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jobrookekarev · 1 month ago

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This One's For The Girls

Words: 1,940

Summary: Jo and Alex are excited for their first ultrasound and the chance to see their baby, but when they do, they find out more than expected!

or 21x04 but with jolex babies!

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy.

Relationship: Alex Karev/Jo Wilson.

Characters: Alex Karev, Jo Wilson, and Luna Wilson (Mentioned).

Rating: General Audiences.

Additional Tags: AU, Alternate Universe, Fluff, Romance, Family, Alternate Canon, Canon Compliant, Drabble, One Shot, Happy Ending, Domestic, Parenthood, Pregnancy, Children, Spoilers, Twins!

Read at AO3

Read at FFN

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Alex let the warm water run over him as he got ready for the day. It had been a quiet morning and Jo was slowly getting up as they got ready for work. He was enjoying a few more minutes of alone time in the shower. He also secretly used his wife's favorite soap and loofah.

“Incoming and I don't have a lot of time!” Jo said as she ran into the bathroom in her favorite fluffy robe. He had gotten this one for her last Christmas after her last robe, the one she had stolen from the hotel at Bailey's wedding, had finally fallen apart.

“Do you want to use one of our other three bathrooms to vomit?” Alex asked, turning around in the shower to look at her, although she smiled and didn't seem nauseous.

“Shh,” Jo shushed him, turning away from him as she grabbed the hairbrush. “I feel decent for the first time in weeks, so don't jinx it! Oh and don't forget we have our first OB appointment today.”

“Yeah, I thought it was after work?” Alex asked, turning to look back at her again.

“It is.”

“So what's the rush?”

“Well Luna is still asleep, my charts are done, and I've got just enough time for a quick shower,” Jo said, putting her hairbrush down and turning around to him. Alex opened the shower door as she untied her robe and he stared down at her body.

“How quick?” Alex asked with a smirk. It had been a while since she felt up to this and he was determined to enjoy it.

“If it's too quick, I'll kill you?” Jo said, clearly thinking the same thing as she stepped into the shower, putting a hand on his shoulders and closing the door behind her.

Alex smiled and pulled her in with a hand around her waist. The water fell over her as he leaned in, their lips meeting as they kissed. However, Jo's hands moved faster as she grabbed his hips and pulled him into her. The hot water wasn't the only thing that caused the shower to steam up that morning.

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“Hey I'm sorry I'm sorry,” Jo said as she ran down the stairs past the nurses station to where he was waiting.

Alex had already changed out of his scrubs and into a change of clothes. He leaned against the counter on his phone, although he didn't look too pissed at her. The last she had talked to him was at lunch before she had left to study. It was supposed to be an easy day for both of them, but it never was.

“The appointment was at 5:00 right?” Alex asked, looking at her with a raised eyebrow.

“I know, I just got so busy with patients, and then Yasuda found this amazing surgery to save her sister's fertility and that took a little longer than expected. And I completely forgot,” Jo said, gesturing to her invisible patients with her hands before she shook her head and looked down.

“Hey, you have nothing to apologize for,” Alex said with a little shrug. “I waited for you at the clinic, sitting there like an idiot, being the only guy there.”

“I'm sure,” Jo rolled her eyes as he smiled, clearly teasing her.

“But DeLuca had to leave.”

“We were going to see the baby,” Jo wined with a pout that looked all too cute.

“We'll just reschedule,” Alex said, although he couldn't hide his disappointment.

“Wait, come with me,” Jo said with a little smile and a giggle. She realized they were both doctors and had access, and the training, to perform an ultrasound as she dragged him away.

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Jo lay on the bed as Alex moved the probe around on her stomach. They had borrowed an ultrasound machine and retreated to one of the on-call rooms where they would have some privacy. They could hardly stop from smiling and Jo kept giggling. Luckily they didn't run into anybody on their secret adventure, lest they both spill their secret immediately.

“I don't see anything, do you?” Alex asked as he moved the wander around and narrowed his eyes at the screen.

“Just my intestine, stop moving it around,” Jo said with a laugh as she grabbed his hand. She moved the probe down towards her uterus before looking back at the screen.

“How long has it been since you've done one of these?” Jo asked as she tried to find a good angle.

“Probably not since my second year.”

“As an attending?”

“As a resident,” Alex said as they both laughed.

“Well, that was ages ago old man, no wonder you confused my uterus with my intestines. I thought you'd be well educated with my anatomy by now?” Jo said with a smirk.

“I am well educated, I did get you pregnant didn't I?” Alex said as they just laughed again and she tried to focus on finding their baby.

“I still don't see anything,” Alex said as he pressed something, and suddenly their baby was on the screen. “Wait, what is that?”

“Yeah, there's our baby,” Jo gasped as she saw them for the first time and the sound of their heartbeat filled her ears. Jo smiled so wide, her cheeks hurt. “And there's the heartbeat!”

There they were. The baby they had wanted for so long and didn't think they would ever have. Before they had adopted Luna they had been trying intermittently and then officially after the pandemic ended. However, Alex's sperm count was low and things would be difficult. Then Luna got diagnosed with hearing loss and they decided just to focus on her. She would be enough for them.��

Then she fainted in Alex's arms and Levi dropped the bombshell on them that she was pregnant. They were so overjoyed, but she was secretly worried that it was wrong. That it was just a false positive and a chemical pregnancy or something. But this, seeing their baby on the screen made everything so real. While Jo didn't couldn't stop smiling, Alex looked at the screen suspiciously.

“You don't see it do you?” Jo said as she leaned up and pointed at the screen where their baby’s heart was. “You see it right there?”

However, Alex moved the doppler around and pressed a few buttons searching for a better image. “Oh, and also… there.”

Jo instantly sat up and started the screen as they saw another heartbeat, another baby. “Oh my God!”

“Twins!” They both said at the same time, staring at the screen in disbelief as if two babies had magically appeared.

They looked back at each other, both with wide eyes and dropped jaws. Alex stared back at the screen and Jo sighed as she flopped back onto the bed, putting her hand over her eyes. Alex fumbled and mumbled like he wanted to say something but the words couldn't quite get out.

“Twins, you knocked me up with twins, Alexander!” Jo yelled at him knowing it was half her fault, but still in disbelief.

“Shush, Jo the whole hospital is going to hear you!” Alex said looking between her and the screen the disbelief still written across his face.

“I don't care! You knock me up with twins! That's like twice the diapers and twice the screaming, and crying, and, and, bottles, and formula or breastfeeding, and diapers!! Alex the diapers!”

“I know!” Alex said in disbelief, but there was a little sliver of a smile across his face before Jo reached up and punched his shoulder.

“Twins Alex! Are you serious? How did this even happen?”

“I'm pretty sure you know how this happened,” Alex said with a chuckle as he smiled although shrank away when she reached up to slap him again. “Ow, It's more likely that somewhere along our lines, someone must've had twins and we just didn't know. I mean we still don't know anything about your biological parents, beyond your mom's immediate family. And it's not like my family history is that well documented either.”

“Yeah,” Jo said in a whisper, staring at the screen as they both fell quiet.

“Jo,” Alex whispered too, looking over at her with concern.

“I'm serious though, how are we going to handle twins?” Jo said, staring at the screen and shaking her head as tears appeared in her eyes as she blinked them away, although they fell onto her cheeks.

“Hey, hey,” Alex said, seeing her tears and dropping the doppler as he reached down to hug her.

She sat up and buried her face in his chest as he held her. Alex rubbed her back and Jo tried to breathe and calm down. She didn't want to cry, but she did. She was confused, and surprised, and scared, and yet so full of love for her two babies. All these emotions just overwhelmed her and spilled over in tears.

“Hey, it's going to be okay,” Alex whispered to her, pressing his lips to the side of her head. “If anybody is more prepared to have twins it's us. The best pediatric surgeon and the best OB resident in the Northwest. If we can handle Luna being in the NICU and everything that we’ve had to go through with her, then having twins is going to be like a walk in the park.”

Jo laughed as she pulled back, sitting up and wiping away her tears as she looked up at his smile. “If you say that, you're going to jinx us.”

“I don't care, we're having two babies Jo, twins!” Alex said, letting the excitement fill his eyes as they twinkled with joy.

“Yeah, we are!” Jo said as she smiled and let the excitement fill her as she reached forward and kissed him pressing her lips to his as the excitement sparkled on their lips.

“Okay, now lay back. I want to see them again!” Alex said, grabbing the doppler as Jo laid back. Although, she reached out for his hand and he held it, giving him a squeeze.

It was easier for him to find the babies this time. They both smiled at their babies on the screen and listened to their heartbeats. They should’ve been taking measurements and checking their organs, but they were both healthy and they looked at their twins as their parents. They stared at the images of their babies, just enjoying seeing them on the screen.

“We're having twins!” Jo said with excitement as she giggled and Alex looked it over at her.

“Yeah, Karev twins!” Alex said, with a chuckle as he leaned down to kiss her before they stared back at the screen.

“Oh my God, I'm pregnant with two big headed Karev babies!” Jo said, the smile falling from her face and her eyes went wide as she stared at him.

But Alex just roared with a laugh, as he leaned back, but Jo shook her head in disbelief. “Don't worry, chances are with twins you'll have to have a C-section anyway.”

“No,” Jo shook her head as she glared at him. “It's safer to have a vaginal delivery!”

“Yeah, but with twins they’ll be smaller!”

“Shut up, no they will not. I've seen the size of your head,” Jo said, although Alex just laughed as he avoided another one of her attempts to smack him. “I am so going to kill you.”

“I don't care,” Alex said, his smile wide on his cheeks as he just laughed. “We're having twins!”

“Yeah,” Jo said in a breath as she smiled, still in disbelief as she said it again. “We’re having twins!”

#jo wilson #alex karev #jolex #grey's anatomy #greys anatomy #otp: home and heart #jo karev #my work #my writing #my fanfiction #grey's anatomy fanfic

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givemea-dam-break · 2 years ago

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hi honey! can you do a anthony lockwood x reader, with #49 from the prompt list? maybe reader is close friends with kipps and anthony gets jealous so he hangs out with another girl to make reader jealous, and it works, so kipps threatens lockwood?

i love your work btw 🫶

a/n: of course!! thank you for requesting, and i’m so glad you like my stuff, thank you for your support <3 I'm assuming you mean my angst prompt list as that's the only one with a prompt that makes sense lol. i hope you enjoy! also (for anyone) let me know if you want to be added to my tag list for any lockwood and co fics <3

warnings: mild language, angst prompt: "Are they really just a friend?" gn reader

tag list -> @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy

Lockwood has been avoiding you, and you're not sure why.

It started a few weeks ago.

Usually, the two of you would spend mornings together in the kitchen, talking over steaming cups of tea as you waited for Lucy and George to get up. Your afternoons could go any which way - relaxing in the house, taking consultations with possible clients, running around London for god knows what. Evenings, well, they were your favourite. If you weren't on a case, either with the whole team or just paired with Lockwood, you'd sit in the library together, simply enjoying the other's company as you read one of the many novels in the house and he sifted through magazine after magazine.

Now, though, it's all changed. Lockwood is never in the kitchen when you're there on your own. He doesn't sit next to you during consultations, or invite you on his errands around the city. Worse, he isn't taking you along on cases with him, opting to take Lucy or George instead.

It shouldn't upset you the way it does, but it's not like you can help it. He's your closest friend. Your partner in crime. Without him, what are you?

Lucy has her theories but you're not overly convinced.

One of her theories sits in front of you currently, sipping a mug of coffee under the bright lights of the Costa you chose to hang out in today.

"Any interesting cases lately?" Kipps asks. "I can't imagine Tony would like to take any of the boring ones, but I suppose he'll have to take anything he can get, really."

You glare at him half-heartedly. "We take anything we can get, but that doesn't mean it's a bad thing. We help out the people who can't afford your fancy services. And, yes, I'll have you know we did have a particularly strange one, recently."

One of his eyebrows quirks up. It looks like a bushy caterpillar. "Go on."

"This murdered woman, right, who had been wanting revenge for her death. Turns out, the house was being occupied by some descendant of her murderer. He got ghost-touched, ended up dying, and then his husband came to get our help. You'll never guess what her source was."

Kipps thinks for a moment. "Her favourite necklace, stuffed under the floorboards somewhere."

You cross your arms in an X shape and make a 'wrong answer' buzzer sound. "It was her old record player that had gotten passed on from owner to owner. Apparently, the record on it had been on it for so long that it had melted onto it. The song had been playing while she died."

"That's awfully grim." Kipss takes another sip of his coffee, but he frowns as if it no longer tastes as nice. "And any improvement with Tony? Any conversations longer than five words?"

"No," you say miserably. You stir your spoon around in your tea, hating the way one guy has made your mood go from relatively okay to the opposite. "I don't know what I've done. I invited him to come to Arif's with me the other day, yeah? You know what he said? Lucy would love to go. And that was it! Lucy wasn't even home. The prick."

His gaze flickers to the door of the café. "You might want to keep your voice down."

"Why?"

When you turn, you realise why. In comes Lockwood, hair damp from the rain that pours down outside and jacket dripping, but still as radiant as ever. His face is almost glowing from the brightness of his smile as he laughs at something the girl beside him says.

Something in your chest squeezes horribly at the sight.

You turn back to look at Kipps, plastering on a smile as you swallow the burning feeling in your throat.

"He's coming over," he says, sipping his coffee - not - casually. He seemingly can't decide whether he should look at you or the person approaching. "Act normal."

As you sip your tea, which has gone a little cold after being left untouched during your conversation, Lockwood's shadow covers the table.

"(name)," he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. "What a surprise to see you here."

You press your lips together. "Yes, well, I told you I was coming here today. What a coincidence."

When you look up at him, he's wearing that dazzling smile of his, and your breath catches. How long has been giving this other girl - the one who floats by his side - that very same smile? Has he smiled at her in that private way of his, where the corners of his lips twitch a little? Has he told her why he's got a scar on his forehead, and the stupid story of how he got it?

"Tony," Kipps says, giving him a curt nod. "(name) and I just met up to catch up on things. It's been a little bit since we last saw each other."

It's almost unnoticeable, but a muscle twitches in his jaw. "Two weeks, if I'm right? That time when our cases were next door to each other." he pauses then, glancing at the girl beside him "Oh, sorry, how rude of me. (name), Kipps, this is my friend Talia. Talia, this is Kipps, supervisor for one of the Fittes teams, and this is (name), my employee."

Your teeth grind together. "Just an employee? Hmm, okay."

"Nice to meet you," Talia says, smiling.

She seems nice, and you want to like her, you really do, but you can't. Still, for her sake, you repeat the phrase politely.

"Well, we best go get a table," Lockwood says, "before they all fill up from the lunch rush. Let's go, Talia. See you soon, (name)."

Despite wanting to swear at him, you give him the best smile you can muster. When he's gone, you visibly deflate, glaring at your croissant.

"Don't look at the pastry that way," Kipps says. "It hasn't done anything to warrant that."

"Oh, shut up."

Back at 35 Portland Row, the house is quiet. As far as you know, George is at the Archives researching for the next case you have coming up in a day or two, and Lucy is out getting supplies from Satchel's along with general shopping. You half wish you had gone with her rather than going to see Kipps.

During the rest of your time alone, you get some cleaning done. You've been putting it off for a while, but the washing-up basket is so full of dirty clothes that there is a mound as tall as your hips beside it. At this point, it's unavoidable.

You're halfway through folding the first load of washing when the front door opens.

"Be careful!" you call from the bottom of the basement stairs, hoping whoever it is will hear you. "I mopped the floor, it's slippy!"

For a few minutes, no one comes down to see what you're up to but, finally, you hear footsteps on the stairs.

"I boiled the kettle not long ago, it should still be warm if you want a cup of tea."

"Thank you, but I just had some."

You freeze for a moment before continuing your folding. Without turning around, you ask, "How was your date with Talia? She seems nice."

Lockwood pulls his chair out from under his desk. The sound is screechy, to say the least. "It was good. She's an agent at Rotwell, you know?"

"Mm."

"How was yours with Kipps?"

The disgust in his voice is palpable, but it doesn't even begin to compare to yours.

"It wasn't a date. Kipps is just my friend."

You can feel the look he's giving you - the disbelief is thick in the air. "Is he really just a friend?"

"Well, Kipps is six years older than me and an adult so, yes, he is just a friend because it would be illegal otherwise." The shirt you're folding probably doesn't deserve the amount of aggression you're handling it with. "It also wasn't a date for the reason that Kipps is my cousin. Now that I think about it, that's illegal, too."

Silence. It makes you feel a little triumphant, to be honest. It isn't often Lockwood is stunned into silence. He's always got something to say.

"Kipps... is your cousin?"

"Yes, he is. My mum is his aunt. Do I need to explain how that works for you?"

"No. No, that's alright. I just didn't know."

You shrug. "Never asked. Not like we were always super close. We've only really started catching up since I joined you guys because I'm in London now and he's my only family here. Not that that sentiment seems to be appreciated."

"If I'd known, I would've -"

"You would've done what, Lockwood?"

Finally, you turn to look at him, practically throwing down the jumper you're folding. He's already watching you, that smile of his nowhere to be seen. If you didn't know any better, you'd think that's guilt in his eyes.

"Would you have stopped avoiding me? Because Lucy seems to think that started when I reconnected with Kipps. I don't - Even if he wasn't my cousin, it makes me ill thinking that you might've thought we had a thing. Ugh, I can't even say it without wanting to be sick. Is that what all of this avoiding-me business was about? Be honest."

His lack of an answer is enough. Usually so full of things to say, it's a shock seeing him this quiet. You wait for him to say something, anything, but nothing ever comes. He just sits there, staring, supposedly figuring out what he should say.

You turn away from him again, folding the last item of clothing. "Your pile is that one on the end. Second load of washing will be done in an hour. I'm going out."

"Going out? Where?"

"I don't see how that's any of your business. I am just an employee after all."

"I didn't mean it like that -"

"Well, that's how it sounded. Jealousy doesn't suit you, you know." You pluck a jumper from your pile, tugging it on. "I'll be back before dinner. George is in charge of food tonight."

"(name), you don't need to go out. Let me just explain a few things."

"I have a great idea! Why don't you explain those things to Talia? I'm sure she'd love to hear it."

"I think I was a bit harsh."

"Oh, I don't think you were harsh enough."

Snorting, you stare out at the park. The bench you're sitting on right now, accompanied once more by Kipps, is soaked from the rain, but your jacket is long enough to save your jeans from getting soaked. The rest of the park isn't in much better of a state; there are massive puddles lining the paths, and the trees are sagging from the weight of the rain.

You pull your hood further over your head. "Tell me why you wanted to sit out in a park while it's chucking it down? I would've much rather had to sit in the same room as Ned Shaw than be out in this. My hands are freezing."

"You're the bait."

"The bait? What for?"

"Ah, there he is. My plan worked perfectly."

"Kipps, what are you -?" Turning your gaze down the path to the right, you realise. "No, Kipps, you're not going to bother Lockwood. I can handle myself."

"He needs to get a grip. He acted like a ten-year-old by avoiding you instead of talking to you, and it upset you. This just gives me the perfect excuse I've needed to give him a bollocking."

As he stands, you make to grab his sleeve. "Kipps, no."

But he's already sauntering up to Lockwood. The two meet halfway, drenched in rain. Lockwood's cheeks are flushed from the chill, and, though Kipps is the one speaking to him, he's looking at you.

"Kipps, stop it," you grumble, hurrying over. "I don't need you to mother me. It'll make things worse."

"I for one would like to hear what he has to say," Lockwood says. The challenging tone he always takes on with Kipps really should've been there, but it isn't. It's more of a guilty statement than anything else.

"You're acting like a kid, Tony," Kipps says angrily. "Do it with anyone else, but not with (name), not when they don't deserve it. I've been warning them not to fall for your tricks, but they've been insistent. He's a good guy. He's just going through a lot at the moment. Bullshit. Buck up your shit, or get out of their life."

"Kipps," you hiss. "Just shut up."

"No, I won't shut up, because he's hurting you. I won't stand for that."

"Just stop it! I'll handle this myself. I don't need you to do it for me."

"We all know that you weren't interested in that girl," Kipps says, glaring at Lockwood. If looks could kill, he'd be dead five times over. "You did it to be petty because, what, you were jealous that (name) was spending their time with someone other than you? Grow up."

"Kipps -"

"I'm going to leave now." His voice has grown quieter, even sterner, taking on the tone of someone using his age as leverage. "You two are going to talk this out. But if I find out that you've hurt them again, Tony, we're going to have major problems."

For a moment, he doesn't move, but then he squeezes your shoulder and leaves. You watch his figure disappear out of the park, blurred by the rain, before turning back to Lockwood.

His hair is plastered to his forehead and he's breathing a little heavier than usual. "(name) -"

"Kipps basically said everything that needed to be said," you say, pursing your lips. "I might've done it a little more gently."

A little laugh parts his lips. "He's right, you know."

"Oh, yeah, I absolutely do know. And it makes you a prick."

"It does." He looks down at his feet, guilt clouding his eyes. "I just - I was upset, and I know that gives me no right to have done what I did, but I felt - I don't know. Pushed aside? So I avoided you because it hurt a little less not having to see you all the time and wonder if you were thinking of someone else. Now I know how entirely wrong I was."

You stuff your hands into your pockets, desperate for warmth. "I was worried I'd done something to make you hate me. Lucy had tried to tell me that my hanging out with Kipps was a possibility, but I just didn't think it seemed like a logical reason. That's why I started spending more time with him - you avoiding me made me feel alone, and, yeah, I've got Lucy and George, too, but it felt nice to have someone shake some sense into me."

"I'm sorry, (name). Truly. If I'd known, things would've gone so much differently. I was more than a prick."

"You were." You laugh softly, and the sound has Lockwood's eyes back on you. "Lockwood, you mean the world to me. I thought you realised that."

There it is: that little mischievous glimmer in his eyes. The corners of his lips twitch. "Well, since I obviously didn't, maybe you could show me?"

"Are you sure you don't want Talia to show you? She did seem lovely after all."

He rolls his eyes, taking a step closer. He's near enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath. "Are you jealous?"

"Well, I wasn't the original jealous one, but, yes, I suppose I am."

When his hand touches your arm, you can feel its heat even through your jacket. You wonder if he can feel your heartbeat. It's never gone so fast before.

"So, about showing me that I mean the world to you?"

"You are insufferable."

It doesn't stop you from pulling your hands from your pockets and pulling his lips to yours. He may be insufferable and frustrating, among other things, but you wouldn't have him any other way. So long as he's yours.

#anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood x reader #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood and co fanfiction #lockwood and co #lockwood and co netflix #anthony lockwood #quill kipps #lucy carlyle #george karim #x reader #fanfiction #givemea-dam-break

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nightimedreamersworld · 1 year ago

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20 questions for fic writers

Big thanks @artsyunderstudy and @prettygoododds @confused-bi-queer @bookish-bogwitch tagging me in this! And to everyone else who's tagged me in a tumblr meme recently. It's been a while since I've done one of these.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

33!

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

Around 370k, but of those about 40k aren't mine. So in reality, something like 330k?

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Only Carry On! I don't have the attention span for more of one at a time lol

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. How I wonder what you are aka baby fic

2. Mess is mine aka secret dating fic

3. Every little helps aka snickers fic

4. You and I will not be shaken aka huddling for warmth fic

5. From across the room aka my FIRST fic

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I don't 😭 which makes me feel guilty and ungrateful, but alas. Every time I've tried to in the past, I'd run out of steam after half a dozen comments or so. Don't get me wrong, I love comments, they fuel me etc etc. Replying just makes me unreasonably anxious

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Technically it's Love of Fate because it doesn't have an ending. It was supposed to be a prologue to something longer that would eventually have a happy ending, and that I simply never wrote lol

That said, the true angstiest ending is probably my All there's left is a ghost of you series - same moment, one from Simon's pov, the other from Baz's. Set between carry on and wayward son, which tells you everything about why it's here :) (Although arguably, those are hopeful endings. Kinda.)

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Almost everything I write has a happy-ish ending, but the one indisputable happiest ending is probably How I wonder what you are

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not necessarily hate, but one time I did get someone mocking my fic for a mistake I made. Which, like, I deserved, for straying so far out of my comfort zone lol

Anyway. I have upped my research game since, so. Lesson learned?

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes! The kind I want to read lol

Seriously, though, I tend to write weird stuff I can't find elsewhere. Someone once mentioned there's little mirror sex fic in the fandom, and BAM! I got the itch to write one. I've also tried my hand at web cam sex, body modification, and... [reads smudged handwriting] cemetery sex?

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I haven't yet, but never say never, right? Although I'm much more likely to just write AUs instead. As in, take the world of the original, chuck the characters and just replace them with snowbaz lol

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Probably not? I mean. I hope so lol

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope. I've thought about doing it myself, but there's roughly any engagement with fics in Portuguese on AO3, so it doesn't feel worth the trouble

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Birthday man! Though I might be open to it if a) someone with a compatible style is interested, and b) I find some free time to actually write lol

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Do I even need to say anything? (It's snowbaz)

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Sigh. It's probably Let your colours bleed, because It's been 3 years, so I've just... sort of grown past the story? Which makes me sad, because I still like the concept, I just can't connect to anymore

There are a handful other WIPs still hanging on my ao3, but I still have hope for them.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I like writing plot! And also actions scenes. And banter, maybe a bit too much lol

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

The beginning of a fic. And also the ending. And also the mid-

Seriously though, I find that I tend to be either too verbose or too succinct when I don't know exactly what I'm trying to say. Like, I either charge through it and the thing falls flat, or I drag it on for several paragraphs that amount to barely anything. Hopefully, I can mitigate that with the power of editing and beta readers

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I think it's cool depending on context! Like, is this a situation in which this character would simply switch to another language? Also, why?

I haven't done it yet, though.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Take a guess. (It was actually Harry Potter)

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Dance Like a Flame! My specialest baby. My little darling. My magnum opus.

I'll jump at literally any chance to talk about this fic, so beware.

Phew! Can't believe I actually answered one of these for once... now, I'm pretty sure almost everyone has done this already, but I'm going to tag a few people anyway just so this doesn't get lost in the abyss

@palimpsessed @captain-aralias @cutestkilla @larkral @aristocratic-otter @hushed-chorus @whatevertheweather @ivelovedhimthroughworse @whogaveyoupermission

#simon snow #baz pitch #snowbaz

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shebeafancyflapjack · 1 month ago

Text

Lost Little Witch

A follow up to No Longer Her. Mary tries to take care of Silver after her ordeal but she might be too far gone.

T'were like manoeuvring a corpse as she led her darling girl up the stairs, her lithe form leaning heavily into Mary, barely moving anything except her feet with encouragement. Praise be there not be any guests for them to filter through, but the appearance of any builders in their bright orange jackets had Silver huddling closer to Mary in fright.

She stroked the young one's hair; "Only be Livings, swee'heart. They cannots see thee, 'member?"

No word of reply to confirm whether she did remember that, or much else besides. Mary looked down to see the girl's wide eyes darting about at the floors and walls in great confusion.

"Oh! Must all seem so strange to thine eyes, little'en." Mary reassured, "Been many changes since you was last 'ere. I shall explain in time. Let's just get you settled, ey."

At least the child's eyes did seem to still be working. Perhaps they simply needed adjusting to the light after so long being shrouded. The hallways were certainly much better lit than had been in the days of Heather and then Alison.

Mary reached to find Silver's hand and squeezed it tight, leading her through the door of Higham Suite.

"Good Lord! Silver!" Captain was the first to see.

Everyone else then turned, the whole crew present save for Robin, and Humphrey and Amy who had followed them down.

"Oh my! Hello, petal! You....You all right?" Asked Pat, probably realising as he asked that the girl was anything but.

Silver merely stared back at them all. Silent.

"Silvy! You're back!" Kitty darted forward; "Oh I've missed you so much! You poor dear, you must have been ever so lonely, not to mention bored! But I know plenty of new games for us to play! And so many fun dances and songs-!"

Before Kitty could get close enough to reach her hands out and try to hug Silver, the teenager flinched back and clapped her hands over her ears, emitting a frustrated sound from her throat without opening her mouth.

The Georgian stopped and shrank back, her hands poised together.

"Oh dear. Did I say something wrong? I didn't mean to..."

"It's all right, Kitty, love. It looks like she's just in shock." Pat tried to comfort her.

Mary kept her hands on Silver's shoulders. She seemed to be the only one who the girl would allow to be close to her.

"You be all right, darling girl. Just all a bit startlin' for you, ain't it. We'll take it slow, we wills." She reassured her, then looked to the pantsless Tory standing awkwardly by the window; "Julians, can yous turn the tap on in the bath that turns the water into that nice mist for us?"

"You mean...Oh. Well I suppose the steam room is out of use for now, we can make do."

He sidled past them and into the en suite, using his powers to turn the hot tap on.

Five minutes later, he walked back out.

"All ready for you, ladies. Enjoy." He said, dusting his hands off as if it were a great feat of strength; "Let it run as long as you like, it's unplugged and I can explain the water bill to Alison."

"Much 'preciated." Mary thanked him before guiding Silver into the bathroom; "Come along, little'en."

The girl was disturbingly compliant as Mary guided her to sit in the tub, herself kneeling beside her as the steam filled the room. They couldn't feel the warmth of the water, but the air in such a state always had a calming effect, as they'd all learned to appreciate since the spa below had been built.

Silver tugged her knees up to her chest and hugged them tight, eyes staring at the water running from the tap. She rarely blinked, though when she did Mary noticed they were big, long ones. Like a cat.

Mary gently rubbed her back, "D'you remember, in the years before Al'son arrived, when the days would be ever so long and boring, we'd amuse ourselves by playin' those little games of make believe? Where we'd pretend to be fancy folk on our ways at a rich party? Or on a quest in a magical kingdom of tiny peoples?"

The teenager turned her head to meet her eyes, just for a second, before lowering them again.

"Well, how's abouts we play that again? 'Cept this time, we can pretend you been on a wondrous trip to all the corners of the world." Mary moved to sit on the edge of the tub, her hands moving to massage Silver's scalp, as if she were rubbing shampoo into her hair; "You dids have to go through many tough times but now you is home. Safe n' sound. And it be time yous be looked after. Shall we do that, darling girl?"

Still no reply. All the child did was let out a big, sad sigh and rest her chin on the folds of her arms.

Mary's ached at how quiet she was, reminded of her own muteness after her death. It had taken nearly a hundred years before Annie came along to help her find her voice again. Not to say Robin and Head Bit hadn't been kind to her in all that time, but they hadn't been able to reach her as Annie had.

Sucking in her worry for now, Mary forced her most cheery voice, humming as she pretended she were just a mother helping bathe her tired daughter, weary from her travels.

"All sounds very excitin', my love. How brave you is, facin' down thems terrible beasts." She spoke, miming rinsing the shampoo off and then smoothing in that cream the modern women now use to rid themselves of tangles, her hands sliding gently through Silver's short hair; "I know yous must have missed us all, not 'alf as much as we missed you. Took the sunshine with you when you dids depart from us, wicked girl."

She tries to tease, as they always did before, but the words make Silver flinch and lower her gaze in shame.

Mary tuts and wraps her arms around her shoulders.

"But yous is back now. And you 'membered to bring all the sun and stars with ye. Good girl." She kissed her temple and just continued to rub her shoulders as she watched the spa people often do to the folk who sleep on tables.

It took a few minutes, but she was sure Silver begun to lean back into her hands, her trembling starting to decrease.

After the 'bath', Mary doesn't take her back into Higham Suite, instead choosing to escort her up to her mostly unused room. She guides her around some of the storage boxes to the unused bed, sitting her down and keeping hold of her hand.

She began to gently fill her in on all that had happened since the day she 'disappeared'. Alison and Mike being offered to sell everything to the hotel people, initially refusing, then Mia being born and how that had changed everything.

"They still visit oft'. And she were kind to leave us a room just for us. But Is still likes to come up here when I needs peace and quiet." Mary explained, one arm around Silver as the teen rested her head on her shoulder; "Don't get much disturbance, 'cept when two of the servants want to sneak off for 'orseplay. That ain't happened in many a year though."

She could see Silver's fingers constantly relaxing and then constricting tight in her lap, digging into the holes of her tights in a pattern.

"You don' 'ave to speak till you be ready, little'en, but...If there be anythin' you wanna tell us, then-."

A pair of boots came running down the hall. Silver tensed beside Mary as a figure passed through the wall.

Robin panted, having clearly run as fast as he could from however far away someone had found him to tell him the news. He stared at Silver in disbelief.

"....Moonah Girl?"

The Pagan blinked again, showing little reaction.

Robin stepped cautiously as he approached, kneeling down to below her eye level. He flared his nostrils, as if checking his nose to be sure it was really her, without invading her space.

"Be weary, Robin. She be bit out of sorts, aren't you, love?" Mary rubbed her shoulders.

The caveman was gentle as he reached his paw forward, his wrist limp as he touched her cheek. Silver's eyes darted to his hand, then her own moved up to stroke a finger along the cuff of grey fur.

Her lips moved without sound.

"Me looked for you. Me did." Robin said, earnestly, "Many, many months I hunt, all over, and every Moonah I visit..."

Silver didn't seem to be listening. The girl was more invested in rubbing the fur and then tugging it to her face to feel it against her cheek. Robin indulged her, watching her carefully, as if studying her reactions.

It was then that Mary noticed how her darling girl seemed to be more interested in what she could feel around her. The grips on the fabric of Mary's dress, smoothing her palm across the base of the bath as she'd sat amidst the steam, and now Robin's furs.

Of course....surrounded by nothing but pitch black dirt for all these years, touch must be as much a wonder to her as what her eyes and ears behold.

"Mayhaps it best you try to sleep, darling girl. Good rest will do thee the worlds o' good." Mary encouraged, brightly.

"Uhh." Robin caught her attention and then pointed to the window.

The full moon hung bright behind a veil of thin clouds.

Mary clicked her tongue; "Oh! Ain't I a daft wench. I dids forget." She shook her head; "Stills. Maybes we just have a lie down in quiets, till you is ready to go out? How's that sound?"

Silver turned to look at Mary, leaning against her hold still. Then she looked at Robin's paw and tugged on his sleeve. Another hum rose up from her throat. Pleading, this time.

"You wants Robin to stay with us?" Asked Mary.

More humming, the slightest nod. Yes.

"'Course, me stay. Always stay for Moonah Girl." He forced a smile and moved to sit on her other side.

Mary looked at him gratefully, burying the quick rush of anger that had unfairly sprung up when he'd walked through the door. How could he not have known where she was? All the time he's been trapped here, how has he never seen anyone get lost as she had, that the thought never had occurred to him?! She knew it wasn't fair. She'd been none the wiser than he had...but she needed someone to take the blame.

"Was just filling the little'en in on all that did occur in her absence." She said, softly.

"Ooh, yes. Lots of good stories to tell. Me got plenty."

The two managed to coax the girl to settle back against the pillows, Robin and Mary laying either side, close enough for her to feel them both in a protective sandwich.

As they talked, more to fill the silence but keeping their voices soft so as not to overwhelm her, Silver kept mostly fixated on touching Robin's furs, then his beard and hair, then Mary's dress or just interlacing their hands together.

There were questions Mary wanted to ask.

How did you get trapped? What did you do to try to escape? Be anyone else down there? Did thou give up attempting to find a way out or rather were thee trapped in an endless circle of darkness?

But none of them seemed to matter as she looked at the girl. She doubted she would, or rather could, answer any of them.

This is by the far one of the strangest dreams she's had by far.

Usually they're always the same. She returns to the light, familiar faces are there to welcome her, cheery smiles and open arms. The house never changes. The wallpaper is still peeling, the corners full of cobwebs, windows cracked or taped over. Always people she knows. Her friends. Her newfound family. No livings except the couple who inherited the house, one of them smiling at the sight of her return, the other oblivious as always.

This one started off as it always did. She stumbled out. The plague ghosts are not always the first to greet her but that would make sense so it's hardly a shocker. And then comes Mary. Mary with her arms wide open. Mary with soft words and promises of safety and comfort.

But this time something was off. There was a new face. A girl...holding Humphrey's head in her arms, like a stuffed toy. Why would this strange girl be in her dreams? Her brain has trouble holding onto what got left behind, why is it inventing new things?

Then there was the house. So bright. So clean. So full of Life. Too many Lives. Too much noise. Too much to avoid walking into.

Everything was much too solid. Too noisy. Too close.

Get back. Get back! GET BACK!

When things get too real, she wakes. She doesn't want to wake. Wants to make the dream last as long as possible. Most times she's forced to wake up as soon as a hand reaches to hold hers. So why was it that this one continued on with all the hugs Mary was giving her?

How come she can feel in this dream? Feel more than just...the dirt. The nothing.

Silver lays in the bed, staring up at the plastered ceiling. No outdated artex pattern. Even for a junk room, it had been decorated. Mary and Robin lay either side of her, having succumbed to sleep, despite their best efforts. Despite their promises to stay awake with her. Mary's arm is around her stomach, while Robin's hand is resting near her shoulder. The teen has to keep touching it, waiting for the moment it becomes too much, for the trigger that causes her to wake. To return.

Any second now. The longer it goes on, the more painful it is. Best to get it over with.

Stop teasing her. Stop prolonging the inevitable.

Something thumps beneath the bed.

Like the beating of a heart buried deep beneath the foundations of the house.

Calling her back.

Silver sits up. She takes a look at the faces of those either side of her. This had been nice, while it lasted, but everything has to end. With any luck, she would get to repeat this dream again.

She slips off the bed and pads her way through the door. No one is awake at this late hour, she's sure, not that it should matter as none of it is real anyway. But the best way to navigate through dreams, to control them in a lucid state, is often to play into the dreams rules.

As she passes by the door to Kitty's room, with the new plaque placed across reading Higham Suite - another curious new detail - she pauses. There are voices murmuring within. She presses her ear to the door.

"What did Robin say when you told him?" Fanny asked, curiously.

"Not a word. Great ape bolted off faster than he does when seeing a squirrel." Julian replied.

"Poor thing. Can't imagine what must be going through her head." Pat sighed.

Captain cleared his throat; "I agree. The look in her eyes, same one I remember seeing on the boys who came back from the Front. Like a walking corpse. Which, I suppose we all technically are, but...For many of them there was no coming back. They were like that until their twilight years. Empty shells of human beings."

"Might have been better off leaving her there if it's what she's adapted to, can be harder adjusting to the outside." Julian mused.

"Not everything is the bloody Shawshank Redemption, Julian!" Pat scalded him.

"I'm just saying! Hope Mary and Robin know they've got their work cut out of them if they're hoping the kid will ever be normal again. Or, well, whatever you could call what she was before."

Silver moved her head away. Funny. Their conversations sounded the most familiar out of everything. Despite the harshness of their judgements, it was almost as comforting as the softness of Robin's pelts or the warm caress of Mary's hands.

They were right, however. She knew they were right. She didn't belong here.

She walks down the stairs and into the kitchen, barely recognisable from the dank old space they'd often all gathered in to annoy Alison at breakfast. All clean and modernised for catering to the public. But quiet in the middle of the night. Moonlight shone through the high window at the back. Silver didn’t dare to approach its beams.

Instead, she hunkered down to the floor and pressed her ear against it. The beating rhythm pulsed against her. Demanding her return. Now.

"Soon." She whispers, her voice barely audible from years of disuse, "Will come home soon. Promise."

The beat turns into a thump. Furious. Enraged.

Silver's hand claps over her ear as she shudders, curling up into a ball. Her next whisper is slightly louder, as she's confident no one will have reason to be wandering the kitchens at this time of night.

"Don't be mad. Please. Just one more day. Only one. Please. J-just let me say goodbye...Then I won't leave again. I promise."

#emotional whump #silver guppy #silver ravenstar #ghosts oc #bbc ghosts fanfic #mary guppy #robin the caveman #angst

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notasapleasure · 1 year ago

Text

The world turning at his pace

aka that time in the back of the van

Cassian Andor/Brasso (Andor TV series), Explicit, modern AU, friends with benefits, idiots in love, plot what plot/porn without plot. i.e. the same fic I write every time, Pinky. Title inspired by lyrics from Elbow - An Audience with the Pope. 6,988 words. *julia dreyfus haha what the fuck.gif* CW a smidge of setting typical homophobia, but don't worry there's also gratuitous insulting of Rupert Murdoch.

I was tired from van driving and demanding Brassian smut, or prompts for it, and @distressednoise obliged in the most ingenious way. THANK YOU FOR ENABLING ME, FRIEND.

Not on ao3 yet, this is a special treat(??) for my tumblr sickos until I can be bothered uploading it properly.

---

It should have been a simple job. Brasso picked up the van - full - and drove it to all the addresses on the list he was given until it was no longer full. Then, in the darkness, he turned back towards the depot, which lay a straightforward few hundred miles down the motorway, and anticipated being back in his own bed by dawn.

He was somewhere around Penrith when a ringtone interrupted the Shipping Forecast on the van radio. He'd forgotten his damned mobile phone was still charged; no matter how long he left it in the depths of his jacket pocket it never seemed to die. And when it rang, it was only ever one person calling - the same person who had set the ringtone to a tinny electronic version of Auld Lang Syne in honour of Brasso's rum-fuelled rendition last December.

With the phone beeping incessantly, Brasso cursing, and the ubiquitous Border rain lashing down on the windscreen, the van pulled into the hard shoulder of the M6 with its hazards flashing. For a moment, Brasso sighed at the percussive beat of the wipers and the indicators, then the ringtone started up again, grinding out its stately rendition of the Scottish ballad with the kind of patience - the kind of necessity - that didn't hang up early.

After a swift rummage in the hi-vis jacket lying on the passenger seat, Brasso raised the little device to his ear. "Yes? What's up?"

A lorry steamed past in the outside lane and Brasso felt his teeth rattle as the road shook beneath it.

On the other end of the line a familiar voice smirked directly into his ear: sweet, sharp and vicious as tequila with all the chasers. "Heard you were on a job up north?"

"How did you hear that?" Brasso shook his head, figuring Cassian would pick up the gesture well enough by his tone.

"Word travels," came the cryptic answer.

"What word? I only left this - yesterday morning."

"And you've been busy, lots to deliver, I know..."

"What is it you want, Cass...?"

"I thought if you were in the area..."

"What area?"

"If you were in the area I could really use a lift. I'm out of cash and I've got to get back to London..."

"What area, Cassian?"

The answer, sheepish, was mumbled so Brasso had to think hard to work it out.

"Stockton? On Tees? What the fuck, Cassian..."

"I mean, I'm near there. Trying to get a lift to - " as another lorry rumbled past Brasso's van he heard a horn honk down the line and Cassian unleashed a barrage of colourful curses in English and Spanish. "Yeah well fuck you too! I'm already in the ditch! Hello? Yeah, Brasso, I'm heading to Darlington. On the main road. How long will you be?"

Brasso mentally totted up the extra miles, the slow roads over the Pennines to the other side of the country. At least there'd be fewer rude freight vehicles that way, he supposed, as another one buzzed him with an indignant honk of its own.

"An hour and a half?"

"An hour?! I thought you were in the area!"

"Cass, 'the North' is a pretty big area. I'll come as quick as I can."

"Well do," Cassian pouted down the line. "It's wet, my socks are soaked already. You should break the speed limit or I might die of hypothermia."

Brasso let out a sigh. "If you get there first, wait at the petrol station on the bypass, ok?"

"If I'm not killed in a hit and run before then..."

"All right, Cass. See you soon."

"Yeah. Yeah, fine. Thanks..." there was warmth and genuine gratitude in that last word, at least.

Brasso flung the phone aside and rubbed his face. It never did to ask why with Cassian - it was best just to pick up the pieces and see what could be salvaged afterwards. He flicked the dial of the radio along until some sort of cheesy commercial station replaced the sober tones of the BBC. Penrith to Darlington, in a storm, as fast as he could go - this required power ballads.

Humming along to the closing bars of Total Eclipse of the Heart, he switched off the hazards and pulled out into the dark, momentarily quiet lane of the motorway. He cycled through the van's gears with ruthless efficiency until the engine sounded like a Formula One racer and the chassis began to rattle. Empty, the van sure could move, but the faster he went the more he expected to take off at the slightest bump.

Ten songs and one cursory news bulletin later, with the same handful of adverts repeated time and again between them, and Brasso was bringing the van in a loop around Darlington's centre, slipping beneath the sulphur-orange street lights as the fuel light glowed sadly up at him. He was running on fumes, but he'd said to meet at a garage, and his employers had given him a cash bonus to cover the cost of fuel.

There was no sign of Cassian there, however, and Brasso worried Cass had found a completely different place to wait. He checked the time again and filled the tank. He bought an assortment of foodstuffs and drinks from the kiosk when paying for the fuel and looked around as though all it would take to summon Cassian was a tube of Pringles, an energy drink, and a packet of gummy sweets.

Under normal circumstances, Brasso wasn't convinced it wouldn't have worked, but Cassian evidently hadn't reached the garage yet and remained stubbornly absent. Brasso got back in the van, peered into the drizzly night, and slowly continued onwards towards Stockton.

Trust Cassian to be walking along a duel carriageway on a night heavy with fog and rain. Would he be wearing hi-vis? Would he hell. Brasso switched the radio off and leaned over the steering wheel to stare at the edge of the road. He slowed to a speed that would really annoy his fellow road-users, only there were so few about at this hour of the morning.

He was starting to wonder if he'd missed Cass in all the spray and the spume when something caught his eye on the other side of the road - a bedraggled scarecrow loitering at a bin in a layby. Frowning, Brasso pulled into the inside lane to try to get a better look - and got undertaken by a furious white Audi for his troubles.

He took the next exit and followed the convoluted directions that would lead him back onto the road going in the other direction, and was soon approaching the layby.

Cassian fell upon the door to the passenger seat and was inside, dripping on all Brasso's stuff, before the van had even stopped.

"Jesus what took you so long?"

"What were you doing over here?!"

"What?"

"I was coming from the west, why were you on this side of the road?"

"I told you, I was trying to get a lift!"

"But you knew I was coming, and I'd be on the other side!"

Cassian was rummaging in the glove compartment and finally found what he'd been looking for: Brasso's tobacco, papers and filters. "Oh my god, I need this..."

The instant turbulence inside the cabin when Cass arrived meant Brasso hadn't noticed the van's grumpy beeping until they were up to 80, heading back towards the dull orange glow of Darlington and its corona of light pollution. "Cass - seat belt."

Cassian made a sound - acknowledgement, oral eye roll, impatient sigh all rolled up together - and fidgeted, speedily rolled fag hanging from his lips as he sought the end of the seat belt.

Brasso swore he could hear Cass's clothes squelch. That long trenchcoat hadn't been waterproof since before Cass inherited it from his foster-father. It was like Cass thought that even repairing or properly maintaining it would cause it to lose its connection with Clem.

He settled, though, and the windows started to mist with condensation as the van's heating warmed him up.

By the time they were back at the junction for the A1 some unfortunate HGV driver had aquaplaned themselves into a horizontal position across both lanes, which were closed until the lorry could be moved. Thwarted, Brasso tried to give a good-natured nod to the police officer redirecting them - as Cassian kept his head down and his collar up - and speculated on a new route through the countryside, meandering a way over to the A19.

It was gone 3am by the time they passed Thirsk; Cassian's teeth were chattering though the heating was all the way up and the van cabin smelled of burning dust and hot plastic. The air was tropical with the moisture still steaming off him, but the heat was making Brasso sleepy as hell, and between them he and Cassian had already finished the bag of gummies and the energy drinks. Cassian hadn't told Brasso what he'd been doing in the North East and Brasso hadn't asked.

"Back in London tonight?" Brasso stifled a yawn against the back of his hand as they drove past a picnic spot, thinking wistfully that he could pull over there and sleep in the cabin if he didn't have a soggy passenger in the other seat.

Cassian made an ambivalent noise. His arms were wrapped tight around his torso, his elbows gripped in his hands. "No...just before tomorrow." Noticing Brasso's incredulous look, he added "I mean, this afternoon? He won't be looking for me until then."

Best not to ask - always best not to ask. But Brasso gave Cassian another sideways look that said he was very much tempted to ask.

"Shall we stop?" Cass released an elbow so he could chew on the fingernails of the hand that had been holding it.

"What?"

"That's why you're asking, right? You've been driving for hours. We should probably stop."

Brasso had been trying very hard not to think about stopping or sleeping, lest the very idea of either be so tempting he'd just succumb then and there. "No B&B's gonna be open at this time of night, Cass."

"We can sleep in the back of the van!"

The suggestion was so immediate Brasso guessed Cassian had been considering it for some time already.

"Have you seen back there? It's filthy. Last job was a bunch of reclaimed garden gnomes, they came with half the bloody garden!"

"I guess the other option is you drive till you pass out and then we get beds in A&E," Cassian hissed as Brasso had to blink and swerve when someone in the other lane sped past without dimming their headlights.

With a curse, Brasso assented. He told Cassian to keep an eye out for laybys, though now they were back on the motorway he figured they'd just have to wait for a truck stop that wasn't already full. They were past Wetherby and had finished the Pringles too by the time they found one, and made a dash from the cabin to the rear of the van through rain that was thinner but no less persistent than it had been further north.

Cassian hopped into the back as Brasso was still hoisting himself up and trying not to hit his head on the roof. He wrinkled his nose and crouched to rummage through the crumpled pile of packing sheets, looking for something dry, clean and comfortable to lie on.

Nothing met all three criteria, but a combination of loosely folded sheets made a sort of pillow and a cover for the cold metal base of the van. Everything smelled of mud and oil and antifreeze, but that was soon disguised by the smoke of the cigarettes Brasso rolled for them while Cassian wriggled out of his wet trousers. In the dark of the van he didn't bother hiding the fact he was watching Cassian, and Cassian didn't pretend not to notice. An ember-lit outline of sharp limbs, his eyes glittering and fathomless, Cassian sat there in his boxers and t-shirt, smirking around his fag at Brasso as he waited on the simply arranged square of bedding, his knees drawn up and his arms draped loosely around them.

Taking his time, Brasso dragged his eyes away from Cass and unlaced his boots. He left his socks on, but in an unspoken concession to Cass's continued shivering, to the goose-bumps on his legs and the way his body hair stuck out from each one, he pulled off his trousers and unbuttoned his shirt.

The cold air made his own hair stand on end and his nipples harden, but the light of their cigarettes was almost as warm as the looks they each cast across the cramped space.

"Budge up then," Brasso muttered, stubbing out his fag end against the metal roof and chucking the butt aside.

Cassian stubbed his own cigarette out and plunged them into darkness as Brasso shuffled in close beside him. He pulled his hi-vis over the both of them, though it left his legs cold, and tucked himself around Cass's back - bare chest against the still-damp fabric of his t-shirt, knees to the back of Cass's knees, and Cass's round little arse perched neatly against Brasso's crotch. Brasso dutifully buried his cheek against Cass's neck and closed his eyes - though it was so dark inside that he couldn't tell the difference if he opened them again.

The rain outside continued its dance on the flat metal roof, not thunderingly heavy, but in loud, fat drops that always seemed to come and jolt Brasso's eyes open just as he thought he was finally relaxing into sleep.

Then again, he didn't feel tired anymore. The nictotine buzz was coursing through him, and Cassian had warmed up in his arms - mostly, though ice-cold toes sometimes curled round to prod at Brasso's shins. It was obvious by his breathing that he wasn't asleep either, and with a contrived cough to clear his throat he pushed back against Brasso in a way that compelled Brasso to bite his lip.

It was always going to come to this from the minute his phone rang, Brasso knew. It happened off and on, the way Cassian came and went in and out of the lives of those around him. It had been happening off and on for some years now, actually. If Cass needed a favour, Brasso obliged when no one else would be soft or daft enough to do so; Cassian, perpetually broke and perennially aware of the effect his big brown eyes had on people, paid Brasso back in love bites and nail marks. It would have made Brasso feel like just another of Cass's lovelorn, disposable conquests -only with him, Cass did one thing he never did with the others - he kept coming back when he needed Brasso. By now they had both become quite good at knowing the steps that would ensure things continued this way and Cass would keep on coming back as long as Brasso kept on releasing him so he'd return again. It was a simple sort of dance with very little discussion involved and a lot of implicit assumptions - it needed to be, given the darkness of the back of the van.

Once more, Cassian wriggled against Brasso until he forced a grunt of acknowledgement from Brasso's lips. Brasso fidgeted in turn, trying to make sure nothing essential was trapped under Cass's bodyweight.

Cass twisted his head around, his messy hair catching in Brasso's nose and mouth. "You still awake?"

"Yes I'm still awake, you won't stay still for five seconds!"

Inevitably, with the pressure of Cass's arse against him, Brasso had already felt the first stirrings of heat in his groin. When Cass detected it too, he shuffled back against Brasso's twitching cock, ensuring it would harden between his arse cheeks. Again, Brasso bit his bottom lip and turned his face towards Cassian's neck. His arm tightened around Cass's body and he breathed in the smell at the nape of his neck - sweat and rain and cheap laundromat detergent, cigarette smoke and ground spice and something astringent: counterfeit ink? Cleaning fluid? Machine oil? Probably a palimpsest of all three.

Cass gripped onto the arm round him with one hand and reached behind him with the other, fingers questing for Brasso's arse to give it a squeeze and pull him closer.

Finally, Brasso let himself open his mouth against the back of Cass's neck and scrape his teeth over clammy skin, placing a kiss on each protruding vertebra he could reach, nuzzling his way down the back of Cass's t-shirt until he felt the vibration of a whine in Cass's chest beneath his arm.

When Cass moved with the kind of urgency that followed no force on earth could hold him - he shuffled his hips round and his arms snaked across Brasso's side and under his neck as Cass pressed close to him in the dark, his nose bumping against Brasso's cheek and his lips seeking out Brasso's lips. Salty flavouring from the crisps they'd shared and a hint of sugar from the energy drink coated his tongue as he thrust it into Brasso's mouth, kissing him hard and hungrily.

Brasso let himself be turned half onto his back by the attention, Cass pushing aggressively down on him, his hands clamping Brasso's jaw to hold him just how he wanted, before one restless set of fingers trailed down the open front of his shirt, raking through chest hair, carelessly catching at the ticklish curls on his belly and then plunging into the waistband of Brasso's boxers.

Brasso's hips bucked into the touch, but he could feel a rivet on the floor of the van's uneven surface digging into his shoulder blade, and it wasn't quite the juxtaposition of pleasure and pain that did it for him.

Cass didn't understand that from the sound Brasso made in his mouth though and redoubled his efforts down Brasso's underwear, fingers crooking deep under his balls and palm rubbing down on his cock. For a moment it did actually balance the pain in his shoulder quite well, and then Brasso managed to break free of the kisses, a hand gripping the back of Cassian's hair like he was dragging an overenthusiastic dog away from last night's takeaway on the street floor.

Cass bared his teeth in a similar way to a dog, too - Brasso knew because they dragged on his lip as he pried Cass away and shoved him over onto his back with a grunt.

Cass released his cock and dug fingernails into Brasso's chest instead, tangling in the thick dark hairs there and tugging so Brasso's skin prickled with sore heat.

Swearing as he kissed the squirming, sharp-toothed thing beneath him, Brasso fumbled for Cass's face in the dark, raking his own fingers through Cass's beard and hair. He dropped his hips heavily against Cass's and was in no doubt that the noise Cass made was a sign of appreciation at the rough handling. Brasso moved his grip from Cass's face to his hips and ground his body down against Cass's, groaning at the friction between his boner and the two layers of thin cloth separating it from Cass's equally hard cock.

It made Cass release another sound, and he didn't bother disentangling his fingers from Brasso's chest hair before ripping one hand away to yank the back of Brasso's boxers down and land an open-palmed slap on the arse cheek he exposed.

"Fuck!" Brasso muttered in surprise as the stinging sensation lingered while Cass's restless hand worked at pulling his boxers further down.

It just gave Cass another opportunity to clamp down on his lower lip and suck until it felt bruised, so Brasso relented and freed a hand to assist in the removal of his underwear.

The boxers were barely off his arse cheeks when Cass started wriggling away anew, slipping down beneath him towards the doors at the back of the van.

"What're you - ? Cass, where are you going?" Brasso had to hold still and listen to the hollow banging of Cassian's shoulders and arse squirming against the floor of the van as he shuffled beneath him.

The first indication he had of where Cass had ended up was the hair tickling his navel, then a breathy giggle against his stomach, followed by lips, teeth, lips, and a hand between his legs as Cass tried to manoeuvre the two of them so he could get Brasso's cock in his mouth.

It wasn't easy to prop himself up how Cass wanted without hitting his head on the roof of the van in the dark, and Brasso was only partially successful in the endeavour, but he wasn't going to spend long contemplating the bruise on the back of his head when Cass was insistently whining "Come on Brasso, fuck my mouth, I'm right here!" between swallowing as much as he could of Brasso's cock and tugging on his arse, trying to get a rhythm going.

Scrabbling in the pitch black for a hand hold, Brasso eventually found one of the straps for securing cargo and got his weight on his knees so he could thrust down into the darkness and the invisible, wet warmth of Cass's mouth. Without being able to see what was happening he could only concentrate on the sensation of tongue and pressure, sucking and - more often than he meant to cause it - gagging. Cass's fingers would tighten on his arse and he'd try to hold Brasso close even as he spluttered and choked. Brasso could feel the back of Cass's throat pulse defensively against the pressure of his cock and always slowed down afterwards, tried more measured movements, but Cass would crane his neck and bear down on him until he could dictate the angle of Brasso's hips - with just the softest threat of teeth as he did. The third time Brasso had to listen to him retching in the dark he pulled back and sat down heavily on what turned out to be his hi-vis jacket.

"Where'd you go?" Cassian said sulkily, but Brasso was already rummaging by touch for the pockets of the jacket. He found the lube and condoms first, then his lighter.

"Here," he flicked his thumb over the spark wheel and held the plate down, squinting past the little blue flame to meet Cassian's eyes.

His cheeks were flushed deep red and his lips were shining with spit. His hair was a wreck and his beard was tousled against its natural growth, his t-shirt was half shucked up and his boxers were peaked like a circus tent.

Brasso stifled a sigh at the sight of him, but Cassian didn't hide the flash of lust in his own eyes at whatever the light had revealed of Brasso himself. He ran his tongue over his lower lip and moved like he was about to pounce.

"Wait! Wait wait wait!" Brasso held a hand up with a condom held between his fingers and offered Cass the lighter.

He pulled a face and took the condom instead, raising the corner of the foil to his mouth.

"Don't you fucking rip it," Brasso held the lighter steady and glared at him, eyebrows raised in warning.

Cassian's own eyes widened - as if! - and he daintily tore the corner before opening the packet with his fingers. "Can't believe you don't trust I'm clean," he muttered around a smirk as he leaned forwards to fit the condom on top of Brasso's prominent boner.

"Like I even want to know where you've been," he answered, feeling his throat tighten with longing as he watched Cassian's fingers move nimbly down his cock, rolling the sheath over it. "Besides, you never even ask where I might have been."

Cassian looked up at him quickly, sharply, his lips hidden by his moustache and his eyes cast into uncanny darkness by the side-lighting of the little flame. He seemed so alien to Brasso when he looked like that, like a creature from another world entirely. "I can only imagine," Cassian purred, lavishing Brasso's cock with a series of firm strokes.

He leaned over then and blew out the flame of the lighter, which Brasso didn't bother holding onto and chucked aside into some hollow corner of the van.

His eyes were confused by the afterglow of the flame, but he knew where Cassian's pants were anyway and dived for them with both hands, pulling them away as Cass flailed his legs to speed up the process. It didn't really achieve the desired effect, just earned Brasso a fat lip from the knee he took to the chin, but with a crack of stitches stretching the offending item of clothing was removed and Brasso fell upon Cass guided by smell alone, following salt and sweat and musky warmth. He pushed his tongue into the base of Cass's cock and worked it against his balls, sucking the loose skin on them and then running his mouth up the taut underside of his cock.

Cass whined and squirmed and grasped at Brasso's hair, his shoulder, his arm, seeking the hand with the lube in it so he could take the bottle and open it. He poured it - mostly - on Brasso's fingers, though some dropped onto the skin of his hip and he wriggled and flinched as it trickled a cold track over his body.

Brasso felt his way between Cass's arse cheeks as he mouthed Cass's cock, probing the darkness for the place that gave way to him, eager and accommodating to the first finger, tighter around the second.

Cassian made a desperate sound and bucked his hips up into Brasso's touches. "Come on, come on..." he complained, then sucked in a sharp breath as Brasso pushed the pair of fingers deep inside him. Cass moaned, and the sound made Brasso feel like he'd been kicked in the solar plexus by a velvet boot. He made his own grunt of pleasure against Cass's nutsack and lowered his hips to the van floor, his knees bent and feet kicking absurdly in the air because he was too close to the door to lie down flat. The van floor was cold and hard under his cock and he squirmed his hips again and pushed his fingers inside Cass to help prop himself up.

Cass's body clenched round him and Cass let out a hoarse cry - "Oh, fuck, do that again!"

Brasso tried, but the pressure wasn't as great now he was stable, so he pulled his fingers out and slapped his hand on Cass's hip. "Lube - where is it?"

"Oh, do you have to? Just fuck me..." Cass's knees knocked against his sides and he tried to draw him closer with legs tangling around his torso.

"I think some would be a good idea, Cass."

"There was some on your fingers already. I threw it over by the lighter. It's not worth going looking, just come here," he got his ankles crossed behind Brasso and tugged him forwards until their stiff cocks were trapped together between them and Brasso's tongue was somewhere halfway down Cass's throat again.

He made the most of it while he was there, rolling his hips and rubbing against Cass until the sounds Cass was making in his mouth grew desperate and high-pitched.

Abruptly, ruthlessly, Brasso pulled away from him and grasped for the inside of his thighs, squeezing soft, sparsely haired flesh aside and pushing forwards with his cock. He released one of Cass's legs so he could guide his head up to Cass's hole and test the resistance of his body.

He was tight, but still keen, insisting he wanted Brasso to fuck him hard even as Brasso began to ease inside him.

He shuffled forwards on his knees as best he could, realising there was no packing sheet beneath him, wherever they'd ended up. His head and shoulders were bowed so he didn't knock the roof with his head again, and he braced himself with one hand against the roof and the other on Cass's hip, holding him steady as he pushed deeper in a careful, slow way that brought guttural sounds of impatience from the darkness where Cassian lay.

Once he was all the way in he heard Cass release a shaky breath and felt him bring his hips up towards Brasso's carefully.

"You good?" Brasso moved his body in a small pulse against Cassian's just to make sure he got a genuine response, feeling him clench and force himself to relax.

Cass whimpered, but it was lust more than discomfort that made his voice shake when he replied "Yes, fucking come on!"

Brasso grunted acknowledgement, like it made no odds to him, but he thrust carefully, in measured movements that would feel hard to Cass but kept much of Brasso's power in reserve for now. He got in as close as he could, his knees splayed to either side of Cass's body and Cass's cock held gently but firmly in his hand as he bucked his hips against him.

Bit by bit, Brasso let his hips and hand speed up and put more power into the cycle of his thrusts, and he felt Cass's body rock and slide beneath him, his attempts at getting purchase somewhere on his surroundings failing as Brasso's body pounded solidly against his. Cass's legs floundered at Brasso's sides, his knees knocking against his ribcage, and he struggled to assert any control over the pace or rhythm from where he was, caught and held by the movement of Brasso's body.

He was getting louder with each moment too, helpless sounds and the back of his throat turning to hoarse, choked repetitions of "Ah!" that got louder the harder Brasso managed to thrust inside him, the more in time he could make the pumping of his hips and of his hand on Cass's cock.

Brasso's eyes fell shut in the darkness as he focussed on the rhythm and the feeling of Cassian's insides, hot and tight, yielding yet strong around him. Behind closed eyes, Brasso imagined what he couldn't see in the dark: Cass's open mouth and his eyelids falling heavily over a heated gaze; his chest rising and falling intermittently as he gasped for breath, but jerking with each coming together of their bodies; his nipples showing hard through the threadbare fabric of his t-shirt and the hair on his belly starting to gleam with sweat where it appeared at the hemline.

Brasso's eyes were still closed when Cass came hot and gushing, spilling over Brasso's hand and spattering his belly and navel. The feeling of it - a surprise in the dark, no matter how inevitable it had been - made Brasso himself come, heat digging deep in the pit of his body and rolling up like a riptide, dragging him away from himself, rushing him into some abyss where he forgot, for a moment, that the back of the van was dark, and thought he'd gone blind with ecstasy.

He let himself lie against Cass for a while afterwards, and Cass held him tight too, his legs tangled around Brasso's and his fingers holding the back of Brasso's head like, Brasso imagined, he'd hold a man beneath water until he drowned.

Sleepily, Brasso mouthed kisses along Cassian's neck, and Cass ran fingers over Brasso's skull. Brasso fidgeted and wrung out the last remnants of pleasure from his hips with little movements that didn't do much more than allow his soft cock to slip out of Cass's arse. Cass moved his head to nose and chin Brasso's face aside until he could be kissed, now with less use of teeth, with more sweat in Cass's moustache, with even more left unsaid than went unsaid during foreplay. Brasso imagined it was the kind of kiss the heroes of cheap romance novels got at the end of the story, and, like them, he prepared for the closing of this little fantasy they shared - until the next time Cass needed him. For now they'd sleep well, wrapped round each other like weeds, and when they woke they'd finish the drive, maybe get breakfast somewhere and bitch about the morning headlines like nothing had happened, and Brasso would drop Cassian off, and they wouldn't meet again for weeks or months, and then they'd do it all over as and when they needed to.

This had been a particularly good encounter though, Brasso admitted to himself as he pulled the condom off and knotted it before slinging it away into the darkness. Probably meant it would be a while before they did this again, each one nervous of what it meant that the most satisfying fuck they knew was someone they'd never publicly acknowledge as more than a well-worn old friend. Really, Brasso thought with a degree of relief as he nuzzled his face into Cass's shoulder, it was a good job they didn't talk about this. He'd only go and say something stupid, after all, like telling Cass he'd leave the rest of the world to rot and serve no one but him if the self-sabotaging little bastard ever cared to ask.

He didn't need to though - that was the point. He already knew - didn't he?

Too sleepy to worry overly about this, Brasso fumbled around for the hi-vis again and swept it over their shoulders, shuffling until they lay brow to brow, shoulder to shoulder, their lower legs twisted one on top of the other. Cass's breath tickled his face, and Cass's wrists sandwiched the arm Brasso lay on protectively between them.

He didn't remember lying awake or agonising about a thing - next he knew there was a cool, silvery dawn light in his eyes and a cold breeze on his feet. The van's doors were open and voices sparred tetchily outside.

Brasso sat up and cast about for his boxers, pulling them on as he tried to pick up the words being spoken outside. His back and shoulders ached from sleeping on the hard, uneven bed of the van, and he longed for coffee and a cigarette to clear the fog in his mind and his mouth.

"I said come over here, you little poof! I've got a sausage bap right here for you!"

Brasso sighed at the sound of a trucker yelling across the layby and quickened his work as he pulled his boot laces tight. Peace had been nice while it lasted.

He didn't catch Cassian's reply to the provocation, but he did step out of the van in time to see him turn, quick as a snake, and, with a little hop for extra height, smash his forehead into the taller man's nose.

The first thing Brasso noticed was how filthy the back of Cassian's t-shirt was where he'd been pressed against the van floor last night. Then he admired the shape of Cass's arse in his thigh-hugging boxers and the expanse of wiry, muscled leg leading down to his bare ankles and loosely pulled on Docs, muddied yellow laces trailing. Then, belatedly, he caught himself and sauntered over to pull Cass back from the trucker by a fistful of that grotty t-shirt.

The other man wasn't about to come for more though - if Cass's Glasgow kiss hadn't dissuaded him the sight of Brasso would have done. He cupped his bleeding nose and looked at the pair of them incredulously. "Pervs," he snarled, stepping back.

"What did you do?" Brasso couldn't help but ask as Cassian turned back towards the van, chewing on the cuticle of a finger with no nail left to gnaw on.

"I was just having a pee behind the bin! I asked where to get breakfast round here," he huffed, grabbing after Brasso's hi-vis and looting the pockets for baccy and papers.

"There'll be somewhere at the next services," Brasso told him, sweeping up the discarded fag ends, used condom and some of the other detritus from the van and taking it to the overflowing bin in his cupped hands.

On reviewing the state of the van and of Cassian, he saw they'd missed the messy pile of packing sheets entirely, and Cass's t-shirt had rubbed a section of the floor nearly clean. The streaky patch of grot made it look like they'd dragged a corpse out of the back, and Brasso wondered whether his employers would prefer to hear that excuse rather than learn their van had been repurposed as a '70s style shagmobile.

He retrieved his lighter and his lube and chucked the hi-vis at Cassian. "For your dignity."

Cassian pulled a face but nestled himself inside the large jacket. Inside the cabin he arranged his socks and trousers across the over-worked air vents so they'd have a better hope of drying and sat in the passenger seat - all fluorescent orange and bare legs - smoking his way through Brasso's tobacco.

They agreed to skip the first few service stations they passed - there was a chain of diners further south that Brasso knew would feed them well enough to compensate for the lack of sleep. They probably wouldn't even ask Cass to put his trousers on either.

As it turned out, his trousers were dry enough to pull on by the time they stopped to eat, and Brasso watched Cass fall upon an obscenely stacked breakfast burger from over his vat of coffee, wondering where Cassian was putting the mountains of hash browns and black pudding that he guzzled down. It was for the best that they were both reasonably decent as the morning crowd included holidaying families, but Cass didn't modify his language when he flipped through a copy of the Sun someone had left on the table.

"Mum, what's 'scrote-faced misery pornographer'?" a young girl asked in the next booth after a particularly forceful outburst, so Brasso kicked Cassian's shins under the table.

"Can it! No one here cares what you think of the editorial."

Cass rolled his eyes and pointed again to the story that was vexing him - increased police powers, a change the paper wholeheartedly supported - and launched into a defence of his outburst, as if Brasso needed convincing of the argument against giving the pigs a free rein to stop and search at taser-point. He was thinking instead of how accurate his prediction for the morning had been, and how this was simultaneously reassuring and a little unnerving. It was like he'd already cut himself off from this time with Cass, and was just counting down until their next run in, however many weeks or days in the future it would be.

"Want me to drive?" Cassian asked him as they walked back to the van, the wind whipping his unkempt hair across his face and his smirk half-hidden by his moustache.

"You're not insured," Brasso rolled his eyes. He hadn't recovered from the last time he'd been in a vehicle with Cass at the wheel - the van was not made for the kind of ruthless speed Cass specialised in.

In any case, ten minutes down the road Cass was asleep in the passenger seat, head back against the seat and snoring lightly in a way that raised a fond smile to Brasso's lips. When he noticed himself smiling he rubbed his face and gave his cheek a tap or two, telling himself to snap out of it.

He drove straight to Sal's - it had probably been someone at the yard who had told Cassian he was up north on deliveries anyway.

Brasso drank too-hot instant coffee from a polystyrene cup in Sal's office and listened to the next itinerary. Sal wasn't mad, or surprised, that Brasso had turned up late with an extra passenger - Cassian was now rummaging through Sal's wares while Bix kept a close eye on him, making sure nothing pocketable got pocketed.

When he had his new list of addresses and orders, Brasso went out to hand it over to Bix for loading. "You want a lift somewhere?" he asked Cassian.

"First delivery of the day," Bix raised an eyebrow.

"I like to get the awkward ones out of the way first."

Cassian gazed coolly at the two of them, waiting for them to finish. "Apparently the Swede isn't pleased with the last job I did for him."

"He did not sound happy this morning," Bix confirmed, folding her arms and glancing at the perspex windows of Sal's office. "We could hear him bawling at Sal all the way at the far end of the yard."

"Guess I could stay at Maarva's storage unit for a bit," Cassian tore another strip of cuticle off between his teeth.

"Why don't you take him with you?" Bix looked over at Brasso, mischief in her dark eyes. Like Cassian, she could smirk without moving her lips at all.

"So when this pissed off Swedish guy goes looking for him, I get found too?"

Bix shrugged. "How will he know Cass is with you? Besides, you'll have a navigator and a hand with unloading."

Brasso eyed Cass and Cass eyed Brasso. Brasso wondered if Cassian was thinking the same thing as him - what if the time apart was necessary to the functioning of their benefit-heavy friendship?

But Bix punctured the seriousness of Brasso's considerations with a casual addition: "Maybe the whole of Sal's van will be clean by the time it's safe to come back."

Brasso looked at her in surprise, Cass looked casually at the inside of the van, and Bix shrugged.

With that secret not, apparently, a secret, maybe it was best to skip town for a while, Brasso conceded.

#brassian #brasso #cassian andor #andor fic #my fics #pwp #¯\ (ツ) /¯

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im-a-matt-girl · 1 year ago

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Omg can you do another fic but with matt and reader having to go to the hospital so she could give birth

sure ♡

"I can't wait to have this baby," I sigh as I lie down next to you in our bed for the night. I can barely get comfortable anymore; my belly is so big, and sleeping in certain positions hurts me.

You rub my arm comfortingly and give me a small kiss on my head. "I'm sorry you passed your due date, Honey," you tell me.

"It's okay, it's not your fault," I smile. "Boys take longer than girls to come out." I was supposed to give birth three days ago, but nothing happened. We have an overnight bag ready to go, just in case.

You hold my hand in yours and kiss it, looking into my eyes. "I love you," you say, slightly pouting your lips like you want a kiss.

"I love you, too," I reply, pressing my lips against yours. "Good night."

"Good night," you whisper, cocooning yourself in one of the blankets on our bed.

I rest my hand on my belly, feeling the baby squirming around inside of me. It's such a strange sensation, but it's wonderful beyond belief. I fall asleep dreaming about what he'll look like when he finally comes out.

Suddenly, a sharp pain rips through the entire lower half of my body, waking me up completely. I feel like I've been run over by a steam roller. It stops for a minute, but then it happens again, causing me to let out an involuntary wail in pain.

You sit straight up in bed, and you look at me with wide eyes. "Are you okay?" you ask me.

"The baby is coming," I gasp. The pain is almost unbearable. I can't focus on anything else.

You jump out of bed and grab your keys, putting them into the pocket of your pajama pants. You come over to my side of the bed and try to help me up. "Can you stand up?" you ask me earnestly.

I try, but I fall back down onto the bed in a sitting position. "No," I shake my head, holding back tears. Everything feels wet where I'm sitting. "I'm sorry, I think my water broke."

"Don't worry about that," you tell me, gently brushing my hair out of my face. "You don't have to apologize. Should I call an ambulance?"

I nod as another wave of pain washes over me. Everything is a blur as I wait for the ambulance to arrive. I wanted you to drive me, but there might not be enough time. I need help as soon as possible. I just hope that nothing goes wrong.

Everything in the hospital is a blur, too. All I can think about is the pain, and getting this baby out of me so that I can hold him in my arms. Unfamiliar faces come and go - doctors and nurses who want to see the miracle of birth - but you remain by my side, holding my hand. I am unspeakably grateful for you.

The doctor tells me to push, and I feel like I already am. She tells me to push harder, and I feel like I'm going to explode. She tells me to push as hard as I can, and I give it everything I've got. "Good job, mom," the doctor announces as my pain finally begins to subside.

"He's here!" you marvel quietly.

Only then do I hear the tiniest baby cry in the world. He kind of sounds like a kitten.

The doctor hands me our son, and it is only then that I begin to cry. He is the most beautiful baby I've ever seen in my whole life. "Hi, Cody!" I greet him.

He cries in response. That's all he can do for now.

"He's hungry," the doctor tells me. "He just did a lot of work. You did, too."

Your hand ever so delicately strokes Cody's tiny head. "He's so soft!" you whisper, a gasp escaping your mouth.

I look up at you, and I notice the tears in your eyes, but I say nothing about them. "I love you," I tell you, wiping my own tears away from my face with my wrist. I can't believe all of my dreams are coming true. I love being part of your family.

#matt sturniolo x reader #fic #op #ask #anonymous #pov: yours

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featherbutt · 1 year ago

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I've been thinking a lot about zombie apocalypses from the perspective of someone being turned. So, enjoy zombie apocalypse polycule everyone.

Warnings: Zombies, apocalypse, both romantic and platonic angst, bite wound, blood, infection, decay, body horror, unwanted thoughts and feelings and urges (cannibalism, harm to a loved one), vomit

Background Info: In this universe, zombification is a slow process, and one retains their humanity for an extended period of time. This follows the point of view of Maria (she/her) through the early to middle stages of becoming a zombie.

Today was the day.

Today was the day I felt myself truly slipping into the virus.

It started out with a bite. I went out with Ronja to the woods and it did its best to herd the hoard away, toward a kill she put out for them. However, I suppose that there will aways be things that go wrong, and that was my unlucky day.

One moment, I was collecting the lumber I had chopped, the next, I was holding my bleeding arm to my chest, as Ronja wrestled a zombies face into the dirt, attempting to calm it with the dried flowers we brought for the undead. It told me to run, and run fast. I did.

In the weeks following, Nahlia did xyr best to keep me from attracting the hoards, but with the stinking scent of rot and decay from my wound, it was virtually impossible for me to continue my work outside. So, I remained inside, decorated in flowers that xe would grow.

Those nights we would check the progress of the infection, the decaying of flesh creeping up my arm and down my hands... It felt like I was attending my own funeral.

I watched them cry, I watched them mourn, knowing one day I would no longer recognize them as my lover and as my friend.

I could only hope they would do what they had to when that day comes.

Today, I woke up, and knew I was different.

I had a hunger. A painful hunger. It only grew when Nahlia kissed me on the forehead, a gesture so innocent, but so cruel.

I could smell her. I could smell how its skin was alive. The blood just under the surface. I craved to dig my teeth into it. To feel the blood rush into my mouth as I bite Ronja.

Immediately sickened by the changes within me, I ran to the window, heaving out what little food I had eaten the night before.

Nothing but meat.

It didn't take long for Nahlia and Ronja to figure out what was wrong.

Nahlia was the one who approached me this time. Xe always was out in the garden, tending to the fragrant flowers and the bees who roamed it. Even making, and accidentally wearing, flower oils. It made xem always smell so sweet. Sweet enough to hide the scent of xyr flesh.

It was calming.

"Maria? How bad was it this time? The... change."

Xyr voice was gentle, trying to coax me into telling xem where I'm at in loosing my sense of self, rather than assuming the worst.

I try to clear my throat after I had finish emptying my stomach, but my voice is still hoarse as I speak.

"Urges, Nahlia. Nothing I cant fight on my own yet, but... it disgusts me. I'm... I'm afraid. I don't want you to loose me. I don't want to hurt either of you."

"We know, love," Ronja said soothingly, applying flower scented oils to itself from across the room, as it didn't want to make this any harder on me than it already was, "we'll make sure you don't."

-----To be continued?-----

I ran out of steam lol. Anyways, I may continue this one, I may not. But I've got a lot of zombie ideas. Plus, I'm enjoying these characters. I'll try to post our notes on this as well. Let us know any thoughts or constructive criticism <33

Inspo

#featherbutt #queue #evan.txt #writing #our writing #apocalypse #zombies #polycule #Maria (she/her)#Ronja (it/its)#Nahlia (xe/xem)

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thereallivingded · 8 months ago

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8 months

Nearly 8 months have passed since I blogged. Damn.

I apologize profusely if anyone was interested in my ramblings. I have zero excuses other than life got hard. Full time job. Which I hated profusely - not that I'm not going to be working full time again soon - tends to bring on crushing depression when I feel stuck in it. Which I did, and I was. When you are paid bi-weekly and you see that entire paycheck go to your cost of living.. well. It doesn't do good things to your psyche. Energy levels get low and all that extra you had energy for before gets used up with day to day survival. Getting out of bed. Getting to work. Feeding yourself. Cleaning your house. Squeezing in workout (a thing I do now).

It's not all bad I suppose. I've finally been able to interview for and obtain a position that will not only net me a raise but be closer to home. Hopefully, that should get me more free time to pursue the things I actually enjoy.

I'd like to say that in this time I've been able to tackle my backlog of Steam games. But. Well. BG3 happened. And I spent even more time in the game than I had in early access. It's maddening how much time I've sunk into Faerun. I have no regrets though.

The only thing really that's kept me from finishing my campaign - as I am in Act 3 - is my computer. I haven't upgraded the beast since 2020 or 2021-ish. And it's starting to show. My mobo is acting extraordinarily peculiar. Sometimes I'll walk away from my computer to come back a couple hours later and find it stuck in bios. Super fun. The connection to the mobo gets wiggled a little and everything pops back on. Super. However, anything heavy to run - like BG3 - tends to get very crash-y.

Again. Super.

T.T

AND. Due to my financial constraints because of the job I recently left, I was completely unable to fix this. I'm hoping with the advent of the new job, getting a few paychecks in to stabilize, I can rectify the problems. Hopefully.

I started a couple of fanfics for the first time ever. I am ridiculously shy about them. My writing skills have become so sodding rusty. The stories came to me while I was playing BG3 and I was compelled to write them down. Note now, that the frequency of updates directly reflects the time I have to invest in them. So keep that in mind.

Be gentle on me here lol!

I have been able to get some gaming done. I have ceased playing Back 4 Blood, as it became no longer supported by its dev team. A sad move really. The gaming industry as a whole has become this parasitic beast. Devs work on a game for an extremely limited amount of time and abandon it the moment it becomes less lucrative than their board of directors care for.

There is a trend towards monetization of minutiae and online play in inappropriate genres, that has become an insidious infection in the game industry. It robs us of good game development. There's this mentality of more, more, now that's just slow poison to the whole beast. It makes everything very same-y and boring.

Which is why I strive at this point in my life, to not give money to the companies which I feel are most guilty of this. The only way to make these corporations listen is to hit them in the $. As such I will probably be carefully curating any games I discuss or mention on this blog from here on. My next post will likely be discussing a visual novel I've spent some time in that I equal parts enjoyed and became frustrated with. So that's in the pipeline. Until then keep to the lights lovies. <3

#gaming #gamer life #pc games #gamer problems #steambacklog

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kckenobi · 2 years ago

Text

fic writer interview

Thanks for the tag @katierosefun! Took me a minute to finish this and post but.....

Name/nickname: kasey!

Fandoms: I feel like I tend to be on the fringes of fandom for most media lol, with Star Wars being the only one I've really been active in. But I guess the ones floating around in my brain most often are bly manor/hill house and Star Trek tng?

Two shots? I don't actually know if I have any, except if you count Room to Grow and A Moment and A Memory which were connected (completely forgot the titles of both of those for a sec, wow).

Most-popular multi-chapter fic: as far as subscriptions and kudos it's probably bloodlines, my fic about Dooku, Obi-Wan and Anakin getting stranded together. But more recently Rhapsody and Blue, my orchestra au, has gotten some lovely attention, which is nice bc that one's definitely closer to my heart!

Actual worst part of writing: "oh god that's a huge plot hole"

How you choose your titles: I usually try first for a theme from the fic that can be summed up in a word or two, but after that I pick from song lyrics or poems lol

Do you outline? Yes, usually! Or I at least come up with a plan. I have to outline for longer projects or I'll forget where I was going and run out of steam. For shorter ones, I usually try to at least have a beginning, middle, and end thought out from the beginning, even if they're not fleshed put! Doing that just keeps me from hitting a wall and fizzling out when I get stuck, bc I at least know what's supposed to come next.

Ideas you probably won't get around to, but wouldn't it be nice: hmm, I like to think I'll eventually get around to everything I want to? But there's definitely a handful of ideas I've started only to put them on the back burner—I was thinking about a sequel to Rhapsody in Blue for a while, but i just had a hard time deciding what the conflict in that story would be since Palpatine is dead lol. But I'm not saying I won't get to it, because I still might!

Callouts @ me: how—many times—can you put an em-dash in one paragraph—also you write about the same themes over and over again—

Best writing traits: Hmm, I think one of the things I've gotten good at over the years is structuring a scene/structuring a longer plot. It's something I think was hard to learn, like as far as pacing and the balance between dialogue and action, and how to weave multiple plot lines into something that feels cohesive. Reading my old writing vs recent stuff, that's just been something I've noticed!

Spicy tangential opinion: the whole "only queer people can write queer stories" idea hurts people who are closeted or questioning more than it protects anyone, and no one owes you any piece of information about their identity to justify their writing ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

tags: @calltomuster @meantforinfinitesadness @pandora15 @giggles-and-freckles @indigostars @tessiete

#tag game #fic related asks

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actually-factually-anonymous · 5 months ago

Note

RANT INCOMING:

I have to say, I don't necessarily agree with the idea that Marinette is more or less an incidental hero: but I overall resound with the points made here. Our dear Protagonist is far from the saintly, selfless figure that fandom has bought into.

And I do thoroughly agree with your point about her snail-like proactivity. Maarinette Dupain-Cheng, by her merits alone, would never have beaten Gabriel Agreste.

And the show proved it.

Sure, we can go on about how Gabriel showed more wits and dogged determination to find his opponent with the Kwamis in the first five minutes of Destruction than Marinette did in the whole season she had the whole box at her disposal. Or point out that she (and Fu, let's not let him off the hook either by omission) knew that the Butterfly and Peacock were lost TOGETHER (and with the Grimoire) and therefore five minutes of actual introspection after Mayura's appearance should have re-opened the case against Gabriel Agretse (she doesn't need to know that the Butterfly wielder can Akumatise themselves, she just needs to guess that whoever Mayura is could have Akuamatised him).

We can even point out that the sole time she ever tried to find Hawkmoth's identity at all (and if anyone would like to correct me on this matter, please do: this is downright embarrassing for a supposed Protagonist) was when by pure luck The Grimoire all but fell into her lap, and her Kwami happened to have enough braincells to remember what it was. Adrien meanwhile actually had go against his Kwami's advice to leave the thing in his father's vault, and use his own initiative to even begin a rudimentary investigation- risking his father's wrath and the consequences thereof to follow a lead on the Miraculous.

(Plagg never told him what the damn thing was by the way, the sole line where he calls it a "spellbook": "Wow! I guess the Spellbook will have to wait a bit longer." It doesn't exist in the French dub.

He instead states the following: "Wow ! On dirait que le livre va devoir attendre un peu."

Translated: "Wow! Looks like the book will have to wait a bit."

"Le Livre" or the book is all he ever calls it in the French dub. Unless I've missed a line in later episodes, there's ZERO evidence Plagg or Ladybug have ever told him what the Grimoire is. Nevermind that important fact about the Butterfly and Peacock being lost together with it.

This is important because when Gabriel later tells him that it was just a memento, he has no reason to investigate further. Marinette and Fu however have no such excuse.)

But all those things are irrelevant. All we need to do to point out that Ladybug would never have won by her own merits is look to the finale.

The only reasons that Ladybug went to Gabriel Agreste's manor were because

A: Felix told her that Gabe was Monarch, and...

B: Her civilian identity happened to be dating Adrien.

Feel free to flip those around in order of importance. But the point is, those are matters of luck and outside circumstances HANDING her the information she needed. She didn't investigate Gabriel because of suspicions, she didn't ask even ask Felix if he knew Monarch's identity- he came to her. There was nothing she'd done in the preceding five season's worth of events that lead her to Gabriel's identity. Had she been dating Luka and Felix had stayed home, Ladybug would have been cooked by Gabriel's Miraculized.

That's it. She's done.

Seriously: all the heroes form overseas came out to help in that final battle and they were on the verge of losing within hours. Even if Ladybug works out that she's being tracked by her signature and becomes Bug Noire, Gabriel can just sit in his office and let his army hunt her down until she runs out of steam.

What's that? Gabe had a time limit? Okay, what happens when he turns to ash? Nathalie's dead too by that point and there's no one to call off the Miraculized: except for Tomoe who will probably step in at some point and take over as Monarch herself.

Marinette's done.

And this is the whole point: When you get down to it throughout the entire conflict, from Stoneheart to the finale Ladybug (and Fu, can't forget him) did nigh-on-nothing as part of an actual strategy to defeat Hawkmoth. Not delay or stall, actually find him and take back the Butterfly so Nooroo won't be abused further and Paris can be safe. Hawkmoth meanwhile lost every battle, but even with his infamous Smoothbrain steadily advanced in strategic gains. Gaining the translated Grimoire to become Shadwmoth, increasing his powers to overcome Ladybug's paltry charms, managing to obtain 15 Miraculous (admittedly thanks to Felix) and then finally leveraging his arrangement with Tomoe to create an unbeatable army of Miraculized.

By her own merits: Ladybug lost the war. And not for any reasonable cause: she just dawdled so long on trying to find her enemy that Monarch assembled a win condition that only luck averted.

Oh, and just the sugar on the cream:

Even with Tikki's own luck and Felix giving her the keys to victory, and with Plagg along as well to boot: she still managed to lose. It would have been understandable if it had been Adrien down there, but Marinette had next to no emotional stakes in Gabriel's wellbeing. There was no reason for her to detransform, and Gabriel had tried to venom her without being transformed himself maybe a minute ago- so there's not even the threadbare excuse that she might have assumed he couldn't use the Miraculous without transforming.

At this point, if I were the Celestial Guardian: I'd at the bare minimum demote Ladybug from team leader. Clearly this "army" needs a General who can do more than defend.

Gosh, I just remembered Destruction. That Marinette seriously let Cat Noir run around with the word Dimwit in his bell for all of season 4, never once spared it a single thought, never apologized for it either despite allegedly having "realized" how awfully she treated him, and then smiled proudly when Alya laughed over him behind his back after the Cataclysm incident Marinette just abandoned Cat Noir afterwards too and only cared about herself getting support.

Dude, Marinette is so awful to him at times. Who DOES that to a friend? I would be downright ashamed of myself if I treated a friend like that and the show's telling me to CELEBRATE her for that??

Let's not forget that she also didn't think for months that Cat needs to know beforehand that her secret plan includes him having to run the risk of cataclysming Hawkmoth, or that he's once again reduced to a literal object in her plan who can't even breath with the villain's hand at his throat because all she deemed important was HERSELF being fine and safe and getting the Kwamis back.

Sure, just demand that of him on a whim. It's fine, girl, as long as it isn't you, right?

She also put every single civilian at Hawkmoth’s mercy in her plan, apparently just counties on him to be decent to the helpless civilians in his path who are even BOTHERING HIM with photos for her plan to work. That makes her such an awful hero. Humanity really was non existent in her plan, huh? Only she herself and the Kwamis mattered and she even monologued that into a full-blown failure. Not even getting a single Kwami because she had to brag about how much smarter and better she is than him. Such heroism. Much inspirational.

I seriously forgot how awful Destruction was for Marinette’s character. What the shit was that??

---

The group chat and I have been thinking that Marinette really is the least heroic “superhero” we’ve seen that wasn't a purposeful attempt at deconstructing superheroes. She very rarely goes out of her way to help people except when it's her way of forcing her views on what people need on others (think Guilt Trip), and a lot of the time she only fights Akumas and Sentimonsters because they're getting in the way of her plans for the day.

Marinette is only a hero technically, because, technically, he does stop the bad guys from getting what they want. But she also does the bare minimum needed. She magicked together a charm to try to prevent Akumatizations four seasons in, and it was basically because Alya told her to. She is also completely disinterested in finding out who Hawk Moth is. Félix spelled it out for her and she couldn't be arsed to do anything about it. The only time she's confronted Gabriel about anything was when she wanted to get his permission to date Adrien. I repeat: the only reason Marinette ever “goes after” Gabriel is to get his permission to date Adrien. The finale confrontation was an accident on her part. Marinette's motives are so often about herself over everything else. It's not just that there's a benefit to her in helping others, it's that she actually thinks about herself first in every single situation and anyone else is barely ever a consideration.

Marinette is the most passive hero I’ve seen. Even early series Usagi from Sailor Moon, who cried at the thought of fighting monsters, actively followed rumors around town to uncover the villains’ schemes and more often than not got involved in the plot of the episode because she met a random stranger she wanted to help when they explained their problems to her and/or asked for her assistance with something. Marinette has helped a random stranger only once, despite her supposedly having this trait being why Fu chose her in Origins.

She really has no idea what a hero is, considering her idea for doing a heroic act to celebrate “heroes’ day” was promising her parents would make a bunch of treats for her classmates instead of herself doing anything to help anyone. She only ended up making the treats herself because her parents didn't have the time, and even then, the classmates also pitched in to make her idea/heroic act happen. Despite Hawk Moth being a consistent threat, she's not proactive in trying to stop him, only patrolling for personal reasons, like keeping the principal from making “real heroes” (her words, not mine) look bad and going on “not dates” with Cat Noir.

She also far more frequently uses her powers for personal gain than any other character that gets a Miraculous, even when taking their time using one into account. Marinette uses her powers to sabotage people who have a crush on the guy she likes, embarrass people she doesn't like and manufacture situations where she can get closer to her crush. Meanwhile Adrien and Alya *flips through notes* genuinely enjoy being a hero and helping people, so much so they joke on the job. And people tell me the latter two are less heroic, because of some twisted idea that real heroes are the ones for whom the job is a burden. In actuality, Marinette viewing her heroics as such a burden makes her unmotivated and a worse hero for it. Her disregard towards civilians and her allies when she actually bothers to do the job is just another sign of how utterly unsuited to be a hero Marinette is.

Frankly, if Marinette’s hijinks didn't stop the Akumas and Sentimonsters, she'd be a villain protagonist. Because of the retooled show enforcing Marinette’s unheroic traits, her lack of motivation, her lack of sympathy for others, her selfishness and her self-aggrandizing, I personally feel that she still is a villain protagonist but the show just celebrates her instead of condemning her.

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eaaaazygurl · 2 years ago

Text

Violet Flowers

Pairing - Arthur Morgan x F!reader

Summary - You find John Marston staring at you longer than you'd come to appreciate. As you confront your friend, he can't help but let it slip that Arthur has a big surprise for you.

Wordcount - 7000+ (a long read! May need some time to finish.)

Notes - Slightly modified Canon: Sean was taken by O'driscolls instead of Bounty Hunters, the events of RDR2 take place over the course of years in the three states rather than just one year (because only playing as Arthur for 1 year in game time is CRIMINAL and this is an established long term relationship!) Fluffy Morgan obviously, Dutch being a dick without actually making an appearance, John being a supportive best friend and brother.

PS: My apologies if I have irritated anyone. I've reposted in hopes that the read more works. I didn't realise you actually had to add a read more! So thank you to the person who kindly pointed out that adding one would be a good move ^^

Marston was staring at you again.

The scarred Outlaw stood at the steaming stewpot, sharp eyes stuck to you, unaware that you had obviously taken note.

It was just past 7pm, you had been taking in the thick, pungent aroma of the Bayou Nwa swamps that surrounded the Van Der Linde's new camp; Shady Belle, a quaint rundown plantation house that had been without repair or proper inhabitants for what looked like a decade now. Whilst somewhat unpleasant, you had been here in the stagnant water and shit-filled silt before when you were once just a small posse of seven men and women, all of them friends and family, off to explore the supposed wonders of Saint Denis just beyond the border of the Bayou - or rather - you had gone to scope any easy pickings and see the potentiality of robbing the city's main bank before heading back to your camp in the Heartlands of New Hanover. So yes - you were already accustomed to the smell of rotten corpses and Alligator excrement by now.

You sat idle upon the rotting wooden bench just beside the plantations main doors where you and Sadie had shared a good laugh on the situation of things; Little Jack had returned, saved by the men of the gang. You had never seen Abigail beam a smile so bright as she charged through the commotion to lock her young son into a death grip of a hug, tears of joy streaming down her rosy cheeks as she cried out many thank-you's to the boys. There had been a party that night, one that descended into an entire gang sing-along whilst Javier struck the cords of his trusty guitar. John and Abigail had retreated just after one song, wanting to make Jack comfortable in their new camp, and you had scouted around the group to find your partner: Arthur Morgan.

Your relationship had blossomed the day he returned back to Clemens Point, black and blue and horrifically injured by Colm O'driscoll and his boys. Your extensive knowledge on tending to injuries had come in useful that night and you were able to clean the awful gun wound to Arthur's shoulder whilst effectively voiding any fever or infection. Your feelings towards the Outlaw had been apparent for months; having been good friends for just over a year beforehand, running the O'driscoll Boys from the Heartlands so that your posse and Arthur's gang might be a little safer. Clearly you had pissed them off one too many times, and you spent the next few weeks blaming yourself for Arthur's kidnapp. During those weeks of you aiding Arthur; washing him, tending to his beard and hair and making sure he was well fed and hydrated, you had both admitted to eachother your true feelings. The entirety of the Van Der Linde gang had caught on many months prior but you both had been blissfully unaware until then.

It had been - and still was - a beautiful, fruitful relationship. You were both extremely gentle with eachother, attempting to outmatch the other with gifts, words or physical affection. But, you were also an unstoppable duo when it came to getting jobs done. Wherever your names were known, people knew not to piss the both of you off when you came into town, lest they want a bloodbath.

A deep sigh of relaxation escaped your lungs as you sloped down on the bench in deep thought as you remembered back on the events prior to Shady Belle, ignoring the seats complaints as the beams of wood creeked under your weight. Sadie had left a little while earlier for a small scouting mission around the Bayou alongside Lenny, voicing her goodbyes with a 'See ya later.' Kieran passed on by with a little wave and small nervous smile, prompting you with a cheerful "Afternoon, Duffy."

Your eyes met the little pot of stew just ahead once again, investigating who had gathered round to take a bowl before you decided to go in and offer yourself some of the contents: Tilly, Jack and John were huddled around the pot, Jack attempting to take himself out a ladle of the sloppy liquid.

You eyed John once more out of instinct, feeling his eyes burning into you yet again. You were confused, feeling irritation begin to bubble in the pit of your stomach. Marston knew your relationship with Arthur and he knew what consequences he would be facing if he attempted anything - even now he would be getting a rather hard clip around the back of the head for staring as much as he was. Besides, he had Abigail and they seemed happy! Happier - at least, and yet, he still hadn't taken his eyes off of you. That's when you decided to act, pulling yourself up with a stretch and then sauntered over towards the pot with a lick of your lips, your stomach aching. You were hungry, afterall.

"Wolfbite." You addressed John as such, a silly little nickname Arthur had given him when you had both found John drunk as a fool and harassing the general store clerk inside of Rhodes. You had to drag him out of the shop by his arms, and as you recall Arthur had berated him for such actions; "God dammit Wolfbite, you go five minutes in the town and yer already tryin' to get us shot at!"

John shot you a displeased glare at the comment, but he knew ultimately it was just a fun little nickname - nothing as irritating and uncomfortable as Micah's retorts. Besides, you were one of John's closest friends within the gang, irritating eachother for the fun of it was just in both of your nature: "Y/n." He addressed you back, watching as Jack struggled aimlessly with the ladle.

You watched intently as John eventually came to his son's aid, gripping the handle against Jack's little hand, "Here, this is how you do it," He pulled the ladle down so that the bowl of the object took a big dip into the stew. Jack studied the way his father brought the ladle up some and then spilled the contents into the silver bowl; "Now you try, without my help."

Jack pursed his lips, focusing hard as he preformed a very similar action to his father, taking a dip and then pouring the liquid into his bowl, "I did it!"

"You sure did, Jack." John praised the boy with a ruffle to his brown hair, then began nudging him away, "Now go on, back to your mother before you drop your hard work all over the floor."

"Thanks, Pa." Jack had turned to reply, and although you spotted a brief flinch from the man, he relaxed rather quickly and replied with a, "You're welcome, son."

Jack soon made his way back, leaving you and John alone at the pot. You bent down to take your own bowl, draining some stew into it, "I'm proud of you, ya know."

"Why?" John took a small step back to allow you some room.

You drew back after filling your own dish, glancing up at John with a smirk, "Just you and Jack. You've really changed your way with him since Horseshoe."

John awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck as he too bent down to collect a bowl, "You weren't even with us at Horseshoe Overlook?"

"No," You took a spoon of soup, "but Arthur tells me a lot. Said he didn't understand why you shyed away from your own son for so long, how you and Abigail were fightin' all the time." As you blew on the hot contents within the dip of your spoon, you watched curiously as John let out a deep sigh, waving his empty bowl around as he groaned, "Of course Arthur tells you everything. What else has the old man rambled on about?"

You gave John a soft laugh and shrugged, taking a mouthful and swallowing, "Nothin' much. Just how you bellyache all the time, especially since you became a wolf's chew-toy. But between you and me? Sean had the biggest mouth," as you mentioned Sean's name, you frowned deeply.

The events over the course of the past few weeks were awfully troubling and your escape from Clemens Point had forced you all to leave Sean behind. The Greys had put a bullet through his head - he hadn't even been on the defensive from what Arthur told you.

You could see the pain in your lover's eyes as he explained the situation, how Sean had been dishonorably shot, Bill too although he had survived. How the boys almost wiped out the entire Grey family and dealt with the drunken Sheriff. The locals might have said that ridding the town of those two parasitic families was a blessing, but all blessings come with their consequences, and poor young Sean had been the unknowing sacrifice. He was your friend long before you knew of the Van Der Linde gang and Arthur. You recalled many a night of drunken laughter with Sean and your posse. He had even been the one to properly introduce you and Arthur, pushing the Cowboy to help you out when Arthur had freed you after the raid on the O'driscolls to save Sean himself. Now, Sean was gone, and even if the Irishman could be a little gutter-brained and irritating at times, you all missed him dearly.

"I do miss that kid, even if he was a little shit at times. He was an annoying little brother in a way." John was now filling his bowl though a little sluggishly as he shook his head at the reminder of Sean Macguire.

"Arthur said the same." You reply, taking another mouthful and briefly looking towards the sky as if in search of something. You then clear your throat to remind John of your previous talk before the sore subject of Sean came up, "Anyway... about Arthur."

"What about Arthur?"

You hush John with a sigh, leaning more on one foot than the other as you squint slightly to capture the man's attention, "He worries about you John. He just wants you to bond with Jack, to have what he didn't because of..." your voice trailed off, but John carried the conversation onward: "Issac and Eliza... yeah, I know." He took a small stroll over towards where a small campfire had been smouldering, setting himself down onto one of the wooden crates whilst you took your place at a fallen log.

John continued, "I've got something that he had and cherished, and that was taken away from him. I was throwin' that all away whilst he was suffering his losses. I'm a damn fool."

"I don't think you are." You chimed in quickly. You'd had a conversation of some sort similar to the one you were having with John now, remembering how Arthur understood his little brother's worries but wished he'd come and confided in him before running off for god knows how long. What you said next was almost a direct repeat of what Arthur had said to you: "I think you're misguided yes, but not a fool. Besides, you're making an effort now. That's more than enough, and Arthur seems to think so too."

John glanced up at you from his stew with a small startle, "He does?"

A soft laugh escaped your throat as you finished your meal, throwing down the bowl to rest your arms against your knees, "He's happy for ya John. All he wished for was that you and the boy got along. Seems like that wish is coming true."

John shared the smile with you, appreciating your little talk. You gave it a few seconds before prodding John with the question you had originally planned on asking him: "So, there's another thing I was gonna ask you,"

John placed his bowl below his feet in a patch of sodden boggy grass, "What's that?"

What you said next had John freeze, tighten his lips and sit up straight.

"Why were you staring at me? Wasn't hard to realise concidering I had full view of the camp from the plantation house." You leant forward slightly, a brow raising as you smirked, "Y'do realise if Arthur found out he'd have your head?"

There was a brief silence, and then John answered with a short and stubborn, "Wasn't nothing like that and you know it. You got Arthur and I got Abigail. B'sides you're my best friend who would I-"

"Easy there John you might end up losin' your voice at this rate! I'm just jokin' with ya," You shook your head, amused when John slowly forced his jaw to shut, eyes narrowed and mouth pouting as though he had been a child scolded by their mother, "I was just lost in my own head okay?" He managed to speak out bluntly.

You clearly weren't satisfied with his answer and at the right time, too. Thundering hooves alerted you to someone's return. As you and John both glanced over towards the hitching posts, you spotted Arthur skidding to a stop upon his white Arabian mount, gracefully slipping from her side to give her a gentle brush and feed before hitching her up.

You slowly twisted your gaze back round to John, a smug look crossing your face, "Great timing on Arthur's behalf. Sure you don't want me to call him over?"

"No!" John had snapped back, not out of anger, but anxious fear, and not the terrified fear but one that he usually felt when Arthur was mad with him, like a scolded child, "No- please don't. Arthur WILL have my head if I tell you."

"Tell me? Tell me what?" That statement had confused you, and clearly it hadn't meant to slip because John was now writhing awkwardly on his perch, cursing under his breath. You wanted to pry further, now completely invested in knowing what it was John was trying to hide, "Marston, are you and Arthur upto something? Come on tell me, I won't say a word. Promise."

John tried to throw his mind onto something else but to no avail. He tried averting his gaze but it was too much. His eye briefly caught Arthur, still tending to his horse. The pressure began to mount. Your eyes were staring with an intensity that almost burnt: "A robbery? Some sort of big job? Please tell me, pleassseee?!"

"Okay fine! I can't tell you everything, that would ruin it but-" He ducked a little and brought himself forward so his voice could be lowered, quickly checking on Arthur to make sure he wasn't striding over. Your confused expression only deepened as John shuffled closer and quietly spoke, "Arthur's got a surprise for you, but I can't say anything else." You guessed that, so you frowned, displeased. John then hissed a whisper, eyes wide with warning, "It would really ruin it- and don't say anything! If he finds out you even have the smallest idea he'll throw me into the swamp!"

You knew the threat of Arthur launching John into the water was one that made his body shudder. It was common knowledge within the camp that John Marston could not swim, and a common joke shared amount the many to tease him with. Even Jack took a few digs from time to time, leaving John to snap back a "Don't you start imitating your Uncle now!"

And so, you agreed, placing a hand onto John's shoulder in reassurance, "Okay, I won't say a word. Promise."

"Say a word about what?" Arthur had somehow managed to come up behind you and John without a sound, a brow raised with a dark shadow falling over his eyes from the brim of his hat. He rested his large hands upon your small shoulders, leaning down so that his mouth came to your ear, "Is Marston botherin' you darlin'?"

"Oh no not at all!" You gave Arthur a soft smile, pressing your cheek against his own, his short beard tickling the soft velvet of your skin.

John sat upright and smiled awkwardly, holding his hands upwards in a gesture, "We were just talkin'."

"Yeah I guessed that, but about what?" As Arthur spoke, the beard tickled earning a little giggle that made the Outlaw internally melt.

"About little Jack. John's been teaching him how to pour his own dinner. He's even gonna take him fishing soon." You gave John a look as if to say 'go along with it.' Whilst not entirely a lie, John had just showed Jack how to handle a ladle, the fishing part was false.

Arthur's interests had peaked at the mention of fishing. John hated the water, so this was a first, "You? And water? Fishin'? Well I never thought I'd see the day! You really are trying to bond with that kid,"

John gave Arthur a slow nod. He was anxious and he knew exactly where this was going. He couldn't escape this now...

"Looks like you an' me are goin' fishin' then, Marston! Not now, obviously. But soon. Proud of ya, brother." As Arthur gave John a gleaming smile, he cleared his throat, gently cocking his head a few times to encourage Marston away. Almost instantly he clocked on, grabing his bowl and yours too, "Well I'm off. I'll get these cleaned for you Y/n, no need to thank me. See you soon." John threw his hand to the side in a 'goodbye,' scurrying off into the crowd.

"Hey there, sweetheart." Arthur, now finally alone with you, sat to your side and gently nestled you into his side, placing his chin against the top of your head, "You okay?"

"Better now you're here," You enjoyed the warmth Arthur's broad chest brought you, inhaling the scents of tobacco and various herbs, mint being one such iconic scent. It wasn't often you and Arthur could settle against eachother without the threat of danger lurking nearby. Usually Arthur would be hurled into one of Dutch's crazy plans, hunting for the gang or out on scouting missions. You often joined him on them, but Dutch had been strict on making sure you two were in for the job rather than the time spent together. You weren't one of Miss Grimshaw's slaves luckily, Dutch and Hozier saw your great potential and wanted to put that to good use.

Now you could just relax, taking in the gentle chatter of the camp and quiet cooing of an owl overhead. Distant gurgles of Alligators could be heard some ways off. Your ear then met the gentle thudding of Arthur's heartbeat. Bliss could not come in many forms but this just had to be one of them. Usually Arthur wouldn't be so forward and open with his emotions in front of prying eyes, he tended to keep that confined to less crowded areas but tonight was different, Arthur simply didn't care for what others thought. He was still the same tough man that could load two hay stacks onto his shoulders and walk a mile without a bother as much as he was the gentle, kind and sweet man that had won you over.

Eventually Arthur pulled back from you, eyes gleaming and face a slight dash of red. You'd noticed it in the orange glow upon his face - his eyes had brightened and cheeks darkened slightly, giving away his blush. His hand found the rim of your jawline and gently nudged your head upwards to meet his gaze, "I got somethin' for yer."

"Oh?" Intrigue had your eyes widen as you sat up a little more, shoulders lax and smile cheerful. You never got used to the little gifts Arthur would bring back for you, and so you were excited to see whatever it was next. A new gun, perhaps? Maybe even a fine bit of jewellery he'd managed to pickpocket. Whatever it was, you were curious. Arthur took your hand and stood, you following suit close after. He was walking you past the plantation house towards the overgrown garden that bordered the swamp. In the near distance your eyes could pick up the glow of amber and a structure you'd never seen before. It was something like a bandstand but smaller, a wooden gazebo, creeping vines completely overtaking it's structure with little white flowers growing from each stem. From what you could gather at a glance, the shrubbery had been cut back extensively and the vines looping the wood prunes and trimmed to give it a much neater appearance. The murk had been swept away and cleaned to the best of it's ability.

You were now inches away from the structure. Awe overtook you as Arthur gently ushered you onto the steps, your eyes meeting a number of half melted candles, their flames dancing in the soft breeze. Little purple flowers were scattered across it's interior - the same flowers from Big Valley, yours and Arthur's favourite spot. There were also yarrow petals from what could have been Clemens Point, and tiny yellow orchids from up in West Elizabeth. Slowly, you began to make a connection: these flowers were from key areas you had been in during yours and Arthur's time together. The yellow orchids reminded you of the day Arthur had freed you from the O'driscolls, the yarrow a flower you had used to heal Arthur's injuries from his own kidnapp and the purple flowers in Big Valley, the place where you had both realised your feelings.

"It's beautiful Arthur..." those words escaped your gaping mouth, Arthur watching you with a wide smile as you examined the decor with sparkling eyes; "I'm glad you think so, darlin'."

"You didn't have to go through all of this effort for me... it must've taken you days to get to all of these flowers." Curiosity began to ebb once more. Your gifts had often been small and sweet, picked up by chance on the cowboys adventures across the states. Only this time... these flowers hadn't been picked by chance.

Arthur simply replied with a small nod, "It did. Three days, in fact. That's why me and John were gone three days but uh- don't tell Dutch." He cleared his throat and lowered his tone, smirking, "He jus' thinks we went out on some robbin's across the states."

"Got ya, I won't say a word." You gave Arthur a small gesture that imitated locking your mouth and throwing the key before you returned to studying the flowers and candles, "You really outdid yourself this time. How am I going to get you a better gift now?"

"There ain't no need darlin' this ain't a competition." Arthur chuckled sweetly as drew his fingers through your soft hair, gently removing some of the debris that had accumulated where you could not see - bits of grass and sticks from what he could only assume was haybales for the horses. You'd been busy.

"Still doesn't seem fair to not get you anything in return though..." You whimpered quietly. Arthur brought his hands to your face, his right hand palming your soft cheek whilst brushing his thumb across the velvety skin whilst his left thumb gently trailed across your bottom lip. Your eyes met his brilliant pools of ocean, dilating as you gave his thumb a gentle kiss. Your eyes then danced around the gazebo, attempting to take in every fine little detail. It certainly must have taken days to get this place into shape, for again you'd never noticed it before. You wondered how Arthur had found it, let alone cleared it without you noticing. You were now completely turned from Arthur who had stepped back to give you some room, your back facing him as you studied the interior some more, "Honestly Arthur how on earth did you manage to fix this thing up without me realisin' you was upto something?" The Outlaw remained silent, a little out of character to not respond to you with something sweet or sarcastic, "Oh, I get it. I ain't allowed to know. It's a secret then?"

By the time you'd finished speaking, the wooden floorboards of the gazebo creaked, and you felt a sudden change in pressure. It as if by instinct that your body decided to turn in a slow fashion. Arthur was no longer stood, but crouched. He was bent down. On one knee. His eyes wide and full of anxiety as he pulled a hand out to hold just underneath you.

"Y/n." He began, a slight stutter forming as he spoke, "The day I met you was the day I felt my world change. Ain't nobody else that has ever made me feel this way."

Your eyes were wide, bright. You stood there, your head cocked downwards meeting Arthur's gaze. From the corner of your eye you could see a brief movement within the treeline and recognised the frilly dress of Mary-Beth and the hat of Sadie. Had the gang been watching you and Arthur all this time?

"We've been on our fair share of dangerous missions, had a lot of close calls... so I guess what I'm tryin' to say is-" Arthur's throat convulsed as he took in a deep breath, taking your hand in a vice-like grip. You could feel the heat radiating from them despite being gloved - an obvious sign that his palms were sodden with anxious sweat.

"Will you take my hand in marriage?"

The world became silent, still. It was as though time itself had stopped, because you swore you couldn't feel your heartbeat anymore. Even the gentle noises the Bayou made were all but noisy. It was dead quiet.

You felt an excitement build in your stomach and a deep blush fill your cheeks. Your eyes were in a state of shock, glittering in the moonlight overhead and the flickering of candle fire below. Arthur Morgan was asking for your hand. You! You'd never even imagined a man as handsome and kind-hearted as Mr Morgan would want you in such a way, and now you were on the precipice of becoming Y/n Morgan. You wanted this so bad, but the anticipation of your longer than comfortable silence had Arthur squirming, his grip on your hand loosening. Before he could pull away in shameful defeat however, you tightened your own hand and yanked the Outlaw up, letting out an excited "Yes!"

A perfectly wide smile overpowered Arthur's emotions as he beamed happily at your response, taking you into his arms and spun with you, the most brightest and extatic laugh erupting from his chest as he brought you back down into a loving embrace.

An eruption of cheering and applause had the both of you startle before Arthur could shower you with tender kisses. He let out an irritated "Christ sake!", his eyes narrowing at the crowd. Once he recovered from the startle Arthur brought you into a tight embrace once more sighing softly against your hair, "Of course Hozier told the entire gang..."

Your eye caught Hozier skipping down from the Plantation house like a youthful young man once more, his face glowing with pride and happiness as he began to stride a little quicker over to you both with open arms, "Congratulations my boy! Oh look at you both!"

"Hozier," Arthur tipped his hat, one arm coiled around your waist, "Thank you for uh... helping me set this all up."

Hozier had been Arthur's fatherly figure alongside Dutch since adopting him into the gang all those years ago. Unlike Van Der Linde, Hozier had more of a nurturing approach, teaching Arthur how to read and write and hunt. Many of the things Arthur could do was all taught by Hozier, even horse riding, whilst Dutch was more or less the one to teach Arthur the ways of the Gunslinger, how to pickpocket and rob and strengthen himself up. With Hozier, there could have been no better man to help him organise this. That's how you hadn't noticed the Gazebo preparation. If Hozier wasn't distracting you with stories and tales, Arthur was at your side.

"Oh my pleasure Arthur, I did the same with Bessie. Only it wasn't in a swamp... or under a rotten gazebo- but you get the point." Hozier flailed his hands in the air before placing them upon Arthur's shoulder, "I am so proud of you. Both of you."

Hozier hadn't only taught Arthur. When the man had taken his hiatus with the gang alongside Bessie, they had found themselves within these here states, mainly New Hanover and Ambarino. He had actually stumbled upon you and your twin brother, Archer, along with a few members of your posse. You must've only been about seventeen at the time, maybe a little older, but you could hardly read or lift a bow. You had been the daughter of a rancher family, made an orphan when the O'driscolls had burnt down your home and everything you knew over an 'unpaid debt.' Even Hozier had been rather surprised and concerned that they had made it this far East, but alas, it had only been a small portion of the gang and the O'driscolls were plentiful. Colm had still been back where Van Der Linde's gang settled, butting heads with Dutch in a rivalry that felt as old as time itself.

You had spent many months alongside Bessie and Hozier. He had taught you how to hunt and fight as well as handle yourself with a gun and Bessie taught you how to cook - properly. It wasn't until Bessie had become gravely sick that Hozier left you and your posse. He had originally planned to take her to a doctor and return, but a man whose heart had truly belonged with his gang? You understood. Hozier had returned to Dutch and it wasn't until spotting him in the streets of Valentine that you reunited.

"Thank you Hozier, truly." With your face pressed against Arthur's chest, you sighed deeply, a smile overtaking your features. Arthur somehow managed to bring you closer, "So where's Dutch?"

"Upstairs I'd presume. He knew this was going to happen, but you know what he's like when he's in a mood." Clearly that was a dig. Hozier narrowed his eyes towards the plantation house, a scowl forming. He and Dutch had been neck a neck recently, you even recalled Hozier accusing Dutch of being way over his head, cocky and arrogant. You had to agree, Dutch had been running loops around you all recently, getting you into more trouble than it was worth. He'd even ignored Hozier's warnings of Colm's fake parley which had ultimately gotten Arthur into a life threatening situation those few months back at Clemens Point.

Arthur frowned. He had expected Dutch to at least make an appearance and congratulate you both, but he hadn't. Clearly it had gotten under his skin, so you brought Arthur's hand up, removing a glove to plant a gentle kiss against the back of his hand, "I'm sure he'll come down eventually. If not, talk to him tomorrow."

Hozier bowed his head in agreement, "Yes, let him have his moment. Besides, we've got a wedding to plan and little time to do it!" With that, Hozier scurried away, his face bright with excitement. You turned your attention to Arthur who glanced back down at you, a soft smile forming, "I'm sorry I couldn't get you an engagement ring. Figured if we're always on the brink of death then why not get wed in say... a couple of days?"

While many woman would startle at the sound of a wedding so soon, you understood the risks of an Outlaw's life. You had lived it for many years afterall, and you wanted nothing more than to take Arthur's name and call him your husband. Besides, the camp's spirits were already at it's peak with Jack's return. The Pinkertons wouldn't find you for the next few weeks, at least. There was no better time, and so, you agreed with a nod, looping your fingers around your soon-to-be husbands, "I'd want nothing more."

A couple of days had passed since Arthur's proposal. Whoever had remained awake that night congratulated you with excitement and chatter, and the next morning wasn't any different. The girls were all around you within an instant, prodding and poking you with ideas and questions alike; what dress did you want? What food? Did you want any decorations? To each of those you politely declined, knowing the gang's funds were needed for food, medicine and ammunition. Nevertheless, they all still were successful in making some arrangements.

Arthur on the otherhand found himself in conversation with Javier, Charles, Lenny and John that following morning. Bill had no desire to talk about love, but despite that, he was happy to be given an excuse to drink on the eventual day of the wedding, and Arthur knew deep down Bill was happy for him. Dutch hadn't been seen since the proposal, off gallivanting around Saint Denis with who Arthur assumed would be Micah. Hozier was more than displeased with that man's behaviour as of late, especially not showing for a majority of their adopted sons proposal and planning. Kieran in Dutch's absence had offered to make trips around the city to gather goods to which Arthur gratefully agreed, it would be the first time Kieran could leave the camp grounds without Dutch tethering him down with an iron fist. You could tell by the twinkle in Kieran's eye that he was most excited to be able to actually escape the confines of the gang.

Midday soon rolled around. Arthur was at your side, messing with your velvety hair as you both took refuge in your shared room from prying eyes and endless questions, "It ain't gonna be a big fancy weddin', gonna have to have it here cause of the Pinkertons. We ain't got the money for anything much either-"

"Arthur." You paused him in his tracks, smiling up at him innocently, "I don't care about all of that. All I care about is being able to call you my husband. Nothing more, nothing less."

The idea of calling Arthur your husband tickled you. Two of the West's greatest Gunslingers unified in marriage - a danger to truly behold. Nevertheless, you were overjoyed to take Arthur's last name. Y/n Morgan. It had a nice ring to it.

"So, who's gonna be your best man?" You quizzed Arthur curiously, slowly laying downward to rest your head against the Cowboy's lap to which he began carding his fingers through your hair.

Arthur paused for a second, humming to himself. There was a slight nervous energy and you could see his jaw muscles working themselves, "Guess I'm stuck between John and Lenny..."

"Oh?"

"Lenny's a brilliant man and a great friend. The youngen' definitely has life to him, got me out of a few binds now. Dare I say he's probably one of the members I'm closest to- aside John." Arthur dug fingers into his stubble and scratched, indicating that he was deep in thought. It was one of the many small things he did that you took notice of with a sweet smile.

"Marston and me? We're practically brothers. I've known him fifteen years. Sure, he ran from us for a time but he's proven his loyalty. Ah- I don't know..."

"Well," you squinted slightly to get a rough idea of what you were going with, "Why don't you make one of them the ring bearer and the other your best man?"

Arthur's brow rose slightly, jaw parting in a little gasp of triumph before he turned his gaze to you with a wide grin, "You little genius!"

"Eh what can I say? I'm good with organisin'." Your shrug was half arsed with a smug smile plastered across your face. Quickly you were hoisted from Arthur's legs and your head embraced by his giant hands only for him to bring you upward, planting a heavy kiss against the tip of your nose. Arthur was obviously excited, it had you fluster and giggle sheepishly. After all this time with you swooning over eachother Arthur still found ways to make you shy and giddy.

"Well then Cowboy, if the weddin' is tomorrow you'd best get your arse off the bed and go organise your new ring bearer and best man!" Your eyes shifted to the sky outside, noting that midday had well and truly passed. There was still a lot to do and time was seeping through the cracks faster than you liked. Arthur took note of your suggestion with a low hum in agreement and a nod, gently shifting you aside. He scooted towards the door, paused, galloped back to place a soft kiss against your lips and was off once more, only this time he'd actually left. You could've sworn you heard a hushed giggle of excitement echoing down the hallway as he scampered down the stairs of the plantation house.

Rolling your eyes with amusement you hoisted yourself up and shifted yourself towards the outside balcony just ahead of you. You had already ran your plans by Miss Grimshaw and the girls, so you didn't need to go and make any last minute changes or decisions. You'd been up most nights to arrange that, so fatigue gripped you like the talons of an Eagle. You'd rather spend the rest of the day resting up for tomorrow.

Leaning your arms heavily against the banister of the balcony, a fresh cigarette finding your lips, you scanned the clearing below. You spotted Arthur over towards Pearson's stew pot exchanging happy conversation with Marston and Lenny. Grimshaw was pacing the entire camp with a keen eye, making sure the girls were hard at work on whatever it was they were tasked with; sewing clothes, fixing up the camp and discarding debris - you name it.

Javier, Bill and Swanson were exchanging sharp glares, their hands gripping firmly onto cards that they had tucked against their chest around an old wooden table. Whatever sort of card game they were playing - it was serious. You caught a glimpse of Kieran running his hand slowly through the mane of his own mount and surprisingly exchanging words with Sadie, the both of them smiling and giggling with eachother. Who'd have thought... Mrs Adler making amends with an ex-O'driscoll? Kieran was a fine soul, an anxious mess and hardly an O'driscoll at all. The poor kid couldn't even lift a gun without chewing five layers of skin from his lips. Nevertheless, you were happy the two were exchanging words without Sadie threatening to remove his jugular.

You struck the matchstick, carefully lit your fag and took a long drag, allowing the smoke to escape through your nostrils as you took a deep sigh outwards.

"Hey." The voice behind you had you almost drop your freshly lit cigarette from your lips, though the paper had luckily stuck to the bottom of your lip, flopping around before you nestled it back into the left hand corner of your mouth. Spinning, you came to face the man who had almost ruined your moment of tranquility: John Marston. He had left Arthur and Lenny's side some time ago whilst you studied the rest of the camp, and now Arthur was sat beside Hozier under the canopy of one of the tents, his arms flinging to and fro in some mad explanation of god knows what.

You turned your attention back to John, patting the wooden rail beside you, inviting him to take a spot beside you, "almost made me drop my cigarette," You gave John a narrowed glare, watching as his expression went from relaxed to anxious within a matter of seconds as he met your gaze, "Oh- sorry y/n I didn't mean to scare ya-"

"Oh shut up ya big wuss I'm only jokin'!" You gave Marston a gentle shove against the shoulder, earning an amused smirk from one of your best friends within the camp. Aside from Arthur, John had always been there for you. He saw the chemistry between the both of you before anyone else, noticed the way you both gazed at eachother and even teased Arthur a great deal around camp before you'd even been invited into the gang. You couldn't even count the amount of times John had saved your arse on missions, and whenever a robbery had came up, it was always you, John and Arthur to take the call of the wild. You as a trio were truly a force to be reckoned with.

"Thanks for not gettin' me in shit today. I'm really happy for you both y'know," John had whipped out a cigarette of his own, now giving you a hearty shove whilst tweaking his eyebrows, "Jokes on you, I've got premium cigarettes! Not those flimsy shit sticks you got hanging out that gobby mouth of yours, half-eye."

"Uhm!" Letting out a playful snigger you crossed your arms and removed the now stumpy butt from your mouth, pinging it from the balcony with an agile flick of your fingers, "I'll have you know I still have both my eyes, Marston." You made emphasise on 'Marston', earning a soft chuckle in response as he rest his arms against the beam of the balcony, eyes tracing the camp to find Arthur now red faced and scoffing at a very pleased looking Hozier whome fiddled with Arthur's ring finger, tongue poking from the corner of his mouth in concentration. Your eyes too caught the scene, smiling softly at the sight before you, "Hey, does this mean I get to call you brother now too?"

John tipped his head, his bottom lip pronounced a little more in thought as he spat his own cigarette butt from his mouth and turned to face you, "Y'know what, I think it does."

"Well then, I'm gaining a pretty cool brother tomorrow too," You shot John a little smile, watching with a smirk of amusement as John blinked, stood and began to imitate himself throwing up. He then snorted a laugh, opening his arms and beckoned you in for a friendly embrace, "All things considered though Y/n, that man down there?" His thumb pointed down towards a now very chipper Arthur listening to Hozier's rambling. You gazed down with a soft smile and returned your attention to John, taking a step back with hands against hips leaning heavily to one side as John continued, "He loves you. Loves you one hell of a lot... don't think I've ever seen him this happy before."

"Well it's a good thing I love him one hell of a lot too then ain't it?" A buzzing sensation passed through your spine as you sagged yourself halfway over the banister, sighing happily as you watched Arthur and Hozier, a rosy blush filling your cheeks.

John slowly nodded, "Yeah, it is good. Everythin's good... well, Arthur made me his best man and Lenny the ring bearer so I guess I'll be off. Got plannin' to do."

As John went to leave, you turned your attention to him, calling for him to stop before he disappeared. John peered round the corner of the balcony doors at you, a questioning gaze.

You simply smiled, a genuine smile of happiness and thanks as you softly sighed, "Thanks for keepin' me company. You know you mean a lot to us both, right?"

John huffed a sigh, a wide smile in response, "Yeah, I know. You know where to find me if you two need a helpin' hand." And then he slipped away, presumably in search of his own little family.

Taking in a deep breath whilst steadying yourself on the rails with your hands, taking in the rather relaxed atmosphere, you dipped your head in comfort, a gentle smile dawning your features. All was well, all was pleasant... the sound of chittering Sparrows and the low rumble of Alligators brought a rather fair harmony to the Bayou, you'd all by now gotten acquainted with the smell of rotten bog water, and for what it was worth, everything felt perfecrly balanced for once in such a long time.

Arthur turned his attention up towards you, watching on as the golden rays of sunlight glowed against your soft features, awestruck and beaming a lovestruck smile as the wind caught your hair ever so gently.

Nothing could encompass this feeling - such a rarity that you longed to last forever.

Pure bliss.

#arthur morgan #rdr2 arthur #rdr2 community #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption #rdr2 #arthur morgan x reader #red dead redemption 2

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little-diable · 3 years ago

Text

Two Birds - Harry Styles (smut)

It's been a really fucking long time since I've last written for Harry. This came randomly to me while listening to Adele's new album. Please show this some love. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Set in the 19th century, Harry - the reader's husband - is away on a diplomatic mission for the king, he writes her a letter, reaching her on a day where she feels awfully lonely. But perhaps he comes home quicker than she had originally thought.

Warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, slight breeding kink, blowjob, even though its set in the past, I tried to stay away from heavy historical details (I know you guys aren't the biggest fans of my history stuff), struggles with breathing due to a tighter corset, flashbacks are written in cursive

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!reader (about 4.2k)

header by @hidingsikki

Her feet were still wet, rubbing against the warm carpet as she held her cup of tea close. (Y/n)’s eyes were focused on the big window in front of her wooden table, watching the rain pour from the dark sky. The trees were swaying - due to the wind blowing through their leaves - the endless seeming meadow was now covered by water, about to disappear beneath the surface.

Moments ago she had been out there, running through the grass with her hand tightly grasping his letter and her feet bare, praying that she could shield his words from the rain. Her white gown was soaked through, clinging to her body, weighing her down as she kept on staring at the world outside.

“Miss?” Sophie’s voice echoed through the study, waiting for (y/n) to reply, but she didn’t even tilt her head towards her maid, not sparing her a glance, “He should be back soon, you won’t even notice the time passing by. I promise.”

But she did notice. Every second that was fading by felt longer than the one before. He had been gone for weeks, away to seal deals for the king. Days like these were making her hate whoever had decided that a woman like her couldn’t follow her husband onto trips for the king's business. Sitting pretty with nothing to do besides letting time pass, left her aching, missing him more with the rising sun and the sleeping moon.

Years ago they had moved into this home, their residence, bigger than any house she had ever lived in before. The high, white walls would stare at her whenever she was on her own, the expensive, golden chairs that could be found in almost every room were all too uncomfortable for her to sit on. A few paintings had been hung up on the walls, paintings of people she didn’t even know, keeping her company in the silent hours of the day. The only painting she could bear to look at was one of her and Harry, they had been by far younger than this year’s number, oblivious to the path that was awaiting them.

“We should find a dry dress for you, Miss.” The elderly woman stepped closer, carefully placing her hand down on (y/n)’s shoulder, hoping that she would give in. With a heavy heart (y/n) set her steaming cup of tea down, following Sophie up the stairs, into her bedroom. She hadn’t slept in her bed since Harry had left, couldn’t lay in a bed without him close, plagued by the nightmares of him dying, bleeding to death due to a sword's wound.

Both had always known that working for the king meant living an uneasy life. No matter how much money and wealth they had, just the simple thought of not being able to say goodbye to one another left (y/n) crying out in pain. She wasn’t made for a life on her own, wasn’t born to become a widow this young.

“Should I run you a bath? You must be freezing.” Sophie had been with (y/n) ever since she was a child, caring for her as a mother would do. A mother she had never known, a mother that was a stranger to the small child she had once been. (Y/n) had never understood what love was supposed to feel like, true love, at least till she had crossed paths with him. Harry Styles, a man in the king’s service.

“Thank you, Sophie.” (Y/n) didn’t move as she stood naked in the bathroom, waiting for Sophie to prepare the bath, letting hot water fill the white tub, while drops of oil fell into the water, making the sweetest scent fill the room. Wordlessly (y/n) stepped into the tub, the water swallowed her whole, making heat stream through her cold limbs. “Would you mind bringing me his letter? I’ve left it on my table.”

Sophie returned shortly after, she pushed the letter into (y/n)’s outstretched hand, leaving the room to give her some privacy to read the words he had hastily scribbled down. It took her a few moments to break the blue seal of wax he had poured onto the white paper, hoping that his secrets would stay hidden from curious eyes. A heavy sigh spilt from (y/n)’s lips as she let the envelope fall to the ground, unfolding the letter with her trembling hands.

“My dearest love,” her words echo through the bathroom as she began to read the letter out loud, imagining Harry sitting right there with her, telling her about his travels and the people he had met thus far. “France is unusually warm around this time of the year. I can only imagine the smile on your lips as you’d bask in the heat of the sun.”

A laugh bubbled out of (y/n) as she thought of the rain that kept on pouring down onto their land, by now she was used to Britain's cold weather, the neverending darkness that had wrapped itself around the monarchy. France had always been a country she longed for, back then when she was a child her father would often travel overseas and return with the finest dresses and sweets for her and her siblings to indulge in. How she had hoped that one day she could explore the country by herself.

“There are not enough words to describe how much I miss you. One can only hope that deep down your heart feels the same pain whenever I am away from you. Though I plan on coming back next week. Till then, let Sophie care for you. With all my love.” Just now she felt a tear dripping from her eye, the letter fell to the ground, resting on top of the envelope. It had been too long without his touch teasing her body, without the lips he would press against every exposed part of her body, shamelessly loving the woman he had married as he had been a mere boy.

(Y/n)’s mind took her back to the last time she had seen him, how she had begged him to return to her, very well knowing that he wasn’t safe, no matter how many guards would follow him. Perhaps she would fear for his life just the same if she were by his side, though just the emptiness he had left inside her body was enough for her to curse the king.

Her hands rubbed her arms, clinging to the heat like a bird that had travelled through a storm, hoping to dry its feathers in the few rays of sunshine. But (y/n) wasn’t free as a bird, couldn’t travel wherever her heart desires, she was stuck, left alone while the man she loved was overseas, writing her letters every now and then. Letters she couldn’t reply to due to his daily changing travel route.

“Miss?” Sophie’s soft voice cozied her back to reality, puffy eyes finding her concerned ones, reaching her hand out for the woman to take. Wordlessly Sophie squeezed (y/n)’s hand, momentarily making her feel like she was a child again, finding comfort in her maid’s embrace, hoping that she could take all her pain away. “Come, it’s time for dinner.”

“Another one?” She still felt the wine buzzing through her system, a smile tugged on her lips as Harry’s hand danced down her spine, toying with the lacing of her dress. “Just one.”

“But there’s no music.” Both had returned from another soiree about half an hour ago, though neither Harry nor (y/n) wanted to stop dancing just yet. It had been a carefree evening, without any obligations, talks about war or money. Carefree like two birds finding their rest in the evening after a tiring flight across the country. But deep down the two knew that another harsh day would unheralded roll upon them, like snow falling from an October sky.

“That has never stopped us before, has it?” Harry’s fingers began to undo her dress, letting it fall to the ground with a heavy thud. She was left dressed in her white undergarments, covering the skin he wanted to admire with his curious, green eyes. “Now that doesn’t feel like dancing.” The teasing undertone of her voice left him smiling, working on his shirt, desperate to free himself from his clothes.

“The dress is ready, Miss.” Sophie once again had to rip the young woman out of her daydreams, something she was used to by now, eyes following her as she stepped closer to the gown (y/n) was supposed to wear. Another soiree was waiting for her, a gathering she’d attend without her husband close. Even though her heart begged her to stay at home, her obligations called for her to wear a smile so bright to win over the men the king was supposed to make deals with.

A few days had passed since his letter had found its way to her. Every day, before going to bed, she’d read through his words again, hoping that some kind of magic would make him appear in her empty study. Cramped into her chair she would try to find rest with her mind set on Harry.

“Thank you, Sophie. Tell Carl that we will leave in ten, please.” (Y/n) shook her off, wanting to spend some more time on her own, to put on her jewellery, the ring and necklaces Harry had gifted her over the years. Her empty face stared at her through her small mirror, it took her a few tries to make a smile appear on her lips, faking her excitement, hoping that she could fool the ones around her.

The sound of Sophie singing a tune momentarily managed to sidetrack (y/n)’s thoughts, letting her eyes flutter close to drown in her memories. Her ship had sunken to the ocean’s ground years ago, as she had been forced to accept a life without much freedom, chained to the old raft with invisible ropes she couldn’t cut through. Not even Harry’s will to give her as much freedom as her heart desires had been enough.

One last time (y/n) smiled at Sophie as she left her study, walking out of the house towards Carl and her waiting carriage, “Evening, Miss.” With his hand outstretched for her to take, he helped her, while Sophie was making sure to lift her gown off the ground. A silent “enjoy your evening” left the maid before the carriage began to take (y/n) through the forest, towards the city where she’d spend the upcoming hours.

“Do we have to?” Her whines echoed through the bedroom, she wasn’t dressed, kept her body hidden behind her covers.

“We do, you know that. Come, I’ll call for Sophie.” Harry couldn’t help his smile from widening, fingertips dancing up and down her naked arms, towards her neck, to pull her in for a kiss. Momentarily both got lost in their emotions, stretching out the passing seconds with their tongues tangled. “I see what you’re trying to do. But you won’t succeed tonight, you temptress.”

“Don’t you love me?” Harry’s chuckles bubbled out of him as he cupped her cheek, “I do, that’s why I am doing all of this. Just for you.” (Y/n) rolled her eyes as Harry left their bedroom, already dressed in his brightly coloured suit. Her words died on her tongue, too exhausted to bicker with him, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to stay away from the festive.

She had never been a fan of having to visit yet another house filled with drunk people, her only joy was dancing to the newest music, meeting musicians from all over the world - while her husband got tangled in talks about the king and his upcoming plans. (Y/n) would feel awfully alone without him by her side, praying that he would find her to fill her still empty dance card.

“I won’t stay for long,” (y/n) murmured with her gaze set on the house Carl had driven her to. She could tell that it was filled with strangers and only a few familiar faces she had seen before. With a sigh spilling from her lips, (y/n) entered the house, preparing herself for endless talks about news, the gown she was wearing and the things she had missed.

It didn’t take long till somebody called her name, pulling her in to ask about Harry, her wellbeing and their plans for starting a family. For months the society around them had speculated about her pregnancy, wondering when she’d give him an heir to his line, not understanding how she could stop her husband from impregnating her. None of them could see why she wanted to wait for Harry to make it through this turbulent time, not wanting to stay at home with a child that would barely know its father.

Ever since they had entered the holy band of marriage, Harry and (y/n) have talked about children, understanding their reasons for waiting. Even though she had been the one that had begged him to wait, she now felt herself thinking more and more about her future children, names they’d give them and how they would look like.

Perhaps she would sit down with him again, to talk about starting their family, about the questions that were still left to answer. Question she could ask him if he’d make it back from France, finding shelter in her arms like a wanderer hiding from a clashing thunderstorm, a thunderstorm filled with talks about politics, about what if’s and questions about arising wars. Nothing (y/n) wanted to plague her mind with.

“You look awfully lonely.” The man’s voice wrapped itself around her, once or twice before she had seen him before, forgetting his name before he even got the chance to introduce himself. (Y/n) didn’t reply, let her eyes wander over his features, hoping to find a way to talk herself out of this. “I’m not, but thank you.”

She wanted to turn away from him, planning her way out of the room, wondering if Carl was somewhere nearby. “My apologies, Miss. I bet you’re missing your husband.” (Y/n) wanted to ask him about Harry, wondering why he was mentioning him around her, but as her eyes spotted Carl, she murmured a small “if you'll excuse me” and disappeared from his gaze.

Her lungs were burning, struggling to keep on breathing as her feet carried her out into the cold evening. Wordlessly she heaved herself into the carriage, closing the door before Carl could ask her about her wellbeing. As the carriage began to drive, (y/n) ripped her scarf off, hands trying to undo the tight lacing of her corset, feeling as if she had forgotten how to breathe.

The uneasy drive did little to calm her down, weighing her down with every rocky path the big wheels struggled to drive through, shaking her from left to right. Curses spilt from her lips, hands trying to hold onto the red, satin cover, burying her fingernails in the fabric. Her eyes fluttered close, grounding herself as she focused on her surroundings, the forest that kept whispering to her, the stars that shone down onto her piece of land, the neighing horses that filled the silence.

From afar she could see her residence, it was unusually alight, rooms filled with bright light. It took her a moment to spot the all too familiar carriage that had been parked in front of the entrance. Her heart skipped a few beats, realizing that he was home - at least that’s what she was hoping for.

(Y/n) flung herself out of the carriage before it could roll to a stop, holding onto her gown to stop herself from tripping over the heavy fabric. His name rolled off her tongue, filling the house with her voice. She counted till three, hastily running up the stairs towards their bedroom. But he wasn’t there, empty as the day he had left their residence. (Y/n) debated calling for Sophie, to help her out of her tight dress, but her racing heart didn’t allow her to stop searching for him.

Once again she called his name, like a child searching for its mother, like a bird trying to find its way home, hoping that its partner would guide them through the darkness. Down the stairs she ran, kicking off her shoes before she rounded the corner, stepping into her study. The room was just as empty as the bedroom. Slowly she lost hope, wondering where Sophie was, the only one that could probably give her information about Harry’s whereabouts.

She tried the kitchen, though without any luck. Straight past Harry’s study she ran out into the dark garden. Her breaths hitched in her chest, hand pressed against her tumbling heart as she came to a stop. Once again she called his name.

“Love?” Harry’s raspy voice filled the evening air, he was leaning against the doorway, dressed in a white linen shirt, dark trousers and riding boots. With a cry bubbling out of her, (y/n) flung herself into his embrace, face nuzzled into the crook of his neck, deeply inhaling his scent. Harry smelled like home, like the sweetest lavender fields, like an orange ripening in the summer heat, like a freshly mowed spring meadow. “I was calling for you.”

The words got swallowed by her heavy breaths, only lifting her head as he murmured her name, lips crashing against hers, finally reuniting their bodies. She buried her hands in his locks, tugging on his roots to pull him even closer. Both had endless nights to catch up to, nights where he would love her, nights where he would fuck her like no other man ever could. Nights where their hearts would beat in sync.

“I was scared, thinking you wouldn’t make it home this time.” Her confession left his heart aching. Harry could only shake his head, kissing her once again, “I will always make it back to you. I promised you to love you till our last day and I intend to keep my promise, petal.”

“Take me to bed, Harry.” He didn’t need to be told twice, Harry picked her up and threw her over his shoulder, carrying her back inside, up the stairs to the bedroom she had barely spent any time in. Carefully he placed her back down on her feet, turning her around so that he could help her out of her dress. Every time he undid one knot, Harry pressed a kiss against her shoulders, watching goosebumps rise on her skin. His fingertips ghosted over the swell of her breasts, teasing her for a moment or two.

Cold fingers tugged on her undergarments, not wanting to waste any more time. Silent nights had been filled by his thoughts of her, her body, her soft voice, the moans that would claw through her whenever he buried his cock inside her. Harry was known to be patient and strategic, but all those things would let go of him whenever he would think of her. His love, his woman, his petal.

“Let me,” gently she pushed his hands away, undoing his trousers, pulling them to the ground with her following, dropping to her knees in front of him. (Y/n) firmly grasped his cock, spitting onto the red tip, watching her saliva run down his girth, dancing along his veins. Harry’s moans reverberated through their bedroom as she began to pump him, slowly taking him into her mouth, hallowing her cheeks around him, “Fuck, I’ve missed your mouth, thought about it almost every night.”

His confession left her clit pulsing, eyes meeting his piercing ones, keeping eye contact- even as he jerked his hips, making her choke around him. The slow nod of her head encouraged him to fuck her mouth, head thrown back as he slowly got lost in the feeling. One could clearly tell that they had missed one another, desperation was laced in their glances, filling every corner of this room.

(Y/n) kept on swallowing around him, letting her tongue dance along his skin, making sure that he was satisfied. She wanted to please him, wanted to give into his every desire.

“Gonna stop, I want to cum inside of you.” The words clawed through him, Harry gave her mouth another thrust, before he slowly pulled away, cock leaving her warm cheeks with a wet pop. He helped her onto her feet before he pushed her onto their bed, climbing on top of her, pinning her down with his big hands.

With their mouths fastened together, he let his fingers dance down her body, till they’ve reached her core, exploring the most intimate part of her body. She was soaked, folds glistening with her arousal, begging him to fill her. Without another warning Harry thrust two fingers into her tightness, stretching her walls as his cold rings rubbed against her skin. (Y/n)’s moans were swallowed by his kisses, drowning out her every sound, while his fingers kept on fucking her.

It was a simple kind of magic, really, though the sounds that left them both began to pull them closer, forcing them together like a bee finding a flower to rest in. She was the flower whose scent had called for him from miles away, formally begging him to give in. Even though Harry hated to cede it, hated that he had given into a woman’s calling, he wouldn’t change their love for the world. Not the richest gold, not the finest wine could force him away from her.

The second he pulled his fingers out of her, a certain kind of void began to stretch through her, already missing his touch, fearing that he would evaporate into thin air in front of her eyes, “Are you alright, petal?” (Y/n) pulled him in for a searing kiss, wordlessly answering his questions with her legs wrapped around his waist.

His eyes drew to hers as he slowly pushed into her cunt, slow as the breeze that stroked the trees of their forest he began to fuck her. Harry wasn't in any rush, wanted to stay buried inside of her for the rest of his days. Pain stretched itself through her flesh cage, clearly telling her that she had missed him, no longer used to his girth, to the feeling of him stretching her walls. “Jesus Christ, remind me to never leave you again.”

(Y/n) could only whine, not sparing his word any attention as Harry began to pull out of her, only to pound into her heat again and again. A small rocking of his hips, waiting for the both of them to get used to one another again, gradually became faster, connecting their bodies as their skin met in loud tunes. Their moans increased with every thrust, dancing around their bodies like stars twinkling in the northern sky. Dark though full of comfort, shielding them from whatever was awaiting them outside their door.

Whenever his tip would nudge against her sweet spot, his name rumbled through her, only urging him on to keep his pace fast and steady, not faltering till she’d let go around him. In an almost bruising grasp, Harry clamped his hand down on her waist, keeping her pressed against the mattress, needing her to hold still as he slowly but surely pushed her over the edge.

“Fill me up, Harry, please. I’m ready, ‘want to carry your child.” Her words were met with a deep growl, for a second his movements stalled, eyes finding hers, silently asking if she was sure. But the ‘please’ that bled from her lips was all he needed. Harry kept impaling her on his cock, ripping her apart with every ferocious thrust.

He was ravishing her, littering her body in loving kisses, making sure to fill the emptiness he had left inside of her for the past weeks. Missing her wasn’t easy, (y/n) had been on his mind whenever the wind would change directions, teasing his skin like her fingertips on an early morning.

One last moan left her, eyes fluttering shut to hold onto the feeling that flooded through her without a warning. Like a lighthouse caught in a storm, her body began to tremble, walls about to collapse, tumbling to the ground with a scream so high that even the night outside their walls found no strength to drown out her sounds.

With a punishing pace, Harry followed her down the edge, cum spilling into her heat, clinging to her warm walls. Waves of adrenaline rushed through them, bodies staying glued together, even as he collapsed on top of her. Their sweaty skin rubbed against one another, clinging to covers. But Neither Harry nor (y/n) seemed to care about the mess they were making, basking in one another’s embrace with a racing heart and an empty mind. She felt his cum dripping out of her as Harry pulled away from her body, falling to the spot beside her, hand instantly finding hers.

“I don’t think I can ever leave you again.” It took a while for her to reply, running short on her breaths. But the smile that tugged on her lips seems to satisfy Harry just enough. Tonight they would talk about his travels, about the people he had met and the places he had visited, while she would rest in his arms - like two birds finally reconnected after a harsh winter.

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#Harry Styles smut #two birds #Harry Styles imagine #Harry Styles

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pixelmensupremacy · 3 years ago

Text

Under the full moon

Chapter 1

Summary: (Y/N) is a witch living in desolate parts of Romania. One night an event occurs that is bound to turnd her life around and the one of infamous captain of the Hound Wolf squad - Chris Redfield.

Word count: Slightly above 1K

A/N: Here goes my first post. I hope I'll write longer chapters and update more frequently. I've had the idea of a werewolf!chris for like half a year now. Eitherway I hope you enjoy!

Midnight was approaching as the wind howled, composing a deafening melody that chanted in-between tress and rocks all the way to the abandoned houses in the eerie village. The moon stood bright and high up in the night sky, dimming all the stars in near distance. It’s silver light illuminated on the pale snow providing visibility. A wave of thick mist was crawling down the mountains, slowly making its way to the village and the nearby trees.

(Y/N) made her way through the woods, taking advantage of the opportunity to fully take in the atmosphere before she finally headed home. Taking a deep inhale, she enjoyed the feeling of the fresh cool air filling her lungs until an unusual sound caught her attention. It wasn’t abnormal to hear strange noises coming from the bushes especially in the area closest to the village. For quite some time creatures akin to werewolves wandered around the village, including the nearby woods. Luckily her home was far enough for her to avoid the blood-thirsty creatures.

Tugging at her dark green cloak she shifted her attention to the supposed source of the noise only to see nothing threatening in particular, still she could sense something was off. After years of practicing her craft and living in this god forgotten place her intuition was more than developed. She sped up her pace, the wind blew through her locks crashing a few snowflakes to her heated face, resulting in them melting right away. A nervous wave took over her form, spreading heat throughout her body. The woman tried to take control over her thoughts and feelings, knowing that she will soon be safe and sound in her home.

After what felt like hours of walking she was finally able to make out the familiar silhouette of a cozy cottage. Seeing the light coming from the small window, she tugged at her skirt further quickening her steps until they turned into running. By the time she reached the entrance she was out of breath and her heart was heavily pounding in her chest. As soon as she shut the door she shut all the curtains to make sure that no unwanted attention was draw to her home.

Taking a moment to relax her nerves, she took a few deep breaths. Doing so she sensed an alluring sent that caught her attention, reminding her of the task at hand. Making her way to the kitchen she took a handful of the herbs from her basket. (Y/N) lifted the lid of the pot, a puff of steam hit her face, delicious aroma tingled her nose resulting in her mouth watering.

‘This better be worth the search for herbs in the middle of the night.’ Her train of thought was unceremoniously interrupted by a bang. At first the woman didn’t think much of it, assuming it was a branch hitting the window, but then the same sound repeated itself this time much louder and desperate. Alerted she turned her full attention to the front door. As she was approaching the door her body tensed, (Y/N) could sense a presence from the other side.

With her ear pressed against the solid wood, she listened carefully, but to no avail. Just as she was about to return to the kitchen, thinking it was just her imagination playing tricks on her, a hoarse male voice broke the silence.

“Is someone inside?”

She froze, her brain unable to process who that was.

‘His voice definitely didn’t belong to any of the villagers I knew, meaning he probably wasn’t local. But what could bring an outsider all the way to a village in eastern Europe.’

An audible thud brought her back to the present moment. (Y/N) cursed herself for not getting a door with a peephole before finally deciding to open said door. Doing so she saw a large figure pooled on my front porch. It was a man dressed in all dark clothing that hugged his massive form. Dread filled her heart by the sight, she couldn’t just leave the guy to freeze to death, if she did then she would have to put away his remains before a lycan used the opportunity to have him for breakfast.

Her empathy got the best of her and the woman concluded it would be best if she spared him the coldness of the Romanian winter. Fortunately, he wasn’t hostile at least in this state. Unfortunately he was far too heavy for her to carry inside.

With a lot of effort, she succeeded in dragging the guy near the fire place and the fact that he was stiff as a rock didn’t help her much. As (Y/N) placed a blanket over his form to warm him up she noticed a damp stain on his shoulder. Taking a more careful look she noticed a deep cut with blood, assumable his, smeared all over the turtleneck he wore. It looked horrible, but it wasn’t something a mix of herbs couldn’t fix or at least she hoped so. Worry glistered in her eyes by the thought of infection. For all she knew the outsider could’ve been bitten by a lycan.

Brushing away the thought of the worst case scenario, the woman scavenged through her belongings, looking something useful for guest.

‘I gotta clean this place someday.’ She grimaced as she knelt in front of the man, with a bandage in one hand and a jar filled with various herbs in the other. After spending a good minute delicately cleaning the wound, the woman poured the paste of herbs mixed some moon water, then she secured the cut. Feeling proud of her handiwork she finally went to finish her dinner.

Miraculously the soup hadn’t burnt, in fact it was perfectly cooked.

‘Hopefully I won’t run out of luck soon.’ She thought to herself.

Glancing over the mysterious stranger (Y/N) noticed her cat investigating their guest. Spleens must have woken up by the commotion and now she was catching up on her sleep in near radius of the man. Noting her cat’s behavior, the woman took the pot off the stove. Spleens rarely acted friendly towards any guest, if they even had any in the first place.

Chapter 2

#resident evil x reader #chris redfield #chris redfield x reader #werewolf!chris #resident evil fanfiction #female reader

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pixie88 · 3 years ago

Note

What would make Dean worry about not being "the sexy dad" type? He is trying his luck again, and maybe Teddy will have a sibling at the end of his efforts...

Would he start having doubts about his body? It has been a while since she has seen him in the buff...

Dad Bod

Chapter 7 - Teddy.

A/N | Sorry it’s been a while my LO has had a bad week sleeping and I was just too tired to get this chapter finished and out there. Thanks for this ask @secretaryunpaid I hope it reaches you expectations lovely. The next chapter of The Neighbour will be out Thursday.

Let me know what you loved and hated about this chapter!

I will only tag those that ask, so just pop me a message.

Summary | Dean feels a little insecure about his body.

Check out previous chapters Here!

Wattpad | Here.

Word count | 1.7k

Warnings | 18 + Only! Fluff & NSFW.

Pairings | Dean Winchester x Lyla Woods.

Enjoy!

2 weeks later...

Dean and Sam were back from another hunt, Dean was excited to get home to see his boy and cuddle him that extra bit tighter. The hunt went sideways, Dean didn't think he'd make it out of the vampire's nest alive at one point. Truth be told he was excited to see Lyla too, he had missed her in more ways than one, he even told Sam about their dates.

Finally pulling into the garage of the bunker he grabbed his bag making his way to see Teddy, who is tucked up in bed asleep. He places a kiss against his head and goes in search of Lyla, his knuckles wrap against the solid wood, "yeah?" he hears her call out, pushing the door open. She was putting the finishing touches to her make up, he smirks at her, "Hey, I'm back!" she looks over to him "Hi! Good hunt?" she continues doing her make up.

"Yeah, erm...you look nice!" his eyes roam over her, "I have a shift in forty minutes!" she smiles. He makes his way over to her "Oh! What if...you blow off work and we blow off some steam?" he winks at her in the mirror with a flirtatious smirk, "I would, but I've already taken the last two nights off because Teddy hasn't been well."

He disappointed which he tried to hide, "Oh, maybe tomorrow night?" his words a little lighter, "Oh, I'm heading out with Charlie! Maybe the night after?" she brushes her hair. "Yeah, sure!" he walks out of her room a little dishearten.

A week later...

They still hadn't had their night together.

Lyla was called in to work the night they were supposed to spend together and the night after that, the next night she was tired.

Dean walks into the kitchen in joggers and a black t-shirt, he sits opposite Sam, "hey do you think I look a little pudgy to you?" Sam looks over "what?" he quirks his brow at his brother.

"Do you think I'm getting a Dad bod?" Dean lifts his shirt, "What? No! Why?"

Dean sighs, "it's been over a week since Lyla and I have..." Sam abruptly cuts him off, "Dude!"

"Ok, but do you think she's gone off me?"

"What? Is that what you think?" Sam looks at his brother confused, "I don't know what to think, she's either working or she tired..." Sam chuckles, "ever think she might be tired because she's working and looking after a baby while you are out hunting!"

"I get that! I do..." Dean cuts off when Lyla walks into the kitchen with Teddy, Dean gets up from the table, gives Teddy a kiss "I'm going for a run!" Dean walks out the kitchen "is he ok?" Lyla calls over to Sam.

He sighs, "he'll kill me for telling you, he thinks you've gone off him because he has it in his head he's got a Dad bod!" Sam chuckles. "Really?" she can't quite believe what he's saying, she knows she's probably neglected him a bit lately, but she couldn't understand how he'd think she's no longer into him.

She had to think of a way to show him, that she is still into him.

The next day...

She told Sam her plan, he was happy to help, he would have Teddy for them.

That afternoon Dean comes home from a food run, "I got us some dinner from that vegan restaurant! I thought it might help me get into shape!" Dean calls out as he walks into the kitchen, where Sam is giving Teddy dinner "Dean? W-what you doing here?" Sam questions him.

Dean frowns "bringing everyone food!" he shook his head at his brother.

"N-no, I..well...I thought you were at the hotel?" Sam pinches his brows together.

"Hotel? What hotel? Where's Lyla?" he looks around the kitchen.

"I thought that's why she asked me to have Teddy.." Dean jaw clenches "Sam, where's Lyla?"

"Look, I heard her on the phone earlier booking a room. I thought she had booked it for you both..."

"What hotel?" Dean growled.

"The Oread in Lawrence.." Dean picks up his keys and makes his way back out. Sam pulls out his phone.

Sam: Dean's on his way. Have fun, don't worry about Teddy.

Lyla: Thanks so much again, did he fall for it?

Sam: A little too much, maybe :/

Three hours later...

Lyla orders another drink at the bar, while she waits for Dean. She has her tightest purple dress on with her black heels, underneath she has on her emerald green lacy lingerie, Dean's favourite.

She felt mean for letting him think the worst, but she wanted him to feel special. She notices him before he notices her, she pretends as if she didn't see him and turns back. She can hear his rushed footstep towards her, he drags the seat out next to her before taking a seat. She turns in his direction her leg fully on display, she smiles sweetly at him "Dean!"

He's brooding, "wasn't expecting me were you?!" he narrows his eyes at her, "actually...you are exactly who I'm expecting!" she smirks. His brows pinch together confused "why did you race down here, Dean?" she raises a brow at him.

"S-Sam said you booked a room here, considering we haven't in a while..I let my mind get the better of me! So you're not...?" the bartender places a beer in front of Dean. He looks up then down at his beer, "I told you, I was expecting you, Dean and only you! Sam told me what you said how you thought I had gone off you, and you thought you were gaining a Dad bod?"

He chuckles, "you two set me up?"

"I wanted to surprise you!"

"Surprise me?" he questions her.

"Well, Sam is baby sitting Teddy tonight and your Mom tomorrow night. While we have a Cave suite all to ourselves!" she bites her lip.

"So you weren't here to meet someone else?"

She laughs, "No, of course not! Look Dean, I don't know what this is between us, a relationship probably isn't something you want with your line of work. But I told you that night we slept together before Teddy, I don't sleep around. God, there wasn't even anyone between our first night and now!"

"No one at all?"

"Unless we are counting vibrators as person?" Dean chokes on his beer, she laughs, "what! A girl has needs too!" she teases him.

"Don't we all, sweetheart! You are wrong, a relationship isn't some I need with this job....." he pauses, taking a sip of his beer, "...but it's something I want. If you told me a year ago I would be in this life with a kid and a girlfriend, I would have laughed in your face, but now I have you and Teddy....I can't imagine my life without you both!" she blushes not believing her just called her his girlfriend.

"Look at you Dean Winchester getting all sappy!" she nudges him, "if you tell anyone I'll deny it!"

She gets up from her seat "well you will just have to find a way to keep me quiet won't you!" now she's stood in front of him, he can truly appreciate her outfit. She leans in, her lips brush as his ear "I'm in room three six eight!" she walks away, Dean gets up, hot on her heels.

She wipes her key card as soon as they enter the room, he pushes her back against the door. He presses his lips to hers, the air fills with his scent, she pushes off his jacket with his flannel shirt. The kiss makes the pair breathless, their lips fused together, his hands begin to roam over her.

He clutches a handful of her hair, the pads of his fingers glide up the inside of her thigh, she smirks against his lips.

She pushes him away a little, "ah, ah! I want you to see what I have on underneath first!" his eyes light up, "but I also want to see this so call dad bod." she grabs the hem of his t-shirt and pulls it up over his head. She racks her nails down over his chest to the top of his jeans, he sucks in a breath before she starts to unbuckle his belt.

"Well, if that's a Dad bod....Mister Winchester, I am a fan!" she let her dress fall to the floor, he hisses at the sight of her, "crap!" she places her hands on his chest pushing him towards the bed until the back of his knees hit the mattress.

She straddles his lap, cups his face and runs her thumb over his lips. His eyes are bright as he looks up at her, she crashes her lips against his and his hands grasp her hips. She pushes him down onto the mattress, her lips press against his pulse line before moving down over his chest and trailing further down.

Her fingers slip under the waistband of his boxers, she grasps his shaft before her mouth wraps around his tip. He bucks his hip, "crap...Lyla!" he clutches her hair again, moving her to his pace. Her tongue runs along his cock, he groans as she works against him, and he bucks his hips over and over again.

He pulls her up and pressed her against the bed, she smirks up at "hey, I wasn't done!" she teases him. "I am, sweetheart!" he pulls down her panties before running his member against her pearl, he captured her lips, and he thrust his hips forward pushing into her. She arches her back "fuck!" she moans against his lips, her nails rack down his back making his pace more frantic.

He hips piston forward over and over again, while their moans fill the room.

Later...

She's curled up against his chest, her fingers draw circles over his chest before she lifts her head propping it on her elbow, "Dean, you said earlier...I was your girlfriend?" a soft smile appears on his face, "of course. If that's ok?" he brushes her hair back from her face.

She bites her lip nodding, "I'm sorry if you feel I have neglected you, but you definitely don't have a Dad bod, and I haven't gone off you either!" she leans in pressing her lips to his before straddling him again.

They spend most the next morning in bed before a few spa treatments and dinner. They spent the rest of the night in bed.

This was them, they were a family.

A weeks later...

He had decorated the whole bunker in balloons and banners. She loved that he was just as excited as her that it was Teddy's first birthday.

She had been feeling sick all morning, but she was determined not to let it ruin Teddy's day...

Chapter 8

@secretaryunpaid @gloriousalmondvoiddreamer @palmaviolet @peonierose @reallyloudstudent @rookiemartin @deandreamernp @pixie-b

#dean x mc #dean winchester #Dean x Lyla #dean winchester fanfiction #teddy series #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fangirl #supernatural family #supernatural fanfic series #dad bod #chapter 7 #@pixie88 #@secretaryunpaid ask

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