#separate reader

[scribblesofagoonerr]

little lioness | buddy & monkey: double the trouble

summary: buddy get's to be leah's mascot for the game against the usa.

double the trouble masterlist

also, heads up in advance before you read this... it's 11k long, so it's a long one, i got a bit carried away writing it

"We're here! We're here! We gon' see Mummy and Monks'!" Your excitement is infectious as you impatiently stand outside Wembley stadium with Amanda, Berny and Jacob. 

You're dressed head-to-toe in your own mini England kit that has Williamson proudly printed on the back of it, along with a new pair of trainers that Jordan brought you during the week that has the cool trick of them lighting up as you walk.

"Someones' excited, aren't you?" Jacob teases.

"We gon' go in now?" You let out an impatient huff, not liking the idea of having to wait any longer than you already are having to do so.

"Soon, sweetheart. We just need to wait for everyone else to arrive," Amanda explains to you as she crouches down to your level, "Let's put your coat on now, shall we? It's getting cold isn't it."

You're definitely not a fan of being forced to wear your coat, not one bit.

Amanda's suggestion is more of a non-negotiable one unfortunately as she bundles you up in it, "You need to stay warm, sweetheart." She insists.

"Don' like it," Your overall enthusiasm is dampened by the fact you're being forced to wear it, "Wan' it off!" You pout dramatically, and attempt to tug at the sleeves of it.

"It needs to stay on," Amanda tells you in a tone of voice that is both gentle but firm as well, "You'll be able to take it off when you walk out onto the pitch."

"Wan' it off now," Your little face scrunches up in displeasure, as you continue to fight against the idea of wearing it, "Please, Nana. Off now."

"Darling, you have to keep your coat on," Berny tries to reason with you, "You don't want to get poorly before Santa visits, do you?"

"No," You murmur, you don't like the idea of being poorly when Santa does pay a visit but you really don't like wearing your coat either, "I don' like it, Gan'ma!"

However, it's clear that your protests are doing little to convince anyone.

"I'm sure you'll cope, munchkin," Jacob says, a smirk plastered on his face as he proceeds to playfully pull the hood over your head, "Can you still see?"

"Uncle J! Can' see now!" You whine while scowling at the older lad, who is still laughing about it, "Nana! Tell Uncle J off, he's bein' a meanie!"

"Oh is he? What's he like, eh?" Amanda chuckles, shaking her head as she gives Jacob a certain look, "Don't wind her up."

"Thank 'ou," You nod, satisfied with that before you decide to stick your tongue out at him, "Ou' gotta listen to Nana, Uncle J!"

Jacob holds both his hands up in mock surrender, "Alright, alright. I guess I have no choice now, do I?" He jokes.

"No! Ou' gotta listen and be nice!" You insist while you give him a glare that is scarily identical to Leah's, but it's never reserved for you, only Monkey when she's causing trouble as it's been said in the past.

Your favourite person gets into a lot of trouble, though, so she's always getting the glare.

"Oh, here they are!" Berny exclaims, gesturing to the group of people that are nearing you, your aunts, uncles and cousins all donned out in their own England shirts and scarves.

"Sorry, the traffic on the road was manic," One of your aunties explains, while they all exchange hugs with one another.

"Holly! Holly!" You squeal, excitedly racing towards the older girl and instantly latching your small arms around her legs, "We gon' see Mummy and Monkey!"

"Hi, Buddy!" Holly smiles, hoisting you up into her arms and adjusting you so you're sitting comfortably on her hip, "I know. Are you excited?"

"Yes!" You nod in triumph, not lasting long in her arms before you're wriggling and trying to get back down, only to run to your older cousin, Ben, who is chatting away to Jacob, "Ben!"

"Hiya, cheeky chops," The lad grins and ruffles your hair, "Wow, don't you look cool in your England kit, eh? Ready to walk out on the pitch?"

"Uh huh. I'm 'cited for it!" You tell them, practically vibrating with excitement as you bounce between all of the older adults all in the middle of their own conversations, "We go now?"

"Come on little miss impatient," Amanda chuckles, extending her hand out for you to take before you begin the climb up the steps to get to the stadium.

"I not impatient, Nana!" You insist, clutching a tight hold of her hand, though you're about half way there when you get fed up of walking, "I don' want to walk no more."

"Oh I guess one of us will just have to carry you, huh?" Jacob jokes, leaning down and scooping you up into his arms, "Uncle J to the rescue!"

"Thank 'ou, Uncle J!" You murmur, wrapping your arms around his neck while resting your head on his shoulder.

"You're welcome, munchkin," Jacob retorts, carrying you up the rest of the steps.

You continue to snuggle against him, relieved to be off the ground as you suddenly spot a large blown up picture of Leah hanging directly above your head, "Look, look, there's my Mummy!" You stretch your little fingers to gesture towards it.

"Oh yeah, so it is!" Berny smiles at your general excitement, "It won't be long until you can see her for real now, darling."

"Yeah!" The mention of that instantly lifts your mood, considering you haven't seen Leah nor Monkey since the start of the week - You had spent the majority of the week with Jordan, and now you'll finally be able to see them again, "And Monks' as well!"

"And Monks, of course," Amanda nods, listening to your animated chatter, "I bet your big sister will be so happy to see you again, won't she?"

"Uh huh! I 'cited to see her!" You exclaim, happy about the chance to see your favourite person soon enough.

You make it all the way to the top of the steps with Jacob holding you in his arms, and your eyes are wide as you take in the large crowd of fans all dressed in England shirts, hats and scarves.

Although, there's some that are wearing a badge that you don't recognise, and you're confused who they are.

"Bit busy, ain't it?" Ben questions aloud.

"Only a bit," Jacob chuckles, while keeping a tight hold of you so you don't fall, "Isn't this game meant to be sold out?"

"I think so," Holly chimes in after a few seconds, "It'll be better when we're inside and able to sit down." She adds.

You pass through a brief check in with security before you all head to the friends and family section of Wembley. 

“Think I'll head to the bar to grab a drink,” Ben brings up the idea, spotting the bar. 

"Me wan' a drink as well!" You pipe up in the conversation, lifting your head from Jacob's shoulder.

"Oh you, do you?" Ben grins at you, "Well I can do you a fruit shoot, or orange juice, or apple juice. What do you fancy?" He asks.

You ponder the question for a few seconds, resting your little finger on your chin and tap it, "Fruit shoot, please!"

"You got it, cheeky chops!" The older lad nods in agreement, "One fruit shoot, coming right up!"

"Nana! Nana!" You shout aloud, trying to get her attention while she has a conversation with a member of the family, "Bens' getting me a fruit shoot!" You tell her like it's the best news you've received all day.

Amanda turns and gasps in mock excitement, "Is he? Wow! Aren't you a lucky girl!" She retorts, "Remember to tell him thank you."

"Thank 'ou Ben!" You tell the older lad, who just chuckles and ruffles your hair much to your displeasure, "Hey! Don' touch my hair. It get ruined!"

Ben held his hands up in mock-surrender, "Sorry, cheeky chops."

"So 'ou should be!" You scowl at him and attempt to be intimidating, "Don' touch it again, or you'll be in trouble!"

"Alright, I won't touch it again," Ben agrees, trying to stifle his laughter, "I'll go and get you that drink now, shall I?" He doesn't wait for your reply, before starting to dip off in the direction of the bar.

"I'll come with you, just give me a second," Jacob tells Ben, gently plonking you back down on the floor, "Down you go, munchkin." You're not happy about being put down, but at least you can run around without getting lost now.

And then you remember you're still wearing your coat, which you're not happy about.

"Nana," You whine and tug on Amanda's hand to get her attention, pulling her from her conversation with another lady, who you vaguely recognise as Keira's mum, Tracy, "Nana, coat off now, please."

"Hello there, Buddy!" Tracy greets you in a friendly tone of voice, "Are you excited to be here, and watch the match?"

"Uh huh! I walk out on the pitch with Mummy!" You tell her, nodding your head a little bit, wriggling to try and get free from the horrible coat, "Off, Nana!" You insist.

Amanda chuckles, crouching down to undo the zip on your coat, "Is that better now, huh?" She asks, taking your coat and holding it in her arms, "Let Nana know when you get cold again, please, okay?"

"I no cold, it' okay!" You insist, twirling around in a circle a few times, "When can I gets' to see Mummy?"

"Sooner than you think, bubba," You instantly recognise the familiar voice straight away and spin around, your eyes are wide and you don't waste a single second to dart straight for you.

"Here she is," Amanda chuckles, watching you as you get even more excited, "See? I told you that you would see her soon, didn't I?"

"Mummy!" You're vibrating with excitement as Leah leans down and scoops you up into her arms, "'Ou're 'ere! I missed 'ou so much!"

"Oh, I've missed you as well, bubba," Leah squeezes you tightly as she holds you in her arms, reluctant to let go of you considering it's been a whole week since she's seen you, "Have you had a good time staying at Mama's house?"

"Uh huh! Lots' of fun!" You insist as you nod your head in agreement, before you gasp when you look at her, "Mummy! I look just like 'ou! See?" You’re almost identical, both in England kits as you point to the crest on your own kit.

Leah gasps playfully in realisation, "Wow, so you do! You're my very own little mascot! You just need my captain’s armband, and then you’ll look exactly like me, won't you?" She bounces you in her arms, which makes you burst into a fit of giggles. "Are you excited to walk out onto the pitch with me?"

You nod in agreement, "I 'cited for it, Mummy!" Even though you might only be three years old, you’ve had the fortunate luck of being able to be a mascot on several different occasions - for Leah, Jordan and even your favourite person, Monkey.

Today was special though, at least so you had been told that - England were playing at home at Wembley Stadium.

"Good, I'm glad," Leah smiles and moves a stray strand of hair out of your face, "It's going to be very loud out there with lots of flashing lights and things, but Mummy can hold you in her arms if you want?"

"That' okay, I want to walk!" You insist, your fingers fumbling with the necklace that she has around her neck that has your birthstone in it, "We see Monks' as well?"

"Of course, she's been driving me insane about when she's going to see you," Leah dramatically exaggerates, "And I have a surprise for you as well, bubba." She states, looking over you to smile at Amanda, like they're having a private conversation between the two of them.

Little did you know that Leah had arranged to have you spend the rest of camp with her and Monkey, so instead of going home after the match with Amanda, Jacob and Berny like you thought, instead you would be travelling back to St. George’s park with Leah, Monkey and the rest of the Lionesses.

You were of course unaware of the fact that Leah had been struggling without you around, and with the date looming of what would have been the birth date of the baby her and Jordan were expecting before you came along, times were increasingly hard and emotional right now, and with special permission from Sarina, you would be allowed to join them.

You gasp in excitement, your eyes wide, "A 'prise? What is it?" You question, keen to know.

"It wouldn't be a surprise if I were to tell you already, would it?" Leah jokes, tickling your sides' where she knows you're the most ticklish, "You'll have to wait and see until after the game, okay?"

"Okay," You pout, not liking the idea of having to wait all that long.

"It's only a bit longer," Leah playfully pokes your nose to get a smile out of you, "You can wait to find out then, can't you?"

"I 'spose so," You reluctantly agree with her, though you still wish that you can know sooner, "Look, Nana. Mummy's here!" You tell the older woman, excitedly, as if she doesn't already know she's here, with you all.

"I know, sweetheart," Amanda smiles, handing your coat over to Leah to take, "Hi bubba." She greets Leah, exchanging a hug with you still settled in her arms, because you refuse to be away from her right now.

"Hey, look who it is!" Ben speaks aloud, walking back through with drinks in his hand, "Here's your fruit shoot I promised, cheeky chops."

"Fruit shoot!" You squeal in excitement, happily taking the bottle from the older lad and proceed to attempt to open it with your teeth, "Mummy, ‘elp please!" You demand, pouting that you can't get it open.

"Wow, you got a fruit shoot? Aren't you lucky," Leah gasps playfully, helping you take off the lid when she sees you're struggling with it, "Here, bubba. Did you say thank you?" She asks.

"Thank 'ou Ben!" You exclaim gleefully, happy enough to have a purple fruit shoot now as you take a big gulp of it, "Uncle J! Look, Mummy's here, see?"

Jacob chuckles, "I can see, munchkin," He pauses, exchanging a brief hug with Leah, "Hey, sis. Did Mum tell you that she woke me up at 5 this morning? Why do kids' wake up that early? It's bizarre, I like to sleep and well, your child definitely did not want to do that."

"Be grateful that you only have to deal with it once in a while," Leah retorts, patting Jacob on the shoulder, "You learn that once you have a child then sleep goes out of the window, entirely."

"Yeah, Le, I love my niece and all, but well, I really also love sleep," Jacob insists while leaning over to ruffle your hair playfully, "No offence, munchkin."

"Stop, Uncle J!" You grumble, batting his hands away while scowling at him before you rest your head on Leah's shoulder.

"You're so easy to wind up sometimes," Jacob teases, finding the whole situation amusing to himself.

"J, please stop winding her up," Leah tells her brother in a serious tone of voice, "Honestly, you're as bad as Monkey sometimes, I swear."

"Hey! Where is Monks'?" Jacob questions eagerly, looking around for your favourite person, "You didn't bring her up here, with you? Well, that's just no fun now, is it?"

Leah snorts in response, "Yeah, I had the right idea to not do that because you pair are a nightmare together. She's with the rest of the girls," She pauses, "Right, bubba, shall me, you and Holly head down and join them?"

You lift your head from Leah's shoulder and nod, "Yes! We go and find Monks' now?"

"Yeah, we're going to see her now," Leah ressaures you with a soft chuckle, adjusting you on her hip as she nods goodbye to the rest of the family, "You lot enjoy yourselves. I'll see you after the game!"

"Good luck, bubba!" Amanda calls after Leah with a proud smile, waving at you both, "We'll be cheering you on from up here!"

"I be back in a bit!" You wave at them all, excitedly.

“Have fun, munchkin!” Jacob exclaims, taking a sip of his drink.

Leah flashes Amanda a grin before turning her attention back to you, "Alright, lets' go find your big sister. She's been pestering me all day about when she gets to see you."

"Monks' missed me?" Your eyes light up with excitement at the thought.

"Of course she did! She's been telling everyone that you're the best mascot ever," Leah replies, her tone playful but affectionate, "Although, she did say she's the best big sister in the world too, along with other things' but she is very excited to see you, bubba!"

“Le! Thank God you’re back– There’s my favourite niece!” Keira exclaims, rounding the corner as she spots you all, with you in Leah’s arms and gets distracted from what she was going to say, “Hi Buddy!”

“Auntie Kei!” You lean towards her, reaching out for a cuddle with her after not seeing her in many months since she lives over in Spain now.

Keira eagerly takes you out of Leah’s arms, “I missed you. I have something for you!”

“I wan’ it! What is it?” Your curiosity is piqued now and you want to know.

“You’ll have to wait and see, won’t you?” Keira teases as she playfully pokes your nose.

“What’s going on, Kei?” Leah arches her eyebrow in confusion.

“Oh, yeah!” Keira suddenly remembers what she meant to tell Leah, “Take a look yourself…” She murmurs with a nod of her head inside the dressing room, her attention completely on you now.

Leah continues to look bewildered as she pushes the door of the dressing room open to find Monkey and Grace in the middle of a heated debate, “What’s going on?”

“Le!” Your favourite person turns her attention to Leah, “Le, you have to back me up here– Buddy! You’re finally here!” Her attention goes straight to you, rushing over and taking you from Keira without any hesitation.

“Monks’!” You squeal, excited to finally be able to see her after almost a week.

“Menace, why aren’t you ready?” Leah already looks ready to pop a vein as she pinches the bridge of her nose, “We need to go and warm up!”

“Yeah, but Le, ‘ere, you need to listen to this first!” Monkey insists as you wrap your arms around her neck and rest your head on her shoulder, “Clinton cards ‘ere reckons that she can beat me in an arm wrestle, but that ain’t right, is it?” She rambles.

“What?” Leah questions in disbelief.

“I reckon I could do,” Grace states confidently as she gasps in a playful manner as she realises you’re here, “Hi Buddy! How’re you?” She questions, patting you on the head.

“Mate, she’s not a dog,” Monkey quips.

You like Grace and you find her somewhat funny, though you’re glad that she doesn’t play for yucky Spurs anymore.

“Yeah, I not a dog!” You parrot, sticking your tongue out at the older girl from the comfort of your big sister's arms.

Monkey chuckles, “You tell her, Buddy!”

“I would love to see an arm wrestle between you and Grace,” Georgia chimes in, coming over after she’s finished tying her laces, “Hi, tiny!”

“Auntie G!” You realise who it is and lean towards her for a cuddle with the girl, “Monks’ down now! I wan’ Auntie G!”

“What? Traitor,” Monkey huffs, begrudgingly placing you down on the floor so you can toddle over to Georgia, who scoops you up into her arms, “So, Le, whatcha reckon, I could definitely beat her, right?”

Leah pinches the bridge of her nose and exhales a sigh, “Monkey, get ready!” She tells her in a firm tone of voice, “Honestly, I left you alone for what, ten minutes? Stop messing about, now.”

“Oooh. You’re in trouble now,” Grace takes the opportunity to wind Monkey up, smirking in amusement, “Better listen to your Mum now, eh?”

“Shut up,” Monkey grumbles while slouching her shoulders, “Come on Le, help me out here, will you?”

Leah clicks her tongue and crosses her arms over her chest, “Get ready. Now."

“Urgh, such a buzzkill sometimes,” Monkey mutters to herself as she walks back over to her stuff on the bench and proceeds to get ready, “Told you we should’ve been quicker.”

“Monks’ in trouble with Mummy,” You tell Georgia knowingly.

Georgia chuckles in response, “I think she might be. What’s she like, eh?”

“A menace to society,” Leah mumbles, turning her attention back to you again, “Right, bubba, Mummy needs to go and warm up on the pitch now. You’re going to stay with Holly until I come back, alright?”

“Nooo!” You whine, reaching out to be back in her arms again because you don’t want to be too far away from her, “Me wan’ stay with ou'!”

“I know you do, but I can’t let you come on the pitch while we warm up, can I?” Leah chuckles, moving to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “You’ll have fun with Holly, and I’ll be back before you know it. I promise.”

You still don’t like that answer though, “No, wan’ stay with ou'!”

“Bubba, Mummy has to go out on the pitch and it’s not safe for you to be on there right now,” Leah explains to you in a gentle tone of voice, “You might get hurt and we don’t want that, do we? If you stay with Holly then you’ll be safe.”

You rest your head on her shoulder as you nod, “I come watch ‘ou warm up?” You ask, though it sounds muffled since you have your fingers in your mouth.

“Okay. You can from the safety of the sidelines,” Leah agrees, gently taking your fingers out of your mouth, “Don’t put your fingers in your mouth, bubba. Yucky germs, remember?” She reminds you, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Nooo! Me be on da pitch with ou'!” You still can’t grasp the idea of not being able to be there at the same time, “No sidelines, Mummy!”

Leah exhales a sigh, shaking her head in disagreement, “You can’t, Buddy. You can watch from the sidelines though, okay? You’ll still be able to see me just the same.” She tells you.

You scrunch your face up, “No, me wan’ be on da pitch! No sidelines!”

“Okay, let's take a minute to calm down,” Leah recognises the tell-tale signs of a brewing tantrum and steps to the side with you away from the rest of the girls, placing you down on the floor as she crouches to your level, “Listen to Mummy, bubba. I know you want to be on the pitch, but it’s really not safe when there’ll be a lot going on there, okay?”

“No!” You stomp your foot in disagreement and cross your arms over your chest, “Me no like ou'!”

“You don’t?” Leah feigns her hurt, clutching her hand over her heart, “When you say things like that, they really hurt Mummy’s feelings. You don’t mean that, do you?”

You continue to stand there in a grump, “I do! Ou' mean for not lettin’ me go on pitch!”

“Oh,” Leah murmurs, feeling hurt from your sudden rejection, “Well that’s okay, Mummy is just trying to keep you safe, bubba, because I love you very much and it would upset me if you did get hurt,” She adds.

“Me no like ou' anymore! Ou' mean Mummy!” You exclaim, not understanding that your words were really making such a big impact at the moment, “Me no like ‘ou!” You repeat.

“Buddy, that’s not very nice to say to your Mummy,” Keira wanders over and hears the conversation, crouching down to your level, “Your Mummy loves you so much, she’s just trying to keep you safe and not let you get hurt, because then you’d be upset if that happened, wouldn’t you?”

“She is mean! She won’ let me on pitch!” You insist, stomping your feet again for good measure, “I don’ like her no more!” You repeat.

“I’m sure you don’t mean that,” Keira frowns, glancing at Leah who looks almost close to tears at your harsh words, “You're upsetting your Mummy when you say things like that, Tiny. I’m sure you don’t want your Mummy to cry, do you?”

You think about what Keira has said for a few seconds before shaking your head, “No…”

“I know you don’t,” Keira nods in agreement, “I have something for you, but before I do, I need you to say sorry to your Mummy because it’s not kind to say things like that, is it?”

“No, I don’ mean it,” You tell her as you turn back around to face Leah, “I sorry Mummy! I didn’ mean it! I love ou'!” You exclaim, wrapping your small arms around her legs and peering up at her with an innocent face.

Leah smiles faintly as she crouches down to be at your level and wrap her arms around your small frame, “It’s okay, bubba,” She pauses, “I know you might be upset with Mummy, but I only ever say no to things because I love you and I want to protect you.”

“I no mean to make ou' cry,” You mumble as you observe the faint tear that rolls down Leah’s cheek, “Don’ cry, Mummy. Don’ be sad!”

Leah continues to hold you close to her as she moves a hand to wipe the stray tear away, “I’m not sad, bubba. I promise,” She tells you, “Mummy just loves you so much, you know? You’re my rainbow after the storm.”

“Don’ be sad Mummy. It’ be okay!” You tell her, moving your own hand to wipe her tears away, “I love ou' lots!”

You don’t really understand what Leah meant, but you know that she’s sad and that means an extra special hug with her.

“Right then,” Leah speaks up after a few seconds, “I think Auntie Kei has something special for you, doesn’t she? Do you want to see what it is?”

“I wan’ see it!” You exclaim, excited at the mention of getting to see what Keira has got for you, “What is it, Auntie Kei?”

“Come over here with me and have a look then,” Keira motions you over to where she has moved to stand with something hidden behind her back, “It’s something special I think you’re gonna like.”

You scrunch your face up in confusion, “What is it?”

“Ta-Da!” Keira pulls a small ball from out behind her back with a small red and blue ball with the England emblem on it, “Here you go, Tiny. It’s for you!”

Your eyes lit up in pure excitement, “Ball! Is mine?” You ask, plucking it from her hands.

“It’s all yours,” Keira nods in agreement, “Now you go and kick it about with Holly on the sidelines while we warm up, can’t you? It’ll be like you're warming up as well!”

“Me too?” You ask, gleefully.

“Exactly, it’s important that you warm up before the big game,” Keira insists, playfully poking you on your nose, “Can you do that for me?”

“Ou' got it dude!” You stick your thumb up and nod in agreement, before bounding off towards Holly who’s just entered the dressing room as you clutch your new ball under your arm, “Holly! Look at me’ ball I got!”

“Whoa! Is that yours? That’s so cool!” Holly gasps in a playful manner, “Me and you can kick that around, can’t we?”

“Uh huh!” You insist, nodding your head, “Look, it’ got England on it!”

“Problem solved, eh?” Keira gives Leah a faint smile, wrapping a free arm around her shoulder, despite the fact that the two of them are neither a hugger, the midfielder knows that Leah needs it right now, “I’m here for you mate, I know it’s tough around this time right now.”

“Thank you,” Leah murmurs to her best friend, returning the hug with barely any words exchanged, but she’s still grateful for her stepping in at the right time, “I don’t think I was prepared for a tantrum, not right now, at least.”

Keira hums in agreement, “I know mate, I can understand that.”

“I think she might be getting tired,” Leah explains, exhaling a sigh, “But that might be due to the fact she’s awake since 5 am this morning apparently.”

“Ouch,” Keira grimaces at the mention of that, “It sounds like you might have your hands full tonight then.”

“Oh, don’t I know it?” Leah covers her sadness up with a chuckle, “I’m hoping that she’ll go to sleep when we’re back at St. George’s park, but knowing my luck, my two will be running about.”

Keira laughs, patting Leah on the shoulder, “Well, better you than me, mate. Better you than me.”

"Mummy! Mummy!" You impatiently tug on Leah's hand to get her attention while she is in the middle of chatting to Mary, who's standing behind her in the tunnel, "Mummy, I need to ask ou' somethin'!"

"Sounds like it's something really important, eh, Buddy?" Mary jokes while she gives you a cheeky wink.

"It' is!" You insist with a nod of your head.

Leah turns around to give you her full attention, "What's the matter, bubba?"

"How long do we gots' to wait?" You question, fed up with waiting around in the tunnel to walk out onto the pitch, "It feels like we been waitin' forever!"

"It hasn't been that long, silly," Leah chuckles, brushing a stray curl from your face, "Just a little bit longer. Are you getting tired?" She asks, concerned.

You shake your head in disagreement, "No, I not tired, I just bored!" You tell her, letting out a dramatic huff, "Mummy! I need to tell ou' somethin'!"

"You do? What do you want to tell me?" Leah asks out of curiosity.

"One day when I' older like 'ou, I'm gon' be a lion... lioness!" You declare proudly, your tiny voice full of determination, "And be like Mama an' Monks' too!"

Leah hums, smiling softly at you, "You already are my little lioness, bubba."

"No, Mummy, I wan' be a real lioness just like 'ou!" You exclaim, trying to express your seriousness about the subject that you really do want to be just like her, "I wan' be like 'ou!"

"One day you will be," Leah promises as she playfully pokes you on the nose lightly.

You can hear the noise from inside the stadium getting louder as it echoes through the tunnel and your tiny hand squeezes Leah's tightly, "Mummy! There lots of music, an' it loud!" You complain, not too much a fan of the loudness.

"It does sound loud, doesn't it?" Leah laughs and places her own hands over your ears, "Is that better now, bubba?"

"Uh huh. Dat better!" You nod in agreement, moving to lean into her side and wrap your small arms around her legs, "Why do we gots' to wait so long? I bored!"

Leah chuckles at your question, "Patience, little miss."

"But I bored now. I wan' walk out!" You whine, not keen on the idea of standing in the tunnel instead, "How' long now?" You question.

"Not too long to wait now," Leah retorts, amusedly.

Clearly that answer isn't good enough by your response of letting out an exaggerated sigh, "I bored waiting now, Mummy! Can ou' tell 'em to hurry up?"

"You're starting to sound like your big sister," Leah teases.

"I be like Monks'!" You proudly declare, puffing out your chest.

"I heard my name mentioned," Your favourite person pops up out of nowhere, appearing behind you.

"Monks'!" You exclaim, excited to see her, "Mummy says' I sound just like ou'!"

Monkey playfully gasps, "You do? Wow. I think that's a compliment!" She insists, "Are you ready to walk out soon?"

"Yeah, but it sound so loud out der!" You tell her.

Monkey hums in agreement, "It does sound a bit loud, doesn't it?" She pauses for a brief second, "Oh! Remember though, when you walk out, you've gotta wave at everyone and smile for the cameras!"

"Will Mama be able to see me?" You ask, excited for Jordan to be able to see you on the TV.

"Probably, yeah!" Monkey agrees.

Your eyes light up in pure excitement, "Mummy! Monks' said dat Mama will be able to see me on da telly!"

"That's right, bubba," Leah nods in agreement, "I bet Mama will be watching so she'll be able to see you walking out."

"An' Nana, too?" You wonder, fascinated that everyone will be able to see you on the big screen.

"Mhm, Nana's up in the crowd, isn't she?" Leah retorts, amused by your amazement, "You'll have to give her a big wave so you can ask if she saw you, won't you?"

"Yeah!" You exclaim loudly.

Monkey huffs in protest, "Bit miffed I didn't get to see her before the game."

"There's still plenty of time afterwards, don't worry, you've not been forgotten," Leah teases.

"Yeah, don' worry Monks'! Nana will still be de for ou' to see after!" You parrot Leah's words, which earns a laugh by the players around, "Mummy! Can I hold our' flag? I wan' hold it!"

"You do?" Leah asks with a playful gasp, "It's an important job, so you need to make sure to hold it tightly and don't drop it, do you think you can manage it?"

"Ou' got it dude!" You agree, sticking your thumb up at her.

Leah laughs and hands you the flag for you to hold, "Alright, hold onto it tightly for me then, bubba."

"Look, Monks' I gets to hold da flag!" You tell Monkey, excitedly.

"Wow, that's cool!" Money retorts, playfully ruffling your hair, "That's a super important thing to do!"

Your excitement is quickly overshadowed by grumpiness due to being tired, and it tips the scale at that moment, "No, Monks' stop it! I don' like it!" You tell her while giving her a small scowl.

"Geesh, someone needs a nap," Monkey can't help but wind you up even more, continuing to ruffle your hair, "Why are you in a grump?"

"STOP IT!" You shout directly at your big sister.

"Buddy," Leah chastises you in a gentle but firm tone of voice, "Hey, there's no need to shout, is there?"

"Mummy! Tell Monks' to stop!" You whine, peering up to look at Leah with a grumpy expression on your face, "She doin' my 'ead in! Keep messin' up me hair! Tell 'er to stop doin' it!"

Leah stifles her laughter as you have a certain flair for dramatics, "Quit it, Menace."

"What?" Monkey murmurs, holding her hands up in protest, "I didn't do out. You have no proof!"

"Just stop being a nuisance, will you, please?" Leah asks, exhaling a sigh.

You signal to be picked up, lifting your arms above your head without any words due to your tiredness.

Leah leans down and scoops you up into her arms, "She's already tired, and I don't need you to be winding her up even more, okay?"

"Alright, alright," Monkey reluctantly agrees, slumping her shoulders, "Tattle-tail."

"Monkey!" Leah scolds her while giving her a stern look, "What did I just say--Go back and stand in the line. You're not helping matters here."

"Geesh, maybe you need a nap as well," Monkey doesn't miss the opportunity to say as she starts to move back to her original place in the line in between Jess Naz and Jess Carter.

Leah arches her eyebrow, "I heard that."

"Good, cos' you were meant to," Monkey replies, cheekily before she proceeds to poke Georgia.

"What's she like, eh?" Leah murmurs, tucking a fly away hair out of your face as you rest your head on her shoulder, "Are you getting tired now, bubba?"

"Uh huh," You nod in agreement as a small yawn slips past your mouth, "I tired now Mummy! Walk out soon?"

"Very soon now," Leah reassures you as she gently bounces you in her arms, "Do you want Mummy to carry you, or do you want to walk out?"

"I walk!" You mumble as you tiredly rub your eyes, "Down please!" You insist as you wriggle about, wanting to be back down on the floor again.

You are currently too tired to really know what you right now, and Leah can tell that as time goes on, you're becoming more and more grumpy, which means it's only momentarily before you do fall asleep.

However, there's also the issue of you not sleeping later tonight then, and she's hoping that you can stay awake until the ride back on the coach.

"As you wish," Leah gently places you back down on the floor, but you're still feeling tired as you cling to her legs, just as it's time to walk out, "It's time now, bubba. Are you ready?" She questions, taking hold of your hand.

"I ready!" You agree, clutching hold of it as you tightly grasp the flag in your other hand.

"Let's go then my little lioness," Leah chuckles, leading the way to walk out of the tunnel with you right beside her.

As you begin to walk out from the tunnel with your hand clasped in Leah's, the roar of the crowd surrounds you and your eyes widen as you take it all in, "Hi Wembley!" You exclaim, your tiredness gone in that moment, "Mummy! Is' so loud, isn't it?"

"I know it is," Leah retorts, peering down at you with a soft smile, "You're doing a great job holding the flag for me, bubba."

"Me holdin' it for ou'!" You declare, proudly and make sure to keep a tight hold on it so you don't drop it.

There's a lot of people all standing up and cheering as Leah and the rest of the lionesses all line up, and you stand in front of Leah as she drapes her free arm around your shoulder.

You stand in front of Leah and look around the stadium with wide eyes, "Are all these people here to see me, Mummy?"

Leah can't help but laugh in amusement, "Not quite, bubba, but I think they will be happy to see you," She pauses, "Do you want to wave at them and say hello?"

"Yeah, I wan' wave to them!" You insist, letting go of Leah's hand to wave to the loud crowd around you, "I wavin' to 'em, Mummy!"

"You're stealing the show, Buddy," Mary chimes in, grinning at you.

"I wavin' to dem all, so Nana an' Uncle J an' Gan'ma can see me!" You ramble to Mary, "Hi, Nana! Hi, Uncle G! Hi, Gan'ma! Mummy, do ou' think dey can see me now I wavin' at 'em?"

"I think they might be able too," Leah chuckles as she motions over to the big screen, "Look, bubba, there's the camera. See? Give it a wave and you'll be able to see yourself on the big screen!" She exclaims, pointing with her index finger to the camera that's panning down the line of lionesses, before you peer up to where the TV shows you eagerly waving at the camera.

"Wow, Mummy. I can see me!" You squeal, vibrating with excitement, "I wave at da camera like ou' said to do!"

"Great job, Buddy!" Leah coos, as you start to shiver a bit from the bitter cold temperature in the stadium, so Leah does no more than take off her presentation jacket and drapes it around your arms, "Is that better, bubba?"

"Yeah! I cold!" You whine, feeling a bit more warmer with the jacket around you as you decide to be nosy and stick your head out, looking down the line at the opposing players, "Mummy! I can see Emily!" You state, excitedly.

"You can? Wow!" Leah says with a playful gasp, "You'll have to remember to say hi when we walk down the line, won't you?"

"Uh huh!" You nod in agreement, scrunching your face up in confusion when a song starts to play that you don't recognise, "What dis?" You ask.

"It's the USA's national anthem, bubba," Leah explains, "Just like we have ours, don't we?"

"I can sing about m' dino'daurs!" You say with a certain sense of determination.

Leah faintly chuckles while she shakes her head, "Maybe save that one for another day."

Nodding in agreement, you recognise the music for what you're told is England's' national anthem, but you would much prefer to sing about dinosaurs instead, in your opinion. You don't really know the words to this song, so you just stand there, your eyes gazing around the stadium as you continue to wave.

The next thing you know, you guess the song must have finished because everyone is starting to clap and the crowds' cheering gets louder and louder.

"Come on, bubba, we need to walk down the line now," Leah guides you in the direction to walk down and high five with the players on the USA team, "Give them a high five, Buddy." She gestures about what to do, exchange a high five with Lindsey Horan.

"Can I get a high five?" The blonde woman, known as Lindsey Horan questions, crouching down to your level as you go a bit shy, shaking your head and trying to hide behind Leah.

"Give her a high five, bubba," Leah tells you in a gentle tone of voice, but you remain firm in your decision and shake your head again, "Sorry. I think she's gone a bit shy."

You were hesitant to high five with the majority of the USA players, however when you saw Emily it was totally different, "Emily!" You shout, recognising the brunette from Arsenal, "Look, I got Mummy's flag cos' I special and gets to hold it!"

"You get to hold that? Wow, that's such an important role, munchkin!" Emily insists with a genuine smile on her face, crouching down to your level to give you a high five but to her surprise, you throw your small arms around her legs, "Oh, I get a hug? Thank you, Buddy!"

Leah blinks in surprise, your usual chatterbox self making an appearance again as she exchanges a high five with Emily, "Good luck, Foxy," She wishes her luck, "Come on, bubba, we need to make our way down the rest of the line." She says, encouraging you to keep walking to reach the end of the players.

"Mummy! I saw Emily an' gave her a hug!" You retort, like she wasn't just there to witness it, "Did ou' see?"

"I did see that, and it was very kind of you to do that," Leah nods in agreement, gesturing you to where the Lionesses all huddled together for a team photo.

"Are you going to be part of our team photo, Buddy?" Alessia questions, walking over as she's chucked her own presentation jacket off.

You nod your little head in agreement, "Yeah, I join! I like taking photos!"

Monkey appears by your side, "Do you want to come an' crouch beside me?"

"Yeah!" You move to stand beside Monkey, who's crouching on the grass as she protectively wraps her arm around your shoulder.

"Remember to say cheese, Buddy!" Lucy Bronze calls out from where she's stood behind you, to the right hand side of Leah.

"Or rotten tomatoes," Beth chimes in, jokingly.

You scrunch your face up in disgust, "Ew, rotten tomatoes' are gross, Auntie Beth!"

Beth laughs in amusement, "Do you want to continue to hold the flag, or do you want me to hold onto it?"

"I do it!" You insist stubbornly, refusing to let go off the flag anytime soon.

"You got it," Beth says, holding her hands up in mock surrender, "Say cheese, Buddy!"

"Cheese!" You parrot, beaming a smile in the direction of the camera pointing directly at you, "I say cheese, Monks'!"

"Good job, Buddy!" Monkey exchanges a high five with you, "I bet that'll be a great photo when it comes out!"

"Me a lioness now!" You declare, promptly.

"You sure are," Georgia comes up behind you and scoops you up into her arms, dangling you over her shoulder so you're upside down.

"Ah! Put me down, Auntie G!" You squeal in protest, not keen on being upside down as you pound your tiny fists against your back, "Put me down."

"Are you sure you don't like being upside down?" Georgia teases.

Keira catches onto what Georgia is doing and grimaces, "G, you're gonna make her sick if you dangle her upside down like that."

"No, I don' like it!" You squeal in response, "Put me down. Now!"

"She's fine, don't worry," The younger girl responds as she laughs.

Leah's eyes widen in panic, "Georgia, do not drop my child!"

"Oh please, like that's not happened before," Georgia retorts as she rolls her eyes, swinging you around and placing you on the ground to relieve Leah's blood pressure, "Since when did you get so sassy, Tiny?"

Leah suddenly completely freezes and turns to look at her confused, "What?"

"Yeah, Monks' dropped me, Mummy!" You chime in at the perfect moment to drop the bombshell.

"What?" Leah's eyes are wide like saucers, standing there with her hands on her hips, while giving Monkey the look.

"No I didn't--that never happened! You have no proof!" Monkey tries to worm her way out of this one, attempting to look less guilty than she currently did, "Buddy! That was supposed to be a secret between us, remember?"

"I forgot," You admit, grinning at your big sister.

Monkey face palms and throws her head back for extra exaggeration, "I even gave you extra ice cream and everything!"

"You blackmail your sister?" Leah continues to look at Monkey in disbelief.

"Eh, well I think blackmailing is a bit extreme," Monkey mumbles, scratching the back of her neck, "It was more like bribing her..."

"Monkey!" Leah exclaims, outraged.

"What? I'm sorry--it was a complete accident, I swear! I didn't mean to drop her!" You insist, holding your hands up in self defence, "Total fluke."

Leah clicks her tongue and shakes her head, "Unbelievable," She mutters to herself.

"I mean... At least it was a soft landing," Monkey retorts, shrugging her shoulders.

"We'll talk more about this later," Leah reiterates to her, shaking her head as she realises she needs to get on with captain duties now, "Bubba, can Mummy have the flag now? You did such a good job keeping it safe, but I need it now."

"No!" You stubbornly refuse, shaking your head, "It mine now!"

"No, no, that's not how it works," Leah tells you with a gentle tone of voice, "Mummy needs to exchange it now with the USA captain, so I need it back, please."

"Nooo! It mine, Mummy! Ou' can' have it!" You whine, your tiredness slowly creeping in as you cling onto the flag in your hands.

"Bubba," Leah begins to speak still in a gentle voice, "Mummy needs it back now. If you want I can buy you one like it, but I need this one now, okay?" She continues to be patient and explain to you.

"No," Your stubbornness is even more evident with your tiredness, "It mine. Ou' can' have it, Mummy!"

Leah inwardly groans and bites her bottom lip, realising that you're not going to willingly give up the flag, "I'm sorry, Buddy, but Mummy needs it now," So with that in mind, she has to prise it out of your hands, which as expected, begins a whole different meltdown.

Only this time it's on the pitch, in front of several thousand fans.

"M' flag!" The waterworks instantly flow and you crumple down on the floor, "Give it back. Now." Your little voice demands, your sobs worsening as you throw yourself to the floor and hit your fists on the pitch.

Leah feels truly awful in that minute, she wants to reach down, scoop you up in her arms and comfort you, however, she needs to deal with captain duties, so she's really torn.

"Oh dear," Beth takes note of the situation and frowns, crouching down to your level, gesturing for Leah to do what she needs to do, "What's happened here? You were so smiley five minutes ago then, Buddy!" She coos, knowing full well how to tackle a tantrum now.

Your bottom lip trembles, visibly upset, "Mummy took m' flag!"

"Your flag?" Beth furrows her eyebrow in confusion, "Oh you don't want that one, I bet we can find you one that's much cooler than that, what do you reckon?" She suggests the idea that will solve the problem.

"I like it, doh'!" You tell her, your sobs' still evident as tears roll down your cheeks.

"Yeah, but I bet you we can find an Arsenal one, or I think we can get one especially made for you," Beth continues to suggest, "Wouldn't that be cool?"

"M' okay den," You don't hesitate to think about it, nodding in agreement.

"But we can't do that if you're crying now, can we?" Beth teases, leaning forward to wipe a stray tear from face.

You shake your head in disagreement, "No..."

"Exactly, now where's our smiley Buddy gone?" Beth questions, hoping to make you smile again.

"Ere' I am!" You exclaim, your upset starting to differ at the change of subject.

"That's much better," Beth retorts with a soft smile, "We can't have a frowny Buddy can we? I think we all much prefer a smiley Buddy!"

"I smile!" Your tears start to slowly subside, spotting Leah heading back over to you, "Mummy! Auntie Beth said I can have own flag!"

"Oh, really? I'm sure that can be arranged," Leah remarks in agreement, nodding her head as she mouths a quick "thank you" to Beth that you don't pay much attention to her, "Right, bubba, it's time for the game to start now. You're going to go back and sit with everyone now, alright?"

"Yeah, I go back an' find Nana. I tell her 'bout everythn'!" You insist in agreement, "I go find Holly?"

"She's right over there, can you see her?" Leah motions over to where Holly is standing just inside of the tunnel out of the way as she gives you a little wave, "You run to her, and Mummy will see you after the game finishes, okay?"

"Okay, Mummy! I cheer super loud for ou'!" You say with a sense of determination as you wrap your tiny arms around her legs, "I see ou' in bit! I love 'ou!"

Leah pulls you into her arms and squeezes you tightly for a brief couple of seconds, "I love you too, bubba!" She tells you, kissing you on the forehead, "Be good, alright? I'll see you in a bit."

"I see ou' in a bit!" You repeat, pulling out of the hug as you start to toddle towards Holly in the tunnel, "Holly! Did ou' see me wavin' on da big screen? I wavin' so everyone can see me!"

"I did see you!" Holly nods in agreement as you let a yawn escape your mouth, "Shall we go and find everyone now, huh? You can tell us all about it!"

"Uh huh!" You agree, holding your arms up and without any further words, Holly easily scoops you up into her arms.

"Someone's tired, aren't they?" Holly coos, rubbing soothing circles on your back as your eyes begin to flutter shut, despite your attempts to keep them open, “Come on sleepy girl, let’s get you somewhere you can have a nap.”

"Hey, there's our little superstar!" Amanda's brother, your Great-Uncle exclaims, as he spots you and Holly walk back to the box, "Did you have fun out there, kiddo?"

"Uh huh! Lots' of fun!" You tell them enthusiastically, your small hands fumbling with Holly's necklace around her neck.

"We saw you on the big screen, munchkin!" Jacob chimes in.

"Yeah! I walk out der!" You say as you start to wriggle in Holly's arms to get down, wanting to be the centre of attention, "I was wavin' to ou' all!"

Berny hums in agreement, "We saw. You did a great job, darling!"

"I gots to hold Mummys' flag!" You exclaim, bouncing up and down on your tip-toes, "An' I took picture with 'em!"

"Wow," Ben gasps playfully, "It sounds like you had a lot of fun out there!"

You nod enthusiastically, your tiredness overshadowed by pure excitement, "I fun! I' did an important job holding it! I' a Lioness!"

"You did, it is an important job, isn't it?" Amanda smiles at your excitement, "Alright then, Little Lioness, the games about to kick off now. Where do you want to sit to watch it?"

"I sit with Uncle J!" You insist, toddling over to him and attempting to climb up onto his lap, "I' need 'elp, p'ease!"

Jacob chuckles in amusement, leaning down to scoop you up, and plonking you on his lap, "Better, munchkin?"

"Better!" You agree, just as a small yawn escapes your mouth, "I no tired!"

"Are you sure?" Jacob laughs, tickling your sides which worsens your mood, "Maybe that has something to do with you waking me up so early this morning, eh?" He jokes.

You turn around, scowling at the lad, "Stop, Uncle J. I no like that!"

"You don't? But you were so happy to wake me up this morning, so I thought I would just return the favour!" Jacob grins, finding amusement in winding you up despite your own grumpiness.

"Stop it. No like it!" You whine, tiredly.

"Oh, I think someones' a bit tired, aren't they now?" Ben joins in, chuckling.

"I think so," Jacob retorts, "Wakey, wakey, Buddy!"

Amanda chuckles and shakes her head, "Son, don't wind her up,"

"I'm only doing the same thing she did to me this morning," Jacob replies, grinning from ear to ear.

"No! Stop it' Uncle J!" You reach your hands out to swat him, accidentally catching him in the face, "I no like it!"

Holly winces as she watches your little hand fly out and hit Jacob, "Oh dear."

"Ah, ah," Amanda reacts instantly, reaching over and plucking you off Jacob's lap, "We don't hit little miss. That's not very nice to do that."

You scowl in return, looking straight at her, "Nana, Uncle J's doin' my head in!"

"I know he is," Amanda finds it hard to stifle her laugh and be serious in the situation with the expression you are pulling, "But it's still not okay for you to hit him. We have to use gentle hands, remember?"

You're still in a sulk, crossing your arms over your chest, "He bein' meanie!" Your tiredness continues to take over, making everything seem like a complete meltdown.

"I know, but he's going to stop now," Amanda says as she looks at Jacob while she says it so it's more aimed at him, "I think you're a bit tired now, aren't you?"

You shake your head in protest, "I no tired!" You say just as you let another yawn again, "I go an' sit back on Uncle J!"

"That's fine, but you have to remember to be kind otherwise Uncle J won't want you to sit with him, will he?" Amanda reminds you in a tone of voice that is gentle but still held some firmness as well.

"I be nice!" You mumble, inching your way off Amanda's lap to clamber back onto Jacob's, "I sorry for hitting ou', Uncle J."

"That's alright, munchkin. I know you didn't mean to do it," Jacob responds, "I'm sorry for winding you up as well." He adds.

You move to rest your head on the lads' shoulder, "Dat okay." You mumble, your eyes are heavy with sleep as you fight to stay awake.

"You can sleep if you want?" Jacob whispers, rubbing small soothing circles on your back.

"I no tired," You whine while you still rest your head on his shoulder, "I be awake an' watch da game!"

Your determination didn't stretch very far and within the first twenty minutes of the game, so you end up flaking out on Jacob's lap. The chatter around lulling you to sleep even though you tried to refuse to sleep when the game is going on around you.

"So much for her not bein' tired, eh?" Ben jokes, leaning in towards Jacob.

Jacob chuckles, rocking you in his arms, "I know, that didn't take long at all,"

"Let's just hope that she will sleep tonight, otherwise Le's gonna be in for a tough one," Holly chimes in, knowingly.

"I imagine she'll be fine," Jacob retorts, shrugging his shoulders and letting you sleep peacefully, not shocked you're able to sleep through the noise in the stadium considering you are more than used to it now.

Just as the whistle blew for half time, you wake up from your brief nap and it's like the energy inside you has been restored as you become your usual chatterbox self once again.

"I'hungry now!" You declare, huffing as you rub the sleep from your eyes.

"You're the hungry little caterpillar, huh?" Jacob jokes.

You shake your head in protest, "No, I just a hungy' Buddy!" You tell him.

"Oh, right. My apologies, hungry Buddy," Jacob continues to joke, "Shall we get you something to fill that hole? I can hear noises coming from your tummy!" He exclaims, playfully gasping in shock.

"Uh huh! I' come with ou' to get it!" You tell him, wriggling to get off his lap so he can stand up.

"Okay," Jacob agrees with your decision.

"I'll join you. I need another drink," Ben chimes in, standing up from his own seat.

"Nana! I goin' wif Uncle J to get somethin' cos' I hungy'!" You exaggerate, rubbing your stomach for emphasis, "I be back in bit!"

Amanda chuckles at your little demands, "Oh, are you? Alright, well just remember to hold Uncle J's hand please."

"'Ou' got it, dude!" You stick your thumb up in response, before clutching hold of Jacob's hand and toddling off to get something to eat.

"She's such a little character sometimes, isn't she?" Holly chuckles in amusement.

"Oh she definitely is. She's definitely Leah's daughter," Berny jokes.

"Looks like it's a bit of a long queue," Ben retorts, motioning to it, "Do you know what you want to eat, cheeky chops?" He uses his usual nickname for you.

"Me wan' nuggets!" You declare, excitedly.

"Consider it done," Jacob nods in agreement as you continue to clutch a tight grip of his hand, though you become increasingly bored waiting and decide to make it known, very vocally.

"I bored, waitin'!" You whine impatiently to Jacob and Ben who are having their own conversation between the two of them, so you proceed to let go of Jacob's hand and tug on the male's jacket in front of you that you faintly recognise, "Hi. Ou' Lessi's brother!" You exclaim enthusiastically, recognising him from matches both at Arsenal and England.

The man spins around and peers down at you, "Hi, Buddy."

You gasp in shock, your eyes widening, "Ou' know my name?" You ask, a bit confused, "What our' name?"

"I do, I'm Luca," The man chuckles, crouching down to your level, "And your Leah and Jordan's little one, aren't you?"

You nod enthusiastically, "Yeah, I Buddy! Dat m' Mummy an' Mama's names!" You continue to gasp in amazement that he knows who they are, "Hey... Ou' not da one dat I saw in Australia!" You state, somewhat offended suddenly.

Luca chuckles, "I'm not."

"Where' he den'?" You scrunch your face up in confusion.

"That's my brother, Georgio," Luca explains to you, "He's in Australia, all the way on the other side of the world."

You gasp in amazement, "Dat where Ra' is! An' Stephy an' Caitlin!" You exclaim in excitement, "Ra' is Monks' best friend! Like I best friends with Roo!"

Luca arches his eyebrow, a little confused with your rambling and trying to keep up with who is who, "Oh, are they? Who's Ra' again?"

You slump your shoulders and let out a small dramatic huff, "Kyra, duh!"

"Oh," Luca chuckles faintly, "Yeah, I've met her a few times... And Roo is your best friend then, huh?"

"Uh huh!" You nod your little head promptly, "We besties! Monks' says so!"

"I see, and Monks' is..." Luca's slightly confused with the different people.

"Monks' is m' big sister!" You exclaim, exaggerating another little huff, "An' dis is m' Uncle J and Ben!"

Jacob chuckles in amusement, "Alright, Luca? I see you've met our little chatterbox?"

"I no chat... I no one of them!" You find it hard to pronounce the correct words while pouting at Jacob, "I tell him 'bout Monks'!"

"Yeah, very interesting conversation," Luca plays along with your ramble, "I have been told all about the Aussie girls, and Monks' as well."

"Menace that one is," Ben quips in, "We're at the front of the queue now, cheeky chops. Is it just nuggets that you want?"

"An' chips as well!" You insist, promptly.

Jacob chuckles, "Can't forget the chips now, can we?" He jokes, reeling off the food you want and tapping his card to pay for said items.

"An' dippy sauce too!" You shout aloud.

Ben laughs, accepting the drinks hes' given as he takes a swig of one of them before passing one of them over to Jacob.

It's not long before Jacobs' handed over your chicken nuggets and chips, "Right, shall we go back to everyone now?"

"Uca' come too!" You peer up to look at Luca in question.

"Luca's sitting with his own family, munchkin. I'm sure you can see him in a bit though," Jacob explains, amused that you seem to have latched onto someone else who you barely know, "Let's go show Nana what you've got, yeah?"

"Okay... But I see ou' in a bit, 'Uca!" You wave enthusiastically at your new friend, before toddling off with Jacob and Ben back to your box, "I back now!"

"Oh I thought it was quiet around here," Holly retorts playfully.

"I not quiet!" You tell her, confused.

Berny chuckles in amusement, "What've you got there, darling?"

"Nuggets an' chips!" You say, pointing to each item that you have in Jacob's hands, "An' dippy sauce as well!"

"Wow, that looks good," Amanda states, helping you sit in your own seat before Jacob carefully hands you your meal, "Careful when you eat it, sweetheart. It might still be a bit hot." She warns, gently.

"It 'kay. I be careful!" You insist, kicking your little legs as you tuck into your chicken nuggets and chips, "M' it nice! I' no share either!" You add, speaking with your mouthful.

"Game 'over now?" You hear the final whistle blow to signal the end of the game, which ends in a result of nil - nil with a penalty overruled by a VAR decision. 

Amanda nods in agreement, "It is now, sweetheart."

"I see Mummy and Monks' now?" You question, eager to see both of them.

"They'll both be coming up here soon," Amanda explains, reaching over to wipe a bit of sauce off your cheek with a napkin, "You just have to be patient a little bit longer, okay?"

"I bored waitin' though!" You huff dramatically, resting your chin on your hand as you kick your legs, "I wait... but I no like waitin'!"

Jacob laughs, leaning forward to ruffle your hair gently, "You're so patient, aren't you, munchkin?"

"I no patient!" You correct him indignantly, your little pout returning as you munch on a chip, "I wanna see 'em now! Mummy said I see her after!"

"She will come as soon as she can," Amanda reassures you with a soft smile, "Why don't you finish your food first, and then I'm sure they'll be upstairs before you know it, hm?"

Your eyes brighten a little at the idea of that, "Okay, Nana! I eat first so I see her quicker!"

Ben chuckles, "I don't think that's how it works, cheeky chops. Be careful you don't choke now, alright?"

You give him a dramatic thumbs up before stuffing another nugget in your mouth, chewing determinedly as you hope it makes the time go quicker.

You don't know how much time has passed before you feel someone cover your eyes with their hands, "Boo!" You recognise the familiar voice of your favourite person.

"Monks'!" You squeal, spinning around to face her.

The girl grins amusedly, "Miss me?"

"It's all we've heard since the game ended," Holly teases, her tone fond.

"I missed you as well, Buddy!" Monkey states, ruffling your hair despite your overall disagreement on it, "Did you see me out on the pitch?" She questions.

"I saw! Gan'ma helped me see!" You beam proudly, bouncing on your toes.

"Yeah, you're too short to see otherwise, eh, munchkin?" Jacob teases, before he falls into conversation with Monkey, catching up since the last time they saw each other.

"Am I just forgotten' about now, huh?" Leah jokes, entering the box freshly showered with her damp hair scraped back as Keira follows her behind, grinning.

"Mummy!" You shout, bolting straight to her and throw your small arms around her, "I miss ou'!"

Leah scoops you up, pressing a kiss to your temple, "Oh that's a nice cuddle I needed," She coos, "Thank you bubba, I missed you too."

"I watch game!" You tell her proudly.

Leah gasps playfully, tucking a stray strand of your hair behind your ear, "Did you have fun watching it?"

"Uh huh! I missed ou' though!" You admit, resting your head against her shoulder.

Leah smile softens as she kisses the top of your head again, "I missed you too, bubba, but I'm glad you had a good time."

"Mummy?" You ask, your voice dropping into a whisper, "What' da sup'ise now?"

"Oh, you didn't forget about that one, did you?" Leah chuckles, "Well how would you like it if you stayed with me, Monks' and the rest of the girls for the rest of camp?"

Your jaw drops, "Dat be so cool! I can?"

"Of course you can, bubba! I already asked Sarina, so you're going to travel back with us instead of going back to Mama's house," Leah confirms, grinning at your reaction.

"Yay! We go now?" You ask eagerly, wiggling in her arms.

"In a little bit," Leah says, laughing at your excitement, "We need to get your things out of Nana's car first."

"Mr. Bear comin' too," You insist with wide eyes.

"Of course," Leah reassures you, "I can't imagine you would want to leave him behind, would you?"

"No, he no like it," You say with a decisive shake of your head.

Monkey comes barreling over to you, grinning, "Did you tell her the surprise, Le?"

"Monks'! I come to camp an' sleep over!" You exclaim proudly.

"I know!" Monkey says, her eyes sparkling with excitement, "We're gonna have so much fun. It's gonna be epic! We'll stay up late, swap manly stories, and in the morning... I'm making waffles!"

"I 'cited!" You nod along, excitedly.

Ben stares at Monkey, deadpan, "Did... Did you just quote Shrek?"

"Obviously, Ben," Monkey rolls her eyes dramatically.

"Oh boy, you're in for some fun there love," Berny chuckles, shaking her head in amusement.

Leah groans playfully, shaking her head, "What did I sign up for?"

Holly snorts in response, "Double trouble with them pair."

"Double trouble indeed," Keira retorts, smirking.

"Duh, what'd yer' expect with us both together?" Monkey quips, slinging her arm around Keira's shoulder, "Right, Buddy?"

"Right, Monks'!" You declare, nodding your head in agreement.

"Yeah… I think I'm going to end up regretting this by the end of the week," Leah mutters to nobody in particular.

And sure enough, the chaos that you both cause is nearly the cause of Leah having somewhat of a nervous breakdown, but that's another story for a different day, of course.

© scribblesofagoonerr

[buckyseternaldoll]

He Still Smelled Like Home

Pairing: exhusband!Avengers!Bucky x civilian!afab!reader

Summary: A missed anniversary. A quiet goodbye. And then a metal arm shielding you from death. You were always his. Even when you weren’t.

Warning: 18+ (mdni!), heavy angst, emotional abandonment references, hinted depression, marriage separation, unresolved tension, emotional breakdown, longing, heartbreak, near-death-experience (implied), emotionally intense smut, marking/claiming kink, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, timeline is loosely based on somewhere in between TFATWS and Thunderbolts*

Word count: 4,110 *finalized. No one's reading 29k words

You stared at the emptiness of your home.

The house that was supposed to echo with laughter, with midnight kisses in the hallway, with the low, raspy way Bucky used to call you baby when he walked in after a long day.

Instead, it echoed with silence.

Furniture untouched. Coffee gone cold on the counter. Your shared blanket on the couch still crumpled the way you left it, not him. It had been days. Maybe weeks. Time had begun to blur together in his absence.

This house — your home — used to carry his presence like a scent. Leather and spice, coffee and cedarwood. His cologne used to linger in the doorways. His boots used to thud softly on hardwood, his hums used to carry from the shower. But lately, the only things left were your own tired footsteps and the buzz of the refrigerator.

You sank onto the edge of the bed, stared at the closet that still held his clothes. Neatly arranged, untouched. They used to smell like him, like nights curled into his chest, like mornings when he wouldn’t let you leave without kissing your shoulder first.

Now they just smelled like dust.

Bucky had been swallowed whole by his work.

Some days, he was a reluctant public figure — shaking hands, attending briefings, forced into suits and speeches about reform and redemption. Most days, he was a weapon again. Deployed into fights with little notice, returning with bloodied knuckles and bruises beneath his eyes. When you touched him, he’d flinch just slightly — not from fear, but like he couldn’t believe it was real.

You understood. God, you tried.

You knew who he was. You loved who he was.

You promised yourself — again and again — that you could handle it.

The nights alone. The uncertainty. The ache of missing him.

Because you loved him too deeply to walk away.

Because you thought being Mrs. Barnes meant being strong enough for both of you.

But love had started to feel like an echo — something you screamed into the void and never got back.

What you felt now was loneliness.

A hollow ache, wide as winter, clawing at your insides every time another message came from Val instead of him. Another mission. Another country. Another time zone you didn’t belong to.

He’d always kiss you goodbye. Sometimes on the forehead. Sometimes just your hand. And sometimes… not at all. Just a silent glance before the door shut behind him, as if his guilt outweighed his ability to say goodbye.

And when he did come back, it was like he left part of himself behind.

His blue eyes — once bright, full of mischief and love and that impossible, boyish affection only you got to see — now looked dimmer. They didn’t rest on you with the same softness. They scanned you, checked you, but didn’t linger. As if he didn’t trust himself to look too long, in case it broke him.

When he held you at night, he trembled in his sleep.

When you kissed him in the morning, he didn’t kiss back right away.

He whispered I love you like it was a habit, not a promise.

So you reached for the wedding photo album. The one you kept high on the shelf, tucked behind cookbooks and board games you never played anymore.

You slid down to the floor with it. Cross-legged, as if you were still that giddy woman in love, waiting for him to walk in and steal a kiss.

The photos were intimate. Small wedding, barely two dozen people. Just the closest ones — Sam, Joaquin, and your parents’ photo in your bouquet. The two of you had danced barefoot in the grass beneath string lights, his vest long discarded, your shoes kicked off somewhere near the firepit.

In the pictures, you looked radiant.

So did he.

That little smile — crooked, cocky, only for you. His nose slightly sunburned, his metal hand resting over yours like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You chuckled, but it came out hollow. A dry sound that hurt more than it comforted.

Your fingers traced the edges of one photo — the one where he kissed your temple, and you closed your eyes with a smile so wide your cheeks dimpled.

And suddenly, you remembered how you met.

───

Flashback:

The entire building blacked out, trapping you in a dim elevator lit only by the red emergency light. This happened often enough that you knew the bell button was useless; you’d have to wait for maintenance.

It was nearly 2 a.m., and you’d just finished a late-night grocery run. You were stuck with a stranger — a man tall and broad, standing opposite you. His faded henley clung to his muscles even in the eerie red glow. His hair was short and neat, his stubble freshly trimmed. His sharp gaze pierced you but felt strangely warm.

“Want some grapes?” you offered, holding out a bag. He looked confused.

“I swear they taste like cotton candy,” you added, nudging the bag closer. Slowly, his guarded stare softened and he reached out with his gloved metal fingers.

“Oh,” he rumbled, voice low and rough. “They do taste like cotton candy.”

His guard dropped completely then. You talked about everything — your dog Percy who had just crossed the rainbow bridge, your chaotic job, your ex who’d burned through your savings on booze. You didn’t hold back; you were a talker, a sharer. And he listened, amused and content. For once, he wasn’t a hero or a soldier. Just Bucky.

Two hours later, when the elevator finally hummed to life, you walked toward your doors together. Nervous, you asked, “What should I call you?”

“Bucky,” he sneered softly. “I’m Bucky.”

───

You practically moved into his life. Your clothes filled his wardrobe. Your toothbrush hung beside his. You wore his oversized shirts, loved the way they draped over your curves. You cooked for him, greeted him after missions. You met Sam Wilson, who teased Bucky for smiling so much on FaceTime with you. Sam thanked you for lighting Bucky up again.

Your sex life with Bucky was electric — both with high drives, perfectly matched. When he asked you to marry him, you screamed “Yes” with joy.

───

You glanced at your phone. 3:50 a.m.

Ten minutes to four.

The dinner you made lay cold on the table. Roasted turkey with plum glaze. Mashed potatoes. His favorite black cherry pie.

You’d even worn the silk robe he once said drove him insane — the burgundy one that hugged your curves like a second skin. You had curled your hair, lit the candles, set the table for two.

It was your seventh wedding anniversary.

He had promised. Swore on your vows, on his mother’s grave. “No missions, no excuses, I’ll be home.”

But he wasn’t.

Not at 4 a.m.

Not at 7.

Not at noon.

It wasn’t until eighteen hours later that the front door finally creaked open. You were curled on the couch, still in the same robe, your makeup smudged and mascara dried into the pillow. The candles had melted down to nubs. The food had crusted over with cold.

You heard the boots first — heavy, limping, dragging.

And then you saw him.

James Buchanan Barnes, your husband. Bloodied. Bruised. One eye already purpling, a cut on his lip, blood trickling down from his temple. His vibranium arm was scorched in places. He looked like he’d been through hell and back and then some.

But he still smiled — weakly, brokenly, with his entire heart bleeding behind it.

“Baby…” he rasped, voice like gravel. “Happy anniversary.”

You blinked. Slowly. Like the words couldn’t land. You sat upright and moved toward him on instinct — your heart betraying your numbness. He was hurt. And that muscle memory in your bones still knew how to care for him.

You didn’t speak as you led him to the kitchen. Just fetched the medical kit. The antiseptic. The gauze.

He sat on the stool, watching you with tired eyes, his shoulders hunched like he was bracing for something worse than shrapnel.

You cleaned his wounds in silence.

Your hands moved gently, methodically. But your eyes stayed distant. Detached. As if you were treating a stranger. As if you’d already started grieving the version of him that used to come home smiling, on time, with flowers clutched awkwardly in his hand.

When your fingers brushed his jaw to dab ointment onto the cut beneath his cheekbone, he leaned into your touch — starved for it. Your hand hesitated, barely a second, before you pulled it away.

“Love…” he whispered.

But you shook your head. Stepped back. Your robe had come undone slightly, but you didn’t bother fixing it. You just looked at him — really looked — and realized you were tired. So deeply tired.

He tried. God, he tried.

He came back the next day with a cake you didn’t touch. Flowers that wilted in the kitchen sink. A note scribbled on hotel stationery that said I’m sorry a dozen times.

But you were already drifting. Already far from him. Not out of hatred — no, it was worse than that. It was hollowness. That gray space where love used to live, now dusted in disappointment and absence.

That night, he crawled into bed beside you.

He didn’t take your nightgown off. Didn’t try to seduce or ignite anything. He just pulled you close from behind — spooned you like he used to when nightmares came — and pressed soft kisses to your shoulder, your nape, your arm.

They weren’t seductive. They were desperate.

Whispers without words. Promises buried in breath.

His arms locked around you like he was trying to fuse you back to him — as if, if he held you hard enough, long enough, you might forget all the times he didn’t come back at all.

His lips paused at the inside of your elbow. Pressed one final kiss there.

Then, without a sound, he exhaled — and let sleep take him.

You stayed awake.

Wrapped in his arms.

Drowning in silence.

───

Morning came with the scent of mushroom soup and toasted garlic baguette. You stirred awake to the distant clatter of dishes, the quiet hum of the stove, and the absence of his warmth beside you.

You’d fallen asleep curled in his arms — your face tucked beneath his jaw, legs tangled under the sheets. But now, the space was cold.

You found him in the kitchen, already dressed in soft joggers and a black t-shirt, hair damp. He was plating the soup with clinical precision, like it gave him something to focus on. Something other than the ache written plainly in his eyes when he saw you.

“Morning, doll,” he said softly, like the word itself might crack under the weight between you.

You nodded. Sat down at the small table.

And then the silence began.

You both moved through breakfast like strangers — chewing in syncopated rhythm, passing the butter with hesitant fingers, eyes never quite meeting. He stirred his soup without tasting it. You sipped your coffee like it was the only thing anchoring you.

The air was thick with unsaid things. Words sat like iron behind your ribs — but neither of you moved to break the dam.

Until the very end.

You were wiping your mouth, standing to rinse your plate, when Bucky finally found his voice.

“Sweetheart…” His voice cracked on the pet name. He paused — swallowing hard, like he needed to force the rest out. “I think… we need some time. Some space. I don’t want to hurt you anymore.”

You froze with the plate in your hand.

He reached across the table for your fingers — hesitant, trembling — but you pulled away before he could touch you.

A hollow laugh escaped you, bitter and breathless.

“If you say so, Bucky,” you said, voice flat and cold. “Maybe I wasn’t really made for you.”

He flinched like you’d slapped him. You saw it in the way his jaw clenched, in the pain flickering behind those steel-blue eyes — the kind that didn’t bleed, just quietly bruised.

But he didn’t stop you.

Didn’t beg.

Didn’t follow.

You packed your things with mechanical efficiency — toothbrush, spare clothes, the book you left on his nightstand. You left his hoodie folded on the bed and the ring in the drawer, tucked between receipts and mission notes. You took most of your pieces with you, but something in you stayed behind — still curled in that bed, still holding onto the man you loved.

And when you shut the door behind you, he stayed on the other side.

Silent.

Shattered.

Still too much Bucky to stop you, and not enough to ask you to stay.

───

Eight months later —

No calls.

No texts.

Not even a whisper through mutual friends. Not even from Sam.

You tried to move on.

You went out with friends. Swiped left and right. Let a stranger kiss you once at a bar — his lips were too wet and his hands too eager. You let another walk you home and never answered when he called again.

But none of them touched you like he did.

None of them held you like you were fragile and fire at once.

No one smelled like warm amber, cedar, and that faint, addictive trace of danger.

Your bed was too big. Too cold.

You cried yourself to sleep more nights than you could count, face buried in a pillow that still carried a ghost of his scent. Even the apartment felt wrong — full of your things but missing your home.

So you walked.

Miles and miles through the city, trying to chase your own shadow.

That morning was no different. Clouds hung low. Wind sharp.

You had your hands in your coat pockets, earbuds in, but no music playing. You just needed to be anywhere but inside your head.

Until—

The chaos hit.

Sirens.

Screams.

The city cracked open with noise — the grinding roar of steel collapsing, the screech of tires, the whoosh of fire somewhere not far from you. But it all sounded distant. Muffled. Like someone had dunked your head under water.

Your legs froze.

People screamed around you, bolting in every direction. Something exploded behind you. And before you could even process the danger—

You looked up.

A van — crushed and burning — was flipping in your direction.

Your body didn’t move. Couldn’t.

You just stood there.

You closed your eyes.

And for a moment, you welcomed it.

The pain. The impact. The silence that would follow.

Maybe this was how it ended. Maybe it would finally stop hurting.

But instead—

The world cracked open with a clang so loud it split the sky.

Metal slammed against metal, the sound so sharp it vibrated down your spine.

You opened your eyes.

And there he was.

James Buchanan Barnes.

Your ex-husband.

Your ghost.

Your gravity.

Your everything that once was and never stopped being.

He stood between you and the van, his vibranium arm braced against the smoking wreckage, stopping it mid-roll. His boots skidded across the concrete, muscles taut beneath his tactical gear. The plates of his arm groaned under the weight, but he held steady — held for you.

His chest heaved. Jaw clenched. His hair was a mess, stubble thick along his jaw, blood streaked on his temple, and still — still — the second your eyes met, you forgot how to breathe.

His scent hit you next.

Smoke. Leather. Salt.

And underneath it, that impossible, familiar sweetness — like vanilla left too close to a bonfire.

Then he was on you.

Hands gripping your arms, scanning every inch of your face, your body, like he didn’t trust you were real. Like you’d vanish if he blinked. His touch wasn’t gentle. It was urgent — trembling, firm, searching.

His voice came out strangled. “Don’t you fucking dare die before me.”

Your knees buckled, but he caught you.

His arms wrapped around you like a vice, pulling you against him — like he could absorb you into his skin. Like the world had come undone and only your heartbeat could put it back together.

You clung to him. You didn’t think, didn’t speak — just held.

His vibranium fingers slid into your hair. His human hand pressed to your lower back, clutching like he could keep you from fading. His forehead touched yours, both of you panting, trembling, suspended between collapse and salvation.

He whispered your name like it was a prayer.

Then — just like that — he pulled back. Gave you a look.

“Wait here,” he rasped.

His tone was low but commanding, that voice you used to hear in bed when he’d make you come with nothing but words. And like always, even now, even after everything, your body obeyed before your brain caught up.

You nodded. “‘Kay.”

He turned and ran back into the fray.

You barely noticed the minutes passing — only that he kept glancing over his shoulder. Like he couldn’t risk not checking. Like he needed to see you to breathe.

The fight ended quickly.

Some coordinated terrorist hit gone wrong. Bucky and the team had moved like a soldier possessed, taking down the last of them with clinical precision. When Valentina clapped him on the back, rattling off some smug line about his team's New Avengers status, he barely registered it.

His eyes were already on you.

Locked.

He broke from the team without a word.

Crossed the rubble. Climbed over twisted steel and ash.

Until his hand reached for yours.

And you didn’t hesitate.

Fingers threaded. Palms locked.

He led you — fast but careful — through the remnants of the battleground. He didn’t speak, didn’t explain. Just kept walking until he found what he needed: a shattered doorway tucked beneath a battered brick building. The inside was dusty, quiet. Safe.

He pressed you inside. His chest nearly heaving.

The second the door creaked shut behind you—

The dam burst.

He lunged.

His mouth crashed onto yours like a breaking wave.

All teeth and tongue and need.

Your back hit the wall. His hands pinned you there, lips devouring like he was starving. Like every second of those eight months had built to this very moment.

Your hands tore at his jacket. Fisted into his shirt. Your mouth opened for him — let him take what he needed, because it was yours too. The ache, the hunger, the ache, the ache—

He groaned into your kiss. The sound wrecked you.

His vibranium hand slid to your throat — not choking, just holding — like he needed to feel your pulse. Needed to prove you were alive. His other hand cupped your face, thumb stroking your cheek as his mouth moved to your jaw, then your neck.

“You’re real,” he whispered. “You’re fucking real.”

Your tears answered before your voice could.

He leaned his forehead into yours again. Chest heaving. Breaths shallow. Every inch of him radiating tension, heartbreak, and sheer unfiltered love.

Then came the words. Quiet. Ragged.

“Come home.”

You didn’t speak.

You didn’t need to.

You just held tighter.

And followed.

───

The apartment door slammed shut behind you both, and the moment it did, something primal broke loose.

Bucky didn’t speak — he lunged. Hands everywhere, mouths crashing, teeth clashing like it hurt to be apart this long. His fingers tugged at your shirt so hard it ripped at the seams. You yanked his jacket down his arms, let it crumple to the floor, then pushed his dark shirt up and over his head — revealing the body that haunted your dreams for months.

“God, baby,” he breathed against your mouth, voice thick and broken. “Eight months. I was going insane.”

“Then show me,” you growled. “Fucking prove it.”

And he did.

───

He pressed you up against the nearest wall, your legs wrapping around his waist like instinct. The first thrust was sharp and deep — a punch of heat that knocked the air from your lungs. He didn’t start slow. There was no space for slow. Not now.

You gasped as he slammed into you, his metal hand gripping under your thigh, fingers digging hard enough to bruise. Your back arched against the plaster as he took you hard and fast, his mouth on your neck, biting down like he needed to mark you again. He whispered, “Mine,” over and over, like a vow.

You came quickly, clenching around him as he growled into your skin — hips stuttering, muscles tight as he spilled deep inside you, still panting your name.

But neither of you moved.

He stayed buried in you, arms wrapped tight, forehead pressed to yours.

“I missed you,” you gasped, breath trembling. “So fucking much, Bucky.”

His hand caressed your face. “I never stopped being yours.”

───

Moments later, he was dragging you to the bedroom.

He flipped you onto your stomach, kissing down your spine, tongue tracing the dip of your back. His voice was low, dangerous. “Gonna remind you how you sound when you scream for me.”

You felt the cool slide of his metal hand between your thighs, spreading you open, and then he was inside you again — slower this time, but deeper. He drove into you with devastating control, groaning every time you clenched around him.

“Fucking hell,” he hissed. “No one else gets you like this. No one else can.”

You could only moan his name, clutching the sheets as he wrecked you from behind. Each thrust pushed you forward, breath caught on every hard snap of his hips.

Your second orgasm hit like a freight train — you shattered beneath him with a broken sob, and he followed, grunting your name as he came again, biting your shoulder hard enough to leave a mark.

���──

You barely had time to recover before he turned you onto your back and kissed you breathless.

“Still not done,” he murmured, voice gone hoarse. “I haven’t had you in eight goddamn months, sweetheart. I’m taking my time now.”

He used his shirt to tie your wrists to the headboard, slow and deliberate. His vibranium hand gripped your thigh and spread you wide, while the flesh one traced the curve of your belly and up to your chest. “So beautiful,” he whispered. “All mine.”

This time he entered you with a slow, torturous roll of his hips. He built you up until you were sobbing for him, body arching under his rhythm. He kept his forehead pressed to yours, whispering things he never got to say:

“I dreamt of you every night…”

“Couldn’t even sleep on my side of the bed…”

He kissed away your tears as he brought you over the edge, holding you through the tremble. He didn’t stop until he was coming again, voice raw and quiet. “No one touches you like I do. No one ever will.”

───

You made it to the bathroom — barely — stripping along the way. Bucky turned on the water, but before you could even step in, he spun you around and kissed you again.

This time it wasn’t fury. It was need.

You were both soaked by the spray when he lifted your leg, pressing your back to the cold tile, and slid into you once more. Slow, deliberate, eyes locked on yours. You held his face, ran your fingers through his soaked hair, watched his expression as he moved inside you like he never wanted to leave your body again.

It was messy and quiet. Wet skin slapping. Fingers clutching. Moans swallowed into kisses.

When he came this time, it wasn’t explosive — it was devastatingly intimate. He buried his face in your neck and whimpered your name, his whole body shaking.

You both stood under the water for minutes, breathing each other in.

───

He finally scooped you into his arms and gently lowered you into the already-drawn bathtub — the lavender oil you’d left behind still sitting by the edge.

You curled into his lap, the warm water surrounding you both like a cocoon. His arms wrapped around you from behind, lips brushing your shoulder. He massaged your thighs under the water, fingers tracing every mark he’d left.

“You okay, doll?” he whispered softly. “I didn’t mean to be that rough…”

“I needed it,” you murmured, turning your head to kiss his jaw. “Needed you.”

You leaned back into his chest, both of you quiet for a while, the sound of the water lapping gently around you.

“You're not leaving again,” he finally said. “Whatever it takes. You’re it for me.”

You nodded slowly, hand finding his under the surface.

“I know,” you whispered. “We’ll figure it out. Together this time.”

And he kissed your temple, the kind of kiss that didn’t demand anything.

The kind that said: Home. Ours. Always.

[stars-and-clouds]

HE DIDN'T WANT TO LET GO HE DIDN'T WANT TO LET GO HE DIDN'T WANT TO LET GO!!! -screams-

[yan-randomfandom]

Heyy could you make waking up next to and soft morning with yandere saja boys x reader🫶🏻😭

Saja Boys x GN!Reader

a/n; omg there's a gif of this moment!! so satisfying to watch KRRRRK and maybe it's not too soft but 😛

— ⛅

As their human manager, the one thing you must remember is that the boys become absolutely exhausted after whatever they're doing.

That's why you have the guest room prepared for that. A fairly large bed stationed and some extra mattress whenever they need. The couch is free too. Not to mention pillows and blankets they unnecessarily forced you to buy.

Still. It sometimes goes unused. Especially when the first thing you see upon waking is Abby staring at you like he's from some kind of K-Drama.

It's dim, but there's enough sun to see how your faces are way too close for comfort as he lies beside you. Not to mention he's completely shirtless. He smiles, eyes halfway, a hand slowly reaching for you.

Hmm. No thanks. You smile back to be polite, vaguely noticing how his eyes brighten a little, only for you to flip your body around—

Oh. Now Romance is staring at you.

"Good morning," he whispers, pink hair splayed across his forehead. "Had a good sleep?"

With a tired groan, you face the ceiling instead, grabbing a pillow and covering your face. Despite them agreeing to stay away from your bedroom, they slowly but surely broke that rule.

You don't know what you expected.

Gently, a weight topples over your pillow and body. You pause, waiting for the consideration that they'll leave you alone, but it never comes.

You sit up carefully, letting the body on top of you fall to your mattress.

Baby stares at you with big eyes, glancing at your arm beside his head. You click your tongue, watching him blankly—

Something fluffy goes under your other arm. You turn, spotting Mystery's head resting on your waist. He's purring, somehow... You look around your bed, beautiful grown men—demons—all over, and you wonder how they even managed to fit themselves.

"Okay," you sigh in defeat, patting the demon on your side, "where's Jinu?"

"Right here," Jinu reveals, sitting on the chair in your room. He's looking at you through your mirror. "Sorry about them. I think they missed you."

The boys on your bed shuffle a little. You ignore them, staring at Jinu's reflection, who nonchalantly shrinks every passing second that you do. "...Flattered."

Well, since they're here, guess you should go and prepare for the day. You glance at the clock, 4 AM. Weird. That feels too early, doesn't it?

Whatever. You don't know anything about KPop idol schedules.

You start to stretch and raise your body from the bed—only to get pushed back down.

"No, no! Stay and sleep more," Abby ushers, pushing you on your shoulders. The pillow hits your head softly. "We're here to rest, not to work."

"Wha," you sputter, watching as Romance lets the blanket comfortably fall on your chest. "Uh, thank—"

Then Mystery flops down on top of you next. Baby follows, nestling in close at your side—clearly wanting to be the little spoon. Romance drapes an arm over both you and Baby. On your other side, Abs settles in with his arm across both you and Mystery.

"Oh," you cough.

You stare at the ceiling, dazed and so confused, until you cast down your gaze to Jinu.

He smiles awkwardly.

🌺 part 2 — for separate members :)

—

jinu . facepalms

if this actually happened irl i'd be scared for my life btw

[shotmrmiller]

Bullrider! Johnny is explosive while on the bucking bull. He's a tightly wound coil of muscle and grit. His thighs clamp down, calves locked tight, his entire body tense, ready, prepared to counter every brutal buck with sharp corrections. His core works overtime, twisting to keep him balanced, his arms snapping in rhythm with the beast beneath him.

it's not just riding, it's conquering, and he thrives off the struggle.

And then there's Bullrider! Simon— my best pal, Johnny says— and he's an entirely different game. Mass. Weight. Gravity. Where Johnny fights the bull, Simon seems to absorb it. His sheer size is his advantage; his weight keeps him rooted. When the bull lunges, twists and kicks, Simon doesn't scramble. He doesn't need to. The momentum rolls through him and around him. When you're that big a man, you don't have to fight for your place, you reckon.

Johnny fights, and Simon claims.

And how they ride is exactly how they want, how they take.

Johnny steals you into a rodeo maintenance closet with starved impatience and greedy hands that're already trailing down south, fingers dipping into the waistband of your shorts, tips of them finding your pearl in seconds, and his ravenous mouth warm as it presses against the curve of your ear, murmuring nothing else but hot honey in an accent thick with places you've never been while he circles and thrusts and curls oh so deliciously.

"Tight grip ya got there, lass."

Then he holds your bleary gaze when he suckles on his fingers, glistening with your undone slick, licking them clean when his name's announced over the speakers, loud, cutting, for the main event. "Sorry, love, gotta run," he drawls, voice easy, grin sharp and cocky. "But don't ya worry, Simon here'll take good care o' ya."

Johnny's boots are heavy as he walks away, not even a glance back, and before you can even blink— can tell him that you don't remember signing up for the two for one special— Simon moves in, blocks out the light, already taking up the space Johnny left behind, ready to finish what he started.

He's got you now.

Where Johnny had pushed you against the wall, had knocked a bucket or two over in his haste, Simon decides that you belong against that wall, large hands spreading over your waist, and they pin you in place.

"Johnny's made a mess, eh?" His voice is low, careful, dragging slow just behind your ear, and it's thick with an accent that doesn't ask, simply informs.

"Guess I better clean up, then." It sinks hot into your skin but not hotter than the damp breath fanning against your exposed throbbing pussy, and it bounces around in your empty little head when he does clean up, thick, pink tongue savoring Johnny's reward.

And to think that Johnny had told you it'd be just a simple date.

What a lie that was.

[supine-ly]

strangers

[ceilidho]

take me home, country road

[ao3]

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (chapter 16 + 17) tw: violence, injuries, and misogynistic language

first chapter >> last chapter

-

Sinking into fear is the body’s natural response. You let it envelope you without putting up a struggle. It wouldn’t be one that you’d win anyway. Resistance already leaks out of you like tar, pooling around your quivering legs.  

It makes you feel lighter than air, almost buoyant; and conversely, heavier than lead. 

You can’t feel the cold metal of the gun through the layers of fabric separating it from the skin of your back, but you can feel its weight. And you can imagine it burning into you, burning a ring into the flesh, the muzzle leaving faint depressions behind, circular indents.

“Don’t feel so clever now, huh?”

Fear chokes as well as it binds. When the man you remember as Graves (appropriately named, you think, the gravity of the situation sinking into you as well) drawls the words into your ear, any moisture in your mouth dries. 

“Well?” he prompts, shoving the gun harder into your back, almost sending you toppling into the shelf still in front of you obscuring you from sight. “Got anythin’ to say?”

You open your mouth but nothing comes out.

“You a mute, girl? I know you ain’t deaf since you heard I’d been sniffin’ around lookin’ for ya. ‘Least I’m guessin’ you did, since you managed to give me the slip for the whole time I was in town.” He sniffs. “Took me a while to find out you were shacked up with the sheriff. Hiding in plain sight. Couldn’t believe I missed ya when Sheriff Price was damn near the first person I met in this two-bit town.”

You finally muster up the nerve to speak. “Y-you’re making a mistake.” 

The furled upper lip is audible in his voice. “I’d try not to piss me off too much, sugar. Lyin’ just rubs me the wrong way is all.”

“No, you—you really don’t—” 

He shoves the gun harder into your back, making you wince. “Now, I know you’re a slippery little bitch, so I’ll level with you, alright?” Graves murmurs, pitching his voice low to ensure that only you hear. “You make so much as a peep—so much as a fuckin’ whisper—and I’ll shoot. Wink and I’ll shoot. I am dyin’ for you to give me a reason to go with the better half of the dead or alive question.”

There’s no point in lying. It might’ve worked had it been anyone but the man holding you hostage; not a man as stubborn and mulish as him. You nod when he asks if you understand.

“Now get to steppin’.”

He doesn’t tarry long, leading you out of the shop with a hand on your shoulder and . You stare at Miles with mounting horror, wordlessly begging him to look up from the ledger open in front of him on the counter. Your prayers go unanswered though; he doesn’t so much as glance towards the door before it’s swinging shut behind you.

“Remember,” Graves says in a low voice as the two of you step out onto the porch, “not a word. I will shoot anyone that tries to interfere.” 

That kills the impulse to shout for help. 

The thought of letting Graves take you away without voicing so much as a single plea fills you with horror, but you can’t see any other way out. He walks you through the streets like an old friend, the pistol still wedged into your back obscured by his coat. No one seems to notice the wild look in your eyes or the strained edge of your smile. 

Your behavior infuriates you. Demural and soft and wretched. You’ve only allowed one man to put you under their thumb; only one has ever earned the right. 

The thought of your husband is an ache in your chest that doesn’t abate. It thumps with the terrified flutter of your heart. You half wonder if he’ll suddenly appear from around a bend and wrench you into his arms, gun already drawn and aimed at the man attempting to take you away from him. 

“My husband—” you start, tripping over your words. Almost tripping over a rock as well since your spine is too stiff to let you look down at the ground while you walk. “—He can—he can pay you.”

He laughs, a nasty, mocking sound. “I’m sure he’d like to, sugar. Jus' ain’t sure he’s got the cash to pay your price.”

“At least let me ask—”

At that, he jams the gun violently into the small of your back, making you wince agaun. Petrified. Sweat sluices off your brow and drips down your face. “What part of shut the fuck up don’t you get?”

That silences you. Hard to muster up the nerve to retaliate with a gun lodged against the base of your spine. Still there’s so much that bears asking. Why did he come back? Why here—why now? 

The town takes on a dull, listless quality as he steers you away from the more crowded areas. It’s almost like looking through muslin; a veil between you and the world. 

Your eyes dart from person to person as they pass by in the opposite direction, but even those that bother to meet your gaze only smile politely, a couple passing gentlemen chirping, “Morning, Mrs. Price” before sweeping by in a hurry. 

None question the wild, frantic glint in your eye, the look of a horse about to bolt. If they paid you more than a moment’s notice, they might, but even the lady who frowns curiously at Graves, his hand still resting gently on your arm as if he were an old, dear friend, abandons her momentary curiosity when her companion says something of interest, pulling her back into their conversation. The flicker of hope in your belly dies a soundless death. 

There’s something almost phantasmagorical about the entire ordeal. Almost like it isn’t quite happening, like you can’t quite make yourself believe that this is, in fact, real. Like you’re watching from outside of yourself. Though you can see the wooden facades of the nearby buildings and smell the scent of hay and manure from the livery stable, it doesn’t resonate within you as real. 

He meanders through town with you stationed in front of him. A meat shield. Collateral damage. Simply by the way he maneuvers you through the crowd, he reduces you to a body, stripping you of any semblance of personhood. You’re less than meat to him, less than human even—no more than a meal ticket. 

When you muster up the courage to open your mouth the next time someone passes you by, Graves’ hand slides up to your shoulder and he digs his fingers into the bone. A warning. 

“If you think I was kiddin’ before, just try me,” he sneers into your ear, thumb pressing into your shoulder blade until you wince. 

Again, his voice dispels any thought of getting someone’s attention. 

He doesn’t lead you towards the train station like you expect. Instead, he heads to an awning beneath the saloon on the periphery of town where a couple horses are leashed to a post, waiting for their riders to come untie them. The roof of the awning is strung with a dense cluster of overlapping cobwebs. A spider scuttles across the web and into the dark inner recesses of the canopy. 

This far from the center of town, there’s hardly anyone. When you give your surroundings a quick glance, you can’t find a single other soul within earshot, only a single man pushing open the batwing doors on his way into the saloon. Then you’re alone again. 

A tawny gelding chuffs when Graves approaches.  When he suddenly unhands you, it doesn’t click until he’s several paces away from you, running his hand down his horse’s neck and rifling through the saddlebags, emptying the contents of his coat pockets into them. You have to glance down at your shoulder just to be sure. He sheathes his gun as well, tucking it into the holster fixed to his belt. 

“Bought the horse off a drunk three towns back,” Graves explains while loading up the horse.

You don’t respond, still unsettled. It’s the first time since he led you out of the general store that his gun hasn’t been aimed at you. It wouldn’t be practical for him to dress and load the horse one handed. The sun beats down on you, burning the top of your head. This could be your moment—a moment to scream or run away.

But you don’t. You don’t scream and you don’t run because you are, above all else, a coward. Through and through. You’ve been running from your problems for months now, leaving someone else to take care of the mess you left behind. 

Fear paralyzes you; it makes you think too much or not at all. Even now, with Graves giving you the perfect opportunity to turn and run, you can’t stop thinking about the potential consequences. What if he were to shoot you? What if he were to haul you back into town and expose your sins to everyone who gathered around? What if the people in town that have come to see you as one of their own were to gather around your crumpled form and stare at you with vitriol and disgust? 

“How did you—” you start, then pause to breathe, the nausea building again. “I thought you’d left town.”

“You’d’ve liked that, huh?” 

You don’t answer that. You know better than to antagonize a man with a gun. 

He sighs when you don’t rise to the bait, almost pettish. “Wedding announcement. I saw it in the paper—by then, I’d moved on to Lexington, so it took me awhile to backtrack, but I just knew somethin’ about that bit in the paper about the sheriff’s wife hailing from the east coast didn’t sound right. Too big of a coincidence. Had to at least be sure—retrace my footsteps. Lotta money on the line, you know.”

You stare straight ahead at that. You ought to have known. 

(“In the paper. The county sheriff got hitched—of course it’d be a story.”)

“To be honest, that kinda cracked me up. Murderess marrying the county sheriff.” He snorts out a laugh, shaking his head. “Sorta thing you’d read about in a dime novel.”

A new emotion wells up within you. It simmers in your belly, hot and cold at once. Righteous fury. All this time, you’ve been betraying yourself with your silence, allowing men to read your fear as guilt. Complicit in your own ruin. 

“I’m not a murderer.”

The look he gives you is withering. “Sugar, I hate to break it to you, but you did kill a man.”

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. Nothing ever does, it seems.  But the more you hold it in, the uglier the thought seems, until it erupts from your chest like Vesuvius, lava and tephra shooting out. 

“He deserved it,” you finally spit out, the words coming from deep in your chest. 

Graves doesn’t even pause in his ministrations, back to tightening the saddle straps. 

“He deserved it,” you repeat, spittle flying out of your mouth and landing in the dirt between the two of you. 

“That’s not somethin’ I usually concern myself with,” he finally says, looking distinctly unimpressed when he meets your stare. Bored blue eyes. 

You’re struck by the sense that your life means so little to him that the circumstances surrounding your bounty hardly merit more than a passing thought. If he could spare less, he would. 

It’s the vilest thing in the world to be regarded with such bored contempt. 

“He would’ve—he would’ve raped me otherwise. I didn’t have a choice.” 

At that, Graves pauses. When he looks towards you, his eyes are curiously blank. 

“Better that than what’ll happen now,” he says, the words so perfunctory that it takes a moment for them to sink in.  When they do, you have to swallow back bile.

His glibness shatters whatever hope you’d had left. 

In that moment, you finally acknowledge that appealing to his sense of decency won’t lead you anywhere because it simply doesn’t exist within him. You’ve known men like him before—those more concerned with lining their own pockets than taking care of the vulnerable people around them. The archetype is not uncommon. You should’ve expected it even, especially from a bounty hunter. 

There won’t be any bribing him or talking your way out of the situation you’ve found yourself in. Whatever facinorous end awaits you back east, he’s happy to shepherd you there so long as it earns him his thirty coins. 

How many times do you have to ask yourself if you’re brave enough to do something before you answer? 

When Graves turns to face you again and takes a step towards you, likely to urge you up onto the saddle, you recoil, stumbling away from him. His eyes sharpen at your movement, fulvous wolf eyes narrowing on you. 

“And here I thought you’d stopped pissin’ me off,” he says lightly, a hard edge underlying his words. His hand lifts to rest against the handle of the revolver tucked back in its sheath, thumb flexing over it. 

“What’s the point?” you retort, nostrils flaring. “You either kill me here or I die there.”

You sound braver than you feel, fear making you shake so hard that your knees almost knock together. 

Graves’ smile is all lip, no crinkling around the eyes. “Oh, I won’t kill you, sugar. I’m a better shot than that.”

Your heart pounds against your ribcage, stomach turning over at the thought of him putting a bullet through your shoulder or leg. 

“I’m surprised you won’t just come quietly. You think the sheriff wouldn’t hand you over to me himself if he found out what kinda woman he married?”

That’s been your fear from the very beginning. The one thing that’s kept you awake at night, the nightmare shaking you out of a dead sleep. You’d convinced yourself that him calling the authorities or even escorting you back east himself was an inevitability. That John Price, paragon of virtue, wouldn’t bend the rules for anyone, much less you. 

But the more you think about it, the less sense it seems to make. Every tender word and touch rises to the forefront of your memory. If John has shown you anything, it’s love. He’s proven his devotion a thousand times over, shown you time and again that were you to leave, he’d come running. 

Suddenly, the thought that your husband would let someone take you away from him seems preposterous. It doesn’t align at all with the man you know. He’d go to hell and back for you, would rip out a man’s tongue for speaking to you the way Graves speaks to you now. Hindsight makes that clear. 

You meet his eyes, intention set. “I’d rather just ask him.”

Blue eyes turn to flint, flat. Droll candor shed for ruthlessness. Silence before a storm. 

He’s on you before you even have a chance to whirl around and make a run for it, arm cutting into your windpipe when he wraps it around your neck. He drags you back into the shadows of the awning, out of sight from anyone on the street; your heels score lines in the dirt. You choke, wheezing on your next breath, but his arm tightens, trapping the scream in your throat. 

“Shoulda done this before,” Graves grunts, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out the pair of cuffs he had tucked away. 

When he unhooks his arm from around your neck, you gasp for breath, sucking in deep lungfuls of air. Panic swirls and rises in your chest. 

“Get your hands off—” you hiss, beating his arm with your fist to no avail. He yanks your arms in front of you until your wrists are pressed close together. Your blood curdles at the feeling of cold iron against your skin and the gut-wrenching sound of handcuffs being fixed around your wrists, tightened to the point of pain. You can hardly flex your hands with how tight they’re bound. “Let me go, let ME GO—”

He pulls you in close again. “Don’t think I won’t tape your fuckin’ mouth shut too,” Graves snarls in your ear. Nausea swells in your belly. 

“Please— please don’t do this—” you beg, a sob breaking from your chest now. 

He sighs, long suffering. “Lord knows I tried to warn you.”

Despite the threat, Graves doesn’t tape your mouth shut. Instead, he fastens a rough piece of rope around your head, fitting it between your teeth like a bit. You don’t have it in you to be thankful for small mercies this time. The hemp cord scratches the corners of your mouth when you try to move your lips around it. 

“There,” he says, giving you a rough shake, satisfied. “That’s better. Can finally hear myself think.”

The tears leak out of the corners of your eyes in big, fat droplets, clouding your vision. When he wipes your cheeks with a calloused hand, the nail of his thumb catches on the delicate skin under your eye, leaving a thin cut. The pain makes you flinch, staring daggers at the man in front of you, but he doesn’t apologize for his rough handling. 

Graves heaves himself up onto the saddle first, swinging a leg over with practiced ease. You yelp when he hauls you up after, setting you on the saddle in front of him. Heat crawls up your neck when your skirt billows around your waist, horrified. 

“Save your tears, sugar,” he tells you, gathering the reins in one hand. “You’ll need ‘em for later.”

The horse whinnies when Graves pulls upward and guides him towards the road leading out of town, hooves clopping against the dirt. Your heart shoots up into your throat. 

Galloping out of town, you chance a glance back, head spinning as the world blurs around you. A man stands under the awning you just left, his head cocked as if stupefied. He’s too far away for you to get a proper look at his face though, no way to tell if he’s someone that might recognize you and alert John. You try to scream or wave your hands—anything to get his attention, to let the stranger know that something is wrong. 

You watch until the figure melds into the surrounding town. 

You keep waiting for someone to appear from behind you. A tall figure to darken the horizon, blot it like the moon passing over the sun. 

The last bastion of your hope collapses into rubble the farther away you ride, no man nor horse following you in pursuit. And then a hand grabs a fistful of your hair and wrenches your head back around, cutting off your view.

The plan is to leave the horse in the next town you reach and take a train back east. Graves would’ve done that back in the town you just left, he tells you, but he wanted to put as much distance between you and the sheriff. 

“You never know with men who’ve gotten a taste of married life,” he says when he finally deigns to stop miles from town, sitting on a rock and having a drink while he leaves you tied to the horse by your wrists. You shift from foot to foot, a cramp winding up your legs. “They get themselves a little pussy and lose all sense of dignity or morality. Can’t be trusted to do the right thing.” 

Steam practically billows out of your ears. You have the good sense to keep your mouth shut though, cognizant of the fact that you’re alone out in the middle of nowhere with a man who’d be happy to bring you back dead or alive. Though he hasn’t been quite so explicit, it’s apparent in the way he doesn’t offer to untie you or let you rest as well. The skin under the cuffs on your wrists are rubbed raw from your attempts to free yourself, and from the journey itself, with all the jostling and the persistent cramp in your right shoulder. 

The animal awareness dawns on you during that first rest. He’d taken the rope out when you were far enough outside of town that it didn’t matter if you screamed or not. That’s what stays your tongue now—the creeping notion that you are far from anyone that would be remotely sympathetic to your plight. 

“How much was the bounty?” you ask, more out of morbid curiosity than anything. You balance on one foot to shake the cramp out of the other. 

“Now, I hate to be rude, sugar, but what does it matter to you? It ain’t you collecting the reward.”

Your lips flatten into a taut line, already regretting prying. It’s not like knowing would change anything. 

The break ends sooner than you’d hoped, Graves urging you back onto the horse before taking a seat behind you. It troubles you because you’re not far enough away from town that you couldn’t still be rescued. There’d be more of a chance of John or someone else—one of his deputies, perhaps—coming across you out here. But you don’t have much of a choice. 

Out here, the land stretches on without end. Only the faint blue of a mountain ridge paralleling your route breaks the horizon. The land is flat, sparse apart from the dense shrubbery and trees twisted and bent by the wind. Cottonwood and boxelder. Chokecherry. Dogwood and hawthorn. Lush blooming saltbrush. 

The clear blue sky overhead is almost mocking, the rain from earlier long since abated. There’s hardly a cloud in the sky now. It’d be scenic if you could abstract it from the circumstances. A perfect day for gardening or a brisk walk after being kept indoors because of the rain. You’re still damp from riding through the rain earlier. 

A few bison congregate in a small dip in the terrain, grazing on the wild grass. You stare at them wide-eyed as you gallop along the upper ridge, startled by the sight of so many in one place. 

Despite the sublime beauty of the land, you remain on edge, unable to take anything in or truly enjoy it. Panic and revulsion leave you as gnarled and knotted as the krummholz trees out in the middle of the open plains. Riding with Graves feels nothing like the few times you and John shared a horse. It’s impersonal; transactional. Entirely against your will. 

The sun has only just begun to descend under the horizon when you and Graves approach a ramshackle house situated by itself in the middle of the open plains. Barely more than a barn, and long since abandoned by the looks of it. Age has done the place no favors; wooden slats sag and separate from the exterior of the house, the gaps in between the boards letting in all manner of insects and rot. 

Graves dismounts his horse about a stone’s throw from the hovel. His brow furrows with dissatisfaction as he surveys the abandoned property. 

“Shit,” he remarks, sucking his teeth. “A local back in town swore a family still lived here. Don’t look like anyone’s lived here since Abraham.”

Part of you wishes the former tenants still resided here, on the off possibility that one might take pity on you, but a much larger part of you is grateful for the dwelling’s vacancy. You’ve heard stories before, of families living out in the middle of nowhere. Rumors. Not all bad, of course; it’s common enough for families migrating west sometimes to stop along the way for a generation or two, building more permanent dwellings than the caravans they began their journey in. Many such families were also known for putting up travelers passing through in exchange for goods or help with chores. 

But you’ve also heard other stories. Like the Riley family out near Cherryvale and their homestead just off the Great Osage Trail. They lived out there for more than two decades before the number of lone travelers vanishing off the trail within walking distance of their property pointed the finger of suspicion at them. When the authorities finally got around to procuring a warrant for their property, they found the house deserted apart from the furniture that couldn’t be loaded into the wagon and an infant boy, dehydrated and petrified. 

You shake the story from your head. “…Are we spending the night here?” you ask tentatively. 

He looks at you from the corner of his eye, nostrils flared. “Don’t go gettin’ any ideas in that head of yours. Jus’ because a man’s gotta rest his eyes, don’t mean I gotta give you a peaceful night’s rest. No, I’m leavin’ those hands of yours tied.”

Your hopes deflate at that. 

He helps you dismount before hobbling his horse with a pair of leather straps around its front legs to keep it from darting off in the middle of the night. You wince sympathetically; you have more in common with a horse now than any man. 

The inside of the cabin is just as derelict as the exterior. At the very least, he feeds you. A couple scoops of pemmican straight from the tin. The fact that he insists on feeding you instead of letting you feed yourself puts you on edge. Your spine is stiff as a board through it all, your mouth barely opening up to receive the spoonful of pemmican, the metal clanking against your teeth. You wince, the sound itself tasting of rust. 

At all times, you are aware of the precarity of your situation. You can’t imagine there were any stipulations in the bounty to bring you back unscathed. Though he hasn’t tried anything untoward so far—not so much as made a licentious remark—you don’t know how long your luck will last. You flinch every time he so much as twitches in your direction, sure at any moment his mood will flip and he’ll drag you across the floor and haul himself over you. 

It’s enough to make your stomach hurt, turning over itself. He doesn’t try anything though, and for that you exhale shakily, the tension running off you in rivulets. 

One hour drags into the next. Night blackens the sky, seeping in through the crumbling walls of the cabin. 

“Well,” Graves says, wiping his hands together to dust off any lingering crumbs. “I’m gonna hit the hay.”

“Do…do I get to sleep as well?”

He cocks a brow. “Not much I can do to stop you.”

“It’s just that…” You lift your hands as you trail off, silently pointing out the handcuffs still secured around your wrists, the implicit assertion being that you won’t be able to sleep with the metal digging into the bones of your wrists. 

Graves scoffs. “You can’t think I’ll just uncuff you ‘cause we ain’t in town no more. I got a little more sense than that, sugar.”

“You could use rope instead?” you suggest. 

The seconds he spends considering it are long. You hold your breath as you watch him weigh the pros and cons. 

Finally, he shrugs. “Alright.”

The relief that washes over you is almost palpable. 

He pulls a blanket out of one of the saddlebags to function as a makeshift pillow, setting it up on the floor in the center of the room. True to his word, Graves uncuffs you and loops a double knotted rope around your wrists instead, fastening the rope tying your hands together around his own wrist. Your stomach sinks as he pulls the knot taut. 

He levels a heavy stare on you after giving the rope one last tug. “I don’t usually repeat myself, sugar, but I will this one time. Don’t go tryin’ anythin’ stupid. I’m gettin’ a good night’s rest and so help me if you wake me up—” his eyes flash, gray going steely “—you won’t like the consequences.”

You nod. Swallow back the phlegm clogging your throat. 

True night plunges the old house into darkness, cricket songs slipping in through the cracks in the walls. The temperature also plunges with the setting sun. It gets cold at night, even in the summer months; the draft makes you shiver, the rotting exterior letting in the elements. 

You keep to the wall with the least amount of rotting boards, as far as the rope tethering you to Graves will allow you to go. It would probably be in your best interest to try and get some sleep, but you’re far too restless to calm down. The atmosphere in the house is far too eerie to settle your nerves either; you can’t help but wonder about the family that must have left this place to rot and fade away into memory. 

It’s all you can do to blink back the tears that spring to your eyes when you think about the memory of you that John will have to carry into the future now that you’re gone. It isn’t fair. After everything you’ve had to endure in this lifetime, you thought maybe that this might have been your reward. That John was your reward. 

Your hands drop from your chin to your knees, hopelessness plaguing you again. The thin, sharp whistle of defeat. High and reedy as a death rattle. 

Then your eyes drop to your wrists.

The cord is fastened in a bowline knot around your wrists, difficult to undo without considerable effort, but the material is softer than the cuffs Graves had you in before, and it gives when you pull one hand down while pushing the other up. Your skin bunches around the cord, but it doesn’t cut into you the way the metal did. 

Graves is still fast asleep when you glance over at him. He doesn’t snore, but the rise and fall of his chest under the blanket is steady. Stable. 

The fatigue dissipates from your body the second you put it together. That there’s a sliver of a possibility of slipping your hands out of the rope tying you to Graves. The exhilaration is almost overwhelming. You have to sit with it a beat before acting, wary of letting your guard down too fast.

Time passes slowly as you fiddle with the knot, reaching your fingers as far as they’ll go and gritting your teeth through the ensuing cramp in your wrist. You nearly groan in frustration when your hand twitches and you accidentally retighten the knot. A near crushing blow. 

Please, you mouth more than whisper, frustrated tears clumped in your lashes. Teeth sinking into the flesh of your bottom lip, pinching off the wail rising up your throat. 

Your heart skips a beat when the rope loosens around one of your wrists, enough for you to wiggle a pinkie underneath and slowly shimmy it up the length of your hand. A cramp makes your pinkie spasm, almost causing you to lose your grip. Sweat pools in the cup of your palm. 

When your wrists are finally free, the rope clutched in trembling hands and the basal joint of your thumb scrapped raw from the fibrous rope, you can only sit there, heart beating wildly in your chest. You have to force yourself to remain calm, wary of waking Graves up after all that effort. His eyelids quiver only with his dreams though. 

You glance towards the door on the other side of the cabin. It seems either farther away now that you know it’s within reach. You know better than to just run straight for it though. Weeks of being on the run before finding John have taught you to pace yourself, to push down the fluttering evocation in your chest to make a mad dash for the closest way out. 

Instead, you take a deep breath out, closing your eyes until you’ve calmed down. Then you rise slowly to your feet. 

Your eyes, having long since adjusted to the darkness, scan the room for any loose floorboards. Aside from one obvious corner of the house which has begun to rot away and collapse, it’s hard for you to discern at a glance which boards will groan under the weight of your feet. You have no choice but to guess.

Each step has you on edge, heart in your throat. Your focus shifts quicksilver between the floor and Graves. Waiting for any sudden movement. 

Halfway to the door, you take another cautious step forward and the floorboard creaks under your foot. Your heart stops, eyes flitting instantly over to Graves’ sleeping form. He doesn’t so much as shift. It’s another beat before you’re able to move again, confidence shaken by the noise. You keep imagining him suddenly shooting up from the floor, pistol in hand, the hammer striking the primer, the hiss of gas escaping the barrel. 

The door gives a faint creak when you push it open, so you open it only enough for your body to slip through, wincing when you twitch and accidentally push it open another inch, dragging out the creak. Still, he doesn't wake. You slip past the door, shutting it quietly behind you.  

The moon glows cornsilk gold in the sky. A vast, uncharted land stretches out around you, untouched by human hands, or so changed over the years that any human presence has long since been buried beneath the loam. But when you stare out into the distance, you realize that you have no idea where you came from. Everything looks the same in each direction, no landmark familiar enough for you to orient yourself. You’re out in the middle of nowhere and nothing looks right. 

If you had less strength, you’d fall to your knees. The despair is so immense that you hardly have the strength to hold it all at once. 

The silence lulls you into a false sense of security. You linger for too long, stuck contemplating your options. Coyotes yip in distant packs, their barks carrying across the plains. You shiver at the sound. It reminds you again that you’re on your own now. No husband to come chasing after you if things get sticky. 

Your first few steps away from the cabin are tentative, gliding your legs through the grass and staring up at the cornsilk moon. A combination of indulgence and bewilderment. If you knew the right way home, you wouldn’t waver, but these days, you have no faith in your instincts. They’ve only ever led you off course. 

The gelding that Graves rode in on sits in the grass with its hind legs folded underneath it. With its legs still hobbled, you know removing the leather will take more time than you'd like, but you figure it'll be easier to make your way across the plains on horseback, with the added bonus of leaving Graves stranded. If God were just, he’d starve out here and leave his corpse for the coyotes to feast on. 

You approach the horse cautiously, conscious not to make any sudden movements. Its ears angle towards you as you draw near. Attentive to your presence. 

“Hey there, honey,” you whisper, reaching out a hand and trying to show that you aren’t a threat. Its nose twitches.

Another step forward. Easy does it. One leg in front of the other.

“I won’t hurt you. I promise.” You try to mirror your memory of John in your voice, honeysuckle soft words. 

You aren’t John though. Not even close. You take another step towards it.

It brays when you get too close, skittish. The sound pierces through the night, louder than the coyotes in the distance. Louder even than the creaking door.  

The hair on the back of your neck raises, lips numb. Then the prickling awareness of movement in the house, like an itch on a phantom limb. 

Behind you, the door to the cabin bursts open with a bang, slamming off the wall and ricocheting back. You whip your head around to look only to find Graves’ towering form under the shadow of the doorway, his hair mused and clothes askew. And he looks enraged. 

“Hey!” Graves bellows from the doorway, breaking into a run towards you. “Get back here!”

There’s no time to sit with the regret, no time to bemoan the fact that you didn’t exercise enough caution, that for some reason without a gun leveled at your head, you allowed yourself to forget the very real danger this man posed to you. 

All you can do is run.

The grass whistles around you. You run so hard that your lungs burn, your arms pumping furiously beside you, dress swishing between your legs. You don’t have to look behind you to know that Graves is gaining on you. His body is built for pursuit. Still, you push yourself past your breaking point, not stopping even when you taste blood in your mouth. Mindless; directionless. No idea where you’re going—just away from him. You’d jump off a cliff if you came across one. 

He’s close enough for you to hear now, heavy breathing right behind you. But by then it’s too late. A heavy body rams into you, sending you careening towards the earth, the ground rushing up to meet you halfway. The dirt hardly cushions the blow. 

You hit the ground hard. Head knocked loose of thought, agony ripping across your face. The double blow of a body heavier than yours forcing you into the dirt, so solid that it crushes the breath from your lungs. 

Blood leaks from your lip, most likely split. When you breathe in to fill your lungs, you taste dirt and rust and earth. 

“Insufferable bitch,” Graves snarls, putrid breath wafting under your nose and making your eyes water. He grabs a handful of your hair and wrenches your head up before slamming it back down. Something crunches. Distantly, you wonder if your nose is broken. 

Your ears ring, the rest of his words drowned out by the blood rushing to your face. 

“Please—” you beg, blood dripping from your split lip. 

“Knew I shouldn’ta trusted you—conniving little cunt—c’mere now, get up—”

He rises to his feet over your body, big hand curling around your wrist. You hear your shoulder pop when he yanks your arm behind your back. A rush of cold. A sweat breaks on the nape of your neck. Shock sets in the moment after, adrenaline flooding your body. 

Then a sharp, focused surge of pain. It radiates from your shoulder outward, so intense that you can’t believe it at first. Your whole world reduces down to it. Feathering out down your back; irradiating waves of it. Thoughts scattering and then coming back together around the pain. If you scream, it comes out unbidden. 

“Ah, hell, I didn’t mean to do that,” he grumbles from behind you, likely staring at the unnatural jut of your shoulder. “Alright, sugar, one second—I’ll pop that back in.”

“Nononono—” you gasp, panic lancing through you, but he pays no attention to your words. 

The pain of popping your shoulder back in is excruciating. Relief follows shortly after, but the time between dislocating and relocating your shoulder is so short that it hardly comes as a balm to the pain.

“You…bastard…” you gasp. 

“Wouldn’ta had to do that if you hadn’t run,” he sighs, the sight of your pain subduing his rage. 

It doesn’t stop him from grabbing you roughly by the arm he just dislocated when he finally gets you on your feet though, steering you back towards the house. The pain that radiates up your arm is almost blinding. 

He drags you back to the cabin with a punishing grip. There’s no sympathy when you stumble. Moonlight illuminates the path back to the cabin and shows you the trenches in the wild grass made by your feet. Hardly more than a couple rods. 

The defeat that courses through you upon being dragged through the ramshackle front door is ten times that of earlier. When he lets go of your arm, you collapse in a heap on the floor, aching and sweating. A bag of bones and blood. You’d rattle if someone shook you. 

“I hate you,” you mumble from your spot on the floor, shaking through the pain. “Rot in hell.”

Graves doesn’t respond, but you can almost hear the way he grins.  

No rest for the wicked or the good this time. Graves wakes intermittently throughout the night to check up on you, wary now that you’ve tried to run. Your regret is palpable. You should’ve waited. Bided your time. There won't be another chance now, not after you played your hand so soon. 

The ache in your shoulder keeps you from finding sleep. Every time you get close to it, the pain radiates down your arm and it slips from your grasp, your hand closing around the empty space it leaves behind. Teeth grit, breathing through the pain. Loosening your jaw and panting because the pain overwhelms you when you so much as shift onto your side, the hard floor digging into your elbow. 

Right on the edge of sleep, just as you're about to latch on, a boot catches you in the ribs, jostling you back into the realm of pain. You wheeze, breaking into a coughing fit. 

“Get up,” a hoarse voice grunts above you, empty of sympathy. “We got places to be.”

He has the two of you back on the horse as soon as dawn breaks. Your escape attempt the night before must have spooked him, and you regret it now in the light of day because you know he won’t let you out of his sight again. The metal handcuffs digging into your wrists assures you of that. 

There’s no time for breakfast or time to wash up. Graves makes it a point to be back on the road as fast as possible, repacking his bedroll and stuffing it back in the saddlebag before dragging you up with him. 

The pain is a dull throb after sleeping most of the agony away. It comes back when you move too quickly though, which is hard to avoid on horseback when each gallop echoes through your sore bones and joints. 

The arching sun immixes with the heavens above, rising higher as the hours pass. You ache for a hat; something to keep the heat of the sun off your head. On the horizon, the mountain ridge sits like a spine bursting out from the earth. It’s all wastelands and portents. Evil omens. 

Your heart feels swollen and bruised, like something trampled under elk hooves. 

“Cheer up,” Graves says, tipping your chin up when the sun reaches its peak around midday, the gesture making you so uncomfortable that you almost shudder out of your skin. Your face still throbs with pain. “You should be glad I didn’t jus’ shoot you.”

Your lips pull back, baring your teeth to nothing. 

A shot rips through the air at that, his words commanding it into being. Your head instinctively ducks and even the horse under you staggers, spooked by the sound. Graves curses, tensing up behind you.

"What in the hell—"

You whip your head around to stare behind you, looking for the source of the gunfire. When you find it, your eyes widen.

[soulsforsales]

Texting with the Bat Boys <3 (pt 2)

(Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake)

[nayrring]

Give me this fine ass senior citizen right now!

[lady-corrine]

[scribblesofagoonerr]

dino's are fancy! | buddy & monkey: double the trouble

summary: new year eve celebrations are in full swing, however, buddy is set on wearing a dinosaur costume to the party, so leah has to compromise somwhere along the line...

double the trouble masterlist

"Ou' need dis one next! B'ue one next!" You demand, less than patient as you thrust the Lego brick into Monkey's hand, "Ere', Monks'! Take it!"

You're sitting cross-legged on the floor in the living room beside Monkey, near to the twinkling Christmas tree. The two of you are deep into building the massive Lego set that your favourite person got for Christmas.

Monkey generously let you help her-- though she was actually doing most of the work, she had cheekily dubbed you as her "assistant."

"Pass it over here then, shrimp," Monkey mumbles, holding her hand out.

"Ere ou' go! 'Ave it!" You chirp, pushing the piece into her hand with determination.

"Good job," Your favourite person murmurs distractedly, focused on the instructions.

The room feels cosy, the soft hum of New Year's preparations buzzing in the background. You're aware there's a big crowd coming over later, and you're beyond excited - especially since your best friend, Rory, is also coming to the party as well with Beth and Viv.

"Monks'?" You not so politely prod the older girl in the shoulder, "When everyone comin' round?" You ask, curiosity piqued.

"Not until way, way later tonight, remember? It'll be dark and the monsters will be out to get ya!" Monkey tells you with a teasing smile.

Your eyes widen in fear, "No' Monsters!" You exclaim, scrambling to your feet and leaving Monkey behind to continue building Lego on her own, "Mummy! Mummy!" You shout aloud the house without a care in the world, absolutely frightened now.

Leah and her girlfriend, Elle, are both currently in the kitchen in the middle of sorting out all the grown-up drinks ahead of the party when you run in like a deer in the headlights.

"Whoa," Elle is the first to catch you mid-run before you crash into something and hurt yourself like you've done once or twice before, "You okay, little miss?"

"I scared. Where's me, mum?" You ask frantically, your eyes darting around the room to catch sight of Leah, "Mummy! Where are ou'?"

"I'm right here, bubba," Leah chuckles, carrying a couple of funny-looking bottles in her hand as she places them both down on the kitchen countertop, before crouching down to your level and seeing your frightened expression, "Hey, what's the matter?"

"Mummy! Monks' said der' be monsters tonight at the party cos' it'll be late!" Your bottom lip trembles with worry, your eyes wide like saucers, "I don' wan see none of da' monsters!"

"What? Ignore your big sister, bubba. I think she’s just being a bit silly," Leah says, shaking her head in disagreement, reaching down to scoop you up and sit you on top of the kitchen counter, "There'll be no monsters in sight at all, alright? You're safe inside the house."

"Ou' promise?" You look sceptical, not entirely sure whether to trust Leah's word or not.

"I promise, bubba," Leah coos, gently moving a flyaway hair out of your eyes, "Monkey is just joking around like she does, alright? But there'll definitely be no monsters at the party tonight, so you have nothing to fear!" She adds, playfully poking you on the nose.

"Kay' den but ou' better mean it!" You agree, still somewhat sceptical about the answer, "I needs’ to ask ou' a question, please!"

"That's good manners, bubba," Leah praises with a soft smile, "And what might your question be then?"

"When Roo comin' round?" You question, impatiently, "Monks' said no till later on. Dat true?" You ask, letting out a dramatic huff, complete with flailing arms.

Leah smiles softly, nodding in agreement, "Monks' is right there, bubba. It won't be until much later on when it's dark outside, remember?"

"Why no' earlier? It be borin' when it' dark!" You exclaim, scrunching your face up in confusion, "Me and Roo can' no play with me all toys if it' dark, Mummy!"

"There'll be time to play, bubba," Leah reminds you with a soft, genuine smile, "And remember? Roo’s sleeping over tonight. Are you excited about that?"

Your eyes lit up in excitement, "Uh huh! I 'cited for me sleepover, an' I gets to see Auntie Kei as well, right?" You question, getting straight to the point.

"You do, and Holly, too. I know she's really looking forward to seeing you!" Leah grins enthusiastically, "And you know, Auntie Beth and Auntie Vivi will be coming as well, along with some of the other girls now they're back!"

"I more excited to see dem. I already see Holly at Nanas' other day," You retort, sassily with a small roll of your eyes, "She nothin' special anymore, Mummy. She don' even bring me choc'ote, she mean."

"Bubba," Leah starts, biting back laughter, "That's not very nice to say things like that now, is it? You know Holly loves you a lot, regardless if she brings you chocolate, or not."

"Yeah, but, I mean Auntie Kei better than Holly cos' she bring me cookies at least!" You declare, your mind made up on the matter.

Monkey snorts as she enters the kitchen, "Ooft, don't let Holly hear you say that, shrimp." She jokes, ruffling your hair as she passes you.

"Oi, you," Leah turns herself round to look at the teenage girl, "What's this I'm hearin' about you telling Buddy that there'll monsters tonight because it's dark?" She questions.

Monkey winces in realisation, "It was a joke, I swear."

"Yeah, well, it won't be very funny when she's waking up in the middle of the night crying though, will it?" Leah retorts, arching her eyebrow.

"No... I'm only messin' I promise," Monkey protests her innocence, holding her hands up in self-surrender, "Sorry, little Buddy. I didn't mean to really scare you, honest. Do you forgive me?" She apologises to you.

"It'fine. I 'pose' I forgive ou'!" You agree, nodding your head promptly.

Monkey grins cheekily, before proceeding to walk over to the fridge, "I'm absolutely hank Marvin'!"

"Me too!" You chime in, "I 'ank Marvin' as well, Mummy!"

"Oh, you are, huh?" Leah teases, ticking your sides until giggles bubble out of you, "I guess the three pancakes you ate for breakfast didn't fill up, did they?"

"No. I still hungy!" You continue to protest, holding your stomach to emphasis.

"Oh, I'm sure you are," Leah teases, playfully rolling her eyes.

"I'm so hungry I could eat a flippin' horse!" Monkey complains, rummaging through the fridge, and pulling out a bag of grated cheese and digging in before Leah swiftly intercepts.

"Aye," Leah scolds, taking the bag away and shooting her a disapproving look, "If you're going to eat that then at least make a sandwich, eh?"

Monkey grimaces, "Yeah, but sarnies are effort."

"Well, then you're not that hungry, are you?" Leah deadpans, returning the cheese to the fridge.

"Yeah, well, it's a lot of effort," Monkey mumbles in response, slumping her shoulders, "Well, what else can I eat? You've practically written everything off for later for the party, I'm starving 'ere, you know? I'm a growing girl!" She states, dramatically.

"You literally ate breakfast less than an hour ago, I'm sure you'll cope," Leah retorts, not resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

"How can you both be so hungry?" Elle chuckles, shaking her head.

"I'm a growing girl, innit?" Monkey insists.

"Yeah, I g'owing girl as well!" You parrot.

"Copycat," Monkey mutters.

You give her your best scowl, "Am not!"

"Are too!" Monkey quips.

"No I not!" You fire back, stomping your foot in protest.

"Yes you are, you're such a parrot recently..." Monkey murmurs, going back to the fridge to grab a can of Diet Coke out.

"Are they always like this?" Elle jokes, amusedly watching you and Monkey bicker back and forth.

"More often than not it seems these days," Leah retorts, chuckling and shaking her head, "Girls, that's enough, you two. Can we go one day without you two squabbling, eh?"

"Sorry," Monkey mumbles, piercing the drink and taking a swig of it.

"I sorry. I only speakin' truth!" You feign innocence, using familiar words you've heard one too many times now.

Leah chuckles, smoothing a flyaway piece of hair out of your eyes, "Right, shall we go and find you something to wear for the party tonight?" She suggests, switching focus.

"Yeah!" You excitedly agree, eager to get down from the kitchen counter, "An Elle help as well!" You add, pointing your index finger in the direction of the woman.

"You want me to come and help you?" Elle repeats, surprised.

"Uh-huh. I need 'elp choosing!" You insist with a firm nod of your head, "Can ou' help me down, please?"

"Sure I can, little madam," Elle retorts, scooping you up off the kitchen worktop with practised ease like she's done it all before.

"Thank ou' very much!" You exclaim politely before you have the advantage to run off ahead of them, "Come on, Mummy! Come on, Elle. We needs' to pick me outfit!"

"It's very important isn't it," Leah teases, catching up with you as she shakes her head fondly, "Which dress are you going to pick out?" She wonders.

You impatiently tug open the doors of your wardrobe before spinning around and scrunching your face up in disgust, "No dress, Mummy. They yucky!"

"Oh, but how about the dress that Nana brought you?" Leah suggests, moving to grab the sparkly silver dress out of the wardrobe, "Or there's the pink one as well..."

"No, Mummy. I no wear a dress!" You state, stubbornly as you cross your arms over your chest, turning towards Elle, "Can ou' tell her that she's being ridiculous?" You insist.

"I'm being ridiculous?" Leah fauxes her hurt, clutching her hand over her chest, "Oh, where has my little baby girl gone..." She pretends to wipe a fake tear from her eye.

"It 'kay, Mummy. I still here, but I big girl now!" You tell her with a cheeky lopsided grin on your face, "I love ou'!" You add, moving to stand in front of her.

"I love you too, bubba," Leah smiles, squishing your cheeks together and kissing you on the top of your forehead, "Right then, so if you don't want to wear a dress. What do you want to wear instead?"

"Hm, I fink... Dino'daur costume!" You exclaim, spotting it out the corner of your eye hanging on a coat hook, "Dino'daur costume protect me from da monsters!"

"Your dinosaur costume, again?" Leah repeats in a silly tone of voice, "Don't you want to wear something cool for the party? You can wear anything you like! You don't need to wear anything to protect you from the Monsters, they're non-existent, remember, bubba?"

"I wear dino'daur costume just in case!" You insist, puffing out your chest with determination.

Leah grimaces slightly in disagreement, "Bubba, I think you might end up getting a little bit hot when you wear that when you're dancing, won't you, hmm? Maybe we could try a different option..."

"No, I be fine. I gon' wear dino'daur costume!" You tell her firmly, your mind made up on the decision, "I dance in dino'daur costume!"

Elle chuckles in amusement, "Well that's certainly a different option, hey?"

Leah still doesn't look entirely convinced on the matter, "Little miss, I know you want to wear your dinosaur costume, but don't you want to wear something a bit more... fancier?"

"Ou' need to understand, 'kay, Mummy?" You tell her with a certain seriousness, "Dinos' are fancy!"

Leah bit back a laugh, "Oh are they, huh? I mean, what about pretty instead?"

"Yuck! No pretty! Dino instead!" You declare.

"But... I thought you liked this one, bubba."

"No, it itchy an' scratchy, an it look horrible!" You ramble off different words you have heard before, shaking your head making your decision firm.

Leah blinks, "You won't look horrible, bubba--"

"Yes, I will! I be look hideous in it! I no wear dat!" You interject, repeating the words that you hear Monkey say when she doesn't like a certain outfit she wears and looks in the mirror.

"Bubba, Nana brought you this one though, and you liked it when you saw it," Leah explains in a gentle tone of voice, "How about we give it a try?"

You shake your head in disagreement, crossing your arms over your chest, "I don' care. I wan' be a dino'daur!"

"Excuse me, little miss sass," Leah mumbles in outrage at your newfound sassiness that she's still not entirely used to.

"Ou' need to understand Mummy 'dat dino'daur better," You wiggle your index finger in front of her face and have a somewhat serious expression plastered on your own, "'Kay?"

Leah stifles her amusement with a bite of her bottom lip, "Right, whatever you say then, my stubborn little miss," She jokes, "Are you sure you don't want to try something different instead?"

"Nooo!" You exclaim loud enough to be heard through the whole house, "I be dino'daur, Mummy. Roaaaar!" You let out an almightly loud roar like one of your favourite t-rexes.

"What, are we pretendin' to be a dinosaur tonight?" Monkey teases as she sticks her head around your bedroom door, "T-Rex or Stegosaurus?"

You ponder the question for a brief second, tapping your small finger on your chin, "I be a t-rex!" You insist, "Roaaaaaar! Stomp! Stomp! Stomp!"

"Scary little t-rex," Monkey jokes, pretending to look somewhat terrified, "What're you shoutin' the house down 'bout anyways?"

"I be a dino'daur for da party!" You tell her, pointing your index finger in the direction of the costume where it lay still, "Monks'! Ou' tell Mummy dat she hafta let me wear it!"

"Well, I mean, why not, eh? You can rock the dino costume!" Monkey exclaims, stepping further into the room and taking the chance to ruffle your hair, "We'll have a little dino at the party instead of a little Buddy, eh?"

"Aye, no, Monks' get off me hair!" You whine, trying to push her hands off you.

"Buddy," Leah tries again, "Maybe just for tonight, we can try something different instead, hm? What about this?" She suggests, holding up a different outfit.

"Nooo! I no' wearin' dat," You tell her, scrunching your face up in disgust, "No way I wearin' dat!"

"Geesh, three-year-olds are so sassy these days," Monkey quips, plonking herself down on the carpeted floor, "You know, she's really not going to want to wear anything other than the dumb dinosaur costume now that she has it."

"Yeah, you're not kidding there," Leah mumbles, pinching the bridge of her nose, "I clearly shot myself in the foot there, haven't I?"

Monkey pulls a silly face, flailing her hands up, "I mean, really, it's sorta your own fault for buying it for Christmas. Whatcha' think would happen?"

Leah shoots your favourite person a disapproving look, "Yeah, alright, thanks for your help, Menace," She mutters, "Bubba, look, it's really not that bad. Why don't you just try it on and see what you think?"

"No! I gon' look like a... I look like a bin bag!" You declare promptly, standing firm on your decision, "I no wearin' it an' ou' can' make me!"

Elle bites her lip to stifle her amusement.

"A big bag?" Leah repeats, baffled, "No, you won't. I think you will look adorable."

You shake your head in disagreement, "No. I won', Mummy! An it be itchy, an' scratchy, an' I be smelly!"

"Smelly?" Monkey snorts in amusement.

"Yeah, I smell 'orrible, like da bin!" You insist.

"Personally, and I'm just saying, my own opinion and all," Monkey begins, exchanging a cheeky grin with Leah, "I think you might as well let her wear the dino costume, cos' otherwise it's gonna end in tears, innit?

"Alright, fine," Leah inwardly groans, "I give in. Bubba, you can wear your dinosaur costume to the party tonight."

"Yeah, I be dino'daur!" You exclaim, practically vibrating with excitement, "An I bring all m' dino'daurs into da living room to show 'eryone!"

"Bubba, no," Leah's eyes widen at the determination in your little voice, "We're not bringing all your dinosaurs into the living room..."

You scrunch your brows together in confusion, "No, ou' listen! I gon' ave' me t-rex, an' me steg'saurus, an' me bron'saurus! I have to show all of 'em!" It's very important, that each one of your dinosaurs gets shown around to everyone at the party tonight.

"You can take a few downstairs to show, but not all of them, alright?" Leah overrules your own decision in a gentle tone of voice, "You have quite a lot now, and we don't want any of them to get broken now, do we?"

You huff in disagreement, "Well den dey should be more careful an' no' stand on 'em!"

"Wha?" Leah blinks in confusion, "Right, Bubba, that's not the point. You can maybe bring one or two downstairs, but no more than that, okay?"

"Why no more? I wan bring 'em all!" You cross your arms over your chest and stomp your foot in protest, "Ou' bein' mean no' lettin' me bring 'em all down! Ou' said I can do dat!"

Leah opens and closes her mouth, baffled by your words, "Since when?"

"Since... Since ou' said so, Mummy!" You insist, stubbornly, "I heard ou' say it! Ou' said I can!" You repeat.

"No, no, I didn't," Leah retorts, shaking her head, "I said you could take a few downstairs, but not all of them."

"But dey all 'ave to come down, or dey be lonely on their own up 'ere!" You exclaim, dramatically throwing your arms up in the air, "Ou' hafta 'ave 'em all!"

"I'm sure there will be just fine upstairs, bubba," Leah chuckles, shaking her head.

You shake your head in disagreement, "I don' think so, Mummy. Ou' might hurt der feelings!"

"Bubba..." Leah looks exasperated, all but ready to give in.

"Cos' ou' can' 'ave one, an' then no 'ave the others," You cut her words short, telling her your over-the-top explanation, "Ou' can' be like meany like dat, Mummy!"

"I'm not... I'm not being mean," Leah mumbles in disbelief.

Needless to say, the conversation ends with you bringing down a whole bucket full of different dinosaurs, and chucking them onto the rug in the living room.

"Auntie Kei!" You exclaim, spotting the woman walk through the living room with her girlfriend, Laura, beside her. " Ou' 'ere!" You don't waste time throwing your tiny arms around her legs.

"Ooh, hello little dinosaur!" Keira coos, scooping you into her arms and squeezing you tightly, "Did you have a good Christmas this year? Did you get spoilt lots and lots?"

"Uh huh, I got lots an' lots of new toys!" You tell her excitedly, flailing your arms in the air for further dramatics, "I' got a dino' costume. See?" You say, motioning to the outfit you're wearing.

"I do, wow," Keira playfully gasps, tickling your sides, "It's very roar-some!"

Leah appears with a drink in hand, "Ah, you guys are here!" She exclaims with enthusiasm, wrapping her free arm around Keira first and then Laura, "I see you met our little dinosaur of the night." She jokes.

"Hiya, Le!" Keira greets her best friend, "We did, and she looks absolutely adorable!"

"Mummy let me choose me outfit me' self!" You declare proudly.

"Yeah... I mean, I did try and sway her mind but well Buddy is very stubborn," Leah begins to explain, "Which I now realise is a trait she has picked up from either me or Jord, apparently."

"Oh, we could have told you that before," Holly chimes in on the conversation, holding another couple of drinks in her hand for Keira and Laura, "Personally, I think she takes after you more than she does Jord, especially when it comes to her stubbornness."

"What? Rude," Leah mumbles before she takes a sip of her drink, "I'm not that stubborn..." She retorts, mocking her offence.

"Sure, you tell yourself that," Keira snickers, thinking otherwise, "Where's the other troublemaker? It's quiet around here."

"Currently chatting Elle's ear off about whether she's watched Shrek or not," Leah explains with a half-amused smile, taking a sip of her drink, "I'm sure she'll be more than happy to see you both though!"

"We're here!" Beth announces, walking through the house with an energetic five-year-old attached to her, "We're not that late are we? Little miss here wanted to choose the perfect outfit to wear."

"No, no, you're just in time," Leah grins, wrapping her free arm around Beth and Viv, before crouching down to Rory's level, "Hi, Roo! Did you have a good Christmas with your Mummy and Mamma?"

"Hi, Auntie Le! I got loads of presents, and friends for Twix as well!" Rory is beaming a great big smile on her face.

"Roo!" You shout in excitement, wriggling in Keira's arms to get down.

Rory's face lights up even more, "Buddy!"

"Let's go an' play!" You are ecstatic to see your own best friend, Rory again, "Put me down' please, Auntie Kei!”

"As you wish, little dino," Keira obliges and sets you back down on the floor.

Beth chuckles, "At least the two of them are happy enough, Roos' been ecstatic about tonight," She tells her, before taking note of your outfit as you are set back down on your feet,  "What's with the dinosaur costume? That's an acquired outfit, eh?"

"Let's just say I know which battles to pick, and this battle with my three-year-old, well it's just better to agree to the costume rather than the full-blown meltdown I could have ended up with," Leah explains with a shake of the head.

"Sounds like you've had a fun day then," Viv laughs in amusement.

"Just another day being a parent to a three-year-old," Leah retorts, shaking her head in asperation, "Don't even get me started on the swearing jar, either..."

"Mummy puts' lot of money in der cos' she always sayin' words she shouldn't!" You throw Leah directly under the bus, "An Mama 'ave one now as well!"

"Oh?" Keira arches her eyebrow in amusement.

"Yeah, let's not talk about that," Leah huffs in response, taking another sip of her drink in hand.

"Come on, Roo, let' go an' play!" You impatiently tug on Rory's hand, attempting to drag her over to where you'd thrown all your dinosaurs out, along with the rest of the toys out of your toy box, but there’s is always still room for more, "Mummy say no gettin' all me toys out but I think it fine!"

“Buddy, no more getting any more of your toys out,” Leah calls aloud, shaking her head with an aspirated sigh as she hears the unmistakable clatter of toys being thrown out onto the floor again, “I might as well just talk to myself right now– Buddy, no more, please or people are going to trip over them!”

“Mm, yummy pizza!” You exclaim enthusiastically, rubbing your stomach as you sit cross-legged on the floor, happily munching on a slice, “It good, isn’t it, Roo?” You ask your best friend, your grin as wide as can be.

“Yeah, it’s good!” Rory agrees with a mouthful of pizza, nodding eagerly.

From the corner of the room, Monkey strolls over, a mischievous twinkle in her eye, “Hey, munchkins!” She crouches beside you, her gaze fixed on your pizza like a cat watching a mouse, “You enjoyin’ that, little dinosaur?”

“I eatin’ pizza, Monks’!” You beam proudly, completely oblivious to her intentions, “Ou’ can’ have any! It mine!”

Monkey lets out a playful gasp, clutching her chest in mock offence, “What? Not even a single bite of it? I’m starvin’ over here!”

“Nooo!” You cry, clutching your pizza slice to your chest as if it were your most prized possession, “It mine, Monks’. No’ ours'!”

Monkey chuckles, but her hand moves faster than you expect. Before you can react, she pinches the tip of your pizza slice and takes a playful bite.

“Hey!” You squeal, scowling at her as you pull the now-smaller slice away, “Da mean! Dat mine!”

“Mm, it tastes even better when it’s stolen,” Monkey murmurs, licking her fingers with exaggerated satisfaction.

You glare at her, your cheeks puffing out in frustration, “No steal, Monks’. Dat bad!”

“Aw, come on Buddy,” Monkey ruffles your hair with a cheeky grin still plastered on her face, “Sharing is caring!”

“You can’t eat her pizza!” Roo exclaims, giggling as she keeps a tight hold of her own pizza.

“Nooo!” You huff, your voice growing louder in protest, “Mummy!”

“What’s going on in here?” Leah’s voice cuts through the room as she steps in, her hands on her hips, “Why does it feel like you two are always arguing at the minute? What’s happened this time?”

“Oh, hey, Le!” Monkey says, flashing her an innocent smile, “We’re not arguing, honest. We’re bonding! Right, Buddy?”

“Mummy! Monks’ is ‘tupid!” You accuse, pointing an accusatory finger at the teenage girl.

“Whoa,” Leah frowns as she crouches down to your level, “Hey, bubba, we don’t use words like that, do we? It’s nice not.” She tells you, her tone is gentle but still holds a sense of firmness.

“But she is doh! She ate m’ pizza!” You insist, your tiny fingers still directed at Monkey like a prosecutor in court.

Leah pinches the bridge of her nose, glancing up at Monkey, “What did you do that for?”

The teenage girl shrugs, still grinning sheepishly, “In my defence… Well, I guess there is none, but the pizza tasted super good!”

“There’s plenty of pizza left, Menace,” Leah sighs, shaking her head, “You’re only upsetting her when you take her things.”

“Yeah, okay, I didn’t think that one through,” Monkey admits, scratching the back of her neck, “Sorry, Buddy. I didn’t mean to eat your pizza. Am I’ forgiven?”

“No, m’ pizza gone now!” You whine, your bottom lip quivering as you clutch the remains of your slice, “I don’ like ou' right now, Monkey!”

“I’m really sorry for eating it, shrimp,” Monkey looks incredibley guilty about eating the pizza.

Leah strokes your hair gently, “It’s okay, bubba. We can get you another slice, yeah? It’s just pizza, there’s plenty of it.”

“But it’ mine!” You protest, sniffling, “An’ she ate it!”

Monkey’s guilty expression deepens, “Hey, Buddy. I’m really sorry for stealing your pizza,” She says, crouching to your level, “Tell you what–how about I make it up to you with some… lemonade?”

“Fizzy pop?” You ask, your tears momentarily forgotten as curiosity takes over.

“Yeah…” Monkey hesitates, instantly regretting her offer but knowing she’s already said it.

“Yeah!” You exclaim, your face lightening up with excitement.

Leah blinks at Monkey, her disbelief evident, “Are you serious right now? It’s almost 8 pm, Menace!” 

Monkey shrugs with a custious smile, “Hey, look how happy she is now! Win-win, right?”

“Unbelievable,” Leah mutters, shaking her head, “You can have one small cup of lemonade, bubba, but no more than that. Just this once, and we’re not telling your Mama about this either, got it?”

“Oou' got it dude!” You beam a wide smile, sticking your thumb up in the air.

It’s inching closer to midnight, but you’re nowhere near tired. You’re sitting cross-legged on the carpet in the living room, surrounded by your toys, stacking blocks and chatting to Rory with endless energy.

“Stack it’ like dat Roo!” You insist.

“This way?” Rory replies in question, gesturing to the green block in her hand.

“Uh huh!” You nod in agreement.

“Come on bubba, time for bed," Leah says softly, holding her hand out to you.

You cross your arms stubbornly, sticking your bottom lip out in defiance, “No' bed. I stay up tonight with all da grown-ups!"

Leah crouches down to your level, tilting her head, "Oh no little miss. You definitely need to get some sleep, or you'll be super grumpy in the morning, won't you?"

"I no like dat. I be fine. I gots to stay awake!" You insist, stomping your foot for emphasis.

Leah bites back a smile, "I think it might be a bit too late for you, bubba," She says, pointing to your drooping eyelids.

"No, I stay 'wake. I wish 'erybody 'appy new year!" You tell her with determination.

"Buddy,” Leah sighs, rubbing her temples, “It's going to be very late, and I might get into trouble with Mama if I let you stay up, and she finds out, hmm?"

You shake your head, "Dat don't matter. I stay up wif everyone else!"

"Bubba--" Leah begins to speak.

"We don' hafta tell her. It 'kay!" You declare confidently.

Leah shakes her head, amused but exasperated, "That's not the point, little miss..."

Keira, lounging on the sofa, chuckles at the exchange, "She's really trying to blag you there," She says, grinning.

"Oh, she definitely is," Leah replies, raising an eyebrow at your mischievous grin.

"I stay up. Deal?" You say, holding out your tiny hand like a seasoned negotiator.

Leah laughs incredulously, "... What? No deal, bubba. Little girls like you can't stay up that late, it's bedtime for a reason, New Year’s Eve or not."

You pout dramatically, "Don' be borin' Mummy. I no like ou' when ou' like dat!"

"Umm excuse me little miss, I'm not boring,” Leah places her hands on her lips, feigning offence, “I am just wanting to make sure you're going to sleep at a reasonable time.”

"Come on Le, what's the harm in letting her stay up late for just tonight? It is New Year’s Eve after all, eh?" Keira chimes in, smirking.

Leah exhales a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose, "I don't know why I even bother," She mumbles, "Fine, but if Jord questions it then it's on you to tell her!"

“It’s fine, I can deal with that,” Keira grins as she gets up off the sofa and scoops you up into her arms, “Come on my little dino, let’s go and find the biscuits in the cupboard!”

“Not too many because it’s near to bedtime– Oh, that went in one ear and out the other. Never mind…”

The living room hums with the warm buzz of conversation and laughter as Keira carries you into the kitchen. Setting you down on the counter, she holds you steady with one hand while rummaging through the cupboard with the other.

“Right then, little dinosaur,” Keira says, peering into the cupboard, “What biscuits do we fancy?”

“Da choc’late ones!” You exclaim, clapping your hands with glee, “Choc’late da bestest!”

Keira chuckles, pulling out a pack of chocolate biscuits and handing one to you, “Chocolate it is. But just one, alright? It’ll be our little secret, yeah?”

You nod eagerly, biting into the biscuit with a big grin, “I no tell! It our ‘ecret!”

Keira winks, popping a biscuit into her own mouth, “Exactly. Our secret.”

By the time midnight was approaching the party was in full swing. Laughter and music filled the room, and you were more determined than ever to prove Leah wrong by staying awake and joining in the celebrations.

Rory had long since succumbed to sleep, her head resting on Viv’s shoulder, but you were still fighting valiantly to keep your eyes open.

As the countdown began, your resolve wavered and you curled up on the sofa, a party hat sat crooked on your head, and a party blower hung limply from your mouth.

“10... 9… 8…” Everyone began to count down in the room.

But you didn’t even make it to one.

The sound of fireworks outside should have been enough to keep you awake, but it was all too much for you it seems.

“I think the partying might’ve been a bit much for her after all,” Holly quips with a grin, gesturing toward your peaceful, sleeping form.

Leah chuckles softly, crossing the room to you, “Oh, bubba,” She coos, carefully tucking a blanket around you. She brushes a stray curl for your forehead, her expression warm and tender, “Happy New Year, my little dinosaur.” She added, pressing a gente kiss to the top of your head, lingering a moment for straightening up.

© scribblesofagoonerr

[harmonysanreads]

Thinking of that bath fic and I feel like Phainon would be the type to also touch you with cold feet or hands when you’re trying to sleep in order to tease you, and not let you move when you want to flinch away because he’s either being a little shit or cause he’s too clingy

Previously.

You were but a step away from melting into the curtain of darkness behind your eyes, a duvetyne cradle that reached out to embrace you — yanked away from it's grasp with a touch that made your whole soul flinch.

You were nowhere near a water source, but the breath you found yourself inhaling felt as if you've been drowning. There's a heat in your cheeks, you realize as the skin comes into the presence of a cool palm, easing you back to reality with its firm grip.

From beyond the veil of blur, you hear something like a chuckle. You turn your head towards the right, eyes getting acquainted with the shadows to realize the source of the smile.

It doesn't even take more than a second for your sleep stricken mind to connect the dots, brows pinching together and a wave of exasperation washing by your face to form a grave frown — Phainon's amusement vanishes quicker than you're capable of blinking.

“Whoa— hold on hold on!” you don't even get to swing one leg out of the side of the bed before he's got a grasp on you, instinct trained by a paranoia you are no stranger to.

“Phainon! Let me go!” you feel his flinch travel to your skin from the insistent grip around your waist. You know that he knows he's screwed up severely by now. He should abide by your order and a part of you gets coated in confusion by the way he ignores it instead, dragging you towards him till you're all but enveloped by him him him.

“I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry...” his mumbles sink into your shoulder, both arms clasped tight around your waist.

You crane your neck behind in an attempt to see his face, futile it turns out to be in front of him getting comfortable in the crook of your neck. “You of all people should know how much I hate being disturbed in my sleep. Do you think you deserve to be forgiven?”

There's a shiver in his nerves, you may not be able to see what expression he's making, but you know you've temporarily robbed him off his breath. Just as you need not see it to understand what goes through his head, he also requires not his sense of sight to picture what look you're giving him.

“I'm sorry, I couldn't see your face clearly and thought you were still awake. The curtains are closed so —” a sharp pinch to his arm shuts down his vagaries. You know it actually didn't hurt at all, he's simply memorized all your non-verbal cues by heart.

You try to twist out of his grasp and this time he clamps down with enough force to knock you out — almost. You blink, stilling in place meeting this desperation again. It was simply a feeling moments ago, but now you're certain there is more to this.

“Phainon...” you call out, careful to only sound stern and not venomous. A whimper rattles your ribcage, convincing you to abandon all anger altogether.

Using what little leverage you have, you try to turn around to face the Hero — understanding that you were not trying to run this time, he lets you. He clings to stubbornness for a bit longer though, keeping his head bowed. You gather his face in your hands, nudging him up.

“Goodness...” you thumb away a tear rolling down, mind blanking in the face of this predicament.

“I'm sorry...” it rings in your head, “I... I was actually checking... if you were still breathing...”

You catch his fall just in time, holding his head steady. Your eyes flit over the streams of pain cascading down his cheeks, his unsteady breaths, the way his fingers still cling to your clothes and you can't even remember why you were angry before.

You free him from your grip and gather him close. Phainon seizes the invitation, practically falling in your arms. You can already feel the fabric around chest dampening from his waterworks, but you can't bring yourself to mind. With some maneuvering, you manage to free one hand to tangle it in his snow white tresses, soothing down the stress in their roots. For a man that usually towers over most, he appeared so... tiny in that moment that it ached in your heart.

He pushed closer still, as if envying even the air that managed to sneak in between you two and you knew, that was just the beginning.

[clare-875]

Habits of Touch (Luffy, Sanji, Zoro)

_____ Pairings: (Separate) Luffy x Reader; Sanji x Reader; Zoro x Reader Summary: His favorite time/way to share physical affection with you. Warnings: Fluff, Slightly suggestive, Female Reader [One Piece Masterlist] [Part 2: Ace, Law, Shanks] _____

- Luffy - Hand Holding and Adventure

Luffy is always keen for new adventures; of people, places and obscure things he hasn't seen nor experienced before. He is easily excitable as the crew approaches another Island, barely waiting for the ship to dock before he jumps gleefully onto land. It makes Nami roll her eyes as she looks to her Captain and then she would often turn to you.

"I don't know how you put up with that."

Her voice is laced with a heavy sigh and you smile, but then it is replaced by the spike of your heart when you feel a familiar arm wrap itself around you a few times over. "Wait Luffy-" But it is already too late, you hear the bubbling sound of his laughter as he almost flings you off the ship to his side. For a moment the world turns in your head until you fall into the rubber boy and his gleaming smile.

"[y/n]! Come on, let's go explore the island!"

You are in a daze but quickly shake off your surprise; it was a constant occurrence. Yes, Luffy adored adventure, but he finds pleasure in it most when he is with you. Thus comes the tight grip of his hand on yours, or the envelopment of your figure as he drags you around the Island; his constant want to have you beside him on his adventure.

His warmth never falters on you, it is always constant around your hand as he pulls you to every aspect of the new space he has yet to explore. You adore it, his gleaming eyes as he turns back to you after running around, gaze surprisingly calm as he makes sure you are still with him. You adore how he holds your form so gently though his movements are sometimes reckless in his excitement. You adore that he wants you by his side on his journey and he will not be content unless you are.

It is always the same call.

"[y/n], let's go!"

Followed always by his warmth and sure grip.

Some people may think that Luffy's dreams were confined to his nakama and to becoming the pirate king, but he found that dream fruitless unless you were there to witness it: to witness his adventure and to witness his ambition become reality. He would pout and whine when you didn't come along with him. Maybe you had plans with other crewmembers or had errands or were simply not feeling it. But it is merely because he loves you, and he wants you by him as he discovers what the world has to offer.

"Hey, [y/n]!"

You look up in time to see that Luffy had skewers packed with meat on them, six to be exact. "Try one!" Luffy's face was already full of it and whilst in one hand he held out the skewers to you, the other was still wrapped loosely around yours. You raise your eyebrows in surprise at the gesture but smile and take one from his grasp.

"Thanks, Luffy."

He grins widely as you take a bite, but you barely have enough time to see his eyes flicker; something else has gathered his interest.

"[y/n], Takoyaki! Let's go!"

Before you knew it he was flying through the streets of the town, dragging you with him. You have to hold your breath at the speed he moves but you find yourself laughing out with him. Of course, it would be this way; it was Luffy. And the day was exciting and eventful and tiring because what day wouldn't be so if you had him by your side?

At the end of it, the two of you were found by your crewmembers on the deck of the ship, sleeping against one another peacefully and with Luffy's hand still tight within yours.

- Sanji - Back Hugs and Cooking

It may not surprise you to know, that Sanji loves to be touching you and to be with you as often as it is realistically possible. Ever considerate of your feelings, he will give you space if you please but just know that he always craves your presence.

How could he not?

He, the man who constantly showered women with his adoration never thought that his crewmember would return the same adoration for him. Though he still cherishes the women of the crew and showers them with a kind of respect that is honestly unmatched, he only yearns for you. His favourite form of physical affection, however, though perhaps surprising, is in the quiet and domestically suited times you share.

Namely, the times you would join him in the kitchen.

There, when he would finally let you help him with meals, you would feel gentle hands and his warm form around you; it envelops you. He would guide your hands to carve intricately into ingredients you chop or help you stir a meal as you hovered over it upon a stove. Even when these actions are so simple you scarcely need the guidance of the gifted chef, maybe it is just in the intimacy of it all; like it was just you and him.

Sanji loves that.

Loved the thought that one day maybe it would be just the two of you. It was the thoughts that filled him as he looked at your beautiful form gracing his kitchen. Sometimes it would make Sanji sentimental; he never knew someone would be capable of loving him the way that you do.

He especially adores when the roles are almost reversed and it is your smaller frame that hugs him from behind as he works. It would sometimes take him by surprise until he realised it was just you and your warmth that had encapsulated his figure.

You loved it too.

The sounds of him working as you leaned against him gently, his form almost making you drowsy as he worked on dinner. It made Sanji's heart erratic the first time you did it, to the point where you had to frantically call for Chopper as he passed out in your hold. Now, however, it is almost routine.

Cooking was Sanji's most treasured time and now he spends it with you, the one he loves. Though sometimes you would merely watch him as he works from the dining table, you feel his love most in his guided actions as he envelops you, and he feels a sense of peace whenever he works and feels you do the same.

"Mon Amour, are you tired?"

Sanji's voice is soft as he sorts through ingredients for the night's dinner and you hug him sleepily from behind. You would nuzzle your face into his back and sigh contentedly.

"No"

You mumble into him though fatigue is clearly laced in your words. You feel the soft rumble of gentle laughter break free from Sanji as he adores every form of you, including your tired one. It makes your own smile grow on your face as you lean more into him and he feels your embrace tighten around him slightly.

"I love you."

You almost sigh your oath into his back but you find yourself questioning if he has heard it when he doesn't immediately reply. But then, there is a pause in his movements and you wonder what is wrong as a slight silence takes over. He would turn around and your eyes would widen at the sight of tears almost skimming his eyes.

"I love you more, my love."

- Zoro - Kisses and Workouts

Zoro thought that he enjoyed his solitude during training. He thought that the thrumming waves paired with the pumping of his heart were all he needed for a successful workout.

Well, that was until you.

Now Zoro finds his focus faltering when he sees a lack of your presence in the Crowsnest as he works. It distracts him when the room is not filled with the vibrance of you. It distracts him more than if you were present, which is saying something.

Watching Zoro work was one of your favourite pastimes; how could it not be? His form built under years of training gleaming with sweat would have your face flushed as he smirked at your unwavering gaze. But recently these distractions have poured into you approaching the man as he worked, and you being incorporated into the workouts as he trains.

Pushups? Of course, he has you underneath him, the rise and fall of his warmth as you capture his lips while you laugh, noticing the blush that covers his face. Does he need an extra "weight" as he works? Of course, you are on his back or have your arms wrapped around him as he squats down while you tell him about your day.

You found early on that you barely affected his training; you were lighter than a feather to him. But maybe that is why he didn't find himself minding or sometimes even craving your warmth and hands as he worked. It was a bonus that wouldn't hinder his workout but would increase your company and your touch.

There would be many times you take your teasing too far, liking the way you so easily influenced his concentration or the flush on his face. However, that would merely cause his touch to roam upon you too, but in a different way. The crow's nest was rarely occupied by other crewmembers and the two of you would take that to your advantage.

In the privacy of the room, you would find yourself entangled with him as he pours feverish kisses on your skin. In the solace of just you and him, Zoro finds the walls he keeps up firmly thawing as he responds to your touch eagerly, placing strong hands about your form.

It is in these times of quiet that you and he show physical affection the most; Zoro being one to not favour much PDA. But you didn't mind, because it made those moments with him even more treasured; the moments when you could show him the love you hold, and he could do the same in return.

It was so easy to get him distracted; you had him wrapped around your finger.

"Zoro"

You mumble as you look at him as he works and you approach, before sitting purposely on his back as he continues on his thousandth push-up. He barely falters when you do, continuing like you weren't atop him; like he couldn't hear the teasing tone laced in your words. You would sit up against him as he moves beneath you and leave soft and gentle kisses down his neck. That's when he falters, your touch already riling him up.

"[y/n]"

Zoro's voice is strained as he tries to continue his workout, but now your hands start to move gently about him and he finds himself enraptured by you. He lets out a low groan that almost sounds like a growl as he flips you over so you are now beneath him and not on his back. Then he encompasses you with a heated kiss, his movements taking you by surprise so much you can barely respond.

"You'll be the death of me, woman."

[fghgfgf]

cuties...

[keferon]

Two Peas in a Pod: part 1

*slips this into your mail slot and runs* I hope you like it, I wanted to give you a gift.

___________________________________

Things were never truly quiet. Electricity hummed. Pipes rumbled as water is pushed and pulled. Metal facets softly creaked under the vibrations. A muted drum of massive pump came from somewhere underground.

It was a poor symphony, but it was his personal, fucked-up, little lullaby. Guaranteed to be a nightly track on loop the droned him to sleep… usually.

And honestly, he couldn't imagine what it would be like without it.

Jazz rolled over to his other side in the shallows of his pool – arching his back just enough for his collapse dorsal fin to slip under him without crushing it against the floor – in the futile adjustment for comfort. After about five minutes of laying still with his eyes closed, Jazz huffed. He hadn't been able to even doze off, it was beginning to get frustrating. He shifted his head – resting on his arm at the dryer part of rubber coated slope of the concrete pier – to peek at the clock just beyond the staff entrance behind the main platform, two-twenty-seven.

Sighing and groaning loudly, he slumped in defeat, the morning staff were going to be on shift in two hours to start meal prep and in the following hour creatures all over will start waking up. When breakfast came at six, the gulls, crows, magpies – the fucking birds would be all over the aquarium squawking and trying to steal food. Then the whole place would buzz till work ended at six pm. Six to six of noise.

Jazz was just thankful that it was a monday, the aquarium was closed, so he didn't have to force himself to be extra cheerful. Just pleasant enough to get through daily check-ups and then maybe, he could try for a nap. But he wasn't optimistic.

Time seem to stretch on forever, every time he glanced at the clock, the minutes barely seemed to move. He shifted and kicked his tail, sloshing water up in a pitiful rain over him. Though the sound of water pattering along the concrete continued, and continued…?

Jazz lifted his head. That wasn't coming from his area, but it was too muddled to make out what it was. A skittering-like sound for sure, did something break? Was there a raccoon in the backend again?

With a quick spin he slipped off the pier and into his pool. The sounds became sharper, but not quite clear. Hurried footsteps of staff, far too many to be on shift at this hour, as he swam into the medical bay at the back. To where the one observation window that overlooked the staff area. Technically, the other way around, but Jazz would use it more than they did to spy on the back-workings.

Placing his hands to still his movement, Jazz saw two more staff rush past with a massive metal cart, recognizing the white shirts. Vets. There had to have been an emergency call that went out. Question was, was it an animal from the here or was it a beach rescue?

While Jazz couldn't see much passed the wide hallways on either side. The sonar map, as fuzzy as it was in his head, was picking up at least seven moving blobs in the hospital ward at the end of the hall. That was a lot of bodies. Too many to be needed for any of the animals here. An injured dolphin being brought in for recovery and rehabilitation, maybe? An oil spill with massive casualties?

Then ten more people joined and suddenly they were rushing out with equipment, heading somewhere off his limited radar. Likely rush off to the loading bay, the truck must have just arrived. Damn, whatever happened, it's all hands on deck.

Jazz pushed away from the window and lazily floated out back to the main area of his enclosure. He was sure his attendant would tell him all the news and gossip when he came around with breakfast. Till then, he might as well continue to try and sleep.

___________________________________

Couldn't have been more than a half an hour, and he felt like he was just about to fall asleep, when the familiar sound of heavy boots caught his attention. Thundering up the metal steps of the staff entrance.

"JAZZ!"

Noooo, it can't be time to get up. He refused to give him any acknowledgement and pretended he was dead just to be extra annoying. They both knew Jazz's hearing was too good for him not to hear the man tip-toe up the stairs. Heck, he could tell that there was another staff member with him, which was unusual.

"Jazz! Buddy– please, get up! We've got an emergency!"

Lights came on suddenly and made Jazz grimace with his eyes closed. "And that affects me how…?" Jazz drawled and lifted his head slightly to look over at them. Though spotting a nervous vet – not his vet either – rushing to prep a needle at the end of a long tube suddenly had him a bit uneasy. Jazz hated needles. Especially jittery hands at the other end of said needles.

"Wounded Mer, same weight class, and fortunately shares the same blood-type as you!" Blaster quickly informed and helped the vet prep multiple soon-to-be blood-bags. He then fixed his mer with a hard look. "Now get your tail over here!"

Jazz was rushing over to the sloped shallows before it fully clicked what was being asked of him. "A Mer?"

Blaster tugged on his arm and Jazz allowed him to pull him where they wanted him. Working as a team they dried, sanitized and banded his arm. "Ready for the poke?"

"Uh," he glanced at the vet, though the nerves seemed to more about the stress that happening elsewhere. Their hands seemed steady. "Just make sure you get it the first time," he said as he closed his eyes tightly.

"Thanks for being so good about this," Blaster breathed heavily with relief and gave Jazz a comforting pat on the shoulder of the arm his was still holding. The jab was harsh to get it through the mer's thick hide and it made Jazz flinch, but otherwise stayed still.

"So… are they like me?" He asked, trying to ignore the thought of his blood being drawn.

"Ya, just like you," Blaster answered softly, starting to calm down now that he didn't have to worry about what would have happened if Jazz had put up a fuss.

"Are they going to be okay?"

"We're doing our best," the vet answered clinically. "They're in rough shape. Likely a turf war judging by the injuries, or a leviathan attack."

"The team is really pulling together on this, even you, big guy," Blaster reassured and gave him another pat on the shoulder.

Jazz tried not to sound excited by the news. "Will I get to see them?"

"If they pull through, you might get more than that. Seeing as there isn't many places here big enough to hold something that big. Hope your ready for a tankmate."

He clenched his hands into fists so tightly they started to shake. He wanted that, he really, really wanted that. Please, please, please. Please don't die.

If Blaster misunderstood his trembling, Jazz didn't correct him.

___________________________________

-GLC

(hopefully there is no spelling errors ^^;)

Upd: Link to the next part!

Oh man oh man OH MAN ORCA JP FIC????

IM VIBRATING ON THE SPEEDS UNCOMPREHENSIBLE TO A HUMAN EYE RIGHT NOW PleASE THIS IS SO GOOD I LOVE IT SO MUCH I WANNA HUG YOU

I have NO IDEA if your spelling is good but it doesn't even fucking matter because the atmosphere?? THE ATMOSPHERE IS FANTASTIC. The VIBE is HERE. IF YOU MAKE THE SECOND PART I WILL GIVE YOU MY FIRSTBORN

[duskier]

141 x super fem reader <33

Price loooves that you love all those tooth rottingly sweet pet names. Pet, puppy, honey, angel, baby, sweetheart, good girl, sweet girl, princess, darling, honeybee, starlight, sunshine; you name it, Price has called you it. A thrill running down his spine at how he can call you a simple name and make you squirm and blush and smile. The prettiest, sweetest smile in the world and Price can never resist kissing it off of you.

Soap who loves to take care of your hair for you. Dyeing it, brushing it, straightening it, braiding it, washing it, conditioning it. All of it. He's got strong hands that love to carefully tangle themselves in your hair to massage oils directly into your scalp. Drags a brush through your hair with gentle attention until the brush combs through without a single hitch or knot. Buys you sweet smelling perfumes that you purposefully spray into your hair. You can see him swoon each time you spin your head around, your flowery lovely perfume instantly filling his senses.

Gaz who loves giving you the full princess treatment. You have to bully him into leaving his wallet at home after one too many times of you going shopping together and each thing you look at for a little too long Gaz is pulling his card out to purchase. Opens every door for you, from buildings to his car to your bedroom. Puts careful time and attention into every date- he surprises you with how skilled his cooking is. When you ask when and why he learned it, you see him turn away bashfully. His smile blinding when he looks back to you and says, "Well, I just learned it for you..."

Ghost who finds the little soft things around him and brings them to you. Like a crow collecting shiny trinkets, he goes to Paris? Comes home with a replica of a fine painting he saw in a museum there in his off time. A soft, satiny ribbon he finds overseas finds its way home to be your favorite hair accessory. That time he spent in Greece, the dress he brought you home was so soft and dainty you could weep- handmade, too. An absolute heirloom gem you felt you couldn't wear but he insists you wear it, spins you around in it to get a full view. Slow dancing together and he's so overcome with emotion he has to whisper: "You're so beautiful, love."