#most of these are canon how odd right
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Taena Of Myr, also known as Taena Merryweather, is the Myrish wife of Lord Orton Merryweather, and is the Lady of Longtable. They have one child, Russell. Companion and friend of Queen Cersei Lannister.
Ser Osney Kettleblack is the youngest of the Kettleblack brothers. He is the son of Oswell Kettleblack and he has two brothers, Ser Osmund and Osfryd Kettleblack, a sworn sword of Queen Cersei and sometimes his lover, he was accused of being Queen Margaery's lover and imprisoned in the Keep.
Lady Myranda Royce called Randa, is the daughter of Lord Nestor Royce, the High Steward of the Vale. he is good friends with Mya Stone, one of her father's retainers. In the abscence of her father, Myranda is the acting Lady of the Gates of the Moon in the Vale.
Lady Delena Florent. the mother of Edric Storm and niece to Lord Alester Florent. She is married to Ser Hosman Norcross and has two children by him, Alester and Renly. She was one of Robert Baratheon's lovers During the wedding of Lord Stannis Lady Selyse Florent, King Robert I Baratheon carried Delena, who was one of Selyse's bedmaids, upstairs to the bedroom of Lord Stannis. This coupling eventually led to the birth of Edric Storm. Because Delena had been a maiden of noble birth when Robert slept with her, he had to acknowledge the child as his bastard.
Prince Lysandro Orthys of Lys. One of the ruling princes of Lys and part of House Orthys. They trace their bloodline directly to Old Valyria and they are bankers and masters of coin. Lysandro is a supporter of the Golden Company and was persuaded by Jon Connington to support Young Griff/Aegon in his quest for the Throne. He offered his sister Narcyssa as a lover for Aegon, wanting the prestige of the dragon blood.
Princess Narcyssa Orthys of Lys. Master of Whispers and a Priestess of the Lysani Gods. She was offered by her brother as a bedwarmer for Aegon Targaryen and is part of the emboy travelling to Westeros. She is tasked to find a way to get the dragon blood into her family in order to be able to bond with dragons.
Lady Khorina Rogere. Noblewoman of House Rogere, once a great house of Lys but fallen into grace after years. Khorina owns a pleasure house for the Elite and one of her girls, Doreah was send to Prince Viserys as his lover and handmaiden of Daenerys. Khorina supports Queen Daenerys for the Throne.
Lady Reina Horpe. Daughter of Richard Horpe, Reina is the heir of her father and currently remains at the Stormlands. She is at Griffin's Roost when Jon Connington takes seige of the castle. She is a vocal supporter of her father's choice to back King Stannis and thus, she remains a "guest" under supervision.
Lord Rolland Storm known as the Bastard of Nightsong, is a knight of House Caron. He is the bastard son of the late Lord Bryen Caron of Nightsong and the half-brother of Lord Bryce Caron. He worships the Warrior, an aspect of the Faith of the Seven, with a faith as fierce as he is. After the death of Lord Bryce at the Blackwater, Rolland disputes the title of Lord of Nightsong.
Lady Guinevere Dayne, the younger sister of Ser Gerold Dayne, nicknamed Nightstar is part of the Dayne's of High Hermitage. She travels to pledge to Princess Arianne to forgive her brother, although she does not think he was the one who killed Ser Arys. Guinevere has lilac eyes and like all the Dayne's of High Hermitage, she has two colored hair. Black with white streaks.
Ser Baynard Norcross is a knight of House Norcross at Highgarden. he travels to King's Landing as part of Lady Margaery's emboy and is one of her knights. Bayard is named by Taena of Myr as being among the group of young knights who give their attentions to Queen Margaery Tyrell. He is eventually fred and send to Highgarden.
Lady Seline Florent. Bastard sister of Queen Selyse, she was legitimized by her father and made a Lady of the House. She attends to Lady Melisandre and travels to the North with King Stannis. Seline is known for having a strange hair, naturally shaded a dark violet. Many think it's an omen.
Lady Hestyna Flint of the First Flints. Sister of Donnel Flint, Hestyna is known for her magical greenseer qualities, she self proclaimed herself a priestess of the Old Gods and is known to give magical favors in exchange of coin or favor to those in the North. Hestyna is also a healer.
Cletus Yronwood is a knight of House Yronwood, the son and heir of Lord Anders Yronwood of Yronwood. Cletus is one of Prince Quentyn Martell's closest friends. Cletus is among Prince Quentyn Martell's traveling companions on his mission to meet with Daenerys Targaryen in the Free Cities.
#out of character Ⲡwhen you play the game ⺠mun.#artworkⲠhouses ⺠mutuals can interact.#i promise to work on the ocs' bios but most of these are canon muses#most of these are canon how odd right#anyways
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I dislike takes that Danse would be just as conservative in modernized aus when it's clearly shown his staunch views of things come from his time in the Brotherhood and his deep-rooted desire to belong to something with a greater purpose.
Not to mention lines that show much more open-mindedness that get overlooked for his harsher sentiments when you first meet him. Like the oppurtunity to be a part of something is why Danse fell so far into Brotherhood dogma and it doesn't negate the offense things he does but I feel like it's just lazy to be like "hmmm he'd def be racist" just so it aligns to his BoS beliefs.
#like i genuinely think he would like not fall into the military if he was in modern times because of all the other things he could do#he clearly has a passion for tech and mods and likely would find himself more useful as like a mechanic like at most hes one of those range#types or something but I feel like people equate his seriousness and him being a military man to closemindedness when its like having to ge#a new view point like we really dont know what he believed in before the BoS if he believed in anything at all outside of selling scrap to#survive before basically having an army recruiter have him join one of the scariest factions like why is the BoS so fucking violent???#like the BoS operates in such a way cause there is no civilian population like everyone is something or training to be so they arent really#fighting for anything but themselves at this point which is just a feedback loop of gaining more power and is not equatable to real#military people due to the fact most of the recruits are really born and bred to be soliders while say irl you have a family and country to#fight for and return to outside the military which is def grounding as Danse wouldn't be in the army 24/7 like in canon#idk its odd to me when a character that is has fantastic racism ergo the trope of bigotry to fake races people try to translate it to real#life especially when those races have not equivalent like tell me what is the irl equal to a fucking ghoul or super mutant like????#racism is not like a funny headcanon like making him a defrosting prude or by the book is whatever but he would not be a bigot just like a#narc or some shit hed tell on me for loitering but I know hed tear apart each voting party and likely the military for being self serving#and like knows all about it and it makes him sound like a politics nut but its more annoyance like I have such strong feelings about#characters who would be marginially better if they were not victums to the military like yes I believe we can fix Danse he just needs to#be around not war/the military for like a week and see people be happy existing like he doesnt know how to do that but this is a weird take#ive seen mostly from white fans that makes me super uncomfy like ur weird#anyway still fuck the brotherhood everyone is so rude like damn i know its the east coast but can we get a little hospitality fuck you#maccready was right brotherhood of squeal more like it dont worry porky we'll get you out (danse is porky btw)#fallout#fallout 4#fo4#paladin danse
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thinking 'bout how the lads interact with what the bracelets represent, especially in their decks
#marwospeaking#Yuuya is by far hardest to work with on this because he Varies. but that might just be him being opposite to Yuzu so it might count?#anyway Yuuya is a bushfire made by fireworks set off without proper precaution (the improperly set off fireworks being Zarc..#.. being influenced into the position that made the lads through his desire to both destroy and entertain his crowds)#It's small sometimes. but in the right conditions is an unstoppable conflagration#Yuuto literally does not die. In a world where we never truly get the other two (Yuugo and Yuuri) interacting with their host (Yuuya)..#.. outside of duels. he very much does. He is undead in a way the others don't quite match (pre Zarc revival) and it's opposite to..#.. En Bird's life (assuming it counts death too as part of its cycle)#Yuugo uses machine monsters - things that distinctly don't breathe. and in most cases have exhaust pipes billowing fumes#and machines can be warm to the touch at times. which you could feasibly slide against Rin's Windwitches for being Very Cold Ladies#Also he's trapped no matter where he is. Neo Domino has a stronger grip on him as a person than anyone else. and when he might finally..#.. escape that. he's trapped in someone else's body with no canonical recourse. because the story ended on Yuuya's terms and no one elses#Yuuri is hardest to place but I think he's very stationary. Sere's monsters are dancers - constantly moving - and she's very able to#adapt as she goes despite how stupid she can be book-wise. Yuuri is rooted into his role. even when he discards his loyalty his role was..#.. always in Zarc's interest no matter if he knew or not. The Professor's loyalty from him is an add-on to that#... I'd argue Zarc cared more about his pieces than Ray cared about hers also? He made cards for them on the fly so they'd Win#Even in moments where that victory is not in a wholly positive light - Odd-Eyes Raging and Gatlinghoul - but we know he's capable of it..#.. a la allowing Yuuya to debut pendulum monsters on his behalf in order to win against Ishijima#something something this can then apply to the other lads. they never lose except to each other and Ray's girls (at least on screen)#Yuuto survived 3 years of war. even despite Yuugo and Yuuri showing up. so methinks Zarc must've had a role in helping him survive#Like. Zarc's distinctly present for his Lads. Ray's not present for her lasses until one of them speaks through her#Sure it's very possible that's a bracelet thing - they are floodgates at the end of the day - and not a Ray thing. but it also wouldn't..#.. surprise me given Ray is an Akaba. we know they will sacrifice others for a gain later on - Ray's was sacrificing a whole world to make.#.. a safer one for everyone to live in. irrelevant on if they remember it or if they never existed originally. Except Leo Akaba. He does#(with memory reading tech) and it tortures him the whole time. she didn't mean to hurt him but Still#Zarc's distinctly not better than Ray - he's still broken wide open when it comes to his hatred of humanity (but not his human half)#and it resulted in multiple near-deaths the second time around - but I can't say Ray's that much better if it turns out the bracelets..#.. weren't floodgating her ability to help her lasses#Completely unrelated but. I don't like what Arcray represents ngl. makes it seem like Zarc could never move on with the help of his lads#and has to rely on someone who killed him and sent him to purgatory about it in order to heal.
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đĽunpopular charles opinion
The thing is, itâs not an opinion, really. The question isnât meant to be a complaint or a rebuttal or anything. I just genuinely donât get it! The question goes something like this.
So Charles/Klinger seems to be the one actively disliked ship in the fandom, discounting the h*nn*hawk vs p*erc*ntyre gang war and that one rabidly anti-hawnk person (lol). Most nobody has any love for the ship, because itâs stupid and OOC, of course, but mostly because itâs egregiously obviously racist and gross, which is the critique that seems most common, and to be of most importance to people.
And to be clear, for the purposes of this post I am wholly agreeing with all that! Itâs distasteful and immoral and people who are into it are insane, including me. Iâm not arguing against this line of thinking, I just wanted to look at its inner logic. Because when I first heard people saying this, I thought, âYeah, makes sense, Charles is truthfully a terrible person with abhorrent opinions. Nobody watching this already unfortunately bigotry-riddled show is obligated to try and look past that! It is Always valid to hate Charlesâ guts.â
But it turns out most of the fandom (I assume it must be most, given how shockingly few people here have blocked me) actually donât hate Charles, in general. Itâs the specific ship, not the character, thatâs distasteful. (Not to say any Charles ship is anything resembling popular, but like with most ships, thatâs just a result of the general populationâs Hawkeye BJ Laser Focus Gaze. Iâve never seen anybody actively dislike these ships when theyâre brought up.) And the more I think about it, the more I wonder why, because well. to put it bluntly. Itâs not like someone stops being racist when theyâre not actively interacting with a nonwhite person.
You know what I mean? I feel like Charlesâ bigotry would be a turn off for all of our generally morally sound protagonists, not just one who happens to be personally affected by it. But it only becomes an issue when it involves Klinger. Iâve heard people say that any Charles/Klinger ship fic would obviously have to go out of its way to address Charlesâ racism, but Iâve read a few Charles/Hawkeye and Charles/Donna (and Charles / other strange and varied choices too, because of course I have) ficsâreally, REALLY good fics, that captured the characters very nicely and are very beautifully writtenâand Iâve yet to find one that discusses The Bigotry In The Room with any degree of seriousness.
(Pssst this is everyoneâs chance to absolutely dunk on me by sending me fics that do this if there actually are a bunch and Iâve just never read them because I would in fact LOVE to read some fics with that topic regardless of ship!)
And to be clear, thatâs fine with me! I truly do not care. When I read Charles running away to Maine or romancing Ms. Parker and I donât see his love interests stop to ask âHey, um, so any updates on the fact that you and your whole family are eugenicists?â, it doesnât bother me in the slightest, because I just assume that Charles has already gone through the cult deprogramming step of his character development at some point prior to this, and either the love interest in question has already confirmed this off-page, or they are making the same assumption I am. After all, at least in Hawkeyeâs case, the mere act of admitting romantic interest in a Democrat from the back of beyond would necessarily imply a shift in values, right?
(Admittedly, for all we canonically know Donna could be a fashy scumlord herself, so this reasoning doesnât wholly apply there, but it obviously does to her fanon background/personality.) (Which is adorable, by the way. Everyone go check out the collective oeuvre of AO3 user onekisstotakewithme.)
So thatâs all cool! Itâs just that the same thing applies for me when it comes to Charles/Klinger. If anything, it applies even more, because you can have a fic where Charlesâ whole family attend his and Donnaâs 2nd wedding (Everyone go check out the collective oeuvre of AO3 user onekisstotakewithme!!!) but if Charles gets with Maxwell in any capacity, his father is at the very LEAST never going to speak to him again, ever. And personally I think that is SO fun and sexy, because Charlesâ father is a white supremacist and I want him to die painfully forever and ever amen. <3
I got sidetracked a few times here and I just realized I never actually asked the question, which is, TL;DR: If itâs immoralâor at least gross and nonsensicalâto ship Charles/Klinger, because Charles is bigoted, shouldnât the same also apply to shipping Charles with many other characters too, given that they should logically also have a problem with his bigotry?
For what itâs worth, I have a bit of a theory about the answer to this, all to do with the incompetent way Charlesâ bigotry (and other charactersâ reactions to it) are portrayed in canon and the deeper Doylist factors that I think forced the showrunners into writing it like that, but I wanted to stay strictly on the topic of fandom attitudes for now, because it may be niche and silly, but I find it interesting. And Iâd love to hear other peopleâs thoughts on it!
#Did this sound rude? Was I totally incoherent? Is everyone mad at me now? All these questions & more swirling around in my brain right now#It seems like such an obvious thing I feel stupid even bringing it up because there must just be some huge thing I'm missing#but I can't figure out what it is!#There was so much more I wanted to bring up here as I said but I had to Stop haha#like sometime I also want to do a post on how most people seem to envision Charles fitting back into his family and his old life very well#and I always picture the exact opposite! Not just from a ''what I would want to have happen'' POV but also just#what I think would complete his arc in a satisfying way and build on the things that happened to him in canon#not saying he's gong to go home and become a commie immediately (ah! if only!) and I think he WOULD try DESPERATELY#to have everything be exactly the same. but I just don't think it would work!#like Margaret and unlike BJ or Hawkeye his pre-war life was not built on healthy sustainable or even ethical foundations#and that life is going to collapse in on him!#but ghdsjkgdsj STOP I will make a separate post later. enough controversy for today I'm sleepy#(but I also do SOOO want to make a post examining the insane inconsistencies in how the protags treat Charles and his bigotry cause it's#SIMPLY RIDIC#)#Hawkeye when he wants to have a little bonding moment with Charles:#I can excuse racism but I draw the line at failing to flirt with a 6'4'' millionaire. A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do!#and the thing is Maxwell also does this. but of course THAT isn't ok. wheezing.#Charles: god I fucking HATE [checks the list of protected minorities to find an ethnic group that's not on there] uhhh MEDITERRANEANS#Max who is used to long odds and is already mentally rehearsing his teary ''But officer! My husband was in that house!'' speech:#haha yeah ok Major. I think we are soulmates btw :)#THIS POST IS A DISASTER. APOLOGIES TO EVERYONE AND HAVE A NICE DAY.#Charles Emerson Winchester III#MASH#Starky loves answering questions#marley-manson#CHARMAX#Starky's Original Posts
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and they were roommates
pairing : Spencer Reid x fem!student!roommate!reader summary : you are Spencer Reid's roommate, the team finds out about you when a case brings them to the university you study at word count : 2.5k warning : canon-typical violence A/N : the university is a random one I picked in Virginia, bear with me because I don't know how US university systems work, thanks :) I think this is a part one, there may be a part two or even more, idk, but tell me what you think !
part 2, part 3, part 4
"I- I'm sorry, what university did you say?" Spencer's frantic tone was immediately noticed by his colleagues. Suddenly, he seemed hyperaware of everything in the room. The loud AC, Derek's pen-clicking and the overwhelming smell of Emily's coffee. "Mary Washington University," JJ answered swiftly, eyes narrowed as she sent Reid a confused glance. The man in question mumbled a few words under his breath and shot up, grabbing his coat and scarf. "We need to go." His tone, unusually urgent, left no space for debate or questioning. He was out the door within seconds, followed closely by Morgan and the others.
When you'd applied for Mary Washington University, you had known you would have to get an apartment. You lived too far away to even consider taking the numerous trains and buses and subways to get there. So, when you had been accepted into your first choice of universities, you'd started apartment hunting. Or roommate-hunting, to be more precise.
To say you had been unlucky would have been quite the understatement. You'd visited four apartments so far and could not even consider living in one of them for a second. The first had been full of frat boys who made your skin crawl, the second was with an old, far right-wing couple, the third had been two sisters who'd yelled at each other for the whole time you were there and the fourth had been so crowded your were certain it was neither sanitary not legal for another person to live there. With the deadline of university starting and having to move all your things, you were starting to get quite anxious. But call it chance or fate, one day you stumbled upon an advertisement for an apartment in a nice neighbourhood with one person who seemed quite normal. This person was a state-employee (which meant a stable salary and that meant you wouldn't have to compensate for rent) who travelled often for work and liked to keep mostly to themselves. Not one for big parties, they preferred a night-in and rarely had people over.
So you'd put on your big-girl pants and had walked over to what you hoped would be your last apartment visit. You hadn't been expecting such a young person to open the door because of the way the advert had been written and because of what it said. "Hi, I'm Dr. Spencer Reid." You noticed he didn't hold his hand out and mirrored his behaviour. "Hi! I'm here for a visit!" You introduced yourself somewhat shyly, feeling intimidated. This man was at the most five years older than you and he was already a doctor?
He showed you around the apartment, which you liked very much. The rooms smelled like books and tea and everything was kept very clean. On the whole, it was tidy, even if a few books or articles were stacked in some odd places. The bedroom you'd stay in was large and luminous. After the tour, he made you a cup of tea as you discussed formalities.
"Uh, so, youâre a student, right?" he'd asked politely as he added a worrying amount of sugar in his earl grey. You bit back a teasing jest. You hoped maybe one day you'd get to place where you could comment on his daily sugar intake. "Yeah, um, I'm studying English Literature and Cinema." You stirred your tea, looking around the kitchen. Even though it was painted a dark, forest green, it still seemed luminous in the afternoon sun. "Oh, that's super interesting! Iâve always found texts in Middle English particularly insightful! I- I read the Canterbury Tales when I was about 10 years old. Itâs fascinating the way in which issues which were already current then are still very present today, like in the Wife of Bathâs tale, for example-â
He cut himself off, leaning back into the couch. He rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks dusted pink. âSorry, you probably donât want me to ramble about what you already know.â âNo, I think itâs amazing that you would know that, actually. What else did you like in the Wife of Bathâs tale?â Spencer seemed to brighten up at your words and thus ensued a lengthy discussion of the avant-garde themes evoked by Geoffrey Chaucer. You were fascinated by his knowledge and found his passion especially endearing. Lots of your professors werenât even that passionate when talking of late 14th century literature.
After discussing rent, which you would afford by waitressing at a local bar, lightly touching upon political subjects (on which you seemed to agree on), he finally told you that he was an FBI agent. "Excuse me?" you spluttered, leaning backwards in shock. "I'm a profiler with the BAU, the Behavioural Analysis Unit. I can show you my badge if you want." He stood up and reached for his bag, but you stopped him in his tracks. "No, no, that's okay, I believe you. I'm just surprised, that's all, sorry." His expansive knowledge of so many things seemed fitting for an agent of the BAU. After realising you were the first person who didn't demand his badge as proof of his profession, Spencer granted you a small smile. "You don't need to apologise. I- I know it can be a bit... off-putting." He sat back down and looked you in the eye. "Is that a problem for you, living with a federal agent?"
You thought about it for a second. As a general rule, you weren't a big fan of cops. Even more generally, you didn't believe in the structure of today's society. But that was a big topic. Plus, a profiler wasn't really a cop, was he? "No, that's not a problem for me."
You'd moved in a month and a half later. Things had been slightly awkward at first and you'd had to figure out what kind of dynamic Spencer and you had. But eventually, youâd found your rhythm.
When Spencer left for work, you took care of his plants and sent him pictures of Geoffrey. Geoffrey was the cat youâd found on the street and taken in. He was named after Geoffrey Chaucer, author of the Canterbury Tales, your first common point of interest. Spencer had been reluctant at first, but youâd taken him to the vet, where he was tested and vaccinated, and the man had finally accepted him into your shared space. Now, he loved the little creature. Sometimes, youâd call him to ask how he was doing and whether he was safe. Heâd always reply that yes, he was doing fine and no, he wasnât in any danger, donât you worry. Heâd ask how you were doing and if you were staying on top of uni work and if youâd eaten and if Geoffrey wasn't being too annoying. As an orange cat, he had his particular tendencies.
When Spencer was at home, you'd always look forward to getting back from class. There was always that sense of comfort and ease when he was around. You had found a lovely routine quite easily. You'd both work or study, then cook, eat together and afterwards maybe you'd watch a movie or something. You were at a point where you could comment on his daily sugar intake, which he's started correcting since meeting you. He loved the Big Bang Theory and though you weren't such a fan, you loved the little laughs he let out and all the corrections he'd make. In general, you liked when he talked. Even more generally, you liked him. You also liked Friends and though Ross got on Spencer's nerves, he enjoyed being able to discuss it with you afterwards. The two of you got very close without even noticing.
Sometimes, you'd remember he wasn't just your roommate, but also a man. He'd make you a cup of tea and you'd stare at his hands a little too long while he stirred the honey in. Or he'd help you reach for a cup with his impressive height, his front just skimming your back with a shiver. He'd tell you to breathe and sit down when you were upset about something. A few times, he drove you home from a night out with your friends and laid his hand on your knee. He was the only one who remembered how you'd told him you wanted to kiss him.
With you, Spencer discovered many things he had never experienced before. A healthy, comforting and peaceful routine. A supporting, non-judgemental, healthy friendship. Easy laughter in the middle of the night and tired "good morning"s at dawn. Butterflies in his stomach whenever you touched him. A budding romance which kept him awake at night.
So when that was threatened, he just about lost it.
"Oh my God." "I can't believe this." "Is this a prank?" "Did someone call 911?" "What about her parents?" "Oh, that's sick."
Voices swarmed around your head, making you dizzy. Your hand rested over your mouth as you stared at the body strewn on the lawn. Much of the student body stood next to you, just as shocked. Mary Goldman had been her name. You'd crossed her just this morning in the main hall and had exchanged small smiles. You had thought that she looked really pretty today, but hadn't told her. You regretted that now. At the moment, her mascara had run down her cheeks and dried and her lipstick and been smudged. Bruises and cuts decorated her bare arms and legs and a big red stain sat on the side of her stomach. The contrast between her dead body and the green, thriving grass beneath her was haunting.
You turned away, feeling sick. You felt your friend's hand on your shoulder, a small source of comfort anchoring you to reality. Facing the road as you turned, you were surprised to see three big black SUVs speeding towards the crowd. You'd been expecting an ambulance, or cops. Not whoever these guys were. They screeched to a stop, drawing everyone's attention. A small dozen of people stormed out, all dressed differently though they all held the same aura of importance, knowledge and authority. You turned back to your friends. "Who are these-"
You stopped mid-sentence when you heard your name being called out urgently. You'd have recognised his voice amidst a thousand others. He spoke your name like no other. You frantically looked around, pushing your way to the large vehicles. When you finally spotted him, tears started pricking your eyes. "Spencer," you breathed in a half-sob. His eyes ran you over once, twice, assessing any damage. When he saw there was no physical wound, his shoulders sank in relief. He opened his arms and you rushed inside his warm embrace almost reflexively. Neither of you noticed the numerous pair of curious eyes observing your intimate exchange.
"Oh my God, Spence- What- What are you doing here?" you'd cried into his cardigan. You buried your face into his neck, inhaling the comforting scent he always bore. He wrapped an arm around your waist and another around your shoulders, holding the back of your head in a consoling manner. "We're- We're taking this on as a case, sweets. Are you all right?" He knew it was a stupid question but all the emotions and tension were barely wearing off and he didn't know what else to say. You pulled away but he kept you at arm's length, holding your cold, shaking hands in his warm, steady ones. "I- Yeah, it's just- I- I saw her this morning! How could she- Why would someone do this to her? To- to anyone?!" Spencer cooed and pulled you into another tight hug as you continued to ramble through your tears. When you'd eventually calmed down thanks to his words of reassurance, he pulled away softly.
Spencer understood what you meant perhaps more than anyone. The sadness, the shock, the anger, the need to understand. He gently wiped away the mascara under your eyes with his thumb. "I know, I- It's- Even I don't always understand, sweetheart, so don't- Why don't you go home? I'd come with you but-" You nodded, biting your lower lip. He gave you a sad smile. "I promise I'll join you as soon as this is over. You- you can make yourself a cup of tea and process all this and pet Geoffrey, okay? Classes are going to be cancelled either way." "I don't want to-" The look in his eyes kept you from arguing further. You nodded, giving him another hug. Before you left, an older man came over to you.
"I'm sorry to bother you, miss. I'm Agent David Rossi. I just had a question-" "Rossi," interrupted Spencer with a stern tone you'd never heard before. The older Agent raised an eyebrow at him. "Just one question." He turned back to you. "At what time did you say you saw the victim?" You inhaled shakily, running a hand over your face. "Uh, it must have been around quarter to eleven. I think- Yeah, somewhere between ten thirty and eleven." "Thank you, miss." You didn't miss the glance shared between the two men before Rossi retreated.
"Who was that?" asked Emily as soon as you'd left and Spencer had joined them behind the police tape. "No one," Spencer brushed her off as he kneeled next to the victim. Strangely, he hated the idea of someone who knew you dying. It felt too close to home. "C'mon, man, you lost your shit this morning, a girl you clearly know very well runs into your arms, you snap at Rossi and you expect us to believe you?" Derek raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. Spencer sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before looking up at the rest of the team. All were staring at him patiently. He stood up, swallowing.
"That was my roommate." He informed the team of your name and of how you'd been living together for a few years now. "Spencer, you've been living with a woman for years and you've never told us?!" Derek was all but hysteric. Hotch reminded him that everyone was entitled to a private life. "So, are you dating or something?" Emily prodded again. Spencer hesitated a second before answering. "No." Derek scoffed, appalled. "You mean to tell me you've been living with a beautiful woman like that for years and nothing's ever happened?!" "Not everyone is like you, Morgan," Emily reminded with a teasing smirk. Derek sent her an unimpressed look. "Look, let's all grill Spencer later, we have a case to focus on right now." Rossi, ever the voice of reason, directed everyone's attention back to the corpse laying next to them.
Needless to say, the BAU team did not need to interrogate Spencer or attack him with incessant questions to find much out. They'd seen by his behaviour that very morning how much he cared about you. They'd seen how relieved he had been when he'd seen you safe and sound. They'd noticed you'd only started crying when you'd seen him, a big sign of trust. They had never heard him call another by pet names such as "sweets" or "sweetheart". They'd read both of your body languages like a children's book and translated it easily.
Love. Comfort. Peace. Ease.
#Spencer reid#Spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds x reader#spencer reid fic#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid angst#doctor spencer reid#dr spencer reid#criminal minds x you#criminal minds
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I LOVE UR HCS PLSL MAKE MORE đŁđđ
i gotchu! lmk if you want the same or different characters bc i was thinking abt doing sm for light
l lawliet x fem! reader hcs
warnings: smut, overstimulation, food play, kind of angsty if you squint, au where he doesnât die
nsfw under the cut
⢠yk unlike the other characters i feel like thereâs a lot of ways you two couldâve met
⢠you couldâve been at wammyâs, lightâs school, an assistant, etc etc but for plotâs sake, you guys met during the kira case with you as a task force member
⢠youâre smart but you can tell when an idea needs to be altered, he silently takes notice of that and pays more attention to you
⢠sometimes youâd catch him just staring at you, but heâs an odd character to begin with so you just brush it off
⢠when you two miraculously get a second in private, he ends up being the one to ask you out
⢠not immediately tho, like you have to know the man for at least a year or two before he even considers it
⢠like itâs dead silent in the room after matsuda and the others head home and he just starts talking and it catches you off guard
ây/n?â
âhm?â
âthereâs something i want to discuss with you.â
âwhatâs that?â
⢠youâre patient with him, since the man has no idea how to vocalize his thoughts in situations like these
âi think iâm developing feelings for you.â
âoh, me too.â
⢠the exchange is straightforward and to the point, and he appreciates that you feel the same
⢠you two agree to keep things private
⢠less because you guys donât want people finding out and more for safety concerns
⢠sometimes it bums you out a bit because you wish the two of you could go out on dates like normal couples do
⢠but then you get back home and find a bouquet and your fav sweet on the counter and you realize you wouldnât have it any other way :3
⢠youâre friends with watari too, and he comes in and checks on you two smtimes when youâre in his office
⢠heâs a workaholic, but heâs exceptionally good at making time for you as well, considering how smart he is
⢠sometimes you pick him up a sweet from the store and get to headquarters like an hour early so you have a chance to see him alone before the day starts
⢠parallel play is a big factor in your relationship, like heâs working while youâre doing something in the same room w some small talk here and there
⢠and if you ask him to, heâll always take a quick break and give you some attention
⢠last thing heâd wanna do as a partner is make you feel neglected, right? heâs so sweet i love him
⢠kisses are fleeting, kinda like near, but less uncommon
⢠whenever you two are alone, heâll always kiss you at least once, whether itâs your hand or your face
⢠the most emotion youâll ever see out of him is when you kiss him or hug him
⢠itâs subtle but his eyes soften a bit, kinda like when misa kissed him in that one episode
⢠he waits for what feels like forever, but eventually he does tell you his real name
⢠he just wanted to be sure he really is as in love with you as he feels like he is, since heâs never really been one to put his heart over his head
⢠would probably still be after the case is over, just to be safe
⢠sex
⢠funny enough, i feel like youâd be his first time, which makes him love you even more
⢠he doesnât seem like the type to seek that stuff out
⢠yk until you guys start dating and it kinda hits him that he could literally just ask to have sex with you
⢠which is what he always does, we love a consensual king
⢠has a low libido, but one of his favorite things to do if you have a higher libido is overstimulating you
⢠like heâs fingering you and curling them into that exact same spot, drawing out orgasm after orgasm from your aching body
âiâve got you, just give me one more..â
⢠as for oral, heâs 50/50 when it comes to giving or receiving
⢠well maybe 51/49, he rlly likes eating you out
⢠will have your legs shaking afterwards every single time guaranteed
⢠apparently itâs canon he can tie a knot into a cherry stem w his tongue so best believe he WILL get you where you need to be
⢠heâs really gentle with you, even when heâs overstimulating you, his movements are always soft even when they speed up over time to get you closer
⢠he rlly is the sweetest, sex with him will make you feel so loved and appreciated, which is exactly what he wants to get across :3
⢠his words are gentle too, everything he says in that charming fucking voice is just so ughh
âshh, just breathe..â
âthatâs my girl, just hold it a little longer. you can do that for me, canât you?â
⢠would be into food play on a rare occasion
⢠definitely a whimperer when you give him head, i donât make the rules
⢠overall heâs incredibly careful and shows you just how much he cares about you
⢠i feel like heâs into reading!
⢠like youâre asleep with your head on his shoulder, and he has one arm around you and the otherâs holding a book and skimming through the pages until heâs ready to sleep too
⢠plays with your hair
⢠no matter what length or texture it is, whenever you guys are alone, heâll js have a hand running through it
⢠you play with his too, and itâs rlly soft considering how little effort he puts in to actually take care of it
⢠would be into bands like the cranberries and the sundays
⢠idk itâs js the style of their music that makes me think of him
⢠before the case was over, sometimes youâd have nights where you couldnât sleep from how worried you were
⢠worried that something would slip up and that kira would get to him, that anytime youâd see him would be the last
⢠but on nights like those, he was always incredibly reassuring, touched that you even care about him that much
âwhat are you doing up so late?â
â..i couldnât sleep, can i stay with you?â
âyou donât have to ask, come here.â
⢠and he sits you on his lap and plays with your hair, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as he works until you fall asleep in his arms
⢠youâre such a new feeling to him, heâs never wanted to put anything over work before, much less something as unreliable as a person
⢠but youâve earned his trust and his love, and heâs never gonna let you forget <3
#emo bf#death note smut#death note lawliet#death note x reader#death note#l lawliet#l lawilet#l lawlight#l x reader#l x you#l lawliet x reader#l lawliet x you#l lawliet x y/n#death note x you#fluff#smut
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BAKUGOU KATSUKI AS YOUR BOYFRIEND!
synopsis. bakugou katsuki as your boyfren headcanons/scenarios!
genre. fluff, romcom lowk. | pairing. bkg x fem!reader (obvi) | mlist
req. bakugou x yn headcannons? - anon, 080224. reminders. this all takes place in UA timeline! :3 part 2 with timeskip prohero!bkg? maybeâŚ.
âFor an extra like you, youâre not as half bad like the rest of these losers.â were one of the first words your amazing, strong, beautiful, handsome, and most importantly heroic boyfriend said to you when you both first started dating
Very, very lovely of him, No? Yeah. It wasnât, but because it wasnât super romantic, you laughed it off with him⌠more like you just laughing at his stupid statements and him basking in the sound of your laughter; which makes him smile. thinking about the natural melody sounding off of a cherished laugh he loves oh so much.
Speaking of your laugh, he loves it. Like, love, loves it.
Heâs like ASAP rocky; he can hear you laugh from a whole mile away and turn his head around just to check if youâre near, while saying âThe fuck was that? You heard that shit too right?â to one of his many best friends, specifically the one with the hardening quirk, just for kirishima to look at him weird and say no.
Bakugou thinks he has a weird spider sense when it comes to you, but in this case itâs called âyn senseâ.
He wasnât the one who made it up, it was obviously Denki and Mina, with a little bit of Sero in the mix. The trio noticed how your explosive boyfriend would always have an odd reflex when it came to you, which invented the âyn senseâ, that only Katsuki Bakugou has.
And Iâm talking weird but really observant reflexes. You feel a cramp coming up while training? Heâs right behind you with his handmade heating pad (his own hand). Feel dizzy? One look at you and you donât even notice how he got you prompted on his back so quick. Hungry? He already bought you your favorite meal last night and brought it with him âjust incaseâ (he says). You also donât need to worry about your food being cold, like ever. Because heâd already have it warm it up for you.
Now, on the topic of food, itâs known heâs an amazing chef. Youâd think heâs better than Gordon Ramsey or whoever you see on those professional cooking shows.
You once gave izuku money to buy a limited edition all might figure that was on the market, but in order to get the money, he had to put water in Katsuki's mouth when he was asleep. (he snores loud asf)
You both got burnt hair afterwards as a result.
Izuku still got the money as half of an apology.
hi guys! im so sorry for going ghost.. life has been sooo busy esp since school started again. these head canons are pretty short but just dragged out, I hope you guys like it! starting to do more requests again lol.. so sorry for the waiting! :(
#ᥣđŠ. katsuki fics#ᥣđŠ. mha#bakugo x reader#katsuki bakugou x reader#bakugou x reader#bakugou#bakugou katsuki#katsuki bakugo x reader#mha bakugou#bakudeku#bnha bakugou#bakugou x you#mha fluff#mha x reader#bnha fluff#bnha x reader#my hero academia x reader#boku no hero academia x reader#katsuki bakugo#mha smau#bnha smau#bakugou smau#smau#socmed#social media au#mhatwt#mha tweets#mha socmed#x reader
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In Vino Veritas
Pairing â Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Lab Assistant! Female! Reader
Total Wordcount â 3.5K
Summary â It all started when you and the Avengers enjoyed drinks during the afterparty back at the Avengers Tower. There, Tony revealed one of your deepest secrets, and even though you wish it had never come to light at first, youâre glad it did when the man you love stands on your doorstep, ready to start the rest of your life together.
Tags & Warnings â Semi-canon compliant, Avenger! Bucky Barnes, Female! Reader, Tonyâs Lab Assistant! Reader, Buckyâs past as TWS is mentioned, emotional hurt/comfort, mutual pining, some cursing, and explicit sexual content.
Tags: Smut â Grinding, begging, some dirty talk, praise, teasing Bucky, protected sex, cowgirl position.
Story Rating â Explicit
Authorâs Note â This story is beta'd by the wonderful @late-to-the-party-81, and I cannot thank you enough for that. I hope you'll all enjoy my story, which is filled with some angst, lots of fluff, and some smut to top it all off! đ
Writing Prompts @fandom-free-bingo Bug Edition â âThere is no us.â | Riding | In vino veritas | âTouch me.â @fandom-free-bingo Medical Edition â Crush at first sight @julybreakbingo Post-JBB â Being confronted about their feelings for another
Tags List â If youâd like to be tagged in my stories, you can add yourself to my tag list here.
The evening starts fine, good, even. But it all takes an unexpected turn when the man you work for - Tony Stark - reveals your secret. A secret that youâd only recently revealed to him.
Earlier that day, youâd spotted Bucky as he was working out and from that moment on your mind has been with him instead of your usual work and tasks.
âHello, Y/N? Anyone home in there?â Tony asks as he lays a hand on your shoulder, making you jump. You look up at him with a worried look while he smiles back at you with a kind expression. A soft sigh escapes your lips as the thoughts in your head wander off again, specifically how his back looked underneath the tank top he wore in the gym while doing squats. Not only that, but you also canât stop thinking about the way his ass looked in the sweatpants he wore. In a word, magnificent.
âIs everything okay with you? Youâve been a bit off your game today.â As Tony sits next to you, you put down the screwdriver you were holding - the one he asked you three times to pass to him - before turning to face him, your gaze focusing somewhere on the wall behind him. For a moment, thereâs a silence between you as you gather the courage to tell him whatâs been on your mind.
âWell, uhm- Thereâs something, or someone, that I canât stop thinking about, and itâs taking over my mind every second of every day. It- Itâs Bucky,â you say almost in a whisper. For a few seconds, Tony is completely silent as he lets the thought of you having a crush on one of his fellow Avengers sit in his mind. Then, after what seemed like an eternity, he reaches out for your hand and takes it between his warm ones.
âYou know that Iâll always support you in everything, right? I supported you when you expressed your desire to halt your life as an Avenger and retrain as my lab technician, and I supported you when you moved out of Avengers Tower to have your own home with more peace. This is not going to be any different. All Iâm hoping for is that he will make you the happiest and best version of you, as you deserve nothing less.â
Tears brim at your waterline as Tony tells you this, and even though you deeply appreciate him, his words, and everything he has done for you, you canât help but still feel a bit⌠odd about the fact you told him youâre having a crush on Bucky. That you have a crush on the man who was once the most feared assassin in the world under the hands of HYDRA.
âNow, can you hand me that screwdriver before your thoughts wander off to him again?â your boss asks in a teasing tone, making you smile as you grab it and hand it to him. Somehow, he always seems to know the right thing to say, and it's exactly why you enjoy spending time by his side while learning everything there is to know about his lab and what's going on in there.
Just as youâre about to get comfortable with another drink in your hand, you meet the gaze of the man youâre crushing on, and you feel heat coursing through your veins. The lines around his deep blue eyes intensify as he smiles at you, his attention making every last thought in your brain disappear. Youâre so captivated by how Bucky looks at you that you miss your seat as you sit down. However, before you fall, youâre caught by a pair of solid arms that prevent you from hitting the floor.
âCareful there, Little One,â Thor says in his deep voice, his accent always making the butterflies in your stomach go wild. Even though youâd known Thor since you were young, you couldnât help but get a little flustered by the nickname, and he smiled at you as you were finally sitting on the chair you intended to use.
âThank you, Thor,â you whisper before sipping your cocktail. Around you, the conversations are starting to become a little blurry as you focus on Bucky and everything he has to say, his lips forming around the words effortlessly. When you suddenly feel a little shove against your arm, you yelp, making everyone go silent as they look at you.
âWhat did you do that for?!â you ask Thor in a low voice, but all he does is point to Tony, who obviously has something to say as heâs waving for everyoneâs attention. There are moments when you enjoy the fact that alcohol can bring out peopleâs true feelings or thoughts, also known as in vino veritas, but not now. Oh no, now you wish you could disappear as you listen to the words coming out of Tonyâs mouth.
âGuys, you really shouldnât say this to Bucky or Y/N, but theyâre having a massive crush on one another!â Tony says in a loud whispering tone, but what he fails to notice in his inebriated state is that you two are sitting right across from one another, enjoying the afterparty just like everyone else. Or at least, you were enjoying the afterparty until your secret got out.
The glass you were holding falls out of your hand before shattering into pieces on the floor, and your feet carry you as fast as they can away from the party and away from your worst nightmare come true. The music behind you fades away as you turn one corner after another, tears burning in your eyes as the event repeatedly replays in your mind. Your lungs start to burn as you keep running, the stinging feeling in your side increasing as you run out of the Avengers Tower into the night.
Meanwhile, Buckyâs world feels like it has taken a 180-degree turn. Mere minutes ago, he could only fantasize that you could have feelings for him, but now? A wave of disbelief washes over the super soldier, his expression showing pure surprise as he takes the moment in. For him, it was a crush at first sight from the momentyou walked into the training room on your first day. Over the years, his feelings have intensified, although he has only told Steve about his crush - or rather his now deep-rooted love - for you.
And yet, now that the pair of you have been confronted about your feelings for one another, he doesnât know what to do. He has replayed the moment heâd confess his feelings to you more times than he can count in his mind, and in none of those versions, this is one of the scenarios that had appeared. Itâs only when Steve grabs his arm and pulls him away that he seemingly comes back to reality again.
âBucky, how does Tony know about your crush on Y/N? I mean, Iâm, of course, fine with you sharing it, but-â
âI donât know, Steve, I donât know, and it kills me,â Bucky says as he runs his fingers through his cropped hair.âFuck- I was planning on telling her this week but⌠but now itâs ruined, and I didnât even get the chance to talk to her, and-â Itâs all Bucky can say as he fights the urge to punch the wall with his metal fist, both hands clenched by his side as he tries to regulate his breathing. Without warning, Steve pulls him into a hug, and Buckyâs arms snake around his best friend's waist as his fingers clutch at the fabric of his shirt.
âItâs going to be okay, I promise,â Steve whispers, though heâs not entirely sure thatâs true because he knows as well as anyone that things donât always go back to how they were before. Still, Bucky decides to believe him as they stand there for a little while longer, and he soaks in every bit of comfort he can get for now. Lord knows heâs going to need it.
The past few days have been strange, to say the least. You havenât been to the Avengers Tower since Tony revealed your now not-so-secret crush on the super soldier. Youâre afraid of what will happen if you do. This also means you havenât seen Bucky in a few days, and you miss him. You miss hearing his laugh, and you miss seeing how his mouth turns slightly upward as you hand him one of your baked goods, but most of all, you miss how his arms feel when he pulls you in for a hug.
Just as youâre about to make yourself a cup of tea, you get pulled from your thoughts by a soft but familiar knock on the door; only one thing can make that sound: Buckyâs metal hand knocking against the wood. For a moment, you contemplate your actions, but decide to give him at least a chance to talk, especially as it wasnât him who laid out your feelings in front of everyone.
âBucky, hi,â you say softly as you take in his appearance, your heart sinking as you do. Itâs evident he hasnât slept at all the past few days. There are dark circles under his eyes, and he doesnât look as healthy as usualâmore disheveled. The struggles heâs facing are apparent in his entire demeanor, and all you want to do is wrap him up in a warm blanket and cuddle him until the end of time.
âHi,â he says hoarsely, and you step aside, allowing him to enter your apartment. Heâs been here a few times already, and usually thereâs a warmth radiating from you and every inch of the little place you call home, but ever since the party, it hasnât been the same. It isnât just the apartment, either. You feel different.
âWould you like some tea before we talk?â you ask to break the tension. âI was about to make some.â
He nods at you before wandering further into your apartment, and you head to the kitchen, picking out another mug for Bucky to use. Once heâs caught sight of your couch, he immediately takes a seat, a soft groan audible as he does. There arenât many places more comfortable than the large couch thatâs standing right here in your living room.
When you emerge a few minutes later with two steaming mugs of tea and a plate filled with chocolate chip cookies you baked fresh this morning, Bucky canât help but smile at you. He gladly takes the tea with one of the cookies, as theyâre his favorite, and when you sit down next to him, it feels just like it always has, as if nothing has changed. But you both know it has, and thatâs why the super soldierâs now in your living room.
âSoâŚâ you start, unsure what to say now that heâs sitting on your couch. Buckyâs eyes are trained on the steaming tea in his hands, his thoughts going a mile a minute as heâs thinking about what he wants to say - other than confessing his love for you.
âSo⌠uhm, we missed seeing you around the Tower,â Bucky starts, though you both know itâs mostly him who has missed seeing you there. You have always been a staple there during his mornings as you make him a cup of coffee, and during movie nights, you were always the one he could sit next to and enjoy the movie, but now that youâre not there, itâs like a piece of soul has left the Tower with you.
âI mean, yeah. Itâs been a bit awkward for me to go back after what happened a few days ago,â you tell him, and a shudder of horror runs down your spine at the thought of having to face Tony again. A smile tugs at the corners of Buckyâs lips as he thinks back to what happened that night, a happy memory of your first meeting resurfacing in the back of his mind as he does.
âGood morning, Sergeant Barnes. Iâve made some chocolate chip cookies, if you want some. However, I should warn you, Tonyâs been on the prowl since I took them out of the oven, so Iâll advise you to be quick,â you say with a glare towards Tony, who has been eyeing them up since he walked into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee. For the first time in a long time, Bucky showed something akin to a smile, and everyone looked at each other to ensure they saw it, too.
âThank you,â he says lowly, grabbing one of the smaller ones on the plate, followed by a cup of coffee, before swiftly leaving the kitchen to spend more time in his room. Before Bucky even left the kitchen, Tony was on the cookies as if he hadnât eaten in weeks, and this time you let him.
âCan I- Is it okay if I tell you something? Because if I donât say it now, I donât know if I ever will,â Bucky says softly, and you nod before repositioning yourself so that youâre facing him. His gaze is still trained on his mug as he thinks carefully about his next words, afraid he might accidentally say the wrong thing.
âTony was right. He is right, actually. When he said, weâre crushing on each other. Iâve been crushing on you since you offered me those chocolate chip cookies when Tony threatened to eat them all before anyone else had a chance to get them. It was like a switch flipped inside me back then, and I havenât been the same since,â Bucky says, his mouth now in a line as he tells you about his feelings.
âEach time I look at you, itâs like Iâm seeing an angel, and every time I hear your voice, itâs like a little piece of my soul is healing, too. I find myself drawn to you in every room and wonder what life has in store for us. But deep down inside, I know there is no âusâ yet. But I want there to be us. I want you, Y/N. I want you to be mine, in whatever capacity youâll have me. If you want to stay friends, thatâs okay with me, but if you want more, Iâll happily accept every bit of love youâre willing to offer me.â
Once Buckyâs done, youâre unsure what to say. What to think. What to do. You want to say that the feelings between you are mutual, that youâre in love with him and that you want nothing more than to be his, but something inside you is stopping you. So, instead of saying anything, you place your hand over his flesh limb, and his eyes slip shut at the feeling of your soft fingers against his rough hand.
âBucky.â His name is a whisper on your lips, but itâs enough to make him look at you, to meet your gaze.
âIâm in love with you, too.â
As soon as the words leave your lips, Bucky carefully put his tea on the coffee table before hauling you onto his lap, his hands digging into the soft flesh of your waist as your lips interlock in a passionate dance. He canât get enough of your soft mouth slotting together with his and the way his tongue fights for dominance with yours as your fingers dig into his neck. Itâs been a long time since youâve felt a strong connection with someone, and youâre happy to explore it with Bucky.
Your hips grind over his growing length of their own volition,your body looking for any bit of friction it can get. Without warning, one of Buckyâs hands slides lower until heâs cupping your ass, making you gasp into his mouth as a result. Bucky canât help but smile into the kiss as he pulls you impossibly closer, your legs spreading just a bit further as you sink against his muscular body.
âHmm, Iâve been wanting this - you - for so long,â he says between the kisses trailing your jaw towards your ear, his teeth nipping on your earlobe as your head lolls to the side. With every passing second, your thoughts are melting away more and more, and all thatâs left inside your mind is Bucky. Soon, his other hand joins the first as he helps you grind onto him, a groan falling from his lips as he sets a perfect pace for you both.
âB-Buckyâ" his name sounds more like a whine than anything else. âIâI want you.â
âBut you already have me, pretty girl, âm right here,â he says with a teasing lilt to his voice, his hands continuing to help you grind until youâre a complete mess for him. Your shorts are ruined, your arousal soaking through them and onto the bulge in his black jeans, much to Buckyâs joy. He was wondering what it would take to get you to this point, and it turns out it wonât take much.
He smiles against the skin of your neck, where heâs taking his time to mark you with hickeys and small bitemarks, all of which leave you a bit more of a moaning, begging mess on his lap, much to his pride. When one of your hands moves away from his neck and down his torso, he quickly catches on to what youâre doing. âSomeoneâs a little impatient today, huh?â
âYes, oh god, yes! I need you to touch me, Bucky. I want to feel you inside me as you make me fall apart on your cock, and I need you to fuck me like thereâs no tomorrow!â Your voice sounds more breathy than usual, but every care you thought you had has gone out the window. All you want is Bucky and his cock to ride, until youâre orgasming so hard and long you canât remember your name.
âOkay, I will. Donât you worry about anything, okay? Let me take care of you, and Iâll give you everything you need and more,â he reassures you in a shushing voice. You nod before kissing him again, which immediately deepens before he gently helps you get up, allowing you to take off your panties and shorts, and he can take off his pants and boxershorts, too. As soon as youâre both freed from your last pieces of clothing, you hand him a condom you retrieved from the side table drawer while he took the time to undress himself.
âHmmm, looks so thick,â you tell him as you look at it with wide eyes, wondering how heâs going to fit inside you as youâre positioning yourself on his lap once more, your legs bracketing his thicks thighs as you get comfortable.
âI know, but Iâm gonna go slow. Wouldnât want to hurt you and your perfect, sweet little pussy.â He smiles as he holds his cock in place, your pliant body sinking onto him slowly as your fingers dig into his shoulders to steady yourself. Your hiss of pleasure is audible and your face contorts at the slight sting of him stretching you, but just like he promised, Bucky is taking it slow to ensure youâll both have the most amazing first time.
As soon as youâre fully seated on his lap, your body goes limp against him, your face tucked in the crook of his neck as you adjust to his girth, and Bucky places soft kisses on your head while praising you through it all. âYouâre doing so well for me, baby. Such a good girl for me, letting me take the lead and giving you exactly what you need.â
A small smile appears on your face as you look up at him with big, doe-like eyes, and he canât help but smile back as the back of his fingers gently caress your cheek. He may have thought you were beautiful before, but nothing compares to this moment.Â
âI love you, Y/N, and I promise to take care of you with every fiber of my being,â he whispers, his lips sealing his promise against your cheek. Your eyes fall shut at his words, and his hand moves down your side until itâs on your hip again, ready for you to let him know when youâre good to go. Your bodies work in complete sync with one another with every rise and fall of your chest, and his hands guide you beautifully as you slowly sink and rise on his length.
âFuck, you feel so good,â he groans, and it doesnât take long for both of you to find your highs for the first time, and theyâre serving as a promise of everything else thatâs still to come in this lifetime. A few days ago, you and Bucky didnât even know you felt the same about one another, but now youâre sharing the start of the rest of your lives, and itâs all thanks to Tony. Because without him, you wouldnât have been able to tell the man of your dreams how much you love him.
Masterlist â Bucky Barnes
GIF: Source â All the other graphics you see are made by @vintagebuckybarnes
#fandom free bingo: bug edition#fandom free bingo: medical edition#july break bingo#post-july break bingo#bucky barnes#bucky barnes angst#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x you#winter soldier#winter soldier angst#winter soldier fluff#winter soldier smut#winter soldier fanfiction#winter soldier imagine#winter soldier x reader#winter soldier x female reader#winter soldier x y/n#winter soldier x you#marvel#marvel angst#marvel fluff#marvel smut#marvel fanfiction#marvel imagine
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There's just so much potential for platonic !yan Tim Drake that isn't really explored. This post may flop but I like to imagine that yan! Tim Drake is actually the worse out of all his brothers...
Masterlist
Requests: always open
Look...you and i both know that Tim is canonically unhinged. But Batsis!reader doesn't. It's so easy for you to forget that your brother Tim is so dangerous. I mean he doesn't really seem all that different from any other nerdy 19 year old. His body doesn't loom over you like the more bulky of your brothers, and his presence is rather...calming? I mean there's still a bit of uneasiness there but it's so subtle that you can brush it off
He's normal when he interacts with you. He doesn't bug you to spend time with him or uncomfortably touch you like Dick does. He is sweet and gentle...He knows how you prefer to be engaged with and respects what you don't like.
But, that's what makes him so dangerous. He knows you. Every. Last. Detail. He's gotten so good at being a nasty little fly on the wall that sometimes you forget he's even in the room. He's always around you, observing and collecting data. He's got you wrapped around his fingers and you don't realize it.
But it's not your fault. It's hard to even imagine that someone as mellow as Tim could ever share the same traits as his brothers.
Yan! Tim fully picked up just how intuitive you are and how you can spot red flags easily. He's so calculated and careful with every interaction. It's amazing how natural he makes these conversations flow. Well, they better. He's spent hours analyzing and practicing how to speak to you. His heart is pounding with anticipation, as every shred of information you give him is going right into his files on you.
Oh! The files he has on you? When Jason and Dick asked him about how many he had, he said only 4. Which is true. but those 4 files have much more information and pictures of you than they could comprehend. ...and he wasn't accounting for the hard drives and physical stacks of papers he stole. I believe Tim knows more about you than you do. When was the last time you've seen your medical records? Passports? Birth certificate? Is your ID even in your wallet? Don't worry, your brother Tim is keeping them safe for you.
Yan! Tim is a little stalker who may or may not have put a tracking/listening devices in your bag so he can keep tabs on you. <33 That's why he's always wearing headphones so he cab listen in. A small piece of missed information could cost him so much. Don't be mad, batsis! He cannot risk making you suspicious of him by asking you invasive questions so this is the only way.
I Like to think you automatically sit by him. whether it be during breakfast, watching a movie or in the car. You feel safer with him and it's a better option in your head than being with Dick who will be overbearing. Tim always acts cool, even a little annoyed by you at times but inside he's screaming. Your scent, your small smiles at him and nudge his shoulders when he makes a funny remark all send him into overdrive.
But i must say, it's exhausting for him to hold back his obsession all of the time. Sometimes he envies his siblings and how shameless they are in their obsessions. Tim Drake thinks about how great it would to be to just be hugged by you or for you to want to fall asleep on him like you do with Jason.
Sometimes, our creepy detective will slip up. He will say or do something that is odd to you
"I cannot remember the name of that song i used to listen to...what was it.."
"It's this one by that local band, sis."
"oh, yeah! wait...how did you-"
"I know you better than i know myself..."
"...what?"
*an incident happened where dick basically forced you to say i love you back. Tim was there and he was so so jealous*
"You love me the most though, right?"
You laughed, thinking it was a joke\
"Sure, Tim. You are my favorite Robin."
*Tim is very visibly becoming feral. Almost in the same way as Dick and you are slightly alarmed*
"...I'm your favorite Robin? So you do love me more than them."
"0-o"
He repeats it over and over again in his mind. If he was recording it like he does with many of your interaction, it will be on instant replay every morning as an affirmation.
That one time you were chilling in the study with Tim. His head was ducked, low into the computer. It was super late by this time and you didn't really want to bother him so you ended up leaving without saying anything, and headed to your room. Tim was beyond hurt that you were breaking his version of bonding time and you had the audacity to not even announce your exit. He's so swift that it startled you when he grabbed your wrist from behind. His grip was....strong.... to say the least..... and he questioned why you were leaving him.
speaking of his strength, Tim is so skinny that you forget he is well trained with a nice bit of muscle. Maybe not as strong as his brothers or Bruce but he can easily subdue you.
He's definitely broken a lock or two, to get into your room at the dead of night and watch you sleep. This is the only time when he can be as fucked up as he wants to. The unhinged look in his eyes while going through your things and taking what's interesting..The adrenaline that you might catch him, excites him. He can't help but to sickly smile as he makes his way over to you and observes. A gentle hand caresses the sides of your face. You're so perfect. He whispers on and on things he wishes he could tell you while you were awake and wouldn't think it was weird....
Maybe even once he's crawled into bed with you, wrapping his arms around you. So happy to be able to finally be able to cuddle like this.
And if you happened to wake up, and realize your dear brother, Tim was there...he has a plan for that. He knows how to play mind games on you and makes you seem like the crazy one. No one would believe you anyways. The locks are all fixed by the morning.
#yandere tim drake#batsis!reader#headcanon#imagines#oneshot#platonic batfam#x reader#yandere imagines#headcannons#fanfic#yandere headcanons#yandere batman#tim drake#tim drake x reader#red robin#batfam x batsis#platonic yandere#platonic relationships#yandere family#dark batfamily#batkids#batbrats#yandere dc#dc robin#dc comics#dcu#dc universe#yandere dick grayson#yandere jason todd#yandere batboys
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conflicted spaces
Arthur Morgan x fem!reader
a/n: He doesnât get TB in this. Why? Because this is fanfiction and Iâm god and fuck canon (I just finished the game, Iâm emotionally distraught and needed this)
Warnings: brief attempted SA
Summary: Your father is a gambling man and youâre always the collateral. He refuses to pay the wrong man and now youâre being dragged across country roads to a man youâve never met. Arthur Morgan, an outlaw down to the bone, is in charge of making sure you get there in one piece. Except, he doesnât feel right selling a woman off like sheâs property.
Youâre done being a doormat and letting the men in your life tell you what youâre worth. Youâve got three days to escape him, but youâre not prepared for the reality of the real world.
âPut your hands where I can see âem, cowboy.â Arthurâs shoulders tense and he curses under his breath. His hand darts to the revolver on his hip, but the second his fingers twitch towards it he hears a hammer being pulled back. The cool barrel of a gun digs into his neck and he raises his hand in surrender.Â
The man behind him lets out a familiar laugh and tugs him around. Arthur rolls his eyes and glares at Dutch. âThe hell are you doing?â
Dutch clears his throat, still laughing slightly. âRelax, Arthur, but if I had been an OâDriscoll youâd be dead right now.â Arthur doesnât point out that the only thing they have to worry about out here are the Lemonye raiders. Heâs more focused on why Dutch is even out here. Rarely does he leave Shady Belle to traverse the streets of St. Denis.Â
None of them are particularly fond of the place. If he wanted to step in horse shit every other step heâd go to a stable. At least those smell better. Dutch slings an arm around Arthurâs shoulder, tugging him away from the saloon he was heading towards.Â
âYouâre gonna have to save the cheating for later, Arthur, I need you for something.â
âYou know I donât cheat,â Arthur jokes and Dutch grins at him and itâs nice. This is familiar to him. This feels right. Dutch has been odd lately, the jobs heâs been taking, the risks heâs been imposing, none of them feels like the man he knows.Â
Now, Arthur would follow Dutch straight into hell without being asked. But he canât abide by how heâs putting their people in harm's way. Heâs felt like a stranger more often than not and heâs been doubting the people he shouldnât. Right now, though, he can see the man he knows in the teasing curl of his lips.Â
âWhatâdya need?â
Dutch pauses in front of a tailor and pats Arthurâs chest. âI need you to look prim and proper for a party weâve got tonight.â
Arthurâs brows furrow cynically and he scoffs. âSomeone invited us to a party?â
Dutch hesitates, a stiff smile on his face. âWell, letâs just say someone is interested in our work.â Arthur wants to question him further, heâs hiding something from him. But Dutch is pushing him towards the door of the shop before he can argue. âAnd get a haircut, we need to look presentable not like a bunch of mountain men.â
Arthur watches as Dutch leaves, something heavy weighing down on him. Dutch doesnât usually tell people about his plans beforehand. At least not every step of them. But this is odd, heâs definitely hiding something and Arthur isnât sure he wants to know what.Â
With a resigned huff, he heads into the tailor. He has to mentally prepare himself for being stuffed into a starched collar and a stiff suit for the rest of the night. He hates these damn parties, hates having to pretend like he knows what the hell is being said.Â
Most of the people that attend are educated or pretend to be. And when he lets it slip that heâs more likely to shoot a gun than read a book they turn on him like jackals. You canât let them see that youâre different than them or youâll never get a word in edgewise.Â
The only part he enjoys is the booze and robbing them of their money. Itâs not like they earned any of it. Most of it was made by breaking the backs of the people they mock for being too poor to afford a fancy suit.Â
Arthur takes a deep breath and looks for the cheapest suit he can find in the overpriced shop.Â
âNow,â Mr. Craneâs hand tightens around your bicep and he jerks you closer to him. You keep your face impassive, not letting him see just how much heâs hurting you. But you can feel your skin being stretched to its limits by his clammy fingers. âYouâre going to behave tonight. Iâve got a few gentlemen Iâd like you to meet.â
He looks at you expectantly but you keep your mouth firmly shut. His eyes narrow and he jerks you around roughly. âUnderstood,â you force the word out through gritted teeth. Youâre trying to breathe as little as possible, not wanting to smell his cigar-laced breath any longer.Â
Finally, after a tortuously long moment, he releases you. You take ten steps back, smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles from the silk skirt heâd forced you in. You glance out the window of his office, watching as the workers scramble to set up the tables for tonight. You can hear cooks in the kitchen, shouting out orders for the food for tonight.Â
Everything must be perfect. Mr. Crane never fails to deliver on his extravagantly indulgent parties. The man himself is the very embodiment of greed. You glance over with a disgusted sneer as he sinks himself into his leather chair and pulls out a wad of cash.Â
He catches your eye and sends you a sickly sweet smile. âThis,â he waves the money at you and you track the movement boredly. âIs how much youâre worth, sweetheart.â Your brows raise in amusement and you scoff. More than you thought he would put up for you.Â
You wonder who heâs going to have transport you. Heâll need you out of the city soon, your father is starting to catch onto whatâs happening. It took him long enough. Youâve been missing a month, youâd think he would have put two and two together faster. Then again, heâd never been very interested in you beyond what you were worth to others.Â
âWhen will I be able to meet these gentlemen?â You ask, taking a step towards him. Your eyes dart towards the letter opener on his desk and for a brief moment you picture yourself strabbing it into his fattened jugular.Â
But he flicks his wrist and like magic the door opens, his men coming inside and standing resolutely by your side. âNot anytime soon, my dear.â He looks to the men surrounding you and you take in a sharp breath, wishing youâd just taken the chance when you had it. âMy associate is feeling quite tired, take her back to her room, please.â
They grab you by the elbows, even though it's entirely unnecessary. You wouldnât run, and even if you did you wouldnât get far with the chains he has hidden under your dress. A punishment for the first time you snuck from his home. Youâve been well behaved since then but he doesnât trust you.Â
Youâre whisked away without another word. The trek of the stairs is a slow one. Theyâre forced to help you navigate by lifting your skirts and not tripping on the chains. It no longer brings you any satisfaction to cause a hindrance in any of their days.Â
Before, you would think of being an annoyance as a small victory. But itâs not, it never was. It was just a way for them to keep you complacent by allowing you to think youâd done something for yourself. You believe your father used to do the same thing.Â
Itâs just another way of keeping you quiet.Â
When you make it to your rooms, they shove you inside. Like clockwork, you hear the jingle of the keys and then the lock clicks. You sigh and take a step towards your vanity, working on touching up your hair.Â
You think the worst part of this must be how well youâre treated. You have meals made by a private chef. Your quarters are decorated more lavishly than they ever were at your fatherâs house. Yet, you hear the suffocating tick of the clock as it counts down your doom.Â
Youâre not entirely sure what their plan is with you. You know your father had made a promise to Mr. Crane involving some land. Or perhaps it had been a wager. But as always, you were collateral when your father refused to pay up.Â
You know Mr. Crane wants you out of town so that he has more time to negotiate with your father, to call in the interest he owes him. You also know the only reason your father is interested in finding you is because youâre meant to marry the son of a business partner in two months. The money heâll get from that will be enough to finally pay off his debts.Â
Except, now, Mr. Crane tells you that should your father refuse to pay youâll be married to one of his associates. And the deal heâll make from that will be enough to cover what your father has refused to pay.Â
No matter what, youâre going to be married off to some man youâve never met and yet again be a quiet trophy on a shelf. Itâs a very convoluted situation, one which makes you think leaping from a window might be a better fate.Â
None of the men your father or Mr. Crane is in business with are particularly kind. Theyâve got more skeletons in the closet than there are in the graveyard. You doubt youâll live a very happy life with whoever they pick for you.Â
You slump forward onto the vanity, trying to fight off the burning feeling in the back of your eyes. Youâve known this would happen for years. Even before Mr. Crane had you kidnapped, you knew that this would be your destiny. You would never get to be one of the free-spirited women who fought for the right to choose. You would always be forced into this role.Â
Yet, being so close to it coming to fruition makes you feel choked and suffocated. You can feel the noose around your neck tightening, the hangmanâs fingers twitching as he waits to see you drop.Â
You dig your nails into your palm, taking in a deep breath and fighting back the wave of despair. Where there is doom, you also see a sliver of hope. Your next journey will be a long one. Heâs hiring someone to have you transported to an area further up the map.Â
If you play your cards right you might be able to escape while youâre traveling. If youâre incredibly smart about this, thinking with your head and not your heart, you might have a shot at freedom.Â
You take in a deep breath, reapplying your makeup and resolving yourself to another night of mindless entertainment. But you hold onto that fleeting feeling of hope. You have a shot, you just have to take it.Â
Arthurâs heard of these parties before. Some Mr. Crane fella that likes to blow all his money on food and booze. He indulges his guests and when theyâre weakest, gets their secrets from them. Heâs a snake and everyone knows it. Yet, missing his party is social suicide. They have no choice but to go and indulge in him.Â
Arthur had never had any interest in meeting him or doing any business with him. But Dutch had informed him thatâs exactly whatâs happening tonight. Theyâll mingle for a little while, maybe scout some other jobs, and then Mr. Crane will invite them up to his office for a private discussion.Â
Dutch still hasnât told him what exactly their business with him is. He brought Hosea along tonight so he has to assume itâs not going to be anything violent. But he canât think of anything else they could be good for.Â
âAlright, gentlemen,â Dutch places his hands on Hoseaâs and Arthurâs shoulders, a scheming smile on his face. âTry not to embarrass me.â He slips behind them, heading up the stairs of the home. Hosea and Arthur share a brief look before they split up, blending into the background of the garden.Â
Arthur lurks near the bar, he knows he should be talking to these assholes, possibly learning something useful. But he canât be bothered. He orders a whiskey, gaze surveying the partygoers. Theyâre all loud with painted faces and fake smiles. Not a goddamn person here seems to be genuinely interested in anything theyâre doing.Â
âFirst time?â The soft voice beside him catches him off guard. He glances to the side and is surprised to see that youâve slipped past him. He hadnât even noticed you slide up next to him. You laugh at the look on his face and itâs the first thing here that seems real. âSorry, itâs just that look on your face, I recognize the disappointment. Youâve never been to one of Craneâs parties before?â
âNo,â he clears his throat, still recovering from the surprise. âUh, I canât say I have.â
You suck on your teeth, narrowing your eyes at the people passing by. âTheyâre not worth the effort. Everyone who leaves here leaves carrying his debt on their back.â
Arthur chuckles a little, lips twitching up into a small smile. Heâs surprised by your frankness, most people like to hide behind passive-aggressive digs. He appreciates the straightforward attitude. âThen why are you here?â
You shrug and Arthur finds himself enchanted. He shouldnât be, heâs never been one for romance. He finds women pretty and heâs been in love before, but heâs never bought into the idea of love at first sight. Or any of that mushy stuff that Mary Beth devours in those books of hers.Â
But you are absolutely gorgeous, dressed in a silk dress thatâs so expensive heâs sure he could buy two new horses with it. Your fingers and neck are decorated in dainty jewels that you fidget with as you stare down at your drink. When you set your eyes on him again he thinks he might have been struck by Cupidâs arrow.Â
âI donât have a choice,â you finally answer, sending him a stiff smile. âWhat about you? Why are you here?â
Arthur suddenly remembers himself, remembers why heâs here and what heâs supposed to be doing. The fog in his head dissipates and heâs disappointed in himself. Pretty women have never done anything except get him in trouble.Â
âBusiness,â he answers vaguely. Your eyes narrow and your brows twitch in discontent. Something like realization dawns on your face and you back away from him. The easy attitude youâd carried yourself with is gone, replaced by a vague look of distrust.Â
âRight, shouldâve known.â You let out a rough sigh and Arthur canât help but feel like heâs said the wrong thing. âI suppose Iâll be seeing you again soon.â You slip past him before he can ask you what you mean. He hears the faint sound of metal clinking as you walk back up the stairs.Â
Something silver flashes under your skirts but he canât get a good glimpse of it. He feels unsettled as he turns back to the bar. The whole interaction was odd. From how stricken he was with you to how cold you turned.Â
He doesnât know what you saw in him but it was probably for the best that you left when you did. Neither of you needed the trouble the other would bring. He shakes his head, downing his whiskey and muttering nonsense to himself about not thinking with the wrong head.Â
Itâs not that much later that Dutch is appearing on the balcony and silently motions him forward. Arthur leaves the bar behind and slips up the same stairs youâd disappeared on. Dutch says nothing as he leads Hosea and Arthur through the house.Â
The mansion is a maze more than anything. Arthur loses track of all the turns they take and the winding staircases they descend. Finally, Dutch stops them all in front of two large oak doors. He raps once on the door and then lets himself in.Â
A large, balding man with a shiny head is perched on top of a leather chair. He looms behind his desk, fingers steepled as he greets them all with a false smile. âAh, gentlemen, so nice to finally meet you.â
Dutch grins and motions to Arthur, âThis is the man who will be doing the transporting, Arthur.â Arthurâs eyes narrow in confusion but he says nothing as Dutch moves to Hosea, âAnd this is my associate, Hosea. Heâs a lot better with money than I am, Mr. Crane. You understand.â
Mr. Crane lets out a boisterous laugh that makes Arthurâs ears hurt and nods his head, his cheeks jiggling with the movement. âThat I do! Well,â he waves them forward when they linger in the doorway too long, âcome in, come in.â
Arthur closes the doors behind them as Mr. Crane lifts himself from his desk. There are two couches positioned in front of an unlit fire. He takes one of them and Dutch and Hosea take the other. Arthur perches himself on the armrest of their couch, eyes surveying the office like it might reveal the truth of their visit.Â
âI trust Mr. Van der Linde has kept this all quiet?âÂ
âHe has,â Arthur grouses.Â
At the same time, Dutch says, âOf course, Mr. Crane. I promised confidentiality and Dutch Van der Linde is nothing if not a man who keeps to his promises.â Crane nods, looking satisfied and Arthur holds back a laugh at how easily he seems to trust Dutch.
âGood, good.â He dips his hand inside his jacket and Arthurâs palm instinctively drops to where his gun should be. Of course, theyâd had to give up their weapons before they came into the party, if he does has a gun Arthur canât do a damn thing.Â
But he doesnât, instead, he pulls out the thickest stack of cash that Arthur has ever laid his eyes on. A loud thud resounds through the room as he slams the bills on top of the table between them. Arthurâs eyes widen and Hoseaâs jaw nearly drops at the sight of it all.Â
This would be enough to get them out of St. Denis tonight. Shock sours quickly into suspicion. What the hell has Dutch signed up for? âNow, this is the first half. This is simply for accepting the job and,â he gives them all severe looks, âfor your silence.â
Arthur shifts uncomfortably on his perch and waits for Mr. Crane to finish. âThe other half will be given once the package has been safely delivered.â Thereâs a certain lilt to his words when he says package that has Arthurâs hackles raising. Whatever is getting delivered is not going to be good.Â
Crane turns towards the bookshelves on the wall and calls out, âDarling, wonât you join us?â Arthur figures the man must have lost his mind, they should just take the money and leave. But thereâs a loud creak and something like metal gears grinding together. One of the shelves pops open and the panel swings forward.Â
You pop your head out, glancing towards Crane and then taking a step forward. Arthur, without even thinking about it, finds himself sitting up, and brushing some of the dirt off his pants from the ride over.Â
At first, heâs so confused by seeing you again that he doesnât realize why exactly heâs seeing you again. Then you glance towards him, a knowing look on your face and it clicks. Youâre the package. Youâre what heâs meant to be transporting.Â
He glares over at Dutch, when exactly did they get into the business of trading women?
Hosea voices his doubts in a much calmer manner. âIf I may, sir, why does she need to be delivered so discreetly?â
Mr. Crane laughs and your face twitches unpleasantly. You grimace, glaring at the back of the manâs head with something like murder in your eyes. He doesnât know what heâs done to cause such a visceral look of hate and he doesnât want to think about it. This whole situation is bothering him. Youâre not here willingly, which means youâre not going to be transported willingly either.Â
None of this makes sense. Dutch would never have taken a job like this before, even when they needed the money. And thereâs no way in hell a rich man like this one would want to pay a couple of grungy outlaws so much money. Thereâs got to be some sort of trick in all of this.Â
Cran clears his throat, âSheâs a daughter of a, well,â he frowns and struggles for the words. âLetâs just say weâre in a hostile competition for a lot of land. This land, boys, could be very beneficial in expanding my business. Heâs not interested in selling and, well, desperate times, desperate measures.â
You scoff, laughing slightly at him and rounding the couch. Dutch ignores you, Hosea looks uncomfortable, and Crane continues prattling on without missing a beat. âShould her father not pay me, she will be married to the associate youâre bringing her to. Heâs promised me enough land and money to cover what I lost to her father. And if he does pay, sheâll be returned in time for her wedding here.â
Arthurâs eyes dart towards you and you send him a bitter smile. It makes him shift where he sits, hating the way your eyes bore into him. âI just need someone who's not afraid of getting their hands a little dirty to make sure she behaves while sheâs delivered to my friend,â Crane glances over at Arthur. He asses him, the bulge of his arms in the suit and the scars on his face, whatever he finds must be satisfactory because he smiles over at Dutch.Â
Arthur stands, ready for Dutch to tell Mr. Crane that theyâre not in the business of selling women off. But Dutch doesnât, he smiles at Mr. Crane and reaches for the money, passing it off to Hosea to count. âWell, I do believe my friend Arthur is just the man for the job.âÂ
âI think youâre right, Dutch.â He stands up now, pot belly nearly bursting the buttons of his shirt, and reaches for Dutchâs hand. âPleasure doing business with you.â
Dutch smiles and takes his sweaty palm, âYou as well, sir.â Dutch walks towards you and holds his arm out. âThis way, my dear.â You glance between him and his elbow before rolling your eyes and reluctantly placing your hand on his arm. You follow him silently and obediently, no fight is left in you. Hosea follows after you both, a concerned look on his face.Â
Arthur remains in the office, standing dumbfounded and staring at the doorway youâd disappeared through. Heâs struggling to process what just happened. Arthur has helped people get home safely before and provided protection. But heâs never been one to traffic a hostage.Â
Crane glances up, finally noticing him still standing there. He walks past him, patting his shoulder as he does and giving him an approving smile. âDonât be afraid to take care of her should she get out of hand.â Heâs nearly out the door but he looks back and adds, âJust donât bruise her too much.â
Arthurâs fingers twitch for his revolver once more and heâs never wanted to shoot a man more. But he knows Dutch is waiting for him and heâd never make it out of here alive if he started a fight right now. Reluctantly, he makes his way out of the manor and towards where youâre all waiting for him.Â
Heâs fuming by the time he stops in front of Dutch. Heâs trying to help you onto his horse and Arthur finally realizes what the metal sound he heard earlier is. There are chains around your ankles and you canât maneuver yourself on the saddle.Â
His eyes narrow and he glares at Dutch, âWhat the hell are you doing? Weâre selling women now?â
Dutch glowers at the tone of Arthurâs voice. You watch them both passively, fiddling with the rings on your fingers and looking unbothered by the entire situation. âWatch yourself, Arthur,â thereâs a clear warning in his tone but Arthurâs too upset to care.Â
Theyâve done a lot of bad things. They werenât good men. But this was just going too far. âWe need this, Arthur. You want to get out of here, you want to keep our people safe?â Arthur let out a deep exhale, gritting his teeth together and nodding reluctantly. Dutch huffs, âThatâs what I thought. Weâre not selling anyone, Arthur. Itâs a simple delivery.â
His jaw clenches as he watches Dutch struggle to help you again. âItâs not going to work,â you inform Dutch. You lift your skirts, flashing him the chains he hadnât seemed to notice yet. Neither of you gets a chance to say anything as Arthur pulls out his gun and shoots the lock off.Â
He feels a little guilty at how startled you look. Your eyes widen until they look like they might bulge out. Your hands fly up to cover your ears as the sound rocks through you. It breaks violently through the silence of the night.Â
Dutch turns and gives him a stern look, âHave you forgotten the meaning of subtlety?â Arthur can tell heâs trying not to shout and drag any more attention towards you all.Â
Arthur glares at Dutch, something wicked brewing in his stomach. âThe lady wouldnât be able to ride a horse like that.â He mounts his horse and rides off without a look back. He canât stand to be near you or Dutch any longer.Â
The reality of what theyâve turned into hits him like a bag of rocks and it makes him irate. Theyâve never been these people. Never traded a person off like they were an object. Heâs sure plenty of people in camp would have a problem with this. But he doubts Dutch will let them know the truth until the job is done.Â
And by then, everyone will be too happy with the money to complain. Dutch is nothing if not good at saving his ass. Heâs hitching his horse as the rest of you ride into camp. He lingers by Diablo, resting a hand on the thick neck of the shire while Dutch helps you off the saddle.Â
His eyes narrow in on the way Dutchâs fingers glide along your waist as you jump down. You take a step back the second your legs are steady sending Dutch a dirty look that almost makes Arthur laugh.Â
He starts towards Dutch, ready to try and reason with him again. But he holds his hand up and walks away, not even giving him a chance to speak. Arthur lets out a rough sigh as Hosea comes up behind him.Â
He pats his shoulder comfortingly, âYou should get some sleep, Arthur. Youâll ride with her to Strawberry tomorrow morning.â He almost walks off but he whispers a quiet, âIâm sorry,â before he goes.Â
Arthur glances towards you but youâre looking around the camp, eyes lingering on Javier as he sings by the fire. He swears he almost sees you smile but it's gone as quickly as it came. He takes his hat off, running his hand through his hair and letting out a tired sigh.Â
âAlright, come with me,â he starts towards the house. It takes a minute to realize youâre not directly behind him. When he looks over your shoulder he sees you with your skirts lifted, tiptoeing through the mud and trying not to get your pretty skirts dirty.Â
He rolls his eyes, storming back towards you. Your eyes widen at the look on his face and you stumble back a few steps. Undeterred, he bends over, throwing you over his shoulder and walking towards the house.Â
Your hands claw at his back, desperately grasping onto his shirt so you keep your balance. He storms up the stairs, ignoring the alarmed looks he gets from others in camp. He can already hear them whispering, wondering who you are and why heâs dragging you into his room.Â
They can make up whatever the hell they want. Arthurâs too pissed off to give a shit about rumors tonight. He drops you unceremoniously onto his bed and storms back out. He heads downstairs, rooting around in one of the chests for some extra clothes.Â
You wonât be able to ride to Strawberry in those ridiculous clothes. Youâll need some pants if youâre going to sit on the horse properly. He tucks the outfit under his arm and makes his way back to you.Â
When he opens the door your hand immediately darts away from his shaving kit and shoves itself under your butt. His brows furrow as he catches a flash of silver in your hand. He places the clothes down on the end of the bed, eyes drifting towards his shaving kit. Sure enough, his razor seems to be missing.Â
He lets out a sigh and you tense up, hand clenching around your prize. He briefly debates taking it from you. But he figures you should be allowed a modicum of comfort. Even if you did try and use it against him itâs dull, he hasnât sharpened it in a while and you wouldnât be able to do much damage anyway.Â
He lets you keep it, leaving you on your own without another word. He can hear the exhale of relief you let out when he walks away and it makes him feel just a little better about this. At least youâre not completely terrified.Â
You change into the clothes Arthur gave you. Theyâre a little big, but you appreciate the pants. Itâs much better than the ridiculous dresses Crane had you in. You collect your dress and toss it out the window of Arthurâs room, watching it sink into the mud pit below. It brings you some satisfaction to see Craneâs pretty silk getting ruined.Â
You take off the jewelry youâd been given and stuff it into your boots. If you did manage to escape while you were traveling with Arthur then you were going to need some cash. You could sell off the jewels and hopefully, it would be enough to keep you comfortable.Â
It feels nice, to wear real clothes. Not being dressed up like a doll for once. You envy some of the women here, who can wear what they want. There is an appeal to the outlaw life. As long as youâre on the right side of it, which, currently, youâre not.Â
You slip out of the house before anyone has a chance to retrieve you. The whole night you were curled up around a dull razor with your eyes wide open. Spending a night surrounded by outlaws isnât exactly restful.Â
You figure you might as well try and walk around before youâre on the back of a horse for the rest of the day. There are more people up than youâd expected. Luckily, you donât see Dutch around anywhere. You donât feel like having to deal with any more of his false charm or empty apologies.Â
The same man youâd seen strumming his guitar the night before is asleep next to the dying fire. A blonde woman catches your eye, sheâs walking past some other women in dresses. Theyâre still asleep but she looks like sheâs been up for hours.Â
Thereâs a bit of blood on her pants and you briefly wonder what sheâd been doing. âWho are you?â She asks, surveying you from head to toe with suspicion in her eyes.Â
âA package,â you tell her bluntly, walking past her towards the only lit fire of camp. She follows you, a wry grin on her face as she watches you pour yourself some coffee.Â
âYouâve got a real attitude, I like it.âÂ
You huff out a laugh, taking a sip of the burnt coffee and giving her a brief smile. âIâm sure my future husband wonât.âÂ
She rolls her eyes and scoffs, waving you off. âHusbands, good for nothing. I loved mine but he was useless as a sack oâ flour. Youâre better off without them.â
Your smile turns strained and you look down at your feet, at the boots that arenât your own. Youâll never get to dress like this again. Or speak like this to a woman who isnât afraid to voice what's on her mind.Â
âYes, well,â you shrug and meet her eyes again, âI donât seem to have much of a choice.â
Her eyes narrow and she frowns, âWhatâs that supposed to-â
âMrs. Adler!â Dutchâs voice booms from across the camp and forces the others awake. Most of them grumble, but theyâre quick to get started on morning chores. âI see youâve met our guest,â he says your name with a flourish that almost makes you laugh.Â
Heâs a good actor. Heâs especially good at covering up his mistakes. âYeah, whatâs going on, Dutch? Who is she? Why donât you guys ever let me in on this stuff?â She fires off questions rapidly, you almost donât catch them all. There are clearly underlying issues here other than your unexpected presence.Â
âIn due time,â he assures her, laying the charm on thick. But even you can tell heâs full of it. Heâs not planning on letting her in on anything unless it benefits him. âAnd this is our guest, her fiancee has paid us handsomely to provide her safe passage back to him.âÂ
He walks towards you, laying a hand over your arm and squeezing slightly. You give Sadie a stiff smile and let him lead you away. âI do believe itâs best that you just wait for Arthur, dear.â He gives you a look that lets you know itâs an order, not a suggestion.Â
Still, you play along, âI think you might be right, Mr. Van der Linde, thank you for the hospitality.â You run a tired hand over your face, sitting down on the stoop of the house and finishing off the rest of your coffee. Dutch watches you for a while, never straying too far from where you are and intercepting anyone who asks about you.Â
He spins quite the romantic tale of your lost love and how he desperately wants you back. You wish it were true, that you were living out some wonderful fairytale and were about to be reunited with the love of your life. Instead, it feels like one long walk to the gallows.Â
The wood creaks behind you and you donât need to turn to see who it is. âReady?â Arthur asks and you figure he means, ready to leave freedom and happiness and the will to live behind?Â
No, âSure,â you toss the rest of the coffee into the grass and leave the mug on the stairs. You get to your feet and let him lead you towards the horses. He shares a brief look with Dutch as you pass by him but it doesnât look entirely pleasant.Â
He makes his way toward a towering black shire and your eyes widen in horror. âWhatâs this?â
He works on saddling the horse up, not paying much attention to you. âThis is Diablo.â You take a step closer and the horse starts huffing, swinging his neck towards you with his lips pulled back. You jump back a step back, eyeing him warily.Â
Arthur glances over and lets out a low chuckle, âHe wonât bite. Heâs just curious.â
âMhm,â you give him a disbelieving look. âYouâll have to excuse me for being wary, Iâve not met a lot of horses.â
Arthur looks a bit shocked by your admission. âReally?â He questions, sounding doubtful.Â
You give him a brief smile and nod. âHard to believe, I know, but Iâve lived a very sheltered life, Mr. Morgan. Havenât had many opportunities for exploring on my own.âÂ
He opens his mouth, looking like he wants to say something. At the last second, he stops himself, instead taking a step closer to you. You flinch away from him when he reaches for you and he lets out a sigh. âYou canât spend the next three days terrified of him, come on.â
He coaxes you forward and you reluctantly step closer to the beast. He chuckles at the scared look on your face. You donât appreciate how much amusement heâs gaining from this. âCome on,â he mutters, taking your wrist and leading you closer to Diablo.Â
The damn thing is named Devil, how could you not be terrified of it?Â
âHe wonât bite, I promise.â You donât trust him but he doesnât give you much of a choice. He presses your open palm to Diabloâs nose and you wince, bracing for him to lash out at you.Â
But he doesnât, he lets out a soft knicker and it seems like he doesnât even care that youâre there. You let out a relieved laugh, running your hand tentatively over his muzzle. Itâs shockingly soft and oddly squishy.Â
He doesnât seem to mind as you awe over him. You smile and glance over at Arthur but it drops when you see the odd look on his face. He seems perplexed by your reaction and you canât fathom why. âYou really never have ridden a horse before, have you?â
You shake your head, âNo. I told you.â
He purses his lips and nods. You donât know what it is about this thatâs bothering him and you donât care to ask. If he doesnât believe just how strict your upbringing has been then fine. âAlright, come on, we need to get a move on.âÂ
He leads you around to the saddle and helps you up on the back of the horse. Itâs beyond odd, sitting on something in pants. Getting to spread your legs freely is something you are going to greatly enjoy during this journey.Â
Arthur takes off without much warning and you yelp, throwing your arms around his waist to steady yourself. He glances over his shoulder at you but says nothing. You turn your head, watching as the camp gets smaller and smaller.Â
The people mill about, greet each other, and break bread together. It hits you suddenly, this will be the last time you get to see people being free. If you donât get out, if you canât escape, your life will be filled with starched collars and powdered faces. Youâll never have a genuine conversation with someone again. Youâll be turned into pretty jewelry hanging off the arm of a man you never met.Â
The ride to Strawberry is three days at least. You have three days to get your plan together and to escape. You almost feel sorry for Arthur and the repercussions heâll have to face losing you. But not sorry enough that youâre not gonna try.Â
Arthurâs speed evens out and you let your arms relax, easing away from him slightly. Your wrist jolts against the gun on his hip and you eye it curiously. If you had a gun there would be no doubt you could escape. You see Arthurâs fingers twitch on the reigns of the horse and you move your arms higher up his torso.Â
You doubt youâll be a quicker draw than he is. He is an outlaw after all. You donât think heâd have many qualms about delivering you to your fiancee with a few extra holes in your gut. Your mind drifts to the razor in your pocket and you consider it for a moment.Â
Youâre sure youâd be quick enough to just whip it out and slit his throat. You sigh and dismiss the thought. You were a lot of things but you were not a murderer. There are lines you canât bring yourself to cross. Besides, as wicked as what heâs doing to you is, you know heâs a good man.Â
It was an instinctual feeling. Mr. Crane and your father were both horrible, evil men. They knew nothing but greed and would never be satisfied by all the riches they reaped. They were the type of men you looked at and knew deep down that there was nothing left to save.Â
Arthur has undoubtedly bad things. You donât become an outlaw without spilling some blood. He was weathered and rough from a hard life, but that didnât mean there was nothing good left in him. You wonât have his blood on your hands, no matter how much you might want to get away from him.Â
As grateful as Arthur is for the silence, it is odd. Heâs helped a few ladies find their way back home before and for some reason, they seem to think heâs the best listener in the world. It seems everyone who rides with him wants to tell him their life stories.Â
Youâre completely silent, though. He has to keep looking back just to make sure you havenât fallen off the back of the horse. Youâre pretty complacent, following along with whatever Dutch said and coming along quietly. You seem beaten down, the fight dragged out of you.Â
He wonders what Mr. Crane had done to you. A few times, heâs seen just a glimpse of the spark that used to be there. But it was snuffed out before he got a chance to know it. He almost wishes you would talk. It would distract him from what he was doing right now.
It didnât feel right, bringing you along to marry a man youâve never even met. He has to keep reminding himself that it would have happened no matter what. Ladies like you are always sold off into a profitable marriage. The only thing heâs doing is switching up who the fiancee might be.Â
None of that makes him feel better, though. He should be helping you, not dragging you away to your worst nightmare. But, his people come first. The amount of money Dutchâll get from this will be enough to get them all out of here. This could finally be the last score.Â
You gasp behind him and he whips his head around, immediately expecting someone to be following along beside you both. Maybe your fatherâs men or just some raiders. But he doesnât see anything except a herd of deer running through the trees.Â
His brows furrow in confusion and he glances back at you. Youâre watching them like theyâre something spectacular. Arthurâs always been a fan of the quiet beauty of nature. He appreciates them in ways most folks donât understand. But youâre looking at âem like you just found God.Â
âNever seen deer before?â He teases, chuckling a little at your reaction.Â
You startle, not realizing he had been watching. You clear your throat and look away from them sheepishly. He almost feels bad for ruining the moment for you. âNo. No, I havenât.âÂ
He knows it's possible, but itâs astounding to him that someone truly lived their whole life in the city. It just doesnât seem right. Cities are full of shit, smog, and bad people. Not even having a moment out of that your whole life seems like torture.Â
âIâll just enjoy it while it lasts,â you mutter, eyes darting back to the tree line. But the deer are gone and you donât look very interested anymore.Â
âRight,â he shifts forward, the air between you awkward. Heâd only meant it in jest. He didnât mean to remind you of what was about to happen to you. He doesnât like the silence, not this time, it feels wrong. It makes him stew in his shame and thatâs a nasty feeling.Â
Selfishly, he prods you for more. âA few days on the road, youâll be eager for the city again.â
You laugh but thereâs no humor to it. âI very much doubt that Mr. Morgan.â
âArthur,â he corrects, âjust call me Arthur.â
âRight,â your tone remains cold, âwell if you donât mind Arthur, Iâd like to ride there in silence.â
He's got no other choice but to comply. If you donât want to talk he wonât make you. He just wishes he could make this a little easier for you both.Â
Camping is something. You donât have a word for it. Itâs nice to be out in nature and embrace it for the first time in your life. But you really would not mind the comfort of your bed right now.Â
Rocks digging into your spine and head do not make for a good nightâs sleep. Youâve been lying in front of the fire for hours, flipping around uselessly. It doesnât matter how much you shift, the rock stays digging painfully into you.Â
You let out a loud huff, flopping onto your back and glaring up at the starry sky in defeat. At least the view is nice. In the city, you canât see the stars. The smokeâs too thick and you never get a good look at them.
Out here, they almost feel fake. Theyâre so bright and beautiful, you thought the paintings in the museum had always been exaggerating just how breathtaking a night sky can be. But you were wrong. And you hate that thereâs a potential future where youâll never get to see this again.Â
âWould you quit squirming so damn much?â
You shoot up, resting on your elbows and glaring over at Arthur. Heâs got his hat over his eyes, arms crossed, and looking like heâs been asleep for the past few hours. You hadnât realized youâd been keeping him up.Â
âSome of us arenât used to sleeping outside,â you hiss, throwing yourself back down to the ground. He doesnât say anything for a while and you figure thatâs the end of it. You clench your eyes shut, counting sheep in your mind and trying to force yourself asleep.Â
You hear boots crunching across leaves and your eyes fly open. Arthurâs standing over you, hands propped on his hips as he glares down at you. âCan I help you?â You snap when you get tired of the staring.Â
He scoffs and shakes his head, kneeling to be eye level with you. Youâre startled by the proximity, an odd heat creeping up your neck. âCome on, Iâm gonna tire you out. Maybe then youâll get some sleep.â
You gasp, astonished at the audacity of his suggestion. âExcuse me?â You demand, tone incredulous.Â
His brows furrow before he shakes his head and rolls his eyes. âNot like that,â he grouses. âGet up,â he doesnât give you much of a choice. He places his hand under your back, shoving you onto your feet. You stand with a slight stumble, glaring at him as you brush dirt off your shirt and pants.Â
You canât help the snotty tone of your voice as you ask, âWhat are we doing?âÂ
âHuntin,ââ He answers gruffly, going over to the horse and taking the bow out of his saddle.Â
Your brows furrow as you recall the few stories your father told you of hunting bison. âArenât you supposed to use a rifle?â
He shakes his head and nods towards the treeline. You glance back at the fire before reluctantly following him into the dark forest. The moon is full enough that it provides just enough light for you not to be terrified of whatâs lurking in the underbrush.Â
âGot a friend,â he tells you, kneeling and glancing at some tracks on the ground. âTaught me how to hunt properly. Bows are quieter, less disruptive, and they provide quicker, cleaner kills.â He looks back at you and motions towards the arrows, âLess pain for the animal.â
Your face slacks with something like astonishment. All youâd heard from your father was the thrill of the hunt, the satisfaction of the kill. He never mentioned keeping anything from the animal, using it for meat, or about how long it took for them to die. Youâd never thought there was anybody who actually cared for the creatureâs comfort as it died.Â
You suppose thereâs going to be a lot about Arthur thatâs different from the men you know.Â
âArthur,â a twig snaps behind you, and your eyes widen. You drop your voice to a whisper, not wanting to draw too much attention towards you both. âI donât want to kill anything,â you hiss.
âHa!â He barks out a laugh and you purse your lips in irritation. He stands and looks at you, chuckling again before shaking his head. âI wouldnât be so confident in your huntinâ skill, kid.â
You click your tongue and glare at him, âDonât call me that,â you snap. Itâs the same patronizing nickname your father loved to use on you and you detest it. He raises his hands in surrender and you roll your eyes at the smirk on his face. âThen whatâs the point of this?â
He shrugs and heads further into the trees, you have no choice but to follow along behind him. âFigure you should be taught a few skills before I get rid of ya.â
You want to argue with him that thereâs no point. If you are given to Craneâs associate, youâll never set foot in the woods again. However, if you do manage to escape him, learning a few survival skills wouldnât be a bad idea.Â
So, you keep your mouth shut and let him lead you through the forest. âHow do you know where to go?â You ask, trying to figure out what it is he keeps looking at in the mud. He waves you forward, moving you so youâre standing directly in front of him.Â
âYou see that?â You have to squint, relying solely on the light from the moon, to make out what heâs pointing at. There are some tracks in the mud that look vaguely like hooves. âItâs buck tracks, you can tell by the size.â He kneels and when you donât follow he tugs you down by the sleeve. âYou canât rely on just the tracks, though. You have to look for other signs of âem.â
You glance around, noticing some crushed twigs and grass a few feet ahead. âLike that?â You point towards it and he huffs in amusement.Â
âCaught on quicker than I thought.â
You feel vaguely offended by that but donât bother voicing it, just glare at his back as he gets up. You walk silently through the forest, letting Arthur show you which tracks to follow and which to avoid. Youâre not comforted by how many cougar prints you find. You stare up into the branches always expecting something to already be looking down at you.Â
Miraculously, no wild cat chooses you for dinner as you track the buck down. You find him near a small stream, antlers dipping into the water as he takes a drink. Heâs got to be one of the most gorgeous creatures youâve ever seen.Â
Youâve lived your whole life in St. Denis. The most youâve seen are overworked carriage horses and mangy dogs. No life slips through the cracks of that place. Thereâs just smoke and misery. This is nature, real beauty. Itâs breathtaking, the way the leaves ripple in the wind and the starlight reflects in the water.Â
You canât imagine seeing this and wanting to tear it down to put up an oily machine that contributes nothing to the earth but death. It just makes you hate your father more. It also makes you more resolved to not be forced back into that life. You canât do it. You canât have this one taste of freedom and then let it go without a fight.Â
Arthur pulls the bow out and nocks an arrow. You glance between him and the buck and rapidly shake your head. âNo,â you hiss, âI donât wanna kill it.â
He rolls his eyes and moves you in front of him. You donât have much choice as he places your hands on the string and guides you into the right position. âRelax,â he murmurs in your ear as you fight against his grip. âYou ainât gonna kill it.âÂ
It doesnât bring you much comfort, but if youâre going to make it on your own, sometimes youâll have to do something you donât like. âNow,â his hand drifts down your bicep and you suck in a sharp breath. âDonât hold it too long, youâll get tired.âÂ
Itâs dawning on you just how close you both are. Youâre kneeling on the ground with him behind you, essentially cradling your body to him. Youâve never been this familiar with a man before, itâs making your brain short-circuit. You can hardly pay attention to what heâs telling you.Â
He lifts your elbow slightly and points you towards the left. âYou need to keep your arm steady even after you let go or your aim will be off. Take in a deep breath and release on the exhale.â You give him an apprehensive look, still not wanting to hurt the buck. He just nods and thereâs something in his gaze that lets you relax slightly.Â
You release the string and the arrow flies over the buckâs head, burying itself into the tree behind it. Its head shoots up and it turns towards you both before dashing off. You let out an astonished laugh, glancing down the bow and then back at Arthur.Â
âMy god, Iâve never shot anything before.â
âCongratulations, youâve killed your first tree,â he remarks dryly, but you see the glint of humor in his eye.Â
He gets to his feet and offers you a hand up. You smile up at him, undeterred by his attitude. âThank you for this,â you tell him earnestly. He gives you an odd look but nods anyway. He doesnât understand just how important this is to you. Knowing how to do something like this is the difference between life and death when youâre on your own. Of course, he doesnât realize youâll be making an escape attempt soon.Â
He retrieves the arrow from the tree and you run your hand over the curve of the bow. You wonder just how much heâd miss this if you took it from him.Â
Arthurâs tearing down the camp and youâre standing by Diablo, feeding him some apples. You stroke absentmindedly over the horse's muzzle, watching Arthur intently. Heâs too busy pulling the tent apart to be paying attention to you.Â
You got better sleep last night than you did at Craneâs. He was right, hunting had tired you out. You were eager enough to sleep that you didnât even feel the rough ground underneath you. He seems to be a little more lax about his watch over you.Â
Something about last night must have eased him into a sense of comfort that youâre not going to run. Thatâs his own fault, though. You glance over the curve of the hill, noticing a carriage that will be passing by soon enough.Â
You look back at Arthur and ease slightly away from Diablo. Arthur is still collecting the blankets and rolling them up. He turns towards the dying fire and tosses the rest of the coffee out. You take another step back and he keeps his back to you.Â
Slowly, you release Diabloâs reigns, giving him one last apple before you turn on your heel and run down the hill. Your foot slips out from under you and you let out a loud yelp as you go flying headfirst down the grass.Â
You land on your back with enough impact to make the breath rush out of you. But your descent is still going and youâre flipping over headfirst into the road. You slide forward, the dirt scraping up your chin as you cough and try and catch your breath.Â
âLook out!â You roll out of the way just before the carriage rolls over you. Someone shouts your name from the top of the hill and you see Arthur glaring down at you. He starts towards you and you scramble to your feet.Â
âStop!â You scream, waving your arms wildly and chasing after the carriage. The man gives you a bewildered look as you throw yourself at him. âPlease, sir, Iâve been kidnapped, you must help me get back to my husband.â
The man looks behind you, sees a very angry Arthur bellowing out your name, and moves to the side. âHurry up,â he urges, giving you a hand on the bench beside him. You let out a relieved breath, taking his hand and throwing yourself the rest of the way up.Â
He whips the horses, hurrying them along all the while Arthur is yelling after you. Itâs not hard to believe that he would kidnap you. He looks half-crazed as he follows along behind you. You turn over your shoulder, giving him a brief wave and a smile. âThanks for the help,â you tell the man beside you. You offer your hand and name.Â
He glances down at it but doesnât take it, instead looking forward and ignoring you entirely. Something uneasy settles in your stomach but you push it aside. You blame the feeling on the adrenaline still pumping through you.Â
âWhere are you headed?â You ask, glancing into the back of the carriage. You notice some moonshine and a crate full of guns but decide not to question it.Â
âSaid yer husbandâs waitinâ for ya?â He demands, completely ignoring your question. You stare at the side of his face but his expression isnât giving anything away. He comes to an intersection. You see a sign pointing towards a town and figure heâs going to take it, but instead, he pulls onto a smaller trail leading to the woods.Â
âUm,â you clear your throat uncertainly, glancing back at the sign. âYes,â your voice cracks and you know you sound like youâre full of shit.Â
He laughs and the sound sends chills down your spine. You rip your eyes off of him, looking down at the horses and suddenly realizing just what youâd gotten yourself into. âYou sure about that, little lady?â
Something cold digs into your side and you gasp quietly, looking down to see a gun pressed against your ribs. âYou scream, run, or do anythinâ to piss me off and Iâll put a fourth hole in ya.â When you donât say anything he digs it harder into you. âUnderstand?â He growls and you can do nothing but nod your head.Â
You want to move, want to shove him off the side of the carriage and make a run for it. But you canât, youâre frozen solid. Youâre so petrified with fear you canât even blink. You think youâre holding your breath, as if taking in air is going to set the gun off.Â
He grins, a blackened curl of lips over rotted teeth, at your obedience and comes to a stop in the trees. âWhat are you doing?â You whisper, staring at the secluded area with a newfound sense of horror.Â
âShut up,â he snaps, his voice echoing through the quiet of the woods. You hear no birds or animals and you feel so alone it makes you want to cry. He gets off the carriage and turns towards you. âDown,â he demands. Your eyes dart towards the reigns of the horses and he pulls the hammer of the gun back. âDonât even think about it.â
You lift your hands in the air, slowly slipping down the seat. He doesnât appreciate you taking your time He grabs the front of your shirt, jerking you further into the trees and tossing you to the ground.Â
You let out a rough groan at the impact, blood staining your shirt as your elbow slips across a jagged rock. Itâs like something is snapped loose in your mind. He comes stomping towards you, kneeling between your spread legs and it finally clicks.Â
You lunge forward with a shout and he rears back in surprise. You wonder how often someoneâs actually fought against him or just let it happen. You donât want to die, you donât want to get shot by this scum, but there are a lot of things worse than dying.Â
You grab the arm holding the gun, jerking it around, and knocking it out of his hand. âYou bitch!â He hisses, bringing his open palm down across your cheek. The smack rings through the trees and ricochets through the air. Your head whips to the side so hard you think you might have snapped your neck.Â
Blood dribbles out from your lips, your teeth having bitten into the fat of your cheeks. You spot the gun nearby, the silver of the barrel glinting from under the leaves. Just as you reach for it, heâs wrapping his hands around your ankles and dragging you back towards him.Â
You feel like screaming as your hands desperately grasp at the dirt underneath you. But thereâs not enough air to scream. You dig your nails into the mud, feel them split against the rocks, and kick at his chest hard enough to make him lose his breath.Â
His grip on you loosens and you throw yourself at the pile of leaves. Hands groping for something solid. Just as he flips you over you wrap your hand around the handle of the gun. You pull the trigger and the bang is deafening.Â
Your ears ring and your hands are trembling from the recoil. His jaw goes slack and he tumbles on top of you. You let out a grunt, breath pushed out of you by his weight. You scramble against his chest, something warm making your hands slip as you struggle to roll him off of you.Â
You glance over, waiting for him to spring back up. But thereâs something dark pooling around him and sinking into the dirt below. Thereâs a hole in his chest and his eyes are already flattening. You fall back against the earth, staring up at the trees above you.Â
The sounds rush back to you all at once. The birds singing, deers prancing somewhere in the distance. You hear a stream rushing nearby and let out a stunned laugh. Thereâs a smile on your face but thereâs nothing to be happy about.Â
You think you might be in shock. Mind still trying to catch up to what just happened. You glance down at the gun in your hand and toss it to the side, not wanting it near you anymore. Only a second later do you reach for it again.Â
You struggle onto your hands and knees, checking over yourself for any injuries that you might be numb to right now. The only blood on you is from the dead man on the ground. You keel over, hands on your knees, and suck in a deep gasping breath.Â
You stumble back, limping towards the carriage. You dig around in the back of the wagon, tugging out a giant hunting knife and walking towards the horses. You cut them loose, keeping the rope on one of them and tugging yourself onto her back. You tuck the knife in your belt and nudge her side, leading her forward gently.Â
You don't even have time to process the fact that youâre riding a horse on your own. Your body is moving on autopilot. You can only think about getting ahead, getting away. What just happened will hit you later. You slump against the neck of the horse, adrenaline leaking out of you and exhaustion catching up.Â
Heâs going to find you and heâs going to kill you. Leaving while he had his back turned. Getting on some carriage with a man youâve never met before. How dumb do you have to be? You canât trust people out here. Not when there are gangs, raiders, hell, heâs encountered a few cannibals.Â
For all he knows, youâre already dead and heâll be delivering a body to the train station. The thought makes him curse and urge Diablo forward. Itâs not hard to follow the tracks of the carriage, what concerns him is when they lead into the forest instead of the town.Â
âGoddammit,â he mutters, âthe hell have you done woman?â He leaps off Diablo, figuring it will be easier to track you on foot. He follows the paths of the wheels, finding the wagon abandoned and the horses cut loose.Â
His brows furrow in confusion as he wanders around the side and spots a lump in the leaves. All he can see is the bottom of a boot and blood splattered across the orange of the fallen leaves.Â
His stomach plummets and he races towards it. But itâs not you buried under the foliage, itâs the man who offered you a ride. âWhat the hell?â He kneels, brushing the leaves off his chest and frowning when he sees the blood splattered all along his chest.Â
He doesnât need to look long to figure out what killed him. Heâs sure the bullet buried in his heart did the job. Arthur curses and stalks away from the man. There are prints where the horses were but there are too many to tell which one you might have taken.Â
Heâll have to rely on instinct to find you. Youâre becoming a real pain in the ass for what was supposed to be a simple job. Still, he canât help but be a little relieved that it was a stranger and not you lying dead on the ground.Â
He turns back onto the road, taking the turn into town. Someone on horseback rides past him, they look disgusted by something up ahead and it makes alarms go off in his head. He urges Diablo forward, running the rest of the way into town.Â
An unsaddled mare lazily eats some grass as the sound of a rushing river meets his ears. Diabloâs hooves sound off against the wood of the bridge. He finally sees what disturbed the other rider so much.Â
Youâre sitting on the railing of the bridge, legs dangling dangerously over the edge as you stare down into the crashing waters below you. Arthur gets off his horse, approaching you slowly. He doesnât want to startle you and have you go tumbling over the edge.Â
He calls out your name and you glance briefly over at him. Blood is splattered across your neck and the front of your shirt is soaked with it. He knows it isnât yours but it still puts him on edge. âWhatâre you doinâ kid?âÂ
You donât answer him, âDid you follow me?â He eases up beside you, straddling the railing so he can catch you if you slip. He nods and you let out a rough sigh. âIs he dead?â
He scoffs, âSure as shit hope so, donât know how someone would survive that.â
A manic laugh bursts through your lips and you double over your head falling into your hands. Arthur surges forward, steadying you before you dive headfirst into the river. âAlright, letâs go,â he quietly urges you around. You donât put up a fight, letting him maneuver you how he likes.
He gets you on your feet and leads you back to Diablo. You latch onto the horse's reigns immediately, stroking your hand over his mane. Your silence is concerning. Arthur doesnât know what your regular behavior is, the most heâs seen of you, you have been quiet. This is different, though. Heâs seen this sort of quiet in women before and it never ends pretty.Â
âYouâre alright, come on,â he tries to keep his voice low so he doesnât set you off. He keeps his hands light as they land around your waist, giving you help onto Diabloâs saddle. Your gaze is distant and you move like someone else is controlling your body.Â
He collects the mare youâd brought along with you and leads both horses into town. Heâll have to get a saddle for her, she already seems attached to you. And maybe taking a horse with you into the city will let you escape a little.Â
The town, at least, is on the way to Strawberry so he doesnât have to worry about being too far off schedule. Though, thatâs the least of his concerns right now. His eyes keep darting up to you. Waiting for you to try and bolt again or finally break down. It doesnât look like anything is going on in your head, you seem completely distanced from the situation.Â
Itâs a good thing for him. He canât handle a distraught woman. Heâs not a kind enough man for it.Â
He hitches the horses in front of the hotel. You turn in the saddle, staring down at him and waiting for a hand down. You slide easily through his hands, landing in the mud with a dull thud and heading up the stairs of the hotel without prompt.Â
He huffs and follows after you. He doesnât know how to explain the blood on your clothes away and hopes he wonât have to. The man running the place, thankfully, doesnât have many questions. He looks disturbed but keeps his qualms to himself when Arthur slips him a little extra cash.Â
Arthur guides you up the stairs with a light hand on your back, opening the door of the bath for you. âAlright, hereâs your room key. Iâll be out for a while so, just,â he sighs, taking in the blank look on your face and shaking his head. âTry not to cause any more trouble.â You nod and close the door behind him.Â
Thereâs no worries that youâre going to make a run for it again. Heâs sure whatever happened in those woods was scarring enough to make you want to go back to the city and never see country folk again. He wouldnât blame you, there are some nasty people out here. Himself included, but he could never imagine hurting a woman like that. It just ainât right.Â
He heads to the shop across the street, buying some new clothes for you that actually fight properly. The horses are brought to the stables and he goes ahead and gets a paper for your mare under your name. Diablo will be faster tomorrow if he doesnât have to carry the weight of two people. You might make it to your handler in time.Â
Arthur still doesnât feel right about this whole thing. Leaving you with a man youâve never met feels even worse knowing what happened to you today. He doesnât think you being so calm about it all is a good thing. Shouldnât women react?
Dutch likes to tell him women are a more sensitive breed. Heâs seen some tough ones in his life, but this seems like the time to be in hysterics if there ever was one. He heads back to the hotel, planning on just leaving the change of clothes in your room.Â
He passes by the bath and hears an odd sound seeping through the cracks. Frowning, he presses his ear up against the door. A man passes by him, giving him a disgusted look as he goes into his room. Arthur sighs but he stays where he is.Â
Itâs clearer now, youâre crying and itâs hard to listen to. It's the type that makes it hard to breathe. That sort of crying makes your ribs ache and bruise. Itâs wrong to keep listening to such a vulnerable moment. So, he does what he planned, drops the clothes in your room, and then heads to bed himself.Â
Sleep comes easier than he thought it would. Itâs not as restful as heâd been hoping but it draws over him faster than it normally does. Heâs always been a light sleeper, though. It comes from years of having to be on guard in case some OâDriscoll is gonna try and slit his throat while heâs asleep.Â
When he hears the door creak his hand is already on the trigger of his revolver as he shoots up in bed. The glow of the lamps outside illuminates whatâs clearly a womanâs form. But he canât see your face until you take a step further into the room and the moonlight provides some light.Â
âArthur?â You whisper his name, peering into his room. âAre you awake?â
âI am now,â he grumbles. With a sigh, he shoves the gun back under his pillow and runs a rough hand over his face. âWhat'd ya want?â
You let out a low breath and rock back on your heels. âIâm sorry,â you mutter. âI just, I canât sleep. I keep thinking heâs gonna creep out of my closet or bust through the door, I-â
You cut yourself off but he can hear the emotion thickening your voice. He clenches his eyes shut in irritation, arguing with himself over what heâs about to say. âYou wanna sleep in here?â He mumbles reluctantly.Â
You close the door immediately, practically running towards his bed. âYou donât mind?â
Youâre not really giving him a choice, but heâs not going to say that to you. âNo.â He grabs a pillow and blanket off the bed and rounds the end of the mattress. You frown as you watch him toss everything to the ground.Â
âWell, whatâre you doing?â
âWhatâs it look like?â He snaps, angrily gesturing towards the floor. âIâm givinâ you the bed.âÂ
You bite your lip and he feels horrible instantly because you look like youâre about to cry. Heâs not trying to be rude but you woke him up in the dead of night. Whatâd you expect him to say?
âI was sort of hoping we could share the bed.â
His eyes widen and he glares at you in disbelief. âYou mean-â
âNo!â You cut him off with an aggrieved sigh. âYou fool, thatâs not what I mean at all. I just donât want to be alone, alright?âÂ
âLook,â he scoffs and shakes his head. âI donât think Iâm the man you want to bunk with for company, alright. Iâm not that kind of guy.â You glare at him and snatch his pillow and blanket off the floor.Â
âDonât be so damn stubborn.â You aggressively fluff the pillows, throwing the covers back and gesturing towards them, your brow set in anger.Â
âRight,â he huffs, âIâm stubborn.â He reluctantly crawls into bed and you follow behind him. Itâs not that he minds sharing a bed with a pretty lady. Heâs just not the sort of guy you should be coming to for comfort.Â
He doesnât think he can provide whatever it is you need at this moment. But you seem to think otherwise as you inch towards him slowly. He lays on his back, arms under his head as he watches you out of the side of his eye. You think youâre being subtle, slowly moving into his side until youâre flush against him.Â
He doesnât say anything to object and you donât bring up the proximity. He doesnât want to admit it but it is nice having someone else beside him. Heâs so used to camping out on his own. He hasnât had anyone beside him in a long while. He lost interest in women of leisure a long while ago. And ever since Mary, heâs given up on any sort of intimacy.Â
He hates to admit it, but he finds himself easing towards the warmth you provide. The second you feel him reciprocating youâre inching a tentative hand around his waist, cuddling closer to him. He recognizes it for what it is.Â
Heâs always been looked at as someone who can protect, at least by the gang. Heâs their muscle. To most others, he incites nothing but fear. It should be the same for you. But after what happened today, you just see someone who can keep the monsters in the dark away.Â
He doesnât mind being used like this. He wraps an arm around your shoulders and waits until he feels you settle to ease into sleep again.Â
Arthur figures you should both get breakfast in town while youâre here. He reasons you should enjoy a hot meal before youâre on the road again. You donât point out that you know heâs just trying to ease you into the day.Â
You appreciate it, honestly, but yesterday wasnât your first run-in with men like that. Itâs become incomprehensibly normal in day-to-day life, even for a city girl like yourself. Youâd cried everything out in the bath once youâd scrubbed your skin raw.Â
You donât think Arthur will ever understand just how much his presence helped you last night. If youâd been on your own, jumping every time you heard the wood creaking outside, youâd have driven yourself over the edge. He protected you, even if there was nothing to be protected from.Â
You donât think he gives himself enough credit. Ignoring the situation youâre both in and what heâs taking you to do, heâs a good man. While the caliber of the men youâve met is questionable at best, heâs one of the best ones youâve ever known. At the end of the day, he disagrees with the whole situation, but heâs doing this for his family. Thatâs admirable in its own way.Â
But, god, does he have poor conversational skills. âSo, yesterday.â You glance up from your toast, brows raised in question. He clears his throat, eyes darting between you and his food like he canât choose what to focus on. âThat man, did heâŚâ
He trails off and you feel your hackles rise. âDonât worry,â you hiss, a bite to your words, âIâm still pure for my husband. Your pay wonât be docked, if thatâs what youâre worried about.â
His hand clenches around his fork and his eyes bore into yours, âThatâs not what I meant,â he growls. âI wasnât worried about that,â he snaps, âI was worried âbout you, woman.â
You take in a deep breath, actively biting your tongue from saying something spiteful. He wasnât being rude, thatâs just what youâre used to. âIâm sorry,â you concede lowly. âNothing happened,â you repeat without the attitude.Â
âWell,â he huffs and goes back to his breakfast, âgood,â he settles on dully.Â
âGood,â you agree quietly, pushing the rest of your food around. You find your appetite dulled and you push the plate away. You lean back in the booth and stare out the window. The horses seem to be getting on well enough. âDid you name her?â
Arthur gives you an odd look and you nod towards the mare hitched next to Diablo. He swallows the food heâd been chewing and takes a swig of his coffee. âNo, figured youâd want to do it.â
Your brows furrow and your lips quirk in confusion. âWhy?â
âSheâs yours, ainât she?â He grouses.Â
You shake your head, âNope,â you tell him, popping the p. âI just took her so Iâd have something to get me to town.â
âYeah, well,â he sounds less sure of himself and heâs looking like he made a mistake. âI thought sheâd be nice for you to have with you in the city. A way for you to get around without relyinâ on someone else.â
You canât help but smile, something in your chest easing away at the kind gesture. âI appreciate it,â he lights up a little at your approval, but you crush it in an instant. âBut I canât keep her, I wonât be allowed to. Iâve tried to have my own horse before, hard to control something that can get away from you,â you tell him blankly. Thereâs no emotion in your voice because itâs something youâre used to.Â
He looks slightly horrified at how blunt you are. He canât comprehend not having that freedom but he fails to recognize that heâs got a leash of his own. You doubt a man like Dutch would ever let his main asset just run off to wherever he wants to.Â
A few people walk into the saloon, the women giving you odd looks when they see the pants on your legs. You smile cheekily at them, reveling in what you know will be a short-lived experience. Youâve never been on the receiving end of a judgmental look like that.Â
Youâve always blended in. Been the perfect wallflower for the men in your life. You were never something to gawk at or cause trouble. Itâs a relief to stick out for once, to break the mould for the first time in your life.Â
Arthur clocks the interaction and chuckles. âMissinâ the skirts yet?â
âNot one damn bit,â you tell him, smiling as you take a sip of your coffee. âIâm going to miss being able to run around without having to lug an extra four pounds of fabric behind me.âÂ
âYa know, you could just wear some pants, youâve got a choice.â
You grin patronizingly at him, propping your head on your chin and watching him finish the rest of his breakfast. âYou donât know city men very well, do you?â
âGlad for it,â he grumbles, distaste clear in his tone.
A laugh breaks through your chest, the first real one in a while. âIâm going to be marrying one, Arthur. I wonât have a choice in much of anything anymore.â You can tell he wants to object, tell you thereâs always a choice.Â
Heâll never truly understand whatâs going to happen to you, though. Youâre no longer human once youâre married. Youâre cattle and property, meant to be bred and shown off. You accepted your fate a long while ago. And after youâre failed escape attempt, youâve realized this is what you were always meant to be. Thereâs no point in fighting fate.Â
âDonât apologize or argue,â you tell him, no spite or bitterness in your tone, just the honest truth. âI donât mind anymore, really. What place is there for me in this world, anyway? I canât exactly take care of myself.â
âYou did a damn good job yesterday,â he snaps back quickly. He doesnât seem too keen on the way youâre talking about yourself. But youâre not lying. Yesterday was a wake-up call. If you let yourself get screwed over by a hillbilly that quickly then how were you ever going to make it on your own? In your defense, you were raised to be dependent, you never had a chance.Â
âSure, but that was a one-off incident. Iâm not going to run again, Arthur. Thereâs no point. And thereâs no point in fighting against the way things are, theyâre never going to change for me.â You take in a deep breath, the easy mood ruined by your sincerity.Â
âIâm just gonna wait by the horses.â
You slide out of the booth, leaving Arthur to stare pensively at his plate. Youâve nearly slipped through the door when Arthur calls out, âYou should name her.â You pause at the doorway, glancing back at him. Heâs settling the bill at the front and you walk back out to the horses.Â
The mare picks her head up as you walk towards her, ears perked and tail flicking. âHey, girl,â you run a hand over her muzzle, admiring the sleek silver of her coat. âI guess I should name you.â
You run a hand over her mane and swing yourself onto the saddle. âHow âbout Bullet, itâs how I got you, anyway.â A dark joke, but it eases the macabre feeling hanging around you.Â
Arthur walks out of the saloon, tucking his money away into his bag. He lifts himself onto Diablo, glancing over at you with a knowing glint.Â
âName her?â
You resent how smug he sounds. âBullet,â you answer reluctantly.Â
âBullet?â He questions, tone incredulous.Â
You grin at him, âItâs how I got her.â Thereâs a slightly stunned expression on his face before it slacks away into something more amused.Â
He shakes his head and nudges Diablo forward, Bullet follows alongside him eagerly. âClever,â he mutters.
âNot really,â you snort, running a hand over her neck lovingly. âBut I think it works for her.â
âYour husbandâs gonna have his hands full with you,â you know he means it in jest. The lightness of the conversation turns into something heavier. Realization sinks over both of you and the smiles slowly drop away. âI-â
âHow much further to Strawberry, anyway?â You effectively cut off whatever train of thought he was going to follow, distracting you both from the truth.Â
âHalf a day,â he tells you, frowning when you refuse to meet his eye again. Half a day. Thatâs all youâve got to enjoy the last bits of freedom you have. Youâre gonna take your damn time getting there, thatâs for sure.Â
You slow down from the steady trot Arthur had led the horses into, easing Bullet into a slow walk. Youâre slowly getting the hang of riding a horse. Itâs easy when sheâs so intuitive. By god, though, your ass is sore.Â
Arthur shoots you a questioning glance at the slow pace and you shrug. âMight as well take the time Iâve got left.â
âYouâre actinâ like youâre on death row,â he chuckles.Â
âArenât I?â He falls silent and you donât know whatâs bothering him but you donât have the energy to inquire.Â
Heâs slowing you down on purpose, he knows it and you know it. Neither of you says a damn thing about it but itâs bugging him. He shouldnât be this bothered by a job. He knows how to separate himself from what he does. He just canât this time.Â
Thereâs something about you that glows. Youâre sitting beside him on the peak of a hill, overlooking the roads below you, and laughing as you make up stories for the people that pass by. Itâs a far cry from the beaten-down woman heâd seen at Craneâs house.Â
Even after what happened yesterday, you somehow manage to seem happier. Thereâs nothing about it that makes him happy. This feels like the last goodbye of someone who knows theyâre going soon. The last bout of happiness before they just give in.Â
Youâre not gaining your spark back, youâre just giving in to what you think is inevitable. But it doesnât have to be inevitable. You could fight back you just refuse to. Heâs sure growing up the way you have, you donât think it's possible to stand up for yourself.Â
But you donât have to give in like this. You donât have to roll over and let someone else dictate your life. Which is rich, coming from him. Heâs practically Dutchâs lap dog now. Even when he disagrees he still follows along behind him.Â
He shouldnât even be thinking like this. He canât criticize you for not standing up for yourself when heâs the one thing standing between you and freedom. âNot hungry?â You nod towards the uneaten meat on his knife.Â
He shakes his head, plucking it off the blade and passing it to you. You give him an odd look before popping it in your mouth. âYa know,â you mutter around a full mouth. You take a moment to swallow it down before smiling over at him. âIâve grown up with private chefs my whole life, but thereâs is something infinitely more satisfying about this.â
He takes his hat off, running a hand through his hair. He snorts at your comment, âI find that hard to believe.â
âNo,â you shake your head, insistent, âI mean it. Being out here, hunting the game myself, I donât know, itâs nice.â You shrug and lean back on your hands, gazing across the way at the trees and river.Â
âYou can always get a bow and go hunting.â He speaks to you like it's a cut-and-dry truth that youâre just not accepting. Your face screws up and you give him an annoyed glare.Â
âNo. I canât,â you tell him again. Where your words were patient before, he can tell youâre growing irritated at how much heâs pushing this.
âYes, you can,â he snaps. âYou donât have to keep yourself boxed up in some manor in the city. Get out, woman, do something with your life!â His voice echoes through the air and you flinch back from it, lips pulling down into a sneer.Â
âYou know, thatâs really easy for you to say, Arthur. You have a goddamn choice. Sure, I grew up with a silver spoon in my mouth, little miss rich girl crying about being pampered.â
He lets out a rough sigh, âThatâs not what I meant-â
You cut him off, getting to your feet and glaring down at him. âYou got to grow up with a choice. What to do with your body, your life, your career. You get to have an education if you want it. Every goddamn door is open to you. You donât get hated for not wanting to have a family. You get to choose. And as much as you insist I can too, you will never understand the position I am in.â
You kick dirt over the fire and head back towards Bullet. âItâs a double-edged sword, Arthur. Sure, my life might be comfortable, but itâs never really gonna be my life.â He stays there on the ground, too stunned to get up.Â
You glare down at him, impatiently waiting for him to get a move on. This isnât how he wants things to end. He doesnât want you to go off thinking heâs just some ignorant fool. But he is, much as he denies it, heâs always been a fool.Â
He should never have thought he could make a difference in your life. Not when heâs the one backing you into this corner. He could have helped you escape the very first night he saw you. But he was too selfish to let you go, now youâre both paying for it.Â
He mounts Diablo and you both head back to the roads silently. Youâre moving faster now, leaving him behind if he lingers in one area for too long. Youâre too pissed off to enjoy the rest of your day and he hates that he ruined it for you. You, at the very least, deserved a slower journey towards your future.Â
Youâre in Strawberry before heâs ready, heâs sure you arenât. âHey, we could-â
âI think thatâs him.â You cut him off before he says something stupid like spend another night in town before you go. Heâll miss you, he thinks. Odd, heâs known you such a short time but itâs been so different having someone beside him as he rides. It was nice, what he wished he and Mary could have had.Â
Arthur follows your gaze and lets out a tired sigh. Sure enough, some prim and proper ass is standing in front of the ticket station, foot tapping impatiently. Heâs got a large bag beside him, gaze wandering around expectantly. He doesnât doubt the man who looks like heâs got a five-foot stick up his ass is Mr. Craneâs associate. Heâs got the same slimy glint.
You slide off Bullet and Arthur follows suit, taking the reigns of both horses and leading them towards the platform. The manâs eyes narrow in on you before lighting up. He calls out your name and itâs like a mask being dropped over your face.Â
The spark is gone once more, a subdued and demure smile resting on your face as you wave at him. âI apologize for my dress,â you tell him as you walk up the steps. âPants were more conducive to such a long ride.â
He takes your hand, pressing a lingering kiss to your knuckles that makes Arthur roll his eyes. âNo apologies necessary, I brought you a change of clothes. I figured you would be less than put together after such a journey. Iâm only sorry I couldnât accompany you.â
You scoff and nod along, âOkay,â you mutter, not believing a word of his bullshit. You take the bag from him and move towards the saloon to find a room to change in. They both watch you leave, though the other man with a much more devious glint in his eye.Â
Arthurâs hands tighten on the reigns of the horses, anything to keep him from reaching for his revolver. Heâs already getting a bad feeling about this. Thereâs nothing trustworthy about the man in front of him.Â
âMr. Finch,â he holds out his hand and Arthur gives it a distrusting look before reluctantly shaking. Finch attempts to squeeze the life out of his hand but Arthur can barely feel it. He tightens his own grip and revels in the way Finchâs face blanches.Â
âArthur Morgan.â
Mr. Finch looks him up and down in the same way Crane had. He sees a commodity, not a person. âI trust,â he drawls, ânothing unsavory happened.â
Arthur feels rage bubbling in his gut. The only damn thing he cares about is whether or not youâre âpure.â Not if you were okay or injured during the journey. If he told him that heâd punched you out for talking back Finch would just ask if you were bruised.Â
âSheâs fine,â Arthur grits out.Â
âOh, good, good. Glad everything went smoothly.â Finch has a way of talking heâs found most self-important men do. He draws everything he says out, and forces you to listen to him speak. Makes you pay attention so he can pretend he has power for a moment.Â
His gaze darts behind Arthur and he turns just in time to see you slipping out of the saloon. The dress Finch has provided you is ridiculously large. It poofs out at the waist in a way that makes Arthur wonder how youâre going to fit into your seat.Â
You look beyond uncomfortable. Grimacing as you join them again. You try and plaster a smile on but itâs a struggle. You look to Arthur, a finality on your face that makes him want to throw you over his shoulder and run. Heâs doing this for the others, he reminds himself. Theyâll be on a boat to Tahiti in a week.Â
âThank you, Mr. Morgan, for everything.â The smile you leave him with is real, if just barely. Something lurks under your words that Mr. Finch will never understand and Arthur knows it will drive him crazy.Â
âLetâs go,â Finch grabs your hand, looping it through his arm and tugging you towards the doors of the station.Â
âWait!â Arthur calls out, feeling foolish when you both look back at him with perplexed expressions. âYouâll be wanting Bullet, wonât you?â
Mr. Finch answers for you with a condescending tone, âShe wonât be needing a horse, thank you.â You give him a knowing smile, turning away and slipping through the doors of the station and onto the train.Â
Arthur stays rooted where he is, something crawling up in his chest and rooting around restlessly. The whistle blows and the wheels start cranking slowly forward. Arthur just barely catches a glimpse of you through a window as the train chugs past.Â
âShit!â He hisses. He tugs himself up onto Diabloâs saddle and urges him after the train. He was born a fool, heâs always going to be a damn fool. But heâd have to be a complete moron to just let you go.Â
Mr. Finch keeps a painfully tight grip on your elbow, jerking you through the passenger cars and practically throwing you into your seat. You land with a thud, your arm bouncing against the window painfully. You keep a stoic expression, trying not to let him break you so soon.Â
He takes a seat beside you, straightening out his jacket and tugging on his tie. Something white flashes in his jacket pocket and you lean forward, perplexed when you realize what it is. âWhat is that?â You question, not quite believing your eyes. Finch glances down at the thick wad of cash in his jacket and grins.Â
âOh, this? Mr. Morgan must have forgotten to collect the rest of his payment.â He sends you a condescending smile and you flinch away in disgust. âHe was too enamored with my fiancee to pay much attention, Iâm afraid.â
âThatâs his money,â you snap, the volume of your voice catching the attention of a few other passengers. Finch sends them apologetic smiles, making you seem like a mad woman. âHe earned that!â You object, eyeing the money warily.Â
His hand snakes out, gripping you tightly around the arm and dragging you towards him until your noses are nearly touching. You nearly gag at the smell of his cigar-infused breath. Itâs not like when Arthur would smoke one, you didnât mind that. But this was making you sick to your stomach.Â
âLet's get a few things clear, I will not be dealing with an obstinate wife. You can either get yourself in order or Iâll do it for you.â
Your lips pull back in disgust and you jerk yourself out of his grip. Heâs not as strong as he pretends to be and youâre not going to be scared into submission again. âIâm not your wife yet. My father still has time to pay.â
He laughs at you, spittle flying from your lips and sprinkling across your cheeks. âHe has time to pay, but that doesnât mean heâll be getting you back, sweetheart.â Your eyes widen with the realization and you want to throw yourself off the side of the train.Â
You never had any chance to get out of this situation. Mr. Crane was always in control of it all. To even think of having a hope of getting back home was foolish. To believe for a second that you were going to escape this had been utter idiocy.Â
He sees the crestfallen expression and sinks into his seat with a satisfactory look on his face. He thinks you to be subdued. But now youâre nothing more than a cornered animal with no other choice of escape. Youâve got nothing left for you, nothing to hold onto.Â
As much as youâd thought youâd bonded with Arthur, you were still nothing more than a job to him. You were nothing more than a commodity to be traded between men. You would never have a say over your life.Â
You have nothing, you doubt you ever actually had anything left for you. You glance over at the man beside you and feel a cool dread blanket itself over you. Nothing left to lose.Â
Thereâs a solid weight tucked into the bodice of your dress. Its cool metal has been warmed by your skin. Its handle curves around your ribs and it only has one bullet left. You reach down the front of your dress, fingers curling around the revolver youâd stolen from a dead man.Â
Finch glowers at your inappropriate behavior âWhat are-â You pull the gun out, turning it on him. He jumps back in shock and throws his hands in the air on instinct. âPlease-â you revel in his pathetic pleading only for a moment. Pulling the trigger a second time is surprisingly easy. The screams that ring out through the train car are less enjoyable. âShit!â He cusses, hands coming up to try and staunch the flow of blood pouring from his stomach.Â
You slip your hand into his blazer, stealing the money before he can object. You run out of the passenger car, leaping to the flat car with all the cargo. It will take a few minutes for them to catch onto what happened and figure out where you went.Â
You donât know what youâre going to do now. Youâre stuck on a moving train, thereâs nowhere for you to hide. You hadnât thought when youâd shot him, you just wanted that smug look on his face to disappear.Â
âWhere is she?â You hear the guards shouting out your name, flipping over crates to find you. Theyâre still at the front of the train, but you donât have long until they start moving back here.Â
God, what have you done?
You just know, if you made it to that train station, you were never going to make it out. His men would be waiting there to transport you. Youâd be watched every second of your life, you canât do it again. You canât be locked in a gilded cage, thatâs not a life worth living.Â
Thereâs no escape for you. Nowhere left to run, nowhere to hide. You glance over the left side of the train. Thereâs a slight dip into a deep ravine. The crashing water looks almost peaceful from up here.Â
You donât know if it would be a quick death but you know it would be merciful compared to whatâs waiting for you at your last stop. You keep your eyes on the water, see yourself taking control of your life for the first time, and take a step up on the rail.Â
Someone shouts your name from the right side of the train and you gasp, arms circling wildly as you almost go toppling over the edge. They shout your name again, panic laced in the tone. This doesnât sound like Finch or any of the other guards. You whip around and find Arthur riding his horse beside the train.Â
âWhat the hell are you doing, woman?âÂ
Your brows furrow in confusion and your eyes dart between him and the ravine. âJumping! What the hell are you doing?â
His gaze narrows and he shouts to be heard over the rumble of the train tracks. âStopping you from being a goddamn fool. Get over here!â You hear the guards getting closer as they storm down the rest of the train.Â
You donât have long to make a decision, you can already see his horse struggling to keep up with the speed of the train. Thereâs a bridge coming up in a moment, he wonât be able to go any further and they wonât be able to come after you.Â
Itâs a split-second decision, one that has you pushing off the railing of the car and rushing towards him. You donât have time to doubt yourself or plan this out further, you take a running leap off the train, towards his outstretched arms.Â
He barely catches you in time, jerking on the reigns of the horse and bringing him to a sudden stop before all three of you go tumbling into the water. Shots fire off on the train, but theyâre gone before they can do any real damage.Â
Your chest heaves as you dangle from his arms, fingers digging into his shirt desperately. Your heart is pounding so hard against your chest that you almost canât hear what heâs saying, but you get the gist of it.Â
���The hell were you thinking? Trying to jump off the damn train! Youâre a fool, woman.â He tugs you onto the saddle the rest of the way. As much as he tries to sound angry you can feel his relief in the way he squeezes you close to him.Â
âThank you,â you whisper, head sinking into his neck and breathing in the familiar scent.Â
He sighs, struggling between yelling at you more and just enjoying the fact that he got to you before you did something neither of you could recover from. âYouâre welcome, just,â he pauses, holding you a little closer, âdonât be so damn stupid again.â
You laugh and itâs a little wet as tears start to pool in your eyes. âIâm not planning on it.â You sit up, easing away from him and glancing over your shoulder. You watch as the train grows smaller until you can only see a plume of smoke and nothing more. âWhat the hell are we going to do?â
He sighs and turns the horse around. You maneuver yourself around, facing forward and pushing back against him. âI donât know. Dutch ainât gonna be happy about you cominâ back with me.âÂ
You bite your lip, a hundred different possibilities swirling through your head. Youâve never been able to make a choice before, faced with it, youâre overwhelmed with options. You canât pick one so you blurt out the first coherent thought you have.Â
âWhat if we donât go back?â
Arthur stills behind you, âWhat?â His tone is low and filled with something you know means heâs ready to say no.Â
âJust for a little while,â you rush the words out quickly, trying to fight for a chance to get him to listen. âWe can send this to the camp,â you tug out the wad of cash youâd stolen from Finch and Arthur barks out a laugh. You feel his chest tremble behind you and it makes you grin.Â
âDid you steal his money?â
âYour money, technically,â you correct, grinning over your shoulder at him. âBesides, he doesnât need it anymore.â He gives you a concerned look but you just wave him off. âWe can send the camp some money and go off on our own for a while.â
âI donât know, kid.â
âDonât call me that,â you interrupt, glaring at him. âItâll only be for a little while, Arthur. Come on, Iâm free for the first time in my life, enjoy it with me.â
He looks uncertain and you know itâs an odd notion to him, putting himself first instead of the camp or Dutch. Youâre sure heâs never done it before. Breaking away from them instead of going about like the loyal soldier he is.Â
âJust a little while?â
You nod, turning just enough to tuck the money in his pocket. âJust a little while,â you swear.
âJohn Marston!â You frown, turning away from the oven and glancing out the window. Arthurâs grinning by the gates of the horse pen, leaping over the wood, and walking out to greet someone. You abandon the stew, heading towards the door of your home.Â
Outside are two horses, one with a woman and her son, and an abandoned one. The owner is currently bringing Arthur into a brief embrace, John, you presume. Arthurâs told you about him a bit. They werenât always close but it was getting better before Arthur went away.Â
Sometimes you feel bad, having dragged him away from everything he was familiar with. You meant it when you said you only wanted to be gone for a little while. You knew if you went back immediately there would be hell to pay with Dutch and youâd both be put to work.Â
Youâd be going from one owner to another. All youâd wanted was a few weeks on the road on your own. But a few weeks turned into six months and then a year, and it was Arthur telling you he couldnât go back. He couldnât stand what the gang was turning into. What Dutch was turning into. All youâd given him was an excuse to finally get out before it all blew up.
You walk down the steps of the home Arthur built, wiping your hands off on your apron. You give a brief wave to the woman you assume is Abigail. She waves back, slipping off the horse and helping Jack down.Â
Arthur pulls away from John, turning towards you and motioning you forward. John gives you an apprehensive look. âDo I know you?â
Arthur gives him your name, throwing an arm over your shoulder and pulling you in closer. âThat job Dutch got from Crane.â Johnâs face lights up with recognition and he smirks.Â
âI see,â he shakes his head and gives Arthur a knowing look. âItâs always a woman with you, isnât it?â You snort at how aggrieved Arthur looks. âWell,â John turns towards you and smiles, ânice to finally meet the woman that got him under control.â
âNice to meet you too,â you smile lightly at him, pulling away from Arthur. âAre you going to be joining us for dinner?â
âNo, heâs not,â Arthur answers at the same time John says, âI would love to.â
Arthur and John share a look you canât understand. You glance past John and wave Abigail forward, âCome in, please. Iâd enjoy the company.â
âForgive my obstinate husband, he tends to linger where he ainât wanted.â She brushes past him and you lead her inside your home. Leaving Arthur and John to bicker outside. Jack stays outside, smiling up at Arthur. You know heâs missed the boy, youâre sure heâs okay entertaining them for one night.Â
Abigail helps you set the table while Arthur and John catch up over a bottle of whiskey. Arthur tried to pull out a cigar but youâd shut that down quick. Heâd had a cough a little while ago and the doctor advised cutting down on tobacco if he wanted it to go away. You know itâs hard but youâre cracking down on how much he smokes.Â
âWe got the money you sent,â Johnâs telling Arthur as they come over to join you all at the table. Jack eagerly hops into the seat beside Arthur before you can snag it and you grin. âDutch blew it all and wouldnât tell us on what. He kept saying we still needed another score.â
John shakes his head and the distant look in his eyes makes your stomach churn. âYouâre a lucky bastard you got out when you did, Arthur, truly.â
âHosea?â Arthur questions and you grimace at the look on Johnâs face. You can see Arthur deflate as John shakes his head.Â
âThere was a bank robbery, Molly told the Pinkertons we were going to be there, he didnât make it.â
Arthurâs hand clenches around the fork and you wish you could say something that would make him realize itâs not his fault. âI should have been there,â he mutters.Â
âWouldnât have done anything, man. Hosea had given up in the end. We all had. It was so damn divided, the family was gone.â
âStill.â Arthur insists, glaring down at his plate like it had offended him.Â
âNo,â to your surprise itâs Abigail that snaps. âDutch was gone and that bastard Micah just kept pushing him over the edge. The only thing you would have done is get yourself killed. Youâre damn lucky Arthur Morgan.â
Youâre sure heâll still blame himself later. Reason a hundred times over that had he been there something would have been different. Even if it was him on the other end of the gun heâd be happier knowing someone else hadnât died when it could have been him. You couldnât stand that these self-sacrificing ideals Dutch had drilled into him were still present.Â
But you know Abigail and John help ease the guilt slightly. Itâs on Arthur to let it go entirely, though you doubt that will happen anytime soon. John picks up on the change in mood, heâs reluctant to let the night sour so soon.Â
He turns towards you with a look that makes you feel like you need to prepare for trouble. âSo you did all that to escape getting married. And then you marry this moron?â He motions towards Arthur and you canât help but laugh.Â
âJohn!â Abigail snaps but he only smiles at her. You can see the way she fights the twitch of her lips and it makes you smile in turn.Â
You correct him, âWeâre not technically married-â
âMight as well be,â Arthur argues, glaring at John. You reach across the table, taking his hand in yours and gently squeezing. You canât help but laugh at him.Â
âYeah, we might as well be,â you agree. âBut it was never about not wanting to be a wife. I just wanted to have a damn choice. Thatâs what I got out here. I can hunt or cook. Sew or go out and make some money. And itâs a lot nicer being a wife out in the country than it is in the city, Iâll tell you that much.â
âHereâs hoping,â Abigail mutters. She glances towards Arthur, âThatâs why weâre out here. We got word from a few people that you might be lurking around here. Johnâs thinking of getting a house, really settling down.â
Arthur sighs, leaning back in his chair and glaring at John. âThatâs why youâre here? You want a handout,â he accuses.Â
âNo!â John snaps. âDammit, Arthur, why you always gotta assume the worst of me?â
âBecause itâs usually true,â Arthur mutters. âIf thatâs not what you want then what is it?â
John purses his lips and lets out a spluttering breath. âA loan,â he lands on, struggling to find the right word.Â
Arthur barks out a laugh, slapping his hand on the table and poking a knowing finger into Johnâs chest. âI knew it!â
John swats his hand away and glares. âLook, Morgan, I only need a little. Just to buy some animals, get started on the house.â
âWhatâd ya want Marston, my whole damn house?â
Abigail lands a gentle hand on your arm and nods to the porch. âTheyâll be at it for a while.â You nod and leave the table, following her to the swing out back. She settles down on it with a sigh, gazing out at the trees that line your home.Â
âYouâve got a nice life out here.â
You smile fondly, âI like to think so. Weâre thinking about getting a few cows, maybe starting a proper ranch.â
Her face lights up at the idea and she laughs. âThatâs what John wants. Itâs unbelievable how similar they are, theyâre too thick-headed to see it.â
You can still vaguely hear them bickering inside the house. You peer inside and see Jack sitting at the table, watching them both with an entranced expression. You canât help but grin at the look on Arthurâs face. Heâs laying into John but he looks happier than youâve seen him in a while.Â
You know heâs missing everybody, has been for a long time. Maybe if Abigail and John are close by heâll have that sense of familiarity again. âThe others,â you start, turning back to Abigail. âCharles and Sadie, what happened to everyone else?â
âA few of them are living good lives, some of them arenât. Most of them are drifting, not ready to give up the outlaw life just yet.â
âItâs hard to watch the world change while youâre still stuck in the same spot.â You brush some hair out of your eyes and smile at Abigail. âMe and Arthur are gonna help you and John. But Iâd like it if you were both close by. It would be nice to have someone familiar near us, weâre pretty lonely up here.â
She gives you a brief smile back, âI think that would be nice.â
Johnâs voice picks up from inside and you jump, âOh thatâs a load of bull-â
Abigailâs smile drops and she leans over your shoulder to shout, âWatch it!â at John. You laugh when you see the perturbed look on his face. She motions towards his son and Arthur gives John a smug look.Â
âYou gonna help him?â You ask Arthur as you settle into bed later. He opens his arms, pulling you into his embrace once youâre settled under the covers.Â
âJohn?â You nod, brushing a strand of hair out of his eyes. âYeah, âcourse Iâm gonna help him. But thereâs nothing wrong with jerking him around a little bit first.â
You roll your eyes and shake your head, tucking yourself under his chin. You almost think heâs asleep but then heâs speaking up again. âWe should really do it.â
You pull back, brows furrowed in confusion. âDo what?â
Thereâs a certain look in his eyes that causes something to swirl in your stomach. Itâs not an unpleasant feeling, just an excited one, âGet married.â
You give him a bewildered look, shaking your head in disbelief. Nearly five years youâve both been living out here and heâs never once mentioned getting married. You never thought you two actually needed it. You always knew what you were to each other, how much you meant to one another.Â
You were each otherâs salvation. Thereâs no telling what graves you would be laying in were it not for Dutch bringing you both together. You hadnât thought he wanted to be married, he always told you heâd given those dreams up. âYou really mean that?â
He shrugs like itâs the easiest decision in the world. âMight as well, right?âÂ
You shake your head, but thereâs no fighting the way your lips curl up. âYouâre a fool, Arthur Morgan.â
He nods, dipping his head down to press a gentle kiss on your temple. He treats you so gently, it makes you want to cry. But then he goes and says something ridiculous like, âYeah, a fool for you,â and he makes you laugh.Â
You tug him down, lips nearly touching his. âYes,â you whisper, âIâll marry you.â You were always scared of living a life like this. Being tied to one man for the rest of your time on earth. But heâs not some city man looking to make you into a pet. He lets you live, breathe, and be free. Heâs a partner not a warden and thatâs all youâve ever wanted.Â
end. â I do not own the characters or the game Red Dead Redemption 1/2, but this writing is my own all rights reserved Š not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.
#Arthur Morgan x reader#arthur morgan x you#arthur morgan imagine#Arthur Morgan#rdr2 x reader#rdr2 x you#rdr2 imagine#rdr2#red dead redemption 2#Red dead redemption 2 x reader
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Why Thereâll Never Be Another Good Omens 2 Experience
The strangest thing happened after a few days post my watching of S2. I got a wave of real, bittersweet sadness.
Not due to the obvious â I was dealing with that too, but with more excitement than anything â but because I realized something, as a writer and consumer of media. I realized that itâs unlikely Iâll ever get a media experience close to what I experienced at the end of Good Omens 2. Because really, its setup was absolutely unparalleled â in general, and for myself personally.
I am currently writing my third romance, and what Iâve learned primarily about the genre, the way for it to really work, is that there needs to be something keeping the couple apart initially. The more things keeping the couple apart, the stronger the romance hits. The more the couple clashes with each other, the better it is. Societal norms, class issues, initial dislike, literal dangerâall these aspects are what make a romance a story. Itâs that conflict that creates the compelling narrative. No romance was ever popular because things worked out well from the beginning â itâs that âlook at what we were, and look at us nowâ aspect that gives readers/watchers that satisfaction. Itâs the âI canât believe this happenedâ effect. The âI would never have foreseen thisâ effect. The âtheyâll never be togetherâ effect. Itâs why forbidden romances are so incredibly popular.
Another aspect that makes a romance story really work well is the amount of time it takes for the romance to develop. A couple that gets together after a few days? Eh, itâs tricky. You better make it really dramatic somehow. A great example is Titanic â class differences, betrothal, and a huge amount of danger threatens this couple, so them being in love after only a few days works. But what really sells this one is because we can see how this romance has survived beyond those few days. We see it 80 years in the future, still there, in the memory of Rose. That is why it hits so hard. Romances that span over long periods of time (especially ones that are bittersweet/tragic) hit so much more than ones spanning a short period.
But wait! Thereâs more!
You can up this effect by not only having the romance take time in storyâŚbut having it take time in real life, for the viewer/reader.
This is why romances in TV shows that take years to finally work out are so compelling. Itâs that âPam and Jimâ effect, that will-they-wonât-they deal. We are waiting right along with them, and weâre feeling that same relief when all those things keeping them apart finally fall away. This is harder to pull off, because thereâs never that guarantee that the story will make it that far. TV shows get cancelled, creators lose interest or die, etc. So itâs not just âWill They, Wonât They,â itâs âWill They, Wonât They, Can They Even Try?â
This is also compounded by that fear that it wonât happen in-story after all, and while in romances youâre pretty positive that things work out (they kinda have to, for it to be labeled a âromanceâ) in other media, thereâs always that possibility. Look at Community â thereâs a forbidden/conflict-ridden romance that didnât end up working out, even though it was âWill They, Wonât Theyâd for six entire seasons. You also then have shows and ships where fans are almost sure it wonât happen, but still hold out hope. (See: Supernatural, Sherlock, etc.)
Now. Now look at Good Omens. Look at that absolutely unparalleled, unbelievable set up. Itâs unbelievable because it takes almost every single thing that makes a romance compelling, and not only uses all of them, but dials them up to 11.
Why are they at odds? Why are they forbidden from being together?
Because they are literally the most opposing forces you can imagine in Western Canon. They are the Angel Guarding The Gate and The Serpent of Eden. The literal only way you couldâve made this a bigger deal wouldâve been to make it God and Satan, and even that wouldâve not hit as hard, because itâd be like two CEOs getting together â thereâs no fear of a higher power adding that delicious conflict. And to add to all this, in real life, the couple is portrayed as two men, which adds that second meta level of conflict.
And what fear/danger is keeping this couple apart?
Not just familial disappointmentâbut disappointment from God and Heaven and Hell. Not just moral guilt, but the guilt of potentially dooming the entire Earth. And finally, on top of that, the very real danger of being killed. Not only that, but making it as though you never even existed.
And in real life, they face all those roadblocks that queer couples in media have been battling for years and years, but I'll talk about that more in a second.
Okay, then Time. How long have they been kept apart?
ForâŚall of it.
All of the time that ever existed.
They, quite literally, could not have been kept apart longer.
And this leads into those final two points, the ones that actually really sell it. Because I can sit down right now and write a story about an angel and a demon falling for each other at the beginning of time against all oddsâŚbut what I canât do is to have already written it thirty-three years ago.
Thatâs how long this story has existed. Thirty. Three. Years.
Iâm not even counting how this is using characters that have existed as opposing forces for thousands of years. Iâm not even saying that, even though thatâs also a part of it. But besides that, this story, this exact story started thirty-three years ago, and is still being continued by the author to this day.
Do you know how uncommon that is?
Yes, we have canon that has lasted for many, many years. Hundreds. We get new versions of beloved older stories ever year. But itâs so very rare that they are by the same creator. We get new Sherlock Holmes content, but it is not written by Arthur Conan Doyle. This, on the other hand, is actual canon content, written by the author of the original. That is unbelievably rare.
That means weâve got a fandom where some people have grown up with these characters. People who read it at twenty are fifty-three. People who read it at fifty are eighty-three. Kids who saw their parents reading the book now have children of their own. It is a cult classic that has been in the hearts of so many people for generations. Me, personally, I fell in love with it ten years ago, at age twenty, at the very beginning of my own writing journey. This story means so much to people, because itâs stood that test of time.
And yet, this story was never explicitly romantic. So many saw it that way, but it was never something confirmed. Because this was a book from the 90s, at a time where this kind of romance just wasnât in popular media if it wasnât played as a joke. It was, back then, the same kind of âforbiddenâ as a romance between angel and demon. So people imagined, but they never expected anything more. And theyâve continued not expecting more, because even in the 2019 first season, there was never any true confirmation of anything, and people accepted it. You have a 33-year-old story here â itâs possible that this major change/confirmation could happen, but all things considered, it was unlikely. You would never blame the creator for not making major developments to a story they wrote with their late friend a lifetime ago. And no one in production was saying a word to confirm or deny, but weâve seen all this before. It was a Will-They-Wonât-TheyâŚProbably-Not situation.
And then you have the end of S2.
And that's where that bittersweet sadness comes in for me, personally. Not at a huge level, not to the point where I'd have it any other way, but it's there regardless. Because I realized that this was a unique situation that could never be replicated, for me, and likely for many, especially readers of the book pre-show. In all likelihood, I would never again experience a romantic payoff like this one. Because it was the most forbidden of forbidden romances, the couple of which have been kept apart by the worst of all dangers and highest level of guilt for the longest amount of time literally possible, written over a real-life span of time where this kind of romance went from âcompletely taboo even in real lifeâ to âfinally acceptable in popular media,â written by the same creator, and not confirmed as canon until the story reached the age of Jesus Christ himself.
And the real kicker is, even after everything these two literally star-crossed lovers have gone throughâŚtheyâre still being kept apart. Theyâve still not taken down those final, seemingly insurmountable barriers between them. It wasnât a âhere you go đâ move to make long-time fans happy â itâs being used as a perfect, painful plot point. After 33 years, weâre still having to wait longer.
Chef's kiss. Couldnât have been a better set up if it was mathematically calculated. And yet, the best part is that it happened organically.
It just works.
#good omens#good omens 2 spoilers#go2 spoilers#good omens 2#gos2 spoilers#good omens s2 spoilers#good omens spoilers#good omens season 2#good omens season 2 spoilers#gos2#good omens meta#good omens 2 meta#neil gaiman
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please more evil ford please i stare with my puppy eyes for this i am obbsessed
Yeah all right, I've been working on some art. (For context, we're talking about this Evil Ford.)
Evil Ford is Evil as in "cheerfully works with Bill even after learning his full plot" and "is totally ready to conquer and/or destroy the world." But other than the shocking lack of basic ethics and the supervillain objective he's mostly the same guyâwhich means he still cares about his family. He's hoping to get them to join in on the world conquest plan.
Forty-odd years ago he went off to college promising someday he'd be a big shot scientist who changes the world and he'd make his family a fortune. If taking over reality doesn't qualify he doesn't know what does. The family can join him and his buddy Bill and rule the universe together. Pines Pines Pines Pines!
Unfortunately for him, the rest of the family still has normal moral compasses. And also they've met Bill.
Bill can't currently possess Ford due to Reasons; but even though he can't get in the driver's seat he still has permission to ride shotgun at any time. Ford talks to him pretty regularly. He HAS been caught doing this. Stan thinks he's just gone a little nutty from thirty years of isolation.
Naturally, since he was always on Bill's side, Ford's perception of events during Weirdmageddon is a bit different:
I finally made an official Evil Ford New Costume Character Design, check out his exciting totally different brand new look:
I decided that, since Ford is still basically the same person aside from his terrible life goals, he'd probably have the same fashion sense. And so... nothing changes except two tiny details lmao.
But he DOES have tattoos:
I traced a canon character model and took off its top to get a base to slap tattoos on, and then went dang... they gave him a big head and arms. He looks goofy. Anyway,
His forearms have less incriminating tattoosâjust a birch tree and a sunrise. (The sunrise looks like the Journal 3 "The Muse Has Spoken" page.) The red text is the "triangulum entangulum" ritual; if anyone asks he'll go "it's uhh an ancient Sumerian poem about how great science is." It's not until he's topless that it's like "oh so he's a CULTIST cultist." The one exception is an unconcealed Eye of Providence on his right palmâbut it's in an ink that's only visible in certain lighting. It's there so at any time he can point his hand at something and go "Bill are you seeing this BS?"
Of course, he still has the "hey now, you're an all star" neck tattoo. I didn't have room to draw it.
As you can see, he's made being Bill's right hand man a core part of his personality. Rather than spending 30 years scrabbling around the multiverse desperately searching for a way to destroy Bill, he spent 30 years chilling in the Quadrangle of Qonfusion as Bill's specialest favoritest Henchmaniac, and only scrabbling around the multiverse occasionally for fun & profit.
Here's a photo Bill & Ford took at a Nightmare Realm house party like fifteen years ago, three minutes before Bill started an argument and set the house on fire.
Most people have their wild party years in college, Ford has his in his 40s.
#stanford pines#grunkle ford#bill cipher#(he's in enough pictures; he's worth tagging too)#gravity falls#gravity falls fanart#evil ford au#my art
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SAUDADE.
⧠PAIRING: gojo satoru x f!reader, geto suguru x f!reader | 3.7k words
⧠SUMMARY: canon au, set after geto leaves so lots of unresolved feelings, alternate between past and present, megumi and tsumiki cameo, satoru has a raging crush on you but you're blind, suguru also had a raging crush on you but you were still blind, slight angst bc canon jjk events, lots of longing on suguru's end, you're confused af, satoru PINES for you and shoko is so tired of him, but overall very fluffy
⧠RHEYA'S NOTE: will i ever publish the actual canon au? who knows. this fic is written in that same au but it's just a snippet of their lives. if you've read angel on my shoulder, just know that's an alternate ending of this au where reader dies lol. but this is very sweet bc you don't die !! you and satoru love each other lots but suck at showing it. happy valentine's day everyone <33
you glance at satoru's giddy smile, wariness creeping up your shoulders before turning to shoko. "what's wrong with him?" you ask, shifting slightly from where you're leaning against one of balconies of jujutsu high.
"who knows?" she sighs, eyes flickering up to glance at the snowy haired sorcerer just barely before they turn back to you. "ignore him."
"hey!" satoru huffs, walking closer to sling an arm around your shoulderâcasual, like it's something he doesn't have to think about. you grumble under the extra weight, shooting him a glare, but he's too busy smiling like he's up to something.
"soâŚ" he grins down at you, eyes shining and full of mischief. "know what day it is today?"
you blink at him, trying to scour your brain. "what's the date again?"
satoru gives you a blank stare, before sighing heavily. "god you're slow. it's february 14th, stupid."
"oh," you reply blankly, relaxing because it's nothing inherently important. "so valentine's day?"
satoru's smile comes back full forceâcheeky and blinding. "exactly! and when i went shopping today guess what happened?"
"what happened?" shoko asks boredly, shaking her head when she makes eye contact with you.
"well," he drags out the word, crossing his arms like he's pleased with himself. "i was walking along after picking up some sweets becauseâ"
"because you have an addiction," you supplement, and satoru pauses to glare down at you, reaching out to flick a long finger against your forehead.
"it's not an addiction! and don't interrupt me! anywaysâ"
you smother a smile that shoko mirrors.
"âi was walking and then these two girls came up to me all smiley. like they were giggling and shit, right?"
"uh huh."
"and they started going on and on about how i was the most handsome guy they've ever seen. and then they asked how come i was walking around by myself on valentine's day."
you blink, suddenly feeling a strange mix of interest and irritation.
"so i told them that it's not really my thing and that i didn't have anyone to celebrate with anyway. and then they said it was actually a crime that someone like me was single on valentine's day."
you have to suppress a roll of your eyes, though you're not sure why.
"so basically the moral of the story is that i'm extremely charming and super good-looking too! and that girls love me!"
he looks at you, eyes scrutinizing your expression as you glance at shoko, unimpressed.
"that's it? that's your crazy story?"
"well you guys always say i'm full of it when i call myself hot! now i have proof that it's a universal truth!"
"well we're not stupidâ" shoko rolls her eyes, hugging her arms to push away the cold as she leans against the railing. "âwe know you're freakishly hot. you're just obnoxious and we like teasing you."
"ugh." satoru rolls his eyes, huffing as he stretches his joints. "you guys are ridiculous. andâ"
he pauses, an odd expression crossing his face as he blinks in thought. then he's turning to you with the most smug smirk you've ever seen on him. "wait. you think i'm hot?"
you frown, lips parting in mild confusion. "huh?"
"that's what shoko just said. that you think i'm freakishly hot."
your brows shoot up, an unfamiliar rush of heat crawling up your skin. "but she said both of us! like it's just something that's obvious. i mean as long as you have eyes anyone can seeâ"
"oh so it's obvious, is it?" satoru's expression is oddly giddy, a pink flush settling high on his cheekbones.
you gape at him, suddenly speechless. you don't remember satoru ever having the ability to make you speechless before.
you can't comprehend the stirring in your chestâuncomfortable and unfamiliar.
"youâ" you scoff, reaching up to shove him away. "you're full of shit. doesn't change no matter how hot you are."
shoko has gone quiet, eyes darting between you and satoru with an uncharacteristic glint of curiosity. but satoru's gaze does not stray away from you, pearly whites on full display as he licks his lips. he doesn't say anything else, running his fingers through his hair.
"sure sure," satoru humsâpleased. "whatever you say."
you throw shoko an exasperated glare, and she shakes her head, though there is a shine of amusement in her eyesâlike she knows something that you don't.
"i mean, they were right you know?" satoru ponders, leaning back against the railing. "why aren't we doing something fun today? we used to go out and buy a shit ton of chocolate back whenâ"
he stops, expression going sour, before disappearing all together. there is a clear absence, one that the three of you notice but try not to linger on.
("valentine's day?" suguru had asked years ago, glancing down at you with a smile. "you like it?"
"definitely not," you reply, cheeks warming as you fiddle with the sugared churros in your hand, unable to look at him. "what's so great about a day where couples spend a shit ton of money on each other to make the rest of us singles feel miserable?"
a muted chuckle, and when you look up suguru's eyes are shining with mirth. "i'm sure you wouldn't think that if you weren't single."
"i guess," you huff, glancing at the sidewalk. your face feels like it's on fireâbut suguru has always had that effect on you. "not very likely to happen though."
the expression suguru throws you will linger in your mind until the day you die. "what do you mean?" he asksâincredulous, like you were speaking nonsense. he stops in his tracks, the busy streets bustling around him as you continue to walk.
you take a bite of your churro, glancing back at him with clear confusion. "huh? oh i just meant me dating someone is unlikely," you shrug, though suguru looks speechless, lips parted and eyes wide behind dark bangs.
"why on earth do you say that?" he asks, shoving his hands into his pockets. he seems to visibly shake off his initial shock to continue walking, and you patiently wait for him to rejoin your sideâhe does.
"i don't know," you say, somewhat bashfully because you don't usually talk about these things with him. "do you really think there's room for things like that in our lives?"
"do you?" he counters, and you're too busy formulating your answer to notice that he's oddly interested, eyes continuously darting over your face.
"i mean, it'd be great if there was," you ponder, taking another quick bite. "it'd be nice to be able to settle down with someone even after all the crap we've gone through."
"rightâŚ" suguru seems to nod along with you, matching your steps even with his longer stride.
"butâ" you stress. "considering that most of us are too traumatized or dead by that time, i don't have much faith."
you laugh at your own statement, but there isn't much amusement in it at all. putting it into words makes you truly realize how shitty your lives are even at such a young age.
your mind drifts to the cerulean eyed sorcerer who's currently off in a different city, being made to fight because he is god on earth in a seventeen year old body. it drifts to a brown haired girl who sits, secluded in a room as bodies are sent to her on a conveyor belt, her hands outstretched to feel blood and gore and horror day in and day out. then it drifts to the boy who is most like you, the one with the dark bangs who rationalizes this pain, this service you have devoted yourselves to with the need to do good for othersâbecause there is no other explanation for why you have to go through this.
the same boy who takes your answer in critically, eyes heavy with an oddly somber sheen. he doesn't say anything, thinking hard, and you focus on eating your churro because you've never once found silence with suguru to be uncomfortable.
you are halfway finished when he breaks it.
"wellâŚ" suguru's voice is oddly high, a tick of nerves that doesn't usually infiltrate his calm tone. "if there was room for it, what would a good valentine's day look like for you?"
you laugh, loud and unfiltered, and suguru's skin flushes at the sound.
"i don't know!" your laughter dies down into hushed giggles. "i can't think of anything. besides this is stupid as hell!"
"indulge me," he says quietly, and when you turn to look up at him he's staring at you deeplyâeyes hooded and smile gone. you suddenly feel oddly parched as heat crawls up your neck.
"umâ" you swallow, the churro in your hand forgotten as you glance at the sidewalk again. "i-i'm not sure. i've really never thought that much about it."
"would you want flowers?" he asks. you suddenly become acutely aware that his voice has gone lower, throaty and deep in a way that sends chills up your spine.
you shake your head quietly, somehow nervous to look at him. "it makes me sad that they die off in a few days. better to keep them planted than cut them for a bouquet."
a quiet huff of laughterâfond and nostalgic. "that's on par for you. very in-character."
you lick your lips, tasting the sugar from the treat in your hand. "i guessâŚmaybe i'd like chocolates?"
"chocolates?" suguru repeats, like he's surprised. you don't know why his reaction has you stumbling, but you shake your head quickly, appalled that you're even telling him this in the first place.
"i meanâit's not a big deal or anything! even just a small box of them would do! i don't really care anywayâ"
"i would've guessed you'd like a plushie or something along those lines." he hums, a small smile stretching across his face. there's a dust of color blooming across his cheekbones, and you think he looks unfairly charming.
"that's good too!" you reply, too quickly, before catching yourself and ducking your head. "i meanâŚi don't know. plushies are really cute. i think they'd be a cute gift."
there's a beat of silence, and when you look up suguru is smiling at you like you've just put the stars in the sky for him. he hums to himself, eyes darting around the streets and looking much more at ease than he did a few minutes prior. you find yourself unable to look away.
"what would you want?" the words escape before you can stop them.
"me?" he asks, tilting his head in mild surprise.
"yeah. what would you want for valentine's day?"
suguru blanches, gaze darting over your facial features with shocking speed. it lingers on your eyes, before flickering downward, then shooting back up. you're trying to trace them but they're too fast, and he shuts them before you can process anything. he keeps his eyes closed as you curiously await his answer.
to this day you don't quite understand what he meant.
"anything i can get," he answers with a rueful smile, shaking his head at you fondly. his eyes bore into yours with an intensity you've never seen before. "anything at all.")
a familiar voice tickles your ear amongst the silence even now, and you rub your palms together. you can feel satoru's gaze on you, trailing over your expressionâsearching, analyzing.
you let himâused to it.
"that's enough of that for now. plus don't the two of you have to go check on the kids today?" shoko asks, eyeing the two of you pointedly. her voice has a strain to it, one that you can only pick up because you've known her so long. but you're grateful for the change in subject as you glance at satoru, who checks his phone.
"ah shit. they should be back from school by now but we were supposed to pick up some groceries beforehand," he mutters under his breath before looking down at you. "you wanna head over there first and i'll go get some stuff?"
"sure," you reply, patting shoko's shoulder in farewell. satoru steps closer, digging into his pockets before dropping the apartment keys into your palm. he pushes his shades up the bridge of his nose, eyes trailing over your face like he's searching for something, and yet you can't make out what.
a beat of silence.
"d-don't forget to get some of those cookies tsumiki said she liked last time." you drop the keys into your bag and shrug off the odd feeling of this conversationâsomething strange that you don't feel like looking into because you're scared of what you'll find out about yourself.
satoru's eyes go soft, a mixture of somber and affectionate, and he smiles easily. "you got it." he reaches out to ruffle your hair, licking his lips as he heads for the door. "see you later."
you watch him go, and think that you'd rather have him by your side. but you keep that to yourselfâso used to sewing your mouth shut.
("which do you want?" you ask satoru, who peers at the shelves over your shoulder. his close proximity does nothing to you, but he seems oddly giddy when he glances at your side profile.
"hmm, the white chocolate," he answers, low and hushed, like it's meant only for you to hear. you can feel the energy radiating off of himâcan feel it shake your very soul.
"okay," you reply, reaching up for the box, but satoru beats you to it. he stretches up, towering over you and you shoot him an playful glare. he had gotten a growth spurt over the holidays and wouldn't let you forget it.
"aw this is so sweet of you," he teases, excited and all too pleased. you roll your eyes, hiding a smile.
"you're the one who's been bugging us for valentine's day chocolate."
"like it wasn't a good idea," he counters with a grin. "even if we're all single we should still get chocolate."
you snort in amusement, before turning to call out across the aisle. "suguru which one should i get you?"
the dark haired male meets your gaze, and the warmth of it sends a tickle through your stomach. he shakes his head with a gentle smile, eyes crinkling at the corners. "don't worry about it. you know i'm not big on sweets anyway."
you deflateâhe smiles at you like he's happy you asked.
"you can give me his share," satoru interjects with a playful smirk, pressing his palm into your shoulder. you shake your head in exasperation.
"no way. i'm still going to get him something." your eyes dart across the shelves, before you reach up and pull down a box of unsweetened chocolates, tied with a red ribbon. "this should be good."
satoru eyes the box, and you glance at him. "suguru would like these right?"
"yeah," he shrugs, before crossing his arms. "as long as they aren't crazy sweet. he hates sweet stuff."
"okay good. then i'll get him these!" your smile stretches wide, and it doesn't go unnoticed.
"you're being awfully thoughtful today," satoru comments. you look at him quickly, quirking a brow.
"well i can't just get you one. you're not my only friend." you shoot back.
satoru grins. "guess that's true."
his arm takes its position around your shoulder as you head towards the counter.
"you were really particular about getting suguru something though. any special reason?" he pipes up, and you immediately go still, looking at him as you try to bite back an uncharacteristic surge of panic.
"of course not! i got something for everyone. i even got shoko the rum and raisin chocolates." you say quickly, fighting the urge to crumble under satoru's implications. "besides this was all your idea anyway!"
you dig into your wallet, pulling out exact change and smiling at the cashier, who puts all of your chocolates into a bag. you decide you'll gift them later, when you're in the comfort of the dorm.
"okay let's leaveâ" you pause when you turn around, breath catching.
because satoru is staring at you, an odd expression on his face. there's something behind his eyesârealization mixed with another emotion you can't quite place.
you're not sure if the expression excites you or scares you.)
you don't expect tsumiki to be so excited when you push open the door. she bounds out of her small bedroom, practically tripping over herself as she chants your name over excited giggles.
"hey kiddo, how was school?" you smile as she throws her arms around your waist. you pat her hair, making a mental note to take her for a haircut sometime soon.
"good! my friends gave me some chocolates today!" she's giddy as she says this, and you smile playfully.
"oh yeah? any boys?"
she immediately flusters at your quirked brow and teasing grin. "of course not!"
you laugh, patting her head again as you take a seat on the couch. "okay okay! where's your brother?"
you don't see the dark haired nine-year-old anywhere. normally he'd be doing his homework at the kitchen tableâso much more diligent than you ever were at that age.
"he's in his room," tsumiki answers, and your eyes catch the sneaky bit of amusement in her face.
"doing what?" you ask curiously. she smothers a smile, shrugging.
"i'm not sure." she raises her voice to call out. "megumi! she's here!"
you can hear him grumbling down the hall, hear his little footsteps padding across the floorâaffection swells within you.
you think back to the day satoru dragged you to meet him, and you internally remind yourself to thank him.
"hey gumi." you offer the kid a smile, though it falters when you notice the way his hands are hiding behind his back even as he mumbles a quiet greeting in return. "what's wrong?"
"iâŚ" his voice catches, and you notice the heavy pink flush crawling up his neck and into his cheeks. "i just wanted toâŚ"
he trails off again, and tsumiki nudges him discreetly. "just do it!" she whispers, not all that quietly. your eyes dart between them in confusion, and megumi tries to sink into his sweater's collar.
"megumi what's wrong? are you okay?" there's a note of concern you can't keep from your voice, and tsumiki gently pushes him closer to you. "did something happen?"
"noâŚ" he mumbles, attempting to hide his face even more. "i just wanted toâŚgiveâŚ"
you blink owlishly. "give�"
megumi lets out an exasperated huff, brows pinching helplessly before thrusting his arms into your line of sight. "here!"
your lips part. in his little hands are a box of chocolates and a small stuffed bear.
"this isâŚ" you trail off, taking them from his hands.
"he wanted to give you something for valentine's day! to show you how much he appreciates you!" tsumiki interjects, practically bouncing on her feet.
"no i didn't! it's just chocolates stop making it sound like such a big deal!" megumi immediately snaps, glaring at his sister. you can practically see his cheeks burn with embarrassment, and you think you will never stop caring for this kid. there's a tickle of a distant memoryâsmall fists clenched around a backpack and deep green eyes that stare up at you in childish apprehension.
those same green eyes now sneak glances at you, assessing your reaction, and you decide to put him out of his misery.
"this is so sweet megumi. thank you!" you smile at him gratefully, touched beyond recognition. your heart swells with affection once more.
megumi shoves his hands into his pockets, a stubborn pout on his face that makes the fat of his cheeks look that much more endearing. "whatever, it's not a big deal."
tsumiki shoots him a glare, before turning to you with a wide smile. "he says that but he was really excited to get you something!"
megumi gapes at her, eyes going wide in betrayal before they narrow. "shut up! besides it was gojo-san who gave me the idea!"
you blink, before smiling somewhat gingerly. though there is a strange sort of satisfaction in you when you hear those wordsâthe mention of satoru's name. as detached as he tries to remain, you know all too well how much more there is to his character.
"i thought gojo-san would suggest flowers," tsumiki ponders, reaching out to squish the little bear before looking at you curiously. "aren't flowers a typical gift to get someone for valentine's day?"
you shrug, smiling carelessly. "i guess so. but i'm glad he didn't because i don't really like floweâ"
it hits you. echoes of a conversation that occurred many many winters ago. it washes over you, a refreshing tide that cools your skin and tickles your face.
of course, it made sense now that you thought about it. there were no secrets between satoru and suguru after all.
a chime cuts through the silence. you glance down at your phone to see a casual text from the snowy haired wonderboy who has been by your side since the beginning, and you can't help but smile.
i'll be home in a minute :P
a promise that has remained constant all these years.
so you type back.
hurry back. waiting for you.
you smile to yourself, heart thudding heavily against your ribcage. "hm."
tsumiki quirks a brow. "what?"
"nothing," you shake your head, wetting your lips as you reach down to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. she smiles at you, stars in her eyes, and you think you'll remember that smile forever. "i was just thinking."
"about what?" megumi can't stop the curiosity from seeping into his voice as he peers at you. you grin, gently patting his head with the bear plushie and laughing when he swats you away.
"valentine's day," you answer, smiling at them as you stand up to head to the door. you already know who's about to knock. "i was just thinking that it's not too bad of a holiday."
#gojo satoru x reader#geto suguru x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#stsg x reader#satosugu x reader#gojo x reader#geto x reader#gojo x reader x geto#jjk angst#jjk fluff#gojou satoru x reader#getou suguru x reader#gojo satoru x you#geto suguru x you#satoru gojo x reader#jujutsu kaisen angst#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x you#gojo fluff#geto fluff#gojo angst#geto angst#suguru x reader
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Hiii idk if you are still taking requests but Poolverine has taken over MY LIFE haha I would die for a Logan/Wade/Reader where they just worship their tiny lil mutant gf who could 100% kick their asses if she wanted to
hi hii!! iâm always taking requests, as long as my pinned post says ârequests are openâ!
poolverine has taken over my entire being i fear.
Lil Ass Kicker â DP & WV
summary: due to ur size most of the time sometimes people under estimate how strong you truly are. besides your boyfriends; they like when you remind them <3
warnings: none besides canon typical violence =] !
notes: i didn't specify if reader had specific mutant abilities..maybe i'll come up with a specific one laterr for future fics / hopefully this meets ur expectations, enjoy!
at this point, you didn't get offended when people looked at your stature and thought you were some weak tiny human, when in reality you were just as strong as Logan.. maybe even stronger?
you could kick a grown mans ass in seconds! your boyfriends have witnessed it AND have been on the receiving end before. and lets just say,
they LOVE it.
"ohh, come on peanut!" wade yells from your far left in a somewhat disappointed tone, "I'll admit you look hot but that's just disgusting."
you'll admit this wasn't the prettiest site, even though wade just called you sexy. you were sweaty, kind of covered in blood, and had just broken a mans arm and was using it to make him punch himself in his face. it was very amusing to you until wade burst your bubble.
with a roll of your eyes and the slightest quirk of your lips tugging up in the corners you tossed the man to the side and skipped over to logan who was almost covered in blood completely; his knuckles were basically dyed red from his claws coming in and out and with the blood of half of the people he stabbed..
you guys were an odd trio, but you worked!
"looks like yer having fun, huh?" logan looked down at you with a smirk.
he can also admit that you look beautiful right now sweaty and kicking ass left and right. he'd definitely show you how much he enjoyed witnessing this when you three got home.
you nodded in response to his question humming out an "mhm".
once wade caught up to you two, you guys began to wrap up your mission. it went by in a flash with constant grunts, bodies hitting the floors, gun shots, and to many bones breaking.
yea it was a bit over the top but hey! wade wanted to be a 'good' guy today so this is the schedule! what wasn't on the schedule was watching wade get impaled in the head by his own katana.
logan was too busy fighting to come over and give wade a hand so you had to take matters into your own hands.
silently, you snuck over to where he was and took the guy who impaled your boyfriend by surprise. your elbow reeled forward and hit him in the back the head, causing him to stumble. quickly, your leg swept his feet from under him causing him to trip over his own two feet. right before he fell, you took your gun from it's holster on your thigh and shot him in the head just as he hit the floor.
"oh god, i'm so painfully hard right now, babe." wade's voice chimed in from the floor. he still had the katana sticking through his head and you could tell he was feeling that loopy effect of it right now.
with a sigh, you helped him to his feet and yanked the katana out of his head. he shook his head side to side and groaned at the feeling of it being pulled out.
"thank you my incredibly strong, beautiful, and tiny girlfriend." he made kissy noises from underneath his masks, wanting you to kiss him over it. with a bit of a grimace you stood on your toes and pressed a quick kiss over his lips.
"wha' about me?" logan said from behind you, referencing to the kiss.
with an exaggerated groan and playful stomps of your feet you turned around him and gave him a kiss too.
"I hope you guys know this is very unprofessional!" you shouted as you walked away from the two with a huff.
they were definitely going to show you how in love they were with you when you got home.
#deadpool and wolverine#deadpool 3#deadpool#wolverine#logan howlett#james howlett#deadpool x reader#wolverine x reader#logan howlett x reader#wade wilson x reader#poolverine x reader#poolverine#hugh jackman#ryan reynolds
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*props up table on its side between me and wrathful ghost of C.S. Lewis* So the Telmarines and Calormenes must speak a different language from the Narnians and Archenlanders, right? Like, the Narnians and Archenlanders most likely speak English, or something very similar to it, as all the humans are descended from the British Frank and Helen and Aslan probably would have given the talking animals the same language as their king and queen. But the Telmarines and presumably the Calormenes are descended from humans who made their way into the world of Narnia by accident, and most likely didn't speak English, so they would have their own languages descended from whatever languages their ancestors spoke.
(Actually, I don't know if the text ever establishes that the Calormenes are human. They could be something else; Narnia and Charn both have denizens that seem to be nearly indistinguishable from humans while not being humans, and there are thousands of pools in the Wood Between the Worlds. But for the sake of this argument let's assume they're human. Actually for the sake of this argument if they're not human they're even less likely to speak English. So it doesn't matter.)
Like, yeah, I know that Canonically they all speak English because C.S. Lewis thought this sort of question was a stupid thing to consider while inventing a fantasy world, but I follow a different school of thought and I think it's fun to consider the lingual barriers. Most characters we meet are some sort of royalty or nobility, but consider Shasta learning really odd English from Bree and Hwin, who haven't spoken it in years, and Aravis, who learned it as an elective in school and only knows a really stilted, formal version laced with cultural misunderstandings. His tutors try to train it out of him, to no avail, and when he becomes king he's always saying idioms he translated literally from Calormene and he has just the weirdest pronunciations of some things.
The four Pevensies learn Calormene and possibly Telmarine because they have to be able to speak to the other world powers and never quite forget it -- like their other skills that they learned in Narnia it fades somewhat the longer they stay in England, but also like their other skills it comes back quickly at need. When Peter goes to study at university his professors are amazed at the speed with which he picks up Arabic, and equally baffled by some odd cultural assumptions and seeming nonsense that he brought to the discussion.
Most Old Narnians speak a fair bit of Telmarine -- if they're of the sort that can pass as human it's useful, but even if they can't evesdropping and spying is an essential part of how they've survived this long -- but in their own hidden communities they never stopped speaking their own language. There are many factors in why they trust the fleeing Prince Caspian, but one of them is the fact that he speaks English -- awkward, rudimentary, unpracticed English, but English nonetheless. Someone taught him the language of Old Narnia, and he speaks to them in their own tongue, respectfully, like no Telmarine any of them have ever heard.
IDK. I just think it would be coo-- *Wrathful ghost of C.S. Lewis knocks the table over onto my head and I fall unconscious immediately*
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Like A Prayer (Part 3)
summary: best friends with wade youâre always being dragged into something even when heâs not trying to, what are you to do when you find the fate of your timeline in the hands of yourself, your chaotic merc and an angry wolverine whoâs hellbent on drinking himself to death?
content warnings: romance, some angst, a little fluff, character deaths, canon-typical violence, smut, lots of cussing, mutual pining, found family, drug and alcohol use, reader insert but with no use of y/n cuz I hate that shit, deadpool being deadpool, mentions of poor mental health (depression anxiety and ptsd mostly), scent marking, the honda odyssey scene needs a warning all on its own MINORS DNI
a/n: slightly shorter but hopefully worth it! Comments and criticisms are welcome!
tag list: sorry if you werenât tagged I tried tagging everyone that asked but some usernames didnât work! @allmyn1ghts @blooket-scares-me @amararosesblog @talanyra @spideybv28
Previous Chapter//Next Chapter
Are You That Somebody?
The two of you stepped through portal after portal in search of the perfect Logan who was willing to help you save your timeline. The first one was a little too short for Wadeâs liking, the next one too 80âs he had said, the one after that was too busy fighting the Hulk, the one after that too old, and the one after himâŚyou couldnât really think of anything to say about the one called Patch except that you found him the most attractive with his eyepatch out of all of them, unfortunately though he seemed to hate Wade the most.
Wade stopped as a portal closed behind you both, as he approached a different Wolverine from behind, this one was alone in a garage and was working on his motorcycle with his back turned to you smoking a cigar.
âNow weâre talking.â He said rubbing his hands together like he was warming up. Every Wolverine so far has tried to kill him on the spot but had spared you for some odd reason, so he probably was preparing himself. âThatâs the whole goddamn package right there.â He sounded like he was licking his lips under the mask.
This Wolverine was different, his build looked bigger than the other ones you had met, bulkier and he stood differently too as if he had more confidence in himself.
When he turns to get a good look at you both Wade lets out a girlish squeal as he covers his mouth with his hands.
âOh, my fuck!â He shouts excitedly smacking you in the arm. âThe Cavillrine! The legends are true.â
Now that this one was facing you, you could clearly see his face, he looked completely different from the others, still rugged but not as attractive to you. He looks you dead in the eyes and like all the others before him froze in place when he finally saw you, eyes unreadable as his nose flared.
It shocked you both when this Wolverine calls out your name, clear as day as Wade looks back and forth comically between you two incredulously. He steps forward towards you and you take a step back behind Wade, seeing first hand how violent Wolverineâs can be.
âSorry to interrupt whatever the fuck that was but may I say, sir, on behalf of all humanity, this just feels right!â Wade says stepping in between you two, breaking the intense eye contact. âWe will treat you so much better than those shit fucks down the street.â
âYou were just leaving.â This Wolverine snaps calmly as he flicks his wrist, reloading his arms and drawing his claws. With a hard smack of his arm he miscalculates and sends Wade flying into you, through another portal he had opened up at the last minute behind you.
The impact of his body sent you barreling into a pool table as you both flew out of the portal. Messing up whatever game they had going on, a few patrons of the dingy bar you were now in glared at the two of you angrily, one being so bold as to step up to you before Wade stands up grabbing the irate man by his neck, almost instantly putting him to sleep.
Pulling you to your feet, you dusted yourself off from being on the grimy floor and readjusted your clothes. It was getting late, you had no idea how many hours you guys had left but you still hadnât found a suitable Wolverine to replace your own yet and your chest was starting to tighten up in desperation and fear.
Looking to say something to Wade you realize while you were lost in yourself he had walked off, and instead was going up to a man at the bar. This one you could instantly recognize from behind from his hair tufts alone.
He had found another Wolverine and by the looks of his slouched shoulders this one was neck deep in an alcohol induced pity party.
You followed behind Wade just reaching the bar when the bartender came and took the cup from Wolverine looking equal parts annoyed and scared of the man in front of him. âI told you, youâre not welcome here, youâre not welcome anywhere. Now get the fuck out of my bar.â He said calmly not wanting to cause a big scene but still wanting to get his point across sternly.
âJust give me one more drink and Iâll leave.â The Wolverine answered as he looked down at where his cup had been, he looked the part of a kicked puppy.
âThatâs not how this works.â The bartender started again but was interrupted when Wade leaned on the counter beside Wolverine âIt does now, leave the bottle thanks.â He says shooing the man away. The bartender stares at the three of you oddly before going off to wipe down another part of the bar, leaving you to it.
This Wolverineâs nose flares as he audibly inhales and snaps his head to look past Wade at you. Unlike with the others before him the emotions in his eyes were clear as day as he looked at you, or more like through you.
Shock, fear, guilt and then ultimately hate welled up in his hazel eyes as he snatched up the bottle of jack the bartender had left beside him talking a few gulps.
âI know you, bub?â He asked you with a hard voice, clearly he did or at least he knew some version of you from this timeline. âCause you got a lot of fucking nerve wearing the face of a dead girl âround me.â
Dead? Were you dead in this timeline?
You open your mouth to speak but Wade cuts you off as he holds up a gloved finger to your lips shushing you.
âLook peanut, Iâm sure you two have a lot to talk about, a lot of emotional turmoil to get out and eventually a heartfelt confession gets thrown into the mix followed by, judging from the sex eyes youâre giving each other, a whole lot of fucky fucky time but weâre kinda on a time crunch here so Iâm gonna need you to come with us right now.â He said, nodding towards the door. You felt your cheeks heat up at his words, you loved Wade to pieces but sometimes you wish heâd keep his mouth shut.
âLook, lady, Iâm not interested.â Wolverine said, tearing his glare away from you to stare down Wade, he thought his outfit looked absolutely ridiculous and that was saying something, then he felt his gaze drift back to you, taking in your scent again.
Not only did you look like her, only a little younger, but you even smelled like her too, albeit just a little bit different. That was something he knew deep in his gut that couldnât be replicated no matter what copying powers you had, so how the fuck were you standing here in front of him when he himself had buried your dead body almost a year ago?
Snapping his attention back to the conversation, he hadnât heard a word red had said to him.
âWhy would I go with you?â He asked cutting Wade off as he took another sip from the bottle before drunkenly poking him in the forehead
âBecause, unfortunately, I need you. We,â he emphasizes gesturing between the two of you, âNeed you, our entire world needs you.â
âYou guys gonna fuck or fight?â The bartender comes back looking between Wade and Wolverine, clearly tired of having you all in his establishment. Wade looks at the man like he had sprouted a second head before slowly turning back to Wolverine.
âYou gonna take that from him?â
âYup.â The Wolverine says, sounding defeated, like he was tired of even putting up a fight.
âI can tell you sort of have this âdonât get too close, Iâll only break your heartâ vibe going here, but every other Wolverine would have really hurt me by now and weâre sort of on the tic-tic, so upsy-daisy.â Wade said standing to his feet pulling Wolverine up from his barstool. He shoves Wade back away from him and you rush behind Wade to pull him away from him at the tell tale snikt sound of his claws coming out, only when you looked down at his balled fists you could only see just the tip of them peeking through his tanned skin, as if he had stopped himself midway from fully pulling them out.
âWhiskey dick with the claws huh? Itâs quite common in Wolverines over 40.â Wade jokes half heartedly trying to diffuse the situation or make it worse, you werenât quite sure.
âTrust me pal, you donât want this.â The Wolverine said his voice husky as he stared you two down silently pleading for you to leave before he hurt you like he hurt the others.
Sighing heavily Wade pulls out a gun and presses it to Wolverineâs head âUnless you want to take a deep breath through your fucking forehead, I suggest you reconsider.â He gestured to the door with it. âLetâs go, Peanut.â
With a laugh the Wolverine leans into the gunâs muzzle staring right at Wade.
You had had enough. Walking around Wade you stand in between the two men, placing one arm on Wolverine's shoulder and the other on Wadeâs arm silently asking him to lower his gun, which he did just ever so slightly, before turning your attention back to Wolverine.
âLook, Wade isnât always the best at articulating what he needs without making it a joke, but we really do need your help.â
With a snort Wolverine shrugs off your burning touch from his shoulder, you were making him hot, too hot for the stuffy bar, so he reaches back over the bar to grab the bottle of jack again. God you even sounded just like her.
âWeâve been looking for you for a long time, Wolverine!â
âDonât call me that.â
He hated it when you called him Wolverine.
âPlease! Just please!â You cried out grabbing him by his sleeve, he turned to look at you again, his eyes searching your face.
âWe really need you! Youâre the only one who can fix this! Trust me I would take literally anybody other than you if I could,â you said, growing increasingly frustrated and irritated with the man in front of you.
Ouch.
âBut it has to be you! So are you gonna be that somebody or not?â
The Wolverine gets closer to you, you can practically smell the alcohol and his natural musk radiating off of him at his close proximity. He looks at you for a long while as if mulling over what you had just said to him before answering with a âNot.â
âOh you motherf-!â
You were cut off as Wolverine stands to his full height, towering over you. He grabs at the barrel of Wadeâs gun, drunkenly to steady himself as he chuckles. He holds up a finger telling you both to wait as he proceeds to chug down the rest of the nearly full bottle of jack.
âGood God. Thirsty little honey badger, arenât ya?â Wade looks at him in shock, just as Wolverine pulls the now empty bottle away and goes to reply he hiccups before stumbling and dropping to the ground completely dead to the world.
âI guess youâll have to do.â Wade groans holstering his gun and going to grab the now passed out Wolverine by his shirt, just as he goes to lift he spots something yellow peeking from underneath.
âOoh. Look at those jammies.â He said as he starts to unbutton the Wolverineâs shirt. âThat only took 20 fucking years!â
Heaving him up on his shoulder Wade groans at the weight of his limp adamantium skeleton, and starts to drag him outside with you following close behind.
âQuick help me get his clothes off, Nugget!â He said dropping the man unceremoniously to the ground as he continued to unbutton his clothes.
âWade what the fuck are you doing?!â You snap at his hands as he strips him down to his superhero costume underneath.
It was bright yellow with blue accents with light scuffs and scratches on it, it was tight to him, almost like a second skin, his gloved hands adorned with special slots for his claws to pop out, just like in your old comic books, you almost couldnât tear your eyes away from him as they dragged down his body.
âEye fuck him some more why donât you.â Wade said suggestively and if he wasnât wearing the mask you know heâd be wiggling his eyebrows at you.
You stutter trying to defend yourself as you feel your cheeks heat up. Ignoring you Wade stands back to his feet, slinging one of Wolverineâs arms over his shoulders as he shoulders his weight. Opening up the TVA device he stole, Wade types something in and opens up a new portal. âSave your lady boner for later Nugget we got a timeline to save!â
You wanted to stop him and tell him that the man he was carrying was insufferable even after only knowing him for a solid 10 minutes and that there was no way heâd have you hot in the pants with the way he was acting but your gut was overcome with a feeling of uncertainty.
A feeling that told you that going back to the TVA would be a trap, but knowing that like always once Wade had his mind set on something that was it, you simply tucked your much smaller self under Wolverineâs other shoulder and helped Wade through the portal.
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