#and damn this idiot for doubting her | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

telephoniii · 3 months ago

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WHY WOULD A FELLOW WANT A GIRL LIKE HER?

☆彡 in which malleus and leona fight for your affections

leona kingscholar x gn!reader & malleus draconia x gn!reader

word counter: 4K

warnings: reader is prefect, cursing, love triangle, possible ooc

a/n: based off of the song “stepsister’s lament” from cinderella the musical— hence the title. one of my favorite works!! I had fun writing this!! both mal and leona are capital p PETTY and I'm living for it. i hope you enjoy :>

No matter how much he claims he doesn't care, Leona finds himself hissing at the sight of you and Malleus together. He wants to deny it so badly— but deep down he knows.

He knows as he glares at you, sitting on a bench beside the fae, giggling and having a jolly old time. He’s well aware of what he’s feeling as he scoffs, telling the greedy hyena beside him that he’s returning to the dorm.

And he’s fully conscious as he lays in bed, staring at the ceiling; unable to get the image of you and that spiny horned reptile out of his head.

He’s jealous. Envious. And any damn variation of the sort.

Out of all the people you could choose to spend your time with, you pick that slimy lizard?!

Your taste is questionable—who’s he kidding? Absolutely awful. Really, going for the guy who doesn’t age? Ever think about how awkward it’s going to be when you’re getting hip pains and he still looks like a teenager? Hell, he’s not one for settling down but wouldn’t you at least want someone with the capacity of growing old together?!

What does that scaley little scumbag do for you anyway?

Sure, Malleus does gift you little trinkets you’ve mentioned in passing. Leona isn’t blind; he can see the way you light up at these gifts. He distinctly remembers seeing a dorky gargoyle keychain on your bag. It stank of that fae freak.

Yet you seemed to adore the tiny statue, so much so that you went on a small rant about the history. To Leona’s surprise, he listened to every single word you had to say about it. Gargoyles are always way more interesting when it’s you talking about it.

Though, everything involving you is more interesting nowadays… He had to resist the urge to sand that stupid little toy right then and there.

And he’s well aware of the ‘secret’ walks the two of you have at unholy times of the night, talking about whatever that overgrown lizard is interested in. The way you speak of it like nobody knows is irritating. Only an idiot wouldn’t pick up on it.

Too bad NRC is full of idiots.

It’s not like it matters too much anyway. He doubts Malleus has the charisma to charm you. The guy isn’t invited to a whole lot of events for a reason. While Leona knows he can come off as a prick, he’s still a prince nonetheless. He was taught how to flatter and flirt— he remembers being surrounded by a bunch of bootlickers as a cub.

He isn’t intimidated by Malleus’s magic all too much either. Although he’s more than sure you wouldn’t fall for a person solely based on their strength, Leona believes he could take on Malleus. The lizard is painfully predictable after all.

Not to mention most of his ‘shows of power’ are akin to temper tantrums. If dueling wasn’t banned, that pathetic excuse of a dragon would be dragged in the mud by him.

Everything Malleus does for you, he could do better. He’s sure of it.

Beneath the surface, is he scared of coming second place to yet another person? Terrified that he’ll always be the second-best choice? That all the time spent with you would never be more than that? Maybe.

But those night terrors are lessened when he sees you approach— knowing he was the sole reason you were there.

Leona feels his heart race as you sit beside him, casually talking about your day and whatever hijinks you got into. He worries you might hear just how fast it beats for you when you nap with him, laying your head on his chest.

As he hears you mumble his name in your sleep, he feels reassured that he’s your one.

I mean— why would someone as great as you ever want a flimsy, little lizard? Especially when he’s right here, ready to be your pillow in hard and happy times.

A green thunderbolt struck through the sky. Coincidentally, you happened to be napping on Leona outside when this happened— shaking the both of you awake.

Did Malleus do this on purpose?… Of course not. He’s not immature enough to do that, unlike a certain lion he knows.

It’s not his fault that you two were cuddling outside when he was ‘testing’ out something with his thunder.

That doesn’t mean he was any less satisfied watching you get up and walk back to your dorm, leaving that mangy cat by himself.

He never understood what value you gained from hanging around someone as…unusual as Kingscholar. A ‘prince’ who lays around, sleeping the day away? What a joke! Wouldn’t you rather have a prince— better yet a ruler— who’s proactive in his kingdom?

That flappy street cat is better suited to accompany Grim rather than yourself.

He doubts Kingscholar would hold open the door for you like he does!

Malleus has heard it’s a human custom to do so; ever since then, he’s now perfected the art of swiftly rushing over to a door and slamming it open for you. It delights him when you giggle at his antics. He bets that idiotic lion would never be able to do that— Kingscholar barely moves anyway. It’s like he’s glued to that bed of his.

Kingscholar seems as though he’d let the door slam in your face. That alone just shows how superior Malleus is to him.

Although, Kingscholar’s words of advice indeed seemed to matter to you quite a lot. Every time you had attracted chaos, you commonly turned to the lazy loaf and asked for his perspective. And each time, without fail, Mal had watched you take the prince’s suggestion in stride and use it.

It pains him to admit it, sometimes Kingscholar can be rather clever. Malleus is somewhat glad that said lion uses his intelligence to keep you safe.

He doesn’t know what, but something about Kingscholar’s mere existence seems to relax you. Malleus has seen you look at ease in a way he’s never witnessed before when you simply just lay beside the other student. He watches with envy as Kingscholar’s tail protectively wraps around your thigh.

As long as you’re safe… Malleus supposes he can bear through you hanging out with the lion.

That won’t stop him from interrupting the two of you whenever he feels the time is right. Sudden bolts of thunder, random objects falling from the sky and hitting Kingscholar on the head, out-of-the-blue power outages…

It’s all fair play to him. You still get to hang out with that lazy excuse of a prince anyway.

It doesn’t matter too much to him— at least that’s what he tells himself. It’s not as though you’d leave him to hang out with Kingscholar; no, you’d never.

You’ll stay, won’t you?

He’s sure of it as you walk beside him in the dead of night. Nobody else knows, nor do they need to as you two stroll along the campus. Seeing your enthusiastic smile next to him as you talk about your dreams fills him with unexplainable joy. Malleus fights the urge to hold your hand, interlocking your fingers with his.

You seemed to have read his mind— you always do understand him like no other— as you glanced down at your hands. A small giggle leaves your lips before you inch your hand closer to his.

“Can we…?” You hum with hopeful and amused eyes.

Wordlessly, Malleus indulges now with your consent. The warmth of your hand compared to the polarizing coldness of his made him feel dizzy. In a good way.

You’ll never leave him. At least not when you're hand in hand together like this.

“Man I’m starving— Hurry it up, henchman!” A familiar, squeaky voice demanded as Grim pushed on your shoulder.

“Patience, patience. This is very important. It can determine my mood for the rest of the day.” You murmured, standing strong despite Grim’s efforts. Narrowing your eyes, you stared at the different lunch options.

What were you going to eat today?

“Prefect has a point. Your nutrition affects the way you function.” Jack shrugs behind Grim, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You say that like they’re going to eat something healthy.” Ace yawns, stretching out his arm and lightly hitting Deuce. “Hurry it up, Prefect! Clock’s ticking!”

“Fine! Fine!” Quickly, you grabbed the same thing you’ve gotten for the past week. A series of groans emerged from behind you.

“All that time just to get that?” Ace crossed his arms, giving you an unamused look.

“Okay, I’ll get something else then—“

“—Nononononono!” Practically everyone behind you yelled in a panic.

“Just go sit down ‘n secure us a table already!” Epel huffs, to which you happily comply.

You scout out the area, looking for a free table to sit at. Geez, was the cafeteria always this packed?

A sigh of relief escapes your lips as you spot a familiar, robotic Shroud waving to you from a table.

“Prefect!” Ortho chirps, his voice synthesizer going a pitch up. Just as you were about to walk over, you felt your blazer being pulled on from the back. Suddenly, you were yanked away.

“Ay! Watch it—!” You grab the hand that was pulling on you, turning around to come face to face with a smug Ruggie.

“Leona’s callin’ you.”

You rolled your eyes.

“He didn’t want to send a text or call? He just had to send a goon to come and get me?”

Ruggie nodded with a cheeky grin.

“Yep.”

Groaning, you turn towards Ortho and wave him goodbye, signaling that you are going to leave. “Lead the way, hyena.”

And with that, you found yourself walking through the hallways on your way to Savanaclaw. You hope Ortho told the others about you leaving. It kinda slipped your mind to tell them.

You snapped out of your thoughts as you heard munching coming from Ruggie— “Wait, that's my lunch you’re eating! How’d you even…!? When did you…?!”

It also slipped your mind that Ruggie is both a great thief and greedy when it comes to food.

“Shishishishi… you left yourself open, Prefect! I’m sure Leona will get you something else to eat. He always does.”

“Always is a stretch.” You grumble, watching Ruggie eat your food. “Is it?” You didn’t want to ponder his question.

Instead, you turn your gaze ahead of you and focus on walking… At least that’s what you would be doing if you didn’t walk face-first into somebody.

“Gah! I’m so sorry—“ “Child of man.”

Only one person used that nickname for you. Looking up, you were met with Malleus’s amused smile.

“Impeccable timing,” The fae seemed happy to see you. You could see his fangs the way he was smiling. Ruggie was unsettled but thankful that Malleus was ignoring his presence. “Would you accompany me for lunch? Lilia, Sebek, and Silver will be there too, of course.”

You were about to accept right away before you felt a light hit to your side. Ruggie sneakily elbowed you. Before you could curse at him, he gave you a look and— Oh, right. You were going with him to spend lunch with Leona already. A small frown made its way on your lips as you turned back to Malleus.

Great sevens, it was hard to turn him down. Especially when he was all cheery like this.

Fortunately— or unfortunately, you didn’t have to. A roaring voice from behind you did it for you.

“Herbivore’s coming with me. They agreed to it already.” Leona huffed, a scowl clear on his face as he approached. Ruggie seemed surprised.

“Leona?! What’re you—“ “Did they now? I didn’t exactly hear them say no to my proposal though.” Malleus interrupted Ruggie, whose ears went flat against his head.

“They don’t need to. They’ve already got plans.” The lion growled, narrowing his eyes at the other third year.

Malleus stepped forward, the fae’s irritation growing. “Why do you insist on speaking for them so vigorously? My dear child of man, don’t let him dictate your choices—“

“I’m not doing shit. Just stating what they already agreed to.” Leona also stepped forward, refusing to back down.

You were starting to get worried and turned your head to murmur something to Ruggie. Except Ruggie wasn’t there. The hyena snuck off already. Bastard. A voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Well, Prefect? Who would you rather accompany? Kingscholar— who’ll likely laze around the whole lunch— or I?”

“Damn lizard…” Leona grumbled under his breath before shaking his head and facing you. “Well? The choice is yours. I wouldn’t force you to do anything.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, your gaze flickering between the two. “Well… I—“

Before you could finish, you were interrupted by a loud ring.

The lunch bell had rung. It was time to head back to class.

“Are you doing okay?” You ask, shifting closer to Leona. He lets out a small grunt in response, his eyes closed as he sprawled out in his usual spot inside the Botanical Garden.

For as tough as Leona was, he was unusually soft when tired. He carried this relaxing air around him. That no matter what happens, you’ll be okay with him around. The thought makes you smile as you tilt your head at him.

He was also kinda cute when he laid there like that—

“Quit staring.”

Leona abruptly huffed out. Blinking in surprise, you soon realize that one of his eyes was cracked open. A tiny blush finds its way on your cheeks while he stutters out an apology. The lion’s lips soon form a smug grin.

“You were looking at me pretty attentively, herbivore…” His words are slow and agonizing. Leona’s tail swishes up and down as he leans in closer. Your eyes widen as he comes mere inches away from your face; from your lips.

“…Got something you want to tell me?” You feel your breath hitched at the sudden, feather-light touch of Leona’s hand against yours. Just as you were about to respond—

“Roi du Lions!”

The romantic atmosphere Leona so carefully built went down the drain, along with his motivation. A groan left his lips.

“Sorry, we didn’t mean to interrupt.” Trey soon appears behind Rook, an apologetic expression on his face. You shake your head, standing up.

“You’re good! What’re you two up to?”

Leona had an annoyed look on his face as you engaged with the other students. He tried to ignore and drown out everyone’s voices. At least he was, till Rook caught his attention.

“During an exploration for new ingredients that we could bring to our club, Roi de Dragons made a magical appearance.“ You raised a brow while Leona’s ear flicked.

Trey let out a small chuckle at Rook’s dramatic storytelling.

“Malleus just asked us to find something for him in the Botanical Garden.”

Leona’s scowl deepened. That damn lizard.

“Maybe we could help! What’re you looking for?” You offered.

Trey soon fiddled with his pocket, searching for something. Shortly after, he pulls out a piece of paper. “A… toy? It looks like this. Malleus said he last had it here.”

You made an “O” shape with your mouth. “His virtual pet! Gao-Gao!” Trey lets you hold the paper, letting you get a closer look at the drawing that resembled Malleus’s Tamogachi.

“I know what it looks like, I’ve got no idea where he could’ve left it though…” Soon enough, you, Trey, and Rook are scouring the Botanical Gardens for this little toy. Leona finds this stupid.

Slightly bitter about his ruined moment, he lays back down to take a nap.

That’s when his ear flinched after hitting something hard. Turning around with a displeased look, Leona’s eyes narrowed.

There, in his favorite sleeping spot was Malleus’s dumb toy —which wasn’t there literally minutes ago might he add. Picking it up, Leona contemplated crushing the small electronic. However, as he held it, the lion was quick to notice a bit of ink getting on his fingers.

He turned the Tamogachi around. Written on the back with a blue pen was “Kingscholar :)”

Oh, that fucking Draconia did this on purpose.

Sitting up from your bed, you rub your eyes. With an annoyed groan, you get up and go to the door— trying not to wake Grim in the process. You could feel the ghost watching with curiosity. Not that you blamed them. Hell, you were curious too!

Who was knocking at 2 in the morning!?

The sun wasn’t even up. Ramshackle probably looked horrid, inside and outside, at this time.

You weren’t looking too great either: bags beneath your eyes, saggy pajamas, slouched posture… Vil would die on the spot if he saw you. Internally, you prayed it was anybody but him. And thank the Sevens that your prayer was answered.

You titled your head in confusion at the one in front of you.

“Malleus?” He smiled back at you. As though his appearance on your doorstep at the crack ass of dawn was the most normal thing ever.

“Greetings.”

You shook your head, still waking up and trying to make sense of the situation. “Do… Do you need something?”

Now he looked confused. Which only heightened your confusion. The fae furrowed his brows. “Did you not want to talk, child of man?”

“I like talking with you! Just, preferably not this early in the morning— Look, why are you here? Did you just want to hang out, Tsunotarou?” You tried being as polite as possible, but damn you were tired.

Malleus looked just as lost as you.

“…Perhaps you’ve forgotten about the letter you sent me?” You look to the side, slightly scrunching your nose as you try to remember what ‘letter’ he was referring to.

“Uhh— When did I send this letter?” You give him an apologetic smile. It wasn’t too far-fetched; the idea of you giving him an invitation to Ramshackle.

However, you feel as though you would’ve remembered if you had actually done it. And you would’ve hoped that past you would be smart enough to set your invitation time to anytime BUT 2 AM.

“I recall receiving this letter yesterday, in the library,” Malleus explained, his hand reaching into his pocket to find said paper. “You slipped it to me when you walked by—“

The fae grabbed his invitation, only for him to be met with sand that trickled down his hand.

“—with Kingscholar…” He fell silent as he stared at the tiny particles in his hand. You seemed to catch on quickly, giving him a sympathetic look as your eyes flickered between the sand and him.

“Tsunotarou, did you see me give you this letter?”

The way he averted his eyes to the side, his pale cheeks faintly turning pink from embarrassment, already gave you the answer you needed. It’d be cute if not for the circumstances. As expected, Malleus shook his head.

“My apologies… I assumed it was you since I had acquired it right after you had waved at me and it was an invitation to Ramshackle.”

You let out a small chuckle before brushing off the sand that still dirtied his hand. “Don’t sweat it. It’s not your fault that Leona is… well Leona and he does stuff like this.” Offering Malleus a smile, your hand soon intertwined with his. The blush on his cheeks subtly brightened.

“Well, you did come all this way just to hang out. It’d be a shame to turn you away now. Here, come.” You kick the door to open it wider and pull the fae inside Ramshackle. Leading him to the couch, you could gauge that Malleus was amused by your antics. Practically dragging one of the top mages in the world by the arm into your dorm…

“Let me just freshen up first! Wait here— I’ll be right back. Then we could watch some movies or whatever.” You shrugged with a grin before running upstairs to wash up. Malleus gave you a polite and happy wave as you exited.

Once you left, he let out a sigh and leaned back on the couch. His hands balled into fists as he felt more sand pooling in his pockets. A green bolt of lightning struck from the sky.

That measly fucking lion.

You let out an aggravated sigh. Did they not think you realized what both of them were doing to each other? Between the Tamagotchi incident and the whole letter debacle a few nights ago, they were being so obvious.

Jeez, you get that they had a rivalry going on and whatnot, but why did they have to involve you? Fed up and rambling, you look to your side at Grim to get his thoughts on the matter. He sat next to you in the kitchen, munching away on a can of tuna.

“They’re getting really annoying! Stealing my henchmen’s time like that…” A chuckle left your lips at Grim’s bitterness, causing you to pet him on the head.

“Mhm. I just want them to quit it— at least around me. I’m good friends with both and care a lot about them… Also, don’t talk with a mouthful.” You lightheartedly huff, getting up from your seat to grab Grim another can of tuna as he was beginning to finish his first. He usually ate two to three cans before bedtime.

“Why don’t ya just tell 'em?” The cat curiously asked with a tilt of the head, staring at you. You let out a snort. “Yeah, just tell two extremely powerful mages with an intense hatred for one another to stop. Like that’ll work.”

Grim let out an annoyed groan at your sarcasm. You opened a new can of tuna and slid it to him. His frown quickly disappeared as he began to dig in.

“Eh— sounds like Leona and Malleus could use some quality time together.” Grim offhandedly comments, chewing away on his food.

“What did I say about talking with a mouthful, man?” You roll your eyes before falling silent, pondering his words. Quality time… Leona… Malleus…

“Grim! You’re a genius!”

“Herbivore, what the hell.” Leona’s tone was unamused, giving you a deadpan look.

“I thought it’d be nice if we hung out all together! As a group?”

The two men stared daggers at each other across the small, dusty table in Ramshackle. With a nervous chuckle, your eyes flickered between the two as you slowly passed out cards for some random board game that Idia lent you.

Leona and Malleus didn’t take their eyes off one another. It was at this moment you were starting to think that Grim, in fact, was not a genius.

These two were definitely going to kill each other.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x you #twst x yuu #malleus draconia x reader #malleus x you #malleus draconia x you #malleus x reader #twst fanfic #twst x you #twst x y/n #leona kingscholar x reader #leona x reader #leona x yuu #leona x y/n #leona x you #leona kingscholar x yuu

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fanfictionismyaddiction · 2 months ago

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Ultimate Glow-Up – Part 2

Part 1

Word count: 704

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Summary: Lando is thrilled to reunite with his childhood best friend Y/n – until he realizes she has a boyfriend

________________________________________________________

Lando was, without a doubt, experiencing a full system malfunction.

Because Y/n—his childhood best friend, his former awkward-phase companion, the same girl who used to send him Minecraft memes at 3 AM—was giggling at something Oscar said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, and Lando was standing there like a complete idiot, staring at her like she’d just walked out of a damn movie.

This was not fair.

“Earth to Lando.” Y/n waved a hand in front of his face, snapping him out of his trance. “You okay? You look like you just got hit with a blue shell.”

Lando blinked. “I—yeah, no, totally fine. Just—” Just having a minor crisis because I think I might have a crush on you now, and that’s really inconvenient, actually.

He cleared his throat. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

She grinned. “Yeah, well, I was in town, and I thought, ‘Hey, why not check out the Grand Prix and see if my old best friend is still driving in circles for a living?’”

Lando rolled his eyes. “Wow. You make it sound so impressive.”

“Oh, it is.” Y/n nodded, dead serious. “So impressive that I even convinced my friend to tag along. Speaking of which…”

She turned and gestured to someone behind her. Lando was too busy fighting a ridiculous smile to process what she’d said, so when he looked up and saw some ridiculously tall, broad-shouldered, objectively good-looking guy walking over—with his arm around Y/n’s waist—he almost had an aneurysm.

“Oh,” Lando blurted out. “Who’s this?”

Y/n, completely oblivious to the way Lando’s brain was short-circuiting, beamed. “This is Ethan! We met a few months ago. He’s the one who got me into F1, actually. Can you believe I never really watched it before?”

Lando could believe it, because back when they were kids, Y/n was much more interested in Redstone contraptions than racing cars. But at the moment, the only thing his brain could focus on was the fact that Ethan—this guy—was standing way too close to her.

Lando plastered on a smile. “Ethan. Right. Nice to meet you.”

Ethan, to his credit, seemed nice enough. He reached out for a handshake, and Lando shook his hand, possibly a little too hard.

“So, you two have known each other for a while?” Ethan asked.

Lando forced a laugh. “Oh yeah. Since we were kids. She used to kick my ass in every game we played.”

Y/n laughed. “Still would, if you ever picked up a controller again.”

Lando opened his mouth to say something smug in response, but then Ethan did the unthinkable.

He leaned down and kissed Y/n’s temple.

Lando’s brain completely flatlined.

Nope. No. Absolutely not.

This was a disaster. A catastrophe. A red flag moment.

Because surely—surely—Y/n wouldn’t have just shown up looking like a walking dream, obliterated Lando’s ability to form coherent thoughts, and then casually introduced him to her boyfriend. Right?

Right???

Y/n, still blissfully unaware of Lando’s inner turmoil, looked up at Ethan with an affectionate smile. “I was just telling Lando how you got me into F1.”

Ethan grinned. “Yeah, took some convincing, but once she saw a few races, she was hooked.”

Lando wanted to argue that he had been talking about F1 for years, but apparently, it had taken Ethan to get her interested? Unbelievable.

Oscar, who had been standing off to the side watching this unfold like it was a Netflix drama, finally decided to intervene. “Well, Y/n, since you’re here, you should let Lando show you around the paddock.”

Lando shot him a look that said Are you kidding me?

Oscar just smiled.

Y/n’s face lit up. “That would be amazing!” She turned to Ethan. “What do you think?”

Ethan nodded. “Go for it. I’ll grab us some drinks and meet you later.”

Lando’s stomach twisted uncomfortably, but he pushed it down. He wasn’t jealous. He refused to be jealous.

Because Y/n was his best friend. That’s all.

Even if she looked like that now.

Even if her laugh made his heart do stupid things.

Even if he kind of, sort of, really wanted to be the one kissing her temple instead.

Yeah.

Lando was so screwed.

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niilue · 6 months ago

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please omg could i request arguing with emo pitfighter vi then her accidentally grabbing reader's boob????

⎯"when you're arguing with vi and she accidentally grabs your boob.”⎯

cw: drabble, fem!reader, funny situation, sfw, emo vi, teasing vi is an idiot, she's cute tho,

the air in the training basement was heavy, echoing with constant punches and the metallic scent of sweat. vi, with her usual bandages wrapped around her torso and fresh scars, was completely immersed in her routine. her black hair, with red streaks, fell messily over her forehead, and her hardened expression left no doubt: she was in a foul mood.

you found her as always, pounding away at a sandbag with a rage that seemed endless. but this time, you didn’t plan on letting her get away with it. after what happened in zaun and the thoughtless things she had said, you needed to have a conversation—even if it meant facing her bad temper.

you approached her, crossing your arms.

—"are you going to keep ignoring me, or are you actually going to act like an adult for once?"

vi didn’t bother turning around, but her frown deepened as she threw another direct punch that nearly burst the bag.

—"i’m not in the mood, alright? go bother someone else."

you let out a dramatic sigh, knowing exactly how to push her buttons.

—"sure, because vi wouldn’t be vi if she weren’t burying her problems under tons of ‘yelling and punching.’ so mature. is that all you know how to do?"

that finally got her attention. vi slowly turned her head toward you, her icy blue eyes sparking with irritation.

—"do you have something to say to me, or did you just come here to piss me off?" —she snapped, her tone dripping with sarcasm and repressed frustration.

you stepped closer, undaunted by her height or her fighter’s stance.

—"i have plenty to say, but you seem to need a manual to understand the basics. like, for example: don’t be an idiot to the people trying to help you."

vi scoffed, raising an eyebrow as she crossed her arms.

—"help me? really?" —she laughed sarcastically, leaning slightly toward you—. "because from here, it looks more like you’re looking for a fight."

—"oh, i’m sorry!" —you said with mock sincerity, throwing up your hands—. "i forgot the only way you process emotions is with your fists. maybe i should bring you a bag to punch instead of asking you to talk like a normal person."

that made her clench her jaw, and vi took a step toward you, clearly losing her patience.

—"look, i didn’t ask you to come here and give me a lecture, alright?"

the confrontation reached its peak when she tried to step closer, lifting her hand in an exaggerated gesture, and accidentally ended up grabbing… well, you know. your right boob.

both of you froze completely. vi, with her eyes wide as saucers and her hand still there, yanked it back as if she’d been electrocuted.

—"for the love of…! shit, i’m sorry! i…!" —she stammered, her cheeks flushing bright red, her expression oscillating between horror and embarrassment—. "it wasn’t on purpose! i swear i wasn’t… looking or anything!"

it was an absolute disaster. you stood there for a moment, processing what had just happened, until you finally burst out laughing. vi looked even more confused, which somehow made it even better.

—"wow, vi!" —you said, wiping a tear of laughter from your cheek—. "if you wanted to grab me, you could’ve just asked, you know? though, for a professional fighter, your coordination is zero."

—"shut up!" —vi groaned, covering her face with her hands, clearly wanting to disappear on the spot—. "it was an accident, damn it!"

—"an accident? really?" —you put your hands on your hips, leaning slightly toward her to tease her more—. "because it felt pretty deliberate. you know, if you need practice, i’m sure there are less awkward ways to go about it."

vi pulled her hands away from her face, her skin still a deep shade of red, and shot you a glare that was clearly meant to be intimidating… but failed miserably.

—"you’re not helping. at all."

—"no, but this is way more fun."

vi let out a frustrated growl, running a hand through her hair as she tried to regain her composure. finally, she huffed and glanced at you out of the corner of her eye, a mix of irritation and resignation on her face.

—"you know what? stay here if you want. but if you keep teasing me, i swear you’re gonna end up with a black eye." —though her tone was defiant, there was a small smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

you shrugged, smiling back.

—"you don’t scare me, big girl. but maybe you should be scared… because i’m never letting you live this down."

vi let out a frustrated groan and turned back to the bag, muttering something about "annoying people," but you couldn’t help noticing how the blush still hadn’t completely left her cheeks.

#arcane #vi x reader #arcane vi #arcane x reader #vi x you #vi x y/n #sfw #violet arcane #arcane x you #vi arcane #<33 #drabble

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lilislegacy · 3 months ago

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So here’s the thing: Percy is my guy. I’ll defend him till the day I die. I adore everything about him, and you guys know that. So this post might shock you because I’m about to call the fuck out of him.

I am so SICK of receiving ask after ask after comment after ask about Annabeth being the only goddamn issue in their relationship, meanwhile Percy gets made out to be some saint. You want to call out Percabeth? You want to be all heroic and talk about bad behavior? Allow me to join you! Let’s fucking talk about it!

The number one thing people complain about in their relationship: Annabeth making jokes about his intelligence. But let’s actually talk about this: we all know Percy is extremely intelligent, but why are we so hellbent on denying it when he DOES act like an idiot most of the time? Like, why is Percy saying things like he can’t tie his shoes or phrasing stuff to Annabeth like an 8-year-old when he’s nearly a grown adult? And now tell me this. Why is it always on ANNABETH to translate and explain everything when we know Percy can figure stuff out for himself? Why is it always on ANNABETH to make the plan? Why is it always on ANNABETH to figure out how to fix things that Percy and Grover usually messed up?

After Wrath of the Triple Goddess, I spent so much time being angry at how Rick wrote Annabeth bossing Percy around. But then I took a step back and realized: it’s because he also writes Percy as always being so heavily reliant on Annabeth when she’s there. Instead of asking, “Why is Annabeth acting like his mom?” why isn’t anyone ever fucking asking, “Why does Annabeth feel like she HAS to act like his mom?” Because she doesn’t act that way with people like Thalia, Jason, or Reyna. So why is her boyfriend putting her in a position where she feels like she has to explain everything to him and tell him what to do?

You know, in The Demigod Diaries, Annabeth says she’s always known Percy isn’t dumb and that he’s actually very intelligent—but that he just ACTS super dumb. Then she says she thinks Percy does it just to annoy her. Annabeth has called Percy smart on several occasions—including one of my favorite moments in MoA where she calls him brilliant and kisses him—and yet she still makes those comments about his intelligence. So considering all that, let's think about it. Have you ever met someone who’s super smart but acts so dumb that they actually convince themselves they’re dumb? It’s infuriating. So imagine how that must feel to a daughter of Athena. And don’t you dare go, “Well, it’s because of Percy’s childhood and his abuse…” because Annabeth is ALSO fucked up from her childhood and suffered from abuse, but that doesn’t ever excuse HER, I guess. So why does Percy get a pass?

Oh right, I forgot: because we must always blame the woman for “nagging” and “being controlling.” Silly me for forgetting.

It’s ALWAYS “God Annabeth is so controlling all the time” and NEVER “how come Percy puts Annabeth in a position where she always HAS to take charge and keep things under control?” How come he low-key DOES act dumb and useless (and then complains about it) when they both know damn well he can be smart and resourceful when he wants to? Let me guess. “He’s insecure 😔😔.” YEAH, NO SHIT, SHERLOCK. So being insecure makes it all okay? Because Annabeth NEVER gets that benefit of the doubt. Or let me guess, “It’s Rick’s fault for writing him that way” okay cool, well then it’s ALSO Rick’s fault for writing Annabeth the way she is. You don’t get to pick and choose.

(Quick pause—does anyone else feel like Rick finally started writing Percy as a confident, secure, and assertive person in Heroes of Olympus—and found it so refreshing—only for Percy to regress back into his self-hating, insecure 12-year-old self again in the new books? Because it’s infuriating to me that he lost that character development. Anyway… resuming discussion.)

People are always so worried about Percy feeling inferior in their relationship, but never about Annabeth feeling frustrated when Percy doesn't act like the equally contributing partner that she knows he can be (and that he is a lot of the time). I mean, we know from her POV in MoA that Annabeth tends to feel like she has the weight of the world on her shoulders and has to figure things out for everyone else. And that she feels useless sometimes because everyone else, especially Percy, has all these amazing powers, and all Annabeth has to contribute is her knowledge. And yet, when she "shows off" with her intelligence, it's a "superiority complex?"

And another hot topic: Anti-Percabethers are always talking about Annabeth “bullying” and “physically abusing” Percy. (Despite him never feeling pain, flinching, or even expressing an ounce of discontent—in fact after she judo-flipped him, he laughed and smiled). And yet they never seem to want to talk about the fact that Percy has made Annabeth cry and been extremely insensitive to her on several occasions. And you wanna talk about physical violence? Let’s talk about how Sally, Paul, and Annabeth were all extremely nervous and tense when telling Percy that Sally was pregnant. You know why? It’s explained that they’re scared because his temper is brutal and they never know how he’s going to react—because he previously blew out the pipes of the entire apartment building when he got upset about something. How come everybody is SO worried about Annabeth playfully smacking his shoulder and him not caring, but NOBODY wants to talk about the fact that Annabeth is scared of making Percy mad because he can’t fucking control his temper or keep the world around him from blowing up? This is the guy who’s been kicked out of military schools for fighting. This is the guy who’s thrown his skateboard into a wall out of rage. This is the guy who got so mad at a goddess that he got pleasure out of torturing her. I’m not saying he’s wrong for any of that, but I am saying that Annabeth has never once done something like that.

Let’s talk about Piper’s perspective of him. I used to hate Piper because she was critical of Percy, but then I grew up. She is one of the few people who actually gives us an unbiased view of him, and you know what she says? She says she doesn’t know how Annabeth deals with Percy because Annabeth is constantly having to keep him under control. Annabeth keeps him from attacking/yelling at Leo after the canon incident. She has to diffuse his stupid, pointless “who’s is bigger” competition with Jason. She’s not there to keep him from pissing off Bacchus, and Percy rapidly escalates the situation and nearly screws them all over. I mean, in Wrath of the Triple Goddess, she had to tactfully handle him after Grover drank the strawberry potion because Percy was so angry that he was literally shaking (and btw Annabeth had to figure out the plan to fix everything that time, too). When she’s not there, Percy talks back to gods and superiors and gets everyone around him into bad situations with his temper and disobedience. Annabeth CONSTANTLY has to calm him down and keep him from losing his shit. Do you know how exhausting that must be??

So tell me—why is the blame ALWAYS on the woman here? Why is Percy made out to be some poor, abused wittle baby being picked on by big bad Annabeth? He’s a big boy. A grown man now, even. He is the most powerful demigod alive. He can fucking take care of himself, and so can Annabeth.

If you don’t want to like Percabeth? That’s fine. If you don’t want to like Annabeth? That’s fine. But STOP making it out as if Annabeth is the only one who causes problems in their relationship and Percy is completely innocent. Percy is just as bad—arguably worse, actually. Because despite everyone saying how bad Annabeth is to Percy, he never actually gets hurt, scared, or offended by her. Meanwhile, Annabeth HAS cried because of Percy’s words AND has been scared of him and his temper. So… what the FUCK?? How is Annabeth the one being villainized here??

Now, I can actively defend every single thing Percy has done. I love him for his flaws and they make him such a complex character. And I can do and say the same thing about Annabeth, but for some reason that’s “excusing bad behavior.” I love them both and think they are extraordinary people who’ve been dealt really crappy hands. They deal with things the best way that they can in the moment. But they BOTH mess up and hurt each other, and they BOTH have things to work on. They are very flawed characters, and we can point out and discuss those flaws while also being fond of those flaws because it makes them more realistic.

Now, some of you might be thinking, “Lili, I thought you loved Percy and Percabeth.” I do. I love them so much that I pretty much have a whole blog dedicated to them. But I don’t love them because I think they’re perfect. I love them because, despite being extremely flawed, they make each other better. They love each other unconditionally. They build each other up and protect each other in the darkest of times.

They are best friends. They are battle partners. They are lovers. They are warriors. They are heroes. They are EQUALS. But they are NOT perfect. Not even a little. And their ability to overcome and work through those imperfections together is what makes them so extraordinary.

And yet, when Percy plays dumb, it’s blamed on Rick’s bad writing and excused as him being insecure because of his abuse. When Annabeth calls him out for it and jokes about it, she gets called an awful person who doesn’t value him. And when Percy loses his temper and acts out and gets everyone into bad situations, he’s excused because he inherited Poseidon’s temper and he can’t help it. But when Annabeth is extremely prideful and acts like she’s smarter than other people (which she inherited from Athena) she’s a selfish bitch who thinks she’s better than anyone else?

How does that make any fucking sense?

If you want to criticize Percabeth, criticize both of them. But don’t keep doing this “selective reading” bullshit so you can see Annabeth as the villain when she spends half her life cleaning up Percy’s messes and taking care of him. Percy is extraordinary and I adore him, but he is not a “saint” for “dealing with Annabeth.” He is damn lucky to have her, just like she's damn lucky to have him.

Either be honest about both their flaws and cut it out with the double standards, or don’t bother pretending you care about the truth at all.

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curvykittyyssmutfics · 1 year ago

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House Husbands ft SatoSugu

househubby!Sato is overjoyed with his decision to shift his focus solely on taking care his overworked little wife. He feels worthless in his own line of work because regardless of his efforts, nothing ever changes. Being at your beck and call, making you happy.. It's all Satoru needs outta life and he's never felt more fulfilled.

househubby!Sugu is absolutely exhausted dealing with the internal war rampaging his thoughts, distorting his morality into a demon he can't recognize. But the unyielding love and support of his nonsorcerer wife is enough to suffocate his uncertainty. And Suguru's proud that with your help, he's able to shed all the toxic doubt and decides to dedicate his life to the woman that saved him.

househubbies!SatoSugu refuse to acknowledge the absolutely ridiculous qualms that they're putting their wants and needs on the back burner to take care of you. They constantly remind you that you're everything they'll ever desire in life; that they could only continue to witness curses bring the world to its knees long as they could always be there to keep you safe.

househubby!Sato is on pins and needles waiting for you to come home every single day. Bouncing on the tips of his toes like an anxious child, tense as fuck while pacing like a madman. "Relax, Toru. She gets in the same time every evening. Rilin yourself up for no reason." Suguru chuckles from the stove, finishing up dinner. "But she's been gone for hours and I miss heeer." Satoru whines like a brat, wholeheartedly feeling like his partners calm demeanor was nothing more than pure utter cap. "Quit actin like you don't want her home too. Listened to you fuckin your fist to that video of her in the bathroom earlier." Electric blue eyes narrowed, slender finger pointed accusingly in a sputtering Suguru's direction. "Will you just finish settin the damn table before y/n gets home!" He hisses back, shame licking warmth across his cheeks. "Fuckin creep Toru, I swear.."

househubby!Sugu consistently rescues you from a needy Satoru's overbearing 'welcome home' after each grueling work shift. Heroically puts himself in-between the world's strongest sorcerer and woman of their shared affections; effectively untangling you from the bone crushing embrace and ambush of kisses. "Seriously gonna smother her one of these days, idiot. Actin like she's gonna disappear or somethin." Suguru chastised, scooping you up in his own snug embrace and pecking your lips in adoration. Only a second in the kiss turns way too passionate for Satorus liking and he immediately despises the soft mouth moving slowly against your own, so damn sensually. "Lies! You just want y/n all to yourself." Satoru pouts listening to your tiny hums of pleasure as he stomps off to pour his tired little wife a glass of wine.

househubbies!SatoSugu make it a daily routine to lay you out after work and massage the accumulated tension outta every inch of your depleted frame while askin bout your day; coppin a feel as they simultaneously knead your stressed ridden muscles till you lay limp and aroused on the bed. "Fuuuck, y/nnn. Look so good spread out like this for us. Wanna continue to make our girl feel good.. Gonna let us play in that pussy for a lil bit?" Satoru speaks low at your ear, leaving sweet kisses down your neck and your shoulders when you nod. "Lemme and Sugu relax our perfect lil wife even more. Know you want this pipe, baby. Let us make you cum, deserve that and so much more. Can we, princess, hm? Work so goddamn hard every. fuckin. day." Print of his mouth leaving goosebumps over your sensitive skin while grippin on your love handles, lips trailing lower and lower as Suguru takes his place at your ear. "'S all up to you, babygirl. Tables set; blunts rolled.. Can go smoke and eat, maybe come lay back down after.. Rub ya pretty feet till you pass out inste-," "mmmfuuuck, Toru.. Oh! Yeees, right there.. Oh, oh- tongues so deep, Daddy." You interrupt, breathless moans loud and airy as Satoru spreads your doughy chocolate cheeks and digs inside you further. Pulling back to lap at your slick like a kitten does milk. Suguru chuckles when you shamelessly groan your pleasure all up in his face. "Play in that pussy it is then, babygirl."

househubby!Sato slipped into domestic bliss quite effortlessly. He's proud to admit his biggest worry these days is how mad Suguru gets when he forgets to separate the whites from the colors. "Dammit Gojo!" Satoru flinches from the spot between your legs, head snapping away from his video game to the rapid footsteps barging his direction from the bedroom. You continue to card your fingers through his soft hair, chuckling when a furious Suguru appears clad only inna pair of tight white briefs splotched with pink, holding a pair of your panties. "How many fuckin times have I told you not to mix colors with whites?! I gotta whole basket full of pink boxers cause you never pay attention to what the fuck your doin!" But Satoru only gives him the saddest puppy dog eyes he can muster while trying to ignore his Fallout character getting absolutely slaughtered by a Deathclaw. "I'm sorry! Just wanted to help with the chores. You know it wasn't on purpose, Big Daddy." His taunting and dramatic fluttering lashes have you both clutching your tummies in serious efforts to hold in your guts from the raucous laughter. But Suguru is less than impressed. He seethes in silence for a few moments before growling out through clenched teeth. "Both of you shut the fuck up.. Know what? Get over here and hurry up. Now.. On your fuckin knees." It was interesting start to your day off to say the least..

househubby!Sugu! likes to the play the role and has no problem keeping his brats in place. He's good at being the perfect Daddy with only one demand: utter compliance. And he doesn't tolerate disobedience. "I know that- ah ah ah. Slow, baby. Slow.. All the way down. Mmmmm.. Jus like that." Suguru tightens his grip on the soft locks, using them as leverage to control the pace of him dipping his cock in and out of his lovers throat. "I know it's confusing baby, sooo confusing to my girl hmm? He's your Daddy too. Aint that right? Oooh shit, suck it harder.. Mmm, ohhh yeaah- oh fuuuck!" Suguru huffs hoarsely, head fallin back in pleasure before he looks down and stares into your eyes heatedly, your gaze making his nut creep closer. "But I'm his Daddy, sweetheart. And it's time I- fuuuuck, 'm close! T-time to teach you both a lesson. Ready Toru?" Suguru slides a hand into your kinky y/h/c hair, yanking you closer to his hips and buss heavily into Satoru's waiting mouth. "Mmmmph!" Your poor husband struggles and chokes around the first gush, gagging harshly when Suguru slides his dick in deeper. "So bad at t-takin dick, Toru." He teases, wide tip knockin into glaring Satoru's abused throat; spurting twice more and flooding it with thick pearly cream. "Fuckin hell, Toruuuu! Oh God, Saaatoruuu!" Suguru moans filthily, snatching his cock and aiming at your pretty face. "Ah, ah- mmmnnh! Take it, take the rest of Daddy's nut, mama." Suguru's cum blankets your cheeks and lips in three milky streams. "G-good boy.. Ohhhh, my good giiirl, y/n." He praises when you and Satoru gently suck and lick at the oozing head of his throbbing cock, prolonging the intense pleasure.

househubbies!SatoSugu! try not to ravish you too often because of your hectic schedule but there's nothing to save you from their fiendish antics when you take your mini vacations. Time off with your husbands is nothing short of more work for you. At the very least, it's a very thorough and strenuous workout. They very consistently keep you stuffed: with happiness, love, and of course dick. "Toru- ah f-fuck.. Don't do this to me, Daddy pleeease!" You cry for your husband to give your puffy overused coochie reprieve but he's consistent with his denial. "Shhh, princess, shhhh. You're okay, you can take it. Gotta be quiet though. Me and Sugu both worked so damn hard to fuck this pretty chocolate lil pussy so good.. Don't wanna wake him up after all his hard work do you, baby?" He sucks and nibbles on your folds incessantly, grinning when the pressure of his thumb at your overstimulated clit makes you shriek and gasp for air. "Bullshit, Toru. Got her screamin her fuckin head off." Suguru exhales tiredly with closed eyes, scooping your trembling body closer into his side as you writhe from the intense sensation swirling between your legs; head thrashing from side to side on his broad chest. "Daddy, please! A-already came three t-times tonight. Ahhhnm, oh oh- needa a break, pleeease!" Your increasingly desperate cries raising in volume have Suguru's half hard dick filling full as he peeks down between your thick brown thighs, making direct eye contact with a sadistic Satoru. Who ofcourse gives a naughty wink, mouthing 'watch this' to an intrigued Suguru and latches on to your throbbing nub to nurse on you hungrily; pulling off repeatedly with acute bursts of suction that have you wordlessly keening as you squirt impressively allover Satoru's swollen pink lips inna messy glaze. You cum so fuckin hard, hands shooting to anchor themselves in Suguru's dark roots; plushy frame jerking erratically in attempt to twist away from the suffocating pleasure. "Fuuuck, Look at that.. Got her raining cum all over your pretty face, Toru. Gotta be the hardest our lil wife's eva came." Suguru admits, putting his ego aside. Too preoccupied with wetting up Satoru's face to notice how your husbands stare into each other's eyes, dicks pulsing and raging between their legs.

househubby!Sato despises Suguru's all work no play attitude. After an entire week of repetitive chores and errands in addition to no sex, Satoru's dying to get home so one of his spouses can drain his fat sack dry. "..need a warm tight hole to slide into. Been so fuckin pent up.. Babygirl is gone entirely way too much lately." He complains as Suguru drives them back to the house. "Well you know y/n's been workin hard as hell towards that big promotion, Toru. Left for work at like 5 this morning.. She'll probably need some rest and jus wanna cuddle after work." Suguru reminds him. Satoru manspreads with a huff, head slamming back into the headrest and groans in agreement. Well if not y/n then.. "What bout you? Been a minute since my handsome husband had a good nut. Don't you.. Need some relief?" Satoru asks, voice low and deep. Fingers slinking into his husbands hair scratching at his scalp lightly, his other hand caressing up and down his muscled thigh. Suguru gulps audibly, adam apple bobbing as he concentrates with all his might to keep his eyes on the road. "Uhhh.." Satoru's clear invitation instantly has him rock hard and remembering that last time he had the strongest man in the world on his back while you were at work. Filth spewing from his mouth that eventually went quiet and slack when Suguru held down his wrists and grinded in deep as fuck over and over. Damn, the slutty way Satoru kept rolling his narrow hips.. Effectively fuckin himself on Suguru's dick with the prettiest flush on his chest, strands of snowy locks plastered to his damp creased forehead, stiff untouched cock twitching and smearing precum between them. "Sugu? Still with me?" Satoru asks, cheeky smirk alluding to knowing exactly what's on his husbands mind. Suguru clears his throat and nods, mouth dry and parched; immediately in dire need of a drink of the tall glass of water sitting next to him. "Well? You gonna fuck me before y/n gets home or nah?" Another curt nod from Suguru has Satoru grinning like he just one the lottery, greedily groping his spouses bulge the rest of the ride home.

househubby!Sugu feels like he can only indulge his husbands despicable fantasies when all duties have either been prepped or taken care of. Therefore he feels absolutely guiltless when he's halfway to heaven and his cell rings, your parents number popping up on the screen. Satoru stares at Suguru in disbelief as he pulls away and gets outta bed. Mouth running a mile per minute to your dad while he hops around the room trying to get his leg into his pants. ".. Alright, bet.. Love you too pops.. Bye." He ends the call and turns to a disheveled frowning Satoru, reaching up to swoop his long hair up inna bun. "The fuck, Suguru-," Satoru starts but his protests are swiftly dismissed. "Don't start. They just need one small lil favor. Plus, Moms said she missed you cause you didn't come by with us last time y/n and I visited." Satoru sighs in acknowledgement and quickly chucks on his clothes, features softening considerably. "I do miss Mama y/l/n. Wanted to run a few things by her for y/n's birthday surprise anyway." He shrugs, slipping into his black nike slides. "Alright, sounds like a plan- oh! She said to tell you she's got your favorite mochi wai- Gojo, WHAT THE FUCK!" Suguru sentence abruptly cutting off, consumed in horror that Satoru just teleported them into your parents kitchen clad only in a pair of black jeans. "Christ almighty!" Your mom jumps at their sudden appearance and Suguru's exclamation, holding her pounding heart and sternly eyeing your husbands up and down. "Sup Mom, where is it?" Satoru gets straight to the point, kissing your mom's cheek and skipping off to the garage freezer when she points. "Hell is wrong with that boy?" Your mom asks the sanest of the two, already heading to grab Suguru a shirt and some socks. "So many things, Ma. How much time you got?"

househubbies!SatoSugu are both pleasantly surprised when you pull up to your parents spot after work and tell them there's something that's been on your mind for the past few weeks. "Spill the beans, princess. Can't believe you waited this long to tell us." Satoru gives his signature pout as he pulls you down to sit on the couch in-between them. "Yeah, sweetheart. You know we don't keep secrets. Tell us what's been on your mind." So you take a deep breath before you launch into your mini speech. "I love you both so much, never ever dreamed I'd be lucky enough to marry my soul mates. And I know we've talked about kids but my job has always made that impossible but today I got the promotion." Your husbands are ready to click their heels in excitement at your news but you hush sweet words with a finger to their lips. "But that's not all. I- uh. I make my own schedule now and haveso much more time on my hands that I think- um.." You stall a bit, nervous as fuck. "Y/n spit out already. Got us on the edges of our seat here." Satoru groans at your reluctance. "Honey, what's goin on?" Suguru questions with concern. "I stopped taking birth control so we can have a baby!" Your hands pop over your mouth at the outburst but your men already have that look in their eye and quickly close in on your tense frame. "That's all? So anxious just to tell us you wanna get bred tonight?" Satoru teases, gripping your hips and kissing your cheek. "That right, sweet wife?" Suguru sneers, loving how your breath speeds as they feel you up. "You want us both to put a baby in that needy lil pussy tonight?" You're only able to nod and moan as Satoru takes that moment to slip his tongue into your mouth and grope your tit roughly. Suguru watches with a sly smile as your other husbands assault evolves into finger fuckin you while inhaling your soft pretty cries. "Time to say bye bye, princess. Your Daddies need time alone with our perfect lil wife now." Suguru finally says after watching for a couple minutes, pulling you from a distraught Satoru and ushering you towards your parents. "And we're leaving your car. Tell em I'll pick it up tomorrow." Satoru demands as he sucks your slick from his fingers. You do as they say like always. And since you so sweetly asked for a baby, your generous husbands happily give you two tonight.

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bosbas · 4 months ago

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Chapter 5: they said the end is coming, everyone’s up to something

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: anthony bridgerton x fem!daphne's best friend!reader WC: 3.1k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, idiots in love, mentions of a broken bone, mentions of death (but no death), alluding to sex, things are HAPPENING

Summary: At her wit's end after Anthony's multiple attempts to scare away her suitors, Daphne employs her best friend's help to keep her brother distracted while she tries to find a husband. It's a foolproof plan, except it ends up working a little too well. (or, a Bridgerton version of The Taming of the Shrew/10 things I hate about you)

July 7, 1812 - Anthony felt the breath knocked out of him as he landed on his hand, pain rippling through his arm and toward his shoulder like a hot iron rod branding his skin. A low groan escaped his lips once he got his breath back, and he bit his lip to keep from screaming from the pain as he cradled his injured hand.

Looking up to see the horse that had just thrown him off its saddle, Anthony screwed his face into the most venomous glare he could given the state he was in. Now, the question remained: how on Earth was he supposed to get home?

Anthony had been on his morning ride when his horse encountered a small frog, smaller than his pocketwatch. But alas, its size did not matter. The Bridgerton’s horse had been far too frightened to continue through the usual route. Instead, it decided to launch Anthony off its saddle and run around in circles until the frog hopped away, no doubt more terrified than the horse.

With not much else he could do, Anthony held his injured arm close to his chest and roughly grabbed his horse’s reins, starting his return to the Bridgerton residence. Damn his proclivity for taking rides in more secluded areas!

With every step he took, Anthony clenched his jaw, the pain overtaking him entirely. Surely he’d broken a bone, he thought. Mighty inconvenient time for it to happen, too, since he was now courting someone. Could he even dance with you with a broken hand? He wasn’t quite sure. But he’d like to try, at the very least.

As his thoughts drifted to you, much like they tended to as of late, he found himself thinking a bit more deeply about what his injury truly meant. By all accounts, Anthony was lucky he’d only broken his hand. Had his horse been more erratic, he could have ended up with a broken rib. Or worse, crushed under its strong and punishing hooves.

At that thought, the breath was stolen from Anthony’s lungs once again. He very well and truly could have ended up dead because of an activity as mundane as a morning horse ride.

And where would that leave you? Surely you would find another suitable man to court you, as much as the thought made his blood boil. But if this incident were to happen in the future, once you two were married, what then? What if you already had children, and he left them behind as well, much like his father had?

Anthony’s mind was in complete turmoil, his wounded hand now the least of his worries. How could he have let himself fall for you?

The Bridgerton let out a strangled scream and kicked the grass beneath him, thankful it was still too early for anyone to be milling about. He couldn’t let this go on. This courtship with you could only end in pain. Even if you did agree to marry him, how long would it be until you had to experience the same loss his mother had? Anthony couldn’t let it go on.

And so, as Anthony walked into his home, gasping for breath and begging for a medic, he decided that he had to let you go. It was the kindest thing he could do for you. He made up his mind to talk to you that very night at your ball.

He cursed himself for getting feelings involved in a courtship in the first place, but there was not much that could be done in that regard.

With his mind made up, he chose to focus on his fractured hand rather than his broken heart, finding that pain much easier to deal with.

---

Daphne squealed as soon as she saw you, immediately leaving her family to go talk to you.

“The ballroom looks beautiful,” she complimented, amazed at how vibrant your home looked when it wasn’t just you and your father.

“I know, it’s the same every year and I can still barely believe it,” you responded looking around at the guests dancing and laughing.

It was the one night every year you got to actually enjoy being at home, and nothing was going to ruin your mood. Your ballroom felt alive for the first time in twelve months and you weren’t about to waste the evening.

“Is Anthony here?” you inquired, looking around for any sign of the man.

“Yes, by the refreshments I’m sure. He’s been acting oddly all day, though. I have no idea what the matter is with him but maybe you can fix it.”

You laughed nervously. “I’m sure nothing I do will make a difference. This isn’t even a real courtship!” you reminded her, though you didn't like the way the words felt coming out of your mouth.

Clearing your throat, you rushed to change the subject. “What is your intention with Mr. Norwood tonight? Will he be in attendance?”

Now it was Daphne’s turn to look uncomfortable. Shifting from side to side, her eyes scanned the ballroom.

“He will be in attendance, yes. I’m not quite sure about what will happen, but I know I must speak with him. Could you keep Anthony busy while we talk?”

“Of course,” you assured her, secretly excited to have an excuse to spend all night next to her brother.

An hour later, Daphne had finally found Phillip, and you took that as your cue to seek out Anthony.

Crossing the ballroom to where he was standing, you tapped him on the shoulder as he spoke with his mother. Turning to look at you beside him and sporting a huge grin, Anthony leaned down to kiss your hand.

“It’s lovely to see you this evening,” he said, his hand still holding yours gingerly. “Your home looks beautiful.”

You gasped when you looked down and saw his bandages. “What happened? Are you alright?” you asked, concern evident in your voice.

Anthony looked down, almost as if he’d forgotten he’d broken three bones, and suddenly became very still.

“Ah, just an incident during my morning ride. Nothing too serious,” he smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Do you have a moment to speak?” he asked, frowning slightly.

“Um, yes, of course,” you responded. You were slightly confused at his change in mood but were quickly drawn out of your thoughts when you saw Daphne and Mr Norwood having a heated conversation. You weren’t quite sure what was being said, but you knew Anthony would be fuming if he caught wind of it.

“We can go to the gardens,” you suggested, leading the eldest Bridgerton brother away from his sister.

“Is that Norwood talking to my sister?” questioned Anthony, the pair catching his eyes as he traveled across the ballroom.

“Is it?” you feigned ignorance, gripping Anthony’s healthy hand tighter and speeding up.

As you stepped out of the densely packed ballroom and into the cool night air, you tripped over your feet and yelped as you saw the ground quickly approaching you.

Anthony, as attuned to you as ever, reached out to grab you with his injured hand and prevented an unfortunate fall onto your paved outdoor pavilion. Immediately, he hissed in discomfort, feeling his entire arm throb as he finished steadying you.

You gasped, horrified at how much pain the Bridgerton seemed to be in. “Are you sure it’s nothing serious? Anthony, what happened?” you scolded, fear evident in your voice as you led him away from the windows facing the ballroom.

Clearly, he had downplayed the gravity of his injury, and you cradled his hand in yours as you searched his eyes.

“I only broke three bones,” he tried to reassure you, though he failed miserably.

“Three bones?” you screeched, drawing the attention of the other partygoers milling about the gardens. “Anthony, I’m so sorry,” you whispered, staring at the white bandages that covered his fingers.

You felt an unfamiliar panic rising in you. The thought that Anthony had been in any pain at all was devastating to you, and you couldn’t help the worry you felt when you looked at his gritted teeth and tightly closed eyes.

“A-Anthony? Can I do anything?” you asked softly, tears forming in your eyes.

You tried to calm yourself down. It wasn’t like Anthony was in any sort of mortal danger. He was at a ball, after all! He wouldn't have come if he was truly unwell. Why had seeing him injured set you off so much? You’d never been one to be so skittish, so why now?

Your mind stilled for a moment.

Heavens, you were in love with him.

A small gasp escaped your lips at the realization, your hand dropping his immediately.

It wasn’t a game anymore, you thought, panicked. This was real. Your feelings were real.

God, how could you have been so stupid as to fall in love with him? And how had it taken you until now to realize?

Did this mean you had to end things with him?

Now you were really crying. Maybe it was the right thing to do, then. To let him go if you really felt this way.

A small sob escaped your lips.

“Oh, Anthony,” you cried, trying desperately to wipe away the barrage of tears coming down your cheeks.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, completely focused on you now that the pain in his hand had subsided. “Y/N, what’s the matter?” he asked again, growing properly worried now.

But you were too distraught by the thought of losing him to respond. You tried to form a coherent sentence but could only manage a few choked sobs at a time.

Anthony placed his uninjured hand on your cheek, turning your face toward him.

“I’m right here,” he reassured, knowing that having him near you always seemed to calm you down.

Taking a few deep breaths, you managed to control yourself a bit better and sniffed sadly.

“I just don’t want this to end,” you said, your voice breaking.

Anthony’s breath caught in his throat. Had you somehow found out he was going to end things with you? He had no idea how you would have, but he blinked uncomfortably nonetheless.

Mistaking Anthony’s hesitation for confusion, you clarified, “Us. I don’t want us to end.”

Ah, damn everything. He was completely powerless when it came to you.

“I don’t see why it has to,” he responded, breathlessly leaning down to kiss you on the forehead.

He was too far gone to think clearly, and the thought of marrying you seemed awfully attractive at the moment. The kiss on your forehead turned into a kiss on your temple, then your cheek.

And finally, with a shaky breath, he closed his eyes, leaning down to kiss your lips.

The feeling of his soft lips encasing yours was completely indescribable, and your brain completely shut down any and all thoughts that did not include kissing this man back. You stood on your tiptoes, wanting to be closer to him as you felt his tongue poking into your mouth.

Gasping for breath, Anthony broke the kiss and looked down at you with a wild look in his eyes. Never in his entire life had he done something so rash, including during his numerous years as a rake. But you were simply too irresistible. He couldn’t help it; he wanted you more than he had ever wanted anything else.

Remembering where you were, you gasped softly, looking around to see if anyone in the garden had seen what had just transpired. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, and reassured by the fact that no one inside the ballroom could see you, you reached out to Anthony, who was already leaning in to kiss you again.

“Anthony,” you scolded softly, laughing at how eager he was. Then, lowering your voice to a whisper, you said, “We must find somewhere else to continue this conversation. We can access the library through the garden around this corner.”

“Best conversation I’ve ever had,” murmured Anthony sarcastically, allowing himself to be led to your family library while ensuring no one was looking your way.

Once you were inside the library, you shut the doors leading to the garden and locked them, not wanting to risk being found alone with a man while you were yet unmarried.

As soon as you turned around, you felt your back hitting the doors behind you and Anthony’s body pressed against you, kisses raining down on your face.

You giggled, having far too much fun than what was appropriate for a lady in your place in society. You grabbed Anthony’s head in both hands and guided his lips to yours once again, needing the connection to him more than you needed air.

As you continued kissing, you both grew more desperate. An unfamiliar warmth was spreading through you, and you could do nothing but whimper as Anthony’s hands roamed your torso.

He groaned in restraint, breaking your kiss once again.

“Do you want to do this?” he asked you, leaning down to kiss your neck.

Breathlessly, you responded, “Well, I’m not quite sure what ‘this’ is…” You had never received any sort of talking to from your father about the marriage night, if that’s what Anthony was referring to. Your knowledge was based only on the whispers that you had heard while eavesdropping on your housemaids.

Anthony laughed richly, completely enamored by you. “Of course, you don't,” he smiled down at you. “Why don’t I start by demonstrating and you tell me if you want me to keep going,” he said seductively, his voice dripping with desire.

You could only nod in excited agreement, amazed that you were finally seeing Anthony’s rakish side.

---

You awoke early the next morning to a soft kiss on your cheek.

You opened your eyes and found yourself on the floor of your library, covered only by the blanket that was stationed on the couch for when you spent nights reading into the early hours of the morning. Anthony was next to you, looking at you and trying to take in every detail possible.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, mostly to himself as his eyes roamed your figure.

You felt your face growing hot at the compliment and buried your face in his chest. He laughed and hugged you close to him, careful to keep his injured hand protected.

“I must go now before anyone suspects anything,” Anthony said, checking his pocket watch. It was still five in the morning, far before anyone in his household or yours would be awake let alone notice anything amiss, but he wanted to take no chances.

“I shall call on you later today, of course,” he assured you, starting to get dressed while still doing his best to maintain any sort of physical contact with you.

Interlocking your fingers with his, which were at the present moment located on your hip, you nodded and bit your lip, enjoying the show.

“I’ll be waiting,” you promised, sitting up to plant a tender kiss on his cheek.

He did you one better and pecked you on the lips, elated at this newfound way of interacting with you.

“I’ll ask your father for your hand tonight,” he said decidedly, already excited at the prospect of a future with you. “And perhaps we’ll ask for an expedited marriage license because I don’t know how much longer I can keep myself from you again.”

You could only giggle in excitement, not quite believing that the man in front of you would soon be your husband.

“Check on Daphne for me,” you requested, remembering how agitated your friend looked last night. “And I’ll see you this afternoon.”

Leaning down to kiss you goodbye, Anthony smiled warmly at you. “I’ll see you this afternoon.”

---

Anthony had no idea how he’d managed to remain calm for the rest of the morning. He had gone home and slept for a few more hours, then went downstairs to greet his mother and assure her that he had left your ball early because his hand was being quite bothersome.

Then, he’d spent the rest of his time trying to make himself look presentable for your father, needing him to approve if he was to ask him for your hand in marriage.

Anthony had never been in this position before, and as much as it caused him a great deal of stress, he was elated and nothing really could have soured his mood.

Finally satisfied with his appearance, Anthony headed downstairs to go to your home once again. On his way out, he passed by the tea room where he found Daphne. And, remembering your request from this morning, he greeted her warmly.

“Hello, Daph,” he said cheerfully, but the sob his sister let out stopped him in his tracks. “What’s happened?” he asked, seamlessly shifting into Daphne’s protective older brother.

“Mr Norwood,” cried Daphne. “He said my dowry wouldn’t be enough to cover the cost of a new home, and that he doesn’t want to marry me anymore,” she explained between fitful sobs.

“He what?” asked Anthony, appalled at this common man’s lack of decorum. “What a complete bastard,” he swore, waving away Daphne’s shocked look at his colorful language. “Had he expressed interest in marrying you before?”

Daphne nodded tearfully. “He said he loved me,” she sniffled, already knowing how silly and naive she sounded.

Anthony narrowed his eyes. “You see, that’s why I didn’t let you out of my sight your first season. You really can’t be trusted to make this decision, Daphne. Of course he only wanted you for your dowry! He is an untitled bachelor with no fortune to his name, are you thick?”

“Am I thick? Are you really asking me that?” yelled Daphne, fuming at her brother’s response to her despair.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m asking you,” responded Anthony sharply, in disbelief that someone could do this to his sister. “This is why I should be the one making this decision, or at least vetting your candidates,” he muttered, a bit louder than he’d intended to.

Daphne scoffed, furious at Anthony’s condescension. “Oh, you think you know better than me?” she taunted. “Then how come you haven’t figured out that the only reason Y/N is interested in you is because I asked her to fake it so I could get a chance to talk to some gentlemen without you meddling,” she spit out, her tone venomous.

Anthony froze. With a voice that was calm but deadly, he asked, “I beg your pardon?”

—

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midnight-shadow-cafe · 4 months ago

Text

An Angel - Part 2

Pairing: Poly!Task Force 141 x Female Medic

Warnings: Injury, shouting, emotional tension, fear, protective behavior, slow-burn romance, soft moments.

Author’s Note: The boys love hard, and that love sometimes comes out as frustration when fear grips them. But love always wins in the end. I’m not crying you are-

Masterlist | Part 1

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

She didn’t belong here.

That’s what the whispers said. The wary glances. The tension whenever she passed by soldiers who only saw her as the enemy turned ally.

And maybe, once, she would have believed them.

But now?

Now she wasn’t so sure.

Not when Soap slung an arm around her shoulders, his presence a shield against the murmurs. “Ignore them, lass. They don’t know a damn thing about you.”

Not when Gaz always sat beside her in the mess hall, his knee brushing hers in silent reassurance.

Not when Price made sure her gear was just as well-maintained as theirs, his gruff voice always reminding her, “You’re part of this team. Don’t let them tell you otherwise.”

Not when Ghost—silent, brooding Ghost— always seemed to be there, lingering in doorways, walking a step behind her, his watchful gaze never straying too far.

She wasn’t alone.

She was theirs.

And they were hers.

They were in this together.

---

It started small.

Soap always lingered. An arm resting on her waist a second too long, fingers brushing against her own when passing a cup of tea, a cocky grin whenever she called him out on it. “What? You like it, don’t lie.”

Gaz had a way of seeking her out when the world got too loud.“Come on,” he’d say, leading her to the quiet of the rooftop, sitting beside her with their shoulders pressed together, the stars above them. “You need a break too, yeah angel?”

Price watched over her.Not just as a soldier under his command, but as something more.A steady hand on her lower back when they walked through camp, a firm squeeze on her shoulder when doubt crept in. “We take care of our own.”

And Ghost—God, Ghost—Ghost never let her go unnoticed.

He wasn’t loud like the others. His touches weren’t as obvious. But his presence was constant. A gloved hand at the small of her back when crowds pressed too close. A steadying grip on her wrist when exhaustion threatened to take her down. A quiet, gruff “Rest. You’re no good to anyone if you don’t luv.”

He never let her forget—he saw her.

And she never wanted to forget that either.

——

She wasn’t supposed to be in the field.

But when the mission turned sideways, when Soap was bleeding and Ghost was roaring for cover, she ran.

She slid beside Soap, hands pressing hard against the wound in his shoulder.

His face twisted, breath hitching. “Y’always comin’ to my rescue, huh, lass?”

She forced a smirk, but her hands shook.“Someone’s gotta keep you idiots alive.”

Gunfire roared. Gaz’s voice cracked in her earpiece. “We need an exit—now.”

She didn’t let go of Soap.

Not when Ghost and Price cleared the way.

Not when Gaz hauled her to her feet.

Not when the chopper finally lifted them out of hell.

She didn’t let go.

And neither did they.

---

The moment they were back on base, it started.

“What the hell were you bloody thinking?!”

She barely had time to catch her breath before Ghost’s voice cut through the air like a blade. His mask was off, his expression carved from fury and something deeper—something closer to fear.

Price was pacing, jaw clenched. “You were supposed to stay back. That was the plan.”

Her stomach twisted. “I wasn’t going to let Soap die.”

Gaz hovered near Soap’s cot, silent, eyes flicking between them. Soap, still wrapped in fresh bandages, shifted uncomfortably but didn’t speak.

Ghost took a step closer, towering over her. “You’re not a soldier.”

She squared her shoulders, refusing to be intimidated. “You’re right, I’m not but that doesn’t mean I don’t fight for the people I care about.”

Ghost’s eyes burned. “You could have been killed.”

“So could all of you!” she snapped. “But I don’t see you yelling at each other for risking your lives.”

“That’s different.” Price’s voice was rough, strained.

“How?”

Silence.

She let out a harsh breath, shaking her head. “I saved him. That’s all that matters.”

Ghost’s fists curled at his sides, chest rising and falling rapidly. “You don’t get it, do you?”

Her pulse pounded. “Get what?”

Price exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “It’s not just about the mission.” His voice lowered, rough with something too raw to name. “It’s about you.”

Her breath caught.

Ghost turned away, running a hand through his hair. Price shook his head, muttering under his breath before following him out.

The door slammed.

Silence settled like a heavy weight in the room.

She swallowed hard, turning to Soap and Gaz, who had stayed quiet through the whole thing.

Soap sighed, giving her a half-hearted grin. “They’re just scared, lass.”

Gaz nodded, voice softer. “They don’t know how to handle almost losing you.”

Her chest ached.

It had never been about doubt. It had been about fear.

---

Later that night, a knock at her door pulled her from her thoughts.

She opened it—

And found them.

Price. Ghost.

Both looking… worn.

Price sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “We were out of line.”

Ghost’s voice was quieter than before. “We shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.”

She crossed her arms, still feeling the sting of their words. “You think I should’ve let Soap bleed out?”

Ghost flinched. Price shook his head. “No. Never.” He met her gaze, voice softer. “But you’re not just some medic to us.”

Ghost swallowed. “You scared the hell out of us.”

Her breath hitched.

Ghost? Scared?

His eyes met hers, dark and unreadable, but there was something fragile in them.

Price exhaled. “You mean more to this team than just your skills, love.”

Ghost nodded. “More than you realize.”

Her chest ached.

She reached for Ghost’s gloved hand. Squeezed.

He squeezed back.

Price exhaled, relief softening his features. “We’re sorry.”

And for the first time since the mission, she relaxed.

She wasn’t just their medic.

She was theirs.

And they?

They were hers.

——

Sleep didn’t come easy.

Not after the mission. Not after **everything.**

So when a knock came at her door, she wasn’t surprised.

She opened it—

And found all of them.

Soap, already grinning. “Scoot over, bonnie. Need your touch, aye?”

Gaz, lips quirked. “You know you’re stuck with us, yeah?”

Price, arms crossed, eyes softer than usual. “Get comfortable, make some space.”

And Ghost—Ghost, who didn’t say a word, but stepped inside and sat on the bed’s edge. His gloved hand found hers. Squeezed.

She knew that in the moment, with the boys around her. Things were changing. Things were growing between them and it would never stop. Regardless of the fights, the arguments, the missions, the looks. They knew that the 5 of them belonged with each other.

Nothing would change or separate them.

They belonged to each other and with each other. Not just as a team but as something more.

Something worth fighting for, something worth saving.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

Taglist: @2bdamnedmadnesscombat

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shesgaymichaelscott · 9 days ago

Note

melissa x fem!reader where they're just friends but melissa gets jealous about someone flirting with reader and reader is clueless

Jealousy and Power Ballads

Word Count: 3.8k <3

(mutual idiots in love, jealous mel, confessions, eventual smut)

taglist - @writerspirit @schemmentigfs

The Abbott crew had descended on K-Town Karaoke like a sitcom cast invading a dive bar. Someone (Ava) had declared that the only way to celebrate surviving benchmark testing was with "power ballads and power pours," and somehow the plan stuck.

You were sandwiched in a corner booth between Jacob and Janine, your third cocktail sweating in your hand, your cheeks flushed from laughing at Jacob's dramatic retelling of running into his ex ten minutes ago.

"You don't understand," he was saying. "I was just trying to refill my parking meter and boom — Avi. Same scarf. Same smug smirk. He looked like a sad gay raccoon in Lululemon."

Janine snorted. "You okay?"

"Oh, I'm better than okay," Jacob said, eyes laser-focused on the tall, bearded bartender wiping down the counter. "Because that man? Is about to become my post-breakup moment. Bestie, come on. Wingwoman protocol."

You blinked. "What? Me?"

"You're charming, unassuming, and no one can resist that thing you do with your smile when you're trying to help me lie."

"Thanks?" you said, bemused, sliding out of the booth anyway. "I'll get us another round."

Melissa was across from you, one arm draped casually over the back of her seat, legs crossed, a knowing smile on her lips. "Don't let this one get you into trouble, sweetheart."

That was your thing—her calling you "sweetheart," "baby," "trouble." You'd told yourself a hundred times it didn't mean anything. Just the way Melissa was with people she liked. Friendly teasing. No big deal.

Still, her voice did that thing to your stomach it always did. The fluttering drop.

"I'll behave," you promised. She raised an eyebrow like she doubted it, and you pretended not to melt.

Jacob beelined for the bearded bartender, tossing you a look that said "pretend we're very interesting." You leaned against the bar, flipping through the laminated karaoke list even though you knew you'd chicken out before ever picking a song.

That's when the other bartender—a woman with sleeve tattoos, bold eyeliner, and a smirk that could probably make Ava nervous—slid up in front of you.

"Hey," she said, tossing a bar towel over her shoulder. "What can I get you, gorgeous?"

You blinked. "Oh. Uh, three whiskeys and a tequila soda?"

"Sure," she said, already pouring. "You've got the sweetest face. You sing too?"

"I—sometimes? Badly. Only if no one's recording."

She smiled. "That's okay. I'm off in an hour if you need a duet partner. I've been known to make a mean harmonization of 'Jesse's Girl.'"

You laughed—awkward and caught off guard—but it was genuine. "I'll keep that in mind."

Across the room, Melissa watched, jaw tight, arms crossed over her chest. She'd been laughing at something Janine said, but now her eyes were locked on you and that bartender like a laser sight.

Barbara, ever perceptive, noticed immediately.

"She's just being friendly," Barbara murmured, sipping her wine. "Let the girl live."

"She's flirting," Melissa snapped under her breath.

Ava leaned across the table. "Damn, Schemmenti, jealous much?"

Melissa shot her a look. "She doesn't even know that woman. And that woman doesn't know a damn thing about her."

"She's allowed to get hit on, you know," Janine said carefully. "Our girl's hot. It happens."

Melissa's mouth twitched. "Not if I have anything to say about it."

Meanwhile, back at the bar, you took the drinks gratefully from the bartender and gave her a small, uncertain smile. "Thanks. You're...nice."

"Nice?" she repeated, clearly amused. "That's what you're going with?"

You blushed. "Sorry, I'm just—" You glanced back toward the booth and froze. Melissa was already standing, looking your way, fire in her eyes like she'd just lost a bet and was gonna take it out on everyone.

"Thanks, um, for the drinks," you mumbled, barely able to hold eye contact any longer.

You returned to the booth, balancing the tray of drinks like you hadn't just been aggressively flirted with by a woman who looked like she rode a motorcycle and listened to Kehlani exclusively. Melissa was already seated again, but she wasn't smiling now.

You slid the drinks across the table with a cheerful, "Mission accomplished," only for Melissa to nod once and mutter a flat, "Thanks."

Your brow furrowed. "Everything okay?"

"Peachy," she replied, eyes on her glass, not on you.

Okay... odd.

Janine took her whiskey with a curious glance between the two of you but wisely didn't comment. Jacob was too busy grinning at his phone—presumably exchanging thirst texts with the hot bartender—to notice anything.

You tried again. "Melissa, seriously. You good?"

"Fine," she said, sharply enough to make even Barbara glance up.

Melissa took a long sip of her drink like she was trying to drown the part of herself that wanted to say something else. Your stomach twisted uncomfortably. You were used to her teasing, her warmth wrapped in sarcasm—but this? This was cold.

You looked down at your drink, confusion rolling around in your chest like a marble in a jar. Across the table, Melissa refused to meet your eyes. The ice in your glass wasn't the only thing melting fast.

Janine leaned over and stage-whispered, "Y'all fightin'? Should I order the group therapy karaoke package?"

Jacob perked up. "Is that a thing?"

Melissa stood suddenly, muttering, "I need a smoke," even though everyone knew she hadn't had a cigarette in almost nine years. She disappeared toward the front door like she couldn't get away fast enough.

You stared after her, dazed.

Barbara gave a sigh and sipped her wine like it pained her to be right all the time. "Child," she said under her breath, "she's jealous."

"What?" you blinked at her.

"Don't play innocent," Ava cut in, gesturing with her straw like it was a pointer. "You're out here accidentally picking up bartenders like it's nothing. Schemmenti's about to combust."

"I wasn't picking anyone up," you protested. "She was just being friendly!"

"Friendly with bedroom eyes," Janine muttered.

Jacob waved a hand. "This sounds like the exact plot of a musical. Love triangle, yearning, maybe a rain scene—anyway, let's go. We're up."

"Huh?"

"Karaoke, remember? Come on," he said, dragging you by the hand. "You owe me for bar backup."

You let him pull you up to the stage, your mind still in the booth with Melissa's unreadable expression and the sting of her voice in your ear. The lights above the karaoke screen flared to life, casting everything in a dreamy haze as the opening notes of a soulful, slow-jam duet filled the air.

You and Jacob harmonized better than expected—honestly, you were sort of killing it. But your eyes kept flicking toward the bar, where the sleeve-tattooed bartender was still very much watching you with a smirk that said she liked what she saw.

You offered her a brief, nervous smile—reflex more than anything—and she winked. Winked. You missed your next note completely.

Then, to your absolute horror, a server appeared at the edge of the stage holding a tray with a fresh tequila soda.

"This is for you," he said, pointing toward the bar. "From her."

You stared at the drink. Then at her. Then at the booth—where Melissa had returned just in time to watch the entire thing.

She looked like she was chewing glass.

"I need to talk to you. Now." Melissa grabbed your wrist and pulled you off the makeshift stage without a second thought.

You barely managed to pass your mic to Ava (who gleefully took over, belting the bridge with unnecessary commitment) before Melissa was ushering you away from the others and out onto the back patio, her steps quick and clipped.

The night air was cool, biting against your skin. You folded your arms, confused and flustered. "Melissa, what the hell?"

She turned on you, eyes flashing. "Are you seriously entertaining that bartender?"

"I'm not—she was just being nice!"

"That's not what nice looks like. That's what 'take me home and ruin me' looks like."

Your face went hot. "Melissa!"

"I mean it," she said, softer now, but no less intense. "Do you... like her?"

"No," you said honestly. "I don't even know her."

"Then why were you smiling like that?"

"Because I'm nice!" you said, exasperated. "Because I didn't want to be rude!"

Melissa paced two steps away, running a hand through her hair, clearly trying to keep it together. "I can't do this."

"Do what?"

"This," she gestured between you. "Watching you get hit on by people who don't know a damn thing about you while I sit there pretending it doesn't bother me."

You blinked. "Wait... so it does bother you?"

Melissa looked at you like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Of course it does. I—God. I've been half in love with you for a year. I've been flirting with you ever since you walked into my life and you never flirt back."

Your mouth dropped open. "I thought that was just your thing!"

"It's my thing with you," she said softly.

Your heart stopped, restarted, then thudded against your ribs so hard you swore she could hear it.

"What?"

Melissa stepped closer, voice quiet now. "I just thought you'd never see me that way. So I teased. I flirted. I stayed your friend. But watching her flirt with you? Watching you light up? I lost it."

"I only lit up," you said slowly, "because someone was finally looking at me the way I wanted you to."

Melissa blinked.

"You," you clarified, stepping in, daring to touch her arm. "I wanted it to be you."

It was her turn to stare. "Are you saying—?"

You kissed her. You didn't think about it, didn't plan it, just closed the space and kissed her like it had been bottled up for far too long.

When you pulled back, she looked like someone had just unplugged her and rebooted her from scratch.

"Oh," she said faintly. "Okay. So that happened."

"Yeah."

She smirked, wicked and stunned all at once. "Fucking finally."

Melissa was still grinning, her hands now on your waist like they belonged there — like they always had.

You could feel her breath on your lips, her forehead almost resting against yours, her voice lower than a whisper. "Wanna come home with me?"

Your pulse fluttered like a trapped bird. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

She nodded once, sure and certain, and laced her fingers with yours like it was instinct. "Let's get outta here."

You didn't even look back as she led you toward the exit — but your friends, of course, noticed.

Ava leaned over to Janine and said, "Look at them. That's not just 'we kissed outside the bar' energy. That's 'we're skipping dessert because we are dessert' energy."

Barbara, who had been quietly sipping her drink, gave a knowing nod and murmured, "About time."

Jacob raised his whiskey like a toast. "May they finally stop eye-flirting across the lunch table."

Janine clutched her heart dramatically. "Do you think they're gonna tell us what happened?"

"No," Ava deadpanned. "But we'll hear about it anyway."

Outside, the cold air sobered the world just enough to make everything feel real — the slick sidewalk under your feet, the warm strength of Melissa's hand in yours, the stunned giddiness still pinballing through your chest.

She looked at you when the wind tugged your hair across your cheek, her eyes lingering like she was memorizing you. "You sure?"

You laughed softly. "I've been sure for a while. I just didn't think I got to have this."

Her smile was softer now, the edges folded with something fragile — reverent. "You do. You get me."

The drive to her place was quiet — not awkward, but full. Her hand stayed on your thigh the whole time, her thumb tracing lazy, grounding circles against your jeans.

At every red light, she looked over at you like she couldn't quite believe you were really there.

"Are we gonna talk about what just happened?" you asked, half-laughing.

Melissa smirked. "Later. Right now I just wanna hold you and maybe kiss you again a lot."

"That sounds manageable."

Inside her place — familiar but newly charged — she kicked off her boots, tossed her keys on the counter, and turned to face you like she'd been waiting her whole life to do it properly.

You stood in her living room, breath caught between anticipation and disbelief.

Then she stepped forward, took your face in both hands, and kissed you like she meant it. Like she always had. Like her teasing, her protectiveness, her jealousy — it had all been orbiting this moment.

When you pulled back to breathe, her forehead pressed to yours again, voice low and fond. "Still with me, sweetheart?"

You nodded, hands fisting in the fabric of her shirt. "I've always been with you."

Melissa kissed your temple, then your cheek, then your jaw — slow and certain. "You have no idea how long I've wanted this."

"You could've told me."

"You would've laughed."

"I might've kissed you anyway."

She smiled. "You're gonna be so smug about this."

"Oh, absolutely."

"Good," she said, mouth brushing yours again. "I like you mouthy."

You tilted your head, grinning up at her with that smug little glint in your eye — the one you knew made her crazy.

"Oh, baby," you purred, voice faux-innocent, "if you think I'm mouthy now, you should've seen me with the bartender."

Melissa froze mid-kiss.

You smirked, satisfied at the way her grip on your waist tightened instantly. "She said she liked my voice. Said we'd make a great duet."

"Did she now," Melissa said flatly, but her eyes had darkened, voice husky and low — and unmistakably possessive.

You gave a half shrug. "I mean, I was just being nice. Laughing at her jokes. Flipping my hair a little. You know, all those things you claim you don't notice me doing."

"Oh, I notice," she growled, walking you backward until you were trapped against the wall. "I notice every damn second."

You bit your lip, barely holding back a smile. "So... the jealous thing? Kinda hot, not gonna lie."

Melissa's hands were already on your thighs, her knee nudging between yours. "Yeah? You like getting me worked up?"

"I like the results."

She kissed you again — firmer this time, hands sure and possessive. "Then maybe next time you feel like flirting with someone else in front of me," she whispered against your mouth, "you think real hard about whether you want me pissed off or just plain worked up."

You exhaled a shaky breath, already dizzy from her attention. "Guess it depends on how fast you're gonna drag me out of there."

Melissa grinned, wicked and fond all at once. "Oh sweetheart," she murmured, nudging your nose with hers, "next time? I won't even wait until we're home."

Your breath hitched, a hot little tremor skating down your spine.

You barely managed to whisper, "Take me upstairs?"

Melissa's eyes flicked over you — hungry, reverent — and the shift in her was instantaneous. No more teasing. Just intent. Just heat.

She didn't answer with words.

Instead, she grabbed your hand and pulled you with her, the pace brisk and electric, her grip firm like she was afraid letting go would break the spell. You stumbled a little up the steps, laughing once under your breath — a giddy sound that died the second she turned and kissed you again halfway up the staircase, her mouth claiming yours like it was owed.

By the time you reached her bedroom, you were breathless, giggling between kisses and muttering things like "finally" and "took you long enough."

Melissa shut the door with a soft click and pressed you against it like she needed to feel you everywhere — her hands exploring now with more purpose, her mouth trailing along your jaw, down your throat.

You tilted your head, gave her access, your voice already ragged. "Still jealous?"

She hummed against your skin. "You have no idea."

You gasped when her hands found your waist again, sliding under your shirt, her touch hot and reverent and entirely hers. "Good," you breathed. "Because I'm not sharing."

"Neither am I."

Melissa's voice was a low rasp, more breath than words, as her fingers brushed the hem of your shirt again — not rushing, just slow, deliberate, reverent. She peeled it off of you inch by inch, like it was some ceremony she'd been dreaming of performing for years.

Her gaze swept over you, dark and possessive and awed. "Jesus," she murmured. "You're even better than I imagined."

You reached for her shirt, tugging at the edge until she obliged and slipped it over her head. And, God help you, the sight of her — toned, freckled, all curves and confidence — nearly knocked the breath from your lungs.

"Oh my God," you whispered.

She smirked, clearly enjoying the way your eyes devoured her. "What's that look for?"

"You," you said, dazed. "Just... you. I've had dreams less vivid than this."

She laughed — low and smug and fond — and stepped in close, brushing her lips along your cheek, your ear. "Wanna make those dreams come true, baby? You just have to ask."

You swallowed hard, fingers gripping the waistband of her jeans. "Melissa—please."

"Please what?" she asked, kissing the corner of your mouth, then lower, her hands skating down your sides. "Use your words, sweetheart. You know I like when you use that pretty mouth."

You whimpered, body arching toward her. "Please touch me. I need you to—God, just—"

That was all it took.

She pushed you gently back toward the bed, her eyes locked with yours as she followed, every motion patient, confident, hungry.

Your back hit the mattress with a soft thud, and you barely noticed — too caught in the heat of her, the way she loomed over you, confident and steady, like she already knew you were hers.

"Look at you," Melissa murmured, eyes raking over you. Her voice was rich, smoky. "So eager."

You couldn't help it — the way your legs parted for her, how your body just... gave. She hadn't even properly touched you yet, and you felt undone.

"Please," you whispered again, voice trembling, desperate now. "I can't—just touch me, Mel. I need you."

She took her time, like she had all the patience in the world and none of it at the same time — her fingers brushing the inside of your thigh, teasing you with maddening care. And when she finally slipped her fingers where you needed her most—

"Oh, baby," she exhaled, low and reverent. "You're soaked."

You moaned, flushed with the sheer vulnerability of it, the way she made you feel easy and pliant and known. Like she was reading your body like a favorite book she'd always wanted to finish.

"You've been like this for me all night, haven't you?" she murmured, kissing your neck, your shoulder. "All that time, pretending we were just friends..."

You arched into her touch, breath hitching. "I never wanted to be just friends."

"Good," she said, and her voice was something rough and tender all at once. "Because I'm never letting you go now."

Melissa kissed you again — deep and slow — as her hand moved with aching precision. She touched you like she already knew every way you liked to be unraveled, like she'd spent years imagining this exact moment and wasn't about to waste a second of it.

You clutched at her shoulders, gasping her name between broken pleas and breathless laughter, overwhelmed by how much you wanted her — how much she gave, how much she took.

She pressed her forehead to yours, her voice low and wrecked. "That's it, sweetheart. Let me take care of you."

You nodded through a choked moan, body arching, clinging to her like gravity didn't exist anymore. "God, Mel—please—I need—"

"I've got you," she whispered. "Always."

When it was too much, when you were shaking and breathless and clutching at her like she was the only thing holding you together, you managed to gasp out, "Let me touch you. Please. I want to—I need—"

The look she gave you — dark, affectionate, stunned — nearly undid you all over again.

"You want to take care of me now?" she asked, brushing your hair back from your flushed face.

You nodded, desperate and raw. "Let me make you feel the way you make me feel."

She kissed you like a promise and whispered, "Then come here, baby. I'm all yours." She shifted, hand still between your legs, but now she guided your fingers between hers. Her eyes fluttered shut as you were met with her warm, dripping center.

"Oh fuck. Mel, you feel-" you groan into her neck.

Your heart stuttered. She was still inside you — still warm, still close — and now you were inside her too, your bodies tangled, trembling, synced like a secret rhythm only the two of you knew.

Her moan was low and ragged in your ear as you moved together, lips brushing, foreheads pressed, breathing each other in. It was messy and tender and overwhelming — not just the heat, but the trust, the ache, the years of friendship turned into something breathtaking.

You kissed her messily, desperately — lips brushing, missing, catching again. There was no finesse left, no teasing edge, just need. Pure and simple and burning.

"God, Melissa," you breathed against her mouth. "You're so good — so good to me. So beautiful."

She whimpered at that, hips stuttering against yours, her own voice thick with want. "Say it again," she begged, breath hot in your ear. "Say my name like that."

You did, over and over, like it was a prayer you'd only just learned how to speak.

She was trembling now, her face buried in your neck, her words broken and reverent. "I've wanted this — you — for so long. You feel like everything I never let myself hope for."

You cupped her cheek, eyes glassy as you whispered, "Then take it. Take me."

Melissa met your gaze, something blazing and tender in hers. "Come with me," she said, forehead pressed to yours, her voice low and ragged. "Let me have all of you."

And then you were gone — together, lost in the same wave, clinging to each other like the world narrowed to just this: breath and touch and everything that had ever simmered beneath the surface finally breaking free.

When it was over, you collapsed into each other, tangled and shaking, her hand finding yours between your bodies and squeezing tight.

You stayed there like that — skin to skin, heart to heart — until your breaths slowed and your smiles returned.

Melissa kissed your temple, still a little dazed. "So... karaoke nights. We should do those more often."

You laughed, soft and breathless. "Only if they always end like this."

She grinned. "You've got yourself a deal, sweetheart."

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nemisuki · 1 month ago

Text

𐔌✧.* ʀᴜᴍᴏʀꜱ .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

ೀ⋆ || When hiding your secret relationship leads to sneaky note passing and cutting classes ❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

. ♬ ݁˖ || inspo song : spotify version & yt version ᯓ★

ᝰ.ᐟ || katsuki bakugo x f!reader, she/her pronouns, pure fluff, physical touch, 1.4k word count •°. *࿐

Physical affection was certainly not what she expected from her grumpy classmate of all people.

Going out with the short-fused blonde undeniably led her to uncover the secrets behind the irritable third year — her secret boyfriend — and all the desires he truly craved from the depths of his soul.

Despite the boy being quick tempered, he had a side to him that she never would've imagined, a strong yearning to stay close to her.

She honestly found it a bit cute; how his unwavering gaze would always be on her from across the classroom, as if drowning out the murmurs of everyone else and solely focusing her.

Only to play it off when she asks him about it later, mumbling stuff like "Tch, you're just seeing things" or "I wasn't starin' idiot, something was in my eye."

But what he can't find an excuse for is when he'd subtly — at least what he considers 'subtle' — toss a crumpled ball of paper in her direction, the crushed parchment hitting her foot with a plop!

Y/N jolts out of her little daydream, looking around to see the culprit but is met with classmates either dozing off or paying attention to the lecture ahead.

All but one that is.

His crimson gaze bores into hers, flickering back and forth between her and the ball of paper, a silent message in his eyes as he returns his stare to the front of the classroom.

She slowly picks it up, carefully undoing the sheet to read the little note — his neat handwriting on full display — the blonde's words, no doubt blunt and straight to the point.

𓉘rooftop. lunch. be there.𓉝

It took all her strength to not burst out in laughter right that second, I mean, could he be any more cliche?

Her racing heart rate wasn't any more help with the situation, feeling elated at the romantic thought; that he'd want to spend even more of their free time together.

This continued for some time, Katsuki randomly handing her notes throughout the morning before lunch, giving her daily updates for where he'd like to see her next.

Sometimes it would be the field, an empty classroom or even the relatively empty library.

But her favorite was definitely the rooftop — and it seemed to be his as well — often meeting to have their mid-day meal under the warm sun and blue sky, away from all the prying eyes of friends and other students.

This time however, when they should be in class, she finds herself sneakily walking up the steps to meet him, after all, he was never really fond of study hall.

He frowns as she enters his line of sight, narrowed crimson eyes and all, looking at her as if she greedily took her time.

"You're late."

She sheepishly smiles, quietly closing the door behind her with caution.

"I'm sorry Katsuki! Deku was rambling on about potential improvements for my hero outfit, so I couldn't just leave midway—"

He scoffs.

"Course ya' can, it's the damn nerd! Told you to stop asking Izuku for help in the first place."

Y/N can almost see the waves of jealousy radiating off him at the mention of their green haired friend, no doubt about it as he takes a seat, his shoulders looking more tense than usual.

She shines a teasing smile.

"Are you jealous~?"

He writhes under her stare, avoiding her gaze and grumbling with heightened defensiveness.

"Jealous of the nerd? Psh, as if! Now c'mere."

She giggles and moves to take a seat beside him.

"Alright, alright."

With newfound joy, she happily discusses random topics as they sit together, the blonde responding with an occasional comment or two as the minutes go by.

He was always relatively silent for the most part.

At any rate, she did happen to notice him inching closer, it was always a habit of his, wanting the distance between them to practically be non-existent.

"Graduation is nearly here, and I would be lying if I said I wasn't nervous... what about you 'suki?"

He looks up to the sky with an unconcerned expression.

"I think it's finally about damn time for me to kick some villain's ass."

She smiles at his declaration, having no doubt he'll become an amazing hero after high school, however, she can't help but to feel a bit angsty at the thought of them being apart.

Once they graduate, they'll certainly have busy schedules, it won't be the same as now, always at each other's side.

The feeling makes her feel a bit sad; and he seems to catch onto her silence.

"Oi, what's wrong?"

His brows furrow, using his hand to lift her chin up, their gazes meeting and re-igniting the warmth in her body at the intimate gesture.

Katsuki Bakugo is a rough man, but at the same time, so incredibly gentle.

She leans into his palm.

"I'm just gonna miss this, you know? Being together all the time..."

"Tch, you idiot."

With an almost terrifying amount of raw strength, he easily scoops her up — with y/n yelping in shock — placing her right on his lap with pure devotion in his gaze.

Gently forcing her eyes to stay on him.

"Stop thinkin' 'bout that sappy shit, fuckin' course we're always gonna be together."

It was like the breath got sucked right out of her, pupils dilating with a mix of shock and affection, her face heating up at his serious look.

How could he say something so romantic with a straight face?

She shyly smiles, her arms wrapping around his neck, beginning to play with his — surprisingly soft — locks of hair.

"Does this mean I can work at your future agency?"

His eyes glint with something close to pride and approval, a subtle smirk ghosting over his lips as he leans closer, his gaze roaming all over her features.

"Only if ya' got what it takes. Do you?"

She chuckles, deciding to tease him and lightly rub her thumb across his mouth, feeling the plush skin underneath.

His grip on her briefly tightening in response.

"Maybeeee, is there no other way for me to be accepted~?

He bites back a smug smile, trying to act aloof as he raises a brow, only giving her butterflies in her stomach despite being the one trying to fluster him.

"You tryin' to flirt with the future boss to get yourself a position hah?"

Her breath hitches as he leans even closer, the distance between them long forgotten, her pulse reaching her ears.

The blonde scoffs.

"You outta' be punished."

She couldn't help the smile forming on her face as he closes the gap, eyes shutting closed as their lips move in unison, it was a bit funny; he speaks so rough yet his kisses are consistently tame.

His thumb gently caresses her cheek as they continue the gentle exchange of affection, her own fingers treading through his hair.

Y/N's earlier worries are now erased from her mind, because like his notes in class, his kisses have hidden messages, moving with purpose against her own.

A form of intimacy that leaves her breathless, their touches holding a thousand of unspoken words.

The moment comes to an end a few seconds later as the bell rings, signaling next period.

He reluctantly pulls away, slightly flustered, standing up and pulling her with him.

"...c'mon, we gotta go back before someone notices."

She hums, intertwining her hand with his as they descend down the stairwell, his hand tightly holding onto hers, as if making sure she won't slip away.

"I love you."

He stiffens.

Glancing back at her for a moment as they walk down the hallway of passing students — giving him the perfect coverage to protectively hold her close — looking forward with a hidden expression; one of adoration.

"...i love you too."

It was a faint mumble in the sea of chattering students, but she heard it, a bright smile appearing on her face at his words.

They returned to class just in time, letting go of each other's hand before they walked in, acting as if nothing ever happened.

Katsuki could only roll his eyes as some of their friends asked where he wandered off too, everyone suspiciously looking at y/n as well — given they entered seconds after each other — attempting to connect the pieces.

The blonde chooses to ignore such accusations, taking his seat with an annoyed frown, while y/n politely denies such claims with a 'innocent' smile.

Nevertheless, their gazes lock together even across the classroom.

Although the future may be unclear, it won't be as scary if they stay like this, soaking in their undying sentiment.

✦ ⎯⎯⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨ masterlist || taglist || intro || socials ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⎯⎯ ✦

ᴀ/ɴ ||| hi my beautiful flowers! this is a bkg fic request from anon, hope u enjoy! i didn't mean to write it this long but oh well hehe.. now time for me to go, plus ultra! ᕙ( •̀ ᗜ •́ )ᕗ ᴛᴀɢꜱ ||| @leleyro @zaiban2989 @qyuin @sunnyalmighty (❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)

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grugruel · 1 year ago

Text

Saint, or Sinner.

Parings: Arthur Morgan x f!reader

MDNI/NSFW

Masterlist

Summary: You've had feelings for Arthur for quite some time now, but little did you know. That he has them for you, too.

After a rowdy night in Valentine, the group flees lawmen and end up in Strawberrys hotel. Whatever will occur?

Word count: 8.9 k

Warnings: Micha being Micah, bar fight/violence, plot with smut, mutual pining, soft Arthur, pinv sex, passionate sex, oral sex (f recieving), praise, pet names (girl, sweetheart), choking, fingering, handjob, creampie, mentioned masturbation.

AN: The words ran away from me, holy shit. It's so much longer than I intended.

Muffled voices argued in the night, soon growing into angry shouts. Rousing me from my sleep, confused, I put my gown on in a hurry. Sleep ridden eyes in a dark tent were not doing me any favors. I pulled the flap to the side and stumbled out of the tent, the voices creating one hell of a commotion.

Just as I did, most of the camp had awoken and joined in on the argument, gladly contributing their own heated opinions on the matter. All except Duch and Arthur, much to my dismay.

My eyes adjusted to the scene before me, the assailants quickly becoming clear. Standing around the campfire, was Micah of course, the center of attention as usual. Stood half shouting at John, who's pot seemed to be boiling over.

Soon after, John unleashed a rant on Micahs stupitidy, throwing in every word he could manage in his steaming anger.

I rolled my eyes, what could that damned fool possibly have done now?

'You piss ridden, moldy rat bastard.' John shouts, seamingly leaving Micah lost for words.

Bill bursts out laughing, slapping his knee at the insult, 'You big fuckin nuthead Micah. . .' He sighs, catching his breath.

Even Hosea snickers, 'Hes right, and that's coming from Bill of all folk.'

I cover my mouth as a giggle leaves my lips, seeing Micah so dumbfounded really sobered my mood. The rest of the girls have a simular reaction.

Micahs eyes narrow on me, 'What are ya' laughing at sweetheart. I ought to teach ya' a lesson.' He snarls, greasy hair hanging over his face.

The camp falls silent, none too appreciative of his choice of words. My mood turn sour again and a chill runs up my spine. The first to call him out was Sadie, 'Someone hold me back.' She spits, Sean stepping in to fo judt that.

Second was Miss Grimshaw, 'The money and now you threathen the girl, have you gone and lost your mind Micah Bell?' disgust evident on her face.

The money? What money?

John took a threatening step toward him, very displeased with Micahs comment, hands forming into fists at his sides. Hosea too, gave him a a bemused look.

'Try anything Bell, and I'll cut your fucking balls off.' I spit, glaring at him, feeling incredible joy in the way his face falls.

Muffled chuckles surround me, 'Thats my Girl.' Sadie laughs, along with a low, approving whistle from Javier.

'Whats goin' on here?' A gruff voice cuts in, looking between me and Micah.

Arthur, flanked by Dutch.

Arthur, shirtless. Flanked by Dutch.

In all my anger, my eyes cant help but sneak a hasty glance at his broad chest. Then quickly averting it, afraid he'd notice. I clear my throat, trying to keep my thoughts in check, 'He threatened me.'

That was enough for Arthur, not doubting me for a second. Fixed himself straight up with murder in his eyes, then walked at the man, readying his fists for a beating.

Butterflies fluttered within me.

Unsurprisingly, Micah cowered. Taking quick cautionary steps backward before Dutch could jump in, throwing his arm in front of Arthur and stopping him in his tracks. John looks at the two men, directing an accusing finger on Micah, 'Not only that, this blasted idiot took our money.'

The moment of joy from Micahs humiliation disappear, turning into anger once again. The camp giving him a mutual glower.

Arthur runs a hand through his hair, 'I ought to kill you.' He speaks, gritting his teeth, and takes another firm step forward. Pushing the limits of Dutch's patience, who strengthens the hold on Arthur.

'Surely, there must be a reasonable explanation for this?' Dutchs says, forcing a smile and shooting Micah an expectant look. Giving him an undeserved chance at explaining himself. Although he didn't show it, he too, was bemused.

'Well- I wanted to invest it, make it grow. I just wanted to help the camp.' Micah preached, his voice sleazy and confident. Telling the sure as shit, bull of an excuse as if he was the one to feel sorry for. Despite the circumstances.

Sighing, 'He god damned gamled it all away.' John reveals, looking ready to kill the man himself. The camp erupts into a loud argument once again, everyone getting a piece in.

I sneak a glance at Arthur, his chest rising and falling in big breaths, trying his hardest to stay calm. 'Bastard.' He mutters under his breath, Dutch giving him a quick warning glance.

'Shut!–' a hoarse voice calls out, '–Up!' Dutch yells, and obediently, we all fall silent. 'Theres no use, standin' around screamin'. You fools are attracting unwanted attention.' Dutch says, hands on his hips, 'Who won the funds.'

'Some rich bastard up in Strawberry.' Micahs sly voice cut through the night.

Dutch rubs his forehead in thought, 'Then he can do without it, go back there and grab it.' An exasperated sigh leaving him, 'Arthur, John, Bill, Charles.' He rounds the men up, 'You go there with him.' He turns to go back to his tent, but pauses and shouts, 'And no!–' dragging the words out, '–Deaths!' He looks at Micah, knowing damn well he'd otherwise murder the mans entire family in cold blood, then points to Arthur, 'That means you too, Arthur.' He says, a tired tone to his words. Clearly insinuating that he wanted Micah alive.

Everyone scatters, going back to bed on edge. But I linger, tucked away behind the tentflap. I watch Arthur come back out of his tent, in full get up. Silently praying that'd they'd be alright, that he would be. I did not care what happened to Micah, I hoped the man would get shot right between the eyes. I would personally love to see to it, I hoped Arthurs hatred for the man would get the better of him. Dutch always went way to easy on Micah, I didn't understand it, but something wasn't quite right with it.

Abigail kisses John goodbye, it made me happy to see them back together and all made up. I watch Arthur leave his tent in full get up, then stride past my tent. He gets on his horse with the rest of them, and ride past the treeline of Horseshoe overlook. No doubt berating Micah all the way to Strawberry.

I laid down in my bed, trying my damndest to sleep. But worry was keeping me up, eating away at me. Something didn't feel right.

He'd heard his words to her, him threatening her. Horrifying images cloud his mind, filling him with rage all over again. No doubt things he'd done before. He glanced a glare at the man, ugly mut.

Had Dutch not been there to stop him, Micah would've found his face beaten bloody and Arthur grinning on top of him. Had he not been loyal to the camp, to his people, to Dutch. Micah wouldn't be returning from this trip. He would conveniently get a bullet to his head, or found on the bottom of a valley, beaten unrecognizable before the fall had caused the killing blow.

He didnt want any harm coming to her. He'd never felt this for a woman, not ever. He'd steal glances, admire her when she wasn't looking. Damn well kill for her. She was the light he had needed for so long, her charming smile could shine brighter than any star he'd ever seen.

'You taken a likin' to her, Morgan?'

John raised his head at that, paying closer attention to the conversation, to Arthur. Knowing the possibility of him flying off the handle.

'Shut up if you know what's good for you Micah.' Charles scolded.

He scoffed, 'The day I listen to–' Micha looks Charles up and down, lingering on the color of his skin, 'The likes of you,' he continues, 'Will be my last.' Muttering the last words.

Ignoring him, Charles didn't do as much as raise an eyebrow. Micah did not deserve a reaction.

Micah was black rot, down to his core. Destorying everything he touched. We all knew it, but all aren't so keen to admit it. Dutch was the first person to come to mind, I couldn't understand for the life of me why he was so defensive of the man.

'I can see why.' Micah spoke again, 'Pretty little thing, isn't she?' He looked at Arthur, 'Got a big mouth on her too.'

John looked between the two men, noting the way Arthur fisted his reins, no doubt knuckles turning white under his gloves. Along with the way he kept his head straight ahead, focused on not killing the man, 'Micah, keep her off your tongue.' John warned, 'I don't care for you, but I don't want the heat from Dutch when you're found dead.' His raspy voice referring to him and Arthur.

Charles looked at the men in silent agreement, he preferred staying out of camp conflicts. But she was a woman dear to the camp, touching her would bode ill for any man.

And ad usual, the big idiot doesn't listen, 'Wouldn't mind takin' her for a ride one of these nights.' He said, the self-righteous smile he bore evident even in his tone. There was no need to look at him to know it.

Bill had been staying out of it, but he could feel the anger radiating off of Arthur. Enough to switch sides, hanging back, then stearing his horse up next to Arthur instead of Micah. Just in case a bullet would come flying.

And wouldn't you know it, Arthur reached into his holster and pulled his finest revolver, aiming it at the sorry excuse of a man. All in one quick motion, he'd been labeled as a dangerous for a reason. John sighed, now he'd done it.

Micah, dropped his reins. Raising his hands in the air, keeping a smug expression on his face. But beneath, he was scared witless.

'Strawberry up ahead.' Charles called, not caring much for the action behind him. Killing Micah would only do the camp good, but a gunshot would give their location away.

'Not another word of her.' Arthur began, 'Touch 'er–' He warns, 'And I'll let her kill ya'.' His voice gravelly and threatening, but Micah scoffed at the notion.

The familiar click off a safety lever sounds out, and the color drains from Micahs face.

'House is just up ahead.' Charles cut in, 'I'd suggest you wait wait with this til we got the funds.'

With a final glare, he holsters his gun and rides up to Charles. Clearing a hill, the house comes into view. Arthur sighs, 'Damn it Micah, you didnt tell us this feller had security.'

'You scared of a little fightin' pretty boy?' Micah mocked.

With a scoff from Arthur, they hitch their horses and pull up their bandanas, setting about proving the rumors of the infamouse Van Der Linde gang.

I anxiously checked my father's old pocket watch. It had been a few hours now. I put it down, tried to think of other things, and then picked it up again. Another 5 minutes had passed. Christ. I couldn't bear losing Arthur, John or Charles, god forbid all three of them. Bill could be sweet, but only when he needed something. I couldn't even dare imagine John leaving Abigail and Jack behind. What would they do? Stay with the gang, of course, but. . . Goodness, what about Arthur? My thoughts were racing ahead of me.

A few more minutes pass, then I hear hoofbeats, relief flods through me. It's hard to count, but theres at least three horses. God, let it be the right three. I emerge from my tent, along with Miss Grimshaw, Abigail, the rest of the girls, and Dutch. I race up to Abigail, holding eachothers hands as we watch the treeline in silence. Relying on each other for support.

Eventually, they break through. All five horses returning with their men on top of them, secretly I curse. One of the could've gotten lost and the world would've been a better place for it. I stroke Abigails back while John sees to his horse, then walks up to us, taking her in his arms and spinning her in a circle. They laugh, and a tinge of jealousy spark inside me. Yet I'm more than happy for them.

I observe the rest of them, they seem to be unharmed. All except. . . Arthur, his white shirt covered in blood. The terror must've been evident on my face, because–

'Hes fine.' John spoke, 'Most of it aint even his.' He said in an effort to calm me.

I nodded, smiling faintly 'Thank you John.' And sqeezed his arm.

'Well–' Dutch called out, 'How'd it go?' He looked at them, expecting nothing but grandeur.

'We got more than we bargained for. . ' John said, grinning. But there was something else his tone.

Bill unloaded his horse and came carrying several saddlebags, throwing them at our feet, money spilling out 'We got what we came for—' He paused, then pulled out two more bags from vehind his back, 'And more!' He burst out in a self-satisfied laugh.

I had to say, they made the best out of a bad situation. And on top of it all, Micah had barely made a sound, he was strangely quiet.

Dutch patted Bill and John on the back, 'Good work, wake the rest. Let us celebrate!' He clapped his hands together, no doubt imagining Tahiti.

I searched for him in the crowd of people as the camp was waking up, and found him talking to Charles and Sadie at the edge of the camp, clutching his side. Worry gnawed at me. They joined us by the campfire while Arthur headed into his tent, not saying much of nothing to anyone else.

The festivities carried out throughout the night, Arthurs lamp remained turned on. Eventually, I just had to check up on him.

I snuck away from the folk, Abigail and John had already turned in, as had Dutch and Molly. Seemed like the singles were the only ones left drinking, and Micah had disappeared to sulk somewhere. Lucky us.

I left them to it and approached his tent, 'Arthur?' I called, but didn't get an answer. I just heard some huffing from the inside.

I risked his reaction and pulled the flap to the side, 'Arth-' I began, but got cut off by the sight. In front of me was Arthur Morgan, shirt pushed up over his stumache, cowboy hat on, stitching up his own wound. Sitting on a stool, his pants were unbuttoned and folded down by the hip, revealing that beautiful "V" shape along with a happy trail of hair leading down toward, well. . . A new cut stretched from his hip to his abdomen, blood covered his hands and side, groaning as he pulled a needle through his skin. Something set off inside me, a yearning that made my body ache. He scarcely even noticed me, not until I gasped.

He looked up, eyes widening, 'You need somethin' Girl?' He blurted out, taken off guard. His state of undress did not help.

'Arthur Morgan. . .' I sighed, slightly offended, 'You shouldve fetched me, you know im good at stitchin' wounds.'

'I know, I know. 'm sorry sweetheart.' smiling faintly, 'Didnt wanna bother you.' He drawled.

I also noticed a mostly empty bottle of whiskey next to him, hoping he used most of it to disinfect the wound. I put my hands on my hips, 'Will you let me help?'

He nodded and handed me the needle, fingers brushing against eachother as I grabbed it.

Our eyes met, briefly. Sharing a glance that was ment to be stolen.

He leaned back against his dresser, the muscle of his upper body changing and rippling with his movements.

I cleared my throat and stepped closer, 'May I?' I asked, pointing at his shirt.

'You may.' He smirked.

I leaned closer to him, unbuttoning from top to bottom. Then pushing the shirt over his shoulder so it'd stay clear from his wound. I kneeled in front of him, his legs spread so I could get closer to the cut, then resting my elbows on his strong thigh to steady my arms.

I tried to focus on the wound, but it proved hard as I was so close to his crotch and how closely he was observing me.

'Might I ask what happened?' I bit my lip in focus, threading the needle through his skin.

'More men than expected.' He answered with a grunt, looking at my lips. Blood rushing somewhere it ought not to, 'One jumped out on me.' He continued, his voice husky and strained.

'He live to tell the tale?' I asked, searching his gaze. Hoping he'd be sincere.

'He did. . .' He groaned, as I finished another stitch. Making the aching settle in my core, a pulse running through me. Every now and then, when I believed him not to be looking. My eyes roamed his chest, studying his strong pecks and biceps.

'You know anything about Micahs sudden tongue-tie?' I ask, locking eyes with him. He lowers his head with a chuckle, a smirk poking out from under his hat.

'I might've. . . Given him something to think about.' He shrugs, the corner of his lip tugging.

Sighing, a smile spreads over my lips 'Youre a good man, Arthur Morgan.' I told him earnestly, 'Better than most.' I finished the last stitch and looked at him, 'All d-' I began, but he cut me off.

His lips greeting mine in a passionate kiss, lasting a whole second. But it was the best second I'd had in years. He pulled back, a horrified look on his face. Immidietly regretting it.

Surprised, I did not quite know what to say. 'Arthur, Im- You- You're drunk. .' I blurted, thinking it was the alcohol taking action. Nothing else.

'I'm–' He looked at me, searching for words 'You're right, I- I probably am. Apologies miss.' He managed.

I cursed myself, why'd he have to be drunk? He'd never remember that this even happened tomorrow.

'No- no. That's fine, don't worry. I didnt-' I tried, I didn't mind it. In fact I loved it, is that so hard to say? 'I should, uhm- let you sleep, you need to rest.' Idiot.

'I s'pouse so.' Was all he said, shock and regret still lingering between us.

'Well, good night. . . Mr Morgan.' I said, and he winced. Quickly, I took my leave.

'Night ma'am.' He called after me.

It felt like fleeing the scene of a crime. Bashing myself for the the formal good night, we were way past such pleasantires. It felt like a blow to even utter the words, even though I usually call him Mr Morgan. But it's always in a teasing way. Never formal and distant like this was.

Goodness gracious, what had I done?

I tucked myself under the covers in my own tent, thoughts circling my mind. I could not tear myself away from the smell of him, his musk, his broad build. Or the way sweetheart sounded as it rolled of his tongue, the way his tongue felt against my own. A hand snaked between my thighs, relieving myself of the ache he'd caused. Then slowly, I drifted off to sleep. With nothing but him on my mind.

You god damned fool Arthur, why'd you have scare her away? Old bastard, he thought to himself. Seeing her by his tent had startled him, but her gentle touch and sweet voice was all the comfort he'd needed. It took the sting right out of the needle. He'd used the bottle to clean the wound, but letting her think he was drunk was easier than the truth.

He'd took a liking to her from the moment he laid eyes on her, but she would never feel the same way. She'd called him Mr Morgan, as if the last year of building a relation with her had disintigrated within a second. It stung, real bad. Worse than a knife ever would. Yet that kiss made it all worth it her soft lips against his, her sweet taste. Feeling her breath on his skin as she undid his buttons, and seein' you like that? Kneeling between his legs, so close to him. It was a memory he would cherish through thick and thin, a memory that would keep him up at night. A memory that made him hard in an instant, he let out a frustrated groan. Silenty taking care of it, pretty images of her occupying his mind as he did. Finally, he began drifting off to sleep. And he only had one thing on his mind. She'd called him a good man, that's all that mattered to him.

A week passed, and we'd had a few shallow interactions. Nothing serious, but resembling the akwardness we experienced in his tent, it made my heart sore. I always found a reason to talk to him, to be near him. So when to opportunity arrived once again, I jumped on it. We'd had a full day of chores, but needed to head into Valentine for a supply run, to stock up on things like ammo and vegetables. And just generally take a look around town, see what else we could find. But I don't have a horse of my own, and since Lenny and Sean were taking the wagon.

I found myself in need of a ride.

The sun had begun its final stretch before setting, meaning the light was golden and beautiful. The warm spring air was gradually turning chilly, but in the most soothing way. I joined the crew by the horses, 'Who's willin' to give a lady a ride.' I asked coyly.

Arthurs mouth fell open, as if he was about to speak, but quickly closed it again. 'I always got space for you, girl.' Sadie winked.

'Stop that. . You ol' charmer.' I smile shyly. Arthur couldn't help but smile, nothing but admiration I'm his eyes for you.

'Well-' Micah began, and I immediately rolled my eyes. Arthur glaring daggers at him.

'Shut it, and shave that overgrown squirell off your face.' Sadie interrupted him, Sean erupting into laughter at the comment.

'Why are we even bringin' him? We don't need that kind of trouble today.' I pointed out.

'Cause I say so, sweetheart.' He leers, smugness radiating off of him.

My stumache churns, my dinner almost catching its second wind, 'Dont call me that.' I turn serious.

Micah laughs, about to respond-

'You heard her.' Arthur stops him, making him reconsider opening his mouth again. Instead he opts to mutter under his breath, no doubt the most vile and cruel things too.

John joins us to help get the wagon in order, then sen dus off. Changing the subject back, 'Arthur got the most space.' John points out, 'I'm sure he wouldn't mind.' He winks at me subtly, and I blush. John Marston, you godsend.

'That okay with you Arthur?' I ask, looking up at him with big eyes.

'Course, c'mon sweetheart.' He jumps out of the saddle, grabs me by the waist, and helps me onto his tall, dark shire.

I yelp, unprepared for his strength. He gets back on, placing himself behind me, then grabs the reins on either side of me, capturing me in his big frame. I can honestly say, that I've never felt safer. A content smile covers my lips.

Sadie chuckles at the two of us, the chuckle turning into pure laughter when she sees Micahs expression. Gritted teeth and narrowed eyes, glaring at us, probably furious by my blatant approval of Arthurs use of sweetheart.

And with that, we begin our journey into town. Lenny and Sean were singing behind us, Sadie leading the way ahead of us. And Micah? I didn't bother finding out where he was.

Feeling Arthurs warmth behind me was all I cared about, his chest and thighs rubbing up against me with every step of his horse. It was doing something to me.

As the sun dove deeper, the cool in the air grew. Involuntary shivers took ahold of my body, 'You cold, girl?' He asked.

I shook my head, 'No, I'll be fine. Thank you though, Arthur.' My voice hackig as a particularly violent shiver shook my body, making my teeth clattered against eachother.

'Dont you lie to me, you're freezin'.' He says, worry lacing his tone, 'Take the reins.' That was an order.

I did and his hands slid between us, unbuttoning his jacket. Knuckles brushing against my back, all the way along my spine, ending at the arch of my back. Sending shivers in waves all over my body. 'Scooch down.' He orders again. Slightly hesitant, I slide backward. My ass tucked neatly again his crotch and my back flush again his chest. With his jacket still on, he wraps it around my sides, nearly covering my entire upper body. Sharing eachothers heat, trapping it between us.

'Arthur. .' I breathe, lust coursing through me. But it must've sounded as a protest because-

'-Dont start.' He said, 'My jacket is big enough for the both of us. Now hand me the reins, darlin.'

Oh you wonderful, oblivious man.

I gave them back to him and tugged his jacket closer around me, leaning impossibly closer to him. Gradually, my shivers disappeared, all thanks to the large, warm bear of a man behind me.

'See? Told ya'.' His body shook gently with a silent chuckle.

'You're somethin' else Mr Morgan.' I sighed and this time, the words felt right.

He smiled, she didnt see it, thankfully. Everything she did, made him smile. She was so close to him, and he had indirectly caressed her back. He could've leaned back and given her space, but he craved her. It was intimate and special. He'd not felt so peaceful since she stitched him up last week. Everything he did was at her service. Now she sat between his legs, grinding up against him. Not to her knowledge though, she just moved her hips to the step of the horse, riding like a woman should. But unbeknownst to her, she was feeding a hunger he fought hard to contain. Head in the lions mouth and all.

'Whats on that mind of yours Arthur?' She asked, 'I can feel you thinkin' from 'ere.' Shuddering against him, is she still cold?

If she only knew, what was goin' through his mind. How he thought of you every waking moment, a sentiment she would never return.

'Nothin' special, you still feelin' cold? I can feel you shiverin' Girl.'

She froze for a second before she spoke, chuckling under her breath, 'No I ain't cold, but thank you again.' He could hear the smile on her lips.

What was it then?

'Is the cut heelin' good?' She asked, concern and something else lingering in her voice. The memory resurfaced in his mind, his blood setting about rushing places. He shut his eyes, trying to clean his mind before he answered. Clearing his throat first, 'Good, 'is gonna be a nice 'n clean scar.' His voice lightly strained.

'Well, I'm glad. You got enough of em' for my liking.' She huffed, annoyed at the notion of him always hurting himself.

He risked it, and leaned his head forward, almost touching her shoulder but not quite. Breathing in that sweet scent of hers. Telling himself that it wasn't such a strange thing to do. 'I'll survive, I always do. With your fine stitchin' It's impossibly not to.'

She blushed, turning her face away from his, a bit shy at his compliment. He loved the way her cheeks turned rosy, 'Thank you.' She said proudly, another shudder against him.

Damn it, wad she still cold or not?

He opted out of asking again. She'd just tell him no. So he took matters into his own hands, quite literally. He moved the reins into one hand and circled the other around her waist, pulling her closer. Figuring he could blame it on rough terrain, that he didn't want her to hurt her pretty self.

But she didn't protest, on the contrary. She made a sound, almost like she exhaled a moan under her breath. Then grabbed his thigh, rough terrain too, perhaps? 'Arthur. . .' She breathed.

'I apologise miss, I shouldn't ha–' He began.

'No, no. You should've.' Firm in her words. 'You, remember much from last week?' She asked.

'I do.' He breathed, a nervous shake to his voice.

'You werent drunk?'

'No ma'am.' He answered truthfully, 'I lied.'

'Why?' There was hurt in her voice, and something broke inside of him.

He hesitated, choosing his words carefully, afraid he'd hurt her more, 'Thought maybe it'd be best, since I stepped over a line.'

She scoffed, 'You didn't step over anything, Mr Morgan.'

'Well I. . .' He paused, 'You didnt seem to like it, thats all. Didnt want you to think I was takin' advantages.' He rambled an explanation.

'I didn't want to take advantage of you Mr Morgan.' She sounded annoyed, annoyed by this whole missunderstanding, 'Didnt want you kissin' me drunk, if it was, just cause you were drunk.' She explained, 'I thought you were drunk. . .' sighing.

Puzzle pieces were finally falling into place for the both of them.

'We're here!' Sadie called from the front.

Dissapointed, I sighed. Yet, relieved, I smiled.

Arthur jumped off, grabbed my waist and helped me down. His touch lingering as our eyes met, searching eachothers gazes for answers. Wondering, where to go from here. We were finally on the same page, and knowing he kissed me from his own free will put a sping in my step.

The group broke up, I headed with Sadie as the men got about their business. We looked at the guns first and foremost, then headed for the general store. I looked for Arthur as we walked from building to building, and saw him heading into the stables. I wondered if he was gonna treat himself to a new saddle. He deserved it.

We went about our list of things to buy, then gathered by the wagon. Collectively, we decided on a bar run before we rode back to camp. Lenny and Sean were particularly excited about the idea.

We ordered whiskey, drank and laughed. Sadie and Lenny stood between me and Arthur, resulting in a whole lot of meaningful glances. Just wishing we could talk some more.

At some point a woman had approached Arthur, laying her hand on his bicep, clearly flirting. And my blood ran cold.

I stood talking with Sean, who noticed my change in demeanour and looked over at them. 'Dont worry yourself girl.' He laughed, and I furrowed my brows. Not sure what he ment.

'You gonna buy a lady a drink?' The woman asked, her voice sultry. Now, my blood boiled.

Arthur chuckeled, 'I didnt know I was talking to a lady.' And glanced at her hand, which she immediately retracted upon noticing.

She scoffed, 'Aint that a nice way to treat a woman. You taken cowboy?' She asked, her eyes narrowing on him.

'Well. . .' He huffed, 'You could say that.'

My heart swelled at his comment.

'Told ye so.' Sean smirked, and I playfully hit him on the shoulder.

The night went on, and as most nights go in a saloon, a fight was bound to happen. Arthur must've been watching me, because within the next half minute. A man had walked up next to me, and was about to touch what wasnt his to touch. But Arthur appeared out of nowhere, his outlaw instics mustve been on high alert. The man did in fact look sleezy enough to attempt such a thing, Arthur grabbed the mans wrist in a bone breaking grib. 'You keep your hands to yourself mister.' He said, his voice low and threatening.

'Or what?' The man spit, and Arthur let go of him. Lowering his head, chuckling. That shouldve been the mans warning, but he didn't know Arthur like we did.

Backing me up, Sean whispered 'Get ready.' to Sadie, Lenny and me. Nodding to a table of thugs in the corner, they were staring at our group intently, watching the scene unfold.

Arthur jerked his head to the side and smirked under his hat, then in flash he gave the man a lethal right hook. Sending him flying backward. The thugs sprung up, heading for us with firm steps.

Holy shit. A full on brawl broke out, everyone lunged themselves on everyone. I delivered a right hook of my own as two guys were ganging up on Lenny. Another man tried getting handsy with me, he snuck up behind me and grabbed me around the waist. So I elbowed him hard in the side and threw my head back. Headbutting him, I turned around and pushed him off me. Taking great joy in the way his nose was gushing blood, I grabbed him by the shoulders and kneed him in the crotch. With a whine, the man fell to the ground.

Even Micah joined in on the action, he'd been sitting still enjoying his whiskey beside us. Until he decided he wanted some fun too, apparently only he could be inappropriate with me. He smashed the glass over the head on the closest man, although im pretty sure he wasn't even apart of the brawl.

As the dust was settling and the lawmen had been called, we flew the coup. Arthur grabbed my hand and rushed us to our horses, not willing to risk leading the law back to camp, we rode hard and fast for Strawberry. Arthur was making a fuss about me on the ride there, asking if I was ok, and I assured him I was. 'Well. . . You got one hell of a hook girl.' He said, and I beamed with pride.

The gang had to act casual as we arrived to Strawberry, which proved futile with cuts and bruises as we asked for hotel rooms. But we ended up conning our way into possession of the last three hotel rooms. Bribing the clerk that is.

Arthur grabbed a key of his own, which nobody disputed. He gave me a meaningful look at and headed upstairs. Sadie grabbed a key and dragged me along with her. Leaving the last three men to argue about sharing a room, 'Shut up Micah, you're sleeping in the hall.' Sean shouted behind us. Turning around, I saw Micah slamming the doors open and storming out.

'I'll find a woman to warm me, dont ya' worry.' He shouted back, muttering under his breath.

We burst out laughing and ran to our room, but before we headed in, I grabbed her arm 'I'm just gonna go check on Arthur real quick.' I said, not thinking much of it.

'I'll not see you til the morning then.' She laughed, our stolen glances had apparently not been so stolen after all.

I rolled my eyes, 'We'll see.' And knocked on his door.

Lenny and Sean walked by, a low whistle accompanied by chuckles as they saw me standing there. But they quickly turned quiet when Arthur opened the door, standing in only his shirt and pants 'May I come in?' I asked, giving him my best puppy eyes.

'Course.' He smirked, and opened the door wider, stepping out of my way. My side brushing against him as I entered. His vest and jacket lay discarded on the bed, along with his hat.

'About before-' I began, my back turned to him. Suddenly feeling his hands slide onto my waist, pulling me into him. I gasped, not expecting it. He leaned into my shoulder, lips gracing my neck, all the way up to my ear. The warmth of his breath fanning over my skin, making me boil on the inside. It made it difficult to think.

'I want you darlin', all of ya'.' He whisperes, 'If you'll have me–' pausing to place a gentle kiss between my ear and jaw, '–'M tired off missunderstandin's.'

In a haze, I turn around and lay my hands on his chest, having to crane my neck upward to meet his eyes. I reach one hand to caress his cheek, brushing at his stubble 'So am I.'

He leans into my delicate touch, nuzzling my hand and placing a soft peck on my palm.

One of his hands sinks its fingertips into the flesh at my hip as the other grabs my arm softly, sliding his hand up to my wrist, gently holding it as he places another kiss there, right on my pulse point. His lips linger, feeling my rapid heartbeat. Gently, he experiments. Sucking and pecking the spot.

A deep ache settles in my bones, fortifying with every kiss he places, deepening with every beat of my heart. And for a second, he feels it too. Meeting my eyes with a smirk, he pulls my sleeve up to cover more ground. Immidietly I feel that my clothes are weighing me down, 'Arthur.' I whisper.

'Hmm?' He hums, focused on kissing what skin he has access to.

Clearing my throat, 'Will you–' I breathe, 'Help me unbutton?'

His eyes meet mine again, searching my gaze for certainty. 'I'll spend the rest of my days doin' your biddin' if it makes you happy girl.'

'It would–' I say, and his hands move to my ribcage, pulling me into his frame. His face an inch from mine as his hands snake around my back, making quick work of each button without batting an eye. 'Oh—' I gasp, surprised by his practiced fingers. 'Should I be jealous?' I ask under my breath.

'No ma'am, none could compete with you.' He assures me.

I feel a blush creep up my cheeks, and in the same moment, he finishes with the last button. Stroking his knuckles over the bare skin along my spine, and sighs. Content. As a shuddering breath leaves me.

Arthur wonders for but a second if shes cold again, until he realises.

'You werent cold, were ya'?'

Immedietly getting what hes reffering to, 'In the begginin' I was.' I tell him truthfully, 'Youre wonderfully clueless sometimes, especially for such a experienced man.'

He chuckles, 'You tellin' me you were all hot 'n bothered for me?'

'You were rubbin' against me, pullin' me close. How could I not be?'

'I wasnt–' He protests, '–You were on me if anythin'.'

'Oh so youre tellin' me you were all hot 'n bothered then?' I throw his words back at him, smirking happily while doing it.

Arthurs mouth opens and closes, unable to think of a comeback.

'Thats what I thought.'

He scoffs a smile, pushing my blouse off of me, leaving me in my undergarments.

His hands move to my arms, sliding upwards, leaving prickled skin in their abscence. He trails them over my collarbones and neck, his eyes following every inch of movement.

I lay my hands on his hips, holding onto him as my knees grow weeker by the second.

Forming his hands into loose fists, he caresses my cheeks with the backs if his fingers. Gently brushing the knuckles over my cheekbones, pushing strands of hair from my face in the same motion. He flattens his hands and cup my face, big hands draping around the sides of my head. Pulling me closer, he leans into my space. Meeting in the middle, his lips ghost over mine.

My breath hitches when he kisses me softly, his thumbs stroking my temples in soothing motions.

I grab onto his shirt, fisting and lightly pulling on the fabric. Arousal taking the reins completley, making it hard to think. I look at him with hazy eyes, admiration clouding every sense I have. '. . 'S your turn mister.' I breathe.

Smiling, he continues kissing me, 'At your pleasure ma'am.'

With a pleased hum, I trace my hands up his abdomen and over his chest, and Arthur groans in response. The aching pulse in my body stiffens at the sound, becoming more compressed. More focused in my core. Kissing him, I easily unbutton his shirt, making quick work of it, and slide it over his shoulders. Now hooked on his arm folds, it hangs around the small of his back. I sigh happily, what a sight it was.

'You expercied taking men's shirt's off?' He jokes, laughing. Then moves his hands to my waist, clawing softly at my skin.

I slide my arms around his neck, up into his hair. Scrathing his scalp tenderly, 'Well–' I begin, but he bites my lip suddenly, warning me. I yelp, accidently pulling on his hair, and a whine escapes him. My core dripping at the sound as I release a shuddering breath, '. .'M a woman Arthur, I have needs.'

'Yeah?' He questions, 'You needin' right now, woman?' The gruffness in his voice making my fingers curl.

'I am. .' Whining, my kisses turn needy, 'I need you Arthur, always.' I moan.

At that he wraps his arms around me, pulling me tightly into his embrace, his fingers digging into my flesh. He kissed me, hard. Hard like he might just die if let's me go.

'Skirt. . .' mumbling against me, 'Needs to go.' He manages. Without another word, I snake my hands behind my back, untying my skirt a let it fall to the floor. Arthur walks forward, forcing me back until my chins hit the bed and we fall onto it. He puts his weight on me, although supported by his forearms. 'Pants.' He orders, but I was already one step ahead. My hands already moving quickly to undo the buttons on his pants as hes kissing his way down my jaw and neck. Focusing on my sweet spot, hes sucks bruises, turning me into a moaning mess under every breath. Meanwhile, I shove my hand into his boxers. He grunts and shoves his forehead into the crook of my neck as I palm him, overwhelmed by my long lusted for touches. His member was already harder than a rock, and leaking juices. I bring my thump to his tip, stroking his seed in circles. He groans breathely into my neck, his warm breath causing further heat to pool in core. He leans onto one arm, sliding the other along the curves of my body. Cupping my breast through my brasier, 'I want to look at you sweetheart.' He groans and unfolds his arm so that hes above me to meet my eyes, 'Can I look at ya'?' He asks, voice pleading.

I nod, '. . 'Course.'.

Waisting no time, he snakes one hand under my back and lifts me up. I gasp, always surprised by his strength. 'Please, ma'am.' He begs, and I take the hint. My hand leaves his his member and move around my back, undoing the brasier. Throwing it on the floor, he sighs in relief, 'Wanted to see ya' for so long.' He breathes, lowering me back onto the bed and himself onto of me. Immidietly taking one breast into his mouth, and palms the other. Squeezing them, playing with my nipples, using teeth, tounge and fingers. Automatically, my back arches. Pushing my abdomen against his, and accidentally making my mound rub against his crotch. He hums under his breath, his hand leaving my breast and slowly slides down my body, then pulls his mouth off of my breast with a pop. 'Now.' He whispers, kissing his way up to my jaw, then leveling his head with mine, 'Wanna se all of ya'.' his free hand cups my cunt. I gasp from the sudden touch, there's no friction, no movement, yet the aching grows stronger from the warmth of his palm alone. I shut my eyes, trying to come up with an answer. But the presence of him takes up my entire mind, all I can manage is a nod.

Not satisfied, he pushes his palm firmly against my core. 'Look at me girl.' He orders, sliding his middle finger over my slit, undergarments creating a barrier. Making my wetness soak into them, and he chuckles when he feels it. Whimpering, I open my eyes to look at him, and he smirks, 'Good girl.' And plants a kiss on my jaw, 'Use your words this time.' He pecks my lips, then slides his finger over my clit. Lately circling it through the fabric, I swallow hard. Jolts of pleasure surge through my body as something finally gives. 'Want. . . You.' I manage.

'Yeah?' He breathes, and I nod. To which he raises his brows, and pushes two fingers against my core in warning.

Another jolt, '!Mmm, meanin'. . .' Humming a stutter, 'Yes–' I pause, '–Please Arthur. I- I want you.'

'Atta girl.' He praises, then begins trailing kisses down my chest, over my nipple and abdomen, ending at my mound, right above my clit.

My back arches, 'Please. .' I whisper, pleading with him. He pushes back, shakes his already half off shirt completley off, and his pants follow. My eyes go wide at the size of him, hello cowboy.

His hands slide up my thighs, giving reassuring squeezes until he gets ahold of my undergarments. Hooking his fingers under them, he gently slides them off, and the both of us gasp. 'Beautiful.' He murmurs, admiring me. Then bends down, kissing his way up my inner thigh. Winding his arms under my legs and grabbing my waist, then hovers over my cunt, giving me one last look before diving in.

He licks one long stripe up my folds, gathering my wetness on his tongue. Then attaches himself to my clit, generously sucking and circling his tongue around it. I'd been on edge since the night in the tent, hyper sensitive from always wanting him, and finally feeling him on me? It's purely magical, I have to bite my cheek to keep from screaming when he shoves two fingers inside me. Thrusting in and out, curling with every withdrawal. I was already close, 'Arthur, 'm so close.' I moan.

He nods, furthering the movement of his tongue, 'Tell me what ya' needin' girl.' He mumbles against my folds, the vibrations of his voice deepness have me gripping my sheets, clawing it them like a wild animal.

'Need you, need you in me.' I blurt out.

He laughs, 'Im already in you sweetheart.' Causing my back to arch again, oh sweet, sweet vibrations. I throw my head back into the pillow, and his hand slides from my hip to my lower abdomen, 'Be good and lay still now.' Then pushing down with his palm. That combined with his fingers, were– were enough. . .

Blinding pleasure surges through me as I come on his fingers, walls clenching, fluids flowing. I breathe heavily as he laps it up, 'In me Arthur, please.' I whine.

'Youre gonna have to be clearer girl.'

I loose my patience, 'Christ, Arthur! I need you cock in me.'

He smirks, 'Well why didnt you just say so?' His hands push my legs over his shoulders and he climbs on top of me, face to face, he kisses me passionately. Tasting of salt.

His tip graces my entrance, 'You sure, aint you?' He asks, kissing my jaw.

I bury my hand in his hair, 'Mmh, 'm sure.' And with that, pushes inside me. A breathy moan leaves our mouths simultaneously.

'Feelin' just as sweet as you taste sweetheart.' He whispers against my jaw, nuzzling his nose into my cheek and forehead against temple. The pulls out, to the tip, and shoves himself back in. Hard and passionate, he sets perfect pace. Rocking our bodies with every thrust, going deeper than I ever thought to be possible.

'Christ.' I groan, he's hitting that spot inside me with every motion. One hand moves though his back, scratching at it loosely, pulling on hip to get him even deeper. He grunts, in my ear. Might aswell be music, wouldnt be able to tell a difference. He snakes one hand up my torso, grabbing my throat gently and squeezing just enough. Brushing his thumb over my my jugular. Outlaw indeed.

I pull on his hair, to level his face with mine, I wanted his lips, his tongue. 'Kiss me cowboy.' I order, and he follows.

Kissing me deeply, in rhythm with his thrusts, In rhythm with the aching that was finally dulling in my body. Finally, I had I'm. Truly had him. Bliss flows through me as the knot in my stumache tightens, on the verge of my second orgasm. And telling by Arthurs thrusts, he wasn't far away either. In a few more thrusts we both topple over with a breathy moans, Arthur whispering, 'Good girl.' Over and over as his seed was filling me to the brim, seeping out around his member as he collapses on me. My legs falling to the bed. We gather our breaths in a comfortable silence, just enjoying the closeness of the other.

He lays and arm around me, pulling me close as we fall asleep. Both thinking of the other, just not having to imagine what holding the other would feel like anymore.

At some point during the night, Arthur had rolled me off of his arm and snuck out. I was to tired to think much of it, especially since he returned shortly after. By morning I had all but forgotten it, brushing it off as a dream.

As we got dressed and ready the next day, I handed Arthur his hat. He took it, but looked at me, 'Put it on, wanna see you in something of mine.' He says, smiling.

'Gladly.' I chirp, and put it on.

His smile slants, turning into a smirk, 'Now, girl. You know what that means don't you?'

'Why'd you think I was glad to put it on. If not just to tell Micah to shove it.' I chuckle.

'It suits ya' He ruffles my hair with the hat.

We walked out and fetch our horses, the grup giving us mixed looks as the spot us. Arthurs hat declaring to the public of his intentions, that I was his and that we would have a busy night. Sadie smirked knowingly, winking at me. While Sean and Lenny looked happy for us, Micah was the only one who glowered.

'I got a surprise.' He says as he saddles his shire.

'Yeah, whats that?' I tilt my head.

He nods to Sean who runs off, I quirk my eyebrow at Arthur, 'Whats all this?' I ask.

'You'll see, keep your eyes peeled sweetheart.'

Eventually, Sean comes back into view, leading a horse I don't recognize. A beautiful mustang, tan coat, and white forhead. I don't connect the dots at first, 'Sean got a new horse?' I ask, confused.

'Now why would I surprise you with a new horse for Sean?' He asks, chuckling. And the pieces snap into place.

'For me?' I ask, dumbfounded. A million questions circling my head.

'Got her yesterday, had Sean ride and get her earlier this morning. Since I was. . . Occupied.' He smirks.

'That's why you snuck out in the night, then?'

He hums, 'Mhm.'

'Well I'll be. . Arthur Morgan, thank you.' I smile, hugging him. He wraps his arm around me, holding me tightly, afraid I'd otherwise slip away.

'. .'S nothing.' He pecks my cheek, 'Go meet her.'

As we arrived back to camp, we got busy. Late into the night we spent in Arthurs tent, defining the meaning of cowgirl.

The next few hours we rode next to eachother on our way back to camp, flirting and laughing as Saint and I got used to eachother.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #rdr2 #rdr2 smut #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 smut #rdr smut #red dead redemption #arthur morgan fanfiction #rdr2 fanfic

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holylulusworld · 3 months ago

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How to cure a grump (8)

Summary: You’re losing your job on Christmas.

Pairing: CEO/Boss!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: grumpy Bucky, mistaken identity, kinda fake dating trope, fluff, mentions of being cruel to animals (no description), idiots in love

How to cure a grump (7)

How to cure a grump masterlist

“The poor little thing,“ you sniffle on your way home. After you found the kitten, and the kiss making you weak in the knees, you weren’t in the mood for figure skating. “How could anyone throw you into a dumpster?”

Bucky is silent. He holds the kitten close to his warm chest and protects it from the cold with his warm coat. “People can be cruel.”

Your mind is racing. Everything happening not half an hour ago has you doubting your opinion about Bucky.

He defended you and punched your ex. And then, he kissed you again.

How could he kiss you again?

Your former boss is a mystery to you. One moment he’s the worst, and the next he’s a sweet man saving a dirty kitten from a dumpster.

“We need to go to a vet,” he says, breaking the silence. “Right?” He cocks his head to look at you. “I never had a pet before.”

“Let’s head home for now. Doc Carter is on vacation this year. I think the kitten needs food, warmth, and a place to sleep for now,” you glance at the kitten. It lifts its head to look up at Bucky, meowing loudly. “I bet the little furball is hungry.”

“Food. Right,” Bucky says as he looks down at his body to check on the kitten. “Poor punk. Who did this to you? Tell me their name, and I’ll get them arrested or worse.”

“I guess we’ll never find them,” you murmur as Bucky stops in his tracks. “That’s how things go most of the time, Bucky.” You carefully pat the cat’s head. “Sweetie got lucky we found them in time. It’s going to snow more and get colder tonight.”

“Sweetie,” Bucky wrinkles his nose. “That’s an awful name for a cat.” His features soften seeing the little kitten in his arms look back at him. “We will find a better one.”

“We will see,” you reply, determined to name the kitten yourself. Bucky has no right to name them. You heard them meow first.

“What a sweet little creature!” Your mother exclaims, watching Bucky carefully place the kitten he carried back home on a warm blanket. He checks on the creature, humming as the kitten nuzzles his hand. “Where did you find it?”

“In a dumpster!” Bucky angrily replies. “Can you believe someone threw this little kitten away?” He sniffs before carefully lifting the kitten. “Hmm…boy or girl?”

Your mother chuckles as he looks her way. “Let me,” she offers, and carefully lifts the kitten’s tail. “She’s a little girl.” Your mother smirks as Bucky moves the blanket and kitten closer to his side. “No wonder she wants to be close to you, Bucky.”

The kitten desperately meows and tries to climb onto Bucky’s hand. “Hey, slow down. You need food, and sleep.”

“I can prepare food for the poor thing. We found more than one stray kitten over the years,” your mother offers. “How about you go to the living room? It’s warm and you can sit on the couch. I’ll be right there with food for the kitten.”

Before you get the chance, Bucky carefully picks the blanket and kitten up, carrying it out of the kitchen and toward the living room. You huff. “Why don’t you give the kitten to me? You’ll go back to New York soon. I will stay here, and I can take care of them.”

Bucky squares his jaw. Again, you had to remind him of his mishap.

“You’ll have a job when you come back after the holidays. The kitten, though, is mine.” He states, not leaving room for arguments. “I save them.”

“You don’t even know how to take care of the kitten,” you argue, and snarl his name, ready to fight for the kitten.

“I know damn well how to tame a bratty creature,” he growls and steps closer, stopping right in front of you. Bucky's hands twitch to push you against the wall and kiss you again, but your mother walks inside the living room.

“Awe, don’t fight,” she coos. “You are going to take good care of the kitten, together.” She winks at you. “Let’s feed the kitten first.”

“Bucky Barnes,” you hiss, as you knock at the door of the guest room. “Give me the kitten.” You enter the room without waiting for an answer.

“I won’t give you the kitten,” Bucky grunts in your direction. He settled on the bed, the blanket with the kitten right next to him. “Her name is Alpine, and I already ordered everything she’ll need online.”

“Alpine?” You cock your head and huff. “What gives you the right to name her?” You growl. “James Buchanan Barnes just walks into town; kisses people he fires and claims their kitten!”

Bucky smirks. “Not so loud,” he replies as he slowly slips out of the bed. “I saved her and brought her here. She likes me, and I named her because Alpine is my kitten now.”

“You—” you huff, frustrated. Fighting with Bucky won’t get you anywhere. “Why do you want the kitten? You’re not the kind of man caring for a pet, or people or anything.”

“I care for a few people,” he argues. “Steve, my best friend since childhood is one of them. I don’t care about many people, but if I do, I do it unconditionally.”

“Sure.” You snap at him. “You care only about your buddy and money. I bet you’ll forget to feed the poor kitten.”

“Alpine,” he growls and pushes you against the wall, holding you there. “Her name is Alpine. I decided to take good care of her, and this means I will take good care of her.”

His lips are back on yours. He silences your protests and anger with his lips, swallowing every bad word as your fingers tangle in his hair. Bucky wraps his arms around you to lift you off your feet and help you wrap your legs around him.

“I hate you so much,” you growl against his lips before kissing him again. You close your eyes for a second, ignoring the voice telling you not to play with fire. You’ll get burned, but you don’t care…

Part 9

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #x reader #How to cure a grump (8)#business au #CEO!Bucky Barnes

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hypernova-writes · 2 months ago

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Part of Your World [Ch.1]

Chapter one: Am I dreaming?

Pairings: OT9 X Reader.

Synopsis: After moving into your grandparents old home, you catch up with some friends and play some Tf2 before bed...only to wake up and find the nine mercenaries in your home...

a/n: I saw a thing that asked for more reverse isekai tf2 fics and luckily I had this one prepared as my second series to go alongside the Crown Jewel one! Hope you guys enjoy!

“Nova. Please you’re making it worse,”

“Sorry!..I mean at least you have alot of room to yourself..”

You huff softly as you place the boxes in your hands down. Your friend Nova was helping you move all your things into your grandparents home. The duo decided to up and move and gave you the option to move into the home.

A home with everything paid for, looks nice and spacious, in this economy?

Oh hell yeah you were taking it.

The two of you just finished setting down the last box down in your bedroom, Nova smiles at you before stepping back.

“Well, Do you need anymore help setting up, or do you got it from here boss?”

You glance around before looking back at her, “Ahh nah I think I got it from here Nov! I’ll call you later and we can hop on the game!”

Nova nods before she reaches forward to hug you before turning and leaving. “See ya Y/n!”

“Bye Bye! Talk to you later!” You respond as you wave to your friend as she leave out of your new home.

You close your room door afterwards and sighs as you plop down on the bed, you looked over to your pc and the small posters you managed to get up while Nova was still here.

The two of you met from playing Team Fortress 2 and became quick friends, you were already well versed in the fandom, the posters you had up were a few fanarts made by some of your friends and one you drew yourself of Scout.

You move to sit up and move over to your PC, you loaded up discord to send a message to Nova that you were ready to play.

-Hey Nov you ready?⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

-FUCK YEEAAA I WAS BORN READY- cough cough uhh..i mean of course! (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

You giggle at your friend before you loaded up steam and placed your headphones on your head. You hum as you waited for the loading screen to come on and decided you would play at whoever was on your screen when you loaded in.

And today it was Scout!

-“Ready to go run in and die?”

-“PLEASE! Are you going scout too?”

When the two of you loaded into the match you could already tell this was going to be one of those long nights where the two of you goof around and not take anything seriously.

You two were even joined by two of your other friends and ended up just running around smacking people with the holy mackerel, not even caring that your teams were horribly losing.

This went on until around 12am before you eventually could feel the tiredness kicking in and you yawned a bit too loud into your mic.

“Oop, Y/n is on the train to sleepy time junction.”

"Shut up Nova…”

“Damn somebody eepy,”

“The missile is eepy and needy to sleepy.”

You rolled you eyes playfully before deciding that was it game for today and leaning back in your chain. “Alright guys, I’ll talk to you tomorrow!”

“Night N/n!”

“Nighty night!”

|“See ya!”

You hummed softly as you got up and moved over to your bed, not bothering to turn off your PC, knowing you had it set to go off on it’s own.

You turned down the screen brightness and climbed into your bed, placing your phone on the charger and finally settling down into bed.

“She’s hot aint she?”

“Ya know Scout, You might be right, she is a doll..”

“Don’t tell me we are actually agreeing with this idiot now?..”

“Mhm mhph!”

“Pyro’s right! We outta take a chance,”

“Right, Right, I vant out of zhis damn box! Besides..I want to see what kind of heart she has~”

“..Doctor..human heart different from what you give us. She may be fragile..”

“IF SHE IS FRAGILE WE WILL HAVE TO TURN HER INTO A PROPER WARRIOR.”

“Aye, Solly. Doubt the lass wants to wake up at 6am to the sound of a horn.”

The computer screen starts to morph and change, the lights flashing on Y/N’s sleeping body, as one by one, quietly the men start to materialize in her bedroom.

“Woah..I wonder what year this is…?”

“From the clock on the wall, I think its the year 2025.”

“That’s 57 years. You idiots brought me 57 years in the future,”

“Vell, first of all Spy. in her world ve are fictional characters.”

“Oi! That’s us on the wall over there!” Demoman moves over and points to the posters.

“Is that how they all see us? And why in the sam hills are our hands so big?”

“And why in the bloody hell is Scout here so much?”

Scout chuckles as he runs a hand through his short hair. “Seems like dollface over here has class~, need i remind you she played me last night with her friends?”

Spy rolled his eyes. “Yea, and kept dying. Halting our progress with stupid games.”

Medic was already hovering over Y/n tilting his head as he looked down at her, “My My, she’s such a heavy sleeper! You vould think she vould hear 9 grown adults in her room..”

Heavy looks around her room, “Seems like she moved, Maybe that is why little woman is tired.” He picks up one of the boxes and opens it, seeing plushies, before reaching in and grabbing a little bird one dressed like him.

He turns it over. “...Little..Pootis?”

The other mercs look through the boxes, all seeing merch of various types of them, posters, figures, plushies and buttons.

Spy lifts one of the Spy crab plushies up and tilts his head. “Seems like she’s a fan. You picked the right one Scout.”

“You complimenting me Frenchie? I must be dreaming”

“Don’t make me regret it.”

Sniper glanced around before noticing someone was missing. “Oi, Where’s the spook?”

Spy rolled his eyes and Sniper shook his head, “ No not you! Pyro!”

Engineer pointed out of the door, “Seems to be making himself home, Speakin’ of which, we all should be doing the same, i’m sure when the little lady wakes up she’s gonna want an explanation.”

You yawned as you awoke from your slumber, rubbing your eyes and checking your phone seeing that it was 8:32am. You rolled out of bed and noticed your box full of tf2 merch was knocked over. You bent over to get it, sitting it up straight and putting your little pootis plushie on your bed.

That’s when you smelt something cooking.

You froze, because now you live alone, when you used to stay with your parents this was a smell you were used to…

But now you’re alone.

Grabbing a baseball bat that was leaning against the wall, (one that you dont even remember buying, but hey that’s another problem for another day-) You made your way down the hall into the kitchen, and to your horror.

You heard multiple voices.

So now you were slowly creeping forward trying to make a plan in your head as you walked up. You noticed a hard hat on your dining room table along with a fucking FLAMETHROWER.

God you were ill equipped to deal with who ever the hell to enter your home...

You could hear someone with a southern accent speaking so someone else who sounded like they were speaking through a mask.

But right when you rounded the corner you came face to face with a man, dressed just like the Medic from Team Fortress 2. Like from the coat to his boots, he even looked like him too…

The male smiled brightly at you, “Ah! Our little Frau has awoken! Come come you can put down Scout’s bat, we won't hurt you at all…” You look to the bat in your hand and realize that it did look like the one you had equipped to Scout in your game.

You dropped it out of surprise and the noise summoned the two from the Kitchen, which you discovered to be Engineer and Pyro.

“h..How...are you..? You guys aren’t supposed to be real!?” You rightly questioned and Engineer chuckles.

“Well we are as real as ever, Sugar. We could see you every time you loaded up the game there.”

“Engineer here is correct! We could see you and hear you too!”

“Mhoph hmph!”

You tilt your head before turning a bright red, This means that they have seen you walk in to play the game in just your bra and panties, and then proceed to say the most atrocious things about them for the amount of time you happen to game.

“W-well..where is the others..?”

“Oh they’re in the livin’ room darl’ tryin’ to figure out how your television works.”

You decide to go look, with Pyro following behind you and low and behold, There was Scout, Demoman, Soldier and Sniper all on your couches watching what seemed to be some sports game.

Scout was the first to notice you and he jolted up with a smirk before coming over, “hey there toots~! Nice to finally see ya in person, I see you like me a lot!” He walks up to you and wraps his arms around you.

"I think me and you are gonna become good friends?~ Specially since im your favorite~"

You freak out a bit, and before you could push him away, Spy does that for you, by pulling him off of you.

He and Heavy walk in with bags in his hands..and your car keys.

“Where did you?”

“To the store, We were going to cook you breakfast to explain things but it seems you woke up a bit earlier than we expected.” Spy explained as he pulled Scout to the side, ignoring the pout that the 27 year old had.

“You are a special one. We felt connected to you and your friends through game. But we chose you.” Heavy explains and you nod slowly as they guide you to the kitchen and sit you down at the table infront of a well made breakfast.

That was probably what you were smelling when you woke up. You looked down at the food, before giving them a sheepish grin. “a..ah..thank you..I guess..this is still all..jarring you know..” you began.

“All my favorite characters are real now and staying with me..I feel like i am dreaming.”

Medic leans over with that wide grin of his, “Do you need someone to pinch you?”

“No thanks..just give me a moment alone to process this..you guys feel free to roam and set up how you would like..” you say and the 9 males nod all together before all going in different places of the house.

You looked down to see the pancake had a cute smiling face, probably drawn with syrup by Pyro, you gave a small smile before you sighed.

Maybe this is all a dream that you could wake up from, that they aren’t really real, and that you have to explain to your parents why the hell do you have 9 grown ass adults dressed as mercenaries living with you…

Yea. lets hope it’s one.

AHHHH I HOPE YOU ENJOYED

as I stated earlier, I saw this while i was scrolling trying to find motivated to finish this fic, and seeing that people wanted more reverse isekai tf2 stuff, I hope I could deliver with the fun first part to this series!!

- [Next]

#tf2 fandom #tf2 fanfiction #tf2 x reader #team fortress 2 #tf2 fanfic #tf2 #team fortress 2 x reader #team fortress 2 imagines #scout x reader #pyro x reader #soldier x reader #demoman x reader #heavy x reader #engineer x reader #spy x reader #sniper x reader #medic x reader

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lemitinc · 2 months ago

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" What do I gotta do to get in your motherfuckin' heart?"

Hello! This is my first time writing anything here. It's a short scenario, and I'm just testing the waters to see how a Bakugou fic would work. English isn't my first language, so please be kind!

...

You knew it was a fucking bad idea.

You knew it the moment Mina, with a big smile, offered to save you a seat during lunch, completely oblivious to what was about to unfold in that noisy cafeteria. It was an open secret that you and Bakugo couldn't stand each other. Nobody knew how that hatred had started, but everyone was aware that it was mutual. Bakugo always managed to test your patience, and that day he had crossed the line.

Your first big mistake was arriving early at the cafeteria. Although you managed to get a tray with the food you had been craving — which always ran out quickly —, you couldn't find Mina anywhere. People kept piling up, so you tried to make your way through the crowd to the tables. That's when you made your second mistake.

You had seen a redhead with an unusual hairstyle sitting near the center. You decided it was worth approaching him, since you preferred to try rather than end up eating in the bathrooms like a complete loser.

"Kirishima, sorry to bother you, but I couldn't find Mina. Have you seen her?"

The guy seemed surprised by your sudden boldness; you had barely exchanged trivial words when Mina introduced you.

"I'm not sure if I've seen her come in."

His voice sounded somewhat hesitant, but you trusted his good judgment; he had never given you reason to doubt him.

"You can sit with me while you wait! If you're okey with it..."

You couldn't help but smile in relief. You had been wandering among so many people, exhausted from training, and just thinking about trying the food made your mouth water.

"You have no idea how much I appreciate it. You're my hero."

However, your smile vanished instantly when the unspeakable one appeared in a matter of seconds.

"What the hell is this?"

Bakugo's harsh voice resonated throughout the cafeteria. You closed your eyes, wishing that when you opened them again, he wouldn't be there. But, of course, dreams don't always come true.

"What the hell is this idiot doing here?"

It wasn't really a question, but rather a loud complaint. You knew he just wanted to provoke you, but every time you heard his voice, something burned in your chest.

"Bakugo, she just—" Kirishima tried to calm the situation, but it was in vain.

"No, it's fine, Kirishima."

You were determined to get up from the table, but his words stopped you.

"No way! I invited you to sit with me."

You stared, surprised that for the first time, Kirishima had dared to put his friend in his place, ignoring Bakugo's complaints.

"Bakugo, if you don't want her here, you can eat somewhere else."

His tone was calm, but his message was a direct blow to Bakugo's ego. For the first time in your life, you saw him keep quiet, sitting reluctantly next to his friend.

Unfortunately, that meant he was facing you. His gaze was intense, full of disdain, and all you could do was ignore him.

The atmosphere became tense, and nobody at the table seemed willing to break the silence.

Your moment of false peace didn't last long. It was no mystery that Bakugo could never keep that damned mouth shut.

"Why do we have to put up with her anyway? It's not our fault she has no friends."

That stupid smile and the way he threw a noodle at your clothes made the last thread of patience you had left snap completely.

In seconds, the tray in front of him was slammed against his chest, the result of a domino effect; you had pushed your tray forward, managing to spill the hot ramen all over his shirt.

"You. Little. Shit."

With a quick movement, Bakugo lunged at you, throwing you to the ground with all his might. It caused a big commotion in the cafeteria; now everyone's eyes were on you.

His forearm was pressed against your throat, choking you forcefully. A desperate struggle began, you tried to kick his stomach with your knee, but his free hand grabbed your thigh with inhuman strength.

"Let me go, you piece of shit!"

Your voice was hoarse, you were running out of air, and the pressure on your throat grew with each passing moment. You tried to summon your power, drawing in all the water you could and crystallizing it into small, sharp pieces, but just as they were about to pierce his back...

Something stopped them.

"That's enough!"

It was Professor Aizawa, and he was not happy. In fact, he was furious, to say the least. This time you two had gone too far.

...

#mha bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #katsuki bakugo x reader #my hero academy fanfiction #fanfic

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wordsofwhimsy · 2 months ago

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𝘚𝘏𝘈𝘛𝘛𝘌𝘙𝘌𝘋 𝘈𝘍𝘍𝘌𝘊𝘛𝘐𝘖𝘕𝘚 - 𝘗𝘈𝘙𝘛 𝘛𝘏𝘙𝘌𝘌

♥ Pairing: Mohawk!Mark Grayson x Reader | Sinister!Mark Grayson x Reader ♥ Warnings: Violence & Gore ♥ a/n: even though i put him in the pairings sinister mark doesn’t actually show up this chapter. if y’all haven’t noticed i’m pretty big on building lore so one scene can take a lot of time lolll. i think it adds to the depth of the story 🤌 → Part Two ←

It was a truly beautiful day; the sun’s rays unbroken by the clouds while a gentle breeze rustled through the leaves. Its serenity, however, was lost on M.Mark. A deep red liquid spattered across his face as the smell of sweat, blood, and fear permeated the alleyway he stood in. He could hear the sickening sound of bones cracking beneath his fists, but all that mattered was the rage—the fire burning deep in his chest. It was a fire that never truly went out, and right now it was fueled entirely by a raw jealousy.

“You really think you’re good enough for her, huh?” Mark’s voice was low, venomous, his words directed at no one in particular. His eyes were wild, pupils dilated with fury. He grabbed one of the men by the throat, lifting him effortlessly off the ground. The guy's feet dangled, his hands flailing helplessly as Mark’s fingers dug into his windpipe.

The man’s eyes bulged in terror, but Mark barely registered it. He was thinking of you. You—smiling at that asshole, holding his hand, like you didn’t even notice the real love of your life existed at all. Like that Mark was the most important thing in the world.

“I protect people now, you know?” Mark spat, his voice tinged with bitterness, his grip tightening. “I save people. And for what? So some fucking idiot can waltz around thinking he’s good enough to have her?”

The guy gasped, clawing at Mark’s hand, but it was no use. Mark wasn’t even really seeing him anymore. His eyes were focused somewhere else, somewhere far away.

In his mind’s eye he saw you again—laughing with that bastard. His absolute idiot of a counterpart, who didn’t even see you like he did. You were a goddamn star in his world, and yet you gave that moron all your time, all of your love.

“It’s so fucked up,” Mark muttered. “She doesn’t see it. She doesn’t see me the way I see her.” He turned his head, eyes narrowing at the other man huddling against the wall, still alive, still shaking. “She should be with me, y’know? Not him. Damn sure not any of you. Me.”

He shook the man in his grip, his voice rising with every word. “I would do anything to make her happy. You hear me? Anything. But you—you’re just a distraction. You’re nothing. And you’re standing in the way.”

The guy’s breath came in strangled gasps, his hands no longer fighting against Mark’s iron grip. There was nothing he could do to escape. Mark’s voice became a growl.

“I mean,” Mark started again with a scoff, “What makes him so fucking special?”

The guy’s head lolled back, the panic already setting in. Mark could feel the pulse in the guy’s neck, feel him weakening, but he didn’t stop. Not yet. Not when his mind was screaming.

And then, in a desperate, broken voice, the second man spoke, his hands still raised in a futile gesture of surrender.

“Look... man... I don’t know who you’re talking about, but it sounds like she’s not yours. You gotta... you gotta let her go.” His voice cracked as he spoke, but there was something genuine in his tone—something only a human could convey. “Trust me, y-you can’t force someone to love you… You’re just gonna make it worse.”

A light seemed to spark in Mark’s eye, a strange stillness passing through him. His grip loosened slightly, the man’s feet scraping the pavement as he hung there, suspended, but not quite dead yet. Mark’s gaze flicked to the man on the ground, and for a second, he felt a pang of doubt—like maybe... maybe the guy had a point.

“Let her go?” Mark’s voice was quieter now, almost confused. He looked down at the guy, his anger still simmering beneath the surface but momentarily calmed. “What do you mean, let her go? I’d do anything for her. I deserve her. She deservesme. That ugly bastard shouldn’t get to have her.”

The man took a shaky breath, speaking faster now, his voice almost pleading. “I-I get it. I do. But no way this is gonna work man. You’re not gonna win her over by killing people. She sounds like a sweet girl. You’re just gonna end up—”

Mark’s eyes flashed with a new swelling rage and without warning he slammed the man into the wall, the sickening crack of the guy’s spine breaking echoing through the alley. The man's body went limp, falling into a grotesque, twisted heap at Mark’s feet.

Mark stood over him, breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling not from exertion but pure emotion. For a moment, silence swallowed everything. The only sound left was the steady beat of his own heart.

The anger was still there. It hadn’t gone away. It was a beast, gnawing at the edges of his mind. But now there was something else too, something that felt... desperate. Something sharp, like a knife lodged deep in his gut.

Mark glanced down at the bodies around him. His fists were still clenched, his body tense with the aftershocks of the destruction. He should feel powerful—he should feel triumphant—but all he could hear were those words.

Let her go. Was there even possible? Could Mark really just let you go?

He looked back at the man he’d just killed, and then over to the other man who was now cowering in the fetal position in the corner. The sight made him grunt a small laugh. As if this weak loser knows anything. The fire inside him flared again. There wasn’t a chance in hell he’d be letting anything go.

In an instant he was kneeled in front of the man, his head framed by Mark’s hands. “Y’know you really give terrible advice.” With that final remark he brought his hands together, breaking through the man’s skull and plunging through viscera of his brain matter as if it were made of Styrofoam. He didn’t need advice, and definitely not from some low-level career bank robber that just died like an ant beneath his grasp.

No, Mark’s wasn’t even close to done yet. He just had to figure out his next step.

—

You let out a quiet sigh, watching the last of the visitors file out of the exhibit. The small group had been attentive, but now that they were gone, you could finally breathe a little easier. Being an aquarium keeper had its perks—mostly working with the animals, which you loved—but giving talks to crowds had always been a bit… awkward.

You glanced down at your watch, noting the time. Another hour until your shift ended. You could already feel the exhaustion setting in—nothing too bad, just the kind of tired that came with a long day of making sure everything was running smoothly. The fish were fed, the tanks cleaned, and you had managed to get through your spiel without flubbing too many lines.

It was then that you noticed him.

Mark, the one who’d abruptly showed up at your house the night prior, was standing across the room just at the edge of the exhibit. He wasn't a part of the group, which was odd. But what was even stranger was how still he was, how silently he observed everything. His gaze was fixed on the tanks, on the creatures swimming lazily inside, but there was something… unsettling about the way he stood. It was like he was studying something, but not in the way someone would look at fish. His posture was tense, his jaw clenched, and his eyes—his eyes seemed distant, like he was somewhere far beyond the walls of the aquarium.

You swallowed, a knot tightening in your stomach. Something about the way he was staring made you uneasy, but it wasn’t just that. There was a familiarity in the way he stood there, like he’d done this before. Like he'd watched from the shadows before and you just hadn’t noticed.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to approach him or let him be.

This Mark had always been… different. You didn’t know him well, but there were times when his presence felt like a storm cloud, looming just above your head. His moods were unpredictable, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was always simmering beneath the surface. And though you tried not to think about it too much, you'd never been able to forget the times he'd made comments that left you uneasy, or the way his eyes would sometimes linger on you just a little too long.

Today, though… he didn’t seem to notice you standing there, just a few feet away, watching him as he observed the sea life. His expression was almost unreadable—distant, cold—but there was an edge to it, a sharpness that made you hesitate even more.

Finally, curiosity won out. You took a few steps towards him, feeling your heart beat a little faster with each one.

“Mark?” you said softly, trying to catch his attention.

His head snapped up, and for a split second, you swore you saw a flash of something—anger, maybe?—in his eyes. But it was gone so quickly that you weren’t sure if you’d imagined it.

“Hey,” he said, his voice rougher sounding than your Marks. “Hope I’m not interrupting.”

You shook your head, feeling a sudden rush of nerves flood through you. “It’s okay, no interruption. Just finishing up for the day.”

You both stood there for a moment in silence, the only sound coming from the gentle hum of the aquarium filters and the occasional splash from the tanks.

You took a step closer, unsure if you should say anything more. There was something in the air—something you couldn’t quite name. It wasn’t just the fact that he was here, now, standing in front of you, but it was the way he seemed to be studying you, his gaze never fully leaving your face. It wasn’t the look of someone admiring the work you did—it was more like someone trying to figure you out, to understand something about you that he couldn’t quite grasp.

“Mark,” you started again, clearing your throat, “are you… okay?”

He didn’t answer right away, just continued staring at you. His lips pressed together in a thin line, the tension in his shoulders unmistakable.

You felt your chest tighten. Something was wrong. You could feel it. He looked almost… unhinged, in a way you didn’t want to imagine.

“I’m fine,” he said, but the words were clipped, forced. His voice sounded flat, like he was trying to convince both you and himself at the same time.

You couldn’t help but notice the way his hands were clenched at his sides, the white-knuckled grip on his fists.

“I didn’t know you liked the aquarium,” you said, trying to break the tension. The words came out more out of instinct than any real desire to make conversation. But it worked—just a little. His gaze shifted back to the tanks.

“I don’t,” he muttered, almost under his breath. “I was just… passing through.”

Passing through an aquarium? You didn’t claim to be a detective, but that answer seemed a little suspicious.

“Right,” you said, trying to smile, though it felt strained. “Well, it’s nice to see you. If you want, I can show you around before my shift ends.”

You tried to sound casual, but your heart was pounding, and you could feel the unease creeping into your voice. Something wasn’t right, and you weren’t sure if it was because of him or because of the strange feeling that had settled in your chest.

He didn’t respond at first, just looked at you with that unreadable expression. The silence stretched between you both, uncomfortable, thick with unspoken words.

Then, he shifted. His eyes flicked to the side, to the tanks, and his lips curled into a small, almost imperceptible smirk. He opened his mouth to speak but then quickly snapped it shut, the earpiece buzzing in his head, "This isn't a holiday. You've got half the content to save." His expression quickly soured, the irritation evident on his face.

“Maybe another time,” he grumbled. “I’ve got somewhere I need to be...”

And just like that, as quickly as he’d appeared, he turned and started to walk away, disappearing into the shadows of the aquarium.

You stood there for a long moment, still feeling the weight of his gaze on you, even though he was no longer there.

And for some reason, you loved the feeling it gave you. You hadn't felt seen like that by Mark in longer than you could remember, and you relished the high it gave you.

→ Part Four ←

#invincible fanfic #invincible x reader #mark grayson x reader #mark graryson fanfic #mohawk mark x reader

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