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katsu28 · 8 months ago

Text

for you i'd wait forever

pairing: bradley "rooster" bradshaw x reader

summary: bradley breaks things off with you before a deployment because he doesn't want you to worry about him (4.2k)

warnings: some swearing, bradley's commitment issues, happy ending i promise!

a/n: okay so from what i gathered from my googling is that tapping out is typically for new military graduates (i think?) but this idea was so cute so pls forgive the inaccuracies i have no idea what i'm doing at all <3 and also pls forgive me for the utter lack of writing since the beginning of the year, these last few months have been brutal (creatively and otherwise) but i am hopefully back!!! xx

Bradley thought he knew the tolls of being in the Navy. It was tough on not only him, but the people in his life. For the most part, he’d always put his career first. His life had always been on a set track, and although there were plenty of setbacks, he forged ahead until he got where he was today.

And then he met you. Fell in love with you. Finally knew what it meant to have someone in his corner who was just his. Who knew him for him only, not as Goose’s kid, or Mav’s protege.

For the first time in his life, he could actually see himself spending the rest of it with you. Marriage, house, kids, grandkids—the whole shebang.

That was his first mistake. The more he thought about what life could look like with you, the more he thought about what your life could look like without him. What would happen if something happened to him and he didn’t make it back from this next mission coming up in a few weeks.

He thought about his mom and how she lost his dad—her husband. The man she thought she’d be spending the rest of her life with.

Bradley’s thoughts grew quite grim after that. Countless what if’s and thinking about every possible outcome and he eventually made up his mind. He had to break up with you.

He didn’t want to. Not by a long shot. You were probably the best thing that ever happened to him in his thirty plus years of life. But deep down, he knew that it was the right thing to do. He was about to leave for six, seven months, with little to no contact with anyone who wasn’t Navy. That would definitely take a toll on your relationship. You’d never been through something like this before, and there really was no way to prepare you for what it would be like.

You would worry about him every single hour of every single day, he knew that for a fact. Bradley barely remembered what it was like when his dad was away because he was so young, but he did remember how worried his mom was all the time.

Looking back, he understood now. He didn’t want that for you. The worry would hold you back from other things you wanted to do in life, things that brought you joy and gave you purpose.

With the mission creeping up on him faster than he would’ve liked, he knew he had to do it sooner rather than later.

That was how Bradley found himself on your doorstep right now, pushing down his guilt by telling himself over and over that breaking up with you was in your best interest. He hadn’t called beforehand to tell you he was coming by, so when you answered the door and beamed brighter than the stars when your eyes landed on him, he almost wanted to chicken out.

“Hi!” You exclaimed, immediately pulling him into a warm hug. His arms closed around you out of instinct, thumb rubbing over the sliver of exposed skin at your waist, nose nudging its way against your neck the way he always did when you embraced him.

He inhaled the scent of the lotion you loved to use, that flowery one that sometimes made him sneeze. You always said you’d buy a different one the next time you went to the store, but you always forgot. He didn’t mind it at all though. A small bout of allergies was nothing compared to the inevitable smattering of apology kisses you pressed to his face when you realized you’d forgotten.

Fuck, this was going to be way harder than he thought.

Your hands made their way up his biceps to cup his cheeks, eyes darting around his face. “What’re you doing here? Oh my god, did we have something planned? I’m so—”

“No.” He gave his head a shake, offering you a smile. “No, we didn’t have anything planned. I just…wanted to see you. To talk to you.”

“Come in, come in, I was just about to start dinner,” You hummed, escaping his embrace with an arm hooked through his to tug him over the threshold. “Trying a new recipe I found the other day, not sure if it’ll turn out good or end up being a shitshow, but—well, you can help me be the judge of that, I guess!”

“Is it okay if we talk first?”

If you were confused, you didn’t show it, just changed direction seamlessly, making your way to the couch instead of the kitchen. You sat down, patting the cushion next to you for him to settle on and he did, rubbing his clammy palms against his thighs.

“Is everything okay?”

Everything was far from okay, he wanted to say. Instead he inhaled a deep breath before his next words.

“I wanted to tell you I’m shipping out in a few weeks.”

Your face fell a little, but you nodded thoughtfully. “Okay. What do we do? Is there anything you can tell me? Like, what’s the best way to get in touch with you, when’s the best time, that kind of stuff? Or is sending letters better? Sorry, I feel like I’m asking a lot of questions. I don’t—I’ve never really done anything like this before, so—”

“I think we should break up.” He blurted.

You hesitated before answering, blinking at him like you’d somehow heard him wrong. “What?”

“It’s hard having someone overseas for a long time, even more so when it’s a partner. It was really hard on my mom, and hard for me having to watch her worry like that for months, and I—I don’t want that for you.” He said quietly, not daring to meet your eyes until he gave his poor excuse for an explanation on why he was doing the one thing he swore he wouldn’t do to you.

The moment he’d realized he’d fallen in love with you, he’d promised himself he would never abandon you, never break your heart or your trust, and here he was, doing that exact thing. It was tearing him apart inside.

“I don’t want you to have to go through all that, so it’s just better if we—that we break up now. Before I go.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry. It’s for the best.”

“Why are you doing this?” Your voice broke just after the last word, swallowed up by a hitched inhale of a breath that had his resolve wavering just the slightest bit. He could barely look you in the eyes the whole time, and now…he didn’t think he could stand the sadness and hurt flooding every single one of your beautiful features.

“All the worrying and the uncertainty of not knowing what’s happening, I don’t—it wouldn’t be fair to you. I care about you too much to put you through all of that.”

You were silent for the longest time, eyes glued to the floor as you processed the information. He thought you were about to start crying with the way your brow creased, but when you finally looked back up at him, your gaze had hardened. “Did these last six months mean nothing to you? You’re just gonna throw everything away because what—you don’t think I can handle it?”

They meant everything to me, he wanted to say. You mean everything to me.

If he was really being honest with himself, it was him who couldn’t handle it. Still, he forged on, thinking it best to just rip off the bandaid. He could live with being the asshole if it meant sparing you from the terrible experience of him being god knows how many miles away for months.

“I’m sorry. I wish you nothing but happiness, Y/N. You deserve better than anything I could ever give you.”

“You wish me nothing but happiness?” You chuckled humorlessly, shaking your head. Bradley’s eyes tracked you across the room as you paced back and forth, guilt ridden expression on full display. All he wanted to do was take all of it back; to kiss you senseless and tell you everything was going to work out, but he couldn’t. He’d burned the bridge, cut the rope. Broke your heart. He felt like the biggest asshole in the world. He probably was. “Screw you, Bradley. I mean it.”

“I’m sorry.” He repeated, for what seemed like the hundredth time. It was all he could say.

“Get the fuck out of my house.”

“Y/N, I—”

You rushed at him, pushing, shoving, sending him stumbling step by step towards the front door until he almost crashed into it had he not managed to pull it open a split second before you shoved him outside. He’d never forget the look of betrayal in your eyes right before you slammed the door in his face.

Bradley forced his feet to take him back to his car, then to drive away before he could have a chance to even try and make things better. He’d most likely end up making things much, much worse. Though he didn’t think it could get any worse with the way he was feeling about himself right now. You were angry at him, and you had every right to be.

But had he lingered at your door only moments after, he would’ve heard the thump against the wood that was you sliding down to the floor and the sob that escaped your mouth.

All because of him.

-------

Bradley was happy to finally be coming back home after ages away, but then he realized it—he didn’t have anyone to tap him out this time. His mind jumped to you first, but there was no chance in hell you’d be there for him. You’d probably moved on months ago. Forgotten about him. And with Mav away on another deployment, he really had no one.

His chest ached the longer he stood at attention, jaw clenched tighter than he meant it to be as he watched the rest of his squad get tapped out by their loved ones. Coyote’s parents, Fanboy’s sisters, Hangman’s nieces and nephews, Phoenix’s girlfriend. They were all emotional reunions, and Bradley was happy for them, he really was. But it sucked being the one with nobody there for him.

He wasn’t expecting the soft tap on his arm when it came. He thought it was a mistake at first; someone else’s family bumping into him accidentally, so he didn’t move. But when the hand didn’t leave its place wrapped loosely around his bicep, Bradley knew it really was for him. He turned around, squinting against the blinding sunlight to see who’d come for him.

“Hi.” You said softly, hand dropping back down to your side. He couldn’t help but let himself take you in, eyes drinking in every single achingly familiar detail of you until you shifted nervously under his intense gaze. You looked so beautiful he almost felt dizzy, just like he remembered but at the same time somehow even better.

“You came.” He said, disbelieving. He could still hardly believe you were actually here.

“I promised you I would.”

“But that—that was before…everything happened. Why are you—what’re you doing here?” The last thing he wanted to sound like was ungrateful, because he was quite literally the opposite, but his mind just couldn’t wrap around the fact that despite him breaking your heart seven months ago, you still remembered what you’d promised him in the very beginning of your relationship.

“What does it mean to tap someone out?” You asked quietly, tracing a finger along the planes of Bradley’s bare chest. Your legs were tangled under the covers, both of you still basking in the aftermath of getting reacquainted with each other again after Bradley had been out of town attending a weeklong training exercise.

His skin was still damp with sweat, but you didn’t mind one bit, too busy exploring the expanse of muscle shifting under his bronzed skin again. “In military terms, I mean.”

He chuckled, hiding a content smile into the hair at the crown of your head. “That’s a weird question.”

“Humor me, Bradshaw.”

“Yes ma’am.” Bradley stroked a rough palm down the smooth skin of your arm, taking a few beats to come up with an answer that would make sense. “Tapping out is a super long standing tradition in pretty much all military units, I think. It comes at the end of a mission, when we’ve come back to base.”

His arm repositioned itself under your head as he scooted closer to the warmth radiating from your body, nose nuzzling deeper against you just so he could engrain the smell of your lingering fruity scented shampoo into his memory forever.

How you still smelled so good even after your…physical activities just before this was beyond him, but he loved it.

“An aviator’s loved ones are usually the ones to do it. Friends, family, those kinds of people. When you tap out your aviator, literally you’re releasing them from formation. But I guess it’s kind of a gesture that means…you’re home.”

Your wandering fingers stilled against his skin, lingering right above his heart. “Can I ask you something?”

“Go for it.”

“Who usually taps you out?”

Bradley remained silent. It was an innocent question, he knew that. He’d told you a little bit about his parents, and you were just curious. Still, it sent a pang of sadness through his chest whenever he thought about what it would’ve been like if they were still around today.

He cleared his throat, sniffing once. “Usually Mav. Or sometimes one of my squad’s family. If no one can, I just gotta wait til everyone else is done.”

“I wanna do it.”

“What?”

“I’m gonna be there next time you come back from a mission. To tap you out.”

“I appreciate it, honey, I do. But you don’t need to.”

“I want to.” You said firmly, pulling away from him to prop yourself up on your elbow and look him in the eye. You looked damn serious too. He raised a quizzical brow. “You said that to tap someone out means to tell them they’re home. I want to be the one to tell you you’re home. Here. With me.”

Bradley opened his mouth like he was going to say something, then snapped shut when no words came out. He really was at a loss for words. No one had ever done that before. Sure, Mav’s offer was always a good one to fall back on, but Bradley had never had someone he cared about as much as he did about you telling him they were going to be there for him.

The next best thing he could think of instead of saying anything at all was to kiss you. So he did.

He pushed himself up towards you, sliding a hand around the nape of your neck and pressing his lips against yours. Not bruisingly hard, but enough to let you know he was all in. The other hand curled around your shoulder, splaying across your back to bring you back in closer to him, until your chests were flush and you could feel his heartbeat thundering under your palm.

He was home. You were his home.

“I told you I’d be here to tap you out, and I meant it.” You said simply, holding his gaze. “I keep my promises, Bradshaw. Even after the way you left things.”

Red hot guilt crept its way through his chest like vines, bringing all the memories of the last time you saw each other right back up to the surface, even after how hard he’d tried to shove them all down. If there was one thing he regretted in life, it was how he left you that night. He didn’t think he’d ever forgive himself for that one.

“I don’t even know what to say, Y/N, I—”

“Then let me say something.” You blurted, wringing your hands. Bradley nodded instantly, still too dumbfounded to reply. “I’ve been thinking about what I wanted to say to you today for months. I don’t even know if I should.”

“You should.” He encouraged, nodding quickly. He’d always wanted you to be able to speak your mind with him. “Don’t hold back. Let me hear it.”

“Okay. Okay, well first of all, you’re an asshole, Bradley.”

He nodded again. He deserved at least that much. “I am. Absolute asshole, I know.”

“But I never stopped loving you. Even though I was angry and sad and confused as fuck as to why you would do that to me, I still loved you. And eventually, I realized that it wasn’t anything I did wrong. You were scared. Of losing me, of me losing you. So you decided it was your responsibility to pull the ripcord before you crashed and burned.” Bradley winced slightly at the comparison and you grimaced at your own poor choice in words. “I—sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“It’s okay. You’re right. You didn’t deserve that.”

“You said you didn’t want me to worry while you were gone, well, I did that anyways.” You chuckled, like you were remembering a fond memory instead of the constant state of anxiety you’d been in. “But instead of worrying that the man I love might not make it home, I was terrified that if you didn’t come home, I’d spend my whole life replaying our last conversation in my head. Wondering if there was something I could’ve said or done so you wouldn’t have given up on us so easily.”

“You think that was easy for me? Sweetheart, walking away from you was one of the hardest things I’ve had to do in my whole life.”

“Sure seemed pretty easy.” You scoffed lightly, only a tad spiteful. A low blow, you realized, when Bradley stiffened for a split second, but you held steady.

“It wasn’t.” His reply was immediate and firm as could be, but somehow, that didn’t make you feel any better. “You have to understand, breaking things off was the last thing I wanted to do. But I couldn’t—I thought that if I didn’t, you’d wait for me.”

“I would’ve waited, Bradley! I did wait for you! For you, I'd wait forever because I love you, but you didn’t even give me that choice. You made the decision on your own instead of talking to me about it. That was what hurt the most.”

“I’m sorry.” Bradley said quietly, reaching out to take your hand. His fingers laced through yours almost tentatively, feeling so familiar but so foreign at the same time. There was a point in your life where you never thought that concept would apply to Bradley. “I never should’ve left like that, I wish I could take it all back.”

“I think I understand now why you did it. I understand that fear that comes with the experience of losing a loved one like that. But Bradley, you’re not responsible for my feelings. And I don’t care how scared you get, I’m not going anywhere. From now on, we work things out together, no matter what you think is best.”

“From now on? Does that mean…?”

“You’re my home, Bradley Bradshaw.”

Bradley took your face in his hands and he kissed you, long and hard, pouring every ounce of pent up feelings he’d been bottling up for the past seven months into it. Pain, fear, love, hope—all of it. You were never one to believe in such emotion being able to convey itself through a simple physical action, but now you could honestly say you understood it.

Your hands spread across the broadness of his back, fingers pressing into the crisp starch of his uniform like you were afraid of letting him go , even though he was home and everything was okay now. Losing him the first time made you angry. You didn’t even want to imagine possibly losing him a second time.

He drew back, only far enough to press his lips to your forehead, hands still holding you close as could be. “Thank you for coming.”

“I don’t make a habit of breaking my promises.”

“C’mon, I wanna introduce you to the squad.” He said softly, lacing his fingers through yours. The way he all but bounded over to the group of aviators a little ways away was almost boyish, as was the excitement in his voice when he approached them. “Hey everyone, there’s someone I want you to meet.” Bradley announced, sliding a hand around to the small of your back.

Everyone’s eyes turned on you, conversations petering to a gradual stop as they looked between you and Bradley. You shifted nervously, suddenly feeling unsure with all the attention on you, but Bradley’s thumb rubbed along your skin, soothing you just a bit. “This is Y/N. My girlfriend.”

The tall blond reacted the quickest, snapping loudly before aiming a finger in your direction, along with a shiny smile. “Wait, I know you! You’re the one in that photo Rooster keeps tucked in his helmet. Lemme tell you, he looked at that picture every damn day, it was like—”

Bradley let out a very forced laugh, aiming a not-so-subtle daggered glare at the other man. “Okay, Hangman! That’s okay, I really don’t think—”

“You’re a real saint, taking this one back. If I ever pulled the shit he did, my car would’ve been keyed to all hell when I came home.” Hangman chuckled, giving his head a shake.

“Hangman. Shut. Up.”

“Don’t tell me to shut up, you shut up!”

“You’re the only one talking!”

“Alright, alright, you’re both grown men here,” The dark haired woman sighed, turning towards you. “At least, I hope so.”

You chuckled at that, casting a glance over at Bradley to find him already looking back at you, the back and forth with Hangman already long forgotten given the way he was smiling at you, like you were the force that made the world go round. Taking you in under his arm, he dotted a kiss to your hairline as your fingers came up to intertwine with his again, watching you interact with his squad like you’d known them for years.

It was everything he ever wanted. And now that he had it, he’d never be dumb enough to let it go again.

His mind drifted back to his parents’ fate— how they never got to live out their life together. How there was no guarantee about anything when it came to Bradley’s own fate with you.

And sure, it was scary to be so uncertain about the future, but you’d both climb that hill together when the time came. For now, Bradley could let himself be content. This second chance at a life with you wasn’t one he was planning on taking lightly, not by a long shot.

“Let’s get off this damn carrier and hit the town! Drinks at the Hard Deck, last one there buys the first round!” Hangman’s drawling voice drew Bradley out of his thoughts, just in time to let the words sink in.

You, on the other hand, stifled a giggle at the sight of seeing a group of full grown adults scatter as fast as Bradley’s friends did. Watching Hangman nearly shove Coyote to the ground upon seeing their cars were parked next to each other was something you’d never not get a kick out of.

But Bradley, he didn’t seem as worried about it all. In fact, he walked leisurely with your hand firmly in his, swinging both of them between the two of you as you made your way to your own car.

“Aren’t you worried you’ll be the last one there?”

“I’ll buy the round, I don’t care.” He shrugged. “I wanna spend some time with my girl.”

“Your girl.” You hummed, giving his hand a squeeze. “Gotta say, I’ve missed hearing that.”

“I’ve missed saying it. We’ve got a lot to catch up on, honey. Starting with, do you or do you not have a voodoo doll made in my image that you stabbed with pins when I was away because I broke your heart?”

You scoffed, letting out a not so attractive snort. “Bradley, I mean this in the most respectful way possible—what the hell are you talking about? Where would you even get that idea?”

“I—uh, I had a dream about it? A few weeks into deployment.” He admitted sheepishly, cheeks burning red in embarrassment. You pressed your lips together, trying not to laugh. “You don’t, right?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” You replied, giving his chest a firm pat. You didn’t have a voodoo doll of him, of course, but playing along was worth it just to see Bradley squirm.

“Wait, wait, wait, but you didn’t say no.”

“I didn’t.”

“So you do?”

“I didn’t say that either. But if you’re not sure, I’d watch yourself the next couple weeks.”

His brows furrowed in confusion and a bit of fear as he watched you walk away from him with some bounce to your step. “I…really don’t like the sound of that. Hang on, get back here. Explain, please!”

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#bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x you #rooster bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x y/n #rooster bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw angst #bradley bradshaw fluff #first fic in forever WHO CHEERED #it's me i cheered #when i tell you it was a relief to know i can still write things #ok shut up kait #ENJOY <3

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inside-lees-mind · 8 months ago

Note

hi could i rq. general konoha 11 + sand siblings nsfw hcs ! (aged up/boruto ver obv) <3

Also: nobody understands Uchihas better than I do and I don’t even like most of em. /j Why are they all practically evil in fics? I’m going crazy. Most of them are clearly softies when it comes to love. Am I right or am I right???

And sorry, you can tell who I have more ideas for and who I was drawing a blank on.

Oh and sorry yall for the gap in my writing. This one took a while. I’ve been working on it for a bit. And part of it got lost and deleted, so I rewrote it. A long with a couple other stories got deleted and I lost some motivation for a moment lol

Konoha 13 + Sand Siblings HCs

Naruto Uzumaki

He’s energetic, and that 100% applies to in bed too.

Likely inexperienced, but eager. And a little nervous.

Talked big game beforehand, but even if you didn’t know before, you definitely know it was all talk now.

That being said, he’s a quick learner, even if he complains about being confused at first.

I think he’d have like little to no knowledge though, being such a loner for a while, in all. Hope you have patience.

That being said, he is a bit of a pervert with what he does know.

Overall though, he’d set a fast pace, but the sex would still be intimate and soft.

Praise. Praise. Praise. Giving and receiving.

Sasuke Uchiha

No experience, but he knows the ins and outs.

He wasn’t too concerned with sex or anything of that matter before, but when he returned to Konoha, he realized he had feelings for you. So he starts to think about it.

He’s not a pervert like Kakashi or Naruto, and he’d never lose his cool over sexy jutsu, BUTTT he’s secretly horny as hell. Like low sex drive usually, but just being around you makes it sky rocket to abnormal levels.

He’s very private about sex though, so usually only happens in your bedroom or… cough cough in a quiet forest with nobody around cough cough (if you know, you know)

He’s got a breeding kink. Next question.

Uses a mix of degradation and praises.

Lots of demanding, but also lots of giving soooo…

I truly believe Sasuke would be a softer partner than people make him out to be. Like did yall watch Boruto or not?? He’s got awkward and sweet energy. He’s TRYING. He’s emotionally stunted yall.

More dominant and likes to be in control, but will fall apart in your arms anyways. Usually more of a soft dom than anything.

One of the most likely to be fairly kinky though. I think he’d slowly discover he’s into things as they occur or cross his mind.

Sakura Haruno

She knows a lot about the human body.

Might have experience, might not. I could see it either way.

I think your first time with her would happen after like a romantic dinner together. And it would be romantic and slow.

But… that depends on you, because she’ll mostly go with what you want. It makes her happy.

She’s okay with being degraded or praised, but she really only likes to praise you.

Low sex drive.

She likes any position she can see your face.

She’s a switch, depends on her partner’s preference.

Sai Yamanaka

(Obviously not married here but just to have a last name to add)

He read a book about what to do.

Probably does something incredibly stupid at first, but that being said, he’s not an idiot, so not too bad.

You’d probably have to correct him a little bit. Also, tell him to forget the book and just go with the feeling and follow your lead.

You’d be in the lead at first. Probably go down on him first thing.

He’s not small. (I mean did you hear the way he talked to Naruto? He’s probably got something to work with if he’s talking so confidently LMFAO)

So you’d probably have to use your hand for the base while your mouth sucks on about half or so of his cock.

His hand tangles in your hair/rests on top, not pulling, but resting there.

He throws his head back, letting out soft sighs and small moans that escape his lips. He’s not trying to be quiet, but he’s not loud either.

Although, he might have read girls don’t like when guys make noise. Who knows. Then you might have to tell him that’s not true.

At first, sex is just discovering things with him. You’re both exploring how everything feels.

But, after a few times, he starts taking the lead and initiating.

He has a low sex drive though, so he won’t initiate too often.

It’s also hard to get him to realize what you’re asking for if you drop hints. He saw your underwear when you bent over… okay. He might even comment on how you should be more careful since he knows you don’t like to expose yourself so much.

You just deadpan and tell him it was supposed to turn him on.

“Oh.” And now he’s unbuckling his pants and asking you to come sit on his lap. :)

Shikamaru Nara

Low sex drive, usually at least, because now he’s consumed by the desire to be rode by you. Like he dreams about it.

He calls you troublesome to himself when he wakes up hard in the morning occasionally.

He lowkey loves to just lay between your legs or have you sit on his face so he can eat you out (pussy or ass, don’t matter)

Lazy morning sex. He loves it.

He’s dominant, but he can be rather lazy most the time. That being said, he will fuck you how you want him to if you ask.

Degrading but he’s not super mean about it at all. More like soft grunts with degrading terms, but the rest of it comes out more like soft sighs and groans of pleasure and praise.

Choji Akimichi

The sweetest. He takes his time with you every time.

Body worship. More so giving than receiving, but he’ll be a blushing mess if you give back the same energy.

Praise. Lots of it.

He’d be the type to kiss down your body, from your lips to your neck to your chest all the way down til he gets between your legs.

He can’t bring himself to be rough or harsh with you in anyway. No degradation, rough sex, or anything.

Likes to be able to see your face during sex.

He’d like to try food play.

Ino Yamanaka

Pillow princess unless asked to do otherwise.

She loves to be praised and worshipped, but also likes things rougher.

She’s a bit of a brat about things. Constantly going against what you say for fun.

She does it on purpose so you’ll go rougher on her, she likes it.

She also likes when things are slow and romantic though.

And she’d love it if you planned like a candlelit dinner and put a trail of rose petals on like Valentine’s Day, or even just cuz.

Shino Aburame

He’s in charge. He’s on top. Whatever. He doesn’t like to not have control.

He also just wants to please you, and often he’s not too worried about himself.

Might get a little self conscious if you skip over touching him or giving him head more than once. Like if it’s been a few times now and you haven’t bothered… did he do something?

He doesn’t need it, but he just… you know how he is.

He doesn’t make much noise.

But I do believe that right before he cums, he whimpers. He can’t help it, and don’t bring it up afterwards. He’ll be so embarrassed and not want to do it for a while because he’s scared he’ll do it again.

If he gets like that, just tell him you loved it. Then go down on him and tell him you wanna make him do it again.

He’s good with his hands, I just know it.

He can go rough and be stern and demanding, but other than that, he’s rather vanilla.

He’s a big fan of missionary so he can see your face.

And he doesn’t want to do anything unless it’s in your own home or absolute private, like an inn.

Kiba Inuzuka

Hickeys.

He loves giving them.

You will have like 20. From your jaw to your thighs, he’s marked. Plenty of them are visible and hard to hide because they’re dark.

He doesn’t exactly take his time. No, those hickeys are from the entire act. He starts leaving them during foreplay, then when he’s pounding into you, he quiets himself down by latching onto your skin.

When he eats you out, he leaves bite marks and hickeys around your thighs.

He calls it “marking his territory” then has to explain himself because no he doesn’t mean you’re a territory, you’re not a place or an object… he just… you’re his partner!

He’s rough.

Likes doggystyle most, but then he gets upset that he can’t see your face and next time he sets up a mirror.

Quickies. He can’t wait. He’ll whine if you tell him NO he can’t fuck you under the blanket, because YES people will notice the movement.

You might want to settle and pull him into a bathroom and let him fuck you over the counter, but he won’t force or beg you to the point of you giving in or anything. He’ll wait if you really mean no.

He’s got a high sex drive

Very likely to be pretty kinky. He’d be willing to tie you up, spank you, degrade you, etc.

He won’t do pet play. Thinks that shit is weird. So don’t think that because he’s a dog user, he’s gonna act dog like or have you act dog like. In fact, he’s more likely to hate it as a dog user.

I think he’d find any roleplay to be useless though. You could convince him if you wanted, but he’ll complain.

Hinata Hyuga

Much more intimate and gentle sex is what she wants

She’s not a pillow princess. She literally fantasizes about pleasing her partner.

Like probably day dreams, gets lost in her own thoughts, then is a blushing mess when she realizes that somebody is talking to her and she’s imagining what your moans would sound like when she’s between your legs, ESPECIALLY if the person talking to her is you.

She likes to do it in private, but she can’t deny that she imagines doing it where you both currently are. Not that she would.

Secretly has a high sex drive

Long refractory period though. She needs breaks between rounds.

Neji Hyuga

Took him a while to get vulnerable enough to take off his clothes if he’s being honest

Also I think Hyuga’s are very reserved and conservative until marriage, but he has such a tough time following that.

He really wants to jump your bones. And it’s almost like the fact he can’t because of his clan’s reserved and traditional nature just makes it WAYYYY more tempting.

You’re literally irresistible to him

Secretly, he’s just a little bit of a pervert. (Like Rock Lee’s Ninja Pals says he is)

I think he would have wet dreams from sexual frustration. Like the longer he holds back from having you under him, the worse it gets. Like a disease with no treatment.

I think your first time with him would be sudden, and it would be his first time ever.

You’d look WAYYYYY to good, and this time he can’t bring himself to ignore the boner he gets. No he’s gotta see if you’ll indulge him.

He may stop and pull away, get his act together if you remind him of his clan’s pride, and how he was so bent on following it before.

Maybe the first time, but by the next time he tries to give in, there is no try. He is cancelling any plans y’all had and tearing the outfit that made your body look so irresistible off.

He doesn’t have a super high sex drive, but he has such a hard time resisting just laying you down when you look so damn good. You are the reason he’s horny.

He loves when you ride him, and he WILL whimper. He tries not to, but Neji can’t be silent with the way you are squeezing him. The way you do it is so perfect, every bounce is drawing a noise out of him until he’s literally just letting out a stream of loud whimpers as he cums.

I think his cum would actually taste good. Next question.

Rock Lee

Perverted…

He feels bad for it when he catches himself, but Oop it’s too late… he’s got a boner

Boners are obvious in that green spandex…

He wouldn’t agree with doing it in public or semi-public though, but if you noticed his behavior or boner and pulled him off into the bathroom, ignoring his “this is indecent!” Protests because when you look at him before diving in to give him head, his eyes are literally pleading and he shuts up, pushing his hips towards your face.

He can’t be quiet so you’ll have stuff something in his mouth or cover it with your hand.

He secretly wants your chest in his face. He’s a chest guy. Boobs, pecks, whatever. He loves everything chest.

But he also loves ass. Small or big. Wants to grab a handful anyways.

Total switch

Because listen, he loves to pin your hips down and force you to accept the pleasure you’re trying to deny yourself.

Loves to pound his hips against yours until you’re a mess, but he also loves to do as you say.

He loves to be broken down until he’s in pieces by your mouth, body, words, whatever.

He whimpers like constantly, especially when he’s submissive. He tries to shut up when he’s dirty talking as he’s in charge, but he lets GO otherwise.

Tenten

I’m sorry her portion of this will be… lacking. I don’t know enough to say much. I love her, but I’ve never really thought about this at all.

I think she’d be a switch, but prefers to be in charge.

I think she’s depend greatly on you though.

If you don’t want to bottom/sub, that’s good.

Or vise versa.

She likes to take her time when she’s in control.

She’s fairly willing to try new things if you want to.

She enjoys going down on you most of all.

Gaara of the Sand

He’s very private about everything. He believes that his private life and his kazekage life should stay relatively separate. However, it is known that you are his partner. That’s no secret.

He’s not super into PDA, so it’s no surprise that he refuses to do anything risky or public in anyway.

He will not do it in the kazekage’s office. He has too much respect for it, but he also doesn’t want to get caught anyways.

He’s very intimate during. Slow and sensual for sure.

I can see him being into bondage, but like you get tied up, not him. But… depends. And might take some encouragement.

Refuses to hurt or degrade you for any reason. He only does praise. He could not bring himself to call you names or anything. Or to draw blood from you or hit you, etc. he doesn’t see why those things should be brought into the bedroom for “fun.”

He doesn’t think they’re fun.

He knew like nothing about sex before you. I actually think he’d have no idea how to initiate at first so you definitely initiated it.

I think he’d be the type you have to teach what to do a bit, but he gets the hang of it quickly. Then next time, he’s got every spot memorized.

Awkward. Like the first couple times were awkward, but romantic and cute.

Kankuro of the Sand

One word: kinky.

He likes to degrade you with a shit eating grin on his face. His degradation feels like a compliment most of the time though. Like he calls you a slut and it feels like he’s calling you a prince/princess. It’s confusing.

He’s so good at dirty talk. He’ll have you writhing in your spot, desperate for him and he’s not even touched you yet.

He’s got incredible patience when it comes to you. He takes his time breaking you down into a mess for him.

His face paint would 10 billion percent be smeared across your thighs and chest. Your neck is purple from bites AND his face paint to the point you can’t tell which is which.

Only when you wash off the face paint do you realize he left way too many dark hickeys that’ll probably take at least a week to fade away.

Confront him about this and he’ll just laugh.

Don’t tempt him to leave more, because he will.

He forces you to maintain eye contact when he goes down on you. If you look away for more than like 3 seconds, he give you a little tap as a warning, but twice and he stops.

Orgasm denial for sure. He would be the type to make up an excuse as to why he pulled away. He tells you all sorts of excuses. “You weren’t moaning enough.” “You moved your hips too much. Stay still.” And of course, “you looked away.”

He can make you cum hard almost every single time. You see stars.

The most fun part for him isn’t dicking you down, it’s the breaking you apart and putting you back together again.

Temari of the Sand

Dominant. Dommy mommy for sure.

Even when she decides to “sub” or “bottom,” she’s not doing a good job at it. She’s still telling you what to do, where to move, etc.

She’ll pull your hair, slap you, etc. as long as you are okay with it and want her to.

Loves to boss you around, telling you what she wants. Demanding you to please her.

“Get on your knees”

Head pusher for sure, but you two have a like physical que to let each other know when it’s enough.

All that being said, sometimes she really really just wants sweet, slow sex. Intimate nights filled with nothing but love.

She likes to keep all of this private though. No public or risky stuff.

However, she does like to do it beyond just in bed.

Would be the type to start kissing all over your neck, unbuttoning your shirt while you’re trying to cook breakfast.

You might want to turn the stove off.

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e-m-ma-lmfao · 1 year ago

Text

Much Too Kind

pairing : astarion x (fem) reader

summary : astarion has found a soft spot for a girl who is much too kind for her own good, too trusting, in such a gruesome world.

warnings : astarion bites.

a/n : i haven't played baldurs gate (so i apologize for my lack of knowledge) but astarion is consuming my brain.

“Do you honestly feel safe sleeping with him sitting this close by?”

“He’s done nothing but help us this whole time, why would I not?”

“Because he’s a vampire?” Shadowhearts face is blank, speaking as though her words shouldn’t need to be spoken, an obvious thought. She stares into you, awaiting a proper answerings, and she almost scoffs when she doesn’t get what she wants. In return you roll your eyes, continue to ready yourself to sleep.

When you feel that you're ready to go to bed, Shadowhearts voice is unheard. She is already situated inside of her bedroll, which she had set up farther away from the fire than you liked, in a way of protecting herself from a seemingly harmless Astarion. In all fairness, you have probably been too trusting in the man. But how could you not?

He had been such a tease since the moment you met him. Because he seemed to annoy you, he never left your side. But you quickly grew fond of the pale man, and it was suddenly you who couldn’t leave his side. Astarion had no problem with this, and a weird fondness began brewing in his chest whenever he was around you. He had a burdening soft spot for you unlike anyone else. He couldn’t even bring himself to feed around you in case he scared you off, feeling an unprecedented amount of fear of losing you. The relationship you shared was teetering on a very thin line of romance and teasing gone too far.

The two of you were an unlikely pair. Astarion was manipulative, and you knew that from watching him work, but he never used it on you (as far as you knew). He viewed you as too sweet for your own good, taking it upon himself to keep you from danger. In all honesty, you probably didn’t need him for that. Sure he helped when you were obviously being lied to and couldn’t tell but you could hold your own in battle just fine. From your point of view he was nothing but trustworthy and helpful. Shadowheart, your ever protective friend, had a hard time seeing the same thing.

But when you made a fuss about having to sleep in your armour, unlike Shadowheart who had no problem with the matter, he had offered up a spare shirt. You weren’t sure where it had been beforehand but it was comfy, with undone strings hanging from the neckline, and it was large enough to go down to your mid thigh which was perfect. And his scent covering it was an added bonus. You had never thought much about it, but you never wore your heavy pants to sleep, being too hot inside your stuffy bed roll.

You were usually asleep before everyone else, and the first to wake in the morning, so this never proved to be a problem. And, if you had to think about it, you were usually in a tent by yourself. But with only Shadowheart and Astarion around you didn’t see a problem.

But when you crawled into your bedroll, at a middle distance between Astarion propped up against a log by the fire and Shadowheart sleeping farther from him, you began to see the problem. Shadowhearts words from before were dug into your brain, what if Astarion was dangerous and he did end up hurting you in your sleep just like she had said. You had never felt any fear towards the man, but her words had planted an unfamiliar distrust in your head.

You were dangerously aware of every noise around you. Unable to sleep, because of your focus on everything around you. The soft snores from Shadowhearts bedroll, and the quiet hum from a bored�� Astarion playing with the fire. As long as he was by the fire, seated much too close for comfort now, you thought you’d be able to hear him coming. You think everything is fine, but being so edge you catch the smallest sounds, and you shoot up at the sound of a twig snapping.

“My, my. Such a light sleeper my dear.” You turn towards Astarion, breath heavy, and a guilty feeling festering in your lower stomach. He’s almost exactly where he was when you first laid down. There’s a smug grin written on his face and you’re not sure why, though you don’t have the energy to question it. With sleepy eyes, you look around once more searching for anything out of the ordinary in the darkness, but you turn back to Astarion in the end.

“I can’t sleep.” He throws another piece of wood on the fire, the light dancing across his face in pretty patterns from the dispersed light, his white shirt untied just enough to see his collarbones and the beginning of his chest. The sight alone has thrown the tenseness away from your body, and your muscles soften up, posture loosening.

“And is there any reason in particular?” You meet his eyes again, a flurry of heat covers your cheeks, the look in his eyes telling you that you had been caught ogling him. “You seem so on edge, darling.”

He’s seated, practically the same height as you while he lays against the log, but it feels like he’s staring down at you. His fangs show as he parts his lips in a small, condescending grin.

“I’m just not used to sleeping out in the woods s’all.” He nods, he doesn’t believe you, and you can understand why because you’ve only been camping in the wild for weeks by now.

“Are you sure that's all? Cause I believe I heard that vile woman over there talking about a ‘bigger threat’ than whatever’s out there.” He gestures to Shadowheart and the dark, full woods around you.

You shake your head, pout on your face, nervous that he would think differently of you if he knew what was actually going through your head. He was perceptive enough and, unbeknownst to you, you were an easy read. Of course he had heard the two of you talking, and he knew that you had not spoken ill of him, but it was so fun to tease you. And he knew you had grown nervous in his presence.

“You’re not worried because of me are you?” Your eyes widen and you shake your head once more. There was concern written all over his features, the crinkle in between his brows and his parted lips. To anyone else his concern would look fake, you were certain it was real. And to him, it was somewhere in between. He did feel something for you that put him in an unfortunate position, but the idea that you were scared of him sent misery through his bones.

“No of course not!” The comfy bedroll you had been laying in, shimmies down your legs as your torso tightens up again and your posture becomes much too straight for your liking.

A soft sigh leaves his mouth, “Would you come sit over by me? You feel so far away.” His lips curve at the corners when you seem to think for a moment, but ultimately stand up. You bunch your bedroll up in your arms, not wanting to sit on the rocks. And when your eyes meet his again, he's already eyeing up your legs, you feel suddenly much too exposed. The night air nips at your skin and you hurry over to the spot beside him, throwing the bed roll on the ground and sitting on top of it.

“Didn’t need to bring that over, silly girl. There’s a perfectly fine seat right here.” His eyes look down to his lap then back up to you, your face flush again.

“I’m okay here,” You regret looking at him when you see his eyes plead with you, “..For now.”

He really was cunning. You figured he was scheming. But he truly had no intention of misleading you, just wanted you close. He couldn’t help that he found it so cute how nice you were. Too nice in his opinion. Dangerous world out there, he was just trying to teach you who you could and couldn’t trust. Maybe you would get into more trouble, if you always trusted men like him.

But no danger if you never have to think about other men.

“Do you believe the things she says?” His eyes stared into the fire, but you couldn’t take your eyes away from him, that guilty feeling was growing in your stomach. “I know you must not trust me, at least not fully.”

You stay silent, you’re almost scared to talk, in fear you offend him anymore then you already have. You pull your knees up to your chest, arms wrapping around your legs, guilt eating away at your insides.

He looks at you now, with his eyes he traces your legs where your shirt no longer hangs enough to cover you, up to your face that wears a pout and tired eyes. “Do I scare you?”

“No!” You sit up onto your knees, facing him fully. “No! I’m sorry Astarion, if i made you feel that way..”

He almost feels bad for a moment. You were too sweet, and while yes he had been worried for a moment, he was only teasing.

In your moment of weakness, and putting yourself in an easy position, he grabs you to pull you onto his lap. Where he has wanted you all along. Both thighs on either side of his seated form, face much closer to his own than you ever planned on being. His shirt, adorning your body, hangs down your thighs and rustles against his legs.

“Could you..promise?” His voice is so smooth, and his eyes look so alluring in this position, his hands planted on your hips. Your breath is caught in your throat when he asks, you aren't so sure that your answer before is entirely truthful now. He has too much control of this situation, and it is making you nervous, more nervous then before if that was even possible.

“I..I promise. Of course, I promise!” You're in such a compromising position and you wish you had slept with pants on. It’s much too cold out on your bare skin, but being on Astarions lap is making your body much too hot.

“Very good.” His head moves closer to you, pulling your body into his and sending shivers down your spine.

“Astarion!” Your hands find his shoulders, trying to put distance between you but his hold is strong. He has got you where he wants you and there is no way he will be letting you go. His face buries itself in your neck, breath tickling your skin and his nose leaving soft touches against you.

“You smell..delicious.” His voice was sultry, and so suggestive. You knew what he wanted, had been waiting for the moment he would say something. He was a hungry man with an uncomfortable amount of power over you. And your neck was looking awfully inviting. You hated that he had you feeling so many things, for a man who was so obviously trying to take advantage of you.

He may have thought you were naive but you were smart enough to know what this vampire wants from you. Even though you were debating allowing it just so he would be happy and full, it tugged at your mind that he might just be using you for this purpose.

Shadowheart may have been right about him being a threat while you slept, but right now he was just as threatening. Would it hurt when he sunk his teeth into your skin?

As if he suddenly became more conscious in his actions, he pulled away, breath heavy against you. “I’m sorry, you are just such an appetising little thing.” He places a soft kiss to your cheek, your silence beginning to fill him with the same guilt you were feeling. He wasn’t sure why. This is what he wanted, sure he had grown fond of you but this is what he needed from the beginning. But it didn’t feel right anymore, not with the way you were so pliable in his hands, allowing him to tease you just so you wouldn’t offend him.

“Are you hungry?” Your voice, surprising him, sends his eyes straight to yours. You couldn’t possibly be considering what he thought you were.

“Yes darling, but don’t you worry your pretty head about it.” He lets out a heavy sigh, planting more kisses on your cheek down to your jaw. His attempt to distract you almost works but you gently move your face away, pulling your hair away from your neck.

“Could I help?” You looked at him with a warmth in your eyes, one he hadn’t seen from anyone but you for years. Your devotion to him pulled at his heart, you were so willing to help him without even knowing if it would hurt or not.

“You would do that..for me?” His hand finds your cheek, voice sending gentle vibrations through you. You can only nod, scared that if you speak it’ll be nothing above a whisper.

He takes your hair from your hand, holding it out of his way. A gentle kiss to your cheek. Another on your jaw. And he moves them all the way down to your neck where he intends to bite.

‘Astarion?”

“Yes, my dear?” He pulls away, and you can tell it pains him to by the look of disappointment on his face, lips too pouty for how tough he always tries to act.

“Is it going to hurt?” His eyes are so soft when he looks at you, even though he wants nothing more than to sink his fangs into your flesh.

“I’ll try to make it painless, but you can hold my hand, yeah?” You nod and intertwine your fingers with his, scared but determined to make him happy.

He returns to his place in your neck, places a soft kiss before he sinks his teeth into you. Immediately, your fingers squeeze his own and he sends a squeeze back so you know he’s there. He almost feels bad, whimpers falling from your lips, but you taste so delectable that he can’t bring himself to.

Astarion continues to drink, and you allow it. You only make an effort to stop him when you become dizzy, and your head becomes too heavy for you to hold on your own. Your grip on his hand loosens, and you use his other one to tap at his arm. It seems to snap him out of his trance cause he pulls away, licking his lips.

“You taste as good as I had hoped you would.” A drowsy smile crashes against your face and your chest swells with pride, but you can’t bring yourself to say anything. The energy is gone from your body. You know he wouldn’t have killed you, but any longer and you wouldn’t be in any condition to fight the next day. You didn’t know if you would be as is.

Astarion seems to notice, and he moves you to sit inside your bed roll. Your hand still holds his, and you lay on your side to face him.

“Such a sweet thing,” he rubs your hair flat with his free hand, admiring your sleepy features in the fire light, “Sleep my dear. I’ll keep you safe.”

#x reader #astarion x reader #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 #astarion #fem reader #female reader #oneshot #fluff #drabble

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deathbxnny · 6 days ago

Note

Helloo!! Arcane is ending soon, so I was wondering if I could request the Arcane cast reacting to a reader who suspiciously seems to know everything that’s gonna happen in the plot? They always appear where the action is, and they warn about dangers before they happen, trying to ”subtly” change the outcomes of horrible events. Tragedies are a core element of the story, so I feel that the narrative would create another disaster if one event got prevented, but the thought of these characters being safe and happy after all they’ve been through would be so healing :3 It’s up to you which way you want to take it 🐁💖 I’m fine with both platonic and romantic, but I’d love to see Vi, Jinx and Caitlyn if that’s ok :)

I love love love your writing, reading your HC’s before bed has become an important part of my day and it’s always a joy to see your work pop up in the tags <3 Thank you for letting us read your creations 💖 I can’t wait to read the second part of your Caitlyn fic!!

The Timekeeper. | Vi, Caitlyn, Jinx x Gn!Reader

I absolutely LOVE this idea, Anon, and I appreciate your request so much!! Also, thank you for your kind words. It really means the world to me reading something so sweet!<33

Content: Angst, can be read as either platonic or romantic tbh, time traveling, fluff, bitter sweet, cursing, spoilers for season 2?, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not proofread))

You were always a mysterious figure to them. One that appeared at the right time in the right place whenever they needed you the most.

You never revealed a thing about yourself. You never even told them your name. But one thing they did know was that you had always looked out for them, like a guardian angel in a way.

And on one fateful day, after another evaded tragedy, they finally caught up to you just before you could leave again.

》VI

"Who the hell are you?" She asked completely out of breath after having practically chased you down through the dense crowd of the undercity. She had seen you so many times before. So, so many times. And every time she did, you were somehow able to save her from certain death by subtly showing her the right way to survive.

It took her a while to piece together that you must've known the outcome of every situation she had ever been in beforehand. That was the only logical answer to the many questions around your existence she could come up with, but it wasn't enough to satiate her desperate curiosity. There were times she had chosen against your signs, and the consequences ended up being almost grave. So whoever you were, you must've had otherworldly knowledge about everything and everyone.

Because whilst she didn't know a thing about you, you certainly knew everything about her.

Raising your hooded head, you idly played with the pocket watch in your hand, piercing eyes meeting her own. "Does that matter?" You ask, and truthfully, it shouldn't. Who cared about your identity when she knew she could trust you? But that wasn't enough. "Yeah, it does to me. Now tell me who you are already. I... I've been seeing you everywhere for years now. You have always been there and I..." She trailed off, suddenly losing her confidence.

She had thought of this moment for years now, imagined exactly what she would say to you. And yet, ultimately, she found herself speechless in your presence that seemed to drown out everyone else around you two. "I see... but my apologies, we were not supposed to meet yet." You said calmly, seemingly undisturbed by her appearance. "Time and fate... they both are so tightly intertwined and yet also so far apart from each other... how odd that the timeline changed so suddenly again, no?" Your words made zero sense in her mind, but that just added to your mystery.

"What-" "-Are you happy with the way your life is going?" You ask, and that made the woman pause in thought. The answer was positive, of course, but only because you had a strong hand in it once she accepted your help. She thought of Powder back home, who was probably happily tinkering away with the young girl Isha they recently took in, and that made her finally nod. "Yes. All thanks to you." "Not at all. It was you who chose your fate. I only showed you the alternative paths."

You two stood there in silence for a moment before she shoved her hands into her pockets and looked over to a nearby bar she liked to frequent in-between missions. "Let's go grab a drink and talk. It's on me." Deciding to accept this new path the timelines had given you, you accept her invitation with a smile.

》JINX

"You're terrible at your job." "Am I? I like to pride myself in my good work ethic, actually." Jinx was idly swinging her gun back and forth on her index finger whilst she rested up in the ceiling above you, clearly having followed you around secretly. But she knew that you already knew that from the start.

Scoffing at your words, she jumped down and landed in front of your indifferent figure as she pointed the gun right at you. "Pah! You're a funny one... so what are you? A time traveler?" "Ah, I like the title Timekeeper more." You were aggravating but at the same time a familiar face she had grown to appreciate deeply. You were the reason she was doing well in life now, even if she ignored you for a very, very long time. She thought she knew better despite all the odds pointing against her, especially you. Ultimately, she learned her lesson when she finally just listened to you.

"Ugh... whatever. Can't ya at least tell me your name?" "No." "Man, you're such a pain in the butt!" "Likewise." Rolling her eyes, she lowered her gun and lazily leaned against a wall, arms crossed tightly as she observed the crowds passing by from outside the abandoned building you were in. An admittedly comfortable silence fell between you two, one that relaxed her shoulders and made her sigh in defeat after a while. Your presence was always so comforting.

"So, you let me catch up to you this time. Finally tired of the cat and mouse game we've been playing?" You lowered your head at her question, a sly smile on your face that made her narrow her eyes in interest. "Perhaps. Or maybe I just wanted to ask you how you're doing?" What an odd question, considering the context of your meet-up. And yet, it was somehow fitting coming from you specifically. Wasn't your whole mysterious mission revolving around her well-being anyway?

"Shouldn't you know the answer to that, oh so esteemed 'Timekeeper'?" You found no offense in the mockery of your title. Just pure amusement. "I'm afraid that mind reading was not in the initial job listing." Jinx took a moment to think about your question carefully then, deciding to indulge you despite her better judgment. Things were good now, after all. She, Isha, and Vi were together again as a family, including Vander, even if they had yet to find a way to turn him back properly. But everything was happy otherwise... because you made sure that the end to her story wouldn't be a painfully tragic one.

"... I'm fine. Everything's fine." She muttered, and your smile widened at that answer. "So... I'm not terrible at my job, after all?" Pressing a playful hand to her chin, Jinx acted as though she was in deep thought. "Hmmm... I guess I'll need more convincing than all of this to decide." "Of course... then how about we start with running away before the Enforcers show up to raid this place in approximately... 2 minutes?"

Jinx rolled her eyes again with a grin but agreed to follow you, very much glad to have learned her lesson at your side throughout the years.

》CAITLYN

She was ignorant towards your judgment from the start, especially as she was able to analyze very quickly that you weren't all you claimed you were. You were too smart, too fast, too aware of everything. It was clear that you already knew how her life story especially would come to an end. But that didn't mean that she'd always listen to you.

Caitlyn believed to know better, even going as far as to protest against your word, which she had learned to be fate itself. And sometimes she'd nearly get away with her life, and on others, you'd be the one to show up just in time to save her. It was embarrassing and at times even near humiliating, but you never judged her, just silently left every time she attempted to confront you.

And this time she had finally succeeded.

Now dressed in a formal uniform, she watched your still form stare out of a window in her estate, as though you weren't practically trespassing. But Caitlyn was used to that. "It's going to rain soon. I wonder if the construction workers will get done with the restoration on time today before the first drops fall." The navy haired woman came to stand next to you, ears finely tuned to your calming voice she had heard in her dreams and mind for so many years. It felt surreal to stand next to you at last.

"You already know the answer... but I think Mother will send out guards soon to retrieve them." Her mother, who had only narrowly escaped her death, if it wasn't for you. She had only gotten a little injured from falling debris, but that was all that happened. All of the councilors and people in the building had survived the Jinx attack. No grave injuries. All because you prevented it by throwing Jinx slightly off balance enough to make her shot not as precise.

"... Thank you." "For what?" The right answer would be absolutely everything, but she refrained, noting that you didn't seem keen on praise. You saw it as your job. As your duty to her for a reason unknown. "For saving my mother." That should do.

You nodded at her words in acknowledgment as your eyes spied Ambessa retreating with her troops in defeat. They were practicing chased away by the council since their help was unwelcome. Served them right for meddling with the business of other nations. You had exposed their ulterior motives in secret, and that's all it took for the tide to turn against them. "Just my duty." "I knew you'd say that... but I want to reward you for all you've done. If it wasn't for you... then I... I don't want to know what I would have become."

You glanced at her with an unreadable look in your eye, and that reconfirmed her suspicions regarding how deep she would have fallen otherwise. It's best not to think of it.

Humming to yourself in thought, you gave her a small smile. "Very well, if you insist... you can treat me to some fine tea and cookies." Caitlyn weakly mirrored your grin, relief filling her senses at you accepting her offer. She was worried you wouldn't. "Of course. Follow me." Linking your arms together carefully, you made your way through the dim halls.

A chuckle left your lips when it indeed began to rain.

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not-neverland06 · 2 months ago

Text

conflicted spaces

Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

a/n: He doesn’t get TB in this. Why? Because this is fanfiction and I’m god and fuck canon (I just finished the game, I’m emotionally distraught and needed this)

Warnings: brief attempted SA

Summary: Your father is a gambling man and you’re always the collateral. He refuses to pay the wrong man and now you’re being dragged across country roads to a man you’ve never met. Arthur Morgan, an outlaw down to the bone, is in charge of making sure you get there in one piece. Except, he doesn’t feel right selling a woman off like she’s property.

You’re done being a doormat and letting the men in your life tell you what you’re worth. You’ve got three days to escape him, but you’re not prepared for the reality of the real world.

“Put your hands where I can see ‘em, cowboy.” Arthur’s 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.

The man behind him lets out a familiar laugh and tugs him around. Arthur rolls his eyes and glares at Dutch. “The hell are you doing?”

Dutch clears his throat, still laughing slightly. “Relax, Arthur, but if I had been an O’Driscoll you’d be dead right now.” Arthur doesn’t point out that the only thing they have to worry about out here are the Lemonye raiders. He’s more focused on why Dutch is even out here. Rarely does he leave Shady Belle to traverse the streets of St. Denis.

None of them are particularly fond of the place. If he wanted to step in horse shit every other step he’d go to a stable. At least those smell better. Dutch slings an arm around Arthur’s shoulder, tugging him away from the saloon he was heading towards.

“You’re gonna have to save the cheating for later, Arthur, I need you for something.”

“You know I don’t cheat,” Arthur jokes and Dutch grins at him and it’s nice. This is familiar to him. This feels right. Dutch has been odd lately, the jobs he’s been taking, the risks he’s been imposing, none of them feels like the man he knows.

Now, Arthur would follow Dutch straight into hell without being asked. But he can’t abide by how he’s putting their people in harm's way. He’s felt like a stranger more often than not and he’s been doubting the people he shouldn’t. Right now, though, he can see the man he knows in the teasing curl of his lips.

“What’dya need?”

Dutch pauses in front of a tailor and pats Arthur’s chest. “I need you to look prim and proper for a party we’ve got tonight.”

Arthur’s brows furrow cynically and he scoffs. “Someone invited us to a party?”

Dutch hesitates, a stiff smile on his face. “Well, let’s just say someone is interested in our work.” Arthur wants to question him further, he’s hiding something from him. But Dutch is pushing him towards the door of the shop before he can argue. “And get a haircut, we need to look presentable not like a bunch of mountain men.”

Arthur watches as Dutch leaves, something heavy weighing down on him. Dutch doesn’t usually tell people about his plans beforehand. At least not every step of them. But this is odd, he’s definitely hiding something and Arthur isn’t sure he wants to know what.

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.

Most of the people that attend are educated or pretend to be. And when he lets it slip that he’s more likely to shoot a gun than read a book they turn on him like jackals. You can’t let them see that you’re different than them or you’ll never get a word in edgewise.

The only part he enjoys is the booze and robbing them of their money. It’s 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.

Arthur takes a deep breath and looks for the cheapest suit he can find in the overpriced shop.

“Now,” Mr. Crane’s hand tightens around your bicep and he jerks you closer to him. You keep your face impassive, not letting him see just how much he’s hurting you. But you can feel your skin being stretched to its limits by his clammy fingers. “You’re going to behave tonight. I’ve got a few gentlemen I’d like you to meet.”

He looks at you expectantly but you keep your mouth firmly shut. His eyes narrow and he jerks you around roughly. “Understood,” you force the word out through gritted teeth. You’re trying to breathe as little as possible, not wanting to smell his cigar-laced breath any longer.

Finally, after a tortuously long moment, he releases you. You take ten steps back, smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles from the silk skirt he’d 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.

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.

He catches your eye and sends you a sickly sweet smile. “This,” he waves the money at you and you track the movement boredly. “Is how much you’re worth, sweetheart.” Your brows raise in amusement and you scoff. More than you thought he would put up for you.

You wonder who he’s going to have transport you. He’ll need you out of the city soon, your father is starting to catch onto what’s happening. It took him long enough. You’ve been missing a month, you’d think he would have put two and two together faster. Then again, he’d never been very interested in you beyond what you were worth to others.

“When will I be able to meet these gentlemen?” 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.

But he flicks his wrist and like magic the door opens, his men coming inside and standing resolutely by your side. “Not anytime soon, my dear.” He looks to the men surrounding you and you take in a sharp breath, wishing you’d just taken the chance when you had it. “My associate is feeling quite tired, take her back to her room, please.”

They grab you by the elbows, even though it's entirely unnecessary. You wouldn’t run, and even if you did you wouldn’t get far with the chains he has hidden under your dress. A punishment for the first time you snuck from his home. You’ve been well behaved since then but he doesn’t trust you.

You’re whisked away without another word. The trek of the stairs is a slow one. They’re 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.

Before, you would think of being an annoyance as a small victory. But it’s not, it never was. It was just a way for them to keep you complacent by allowing you to think you’d done something for yourself. You believe your father used to do the same thing.

It’s just another way of keeping you quiet.

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.

You think the worst part of this must be how well you’re treated. You have meals made by a private chef. Your quarters are decorated more lavishly than they ever were at your father’s house. Yet, you hear the suffocating tick of the clock as it counts down your doom.

You’re 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.

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 you’re meant to marry the son of a business partner in two months. The money he’ll get from that will be enough to finally pay off his debts.

Except, now, Mr. Crane tells you that should your father refuse to pay you’ll be married to one of his associates. And the deal he’ll make from that will be enough to cover what your father has refused to pay.

No matter what, you’re going to be married off to some man you’ve never met and yet again be a quiet trophy on a shelf. It’s a very convoluted situation, one which makes you think leaping from a window might be a better fate.

None of the men your father or Mr. Crane is in business with are particularly kind. They’ve got more skeletons in the closet than there are in the graveyard. You doubt you’ll live a very happy life with whoever they pick for you.

You slump forward onto the vanity, trying to fight off the burning feeling in the back of your eyes. You’ve 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.

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 hangman’s fingers twitching as he waits to see you drop.

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. He’s hiring someone to have you transported to an area further up the map.

If you play your cards right you might be able to escape while you’re traveling. If you’re incredibly smart about this, thinking with your head and not your heart, you might have a shot at freedom.

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.

Arthur’s 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 they’re weakest, gets their secrets from them. He’s a snake and everyone knows it. Yet, missing his party is social suicide. They have no choice but to go and indulge in him.

Arthur had never had any interest in meeting him or doing any business with him. But Dutch had informed him that’s exactly what’s happening tonight. They’ll 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.

Dutch still hasn’t told him what exactly their business with him is. He brought Hosea along tonight so he has to assume it’s not going to be anything violent. But he can’t think of anything else they could be good for.

“Alright, gentlemen,” Dutch places his hands on Hosea’s and Arthur’s shoulders, a scheming smile on his face. “Try not to embarrass me.” 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.

Arthur lurks near the bar, he knows he should be talking to these assholes, possibly learning something useful. But he can’t be bothered. He orders a whiskey, gaze surveying the partygoers. They’re all loud with painted faces and fake smiles. Not a goddamn person here seems to be genuinely interested in anything they’re doing.

“First time?” The soft voice beside him catches him off guard. He glances to the side and is surprised to see that you’ve slipped past him. He hadn’t even noticed you slide up next to him. You laugh at the look on his face and it’s the first thing here that seems real. “Sorry, it’s just that look on your face, I recognize the disappointment. You’ve never been to one of Crane’s parties before?”

“No,” he clears his throat, still recovering from the surprise. “Uh, I can’t say I have.”

You suck on your teeth, narrowing your eyes at the people passing by. “They’re not worth the effort. Everyone who leaves here leaves carrying his debt on their back.”

Arthur chuckles a little, lips twitching up into a small smile. He’s surprised by your frankness, most people like to hide behind passive-aggressive digs. He appreciates the straightforward attitude. “Then why are you here?”

You shrug and Arthur finds himself enchanted. He shouldn’t be, he’s never been one for romance. He finds women pretty and he’s been in love before, but he’s 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.

But you are absolutely gorgeous, dressed in a silk dress that’s so expensive he’s 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 Cupid’s arrow.

“I don’t have a choice,” you finally answer, sending him a stiff smile. “What about you? Why are you here?”

Arthur suddenly remembers himself, remembers why he’s here and what he’s supposed to be doing. The fog in his head dissipates and he’s disappointed in himself. Pretty women have never done anything except get him in trouble.

“Business,” 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 you’d carried yourself with is gone, replaced by a vague look of distrust.

“Right, should’ve known.” You let out a rough sigh and Arthur can’t help but feel like he’s said the wrong thing. “I suppose I’ll be seeing you again soon.” 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.

Something silver flashes under your skirts but he can’t 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.

He doesn’t 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.

It’s 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 you’d disappeared on. Dutch says nothing as he leads Hosea and Arthur through the house.

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.

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. “Ah, gentlemen, so nice to finally meet you.”

Dutch grins and motions to Arthur, “This is the man who will be doing the transporting, Arthur.” Arthur’s eyes narrow in confusion but he says nothing as Dutch moves to Hosea, “And this is my associate, Hosea. He’s a lot better with money than I am, Mr. Crane. You understand.”

Mr. Crane lets out a boisterous laugh that makes Arthur’s ears hurt and nods his head, his cheeks jiggling with the movement. “That I do! Well,” he waves them forward when they linger in the doorway too long, “come in, come in.”

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.

“I trust Mr. Van der Linde has kept this all quiet?”

“He has,” Arthur grouses.

At the same time, Dutch says, “Of course, Mr. Crane. I promised confidentiality and Dutch Van der Linde is nothing if not a man who keeps to his promises.” Crane nods, looking satisfied and Arthur holds back a laugh at how easily he seems to trust Dutch.

“Good, good.” He dips his hand inside his jacket and Arthur’s palm instinctively drops to where his gun should be. Of course, they’d had to give up their weapons before they came into the party, if he does has a gun Arthur can’t do a damn thing.

But he doesn’t, 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. Arthur’s eyes widen and Hosea’s jaw nearly drops at the sight of it all.

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? “Now, this is the first half. This is simply for accepting the job and,” he gives them all severe looks, “for your silence.”

Arthur shifts uncomfortably on his perch and waits for Mr. Crane to finish. “The other half will be given once the package has been safely delivered.” There’s a certain lilt to his words when he says package that has Arthur’s hackles raising. Whatever is getting delivered is not going to be good.

Crane turns towards the bookshelves on the wall and calls out, “Darling, won’t you join us?” Arthur figures the man must have lost his mind, they should just take the money and leave. But there’s a loud creak and something like metal gears grinding together. One of the shelves pops open and the panel swings forward.

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.

At first, he’s so confused by seeing you again that he doesn’t realize why exactly he’s seeing you again. Then you glance towards him, a knowing look on your face and it clicks. You’re the package. You’re what he’s meant to be transporting.

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. “If I may, sir, why does she need to be delivered so discreetly?”

Mr. Crane laughs and your face twitches unpleasantly. You grimace, glaring at the back of the man’s head with something like murder in your eyes. He doesn’t know what he’s done to cause such a visceral look of hate and he doesn’t want to think about it. This whole situation is bothering him. You’re not here willingly, which means you’re not going to be transported willingly either.

None of this makes sense. Dutch would never have taken a job like this before, even when they needed the money. And there’s no way in hell a rich man like this one would want to pay a couple of grungy outlaws so much money. There’s got to be some sort of trick in all of this.

Cran clears his throat, “She’s a daughter of a, well,” he frowns and struggles for the words. “Let’s just say we’re in a hostile competition for a lot of land. This land, boys, could be very beneficial in expanding my business. He’s not interested in selling and, well, desperate times, desperate measures.”

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. “Should her father not pay me, she will be married to the associate you’re bringing her to. He’s promised me enough land and money to cover what I lost to her father. And if he does pay, she’ll be returned in time for her wedding here.”

Arthur’s 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. “I just need someone who's not afraid of getting their hands a little dirty to make sure she behaves while she’s delivered to my friend,” 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.

Arthur stands, ready for Dutch to tell Mr. Crane that they’re not in the business of selling women off. But Dutch doesn’t, he smiles at Mr. Crane and reaches for the money, passing it off to Hosea to count. “Well, I do believe my friend Arthur is just the man for the job.”

“I think you’re right, Dutch.” He stands up now, pot belly nearly bursting the buttons of his shirt, and reaches for Dutch’s hand. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

Dutch smiles and takes his sweaty palm, “You as well, sir.” Dutch walks towards you and holds his arm out. “This way, my dear.” 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.

Arthur remains in the office, standing dumbfounded and staring at the doorway you’d disappeared through. He’s struggling to process what just happened. Arthur has helped people get home safely before and provided protection. But he’s never been one to traffic a hostage.

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. “Don’t be afraid to take care of her should she get out of hand.” He’s nearly out the door but he looks back and adds, “Just don’t bruise her too much.”

Arthur’s fingers twitch for his revolver once more and he’s never wanted to shoot a man more. But he knows Dutch is waiting for him and he’d 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 you’re all waiting for him.

He’s fuming by the time he stops in front of Dutch. He’s 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 can’t maneuver yourself on the saddle.

His eyes narrow and he glares at Dutch, “What the hell are you doing? We’re selling women now?”

Dutch glowers at the tone of Arthur’s voice. You watch them both passively, fiddling with the rings on your fingers and looking unbothered by the entire situation. “Watch yourself, Arthur,” there’s a clear warning in his tone but Arthur’s too upset to care.

They’ve done a lot of bad things. They weren’t good men. But this was just going too far. “We need this, Arthur. You want to get out of here, you want to keep our people safe?” Arthur let out a deep exhale, gritting his teeth together and nodding reluctantly. Dutch huffs, “That’s what I thought. We’re not selling anyone, Arthur. It’s a simple delivery.”

His jaw clenches as he watches Dutch struggle to help you again. “It’s not going to work,” you inform Dutch. You lift your skirts, flashing him the chains he hadn’t seemed to notice yet. Neither of you gets a chance to say anything as Arthur pulls out his gun and shoots the lock off.

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.

Dutch turns and gives him a stern look, “Have you forgotten the meaning of subtlety?” Arthur can tell he’s trying not to shout and drag any more attention towards you all.

Arthur glares at Dutch, something wicked brewing in his stomach. “The lady wouldn’t be able to ride a horse like that.” He mounts his horse and rides off without a look back. He can’t stand to be near you or Dutch any longer.

The reality of what they’ve turned into hits him like a bag of rocks and it makes him irate. They’ve never been these people. Never traded a person off like they were an object. He’s 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.

And by then, everyone will be too happy with the money to complain. Dutch is nothing if not good at saving his ass. He’s 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.

His eyes narrow in on the way Dutch’s 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.

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.

He pats his shoulder comfortingly, “You should get some sleep, Arthur. You’ll ride with her to Strawberry tomorrow morning.” He almost walks off but he whispers a quiet, “I’m sorry,” before he goes.

Arthur glances towards you but you’re 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.

“Alright, come with me,” he starts towards the house. It takes a minute to realize you’re 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.

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.

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 he’s dragging you into his room.

They can make up whatever the hell they want. Arthur’s 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.

You won’t be able to ride to Strawberry in those ridiculous clothes. You’ll need some pants if you’re going to sit on the horse properly. He tucks the outfit under his arm and makes his way back to you.

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.

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 it’s dull, he hasn’t sharpened it in a while and you wouldn’t be able to do much damage anyway.

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 you’re not completely terrified.

You change into the clothes Arthur gave you. They’re a little big, but you appreciate the pants. It’s much better than the ridiculous dresses Crane had you in. You collect your dress and toss it out the window of Arthur’s room, watching it sink into the mud pit below. It brings you some satisfaction to see Crane’s pretty silk getting ruined.

You take off the jewelry you’d 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.

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 you’re on the right side of it, which, currently, you’re not.

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 isn’t exactly restful.

You figure you might as well try and walk around before you’re on the back of a horse for the rest of the day. There are more people up than you’d expected. Luckily, you don’t see Dutch around anywhere. You don’t feel like having to deal with any more of his false charm or empty apologies.

The same man you’d seen strumming his guitar the night before is asleep next to the dying fire. A blonde woman catches your eye, she’s walking past some other women in dresses. They’re still asleep but she looks like she’s been up for hours.

There’s a bit of blood on her pants and you briefly wonder what she’d been doing. “Who are you?” She asks, surveying you from head to toe with suspicion in her eyes.

“A package,” 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.

“You’ve got a real attitude, I like it.”

You huff out a laugh, taking a sip of the burnt coffee and giving her a brief smile. “I’m sure my future husband won’t.”

She rolls her eyes and scoffs, waving you off. “Husbands, good for nothing. I loved mine but he was useless as a sack o’ flour. You’re better off without them.”

Your smile turns strained and you look down at your feet, at the boots that aren’t your own. You’ll never get to dress like this again. Or speak like this to a woman who isn’t afraid to voice what's on her mind.

“Yes, well,” you shrug and meet her eyes again, “I don’t seem to have much of a choice.”

Her eyes narrow and she frowns, “What’s that supposed to-”

“Mrs. Adler!” Dutch’s voice booms from across the camp and forces the others awake. Most of them grumble, but they’re quick to get started on morning chores. “I see you’ve met our guest,” he says your name with a flourish that almost makes you laugh.

He’s a good actor. He’s especially good at covering up his mistakes. “Yeah, what’s going on, Dutch? Who is she? Why don’t you guys ever let me in on this stuff?” She fires off questions rapidly, you almost don’t catch them all. There are clearly underlying issues here other than your unexpected presence.

“In due time,” he assures her, laying the charm on thick. But even you can tell he’s full of it. He’s not planning on letting her in on anything unless it benefits him. “And this is our guest, her fiancee has paid us handsomely to provide her safe passage back to him.”

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. “I do believe it’s best that you just wait for Arthur, dear.” He gives you a look that lets you know it’s an order, not a suggestion.

Still, you play along, “I think you might be right, Mr. Van der Linde, thank you for the hospitality.” 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.

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.

The wood creaks behind you and you don’t need to turn to see who it is. “Ready?” Arthur asks and you figure he means, ready to leave freedom and happiness and the will to live behind?

No, “Sure,” 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 doesn’t look entirely pleasant.

He makes his way toward a towering black shire and your eyes widen in horror. “What’s this?”

He works on saddling the horse up, not paying much attention to you. “This is Diablo.” 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.

Arthur glances over and lets out a low chuckle, “He won’t bite. He’s just curious.”

“Mhm,” you give him a disbelieving look. “You’ll have to excuse me for being wary, I’ve not met a lot of horses.”

Arthur looks a bit shocked by your admission. “Really?” He questions, sounding doubtful.

You give him a brief smile and nod. “Hard to believe, I know, but I’ve lived a very sheltered life, Mr. Morgan. Haven’t had many opportunities for exploring on my own.”

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. “You can’t spend the next three days terrified of him, come on.”

He coaxes you forward and you reluctantly step closer to the beast. He chuckles at the scared look on your face. You don’t appreciate how much amusement he’s gaining from this. “Come on,” he mutters, taking your wrist and leading you closer to Diablo.

The damn thing is named Devil, how could you not be terrified of it?

“He won’t bite, I promise.” You don’t trust him but he doesn’t give you much of a choice. He presses your open palm to Diablo’s nose and you wince, bracing for him to lash out at you.

But he doesn’t, he lets out a soft knicker and it seems like he doesn’t even care that you’re there. You let out a relieved laugh, running your hand tentatively over his muzzle. It’s shockingly soft and oddly squishy.

He doesn’t 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 can’t fathom why. “You really never have ridden a horse before, have you?”

You shake your head, “No. I told you.”

He purses his lips and nods. You don’t know what it is about this that’s bothering him and you don’t care to ask. If he doesn’t believe just how strict your upbringing has been then fine. “Alright, come on, we need to get a move on.”

He leads you around to the saddle and helps you up on the back of the horse. It’s beyond odd, sitting on something in pants. Getting to spread your legs freely is something you are going to greatly enjoy during this journey.

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.

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 don’t get out, if you can’t escape, your life will be filled with starched collars and powdered faces. You’ll never have a genuine conversation with someone again. You’ll be turned into pretty jewelry hanging off the arm of a man you never met.

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 he’ll have to face losing you. But not sorry enough that you’re not gonna try.

Arthur’s 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 Arthur’s fingers twitch on the reigns of the horse and you move your arms higher up his torso.

You doubt you’ll be a quicker draw than he is. He is an outlaw after all. You don’t think he’d 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.

You’re sure you’d 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 can’t bring yourself to cross. Besides, as wicked as what he’s doing to you is, you know he’s a good man.

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.

Arthur has undoubtedly bad things. You don’t become an outlaw without spilling some blood. He was weathered and rough from a hard life, but that didn’t mean there was nothing good left in him. You won’t have his blood on your hands, no matter how much you might want to get away from him.

As grateful as Arthur is for the silence, it is odd. He’s helped a few ladies find their way back home before and for some reason, they seem to think he’s the best listener in the world. It seems everyone who rides with him wants to tell him their life stories.

You’re completely silent, though. He has to keep looking back just to make sure you haven’t fallen off the back of the horse. You’re pretty complacent, following along with whatever Dutch said and coming along quietly. You seem beaten down, the fight dragged out of you.

He wonders what Mr. Crane had done to you. A few times, he’s 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 didn’t feel right, bringing you along to marry a man you’ve 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 he’s doing is switching up who the fiancee might be.

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 Dutch’ll get from this will be enough to get them all out of here. This could finally be the last score.

You gasp behind him and he whips his head around, immediately expecting someone to be following along beside you both. Maybe your father’s men or just some raiders. But he doesn’t see anything except a herd of deer running through the trees.

His brows furrow in confusion and he glances back at you. You’re watching them like they’re something spectacular. Arthur’s always been a fan of the quiet beauty of nature. He appreciates them in ways most folks don’t understand. But you’re looking at ‘em like you just found God.

“Never seen deer before?” He teases, chuckling a little at your reaction.

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. “No. No, I haven’t.”

He knows it's possible, but it’s astounding to him that someone truly lived their whole life in the city. It just doesn’t 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.

“I’ll just enjoy it while it lasts,” you mutter, eyes darting back to the tree line. But the deer are gone and you don’t look very interested anymore.

“Right,” he shifts forward, the air between you awkward. He’d only meant it in jest. He didn’t mean to remind you of what was about to happen to you. He doesn’t like the silence, not this time, it feels wrong. It makes him stew in his shame and that’s a nasty feeling.

Selfishly, he prods you for more. “A few days on the road, you’ll be eager for the city again.”

You laugh but there’s no humor to it. “I very much doubt that Mr. Morgan.”

“Arthur,” he corrects, “just call me Arthur.”

“Right,” your tone remains cold, “well if you don’t mind Arthur, I’d like to ride there in silence.”

He's got no other choice but to comply. If you don’t want to talk he won’t make you. He just wishes he could make this a little easier for you both.

Camping is something. You don’t have a word for it. It’s 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.

Rocks digging into your spine and head do not make for a good night’s sleep. You’ve been lying in front of the fire for hours, flipping around uselessly. It doesn’t matter how much you shift, the rock stays digging painfully into you.

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 can’t see the stars. The smoke’s too thick and you never get a good look at them.

Out here, they almost feel fake. They’re 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 there’s a potential future where you’ll never get to see this again.

“Would you quit squirming so damn much?”

You shoot up, resting on your elbows and glaring over at Arthur. He’s got his hat over his eyes, arms crossed, and looking like he’s been asleep for the past few hours. You hadn’t realized you’d been keeping him up.

“Some of us aren’t used to sleeping outside,” you hiss, throwing yourself back down to the ground. He doesn’t say anything for a while and you figure that’s the end of it. You clench your eyes shut, counting sheep in your mind and trying to force yourself asleep.

You hear boots crunching across leaves and your eyes fly open. Arthur’s standing over you, hands propped on his hips as he glares down at you. “Can I help you?” You snap when you get tired of the staring.

He scoffs and shakes his head, kneeling to be eye level with you. You’re startled by the proximity, an odd heat creeping up your neck. “Come on, I’m gonna tire you out. Maybe then you’ll get some sleep.”

You gasp, astonished at the audacity of his suggestion. “Excuse me?” You demand, tone incredulous.

His brows furrow before he shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “Not like that,” he grouses. “Get up,” he doesn’t 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.

You can’t help the snotty tone of your voice as you ask, “What are we doing?”

“Huntin,’” He answers gruffly, going over to the horse and taking the bow out of his saddle.

Your brows furrow as you recall the few stories your father told you of hunting bison. “Aren’t you supposed to use a rifle?”

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 what’s lurking in the underbrush.

“Got a friend,” he tells you, kneeling and glancing at some tracks on the ground. “Taught me how to hunt properly. Bows are quieter, less disruptive, and they provide quicker, cleaner kills.” He looks back at you and motions towards the arrows, “Less pain for the animal.”

Your face slacks with something like astonishment. All you’d 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. You’d never thought there was anybody who actually cared for the creature’s comfort as it died.

You suppose there’s going to be a lot about Arthur that’s different from the men you know.

“Arthur,” 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. “I don’t want to kill anything,” you hiss.

“Ha!” He barks out a laugh and you purse your lips in irritation. He stands and looks at you, chuckling again before shaking his head. “I wouldn’t be so confident in your huntin’ skill, kid.”

You click your tongue and glare at him, “Don’t call me that,” you snap. It’s 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. “Then what’s the point of this?”

He shrugs and heads further into the trees, you have no choice but to follow along behind him. “Figure you should be taught a few skills before I get rid of ya.”

You want to argue with him that there’s no point. If you are given to Crane’s associate, you’ll never set foot in the woods again. However, if you do manage to escape him, learning a few survival skills wouldn’t be a bad idea.

So, you keep your mouth shut and let him lead you through the forest. “How do you know where to go?” You ask, trying to figure out what it is he keeps looking at in the mud. He waves you forward, moving you so you’re standing directly in front of him.

“You see that?” You have to squint, relying solely on the light from the moon, to make out what he’s pointing at. There are some tracks in the mud that look vaguely like hooves. “It’s buck tracks, you can tell by the size.” He kneels and when you don’t follow he tugs you down by the sleeve. “You can’t rely on just the tracks, though. You have to look for other signs of ‘em.”

You glance around, noticing some crushed twigs and grass a few feet ahead. “Like that?” You point towards it and he huffs in amusement.

“Caught on quicker than I thought.”

You feel vaguely offended by that but don’t 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. You’re 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.

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. He’s got to be one of the most gorgeous creatures you’ve ever seen.

You’ve lived your whole life in St. Denis. The most you’ve seen are overworked carriage horses and mangy dogs. No life slips through the cracks of that place. There’s just smoke and misery. This is nature, real beauty. It’s breathtaking, the way the leaves ripple in the wind and the starlight reflects in the water.

You can’t 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 can’t do it. You can’t have this one taste of freedom and then let it go without a fight.

Arthur pulls the bow out and nocks an arrow. You glance between him and the buck and rapidly shake your head. “No,” you hiss, “I don’t wanna kill it.”

He rolls his eyes and moves you in front of him. You don’t have much choice as he places your hands on the string and guides you into the right position. “Relax,” he murmurs in your ear as you fight against his grip. “You ain’t gonna kill it.”

It doesn’t bring you much comfort, but if you’re going to make it on your own, sometimes you’ll have to do something you don’t like. “Now,” his hand drifts down your bicep and you suck in a sharp breath. “Don’t hold it too long, you’ll get tired.”

It’s dawning on you just how close you both are. You’re kneeling on the ground with him behind you, essentially cradling your body to him. You’ve never been this familiar with a man before, it’s making your brain short-circuit. You can hardly pay attention to what he’s telling you.

He lifts your elbow slightly and points you towards the left. “You 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.” You give him an apprehensive look, still not wanting to hurt the buck. He just nods and there’s something in his gaze that lets you relax slightly.

You release the string and the arrow flies over the buck’s 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.

“My god, I’ve never shot anything before.”

“Congratulations, you’ve killed your first tree,” he remarks dryly, but you see the glint of humor in his eye.

He gets to his feet and offers you a hand up. You smile up at him, undeterred by his attitude. “Thank you for this,” you tell him earnestly. He gives you an odd look but nods anyway. He doesn’t understand just how important this is to you. Knowing how to do something like this is the difference between life and death when you’re on your own. Of course, he doesn’t realize you’ll be making an escape attempt soon.

He retrieves the arrow from the tree and you run your hand over the curve of the bow. You wonder just how much he’d miss this if you took it from him.

Arthur’s tearing down the camp and you’re standing by Diablo, feeding him some apples. You stroke absentmindedly over the horse's muzzle, watching Arthur intently. He’s too busy pulling the tent apart to be paying attention to you.

You got better sleep last night than you did at Crane’s. He was right, hunting had tired you out. You were eager enough to sleep that you didn’t even feel the rough ground underneath you. He seems to be a little more lax about his watch over you.

Something about last night must have eased him into a sense of comfort that you’re not going to run. That’s his own fault, though. You glance over the curve of the hill, noticing a carriage that will be passing by soon enough.

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.

Slowly, you release Diablo’s 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.

You land on your back with enough impact to make the breath rush out of you. But your descent is still going and you’re flipping over headfirst into the road. You slide forward, the dirt scraping up your chin as you cough and try and catch your breath.

“Look out!” 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.

“Stop!” You scream, waving your arms wildly and chasing after the carriage. The man gives you a bewildered look as you throw yourself at him. “Please, sir, I’ve been kidnapped, you must help me get back to my husband.”

The man looks behind you, sees a very angry Arthur bellowing out your name, and moves to the side. “Hurry up,” 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.

He whips the horses, hurrying them along all the while Arthur is yelling after you. It’s 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. “Thanks for the help,” you tell the man beside you. You offer your hand and name.

He glances down at it but doesn’t 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.

“Where are you headed?” 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.

“Said yer husband’s waitin’ for ya?” He demands, completely ignoring your question. You stare at the side of his face but his expression isn’t giving anything away. He comes to an intersection. You see a sign pointing towards a town and figure he’s going to take it, but instead, he pulls onto a smaller trail leading to the woods.

“Um,” you clear your throat uncertainly, glancing back at the sign. “Yes,” your voice cracks and you know you sound like you’re full of shit.

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 you’d gotten yourself into. “You sure about that, little lady?”

Something cold digs into your side and you gasp quietly, looking down to see a gun pressed against your ribs. “You scream, run, or do anythin’ to piss me off and I’ll put a fourth hole in ya.” When you don’t say anything he digs it harder into you. “Understand?” He growls and you can do nothing but nod your head.

You want to move, want to shove him off the side of the carriage and make a run for it. But you can’t, you’re frozen solid. You’re so petrified with fear you can’t even blink. You think you’re holding your breath, as if taking in air is going to set the gun off.

He grins, a blackened curl of lips over rotted teeth, at your obedience and comes to a stop in the trees. “What are you doing?” You whisper, staring at the secluded area with a newfound sense of horror.

“Shut up,” 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. “Down,” he demands. Your eyes dart towards the reigns of the horses and he pulls the hammer of the gun back. “Don’t even think about it.”

You lift your hands in the air, slowly slipping down the seat. He doesn’t appreciate you taking your time He grabs the front of your shirt, jerking you further into the trees and tossing you to the ground.

You let out a rough groan at the impact, blood staining your shirt as your elbow slips across a jagged rock. It’s like something is snapped loose in your mind. He comes stomping towards you, kneeling between your spread legs and it finally clicks.

You lunge forward with a shout and he rears back in surprise. You wonder how often someone’s actually fought against him or just let it happen. You don’t want to die, you don’t want to get shot by this scum, but there are a lot of things worse than dying.

You grab the arm holding the gun, jerking it around, and knocking it out of his hand. “You bitch!” 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.

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, he’s wrapping his hands around your ankles and dragging you back towards him.

You feel like screaming as your hands desperately grasp at the dirt underneath you. But there’s 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.

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.

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.

You glance over, waiting for him to spring back up. But there’s something dark pooling around him and sinking into the dirt below. There’s a hole in his chest and his eyes are already flattening. You fall back against the earth, staring up at the trees above you.

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. There’s a smile on your face but there’s nothing to be happy about.

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.

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.

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.

You don't even have time to process the fact that you’re 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.

He’s going to find you and he’s going to kill you. Leaving while he had his back turned. Getting on some carriage with a man you’ve never met before. How dumb do you have to be? You can’t trust people out here. Not when there are gangs, raiders, hell, he’s encountered a few cannibals.

For all he knows, you’re already dead and he’ll be delivering a body to the train station. The thought makes him curse and urge Diablo forward. It’s not hard to follow the tracks of the carriage, what concerns him is when they lead into the forest instead of the town.

“Goddammit,” he mutters, “the hell have you done woman?” 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.

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.

His stomach plummets and he races towards it. But it’s not you buried under the foliage, it’s the man who offered you a ride. “What the hell?” He kneels, brushing the leaves off his chest and frowning when he sees the blood splattered all along his chest.

He doesn’t need to look long to figure out what killed him. He’s 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.

He’ll have to rely on instinct to find you. You’re becoming a real pain in the ass for what was supposed to be a simple job. Still, he can’t help but be a little relieved that it was a stranger and not you lying dead on the ground.

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.

An unsaddled mare lazily eats some grass as the sound of a rushing river meets his ears. Diablo’s hooves sound off against the wood of the bridge. He finally sees what disturbed the other rider so much.

You’re 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 doesn’t want to startle you and have you go tumbling over the edge.

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 isn’t yours but it still puts him on edge. “What’re you doin’ kid?”

You don’t answer him, “Did you follow me?” 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. “Is he dead?”

He scoffs, “Sure as shit hope so, don’t know how someone would survive that.”

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. “Alright, let’s go,” he quietly urges you around. You don’t 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 doesn’t know what your regular behavior is, the most he’s seen of you, you have been quiet. This is different, though. He’s seen this sort of quiet in women before and it never ends pretty.

“You’re alright, come on,” he tries to keep his voice low so he doesn’t set you off. He keeps his hands light as they land around your waist, giving you help onto Diablo’s saddle. Your gaze is distant and you move like someone else is controlling your body.

He collects the mare you’d brought along with you and leads both horses into town. He’ll 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.

The town, at least, is on the way to Strawberry so he doesn’t have to worry about being too far off schedule. Though, that’s 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 doesn’t look like anything is going on in your head, you seem completely distanced from the situation.

It’s a good thing for him. He can’t handle a distraught woman. He’s not a kind enough man for it.

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.

He huffs and follows after you. He doesn’t know how to explain the blood on your clothes away and hopes he won’t have to. The man running the place, thankfully, doesn’t have many questions. He looks disturbed but keeps his qualms to himself when Arthur slips him a little extra cash.

Arthur guides you up the stairs with a light hand on your back, opening the door of the bath for you. “Alright, here’s your room key. I’ll be out for a while so, just,” he sighs, taking in the blank look on your face and shaking his head. “Try not to cause any more trouble.” You nod and close the door behind him.

There’s no worries that you’re going to make a run for it again. He’s 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 wouldn’t blame you, there are some nasty people out here. Himself included, but he could never imagine hurting a woman like that. It just ain’t right.

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 doesn’t have to carry the weight of two people. You might make it to your handler in time.

Arthur still doesn’t feel right about this whole thing. Leaving you with a man you’ve never met feels even worse knowing what happened to you today. He doesn’t think you being so calm about it all is a good thing. Shouldn’t women react?

Dutch likes to tell him women are a more sensitive breed. He’s 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.

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.

It’s clearer now, you’re crying and it’s hard to listen to. It's the type that makes it hard to breathe. That sort of crying makes your ribs ache and bruise. It’s 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.

Sleep comes easier than he thought it would. It’s not as restful as he’d been hoping but it draws over him faster than it normally does. He’s always been a light sleeper, though. It comes from years of having to be on guard in case some O’Driscoll is gonna try and slit his throat while he’s asleep.

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 what’s clearly a woman’s form. But he can’t see your face until you take a step further into the room and the moonlight provides some light.

“Arthur?” You whisper his name, peering into his room. “Are you awake?”

“I am now,” he grumbles. With a sigh, he shoves the gun back under his pillow and runs a rough hand over his face. “What'd ya want?”

You let out a low breath and rock back on your heels. “I’m sorry,” you mutter. “I just, I can’t sleep. I keep thinking he’s gonna creep out of my closet or bust through the door, I-”

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 he’s about to say. “You wanna sleep in here?” He mumbles reluctantly.

You close the door immediately, practically running towards his bed. “You don’t mind?”

You’re not really giving him a choice, but he’s not going to say that to you. “No.” 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.

“Well, what’re you doing?”

“What’s it look like?” He snaps, angrily gesturing towards the floor. “I’m givin’ you the bed.”

You bite your lip and he feels horrible instantly because you look like you’re about to cry. He’s not trying to be rude but you woke him up in the dead of night. What’d you expect him to say?

“I was sort of hoping we could share the bed.”

His eyes widen and he glares at you in disbelief. “You mean-”

“No!” You cut him off with an aggrieved sigh. “You fool, that’s not what I mean at all. I just don’t want to be alone, alright?”

“Look,” he scoffs and shakes his head. “I don’t think I’m the man you want to bunk with for company, alright. I’m not that kind of guy.” You glare at him and snatch his pillow and blanket off the floor.

“Don’t be so damn stubborn.” You aggressively fluff the pillows, throwing the covers back and gesturing towards them, your brow set in anger.

“Right,” he huffs, “I’m stubborn.” He reluctantly crawls into bed and you follow behind him. It’s not that he minds sharing a bed with a pretty lady. He’s just not the sort of guy you should be coming to for comfort.

He doesn’t 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 you’re being subtle, slowly moving into his side until you’re flush against him.

He doesn’t say anything to object and you don’t bring up the proximity. He doesn’t want to admit it but it is nice having someone else beside him. He’s so used to camping out on his own. He hasn’t had anyone beside him in a long while. He lost interest in women of leisure a long while ago. And ever since Mary, he’s given up on any sort of intimacy.

He hates to admit it, but he finds himself easing towards the warmth you provide. The second you feel him reciprocating you’re inching a tentative hand around his waist, cuddling closer to him. He recognizes it for what it is.

He’s always been looked at as someone who can protect, at least by the gang. He’s 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.

He doesn’t mind being used like this. He wraps an arm around your shoulders and waits until he feels you settle to ease into sleep again.

Arthur figures you should both get breakfast in town while you’re here. He reasons you should enjoy a hot meal before you’re on the road again. You don’t point out that you know he’s just trying to ease you into the day.

You appreciate it, honestly, but yesterday wasn’t your first run-in with men like that. It’s become incomprehensibly normal in day-to-day life, even for a city girl like yourself. You’d cried everything out in the bath once you’d scrubbed your skin raw.

You don’t think Arthur will ever understand just how much his presence helped you last night. If you’d been on your own, jumping every time you heard the wood creaking outside, you’d have driven yourself over the edge. He protected you, even if there was nothing to be protected from.

You don’t think he gives himself enough credit. Ignoring the situation you’re both in and what he’s taking you to do, he’s a good man. While the caliber of the men you’ve met is questionable at best, he’s one of the best ones you’ve ever known. At the end of the day, he disagrees with the whole situation, but he’s doing this for his family. That’s admirable in its own way.

But, god, does he have poor conversational skills. “So, yesterday.” You glance up from your toast, brows raised in question. He clears his throat, eyes darting between you and his food like he can’t choose what to focus on. “That man, did he…”

He trails off and you feel your hackles rise. “Don’t worry,” you hiss, a bite to your words, “I’m still pure for my husband. Your pay won’t be docked, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

His hand clenches around his fork and his eyes bore into yours, “That’s not what I meant,” he growls. “I wasn’t worried about that,” he snaps, “I was worried ‘bout you, woman.”

You take in a deep breath, actively biting your tongue from saying something spiteful. He wasn’t being rude, that’s just what you’re used to. “I’m sorry,” you concede lowly. “Nothing happened,” you repeat without the attitude.

“Well,” he huffs and goes back to his breakfast, “good,” he settles on dully.

“Good,” 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. “Did you name her?”

Arthur gives you an odd look and you nod towards the mare hitched next to Diablo. He swallows the food he’d been chewing and takes a swig of his coffee. “No, figured you’d want to do it.”

Your brows furrow and your lips quirk in confusion. “Why?”

“She’s yours, ain’t she?” He grouses.

You shake your head, “Nope,” you tell him, popping the p. “I just took her so I’d have something to get me to town.”

“Yeah, well,” he sounds less sure of himself and he’s looking like he made a mistake. “I thought she’d be nice for you to have with you in the city. A way for you to get around without relyin’ on someone else.”

You can’t help but smile, something in your chest easing away at the kind gesture. “I appreciate it,” he lights up a little at your approval, but you crush it in an instant. “But I can’t keep her, I won’t be allowed to. I’ve tried to have my own horse before, hard to control something that can get away from you,” you tell him blankly. There’s no emotion in your voice because it’s something you’re used to.

He looks slightly horrified at how blunt you are. He can’t comprehend not having that freedom but he fails to recognize that he’s 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.

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. You’ve never been on the receiving end of a judgmental look like that.

You’ve always blended in. Been the perfect wallflower for the men in your life. You were never something to gawk at or cause trouble. It’s a relief to stick out for once, to break the mould for the first time in your life.

Arthur clocks the interaction and chuckles. “Missin’ the skirts yet?”

“Not one damn bit,” you tell him, smiling as you take a sip of your coffee. “I’m going to miss being able to run around without having to lug an extra four pounds of fabric behind me.”

“Ya know, you could just wear some pants, you’ve got a choice.”

You grin patronizingly at him, propping your head on your chin and watching him finish the rest of his breakfast. “You don’t know city men very well, do you?”

“Glad for it,” he grumbles, distaste clear in his tone.

A laugh breaks through your chest, the first real one in a while. “I’m going to be marrying one, Arthur. I won’t have a choice in much of anything anymore.” You can tell he wants to object, tell you there’s always a choice.

He’ll never truly understand what’s going to happen to you, though. You’re no longer human once you’re married. You’re cattle and property, meant to be bred and shown off. You accepted your fate a long while ago. And after you’re failed escape attempt, you’ve realized this is what you were always meant to be. There’s no point in fighting fate.

“Don’t apologize or argue,” you tell him, no spite or bitterness in your tone, just the honest truth. “I don’t mind anymore, really. What place is there for me in this world, anyway? I can’t exactly take care of myself.”

“You did a damn good job yesterday,” he snaps back quickly. He doesn’t seem too keen on the way you’re talking about yourself. But you’re 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.

“Sure, but that was a one-off incident. I’m not going to run again, Arthur. There’s no point. And there’s no point in fighting against the way things are, they’re never going to change for me.” You take in a deep breath, the easy mood ruined by your sincerity.

“I’m just gonna wait by the horses.”

You slide out of the booth, leaving Arthur to stare pensively at his plate. You’ve nearly slipped through the door when Arthur calls out, “You should name her.” You pause at the doorway, glancing back at him. He’s settling the bill at the front and you walk back out to the horses.

The mare picks her head up as you walk towards her, ears perked and tail flicking. “Hey, girl,” you run a hand over her muzzle, admiring the sleek silver of her coat. “I guess I should name you.”

You run a hand over her mane and swing yourself onto the saddle. “How ‘bout Bullet, it’s how I got you, anyway.” A dark joke, but it eases the macabre feeling hanging around you.

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.

“Name her?”

You resent how smug he sounds. “Bullet,” you answer reluctantly.

“Bullet?” He questions, tone incredulous.

You grin at him, “It’s how I got her.” There’s a slightly stunned expression on his face before it slacks away into something more amused.

He shakes his head and nudges Diablo forward, Bullet follows alongside him eagerly. “Clever,” he mutters.

“Not really,” you snort, running a hand over her neck lovingly. “But I think it works for her.”

“Your husband’s gonna have his hands full with you,” 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. “I-”

“How much further to Strawberry, anyway?” You effectively cut off whatever train of thought he was going to follow, distracting you both from the truth.

“Half a day,” he tells you, frowning when you refuse to meet his eye again. Half a day. That’s all you’ve got to enjoy the last bits of freedom you have. You’re gonna take your damn time getting there, that’s for sure.

You slow down from the steady trot Arthur had led the horses into, easing Bullet into a slow walk. You’re slowly getting the hang of riding a horse. It’s easy when she’s so intuitive. By god, though, your ass is sore.

Arthur shoots you a questioning glance at the slow pace and you shrug. “Might as well take the time I’ve got left.”

“You’re actin’ like you’re on death row,” he chuckles.

“Aren’t I?” He falls silent and you don’t know what’s bothering him but you don’t have the energy to inquire.

He’s slowing you down on purpose, he knows it and you know it. Neither of you says a damn thing about it but it’s bugging him. He shouldn’t be this bothered by a job. He knows how to separate himself from what he does. He just can’t this time.

There’s something about you that glows. You’re 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. It’s a far cry from the beaten-down woman he’d seen at Crane’s house.

Even after what happened yesterday, you somehow manage to seem happier. There’s nothing about it that makes him happy. This feels like the last goodbye of someone who knows they’re going soon. The last bout of happiness before they just give in.

You’re not gaining your spark back, you’re just giving in to what you think is inevitable. But it doesn’t have to be inevitable. You could fight back you just refuse to. He’s sure growing up the way you have, you don’t think it's possible to stand up for yourself.

But you don’t have to give in like this. You don’t have to roll over and let someone else dictate your life. Which is rich, coming from him. He’s practically Dutch’s lap dog now. Even when he disagrees he still follows along behind him.

He shouldn’t even be thinking like this. He can’t criticize you for not standing up for yourself when he’s the one thing standing between you and freedom. “Not hungry?” You nod towards the uneaten meat on his knife.

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. “Ya know,” you mutter around a full mouth. You take a moment to swallow it down before smiling over at him. “I’ve grown up with private chefs my whole life, but there’s is something infinitely more satisfying about this.”

He takes his hat off, running a hand through his hair. He snorts at your comment, “I find that hard to believe.”

“No,” you shake your head, insistent, “I mean it. Being out here, hunting the game myself, I don’t know, it’s nice.” You shrug and lean back on your hands, gazing across the way at the trees and river.

“You can always get a bow and go hunting.” He speaks to you like it's a cut-and-dry truth that you’re just not accepting. Your face screws up and you give him an annoyed glare.

“No. I can’t,” you tell him again. Where your words were patient before, he can tell you’re growing irritated at how much he’s pushing this.

“Yes, you can,” he snaps. “You don’t have to keep yourself boxed up in some manor in the city. Get out, woman, do something with your life!” His voice echoes through the air and you flinch back from it, lips pulling down into a sneer.

“You know, that’s 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.”

He lets out a rough sigh, “That’s not what I meant-”

You cut him off, getting to your feet and glaring down at him. “You 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 don’t 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.”

You kick dirt over the fire and head back towards Bullet. “It’s a double-edged sword, Arthur. Sure, my life might be comfortable, but it’s never really gonna be my life.” He stays there on the ground, too stunned to get up.

You glare down at him, impatiently waiting for him to get a move on. This isn’t how he wants things to end. He doesn’t want you to go off thinking he’s just some ignorant fool. But he is, much as he denies it, he’s always been a fool.

He should never have thought he could make a difference in your life. Not when he’s 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 you’re both paying for it.

He mounts Diablo and you both head back to the roads silently. You’re moving faster now, leaving him behind if he lingers in one area for too long. You’re 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.

You’re in Strawberry before he’s ready, he’s sure you aren’t. “Hey, we could-”

“I think that’s him.” You cut him off before he says something stupid like spend another night in town before you go. He’ll miss you, he thinks. Odd, he’s known you such a short time but it’s been so different having someone beside him as he rides. It was nice, what he wished he and Mary could have had.

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. He’s got a large bag beside him, gaze wandering around expectantly. He doesn’t doubt the man who looks like he’s got a five-foot stick up his ass is Mr. Crane’s associate. He’s 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 man’s eyes narrow in on you before lighting up. He calls out your name and it’s like a mask being dropped over your face.

The spark is gone once more, a subdued and demure smile resting on your face as you wave at him. “I apologize for my dress,” you tell him as you walk up the steps. “Pants were more conducive to such a long ride.”

He takes your hand, pressing a lingering kiss to your knuckles that makes Arthur roll his eyes. “No apologies necessary, I brought you a change of clothes. I figured you would be less than put together after such a journey. I’m only sorry I couldn’t accompany you.”

You scoff and nod along, “Okay,” 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.

Arthur’s hands tighten on the reigns of the horses, anything to keep him from reaching for his revolver. He’s already getting a bad feeling about this. There’s nothing trustworthy about the man in front of him.

“Mr. Finch,” 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 Finch’s face blanches.

“Arthur Morgan.”

Mr. Finch looks him up and down in the same way Crane had. He sees a commodity, not a person. “I trust,” he drawls, “nothing unsavory happened.”

Arthur feels rage bubbling in his gut. The only damn thing he cares about is whether or not you’re “pure.” Not if you were okay or injured during the journey. If he told him that he’d punched you out for talking back Finch would just ask if you were bruised.

“She’s fine,” Arthur grits out.

“Oh, good, good. Glad everything went smoothly.” Finch has a way of talking he’s 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.

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 you’re going to fit into your seat.

You look beyond uncomfortable. Grimacing as you join them again. You try and plaster a smile on but it’s a struggle. You look to Arthur, a finality on your face that makes him want to throw you over his shoulder and run. He’s doing this for the others, he reminds himself. They’ll be on a boat to Tahiti in a week.

“Thank you, Mr. Morgan, for everything.” 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.

“Let’s go,” Finch grabs your hand, looping it through his arm and tugging you towards the doors of the station.

“Wait!” Arthur calls out, feeling foolish when you both look back at him with perplexed expressions. “You’ll be wanting Bullet, won’t you?”

Mr. Finch answers for you with a condescending tone, “She won’t be needing a horse, thank you.” You give him a knowing smile, turning away and slipping through the doors of the station and onto the train.

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.

“Shit!” He hisses. He tugs himself up onto Diablo’s saddle and urges him after the train. He was born a fool, he’s always going to be a damn fool. But he’d have to be a complete moron to just let you go.

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.

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. “What is that?” You question, not quite believing your eyes. Finch glances down at the thick wad of cash in his jacket and grins.

“Oh, this? Mr. Morgan must have forgotten to collect the rest of his payment.” He sends you a condescending smile and you flinch away in disgust. “He was too enamored with my fiancee to pay much attention, I’m afraid.”

“That’s his money,” 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. “He earned that!” You object, eyeing the money warily.

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. It’s not like when Arthur would smoke one, you didn’t mind that. But this was making you sick to your stomach.

“Let's get a few things clear, I will not be dealing with an obstinate wife. You can either get yourself in order or I’ll do it for you.”

Your lips pull back in disgust and you jerk yourself out of his grip. He’s not as strong as he pretends to be and you’re not going to be scared into submission again. “I’m not your wife yet. My father still has time to pay.”

He laughs at you, spittle flying from your lips and sprinkling across your cheeks. “He has time to pay, but that doesn’t mean he’ll be getting you back, sweetheart.” Your eyes widen with the realization and you want to throw yourself off the side of the train.

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.

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 you’re nothing more than a cornered animal with no other choice of escape. You’ve got nothing left for you, nothing to hold onto.

As much as you’d thought you’d 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.

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.

There’s 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 you’d stolen from a dead man.

Finch glowers at your inappropriate behavior “What are-” You pull the gun out, turning it on him. He jumps back in shock and throws his hands in the air on instinct. “Please-” 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. “Shit!” He cusses, hands coming up to try and staunch the flow of blood pouring from his stomach.

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.

You don’t know what you’re going to do now. You’re stuck on a moving train, there’s nowhere for you to hide. You hadn’t thought when you’d shot him, you just wanted that smug look on his face to disappear.

“Where is she?” You hear the guards shouting out your name, flipping over crates to find you. They’re still at the front of the train, but you don’t have long until they start moving back here.

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. You’d be watched every second of your life, you can’t do it again. You can’t be locked in a gilded cage, that’s not a life worth living.

There’s no escape for you. Nowhere left to run, nowhere to hide. You glance over the left side of the train. There’s a slight dip into a deep ravine. The crashing water looks almost peaceful from up here.

You don’t know if it would be a quick death but you know it would be merciful compared to what’s 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.

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 doesn’t sound like Finch or any of the other guards. You whip around and find Arthur riding his horse beside the train.

“What the hell are you doing, woman?”

Your brows furrow in confusion and your eyes dart between him and the ravine. “Jumping! What the hell are you doing?”

His gaze narrows and he shouts to be heard over the rumble of the train tracks. “Stopping you from being a goddamn fool. Get over here!” You hear the guards getting closer as they storm down the rest of the train.

You don’t have long to make a decision, you can already see his horse struggling to keep up with the speed of the train. There’s a bridge coming up in a moment, he won’t be able to go any further and they won’t be able to come after you.

It’s a split-second decision, one that has you pushing off the railing of the car and rushing towards him. You don’t have time to doubt yourself or plan this out further, you take a running leap off the train, towards his outstretched arms.

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 they’re gone before they can do any real damage.

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 can’t hear what he’s saying, but you get the gist of it.

“The hell were you thinking? Trying to jump off the damn train! You’re a fool, woman.” 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.

“Thank you,” you whisper, head sinking into his neck and breathing in the familiar scent.

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. “You’re welcome, just,” he pauses, holding you a little closer, “don’t be so damn stupid again.”

You laugh and it’s a little wet as tears start to pool in your eyes. “I’m not planning on it.” 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. “What the hell are we going to do?”

He sighs and turns the horse around. You maneuver yourself around, facing forward and pushing back against him. “I don’t know. Dutch ain’t gonna be happy about you comin’ back with me.”

You bite your lip, a hundred different possibilities swirling through your head. You’ve never been able to make a choice before, faced with it, you’re overwhelmed with options. You can’t pick one so you blurt out the first coherent thought you have.

“What if we don’t go back?”

Arthur stills behind you, “What?” His tone is low and filled with something you know means he’s ready to say no.

“Just for a little while,” you rush the words out quickly, trying to fight for a chance to get him to listen. “We can send this to the camp,” you tug out the wad of cash you’d stolen from Finch and Arthur barks out a laugh. You feel his chest tremble behind you and it makes you grin.

“Did you steal his money?”

“Your money, technically,” you correct, grinning over your shoulder at him. “Besides, he doesn’t need it anymore.” He gives you a concerned look but you just wave him off. “We can send the camp some money and go off on our own for a while.”

“I don’t know, kid.”

“Don’t call me that,” you interrupt, glaring at him. “It’ll only be for a little while, Arthur. Come on, I’m free for the first time in my life, enjoy it with me.”

He looks uncertain and you know it’s an odd notion to him, putting himself first instead of the camp or Dutch. You’re sure he’s never done it before. Breaking away from them instead of going about like the loyal soldier he is.

“Just a little while?”

You nod, turning just enough to tuck the money in his pocket. “Just a little while,” you swear.

“John Marston!” You frown, turning away from the oven and glancing out the window. Arthur’s 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.

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. Arthur’s told you about him a bit. They weren’t always close but it was getting better before Arthur went away.

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 you’d both be put to work.

You’d be going from one owner to another. All you’d 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 couldn’t go back. He couldn’t stand what the gang was turning into. What Dutch was turning into. All you’d 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.

Arthur pulls away from John, turning towards you and motioning you forward. John gives you an apprehensive look. “Do I know you?”

Arthur gives him your name, throwing an arm over your shoulder and pulling you in closer. “That job Dutch got from Crane.” John’s face lights up with recognition and he smirks.

“I see,” he shakes his head and gives Arthur a knowing look. “It’s always a woman with you, isn’t it?” You snort at how aggrieved Arthur looks. “Well,” John turns towards you and smiles, “nice to finally meet the woman that got him under control.”

“Nice to meet you too,” you smile lightly at him, pulling away from Arthur. “Are you going to be joining us for dinner?”

“No, he’s not,” Arthur answers at the same time John says, “I would love to.”

Arthur and John share a look you can’t understand. You glance past John and wave Abigail forward, “Come in, please. I’d enjoy the company.”

“Forgive my obstinate husband, he tends to linger where he ain’t wanted.” 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 he’s missed the boy, you’re sure he’s okay entertaining them for one night.

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 you’d shut that down quick. He’d had a cough a little while ago and the doctor advised cutting down on tobacco if he wanted it to go away. You know it’s hard but you’re cracking down on how much he smokes.

“We got the money you sent,” John’s 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. “Dutch blew it all and wouldn’t tell us on what. He kept saying we still needed another score.”

John shakes his head and the distant look in his eyes makes your stomach churn. “You’re a lucky bastard you got out when you did, Arthur, truly.”

“Hosea?” Arthur questions and you grimace at the look on John’s face. You can see Arthur deflate as John shakes his head.

“There was a bank robbery, Molly told the Pinkertons we were going to be there, he didn’t make it.”

Arthur’s hand clenches around the fork and you wish you could say something that would make him realize it’s not his fault. “I should have been there,” he mutters.

“Wouldn’t have done anything, man. Hosea had given up in the end. We all had. It was so damn divided, the family was gone.”

“Still.” Arthur insists, glaring down at his plate like it had offended him.

“No,” to your surprise it’s Abigail that snaps. “Dutch was gone and that bastard Micah just kept pushing him over the edge. The only thing you would have done is get yourself killed. You’re damn lucky Arthur Morgan.”

You’re sure he’ll 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 he’d be happier knowing someone else hadn’t died when it could have been him. You couldn’t stand that these self-sacrificing ideals Dutch had drilled into him were still present.

But you know Abigail and John help ease the guilt slightly. It’s on Arthur to let it go entirely, though you doubt that will happen anytime soon. John picks up on the change in mood, he’s reluctant to let the night sour so soon.

He turns towards you with a look that makes you feel like you need to prepare for trouble. “So you did all that to escape getting married. And then you marry this moron?” He motions towards Arthur and you can’t help but laugh.

“John!” 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.

You correct him, “We’re not technically married-”

“Might as well be,” Arthur argues, glaring at John. You reach across the table, taking his hand in yours and gently squeezing. You can’t help but laugh at him.

“Yeah, we might as well be,” you agree. “But it was never about not wanting to be a wife. I just wanted to have a damn choice. That’s what I got out here. I can hunt or cook. Sew or go out and make some money. And it’s a lot nicer being a wife out in the country than it is in the city, I’ll tell you that much.”

“Here’s hoping,” Abigail mutters. She glances towards Arthur, “That’s why we’re out here. We got word from a few people that you might be lurking around here. John’s thinking of getting a house, really settling down.”

Arthur sighs, leaning back in his chair and glaring at John. “That’s why you’re here? You want a handout,” he accuses.

“No!” John snaps. “Dammit, Arthur, why you always gotta assume the worst of me?”

“Because it’s usually true,” Arthur mutters. “If that’s not what you want then what is it?”

John purses his lips and lets out a spluttering breath. “A loan,” he lands on, struggling to find the right word.

Arthur barks out a laugh, slapping his hand on the table and poking a knowing finger into John’s chest. “I knew it!”

John swats his hand away and glares. “Look, Morgan, I only need a little. Just to buy some animals, get started on the house.”

“What’d ya want Marston, my whole damn house?”

Abigail lands a gentle hand on your arm and nods to the porch. “They’ll be at it for a while.” 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.

“You’ve got a nice life out here.”

You smile fondly, “I like to think so. We’re thinking about getting a few cows, maybe starting a proper ranch.”

Her face lights up at the idea and she laughs. “That’s what John wants. It’s unbelievable how similar they are, they’re too thick-headed to see it.”

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 can’t help but grin at the look on Arthur’s face. He’s laying into John but he looks happier than you’ve seen him in a while.

You know he’s missing everybody, has been for a long time. Maybe if Abigail and John are close by he’ll have that sense of familiarity again. “The others,” you start, turning back to Abigail. “Charles and Sadie, what happened to everyone else?”

“A few of them are living good lives, some of them aren’t. Most of them are drifting, not ready to give up the outlaw life just yet.”

“It’s hard to watch the world change while you’re still stuck in the same spot.” You brush some hair out of your eyes and smile at Abigail. “Me and Arthur are gonna help you and John. But I’d like it if you were both close by. It would be nice to have someone familiar near us, we’re pretty lonely up here.”

She gives you a brief smile back, “I think that would be nice.”

John’s voice picks up from inside and you jump, “Oh that’s a load of bull-”

Abigail’s smile drops and she leans over your shoulder to shout, “Watch it!” 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.

“You gonna help him?” You ask Arthur as you settle into bed later. He opens his arms, pulling you into his embrace once you’re settled under the covers.

“John?” You nod, brushing a strand of hair out of his eyes. “Yeah, ‘course I’m gonna help him. But there’s nothing wrong with jerking him around a little bit first.”

You roll your eyes and shake your head, tucking yourself under his chin. You almost think he’s asleep but then he’s speaking up again. “We should really do it.”

You pull back, brows furrowed in confusion. “Do what?”

There’s a certain look in his eyes that causes something to swirl in your stomach. It’s not an unpleasant feeling, just an excited one, “Get married.”

You give him a bewildered look, shaking your head in disbelief. Nearly five years you’ve both been living out here and he’s 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.

You were each other’s salvation. There’s no telling what graves you would be laying in were it not for Dutch bringing you both together. You hadn’t thought he wanted to be married, he always told you he’d given those dreams up. “You really mean that?”

He shrugs like it’s the easiest decision in the world. “Might as well, right?”

You shake your head, but there’s no fighting the way your lips curl up. “You’re a fool, Arthur Morgan.”

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, “Yeah, a fool for you,” and he makes you laugh.

You tug him down, lips nearly touching his. “Yes,” you whisper, “I’ll marry you.” You were always scared of living a life like this. Being tied to one man for the rest of your time on earth. But he’s not some city man looking to make you into a pet. He lets you live, breathe, and be free. He’s a partner not a warden and that’s all you’ve ever wanted.

#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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whorefordean · 3 months ago

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wear the hat || d.w

i read exactly one cowboy romance so enjoy (fake)cowboy!dean and the cowboy hat rule

wc: 1.9k

cw: raw dogging, semi public sex, use of petname (sugar), the cowboy hat rule

taglist: @the-last-ry

mdni 18+

you can’t help yourself. dean looks so goofy in the outfit, and you can’t refrain from teasing him about it. on this hunt, for whatever reason, dean thought it’d be best if he poses as a cowboy.

“to get more information from the locals. they’ll never talk if i look like a city boy, sweetheart,” dean says with a simple shrug. there’s a smile playing on his face, and you cann’t help but to roll your eyes.

“dean, you’re from kansas and you wear flannels every day. nobody thinks you’re a city boy. the hat is most definitely overkill,” you tell him as you cross your arms over your chest.

“i’m not taking it off,” dean huffs, matching your pose. you glare at him momentarily. he doesn’t look bad. in fact, he looks hot as fuck, and maybe, that’s why you need him to chill out on the disguise.

you toss your hands up in defeat and follow him into the bar. the two of you split up rather quickly. you’re working your charm on the drunken men for any information you could pry out of them about the missing people while dean made his way to a group of women to do the same.

almost an hour later, you finally manage to get the information you need, and you’re off to find dean. it’s nearing eleven pm at this point and you are ready to go. that is, until you see dean sitting at the bar with a girl who is entirely too close for your comfort.

you and dean aren’t an item, per se, but the two of you have been a little more than friendly on more than one drunken occasion.

you tap on dean’s shoulder lightly in an effort to get his attention. nothing. the girl he’s talking to is shooting you glares every chance she gets. you roll your eyes and decide that there was only one way to get his attention.

so you snatch the cowboy hat off his head and slip it onto yours. dean whips around to face you. you’re expecting him to snatch it right back, but instead, dean just smirks, seemingly forgetting all about the blonde he was talking to a minute beforehand.

“i’m ready to go,” you huff, adjusting the hat on your head. your hands finally rest on your waist, hip popping out. dean doesn’t say anything. just kept staring and grinning.

“dean, seriously? what?” you puff, annoyed at his behavior.

“you know the cowboy hat rule?” dean muses, leaning back to get a good look at you. his gaze rakes over you, sending a shiver down your spine.

“the what?” you ask evenly. dean’s grin grows wider, and you are half tempted to slap it off of him.

“the cowboy hat rule, sugar. wear the hat—” dean trails off. he leans forward until his hand rests against your waist, and his mouth is brushing your ear.

“—ride the cowboy.” your eyes widen as he finishes the phrase. he pulls away just enough to watch your expression change from shock to compliance. he smiles proudly, knowing that you're more than willing to obey the rules.

no words leave your mouth as you nod, allowing dean to drag you through the mess of people in the crowded bar. the cool summer air bathes both of you as dean pulls you through the exit door and ushers you to the impala.

his rough hands in yours had your mind racing with thoughts of what they'd feel like skimming your body. in the three times that you and dean have slept together, both of you were too wasted to remember much about it the next morning. you'd wake up with those delicious bruises on your thighs or hips and hate yourself for not being able to remember what the hell went down the night before. however, you aren't ballsy enough to ask him to fuck you when you’re sober, so you settle for forgotten nights.

your senses snap back to reality when you hear dean clear this throat. that shit eating grin is back on his face when he realizes that you'd been staring at his hand.

"what is it, sugar? got a thing for hands or just mine?" dean teases relentlessly. you roll your eyes at him, shoving his shoulder lightly. he catches your wrist before spinning you around until you're bent over the hood of the impala.

"dean," you gasp, bracing yourself against the black metal. dean laughs behind you and leans down until his chest is flush against your back. his lips brush against your shoulder, and you breathe out a sigh, dropping your head against the cool metal when dean starts to lift the hem of your dress up.

"tell me what you want," dean says softly in your ear, pressing a kiss against your jaw. you have never been more grateful to be parked at the back of the lot.

"you. need you," you whimper, reaching behind you to grasp at any inch of dean you could reach.

"mm, 'm right here, sugar," dean says playfully as he hums against your skin. you groan, shaking your head and letting your hand slip down to dean's wrist. you grab his hand and lower it to your aching core.

"need you here, dean," you say breathily when dean starts toying with your panties. you can hear him inhale sharply behind you, and you arch your back slightly.

"fuck, sugar," dean groans. without warning, dean rips your underwear down your legs, helping you lift one leg at a time until the fabric is completely off your body. the cool air makes contact with your exposed cunt, causing you to hiss in pleasure. the cold doesn't last long because dean is shifting onto the ground behind you. his hands grip at your thighs, nudging them further open before he dips his tongue into your waiting pussy.

you mewl as dean laps at you like a man starved. he hums something against your cunt, but you're too lost in the pleasure to listen. that is, until he slaps your ass. hard. you wince, lifting your head to look back at him.

"answer me when i'm talking to you. being nice enough to eat this pretty little pussy," dean growls, but he doesn't mean it. he'd gladly get on his knees for you, and he'd stay there forever if you'd allow it.

"what?" you whine, eyes rolling as dean sucks your clit into his mouth.

"thought you were supposed to be ridin' me?" dean hums again, clearer this time. he doesn't give you time to answer before slipping a finger into you. you cry out when he adds another almost immediately after.

"yes! yes, i will," you ramble, dropping your head to rest against the car again. your release is so close, and you clench around dean's fingers, his tongue still lapping away.

before you can cum, dean withdraws his fingers and pulls away completely. you jerk your head around to meet his gaze, eyes wide with need.

"no! please!" you beg pathetically, desperate for release. dean grips your chin lightly and pulls you back until he can kiss you, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. you moan into his mouth before he finally pulls away.

"come on," dean orders, and you nod compliantly as he pulls you up from the hood of the impala. dean slips into the back seat first, pulling you in behind him. you barely touch the leather seats before dean is tugging you into his lap.

his hardened cock strains against his jeans, and you can’t stop from rolling your hips over his clothed bulge. you tug at his shirt impatiently. dean doesn’t object, tossing the fabric off his body and into the front seat.

his hands grip your hips as he leans in to kiss you again. he guides your hips, the two of you groaning at the friction. your arms are wrapped tightly around his shoulders.

“fuck,” dean grunts again. he taps your ass lightly, so you pull away with a huff. your pout quickly dissolves when dean lifts you up just enough to undo the button of his jeans, allowing his cock to spring free.

“oh my god,” you mumble as you stare at his dick. dean smirks before pulling back onto his lap. dean settles your cunt over his cock, but he doesn’t push himself inside of you. not yet. instead, he opts for getting his cock wet with your slick first.

your eyes roll as you slide your pussy against his hardened dick. you grind your teeth when the head of dean’s cock slips against your clit repeatedly.

“please,” you pant. dean hums, watching as your movements get more erratic.

“dean, please. let me ride your cock,” you beg again. your eyebrows are knitted together with your eyes clenched shut.

“go ahead, sugar. take it,” dean grunts before settling into you completely. you inhale sharply when he grips your ass, pushing you even further onto himself.

you brace your hands against his shoulder, dropping your head to rest against one of them. dean gives you a second to adjust before he grabs your hips, urging you to move.

so you do.

you bite your lip, trying to keep your moans and mewls in as you ride dean. you couldn’t remember a time you felt so fucking full. dean’s dick was fucking perfect, hitting every spot that made your vision blur with ecstasy.

you lift your hips repeatedly before settling on grinding against him. you writhe in delight as dean drops his head back against the seat, hands gripping at the sides of your thighs as you continue to bounce and grind against him. you lower yourself to kiss against his neck before burying your face in his shoulder.

“right there,” you whisper repeatedly, nipping at dean’s neck as your hips start to stutter. dean grips your hair in one hand, tugging your head back until your neck is on full display for him. his arm wraps around your waist, holding you flush against his chest. dean groans as he adjusts the two of you until he has the mobility to drill his hips into yours, cousin you to cry out in pleasure. he doesn’t relent as you finally come around his cock.

deans sucks a deep bruise into your neck when he finally comes, muttering curses under his breath when his hips finally settle. the only sound in the car now is the two of you panting against each other. you lift your hips, whining as dean’s cum drips down your thighs.

you look up at dean, but he’s distracted by the sight. his cheeks are reddened, and his eyes are hazy as he watches his cum drip out of your cunt.

“dean–”

“fuck, sugar. gonna have to let you steal that fucking hat more often if it means i get to watch you take my cock like that. you look so fucking pretty like this, sugar,” dean grunts, swiping his thumb through the mess on your thighs. he swipes his thumb up further, pressing against your clit before finally bringing his thumb up to your mouth. without speaking, dean nudges your lips open, making you taste the two of you.

“goddamn it, sugar. can’t wait to use that pretty mouth next time.”

#dean winchester #supernatural #dean winchester x reader #spn #dean winchester x reader smut #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x fem!reader #supernatural smut #cowboy!dean winchester smut #cowboy!dean winchester #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fic

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princessofgondor · 3 months ago

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the lord of the rings characters + cuddling with them 🩷

Characters Included: Boromir, Faramir, Aragorn, Arwen, Éowyn, Éomer, Legolas, Frodo, Sam, Pippin, Merry

I decided I wanted to try doing some LOTR preferences! This is my first time writing for all of these characters besides Boromir so I’m still getting a handle on them. If anyone has any requests for preference posts they’d like to see, please send them my way and I’ll see what I can do!!

Author has only seen the movies, so please forgive any mistakes/inaccuracies!

Boromir is definitely pretty touch-starved, and after cuddling with you for the first time he’s very surprised how much he loves it. It becomes a common occurrence for the two of you, something he looks forward to — especially after a long day of training with his soldiers. He loves being the big spoon, and burying his face in your hair or your neck.

Faramir is a big cuddler for sure. You don’t even need to ask — as soon as you rest your head on his shoulder (when you’re sitting together) or on his chest (when you’re laying down together), he’s got his arms wrapped around you, holding you close. He gives you a lot of forehead kisses when you’re cuddling together.

Aragorn loves the moments where the two of you can just relax together, especially when things are getting stressful. He’s happy for the two of you to simply lay there in silence, holding each other, but if you need to talk about anything he’s always ready to listen.

Arwen has an incredibly calming presence, and cuddling with her can improve your mood no matter how bad you were feeling beforehand. She holds you close, whispering comforting words in your ear and pressing gentle kisses to your face and lips every so often.

Éowyn isn’t used to cuddling, but like Boromir she comes to really enjoy it. You make her feel peaceful and happy in a way that she’s never experienced before, and so she loves to be close to you as often as possible. She has a tendency to play with your hair, and she likes it when you do the same to her.

At first, Éomer tries to look tough and doesn’t admit how much he likes cuddling with you. But each time, it becomes increasingly obvious how much he loves it. Similar to Éowyn, he likes it when you play with his hair.

Legolas finds it adorable how much you love to cuddle with him, especially when you get cold. As an Elf he can’t feel the cold, but he can always tell that the temperature is dropping when you cuddle up to him. He’s perfectly happy to stay bundled up with you for as long as you need him there.

Frodo loves when the two of you cuddle up while reading a book together, though sometimes he gets distracted from the words on the page because he’s looking at you. If this is after the main events of LOTR, I could see your presence/touch being able to help Frodo heal from his traumatic experiences, at least somewhat.

Sam is incredibly affectionate, so he definitely loves cuddling. He’s a bit shy about it at first, getting a bit embarrassed and not knowing what he should be doing — like where should his arms/hands be? He doesn’t want to upset you or make you uncomfortable — but once he’s used to it, it’s his favourite thing in the world.

Pippin absolutely loves cuddling with you and he doesn’t care who knows it. Honestly, if he could spend his entire life cuddled up with you and some snacks then he’d be the happiest Hobbit who ever lived. It doesn’t matter where you are, if you’re near each other he’ll want to either have his arms around you or be resting against you.

I think that like Pippin, Merry loves cuddling, but he’s a little less likely to do it publicly. When it’s just the two of you however he loves nothing more than being close to you. He probably makes little jokes and lightly teases you for being so eager to cuddle with him, but it’s all very light-hearted and you know that he loves it too.

#lotr x reader #lord of the rings x reader #lotr imagine #lord of the rings imagine #boromir x reader #faramir x reader #aragorn x reader #arwen x reader #eowyn x reader #eomer x reader #legolas x reader #frodo baggins x reader #samwise gamgee x reader #meriadoc brandybuck x reader #merry brandybuck x reader #pippin took x reader #peregrin took x reader

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dekariosclan · 6 months ago

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With you, I forget my goddess

So, I have completed Bg3 twice now, but on both runs I’ve romanced Gale (truly shocking, I know) and therefore I had never seen Gale’s non-romance discussion with Tav about the Annals of Karsus.

I recently got to see it, and what surprised me the most is how extremely angry and bitter Gale is about Mystra’s treatment of him. Rightfully and understandably so, but it’s something we do not see or experience in the romance version.

This got me thinking about the difference in Gale’s reactions in the friendship vs romance scenes, why they are different, and also how this relates to the complaints I’ve read about Gale ‘still not being over Mystra even when romancing Tav’.

(Note that I’m mainly going to focus on the portions of each dialogue that relate to Mystra in particular, and I’m not referencing the ‘alternate’ boat scene w/Gale—where he tells you beforehand that he will return the crown to her—since he doesn’t mention Mystra at all there.)

Screencaps below are from @munmomuu’s wonderful video on YouTube. The screencaps take place after Gale has read the Karsus book. If you are romancing him, before you reach this point, the conversation ends because he tells you he wants to discuss it later “in private,” during the boat scene.

But in a friendship run, he will explain what he’s read to you and then begin to make his case for using the crown:

Gale: Some gods may delude themselves into believing they care about their worshippers, but when it comes down to it - we’re all expendable. Children to be appeased, not respected.

Gale: I worshipped Mystra loyally for years, and in that time she granted me the barest sliver of the power I was ready to wield.

Gale: Even with the fate of the world at stake, she had little more to offer me than the means of blowing myself up at a more convenient time. She’s done nothing to help us.

There then comes a dialogue branch where Tav can ask this:

And Gale replies, with understandable bitterness:

Gale: She sent me to die.

Look at how angry he is during this whole exchange, and how he focuses all that anger on the past, and what Mystra has done to him (or not done, as he points out she’s offered them no help at all.)

— — —

Now let’s compare this to his Mystra dialogue in the boat scene:

Gale: I’ve already defied Mystra. Had I followed her command, there’d be nothing left of me but a smoking crater.

Gale: The tadpoles, the orb - these threats to our existence - the gods could aid us if they wished, but instead they cower behind Ao. So let us act ourselves.

Gale: I used to believe Mystra’s forgiveness was worth dying for. But I was wrong. You showed me just how much I have to live for.

Notice how there’s no fiery anger at Mystra here, just Gale’s resigned belief that the Gods have failed them.

So what’s the key component that makes Gale react so differently in each scenario?

It is, of course, Tav.

More specifically, it’s Tav’s love for him, which has clearly helped his heart heal from the trauma that he’s experienced. Yes, Tav’s friendship is extremely important as well, and yes, Gale is still insecure even with Tav’s love (‘you would really prefer me as I am?’) but the extreme bitterness, the anger, all of that is gone. Here, Gale is no longer hung up on Mystra and the past; he’s looking to the future. Because now that he has Tav, what he desires most is to take his life and his fate back from the Gods and into his own hands—with Tav at his side.

The irony is that some people complain about Gale ‘not being over Mystra’ while he’s actively romancing Tav, but just look at the difference in the dialogue! Look at how focused he is on Mystra when he is not romancing Tav, and then how she becomes a mere afterthought once Tav has claimed his heart.

I really enjoyed seeing this level of detail. I think it perfectly illustrates Gale’s frame of mind in each scenario, as well as showing the positive impact Tav’s love has on Gale.

And last but not least—it confirms that Gale was not exaggerating when he says this:

Gale: With you, I forget my goddess. I love you.

— — —

#gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #bg3 #gale x tav #baldur's gate 3 #spoilers #galemancer #baldurs gate 3

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fanfics-with-coffee · 3 months ago

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Wants

More ramblings of an insomniac, still not proofread but i wanna throw this out here. We're back on our smut roll as well!

No one really cared what Astarion wanted or didn't want to do. He'd stopped resisting at some point, just letting whomever had higher status overrule him even when it came to his own body. But you, you didn't do that. You never asked him to do something he didn't want. So he asked himself; what did he want? You. He wanted you. Could he have you?

Genre: Smut Pairing: Astarion x (fem)reader Kinks: PiV, little bit of orgasm control, biting, marking, dirty talk Words: 7400+ Need something to listen to? This is what I listened to while writing this: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4XkxtmnNB3RI55o414xpdx?si=ef01f7ab913f4a26

Astarion wouldn’t say that you liked him per se, it’s doubtful you even enjoyed his company unlike how you enjoyed the company of say Wyll or Shadowheart. Yet you couldn’t possibly dislike him either, after all; who let’s a vampire drink from them if you didn’t at least tolerate him.

“Is he yours? He’s quite handsome, that can’t be a coincidence, you know how to pick them.” Her eyes scanned him, a smile tugging at her lips as he seemed to evaluate his very existence.

“...You mean Astarion? I didn’t pick him, he’s here ‘cus he wants to be. Besides, if I knew him beforehand it’s doubtful I’d pick him anyways.” You replied, arms crossed over your chest.

“Hah! You’re funny, well he’s clearly under your command anyways. Won’t you let me borrow him? I’ve always wanted to be bitten by a vampire you see…” She drew closer, her eyes still looking him up and down. Nausea grew in his belly, his throat closing up.

Astarion wouldn’t say he liked you either per se, you didn’t make yourself the most personable exactly. You were blunt, which he enjoyed, as long as it wasn’t directed at him. Yet you weren’t afraid to speak your mind when he tried to play with you. Every and all attempts to get under your skin was answered with distinct indifference, not full rejection but without skipping a beat you continued whatever line of thought you had started. The most he could pull from you was the occasional laugh at his antics, mocking his clearly practiced recitals of lines he’d used dozens of times on hundreds of other people. You often replied with your own dry sense of humor. Sometimes though, he could swear that your cheeks flushed ever so slightly, but it was hard to tell since these few times were also those when you promptly turned your face away from him, suddenly a lot more interested in a bird or bush. And if he pushed, you were suddenly convinced you heard Karlach break something or Gale needing help with supper. He considered giving up, treating you with the same distance he kept to the other companions, yet you always seemed to gravitate back to his tent, to the spot next to him or simply to wherever he was. He wouldn’t say he liked you, but he couldn’t deny that he enjoyed your company.

“Well, I’m a spawn technically so you know, not a true vampire.” He managed to keep his voice light and comical, a half-hearted attempt at dissuading her, to keep her hands to herself. “Besides, I think I’d like to keep my teeth to myself this time.”

“Mh… Well no matter, you’re pretty enough to make it an overseeable difference. But I didn’t ask you, spawn.” The word was an insult. “I was talking to your commander here, or is it master? I can make it worth your while.”

The bite in your words and the general lack of give to his pushing and pulling gave him a weird sense of comfort. He could spew whatever lines he’d used before, chewed up and spit back out over and over again and you just… moved past them. You were bored by them, but not by him. He felt comfortable telling you about Cazador, about his scars, both physical and mental. You’d never gone too deep, but you had listened and you hadn’t let it color the way you treated him. There was a certain respect to the way you kept him at a distance, he couldn’t trap you under his thumb even if he tried. Yet you stayed besides him.

“Why in the nine hells are you asking me? I told you, I don’t own him, he can do whatever he wants. Mostly anyways. But he seems to be disinterested in whatever you’re offering so.” You didn’t spare him a glance, instead keeping your eyes on the drow woman. You were cautious too.

“Tsk, well if you’re unwilling to barter, I guess I’ll just have to go directly to the source.” She looked annoyed for a second before putting a face of seduction, temptation. She sensually moved her hair away from her neck, draping it over her opposing shoulder and tilting it towards him. She began to walk closer. Astarion could feel panic rise in him, instinctually taking a step back, unsure of what to do. “Come on, spawn, isn’t this what you were born to do? Feed?”

And when he was desperate, hungry and weak that night in the forest, his first instinct was to feed from you. Not because he hated you, far from it. But because he respected you and because he knew that if you found out; you might not judge. He hadn’t been careful enough when he hovered over you, accidentally waking you from your slumber. He had scrambled, fearing that this was it for him. He had slipped up and now any and all trust he had accumulated, though perhaps unfounded, would be wasted and he’d be banished if not worse. Yet you understood. He doesn’t know why, but it seemed like you did. And that night you let him feed from you, despite the pain it undoubtedly caused. And in the morning, you pretended like nothing had happened, like last night was as peaceful as all the others.

Maybe he did like you, just a little bit. You’d at least earned that much. But he had done nothing to earn that same sentiment.

Yet…

“One step closer to him and I will be the one to spill your blood instead. He said he didn’t want you or whatever it is you’re offering.”

You had taken a single step to place yourself between the woman and Astarion, keeping her from getting any closer to him. It was doubtful that you’d actually do anything against her in the very center of Absolutist territory. But he wasn’t certain, the way you firmly placed your feet on the ground and the way he could see your muscles tense beneath your armor from this far away told him that you just might. There’s the distinct tension of magic in the air, crackling just beneath the surface of the weave but enough to make the hairs on the back of his neck stand. It lasts only a brief moment before the drow relents.

“Fine, do as you wish. What use do you have for a vampire that won’t even do something as simple and natural as bite a willing victim? Even if he is a spawn.”

“What reasons I have for keeping him around is none of your damn business. Now did you have anything more interesting to say or are we done here?”

There was nothing else you needed from her and as quickly as things had escalated, it had passed. It was still a couple hours before you decided to call it a day and lead them back to the camp to plan your next move and eat dinner. Astarion hadn’t brought up what had happened with Araj the whole time, yet it kept replaying in his head. If he could dream, he would’ve assumed this was the pleasant relief of sleep. But it wasn’t, you had stood up for him. Not only that, you had kept him from doing something he would regret, because he knows that if you hadn’t stepped in or even asked him to do it… He would’ve. Weak willed as he was after all the times he had broken his own boundaries for others.

Night in the Shadowlands was somehow darker than the days, despite the lack of sun no matter the time. And as if the darkness could swallow any sound, silence lingered in the camp. Everyone either occupied with their own issues or idly putting their hands to work managing their gear. Astarion had wandered away from his tent and from the campfire, safe thanks to the pixie’s blessing and comforted in the shadows. It was a sense of familiarity that was bittersweet after todays events.

The air was cold, the breeze rustling the blood red leaves of the few trees that could survive this darkness. The temperature didn’t bother him, he had long ago forgotten how cool the nights got. He could smell the dampness of the earth and of the rotting trees, the smoke of the campfire a vague note beneath it all. He surely smelled of smoke as well, it stuck to his clothes and hair despite how much he tried to cover it. ‘Rugged’ had never been a good look on him, he much preferred the sweet notes of incense and wine. But the worries of everyday issues were forgotten as he let himself fill his lungs with the fresh air.

Crack

The sounds of footsteps brought him back to the moment and he quickly turned around, the thought of a shadow cursed boar or harper still a relevant danger. Instead he was met with a friendly face. A friendly frowning face.

“What are you doing out here? You didn’t even bring a torch or anything, no one knew where you had gone.” You stopped a few meters away from him, half expecting to be able to return to the warmth and glow of the campsite since you had found the lost vampire. A light cantrip had been cast on the crossbow you kept strapped to your back, you always kept it within reach.

“Oh it’s just you, hah I thought I was about to be ambushed for a second. Were you looking for me? Awh you even asked the others where I was, how cute.” He teased, giving you a playful smile before turning his back to you once again. He heard you sigh before your footsteps grew closer.

“You shouldn’t wander off while we’re here.” Your words held no weight, you knew you couldn’t stop him if he was to actually wander away from camp. They were more like an attempt to keep any guilty conscious from getting to you if he did get hurt. But he still liked the thought that you might actually have been worried. “...Are you looking for something to feed on?”

“Around these parts? Gods no, I wouldn’t even touch a dead squirrel with a ten foot pole around here, not after that damned raven. I’ve accepted that I’ll just have to make do until we’re in sunnier parts.” He could feel his stomach writhe at the thought of something to dig his fangs into. He knew you had let him feed from you before but he had never been the one to ask, it’d feel like breaking an unspoken rule.

“Makes sense, those things came out of nowhere. Even the corpses have been cursed…” There's a pause and hesitation to you, an abnormality in your conversations. “Why didn’t you drink from the drow?”

He knew you’d ask, yet his face grimaced at the mere thought of her and her blood.

“Bah, she’s a blood alchemist, who knows what kind of stuff is running through her blood? I’m sure I wouldn’t be allowed to keep anything down if I drank from her.” He quickly recovered from the unintentional show of genuine disgust. “Besides, what’s the fun in a willing victim?” He turned his head to look at your face finally, putting on another playful smile and hoping you’ll take his joke as a response.

You don’t. Instead you cross your arms and raise your eyebrows ever so slightly at him, waiting for the real response. He’s unwilling to give it and instead looks away, gazing down into the valley beneath the cliff you both stood on.

“C’mon, give me a real answer Astarion.” You lightly bounced your shoulder against his, the casual touch a surprise but not an unwelcomed one.

“Ah, you always have to dig your nose into things, don’t you… Fine, I simply didn’t want to. But that’s no reason to turn down whatever aid she might’ve had…”

“It’s as good a reason as any.”

Silence.

You hadn’t judged him. You just… took his choice at face value. Did you really nearly spill blood on the floor of Moonrise towers simply because he didn’t want to bite her?

“That’s it?”

“...What? Is there another reason you didn’t want to? You should’ve just told me from the beginning then, but go on.”

It’s almost funny how seemingly clueless you are. A dry laugh escapes him.

“No, it’s true. I simply didn’t want to. But you’re just so casual about it! Who knows what kind of powers she could’ve given us? But you decided to threaten her instead, it’s highly unlikely she’ll sell us as much as a health potion or even an antidote from now on.” He waves his hands around, frustrated by your seeming lack of care.

“You said no.” You shrugged.

“I-” He pauses, dumbfounded. “I said no… I didn’t want to bite her and you respected that… You even stood up to her for me, even though you don’t like me. I just can’t seem to understand you.”

You suddenly look just as confused as he did a moment ago, turning to fully face him for the first time since you joined him in the dark.

“...Who in the hells said I didn’t like you?”

“Well… Well no one said it, but I mean it’s not like you enjoy my company. It’s obvious everytime we talk. You don’t even give me as much as a smile when I tell you you’re beautiful, and when I try to playfully ask you to bed you just mock me. Yet you always come wandering over to me and so I try again, I mean why else would you want to talk to me? I may not be a mindreader, darling, but you’re sort of sending mixed signals here. I thought we just acted on the basis of respect here.”

Did you want him to try harder? Or stop fully with his advances? He really didn’t know what you wanted.

“I… Well…” In the darkness, with you backlit by your crossbow, he might be mistaken but there seems to be a blush creeping onto your features. “Didn’t you ever think that maybe I just don’t know how to respond?”

Oh.

Aren’t you just adorable? Smugness builds in his chest and he opens his mouth, about to speak but you’re quicker.

“Besides, it’s obvious you’re just a flirt and I… I didn’t like being so affected by someone who isn’t serious. It’s embarrassing falling for something that's so fake, so practiced. So I ignored the flirting, I knew it was just lighthearted fun after all. And I still like you outside of the compliments and teasing.” You hold your crossed arms even tighter together, unable to look at him. Instead you watch the slow fog rolling across the barren land. Your face lit by the soft glow of the moon just above Last Light Inn.

Astarion hadn’t even had the thought that you simply hovered around him because you… liked him. It was such a simple answer and yet it would’ve been the last thing he could’ve guessed.

He liked you too.

A lot.

A lot more than he had previously allowed himself to feel. Could he even allow it now? What if he had ruined his chances of something more than… than what already was. The status quo had grown comfortable, predictable.

“I see…”

It’s all he can say. He can see that it wasn’t what you had hoped he’d say even if you weren’t looking at him.

A moment passes in silence.

There’s a look on your face suddenly, it looks almost pained or embarrassed, maybe it was both but just as quickly as it had flashed over your features it was gone. You let out a sigh and let your arms fall to the side, turning away from the outlook, clearly about to leave.

“Well that was… the worst. Anyways, I’m heading back to camp. Take your time, I’ll make sure there's supper left for you when you come back.”

Astarion realizes in a heartbeat that he was allowed to want something more.

You don’t even get one step away from where you stood before a hand grabs your arm with unnatural speed, holding you back from moving any further away. You nearly jump out of your skin by the motion, staring at the rogue. His face and eyes now lit by your crossbow, his eyes are wide as he watches you like prey. A shiver runs up your spine, he’d never looked at you like this before.

“Earlier today, when Araj asked you to let me bite her, you said I could do whatever I wanted.” His eyes don’t leave yours and there's something about their intensity that makes your cheeks heat up.

“Mostly, anyways…” You repeat what you had told Araj.

That seems to have been all the confirmation Astarion needed, suddenly closing the gap between you as he takes a step closer and pulls you into him. You catch yourself on him, the sudden movement taking you by pure surprise. Before you can register what has happened properly, his other hand has grabbed your chin in between his thumb and forefinger with a firm grip and tilted your head up to face his. His unnaturally cool breath hits your lips as he’s leaned in, inches from yours but he stopped there. You’re trapped in his presence, it’s overwhelming in a way you always tried to avoid. But you wouldn’t dare move now, afraid to ruin whatever was happening.

“Then I want to kiss you…” His words are low, soft even.

“...I’d like that…”

In an instant his lips hit yours, soft and velvety. They feel just like you had thought so many times when you’d watched him talk. They’re cool compared to yours, something you hadn’t thought about but it somehow made everything feel so much more alive. Every soft stroke of his lips against yours was vivid as they parted and pushed up against each other, over and over again. The hand that had grabbed your face had smoothly slid to the back of your head, making sure he had you where he wanted you. The other hand had left your arm and was pulling your body against his, keeping you as close as he could physically keep you.

Astarion pushed into your body with a want, a need and a hunger you hadn’t ever seen him exhibit before.

He pulled away from your lips too soon. You didn’t realize how much you needed air before it filled your lungs abruptly in a labored breath.

In the glow of the moon and your makeshift light you could see his face. He was smiling at you, his fangs just barely peeking out from behind his lips. His eyes weren’t as wide anymore, instead crinkled at the edges from his smile but the look of predator remained in them still. He needed you.

“You taste divine, my dear.” You try to scoff, the comment was stupid in relation to simple kisses after all. But you don’t get much of a chance to react to his flirtatious attitude before he’s leaned back in, this time hovering over your neck with his mouth. His nose nudges the underside of your ear as he keeps your head still with the hand still firmly holding the back of your neck.

“But I want to taste your blood, if you’ll let me.”

Goosebumps spread down your arms and your breath catches in your throat. The hidden meaning of what he’s asking of you isn’t lost, not after today’s events. He wants your vulnerability, your submission, your blood. You had always been the one to tell him when he could feed from you, now he’s asking directly to do so. He wants to see your trust in him. That even when he’s a starving animal, he won’t hurt you, won’t take more than he needs.

And he wants to show you how much he wants you.

His teeth graze over the soft skin of your neck, waiting for you to give him the sign. You nod.

His teeth pierce your skin, familiar pain shoots from the bite. You clench your teeth for a second before you relax, letting out a shaky breath. The pain dulls with his hands slowly starting to roam your body, one carefully tangling in your hair as he brings it up. He takes a soft grasp on it, using it to meaningfully guide your head to the side and giving him more space to drink from you. You don’t provide any resistance, all hesitations towards his advances were being washed away with each wave of pleasure and pain.

There’s no rush to him, no tension as he takes his time to enjoy you. Instead of the usual controlled and precise way he usually fed from you, when you both believed it to simply be an act of survival. Now he lets his tongue lap over the wound, the odd feeling of your hot blood and his cool tongue intermingling against your skin. He momentarily leaves the spot to kiss up your neck, intentionally letting your blood drip down and leave a trail as you shudder from the pleasure. His body is still firmly pushed against yours, his free hand carefully sneaking under your shirt to push against your bare skin. He’s pulling you against him and you've realized there's a rhythm to it, a slow and teasing tact to his grinding. It feels good, being so enveloped in him. When he feels ready again, he dips down to lick up the strip of scarlet that had formed, finishing with an open mouth kiss back where he started. The sharp inhale you make is punctuated by a soft moan, giving away your feelings and you realize you’ve been caught enjoying this maybe a little too much.

Embarrassment burns through you as Astarion pulls back to watch your face, a chuckle rumbling in his chest and spilling out between his lips, putting fuel to your fire.

“Now wasn’t that just adorable, I never expected you to make such cute sounds. Why haven’t you let me hear those when I’ve fed from you before?” He’s messing with you, a playfully mean glint to his eyes.

“You know why.” You say defiantly.

“Maybe…” He pretends to think about it, leaning back into you to place soft kisses along your jawline. The hand in your hair keeps you in place as he does. “But I want to hear you say it.”

“It feels good… this time…” You whisper but you know he’s heard you by the way you feel him smile against your skin.

“Is that so? I didn’t know you were such a masochist but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, who else would be so turned on by being bitten by a vampire.” He mocks you, the way he laughs leading to even more embarrassment and frustration coursing through your body. Partially by the way his laugh makes desire shoot right to your core.

He’s mean but it somehow turns you on even more, though you’d never tell him that. This is what you were trying to avoid after all, being so easily wrapped around his finger and put under his control. A part of you is still fighting his control and you try to step on his foot as payback.

Your foot only hits soft dirt as he quickly moves his own. Suddenly the grip in your hair is tightened and he pulls your head back further, forcing you to stare into his eyes directly. You’re scared that you were going to be met with anger or even hurt over your sudden and involuntary rejection. Yet all you’re met with is delight when you look into his eyes, his heavy breathing filling the night air with the smell of blood.

“There it is, I always did enjoy the way you pushed back. I was worried you’d have gone soft on me.” He seemed ecstatic by your actions and you flushed again, he really did like it. “But just to make sure, darling… What do you want?”

For a moment you’re frozen, your head spinning from everything happening and partially from the blood loss. Not to mention the blood that had pooled somewhere further below. Yet worry brewed in the back of your mind and without thinking you blurted something out.

“What do you want, Astarion?”

You needed to know that this was what he wanted, despite him having taken the main lead, you wanted to make sure he had an out and that your own desires wouldn’t shackle him too.

“Oh sweetheart, you’re too considerate. But I strongly believe we want the same thing right now.”

“I want you.” The words spilled out of your mouth before you could think again and Astarion drank them up like wine spilled from the bottle.

“That’s what I thought,” he kisses you again, the taste of iron still fresh on his lips. “I want you too, afterall.”

His kisses distract you as his skillful fingers leave your hair and skin, instead grabbing the buckle of the crossbow holster that was strapped across your chest. He can't seem to keep his mouth quiet while he does it though, not that you should expect Astarion to be able to keep his mouth from running.

“I want you below me, I want to hear you gasp and cry out in pleasure…” He’s breathless, wrangling the strap of leather over your head, mindlessly chucking the crossbow somewhere nearby. The light still reaches you two, if just barely. Darkness claws it’s way closer, you pray it’s enough to keep you hidden away from wandering companions who wonder where you’ve gone. “I want you exposed and naked, darling, I want to dig my teeth into places only you and I will see.”

His fingers dig the rest of your tucked shirt out of your pants, his nails pleasantly scratching against your skin as he grabs bunches of the fabric and pull it up over your head as well. The cold air is suddenly intruding on your warm skin and you gasp. Astarion is quick to place his lips onto the newly exposed skin, placing kisses across your collarbone and to your shoulder.

“I want to feel your warmth against me, I want you to take me as you dig your nails into my back. I want to push you down just to feel you push back.” Your hands find purchase on his shoulders as his own hands grab your behind, using the leverage to once again pull you in close. You can feel the hardness that had grown between his legs. He keeps going, talking in a daze in between the kisses. You don’t know if he’s drunk on your blood or just aroused, maybe it’s a combination of the two. He’s grown warmer to the touch thanks as your blood reinvigorates him. “I want you to feel me, feel every thrust as I ruin you. I want to tease you until you cry, I want to punish you for holding back on me this whole time. I want you to feel what you’ve done to me.”

You don’t get a moment to respond to him, you don’t even know what you could say. He takes your hand in his as he helps you both lower yourselves to the ground, the grass tickling the palm of your hand as you find purchase. He pushes himself over you, his knees firmly placed between your thighs, still holding your hand to push you down until you're laying below him.

“I want you to want me, just as I am.”

There’s a vulnerability to his voice and his eyebrows knit together ever so slightly as he takes a moment to take you in. You look up at him, his white curls a little more messy than when you arrived and his lips a little more flushed. The moon is still high in the sky and though not as bright as usual, it’s enough to shine down on him and he looks… Ethereal.

You take the pause in the flow to heave yourself forwards, pushing back and he lets himself fall back to sit on his knees as you kiss him again, slightly surprised.

“I do, Astarion, gods be damned I do.”

You can’t take it anymore, he’s still fully dressed and you're desperate to see more of him and tired of being the only one exposed. Your hands grab at his shirt, messily working it out of his pants with a furrowed brow. A smile grows on his face and he laughs at your clumsiness before deciding to help you out. It only takes a moment for his own shirt to be discarded in the grass somewhere nearby.

“You’re so forwards, did I really rile you up so much? I thought you didn’t like it when I ran my mou-” You interrupt him with a forceful kiss and he doesn’t hesitate to lean into it. Your hands finally touch his bare chest, letting your nails lightly scratch his skin as you run them further down. You feel him shudder.

“I like hearing you talk and you can run your mouth for hours but…” Your breaths are heavy as your hands reach his thighs, softly grabbing his legs. “I need you to touch me while you do it…” You’re trying to be bold but the desperation seeps through your voice and you look up at him through your eyelashes, unable to fully face him.

“Shit… Aren’t you just perfect? Who am I to deny you what you need…” He gives in to you, pushing you back enough to let him untie the lacing on your pants. It only takes a moment of shuffling until he’s rather expertly slid your pants off of you, leaving you in your undergarments. His hands grab your knees and part them enough for him to settle back inbtween them before they slide up your thighs. You're already working on the lacing at the front of your bra, pulling and tugging on the ribbons hurriedly. It gets even harder when Astarion decides he wants to taste you again, his lips finding your neck and hungrily licking for the taste your blood as left. He’s sucking hard enough that you’re rather certain there will be a bruise in the morning but you don’t care enough to reprimand him now.

“Having some issues there, darling?” He teases as he feels you continue to loosen your bra, his thumb brushing against the sensitive skin on the inside of your thigh.

“No, it’s fine, ah! There, I got it!” You finally get it loose enough to pull over your head but Astarion doesn’t waste any time. As soon as you’ve managed to get it above your chest, his mouth has found your breast and taken a nipple inbetween his lips. Your reaction is instantaneous as you arch your back into him with a loud gasp, your arms freezing above your head with the bra still tangled between them.

His cold tongue swirls around the bud skillfully and you're sure you can almost feel his fangs grazing against the sensitive skin. You're unable to keep quiet and even when you purse your lips together, the sounds betray you. But Astarion prides himself on his multitasking, one hand finally reaching below the edge of your panties. You’re already drenched thanks to his previous actions.

“My-my, you’re soaked. How often have you imagined this? Everytime you’ve let me feed from you? Everytime we’ve been alone together? Or just when I’ve put the thought in your head, hm?” His fingers slide between your wet lips, slowly spreading them as a finger found and began to circle your clit, not quite touching it.

“It’s not like tha- ah!” He doesn’t let you finish, instead taking the moment you opened your mouth to slide two fingers into you, curling them ever so slightly.

“What did you say?” He mocked confusion, continuing to slowly thrust his fingers into you.

“I… I haven’t…” You manage to get out between moans and heavy breaths, your brain going into overdrive trying to focus on what you’re saying. Astarion clicks his tongue and suddenly his free hand has pinched your nipple inbetween two fingers and his thrusting has gotten quicker.

“Lying is a sin, didn’t you know that my dear? Are you afraid of hurting me? Here I was, hoping you’d think of me daily. The thought of you touching yourself just because of my bite would simply delight me.” He rolls your nipple inbetween his fingers and you can’t think anymore, all you can do is roll your hips against his hand and writhe underneath him. “Come on, confess to me, beautiful.”

“I…” You struggle to formulate any sentence but his attention doesn’t falter, instead he looks like a cat whose playing with a mouse. He shifts his body so your leg hooks over his thigh, pushing further up as he keeps pumping his finger into you. The new angle lets him hit that spot you can never quite reach yourself. The closer you get to formulating words, the quicker he goes until the lewd sound of his hand hitting your soaked pussy is all that can be heard. You’re getting so close. “Fuck- I have, I-I’m sorry-”

Suddenly he laughs, loudly and with a sharp edge of ridicule. His hand slows to a near stop, simply pushing and curling his finger as he grinds the palm of his hand into your clit, keeping you close to that edge of cumming. You’re dazed and confused when you look at him, why is he laughing?

“Oh you are simply a riot, you sweet thing.” He smiles too kindly as he pulls his fingers from you, leaving you clenching around nothing. He leans back as he sucks your juices from his fingers and push yourself up on your hands.

“Did I say something wrong?” You’re nearly panicked, worried you messed up and told him too much.

“No, no, not at all. The opposite actually.” He gives you a grin that clearly shows off his fangs.

“T-then why..?”

“You were close to cumming on my fingers, right?”

You nod, dumbfounded.

“I don’t want you to.”

“Huh? W-what, why?” Your brain is still hazy and you can’t think straight, his confusing answer didn’t make it easier for you either.

“Simply didn’t want you to.” You consider that maybe you did this to yourself, teaching him the power of simply refusing. You wanted him to have agency, but in this very moment you also wanted to cum. You wanted him to want you to cum. You can only guess that you looked especially conflicted because you were pulled from your thoughts by Astarions laugh again. When you look over to him, he’s untying the lace of his own pants. “Okay, no, I didn’t want you to cum on my hand because I want you to cum on my dick, simple as that actually.”

“Oh you’re such an asshole…” You mutter under your breath but his grin tells you he heard you as he pushes his pants and underwear down his legs. You take the moment to pull your own panties off.

“Ah, did you want to cum at all tonight, pet?” He threatens playfully as he finds his place between your legs but whatever reply you had died in your throat as your eyes land on his cock. You had imagined it before yet embarrassment had kept you from thinking of any details, yet there it was. Hovering over you, Astarion used one hand to hold himself up, the other softly tracing up your thigh as he took in your reaction and in turn observed your beauty. You laid beneath him, bare and vulnerable. Trusting and turned on. Just like he had wanted you. “Hm? Cat’s got your tongue? Come on now…”

He leaned in, kissing your lips once before once again lavishing the skin of your neck in open mouth kisses and playful nips that had you jolting under him. His cock just barely rested on your pussy lips as he slowly and softly moved back and forth.

“Fuck… Ah…” You sigh in pleasure but it’s not enough to satisfy Astarions ever growing need to embarrass you.

“Words, darling, use them. What do you want?” he whispered against your skin, pressing his cock further into the softness of your cunt with the base of his thumb, slowly fucking the space between you and his hand. Your slick coats him and he can’t help but sigh in relief. “Tell me, or I’ll just use you like this until I cum and leave you as you are.” It’s a threat without any truth, but it’s enough to push you to speak up.

“Maybe you should just… Shut up and fuck me, Astarion.” Your hand grips his hair, pulling it enough to guide his head back up to meet your eyes. The spark of your rebellion to his teasing thrills him to no end. “I want you to fuck me, is what I’m saying.”

Lips and teeth and tongue suddenly clash as he presses his mouth to yours. It’s messy and rough, you bite his lip and he moans. Your arms wrap around his neck. He finally guides himself to your opening and pushes the tip in. You both shiver, momentarily pulling away to whimper. And then all at once, Astarion pushes the rest of himself into your heat and you feel divine. You're forced to pull away and the feeling makes you drop your head back as you take a sudden, sharp inhale. Pleasure crashes over you and just as you feel like you can recover, Astarion is already ahead of you and starts to thrust. Whatever recovery you thought you could get is quickly washed away as moans and whimpers are all the things you can utter in that moment. His desire and desperation can be felt in the pace he quickly falls into, his mouth finding your breast once again but this time his earlier control seems to be gone. He bites into the soft flesh, his fangs sinking into your skin and you gasp. The pain and pleasure is overwhelming, the signals getting mixed up and all you know is that he feels good.

You lost count after the first three bite marks Astarion leaves on your body, you weren’t even sure if all of them broke skin or would leave any marks but surely some were. The thought crossed you, of meeting your companions when morning light comes and the view of the marks up and down your neck. And you, who had worked so hard to keep your attraction to Astarion pushed so far down, suddenly it’d be obvious you’d become his plaything. And yet the thought made you clench around Astarions cock, ecstasy taking over whatever shame you had just felt.

Your peak was quickly building back up, and you repositioned your arms to grab around his shoulders and up his back. Letting your nails dig into his marble skin just like he had wanted.

“Hah, to believe you’d take me so well… Especially after all that grandstanding about- hah, fuck… not falling for the sweet things I say.” The smugness in his voice was annoying yet you felt your core tighten even harder at them. You dug your nails even harder into his back in response and you felt him stutter in his pace, a pleasured whimper slipping out from under his breath. “Shit, yeah just like that, sweet girl.”

Of course he’d like it. You hide your face in his neck, unable to do anything else. You’re getting so close again.

A hand pushes inbetween you two as Astarion slips his thumb where you two are connected. He quickly finds your clit and presses down.

“Come on, I want you to cum on my cock… I want to push you over the edge, watch you cry out in pleasure…” You’re both dazed as he starts to rub your clit. Your back curves and you gasp, letting go of Astarion as you push your hands into the grass over your head, gripping it. “That’s it, cum for me, beautiful.”

The last thing you register is his smile and his fangs glinting in the moonlight as you finally tip over the edge. You're flooded with white, hot pleasure as you screw your eyes close and arch your back off of the ground. Astarion doesn’t stop, his thumb relentless as he rubs you through your orgasm. He’s pounding into you, fast and rough but as you keep clenching around him he can feel how he’s losing himself. You’re still riding your high when his hands hit the ground on either side of your head and you can barely register his face as it hovers above you. He’s breathtaking, mouth slightly agape and eyebrows scrunched together. You see his white eyelashes as he closes his eyes, fully focusing on how good you feel around him. His pace becomes an uneven mess fueled by a frenzy and his feral need for you. Each hit of his cock against your inside sends another intense wave of pleasure bordering on pain and you take it, whimpering.

And as he pushes into you as far as he can the scales finally tip and he cums, flooding your insides with his cum. You can feel the pulsing inside you as he collapses over you, you both breathing heavy and slowly coming back down from your highs.

It takes a minute before you're both in any condition to move, using the little energy you had gathered to roll over to your sides, facing one another. There's a comfortable silence as you let whatever happened to tonight soak in. Astarion is carefully watching your face, looking at the myriad of marks he’d left on your neck without even thinking. He never left marks usually, the proof of the nights spent with others made him nauseous. But his brain had been telling him that he should… that he needed to. He wanted you, after all. Reaching out with his hand, he carefully traced one of the bite marks. Your eyes suddenly widened.

“By the gods- What in the hells am I going to tell Shadowheart…” You groaned and hid your face in your hands. Astarion raised an eyebrow.

“...Was there something between you two I had just missed? Cus in that case I might not be able to come back to camp for a while.” He joked.

“No, no not that. I had just… mentioned to her that I wasn’t falling for your stupid flirting and how it was obvious you liked to fuck around and I just… Didn’t want that to be me. I’m pretty sure I called you annoying as well.”

Astarion once again laughed at you, the fact that you would both be facing a very judgemental Shadowheart was very amusing to him. He’d rub it in her face if he could, but the hickeys and bitemarks on your neck was probably enough.

“But now that is me… Ugh.”

“... You know I didn’t bed you just because I could, right?” Astarion spoke up, awkward in his approach.

“Well yeah the whole ‘I want you’ thing was pretty consistent. But what do you want with me?” And there was that straightforwardness he always found a little intimidating.

“I… I don’t know, but I want you. That’s all I know.” He studied your face before turning to lay on his back and look into the starless night. “Do I have to choose what that means now?”

“...No. Just… Tell me when you know I guess.” You shrug and turn to look at the sky as well.

“Can I want you to come closer?” Astarion spoke into the night, his voice barely heard over the breeze in the trees.

You don’t answer, just shuffle closer to him, putting your head on his shoulder. He smiles, it felt nice having someone close even after you were… done.

“Though we shouldn’t stay here too long, I’m pretty sure I have grass up my ass crack and it’s colder than the hells out here. Sorry but you don’t exactly help either.”

“Oh aren’t you just charming, didn’t you ever learn some manners?” You both laugh and the shadowlands feel a little less… bleak, at least for tonight.

#astarion x y/n #astarion x you #astarion x reader #astarion #baldurs gate astarion #astarion acunin #smut #bg3 smut #bg3 fanfiction #astarion smut #astarion x female tav #astarion x tav #astarion x female reader #bg3 #baldurs gate 3

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munsonhoneybaby · 2 years ago

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Too Much in Common | Eddie Munson X F!Henderson!Reader

Summary: After Dustin brings Eddie home for a D&D campaign, you find yourself enjoying his company more frequently than expected.

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: 18+ mdni, drug use (marijuana), smut, kinda automatic dubcon since they're both fried?, fingering, a lil praise, eddie’s just a lil obsessed

A/N: it hasn’t been explicitly stated yet but reader is adopted. hopefully i actually post a part two in a timely manner.

part two | finale | tmic masterlist

The rumbling of Eddie’s van ceased in the Hendersons’ driveway as he turned the key back in the ignition. He was surprised, however, when the metal thrum of a guitar continued despite his radio now being off. Opening his door, he recognized “N.I.B.” by Black Sabbath and realized it was coming from inside, making his eyebrows furrow in confusion.

He made his way to the front door, not bothering to knock beforehand since Dustin was expecting him and the kid’s mom wasn’t home. “Since when did you get a taste in music, Henderson?” He called over the music blaring from the sound system in the living room. A door around the corner slammed open much more forcefully than necessary and the aforementioned freshman barreled out of his bedroom.

“It’s my sister!” He shouted back. “She said I could have you guys over while Mom is gone if I didn’t bitch while she was in charge, but APPARENTLY THAT MEANS MAKING ME GO DEAF!”

Eddie could just barely make out your muttered “oh please” as you entered from the kitchen. You turned down the volume until the sound could be considered background noise. “If anyone here is gonna go deaf, it’s me from your constant shrieking.” Distressed jeans hugged the curve of your waist perfectly and the Poison t-shirt you had on looked soft from numerous wears. He tried not to stare, but he was sure he looked like a cartoon character– bugging, heart-shaped eyes and jaw hitting the floor. He almost missed it when you acknowledged him. “Munson. I heard you were still running Hellfire. Didn’t realize you’d be coming today.”

Oh fuck. You knew him. You knew him? How did you know him? Of course, you had gone to the same school, everybody in Hawkins did, but he would remember meeting a girl like you. Would you be upset with him for not knowing who you are? God, already embarrassing himself and he hasn’t even started talk–

“Relax,” You snorted. “I was a grade under you at Hawkins and I was homeschooled my senior year. We never talked, I wouldn’t expect you to remember me. I’m pretty sure everybody knows about you, though.” And this is when you tell him to get out of your house and stay away from your kid brother because he’s a drug-dealing, Satan-worshipping freak. “It’s nice you’re still running the D&D club, sounds like everything else there gets worse every year.”

Some of the tension in his muscles slipped away and he realized he’d been subtly bracing himself. “Oh–” The doorbell rang and Dustin ran to get it, welcoming in Mike and Lucas who were already amicably bickering louder than necessary. Behind them trailed the two others they had ridden with, Jeff and Gareth if you remembered correctly. They seemed a little uncomfortable holding a session in a new house, but relaxed drastically when they set eyes on Eddie. “Uh– you guys can go ahead down to the basement with the freshmeat. I’ll be down in a sec, alright?” They nodded, waving politely to you before following the boys.

When they were gone, you and Eddie locked eyes again. “Seriously, I’m glad Dusty has someone watching out for him. He takes more shit than he deserves. Just try to be a good role model, alright? If I find out you give that kid Special K or some shit, it’s fucking over for you. Got it?”

“I would never let anything bad happen to those kids when they’re with me,” He spoke earnestly. “I’m gonna look out for them. If I’m ever gonna do anything right, it’s that.”

“I believe you, Munson.” You gave him a small smile and nodded towards the basement door. “You should probably get going. They can’t start the game without their dungeon master, right?”

An embarrassed flush fought its way up his neck to his cheeks as you turned towards the hall where your bedroom was. Before you could get more than a couple of steps though, he gently grasped your wrist. “Hey uh, by the way– I just wanted you to know that I don’t really– I don’t do any hard stuff anymore. Haven’t in a while. I hardly even sell it anymore and I stopped selling to first-timers.”

“I’m sorry, Eddie, I didn’t mean to–”

“No, don’t worry about it. I totally get it, I just wanted to let you know; for your peace of mind, I guess. You deserve to know who your baby brother’s hanging around with, I don’t want you to think I’m too bad an influence.”

“I don’t think you’re too bad, Munson. Just a healthy amount.” You gave his own wrist a small squeeze as you slipped your hand from his and finally went back to your own room. He gazed after you momentarily, even after your door had closed. If the guys were still present, they would definitely be giving him shit.

As if on cue, he heard Dustin’s muffled shout from the basement. “Eddie, hurry the hell up!”

You were sitting on the front porch swing lighting a joint when his beat-up van pulled up two nights later. “Seek & Destroy” poured from his cracked-open windows until his door opened and he set foot on your driveway once again. “He’s not here, y’know,” You called to him.

“That’s alright, I actually just needed to–” Eddie was halfway between you and his van when he caught a whiff of a particularly familiar scent. A shocked, teasing grin slowly spread across his face. “Henderson, are you smoking marijuana right now?”

In spite of yourself, you let out a laugh, coughing around a lungful of smoke in the process. “Say it a little louder, Munson, I don’t think the deafening Metallica got the neighbors’ attention.”

Laughing, he dropped into the space next to you on the swing. “I didn’t peg you for the smoking type.”

“Oh, you mean from the three minutes we interacted?” You squinted playfully but held the joint out to him. “Just weed, I don’t fuck with anything else personally.”

He took you up on the offer, calloused fingertips brushing your skin as he took the joint from you. Examining it for a moment, he smirked as he took a hit. “Fuckin’ with it pretty hard, apparently,” He breathed out. “You roll almost as good as I do.”

“Good, then you can roll the next one.” It passes between you as you speak, though Eddie tries to keep his turns short out of courtesy. “Which brings us back to the topic of why you’re here mooching my shit. You said you needed to do something?”

“Right, I uh- I forgot my lucky dice here the other night. I figured I’d pick ‘em up on my way home from The Hideout.”

“Oh yeah, you’re in a band or something, right?”

“Since middle school,” He nodded, “Just me and a few guys from school, s’called Corroded Coffin.”

“Sounds metal.”

“We try to,” He chuckled.

“You like Black Sabbath and Metallica, you’d better,” You teased. You didn’t notice the way his eyes followed your every move as you smoked. The way your cheeks hollowed ever so slightly as you sucked in a hit, how your breath hitched and your eyes fell closed as you held it in. The corners of his lips curled up in amusement watching you blow Os while conversation lulled for a moment. Offering him one last hit first, you stub out the roach on the ground and stand from your seat. “C’mon in, you can go get your dice.”

“Thanks,” He hummed, grabbing the door as soon as it was open to hold it for you.

“Have you eaten?” You ask, heading into the kitchen as he made his way toward the basement door. “I haven’t, I was gonna make a sandwich or something. You want one?”

“That’d be great, actually, thank you.” The dice weren’t hard to find seeing as he’d left them there on purpose. So maybe it was a little weird, definitely a little desperate, but he wanted to make sure he had another opportunity to see you– get his foot in the door, so to speak– and he really hadn’t expected all this. He’d hoped you’d be the one to answer the door and he’d get to make small talk for a few minutes, point out your shared taste in music maybe, but this? Catching you alone, sharing a joint, getting invited in for something to eat? This was going better than he could’ve possibly expected.

“Find ‘em?” You called down.

“Yup!” He jogged back up the stairs, waving the small velvet bag as he joined you in the kitchen. “All good.”

“What a relief. Can’t have the dungeon master thrown off his game, that would be a travesty.” You glanced up at him mischievously as you finished making the first sandwich, scooting the plate across the counter to him.

Eddie suppressed a smile, shaking his head as he picked up the sandwich. “You just love teasin’ me with that, don’t you?” He asked before he took what was probably an unattractively large bite.

“Depends on what kind of teasing we’re talking about, Munson.” You drawled casually in return, turning to continue making your own. Meanwhile, it was an effort just for him to keep his food in his mouth without choking on it. You were flirting with him.

Weren’t you? Maybe you weren’t. Maybe you’d meant it the other way around– that you’d only tease him in a joking way and that you’d never want to–

“Eddie, I can see the smoke coming out of your ears,” You snorted. “Stop thinking so hard, you’re gonna hurt yourself.” You took a big bite before grabbing a bottle of water out of the fridge. “Want one?” His answer was going to be yes, but you were grabbing him one before he had responded anyway. There was a brief and fairly comfortable silence as you cleaned up the rest of your small mess and he took a few long swigs of his water. “Wanna finish these in my room? We could smoke another joint maybe…just chill out, I don’t know…”

“Yeah, totally,” He agreed, maybe a little too eagerly.

“You’re rolling though,” You remind him over your shoulder as he begins to follow you to your bedroom.

The door creaked as you opened it, waiting for him to enter after you so you could close it. As you opened the window wide and lit a stick of incense, he took in his surroundings. Your room wasn’t like the average teenage girl’s– not that Eddie had seen very many of those– not pastel-colored, or frilly, or covered in heartthrob posters, though a few stuffed animals were perched tenderly on your bed. Actually, it was almost more like his, albeit much more organized. There were posters of horror movies and rock bands filling a decent amount of the empty space on your walls, the Dio flag pinned to the ceiling drawing his attention. “Oh, that is so sick!”

“I thought you might like some ‘a this stuff,” You laughed softly. Nodding towards the stereo in the corner, you continued, “You can put something on if you want.” He squatted down to look through your cassettes, hearing your voice move through the room as you got out your bud, tray, and paper. “Try to keep it understated though, alright? Nothing too hard or fast right now.”

“Really tryin’ to mellow out tonight, huh?” He began playfully, but looked back at you as his tone softened a little. “Everything okay?”

“Oh, I’m alright,” You reassure. With the cassette in place, he made sure the volume was low before it began playing softly as you spoke. “I just get a little too pent up sometimes, you know? Everything’s just been kind of a lot lately, ‘s why I was already smoking when you showed up.”

“Hey, I can beat it if you want. I didn’t mean to show up outta the blue at a bad time and I definitely don’t have to stick around if you don’t want me here. I can totally get it if you want the time to yourself–”

“Please stay,” You quietly interrupted, then seemed a little embarrassed. “Sorry, I didn’t– I’d appreciate the company if you wanna stay a little while.”

Eddie gave you a comforting smile before taking a seat at your vanity to roll the joint, trying to lighten the mood. “Careful what you wish for, Henderson. I mean, you’ve got good music, good weed, made me dinner; I might be hangin’ around here more often with this kinda treatment. You’ve got me livin’ the life, babe.”

Laying down on your bed to watch him, your voice was more serious than he expected when you replied. “You’re welcome any time, you know. Mom likes when the house is busy and I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Dustin practically worships the ground you walk on.” His rings glinted in the lamplight as he carefully sprinkled the bud onto the paper.

“Yeah? And what’s your review, hm?” You didn’t mean to stare at the way his lips wrapped around the joint or how his tongue traced the seam of the paper to seal it.

You hummed vaguely as he finished up, gently plucking it from between his fingers when he was done. Dramatically inspecting it much longer than he had yours, you finally say, “You roll clean joints.”

He shakes his head and laughs. Your lips close around the paper, feeling the seam still damp with his spit, and you jut your chin toward his lighter on the vanity. Grabbing it without a word, he leans forward to give you a light. Your gaze catches on his rings once more before lifting to his face again. A reflection of the flame makes the brown of his eyes warmer as they lock with yours, looking up from where you still lay on the bed on your stomach. You take a long pull as he draws the lighter away again and the spell is broken.

Sitting up to breathe the smoke in deeper, you tuck your knees under you. Eddie joins you on your bed, but not before he kicks off his shoes by the bedroom door. He sits cross-legged just in front of your pillows so you shuffle around to face him. “So, how was your concert?”

He snorted, “Concert might be a bit heavy. Gig is a little more accurate. Show maybe.”

You roll your eyes, but keep your tone light and pass the joint. “You’re a loser, you know that? You knew exactly what I was talking about, answer the question.”

“It was pretty good I guess,” He shrugged and took a long hit. “I think there may have been a whole seven people this time. And one of them was even sober!”

You smiled sympathetically, “You’re just in the wrong town. Don’t worry, I’ll come watch you play. I don’t know if that’d be a good atmosphere for the boys, but I could probably force Steve, Nancy, and Robin to come.

He twisted one of his rings around his finger for a moment. “That’s really nice, sweetheart.”

With each toke you both took, the joint burned slightly shorter until it was almost completely gone. “You want the last hit?” you asked. “I finished the last one. And you rolled this one anyway.”

“No, that’s alright. It’s your weed; I’m literally a drug dealer, I’ve got plenty at home.”

“Here,” You took one last long drag and he raised an eyebrow in confusion, but he understood when you sat up further on your knees and leaned toward him. A sense of giddy excitement overtook him for a second, nerves probably heightened from the weed, but he kept his composure. When your lips slotted over his, he took a deep breath in. His hand slid into your hair to keep your head steady as you sighed the smoke into his mouth. Your lips grazed over his afterward, very obviously lingering long after it was necessary. You giggled as you slumped down into a laying position, letting your head fall back into his lap.

“Seems like someone’s a lot more relaxed now,” He cooed playfully.

“Sorry, I can get off ‘f you–” He notices how your voice is slightly rougher after smoking so much.

“Hey, no–” His hands settle warmly over your shoulders, not holding you down so much as they were encouraging you to stay put. “It’s alright, baby. You can get comfy, you’re not bothering me.”

His hands soothed up and down your arms as you settled back in. “That feels really nice.” You hummed quietly and it drew out into another giggle, “Everything feels really nice.”

He laughs a little airily himself, “It does, doesn’t it?” Your skin felt so soft and warm beneath his fingertips, tracing imaginary shapes along the bare flesh of your arms. “‘M feelin’ pretty good, myself.” Your eyes couldn’t help but wander to his pretty pink lips again. They’d felt so soft against yours and you wanted more– to really feel him this time. His thumb brushes your chin, dragging down in a way that had your mouth opening slightly. “What’re you thinkin’ so hard about, sweet thing?”

Blinking up at him with glassy eyes, you raised an arm to brush your fingers over his flushed cheek. “Eddie, c’n you kiss me? Please?”

“Yeah?” He moved his thumb a bit higher to tug your lower lip down a bit, face dipping down a bit closer to yours. “That what you want?” You were nodding before he even finished his sentence, making him chuckle quietly.

He allowed his lips to graze teasingly over yours, just barely touching, before finally kissing you. His nose brushed your chin and you could feel the small smile adorning his face before your lower lip was sucked softly between his. Fingers winding into his mess of frizzy curls, you moaned quietly into his mouth and pulled him closer. After another moment though, he slowly drew back, lips separating from yours with a soft smack that made you unreasonably desperate for more.

An ache had sparked in his lower back while loading the amps into the van after their show earlier that evening, deepening as he proceeded to help load the rest of the equipment afterward. Now the deep curve he had molded it to in order to keep his mouth on yours had the pain radiating up his entire back. “As much as I’m enjoying this– and believe me, babe, I’m seriously enjoying it– my back is kinda killin’ me and hunching over you like this…” 95% of his brain was screaming at him to shut the fuck up, to ignore it and just keep kissing you breathless anyway, but the other 5% was crying out to lay down and he had to listen.

“Oh, sorry,” There was a slight pant in your voice as you released your grasp on his hair. He sat up slowly as if a movement too fast would shatter the calm in the air. You sat up yourself, watching as he eased himself back onto your pillows. “S’that better?”

“Way better,” He confirmed. “We can uh- we could keep kissing if you want.”

Openly cringing at how awkward that sounded, he opened his mouth to say something else before you interrupted him with a still-sluggish giggle. “I’d like that, Eddie.”

“Okay,” He nodded rapidly.

Leaning forward onto your hands and knees, you crawled into his lap. His hands instantly settled on your thighs, running up and down the material of your pajama pants. His eyes flickered wildly over your body a few times before gazing up at you in awe. You didn’t waste any time in kissing him again, which was much easier now that he wasn’t upside down. As you moaned into his mouth, his hands molded to your hips, squeezing and pulling you as tight to him as he could get you. His tongue slipped between your lips, making them open further as your hands found his hair once again.

He didn’t mean to start moving, slowly grinding into you in an attempt to relieve the tightness in his jeans that definitely wasn’t a problem before he came over— but then you were rocking down on him yourself, clothed cunt rubbing against him in a desperate search for friction. Hips rutting up into yours, he braced a palm against your lower back. You could feel his hardness pressing into you through the layers of clothing between you. Pulling back for air, you panted into his mouth, still subtly grinding against him. “Fuck,” He grunted quietly. The soft whimper of his name that you gave him in return made his head fall back against the wall with a thud. “Got me so fuckin’ hard, sweet thing. Please, don’t stop.”

“Don’t wanna stop,” You whined back quietly. “Feels so good.”

“Good,” He cooed. “Don’t worry, ‘m gonna keep makin’ you feel good.” Hot, open-mouthed kisses moved down your neck and you let out a moan. His fingers wormed their way past the hem of your shirt, tracing the cup of your bra. “This okay?” He mumbled against your skin. Nodding, you cupped his hand and guided it higher until he pushed your bra out of the way. The pad of his thumb brushed firmly over your nipple, making your hips jerk against his. “Mmm, so sensitive. Is that jus’ the weed or are you always like this?”

“Both,” You breathed out. “‘N you’re good at all this.”

“Aw you don’t have to butter me up, baby,” He grinned. “I’m gonna make you cum either way.” Free hand dipping past the waistband of your pajama pants, Eddie continued playfully, “But, go on. Keep tellin’ me how much I turn you on.”

“Eddie,” You pleaded, “C’mon.”

Fingers stroking the damp fabric of your underwear, he asked, “This okay? Really want me to touch you?” Your desperate nods made his lips curl, pressing more firmly against you and drawing out a moan that you tried to stifle. “No, no, no, you gotta tell me how it feels, sweet thing. We’re all alone, you can make those pretty noises, it’s okay.”

Your head slumped into the crook of his neck, mouthing lazily at his skin. Nudging your underwear to the side, he sank his middle finger knuckle-deep into you. Grasping tightly at the worn material of his t-shirt, your breath hitched. “Mmm, fuck– yes, Eddie, thank you.”

“Look at you, usin’ your manners ‘n everything. Of course, you would. Such a good girl.” Your moans only grew louder, making his hips jerk in search of friction. “So warm and wet, bet you’d feel so good around my cock.” Lifting your head to kiss him again, your hand found the shape of his length in his jeans. He rolled his thumb over your clit in circles as his hips rocked against your palm. Mouths open against each other’s, you exchanged panting breaths and muffled moans. Confined by your pants, his hand didn’t have much room for movement, leaving your hips stuttering frustratedly. “Lemme get these off’a you, babe. Can make you feel so much better than this.”

Suddenly, his hand was curled under your thigh and you let out a small squeal as you were flipped onto your back beneath him. Your pants and underwear were yanked down your legs feverishly, Eddie parting them to slip two fingers into you this time. “Shit, Eds!”

“Fuck, I’m sorry, was that too much?” Immediately, he tried to withdraw his hand, but you gripped his wrist to stop him.

“Don’t stop, Eddie. Please, don’t stop,” You rushed.

“Alright, sweetheart, ‘m right here. Don’t worry.” Your hands laced into his hair for stability as his fingers crooked into a spot that almost made your eyes cross. Already dripping onto your bedspread, you pulled him even closer to you. Smirk spreading across his face, he said, “Oh yeah. That’s the spot, huh, baby?”

“Fuck, Eddie, you’re gonna make me come,” You whined.

“Good, want you to soak my fingers.” His hips rocked forward, clothed cock grinding into the back of your thigh. “Wanna feel you come for me.” The way his thumb rubbed so firmly against your clit had heat shooting all the way to your toes. Desperately tugging him down for another kiss, your thighs trembled as they squeezed closed around his hand. “There it is,” He murmured lowly against your lips. “Mmm, you’d feel so fuckin’ good coming around my cock, sweet thing.” The deep cadence of his voice had you shaking.

Grasping at the back of his shirt, you buried your face in the crook of his neck. He held you in silence for a long moment until your head eventually dropped back against the bed. A smile slowly grew on your face as you looked up at him and you let out a small giggle, making him grin down at you. He laughed softly too as he pressed his forehead against yours.

Eyes darting shortly to the alarm clock on your nightstand, you did a double-take when you noticed how late it was. “Son of a bitch, my mom’s gonna be home any minute!” You grabbed your discarded underwear and pajama pants from the foot of the bed as soon as Eddie had peeled himself off of you. “Uh– fuck, I’m really sorry. I promise I didn’t mean to invite you in just for this, I just didn’t realize how late it got. I didn’t mean to leave you hanging, but–”

“Are you kidding?” He was already leaning against the wall by your door, slipping on his beat-up air forces. “I had a blast, babe. We should do this again sometime,” He winked teasingly.

You rolled your eyes half-heartedly, feeling your body warm. When the two of you reached the front door, you rubbed your arm and met his eyes only a bit awkwardly. “I’m sorry again about not…returning the favor.”

He chuckled, giving you a small smirk. “Don’t worry about me, sweet thing. After tonight, I’ll have no trouble taking care of it myself.” Taking a step closer to you, he leaned down for a kiss that was much slower and softer than the last few you’d shared. “I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

“Night, Eddie. Thanks for keeping me company tonight.”

“Anytime.”

You waited at the door until he’d gotten in his van and driven away before finally heading back to your room. As soon as you closed your bedroom door and flopped down on your bed, you heard your mom’s car pull into the driveway. Meanwhile, Eddie drove home, foot a little heavy on the gas pedal as he itched to get back to his own room.

He didn’t see you again for two weeks. He knew the Hendersons’ phone number, but there was no way he could ask for you if Dustin or your mom picked up. So he waited, very impatiently mind you, and hoped he hadn’t ruined things by going so far with you so fast.

When he did finally see you, it was at Hawkins High School. You’d come to pick Dustin up from that week’s Hellfire club meeting. You knocked on the door before entering, knowing that– despite the session being scheduled to end ten minutes ago– they often ran over their allotted time. Sure enough, you heard Eddie’s booming voice as you cracked open the door and slipped inside.

“And as the chimera flew closer–” When he noticed you he immediately straightened from his position looming over the table, clearing his throat and clasping his hands together behind his back. He didn’t want to scare you off with all this yet. “Okay gentlemen, that’s all for today.” The collective groan they let out had you feeling a bit guilty, they’d obviously been enjoying themselves, and now you were being the annoying big sister; you should’ve just waited in the car. But Eddie was quick to speak again. “Oh, cut the moaning. We’re almost fifteen minutes over and you all need more time to prepare for battle anyway. Amateurs.”

As the others all packed up their things, he approached you and you greeted him with a smile. “Sorry for interrupting, seemed pretty intense, I hope it wasn’t too important.”

“No, no, it’s good you came in. We would’ve been all caught up until someone else came in to stop us in a much less forgiving manner.” You both laughed and it went quiet for a moment before he cleared his throat again. “So uh, I’ve been hoping I’d see you around.”

“Yeah, me too… Smoking alone isn’t as fun anymore.”

His lips quirked up into a smirk and he nodded playfully. “Yeah, ‘ve been thinking the same. You should start buying from me, you know. I’ll give you a discount.”

“Oh, so I have to pay you to smoke with you again? You know, we used my shit last time,” You teased.

“You’ll never pay for anything you smoke when you’re with me, sweetheart. I’m a gentleman after all. Here, hang on.” He dashed back to the table, hunching over to write something down before tearing off the small scrap of paper and coming back to you. “Now you can get a hold ‘a me, come smoke all my weed anytime.”

“Oh, I’ll be taking you up on that.”

Your comfortable conversation was interrupted when Dustin shouted your name. “What’re you doing? Let’s go!”

“I’ll see you around, Munson.”

“Sure thing, Henderson.”

As you drove Dustin home, you couldn’t help but wonder if it was a bad idea to get involved with Eddie. He was one of Dustin’s best friends now, a mentor for him, one of the only male role models he’s had aside from Steve since he lost his father. The last thing you wanted was to make Dustin feel like you were taking that away from him. God forbid something should happen between you and Eddie and he doesn’t feel comfortable coming around anymore. You couldn’t do that to him.

Still, you found yourself hunkered over the phone in the living room that night. You tried to hold out, you really did, but you only managed to hold yourself back until almost midnight after your family had gone to bed. Coiling the cord around your finger, you waited impatiently as the phone rang three times.

When he finally picked up, you could hear the smirk in his tone. “Hi, sweet thing. Just couldn’t stay away, could you?”

“Well, I figured I was running low on bud anyway,” You drawled quietly.

“You’re awful quiet,” He teased. “Don’t want Mommy to catch you up on the phone so late?”

“Fuck off,” You scoffed playfully. “If you’re having so much trouble hearing me over the phone, why don’t you come over?”

“Oh, so she minds a phone call, but it’s okay if we have a sleepover?” He snorted.

“No, but if you’re quiet you can sneak in and back out before she wakes up to get ready for work. I’ve got twenty bucks calling your name,” You cooed enticingly.

“Seriously?”

"Come on, Munson, you've never climbed through a girl's window before? I'm disappointed."

He simply replied, "I'll be there in fifteen, make sure it's unlocked."

part two | finale | tmic masterlist

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