them. But really they didn’t make any sense. In the year you’d known Spencer you had never even gotten so much as a hint that he had feelings for you. He was detached, withdrawn and oftentimes entirely unapproachable.

It seemed implausible that he could have been hiding these feelings all this time and for you not to have a clue. You were a profiler, wasn’t it your job to pick up on these things? Did the rest of the team figure it out? Were you the only one in the dark?

He looked increasingly uncomfortable by his confession with every passing second of silence. The fire crackled, its warmth washing over you both. It cast you both in a cosy glow.

Spencer seemed closer somehow. Did you move nearer or had he, or was it simply all in your head?

There were so many things you could say, so many possibilities but you couldn’t form a simple sentence. Every time you tried to speak your words caught in your throat and his own played over in a loop in your brain.

I guess the jokes on me because my plan was far from foolproof and I managed to fall for you anyway.

Spencer had feelings for you and he thought you wouldn’t feel the same. Perhaps neither of you were as good at profiling as you thought.

Spencer rolled his lip between his teeth, growing self conscious in your lack of response. He sucked in a deep breath and exhaled it through his nose.

“I should not have said any of that.” He averted his gaze to the fire. “I don’t even know why I did. Jeez, I’m a moron. Please can you just pretended I didn’t…”

He trailed off when your hand cupped his chin and you turned him gently to look at you.

“Yes, you are a moron.” You smiled meekly. “But only because you missed what was right in front of you. How can you think I didn’t feel the same?”

His mouth fell open, your hand still on his jaw. He blinked rapidly as if trying to clear some kind of fog in his brain.

“You…I’m confused.” He frowned.

“Let me clear it up for you then.” You dropped your hand to your side but seconds later your lips crushed against his.

Spencer gasped at the sudden action, in a million years he never dreamed to actually feel your lips on his. And if he never got this chance again, he was going to make the most of it.

He raised his hands to cup your face and ran his tongue along your bottom lip, gently asking for passageway. You obliged by parting your lips enough for his tongue to slide inside.

You were quick to explore the contours of each other's mouths, both of your desperations evident in the way your teeth knocked together while you worked to find your rhythm.

One of his hands worked its way into the back of your hair and held you firmly as he deepened the kiss further. He pulled you into his lap and you manoeuvred yourself so you were straddling him, kneeling in the dirt either side of his hips.

He kept one hand cradling your head and the other moved down over your ribs. It dipped beneath the thick fabric of your hoodie, sandwiched between it and your shirt underneath.

You rocked in his lap, wrapping your arms tightly around neck. The friction caused him to moan languidly into your mouth and it wasn’t long before you felt him growing hard again.

When he pulled back and opened his eyes, his pupils were blown out, heavy with lust. He was begging you for more without the use of words, he removed one of your hands from around his neck and moved it between your bodies.

He placed your palm on his rapidly growing erection, rolling his swollen lip with his teeth whilst silently asking if this was okay. You smiled at him and your other hand joined it so you could pop the button of his shorts.

One hand wasted no time in diving straight into his boxers and wrapping around his shaft. You quickly tugged him free of the confines of both his shorts and underwear.

You sat back a little on your haunches to look down on him. You couldn’t hold back your lamentation as you surveyed every inch of him in your hand. He was long and thick, heavy against your palm. Honestly you hadn’t known what to expect, but it wasn’t this.

The vein that ran up the underside throbbed as you brushed your thumb over it and he bucked his hips when you moved it to rub over his swollen red tip. You slowly brought your fist all the way back down, squeezing his base whilst nestled in a bed of scratchy pubic hair.

You tore your eyes away from his crotch and looked up to meet his eyes. They held a hint of uncertainty, as though he was worried you wouldn’t like what you saw. Spencer never was blessed with body confidence, he was always too skinny or too tall or too gangly.

He wasn’t dumb though, he knew that particular appendage was above average. He didn’t have a wealth of sexual experience but he had enough to know that he was often a tight fit for most. But that didn’t stop him from feeling self conscious under your gaze.

The smile on your face and the glint in your eye was enough for him to know that you were pleased by what you’d seen and it allowed him to relax a little. He felt a wave of heat wash over him as your hand slowly started to move and it had nothing to do with his proximity to the fire.

He wriggled beneath you as you started moving your hand up and down, your thumb brushing over his sensitive head each time. A string of wanton moans left his lips and he was momentarily dumbfounded while you worked him, not able to do anything but sit and relish in this feeling.

Your petite hand couldn’t fit all the way around him but it didn’t make your movements any less mind blowing. He had never been touched like this before, with such a combination of care and desperation.

Once he got his brain working for long enough to think straight, he moved his hands towards the buttons of your pants. You didn’t let up on your ministrations while he got them undone, swiping your thumb through the precum collecting on his head.

He swiftly popped the buttons and his right hand dipped inside straight inside your panties. He moaned animalistically when he discovered how wet you were already, the sound dissipating out into the forest.

You kept eye contact with each other as his fingers slid between your legs, collecting your arousal before moving to settle on your needy clit. You whimpered as he rubbed the sensitive bud with two fingers, rocking against his hand whilst increasing your speed on his cock.

The sounds coming from the both of you were nothing short of feral and became eaten up by the vast woods surrounding you. You grinded against his hand while he flicked your nub deftly, eager to bring you to orgasm.

You returned the favour and matched his speed. The sounds of your arousal and his flesh against yours filled your ears. The fire continued to crackle behind you, casting you in an ethereal glow from where you perched on top of him.

His chest heaved and his stomach was coiling into thick knots. He wanted this to last forever but knew his orgasm was imminent. It had been all too long since someone had touched him so intimately and it would be impossible to stave off his release for too long.

But judging by the noises you were making, the sinful whines and moans leaving your parted lips and how frantically you bucked against his hand, he assumed you were in the same boat.

“Jesus, Reid,” you panted heavily. “Who knew you’d be so good at that?”

He couldn’t help but chuckle, increasing his speed even further as if to prove that point.

“Likewise.” He replied, whimpering as you swiped your thumb through more beads of precum.

“I’m so close.” You whined, throwing your head back to your shoulders.

“M-me too.” He stuttered, stomach clenching at the way you twisted your fist around his shaft.

Somewhere in the distance you heard a twig snap but paid it no attention. You kept your focus here on Spencer, on how he was making you feel and on how you were making him feel. But then you heard another crunch followed by a faint voice.

“Reid? Y/LN?” It called. “I see smoke! That has to be them!”

“Is that…?” Spencer frowned, breathing heavily.

“G-Garcia.” You mumbled.

“Fuck,” Spencer groaned, his frustration evident.

“Reid? Y/L/N? It’s Penny G, can you hear me, my loves?”

You and Spencer exchanged a look while you both stilled your movements at the same time. He kept his hand inside your panties while you held the base of his shaft limply. You felt dizzy, you were on the cusp of orgasm, about to fall over the ledge when Garcia’s voice had dragged you back from the brink. Looking at Spencer, he felt much the same.

“Y/L/N, Reid! We’re coming angels!”

“Oof,” Spencer groaned, cautiously withdrawing his hand from inside your pants. “Poor choice of words.”

You reluctantly let go of his shaft and crawled away from him while you both readjusted yourself and got your pants done up.

“Over here, Garcia.” You called, hoping she didn’t notice the way your voice shook.

Your body tingled, so close to release a soft breeze could get you there. Spencer pushed himself to his feet, legs shaking and reached out to help you up. He was tenting his shorts, unable to get the blood flowing elsewhere due to how close he’d been. He picked up his backpack and held it in front of him so Garcia wouldn’t notice.

Your underwear was soaked and sticky. You tried to adjust your stance so it was less uncomfortable but it was almost impossible. You could see three flashlights in the distance and the footsteps were growing closer.

Soon enough Garcia and two park rangers appeared through the thicket. If she noticed the flush of your cheeks she didn’t say anything. She immediately threw her arms around both of you, Spencer cloying to keep his bag as a barrier between himself and the bubbly blonde for fear she might feel his unyielding erection.

“Oh my sweet angels!” She cooed over you both. “Let's get you back to camp and get you warmed up and fed.”

You both silently agreed and let the rangers lead you back towards a clearing where their vehicle awaited you. Garcia hopped in the backseat first and Spencer held open the door for you, offering a meek smile as you passed him.

Perhaps it was for the best you’d been interrupted before you could go too far. Perhaps Garcia had inadvertently helped you dodge a bullet.

***

Several hours later after making it back to the camp and feasting on Rossi’s campfire soup and bread and whilst being wrapped in Garcia’s fluffy blankets, one by one the other members of the BAU retired for the night.

The fire was still dwindling as you perched on a log next to Spencer, silence deafening you once the two of you were alone. You watched the small flames flicker and dance in the soft breeze, soaking up the last of the summer evening before calling it a night yourself.

Before you did, you turned to face him to find he was already looking at you. He smiled softly, a little bashfully and you returned it. Words and emotions bubbled under the surface and neither one of you knew where to start.

“Some day, huh.” You shrugged, wrapping the blanket tighter around your body.

“It was certainly eye opening.” Spencer agreed.

“It was probably for the best that Garcia and those rangers found us when they did, right?”

“Oh yeah, for sure. Probably stopped us from doing something even more stupid.” Spencer chuckled nervously.

“Exactly.” You nodded, getting to your feet. Spencer did the same. “We can just pretend nothing happened. We were tired, probably a little dehydrated. The sun makes us do weird things.”

“Yeah, the sun.” He nodded too.

You swallowed thickly, giving him one last look before turning towards your tent. Spencer scuffed the toe of his converse on the ground and found himself speaking again without really meaning to.

“I mean…it would have been nice to at least finish. I’ve been kinda on edge ever since.”

You spun back to look at him and he looked so unsure of himself. His hands were in his pockets and his shoulders were pitched up to his ears.

“Uh, yeah same here.” You took a couple of tentative steps back towards him. “There’s no doubt I could go back to my tent right now and finish what we started alone but…”

“But your hand feels so much better than my own.” Spencer finished for you.

You both chuckled as you reached him again, letting go of your blanket and letting it fall to the floor so you wrap your arms around Spencer’s neck.

“It would just be a one time thing.” You whispered, your breath fanning across his face.

“Even though you don’t like casual sex.” He placed his hands on your hips.

“Even though I don’t like casual sex.” You repeated.

“We’re just…two colleagues helping each other.” Spencer smirked, inching his face closer to yours.

“And if anyone ever found out…”

“We’d blame the sun. Summer heat got to us.”

“Summer heat.” You agreed and with that he kissed you again, drawing you into his body whilst tugging you in the direction of his own tent.

Spencer had never been a fan of summer. But after today he may have been converted. And he was certain this summer heat between you would continue to smoulder through the seasons.

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem! reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

2K notes · View notes

stuckinthesun · 11 months ago

Text

See you in Zou, Right? || Sanji x Reader

Series Masterlist

Prequel to⇡ — Spoilers for dressrosa

Summary - You and your boyfriend Sanji have to split up

Dressrosa was not going anywhere near as planned.

You and Zoro had gotten lost, only to meet up with Franky and find out the plan to turn Caesar over was a bust, Traffy got beat and taken by DoFlamingo, and Luffy was fighting in an arena. Then, when the two of you split off to go to the Sunny, you ran into Kin’emon and were told that the ship had already left for Zou with half your crew.

Sanji included.

You were desperate to talk to your boyfriend. To find out exactly what happened and if he and the others were okay.

The three of you ran all the way to the colosseum to talk to Luffy. After a frustrating conversation with some fanboy of the crew, your captain finally came to see you. He looked ridiculous with his fake beard, flower shirt, gold helmet, and red cape, but you could hardly find any amusement in it. There were marines everywhere, and you were standing out in the open.

When Kin’emon pulled out his transponder snail, you all but ripped it out of his hand and dialed the Sunny. The snail clicked, and there was a commotion in the background, like someone was fighting, but that all faded when you heard your favorite voice, “This is the Sunny.”

“Sanji! Thank god, I heard you got into a fight with Flamingo. Are you okay?” You asked a relieved sigh leaving your chest.

You heard a chuckle through the snail, making you smile, “Of course I’m fine Darling, even better now that I know you’re okay.”

“Ugh, gross.” Zoro groaned, and you shot him a glare.

“Shut it, mosshead!” Sanji yelled before asking Chopper to call Usopp.

Once the whole crew was able to talk, you caught each other up on everyone's situation. Everyone was relatively safe except for your group, who were now running from the Marines while talking.

You guys were trying to figure out the next step when Franky cut in, asking Luffy if he could join the fight to take down DoFlamingo.

Apparently, Dressrosa was a living hell, and there was a resistance of little fairy type people ready to fight for their freedom. Honestly, after learning everything you have about this place and the family running it, you couldn’t help but want to fight, too. Thankfully, Luffy instantly agreed, telling your cyborg crewmate that you guys would back him up.

“Alright, we’re coming back,” Sanji announced, and you felt your shoulders relax despite the effort of running.

He was coming back to you.

“Wait,” Nami’s voice came through the snail, making you tense up again, “We need to strategize this. There are three pieces to this, and we have two of them right here; it’s smarter if we take them as far away as we can.”

“But-“

“Listen,” Sanji’s voice was cut off by Nami’s, “I know you want to go back for Y/N, but we can’t. This is the smartest plan.”

“I agree with Nami; you guys head on to Zou; we’ll meet up there,” Luffy said, his voice deeper from exertion.

It was quiet for a moment before you let out a frustrated groan, “Sanji…”

“I know.” You heard your boyfriend sigh.

The captain made his decision, and as his crew, you had no choice but to follow.

So, the plan was set.

“Alright, listen up, you guys, if Y/N comes back to me with even a scratch I’ll kill you, understood?!” Sanji demanded through the snail, making you chuckle, “And Robin! I better not see any injuries on her, either!”

“Would you shut the fuck up, stupid cook?”

“I mean it, you directionally challenged moss ball! I’ll cook you alive if she gets hurt!”

“Oh yeah? I’d like to see you try!”

“Would you two shut up!” Usopp yelled, breaking up the hourly Zoro and Sanji argument.

You smiled despite the burning in your body from all the running.

The details of the plan were made, and time was running out as buildings started slicing in half. Usopp and the others hung up, and Luffy ran off to continue his fight.

The transponder snail looked up at you from its place on your palm, curly eyebrows letting you know who held the other one.

“Sanji?”

“Yes, my love?”

Fear settled in your chest as more buildings began to crumble out of nowhere, “I’ll see you in Zou, right?”

You heard Sanji chuckle again before he answered,

“Of course you will.”

Taglist – @ninjanyers @snixx2088 @llynx7 @aiaiaiaiiaiiaii @secretlife028 @uay778 @an-angst-enthusiast @ghostercy @idcalol @frxcless @irishbl0ss0mz @ms-longbeach @writing-fanics

Idky but I just really wanted to write this prequel so here you go😅🫶

#one piece x reader #vinsmoke sanji x y/n #vinsmoke sanji angst #vinsmoke sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x you #vinsmoke sanji #straw hat sanji #sanji x reader #op sanji #one piece sanji #black leg sanji #sanji x you #sanji angst #op x reader #one piece

302 notes · View notes

mrsoftthoughts · 5 months ago

Text

Nico di Angelo headcanons

- He was very confused the firts time that someone called him "Emo"

he doesn't have a clue of what the fuck is that, he just bought up the clothes and accessories that he looks at and thinks "cool"

It was a karen who say that btw, the fact that she only was saying nonsense prob was guilty of Nico confusion too

- both Acts of service and Gifs are his way to show affection to others

He often helps his close friends and Hazel with anything they need, he also would get whatever thing that they expressed to want or need even in the slightest way possible, it doesn't matter if it's expensive af or hard to obtain for any reason, he's getting that thing for later wrap it in pretty paper .

He also buys whatever that he sees and reminds him to someone he loves, New rome postal service is tired of getting packages of the pluto ambassador for the praetor Levesque atleats 3 times at week ( that's not all the things that he gets for hazel, it's just the ones that he doesn't give her face to face)

- He's a polyglot ( i kinda talk about it here)

It was a part of his education back in the 1930s so he doesn't remember a lot of how he learned most of the languages he spokes, or even remembers that he actually spoke that especific language until he is in a situation were is needed

Something funny it's that one of the languages he taked longer to realize that he spoke it, it was greek, like, modern greek, he doesn't know how to feel about that

He also has a inherent understanding of dead languages so he's really good at read ol text of any kind

He also it's kinda a nerd about etymology

- He has a lot of beauty marks

Like, a lot of them, the most noticeable ones ofc are the in his face ( one at the bottom/side of his left eye and above the right eyebrow and two at the left side of his nose and bottom of his lips) but those things are everywhere in his body

- A lot of people feels that his appearance seems out of place, like, something ood to look at without an apparent reason

The things starts to make sense when you put his hair back with a bit of gel and give him a suit, then you realize that he looks like one of those pictures of grandpas when they were young

It can be a bit eerily because, in fact , he is actually from the same generation of those grandpas, that's why he looks like them but due the Lotus he's a teenager instead of an old man

the fact that his appearance it's the definition of a haunting beauty contributes to all that, he's beautiful, there's no a sigle appice of doubt about that, but you can compare the feeling that he evokes to the feeling of looking at a gothic church or the one of being at one of those old and Rich graveyards full of angel's scultures but cover in moss after years of abandonment , beautiful and stunning but also imponent and bone freezing

But hey!! It's also cool, and you can say that he's the antitesis of an iphone face

- Kinda related to the previous one, but his eyes are always changing colours.

It's not like piper tough, her eyes are literally a multicolor spectrum, Meanwhile, Nico's are more like his eyes being shallowed by the deep and dark waters full of misery of the styx, deep ebony black but in constant movement and little forms that looks like ice sublimation

Still, sometimes in moment of pure joy or when hes relaxed his natural color is visible, being a mostly brown iris with little details of grey and deep green like the bark or the fruit of olives

- Has a large collection of silly bands ( you know , the 2000s elastic bands with form of anything you can imagine?) think about any collection of those things and he has it

He also knows how to do those bracelets of bands btw, he uses his fingers for it and as a result he always has the strangulation marks or bruces

- He and Drew ended up being friends

He had that little hunch Drew's attitude having more behind that she just being a Bitch without reason, he was totally right

They aren't attached to the hip or something, there's a lot of things about each other that they don't know or they didn't bothered to ask, but they thrusts each other and are close enough to talk about their life and things they feel can't talk with anyone else every once in a while

Nico's is also drew personal manikin/ken doll for her fashion design projects, he isn't complaining tough, all the clothes are stunning

- Other of his friends is Clovis from hypnos cabin

A lot of people doesn't understand how they have a lot of anecdotes about things they did together, because Clovis is always half sleep or straight up in another world or something during the day

The last part is they key, they literally are in other world, or something like that, dream magic has potential to take the phrase "live your dreams" to another level

- Full grown up , He isn't tall or short, he's just (technically )average

He's 5'9... It taked a time for him to grow up to that point though, he was stuck in 5'5 for a while until he was around 17/18yo

Still, he looks a bit short at the side of most people around him, it's not his fault 90% of the people he knows are fucking giraffes

The fact that a lot of the boys he falls for are... Well, pretty tall ( Solace, Torrington, Grace, yk that you're the ones im talking about) isn't helping neither.

- He has a transatlantic accent ( alongside with a slight Italian accent)

Is a result of learning English as a second language and having both american and British people like reference and not something made on purpose

Is almost vanished after being living in America at the XXI century for the past few years, but you can still hear it in the way he say some words and the fact that his idiolect mix indiscriminately British and American words

Btw, something funny of that is that if you let his guy at the Uk for enough he would totally turn into the other side of the coin and now he picked up the accent of the region were he is at the moment

- He has a wii and a DS ( he later got a 3DS when it was released), nobody knows how the fuck is that he isn't chased by monster 24/7 using that thing

He also end up with a insane amount of amibos once they were released in 2014

- For some reason his collections of anything are in those vitrines that the grandmas uses for the pretty dishes

- He got the standar lobe piercing

usually he just have a pair of black diamons studs ( kinda looks like the diamons by the yard earring of Tiffanys) but sometimes he uses a bajoran or a pair of drops

- Even whe he is older his job is basically being his father second had and ambassador, but a general concense is that he is also a really god tourist guide

Probably he would be turned into a god after he passes away for just be doing exactly what he already was doing as a demigod, just with immortality.

-Despite being Italian and the stereotypes, he was a disaster in the kitchen, the kind of person that you say them to boil 2 glasses of water for the rice and the next thing you now is that 2 cristals glases are straight up in the stove

in his defense, he at best can remember see his Nanny doing something or being with her sister and mother doing some kind of dessert ( his only contribution to that was eating the chocolate)

Now he may not be a five stars chef but he can do pretty good stuff sometimes, he's trying

- He can make pretty concerning "old fashioned" coments sometimes

Alright, he is not an asshole ( at least non on purpose) or something like that, but sometimes while talking he would say things that are the daily reminder of the fact that this guy over there is a white ass boy raised in the 30's decade with the addition of being Born in a pretty much wealthy and probably Noble family and who's whole social interaction with other people that aren't hundred of years old beings has been limited,and that leads to his perspective of society being a bubble of privilege and old high society ethics.

Like, the most of the time if he say something really... Questionable, is because he really never has stopped to think about it and he is just saying what they teach him ,was normal at the time, or is just a comment made of pure ignorance mouth-is-fasther-that-the-brain-tipe.

Sadly for him ( and luckily for the rest of the people that have to hear him) 90% of the times hazel is close when he say that kind of stuff and two of Three times he ends up being hit by the closest thing that was at her hand or for one of her shoes if nothing else is available, the other time its a 50/50, he realizes that he just said something that isn't right or hazel just look at him in full deception mode.

#nico di angelo #i love give him his own group of friends aside of the seven or his boyfriend #toa #pjo #riordanverse #hoo #solangelo #jasico #nicobaster #drew tanaka #clovis pjo #nico di angelo headcanon #Mrs soft headcanons #god nico di angelo #ig??? idk #original of mine

123 notes · View notes

h4wari · 5 months ago

Text

Ayooooo!!! Hello my little leafs, its been a while 💀💀💀💀

Now I got a big girl job so I dont have much time anymore to do my drawings 😔😔😔 butbutbut!! I got something new for yall!!

The amazing, incredible, beautiful, stunning, talented and skilled (that are 2 different qualities!!!) @wayfayrr commissioned me for this piece!!

Its my beautiful baby Modern AU!Tears (TOTK Link) dyeing his hair in a bathroom hehehehehe

I really loved this piece!! Doing all those little details gave me life ong, I just love him so much!!

Also, this is what is playing on his phone

Me and Moss were talking how he would listen this song in loop bc he is head over heels for youuuuu!!! I think its so adorable <333

Thank you once again for commissioning me my love!! I hope you liked it!!

If you would like to commission me or suport my silly little work, here is the link to my Ko-fi!!! You can also commission me through my DMs!!

You can also send me a mssg anytime!! I love to meet new people and make new friends!! My DMs are always open <333

Thank you all for everything!!

Toodlessss 🍃🍃🍃

#Tears is so cute oh my god #His little tongue when he is focuseddd #My beautiful baby #legend of zelda #link #tloz #art #lu #tears of the kingdom #totk #loz totk

91 notes · View notes

moeitsu · 4 months ago

Text

The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Ch 18 - To Hear the Distant Church Bells Chime

Summary: The gang finds a new hideout at Shady Belle, just outside the heart of the new modern America. With Jack still missing, Kate and Arthur must work together to find him. Amidst the tension, Arthur confides in Kate about his deepest regrets.

Ao3 Wattpad Masterlist - All Chapters Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

A/N: 9.5k words yippee! Not gonna lie gang, I'm really proud of this one. So many feels. So many emotions. Little disclaimer, when I talk about Arthurs past, I am not following the canon events. I've changed the details to suit the story. Anyways, I'm so glad to be able to share this and not make you wait another two months (oopsie)

Tag List: @photo1030 @ariacherie @thatweirdcatlady @ultraporcelainpig @marygillisapologist @eternalsams @lunawolfclaw

**please let me know if you would like to be tagged in future chapters!

StoryTags: Widowed, Original Character(s), High-Honor!Arthur Morgan, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Chubby!Arthur Morgan, Canon Divergence, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Eventual Smut, Eventual Sex, Eventual Romance, Emotional Sex, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort,Touch-Starved, Sexual Tension, Friends to Lovers, Child Loss, Infant Death, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Torture, Blood and Violence, Survivor Guilt, Aftermath of Torture, Caretaking, Injury Recovery, Period-Typical Racism, Anxiety, Self-Hatred, Night Terrors, Emotional Constipation, Self-Doubt, Men Crying, Bathing/Washing, Sweet/Hot, Romantic Angst, Romantic Fluff

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows over the dense swamps of Lemoyne, the gang found themselves approaching their new hideout—Shady Belle. The journey had been grueling, filled with the constant threat of pursuit and the weight of recent tragedies. They had to pack quickly, and unfortunately had to leave things behind in the rush. Now, as they rode up to the dilapidated manor, a sense of uneasy relief washed over them. Physical and mental exhaustion settled into their bones as they took in the site of their new “home”.

Shady Belle was a far cry from the relative peace of Clemens Point. The old plantation house stood partially reclaimed by the swamp, its once-grand façade now crumbling and overgrown with ivy. The windows were shattered, and the wooden walls were rotting, giving the manor an eerie, haunted appearance. A thick fog clung to the ground, swirling around their horses' hooves as they approached. Even as the moon began its ascent, the sun retiring after another long day, the humidity clung to the air like thistles. The dry fever of western Lemoyne was replaced with a sweltering sticky heat from the southern swamps.

The surrounding grounds were equally foreboding. Gnarled trees twisted upwards, their branches draped with Spanish moss that hung like ghostly curtains. The stagnant water of the nearby bayou reflected the deepening twilight, and the air was thick with the hum of insects and the distant croaking of frogs. It was a place that seemed to whisper of long-forgotten secrets and unseen dangers lurking just beyond the shadows. The cover over the bayou would keep them hidden, but the single path leading to the manor meant it would be difficult to escape if they were ambushed.

Arthur and John were waiting for the gang upon their arrival. Having cleared out the space per Dutch's commands. It was a quick, bloody battle. The old manor had been claimed by squatters and drunks. Homeless people just looking for a roof over their head and a place to rest. There was no time for negotiation, and so they opened fire. They had just cleared the last of the bodies as the sound of hooves and wagons approached them.

“Welcome to my humble abode!” Arthur called out with a hint of mockery and sarcasm. “If you can ignore the corpses and the alligators. It's practically paradise.”

Dutch dismounted and surveyed the scene, his keen eyes scanning for any immediate threats. He motioned for the others to spread out and park the wagons by the front. Approaching Arthur and John with a confident smile, “nice work boys.” He turned back towards the chuck wagon, “Ms. Grimshaw, Mr. Pearson,” he addressed. “Work your magic if you’d please.” The two dismounted from the wagon with a nod and began unloading supplies.

Dutch strode up the creaking steps to the front porch. The door hung loosely on its hinges, and with a firm push, he swung it open, revealing the dim interior. Dust motes danced in the fading light, and the musty smell of decay permeated the air. The once-opulent hallways were now lined with peeling wallpaper and broken furniture, evidence of years of neglect and abandonment.

Inside, the gang fanned out to explore their new home. Javier and Bill took to the upper floors, their footsteps echoing through the empty corridors. Lenny and Charles headed towards the back of the house, checking the kitchens and servant quarters. Meanwhile, Arthur and John remained outside to help unload their wagons.

Kate lingered near the entrance, her eyes drawn to the remnants of what was once a grand chandelier, now shattered and strewn across the floor. She felt a shiver run down her spine, the oppressive atmosphere of the place seeping into her bones. Sadie stood beside her, brows knitted together with uncertainty.

“This place gives me the creeps,” Sadie whispered, her voice carrying a hint of doubt.

Kate nodded, “It’s not ideal, but it’ll have to do. At least we’re out of danger, for now.”

As the gang settled in, Dutch gathered them in the main courtyard around a broken and withered fountain. “This ain’t much, but it’s ours for the time being,” he said, his voice echoing from the front steps. “We’ll make do. We always have.”

Arthur glanced around the group, noting the weary expressions and the unspoken fears. Shady Belle might provide them with temporary refuge, but the looming threat of Bronte and Jack, and the relentless pursuit of the Pinkertons weighed heavily on them all. His eyes found Kate’s amongst the crowd, she was watching him instead of paying attention to Dutch. Arthur was relieved that she didn’t leave, regretting his previous words to her almost as soon as he said them. But his duty and his ego stopped him from turning around and apologizing right then and there. He desperately needed to talk to her, he had let his anger and anxiety take hold of him. As the crowd began to disperse he was ready to approach her, when he heard his name called from the small dock jutting out into the water. It was John.

Arthur sighed, Jack was still their top priority. His time with Kate would have to wait for another day. As he left the scene he noticed Ms. Grimshaw handed her a crate, she would be occupied with her own tasks anyhow.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

“This is crazy, right? Tell me I’m not the only one who thinks this whole thing is crazy,” John sputtered, pacing the rotting wooden dock as Arthur approached.

The small wooden fishing bench called his name, and Arthur sat down with a weary sigh. He felt so tired, so drained, and so old. The years of running were catching up to him. “It’s gonna be alright, John.”

“We should be going after Jack!” John exclaimed, his voice laced with frustration.

“We will. As soon as everyone is safe and settled in. We need to be careful. Milton is coming back, and he’ll bring an army with him,” Arthur explained. “Jack will be alright. We’re no use to him dead.”

John sighed, defeated, and took the seat next to Arthur. He pulled out a cigarette and lit the match with the tip of his boot. After a long drag, he passed the burning tobacco to his elder brother. “I don't even know what to think anymore.”

Arthur nodded and accepted the cigarette, taking a slow drag and letting the smoke pool around them in a cloud. “I know, but we gotta be smart about this.”

John scoffed. “Smart? Are you joking? We stirred up so much trouble and drew ‘em right to us again! How many people have we killed in the past week?”

Arthur ran a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of their actions. “Far too many, I reckon.”

“I’m tired of Dutch’s games, Hosea’s too. ‘Master con men’ my ass. They’re getting old and running out of ideas. Why should we suffer for it?” John said bitterly.

“Watch your mouth, Marston,” Arthur shot him a warning glare. “They thought those families were sitting on gold. I don’t know what else to tell you. Things don’t always work out—”

“Yeah, they thought there was money,” John interrupted. “Ain’t this always about money? And yet we never seem to have any!”

Arthur sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as John stood up abruptly. “Jack’s gone. Sean’s dead, Mac, Davey, Jenny. All of this death, and for what?”

John was beginning to sound like Kate, and Arthur understood why she had joined him on their revenge mission. “We can’t change what’s done. We can only move on.”

“We need to start learning from our mistakes. We need to leave,” John said with confidence. “After we get Jack. My family, you, and Kate. We high tail.”

“We’ve had a rocky run, but it ain’t all bad. Dutch has a plan—” Arthur tried to make his brother see reason and logic. Running away wasn't going to be easy on their own, and they had the whole gang to take care of.

“This whole plan is a goddamn mess! Dutch keeps gettin’ us into worse trouble! You nearly died because he was too ignorant to see he was being set up.”

Arthur rose from his seat and pointed an accusatory finger at his brother. “And I hear you decided to take care of that little problem. Maybe if you hadn’t left, Jack wouldn’t be gone!” John swallowed and narrowed his gaze.

“You could have gotten yourself killed, Marston. Or worse. You keep this up, and you’ll never make it out alive.” Arthur shoved past him, intending to leave with those words.

He had heard enough. The situation gnawed at him. John and Kate were right, and he knew it, but he couldn’t bring himself to go against Dutch. He had to have faith that things would work out, that he would see them through this. Dutch had always taken care of them, since the day he found them when they were children.

“I know Kate broke your promise,” John said slowly. Arthur stopped in his tracks. “I asked her to. And she fought unlike any woman I’ve seen before.” A moment of silence passed between them, sweat running down Arthur’s neck and tickling his spine.

“I don’t know what she sees in you, Morgan, but she loves you something fierce,” John said finally.

Red. Arthur’s vision went red. Images of a woman long gone flashed before his eyes, letters of love burning in a fire. Memories of his past mingled with his present, the pain and guilt intermingling in a relentless assault on his senses.

He whirled around and shoved John back harshly, nearly pushing him into the water. “You don’t know a goddamn thing about Kate!” he shouted, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions.

John’s eyes darkened, but he held his ground. “I know you're terrified she’ll end up like Eliza,” he said, adding salt to the wound he knew he was reopening.

“You have the chance to do this differently, Arthur. Think about that.” This time John was the one to push past Arthur, making his way back into the bustling camp as everyone continued to unpack.

Arthur took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. Grief and regret flooded over him, each memory of Eliza and Isaac tearing at his heart. He longed for Kate’s comfort, her presence more than anything. Her words always filled him with reassurance, grounding him in a way nothing else could. She might be the only woman who truly understood him. And yet he knew he couldn’t face her now, not after what he said. And all the words that still remained unsaid, the truth about Eliza and Isaac.

He willed the memories to leave, but they haunted him and pressed down on his soul like a heavy weight. He remembered Eliza’s gentle smile, the way she cradled Isaac in her arms, the hope that they had kindled together only to have it brutally extinguished. The regret of not being there, not protecting them, tore at him every day. The fear of losing Kate the same way gnawed at his heart, driving him to the brink of despair.

Arthur pulled out another cigarette, lighting it with a shaky hand. He sat back down on the rotting bench, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders. The sound of cicadas and tree frogs filled the air, a stark contrast to the turmoil within him. He closed his eyes, trying to find some semblance of peace in the night sounds of their new hideout. But the pain, the fear, and the unspoken words lingered, wrapping around his heart like a vice, leaving him to grapple with his demons in the stillness of the night.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Saint Denis was a world away from the rugged, untamed wilderness that the gang was used to. It was a bustling city, teeming with life and activity at all hours of the day and night. The streets were lined with tall, elegant buildings, their facades adorned with intricate ironwork and ornate detailing. Electric lamps illuminated the sidewalks, casting a warm glow that contrasted sharply with the cool, modernity of the city. The cobblestone streets were filled with carriages, horses, and pedestrians, all moving in a chaotic but oddly harmonious dance. The distant ring of the trolly cart could be heard as it made frequent stops at every main intersection.

The air was thick with the scents of the city – the sweet aroma of freshly baked bread from the bakeries, the pungent smell of horse manure, and the ever-present tang of coal smoke from the factories. Street vendors hawked their wares, calling out to passersby with promises of the finest goods and the best prices. The sounds of the city were equally overwhelming – the clatter of hooves on cobblestones, the murmur of conversations, the clanging of streetcars, and the distant wail of a train whistle.

Kate had joined Arthur, Dutch, John, and Charles in their search for Angelo Bronte, the elusive figure who held the key to Jack’s whereabouts. Despite the fight they had, Arthur didn’t protest her presence. The tension between them was palpable, but there was an unspoken understanding that the mission at hand was more important than their personal grievances.

Dutch halted the group at the small central park in Saint Denis, the sprawling city looming around them with its grand architecture and bustling streets. The cacophony of voices and the distant hum of machinery filled the air. The scent of smoke and industry mingled with the aroma of street food vendors, creating a sensory overload that was both thrilling and overwhelming.

“Alright, we split up,” Dutch ordered, his eyes scanning the faces of his small posse. “We need to find Bronte’s whereabouts. Ask around, see if anyone knows anything. Be discreet, but don’t waste time.”

Kate nodded, her heart pounding with a mix of anxiety and determination. The city felt like a labyrinth, each turn leading to more questions and fewer answers. She glanced a look at Arthur, their eyes meeting briefly. She saw a flicker of concern in his gaze, before he nodded and left.

Kate set off down a side street, the sound of her boots echoing on the cobblestones. The city was alive with activity, children laughing and playing, and people bustling about their daily lives. It was a stark contrast to the quiet desperation that had settled over their camp.

She approached various shops and vendors and asked about a man named Bronte. Most of them ignored her questions, opting to try and convince her to buy their goods. Some merchants gave her a weary look at the mention of his name, and informed her that they don’t want to get involved. Their demeanor suggested that this Bronte man was dangerous, and this mission may be bigger than they realized.

As she walked, a distant sound caught her attention—church bells, their clear, melodic tones cutting through the noise of the city. Drawn by the sound, Kate followed the bells, winding her way through the streets until she reached a grand cathedral. Its towering spires reached towards the heavens, the stones adorned with intricate carvings and stained glass windows that glinted in the sunlight. It reminded her of the church back in Boston, the one her catholic mother would bring the whole family to for Sunday worship. It had been so long since Kate attended church, after her mother passed, her father never kept up with religion.

The ringing bells announced the joining of two souls in marriage, their song filling the air with a sense of celebration and hope. Kate stood at the entrance, watching as the wedding party gathered on the steps. The bride, radiant in her white gown, and the groom, beaming with pride, were surrounded by family and friends, their laughter and joy a stark contrast to the sorrow in Kate’s heart.

She closed her eyes, the memories of her own wedding day flooding back. The scent of blooming flowers, the sound of her family’s laughter, and the feel of her husband’s hand in hers. She remembered the warmth of his embrace, the way he looked at her with so much love. But those days were long gone, stolen away by the harsh realities of life. Her family was gone, her husband and child lost to the world of chaos that seemed to follow her every step. She missed them all fiercely, the pain of their absence a constant ache in her heart.

Drawing in a deep breath, Kate squared her shoulders. She couldn’t afford to dwell on the past, not when there was so much at stake. The bells continued to ring, a reminder of what she had lost, but also a beacon of hope for what she could still protect.

As she rejoined the bustling streets of Saint Denis, she kept her ears open and her eyes sharp, ready to follow any lead that would bring them closer to Angelo Bronte and the answers they desperately needed.

Kate navigated through the narrow streets of Saint Denis, her eyes scanning the faces of passersby for any hint of familiarity or recognition. The city’s vibrant energy of the city was distracting but she remained focused on the task at hand. The distant sound of the church bells still echoed in her ears.

As she turned down a side street, a sudden blur of comotion caught her attention. A young boy, no older than twelve, sprinted past her, nearly knocking her over. He clutched something tightly to his chest, his eyes wide with fear and determination.

"Hey!" Kate called out, but the boy didn’t stop. Moments later, Arthur came barreling down the street, his face a mix of frustration and urgency. He was limping slightly, favoring his uninjured ankle.

"You little shit!" he shouted, breathless, "I’ll kill you ya thieving bastard!" Arthur ran past Kate and darted down the alley after the young boy.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Kate sprinted after the boy, her boots echoing in the narrow alley. She could hear Arthur’s labored breathing behind her, pushing through the pain to keep up. The boy was fast, weaving through the crowd with the agility of a street urchin well-versed in the art of escape. Kate spotted an alleyway ahead and made a split-second decision. She darted down the narrow passage, hoping to cut the boy off.

The alley was dimly lit and cluttered with discarded crates and barrels, but she navigated it with ease. As she emerged on the other side, she saw the boy racing towards her. He didn’t notice her until it was too late, running straight into her towering figure.

Kate gripped the boy's shoulders tightly, enough to warn him without causing harm. He looked up at her, eyes wide with shock and fear.

“I believe you took something that belongs to my friend,” she said calmly. “Hand it over. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Arthur finally caught up to them, breathing hard as he leaned against the stone archway when he saw Kate. “Goddamn rotten bastard,” he growled, pushing off the wall and approaching them.

The young boy looked back and stuttered, “I-I was only playing mister, I swear!” He threw the satchel to the ground at Arthur’s feet, trying to worm his way out of Kate’s grasp. He struggled as she tightened her hold.

“Please let me go Miss, I-I’m sorry!”

“Fuckin' right you’re sorry,” Arthur mumbled, picking up his things. “Tell me why I shouldn’t kill ya right here.” He spat.

Kate shot him a vehement look, and he turned his face shamefully. Checking his bag to make sure nothing was gone.

Kate knelt down to the boy's level, her grip still holding his shoulders tightly. “What’s your name, kid?”

“J-Joey. My name’s Joey,” the boy sputtered.

Kate breathed and relaxed her grip, trying to show him she meant no harm. “It’s nice to meet you, Joey. Can you tell me where your family is?”

Joey shook his head, his voice trembling. “Don’t have one, Miss.”

Arthur’s eyes softened slightly, but his voice remained stern. “Then what the hell were you doin’ runnin’ around with my satchel?”

Joey hesitated, his eyes darting between Kate and Arthur. “I-I work for Mister Bronte. He said we could keep anything we stole. Said it’d make us rich.”

Kate exchanged a glance with Arthur, her heart pounding with relief and urgency. They finally had a lead. “Where does Bronte live, Joey?” she asked gently.

The boy’s eyes filled with fear, but Kate’s calming presence seemed to reassure him. “He’s got a big house by the water, right near the docks. Lots of men guardin' it.”

Kate sighed and released the boy. “You did good, Joey. Now get outta here and don’t let me catch you stealin’ again.”

Joey nodded quickly and took off down the alley, disappearing into the labyrinth of Saint Denis. Kate stood up and locked eyes with Arthur. It had been two days since Jack went missing, two days since their fight. There was a heavy, awkward silence between them, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air.

Arthur's eyes were filled with relief and something else—something she couldn't quite place. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words seemed to catch in his throat. Kate tried to form her own thoughts into words, but her mind was whirling with emotions.

Finally, Arthur cleared his throat. Breaking the silence. “I left Charles near the market. He’s keepin' an eye out.”

Kate nodded, “right.” Her voice is steady despite the trouble within. “I’ll go roundup John and Dutch. We’ll meet at Bronte's manor.”

They stood there for a moment longer, neither knowing what else to say. The tension between them was palpable, but there was also a shared determination. They had a mission to complete, and Jack’s life depended on it.

Arthur gave her a brief, tight nod before turning and heading back towards the market. Kate watched him go, her heart aching with the desire to bridge the gap between them, but now was not the time.

With a deep breath, she turned and made her way through the bustling streets of Saint Denis. The city was alive with activity, the noise and chaos a stark contrast to the heavy silence that had hung between her and Arthur. She spotted John and Dutch near a corner store.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Charles had been a quiet, solid presence in Arthur’s life, a true friend and trusted companion. Despite having been with the gang for less than a year, Charles had quickly developed a meaningful friendship with Arthur, seeing the man beneath the tough outlaw exterior. As they rode side by side toward Bronte’s manor, Arthur couldn’t help but reflect on how much he valued Charles’ calm and steady demeanor. He was truly a good man if Arthur had anything to say about him.

The city of Saint Denis gradually gave way to the more serene, albeit equally intimidating, waterside district where Bronte’s manor was located. The grandeur of the city was lost on Arthur; his mind was too occupied with worry and the mission at hand.

Charles glanced over at Arthur, sensing the conflict within him. “You alright, Arthur?” he asked, his voice low and steady, a grounding force.

Arthur let out a heavy sigh, his grip tightening on the reins. “I dunno, Charles. Feels like everything’s fallin’ apart.”

Charles nodded, his eyes thoughtful. “It’s been a rough few days. Jack’s missing, Sean’s death, the new hide out... it’s a lot to take in.”

Arthur looked ahead, his jaw clenched. “It’s more than that. Feels like everythin’ I do just makes things worse. Dutch’s plans, they’re not workin’. And then there’s Kate…”

Charles turned his gaze to Arthur, waiting patiently for him to continue.

“I told her not to go after Colm’s men. Made her promise,” Arthur continued, his voice tinged with regret. “But she did it anyway. And now I can’t stop thinkin’ about—” he hesitated for a breath. “I can’t protect her when she goes off like that.”

Charles nodded again, understanding the depth of Arthur’s pain. He wasn’t around when Arthur had lost his family, but he had heard the others talk about the burden he carried.

“Kate’s a strong woman. She’s been through a lot, just like you. She thought she was doin’ the right thing, even if it went against what you wanted.”

Arthur sighed, the weight of his past bearing down on him. “She promised me—”

“Stop. It’s not about her promise, I know you’re not as dense as all that.” Charles gave Arthur a moment to process what he said before he continued, treading lightly with his words. “You’ve gotta let go of your guilt, Arthur. It’s eating you alive.” He said softly.

“I love her, Charles,” Arthur’s voice trembled. His facade of strength was crumbling away with every moment.

“I love her so much it scares me. But my loyalty to the gang, it’s…it’s the closest thing I’ll ever have to a family again. Kate doesn’t deserve to get swept into this mess.”

Charles sighed deeply, understanding the strain Arthur was under. “Kate is smart, she understands the risks that come with this life. But she chose you, Arthur. She’s devoted herself to you. What she deserves is the truth.”

Arthur nodded, but the words still hurt to hear. He knew his friend was right. “Something big is coming, the law is breathin’ right down our necks. I’m putting her in danger, and I am so goddamn selfish because despite it all, I love her. And I can’t let her go.”

“It’s not selfish if she wants the same thing.” Charles said, as the grand manor came into view on the edge of the shoreline. The others had already dismounted and were waiting for them by the gate.

“Tell her the truth, Arthur. I have a feeling no matter what you say, she’s not going anywhere.”

Arthur and Charles rode up to the grand gates of Bronte's manor, the imposing structure casting long shadows in the afternoon sun. Dutch and John were already speaking to the guards, their voices low and tense. Charles took the reins of their horses, patting them gently to keep them calm. Arthur scanned the scene, his eyes immediately seeking out Kate.

He found her standing a little apart from the others, her gaze fixed on the manor with a determined look. Arthur approached her quietly, the weight of the past few days heavy on his shoulders. He stopped beside her, gazing up at the grand house. His presence was a silent reassurance.

“Kate,” Arthur murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Kate turned to him, her eyes softening with concern. “Arthur,” she breathed. He looked down, searching her eyes, seeing trust and understanding shimmering within them. Arthur was sure of it.

“Will you stay with Charles? Keep an eye on things, for me?” He had no idea what they were about to walk into, but if he could keep her safe from it, Arthur would damn well do it.

“Of course,” Kate answered immediately.

Arthur breathed a sigh of relief just as Dutch called his name. The heavy metal gates opened with a loud creaking sound, and before Arthur could turn away, Kate grabbed his hand.

“You be safe, ya hear?” she said sternly. “And you get that boy back, no matter what.” A small grin played on her lips.

“I’m countin’ on it, sweetheart,” he replied, bringing their conjoined hands to his face and kissing her knuckles.

His fierce, determined eyes locked on hers for a moment, before he broke away, rising to his duties. The simple gesture spoke volumes, a promise of protection and unwavering love.

As the gates closed with a loud bang behind them, Kate watched the three of them ascend the long white marble steps and enter the manor. She whispered a silent prayer to the wind for their safety, and Jack's return.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

By some miracle, the illusive man, Angelo Bronte, had not harmed a single hair on Jack's head. Much to everyone's surprise, Mr. Bronte had fed him, clothed him, and even given him a room of his own, full of toys, books, and games that every child could only dream of. The ride back to Shady Belle was filled with a silent relief. It was a win by all means, for once in their lives the conflict did not end with bloodshed. And for that, everyone was grateful.

Jack was home safe with his mother once again. Smothering him with kisses and checking every inch of his body for signs of harm. The young boy protested and whined, promising his Ma that he was fine. But as they sat around the fire, Abigail held her boy tightly in her lap. Resting her head against his, and promising never to let him out of her sight ever again.

The gang decided to celebrate Jack's return, letting the tension of the past days melt away in the warmth of a roaring fire. Singing and dancing erupted around the flames, creating a tapestry of joy and camaraderie under the moonlit sky. The flickering firelight cast playful shadows, illuminating the faces of the outlaws who, for one night, could forget their troubles.

Kate mingled with the others, trying to shake off the weight of recent events. But her eyes kept drifting to the periphery, where she noticed Arthur standing at a distance, watching the festivities with a sorrowful expression. His silhouette was stark against the dark backdrop of the night, a silent guardian on the edge of the light. He stood alone, like a wolf banished from the pack. The only signs of life were the red glow of his cigarette, as he lifted it to lips every so often.

She entertained the party for a while longer, joining in the songs and clapping along with the rhythm of the music. But when she looked back to where Arthur had been standing, he was gone. The empty space he left behind tugged at her heart, and she knew she had to find him.

Excusing herself from the group, Kate made her way through the camp, the laughter and music fading behind her. She walked towards the dimly lit manor, her footsteps soft against the grass and gravel.

Instead of focussing on the dreadful state of their new home – the peeling walls, the rotting stairs and missing floorboards – she focused instead, on the flickering light of Arthur’s room. She paused for a moment outside the door, gathering her thoughts.

All was silent on the second floor, except for the gentle creaking of the door that stood between them. It was missing one of its hinges, and the knob was long gong, the wind rocked the wooden frame in a gentle dance. Kate knocked quietly.

“Come in,” Arthur called. His voice sounded hoarse and tired.

Kate pushed the door open and stepped into the room. Arthur was sitting on the edge of the bed, his head bowed, lost in thought. The dim light from a single oil lantern cast a warm glow over his rugged features, highlighting the lines of weariness and worry etched into his face. He looked up as she entered, his eyes meeting hers with a mixture of surprise and something else—something deeper, more vulnerable.

She glanced around the room, noting how his things had been neatly unpacked by the others. A map lay sprawled across a large wooden crate, detailing their recent escapades and potential new routes. Old shelves were lined with gun ammo and other supplies. But it was the small china cabinet in the corner that drew her attention. Amongst the few items on display, there were two photographs. One was facing down.

Curiosity piqued, Kate picked up the photo and recognized the man in it – Arthur’s father. She placed it back down, hiding his old face in the darkness, and turned her attention back to Arthur.

“This place could use a woman’s touch,” she joked, trying to ease the tension in the air.

Arthur forced a chuckle, but his head hung low, elbows propped on his knees. He played with the frayed edges of his hat, a gesture Kate had come to recognize as one of his tell-tale signs when his mind was off in a darker place.

She sat down beside him, bumping her knee into his, trying to break through the heavy silence. She felt awkward, unsure what to say. Their emotions hung thick in the air, wrapping around them like a heavy blanket.

Arthur's eyes remained fixed on the worn brim of his hat, his voice low and rough. "You know," he began, "this old thing, it was my father's."

Kate glanced at him, her heart aching at the pain in his voice. She remained silent, giving him the space to continue. Arthur rarely spoke about his father, and she was curious about what had him in such sorrow.

“He died by the end of a rope when I was just a kid, but he lived longer than what was good for any of us,” Arthur sighed, flipping the old leather in his hands.

“He was an awful man. Hated me since the day I was born for bein’ another mouth to feed. Robbed everyone he could and spent all the money on booze. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the night he come home from a bar, reeking of rot-gut whiskey. He lost all his money in a game of poker, and took his anger out on my Ma. Blamed her for bein’ the reason we had no money. But I knew he did it because of me.”

Arthur blew a short huff out of his nose, shaking his head as if the memory of them was just a simple misunderstanding. “He took me that night, and I never saw Ma again.”

Kate gasped softly at what Arthur was insinuating. He had told her a few stories about his parents, but they were never painted in a good light. Arthur always said he didn't remember much about his mother. Her heart ached; he must have been so young to witness such violence.

Shifting his weight, the bed creaked softly. Subtly, almost unconsciously, he moved closer to Kate. Their shoulders brushing, Arthur's figure nearly leaned into her. “When I was old enough to be useful, he had me robbing folks ‘fore I could even feed myself. If I put up a fight, he would whoop my hide with some old leather chaps till I couldn’t walk.” Arthur breathed deeply; the memories still pained him.

“I tried to run away once, hid in some fellas' barn in the hay loft,” he chuckled bitterly. “Lyle nearly killed me when he found me. Told me if I ever thought ‘bout leaving again, he would put me in the ground with my mother.”

Kate couldn’t find the words to comfort him. It was too much to bear—the thought of Arthur, so young and innocent, being hurt in ways a child should never have to endure. To be raised without a mother, and a father who despised him. The abuse of power, as he was the only means of staying alive. Kate knew he had lived through hell.

“Sometimes I wish they had put me up on that rope with him. Would’ve saved the world a lot of trouble,” he tossed the hat aside, landing on the ground with a soft whisper.

“Guess I ain’t too different from my old man.” Arthur sighed and leaned back against the wall behind his bed, looking defeated.

Kate gaped at him for a moment. How he could compare himself to such an evil man was beyond her. She looked between him and his hat, Lyle’s hat, and found herself wondering why he would keep such a thing—whether it was out of spite for his father or purely out of his own self-hatred. There was still so much about him she had yet to discover. So many scars that ran deeper than the ones Colm’s men had inflicted on him.

“I’ve met bad men. Truly evil men, Arthur,” Kate began, her voice gentle and reassuring. “But you are nothing like your father. That much I know is true.”

From the moment she said the words, she could tell Arthur wasn’t going to hear them. He had 36 years to make himself in his father’s image, on purpose or simply by his nature.

Arthur despised his father with a fervor that burned deep within him. Lyle Morgan had been a cruel, selfish man, leaving scars that never fully healed. Arthur’s childhood had been marred by violence and neglect, his father's shadow looming over every aspect of his life. The man had failed him in every conceivable way, shaping Arthur into the man he had become – a man who now felt he had no other choice but to follow in those very footsteps.

Kate had that determined look about her, like she could conquer the world if she willed it. Her unwavering strength was one of the many qualities Arthur had come to love about her. Kate was a good woman, and a loyal friend to her bones. It scared him how deeply he had fallen for her. His years with Mary felt lost to time, her decline at his proposal had hurt. But his heart had healed from rejection, and she remains alive. In the back of his mind, he knew the safest thing for her was to be far away from him.

But now Kate is safe, Jack is home. The gang is out of trouble for the time being. But Arthur’s past regrets kept him locked in the dark. He often told the others that they can’t change the past, only move forward. But he found himself struggling to take his own advice.

Arthur's eyes met hers, and she saw the trust and understanding shimmering within them. His gaze softened, yet the pain lingered. “I haven’t been completely honest with ya, darlin’,” Arthur finally spoke, his voice softening at the tone of endearment.

“Then tell me the truth. I’m here to listen,” Kate answered, trying to hide her restlessness. She was desperate to know what was eating him alive. It was obvious his pain ran deeper than her broken promise.

Arthur sighed and placed a hand on her thigh. Kate immediately placed her hand over his own. “Those stories I told you about Isaac, I… I wasn’t actually there for any of ‘em.” He said hesitantly. Kate nodded ever so slightly, encouraging him to continue.

In moments of introspection, Arthur felt the crushing weight of that legacy. His father had set him on this path, and despite his best efforts to forge a different future, Arthur found himself repeating the same cycle of failure and regret. His father had failed him, just as Arthur had failed his own son, Isaac. The boy had deserved a better life, a chance to grow up free from the violence and chaos that had defined Arthur’s world. Instead, Arthur’s own fears and inadequacies had sealed Isaac’s fate.

“After the kid was born, I didn’t want him raised with the gang. I didn’t want him ‘round that kinda trouble. So I put Eliza and her boy up in a cabin, not too far from where we was, but a safe distance. I promised her I would visit often, bringing her food and money. Whatever they needed.”

His fingers trembled slightly, and Kate gave them a squeeze. “As Isaac got older, he began askin’ about me, wantin’ to see me more. And… I don’t know. Guess I got scared. I was terrified he’d end up like me. Like my father. So I stopped visiting, and I never told Eliza why. She always wrote me letters, telling me stories about Isaac. But I never wrote her back, and then I lost every letter in Blackwater.”

He sighed deeply. Thinking about his first journal, the one he had carried with him for nearly a decade. All those memories, drawings, and letters were gone. Never to be graced by his eyes again.

“The gang had a nasty run-in with the law. So we had to leave and stay hidden for a few months. When things died down, I was able to collect her letters from the post office. Eliza didn’t know if I was dead or alive and yet she begged me to come back, to visit Isaac, to send her money for food. In her last letter, she told me she had borrowed a small amount of money. They were desperate and out of options. I knew she didn’t have the means to pay them back.”

He sucked in a sharp breath. “I was only days too late. Some bastard had killed both her and my son over ten dollars.” Arthur closed his eyes and pressed a fist to his mouth. “Because I was too goddamn afraid of failing, I was too afraid to raise my own kid. So, I sent them to an early grave.”

Arthur felt a wave of shame wash over him at the memory. Knowing that he had ruined other families, just like his own. When he was sent to collect the gang's money that was loaned out. The thought of his own actions made him sick. How Kate had stuck with him after the mess at Downes ranch was a mystery to him.

Kate's breath caught in her throat as Arthur's words settled into the quiet room. Her heart ached for him, the weight of his past sins and regrets pressing down on her own soul. She had always known there was darkness in him, but hearing it laid bare, raw and unfiltered, shattered her. She understood why her broken promise and Jack’s disappearance had ravaged his emotions. And she felt a deeper understanding of the giant that often consumed him.

Arthur’s fear of failure was an all-pervasive, mind-numbing, greedy serpent coiled deep in his belly. Devouring his strength and will. It changed his world from one of fleeting curiosities and riveting mischief to a cold, airless box. Suffocating and relentless, it whispered of past mistakes and potential losses, dragging him into a quagmire of self-doubt. Each breath felt like a battle, every decision a gamble with impossible stakes. The weight of his regrets, and the haunting memories of those he failed to protect, gnawed at his soul. He feared that every step he took might lead to another disaster, another life lost. And yet, despite the paralyzing dread, he pushed forward, driven by a desperate hope that was as old as his weary soul.

Kate pulled him closer, her arms wrapping around him tightly, as if her embrace could somehow shield him from the pain of his memories. "Oh honey, I'm so sorry," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "But you didn't send them to their graves. You can't blame yourself for what happened. Life is cruel and unforgiving, no man can bear that kind of weight."

Arthur leaned into her embrace, his body trembling with the force of silent sobs. "But I do, Kate. I carry that shit with me deep in my chest. I failed them. I couldn’t protect my own family, and I’m terrified I’ll fail you too."

Kate pulled back slightly, cupping his face in her hands. "Arthur, look at me." His eyes met hers, filled with a deep sorrow that broke her heart. Dark blue eyes reflecting his desperate ache.

"You haven’t failed me. And I have faith that you never will. But I need you to trust me too. I need you to believe that I can handle myself, that I can be there for you just as much as you are for me."

Arthur shook his head, his voice barely above a whisper. "I trust you. But the only way I can protect you is if I know you’re safe, if I know you’re not running off to find trouble without me at least knowing about it. I can’t bear the thought of losing you too. Not after everything."

Kate's heart swelled with love for the man before her, so strong and yet so vulnerable. Tears clung to her eyelashes, like shooting stars in the night sky. Threatening to fall down into their world.

She nodded, understanding the depth of his fear. "I promise, Arthur. I won’t run off without telling you first. But you have to promise me something too."

Arthur looked at her, his expression filled with a mixture of hope and fear. "Anything, darlin’."

"Promise me that you’ll let me stand by your side, no matter what. That you won’t try to push me away to protect me. We’re in this together, Arthur. And I want to be with you, through everything."

Arthur's eyes softened, and he nodded slowly. "I promise I will try."

Kate smiled through her tears, "that’s all I ask." She leaned in to press a soft kiss to his lips. Full of comfort and compassion.

Arthur pulled away from her lips and took a deep breath, his hand coming up to cup her cheek. "Kate,” he whispered. His blue eyes searched hers, wondering how such a woman was created for him.

“I love you,” he breathed, the words heavy with the weight of his emotions. "I love you more than I ever thought I could love anyone."

Kate's heart soared at his confession, her eyes filling with tears once more. "I love you, Arthur.” Her voice breaks with the strength of her words. “More than you could imagine."

Arthur kissed her then, and it was like kissing a new man. A man who had shared the depths of his soul, bearing all of his broken and ugly parts. The kiss was slow and deliberate, every touch of their lips a promise of the love they had found in each other. A weight had been lifted from his shoulders, allowing the both of them to soar to new heights. As their lips moved together, the world outside ceased to exist, and in that moment, they were all that mattered.

The warmth of his hand on her cheek, the gentle pressure of his lips, and the soft whispers of their breaths intertwined, creating a cocoon of intimacy and connection. Kate felt the depth of his love in every touch, every caress, and she knew that despite the hardships they faced, they had found something truly worth fighting for, in each other.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Kate and Arthur sat together on the porch off his room, watching the full moon rise over the distant horizon. The night was calm, the air filled with the soft sounds of crickets and the gentle rustle of leaves. The flickering glow of lighting bugs danced across the night. The faint scent of blooming night orchid wafted through the air, mingling with the earthy smell of the surrounding bayou. A gentle breeze brushed against their skin, cool and refreshing.

Kate nestled comfortably in Arthur’s lap, her head resting against his chest. She could feel the steady, reassuring beat of his heart beneath her cheek, a rhythmic reminder of the man she loved. He smelled of tobacco, mixed with cedar and musk. A comforting and familiar scent. Her thumb brushed over the softness of his beard, savoring the quiet moments of peace they had carved out for themselves. She traced the lines of his jaw, feeling the strength and roughness of his skin, the evidence of a life hard-lived.

Arthur’s face was lit by a tender smile, his eyes reflecting the serene glow of the moon. The silver light cast soft shadows across his features, highlighting the creases and scars that told stories of battles fought and survived. He held her close, one arm wrapped securely around her waist, the other gently combing through her wind tousled hair.

After a moment, he spoke up, breaking the comfortable silence. “I’m sorry, for what I said the other day,” he murmured, his deep voice soft and tinged with regret.

“Hmm?” Kate responded, her gaze shifting to meet his.

“Bout you leaving; how I wouldn’t stop you. I’m sorry I said that.” He clarified.

Kate smiled tenderly. “You’re forgiven, Arthur. I knew you didn’t mean it,” she said, her voice gentle and soothing.

“Good. Cause you can bet if you try to leave me now, I’ll hog-tie ya and run away with you on the back of my horse,” he said with a playful grin, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Oh yeah? Is that a promise, cowboy?” she teased, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Arthur chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Damn right it is.”

With that, Arthur pulled her closer, his lips attacking hers with playful, hungry kisses. He nipped gently at her lower lip, eliciting a soft giggle from Kate. His kisses trailed down her neck, each one filled with a mix of teasing affection and unspoken desire. Kate’s laughter mingled with the soft rustling of the night, her fingers tangling in his hair as he continued his assault of love, his touch igniting a warmth that spread through her entire being.

Kate sighed contentedly, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “I’m sorry too. For breaking your promise,” she said finally, composing herself and sitting up in his lap. “If it makes you feel any better, I found those boys who took you.”

Arthur’s expression grew serious, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. “I’d imagine you gave ‘em hell,” he spoke. “Still worries me that they saw your face though.”

Kate straightened herself and gave Arthur a serious look, “It’s not like we had time for introductions, besides, one of them already knew who I was. But they can’t hunt me from the grave, Arthur.”

Arthur sighed and looked away from her for a moment, remembering the young O’Driscoll who had stolen his portrait of her. “Colm’s a dangerous man. I’m just worried he’ll use you against me. That’s all.”

Kate sank a little at his words, feeling guilt stir in her belly, “I understand.”

As if sensing her regret, Arthur attempted to lighten her mood, “Oh, don’t give me that look sweetheart. Just invite me next time you’re making house calls and…” he hesitated, searching for the right words. “You didn’t have to do that for me, y’know.”

“I know,” she said softly. “Part of me was just being selfish,” she admitted, her voice tinged with a mix of guilt and embarrassment.

Arthur furrowed his brows in confusion and looked down at her, “Selfish ain’t quite the word I would use.”

Kate let out a breathy giggle, appreciating Arthur’s attempt to be sweet. Her heart throbbed at his recent confession, and she felt he deserved the truth behind her actions.

“It’s true. Ever since I lost my family I–” She suddenly felt a frog in her throat, and her face felt warm with oncoming tears.

It was easy to talk about them, to talk about her grief with Arthur. To share memories of her loved ones was as simple as breathing. She could paint vivid pictures of her family's laughter, the warmth of their embrace, and the love that had once filled her life. It was a way to keep them alive in her heart, to ensure they were never truly gone. But what was hard was admitting how her strength and resolve were merely a facade, covering up the darker parts of her. The parts desperate to regain some semblance of control in her life.

Kate's past was marred by tragedy and loss. The day she lost her husband and child had shattered her world. She remembered the suffocating grief, the unbearable weight of their absence. But fate wasn’t satisfied with her loved ones, it took a piece of her as well the day she was taken prisoner. In the aftermath, she had vowed never to feel that powerless again. She built walls around her heart, armor made of determination and resolve. To the world, she appeared strong and unyielding, a woman who could handle anything thrown her way. But beneath that facade lay a deep-seated fear.

“I’m terrified of feeling powerless again,” she continued. Arthur listened closely to her every word. “Unable to save my loved ones or save myself.”

She paused, her voice catching as she fought to continue. “It’s like this relentless force driving me, this need to control everything around me. I’m afraid, Arthur. I’m afraid of losing you, afraid of losing everyone I care about.”

Arthur’s eyes softened with understanding, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair from her face. Kate took a deep breath, her fingers tracing the lines of Arthur’s face as if trying to memorize every detail.

“It’s been so hard on my own. I’ve spent so long pretending to be strong, convincing myself that if I can control things, I won’t get hurt again. But it’s exhausting, and it’s not real. The truth is I am not a strong woman, just a scared one.”

This need for control was consuming her. It left her anxious and restless, always on edge, always waiting for the next disaster. Kate's journey had been a solitary one. She had relied on herself for so long, she had forgotten how to lean on others. Her independence was both her strength and her weakness. It kept her moving forward, but it also kept her isolated. She had been so focused on surviving, on maintaining her semblance of control, that she had forgotten what it meant to truly live.

“No,” Arthur sat up abruptly and gripped her hands. “No, Kate, that is not true. You’re bein’ too hard on yourself.” His voice was firm but gentle, filled with a reassurance that made her lips tremble. Silent tears ran down her cheeks as she absorbed his words.

“Goddammit woman. I don’t ever want to hear you speak like that,” Arthur's voice was stern, like he was scolding a child, but it was laced with overwhelming support and love. “You can be both. You understand me? I’m scared too, darlin’. I promise you, I’m just as scared. But that don’t mean you ain’t strong. You’ve done so much for this gang, for me.”

Kate looked into his eyes, feeling the intensity of his conviction. Meeting Arthur had changed everything. He saw through her facade, saw the pain and fear she tried so hard to hide. With him, she didn't have to pretend. She could be vulnerable, could share the darkness that lurked within her. It was terrifying, but it was also liberating. For the first time in years, she felt like she could breathe.

Arthur's grip on her hands tightened as he continued, his voice a soft rumble. “The devil may have dealt you some nasty cards, but you faced that fire and you came out stronger. You’re one of the bravest people I know, Kate. When I look at you I am filled with pride knowing how brave and compassionate my woman is.”

Kate's tears flowed freely now, not from sadness, but from the relief of being understood, of being accepted for all that she was. She leaned into Arthur, resting her head against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart.

“I love you, Arthur Morgan.” Her voice felt tiny in his presence. Kate couldn’t find the words to express how much Arthur meant to her, but in her heart she knew he understood.

Arthur squeezed her tight to his chest, resting his chin atop her head. “And I love you, Kate McCanon.”

As she sat with Arthur on the porch, the moon casting a gentle glow over them, Kate realized that she didn't have to face her fears alone. She didn't have to be in control all the time. She had Arthur by her side, and he had her by his. She could let go, if only a little, and trust that he would catch her if she fell.

A/N: I know this chapter was super dialogue heavy. But tbh I just love writing conversations lmao. I particularly enjoyed the segment with John, he’s just a fun character to write. I was intending to end the chapter with Arthur’s confession about his father/son. But then i was like nah i really think Kate should open up about this too. It’s time to air out the dirty laundry, you know XD

Anyways. Big things coming my friends. If my little ADHD brain can work with me next chapter will be incredibly steamy. Lots of smut. It’s about damn time!! It’ll be a longer chapter, as there’s some other characters I’ve been neglecting for a while. And I’m also going to another wedding! So I’ll be gone for a few days, and I’ll be working on it when I get back.

Thanks for reading guys :)

#arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #ao3 fanfic #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan x original female character #red dead fandom #arthur morgan x reader #ao3 #arthur morgan x oc #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan fanfiction #rdr2 arthur #hurt/comfort #angst #fluff and feels #emotional

52 notes · View notes

lunarthing159 · 10 days ago

Text

[ Gunshot, Rosette, & Canvas ]

A VSAU-AU Fanfiction For @rhapsoddity And Community.

Characters: Sheriff/Jimmy, Wither/Sausage, & Spectrum/Scott

Content Warnings: Detail of Injury, Non-Consensual Hypnosis, & Hot AU Men (Thanks Rhaps).

Extra Tag; @wilbygoesbrrrr Take Your Villain Saus Man

<> <> <> <> <> <>

Stillness.

It was all so still.. quiet.. tranquil..

Almost too much so for The Sheriff's tastes. This place is usually bustling with villains, or even simple criminals by this hour.. yet still.. nothing..

Heroes rarely ventured into the alleyways of this part of Empires City, it was labeled 'not of immediate concern' a long time ago and hasn't changed since. "Tch, figures." He would scoff under his breath at the thought. The whole job of heroes is to help people, and yet they ignore the areas that most need help. Typical, unfortunately.

Oh well, that means more work for The Sheriff to do instead. Hooray!..

Making his way from rooftop to rooftop using his lasso, Sheriff scoured his usual rounds, checking each and every alleyway for even the slightest motive. Even hours later, as he was already slowing down and yawning along the way, he kept searching.

He kept moving.

He kept slowing down.

He kept watching.

He kept yawning.

He kept looking.

He kept rubbing his eyes.

The Sheriff kept Searching

And the searching would seem to pay off.

A simple paper, tucked away in an alleyway corner. A letter, it would seem. The alley walls were lightly coated in city moss, adorned with glass panels & windows leaned onto the sides at the dead-end.

Bingo.

Sheriff decended down from atop the building, using his lasso for the first half and some ladders for the second. "There we go!" Picking up the paper, it read as follows;

To my newest accomplice,

I presume your travels have been well. As I last heard of you, all things are set on your end of our plan. The target has been found, we can begin stage two.

Turn around~

There was no time to react.

The moss along the alley walls came to life in an instant, rushing out towards the sheriff. There was no time to dodge. There was no time to flee. Within moments, he found himself bound within the vines, sprouted thorns digging into his clothes and skin.

And he knew exactly who was causing this.

"Hello there, little cowboy."

Wither. The Thorned Rosebush. The Garden of Decay. The Mania Flower.

He wore a scarlet red mask to cover his eyes and a shirt of the same hue, buttoned down just enough to where his upper chest was visible. He adorned a navy coat that flowed down to his knees with a collar that perfectly framed his medium-length brunette hair and beard. And his smile,,, one that terrified the souls of many, any, & all who have found themselves in his path and wake.

No matter his title to you, you only had one option,,, one chance of survival...

To Run.

Sheriff spent as little time as he could to collect his words, even as his body was thrown into the ground and his arms were bound above his head. He did his best to keep up his usual demeanor, to not showcase his fear,,, his terror. "Well hello there, I know I've shown myself to be a fan of ropes, but this is no way to showcase your own~"

"Oh?" Wither seemed to inquire, only stepping closer. Sheriff prayed the other didn't see the nervous gleam his eyes have no doubt obtained. "Then just how should I show you? Just how much would you like to see~?"

Oh. Oh Sheriff was in over his head. Wither kneeled right infront of him, not in some act of bowing, but as almost a tease, a taunt, a flaunt and display of the other's power in this situation. Sheriff darted his eyes around them, looking for any exit to this situation.

Sheriff let out a cry, the vines tightened, but only around his skin. The thorns dug deep into the flesh, drawing blood and loosening just enough to let him bleed. Dispite the many pains Sheriff has found himself in, he couldn't prevent tears welling up in his eyes. They were trapped there because of his mask, and the salt began to burn, bringing more tears to trap themselves.

"Adorable, do keep up the act, vigilant. Your suffering is delicious." Wither would taunt him, bringing a single finger to swipe across his cheek, causing another wound. Only a small slash, but it was all adding up to the pain Sheriff felt.

It was all too much, even for him,,, the act could be kept up no longer. "Stop,,," it felt so pathetic to beg, but he had no other choice. He couldn't try and writhe out, it would only dig the thorns farther into his arms, legs, & torso. He can only sustain so much damage and guarantee he can make it home. It's all he could do,,, all he could do was beg.

And Wither would only seem to grin wider at his suffering. Perhaps he actually did feed from pain? Who could say. "Don't you worry, I have no intentions to hurt you further. Keep your eyes open, Sheriff. It's time for stage 3~"

What?

And there it was, just outside his peripheral, endless colors began to warp where there was previously only darkness. The visuals creeped into his sight, coating the world around him in shifting and spiraling hues. There was nothing to stay latched on to. There was nothing to stay grounded to. There was nothing to stay focused on. It ate away at his focus, only intensifying every moment it stayed. And Sheriff knew exactly who was working together now.

"Hello there, Rosette~. It seems you've done your part rather well."

"no No NO-"

Not him, not them- anyone but Them.

But it was them. It was, in fact, Wither & Spectrum,,, working together... for... what? What would they need? What could they want? What,,, does Sheriff have to do with this? He,,, didn't know.

And somehow, that terror,,, it distracted him. The world around him began to shift, nothing stayed the same too long. He could hardly make out the walls of the alleyway anymore, only colors,,, endlessly shifting colors,,, endlessly moving colors,,, endlessly spiraling colors,,,

It was... mesmerizing, and any normal person would have fallen victim right here and now. But Sheriff wasn't normal, at least not like this. There had to be a way out, he had to stay strong-

Wither moved to be behind him, wrapping his arms around The Sheriff in a grapple almost adjacent to a hug. Sheriff struggled to not lean into this embrace. Spectrum made his way infront of The Sheriff, gently cupping the other's face within his palms. Sheriff desperately tried to avoid looking as deep as he could into such beautiful eyes. Both villains whispered words to The Sheriff, he tried not to listen, he couldn't hear them, he listened, he couldn't make out what they were saying.

"Hush, --wboy"

"J--- -isten"

"-o thin---g"

"Relax n--"

"D--'t str--gle"

"Fall~."

And fall he did, ever so simply. The colors coated his mind so easily, covering up any thought he may have had and preventing him from forming new ones. They kept swirling in his vision, trapping his mind within it's spirals, falling farther and farther down. All will of fight left his limbs, falling limp within the hold of the one behind him. The world and all in it seemed to fade away as he kept falling further away from it.

His mouth would stay gently open, no tension to keep his jaw closed. His eyes would lose focus, not looking at anything in particular as the world itself seemed to escape him. No thoughts to form, no form to fight, no fight to give. The Sheriff, He could only Be.

Mossy vines untangled themselves from his flesh, retreating back to their posts along the alley walls. Two grins faced the empty husk of a figure, as they knew their plan had succeeded. The bright magenta hue that overwhelmed a previous eye color spoke it all.

They just got a new little puppet~

<> <> <> <> <> <>

Ello! Thanks For Reading! Hope Y'all Enjoyed Your VSAU-AU Villain Yaoi Scosage / Toxic Flytrap Husbands Content :>

#vigilante sheriff au #vsau #vsau fanfiction #empires smp au #vsau sheriff #vsau spectrum #vsau sanctuary #Not Really But I'll Still Tag It #vsau au wither #Lunar Writes Stuff

38 notes · View notes

maskrosfe · 5 months ago

Note

What are you Gems up to since Era 3?

Thank you for this lovely question! I’m getting back to you a little late, but I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I’ll re-introduce them a bit too!

Moss Agate

Before (Era 2):

Used to be an Agate in Yellow Diamond’s court, and worked at overseeing different groups of Jade. Cooperated with a few Jades to get off homeworld during the crystal gem revolution to join the cause. Not much of a fighter but good at other things, and the skills she’s most proud of was learnt during and after the revolution.

Era 3:

Moss has always been conflicted about her leadership position back at homeworld, and once she revolted she desired new knowledge on why. Working together with the Jades instead of ruling over them enchanted her, and today she’s very fond of different types of horizontational power structures. This has led to her working with such structures to this day in Era 3. She does so with both human and gem kind, caring about the two groups interacting.

Yellow Jade

Before (Era 2): Used to be one of the Jades under Moss Agate’s care, and very central to their escape. She formed a close relationship with Moss and another Jade (ice Jade) and they are still very close to this day.

Era 3: On earth, long before Era 3 began, she quickly fell in love with theatre. Yellow Jade found that she loved taking up a lot of space, and with theater she found and outlet for that. She’s loud and active and to some people can come off as a bit too much. She likes to work together with Moss Agate at whatever she’s up to, seeing herself as a protector of Moss. She also believes in horizontational power, and while not as driven as Moss on the nerdy details, she likes to participate. She teaches theater to gems.

Ice Jade

Before (Era 2): Ice Jade was not a part of the Jade group that Moss lead back on homeworld. She found herself with Moss and Yellow right before the escape to earth, and re-connected with them once they all had arrived.

Era 3: Ice Jade was always very reserved and found great safety by Moss’s side, so she stuck around. She loves Yellow and Moss very much, and they’ve been through a lot together. She helps with their projects but does not connect greatly to the work. Rather, what she enjoys the most is helping and spending time with different earth animals. She finds a great kinship with animals, especially traditionally domesticated species. She sees the way she was othered in the way they are often othered. Unlike Yellow and Moss, she doesn’t not like to spend a lot of time with humans (or gems). She’s working on that.

That’s that! I’m happy you asked ^__^ I’ve made a Toyhou page for Moss agate but I have yet to make one for Ice jade and Yellow Jade, this question however made me really excited to!

#gem oc #asks #queenofdahlias4life #steven universe #oc #moss agate #yellow jade #ice jade

49 notes · View notes

kkpwnall · 1 year ago

Text

if it wasn’t for bad luck i wouldn’t have luck at all

part two | rated t | 4k words [ part one ]

all my thanks and love for @fragilecapric0rnn for beta reading again. thanks for your help, and for kindly correcting my silly mistakes 💜

Eddie catches all the not-so-subtle winks Dustin throws him every time one of the kids wheedles details about the next campaign out of him, or Robin gets him going on government conspiracy theories, or Steve cracks him up with a bitchy remark.

The kid’s about as subtle as a train full of cowbells crashing into a packed clown car.

But he makes it seem so easy, to just… be their friend. Too easy. As if Eddie doesn’t have a lifetime of reasons not to.

Against his better judgment, slowly but surely, they’re eroding his finely-honed walls. Growing like moss, like ivy between the cracks.

The kids barge in one day arguing at full volume. Steve trudges in behind them and drops into the crummy plastic chair closest to Eddie’s bed, the one usually occupied by Wayne or Dustin. Well, when Dustin’s not going toe to broken toe with his friends over—

“We can’t split the party under these conditions!”

[ keep reading below, or read on ao3 ]

Steve heaves a ragged sigh, and Eddie watches as if entranced by the complicated movements of Steve’s fingers as he alternates pinching the bridge of his nose and massaging over his eyes.

He looks wrung out. When was the last time he got a decent night’s sleep?

“So someone has to pull double duty. We’ll draw straws and rotate every week,” Mike says, like he’s being the pinnacle of reasonableness. Whatever it is, Eddie’s sure he isn’t.

“That’s not fair! We should just pull someone off and make them exempt. Like Nancy or El, someone we need on more useful things.”

“What the hell are you little gargoyles arguing about?” Eddie reaches for his DM baritone and comes up short. Maybe his diaphragm got rearranged with all the rest of his guts.

It still works to cut through the kids’ argument though. Steve shoots him a grateful look.

“We’re trying to decide what everyone in the party would do in the inevitable zombie apocalypse,” Mike hurries to explain.

“Inevitable..?” Eddie glances out the window he can just barely see from his position on the bed.

It’s been weeks since they wasted Vecna, with no sign of his sorry ass returning. No blood and ash raining from the sky, no earthquakes splitting the town apart, and definitely no zombies.

“Yeah, ‘cause see, if we’ve got El on recon, Nancy and Lucas take point with ranged weapons. Argyle’s in charge of foraging and cooking—”

Steve groans and slumps back in the seat as the kids pick up steam again. He’s so dramatic, Eddie can’t help a snort of laughter he covers with a cough. Steve’s got a hand splayed over his face, from his jaw up into his hairline, like he can block out the whole world. Or at least this one conversation.

With hands like that, maybe he can...

“But someone’s gotta stay back and guard the base! And you can’t have one person on watch, what if they fall asleep or get attacked or—”

A stupid little smile curls over Eddie’s lips as he watches Steve out of the corner of his eye while the kids keep arguing.

“We’re thirteen people now, Mike! There’s no way to divide watch shifts evenly between thirteen people and twenty-four hours in a day! Even Holly can do that math!”

Eddie whips around as reality drops on him like a load of every perfidious brick this group has worn down over the past couple weeks.

“What did you just say?”

Dustin gives him a disappointed look, “C’mon, Eddie, I know you of all people can do this math. Thirteen—”

No way. Absolutely not. That cannot possibly be correct. It has to be a mistake. It has to.

Eddie does a headcount, checking them off on his fingers hidden under the thin hospital sheets to double check their math. Someone got counted twice or not at all.

His three Hellfire gremlins plus Lady Applejack and Red. Nancy and Robin and Steve round out the Hawkins crew. Add in Supergirl and Zombie Boy with their whole “saving the world” schtick for an even ten, and now he’s really starting to sweat. Then there’s Jonathan and that guy Argyle. Plus Eddie makes…

“Oh my god, I’ll do it! I’ll be the designated hitter,” Steve half-shouts. The kids just stare at him blankly, and he sighs dramatically, rolling his eyes so hard Eddie’s surprised he doesn’t black out from it. “I’ll take the double shifts in your make believe zombie apocalypse. Happy?”

Steve’s hand, the one that was covering his face, sits warm and heavy over the sheet covering Eddie’s trembling hand. Eddie has no idea how or when it got there, or if Steve even really registers where it’s landed. Not exactly holding his hand, not with the sheet between them, but definitely there. Something to focus on that’s not how he already died and he’s still being fucking haunted by the spectre of his birth.

So no, he’s not happy, and neither are the gremlins. They immediately start shouting over each other to argue with him.

“Out!” Steve starts to rise from the chair, leaning his weight on Eddie’s hand and points at the door with a snap. “Get out! Go bother Max and Lucas with this shit, or I’m not driving your sorry asses back here tomorrow.”

And just like that, Dustin ushers them out, still grumbling and arguing. He shoots Steve a look, but Steve glares him down with a hand on his hip.

The door slams behind them and it’s finally, blissfully quiet.

“Jesus Christ with those kids,” Steve mutters as he reclaims his seat, “It’s like they can’t shut up for five minutes.”

Eddie is silent next to him in the bed, and he’s pretty sure if Steve’s hand wasn’t on his, it’d be shaking. The rest of him is. This clawing, aching, tingling vibration just under his skin. The tremor is coming from inside the house.

He knows better than this, he knows better, what the hell is he thinking.

He needs to stop fooling around and get his act together, or with his luck, there really will be a zombie apocalypse and all of these people will be casualties of it. All because of him.

“Sorry,” Steve says, sheepishly. “This is like, your room. I shouldn’t’ve kicked them out if you wanted them here. You just... you looked like you needed a break.”

“Yeah, I— yeah, it’s fine,” Eddie says on a rough exhale. Takes a steadying inhale. And judging by the bags under Steve’s eyes, “Looks like you could use a break yourself, man.”

“They’ve just been arguing about that stupid zombie apocalypse shit for hours!” Steve throws himself back in the chair and launches into his own rant.

One hand gestures wildly, digging through his hair and underscoring his words, while the other stays where it’s been planted, gently covering Eddie’s. Twitching and flexing occasionally.

He lets Eddie catch his breath. He gives him enough space that Eddie could slip his hand free, could pull away without making a big deal out of it. He has to feel Eddie’s hand by now, he has to. But he doesn’t move away.

Eddie doesn’t move away either.

He doesn’t have a good reason not to. In fact, he’s got nothing but good reasons to pull his hand back and let them both pretend like none of this ever happened.

But Steve’s hand is warm and solid over his, even through the sheet. And where would he put his hand anyway? Where would it go, untethered? If anything, it’d interrupt Steve’s flow, and it really seems like he needs to get all this off his beautifully hairy chest.

“—And they’re acting like it’s such a problem we’ve got an uneven number now!“

“Well they’ve kinda got a point. I mean, with thirteen…” Eddie interjects.

Steve flashes him a broad, cocky smile. “Hey, thirteen’s my lucky number.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Eddie mumbles, mostly to himself.

Steve hears him anyway. “No, I’m serious! It’s been my jersey number since I was a kid. Like even way back when I was just playing tee ball. Oh, and get this! Somehow, all through grade school, I was number thirteen on the roll call list. Every year! I mean, that’s crazy, right?”

No, crazy is being pulled out of hell itself by the sheer force of will and determination of a guy whose lucky number is thirteen.

This is just too ironic for words. It’s bordering on absurd.

But Wayne’s always tried to tell him truth is stranger than fiction.

Eddie keeps his mouth shut with gritted teeth, holding back a laugh. Or maybe a scream. Either would land him in the loony bin, because once he started, he wouldn’t ever stop.

“And anyway, the way I see it, our luck’s never been better.”

That unsticks Eddie’s mouth.

“What?” he sputters. “Steve, three people are dead, Red and Henderson both have broken bones, and you got chewed on by fucking demon bats!”

Steve shrugs his shoulder loosely, like it’s just the price of doing business. “Yeah, but we actually figured out who’s behind all this shit. I mean like, everything, since ‘83. Since Will went missing and Barb... We finally got answers. And we closed all the gates now, for good. He’s gone. It’s over. And we’re all still here.”

Steve’s eyes slowly trace over Eddie’s own slightly mangled body. Over the tubes and wires snaking out between the bandages wrapped around his arms. Over the one taped across his cheek, until he meets Eddie’s eyes through his lashes. “We couldn’t’ve done it without you.”

Eddie doesn’t have a clue what to say to that. To any of it. The only thing he brings to the table are nerdy references and loud music and a penchant for getting anyone close to him killed.

But Steve makes all that sound like a good thing. Like Eddie is a good thing.

If he keeps this up, Eddie might almost start to believe him.

Steve clears his throat and releases Eddie from the trap of his honeyed hazel gaze, but not before Eddie sees the rosy pink color starting to tint his cheeks. The same heat rising over his own face.

“Sorry man, we’re doing a terrible job of letting you get any rest today. The kids came in here arguing, and then I just went off like that. I can go, if you want some peace and quiet,” Steve pushes the chair back, and Eddie’s fingers twitch under his hand.

Yes. “No, you… you can stay. If you want.” Eddie grabs the remote with his free hand and waggles it at him, plasters on a smile. “Let’s just watch some tv. Put on whatever you want.”

Steve doesn’t look quite convinced, but he does scootch his chair back closer to the bed. “No no no, it’s your tv, man. I know Dustin’s always stealing the remote.”

“C’mon, seriously…” Eddie thinks for a moment until he lands on, “What did you watch when you were home sick as a kid?”

“Uh no, absolutely not.”

“It can’t be that bad.”

“You’re gonna laugh...”

“Cross my heart,” Eddie says, with all the sincerity he can muster.

Steve raises an eyebrow at him, before he blows out an aggrieved sigh. “Alright, look… when I was little, like real little, like younger than the kids, my mom would set me up on the couch with a big blanket with a hot water bottle… And she’d put on General Hospital.”

Eddie presses his lips shut tight to contain his snort of laughter. It still blows his cheeks out though, and there’s a smile he can’t quite keep in.

Steve glares at him, but there’s no heat behind it.

Eddie shakes his head, grinning, “General Hospital it is.”

They surf the channels for a while but can’t find it playing anywhere. Instead, Eddie lands one of Wayne’s old favorite spaghetti westerns, and starts outlining all the tropes of the genre. But it turns out Steve’s grandpa was just as big a fan, and Steve matches him beat for beat as they roast the stilted dialogue.

Eventually, Steve’s eyelids start to droop. His head drops a few times, before he jerks back up, blinking hard. Eddie keeps talking to him, but softer now. Slower. More and more space between each sentence.

Steve’s breath slows and evens out, his chin tucks into his chest and one arm wraps around his stomach. He falls asleep in that uncomfortable hospital chair with his hand still over Eddie’s.

It’s release day.

It’s finally, finally release day. Marked on his calendar and circled in red. Or it would be, if Eddie had a calendar. He’s never been good at keeping up with those kind of things.

The point is, he’s been counting down to this day for weeks. Weeks. But this is it, today’s the day.

He’s already been denied twice thanks to the government goons.

The first time, he was so out of it on painkillers, he didn’t even realize that maybe he should be taking their questions seriously. That one’s on him for answering everything in character as Samwise Gamgee.

The second time though, he’d bet his remaining guitar on petty revenge. All because he wouldn’t sign their stupid NDA without reading it thoroughly first. Or it could have been his demand for more than a pat on the back from Uncle Sam. Eddie wasn’t about to walk away from this all shit empty handed.

But all that’s settled now. He and Wayne got a modest farmhouse with some land, ready and waiting for them just outside of town. His name’s been cleared and the yokels bought the cover story, hook, line, and sinker. And there’s a stipend coming to a bank account with his name on it every month, as long as he keeps his trap shut. It’s enough that Wayne won’t have to work unless he really wants to.

All the doc has to do is sign his release form, and he’s gone. Eddie is leaving today or so help him—

But it’s not the doctor that comes through the door, or even Wayne.

It’s Steve.

With a “knock knock”, out loud, even as he knocks on the door, peeking around it, and beaming when he sees Eddie.

“Wayne sent me ahead with this,” he drops a hefty duffel bag on the foot of Eddie’s bed. “He and Dustin are just finishing up at the house, they’ll be here any minute.”

Eddie balks a little at that, but Steve chuckles knowingly.

“Don’t worry, Henderson’s leaving with me. I had to bribe him with a trip to the comic book store, but at least it’ll give you and Wayne some time to get settled at the new place.”

“Is it good?” Eddie can’t help but ask. Hates how small it comes out. There’s always a chance the suits decided to screw them over.

Steve answers with one of those soft smiles of his. “Yeah, man. It’s great. You’re gonna love it.”

“Good, good,” Eddie says absentmindedly. He has to tear his eyes away and grab the bag, start rifling through it. All the while trying not to wonder who picked out these clothes and who packed them up and—

“I’ll uh, give you some privacy,” Steve says as Eddie pulls out a heavy red plaid and a pair of sweats.

He pulls the curtain around Eddie’s bed between them, but he doesn’t leave. Instead he asks if Eddie wants the latest (and hopefully last) hospital gossip.

“Uh, duh! I gotta know if Luellen’s made a move yet.”

Eddie wrangles his arms inside the hospital gown and pulls it roughly over his head to throw it in a heap in the corner. Ooo-ing and gasping at all the right moments during Steve’s tales of intrigue.

He has to move slower than he wants to, has to take his time and sit on the edge of the bed, dangling his legs to the floor to shimmy into the sweatpants.

And whoever picked the flannel deserves a goddamn Nobel prize. He’s able to slip it on easily without agitating his remaining stitches or lifting his arms above his head. And once he’s got the buttons done up, it’s loose enough not to snag or cling.

Eddie digs around in the bag again and fishes out a pair of slip-on shoes. They’re not his, not his usual style, and definitely don’t go with this getup. But the worn leather is soft, and at least he doesn’t have to deal with the whole mess of bending over to tie them. Or— god forbid— ask Steve to come over and tie them for him.

That’s an ordeal he’s not sure he’d survive.

Whoever packed this bag is getting a fruit basket.

In a soft purple crown royal bag tucked in on the side, he finds his rings and his necklace, and it makes something in his heart clench. Something slots into place, just by sliding the rings back on his fingers, the pick over his head. Whole, in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time.

Screw the fruit basket, they’re getting a whole goddamn orchard.

Eddie’s been quiet for a long moment, not quite keeping up his end of the storytelling experience.

Steve’s gone quiet too, and Eddie’s not sure how long it’s been since either of them said anything.

On the other side of the curtain, Steve clears his throat, and his sneakers squeak on the tile as he shifts his weight from foot to foot.

“Are you decent?”

Eddie snorts out a laugh. “I’m dressed if that’s what you’re asking.”

He catches the tail end of Steve’s eye roll as he pulls back the curtain. He looks Eddie up and down as he comes around. Smiles softly and gets comfortable on the foot of the bed, one leg folded underneath him.

“Ready to go?”

“You have no idea,” and Eddie has to fight the urge not to throw himself back dramatically on the bed. Damn the stitches.

“Yeah, I don’t blame ya. My longest stay wasn’t even half as long as they’ve kept you, and I was climbing the walls by the end of it.” He rubs unconsciously at the scar running through the edge of his eyebrow.

Eddie does not take his hand and pull it away to soothe the aching memory himself. He doesn’t even think about it, really. Definitely doesn’t have to distract himself with an old habit like sliding his rings off and on his fingers.

“What, unseasoned hospital food doesn’t appease your refined palette?” he teases in a haughty voice.

“If I had to eat one more piece of dry, rubbery chicken…” Steve threatens.

“No way, man, the pork chops are way worse.”

They argue back and forth, ranking the rest of the limited hospital menu on a scale of pudding cups to sawdust, and it’s good, it’s easy.

Until there’s a lull in the conversation, and Steve clears his throat and runs a hand through his hair. Sits up a little straighter, squaring his shoulders like he’s psyching himself up.

“Hey so I was thinking… Maybe once you’re all cleared, I can take you out for dinner sometime? I promise it’ll be better than any of this crap.”

Steve looks so earnest, so hopeful, with that confident damn smile curving his lips and his heavy lidded eyes watching Eddie. His hands flex like he wants to reach for him. But he stays still and gives Eddie his space. Must somehow know Eddie would be even more likely to run if he did.

A tight knot of want and can’t claws roughly up Eddie’s throat and he’s pretty sure he stops breathing.

He has to tell him. Knowing Eddie, being friends with Eddie, it’s dangerous. It always has been. He’s let himself indulge in this fantasy for way too long. He has to put a stop to it, now.

It’s more dangerous than Dustin, than Wayne, than Chrissy. Not just a friend but something— someone more.

“Steve…” who Eddie cannot even begin to think about being anything. He won’t.

Eddie Munson is nobody’s happy ending.

“You don’t want— this,” he chickens out at the last second.

Steve’s smile slowly fades and he blinks a few times. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as his head tilts to the side, considering for a moment. “I think you should let me decide what I want.”

And Eddie wants to scream.

This isn’t about you!

But of course, it is. It’s about him, and every single person that’s come before him, and every one that’s sure to come after him, and everything that has and will go wrong.

The words catch in Eddie’s throat, and he can’t say any of them. So he just sits there, frozen and silent and begging Steve to understand.

Steve looks away and lets out a long breath. Not quite a sigh as he shakes his head. He stands and starts heading towards the door.

He turns back before he gets there though, catching Eddie again in his earnest gaze.

“The real question: is what do you want, Eddie?”

And nobody’s asked him that in such a long time. Every day since he woke up in the hospital has been the same. All of his meals are pre-planned and brought at the exact same time, whether he’s hungry or not, whether he likes the food or can even keep it down or not. His schedule, from when to sleep to when to take his meds to when he does physical therapy, has been out of his hands. And then Dustin shows up with whoever he decides to bring with him that day.

Eddie’s been resurrected, but what choice has he really had?

Part of him, this new part of him born from his death and a second chance at life, is just daring him to see how far he can push his newfound luck. To prove once and for all if the curse really is broken.

Eddie’s never said no to a dare.

Steve turns to leave, one hand reaching for the door, and Eddie scrambles to his feet. Takes a few shaky stiff, baby deer steps forward as he calls him back, “Steve—”

He holds Steve’s gaze for an impossibly long moment, tracing the swirls and whorls and questions in his hazel eyes, his freckles and moles and scars.

Go big and go home.

“How about a kiss?” Eddie asks. “For luck?”

Steve’s face morphs through several expressions so fast, Eddie can’t keep track of all of them. He lands on something incredulous, his lips curving upwards in a smirk even as his eyebrows fall and pinch in the middle at the sheer audacity—

But he crosses the room in two swift strides to stand in front of Eddie. Throws a quick glance at the still-shut door, at his mouth, before meeting his eyes again. Eddie barely starts to nod, and Steve’s lips are on his.

His gentle strong hand around Eddie’s elbow reels him in, pulls him closer. Eddie’s lands on his bicep, and the flex of muscle ignites a frisson of sparks under his palm to race through his bloodstream.

Steve’s other hand caresses Eddie’s unblemished cheek. Like he’s something precious. Something to hold onto, something dear.

As far as kisses go, it’s Eddie’s first.

Soft, sure and confident, the kiss is everything Eddie could have ever dreamed of. Hurried— not as in frenzied. Hurried as in greedy. Desperate to steal the breath from his lungs before he’s even noticed it’s missing.

Eddie kisses Steve back with equal fervor, trying to pour everything he has, everything he wants, everything he fears into the movement of his lips, the sweep of his tongue.

Eddie’s hand joins Steve’s on his cheek, keeping him close. An anchor in the tsunami flooding his senses with everything Steve. Cherry lip balm and hairspray, fresh laundry, and the musky hint of sweat underneath it all. It’s intoxicating. Incomparable. Incredible.

And Eddie’s just gonna blame the weeks-long hospital stay for how fast he goes weak at the knees.

Steve’s sure, steady hand in the small of Eddie’s back guides him slowly backwards until his thighs hit the bed again, and he sits hard, breaking the kiss with a gasp.

Eddie reaches for him, eyes wide and staring up at Steve through his lashes, hooking his fingers through his belt loops. Two steps away is too far but Steve wastes no time crowding closer to stand between Eddie’s legs. He gently tips Eddie’s face up with a featherlight touch and kisses him deeply while Eddie holds him firmly by his hips.

Consuming and consumed, devouring and devoured. Wanting and wanted.

When they come up for air, Steve swoops back in, once, twice, and a lingering third time, like he’s reluctant to stop. And Eddie strains his neck to meet him kiss for kiss.

Steve finally pulls away just far enough to sigh breathlessly against his lips, “Is that all you want, Eddie?” His eyes screwed shut tight.

No. Eddie wants everything. For now though, he’ll settle for– “Somebody said something about dinner and movie?”

“Oh so now there’s a movie, huh?” Steve says, but he’s smiling and nudges his nose against Eddie’s.

“Don’t go thinking I’m a cheap date now, sweetheart,” and Eddie’s smiling too. Smiling too much for more than quick kisses that skate across their lips.

With each peck, Eddie schemes how to get Steve’s lips on his again. How to keep him. Keep him safe.

They break apart when the sharp clack-clack of heels echoes down the corridor from Eddie’s room, heralding the doctor’s arrival.

Eddie was born under a bad sign. But maybe here, in this new life, he can make his own luck.

[ also on ao3 ]

#steddie #steve x eddie #stranger things #steveddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things steve #stranger things eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #friday the 13th fic #bad luck fic #kk writes

108 notes · View notes

crossroads-of-the-raven · 10 months ago

Text

Just a Little Something about how long Zane was dead for in Ninjago between Season 3 and 4

In Ninjago Decoded Zane said that he downloaded all 74 episodes plus the holiday special of Jay's game show, 'The Ultimate Ninja Challenge' (a.k.a 75 episodes)

Taking in the schedules for American Ninja Warrior and Wipeout, which appear to be the inspiration for Jay's game show.

American Ninja Warrior is a half hour long show that airs four episodes in a day and another four the following week as a full season (at least when it first came out, IDK about now).

Wipeout is an hour long show (with commercials) that airs a new episode, once a week.

Understanding these two details:

At Most - eight episodes per season, at one season per year with 75 episodes total equals a little more then 9 years (to be precise, 9 complete seasons with 3 episodes of the tenth being aired)

At Least - one episode per week with 75 episodes total equals almost 18 months a.k.a. a year and a half (to be precise, 1 year, 5 months and 3 weeks)

In Compromise for the two shows with a leaning towards the Wipeout influence: Let's say, two episodes per week with 75 episodes total equals 9 months and 2 weeks (this is on the idea of Jay leaving before the filming of the 76th episode).

So obviously we don't get a ten year time skip between Seasons 3 and 4 and I clearly haven't factored in how long it took to set up Jay's game show in the first place, however, I don't think it's that far outside the realm of possibility that the time skip was at least somewhere between 9 and a half months and 18 months. This certainly gives enough time for moss to grow on Zane's statue and for angst among the Ninja Team (<- Including Nya, Pixal and Skylor).

Enough time for Jay to get his own game show.

Enough time for Nya to gather what she needs to fix the Bounty.

Enough time for Cole to get a job without people knowing who he is.

Enough time for Lloyd to be with his father before Garmadon's Season 4 self-sacrifice.

Enough time for Zane to rebuild himself only to be kidnapped by Ronin and sold to Master Chen.

Enough time for Pixal to be kidnapped as well and held in Chen's dungeon where the Mechanic pried her open and took her apart piece by piece.

Enough time where Skylor's training was put into overdrive as she had to watch her father put every last detail into place for the Elemental Masters, like a spider preparing its web for the flys.

Enough time for Kai to get his own apartment where he exists alone with thoughts that are far to loud and condemning for a protector who lost his brother, to craft a place for himself in an underground fighting ring that won't ask questions, where he can fight and forget, only to be constantly plagued by his every waking moment asking, 'why wasn't it me', and thinking, 'it should have been me'.

73 notes · View notes

wintrcaptn · 1 year ago

Text

Wish I Loved You In The Nineties

Joel Miller x Reader

Summary : right person, wrong place, wrong time.

A/N : this will be a few parts. I just wanted to write some angst cuz I miss it 😭

This was just a quick intro. Cuz the next few parts will go into more detail about their feelings, the tension, the cute angsty moments, etc., I hope you enjoy!!

Warnings : cursing I guess? Age gap (Joel is in his 50s, reader is 26) virgin. 2.2k words

"Wait, there's a library! I'll be five minutes." You said.

Joel turned on his heels to face you but before he could even say a word, you were off. Annoyance washed over him instantly as he followed you to the library.

"One day im gonna put a damn leash on you." He groaned, walking few paces behind you.

You rolled your eyes, ignoring him completely.

Joel was the only consistent thing in your life lately other than books. He had saved you from raiders a little over a year ago.

And though he fought himself for a short moment on whether or not he should even care to help you, he couldn't just turn his back.

And ever since, you stuck around him. Following him wherever he went. Even when he told you to leave, over and over again.

But that was the thing, you really had no one to go to. All the people you ever cared for had died, and well...you were tired of trying to fend for yourself. Look how well that went.

Now, here you were. Annoying Joel for the hundredth time.

He had grown used to having you around by now. And a part of him began to feel protective of you.

Even when you pissed him off, and pushed every single button of his from all your constant questions of life before it turned to shit.

You were only 5 when it happened. And now, 20 years later...those memories have only faded more and more.

But there was one thing that always shut you up...books.

If you weren't annoying him with all your constant talking, he would find you curled up with a book, pens and high lighters.

You always knew how to lose yourself in a story. And you read anything you could get your hands on. Didn't matter if it were thriller, romance or science fiction, and fantasy.

Anything that took you away from the real world.

"One book. Got it? Ya already got too many."

"You can never have too many books, Joel. Maybe you should grab one for yourself." You said, as you quietly opened the door.

He rolled his eyes.

The library had books all over. Some on the shelves, some tossed on the floor, and tables. There had been moss growing from the trees sticking through the broken windows.

"It's so beautiful." You whispered.

"Don't go too far. You stay where I can see you. Got it?"

"Mhm"

"Repeat it."

You stopped in your steps and turned to meet his gaze. "Go far away where you can't see me."

"Dammit, kid—"

"I'll be right in this aisle, where you can see me. Okay?"

Joel could care less about the sarcasm, but he enjoyed having you around. But he would never admit that to you. Not even to himself.

"Ok, I got my book." You said, walking over to him.

"Just one?"

You shrugged a, soft smile forming on your lips.

"How many?"

"Only four! Look, they had 'An Offer From A Gentleman.' And 'The Time Travelers Wife.'"

"More romance books?" He said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Ain't ya tired of the predictability?"

You sighed, shoving the books into your bag. "Sorry for wanting to read books with happy endings sometimes. It's not like I'll ever get that in this lifetime."

Joel swallowed hard as he took in your words. He had the luxury to remember life before the infection. Before life was a blur.

It wasn't as simple as the books, and it sure as hell didn't always end up in happily ever after for everyone. But he did have the chance to fall in love, to feel the butterflies after a first date, and the build up anxiety before a first kiss. Even having gone through break ups...

You never had any of it.

"Come on." He said. Feeling a bit off when he noticed the different tone in your voice. "We should head back to camp before it gets dark."

————

You were quiet most of the walk back. Reading the third book in the Bridgerton series.

Reading Benedict Bridgerton's story had made you swoon. It reminded you of Cinderella, a story your mother used to tell you before she died.

He was whiny at times, sure. But the way he knew what he wanted...which in this case, was Sophie. He didn't care about his rank in society. He wanted her. And when he fought for her, you heart swelled.

"God, what I would give to be loved like this." You stated, closing the book.

"Ya finished it already?"

"It's not like I have anything else to do."

Joel shrugged in agreement. Once you had reached the campsite, he made you both coffee while you got some food prepared that you found on your quick supply run.

"Were you ever in love?" You asked absentmindedly.

Joel furrowed his brows, crossing his arms over his chest. "What'd I say bout personal questions."

"Come on! I've been following you for over a year now. You know almost everything about me!"

"Not my choice."

You looked up at him and glared at him with your tired eyes. "Just give me something. Anything."

He rolled his eyes, glancing at the coffee next to him.

"Please? You don't even have to tell me anything really personal...just..idk—what was your go to pick up line?"

"Out of all the people in the world, I get stuck with you." He groaned. "I ain't doin this with you."

"Fine, then where was your favorite place to take a date to?"

Joel stood there, leaving against the truck. He had already been annoyed, but here you were, annoying him even more with questions he didn't want to think about.

"Please? I'll leave you alone for the rest of the night if you just answer at least one of my questions."

He pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. He knew he should just ignore you, but today...he just couldn't.

"Fine. Didn't do much but take 'em to a drive in and maybe an arcade if she were into it." He said. "Now leave me alone, already."

A smile formed on your lips and you pulled yourself up to your feet.

"So you did go on dates." You teased. "There's a heart in there."

"Shut up."

A little chuckle escaped you as you stood next to him, watching the sun begin to set ahead of you.

"I wish I could've been born earlier. So I could've experienced that at least once in my life."

Joel let out a sigh. "Trust me kid, you ain't missin much."

"Easy for you to say! You got to live it. But all I have are books and my imagination."

"Maybe get ya head out of those damn books and go find someone."

"Where Joel? In the abandoned library? Or what about the open field behind us? Last time I trusted strangers, they tried to kill me."

"You trusted me."

It was true. Joel had been nothing but a stranger to you. But for reasons you weren't sure why, you couldn't help but feel as if you could trust him.

He was such an ass, and at times you wanted to punch him in the face and leave but...you also needed him. You needed him like breathing. He made you feel safe, as if nothing bad could ever happen to you again.

With Joel, you were home.

"You just don't get it." You exhaled, walking back toward your sleeping bag.

Joel knew he should just drop it there, but he hated seeing you this way. It wasn't like you to shut down, and lately...you were doing that a lot.

"I'm just sayin, falling in love ain't all it's cracked up to be like your little books."

"No shit. I know it's not going to be like the books but still...there is some truth to them. But I'll never know...I never even had a first freakin kiss."

You stopped for a moment and turned to look at Joel.

He furrowed his brows for a moment, holding your gaze before the realization dawned on him. He shook his head immediately. "No. Don't even think about it."

"Come on!" You exclaimed, walking back to him. "It's not like I'm asking you to marry me or something!"

Joel shook his head once again and stood firm in his stance. "I said no. Keep me out ya weird fantasies."

"Please Joel? Just one kiss. That's all I'm asking for. Just one so I at least know what it feels like."

He tried to ignore you as he turned his back to you but you continued your pleading. The constant "please" in his ear. It was starting to frustrate him.

"If I do this for you, will you finally shut up?!" His voice was louder than usual.

You only nodded, holding his gaze with yours.

"I'm gonna regret this." He mumbled to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose. He thought to himself for just a moment before letting out a groan and stomped over to you without any hesitation. Before you could react, his hands cupped your cheeks, forcing you to tilt your head just before his lips pressed firmly against yours.

In that moment, your heart began to race. His lips were soft and warm, and tasted of his coffee. It didn't take you long to motion back. His tongue danced along yours, forcing chills to cover you completely as his hands traced down to your waist, pulling you in closer.

Joel deepened the kiss, hot and urgent. As if he needed this to survive. He couldn't stop himself, and he didn't want to.

In this moment, it felt like all of the world had disappeared and it was only you and him.

The kiss was intoxicating. And suddenly your body grew hot. Every part of you wanted him. To feel more of him in places no one had ever touched except for you.

Joel was ready to lose himself to you in this moment. He knew it was wrong and he should stop but the longer you were against him, the more he craved you.

The urgency of the kiss was palpable, a relentless hunger that left you breathless.

His hands trailed up and down your body, feeling the thin fabric of your shirt clinging to your torso, wishing to feel your skin against his.

He could feel himself growing harder just by the thought alone. He wanted you. More than anything.

Joel didn't have time to think about what was right or wrong. He just knew in this moment, you were all he cared about.

In an instant, he lifted you off the ground and sat you on the bed of the truck. His lips never leaving yours.

Until you had accidentally knocked over the cup of coffee and the sound of the mug shattering on the ground, stopped you from continuing.

Joel quickly took a step back, wiping his mouth and catching his breath, as you sat there, heart beating fast in your chest. He turned his back to you, trying to collect his thoughts. For a moment, he almost let himself go. He almost caved and gave in to you.

You didn't even know what to think. And for the first time in your life, you had no words.

Things are far too complicated in this world. Joel wasn't someone who let anyone in. He knew giving someone that much power, it would destroy him if anything were to happen.

And he tried so damn hard to keep from feeling anything for you. If you had walked away after saving you that day, he wouldn't have thought twice about you. But now?

You were all he could ever think about. Every morning, he'd flash a soft smile seeing you already awake...reading a book like always with coffee ready. Every night, he felt a little more at ease having you there. Even when he didn't show it, he was slowly starting to fall for you.

And it scared him. More than anything. You were the right person, but it was the wrong time.

He couldn't promise to love you the way you deserved. To be the man that you hoped he would be. For so long, Joel was someone people feared. He never hesitated to do what he had to in order to survive.

So how could a girl like you ever love a man like him?

"Joel...s-say something." You stammered, nervously picking at your nail.

He turned to meet your gaze and wanted nothing more than to kiss you again. To feel you against him. But he swallowed hard and straightened his stance.

"I held my end of the bargain...now it's your turn." He groaned, then stomped over to the fire and kicked dirt into it to put it out.

"But—"

"Don't." He said with a stern voice. "Get some sleep. I'll keep watch."

"Joel—"

"I won't tell you again."

You didn't want to fight with him. So many different emotions washed over you, it was overwhelming. And all you wanted to do was sleep.

Maybe you shouldn't have asked him to kiss you. Because then you wouldn't be laying there wishing you could kiss him again. Maybe, you wouldn't have realized you were falling in love with him.

—————

Chapter two

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #tlou #the last of us fic #tlou hbo #joel tlou #tlou2 #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction

111 notes · View notes