#For like the nine hundredth time

[h34vybottom]

I've said this before so apologies for repeating myself but it's so embarrassing to me that ToB's combat systems are so bad. All they did was copy Graces. Everything they did, they stole from Graces F. Every single thing. They just fundamentally misunderstood every aspect. ToB removing LMBS is a crime I'll never forgive (not an actual crime, though maybe it should be)

[saayatsumu]

cater says “no literally” every five seconds in a conversation

[queers-gambit]

Shower Shenanigans

part one: Perpetual L's and Overwhelming Dubs

prompt: midnight callers turn your quiet night upside down, but at least it ends with you riding your stranger in the shower.

pairing: Tangerine x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 4.7k+

note: nobody asked for this but he's my muse now

warnings: cursing, smut (unprotected, in the shower, she's on top), blood, wounds, brain rot, author isn't British, probably setting up for part three, wonky brain doesn't care what warnings are missed.

A storm had rolled over Osaka, a steady thrumming at your hotel window creating a calming ambiance as you lit a couple of the candles you ordered from the front desk. Curled up on the tiny loveseat offered in the small living space, you flipped through your latest novel you grabbed before running into Tangerine at the train station. Speaking of, you glared at your phone for the hundredth time in an hour, feeling a sort of overwhelming dread that he hadn't called yet - or at the very least, texted.

Was it silly? Oh, you KNOW it was.

But he had said some really pretty things that rang in your ears on a haunting repeat the rest of the train ride. Then the whole taxi ride through Osaka, and the three days it's been since meeting him - he just wouldn't leave your conscious. Every meeting you had was vaguely interrupted by some sort of thought about your mysterious stranger, driving you up the wall.

Sure, you could call him, but the idea of calling a stranger for no reason other than to hear his voice felt a little too vulnerable to you. Yo could ask where he was, if he wanted to come for a visit - or hell, even before you departed Japan back for London, England, you could come see him... If he so wanted.

But your mind refused to let you dial his number, which was left in your recents after he had texted himself in the bathroom. The memory of your ex was still so fresh, making you feel silly for having such vivid, intense fantasies about a man you've met once. And for the love of Christ, you didn't even know his real name! Just his silly, fruity codename!

Man, if you hadn't been embarrassed before, the memory of moaning a fucking fruit surely made you cringe to the point you wanted the Earth to open up, swallow you whole, and never spit you out.

Your trip was soon to end with your departing flight tomorrow night, giving you just a day of leisure time in the city - but you didn't feel like doing much since the storm. Your book was interesting enough, keeping you entertained with a cart of hot food from room service within arms reach. Your tea was lukewarm by now, being much easier to drink, bowl of air-popped popcorn sat in your lap. Over the sounds of thunder, there was a knock at your door.

More like a banging, but hey, logistics. This was odd considering it was close to nine in the evening and you hadn't called for anything.

With a sigh, you marked your page and stood; annoyed by the continuous knocking, oversized tee shirt falling back over your thighs, socked feet stuffing into your slippers before traveling to the door. You called in Japanese, "Who is it?"

There was a small scraping, making your brows furrow and call your question again - but with much more urgency. "'S me, love, open the door, please," a raspy, British accent croaked seemingly through the crack. You left the chain lock in place, slowly opening the door a fraction to discover Tangerine - bloodied to high hell - leaning on the doorframe of your hotel room with two other bloody men behind him.

"What the fuck? Jesus Christ," you hissed, shutting the door, snapping the chain off and yanking it open once more. "Get in here, are you okay?" You asked, gasping right after when Tangerine stumbled a little, making you catch him; assualting your sinuses with the smell of citrus, metallic blood, and cigarette smoke. "All right, all right, you're safe now, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon," you muttered, helping him over your shoulders and into your decently spacious hotel room. "C'mon, you two! Step lively before you trigger hotel security!"

You shuffled your stranger into the room and deposited him on the sofa; hearing his grunt of exaggerated pain. You looked at the others, sighing as you moved things out of the way, inviting the other two men to sit around the furniture. You tried not to worry about the cleaning bill you would surely get for all their blood.

"Jesus Christ, did you get shot?" You asked, seeing the fleshy wound in his shoulder that was very poorly staunched.

"That arsehole did it," he panted, pointing at the blonde stranger.

"Hi," the arsehole waved, "it was an accident, for whatever it's worth. I, uh... I have bad luck, don't really like guns," he shrugged meekly.

"You lot look like hell," you sighed, shaking your head and standing to your feet to take a few steps away. You asked over your shoulder, "Guess I shouldn't bother asking what happened?"

"Train wreck," the man Tangerine had been with earlier answered.

You blinked in shock, the men all wincing as they were seemingly finally able to relax. Only now, you noted they were all in the same clothes as days ago, just tattered, torn, burnt and singed, soaking wet from the storm, stained with blood. You looked at Tangerine, demanding, "Is that why you told me to get off the train? You were gonna crash it!?"

"No, no, darlin', that wasn't the plan," Tangerine coughed, head tilted back. "Just... Happened."

"Call it his bad luck, huh?" You shook your head and moved for the hotel's phone, dialing the front desk and waiting. When they answered, the cheery front desk girl asked how she could help and you asked her what first aid supplies the hotel kept stocked. She answered and you asked if you'd be able to get enough for three kits - claiming you were practicing for a medical school final. She was more than happy to oblige, telling you her brother did much of the same, and she'd send the kits right up.

Thanking her, you hung up, and turned back for room. You found a pair of shorts and hopped into them for modesty, using your ice bucket to fill with water, grabbing whatever hand towels and washcloths you could. You set the bucket to the coffee table, dipping the cloths in for the two strangers, asking, "You guys wanna clean up a bit?"

"Please," the blonde wheezed.

You nodded, handing over the wet towels and moved the bucket a little closer for them to reach. You introduced yourself to them, offering a smile, turning for Tangerine and taking a seat beside him to start cleaning him up. "Lemon," your companion's counterpart introduced.

"Ladybug."

"More fucking codenames," you mumbled, shaking your head, trying to mop up Tangerine's forehead. "Jesus, fuck, sweetheart, what did you do? Bash your head through a glass wall?"

"Window, actually," he mumbled, reaching up to caress your wrist and cracking his eyes open. "Thank you, darlin'."

"Hush," you smiled, wiping the blood from his mouth. "You guys are gonna need showers and new clothes, huh?" You looked at the other two, who were scattered around the room to use whatever reflective surface they could find.

"That'd be nice," Ladybug nodded. "Anyone any cash?"

You sighed, "I've got you guys, 's all right."

As you reached for the bucket of warm water again to rinse the washcloth and wring it out, you missed the looks Lemon and Tangerine exchanged; both mildly impressed with your generosity and kindness. Certainly, someone who would never get tangled up in the lot of them on regular circumstances.

The knock at your door made the entire room still, you sparing them a skeptical look and reprimanding as you stood, "Relax, it's just the supplies."

Still, Lemon and Ladybug made sure they were out of sight as Tangerine just couldn't move once deposited on the sofa. You greeted the service worker, strategic in how wide you opened the door, and accepted the supplies; thanking the man, closing the door, and depositing the materials on your still-made bed.

However, a new thought occurred and you picked up the phone once more. When it connected to the front desk, you asked if your conjoining room was vacant - and to your shock, it was. You asked if they would add the room to yours because your friend suddenly decided to join you (not a total lie), and some 20 minutes later, you were giving Ladybug and Lemon their own room keys. You propped the conjoining door open, the two men using the first aid kits and the other room's shower as you got Tangerine to a point you didn't think he would bleed out.

"Okay, sweetheart," you caressed his jaw, "I'm gonna pop over to the shops across the street, okay? Grab you guys some necessities."

"You don't have to, we shouldn't burden you like this," he whispered.

"You guys can't walk around in these clothes," you chuckled.

"Have been."

"Yeah, on the side of the road, huh?"

"Back of a tangerine truck for a bit, too," he chuckled.

"Well, that's fitting. Look, just," you sighed, leaning in to peck his lips softly, "stay here, rest, eat, I'll be right back. Get a shower if you feel able, yeah?"

He nodded, just looking you over for a moment. "I'm sorry," he whispered, shaking his head, "I didn't know where else t'go. Whole plan went t'shit, we were out of options, love, just... Didn't know where t'turn ta."

"How'd you even find me?"

He shrugged, "I have my ways."

"Well, that's doesn't vaguely make you sound like a stalker." Another peck to his amused smile. "I'll be right back, promise," you stood, found a pair of sweats, a hoodie, and changed your shoes before heading out the door.

Was it stupid to leave three strangers alone in your hotel room? For sure. But you still went, you were a caring person by nature and the idea of making them fend for themselves felt wrong.

Especially after the state they showed up in, Tangerine's soft words about not knowing where to go; you just wanted to help since you had the ability to.

Across the street, splashing through puddles, you zipped around what was available and gathered three sets of sweatpants, shirts, jackets or hoodies, and figured their shoes were fine for now until they could change them later. You grabbed a few snacks and bottles of water, sports drinks, and energy drinks, paid, and made it back to your hotel room.

"Oh, blessings, you sweet girl!" Lemon gasped when you presented the change of clothes and snacks. "Oh, fuck yeah," he whispered to himself, taking the gift and going to change as you tossed Ladybug his own set.

When you found Tangerine, he was in the same place - but at least he didn't look worse. Just exhausted.

"Hey," you cooed, caressing his head and watching his eyes crack open.

"You're back," he smiled.

"Mhm," you hummed, "and you need a shower. C'mon, then you can get in bed, get some rest."

"Nah, love," he groaned when you took his wrists, "let's jus' go t'bed."

"Tan, you're absolutely disgusting right now, you'll feel better under the water. C'mon, there's a shower seat, you don't have to do anything, I'll help you."

He winced when you helped him on his feet, hobbling into the bathroom as Ladybug and Lemon were chowing down on whatever they could get their hands on. In the bathroom, you shut the door, set a clean towel on the counter, and turned to see him leaning on a wall, just watching you. You offered a soft smile, starting the shower to hea up, and then approaching him.

"Easy," you whispered, helping him unlatch his belt, step from his shoes, and then shed his trousers. His waistcoat followed, then his button-up, you gasping lightly, "Oh, fuck! Oh, my God. Yeah," you gently pet his side, prodding the dark wound, "you've got some broken ribs, sweetheart. Fuck's sake."

"That arsehole did that, too," he mused.

"Seriously? Damn, how'd you get your arse handed to yah by a lad named Ladybug?" You joked, dropping his boxers and pulling him from the wall. You made sure he was on the shower seat before stepping back and stripping yourself, joining him in the heat and getting to your knees.

With another washcloth, you gently suds over his body, the soap helping sweep away from grime. He let you work, scrubbing his feet, then working up his legs, rinsing, reapplying the soap, and continuing on your way. You washed his thighs and up his hips, to his waist, ignoring the way his cock stirred to life, bobbing into your elbow as it swelled. You were gentle over his bruises, the water feeling nice over your tired bodies; the soft scents of the soap soothing.

When you straightened up to wash his chest, you missed the way his eyes scanned over your soaking wet form. Feeling your hands on his collarbones, he reached down to seize your hips and heave - making you yelp. "The hell are you doing?" You gasped, needing to stabilize yourself on the wall and his non-shot shoulder.

"'S been three days too long, just wanted yah close," he whispered, sighing as his hands smoothed down your hips; gripping the flesh until indentations appeared.

You tisked, "You're hurt, you don't need t'fuckin' lift me. Use your words next time, won't you?"

He chuckled, "And what? Risk you sayin' no 'cause you don't wanna hurt me? Nah, love," he sighed. "Just wanted yah close, t'feel yah."

You hummed, "Close your eyes."

"Hmm?"

You held up the shampoo bottle, squirting a generous amount into your hand before starting to lather it into his scalp. He groaned, hissed at a few intervals, but overall let you work your fingers through his curls; pulling out any knots, shards of glass, and loosening the dried blood.

"You all right?" You checked, lifted on your knees to work; breasts all but pressed into his face.

"Mhm," he hummed, coiling his arms around you so he could literally just press his face into your cleavage. You chuckled, giving him a quick cuddle as he pecked your skin slowly, and continuing your work. When you lowered yourself back to his lap, your bare cunt drug down his shaft, making you both groan. "Baby," he seethed through his teeth, gripping the back of your neck to keep you close, "please, just - get on me, yeah? Need yah - on a biblical level, darlin'."

"You're hurt," you weakly refused, your resolve barely hanging on by a thread.

"Not so hurt that I can't enjoy this, huh?" He argued, licking over your lips to halt all rational thought. "C'mon, love, we hiked it three days here - after a fuckin' train wreck. I would've dropped if not for the thought of you, seein' yah, touchin' you again. Don't even gotta move, just sit there, love."

"If I do, will you finally just sit still and let me clean you up?"

"Whatever baby wants, she'll have, swear it," he grinned, hoisting you into his arms so he could grip his throbbing cock, lower you, and line himself up until you were impaling yourself on him. "Jesus, fuck!" He snapped, mixing with your whimper at his impossible stretch. "Ah, you feel so fuckin' good, doll, this is it - this is what I needed, huh? All I fuckin' needed - fuck - right fuckin' here."

"Hush," you whispered with an embarrassed smile, glancing back. "I need the shower head."

"I got us," he answered, holding you tight and standing with a small grunt. He easily grabbed the shower head, handing it to you, letting you rinse his hair out as he turned to pin you against the wall with his hips for balance.

"This isn't just sitting," you mocked, soap flowing down his shoulders and chest. "Close your eyes, please," you whispered, wiping the frothy suds from his face as he did. "God, your curls are magnificent, seriously, why does God give the best qualities to men - who don't even appreciate what they have?"

He laughed lightly, "Gotta get your attention somehow."

"Mhm, these lashes? Not even a drop of mascara," you mused, pecking the tip of his nose while one hand held his jaw. "And this jawline? Baby, this alone could cut glass."

"Like your nipples, right?" He teased, nipping your collarbones; both acutely aware of your pebbled nips dancing across his flesh each time you moved. He chuckled, readjusting you when you reached to set the shower head back in the holder; making sure it could cascade over the bench still. "We done?" He asked softly.

"Nope, got the conditioner," you rolled your eyes, holding his shoulders when he moved back for the seat; still firmly inside you. When he sat again, you released a high-pitched breath when the position pushed him further into you; your legs folding beside his thighs to keep the ideal grip.

"In a second," he smirked, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. "Just need this, yeah?" He spoke against your lips, licking into your mouth. "Been hiking with a fucking hard-on for days, love, just fuckin' need this," he hissed into your mouth, teeth raking over your bottom lip in a possessive bite. You moaned quietly, lost in the ministrations of kissing him like a drunk teenager, barely aware when he started moving your hips over him.

"Tan," you tried.

"C'mon, love, we both need it," he shook his head. "Tell me to stop and I will, but I think we both need this."

With a long sigh, you pet his cheek, deciding, "Fine, but we're taking it easy, you're still - " But then there was a loud knock at the bathroom door, Lemon calling your name in question. You slapped a hand over Tangerine's irritated mouth when he looked ready to yell his protest, answering, "What is it, honey, are you guys okay? What's wrong?"

"Yeah, just, uh... Can we order a couple things from room service? Bit starving, thinkin' something hot?"

"Oh, yeah, whatever you guys need!" You encouraged happily, Tangerine biting your palm and making your hand retract with a small whine and pout.

"Oi!" He called over the shower stream.

"Yeah?" Lemon was heard laughing.

"Don't run up her bill, mate!"

"It's okay," you whispered, pecking his forehead. "Get what you need, Lemon," you called, "but order Tangerine something to eat, too, please!"

"On it, love! Thank you!"

"Oh! Of course!" You beamed back at Tangerine, who offered you a mild look of annoyance.

"Now, why do that?" He asked, grinding your hips on his again. "Huh? Those two will eat you outta house and home, love."

"It's fine, you guys have been through a lot," you promised, connecting your lips in a long kiss. "Now, you wanna keep talking financials or put the rest of this hot water to use?"

"There's my girl," he grunted, standing from the bench to move fully under the water; pinning you to the wall again.

You grunted when you collided with the cold tile, but the warm tongue in your mouth was plenty distraction. You held his neck like it was your single tether to life, teeth clashing, tongues wagging, lips wet and creating obscene sounds the more intense the kisses turned.

"Fuck," you felt the air punch from your lungs when Tangerine pulled his hips back to start thrusting; brows furrowed together in concentration as he worked in and out of you at an already brutal pace. You didn't complain - he obviously needed this, and by God, it felt otherworldly.

"'Ats my girl, so fuckin' good for me," he muttered, needing this more than you have ever before; each hand holding a thigh to keep you spread open for his taking, hips hammering into yours as his balls slapped the apex of your cunt to echo around the room.

You felt incoherent when he picked up his speed, dropping his forehead to your shoulder when your head was thrown back as he worked you closer, closer, closer to your release. There was no thought in your mind, just Tangerine; drunk on his smell, taste, touch, never wanting this feeling to end.

Just outside the bathroom, Ladybug was accepting the room service order when he heard the messy, obscene noises coming from the bathroom; looking wide eyed at the closed door. Lemon laughed, "Might wanna walk away, Joburg, he don't like nobody listening in."

"Kinda hard to when they're that loud," he blanched when you released a pornographic moan as Tangerine readjusted his stance so his cock was piercing what felt like straight through you. Lemon laughed at Ladybug being startled so much he literally scurried away.

"C'mon, love," Tangerine panted.

"Go back," you moaned, pawing at his shoulders as you felt too slippery in this position.

"Huh?"

"Sit!" You insisted, him pulling back from the wall and backing up until the bench hit the back of his knees - dropping him. "There's my boy," you mocked, a hand on the wall, the other on his good shoulder, supporting you to vigorously ride him. You felt renewed energy now that he was obviously okay, only his bullet wound still weeping - something you'll patch up once out of the water.

"Oh, holy fuck," Tangerine moaned, louder than you would've thought; his head thumping back to the wall and losing all composure. "That's it, doll, keep like that - ohhh, fuck me!"

"Exactly what I'm doing, yeah?" You teased, moving your hand to his throat and keeping pressure enough not to fully choke his air supply, but enough to make him moan at the feeling.

His mouth dropped open as you rode him enthusiastically, feeling determined to reward him for coming all this way to track you down. Yeah, sure, for a moment, it was concerning, but now, you simply didn't care that three strangers had found your hotel room and now crashed with you.

Nothing mattered when this deliriously delicious cock was inside you.

"Jesus!" Tangerine moaned, hands to your hips to help you move, but it seemed the years in your youth as an equestrian was truly paying off. Call it muscle memory, but years after mastering the posting trot and the correct canter diagonal, you were riding Tangerine as if you'd drop dead if you didn't. And he felt it, he felt all of it. "Yeah, you're too good at this," he groaned, "so fuckin' good - Goddamnit - fuck me. Just like that, love, keep going - fuck, I'm right there."

You smirked, pushing his neck back so we was pinned to the wall now, his eyes locked with yours, mouth agape, your breasts bouncing with vigor. You squeaked when Tangerine braced his feet, his own hips thrusting up into you to match your movements; adding to both your mounting pleasures as the shower created a cloud of steam around you both in a welcomed lung-choking heat.

You honestly didn't mean to, but the absolute gut-wrecking pleasure you felt was enough for you to moan in Tangerine's ear, "Daddy."

It seemed the right word as Tangerine groaned in an echo, thrusting faster to the point you couldn't keep up. You could only moan, groan, squeak, cry-out as he jackhammered up into you - something that made Lemon and Ladybug exchange looks, gather their things, and rush back over to their adjoining room to leave you both a fraction of privacy.

"Yeah, tell Daddy how good it is," he seethed in your ear, opening his mouth, and biting down on your neck; hand tightly wound in your hair.

"So good."

"How good?"

"Too good, Daddy, please," you sobbed, braced on his shoulders and chest as his arms held you tight to let him thrust with abandon. "Oh, my God, oh, my God, oh, my God, yes, yes, yes," you praised, your orgasm rushing higher and higher to a new height. "Fuck," you moaned in his ear, "need this cock everyday. Went three days without, felt like I was losing my fucking mind."

"Feelin's mutual, love, so fuckin' mutual," he agreed, his cock swelling, "just needed t'get here, find yah again. Shit, fuck," he looked to where you were conjoined, praising, "gonna need yah home address - ain't no way we're goin' without one another, huh? Hey?"

"Yes, yes, yes," you squeaked, "there - there - there!"

His thumb pressed to your clit and you were done for. Grinding and humping into his hips, you crashed over the other side of your orgasm; feeling mildly limp as you slumped against his shoulder, letting Tangerine thrust a few more times.

"YES!" He shouted your name through clenched teeth, holding you with a vice grip as he bottomed out, balls contracting, squirting his full load inside you with shuddering breaths.

"Oh, my God," you sniffled, holding onto him as your legs were spent and you knew, the odds of you moving any time soon were slim to none.

"Yeah," Tangerine chuckled, leaning back to the wall as he panted; keeping hold of you. "Yah all right, love?"

"Uh-huh," you breathed, still absentminded.

"Yeah," he mused, pecking below your ear. "Just what the doctor ordered, huh?"

"Think the doctor would want your wound closed," you slowly sat off him, looking to the bloody hole and frowning as you pet around the irritated skin. He winced gently, making you frown, "Let's go, love, you need this tended to."

Only, when you dismounted, his cock flopping out of you once released, you tried to find your feet but only found the floor.

"C'mon, love, you just sit," he sighed, scooping you up and switching spots. He set you on the bench, stood, rinsed off under the water, readjusted the stream so it hit you a little better as he lathered conditioner into his curls with one arm.

"You're supposed to leave it sit for a bit," you tisked when he washed the conditioner out; shaking his curls.

"'S all right, still does the job."

"Your girlfriends never taught you haircare?"

He cleared his throat, looking a bit sheepish as he avoided your eyes. "Never really had one outside of secondary school. Job doesn't make dating the easiest, yeah?"

You furrowed your brows gently, then nodded, "Okay, well, just means you've room to learn, right?"

"Yeah, sure. You gonna teach me, love?" He mused, slicking his hair back in the water before shutting it off; wringing a few strands out.

"Why not?" You smiled. "But you gotta teach me something in return."

"Hmm? What's that you wanna learn?"

"How to shoot a gun."

He offered you a long look, seemingly skeptical. You accepted his hand and got from the bench, squeezing when the weight of your body made them tremble lightly. Stepping out, you both dried off with towels as he offered, "Why d'you think I know how to shoot a gun?"

"Tellin' me that Ladybug fellow is the only one? That's fine, I can ask him," you quipped, making him instantly respond,

"Nah, nah, nah, nah, don't do all that, I'll teach yah, love."

You smiled softly, wrapping your hair in a towel and approaching him - still naked. "Thank you," you whispered, kissing his lips in a soft, sweeping motion that made him hum in the back of his throat and reach for your bare arsecheek. "Now, c'mon, let's get you stitched up before you go startin' something you can't finish."

"You met me, love? I always finish," he gave a cheeky squeeze.

"Mhm, might be the last time, too, with this blood loss. Huh?"

He relented in a head nod and wrapped the towel around his hips, watching you shrug on a fluffy white robe and tie the sash. He took your hand, laced your fingers together, and exited the bathroom - only to come to a shocking halt.

There was blood trailed all over the room, medical supplies strewn around, and several food wrappers. "Told yah, love," Tangerine sighed.

"It's okay," you smiled, "they'll clean it."

"You're so sure?"

"I'm very persuasive," you eased. "C'mon, sit," you ushered him back to the bloodied sofa, figuring damage was already done and anymore blood wouldn't make much of a difference. You grabbed whatever material you could, snapping on rubber gloves and taking a deep breath. "Ready?" You asked Tangerine.

"One more kiss and you can have at it," he sighed, leaning in until you met him happily; offering several swipes of his tongue before resting his forehead on your own.

"It'll sting for a bit," you warned, holding the bottle of alcohol.

"C'mon, darlin', 's all right, I can handle - OH! FUCKS SAKE!" He cursed when you poured the disinfectant over his bullet wound.

In the next room, Ladybug and Lemon shared a look before snickering as if two juvenile boys at a sleepover. And honestly? Spot the difference.

requesting rules and masterlist

Bullet Train masterlist

[vbecker10]

You Are My Home

Pairing: Loki x female reader (y/n)

Summary: Loki leaves you for a month to visit Asgard with Thor and you are more then excited to welcome him home.

A/N: This is not what I'm supposed to be working on right now but I listened to the song linked below on the way home and the damn thing just wrote itself... enjoy 💚

In the two and a half years you and Loki have been together, this is by far the longest you have ever been apart. Loki would often spend a few days or even a week away on missions but today is day thirty without him. He and Thor returned to Asgard to take care of a political matter and you were both devastated to find out you would not be able to go with him. You had cried yourself to sleep in his arms the night before he left and you haven't slept a full night since.

You spent the whole day anxiously awaiting this moment, he is finally going to arrive any minute. Looking at yourself in the window, you check your makeup and hair for the hundredth time, wanting to look perfect for him. You smooth out the fabric on your favorite dress and smile, Loki bought it for you to wear for your first anniversary. It is a deep emerald green and fits your body as if it was made for you.

The wind picks up suddenly and your heart beats faster, you know instantly the Bifrost is opening. You turn away from the building and walk across the grass to wait closer to the open area where they will arrive. You can barely contain your excitement as the air around you buzzes. Lightning and streaks of bright colored lights pierce the thick clouds and burn into the dried grass behind the Avengers Compound.

You force yourself to stay where you are until the wind ties down and the lights fade. You see two tall figures standing in the center of a charred spiral.

"Loki!" your legs immediately carry you towards him.

"Y/N!" he answers, his voice full of joy as he quickly moves to meet you. He pulls you into a tight hug, lifting you easily off the ground as he spins, making you giggle. You wrap your arms around his neck and press your lips to his desperately, as if you are trying to make up for all of the kisses you two have missed out on in the last month.

"Gods, how I've missed you," he says when you break the kiss, he puts you down and keeps his arms around you.

"I missed you every second you were gone," you tell him honestly. "Promise me if you ever go home again, you'll take me with you."

He raises one hand to stroke your cheek lightly, "Asgard is many things, my dear, but I don't call it home anymore."

You look at him curiously and he smiles, "I was going to wait to do this until tonight but I don't want to wait another moment."

He looks over his shoulder at his older brother who smiles at you both and takes a few steps away.

You cover your mouth with your left hand as your heart pounds quickly in your chest. "Loki?" you barely whisper in disbelief as he take a small step away from you and gets down on one knee.

A small ring box appears in one hand with a green flash and he takes your right hand in his other hand.

"Y/N, home is where you are and every night I spent alone on Asgard was worth it to come back to you. You are my home, you are my everything when I feel alone. You are my shelter when all my hope is gone. You are my heart, you are the one I want to spend every minute of every day with. I love you with every fiber of my being," he says as he looks up at you. "Y/N, my love, my queen. Will you make me the happiest man in the nine realms by becoming my wife?"

"Yes! Yes," you say excitedly as Loki stands. "I love you," you tell him as he slips the most beautiful ring you have ever seen onto your finger.

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚

@soubi001 @michelleleewise @harlequin-hangout @ace-of-gay @xorpsbane @mochie85 @sheris532 @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen @kkdvkyya @animnerd @peaches1958 @peachyjinx @lokiandbuckysdoll @winterfrostlovetriangle @high-functioning-lokipath @winniewings @pics-and-fanfics @cabingrlandrandomcrap @icytrickster17 @lokisgoodgirl @mischief2sarawr @stupidthoughtsinwriting @mjsthrillernp @holdmytesseract @lulubelle814 @crimson25 @goblingirlsarah @janineb86 @simone818283 @tonystank8 @im-briana-stan @foxherder @chantsdemarins @catsladen @alexakeyloveloki @siconetribal @lokidokieokie @dragonmurray @honeydew3064 @malfoycassimalfoy @kneelingformyloki @newtomofgods @jiyascepter @eleniblue

[sairenharia]

MK's First Dad

The snakes represent my many, many dads!

Why yes, MK, they do represent your many, many dads.

Or rather, one dad, many times.

This dad.

So very clearly, the world of Lego Monkie Kid has been experiencing timeloops. Nuwa made MK to collect the stones and when the cycle of the world ends, he yeets himself into the pillar, and restarts everything from the beginning. Without outside factors, everything happens the same as it always did.

The Celestial body establishes itself, demons run amok, the journey happens, society builds, further and further until at least the Jade Emperor and maybe the other Guardians reach the end of their life and the Heavenly Pillar starts to crumble and has to be rebuilt and start the cycle.

Until THIS cycle where the Nine Headed Demon decided to wake MK up early.

And you know what?

I believe every single word the NHD said after he revealed himself was one hundred percent the complete and utter truth. He never ONCE lied to MK or any of the others, at least not from his perspective.

From the explanation of his motives, to the idle comments.

We see this in what he says he's doing. NHD said he isn't trying to push MK to a choice. What he wants is for MK to MAKE a choice. If MK chooses to sacrifice himself, NHD said he's going to save everyone, affirming his choice. By that same token, when MK comes back out of the pillar, he says he choose to face the end together in a supportive tone, affirming his choice again!

NHD didn't lie. Whatever choice MK made, he supported and encouraged MK in it.

His tune only changed, ONLY changed when he was terrified he was going to be trapped in the cycle again. And even then, it was only a brief moment. Once he saw he didn't have to be trapped, he was back to supporting MK, and he was relieved.

Even with the way NHD interacts with the others shows this. NHD allowed them to SPEAK. He only interfered when they tried to PHYSICALLY take MK's choice from him. NHD was fully enabling them to convince MK to make the choice they wanted him to make. They were allowed to persuade, because it was still ultimately MK who got to decide what he was going to do.

From start to finish, NHD had two goals. One was to leave the cycle, which he saw as happening either way. Either everything fell apart, or he had a way out when the cycle reset. MK's moved changed his gateway and that's when he got upset, but he had no issue with MK's CHOICE, just the fact he would be trapped again.

And two, that very choice.

But why? NHD manipulated Azure. He manipulated the Yama Kings. Potentially a lot of people in heaven and those below, which is pretty against people making choices. So why does he care so much about MK's choice?

Because the cycle wasn't supposed to end for another eon.

Because this cycle wasn't the first, it wasn't the second, and it likely wasn't even the hundredth.

Which means MK didn't have Pigsy. He didn't have Tang, or Mei, or Sandy, or anyone else in his life. They were long dead by the time the Harbinger is released in every other cycle.

Now with MK having longer to cook, he may be fully grown. Or he may be a kid again, but I think with what NHD said about wanting to give the Harbinger a chance to have a life, the Harbinger is usually grown enough to be able handle the trials.

But he's probably not got a lot of personality going on. Nuwa may have chosen an extreme way to maintain the pillar, but she does seem to be trying her best to minimize suffering. She is repeating the cycle because its the only way she can see in protecting the world from chaos. She makes Harbinger because a sacrifice is necessary for the pillar, to remain as a building block like I think she is. Harbinger has to be someone who EXISTS, but if he's largely a blank slate, then the loss is not so great.

Harbinger lives to sacrifice himself. He has no family. He has no life to lose.

But this means someone who is blank and potentially easy to lead astray.

This is why the trials. Because really, Harbinger is suppose to just live, grab the stones, yeet. Why does he need TRIALS? But then there is what the trials actually teach, as we know them.

A trial of resolve, to push through to the end despite the dangers. To endure danger and hardship to the end. Then the other trial, of focus on self, on what he needs to do in the present. But what's interesting is the DANGER of this one. Its not to Harbinger, but whoever is with him.

These trials are to make sure Harbinger has the nerve to go through danger and hardships to get to the end of the quest...and to keep his focus to PROTECT OTHERS.

Harbinger is made to be a sacrifice. He is made to protect. He is made to save. What happens if he sees people in danger on the way to the pillar? He would get distracted, but in delaying, he puts them in MORE danger. He has to be able to ignore those in smaller danger, and focus on his inner task, to make sure he focuses on the greater goal of sacrificing himself to keep them ALL safe.

I'm sure the dragon and tiger would have something similar.

So the trials help train Harbinger into some personality, but he still has to GET there. More over, he needs to have SOMEONE for the Black Tortoise.

The Yama Kings also know about the Harbinger. They know when he should be released and what he is supposed to do. They likely know what he is supposed to be like, and likely they are also how MK is supposed to even GET to the Jade Emperor.

The Harbinger needed a guide.

And I think that is the Nine Headed Demon.

Because here is the thing. NHD says he's not a monster. And he's tired of being the hero. And he isn't lying.

Here is the cycle.

The world starts. The Celestial body establishes itself. Demons run amok. The Journey happens. Society builds. Nuwa at some point puts the Harbinger in the stone. Eons pass. The Jade Emperor hits the end of his life.

The Harbinger is released.

And NHD is there, as a representative of the Yama Kings who know enough to know this will happen and what is expected. NHD helps the Harbinger to the trials. He helps him to the pillar. He watches the Harbinger sacrifice himself.

The cycle begins again.

He is there again.

The Harbinger dies again.

Over and over, until at some point, perhaps after the first time, perhaps later on, NHD is exposed to chaos. Likely when the cycle is ending and resetting, there is a window that chaos seeps in and NHD is able to see all that is beyond the world.

This is likely why he thinks he's fine regardless of MK's choice. Either he left during the brief window of a reset, he everything fell apart, so he was freed. He didn't account for continuing on beyond the reset.

NHD sees beyond and he sees beauty. NHD sees beyond and now he can REMEMBER. Why is hard to say. Likely he made a deal with whoever "he" is, but regardless, NHD loves chaos and he retains his memories.

But NHD was chosen to help the Harbinger for a reason. He is not cruel. He is not heartless. He loves the masses. He wanted to save and protect them, even at a cost, so he was chosen to help the Harbinger.

It is why even after he saw chaos, he chose to return. He had seen something so GOOD in his eyes, and he wanted to see if he could change the mind of those in the world. To convince Heaven to LET the chaos in. To end the resets and allow chaos and life to CHANGE beyond.

But no one listens.

They reject him.

Call him a monster.

The cycles continue.

He tries. He tries persuasion. He tries trickery. He likely tries force, but the Harbinger is too strong to stop and he will fulfill his destiny. He asks for help.

He even asks the one person who might stop the Harbinger.

Sun Wukong.

NHD said they were old enemies and old friends. NHD sought a solution, so he would ask who he could for help. Sometimes he could convince Wukong to help him. Others, he couldn't. And sometimes, he managed to get Wukong enraged enough to become an enemy. But unfortunately even with Wukong's power, he's never quite strong enough to keep the Harbinger from the pillar.

Likely because the Harbinger wants nothing more than to get to the pillar, and ultimately, the Harbinger is just some kid getting used, and Wukong can't bring himself to kill him. Allowing the Harbinger a moment to get through regardless of how the fight is actually going.

Which could be going far in Wukong's reaction to MK.

NHD said that MK is a remnant of chaos. Which means either the clay he was made from...or from Wukong's stone. And since the Celestial Primates are ODDITIES, its likely Wukong's stone that has that bit of chaos in it that Nuwa is using in her sacrificial building block. No one is gonna be able to make Wukong do anything he doesn't want, and likely none of the other primates, and Nuwa doesn't want to ask anyone to end their life either. Start anew is better.

But likely this bit of chaos may be why Wukong feels a draw to MK. Some part of him remembers the Harbinger. Remembers his strength. Remembers he's a kid being used, who hadn't been allowed to live, who did so much for the sake of others. A kid who idolizes him. A kid who can use his staff.

I think it says something with how much Wukong focuses on MK becoming self confident and choosing things for himself and why he steps in with the Spider Queen because its a fight MK desperately doesn't want even though he SHOULD be capable of handling it, instead of thinking the fights are too much for MK like the Lady Bone Demon. Wukong wants MK to decide things for himself, he wants MK to LIKE himself. Wukong wants MK to choose to. There is a bleeding of the timeline because of Wukong's connection to chaos by being a Celestial Primate.

The Harbinger is a blank slate...but he is a person. NHD, at first, just wants to help the world. He wants to be the hero. He wants to move beyond the cycle. But in trying to find that path, he introduces new elements to the Harbinger.

The Harbinger starts to show signs of development. Of change. The Harbinger starts to laugh. The Harbinger starts getting cheeky. The Harbinger starts crying when fights break out at the end. There is LIFE in the Harbinger.

Yet another beautiful thing this cycling world rejects for the sake of continuing to spin.

NHD tries to find a third solution. He tries over and over again. He knows the Harbinger will continue to the pillar, to save the world, over and over again, and he doesn't have the power to stop him. The Harbinger will always choose to sacrifice himself. He cannot end the cycle by preventing the sacrifice. He looks for a way to move past the eon. Maybe if he had more TIME, he could convince people to give chaos a chance. Perhaps he could allow the pillar to crumble more slowly, allow the sun to peak in over time. If he could just get the box to OPEN, then that would be enough.

Except nothing works. He can't fight anyone strong enough to replace the guardians. He can't find another means to fix the pillar. He tries over and over again.

There are several consequences to this and I'll get into one of those in another post. (Red Son has some INTERESTING things going on.)

NHD cannot find a means to move beyond the cycle. He is getting disillusioned. He wants to save everyone. He wants to bring them to the sun. He just can't.

He knows...he knows he doesn't HAVE to keep trying.

He sees it every reset. He has a window. He can LEAVE the cycle himself. Let everyone stay in their cave forever.

Except.

He sees the Harbinger throw himself into the pillar. The one he's sees sacrificing himself countless times for a world he never gets to truly experience. He only gets slivers of it. Moments of joy. Moments of triumphant. Moments of pain. Moments of truly being alive, when he deserved so much more.

NHD is tired. His sanity is fraying. He could simply go...

But he decides one more time.

He would live the cycle one more time.

Because the Harbinger deserved to fully experience the world. The Harbinger deserved to DECIDE whether or not to keep the cycle going, or let the world fall apart.

He manipulates the world in a different way. He's lived this cycle countless times. He knows much of what happens. He chooses a time.

He knows DBK gets released. He knows in short order, the Lady Bone Demon also gets freed, whether this is by the Demon Bull Family, the Mayor, or perhaps even Macaque (I haven't gotten a solid theory on what Macaque's deal is YET, but I have a suspicion his revival may not be a consistent thing.) Either way, DBK getting freed gets Wukong off his mountain because DBK is running around with HIS staff and while Wukong isn't interested in being a hero, that is HIS staff, thank you very much.

And the Lady Bone Demon is simply too big of a threat to ignore.

Its the first time where Wukong HAS to be active.

Its also the first time, in a while, where Wukong leaves his mountain. At times, visiting this city because its the first time in a while where the incarnations of the pilgrims are in close proximity and Wukong can't help himself. He just has to check things are okay.

Its the perfect set up.

The danger of releasing the Harbinger early is people noticing him. He will feel compelled to help people. NHD is pretty sure there is no way to be rid of that. So he needs something to justify this powerhouse running around.

This is the perfect time. Pigsy is a family man. If he leaves the Harbinger nearby, he will at least take care of the kid, and hopefully take him in. NHD can't be sure, but perhaps he has an idea depending on if Mei always finds Pigsy and Tang independent of MK's existence.

It works though. The Harbinger becomes MK and he's in place to be noticed by Wukong, who NHD already KNOWS experiences some bleed. Has seen Wukong react to the Harbinger with familiarity. Knows Wukong will be intrigued by MK enough to stay close.

Then DBK's freeing comes and Wukong is acting on suspicions, and maybe NHD is manipulating other things, but MK ends up with the staff, and Wukong is declaring MK his successor and NHD is thrilled.

MK now has the perfect smokescreen. The Celestial court has no say of what goes on with Celestial Primates without direct force. They don't know how they WORK. If Wukong says MK is his successor, then clearly he's done some weird primate magic on the boy and that's why he's powerful. The fact DBK and the Lady Bone Demon appeared, it screams of potential destiny to Wukong to. Throw in a few more of Wukong's enemies, keep him thrown long enough to not risk him thinking too much. Not like its hard, Wukong doesn't often think too much.

Even if this set up did present a few unexpected challenges NHD didn't account for. Macaque was largely an unknown because without MK's influence, IF Macaque is ALWAYS revived, Wukong and him likely never make up. They have too much bad history and too much stubbornness to actually work through their issues without MK calling Macaque out on his bullshit and enabling them to have to be around each other without turning into a huge fight. NHD got lucky that it took as long as it did because while Wukong doesn't overthink, Macaque certainly does and his plan may have been in more danger if Macaque had longer to explore those questions from episode one.

But no one knows MK is the Harbinger.

MK is allowed to experience life and what is means to save and have people to care for and he gets to make decisions on the scale of restoring the pillar and its perfect!

MK not only can make a choice, but will have the experience to do so.

Its all NHD ever wanted for him.

He's likely been doing something to the Jade Emperor to hasten his decline, or perhaps an eon really counts for the end of the man's life. Either way, he just has to free someone who is strong enough to take on the Jade Emperor in that state, but isn't strong enough to keep the stone functional.

The cycle can finally end.

MK can make a choice.

He can be free.

NHD never lied to anyone. He wanted to save everyone. He wasn't a monster. He wanted MK to have the freedom to chose, whatever it was.

He was only ever against MK the brief moment when he realized the world would continue and he wouldn't have his gap to escape. He didn't know WHAT would happen after that moment. Chaos had a chance to come in. There was a chance chaos wouldn't be able to, or at least wouldn't be able to for a very long time and he was so TIRED, he just wanted out, and for a moment, he was afraid to lose the thing he wanted for HIMSELF.

But as he stands on those stairs, as he sees the chaos, he is relieved.

He is HAPPY.

His words to MK are genuine. They are full of care and perhaps love. The child he had sent to die was finally alive. He was brilliant and clever. He found a third option that he hadn't been able to do for eons past.

He knows chaos is coming and that there will be a battle. The chaos MK feared may still be allowed through. So he warns him there is danger, that he will have to deal with the consequences of what happens Next.

He wishes him luck and thanks him. Sends him to a home he is glad his Harbinger is allowed to experience. For better or worse.

[nadvs]

Can you dive more into how HBD Rafe supports reader during the birth of their babies? How soft and supportive he is with her and how scared he is but excited at the same time and wishing he could do more ...please 🩵

aw aw yes for sure!! 🥰

set in the home before dark universe

after she started dating rafe, it didn’t take a long time for her to see that he’s actually a really anxious person. it manifested through rage and escapism before he let her in, but since he doesn’t have a fraction of the temper he has with other people when it comes to her, she sees his anxiety come through his desperation to do well at everything and to be validated for it.

the longer she’s with him, the clearer she can see how much he struggles with low self-worth and paranoia, so when she wakes him up in the middle of the night almost nine months into her first pregnancy, feeling sharp contractions, she immediately recognizes his anxiety with the way he rushes them out of the house and speeds to the hospital. but still, he tries to calm her down even though he’s more worried than she is, mumbling it’ll be okay and i know you’ll do amazing.

the moment they’re there, she has actually never seen rafe be as polite and talkative as he is with the doctors and nurses, surely trying to get into their good graces so they treat his wife well. when they’re left alone in the room for a moment, she teases him a bit, asking what happened to her husband, and he offers her a small, worried smile, asking her what he can get for her, kissing her forehead a bunch of times, fearing he’s inadequate, that he won’t be able to help the way he needs to.

they get sent home that night because the contractions were false labor pains. each night until she actually goes into labor, he wakes up every hour with his mind racing, checking up on her, watching her breathe deeply in her sleep, feeling his pulse lower when he sees her.

when it’s time, he’s holding her hand as she lies in the hospital bed, looking at her with concern as she breathes through the pain, wishing he could do something to make it easier for her.

“squeeze my hand as hard as you need to,” he tells her, rubbing her fingers with his hand. “you’re doing so good.”

she looks at him through her grimace, finding peace in his eyes, telling herself it’ll all be worth it. when they hear their daughter’s first cries, rafe presses his head against his wife’s hand, starting to weep from the fear and love and excitement he’s feeling.

he’s terrified but so so so happy to start this new chapter, and when he holds his child for the first time, he finds a love in his heart that must have always been there but he hadn’t felt until now. he looks at his wife, knowing he’ll never be able to repay her for giving this to him.

when the second baby comes, rafe hopes he won’t be such a mess through the process again, but complications arise and he’s even more scared. the baby’s not turned correctly and rafe helplessly paces behind the doctor and nurse who are leaning over you in the bed.

they push against you at one point, making you wince in pain, and rafe huffs behind them.

“be careful,” he mutters.

“would it be best for you to step out for a moment?” he nurse says, trying to be sympathetic, clearly aware of how worried he is.

“i’m not leaving her,” rafe says with a shake of his head, looking at you with pain in his heart.

thankfully, they’re able to get the baby in the right position, and just like last time, rafe doesn’t leave your side through the process, his hand in yours, telling you how well you’re doing.

later, when you’re lying in bed holding your son, rafe comes in with water and ice chips for what feels like the hundredth time that day, asking how you are.

“can’t be that bad when i have you,” you answer, taking a sip of your water.

“i was a wreck,” he says with a disappointed sigh, “again.”

“you weren’t,” you say. you’re so used to him being hard on himself, thinking he doesn’t measure up. “you’re a great dad and a great husband.”

rafe nods, settling beside you. he feels guilty for talking about himself. this moment isn’t about him.

“you did so great,” he says. “i’m so proud of you.”

he’s always been in awe of your strength and bravery, ever since you tumbled into each other’s lives years ago and he watched you deal with something many people wouldn’t be able to handle.

your parents knock on the door with your daughter. your toddler rushes into the room and rafe scoops her up before she can try to jump onto the bed.

“be gentle with mommy,” he tells his daughter. “i’ll hold you so you can say hi to your brother, okay?”

it’s a daydreamlike moment, the three of you looking down at the newborn who has changed the dynamic of your little family in a second.

as your daughter beams at her sibling, you and rafe meet eyes, sharing a smile full of love and hope for the future. and you can see that there’s not a shred of anxiety in him right now. he looks like he feels that he’s exactly where he’s meant to be. because he does.

[lilacwants]

so anxious.

notes: finally the long awaited M.M fic <3 i love this man so much he drives me crazy… summary: ever since you started dating, you realised just how much M.M loves ravishing you. warnings: soft M.M, mature/explicit content.

Marvin glanced at the clock for what felt like the hundredth time that night. Nine o'clock. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. He was home alone, the stillness of the apartment only amplifying his longing for you. He picked up his phone, paging you once more, wishing you'd come over to his place. He needed you here, now.

"Hey," he started, trying to keep his voice steady despite the excitement bubbling inside him. "I'm just sitting here, thinking about the last time you were here. Hit me back when you can. I miss you, babe."

He put the phone down and paced the living room, trying to distract himself. Every second felt like an eternity. He replayed the memories of your last visit, the way your skin felt against his, the sound of your laughter, the warmth of your touch. It was all he could think about.

The phone buzzed and Marvin's heart leaped. He grabbed it, seeing your name on the speaker, soothing yet laden with anticipation. "I got your message. I just finished my shift. Heading over now. Can't wait to see you."

A smile broke across Marvin's face as he glanced at the clock. It was 10:10. "Where have you been all my life?" he teased, his voice low and intimate. "I've been waiting, reminiscing about you, about us. Drive safe, but hurry. I miss you so much, babe."

The next hour felt like an eternity. Marvin tried to keep busy, tidying up the living room and setting the mood with soft candlelight.

He made sure everything was perfect for you when you arrived.

Finally, at exactly 11:30, he heard your key in the door. His heart raced with anticipation.

The door swung open, and there you were, looking as beautiful as ever.

You barely had time to drop your bag before Marvin pulled you into his arms, his lips crashing against yours in a passionate kiss.

The intensity of the moment took your breath away. "I've missed you so much," he murmured against your lips.

"I missed you too," you replied, your voice breathless and filled with desire.

Marvin didn't waste any time. As soon as the door clicked shut, he backed you against it, his hands exploring your body with an urgency that made you shiver. "I've been thinking about this all day," he whispered, his lips trailing down your neck. "About you, about us. I can't wait any longer."

He lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the bedroom. The candles cast a warm, flickering glow over the room, creating a perfect ambiance. He laid you down on the bed, his eyes dark with desire.

"Marvin," you whispered, your voice filled with anticipation. "I want you."

"Say no more," he replied, his voice husky.

He stripped off his clothes, his eyes never leaving yours. The raw intensity in his gaze sent shivers down your spine.

You reached for him, pulling him down to you. His body was warm and solid against yours, and you could feel the tension in his muscles as he held back, wanting to savor every moment. "I love the way you talk dirty," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "It drives me crazy."

He kissed you deeply, his hands roaming over your body, exploring every curve. You responded eagerly, your own hands exploring his body, relishing the feel of his skin against yours.

Marvin's kisses became more urgent, his touch more demanding. He moved over you, positioning himself between your legs. "I've waited long enough," he whispered, his voice rough with need. "I need you now."

You moaned softly as he entered you, the sensation overwhelming. He moved slowly at first, savoring the feeling, but soon the intensity of his desire took over. His pace quickened, and you matched him, meeting his thrusts with equal passion.

The room was filled with the sounds of sex, the only light coming from the flickering candles. You lost yourself in the moment, in the feeling of being with him, the world outside disappearing.

"Marvin," you gasped, your nails digging into his back. "I'm so close."

"Me too, babe," he groaned, his movements becoming more urgent. "I can't hold back any longer."

With a final, deep thrust, you both reached the peak of your passion, your cries of pleasure mingling in the air. Marvin collapsed beside you, pulling you close, his breathing heavy.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice soft and filled with emotion. "I don't want this night to end."

You snuggled closer to him, feeling sate and content in his arms. "I love you too, Marvin," you replied, your voice barely a whisper.

"And as long as we're together, it never has to."

As you drifted off to sleep, wrapped in each other's arms, you knew that no matter what, you would always have these moments, these nights of passion and love. And that was all that mattered.

[sevenop]

Billie Eilish x Fem!reader: Three nine five six

A/n: Eilish plunges headfirst into the maelstrom of the downside of his popularity when a crazed fan kidnaps you.

Inspired by "THE DINER".

Warning: blood, kidnapping, moral suasion!

"Relax, Eilish, it's okay!" - is a kind of mantra that you say for nearly the hundredth time that day. Billie is frantic with worry, having been on alert all day, not realizing the truth of the reason herself, but her gut is churning and choking in panic attacks, causing you to repeat it again and again, scattering the letters in the air as many times as she needs.

"Really sure you don't need security? I still want to put some trustworthy guys on you."

Billie's voice twitches slightly on the other side of the tube, and you only let a slight, almost audible chuckle pass through your lips. Security? You're just her girlfriend, not a Hollywood celebrity like her or her brother, why would you want that? You hum to yourself and grip the steering wheel a little tighter with your hand, steering a little to the right along the highway markings.

"Is it just me, or did something happen?" - You glance in the rearview mirror, making sure there's no one behind you, and level off in the lane. Your eyes cling one last time to the red numbers on the dashboard before they stick to the windshield again. It's almost midnight. No wonder you're alone.

"No, it's just..." - Billie stumbles over the letters in confusion, hovering in silence for a couple seconds as you drive into the sprawling tunnel in front of you. - "Just some kind of bad feeling."

"Relax, Eilish," - you chant for the hundred and first time, which makes your phone exhaling heavily in your ear. You smile, imagining her rolling her blue skies slightly in a characteristic gesture. - "Yeah, yeah, I know I've been telling you that all day, honey."

"Where are you now?" - you hear the rustle of sheets in the background, which in the darkness of the tunnel seems very seductively intimate, making you want to cover your eyes in the moment and give in to your not-so-decent daydreams, but you can't. - "How much farther?"

"No, not much left," you reply, clasping the phone tighter in your left hand. - "About twelve and a half miles, I think."

"Call me as you pull up, I'll meet you," Billie purrs huskily, and pleasant goosebumps run up the back of your neck in a sly flock. - "And please be careful on the road."

You nod, but then you're immediately catching yourself, realizing she can't see you. You say yes with a warm tenderness under your heart, and then she's resets the call, leaving you alone with the silence of the salon car. You are too lazy to touch the media panel to let the music flow through the cabin, too well in the flow of your thoughts, from which you surface periodically, without losing sight of the rapid asphalt ribbon, located under the four wheels. And only a huge white SUV, suddenly appearing on your left side, makes you deafeningly confused, especially if you take into account the fact that it is stubbornly following you, not missing a single turn for ten minutes already. Maybe you're just getting yourself worked up for nothing. Is there any chance it's just Billie's mood transferring to you? You fumble for your cell phone in your jacket pocket, unmistakably dialing the numbers from memory: three one zero-eight zero seven-three nine five six. The green call button is like the final cherry on the creamy top of a cupcake of worry and suspicion.

You nod, but then you're immediately catching yourself, realizing she can't see you. You say yes with a warm tenderness under your heart, and then she's resets the call, leaving you alone with the silence of the salon car. You are too lazy to touch the media panel to let the music flow through the cabin, too well in the flow of your thoughts, from which you surface periodically, without losing sight of the rapid asphalt ribbon, located under the four wheels. And only a huge white SUV, suddenly appearing on your left side, makes you deafeningly confused, especially if you take into account the fact that it is stubbornly following you, not missing a single turn for ten minutes already. Maybe you're just getting yourself worked up for nothing. Is there any chance it's just Billie's mood transferring to you? You fumble for your cell phone in your jacket pocket, unmistakably dialing the numbers from memory: three one zero-eight zero seven-three nine five six. The green call button is like the final cherry on the creamy top of a cupcake of worry and suspicion.

"Wow, you're here already?" - Billie grins softly at you through the tube, and your heart, stuck in your very windpipe, settles a little, lulled by her voice. - "That was quick, I wasn't expecting that."

"I suspect I'm in a bind," you frown, running your eyes over the white metallic of the car in your rearview mirror again. Damn, you going to have to bother her after all. - "Your bad felling may have turned out to be extremely correct, Eilish."

Silence spreads through the tube like a spider cunningly weaving a beautiful web of webs. Eilish exhales raggedly and scowls seriously, like a proud eagle. You can't see her, but you're absolutely certain it is.

"What do you mean?"

"Some car has been following me for about ten minutes now," - you cling reflexively with your fingers to the metal knob of the lever from the gearbox, as if to fit all the experiences of three seconds in there. - "And he almost bumps his bumper into my ass from his own eagerness."

"Where are you now?" - you hear the stomping and rustling of fabric dissected by the seriousness of her voice. - "I'm on my way to meet you right now!"

"Chill out, Bils, this just might be you and I sharing a little paranoia," - you push the gas pedal a little harder, tilting it to the floor with the very tip of it. No one's going to ban you in an attempted breakaway, right? - "Just... memorize this asshole's number just in case, okay?"

And you dictate the number from the iron plate of the next car, and Billie obediently swallows digit after digit, drinking the rattling mixture with her own rushing excitement, which is like a hot geyser. She asks you to stay in touch and her voice is jarring, and she's not even going to hide it, because you're far more important than her own sense of cool and cool.

"I have something to tell you about, so don't you dare disappear now," - the chains around her neck jingle threateningly. - "Otherwise I'll go crazy."

You only have to open your lips in response, as everything blends into a continuous lump of actions, pictures and sounds: the engine of the Japanese SUV rumbles at the very exit of the tunnel, in a couple of seconds equal to you side by side, and you in one sharp movement find yourself as if between a hammer and anvil, when the car wiggles in your direction, clamping uncompromisingly your sedan between the concrete wall of the tunnel that knows no mercy and themself. By virtue of inertia, shards of left door glass fly loudly into the cabin, the word shrapnel, predatorily scratching your face and hands, and the body sags in an arc to the left. You smack the back of your head against the back of the seat and the world blurs a little, it is only nausea that comes from the very bowels to your throat. You feel the heat in your rib area and yelp, immediately placing your palm there.

"Y/n!" - Billie yells, wheezing with her marvelous vocal cords, and you squint, trying to piece together what happened. - "What happened? Don't be quiet!"

"Call the police," - you sluggishly move your tongue as the imaginary hoop closes around your head, manifesting as a throbbing pain. Your ears begin to buzz as if you were leaning expectantly against a shell, wanting to hear the sound of waves raging near the shore. Eilish is shouting something again uncontrollably, and you can't make it out behind the veil of sounds anymore. - "I'm sorry."

The light ahead of you cuts your eyes so hard that you cover your eyelids, exhaling, albeit with a dull ache, as blissfully as after confession. Your consciousness drifts somewhere through the darkness and the only thing you can make out in the cacophony of noise is the slamming of a Japanese car door.

×××

Billie is like a mentally ill person, shackled in a straitjacket. She sits in the back seat of one of the police cars, stiff and hunched over like an old woman, although inside she is tearing up and rushing, pulling out her own hair with her fingers. Maggie hugs her daughter as best she can because of the tension in her seatbelt, strokes her parentally on the shoulder, and Eilish sinks into the maelstrom of tics that has long since subsided in the last few years. She throws her head up, twitching as if she were a broken puppet in the hands of a puppeteer, her hands digging into her own knees: she wants to howl, like a devil rejected even by hell itself. From the understanding of her own guilt, tears flow stream after stream, outlining the salty "rivers" of tears that have just dried up and wiped away by the hurried hand again. She dials your number again, and in response only silent beeps and nothing more. Nothing that will calm her down even a little.

She'd noticed the tape recorder and note threateningly planted in the kitchen of her country house through the window a week ago and hadn't done a damn thing about it, writing you off as It's all up to chance. Without revealing anything so as not to scare you, she became extremely insistent on offering you a security escort, to which you responded with a clear refusal every time. She listened to you, believed like a foolish heretic your arguments about your relative obscurity to the public and is now paying the price. At that time the proceedings of an entire police force yielded no results and no answers, and now she's riding in that damned police car accompanied by three more.

"It's my fault, Mom," - her voice is hoarse and her gaze is like a solid blue abyss, so dead cold. - "It's my fault to her, so fucking guilty..."

Eilish babbled like a lunatic, but Maggie only snuggled closer to her, hugging her in a head-to-toe embrace. The seat belt has long since been sent to hell, and she frankly doesn't care when her child suffers. She says something comforting, and Billie doesn't hear much, because there's only one thing in her head, round and round, like expensive vinyl: "Relax, Eilish, it's okay."

"Relax, Eilish, it's okay," - the younger O'Connell sniffles, howling like a wolf cub, snuggling into her mother's neck and nose drawing out the pleasant scent of vintage floral perfume, as she used to do as a child. - "That's what she used to tell me, Mom."

When they arrive, Eilish's legs are shaky and she almost tends to collapse to the pavement like a downed bird in flight, if it weren't for her father's timely arrival. Maggie looks down at the side of the sedan and sighs, holding both her palms to her mouth, Finn's arms around her. The cops are quick and efficient in fencing off the car, stretching yellow ribbons around the perimeter, a color that makes Eilish grind her teeth, but they ask them to stay close, and the four of them walk on: Billie on her stiff legs, Meggie dropping tears quietly, and Finneas and Patrick, silent and as focused as they've ever been. The tall, like stern cane-wielding investigator asks for a statement, and Eilish notices the small specks of blood on the steering wheel, wanders with eyes maddened in their mute scream at the dents on the left side of the hull and wants to just disappear, to fall through the cold asphalt. Straight to where you are now, and she doesn't care what hell she's in. The man steps back and Billie - shaking hands in her pockets, an icy stare and not a hint of a smile. She doesn't cry anymore, just stares at the crumpled car for half an hour and waits. She has nothing else to do but berate herself every second, putting weights on her innocent heart, conscience and soul.

"She's alive, I can feel it." - Billie babbles as the small black van moves in their direction, and Finn throws the plaid over her fragile shoulders, and with it a new exorbitant weight that makes her heart nearly rip into scarlet shreds in her sternum from the excess weight.

The phone in her hand vibrates and hums a familiar tune that makes you forget how to breathe at all: your contact is flashing on the display. The officer standing next to the O'Connells immediately shouts loudly, summoning an equipment specialist before Eilish can even pick up the phone.

"Hello?"

×××

You close your eyelids over and over again, and the result is the same, no matter how much effort and faith you put into it - the coldness of the concrete walls of a small garage painted a hideous deep blue, the psychedelically blinding light from a light bulb hanging from above that lives only on a thin wire. Tied with a strong knot of rope, your hands become numb behind your back with the approach of time, which adds to the apathy of your position. You try one more time, shaking the possible nightmare from your tired eyes, but to no avail. This is reality.

"Fuck..." - You swallow tightly, kneading at least your shoulders as best you can. In other respects you're hindered by the chair you're also firmly tied to. It's just like the cliched, low-budget Hollywood movies you hate so much. - "Oh, shit."

The words in your head are still confused, while you are so mercilessly sick for the hundredth time. On the plus side, it's like your head hurts a little less, and you can finally hear something other than the maddening noise, and on the minus side, you can feel your rib flare off with every breath you take, sending swirls of pain through your body. You also hear footsteps clawing purposefully towards you. Fuck.

"Hey, you," - the wooden door slams shut, and you squeeze your eyes shut, unable to cover your ears with your palms. Immediately, however, you looking around full dazedly, feeling the guy roughly put your own cell phone to your ear. - "Say 'hi' to my girl!"

He smiles, and you frown your eyebrows, defensively hiding the burning fear burning through your insides behind the supposed steel in your gaze. He squeezes out that nasty grin, and you want to either spit in his face or laugh, babbling madly and throwing back your head as high as you can.

"Hello?" - you hear Eilish's infinitely nervous voice and all the steel falls to the floor, leaving you completely defenseless and helpless. - "Please tell me it's really you..."

"I'm sorry," it's so stupid and inappropriate, but you don't really know what else to say when silver rivers start to come to your eyes, stoically lodged in the very corners of your eyes. A frozen desperation that you will only show to her and no one else. - "I... yes, my dear, it's me."

And you are immediately struck on the cheek by a wiry palm, painful and whiplashing. You pull the steel mask back on, as if picking up the remnants of the metal from the floor with your hands. It doesn't matter if your palms trembling feverishly.

"Shut up! Don't call her that!" - A shout right in your face chips a spray of spit, and you frown your eyebrows again, remaining silent. The guy takes the phone back and the smile on his face returns, calm and dreamy enough to turn any notion of surrealism into sharp shards. You catch the rumbling notes of lingering madness in his eyes and you twitch. A chair leg creaks. - "I've done everything you asked, my love, now it's your turn."

"I'll be there, love." - Billie's voice echoes on the speakerphone, contributing to the illusion of your madness, which makes you almost jumping up in a chair, but all the fervor fades as soon as you catch the glint of a revolver across the room. - "I keep my promises, don't I, baby?"

"I saw you on the screens," the guy's hands lock on the massive grip, releasing the revolver from its holster, and you swallow your anxiety in barely cisterns. The smile on his smooth-shaven face is a schizophrenic spasm, a grimace of pure terror. - "I know we're meant to be, but please don't call the cops, they'll make me stop and I just wanna talk."

"Never." - Billie's voice is sweet and cloying enough that a other man would smell a catch a hundred thousand miles away, but your captor doesn't care so much, he's completely oblivious to it, stumbling into another raking wave of madness in his head. The pictures of events in your head add up, probing her idea: they take time to track the signal of your phone. - "Only if you promise not to do anything with my... toy, right?"

"You could be my wife..." - The skinny madman pulls the trigger, pacing back and forth from you, and you just stare, ducking your head to the floor like an innocent lamb. As long as you don't provoke him, you give police the time what it's needs. - "Could get into a fight I'll say you're right and you'll kiss me goodnight."

"Bet I could-"

The shot is an aggressive clapper bouncing off the walls with a pop. Billie fractures every unspoken letters and screams into the throat like a gargoyle offended by the fire of the Inquisition: nettlesome and hoarse, until his ligaments burst. Only then do you feel the heat in your knee, and the growing pain with every millisecond that paralyzes you almost entirely. You look down and gasp: a scarlet bud is blooming on your light-colored pant leg, spreading rapidly across the fabric. You sigh too loudly, biting your lower lip until it bleeds, and the pain irrodes copper-hot through your leg.

"Three nine five six." - The guy laughs gleefully, cranking the hot drum of his revolver with his thumb, and you howl wolfishly as you naively try to straighten your leg before everything turns back into a jumble of indistinct images: the door flies off its hinges, practically splintering into splinters, and like confetti for a show, reveals not a celebrity but a five-man SWAT team in full communication. One second, and your kidnapper is face-impressed into the floor to the measured murmur of men's voices. Another, and you realize that one of them is cutting the ropes knots restraining you with a knife.

"All clear, over."

×××

The paramedics carefully transfer you to the stretcher, and you only watch as space is blurred ahead by a swift, low figure. Eilish runs, no, practically flies, having previously sent any yells flying at her back far away.

"Alive, alive... My girl..." - And her arms wrapped gently around your shoulders are such hot, sensory-enhancing amulets.

And you cry, dropping silver snakes of fear on the sleeves of her voluminous sweater, bumping your nose with a howl of despair, but she only moves closer, giving you a breath puffed up in a hurry and hoarseness settled in the most secret place of your heart:

"Alive..."

[dixons-sunshine]

Soooo I just read your Shopping Spree fic with young Daryl- and ohmygosh it is one of the BEST fics about young Daryl I've read!!

Your writing is absolutely incredible!!

I'm not sure how busy you are, and don't feel forced to do this pls I really just got on here to thank you, but perhaps a part 2?

Seriously, thank you for the amazing writing :D

Make sure you drink water- and don't skip sleeping for writing!!

Dyeing For The Haircut | Young!Daryl Dixon x Young!Fem!Reader

*GIF isn't mine*

Part two to Shopping Spree, Hangout Dreams, but can be read as a standalone.

Summary: After months of watching you practice haircutting- and hair dyeing techniques on multiple people around the trailer park, Daryl's curiosity lead him to ask you for one of your "magical" hair transformations—hair dye and everything. His request turned out to be one of the best decisions ever when you gave him the best, most loving hairstyling experience of his life, as well as some kisses inbetween.

Genre: Fluff, some angst if you squint (mentions of Daryl's dad.)

Era: Pre outbreak

Warnings: Swearing, allusions to money problems, sexual content but nothing major, Daryl is low-key a thigh guy in this, reader's mom is implied to be a single parent.

Word count: 2.7k

A/n: Thank you so much for the request lovely. And thank you so much for your kind words! When I saw your ask in my inbox, I legitimately teared up at the compliments you gave me about my writing. Writing is something that I do to pass the time and I never thought that people would actually like it, so reading that really made me feel like I was on cloud nine. And that you think that my little story about young!Daryl was one of the best you've read? I can't even begin to explain how honoured that makes me feel 😭. I've read a few young!Daryl fics worthy of being actual novels, so that is the best compliment I've ever gotten in my life. I hope that this is an okay attempt at a part two. It's kinda random but since there weren't any specific requirements I had to meet, I went with my gut. I hope you like it! If you specifically wanted a part two with the reader's mom confronting her and Daryl after catching them making out, let me know! (btw, the same goes for you. Stay hydrated and rested, lovely ❤️)

As always, my requests are open for any TWD requests.

—

“Are you sure? I might make a mistake, you know.”

“I know, but I gotta know wha' everyone's ravin' 'bout. Besides, my hair's gettin' too long fer my old man's standards. I'm one growin' hair strand away from bein' told my hair is too long to be considered manly.”

You shook your head at your boyfriend with a small laugh and motioned for him to follow you into your trailer. Once inside, you headed into the bathroom to retrieve the pair of scissors you've used for cutting hair multiple times over the past few months, as well as a towel, a comb and a hand mirror. Satisfied with the items in your possession, you walked back into the living room and saw Daryl seated on a wooden chair, his legs crossed as he read the back of a box of hair dye he bought earlier that day, a cigarette lazily hanging from his lips.

At the sound of your approaching footsteps, Daryl lifted his gaze from the box to you, a boyish smile gracing his face as his eyes followed your movements. You placed the items in your hands down on the ground next to him and motioned for him to give you the hair dye, to which he complied.

“Are you sure you wanna dye your hair? Once I do it, there's no turning back,” you asked for the hundredth time since your boyfriend had asked you to do his hair, uncertainty clear in your voice.

Sensing your hesitance, Daryl gently grabbed your hips and tugged you over to him, bringing you to sit in his lap. You straddled him and wrapped your hands around his neck, watching him take the final drag from his cigarette and turn his head to blow the smoke away from you. He leaned down to put it out in the ashtray on the ground and then turned his attention back to you, bringing his hand back to rest on your hip.

“'M sure,” he finally responded, running his hands down your body to rest on your things. “I've been wantin' to go brunette fer a while now. Jus' never had the money to go to a salon and I dun' have the balls to try and dye it myself. I trust ya. Yer gonna be fine. 'S jus' me.”

You nodded and gave him a smile. You leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to his lips before withdrawing. “You're amazing, you know that?”

Daryl scoffed and ducked his head, the tips of his ears reddening, a telltale sign that he was blushing. “Nah,” he denied, shaking his head. “'M not. Yer the amazin' one. Ya make me want to be a better person.”

“Aww,” you gushed, using one of your hands to gently cup his cheek, Daryl subconsciously leaning into your touch. “Careful, Dar, or I might start to believe that you actually care about me.”

Daryl rolled his eyes. “Nah, I actually despise ya. I jus' keep ya 'round 'cause ya kiss real damn good,” he joked, a teasing smirk on his face.

You let out a mock offended gasp and playfully shoved his chest, making Daryl laugh fully, a rare sound that you cherished whenever you heard it. You laughed with him and leaned forward to lay your head on his shoulder, your body wracking with laughter. You could feel Daryl's arms move from your thighs to wrap around you, bringing you into a loving hug.

“'M jus' jokin'. I do care 'bout ya,” Daryl whispered into your hair, his chin resting on top of your head.

“I know. And I lo- care about you, too,” you replied, pressing a feathery light kiss to the exposed skin on his shoulder, eliciting a small hum of satisfaction from him.

The clearing of someone's throat caught your attention, and you hastily got off of your boyfriend's lap, turning to face your mom, who looked at you with a small smirk on her face.

“I'm leaving for work,” she started, her eyes trailing between you and Daryl. “I'll be back around midnight. Just thought I'd say goodbye to my daughter before I left.”

You could feel heat flushing on your face. You hastily nodded at your mom. “Okay, bye Mom. I love you.”

“Love you too,” she responded, before turning her attention to Daryl. “Bye, Daryl.”

“Bye, ma'am,” Daryl bid quietly, refusing to meet your mother's intense gaze.

“By the way,” your mother started, grabbing her jacket that was draped over the couch. “This isn't a Mary and Joseph situation. I'm not gonna believe that my daughter magically got knocked up. Anything happens, use protection. There should be a box of condoms in the bathroom.”

“Goodbye, Mom!” you exclaimed in embarrassment, hurriedly pushing your laughing mother out the door and shutting it. You turned to Daryl and saw his bright red face, his eyes shut in embarrassment.

“Sorry about her,” you apologized, moving over to grab the scissors and towel. “She has no filter when it comes to embarrassing her daughter, apparently.”

“S'fine,” he said, straightening his back. “Compared to wha' she told us the first time she walked in on us all those months ago, I'd say this was alrigh'. It was pretty tame.”

“Yeah,” you chuckled, recalling the embarrassing memory from the first time you and Daryl kissed and confessed your feelings. “After you went home the next day, she gave me so much shit and so much unneeded advice on safe sex and all that lovely stuff.”

“Sorry I got ya into trouble.”

“It's fine. My mom walking in that day was awkward as fuck, but I wouldn't change anything. Things changed for the better that day,” you replied, shaking the towel out.

“Damn straight,” he agreed, eyeing your movements. “Ya gonna cut my hair now?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, draping the towel across his shoulders.

“Wha's the towel fer?” he questioned, accepting the handheld mirror you offered him.

“To try to prevent any hair from falling on your clothes. Hairstylists use these cape things, but the towel will have to do for now,” you explained, using a hair clip to clip the towel together, keeping it in place around his shoulders, before moving to get the hair dye ready for use when you needed it.

“Ya do the same thing with the others?” he asked, watching as you finished mixing the contents of the hair dye together in a disposable container before grabbing the comb and scissors, moving to stand behind him.

“Yeah. Basically everything I do right now while cutting and dyeing your hair, I do with everyone. Except, of course, for charging you. The others have to pay me.”

“How much do ya charge 'em?”

“Depends on what I have to do,” you started, softly combing his hair, smiling at the small shiver you felt go up his back at your gentle movements. “And it also depends on how well-off they are. For instance, I wouldn't charge Mrs Hathaway as much as I charge Mr Langdon.”

“'Course not,” Daryl agreed. “Mrs Hathaway is a pensioner. She dun' make nearly as much as Langdon does. Guy's an accountant. Only reason he even lives in this shitty trailer park is 'cause he's a fuckin' cheapskate and dun' wanna give his girl a better life.”

You smiled at your boyfriend. “Yeah, Mr Langdon is a dick. But he pays okay, though. Even tips me from time to time.”

“Ya do know tha' the only reason he pays you tha' good is 'cause—”

“He has a thing for me,” you cut him off, bringing the scissors up to his hair to start cutting it. “Yeah, I know. That's why I bring pepper spray with me whenever I go over to his trailer. If he tries something, his eyes are gonna burn like five hells.”

Daryl chuckled. “Smart girl,” he complimented you, earning a small giggle from you in return.

“Thanks,” you thanked him bashfully, continuing to snip at his hair with the scissors.

After a few more minutes of cutting and measuring to ensure that his hair was at an even length, you softly tapped his shoulder to signify that you were done. He held the mirror up to his face and examined his new haircut, humming in approval.

“Good job,” he complimented, lowering the mirror before turning his head to look at you. “My hair's still longer than my usual cut, though.”

“I know,” you acknowledged, nodding your head. “I know we have to keep your hair on the short side so that your father doesn't get mad, but I like your longer hair. It compliments your features more. Besides, I remembered you mentioning that you've been wanting to grow your hair out but he won't let you, so I only trimmed it to the point where your father won't get pissed over how long it is.”

Daryl looked at you, awestruck. “Thanks. It looks good.”

He vaguely remembered mentioning that he wanted longer hair, but it was a small thing that he didn't think you'd remember. So hearing you say that made him adore you even more, made him fall in love with you even more. Those three important words—I love you—almost fell from his lips at that moment, but he quickly caught himself. He was scared to admit that he loved you out loud, scared that if he did, the universe would somehow take you away from him. No, he couldn't let that happen.

You locked eyes with him for a moment before setting the scissors aside, moving to grab a pair of disposable plastic gloves and the container holding the hair dye. With the container in hand, you turned to Daryl and adjusted his head so that he was looking forward again, before going to work on dyeing his hair.

The entire process of applying the colour changing paste was spent in silence. You were silent because you were focused on the task at hand, and Daryl was silent because he was focused on the bliss your hands in his hair was giving him. His eyes were shut as your hands moved through his hair in gentle movements, all of his racing thoughts fading away.

Once the task was complete, you put the container aside and moved to the garbage can, throwing the gloves away. You turned to Daryl and saw him watching you, and you gave him a small smile that he easily returned.

“Now wha'?” he asked, standing up and stretching, his back cracking after sitting for so long.

“Now we wait for half an hour before we wash your hair and apply the conditioner to keep the colour in your hair.”

“So we got half an hour fer some fun?” Daryl asked suggestively, a small smirk on his face. He walked over to you and brought you into his arms, his hands going to rest on your hips.

You giggled and took his hands from your hips, entwining your fingers. “Slow down, Romeo. We're not doing anything until that dye is washed off. I don't want to stain everything.”

“Worth a shot,” Daryl replied playfully, earning a small, playful shove in return.

He laughed before pulling you back into him, leaning down to give you a slow, hungry kiss. You wrapped your arms around his midsection and returned the kiss, kissing him back deeply. After what felt like an eternity and only a few seconds at the same time, you pulled back with a breathless giggle.

“You wanna watch a movie while we wait to wash your hair?”

“Sure,” Daryl agreed, untangling himself from you and allowing himself to be pulled over to the couch. He sat down and watched you grab a random movie from the limited supply before doing the small task of getting it into the player and pressing play.

After the opening credits successfully started playing on your crappy television, you moved over to the couch and sat down next to Daryl. Instead of resting your head on his shoulder like you normally would due to the dye in his hair, you rested your head against the back of the couch. Daryl moved one of his hands to lightly grip your thigh, keeping it their for the remaining 25 minutes.

After the time passed, you paused the movie and got up, extending a hand to Daryl. He took it and followed you into the small bathroom, following your instructions and sank to his knees, leaning his head over the tub. You then gently started washing the dye off his hair, making sure to be careful and not get any water in his eyes.

In no time at all, you were done. Daryl was towel drying his hair, looking into the mirror in the bathroom with an impressed look on his face.

“I'll be damned,” he hummed in approval, looking at you in adoration. “It looks good. Ya should consider openin' yer own salon or somethin'.”

You smiled shyly. “I'm glad you like it.”

“Everyone was speakin' the truth. Ya truly are a magician when it comes to hair. I dun' think my hair's ever been cut this good, and the dye job looks like it was done by a professional. Ya really did good.”

“You don't regret dyeing your hair?” you asked curiously, moving to embrace him from behind as he continued drying his hair.

“I wasn't sure if it was a good idea at first, but I like the way it looks. I dun' know if dyein' my hair will be a regular thing, but I dun' regret dyein' it now,” he admitted, casting the towel aside and turning around. He moved his arms around you and brought you into a hug, resting his chin on top of your head.

“You look good. I might have to start fighting off the ladies soon. Everyone's gonna want a piece of you now,” you said playfully.

“Nah,” Daryl chuckled. “I doubt tha', but if they do, I'll be tellin' them all about my beautiful girl.”

You smiled and withdrew from his hold. You looked at the small window and saw the sun setting, a few stars already appearing in the sky. “Do you wanna stay over?”

Daryl hesitated for a moment but nodded. “Ya sure? I can go home if ya want.”

You laughed lightly, a sense of deja vu flooding you. That was the same response he gave you all those months ago. “No, I want you to stay over. It's been a while since you've stayed over, anyways.”

“Alrigh', if yer sure,” he relented.

“Come on, we've got a movie to finish.”

Together, the two of you walked back to the living room. You sat down on the couch and pressed play on the movie you were watching, the sound flooding the trailer. Daryl sat down next to you, but instead of focusing on the movie, his eyes remained fixated on you.

Feeling his gaze on you, you turned to him. “Is something wrong?”

“Nah, 'm jus' wonderin' how I got so lucky with someone as amazin' as ya,” he confessed.

You smiled lovingly at him. “By being amazing yourself.”

You moved your hand up to his face and cupped his cheek. Daryl turned his head and kissed your palm, before moving his feathery light kisses to your wrist. After placing one final kiss on your wrist, he pulled you into his arms and cuddled up to you. You rested your head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat. You focused back on the movie, but your attention shifted back to him when he muttered three words into your hair.

“I love ya.”

You smiled up at him, your heart beating faster at his confession. You placed a tender, loving kiss on his lips before resting your head back on his chest.

“I love you, too.”

©dixons-sunshine 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified, adapted or translated to any other site or platform without evidence of my given consent.

[cerastes]

One of the fundamental aspects that helps carry Bocchi as such a genuine article is that Bocchi herself is at neither extreme of the competence scale.

In a lot of these “Main Character has immense insecurity issues and social anxiety”, you have a main character that REALLY doesn’t have anything going for them except their ‘pure heart’ (they are kind to others and that’s it) or they are actually a huge wellspring of untapped potential that just needs that little extra push in order to flourish.

There’s positive messages to be gleaned from these, for sure, like “sometimes being yourself is enough” and “you are so incredible, you just don’t know it, you can do anything”, which, while definitely something that can be That Event or Realization that helps someone overcome something, I think ultimately fails to account for the, perhaps, more worldly, more realists out there that don’t need to hear that for the one hundredth time, because the previous ninety nine times didn’t really do it for them, kind of how like “fake it till you make it” works for a lot of people, but also doesn’t for a lot of others.

If anything, I think one could glean something else from this: Unless I’m naturally a very kind person who’s always willing to put themselves down to get others over and can show genuine heartwarming kindness, or a genius waiting to bloom, just so incredibly good and skilled at something or various things that that cements my worth, I’m shit out of luck. And let’s face it, extreme purity is more of a negative in the real world than a positive, because people will kind of just walk all over you if you let them, plus you’re likely not a lot of fun if all you got going for you is “I’m Nice :)” without something else to compliment it, like being funny, knowing interesting things, etc. On the other side of the table, it is ultimately a very utilitarian view to consider someone awkward, eccentric, and otherwise different likeable only because they are incredibly good at something or some things, a Rudolf the Reindeer situation where his red nose makes him an ostracized freak right up until it’s actually useful for others and has a practical application.

It’s here where I think Bocchi subtly nails it: She’s at neither end of the stick. Bocchi’s only real skill to speak of is that she’s good at playing the guitar, but that’s because she’s actually been diligently playing for years now, has a successful ‘Tube channel, and explicitly enjoys playing the guitar both as a hobby and as a pressure valve; one of the early gags is that when overwhelmed with negative thoughts, she’d channel that right into composing a melody to play with her guitar, which she abandons after a few episodes when she’s a bit more comfortable with the people around her. Besides that, it’s explicit that Bocchi isn’t particularly good at other things, and we know she’s kind of ‘creepy’ in the endearing, eager way, the photos thing with her room being less that she’s a maniac and more that she’s very very stoked to have friends, for example, which she then reigns in when her mom tells her “hey, sweetie, that ain’t it”.

Everything Bocchi does is ultimately very consistent with who she is presented to be: She doesn’t just magically do a 180 turn just because she’s technically doing everything she set out to do, Bocchi is still a naturally anxious, negative person, and that’s fine, and her friends aren’t oblivious to her being like this (the gang being oblivious to the MC’s anxiety is a recurring thing in the genre!), in fact, they are fully aware and many times they say “oh is Bocchi having a Moment again?” or “ok I know where to find her, we need to look in a place where creatures like Bocchi, such as slugs, can be found”, they are fully aware that Bocchi is like that, but they like her anyways because, much like the audience, they think she’s fun to be around. Her being a good guitarist isn’t even why they stick by her, since she was actually bad at playing guitar with a band initially, only adjusting later, but even during this period before she adjusted, the rest of the band is like “oh no yeah this our guitarist Bocchi and we love her, she turns into a creature now and then and gets attacked by birds for no reason and it’s really funny, we’re going to store love in her”.

Bocchi isn’t exceptional in either a pathetic or successful way, she’s just Bocchi and she has friends that she likes and that she likes, and in the end it’s not really about “fixing” her as much as it is just making the band work out and having a good time while seeing that through. The only ones you could say are out to truly make sure Bocchi has a great opinion of herself are Kita and Kikuri, the former because that’s just how she is, and given how loving she is, she would like for Bocchi to see herself as someone actually cool and funny, the way she sees her, and the latter because Kikuri herself used to be pretty negative and never really got through it properly, relying on heavy alcohol binging instead to get in a good state of mind, and initially really wanted Bocchi to just enjoy playing music as an artform regardless of her skill.

All of this helps the dynamics feel not like we’re supposed to be backing a bland MC that is less a main character and more a vehicle to see the cooler rest of the cast, not like a Rudolf the Reindeer situation, but instead, helps it feel like we’re just seeing people that like being friends, being friends and hyping each other up or messing with each other because that’s what pals do.

[miller-n-morgan-2]

Take Me Home

3. Worthiness

Arthur Morgan x Texas Red!Reader

A/n: Apologies for taking so long in between to repost these chapters, it's almost fashion week and I am CRAMMING everything my ass can handle into the next few weeks lmaooo. pls enjoy and let me know what you think!

Summary: Abigail gains a new friend and gossip partner to chat with over meals, and Pearson has had enough of it. Luckily, Dutch has something lined up and ready to take the kid out of camp.

Warnings: Mild Language, gun violence. Game typical violence. Robbery/heist shenanigans. Fluff and Angst, because who doesn't love that combo? Arthur and reader get into a fight and want to kill each other for like a split second but it ends fine I swear.

WC: 6.1k

“I think I could drop you where you stand.” You were all talk, now, and he knew that… but it still boiled under his skin the way you challenged him.  “You make quite a big to do of yourself… M’guessin’ that’s where most of your reputation came from,” he smirked, but he should know better than to taunt you about those men you shot dead. “Before I got here I barely spoke a word to no one… I got my reputation from shootin’ folks so fast they didn’t have time to repent to God.” 

You’ve taken to a new hobby. You’re not quite sure the word that describes it right, but to explain what it entails, a bit of background needs to be added for understanding. 

Abigail is borderline nine months pregnant. 

John Marston, the everloving man that he is, has taken it upon himself to steer clear of her in the last stages of her pregnancy. 

Given this unfortunate situation, Abigail finds herself eating more and more food to try and relieve the stress. She also finds herself ranting to you about the dimwitted man that impregnated her, because you seem the most open to listening without offering advice. Truth be told, you just enjoy the company of a woman that doesn’t shy away from you, or try to woo you over. It brings about a sense of normalcy. 

Now, in the past weeks that this has been happening, you’ve taken to eating at the same times as Abigail, shoveling more and more into your plate like she does. It’s now become a ritual, or as you would like to call it, a hobby, to sit and devour food while shit-talking John Marston as he’s away. ‘Keeping his distance,’ whatever the hell that means, when the woman you’re with is nine months pregnant. 

In the midst of this new hobby, Dutch and Pearson have had many arguments. Dutch was always less than concerned about it, whilst Pearson nearly threw a fit every time either of you came to get portions for a meal.

“I’ve had enough of it. They come, they eat, they leave! That new boy of yours hasn’t done anything since he got here but eat us out of our stock,” Pearson complained for the hundredth time. Though you’d kept up with chores around the camp, (trying to help Abigail pick up some of her slack) you hadn’t really brought any money into the camp, which was what Dutch brought you here to do.

“Arthur’s been trainin’ him well, I’m sure it’ll be no time at all before he starts runnin’ jobs with us.” Dutch knew what this was really about…

Pearson was madder than a hornet when John first got Abigail pregnant. Even worse when he found out she would be traveling with the gang from then on. Feeding a pregnant woman was sometimes like feeding two extra men… not to mention the fact that you joined her at every meal. He doesn’t want to say anything about Abigail, especially in the state she’s in… but maybe if you didn’t sit and eat with her all the damn time, it wouldn’t be as bad, and the rations would last longer. 

“He better start earnin’ his keep. If he doesn’t I’ll skin him, make a stew.”

Dutch let out a boisterous laugh, clapping Pearson on the back and shaking his head. 

“I have a feeling he’ll probably bring in as much as Arthur… There’s some sort of competition between them. I think as long as they don’t rip each other to shreds, they’ll be real beneficial,” He started towards Hosea, passing by you and Abigail on the way and tipping his hat. “Top of the mornin’ to ya.”

“Mornin’,” you nodded with a smile, taking a sip of your coffee before digging back into the bread and jam you both raided from Pearson’s ‘kitchen.’

He ducked into his tent, and you turned back to Abigail, listening intently to all she had to say. Today, she had news of an argument between her and John the night before. 

“It’s been all, ‘how do I even know that kid is mine?’ and ‘what if I don’t want to be a part of it anymore?’ since about the five month mark. M’startin’ to think that maybe I should’ve just left the gang, convinced some poor drunk dope from the town it’s his.” She gave her best John impression when quoting him, and as funny as it was, all you could feel was grief for the young woman. She was too young to even be thinking this way. 

You’ve not spent any one on one time with John, but he sounds like a real ass.

“As sad as I am to say it, Miss Abigail… I believe most of us men are stupid as they come. We can’t tell what’s right in front of us, even if y’all are screamin’ and shoutin’.”

“If that ain’t the truth…” she trailed, sighing with her head down. Even though she portrayed her sorrows in a comedic light, you could tell it weighed on her. 

You weren’t sure if you should even offer this, because you had no idea if you would even be hiding your secret this long, but the longer you go without revealing anything… you’re starting to think of your little secret more permanently.

“If push comes to shove… You can tell the kid it’s mine. Not too sure it’ll believe you, what with the carrot head I got, but if you want to…”

She laughed lighthearted, and sighed again, but this time out of contentment. 

“I guess not all men are stupid. You’re not even the first one who’s offered that to me,” she explained, nodding towards the outskirts of camp where an open tent fixed upon a wagon sat neatly kept. “Arthur said the same thing when all these problems with John started.”

You smiled, looking at his empty living space, barely anything to show that he occupied the place. He had a simple cot and bedroll, a small table, and just a few sentimental pieces here and there. He didn’t need anything fancy or grandiose to his name, just a gun and his hat, and he was satisfied. He’s even kinder than you thought, too, hearing it firsthand from Abigail. A good man, and a great outlaw. You found yourself longing for him nearly every day now, and it would only get worse from here. 

“He’s sure something, ain’t he?” You tried to be nonchalant about him, and it seemed to work in the eyes of Abigail, but if she’d known just one little thing about you, her entire mind would be changed. 

“Oh, yes. I’ll be damn straight with ya, I almost wish it were Arthur I met last year. Wish it was him that found me at the brothel. I do love John, but… he breaks my heart sometimes,” she let out, trying to hold herself together. She’d long since begun crying herself to sleep at night, pretty much since John decided she could sleep on her own. Now, though, was not the place to break down. You’ve been kind enough to listen to her, and she feels as though using your shoulder to cry on would be taking advantage. So she changes the subject. “While I’m on the topic of love… I’ve heard you got an admirer.”

Your cheeks grew red from embarrassment, and she thought that maybe you were blushing, but she didn’t know how far off she was. “I guess I’ve heard a thing or two ‘bout that…”

“Tilly is a sweet girl, I’m sure you both would get along fine,” she added, going back to her food. 

“She’s one of the kindest souls I’ve met,” you told her, trying to be as honest as you could without divulging anything she didn’t need to know. “I’ve just never…”

“You’ve never… what?” 

You shrugged, huffing a sigh and eating the last piece of jam covered bread on your plate. Already you could tell you’d be hungry again soon. “Never been in a relationship like that before.”

“I see. Is that something you think you’d want?” Her patience is why you liked speaking with her. Sometimes she had a short temper, but it was almost always warranted and towards those who deserved it. 

You took her question to heart. You’d not even considered a relationship since the day you ran away. Your self-found freedom had been from an arranged marriage. It had been your choice to leave that way of life. You never thought you’d ever find love in the aftermath of your liberation, but thinking about it now… You looked to Arthur’s tent, just a single glance to see if he’s returned yet.

“I hope so, maybe someday when the time is right. I just think that right now, I’m not so sure about anything at all, and it wouldn’t be fair to Miss Tilly to start up something I ain’t ready for.”

She sat and stared into your downward expression for a minute, meeting your eyes when you looked up. 

You smirked a little at her gaping expression, trying to make light of it. 

“I got somethin’ on my face?” 

“No,” she shook her head, knocking herself out of whatever trance she just fell into. “S’just that… I think you’re mighty wise for someone your age. And for a man, too.” 

“I reckon that’s a real fine compliment, and I’ll take it well.”

You both shared a laugh before going back to the stashed food for seconds. 

-

Dutch had an idea… a dangerous thing, but sometimes a very lucrative one. 

The worst part about this dangerous and lucrative idea? Arthur, Javier, John, and Bill were on board. It meant there was gonna be one hell of a party this afternoon, and no one in their right mind would have the courage to stop it. 

You were unaware of said idea until around lunch time, when Pearson just ripped you a new one for taking food before it was even ready. You shared it with Abigail of course, you’re not an animal.

Dutch and Hosea were making the plans for this afternoon, and came across you both sulking in the grass, just inches away from Pearson’s space. They grabbed some small provisions for themselves, as they hadn’t quite eaten much today, and you overheard some of their chatter. 

“I’m getting too old for all that excitement. One job here and there is all I can do anymore,” Hosea tried to reason with his dearest friend. 

“I need another gun or it doesn’t work,” Dutch sighed out, scratching the back of his neck as he thought of another solution. 

You stood up and peeked over the barrel you’d been resting against, leaning over it and making your presence known. 

“I got a gun,” you smirked, halfway joking incase he shuts you down. He hasn’t told you directly that he doesn’t want you riding with them yet, but he has asked Arthur if he thinks you’re ready… to which Arthur always replied, ‘almost.’ 

Dutch narrowed his eyes at you, looking back to Hosea, but the man held his hands up in mock defense. He was gonna sit this one out regardless.

“How’s your horse with gunfire?” he asked, genuinely considering your offer today. 

“He oughta be fine, otherwise I can take someone else’s.”

There was another moment of pause, and Hosea spoke up. 

“Sean would be happy to go, he hasn’t seen action in a few weeks.” 

You sighed, doing your best to act as if you weren’t upset, then started to speak loudly.

“That’s fine by me. I’ll just stay here and have lunch with Abigail…” you trailed, and immediately Pearson whipped himself around from his station. 

“No!” He shouted, and though you were partially joking, he didn’t want to find that out for himself. He’d had enough of you, and likely of Abigail, too. “As God is my witness, I will pack my shit and never look back… take him, I’m beggin’ ya.”

Dutch found his little outburst quite comical, as did you. He chuckled lowly and rolled it over in his head once more before deciding. Maybe what you really needed to learn was being thrown in the deep end. Hell, he knew what you were capable of. It was the very reason you stood on this ground in the first place. Now he needed to put those fiery trigger fingers to the test. 

“Son,” he turned back to face you with a look of sheer confidence, hopefully this didn’t mean the pressure would all be on you. “Saddle your horse, load up on ammo. You’ll be going with John.”

The smile you had immediately left your face. 

“Yessir,” you said quickly, leaving the group to do as he said. 

John Marston, the man you’d been shit talking for over a week now. Not to his face, of course, but to his lady it was enough, even if she was doing just as much if not more in sullying his name. 

You had a bad taste for him, that much you could say. It wasn’t going to be fun, but you’d prevail. You had to. It was time to start earning your keep. 

You found the rest of the men by the hitching posts, strolling up as confidently as can be. You enjoyed the baffled looks of confusion they wore, unsure of what you were doing here. Surely you wouldn’t be joining them…

“Howdy,” you teased, tipping your hat to them with a sideways smirk. Your young looking ‘boyish’ features gave them an inkling of annoyance with the look you wore, all cocky and arrogant for show. “Give me just a second, I’ll be ready to head out.”

“You’re coming with us?” Bill questioned, though it wasn’t out of sheer curiosity, but agitation.

“Damn straight,” you muttered quieter, done joking for now since they all seemed to be absolutely against you riding along. You got along with them in camp, why did they seem to exclude you now that a job was concerned? Why did they look like they were about to fight tooth and nail to keep you here?

You ignored their sarcastic chatter over your ‘scrawny’ appearance, and made ready your horse. You’d taken him riding several times since getting here, but he hasn’t gotten to see much action other than running down the side of the river bank. 

“What the hell are you doin’?” Arthur came up beside you, trying to gain your primary focus and lead it away from the horse… not exactly a hard task when you look like Arthur Morgan does.

“Dutch said I’m ridin’ on the job,” you explained, making it very clear, first and foremost, that you had permission to go out with them from the boss.

“When? Just now? Because as it was told to us, you weren’t goin’...” 

“I get y’all don’t exactly want me here, but he needed another gun. I happen to have one, matter of fact, and I’m pretty damn good at shootin’ it. I don’t understand your hissy fit, but it ain’t gonna stop me from goin’, so I hope we’re not gonna have a problem, here.” 

He kept his mouth shut. He needed to think and rehash his words in his head before he let something fly that he didn’t at all mean. 

“I’m tryin’ to protect you, kid.” He was even closer than before all of a sudden, and you had to make him the center of your attention once again.

“Protect me from what? I shoot faster than you, remember?”

You made a point, but he made a better one. 

“You mean ‘the one shot you know how to take?’ Is that the one?” He recalled your words from many days before, the day he began teaching you everything you needed to know. You’d been here nearly a month now, if you hadn’t learned enough already, you never would.

“Look, Arthur,” you turned away from him using all the strength you had, because dammit, you did enjoy looking at him. “I know you don’t think this is ideal, but it’s not your call to make. Take it up with Dutch.”

You strapped a rifle to your horse and grabbed its reins from the hitching post, leading the dark, glossy stallion over by where the boys were finishing up. 

“Marston,” you called, all traces of light hearted fun were gone from your tone, completely dulled and sullen from the loss of excitement. “I’m with you.”

-

Arthur rode with Dutch nearly the whole time.

You were on the caboose end of the cavalcade, and watched them talk up ahead. There was no doubt in your mind it concerned you, because that’s why Arthur is so high strung, so angry about this job. 

Javier gave you the run-down on the first few minutes of the ride. It’s a quick job, and shouldn’t get drawn any attention from the neighboring towns. Essentially, there’s a procession of carriages coming from the north and heading south east, and most of the folk traveling are fairly wealthy. The kicker is, all the valuables from each person are said to be stowed on a ‘safe cart’ in the middle of the procession. You’re not sure how they figure that, but you know Dutch has incredible sources. Using the team assembled, you’ll all have to separate the safe cart from the rest of the caravan, leading it off the trail and far enough away that it can be easily raided with no repercussions. The only downside? The safe cart is heavily guarded by several armed men and is manned by experienced drivers. 

Once Javier started getting into the logistics and details of the job, you zoned out, focusing on the conversation happening with Arthur and Dutch up ahead. You had no clue what they were saying, but the body language and facial expressions said a lot. 

Arthur likely expressed his concerns to Dutch, and thereafter, was told he need not be concerned… But Arthur was a persistent animal, he didn’t just dip his head and turn away. 

You think that Arthur may have listed a few points for Dutch to consider, and that the man did so, with the fact in the forefront of his mind that you were still on the job. 

By the time everyone reached the lookout, the two of them circled around to face the rest. 

“There’s been a change of plan,” Dutch called out, looking over every face and the horse they accommodated, and they lasted longer on you than the others. “John, you’re taking the frontside of the caravan with Javier.”

And just like that, you’d been replaced. 

“Where am I goin’ then?” You tilted your head in confusion.

“You’re with me, Red,” Arthur let out, his tone not nearly as angry as earlier. Now you gotta know what happened during that talk with Dutch.

“Yes, you and Arthur will bring up the back, makin’ sure there’s no surprises.”

You weren’t sure what to feel. Was he trying to keep you where he could see you? Did he think of himself as your babysitter? Why would he put up all that fuss just to give in as long as you rode with him?

“Alright,” you sighed out, acknowledging that bringing up the rear of the operation was still better than not coming at all. 

The rest of the plan stayed the same, and soon, everyone split off with their respective partners for this heist. 

You rode off with Arthur in silence to the waiting point, not daring to say anything until you’d been sure nobody was around to hear it. You weren’t going to rip into him about this, but you had questions. He clearly was concerned over your wellbeing if he fought so hard to make sure you wouldn’t be riding in, guns blazing, on your first job. You were just going to cover the rear, a measure of security. 

When you stopped just short of the trail, you hitched your horses, taking cover behind some bushes and trees to lay low. You turned to Arthur with a huff. 

“What the hell was that?” 

He was taken aback, but not jumpy about your outburst.

“Don’t start with this again, kid. I’m tryin’ to help you,” he crossed his arms, leaning against the tree and watching the road. It was still too early for the caravan, but he didn’t want to meet your eyeline.

“You ain’t helpin’ me, you’re holdin’ me back,” you grumbled, stepping on a small gathering of dead leaves, becoming even more enraged - for no good reason - when they didn’t crunch beneath your boot. 

“You’ll thank me one day…” he trailed, lighting a cigarette from within his pocket. You would have decked him in the face if you thought it would help. 

At first you’d been grateful to him, for seeing you no differently than the others, and even showing you the ropes to become better equipped. Now you could see it was all a ruse. He underestimated you and kept telling Dutch you weren’t ready. He kept ‘training’ you to keep you busy. You weren’t falling for that shtick again. You didn’t care how pretty his eyes were, anymore. 

“Where do you get off, Morgan? The shit you’ve been putting me through these past weeks…” you scoffed, finding it amusing almost just how unbothered he seemed to be. Maybe he really was just as mean as the town’s folk say. “I’ve been able to match or best you at everything you’ve thrown at me. Maybe I should just take you out of my way.” 

He chuckled, standing upright and creeping towards you with slow steps. His eyes narrowed, and for once, you felt you knew what it was like to be prey. 

“You wanna give it a try?” he taunted, towering over you with a threatening stare. Just seeing how intimidating he could really be, you wanted to back off. Of course, you didn’t. “You really think you could take me?” 

His voice was all too quiet, all too calm. The words he spoke held such heaviness, but it didn’t show in his tone. He was teasing you, and if you gave in, he’d likely give you a humbling. You knew he’d been eyeing your hand, as if hovered closely to your gun belt… so you dropped it to your side to defuse him a little. 

“I think I could drop you where you stand.”

You were all talk, now, and he knew that… but it still boiled under his skin the way you challenged him. 

“You make quite a big to do of yourself… M’guessin’ that’s where most of your reputation came from,” he smirked, but he should know better than to taunt you about those men you shot dead.

“Before I got here I barely spoke a word to no one… I got my reputation from shootin’ folks so fast they didn’t have time to repent to God.” 

Your dead eye stare caught him. He didn’t back down, didn’t waver… he was so staunchly preserved in his way of life that he didn’t even let it show in his eyes just how much you got to him with that line.

“Your twenty-one notches ain’t shit to me.” He’s sure that by now he’s killed hundreds, maybe thousands. Sure, most he shot in the back, but the number in which he didn’t still far surpasses your miniscule little twenty-one. 

“Then let’s make it twenty-two, yeah?” You didn’t plan on shooting it, but you drew your pistol faster than he could think, trying to put it against his chest to scare him, but his reaction time was faster than you had initially thought. He grabbed the gun from your hand before it ever neared him, and threw it into the grass behind him before shoving you down.  

“Damnit, Red! You have no clue, do you?” He stood over you angrily, looking at your frozen figure like you were an animal he was hunting. “You got a gift that none of us have. Hell, I’ve been doin’ this for sixteen years and I still ain’t as fast as you. You could be the best of us, but you’re too damn stubborn, and too damn arrogant. You’re never gonna get anywhere if you’re dead.”

You stood to your feet, staring at him silently. You didn’t have anything to say to him, and honestly, you weren’t sure what would even be okay at this point. He was still angry, but his arms were no longer tense, and he wasn’t seething through harsh breaths anymore. You turned away from him and walked to your horse, sitting back down by the base of a tree and tipping your hat over your eyes. This was going to be a long day.

-

It was approaching sundown when the caravan actually arrived. You’d been napping when Dutch and Bill first gave the signal. Arthur had been watching for it the entire time, and scoffed when he turned his head to you, finding you still fast asleep as if you had nothing to worry about. 

He took a few steps over towards your resting place, kicking your boot and startling you out of your peaceful slumber. 

“What?” you asked, annoyed. Your hat was still over your eyes, so he couldn’t see how dazed you actually were. 

“Sorry, miss… didn’t mean to disturb you,” he teased, his mood having cooled off since the hours after the fight you had. “Just thought you should be conscious during your first job.”

You huffed and stood to your feet, fixing your hat and making sure you hadn’t left anything on the ground. 

Arthur went back to the lookout position and watched through his binoculars for any signs that it was about to go down… you still weren’t one hundred percent clear on the plan, so you thought you might try and annoy him a little by reiterating it.

“So… Dutch and Bill are gonna close in on the sides, leadin’ the safe carriage away from the rest, and that’s when Javier and John stop it from the front. I got that right?” 

“You got it right,” he droned on mindlessly, trying his best to pay more attention to the small flaming signal in the distance. It’s getting closer, but until they put the fire out, there’s no need to mount your horses. 

“Then it‘s a four man job, they don’t even need us.”

“I s’pose you never heard the term ‘backup’ then, have you?” He snickered, still not even giving a glance in your direction. He was firm as stone in his resolve, and you figured it would be no use trying to entertain yourself further. 

“Didn’t take you as the ‘backup’ type…” you grumbled under your breath, mumbling some other incoherencies that he didn’t get a chance to hear. He was almost sure he saw Bill creeping over to the torch, and became positive when the light went dark. 

“Get on your horse,” he became quieter, more focused. You instantly figured it out that he was the type to zone in on his jobs, and maybe you could learn from it. If you really wanted to be his equal, you needed to learn to meet or best him in everything he thrives at. 

“You get the signal?” 

He nodded, “they’re coming down the trail, we gotta be ready to chase em’ when they come through.”

You both pulled up onto your saddles, holding the horse’s from moving too much. If your position was given away, they might derail the caravan from the trail. You reckon this many rich folk traveling in a pack oughta know someone’s gonna be stupid enough to steal from them. It’s why they have a safe carriage in the first place. 

Within a moment, you can see the caravan coming over the hill. It’s dimly lit as the sun lowers completely behind the mountains, small lanterns clinging to every vehicle on the trail. You look up to the ridge that Arthur had been scoping out all this time, and you see Dutch and Bill riding downwards in a rapid attempt to split the caravan. That’s when you spot it… the stone cold metal wagon, weighing probably more than all the horses in camp combined, and armed to the brim with men on every corner. They carry heavy repeaters, their heads on a swivel. They haven’t seen Dutch or Bill yet, but as they round the corner, they all raise their weapons, just for the sound of horse hooves. 

“Cover ‘em,” Arthur told you, grabbing his rifle off his horse’s saddle. You did the same, not hesitant to start shooting at the men in the distance. You had relatively good cover, and couldn’t really be seen, but upon seeing so much fire come from your side of the trail, they began offroading towards Dutch and Bill. 

“Do we go?” you asked, switching to your pistol as you prepared to let your horse run. 

“Not yet,” he held his hand for you to watch, leaning sideways to see around another tree. He had to make sure the rest of the caravan wasn’t following the safe cart. When he saw that most of them stopped in place, he flicked his wrist, pointing in the direction you needed to go. “Now.”

You rode quickly and out onto the trail, passing the other carriages. You could vaguely hear women crying and men yelling. They ain’t gotta be afraid for their lives, so long as they stay put. 

It wasn’t hard to catch up to the gang, as they had taken the remaining guards off on the way to stopping the carriage. There was one rogue horseman that Arthur turned and shot before he could get too close to the area, but other than that, they were able to get the damn thing stationary enough to rob. 

“John, hold him off,” Dutch commanded, watching the younger man hold his gun to the carriage driver’s skull. The man cried out for mercy, not knowing that Dutch would spare his life regardless. He was unarmed, and wasn’t standing in their way, so obviously they would let him go. The Van Der Linde’s did have a code, after all. “Arthur, you open the back.”

And so he put his gun away and strolled up to the back of the wagon with his head held high, happy this robbery went according to plan… until of course, he opened the back, and was unprepared for a heavily armed man to aim right for his chest and pull the trigger. Two guns sounded at almost the same time, but yours sounded first, and it was just quick enough to skew the aim of the dead man, and he landed a non-fatal blow to Arthur’s shoulder. Both men collapsed, but one was still alive. Twenty-Two…

“Arthur! You alright, son?” Dutch yelled, running over to check on him. You’d already knelt down by where he had fallen back to, trying to sit up, but failing because of the pain. You immediately put pressure on his wound, trying to stop the bleeding on your own accord. You ripped the bandana from your neck and tried tying it up, but it was just barely long enough to go around his entire shoulder and underarm. 

“M’fine, s’just a minor shot, it went through.”

“Brooks, you oughta take him back to camp, see if any of the girls know how to patch him up,” he gave you direct orders, and you nodded, helping a moaning and groaning Arthur to his feet. 

“How’d we make out?” Arthur asked, looking into the open wagon, where Bill and Javier seemed to be rolling in money.

“Pretty damn good,” Dutch replied, giving a pat to your shoulder, since Arthur’s is in disarray. “And Brooks?” 

You looked over your shoulder at him, a hopeful look on your face, longing for the approval of someone besides yourself for once. “Yeah?”

“You did good.”

And there it was, the signed seal of approval from none other than Dutch Van Der Linde himself. 

You and Arthur remained pretty silent on the ride back to camp, mostly because he was in a shocking amount of pain and distress, but he did his best to hold it in.

You hitched and unsaddled his horse for him, doing the same with yours before following him into camp. He made way for one of the ladies, maybe Abigail if Jack was asleep already, or Karen if she wasn’t busy workin’ some of the town men. 

“Hey,” you recognized what he was doing, so you pulled him by the opposite arm in the direction of his tent. “I’ll do it.”

His living area was just wide open space in the trees, unlike yours, however, he got quite a bit more elbow room than you did. Perks of seniority

“You don’t have to-”

“I’m tryna apologize, you should let me.”

He laughed a little, a soft smile on his lips.

“What’re you apologizing for?” He asked, sitting down into his cot as you rummaged through the supplies he had on hand. Maybe not the best stuff around, but to stitch him up and wrap it after, it was fine. He’d survive. 

“Bein’ an ass, and taunting you when I know you could snap my neck in one hand.” You were flat in your tone, too focused on threading a needle to put any effort behind your words. 

“I’d never,” he said, laughing a little. He seemed to be in a cheerful mood for just having been shot. 

“You might,” you tied the thread off and bit the end to break it from the spool. Very hygienic, you know, but you didn’t find a pair of scissors. “You’ve only just barely reached the surface for just how obnoxious I can be.”

“Oh have I now?” 

“Mhm…”

You pulled at his shirt collar, opening just a few more buttons until it could pull back over his arm. He didn’t stop you, or even wince, just sat back and waited for the sting of a needle.

“This ain’t gonna tickle,” you braced him, but as soon as you started digging into his skin, making the actual stitches, he was surprised. You were pretty good at this… the reasoning behind it was probably just another one of your many secrets, he’s sure.

“S’not so bad, actually. You do this a lot?” 

“Not anymore… but I was a little rich girl, remember? Did embroidery and needlepoint since I was a little kid. I kind of miss it, actually.” 

“A gunslinger misses doin’ needlepoint?” he chuckled, feeling the hole in his skin being patched back together. Now you just gotta do the other side. 

“Well sure,” you furrowed your brows, leaning forward to bite the thread again and pull his body so you could see the exit wound. “I used to sit on the porch of my house and do it with my mama.”

He felt sorrowful all of a sudden. “Were you uh… close with your mother?”

You nodded, not speaking in fears you’d tear up, or your voice would crack. The way you both were sitting, he couldn’t see the direct look on your face, but he understood it was probably a sensitive subject. 

Oh to think, what a life you may have led if you were not born a girl. You missed your mother, and your old friends from school. You missed being able to do needlepoint, and other more feminine activities. 

“You know what I hate most about this life?” you uttered, your voice shallow, but you didn’t seem to care all that much anymore. He seemed to take a genuine interest in your problems, and your personal feelings. It was more than you could say about most men. “I haven’t worn a dress in four years… and I really love dresses.”

This wasn’t the meltdown you saw yourself having in front of Arthur, but he didn’t mind it. He placed his opposite hand on your shoulder as you bit off the last thread to seal his wounds. 

“How about this… someday, when you’ve told everyone that you’re- y’know…” he trailed, nodding his head around for emphasis. “I’ll buy you a dress in town. Whichever one you want.”

You couldn’t help but smile. In the span of one day, you’d gone through nearly every emotion you possibly could with this man, but in the end, your resolve had again been weakened, and you found yourself falling into his crystal eyes once more. 

“Thank you, Arthur… You’re a kind man, you know?” 

He shook his head. “Not so kind to most.”

You knew not to argue with him, as you were learning, he was very self deprecating, and there was no changing his mind. You took a leap, unsure of what might come of it, but you wanted to show your gratuity some other way. 

You quickly leaned forward, kissing his cheek ever so softly, almost as if it didn’t even happen. When you sat back, his eyes were a bit wider, and his brows were raised. He seemed to be frozen in surprise, and words failed him. You didn’t want him to possibly find words that could hurt, so you stood up to leave, calling after him whilst walking away. 

“Goodnight, Arthur.”

And that would have been good enough, but your heart skipped a beat when your sentiment was returned. 

“Night, Red.”

Tags: @photo1030 @sheepdogchick @snoopysshark @strvberrydoll

[monstersandmaw]

Male gnoll x gn reader (nsfw)

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me. 

As promised, the modern gnoll story is here!

Content: insecure, squishy, gender and body neutral reader; praise kink from gnoll boy if you squint; penetrative sex, knotting.

There's also very fleeting mention of a young, terminally ill patient passing off-screen. If you want to skip that entirely, skip from: "Halfway through the third time you encountered him there though, he got a call on his phone and his whole demeanour changed." to the paragraph beginning: "Three days later, and you’d been to the gym every day in the hopes of catching him, you hadn’t seen him."

Wordcount: 6934

You stared at the weights rack and felt a bead of sweat roll down your spine that had nothing to do with your previous sets.

This would be the heaviest you’d ever attempted to chest press, and while it might not be much by some people’s standards — that half-orc last week had really put you off your stride by snorting at you, but we can’t all be built like brick fucking walls, can we? — it was more than you’d tried so far. But you were ready. You just… needed someone to spot for you. Just in case. Safety first, and all that.

But the only people in the weights section were the kind of people who, through no real fault of their own, you tended to find nauseatingly intimidating. Like that troll who could probably bench press one of you in each hand. Or that werewolf who was fully shifted and currently on her hundredth(?) chin-up on the bars. Or that gnoll. He’d been doing slow, measured bicep curls for the past five minutes and you’d been trying not to stare at him. Most male gnolls were a bit smaller than their female counterparts, and tended to be less aggressive and competitive in the gym, but this guy was huge.

You must have looked a little too long though, because his dark, rounded ear twitched and he turned his head to look at you. Instead of glaring at you, he offered you a wide, friendly grin that showed off his massive, chunky teeth and made you a bit weak at the knees. Always good to go weak at the joints when you were about to attempt a personal best in the weights section at the gym…

Fuck.

“You ok?” he asked, setting down a dumbbell that was heavy enough to double as a battleship anchor, and you swallowed.

Now or never.

“I…” you croaked and cleared your throat, looking down at the bench and back up at him.

“You want someone to spot for you?” he asked, stepping a little closer. His paws were massive and while he had clothes on — black gym shorts and a big, baggy, white tank top — he wore no shoes. His claws flexed as his dark, smoky brown pads spread to take his weight, and you swallowed again. He had really adorable freckle-like spots up his shaggy legs too.

“If you wouldn’t mind?” you finally managed to squeak.

At that, he beamed at you and gave a gnollish giggle that seemed genuinely pleased. “Happy to.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled, and took a breath for courage. No going back now.

You lay down on the bench and he came to stand behind the rack. His big, clawed hands hooked under the bar but he didn't take any of its weight as you adjusted your grip and got settled, and prepared to lift it free. He loomed over you, his face serious with concentration. It was a comfort to know he was focused on the task, not gawping around at the other gym-goers. The future integrity of your chest and ribs depended on his concentration if your arms failed you, after all. You had no doubts about his strength though. He really was massive.

Getting your breathing under control, you shoved carefully upwards, and he grinned as you took its weight and began your reps. After five, you felt your arms start to burn, but you pushed on towards ten.

At nine, your muscles shuddered in complaint.

“You’ve got this,” he said in a low, quiet rumble, and it spurred you on to do the last one. You hooked it back in place and met his dark brown eyes. “Nailed it,” he grinned, all teeth and joy. “I reckon you can go up another five kilograms…”

“I’m not sure,” you replied, sitting up carefully and swinging your feet off to one side. The idea of making it heavier seemed overwhelming.

“I’ll spot you again, don’t worry,” he said, reaching for a couple of the smallest weight plates from the rack and slotting them easily onto the end of your bar. “But you definitely had some in the tank. Take a minute, have a drink, and go again.”

His quiet, easy conviction was enviable, but it sparked something in you that had been dormant for a long time. Or maybe it had been smothered into dormancy. Either way, it felt a lot like the echo of self-confidence, though the feeling was unfamiliar these days.

When you set down your water bottle and paused to let your muscles relax after the first set of reps, your eye was caught by a wiry looking goblin doing weighted squats on the far side of the room. She had iron grey hair and looked to be in her sixties or seventies, and you felt the heat of shame flood your cheeks when you realised she was lifting more than you could, at half your height and a fraction of your body-weight.

Seeing where you were looking, the gnoll gave a little snicker and said, “Oh boy, don’t compare yourself to Rose, friend. I’ve seen her outlast full-grown orcs in friendly pull-up competitions, and she can plank for an hour without breaking a sweat. Goblins are made of steel, I swear. Focus on your own journey.”

You laughed, feeling stupidly grateful to him for his kind reassurance.

“Come on. Give it a go?” he said, and you nodded and lay back. “I’ll be here. I won’t let you hurt yourself,” he added.

It was a struggle, but you made it to five before you needed a pause, and he hooked his rough-padded fingers under the bar and took the weight for a second.

“Breathe, and then just five more.”

Somehow when he said it like that, it didn’t seem so bad.

Things got tricky at eight, but you gritted your teeth and pushed through, and when you hit ten and he took it from you, your arms felt like wet noodles, but you’d done it.

“Alright!” he exclaimed as you sat up and cast him a sidelong look. He offered his paw for a high-five, and, embarrassed by his enthusiasm for you, you answered it. The pads of his paws were rough and warm, and his entire hand almost engulfed yours. When you lowered your gaze again, you could just see his little tail wagging back and forth and that finally brought a huge smile to your face. How long had it been since someone was genuinely excited for your achievements?

“Thank you,” you mumbled, your voice cracking a bit. “That was really kind of you. I’m sorry I interrupted your workout.”

“Not at all,” he smiled. “Happy to help, and you smashed it! I’ll leave you to get on, but shout if you need me to spot for you again.”

“Thanks,” you said, but your shyness returned, and you didn’t trouble him again that session.

Three days later, you were back in the gym with your muscles mostly recovered. On the ground floor of the building, there was a huge swimming pool and as you passed the viewing window you could see a couple of humans and a few orcs and perhaps an elf doing serious, focused laps in the swimming lanes, barely making a splash as they powered through the water. This whole ‘fitness drive’ thing was still pretty new to you, and just walking up the stairs into the upper level of the gym where the machines and weights were sparked the same nauseous anxiety in the pit of your stomach that you always experienced at the thought of going to a public gym. You didn’t look like someone who belonged here, with soft edges and extra weight in places it wasn’t conventionally attractive for humans to carry it, and while you weren’t really here to please other people, you were trying to take better care of yourself lately and that, unfortunately, involved exercise.

Your eyes scanned the space and you’d have been lying if you weren’t searching for a flash of honey-coloured fur. There was a large group of orcs messing around in the weights section, so you bailed and headed blindly for the nearest cardio machine, heart pounding in a way that made you want to throw up.

“Guess I’m running today,” you muttered under your breath as you stepped automatically up onto the treadmill. Panic had made you go to this one, and you thought you’d probably look even more stupid if you changed your mind now.

After an overly-long warm-up walk, you cranked it to something manageable and felt your body complain already. You made it to about one kilometre before you had to stop. Deciding to pretend you’d always intended to use it merely as a way to loosen up, you hit the ‘stop’ button and ignored its friendly advice to do a cool down, grabbing your water bottle from the holder and turning around to see if there was enough room in the weights area for you to slink in and do a few reps.

And there, looking at you across the room, was the gnoll from before.

Your heart flip-flopped in your chest, first with delight and then with horror as you realised he must have seen you lumbering away on the treadmill. Fuck.

But when he met your eye, he grinned, showing all his teeth, and he waved. You smiled back, and wove your way through the bristling array of cardio machines to join him.

“Hey,” he said, scratching behind one large ear with his right paw. “I wasn’t sure if you were a regular… I kind of thought I might never see you again.”

“No, I’m usually wheezing away in a corner at around this time every few days,” you snorted.

He didn’t laugh at your self-deprecating humour though, and instead turned his muzzle towards the weights. “You need someone to spot for you again?”

You bit your lip. “Yeah, I guess. You can be my cheerleader again too if you like,” you added with a spur-of-the-moment burst of bravery.

“Gladly,” he giggled, tail wagging back and forth. “You wanna do a few warm up rounds first? I just got here, so I’m kind of cold anyway.”

As before, when you were ready, he came over and stood at the head of the bench, hands ready to catch the bar. It was harder to concentrate this time round, with him looming over you. He had to be nearly seven feet tall, though he had that distinctive hunch that gnolls’ unique biology lent to their kind where werewolves were more upright.

When he took the bar from you at the end of your first set of reps, his fingers brushed yours and you nearly gasped at how velvet-soft his fur was. “Thank you,” you said, and as you sat up to take your short break, you introduced yourself by name.

“I’m Cade,” he replied, and stuck out his hand for you to shake.

Conscious that your palms were probably super sweaty, you tried not to flush hot and make it even worse, and you slid your hand into his. Again, the size of him was striking, and you felt something in your core tighten and start to tingle at the sight of it, let alone the feel of his paw flexing around your hand. His claws were dark and neatly rounded and you wondered what he did for a living. Most gnolls — not that you knew any personally — seemed to have active, outdoorsy jobs, but there was something about him that made you curious.

“Ready for round two?” he asked, and you got back to it with a shy smile. “Ah, come on. It’s not that bad, is it? You might even learn to love it soon.”

“It’s better with company,” you admitted as you took the weight of the bar and looked up just in time to watch his face go from serious to delighted at the compliment. “Not sure I’ll ever come to love it though. Not the way you seem to.”

He grinned and giggled gnollishly — the sound high and bright and a little silly coming from someone so intimidatingly built — and you couldn’t help the way your heart felt a little lighter and your body a little more energised. “I did consider changing careers to become a personal trainer for a while,” he said while you started to count your second set.

“Oh?” You didn’t have the breath to ask anything more articulate, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“Mm. I just enjoy helping people out, I guess.”

“What do you do now for work?” you asked in a bit of a garbled rush between reps six and seven.

“I’m a paediatric nurse,” he said, and you nearly dropped the bar on your chest. He reached down and snatched it before it had even dropped an inch, and he shot you a look. “Don’t worry, I’m used to that reaction,” he said with a wink. “I was expecting it.”

“Sorry,” you said. Jeez, what a charmer. “I just… I wouldn’t have thought… you know… I’m sorry.”

“Eh, it’s fine,” he said. “Come on, get to ten and I’ll tell you the rest.”

You pushed through the last three and he took the bar and rested it on its hooks, allowing you to sit up with thrumming muscles in your shoulders and arms. You stretched out and twisted your neck to look up at him from your seat on the bench.

“We have a bad reputation still,” he sighed, “But actually, traditionally, male gnolls are the caretakers in our clans. Historically, the females did all the fighting and protecting, and we raised the cubs and taught them the basics before they went on to train with the females.” He shot you a cheeky look and added, “Statistically, male gnolls are the least likely of almost all species to be aggressive, so despite appearances, we make perfect caretakers. The kids at the hospital love me, once they get past the teeth and the size.”

“I can see why,” you said faintly.

Cade pulled a wide smile and eyed the bar. “Go for three sets this time?”

You did, and when you were done, you thanked him, and then headed to grab a kettle bell to do some other exercises. If both of you kept sneaking glances at each other for the rest of your session, well, at least it wasn’t just you.

Halfway through the third time you encountered him there though, he got a call on his phone and his whole demeanour changed. You’d been doing some lower-weight dead lifts, and as you set the bar down on the mat you watched all the joy bleed out of him; his tail bristled high and stiff, his ears swivelled back almost flat against his head, and his big brown eyes went wide with distress.

“Shit, now?” he hissed, turning away from you. “Fuck. Ok, I’ll be there as soon as I can. No, don’t worry about it. Thanks for telling me. Ok, I’ll see you soon.”

He hung up, took a deep breath, and then slowly looked over his shoulder at you. “I… I have to go. I’m sorry. Don’t try any more without someone to spot for you, ok?”

You nodded. “You alright?”

He bit his lip and shook his head. “No, not really. One of my patients is… Uh… Yeah. Not long left, apparently.”

“Oh shit, Cade,” you said, crossing to him. You laid your hand on his fluffy forearm and squeezed the solid muscle beneath your fingers. He seemed to relax just a fraction at that. “You need someone to give you a lift to the hospital? My car’s outside.”

Again, he bit his lip and then nodded. “You wouldn’t mind? I was gonna get the bus.”

You shook your head. “Of course not. Let’s go.”

He was mostly silent for the journey, his knee bouncing as he sat crammed into in the front of your car, but when you approached the main entrance to the hospital, he said, “You can just use the drop-off at the front. Thank you again. I’ll… I’ll see you around, ok?”

You nodded and reached for his arm again. “Take care of yourself.”

He smiled, gave a low rumbling noise that you’d never heard him make before, and then climbed out and strode into the hospital without a backward glance. You looked down at the seat and found a fair few golden hairs stuck to the fabric, and didn’t have the heart to brush them away.

Three days later, and you’d been to the gym every day in the hopes of catching him, you hadn’t seen him. Your mood was decidedly flat as you stepped out into the fresh night air and tried to plaster on a smile when your best friend uncoiled his muscular, python’s tail from the back of the taxi that was waiting at the curb and flung his arms around you. His dark brown skin had a pearlescent shimmer to it and his long, thick brown hair was plaited into a thick braid that hung down his spine. He wore a glittery, black shirt studded with a rainbow of rhinestones that matched the iridescent gleam that seemed to hover over his snake’s tail too, and he had the most exquisitely neat makeup on that you’d ever seen.

“Gods, Mal, you look incredible,” you wheezed as he hugged you.

“You look good too, sweetheart,” he grinned back. “Any sign of your delicious little puppy at the gym today? No, of course not. If there had been, you wouldn’t looked like a kicked puppy yourself. Come on. It’s my birthday. You’re not allowed to mope,” he said, and he practically bundled you into the back of the taxi before going round to the other side and piling in beside you.

He gave the driver the name of the club, and the car set off.

“There’ll be so many beautiful people there tonight, you’ll forget all about this gnoll of yours, I swear,” he practically purred in your ear, and you tried to smile.

“Happy birthday, by the way,” you said, and you drew an envelope from your clutch and handed it to him.

He frowned. “What’s this? We don’t do cards or presents anymore, sweetie,” he scowled, but he did look secretly pleased.

“Couldn’t resist this one,” you shrugged.

The card was nothing very special, just a lame joke about not throwing a hissy fit on your birthday, but it predictably made Mal groan and roll his eyes. “Really, darling? Didn’t we get over the reptile jokes in kindergarten?”

You did manage to muster a heartfelt smirk at that, and waved your hand. “I couldn’t resist,” you said again.

“You’re awful. I love you so much,” he laughed, and tugged you into a sideways hug in his arms. “You’re the only person I tolerate this kind of shit from, you know that?”

“Yeah,” you smiled.

For a long moment, Mal held you and then he let you go and sighed softly. “I want you to be happy, you know?” he said. “You’ve been, like… ‘background miserable’ for ages.”

“I’ll try,” you said. It had been easier until Cade had vanished.

The club was packed already, but Mal dragged you to the front of the line and the two of you were admitted like celebrities and shown to the VIP area of the club. Perks of being with the brother of the owner, you supposed. Yves came over to greet you and his brother and to wish Mal a happy birthday. His present, it turned out, was unlimited drinks for the two of you all night.

For an hour, you and Mal chatted and drank leisurely, and watched the people out on the dance floor that was slightly below your booth, but just as Mal slithered with enviable elegance off the bench and started to make his way towards the dance floor, dragging you along with him, you caught sight of the familiar shape of a gnoll’s ears and froze so abruptly that your hands were torn from Mal’s grip.

“What, Sweets?”

You frowned, trying to make out the figure that was across the space, apparently also being dragged by his friends onto the floor. It was him. It was Cade. You had to laugh, and just as you did, he looked up.

His jaw dropped and he fell utterly still as well, then he laughed and shook his head.

“No way,” Mal breathed, now leaning in to hiss in your ear. “That’s him?”

“Yeah,” you said, and as Cade joined you, Mal — the cheeky shit that he was — gave you a solid shove between your shoulder blades.

You stumbled forwards and Cade shot his hands out to catch you before you planted face-first onto the dance floor. You whipped around the moment he had steadied you, and shot Mal the most venomous glare you could, and then turned back to Cade. “Thanks,” you yelled above the music. “My meddling best friend isn’t exactly known for his subtlety.”

“It’s ok,” Cade chuckled. “It’s good to see you. Sorry I haven’t made it to the gym lately. You find someone to spot for you?”

You shook your head and realised you were still holding his forearms. He hadn’t let go either, so neither did you. “How are you doing? I was worried about you when I didn’t see you after… you know…”

He bowed his head in understanding. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d worry about me, if I’m honest. I’m good. It wasn’t entirely unexpected, even if it was still really sad. It’s part of the job sometimes though. It’s… It’s not my first. But I’m not here to mope.”

“Why are you here then?” you asked, squeezing his forearm gently as someone knocked into you from the side. “You look about as comfortable as I am in places like this…”

His ears were pricked as far forward as they could go, straining like satellite dishes to catch your words above the thundering music, and the urge to make an inhuman squeak rose up your throat like a physical presence. For someone so huge and muscular, he had no right to look so heartbreakingly cute.

“My friends’ house purchase went through so they decided to celebrate and drag me out with them. You?”

“Mal's birthday. His brother owns the club, so we’ve had free drinks for the night.”

“Nice,” Cade laughed. “You want to dance?”

You did, but it wasn’t something you were any good at. Then again, looking around you, there weren’t many you’d have said were actually dancing. Shyly, you managed a nod, and he grinned at you again, and held out both paws. You slid your hands into them and he exhaled, his chest falling noticeably.

“What?”

“You’re so small,” he said. “I… I’m so afraid I’m going to crush you all the time.”

“You won’t,” you smiled, and stepped even closer to him. Close enough to smell the soft musk that rose from his fur. Close enough to see the lights reflected in his coffee-dark eyes and watch the way the pale whiskers on his dark muzzle splayed wide with his anticipation. In the lights you noticed that the white trim of fur along the outer edge of his ears looked like a fine line of silver. “You’re really beautiful, Cade,” you whispered, certain that the music would drown your words, but he pulled his dark lips back in a broad grin and dipped his head shyly.

He turned you in his arms so that your back was to his chest and he stepped a little closer, moving his hands to your waist. You tried to fight the self-consciousness that roared to life like a wildfire in your mind, and when he felt you tense, he leaned down and murmured in your ear, “Is this alright?”

You nodded and leaned back into him, looking up at his pale throat and chest. It was a surprisingly familiar view by now after your sessions in the gym. He was wearing loose jeans that ended at the knee, the way many non-humans did, and he had a black t-shirt on that fitted his muscular frame beautifully. His red-gold mane melted into the dark fur of his ears and the creamy underside of his chin and neck, and you wanted to melt against him and have him hold you forever.

“Yes,” you exhaled. “It’s just been a while, that’s all.”

“We can go however slow you like, but you should know I like you,” he said in a low, inviting rumble. He pressed his cold nose carefully against your cheek and then nuzzled you with his jaw. “A lot. Gods, you smell amazing,” he blurted, as if he couldn't help himself.

That self-conscious heat evolved into something entirely different, and pure want coursed through you instead. You ached again and your body seemed to prickle all over with desire.

His hands drifted a fraction lower, to frame your hips, and his fingers dug into your soft flesh. Above the music you heard him give a long, deep lowing sound; primal and visceral and honest in its appreciation, and it made you shiver.

You lost track of time as you danced together. It wasn’t so much ‘dancing’ as ‘sharing the same space and touching wherever you could both get away with it before it became completely indecent’.

At one point, when you’d turned to face him again, someone nudged into you from behind and a hand wandered over your back, and you flinched closer to Cade. He pulled his lips back and showed all his teeth, and the human who had wandered too close to your corner of paradise shied away with hands raised.

“Didn’t take you for the jealous type,” you said, and Cade growled at you instead.

“I’m not,” he said. “But I am protective. If you want to leave here with someone else tonight instead of me, I won’t stop you.”

“I don’t want to,” you said, placing your hand on the centre of his chest. “I’m not sure I’m ready to go home with you tonight either, but I do want your number and I do want to see you again.”

He smiled, and drew his phone from his back pocket. He twitched his muzzle towards the edge of the dance floor and then offered you his palm, leading you through the jostling crowd towards a quieter spot and shielding you with the bulk of his body when you had to force your way through the crush. You exchanged numbers, and then he looked over your shoulder and said, “Your friend is coming over.”

You turned to find Mal easing his way around the edge of the dance floor. He was moving slowly, carefully, the way he did when he was very drunk and trying not to show it. “Ah, man, I’ll have to get him home safely,” you sighed. “I guess this is goodbye for now.”

Cade nodded. “I’ll see you both to a cab if you like.”

“You are protective,” you chuckled.

“I’m not hearing a ‘no’.”

“No, you’re not,” you smiled. “If you like, you can get on the other side of Mal and see that he doesn’t slither off somewhere.”

The two of you wrangled a very curious and very obvious Mal into the back of a cab, and Cade came to stand with his hands on your waist. “Can I kiss you?” he asked, his ears tilted back in a perfect display of meek shyness.

“Yes,” you exhaled.

He lowered his head and brought his muzzle to your lips. His mouth was soft against yours and he pressed his lips against you and then let the very tip of his tongue lave over your lips while his rough hands rose to cup your jawline and hold your face delicately. Cade didn’t spend long kissing you, since it was evident that this was a human gesture for which his body was not really built, but he did move to nuzzle your cheek with the velvet fur of his muzzle before stepping back and breathing out a long sigh.

Before he could say anything sweet or romantic, Mal opened the door and half his tail spilled back out onto the tarmac, and he cursed. “Fuck. I just wanted to say to hurry the fuck up because I’m cold and drunk and I don’t want to sit the back of this cab any longer than I have to,” he slurred, his forked tongue thick with drink. “Sorry,” he tacked on a little late.

Cade chuckled and helped you tuck Mal’s python tail back into the car for a second time, and you shook your head. “I’m so sorry,” you said, and squeezed his arm. “I’ll see you at the gym? And I’ll text you.”

He nodded, and you got in to the taxi next to Mal and shot him a flat look. “That was not cool,” you said. “You only get a free pass because it’s your birthday.”

And with that, you told the driver his address, and then, when Mal was safely inside and a little more sober, you headed home.

A text was waiting from Cade but you saved it for when you were finally ready for bed, and as you lay there in the dark, you opened your messages with a little trepidation.

>> You looked so beautiful tonight. I was *this* close to not going out tonight, but I’m so glad I did. I hope you got back ok and that the birthday boy isn’t going to suffer too much. I’ll be at the gym tomorrow. Perhaps we can grab a coffee somewhere afterwards if you’re going to be around? Night, and sleep well. C x <<

You read it through four times before you replied, and after that, you saw each other every day for a fortnight solid.

It started with coffee after the gym and then progressed to drinks, and then drinks and a snack, and then dinner, and then dinner and a movie, and then dinner and the same movie again because there was nothing else on that you wanted to watch, and then dinner and a stroll along the riverbank while the city lights twinkled around you. Finally, after two weeks of meeting every day, he took your hands in his and kissed you silly on one of the bridges over the river.

He nuzzled you afterwards and let out all these delicious, gnollish noises that made your heart skip and dance and skitter around like a trapped bird in your ribcage.

“I want you,” you gasped as he leaned you back a little way and closed his mouth around your neck, raking his teeth oh so gently across your skin. He froze, and then drew back.

“You mean it?” he asked in an equally soft voice. His dark eyes were huge and his ears frankly adorable as they swivelled first back against his head in uncertainty and then pricked forwards in undeniable hope. His tail rose high and fluffy behind him and you giggled softly.

“Yes, I mean it,” you laughed. “I want you.”

“Now?”

“Not ‘now on this bridge’,” you snorted. “Now as in tonight. Now as in take me home.”

“Yours or mine?”

“Whose is closer?” you asked in a decidedly hoarse voice.

He paused. “Mine, probably.”

“Then let’s go there.”

He held your hand all the way there, and stopped at least five more times to nuzzle you and kiss you.

You’d been to his a couple of times before during your whirlwind courtship, but you’d only cuddled on the sofa while eating popcorn and watching reruns of your favourite shows. This time, you didn't bother with the sofa.

You kicked off your shoes at the door and he backed you towards the bedroom, growling and making those delicious, low-frequency lowing sounds in a constant, rumbling song. He loomed over you, but you grinned up at him and tugged at the lower hem of his black t-shirt.

He tore it off over his head to reveal the coarse, ivory fur of his chest and throat, and you reached for him, watching as your fingers disappeared into it. He growled — actually growled — when you scrunched your fingers and tugged experimentally, and you looked up at him again. He was panting softly, eyes half-lidded with his muzzle tilted upwards a fraction.

“Bed. Now,” you said in an unusually assertive voice.

Cade gasped and then simply picked you up by the hips. You looped your legs around his middle and let him carry you into his bedroom, where he deposited you carefully onto the bed and leaned down over you. It didn’t take you long to discard your clothes and he stared at you in wonder when you lay back again.

He was hard and as he rutted through his jeans against your thigh, you arched your back off the bed and moaned. “Now, Cade. Please.”

You ached all over and you’d never been this turned on in all your life. Every nerve ending seemed to have been dialled up to eleven and every time his rough paws skimmed over your skin, you gasped and jerked and groaned.

“So sensitive,” he purred, leaning back to undo his jeans and cast them aside. His boxers came next, and you tried not to stare at the size of him. You hoped you could take him.

He knelt between your legs and gently bit and mouthed his way up your inner thighs before closing his mouth over you and letting his tongue savour you. It should have been unnerving to have the most powerful jaws of almost any creature on land so close to where you were most delicate, but it sent a thrill up your spine instead. He moved his head between your legs and you let your hand rest between his ears, guiding his pace and taming his ardour a little.

Cade drew back, his eyes glassy and his muzzle wet with a combination of your arousal and his drool, and he rasped, “You taste incredible.”

“I want to come with you inside me,” you moaned. “I want you to knot me, Cade.”

His eyes fluttered and rolled at that and he gripped his cock in one hand as though trying to stave off his own orgasm already. “Fuck,” he grunted. “Fuck, that’s about the hottest thing you could have said to me. I’m really not gonna last long now. Oh fuck, I can already feel —”

“Cade, inside me. Now.”

“You’re sure?”

“Cade…” There was a growl to your voice too.

His cock was leaking all over his hand, all over the back of his fingers, and he wasn’t even working himself. You weren’t going to need any extra help to ease him inside you, but you were going to need him to take it gently.

“Slowly,” you warned as he lined himself up. He nodded, looking nervous and earnest.

The tip of his cock nudged inside you and you groaned and lay back, enjoying the huge stretch of him. Cade, meanwhile, bit back a curse and began to shake all over.

“I can’t,” he gasped. “Please… I…”

“Keep going,” you said, sounding gloriously winded already and he was only a little way inside you. “Don’t stop.”

The gnoll let out a long, lowing groan and then braced himself on both arms. You drew your knees up to help him and he began to pant again. “Fuck,” he cursed as he eased himself further inside you. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, I can’t I’m… I’m going to come… fuck, you’re tight. Oh fuck, beautiful, I can’t…”

“Yes you can,” you crooned, though the seduction in your voice was a little strangled by the intensity of the stretch as he eased almost all the way into you. “You can wait for me, I know you can. You’re so good; you’re so kind, Cade. You’re going to make this amazing for me, I know you are…”

At the string of praise, his heavy jaws parted to show all his thick, sharp teeth and he began to shake with the effort of not plunging into you in a single stroke until finally, finally, he was seated inside you to the hilt of his cock.

“See?” you said, reaching for the ruff around his neck and threading your fingers into the depths of the soft fur.

He keened and began to rock his hips. “Please… Please can I move now?”

“Yes, Cade. Let me feel all of you inside me.”

What began as a slow, careful slide of his huge cock inside you hastened to a desperate rhythm in minutes. His hips snapped against yours and you felt the weight of his balls as they rocked against you with each thrust. Cade was whining with each stroke, and you realised that the delicious stretch was growing, and each time he withdrew, it was a little less far.

“You’re going to knot me, aren’t you?” you gasped, drawing your knees up even further so that he hit you just-so with the tip of his cock at the apex of each desperate thrust.

“Mmnn,” he whimpered. “Fuck. I’m so close. You’re so gorgeous. Been thinking about this since… since we danced. Gods, I wanted to fuck you that night. Came all over myself when I got home. Popped a knot and everything, oh fuck, oh fuck you’re so tight I’m going to come, I’m so close, I’m going to come, can I come? Please let me come, beautiful, please let me fill you —”

His babbling, rambling pleas devolved into another gnollish low and he threw his head back, picking up the desperate pace. His hands grabbed your hips and his claws pricked your skin as he pulled you further onto his growing knot with every thrust. Delirious pleasure coursed through you and you barely had the presence of mind left to give him the permission he clearly craved.

“Yes, come for me,” you slurred. “Come inside me, Cade. Fill me —”

With a roar, his hips snapped against yours one last time and his whole body locked up. His lips pulled back from his huge teeth into a rictus of ecstasy and his eyes rolled as he came in huge, shuddering waves, lost to the pleasure of your body as his knot finally swelled to fill you and the sensation of it tipped you over the edge as well. As your body clenched around him, he cursed again and tugged you somehow even further onto his knot. His hips spasmed against you and you could feel him emptying himself into you in waves.

It was a long time before he stopped coming, and even with his knot plugging you tight, you felt some of his come start to leak out around you already, spilling down your thighs and onto the sheet. “Fuck,” he hissed again, and his body went suddenly slack, though his chest was still heaving for breath.

He fell forwards over you and braced himself at the last second on his forearms. You lowered your legs and he grunted as the movement jolted his over-sensitive knot, but you stayed there for a long time.

Gradually, your breathing settled into the same rhythm and your heartbeats slowed, and a leaden satisfaction descended into your whole body. You felt full, and cherished as he held you.

You lost track of time as you lay there together, but finally his knot receded and you felt a lot more of his come start to slide down your thighs. “Making a mess,” you mumbled from where you were half-buried by the soft fur near his ear.

“Mmph.”

“If you’re expecting me to have put on enough muscle to chest press you off me, you’re sorely mistaken,” you quipped, and to your joy, he gave a delighted, gnollish giggle and lifted his head enough to regard you with his slightly unfocused, dark brown eyes.

“You’re really something,” he said, and he let his pink tongue just grace the tip of your nose. “You sore? You want me to run you a bath?”

“Oof, yes please,” you smiled. No one had ever offered to do that for you after sex, and you were indeed a little sore from where he’d stretched you further than anyone ever had.

He lifted himself off you carefully, withdrawing from you and giving a little grunt as his softening cock slid free. He sat back on his haunches and ran his thumbs over the curve of your thighs, staring at where you knew you were probably gaping a bit. It was hard not to feel embarrassment until he murmured, “You’re exquisite.”

Cade leaned over you and fondly raked his upper and lower teeth over the soft flesh of your thigh before laving his tongue over your skin and then finally standing on shaky legs. “Been a while since I came like that,” he admitted shyly as he staggered towards the door. “Think I might skip leg day tomorrow and just chill out here.”

“I’ll join you,” you said. “I may never regain feeling in my legs.”

“I’ll carry you around anyway,” he grinned as he left and went to run the bath.

True to his word, Cade did carry you around his apartment the next day, and your feet barely touched the ground from the moment you woke to the moment you fell asleep in his bed for the second night in a row.

You weren’t exactly complaining though. It was heaven.

__

I hope you enjoyed it, and I hope you’ll consider reblogging as well as leaving a like. Take care of yourselves, and I hope you have a lovely day/night wherever you are, and whenever you read this.

| Masterlist | Ko-fi (tip jar)

[leilakisakabiri]

request: Hi can you do where the reader is wearing Gavis hoodie and she accidentally stains it and starts freaking out. Thank uuu and i love ur writing

I Got You (Gavi)

Summary: You need Gavi to come help you after you get yourself into a bad situation.

Warning(s): None

A/N: Thank you so much for the request and for your support! Requests are open. Currently working on The Promises We Keep Pt 2. Also, guys if I haven't done your request yet, don't worry, it probably means it's gonna be a long one.

Word Count: 3.1k+

Masterlist

It was a Saturday night in Barcelona, and you were holed up in your room, feet tucked under you, a knitted blanket over your shoulders as you read over the words in front of you for the hundredth time.

While the city was alight with people getting drinks, dancing, and laughing, you silenced your phone, closed your blinds, and put your headphones on to quiet any outside noises. 

You had decided to stay in this weekend, caught up in writing an essay for your criminal law class that was worth 50% of your grade. Safe to say you did not take it lightly. You had been hunched over your computer for the last nine hours, brain numb and fingers aching as you had tried to come up with a thesis and strong argument for your essay. You had blocked out this weekend to finish the essay, letting everyone know ahead of time not to contact you unless it was an emergency, including Gavi. 

Gavi had been gone for the last couple of days, traveling around Europe for the last leg of La Liga, and he had been adamant about spending as much time with you as he could once he got back - before his summer schedule kicked off. However, that hope was quickly cut short when you informed him you most likely wouldn’t be able to see him at all this weekend due to you being stuck finishing your essay. 

Although he had tried to convince you to change your mind, bribing you with the idea of endless cuddles and then promising to be as silent as possible while you wrote when his first idea didn’t work, you relented, knowing that having him around would be a major distraction, one that you couldn’t afford. 

“I’m sorry Pablo I don’t think I can this weekend. What about Monday?” You asked hopefully. 

He sighed over the phone, his face pulling into a frown, “I can’t. We’re leaving Monday morning for France.”

You bit on your lip, feeling bad, “I’m sorry I just really need to focus this weekend.” 

He nodded, “I get it. It just sucks. I wanted to see you at least once before I’m gone again. But it’s fine – I’ll survive.” He replied dramatically. 

You grinned, “Well I’ll miss you Pablito.” 

“I already miss you.” 

The smile on your face only grew as your heart warmed at his words, “I’ll text you if anything changes. Have a great game, I’ll be watching.” 

He gave you a wink, “Damn gotta show off now that my girls watching.” 

You giggled at him, “Bye Pablo.” 

He mocked your tone playfully, “Bye Y/n.” 

That was last week, and now you were nose deep in your essay, textbooks scattered around you as you looked for possible quotes to strengthen your thesis. You had been so busy scanning the words on the page that you hadn’t noticed your phone buzzing non-stop next to you. 

Once you saw the glow of your phone screen curiosity got the better of you and you flipped it around seeing you had eight missed calls from your best friend. 

Your eyebrows knitted in confusion, it was almost two in the morning, she would for sure be at a club right now, happily dancing the night away with your friends, so why was she consistently calling you? 

The phone buzzed once again and this time you were quick to answer. 

“Hello, Gia, what’s going on?” 

Her voice was slurred on the other end, but you could sense the panic regardless, “Y/n? I don’t know where I am, I was with the others but then I went to the bathroom, and I then couldn’t find anyone anymore. And this guy won’t leave me alone-”

“Gia, where are you? I’ll come get you.” You cut off her rambling, already rushing to put on your shoes, essay long forgotten. 

She hiccupped, “I’m at Macarena. I’m sorry no one else answered.” 

“No, no problem at all. I’m coming right now, Gia. Don’t move. I’m glad you called.” You comforted her. 

The club was only a twenty-minute walk from your house, and seeing as you didn’t have a car or the time to wait for public transport, it was your best option. 

You cursed yourself for not answering sooner as you rushed to get your keys, grabbing a random hoodie on the way out. 

Although summer was beginning to creep into Barcelona, the nights were still chilly with cold winds rushing through the area. 

You sped through the streets, walking with purpose as you finally reached the club. You were severely underdressed for the club wearing a random hoodie and yoga pants. You saw the line for the club was still extremely long, wrapping around the corner and you knew you had no time to waste. 

You took a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself, you were never one to break any rules or ask for any special favors, but now seemed like a good time to start. 

You walked up to the club bouncer, ignoring the nasty look the guy at the front of the queue was sending you, “Excuse me. I need to get in right away, my friend is inside alone, and I need to help her.” 

You heard the guy next to you scoff. 

The bouncer looked at you unimpressed. “Sorry sweetheart. You want to get to her, you have to wait in line.” 

You relented, “Sir please, just look at my outfit,” you said gesturing to yourself, “clearly, I’m not here to party, I just need to get my friend and leave. You can even come with me!” 

He gave you an apprehensive look, taking in your appearance, “I can’t leave my post.” 

You groaned, “Fine, then can someone else escort me? I can literally call her right now. She’s not in the right head space.” 

He squinted his eyes at you, “You look familiar.” 

It finally clicked. This is where you had gone with Gavi and his team, celebrating after they had won a final a few weeks ago. They had treated you like royalty, blocking off a whole section just for you, the club owner even making an appearance to congratulate the team.

You didn’t like to use the fact that you were dating a well-known athlete as a way to get special privileges but if it meant helping your friend then you would do it. 

“Yeah, I was in VIP a few weeks ago. I know the owner, so please let me in.”

“What’s his name?” 

You racked your brain trying to think of that night, “Santiago. It was Santiago!” You replied, finally remembering. 

The bouncer gave you a once over before he finally nodded begrudgingly, “Fine – but be quick.” 

You heard the other people in line begin to argue but you quickly thanked the bouncer, rushing inside, not wanting to wait long enough for him to change his mind. 

God bless Gavi.

The place was packed, bodies pressed together so closely that you had to squeeze in between heavily making out couples and groups of friends to make your way to the middle. The strobe lights were going crazy, changing every few seconds to the beat of the music. There was a DJ booth twenty feet above the crowd playing EDM Spanish music and the crowd was going insane, chanting along. 

You hit your head on your forehead as you realized you forgot to ask her where she was. 

You pulled out your phone, letting out a breath of relief when she answered, “I’m here Gia. Where are you?” 

“I’m at- I said no, stop, I’m at the bar.” She huffed. You felt your anxiety rise, who was she talking to? 

“Ok, I’m coming.” 

You pushed through the throngs of people, finally spotting the bar, seeing her leaning against the counter, hands flying as she argued with someone. 

You walked towards them hearing the tail end of their conversation, a bad feeling in your stomach.

“Gia!” You yelled, coming to stand next to her. 

She gave you a relieved look, falling into you, the effort of standing up being too much. 

You caught her, hugging her back. 

“Oh wow – two for one. I got a buddy that would love you.” 

You steadied Gia looking up to see the guy she was talking with giving you a smirk. 

You held his gaze, annoyed, “No thanks. We’re leaving now.” 

You went to turn but he caught your wrist pulling you back, the drink in his hand sloshing,

“Woah, don’t go yet, the fun’s just getting started. Look my buddies are in VIP we can hook you up.” 

You yanked your hand away, giving him a disgusted look, “First don’t touch me. Second, we’re leaving.” 

“You’re not leaving.” He persisted. 

You raised an eyebrow, “Fucking watch me.” 

He reached for you again, but you were prepared, grabbing his hand, and flinging it off you, as you weaved into the crowd, ignoring his shouts. 

You let out a breath as you stepped outside of the club, grateful for the cold air after sweating through your hoodie in the packed club. 

You adjusted your hold on Gia, holding her waist as you started the trek back to your apartment. 

She stumbled over her steps as you walked, giggling, “Oh my god Y/n your bleeding!” 

You gave her a confused look, dragging her, “What?” 

She giggled again, reaching for your hoodie, “It’s coming from your stomach, look it’s red!” She pointed at your shirt. 

You looked down and you stopped in your tracks, breath hitching as you began to panic, “Oh shit Gia I’m wearing Gavi’s hoodie!” 

She stopped as well, letting go of you as she plopped onto the ground, staring up at you,

“So?” 

“So? He’s going to be so mad at me. That dick spilled his drink on me. This is a white hoodie – who knows if it will come out?” You stressed.

“It’s-" she hiccupped, “fine.” 

You shook your head, “No It’s not it’s his favorite hoodie, I didn’t even realize I was wearing it. Fuck, I have to clean as soon as we get home.” 

You started walking before you realized she wasn’t following you. 

“Gia?” 

You turned around to see her slumped against the sidewalk, eyes closed. 

You rushed to her side, shaking her, “Gia? Gia, are you okay?” 

She hummed, “I don’t feel so good.” 

“Can you walk? We’re almost halfway there.” You asked, helping her sit up so she was leaning against you. 

She groaned, “I’m going to throw up.” 

You looked around anxiously, unsure of what to do. You had left the main strip of clubs and restaurants, and were now on a back road, walking in an area that was dimly lit and that you weren’t too familiar with. 

“I can call an Uber.” 

You reached into your pocket, cursing yourself as you realized you had forgotten your wallet in the rush to get to the club. 

“Shit, I don’t have my wallet. Do you have yours?” 

“Antonio.” She groaned, leaning her head against your shoulder. 

You let out a huff, contemplating what to do. You attempted to get her to stand up once again, desperate to get out of the area, but she couldn’t stand, and you weren’t strong enough to carry her the rest of the way. You chewed on your lip debating a solution, but you didn’t want to do it unless it was the absolute, last, last resort. 

You spent the next five minutes calling all your friends, but no one answered. You groaned, frustrated, knowing you had run out of options. 

You heard your friend beginning to doze off and you shook her, “Gia stay awake.” 

She moaned, “Y/n I really don’t feel good. I don’t know what’s wrong.” 

Your finger hovered over the contact, and you finally pressed it, feeling the guilt build inside. 

It rang seven times before going to voicemail. You called back. 

On the third ring, the line finally connected, 

“Y/n? Why are you calling me so late?” Gavi’s voice was thick with sleep, his words murmured. 

Hearing his voice sent a pang of relief through you, and suddenly you didn’t feel so alone,

“Gavi I’m sorry. I really need your help.” 

He was up in an instant, wide awake, “What’s wrong?” 

“I’m stuck in the middle of the road with Gia. She got drunk and I went to get her but now I’m worried there’s something wrong. She can’t get up and we’re all alone. I don’t have any money. I called our friends, but no one answered, I-I didn’t know what to do.” You rushed out. 

You heard his breath accelerate on the other end of the line, “Ok don’t worry baby I’m coming. Send me your address, everything’s going to be okay. Just stay on the phone with me.” He reassured you. 

You nodded before realizing he couldn’t see you, “Thank you so much Gavi.”

You heard his car door open, “Anytime. If anything happens like this again you call me first, okay?” 

“Okay.” 

You stayed on the phone with him, rubbing Gia’s shoulder to comfort her, readjusting her whenever she began to doze off. 

Finally, you saw a familiar car pull onto the street, and you waved your hands, trying to get him to see you. 

The car made a quick turn and then Gavi was rushing out, a worried look on his face, 

“Oh thank god you’re okay. I was so worried.” 

“I’m so sorry for waking you. Thank you for coming.” 

“Y/n stop apologizing.” He said, helping you carry Gia to the car. 

Upon feeling that she was being lifted, her eyes shot open, “Y/n what’s going on?”

She glanced over to her left seeing Gavi before she turned to look at you, it took two seconds for her eyes to widen and then she was whipping her head back, “Gavi? The hell y-you doing here?” 

You giggled at her abruptness, “I had to call for help.” 

She turned to you, snuggling into your shoulder affectionately, “You’re the best Y/n. She was a rockstar today.” She spoke, as you both pushed her into the car. 

Gavi raised his eyebrow at you as you both got in, “A rockstar eh?” 

You rolled your eyes, “She’s just spewing nonsense.” 

Gia groaned in the back, hands clumsily coming to slap your shoulder, “Ehh don’t lie Y/n. You should have seen the way she talked to those guys – even I was scared.” 

You saw Gavi’s grip on the steering wheel tighten, his posture stiffened as he looked over at you,

“Guys? What guys?” 

You opened your mouth to reply but Gia beat you to it. 

“This one guy, he kept trying to get me to come with him, but then Y/n was like no way we’re leaving, and then he started hitting on her, but then he tried to grab her, and she karate chopped his hand! He was so embarrassed!” 

You felt yourself blushing at her recollection of events, “I did not karate chop his hand!” 

“Yes, you did. It was like in midair when he was talking about his friend that liked you, and then I blinked, and it was gone!”

“Did he try anything?” Gavi’s voice was hard, as he looked at you.

You shook your head, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, “No don’t worry. We were fine.” 

You felt his body relax under your touch, and one of his hands came to grip your own, “You should have called me sooner. I’m sorry you had to deal with that asshole.” 

You felt your heart flutter at his words, “Don’t worry I handled it. But thank you, next time I will.” 

Soon you were pulling up to your apartment and hauling Gia up your steps. 

“I really wish we had an elevator right now.” Gia groaned as she was being half pulled, half carried up the steps. 

You made eye contact with Gavi after hearing her statement, and you had to bite your cheek not to laugh out loud, 

“You and me both G.”

Finally, you reached your apartment, and all let out a sigh of relief as she fell onto your bed, passing out almost immediately. 

You cringed as you saw her head land centimeters away from the sharp edge of one of your textbooks. 

You reached over, clearing the space so she was able to sleep without the risk of a concussion. 

You looked up once the area was cleaned to see Gavi looking at you intently, a weird expression on his face almost like he was stuck in his thoughts. 

“What? Is everything okay?” You asked unsure, looking down at yourself. 

That’s when you realized. 

You were still wearing his hoodie, the one that had a massive red stain on it now thanks to the jackass at the club. 

You had completely forgotten about it. 

You quickly apologized, “Gavi I’m so sorry. Gia called and I was so worried so I grabbed the first thing I could find – and then the guy kept grabbing me and had this drink – anyways,” you let out a huff, “I’m really really sorry, I can buy you a new one.” 

Gavi stared at you in surprise, shocked by your outburst, “Y/n relax. It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry I know how much you love this sweatshirt.” 

Gavi shook his head slightly smiling, you were just so adorable, and he physically couldn’t hold back the words he’d been dying to say any longer, “I love you more though, so it’s fine.” 

“Wha-what?” You stumbled over your words, clearly not expecting such a big revelation.

“I said I love you.” He said it with so much confidence, almost like he was reciting a fact, something that couldn’t be changed, and you melted a little at how sure he sounded. 

You didn’t know what to say, your brain still playing those three words on a loop. He loved you. He had said it first. 

The silence stretched on and now it was his turn to get nervous, “Is that okay?”

Your mouth was still open in shock, but you quickly recovered, 

“Yo-you love me?” Your voice cracked. 

“Well, yeah… why would I not?” He asked, eyes locked on yours.

You shook your head, a smile gracing your features as you took a step closer to him, “I love you too, and I’m sorry-”

He cut you off with a sweet kiss, pulling you closer into him, as he slid his hands under the sweatshirt, fingers gently squeezing the soft flesh of your hips. 

Your lips moved in sync and your hands went to play with his hair, gently tugging. 

You heard him let out a groan and you bit his bottom lip instinctively. 

He pulled away out of breath, a dazed look in his eyes, “Joder, you can ruin all my hoodies if this is how you apologize.” He muttered breathlessly. 

You rolled your eyes, smiling as he brought you back into him for another kiss. 

[imtryingbuck]

Tabby

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC!Theo

Summary: Bucky has to marry a woman who surprises him more and more as their story goes along.

Word count: 3,188

Warnings: angst. Swearing. Dot and Eliza. Insecurities. Fluff?

Masterlist   Series Masterlist

“Dottie what brings you here?”

“It’s not worked!” Pushing herself into the house with a huff and like a spoiled child she has her arms crossed.

“What are you talking about?”

“James! That little slut-“

“Not here Dolores!” Eliza pulls Dot by her arm and leads her into the living room. “Michaels home so watch what you call that thing”

“Liz you promised me that James would take me on as his mistress if he married one of your daughters-“

“Marrying him to that thing wasn’t my idea, I did not know Michael was going to change his mind”

“I want James!” again, like a child she stomped her foot.

Rolling her eyes Eliza sighed. “Grow up Dottie. I told it to show James it’s body and he would come running for a divorce but it hasn’t happened yet.”

“What should we do?”

“Michael and I along with George and his wife will be attending dinner tonight at James’s house, I’ll talk to it and see what the holdup is. I promise you that we will get what we want okay, now get the fuck out of my house”

Bucky sighed for what felt like to hundredth time in the five minuets he was on the phone talking to his mom, he really didn’t want his father or Michael and Eliza in his home but sadly he couldn’t find it in himself to say no to his mother.

“What’s up Buck?”

“Family dinner tonight, here.”

“I’m sorry”

“I don’t know how am going to tell Theo”

“Just tell her, she’s in the library with Wanda”

“Thanks Stevie” Leaving his office he went straight in to the kitchen to let Martha know about the family dinner he had only been told about less than six hours before it was happening. Martha stiffened when she heard that George would be attending, many, many years ago George had gotten drunk and knocked Martha onto her back, kissing her and lifting her dress up. She tried so hard to fight him off but he wouldn’t relent, that was until Winnie walked in holding a nine month old Rebecca in her arms and she kicked her husband straight in his side, knocking him off the woman who was by her side on the nights she was alone. Martha begged and begged Winnie to believe her, believe that she wasn’t like the other maids that would spread their legs willingly for the married man they worked for whilst his wife was either upstairs asleep in their martial bed or in the living room with their children. Winnie believed what the only woman she had in her life that was a true friend was saying to her, she held her baby in one arm and her friend in the other.

From that night on she avoided the man like he was the plague, when Bucky moved out Winnie had asked her to go with Bucky and with a heavy heart she did. The night Bucky was born it was just Winnie and Martha in the home as George was out with a prostitute, Winnie had begged Martha to promise her that she would always be there for the baby, that she would help bring the baby up to be nothing like its father. Martha promised as she delivered a tiny baby James, Winnie had actually named him after Martha’s father.

Moving with Bucky it was easier for her to keep her promise, always making sure he treat women right and didn’t just kick them to the curb in the morning, always making sure he treat the staff right. Not like how his father did. Bucky had found out what George had done to his second mother and when he had an unpleasant visit from the man he always gave Martha a few hours or day off just so she wasn’t around him, sadly tonight he wasn’t going to be able to do that.

“I know what’s running through your head, I’ll be fine. Don’t need to worry about me darling, just make sure that beautiful wife of yours is okay”

“But I do worry about you mom, if you need to escape for a few just tell me okay?”

“Son-“

“Okay?”

“Okay! I promise I will alright? Now go away your distracting me” Whipping his legs with the tea towel he laughs and backs up.

“Mom… I love you” before Martha could reply he walked off. Through his whole life he had only said those three words to her a handle full of times, normally it was just ‘love you’ but to Martha it was more special and meaningful when he said ‘I love you’. Whispering those words back to him knowing he never caught them, she busied herself with making dinner for that night.

“Knock knock”

“No one’s in, come back another time” Wanda shouted, Bucky smiled at hearing Theo’s giggle.

“So who just spoke to me then?”

“A ghost”

“A ghost-right well I’m coming in”

Walking into the library he spots the women on the couch, Wanda helping Theo read a different book. He made his way over to Theo’s side his hands going straight to her face, his lips going to hers. Both of them ignoring Wanda when she started to fake gag in the background.

“Hi” Theo shyly said as they parted.

“Hi pretty girl”

“What are you doing here?”

“I need to tell you something”

“What is it?”

“Just know I don’t want this to happen either but I couldn’t tell my ma no so” scratching the back of his neck he looked at both women nervously “my ma, twat, Michael and Eliza are coming over tonight for dinner”

“Oh. What time” his stomach dropped along with her smile.

“I’m so sorry Theo. Seven.”

“It’s okay, I’ll go and start preparing”

Stopping her from standing up he shook his head “No Angel, Martha’s already on it”

“I’ll go and help her then”

“There’s no need, however I want you two to go and go on a shopping spree. You need some more clothes baby and Wanda loves to spend my money-“

“That is very true, come on FeFe it will be fun”

“But your stitches?”

“I’m sorry but FeFe?” Bucky asked before Wanda could reply to Theo.

“I’ll be fine I promise and yes Bucky, FeFe if you have a problem with that then take it up with someone who gives a shit”

Holding his hands up in mock surrender, he helps both of them stand up “Go and get my card whilst I talk to angel”

“Don’t take too long I’ve got your money to spend”

Waiting for the door to close behind the redhead Bucky pulls Theo closer to him and goes straight in for a kiss. “I’m sorry about tonight but angel the moment you want them gone you tell me and it’s done, okay?”

“Okay. Are you sure you don’t want me to help Martha?”

“I’m sure baby, go and have fun with Wanda”

“Where’s Nat?”

“Working with Sam, why?”

“I was going to say she could come with us”

“Maybe next time, yeah?”

“Okay-“

“THEO HURRY UP!”

“God she’s so impatient isn’t she?” Bucky laughed, Theo nodded with a giggle. “I best let you go then before she comes back and drags you away”

“I’ll see you later” Lifting herself to her tiptoes she gives him another kiss, he’s quick to deepen it before the door comes flying open.

“I leave you two alone for a few minutes and look at you both, disgusting”

“Shut up I never complain when you and Vision are practically dry humping each other. Wand take extra bodyguards. Have fun my love”

“So… how are things with you and Buck” Wanda asked as she walked down the now empty aisle, just like when Bucky took Theo to the store to get her some new clothes the manager cleared out the store for Wanda.

“It-its going okay”

“Just okay?”

“Well… he-um-he told me he loves me” Theo admitted shyly.

“What-when-oh my God, Theo that’s huge!”

“Last week”

“LAST WEEK AND YOUR JUST TELLING ME THIS NOW!” Wanda shouts causing both Theo and the manager to flinch.

“Wand-“ turning to the manager who stands there looking scared “I’m sorry. Wanda lower your voice and I-I’m sorry”

“Did you say it back?”

“N-no…”

“Why not? Do you not feel the same?” Wanda asked putting the basket she was holding down, moving closer to her friend.

“I’m not sure, I-I like him but I don’t know if it’s love. I showed him my scars and he touched them, nobody’s ever touched them before… well not the way he did” scuffing the toe of her shoe on the tiled flooring she twiddled her fingers nervously waiting for Wanda’s reply.

“It’s okay to feel confused about your feelings Theo and Bucky would never judge you for your scars, none of us would you know that don’t you?”

“I k-know it’s just, I’ve never had anyone love me before so I’m not sure what I’m feeling is love or not”

“How do you feel about Bucky?”

“I’m not sure… I feel a strange feeling in my stomach whenever he looks at me, I feel tingly and light when he kisses me-” Theo blushes violently as Wanda stares at her with a knowing smile “-what?”

“Do you like Bucky?”

“Yes”

“Is your name Theo?”

“Yes”

“Do we live in the UK?”

“No”

“Do you love Bucky?”

“Yes”

“There you go then, you love him and he loves you”

“Wait what did you just do?”

“I don’t know, Clint did the same to me when I was struggling with my feelings with Vis” she shrugs with a smile.

“How long have you and Vis been together?”

“A year now, come on let’s spend some of your husband’s money”

Theo picked out a plain white shirt that was on sale whilst Wanda had a basket full of clothing, she had asked the redhead if it was okay to go to the thrift store smiling when Wanda nodded.

In the thrift store Wanda watched with an amused grin as Theo filled the basket till the point the clothes were overflowing. Three full baskets later and Theo feeling slightly guilty when the cashier read out the total.

“You need to get some new underwear, socks and shoes and I know two perfect stores that you would love” Wanda speaks as she helps Theo place her bags into the boot of the Range Rover.

Theo nodded trusting her friend. Another two hours go by and the guilt was settling in deep with the amount of money she had spent with Bucky’s card. Wanda had reassured her that Bucky wouldn’t be bothered or even flinch at the amount they both had spent but that didn’t matter, she still felt guilty.

“Angel your back-hey why are you crying?” Bucky was excited when Martha had told him that the girls were back from their shopping spree, he rushed off upstairs excited to see what she had brought herself, his smile dropping when he sees her sitting on the edge of their bed staring out the many bags sitting in front of her with tears streaming down her cheeks.

“J-James I-I-I spent so much of your money I’m so sorry!”

“Angel, baby hey don’t cry. I don’t care about the money! As long as you had fun and you love the things you got that’s all that matters to me”

“I-it was a lot of money though James”

“It’s okay I promise you, did you have fun?”

“But-“

“Did you?”

“Yes…”

“Then that’s all that matters, why don’t you show me what you got?” He asked with a smile.

Nodding and wiping her cheeks with the sleeve of her his jumper, pulling one of the bags closer to them she begins pulling the clothes out and handing them to him. Oblivious to what Bucky was originally asking for.

Not that he says anything to correct her.

When it gets to showing her the shoes she had gotten he silently thanked Wanda for getting her so more shoes as the only pair Theo had were nearly falling apart from years of usage. Then she started to blush violently as the only two bags left contained bras and underwear. The only things in the bag she was okay showing was the many pairs of socks.

Wanda had noticed that the only bra Theo had was small for her, she had the woman at the store do a correct measurement. “Wa-Wanda said I needed some new… you know… underwear”

“I won’t ask you to show me them, don’t worry. But everything else you got is beautiful baby”

“I got socks” she smiled shyly, slightly feeling silly for being excited to show them to him. Bucky smiled and held one pack after another as she hands them to him. There was only one pack that was plain black, the others were bright and colourful with different patterns and some had cartoons on them.

That’s when it hit him. The jacket he got her.

“I forgot that I had got you something when we went shopping together-“ he says jumping up and moving across the room to the wardrobe “I didn’t know if you would like it at first but seeing what you’ve got, I-I think I did good” handing over the jacket he watched her fingers trace over the stitching on the elbows.

“I-thank you James, I l-love it”

“Do you really?”

“I do, thank you”

“I got you something else, I saw you touching it a-and the way your eyes lit up… anyway here” he hands over the bag and watches her open it. Slowly pulling out the rugged bear with a missing ear her eyes went wide before pulling the bear into her chest. “Do you li-baby a-are you crying?”

“I-it’s mine”

“I know I go-“

“It’s mine Bucky look” showing the bear to Bucky she shows the love heart stitched into the teddies chest. How it missed it is lost on him. On the heart says ‘To my sweetest Theodora. Love your mama always’ hand sewn in white treading. “M-my father said that my mama had the bear when she was a child a-and when she found out she was pregnant with me she stitched the love heart then when she knew I was a girl she had already picked a name out for me. I-I lost Tabby when I was six, I couldn’t find him anywhere”

“You named him Tabby?”

“Yeah, silly I kn-“

“It’s not silly Theo”

“I got him back thanks to you” she smiles up to him.

“You got him back” Bucky mimics her smile.

Theo had always wondered with her bear went though she thought it was probably Eliza’s doing by getting rid of him but she was just six years old so she couldn’t exactly accuse Eliza of doing something that Theo had no proof of doing. But now it didn’t matter as her beloved teddy was back in her arms, the only thing that she had from her mum, the mum that she never met.

And it was all thanks to Bucky.

Seven o’clock arrived quicker than any of them hoped. Steve, Sam, Nat and Wanda were forced to attend the dinner, none of them liked George and though they didn’t know Michael or Eliza, they didn’t like them. They wasn’t stupid when it came to why Theo was timid, they definitely had something to do with it.

Bucky was confused when he walked in the bedroom to see Theo standing there wearing an all-black outfit. He stuttered trying to explain that she was to eat with them and not to be waiting on them like she thought. His heart clenched when she asked if he was sure that she was invited, telling her that she was she gave him a questioning look, so unsure of herself with what to do next.

Theo paced up and down the bedroom floor muttering to herself worrying about what to wear, Bucky told her to wear whatever she was comfortable with, that didn’t help. Not when he wore a light grey suit.

When the knock on the bedroom door pulled her away from her worrying Wanda walked in “okay so I have this dress and this one, which one do you like?”

“I-I don’t know”

“Well try them on and see which one you like better, okay?”

Nodding she takes the dresses out of Wanda’s hands thanking her she shuts the bathroom door behind her. The first one was black with spaghetti straps-absolutely not. Taking it off as quickly as she could she pulled the second one on, dark red in colour with laced sleeves and that went to her knees. Finally gaining the courage to look herself in the mirror she shocked herself by smiling at her reflection.

She liked it.

A lot.

“I-I like this one” Theo says stepping out of the bathroom to where her redheaded friend was waiting in the bedroom.

“Theo…”

“Does it look bad? It looks ba-“

“You’re stunning”

“Don’t lie ple-“

“I’m not lying Theo, I swear”

“D-do you think Bucky would l-like it?” Theo asked blushing.

“Yes” came Wanda’s fast reply. She knew Bucky was going to love seeing the dress on her.

Nat comes in and helps Wanda doing Theo’s hair, talked about putting makeup on her but stopped when Theo looked really uncomfortable by the idea of wearing makeup. Both women complemented her on the fact she didn’t need it in the first place.

Slipping on some black flats she felt stupid by standing next to the two redheads who were dressed glamorously, light makeup on their beautiful faces, heels that made their legs look like they went on forever.

She didn’t fit. She didn’t fit in this lifestyle like her new friends or her father’s daughters. She was the odd one out once again. She didn’t belong at her father’s home or Bucky’s. She didn’t fit in her father’s family or with Bucky’s.

Before the tears could begin to fill her eyes the bedroom door came back open revealing Bucky who remained frozen in the doorway. Wanda had to stop Theo’s hands from pulling the dress further down or run her fingers through her short hair as Bucky’s lack of reaction was making her more unsure of herself.

“Angel… you’re beautiful, I-god-you’re so pretty” his bright blue eyes slowly moved up and down her figure taking in the curves that she had been keeping hidden away by wearing baggy clothes.

“I-“ she slams her lips shut just in time from asking him if she was, because he definitely wasn’t saying it to her. “You look handsome”

Giving her a kiss he informs her that their guests were on their way, he hated it just as much as she did. Bucky preferred if he had never saw any of the them again, aside from his ma.

“Come on my love, let’s get this over and done with” he whispers as the knock on the door reveals the arrival of the four so called parents.

<Previous   Next>

Tags: @sapphirebarnes @bellabarnes1378 @unaxv @skulliecadaver-blog @mrsnikstan @sebastians-love @pattiemac1 @julvrs @undf-stuff

[nebulablakemurphy]

Moves & Countermoves (Part 15)

Summary: No one ever wins the games, even fourteen years later, Y/N is still playing. Warning: depictions of labor/childbirth and violence/death.

Prologue | One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen

“Y/N,” Effie all but accosts the woman emerging from the hallway.

“What’s wrong?” Y/N frowns, bewildered by Effie’s urgency.

She is in tears, “it’s Cinna.”

“What happened to Cinna?”

“He’s…he’s dead.”

Again the floor is falling out from beneath her, sinking, never ending. “How?”

“I don’t know, dear.” Effie breathes, it’s all being kept hush.

“I have to-” Haymitch left before Y/N, allowing her to rest. Her eyes are still swollen from the tears, no amount of sleep or makeup will hide it. “Haymitch is waiting for me.” Does he know?

“Of course,” Effie nods, excusing herself.

Y/N moves for the elevator, jamming the call button repeatedly with her finger. It dings upon arrival, moving at a snail’s pace to the ground floor.

The outdoor viewing area is open today. As if nice weather is reason enough for a picnic, while tributes slaughter each other on screen.

Chaff is still alive; hiding, waiting it out.

The current threat is monkey mutts, blood rain and the giant tidal wave; that sends Peeta and Katniss’ alliance to meet up with Johanna, Wiress and Beetee on the beach.

“Johanna?” Finnick spots her first, covered in blood from head to toe. “Johanna.”

“Finnick!”

“Looks like we have more allies,” Peeta remarks.

Y/N finds her husband, near the far wall of the indoor viewing area. He’s easier to spot in a crowd after all these years, the width of his shoulders, the color of his hair.

“Just couldn’t stay away, huh?” He is tired, worn down and unfortunately, the only news she has to share does nothing to help.

“Cinna’s dead.” Y/N whispers, plopping down in the seat beside him.

“Blight hit the forcefield, died on impact. Female morphling sacrificed herself to save Peeta.” Haymitch adds to the death toll.

“Do you think he lied? Plutarch.” That’s what gamemakers do. They lie to get in your head.

“His plan is to get Katniss out. I don’t think he lied about that.” If they keep this alliance going long enough-

“What about Peeta?” What about everyone else?

Can’t protect anyone in an arena. “He’ll be with Katniss.”

“Tick tock,” Wiress says, for what must be the hundredth time. Grabbing Johanna by the forearms to spin her.

“What’s wrong with her?” Katniss asks.

“She’s in shock, dehydration isn’t helping.” Beetee tells Katniss.

“I’ll get her some water.” Gloss takes the spile into the tree line. His back is torn up pretty good from the mutts.

“Tick tock.”

Katniss leads Wiress out into the water. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Johanna follows, while Beetee stays closer to shore, winding something on a spool.

“What’s Beetee got there?” Katniss wonders.

“Some kind of coil.” Johanna picks pieces of debris from her axe.

“Did he get it from the cornucopia?”

“Took a knife in the back to get it.”

“Tick tock.” Wiress gasps.

“I can’t,” Johanna holds up a hand in defeat. “Have fun with nuts.”

“Tick tock,” Katniss repeats, though it makes little sense to her. Allowing the water to wash away any blood clinging to Wiress’ hair.

Y/N looks to Haymitch, “tick tock?”

He lifts a shoulder, hell if I know.

Lightening strikes the large tree, at the far end of the arena, twelve times. Almost like- “a clock.” Y/N mutters under her breath, “chimes on a clock.”

“Twelve sections.” Haymitch realizes, “everything stays in its own…the forcefields in between.”

“Oh,” Wiress bobs up from the water. “Tick tock.”

“Tick tock,” Katniss says again, “it’s a clock. Wiress, you’re a genius.”

————————————————————————

With this new knowledge, the alliance heads back to the cornucopia.

“It all starts with the lightening. Then the blood rain, fog and monkeys, that’s the first four hours. At ten, that big wave hits from over there.” Katniss pauses to watch Peeta sketch a crude outline of the arena, with his sword.

“The tail points at twelve,” Peeta adds.

“That’s where the lighting strikes, at noon and midnight.”

“Strikes where?” Beetee asks.

“That big tree.”

Beetee cocks his head to the side, “good.”

“Hickory dickory dock, the mouse ran up the clock,” Wiress is singing softly to herself, beside the water.

Gloss takes a seat beside her to keep watch, smiling kindly. He doesn’t know this song.

“What about the other hours, did you guys see anything?” Cashmere asks Johanna and Beetee, hoping to fill in the other six wedges.

“Nothing but blood.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Peeta moves to stand, “as long as we steer clear of whatever sector’s active, we’ll be safe.”

“Yeah,” Finnick chimes in, “relatively speaking.”

Wiress gasps in surprise, drawing their attention.

Brutus is there with his sword buried in Gloss’ sternum. He had shielded Wiress with his own body. Gloss tumbles into the water. Cannon.

Leaving Wiress dead by Enobaria’s hand. Cannon.

Katniss draws her bow, the other victors now on defense.

Cashmere is lost in a fit of rage, knocking Brutus from the rocks.

The archer lands an arrow in Enobaria’s left arm, the career diving back into the water.

Haymitch scrubs a hand over his face. No time to digest the news as the entire cornucopia begins to spin. What the hell are you doing, Plutarch?

Johanna keeps hold of Katniss for as long as she can, but she is eventually lost to the whirling water.

She’ll drown. Y/N gnaws at the inside of her cheek. She’ll drown while I’m sitting here and all I can do is watch.

The spinning stops, the same way it started; suddenly and without cause. Eventually Katniss is able to kick to the surface, the viewing room cheers.

“Let’s just get what we need and get off the bloody island.” Johanna scowls, patting at Katniss’ back while she hacks up water from her lungs.

————————————————————————

“Besides Brutus and Enobaria, who’s left?” Katniss asks, sifting sand between her fingers.

They are back on the beach now.

“Maybe Chaff,” Peeta offers, “just those three.”

“They know they’re outnumbered, I doubt they’ll attack again.” Finnick reasons, “we’re safe here, on the beach.”

Cashmere hasn’t said a word…not since Gloss.

“So what, we hunt them down?”

“Katniss!” Prim’s howl ends the conversation prematurely. “Katniss, help me!”

“Prim!” Katniss takes off; without back up, or logical thought. Prim is in danger and she needs to save her.

“Katniss, wait.” Peeta chases after her, his leg becoming more irritated with every step. Still he presses on, ignoring it as best he can.

The bird carrying Prim’s scream is shot dead. Jabberjays.

Finnick is the fastest, joining Katniss in the clearing. “Katniss, are you ok?”

“Finnick! Ahhhh!” Annie’s voice draws him deeper into the forest.

“Annie! Annie, where are you?”

Peeta pounds his fist uselessly against the forcefield. They can’t hear him, he can’t hear them.

Katniss and Finnick run back towards the beach, only to realize that they are trapped. Birds wailing all around them. Katniss sees Peeta before she collides with the forcefield.

“It’s ok, it’s ok. They’re just mutts, they’re not real.” Peeta yells, hoping Katniss can make out the words.

She screams, covering her ears, crumpling to the ground. Peeta follows; touching his forehead to the forcefield. They wait for the hour to pass.

Y/N’s lower back is taut, spasming and releasing, stealing the air from her lungs.

Haymitch notices the uncomfortable shifting beside him. “You ok?”

Y/N nods, not trusting her own voice.

Haymitch begins thumbing circles along her spine.

————————————————————————

Word comes from Plutarch, the extraction is happening tonight. A hovercraft commandeered by district thirteen will arrive shortly and they will go. Collecting the remaining victors, under the guise of death.

Beetee’s plan is a good one, it will cause enough of a distraction. Using his wire to conduct electricity from the lighting strike at midnight.

“How do we know the wire’s not gonna burn up?” Johanna demands, leaning heavily against a tree branch.

“Because I invented it,” Beetee looks up at her. “I assure you, it won’t burn up.”

Cashmere stares out at the water. The hovercraft never came to collect Gloss’ body. Did the cornucopia tear it up? Or do they just not care enough to recover it?

Finnick returns to the sea, waiting out the sunset.

Katniss and Peeta find solace in each other, the way they always have.

“I think we need to go.”

“This plan’s gonna work,” Peeta disagrees.

“I think so too,” Katniss whispers. “Once the careers are dead, we all know what happens next. I don’t wanna be the one that shoots first.”

“What if they don’t either? What if all of us refuse to shoot first?”

The gamemakers will send mutts, or perhaps gun them down if they’re feeling impatient. “We might still end up dead.”

“Maybe not,” Peeta lifts a shoulder, “I mean it worked for us last time.”

“They’re not gonna make that mistake again. We both know there’s only one person walking out of here and it’s gonna be one of us.”

“The careers are still out there. I say we stick with these guys till midnight, and if we hear a cannon, we go.”

Katniss nods in agreement.

“Katniss, I don’t know what kind of deals you made with Haymitch, but he made me promises too.”

“Way to throw me under the bus, kid.” Haymitch raises his glass to Peeta before chugging it down.

Y/N just shakes her head. For a man who claims he doesn’t love those kids, he sure does make a lot of deals. With them, for them, doing his damnedest to keep them alive.

When the star crossed lovers kiss, there is no denying it’s real. Katniss loves Peeta, Peeta loves her. Finally she understands, what Y/N had been trying to tell her, that day on the train. Peeta is that person; her best friend, her partner, the one who waits.

“Alright, lovebirds.” Johanna calls them back.

What’s left of the alliance heads to the lighting tree.

————————————————————————-

“You two girls go together now.” Beetee hands Katniss and Johanna the wire. “Unspool it carefully, make sure the entire wire is in the water. Then head to the tree at the two o’clock sector, we’ll meet you there.”

“I’m gonna go with them as a guard.” Peeta insists.

“No,” Beetee’s head snaps toward him. “You’re staying here to protect me…and the tree.”

“No, I need to go with her.” Peeta is not backing down.

“They’re trying to separate them.” Madge realizes, pulling the throw pillow into her lap. The children and her mother are asleep, leaving only her and her father on the couch.

Y/N’s family set up camp in Victor’s Village, providing Everest and Arista some normalcy. In their own house, in their own beds. They are often found in their parent’s room, clinging to pieces they left behind.

“I’m sure there’s a reason.” The mayor shoots his daughter a reassuring smile.

They rarely watch the games together, not since she was a child. Under different circumstances Madge might think their time spent together was nice.

Katniss leaves with Johanna. Staring back at Peeta until the darkness swallows his silhouette.

A few feet later Katniss feels a bit of resistance from the line, tugging lightly. Must be stuck on a rock. “It’s caught on something.”

Brutus cuts the wire, sending the loose end flying back toward Katniss.

Johanna turns on her then, slicing a gash in Katniss’ arm and smearing the blood across her neck. “Stay down.” She tosses her axe at the careers and darts off into the woods.

Katniss pushes herself upright once their footsteps are out of earshot. “Peeta.”

“Johanna,” Finnick comes to check on his friend, after the commotion.

Katniss remains silent, allowing him to pass her by. Gathering her bow, she heads back to the tree.

Cashmere is missing and Peeta is gone. Leaving only Beetee; unconscious and twitching after an ill fated tryst with the conductor.

His spear harbors the evidence, wire still wrapped around it’s blade.

A cannon sounds, symbolizing Chaff’s death.

“Peeta!” Katniss screams.

Finnick sprints back toward the sound, “Katniss, where are you?”

She draws her bow, aimed at Finnick as he returns.

“Remember who the real enemy is.”

Just like Haymitch said…

The artificial storm cloud looms above them, and Katniss knows what must be done. There is only one shot at this, one way it ends.

“Katniss, get away from that tree,” Finnick warns.

She does not heed it, preparing for her final act. Twisting the wire around her arrow, a single shot toward the bolt of lightning. Her body is sent flying when it collides.

The screen goes black, Madge’s mouth agape. Nothing like this has ever happened. What will happen? What will Snow do?

She doesn’t have long to agonize over the prospect before the old communication system hums to life. Static cracking through the speaker. A jumble of nonsense and then a voice, her voice. Madge would know it anywhere.

“Into the woods-”

“Y/N,” Mayor Undersee nearly trips in his haste to reach the receiver. “Sweetheart, are you there?”

“District twelve…” the line crackles, “into the woods.” Then she is gone.

They aren’t able to revive the signal.

“We have to move.” Madge understands.

“She wasn’t making any sense.” Her father argues. “It might be safer if we stay-”

“Y/N is stuck in the Capitol, that may be the last message she ever sends and she sent it here. To you, to me. So we have a chance.”

He squares his jaw, struggling to accept this news. Not because he thinks his daughter is wrong…because he knows that she is right.

“I’m gonna warn the Everdeens and then I’m taking Everest and Arista into the woods where it’s safe. Pounding on doors and screaming, all the way, for our people to follow.”

“Get the kids ready to move, I’ll get your mother.”

“Thank you.” Madge says, chest heaving as she turns on her heels. Waking the children, taking nothing but the clothes on their backs.

Her parents are waiting at the door, with Gale and Katniss’ family.

“How long do we have?” Gale asks, Primrose and Miss Everdeen tucked away behind him.

“Hovercrafts could be here in an hour, maybe two.” The mayor informs him.

“Something tells me they’re in a hurry.”

————————————————————————

“I need you to take a big breath for me.” Haymitch is kneeling in front of his wife. Cupping her face in his hands, the line is down, they can no longer communicate with district twelve.

“I can’t.” Y/N claws at his hands, unable to deny that she’s having contractions, no more than two minutes apart. “Haymitch…” what if they didn’t get the message.

“Everest and Arista are gonna be waiting for us. Madge too.” Haymitch knows it. There is no other outcome. “Thirteen is sending hovercrafts for evacuation as soon as possible.”

“Did we get Peeta?”

“We have Katniss, Beetee, Finnick and Cashmere, for now. The pilot is swinging back around for Peeta and Johanna.” They only have a few minutes before the Capitol fleet arrives. “We’re gonna get them, ok?”

Y/N nods, breathing out through her nose.

“I need you to focus on this.” He runs a hand over her belly, tense with another contraction. “Healthy baby, healthy you.”

————————————————————————

Katniss startles awake, an oxygen mask tied to her face. She’s in the hovercraft. They’re taking us to the Capitol. Beetee is beside her, still unconscious. They must be holding Peeta elsewhere.

The last thing she remembers is the arrow firing, broken pieces of the arena falling around her and the claw.

“Ahhhhhhh!” A piercing scream echoes through the hovercraft.

All the more terrifying because Katniss knows it, she heard it among the jabberjays. Y/N. They are torturing her. Katniss can’t say how, but it must be something awful. Tearing the flesh from her body…

Removing the mask, she scans the area for something, anything she can use, a syringe. All she needs is a clear shot at one of her veins, save Y/N from whatever they’re planning to do next. Then she would move on to Peeta, spare him this hell.

Katniss hides the weapon behind her back, tapping the glowing access panel to open the door.

Y/N is there, sweat clings the material of her dress to her body; mouth open in an agonized howl.

Haymitch is seated behind her, keeping her upright, holding her hands. Cashmere is perched between her legs.

Finnick spots Katniss first, from his place beside Plutarch, at the holographic display table. “Katniss.”

“Katniss?” Y/N repeats, eyes searching for her.

The syringe clatters to the ground, Katniss charging toward her and crouching at her side.

“Honey, are you ok?” Y/N shakes one hand free from Haymitch’s grasp, reaching for her.

Katniss, takes it, pressing her cheek against the back of her mentor’s hand. No. “I thought…”

Y/N bears down as another contraction ripples through her abdomen.

“That was good.” Cashmere nods, patting Y/N’s knee.

“What is that?” Y/N’s given birth twice before, this is different.

“Just keep doing what you’re doing.” Cashmere encourages as tiny feet appear, “everything is ok.” It’s not ideal, but if they keep the baby moving-

“Where’s Peeta?” Katniss turns to Haymitch.

His eyes are glossy, hesitant to reply, “he’s in the Capitol. They got him and Johanna. We couldn’t get to him in time. But we’re gonna talk to President Coin when we get to district thirteen and figure out the best way to get him back.”

You’re a liar. Katniss wants to scream it, to slap him, hard, for breaking his promise. But it will have to wait. You promised to save him over me.

Exhausted and frustrated, Y/N reaches a hand down to make sense of what’s happening. “Breech?”

“Yeah,” Cashmere breathes.

Finnick is just beyond the blonde’s shoulder, a pained expression on his face. Or perhaps nauseated, watching over Y/N without actively watching.

“Once we deliver the shoulders, it should be easy.” Katniss has seen this before, her mother delivered a handful of breech babies, as a healer. The women of district twelve would call on her when the babies got stuck.

Y/N pushes again, crying out as she does.

Haymitch rests his cheek against the crown of her head. “I’m sorry.” He apologizes to the sound of her sobs. “I’m so sorry.”

Y/N continues, the same way Haymitch has known her to face any difficulty, with fierce determination. The infant is placed on her chest, kicking and crying. Healthy; same as her brother and sister before her.

Part 16

Series Taglist: @praline357 @flowercrowns-goodvibes @justheretoparty420 @avocadotoastwithegg @treehouse-mouse @emo-markie @spilled-mi1k @magical-spit @greaser9902 @jessicamellarky @yourebuckingkiddingme @smuha2004 @sendhelplease @ninimackbrews @wittiestrain184 @r1dd1kulus @erenluvr69 @helpimhyperfixating @jackierose902109 @jellybear455 @dreammgc @dadbodfanatic-x @ftdtcmlovr @inky-sun @ms-brek-ker @undercover55655

[lightwing-s]

15 and 18 with Jason?

It was one of those rare nights when the Red Hood didn’t come out, and in his place, boyfriend!Jason would take over.

Tonight, he had planned a whole date at a fancy restaurant, much to your surprise, as you rarely went on those, preferring much more a chill family thing to an over expensive, overcrowded and overrated four to five stars option.

Dressed to the nines, Jason almost gave up his plan entirely when you opened your apartment door to greet him, the high slit on the skirt of your black chiffon an invitation to dirtier, unholy thoughts. He kissed the back of your hand, treating you like a proper lady. Opening doors and holding them until you passed, helping you down the stairs, and overall being the perfect gentlemen.

Until traffic decided to ruin everything.

A once in a lifetime thing, Jason chose car over bike, and now you sat on the road, nearing the second hour in a dragged out traffic jam. Tapping the steering wheel incessantly, your boyfriend checked his designer watch, an accessory you’d never seen him wear before, for what seemed to be the hundredth time.

“... in Gotham City, home to rich history, an exciting art scene, excellent education…” chimed the lady on the radio.

“Oh yeah. Nothing to complain here.” your boyfriend mumbled, the gold ring on his pinky finger becoming a stress relief toy between his teeth.

“Oh, babe,” you sang, taking his other hand and intertwining your fingers. “Don’t worry about it, we can still have fun.”

“But I-I had this all planned out, for months. This restaurant has this really long waiting list and I’ve been trying to get reserv…”

You cut his frustrated rambling, placing a chaste kiss on his plump pouty lips. Opening your eyes slowly, you met his, eyebrows low in a clear look of apology. “Don’t worry about it, Jay.”

After a long sigh, a smile finally returned to his face, a bit forced, the anger at the universe for ruining your date not gone from his head, but anything to make you happy.

“What about we just order pizza and eat in the car?” you offered, getting him grinning in amusement. “What? It’s a great idea.”

“I’m not saying anything.” he threw his hand up in defense. “A motorcycle would’ve clearly made it to that restaurant in less than an hour.”

Slapping his shoulder at his complaint, you giggle at his pouty self, kissing all over his face to make him feel better.

“Move on, you son of a bitch!” a man screamed from outside, followed by a honk and another curse, your heads turning to the side to catch the source of such foul words.

“Someone is impatient.” Jason stated, earning from you a raised eyebrow at his hypocrisy.

Continuous honking and swearing cursed the next couple of minutes in that car, causing both you and Jason to lose your patience. But it was one curse, one rotten, mean spirited sentence, that had your blood boiling, hand flying to open the car door and slap some sense into this man.

"Mark my words, this will not end cute." You said, one leg already halfway out the door.

In a quick, solid movement, one only a well trained vigilante could perform, Jason pulled you back in, closing the door on the way, the sound of lock swiftly following along. Seeing your angry face, he let off a laugh, holding your face between his hands and filling your face with kisses.

“Look who’s the grumpy one now.” he laughed, pinching your cheeks.

“He’s the one who’s being an asshole.” you complained, crossed your arms on your chest, something that only amused Jason even more, another breathy laugh slipping out of him.

“You're so cute.” he cooed, pecking the tip of your nose. 

Fumbling around with his suit pocket, he takes out his phone, handing it to you still locked. “Here, call the pizza place. We ain’t leaving here any time soon.”