#crusty toes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

leviathanleva · 10 days

Text

Daisy

........................

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem Reader

........................

Description: Cooper Howard was not a kind man, he cared for nobody, but himself. Then he found you, a lost little dove, barefoot and crying, torn dress and big innocent eyes staring at him like he was a hero. He knew you’d be a burden, he knew you couldn’t survive in the wasteland, he was doing you a favor.

But he couldn’t pull the fucking trigger...

........................

[5.1k words]

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

Chapter 4 "The Plea"

You stretch and groan.

The sound comes out jumbled and is drowned out by the violent vibrating of the washing machine you’re perched upon. You strain your legs, flexing your thighs and working out the sleep from your numb muscles. Your toes squish against the inside of your boots before you relax and rub at your eyes, wiping away the tears your incessant yawns were causing.

You’d seen plenty of pictures of children hollering in front of a fan on a hot summer day, some sort of weird way to entertain themselves because the beat of the fins distorted their voices. It was a good commercial for any fan whenever summer rolled around. Sadly, now when you were free to wander and do as you pleased, much of the mundane experiences you wanted to dip your toes in were impossible to achieve. You were two hundred years too late. You took what you could get though, hence why you’d let curiosity guide you on top of the washing machine once it had started centrifuging.

The steaming coffee mug sat on the L-shaped kitchen counter just next to you and after a moment of being thoroughly jostled around, you picked it up with as much care as you could. Lips latched onto the edge of the mug with haste before you took a big sip, slurping audibly before the coffee could spill out from the violent thrashing causing your arm to quake.

Wet hair clung to your bare shoulders and the aromatic droplets of water dripped and soaked into your dress. It had taken you a good hour to get the ghoul inside the shower after you’d gotten out, all squeaky clean and smelling of lavender soap. How he managed to bear being a grimy crusty prune was beyond you, but as soon as the generator had kicked back to life and restored some power in the vault, you’d jumped at the idea of a nice hot shower.

His clothes were strewn on a dangling cable, as clean as they could get after being worn for who knows how long without a proper wash. Some stains persisted and the washing machine couldn’t do anything about the faded colors, but at least they didn’t smell of death anymore.

He’d dismissed your proposal to launder his rags at first, bumped the butt of his shotgun against your stomach hard enough to make you wheeze and still you hadn’t relented. It was the least you could do, you’d said, begged even. After everything he’d done for you, you wanted to repay him outside of the hefty tato sack stuffed to the brim with bloody Pip-boys and medical supplies and provisions. You’d chewed at his ear until he’d given up with a sigh and hidden behind the shower curtain before tossing his clothes at you layer by layer.

In truth, you just wanted to prolong his departure. Thinking of anything and everything because you didn’t want to be left alone in this haunted vault, you’d come up with ploy after ploy and the power coming back had only aided you in your private battle. So traumatized by the last day that you clung to him even if he was a demented, deadly wastelander probably no better than the raiders he’d slaughtered.

Your sleep had been plagued with nightmares that night; grotesque sceneries of violence and gore were painted in detail over your closed eyelids, making you stir and whimper in your bed. The ghoul was a light sleeper, trained to spring into action at the slightest noise and you tossing and turning and making the bedframe creak gave him all the rights to chuck a cushion at you. He’d scared you half to death with that, but the reminder that he was still there, grumbling on the couch and trying to catch a wink of rest, had given you enough comfort to sleep peacefully for a few hours.

When the washing machine stilled, your reminiscing ended.

You tipped the mug, suckling at the last few drops of sweetened coffee, before setting it aside and hopping on your feet. After pulling the foggy lid open, you drape your socks and your old dress over your forearm and a scowl pinches at the corner of your lips.

Apparently, Abraxo wasn’t strong enough to wash away radroach intestines. You mourned the ruined dress, bitter with wasting the cleaning product for nothing, but decided to hang it up regardless and let it dry.

Who cared for stains anyway? You had bigger problems on your plate.

The screech of the shower tap and a curt whistle have you automatically groping at the ghoul’s clothes.

“Be right there, Mister!” you call out and bunch them up in your hands, placing his hat over your head to save space, his coat is still damp but you doubt he’d mind. You skitter to the edge of the shower and leave the pile next to his weaponry before your manners lead you away to give him some privacy.

The half-empty coffee pot caught your attention once you were back in the bright yellow kitchen area. Despite your low tolerance and the apparent twitches in your fingers, you refilled your mug, deciding that adding sugar wasn’t needed this time.

You were free now, you could drink all the coffee you wanted.

Once the rustling of clothes and buckling of belts and straps ceased, the ghoul appeared from behind the wall, finding you sitting on the counter with ankles crossed and kicking your feet rhythmically. You beam at his slightly less disheveled state, eyes darting from him to the full mug waiting for him. He scoffs and accepts your silent offer.

“Feeling better?”

“Like a new man.” he declares with a sense of peace to his tone and leans back against the fridge before taking a long sip from his lukewarm drink.

Cooper was a lot of things, but stupid wasn’t one of them. He’d caught on to your innocent scheme quickly. From the coffee to your constant close proximity, to washing his clothes. The biggest giveaway was you trying to hide your nervousness and biting back victorious smiles whenever he accepted any of your domestic offers. You were kneading him like sourdough, nice and good and gentle, hoping for something in his brain to click and his simple plan of taking his things and leaving to take a different course.

That’s why he fought against melting in the shower and suppressed a genuine smile when he saw the coffee. He kept his guard up, concrete walls so high one couldn’t see the top, locking away whatever humanity was left to rot, untouched and undisturbed. Joy was an illusion, peace was the quiet before the storm.

Nothing lasted, neither would you.

“Take me with you, I won’t be useless, I promise.”

He could almost hear those words twirling on the tip of your tongue, threatening to spill but never being voiced. Like hell, he’d ever entertain that idea.

“So what now, Mister?” you ask casually, hiding pouty lips behind your mug and looking up at him in question. “Where you headed off to?”

“Well, – ” he rasps and clears his throat. “ – considering my bounty’s prob’ly dead. Gonna head off to Tillburry.” he nudges his chin at the sack resting by the exit of the suite. “Gonna sell some o’ that, make me some profit.”

Your vigorous slurping stops and you swallow the mouthful of bitterness before cocking your head.

“Tillberry?” you test the unfamiliar word with hesitation. “And that’s…what?”

“Tillburry.” he corrects and rests one foot against the fridge door, the spur on his boot clanking against the metal. “It’s a settlement, Darlin’. Quite the big one too.” he mulled over a particular memory, looking down at his drink. “ ’Bout three hundred people last time I checked.”

“There are settlements?” you choke and cough out the spit tickling your throat with a fist to your mouth.

The thought that a good number of people had survived and were thriving enough to start rebuilding was unfathomable. Even if said settlements were based on the ruins and scraps of the cities from the old days it was still such a groundbreaking piece of knowledge.

Considering the raiders and the ghoul, you’d assumed everyone on the surface was deranged and out for blood. A man-eat-man nightmarish hell in which not even the strongest survived for long.

But no, there were people, honest hardworking people, that were coming together to build safe havens and restore some order to the chaos they had been born into. Sure, they had probably seen their fair share of hardships and were rugged and hard-skinned, but if they’d managed to keep the peace and grow towns and develop businesses, they couldn’t be that bad.

You had to see this. You needed to.

“Plen’y of em.” he pipes in, then tips his head and his voice acquires an almost mocking twinge. “Wasteland’s not as dead as you think, Sweetheart.”

“Take me there.” you blurt out before even realizing it.

“Pardon?” he’s surprised for only a moment before his demeanor shifts to dangerously sharp and his eyes harden. He moves in an instant, large palms planted on either side of your thighs and you have to jerk back to avoid him smashing his forehead into yours. “Mind your fuckin’ tone with me, Missy.”

When you squint and recoil, he eases, satisfied with your reaction.

“Just cuz I been toleratin’ you don’t mean I can’t stuff a bullet in your belly.”

“I’m sorry! Sorry, Sir.” you rush to undo your mistake, having spent too much time with him while he was docile to remember that you weren’t dealing with a friendly neighbor. “I meant no disrespect.” with a lowered gaze and a lump in your throat you continue. “I’d just really like to see such a place…”

“And I’d like a fifty-acre ranch to breed horses.” he sneers at you, yellow teeth peeking under his chapped lips. He shifts his weight around, resting from one hip to the other as he pulls away just barely. His fingers still grip the counter, still around you and ready to subdue another fuss. “But we don’ always get what we want.”

“Maybe I could…live there?” you didn’t believe your own words, but you still persisted. Flickering lashes swatted over pity eyes as you stared at him like an expectant street cat waiting to be adopted.

A preposterous idea. You didn’t know the first thing about surviving on the surface, couldn’t tell a radroach burrow from an anthill, and yet however difficult it would be anything would be better than living by yourself in a hole in the ground. Maybe you would have managed if the raiders had just left and the ghoul never crossed your path. But now, after knowing the bliss of company, of a friend who didn’t talk about medicine and made-up cures, now you couldn’t.

You needed him and not just for his skills or his wisdom of living off a toxic land. You needed him for him, just the ghoul, just the man who’d shown you kindness.

“Sweetheart, you needed t’ read the manual before turnin’ on the washin’ machine.” he states in a very mocking matter-of-fact way and snorts with a half-smile. “Twice.”

“But I did it.” you say back, struggling against a lost battle but how could you not when there was a blueish limp hand peeking from beyond the complex exit.

He gives you a once over, considering for a second before shaking the thought away with a bitter glower.

What the hell was he even thinking?

“You don’t really fit in with the common folk.” he counters again and he’s confident that soon you’ll wane. “Don’ think they’ll take too kindly to you.”

“What’d you mean, Mister?” you tilt to the side, leaning on one hand with a faint pout.

“Yer too clean.” he mumbles while skimming over you with a judgmental expression, his mouth pursing as he took you in. “Too pretty. Too kept.” he leans back to cross his arms, a half-frown of disapproval glooming over his face. It wasn’t a compliment; it was dry facts that he offered you to get through your thick skull that you’d be in more danger than you realize if you ever managed to reach a local town. “Surface dwellers don’ like your kind.”

“Then I’ll work on it until they like me.”

The back of your boots hit the counter each time you kicked your feet, egged on by the caffeine overdose. You kept your eyes glued to his because you didn’t know of a better way of pleading without sounding pathetic and getting on his nerves.

“You can’t even fire a gun, Darlin’.” the ghoul sighs in defeat, not because you’re getting under his skin, but because you fight this ferociously for your demise.

Both of you are aware that you wouldn’t last long outside. You were defenseless and had no usefulness, you weren’t accustomed to radiation, and everything on the surface was soaked in it. Most available jobs either needed you to get your hands dirty or break your back with overtime and you’d nearly passed out after walking half a day in a desert and thrown up at the sight of a dead body.

He’d be damned if he let you abandon a life of comfort and security because you didn’t know what you were asking for. Letting go of constant food and fresh water and hot showers just because you were too scared to learn by trial and error on your own was too much for him. It was stupid and you rebelling against him tooth and nail made it worse.

You weren’t winning anything; you were just giving him a headache.

“Someone would be willing to teach me.” the naivety in your comeback makes him laugh and your brows rise and furrow at his reaction.

“Ain’t nobody gonna do shit for free.” that was his last pushback before he made up his mind on ending your charade. His hat dipped and his tone lowered to an even rasp. “You’ll be just fine here, Darlin’.” he takes a few steps back and chugs the remainder of his discarded coffee before grunting in satisfaction. “Good cup o’ coffee…Now be a dear ‘n show me the way out.”

“I could make you more if you stayed a bit longer, Mister.”

A drowning man’s attempt to keep from sinking.

You give him a tiny smile and roll your ankles to release some tension. You knew you were pushing it, from his stiff shoulders to his thinned upper lip, but you didn’t want to stay here anymore. Disregarding the steady supply of provisions and the regulated temperatures, the medical supplies and the safety. You wanted to go with him. Wherever he went, no matter the danger, you want to be in his shadow. The radroaches and raiders forgotten, ignorant of just how hostile his world was and selfish by continuing to thrust your life in his hands when he didn’t want it.

“Das enough, Darlin’.” he mutters while picking up the supply sack and flinging his bandolier over his shoulder.

“What if – ”

“– Enough!” your mouth shuts at his command. His glare is piercing while he stands by the door with his back turned to you, giving you only a stern side-eye. “Move.”

You slide off the counter without another word and pat down your dress, not that anything could be seen underneath the thick tights but common decency forced you to. He waits for you, motioning with his hand once you're by his side and you walk forward, through the dingy corridor and past the raider he’d gutted the day before.

You try not to look, but it’s difficult when the deep red hues contrast with the metallic white of the wall and floor. It’s an abominable sight. There’s a cut spanning over the entirety of the man’s neck, horizontal and precise, so deep that amidst the flesh and blood, you see bone.

You could almost simulate the pain and you struggled to swallow.

He was a raider… he was a criminal. He was a bad man, he’d tried to murder you and failed by just an inch, the ghoul did what he had to do. There would be plenty more with much the same mindset if he agreed to take you with him. Scenes like this would probably be a daily occurrence, but you wouldn’t be the one doing the killing and still seeing the raider nearly decapitated scarred something deep within you.

Were you really willing to go through this again just to stay with the ghoul?

Maybe, for him, maybe.

“Fuckin’ piss stain…”

You look to him at that remark, then down at the center of his attention. He had one foot set in a puddle of blood and pieces of flesh, both attached to an unmoving vault dweller. He wiped his boot in the corpse’s suit and spat with malice.

“You really don’t like this place, Mister?” it’s more of a statement than a question, but your quizzical expression gives him enough room to reply.

You had noticed his visible disdain once he’d first entered the vault with you, but you’d blamed it on him being an experienced bounty hunter who knew better than to let his guard down. Then you’d seen his complete lack of empathy for the dead bodies littering the hallways and even a drop of anger edging his default scowl. He had a personal vendetta against the inhabitants, a distaste that went so deep he’d preferred to sever the wrists of the corpses over just unclasping their Pip-boys and claiming them for himself.

You’d never brought it up because it wasn’t your place, but now you had a reason to, and your curiosity was peaked.

“Vaults ain’t my thing, Darlin’, nor vaulties.” he speaks with spite, a cruel smirk tugging at his lips when he raises his gaze to you. Then he kicks the mess out of his way without a hint of shame, splashing the gore over the floor, and continues after you.

“Why?” you peep and it’s so innocent and light because you don’t understand the gravitas of the answer you’re reaching for.

There’s a small pause as you glance at the ghoul with a blank visage. There’s a certain lethargy to your step and a bounce to your slack shoulders because you’re relaxed and clear-minded and you have no idea just what you’re asking him. He could be angry, you’re poking around topics that are beyond your capacity, ones of resentment and shrewd grudges that span over such a long time that you couldn’t even begin to imagine.

But he wasn’t upset, there was no point. You were just a stupid little thing trying to sow a light chat before your paths diverged.

The memories are knocking on the front door of his consciousness, but he refuses to indulge them. Not now, maybe later when he was alone and could recollect everything in peace.

“That ain't none o’ your business.” his words are snippy but his tone is placid, he doesn’t even reciprocate your prying eyes, just stares straight ahead with a tense jaw.

His reluctance to delve deeper and the shift in the air give you a good enough hint to not press the matter further. You would have reached to pat his arm, a benevolence he undoubtedly deserved along with so much more, but refrained from doing so. Despite you having placed him on a golden pedestal for all he’d done for you, which wasn’t much, but enough to leave you with an unforgettable impression, he didn’t see you in the same manner. His life had hardened him both physically and emotionally, he hadn’t even trusted you to sleep together in the same suite, having tucked one of his pistols under his pillow with a finger on the trigger.

You’d seen it, you just didn’t mention it.

He didn’t need your pity nor your good-heartedness, he didn’t care and that’s why you kept from overstepping even if you wanted to comfort the restless beasts pacing somewhere within his being.

“You’ve been nice to me though.” you put forth a honeyed smile and steered the conversation to a lighter note. A small sugary quip to oppose his hardened exterior and alleviate him of his hissy mood.

He chuckles, a raspy chortle that tickles your ear and curls your lips into a grin.

“Ain’t nice, Missy, just tolerant.”

Your chirpy chat continues as you pass through the whey field and into another brightly lit tunnel. He doesn’t have to know that you could have led him to the elevator three times already through a shortcut. You like him, harbor such fondness for him in all his gruffness, you might have agreed to lead him out but you never said you wouldn’t take the scenic route. An extended detour while you continuously banter with each other and you always relent because you want him to be happy with having the upper hand in the conversation.

But no matter how long you tried to prolong the inevitable, eventually, you found the way to the elevator. Before it had been your savior, taking you away from those vile people before they could sink their grimy claws in your flesh. Now it was an unwelcome vestige, the last step before the ghoul left and you were abandoned to waste away in an underground prison.

He entered first and leaned against the steel wall, a thumb tucked in his belt and hat tipped over his eyes. You turn your back to him and press the button and it’s suddenly awkward and silent.

You wished the damn thing moved slower, but it propelled up, passing by vault levels within a blink. Such a cruel construct…

Misery didn’t thrive for long, you didn’t let it.

Maybe one day you’d meet him again. You’d learn to shoot a gun, there had to be at least one stashed somewhere for emergencies, then you’d learn to sustain yourself and grow crops, fiddle with the mechanisms of the vault and read every book and article and document regarding medicine. You’d prepare well and one day leave again to explore the world outside and maybe if fate was kind, you’d run into him on your journey.

Maybe he wouldn’t remember, maybe he would, but you’d be happy all the same.

And you’d be different then, stronger and more independent and not useless. Maybe he’d take you with him when you proved that you wouldn’t be a burden anymore. He’d take you on his adventures and teach you how to be a bounty hunter like him and you’d make the best duo the surface has ever seen.

Your self-assurance dwindled when the elevator reached the top level and the door slid open. He walked out unbothered and you struggled to keep the calm façade going.

It wasn’t healthy to form such attachments so quickly, but it happened and you were torn between begging him one last time and giving him the solace he craved. But could you really be blamed when you’d known only solitude?

He stood at the vault entrance and tossed you a slow, expectant look and you fiddled with the Pip-boy. Stiff fingers scrolled through the menus, determined to take as much time as possible while you prayed for a miracle. Your pleas remained unanswered, the time for stalling ended as the gate screeched and rolled to the side. A hot gust of wind crept through, drying your eyes and making your throat scratchy after a few silent breaths.

“Best of luck, Vaulty.”

He raised his arm and flicked his wrist in a goodbye after readjusting his hat, boots clinking as he set forth with an even pace. You watched him leave, heart asunder, mouth cracked open but no words came out. Gripping onto the control panel, frustration flaring, desperation so intense it made the hairs on your arms lift up.

Was this really it? Was this the end of it? Was this the last time you saw him? The only friend you had, the only person you knew, the only warmth ever given to you.

He could let go without a second thought, but you couldn’t.

“Go…GO!”

A shaky step, then another.

With each step, the quake in your legs eased, determination overpowering hesitation, and before you knew it you were jogging and then running. The sand wasn’t kind to your shoes, you nearly tripped, wide strides bringing you closer to him because, unlike his tempo, yours held intention.

He knew you’d do this, he knew and he had the common sense to pull out his pistol and threaten you back inside.

You might have tumbled him over if you had the strength, but instead, you splat yourself against his back and drape your arms around his abdomen. His hand faltered, resting on the holster of his gun as you squeezed him and slid your fingers past his coat, grabbing at his vest.

“Please.” you force through a clenched throat, choosing to beg him instead of breathing. Saliva pools in your mouth and tears form in the back of your eyes as you press your cheek against his spine. Your eyes squeeze shut as if cutting off your vision would make you deaf to his answer. “Please…I’ll – ”

He’d taken what he needed, completing your transaction and wanting nothing more, but maybe you could find something else he had use for. He sighs and you’re so regretful, but you can’t let it go without a final push. And he’s fed up enough to maybe just shoot you, but if he was you’d have a chance at bargaining again and keep him around for a few more minutes.

“ – I’ll pay you.” you sniffle back the runny mucus seeping through your nostrils and swallow a mouthful of thick spit, it distorts your voice just a bit. “Please take me to Tillberry. I’ll find a job – I’ll – You can have everything I earn, I just need enough to buy some food.”

“Tillb – ” he grunts and pinches the space between his eyes as they shut.

He wanted to rip you off of him and leave, with no mercy and no care, but you just had to play nice. You had to play house with him and make him coffee and wash his clothes and be soft with him. The sweet gestures and light words did things to him, he was no fool, they reminded him that humans still existed and they were still kind. A peek into the past.

“I won’t be useless. I’ll learn quick and stay out of your way and do anything you ask…Just until the settlement.”

Whines and sobs and sniveling sniffs and chokes, they crawl up his skin like maggots and try to burrow and find an ounce of empathy, but he has none.

“Right.” he whirls around with such force that if it hadn’t been for the iron grip he clasped over your jaw, you would have fallen. He’s an eyelash away from your face, with a fowl snarl carving into his gaunt features and he spats poison at you. He speaks the truth. “Do you fucking know what the hell you’re asking for?” he’s so pissed that his accent dissipates. “You’re gonna fuckin’ die out here. With or without help.”

“Plea – ”

“ – I ain’t no God damned babysitter!” he snaps and forces you back. You stumble and curl your hands over your chest instinctively as he points his pistol at you, forefinger on the trigger. “Now get the hell outta my sight.”

His lips pinch in annoyance when you don’t move.

He didn’t give a damn if you lived or not, but you’d shown him respect and generosity and he repaid you by not shooting you down on the spot. He gave you a chance at survival, exterminated the pests in your home and made sure to leave enough provisions to live off of while you worked out how to take care of yourself. You wouldn’t receive half of what he’d done for you in the wasteland, it was a cutthroat fever dream that no one could wake up from.

Precious things lived in castles, not in the wilds.

But then you finally move. You move and it’s the wrong fucking way.

The tip of the gun glosses over your cheek as you enclose trembling fingers around his wrist and his sleeve is pulled back enough for you to find his skin, marred and leathery and disgusting and safe and wonderful. Your eyes close and press into his glove as the barrel rests against your bare shoulder and all it would take was a click and you’d be dead.

“Please, Mister.”

You sink to your knees, bringing his arm down with you.

A lost little dove, fluttering in his palm, trusting and willing and kneeling at the gates of hell because it already knew what heaven was. Or maybe it didn’t, maybe you knew a different hell he was unfamiliar with so you begged for his instead of going back to your own.

“I’ll do anything…”

He’d seen plenty of people beg for their lives, for food or water or help. He’d heard it all, from bargaining to taunting, reverse psychology, and manipulation tactics all in the name of living to see another sunrise. This was the first time anyone had ever pleaded for him.

He should have left yesterday, the moment you’d found the storage unit he should have taken his things and been on his way. He should have tried to find the exit while you were sleeping and never looked back. He should have done more, everything in his power to not be in this damnable situation. You fed something within him, a slumbering behemoth forgotten over time, you sated a need he’d developed so long ago, a need so constant he didn’t realize was there anymore until you.

“Get the hell up.” he grips your arm like the brutish man he is, pulls you to your feet, and spins you around like a puppet.

You don’t fight, drained by both the searing sun and your turbulent emotions, letting him latch his hand to the back of your neck and drag you forward, back to the vault.

Back to solitude. Back to hell.

“Three hundred caps.”

You muster an inquisitive hum and dare to steal a glimpse of his expression. It’s haggard, annoyed, defeated.

“For your safe transportation t’ Tillburry.” he offers you nothing, not even a peak, but his hold on your neck tightens and you wince. “Now use your fuckin’ legs. We’re loosin’ daylight.”

Chapter 5 >>>

🌼 Masterlist 🌼

Tag list: @bountydroid @windierhades @ultimatereality @gruffle1 @v3lv3tf0x @fallout-girl219 @one-of-thewalkingdead

#cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #fallout tv series #the ghoul x you #the ghoul fanfic #the ghoul x reader #fallout the ghoul #the ghoul #x reader

270 notes · View notes

tiyoin · 1 month

Note

So I personally like to imagine that their eyesight is kinda poor. Mainly because it’s darker under water than above, yknow? But their other senses like hearing and smell are twice as good. What do you think? (I wanted to tell someone but I didn’t know who but I love your version of them so I figured why not!)

i’ve been hoarding this post like a dragon for far too long

AND TYSM FOR SHARING WITH ME!!! I LOVE IT MEAH MWAH

i immediately thought of them waking up at butt fuck whenever because you accidentally woke them up when you were going to use the bathroom. and they try to look for you but because of the darkness of the room, them literally just waking up, and their shitty human eyes-

EEP!! them reaching over for you but all they’re met with is a warm, empty comforter 😿😿

i wasss gonna make that into another post but i couldn’t think of anything else and really liked it 🙈

i immediately thought of them waking up at butt fuck whenever because you accidentally woke them up when you were going to use the bathroom

EEP!! them reaching over for you but all they’re met with is a warm, empty comforter 😿😿

i’m imaging floyd sleeping star fish (you were originally curled in at his side) and he’s all moany groany cause 1. you woke him up 2. YOURE NOT WHERE YOURE SUPPOSED TO BE- GET YO ASS OVER HERE

i can imagine him bleary eyed waking up and squinting, trying to look for you through the crusties in his eyes- but that doesn’t work because all he sees is nothing. at most he sees a horribly mangled mosaic of blues on the wall that would normally make anyone nauseous. but to the eel, it felt just like home.

JVIALELF IMAGINE HIM SHOOTING UP WHEN HE SEES YOU CAUSE HE DOESNT RECOGNIZE YOU THROUGH HIS SLEEPY HAZE BAHAHS. all it takes is a little ‘floyd?’ for him to chillax and sink back into bed. groaning about… whatever.

you can faintly hear a ‘what time is it’ from your boyfriend, his voice a lower timbre than his usual higher crow. you laugh softly, clearing you throat gently as you give him some made up time. it seems to satiate the male though as he slowly sinks back down into messy covers.

one hand raises to cover his eyes and his other hand slowly raises like the dead until your warm human flesh meets his cold merman hand, prompting him to you back into bed. where you belong this time he’ll make sure you don’t escape 😉

and the LOML JADEEE

he definitely starts off all prim and proper when sleeping. you know the saying ‘snug like a bug in a rug?’ that’s jade (i want him to wear a sleep cap but i don’t think he does unfortunately 😔)

i can imagine jade slowly shifting his position to sleeping on his stomach. some how he still manages to keep a tight grip on you like a handlebar in a roller coaster, so it takes some squirming to get out of the eel’s iron clad grip.

but nonetheless you quietly patter over to the bathroom

oh boy goes jade have a mean look on his face cause 1. never wake a sleeping eel, especially jade and 2. whys the bed exactly ___ pounds lighter 🤨

i think jade is more of a light sleeper than floyd so the moment the door to his dorm closes he’s peeling his golden eye open while softly kicking his leg (phantom movement cause he was trying to kick his tail 🙈)

i can imagine jade actually growling when he realizes you’re not there. refusing to get up, jade turns his head towards the door as he tries to make out the shapes of his room. but to no luck cause everything is just pitch black.

he’s waiting, sinking himself in deeper to the bed as he opens his other eye. just in time, the door creaks open and the light from the hallways splits through the opened door.

softly, you tip toe in and close the door.

alls fine and well until your in arms length of the bed, silently celebrating on not waking up your boyfriend until a cold, deathly hand seizes your shoulder and drags you into the cavern of blankets and pillows.

jades now on his side glaring,,, squinting? as he puts an arm around you with a low throaty grunt. once your nestled in his arms to his exact liking, the eel will slip back to sleep- he’s a liar, i’m a liar.

both of the twins don’t fall asleep immediately. even though they’re both blind as a bat they’re listening. listening to the slowing of your breathe with their grey eye peeled open.

they’re feeling the once rapid fire of your heart even out into a steady rhythm of beats.

it’s not until you’re dead asleep do they both shift your position slowly, lazily onto their chest. legs intertwined with yours and strong arms wrapped tightly around your waist, like a child hugging a stuffed animal, afraid of the deep shadows that linger in the corners of their room.

not until they’re certain you’re not getting up and out of their poor eyesight do their muscle relax and bodies sink into the mattress, ready to slip off into dream land with their little shrimpy🤭

#sorry this took so long babes 😔#i kept it for myself ngl 🙈#when i got this ask i felt like a kid in a candy store ngl- i was giggling n shit🙈#AHHH JADE N FLOYD CUDDLING YOU WHILE SLEEPING EHEHEHEH #their merman instincats come out more when they’re low on energy #tiyoin’s cuties 。　 ඞ 。#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #floyd leech x reader #jade leech x reader #twst x reader #tiyoin 🔎#floyd x reader #jade x reader #floyd twst #jade twst

160 notes · View notes

fablesofkitkat · 2 years

Text

(18+) extra pov: domestic moments at 5:00 AM with Enji

genre: nsfw

minors do not interact

synopsis: what if instead of Rei, it was you who married Endeavor? early conversations with Enji.

I don't know how you do it, making love out of nothing at all

-Air supply

tags: @bootyholelicker @aw-crepes @tartly-sweet @ifyoulikeitiloveit @bxrn-thxs-wxy-90five @theroosterswife24 @ghostlyluminarycloud @acebakugo @itzyourgurlnihya @lynn-anonymous @animeaandp @rubinocore @mhashoswhore @includemeaspartofyourworld @nuttyninjacat @shadowzena43 @vtte @spicy-therapist-mom

---

You stretch yourself on the bed as you wake up, pulling a muscle on your foot. The pain is instantaneous, resulting to your curled position. Are you that old? Getting cramps from a simple stretch? You couldn't contain the groan and whimper escaping from your lips. This wakes the sleeping giant beside you.

"...whuzwrong?" his voice sleepy and gruff.

"Foot cramps."

His eyebrows scrunched up and with eyes still closed, he sits up. His hand padded its way blindly to your thigh, squeezing for a second and he props up your leg to his lap. He attempts to grab your foot.

"Don't you dare—" you warned Enji.

His hand is large enough to make your feet small. He cradles your aching foot and gently flexed it. Relief flooded you. The pain seeped away. "This is new. Have you been wearing tight shoes?"

"No."

"...are you sure? Your feet size grew after you had Shoto."

The heat in his palms enveloped your foot and you sighed in contentment. "I'm sure."

"Maybe you're low on potassium, go see a doctor." He mumbled sleepily, eyes still closed. Enji placed both his palms on either side of your foot, gently pulling the right side of the foot forward while pushing the left side back, then left side forward and right side backward; he repeats the twisting motion, working his hands from ankle to toes.

"No, you go see a doctor. You're long overdue for a check-up too." You feel drowsy once more.

"It's Touya who needs a check-up. His new burns looked terrible despite the hero suit you invested in."

Your eyes narrowed. "What new burns?"

His eyes snapped open at his slip-up. The grimacing look he put on made the misplaced anger in you fade. Damn, this crusty old man. When did he get so adorable?

You looked heavenward and thought of your eldest. You never thought you'd consider about whooping his butt, but here you are. "What am I gonna do with Touya? Why can't he be moderate with his quirk."

"There are new heroes every day. Someone will be faster than Touya. Or wiser. Or stronger. He thinks he needs his chance in being Number One has a limited time window. It won't be long til he starts to feel the ache in his knees, feel the clunkiness of his movement, or notice how fatigue comes easy to him as he grows old. Since he was a kid, it didn't matter how much he bruised himself up to complete a day's training."

"Sounds like someone I know." You lift your arms up at him, inviting him to press himself into a hug.

His head rests on your chest while his arms lift your back so he could hug your waist. Your legs are apart to make room for him and then finally, he rolls his body with you lying on top of him.

"Fuyumi also worries me." Enji opens up; his hand is on your hip, the other on your back.

You look at your husband, propping your elbows up on his chest while your chin rests on your knuckles. "Why? Did something happen to Yumi??" Your forehead creased in worry.

"Don't you ever wonder why our daughter hasn't brought anyone for us to meet?"

"Like a girlfriend? Or a boyfriend?"

"Yes." The grudge in that word did not go unheard.

You grin at his sour-puss expression. "One, you're very intimidating. Two, speak for yourself. How do you know I haven't met her special someone?"

"You did?"

"Well, not formally. There were no introductions. It was just me seeing them one time at the movies."

"You were at the movies without me?" His tone accusing.

"It was the time you left in the middle of our date." You sit up on his stomach, knees astride. You poke a finger at his chest. "You know I never watch a movie without you, there's no one to sleep with me."

His hands creep to cup your ass and you think none of it. You try not to. You and Enji are in your late 40s. You're in that weird phase where you try to second guess suggestive touches because of age. Will this lead to sex? Or not? You and Enji are a bit old so maybe not. Sometimes you and Enji don't feel like it but the habit sticks. It's comforting.

"You ever think of things we do while we go about our day?" asked Enji. He lifts you up a little for him to sit and he gets to makeout with you.

"All the time." You admitted, breaking away from his lips. You go back for more, your tongue felt small compared to Enji's.

"I'd be on patrol and remember your moans, or how wet you get grinding on my lap like right now." His kisses are controlled, not sloppy. For now.

You absentmindedly ground your hips on his thighs. Arms around his neck, a hand raking through his hair and the other scratching at the back of his neck. "I touch myself whenever..." You kiss his cheek, and proceeded to whisper in his ear. "But it's not enough— my fingers are too small and I miss you inside."

Enji has moved on to your neck while his hands pull your pajama pants along with your panties down to your ankles; you move a hand to wiggle them off. You thought wearing pajamas would help you and Enji refrain from sexual activities. It was a futile attempt.

"Can you imagine how warm and wet you are?" He suckled on a spot on your collarbone, stubbornly grabbing a bit of your skin to nibble. "What it does to me?" He palms your slit and the feel of his thick fingers that could just slip inside, gave you tingles. "It's a flood down here."

You bite the inside of your cheek, his smug smile makes you wanna smile too. "You started massaging my foot."

"Ah, so the noises you made were intentional." He pressed his lips on yours, his tongue winning and reaching the roof of your mouth.

You rub against his calloused hand wanting a finger to slip inside. When your silent plea is ignored, you push Enji down. Kissed his lips once, nails scratching from his chin, to his hears, down his neck, his furred chest to his stomach, edging the garter of his boxers. You tug his tank top upwards up to his chest. You smiled prettily, "Bet you make a noise before I'm done with you."

"Bet I could." Of course he won't back down.

You make him bite at his tank top and then proceeded to feel at his chest, the crisp curly hairs always felt good against your naked skin. You leaned down, laying kisses on his puffy pectorals. Kami, his chest looked bigger than yours. His nipples are tantalizing enough for you to bite and nibble.

His hand come up to his mouth to cover but you noticed. You raise an eyebrow at him.

Reluctantly, he brings it down and settle to gripping the sheets or a pillow.

His hard-on has been poking your ass so you settled your pussy on it directly, separated only by his boxers as you began to grind. Your hand trace lazy circles on his chest while you sucked at either nipples, the action addicting and rewarding with his hardening and squirming. The tip of his cock is peeking out of his garter and it felt so good against your cunt.

You rolled your hips chasing the feeling. He tugs down his boxers and fell into your rhythm, rubbing each other like a pair of horny teenagers.

It felt ridiculous. And forbidden. It made every sensation hotter. Even the noises. You stop grinding and you knew it almost made Enji groan in frustration.

You grab his shaft, smearing the precum on your entrance. Getting stretched out was something you savored these days and midway, Enji stopped you. He lifts you up and reached over the bedside table to grab the lube for his cock.

You're bombarded by mixed emotions. It stung your pride to need the lubricant but at the same time, your heart is soft and malleable because Enji remembered what the doctor said. "Fuck." Your eyes teared up.

His mouth lets go of his tank top. "What's wrong?"

"You know, I just—" You try to gather up your thoughts. "I don't blame you if you cheat on me for a younger woman. I don't want my body to stop making it feel good for you, but here I am."

Enji's arm is under your knees, and the other on your back, cradling you on his lap once more; you're very much aware of his lubed up, very much hard, dick pressing against your hips but he treated his lust unimportant and proceeded to kiss the side of your head. "You took it as that? For me, it stabs my pride to need lubricant. It's as seem like my skills is not enough to make you feel good as before."

"You're fine without the lube. It's me. I'm getting old and gets hurt without it for sex."

"Exactly. You'll be hurt without it. It's not like we can't fuck."

"Yeah, but isn't it a hassle for you?" You cross your arms, and let the tears flow freely. You wish you could wipe them away with the back of your hand but pretty sure the prototype humans on your hands would give you eye infection.

He chuckles and pressed another kiss on your hair. "It's pouring liquid on my dick, how much hassle could it be?"

"But it'd be easier if I was younger."

"Yes but I won't trade an old woman like you for a younger woman."

You slap his chest. "Hey!"

Enji laughs. Another kiss. "Fine. I won't trade my young wife for a much younger woman."

"I'm sorry for ruining the mood." You lean against his chest.

"You didn't ruin anything."

You give him a chaste kiss on the lips and then you put your weight against Enji so both you and him fall on the bed sideways. You press your ass at him and he slipped inside you, moving a little to bury his full length. He pressed himself closer, spooning you in his form.

"I have never imagined starting over with someone." Enji says after a few moments. "I cannot. To find someone new, or to break our marriage is the same as starting all over again. I cannot be without you."

You grab his hand and kissed the back of it. "Me too."

---

AN: So sorry for edging you guys. This is your author speaking, I'm not stuck with you in this Endeavor hellhole. You're stuck with ME.

#endeavor smut #endeavor x reader #endeavor imagine #endeavor x y/n #endeavor x you #enji smut #todoroki enji x you #enji x reader #todoroki enji x reader #enji x you #enji x y/n #todoroki enji x y/n #mha smut #endeavour smut #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction

2K notes · View notes

mrs-illyrian-baby · 3 months

Text

The Old Gods and The New - Chapter 14

Let's Go Home | Loki x Reader

You and Loki continue to practice your magic, relaxing and enjoying some peaceful quality time together at his cabin while you discuss your future...until you find something odd by the fireplace. A thunderstorm brings a familiar face and a warning.

Warnings: Rated f for fluffy and T for Thor. Some language, suggestion of sex and Avengers being mean to Loki.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics & @reveriesources

Series Masterlist | Loki Masterlist | Masterlist

The evening crept slowly up the valley towards the cabin, like a lover it softly wound its way around your twin flames, green and blue, that had warmed you during the day.

“We should retreat for the night,” Loki suggested, patting your leg and standing with a stretch of his long limbs. You couldn’t help but admire the way his thick aran sweater rose up his muscular back, revealing a strip of skin. Your heart thudded even harder when he turned to you, “are you coming, darling?” His lips twitched with the suggestion of a smirk and you smiled back, allowing him to pull you into his arms so you could walk back inside together.

Loki’s flame coiled around itself until it became a serpent, following you over the dark wooden boards of the decking. Loki bathed in the joy of your smile, overcome with pride when you left his arms to stare at your own blue flame, still flickering alone in the darkness. It grew lower without your attention, and, to your joint surprise, rose into a small, fat, fiery, calf, its shaggy, flame hair, bounced in front of its wide eyes as it playfully chased Loki’s snake through the kitchen door.

“Well, I didn’t expect a cow.” Loki sighed, looking at you expectantly.

“Neither did I!”

“You didn’t make it on purpose?”

“No! I just thought about your snake and how I’d like to be able to make my own animal and…the flame moulded itself,” you shrugged one shoulder, “isn’t it cute though!”

The flames, one stately and precise, one bounding, made their way to the hearth in the living area. The snake wound itself around the smaller kindling, settling inside them as if to sleep, while the calf climbed atop the still smouldering log and allowed its flame to melt slowly into the growing embers.

You stared at the spectacle, “I never knew you could do that.”

“Neither did I, darling,” Loki muttered, “neither did I.”

The fire continued to crackle merrily in the hearth, the images of your snake and calf now blurred together in the flames, and you snuggled down on the floor, bowls on the coffee table, to enjoy your meal. Sat on the floor of the cabin, woollen socks wrapped around your toes and Loki’s soft smile watching you, it was easy to forget that yesterday you’d been readying for a mission. Such a leisurely meal felt odd compared to the hurried snack you’d snuck into your handbag, too nervous to eat anything more.

Between you, you pulled a few more tins and cans from the cupboards and Loki used his magic to provide any of the staples you couldn’t find. Working around each other, the candle lights flickering against the backdrop of the bare stone, you made a simple dinner of stew with heavy dumplings floating in the rich gravy. Loki seemed to have a magical bakery, solely for your use, and procured thick slabs of crusty white bread and salted butter from a wave of his hand.

The candles flickered and you caught Loki’s eyes resting on you.

“Will we go back to Tønsberg ?” You asked, mopping the last of your gravy with a slice of bread.

“If you liked it there,” Loki watched, amused, as you attempted to lick away the butter caught on your lip, before leaning forwards and brushing it away with his thumb.

“Do you like it there?” You raised an eyebrow, unsure of how much Loki really did like being with the other Asgardians.

“Yes, of course.” He chuckled, “I know that it appears to Midgard that I am the eternal black sheep, as it were, but I can assure you that that is part of my role. I should love to live among my people again.”

“Okay.” You nodded and went back to your stew, truthfully thinking of settling anywhere was such a new concept you weren’t sure what to think.

“Asynja -” he said sternly, “if you no longer wish to reside there, you only have to say. We can go wherever you’d like.”

“No, no, it’s not that it’s just -” you weren’t sure how to explain, that village was beautiful, welcoming and awe inspiring, cosy and incredible all at once. Placed so carefully along the shoreline it was like stepping into a postcard. But it was also the same place you’d been kidnapped. Even if you were taken somewhere else afterwards, you weren’t sure you’d ever walk along the street alone again. But Loki made so much sense, that was his home, his people and he’d lost so much already - your mind spiralled, your spoon dropping into your bowl with a wet splash.

“My darling,” Loki reached for you, pulling you into his embrace, your back resting on his chest and his chin tucked over your shoulder, “I’ll never let you out of my sight again, do you understand?” You nodded against him and he nuzzled into your neck, kissing you gently. “No harm will ever come to you again, I simply will not allow it. You are far too precious, my wonderful, beautiful Goddess, to be allowed to suffer in any way.” He kissed your cheek and neck again, his breath so close it felt like your own.

“Loki -” you whined, fidgeting in his grasp, always so bashful in his earnest declarations.

“Darling,” he sighed in answer.

“Take me to bed.” You turned to look over your shoulder to find his eyes sparkling and his face happy, relaxed. With one smooth movement he stood, carrying you in his arms to the bedroom.

You slept fitfully that night, strange dreams haunting you and dragging you in and out of consciousness. Everytime you stirred Loki held you tight, his body warmed by the blankets and the comforting heat that radiated from your back as he wound his arms around you again.

“Shhh, it’s just dreams.” His voice called through the night, a low whistle behind the screams of the fallen, fire raging and pulling the air from the room - you thrashed and fought - animals raced before your eyes, cows, sheep, a lamb with a fleece of pure flame. You tried to reach for them, to look for water, for help, and none came, the more you fought the higher the flames stretched.

“My darling, I’m here.” Loki’s voice was a rumble through your chest, your very heart reverberating in response. A cool palm pressed against your forehead, the other sitting low on your stomach, fingers dimpling in your soft belly, his legs entwined with yours, your feet sliding on his shins as you moved - “I’m here, and you are safe and well, there is nothing to fear.”

The flames dimmed, flickering and faltering until the sun reclaimed them, at once setting and then rising again, higher than before, bathing the world in glowing light.

You hummed, eyebrows creased, shuffling back into Loki’s strong, secure arms, the flat, firm plane of his chest grounded you, so strong you couldn’t fight against his hold, your body relaxing under his touch. Loki’s breath tickled across your shoulder, leading the way for his lips to place kisses on your bare skin.

Though the sun shone above, the burnt ground didn’t crack or falter, but sighed, water rising to the surface, ashes pooling and running over the ruins. Between each minute pearl of soil a seedling raised its face to the sky, opening its arms and forging forward, growing taller and taller, branches, leaves and roots filling the sky, creaking under the weight of fruit, bouncing with the force of birds taking flight, raining soft blossom onto your upturned face.

You smiled, sleepily pulling Loki’s hand towards your face and mouthing, “I love you,” into his palm.

Was that the feeling that had been drawing him closer these past months, the thread that seemed to sinch around his heart, tied with a bow around your little finger, ready at your beck and call. Was that the feeling that made his blood burn when you were taken? Was this the feeling that told him you were his and his alone, that angry bubble that swelled whenever anyone dared to touch you. Was that the feeling that made him feel soft and secure and safe.

Was it love?

He lay awake, watching your features soften as your nightmare passed into blissful dreams once more.

In the living room of the cabin, the box burned brightly again, seeking its lost treasure.

Not for the first time, Thor wondered how he’d ended up with a younger brother capable of causing him so much bother. He’d been happily eating a new flavour of Midgardian breakfasting food, noting it’s sweeter flavour and fruity inside, when Tony had sat down opposite him and snatched both the box and Thor’s plate away.

“C’mon, Cinnabon, where are they?” Tony looked decidedly too serious for 9am in the morning, a time when Thor much preferred to have a relaxing breakfast after his run and before his gym session with the Captain. These Midgardians had far too much of a sense of time and far too little ability to enjoy the moment.

“Where are who?” Thor asked, taking the box back with ease, “try our new secret flavour, can you guess what it is?” the box asked and Thor let out a single guffaw, “you Midgardians are so funny, why not just buy the flavour that you want to eat.” He laughed again, shaking his head and eating the second half of his breakfast in a single bite.

“It’s a marketing thing, don’t dodge the question.” Tony snapped, reaching for the box again.

“Uhm nah bodging dah westion,” Thor said, still chewing.

“You know where they are.” Tony stared him down and Thor rolled his eyes.

“Why do you care, Stark. You got your toplap thing-”

“Laptop-”

“Toplap, laptop, who cares, they got it for you, now you have it and they are who knows where,” he shrugged, brushing crumbs from his beard, “I certainly do not care, my brother can be quarrelsome, but there has not been a single cross word between us since you paired him up with that little troublemaker. He is quite taken with her, he behaves like a Prince now.” Thor took a swig from a large mug, “and she is very agreeable. Funny, kind, she matches Loki’s temperament supremely well, Stark. I must commend your match making efforts.” Thor narrowed his eyes. He knew how the team thought of him, a tool for their schemes and plans, but ostensibly an idiot. As if spending a thousand years training at the heels of his mother and father hadn’t taught him anything of diplomacy.

Tony gave an exasperated sigh, “this was not about match making this was about - you know what, nevermind. We can’t have them loose on Earth, we need to know where they are, or did you forget your brother is also a criminal here?”

“He served his time on Asgard.” Thor swept the crumbs from the table onto his plate with a single swipe of his hand. Prince he may be, but his mother, nanny and tutors had taught him manners at least and it gave him a distraction from thinking about what a disaster Loki’s penance had been, how hard he’d fought for any justice for his brother beyond locking him away.

“And what about the girl, Estrid,” Tony continued.

“What crime has she committed - save for giving you a run for your money, eh, Stark, it is no crime to be a nuisance!” Thor laughed again, “Or my brother would certainly still be behind Asgardian bars once more.” He willed the man to take the out he was trying to give, the conversation at a dead end unless Stark backed down.

“Thor, we need to be serious about this, we still don’t know what kind of powers she holds or why, she had a fucking spear, it was on fire. There are other people involved now.” Tony was grinding his teeth in frustration, his eyes dark and set.

Thor pushed his mug and plate to one side, clasping his hands together in front of him on the table.

“I say this with the utmost respect for your planet, Stark. Though I note you are not a ruler here, merely a player. But Loki is a Prince of Asgard, he is my brother. I have helped you when necessary, I have brought him to justice when required. But we live long lives and we are merciful people. He has served his time, we have discussed his reasons and agreed he was under duress, and I will not aid you in any further punishment you feel that he deserves.”

“He killed people, Thor, you can’t just -”

“And how many people have you killed, Stark? With your weapons? Deliberately and for profit. I will not tell you again. Loki is my brother, his justice has been dealt with by Asgard, as has his rehabilitation. You required our help and we gave it, the girl made her own choices and has decided to leave with Loki. You have no jurisdiction over either of them. You will leave them both alone.” Tony opened his mouth to speak, but Thor stood to his full height, hands still planted on the table as he bent forwards, “I will hear no more of my brother being a criminal-”

“But -”

“Or of the girl belonging here, she is free to choose her allegiance and if she chooses Asgard then we will accept her with open arms. I will place her under my protection, as Crown Prince of Asgard, and I have faith our King will do the same. Do not bother me with this nonsense again.”

Thor stormed from the room, calling Mjolnir without a backward glance.

You woke late the next morning, your head fuzzy and the bed empty. The sheets were still warm to the touch where Loki had laid next to you, even his socks were still on the bare floorboards beside the bed.

With a smile you tripped out of bed, opening the curtains to another crisp day, the frost clinging to the edges of each leaf like glitter and marbling the window with stars. Sapphire magic swirled around your feet, covering them with soft woollen tights, curling around each leg, your shoulders, once bare, felt soft cashmere fall down each arm and over your hips, stopping at your mid thighs and brushing against you as you moved away from the window. You’d seen this outfit in a magazine a few weeks ago and now all your magic needed was a flash of inspiration to create it for you.

It was strange to be able to wield such power now, to have your fire at your fingertips, to dream things into existence, and yet Loki had lived like this for a millenia. How long had you had this ability, pressed down and restricted by the unseen hands of others? As nice as it was to live quietly for a while, a thousand questions still invaded your thoughts.

Padding into the living room you lent against the wooden beam between the kitchen and living room, watching Loki quietly. He was wearing a pair of dark black and green plaid pyjama trousers and nothing else. His strong back rippled with muscle with every movement as he laid out toast and tea on a kitchen table. He was humming a tune again, brushing the back of his hand over his forehead. He turned, catching your eye and smiling while you allowed your eyes to wander down his chiselled chest. Even making breakfast he was every bit a god, as if he’d been created from the purest marble.

“Good morning, my darling ásynja, how’re you feeling?” With his hands on your waist he drew you into his embrace and you wound yourself around him in response.

“I’m feeling okay, tired though, I had the strangest dreams.” He rubbed a hand down your back and you let your fingers trace the indents on his stomach.

“You were thrashing in the night, I was worried.” He kissed your temple and, using a single finger, tipped your chin up so he could study your face, “do you wish to discuss it?”

“After toast, maybe.” You smiled, kissing him back, soft and slow and lazy.

You ate together, curled on the sofa, and watched the hazy frost of the morning get darker as rain rolled in, the droplets catching on the glass. When the fire died down Loki knelt to relight it but jumped back, cursing, his hand bleeding.

“Loki, are you okay?” You jumped from the sofa, but Loki held his hand out to keep you back.

“There’s something sharp down here, I don’t want you to cut your feet.” He moved his hand and light began to glow brighter around the hearth.

“I’m getting something to clean that with.” You climbed over the back of the sofa instead and hurried to the kitchen for a clean cloth and some water.

Loki continued to search for the object, poking at the ashes around the tiles until he found the two halves of the broken glass bead that had escaped the box the night before. “I think I found something.”

You both returned to the coach and, after insisting on cleaning the cut on Loki’s palm, you took the two glass halves from him.

“What on earth is it?”

Bigger than a normal marble it was milky and opaque, like Loki it seemed to hum with magic, drawing you closer. Experimentally you pressed both halves together and, with a jolt, they fused allowing its message to be told once more.

“I saw a vision of a flock in chaos, a tup of pure chaos and a ewe of love, a ram standing watch, a singular lamb frolicking, a lamb with a fiery fleece. It has burnt the farm. But from the ashes rises lush land, strong crops and healthy babes. I have told this vision to my husband, and Lugh, he does not believe me when I say she is no threat, he believes this to be a prophecy of Ragnarok, he cannot see the verdant land beyond the fire. You must hide the girl, my friend, should they reach her I fear destruction, for the Nine Realms, or for her.”

Stunned you both stared at each other.

“That was my mother.” Loki looked tearful, but there was a soft smile on his face, “I missed her voice.”

You held his, uninjured, hand and squeezed it, “do you understand what she was saying?”

“All I know is Ragnarok, and sadly that has already consumed Asgard. If it was prophesying the end of my land then it has already come true.” He looked out of the window into the relentless rain that cloaked the valley. “My mother was Vanir, they are known for their prophecies, but my mother often kept them to herself, to protect people from their own fear. To share a prophecy, she must have been incredibly worried.”

“She was talking to Lugh, the man from Baron Zemo’s house?”

Loki looked at you, long and hard, and you watched his thoughts race behind his eyes as he nodded.

You hummed, thinking over this revelation, if this prophecy was something Lugh needed to know, but it was about a girl, and he was so keen to protect you… “is this about me?” You chewed on your thumb, considering who you could be the ewe? The lamb?

Loki reached out and pulled you closer again until you were curled into his lap, eyes focussed on the rain, lost in your thoughts. “I’m wondering the same thing,” he didn’t even need to read your mind to know what you were worried about, the prophecy had to be about you.

“We should share this with someone,” you suggested, taking a deep shaking breath and allowing your body to relax into his arms, your head on his shoulder. “I - I don’t want to tell anyone, but I also think -” your mind raced, whatever was coming sounded huge, destructive, and you didn’t want to be responsible. Someone had to have a way out.

“Let us leave and seek advice, it was in our plans to return to Tønsberg and we may be able to find someone there who can tell us more.” Loki kissed your temple, “and I cannot lie to you, my darling, I am longing to see you among my people again.”

Outside the rain turned almost sideways, lashing the window while the sky rumbled and a flash of blinding light lit up the otherwise dim cabin, when it faded there was a figure silhouetted on the other side of the window.

“Oh my god!” You shouted, turning into Loki and hiding your face, fingers digging into your shoulders. “Loki!” Instinctively a plate of armour had covered your chest and shoulders and Loki was both pleasantly surprised that your magic was starting to react to you so naturally, and very relieved that you hadn’t also conjured your spear.

His chest gave an answering rumble as laughter bubble up, “my darling, look again.” He tipped your chin up and there, through the window, was Thor, his wet hair dripping in long shanks over his shoulders but he lifted Mjolnir to wave at you through the window, his usual friendly smile plastered on his face.

Thor entered the cabin doorway a sodden mess, but was dry and in a hoody and sweat pants before he reached the comfort of the fire, Loki’s magic banishing his soaked clothes to the bathroom to dry. The God perched his hammer by the hearth and warmed his hands.

“Thank you for the shelter, brother, though I do enjoy a good storm, it is much more enjoyable from behind the window.” He smiled, turning his back to the fire and his sparkling eyes to you. “And how are you, trouble?” He asked.

“Trouble? Me!” You protested with a laugh, “I’ll have you know I’ve been very well behaved.” You laughed, allowing him to pull you into a firm hug.

Loki returned to the living room with a tray of mulled wine and ginger cookies.

“Tell him, Loki, I’ve been right here, practising my magic, laying low.” Thor thumped onto the floor, leaning on the coffee table and holding his mug in his hand, you chose to use the handle, balancing a cookie on the arm of the couch.

“That, little one, appears to be the trouble.”

“Out with it, Thor, we’ve had enough cryptic messages for one day.” Loki drawled, sprawling onto the couch beside you.

Thor raised his eyebrow, intrigued. “Well I certainly wish to hear these other cryptic messages, but what I mean, brother, is that Stark wishes to see his ward back in his compound.

“I’m not his ward!”

“She’s not his ward!”

You protested at the same time.

“Well, this is not the way that Stark sees it, he wishes for you to return,” he pointed at you and then Loki, “and for you to be imprisoned again, I suppose. He wanted me to aid him in returning you both.”

Loki shot to his feet, standing in front of you, “she goes nowhere.”

Thor sprawled backwards, “fear not, I did not agree with him. I told him you are both under the protection of Asgard,” he looked around Loki’s legs, “should you wish, of course,” he winked.

“We wish, we definitely wish.” You placed a reassuring hand on the small of Loki’s back, tugging him back to the sofa by his waistband.

“Well then, shall we return to Asga - Tønsberg ?” Thor stood, hand out to retrieve Mjolnir and smiled at you both.

“I think there’s something you should hear first.” Loki said thoughtfully, settling back into his seat.

Thor raised his eyebrows, “you wish to delay reaching the safety of Tønsberg?”

“Have you ever heard of any of mother’s prophecies?” Loki had already started pulling the two milky halves of the marble from his pocket.

“No, have you?” Thor leaned forwards again, resting his elbows on the table.

Loki slid the two halves of the marble together and let it rest on the table against his mug, that same lovely voice floating into the quiet room. Thor’s eyes instantly softened and you felt Loki stiffen next to you, holding in the silent tears he’d shed earlier that he seemed to believe you hadn’t noticed. When the prophecy ended the room remained quiet for a few moments and then Thor huffed out a long breath of air.

“Well then.” He looked utterly confused. “Where did you get that?”

“Lugh himself gave it to me.” You tucked your feet up underneath you and reached forwards to take the delicate marble between your fingers. Loki opened his jacket before you could ask and you tucked it into the inside pocket, next to his heart.

“And you believe it to be about you?” Thor raised both eyebrows, you nodded. “And you think you are not Trouble?” He laughed.

“Brother, please, this is very serious.” Loki insisted.

“Yes, yes. I think I know where we should go before Tønsberg .”

“Where?”

“The Golden Palace of course.” Thor grinned.

<< Part 13

Part 15>>

#Loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki/reader #Loki x Reader #Loki fanfic #Loki series #loki marvel #Loki x you #Loki/You #loki fanfiction #Loki smut #The Old Gods and the New #loki fic #loki god of mischief #loki laufesyon x reader #loki of asgard

110 notes · View notes

thecuriousquest · 7 months

Text

Yandere Shigaraki Headcanons

Tag List: @issamomma @repostingmyfavs @chickennugnugnug

Warnings: Yandere themes, SFW hcs, violent tendencies, childish mindset, unhealthy mindset, possessive tendencies, these are kind of all over the place, punishment threats, toe loss?, isolation, starvation, kidnapping/implied kidnapping

Checkout my Master List here.

This is my first time writing for Shiggy, so I hope you enjoy!

—————————————————————————

^Why is this gif so hot to me?

✋Shigaraki is very possessive. Nobody is allowed to talk to you, not even Toga. That’s how immature he is.

✋Ashtray likes to show you his games or talk to you about them. If he’s playing a game, he fully expects you to be watching the screen over his shoulder like a good gamer girlfriend.

✋Goes out of his way to get those special gloves so that he can keep you on his lap. He loves hugging you. He doesn’t like smacking you on the ass, but he sure does love to playfully pinch it.

✋He will literally turn the world upside down for you as a romantic gesture. He wants you to know that he’s willing to level anyone and anything in order to show you how much he loves you.

✋Anything that hurts you is already ash to him. Consider it done. He doesn’t even need to ask. Just one look at your hurt expression will do it.

✋Shigs will do anything for your affection and approval. He’ll do anything to keep you safe too.

✋When he scratches at his skin, he secretly likes it when you stop him.

✋Honestly, the names he calls you can vary.

✋He doesn’t like nicknames like “baby” and “sweetheart”. It’s unoriginal and way too mushy for him.

✋He’s probably going to call you something like “Zelda” if he wants to be sweet or “Imposter” if he wants to be impish and teasing.

✋The closest thing you’ll get to a real nickname is a clever shortening of your name that nobody else has ever thought to call you in a loving tone (he just ends up sounding like a crusty crab though).

———

Punishments:

✋Shiggy doesn’t spank. Shiggy doesn’t whip or paddle. He’s not a brat tamer. In fact, he’s a bit of a brat himself. It all stems from him being so immature.

✋He locks you up half of the time as a punishment and starves you for a third of it.

✋He doesn’t know how to take care of someone, even if he is madly in love with them. Hell, he doesn’t even know how to take care of himself.

✋At least you have Kurogiri to meet your needs.

✋The Shigster can’t bring himself to hurt you, but that doesn’t mean he won’t hurt others because of your actions and then blame it on you.

✋Don’t forget, he misplaces his anger like a child. You’re acting out because you were kidnapped. He doesn’t see it that way. To him, you’re just being irritating and difficult. “If you don’t want your best friend to die, then quit whining and do as you’re told!”

✋He threatens to decay your feet if you try to run away, although he’d never actually do it.

✋He will, however, have Mr. Compress take your pinky toe if he feels like you’re really misbehaving. With your equilibrium thrown off, you need help getting around.

✋Shigs is more than happy to step in at this point, giving you his arm to latch onto.

✋Only if you behave will he give you your toe back. That’s the whole game with him. It’s a childish game, but you know how much Shiggy loves games.

172 notes · View notes

katsu28 · 10 months

Note

Hi!! May I request a Roy Kent x Fem!reader with the Alstroemeria prompt as well as the “saying I love you in between kisses” from the physical intimacy prompts? Please & thank you!! 🤗

thank you so much for requesting and for allowing me my first attempt at writing roy! <3

alstroemeria: going to an event that the other person is interested in just to see them happy + saying i love you in between kisses, roy kent x fem!reader, swearing ofc (it's roy, what did we expect), 1.2k

Roy Kent had never looked as out of place somewhere as he did right now. Broad and tall, covered head to toe in black leather and denim, scowling at the world around him like he’d been personally wronged by it, he proved a stark contrast to the quaint little farmers’ market you'd dragged him to.

The market itself had been popping up near your place every weekend and you’d been hinting at wanting to go with Roy, but he never wanted to. Going by yourself was always a choice, but there was something about roaming the cobbled streets browsing for fruits and veggies and other cute trinkets with your lovely (albeit perpetually grumpy) boyfriend that just seemed so…domestic.

You’d recently moved in together and this was the perfect way to jumpstart your lives with each other. Maybe you’d get some fun knick knacks for your shelves, or a painting for your walls.

He’d said no to going the first few times, but once he caught sight of your sad little frown he caved instantly, promising the two of you would go this coming Saturday. That was today, and you were beyond excited.

You made sure to get there early so you could have the best pick of everything, and to avoid the crowd—another reason you suspected Roy kept turning down your invitations. He was a private guy, so purposely going someplace where he would be recognized almost immediately wasn’t really his cup of tea. Most Richmond fans were fine, but with social media nowadays, some always meant more, and more often than not that always led to the two of you being swarmed and having to go home before you could do whatever you’d left the house for.

But until that happened, you could just enjoy this time you had with your boyfriend, walking hand in hand through the area. Rows and rows of stalls with fresh fruits and veggies, bunches of flowers bursting with vibrant colors, baked goods alongside jars of jams and honey. It was overwhelming in the best possible way. You didn’t know where to start, so you went everywhere, milling around aimlessly, perusing the tables and chatting with folks along the way.

Roy grunted his approval at some things, raising a brow at others that had you putting it down. If he really liked it, he would nod, and you picked up a little something. Ingredients for this week’s dinners, a still warm loaf of crusty sourdough with a jar of orange marmalade to go with that you were looking forward to enjoying when you got home, a beautiful set of handmade earrings for Keeley’s upcoming birthday—even a mug with a coffee pun on the side of it for Ted that Roy snorted at.

Had you been paying a little bit more attention to Roy, you would've seen him almost, almost smiling as he watched you scurry from tent to tent to explore. You were enjoying yourself, and that was all he could ever ask for.

You were less than halfway through the market when you spotted the cutest little flower tent off to the side.

“Roy, look! Flowers!” You exclaimed, practically skipping over to one stand with the prettiest arrangements you’d ever seen. Roy trailed behind you like a stoic shadow, looking half nauseated by the bright colors.

Wandering a little further into the tent, you grew more and more in awe at the sheer beauty of each bundle of flowers. They were perfect, each bud and leaf handpicked to create a masterpiece, but one bunch in particular caught your eye.

Gorgeous pale pink alstroemeria surrounded by hyacinth in the lightest of yellows, tiny daisies paired with another tiny white flower you didn’t recognize dotting the dark green leaves. It was a simple arrangement, but still beautiful in an effortless kind of way.

You’d never been more obsessed with anything in your life (except for maybe Roy).

“They’re nice.” He observed with a sharp nod, but he was more focused on the way your face had lit up when you’d spotted the flowers.

You turned to him, beaming. “Should we get some? We can put them on the table in the breakfast nook, maybe brighten up the place a little bit.”

“Brighten up the place? There’s a window, I think it’s fucking bright enough.” He grumbled, but he just looked mildly amused. “Besides, I have allergies.”

“Yeah, to rabbits, not flowers.” You reasoned, giving him a teasing nudge with your elbow.

“Same fucking thing!”

“It’s really not.”

You ended up leaving the tent without the flowers, opting to forgo them in favor of possibly picking up some other things whilst you continued your market explorations. You’d been a little sad, but Roy kissed your temple and laced his fingers through yours and everything was fine again. They were just flowers after all.

Roy stopped in his tracks a few stands later, digging his buzzing phone out of his pocket. “You go ahead, I’ve gotta take this call. It’s Ted.”

You hummed in agreement, giving his hand a squeeze before moving to walk ahead. “Tell Ted I said cheers!” Roy grunted again, stepping off to the side to speak in hushed tones.

As a result of leaving Roy to his own devices, you actually lost him for a while, but you assumed your grump of a boyfriend would find his way back to you eventually. He always found you. You stopped for a second to readjust the produce in your tote, and when you looked up there he was, wading through the crowd a head above the rest, searching for you with a bouquet of the flowers you’d been eyeing earlier clutched in his fist.

He reached you quickly, thrusting the flowers out towards you. “For brightness in the fucking breakfast nook.”

“What made you change your mind?”

“They made you happy.”

“You’re just a big softie, aren’t you, Roy Kent?” You were all smiles again, reaching out to pat his stubbled cheek.

Roy rolled his eyes, but there was still a whisper of a smile gracing his lips. “Yeah, yeah, don’t fucking tell anyone.”

You stifled a giggle, grabbing him by the front of his jacket and pulling him in for a kiss. His free hand instantly came up to loop around your waist, thumbing at the strip of bare skin between your shirt and jeans.

“I love you,” You mumbled against his lips, pulling back for just a second to admire his softened features. The hard line of his brow was relaxed for once, his usual angry scowl nowhere to be found. He was looking down at you like the two of you were the only ones in the world right now, already leaning back in for another kiss that you gladly went along with, sliding your hand around the back of his neck. “God, I fucking love you. You’re perfect. How are you so perfect?”

“Could be asking you the same fucking thing, can’t I?” He grumbled, looking a tad annoyed that you’d suddenly grown talkative in the middle of a makeout sesh. Part of you felt guilty because Roy didn’t usually enjoy this much PDA when you were out and about, so maybe you should’ve been taking advantage of it.

“I asked first.”

“I’m not perfect. But I love you, and that seems pretty fucking perfect to me.”

“Who are you and what’ve you done with the real Roy Kent?” You gasped playfully, drawing yet another eye roll from him. He kissed you one more time for good measure, short and sweet, before easing the heavy tote from your shoulder and hiking it onto his.

“Let’s fucking go home now. I wanna try some of that bread you got earlier while it’s still fresh.”

“And so you can pick out the biggest piece from the middle? Fucking heathen.”

“I’m the heathen? You like the fucking ends! Who the fuck likes eating the bread’s ass?”

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post new fics :)

#roy kent #roy kent x reader #roy kent x y/n #roy kent x you #roy kent fluff #roy kent one shot #roy kent imagine #roy kent fic #ted lasso

348 notes · View notes

cosurmqne · 2 months

Text

02 — a short life of trouble

[ RDR2 X fem reader , 2310 words ] — previous ✶

“what were you thinking! bringing another woman in here.” “great, another mouth to feed.” “what if she draws more trouble right to us?”

“SHUT UP! all of you. she needs help. last time i checked half of you wouldn’t be standing here today if it weren’t for us taking your sorry asses in.”

the blood stained stranger was laying down in a bed of rough canvas and animal hide, it’s fabric the softest thing she had ever felt after a month of dirt floors and blankets of pine-needles. the distant voices slowly awoke her mind, her eyes opening carefully as the morning sun stung them with its bright beams. how long had she been asleep? she knew it was morning when she was lifted onto a strangers horse, morning still when she slumped onto the mans back out of exhaustion and defeat, not even caring what would happen to her when she awoke or where he was taking her. and yet here she was, still morning? no, the stiffness of her joints suggest at least a full days rest, her legs wobbling slightly as she turned over and placed them on the soft grass beside her.

her hands travelled to her face, expecting the almost familiar texture of dried blood, crusty and flaky, but was met with her soft skin. the edges of her hair and a few tricky spots still had reminisce of blood she could scrape off with her chipped nails, but it seemed someone had wiped her face clean.

her clothes were different too, the blouse and pants she was wearing a size too big but clean and comfortable, her ripped outfit she last remembered wearing folded neatly at the end of her bed and completely pink. she figured someone had tried to scrub them clean, but the redness was impossible to remove.

“good to see you’re finally awake.”

the sudden closeness of a mans voice made her jump and spin around. she was met with a surprisingly kind face of an older man, smiling cautiously and offering a homemade mug in his left hand, the steam and smell suggesting the rare liquid that was coffee. her mouth watered instantly.

“here, it’s for you.” he moved closer, kneeling down next to her bed and placed the warm mug in her stuff hands. “don’t worry, it wont jump out at ya’”

y/n let a small smile escape her lips, “thank you.” she croaked, her voice straining and making her cough slightly. maybe she had been out for more than a day?

as she sipped her drink and let the coffee warm her from head to toe, the man continued. “my names hosea. i’m … i guess you could say i’m kind of a top man around here. just don’t tell the others i’m really in charge …. HA!” he joked and let out a small chuckle, but the woman just looked at him curiously, seemingly frozen still apart from her arms lifting up and down. he guessed he should change his approach ….

hosea cleared his throat, “ahem, well…. you sure gave us a fright earlier on. all that blood on ya, we’d thought dutch brought back a corpse, with you slumped over and all…” with again no response, he continued. “look miss, we’re good people here. well, not really good, but better than most, i can assure you. why don’t we go somewhere a little more private, you can talk to me. tell me how you got into this mess.”

he stood and offered his arm. to y/n’s surprise, she rose and linked her own. while she should never trust a man so easily, her conscience screaming at her for it. but he seemed kind. honest and trustworthy. human. something she hadn’t seen in a long time. besides, she figured if they had wanted her dead, she would be face down in a river by now…

they walked, making a beeline towards the trees in front of them. “what was your name miss?” hosea asked.

“y/n.” she responded.

with her eyes adjusted, bearings found and legs moving again, she let herself scan the area around her. she was in a camp, one that seemed small but … live in? tents, campfires, horses and even a kitchen of sorts was set up. quite a few people were living here, men, women, even a child? she tried avoided the eye contact of the strangers around her, not knowing what mess she could have landed herself into. it seemed a few had stopped their morning chores for a fleeting moment to get a glimpse at her walking past them, pretending to take no notice of her and continuing on whenever she caught their eye. had they been waiting for her to wake up? she guessed she was a stranger sleeping amongst them, concluding she would be just as curious to get a glance at herself as well.

looking around still, she held the gaze of a familiar face, the one she had once pointed a gun towards and one took her to this place. dutch was his name right? hosea beside her seemed to look his way as well, letting out a single tune whistle and pointing his head towards the forest they were heading too. the dark haired man instantly dismissed the two men he was talking to and started coming their way. it was like a shepards call she thought, a codependent understanding that could only be trained with years of practice.

“here, this is a nice spot. i tend to do a lot of thinking here.” hosea said, leading and sitting them both down to opposite logs on soft grassy ground, much greener than the almost dirt floors back at the camp, untouched and unflattened by consistent steps. it looked out over the lake that surrounded the area, but was still thick with trees and streaked with sunlight peeking through the canopy.

the heavy footsteps of dutch became closer, his voice loud and true, “aaah, our celebrity guest, awake at last.”

as he stood before them, y/n rose upright at once, standing stiff and attentive before she could stop herself. she tried to swallow the familiar feeling of guilt like a rock stuck in her throat. “th… thank you.” she let out, quicker than she was intending. “i’d sure be dead and buried if not for you.”

she felt like this needed to said, right then and there. not totally understanding it herself, but knowing that his actions will forever be a debt she could probably never return. she knew from experience and dread that owing someone an unpayable debt was the worst burden to carry, and a feeling she wanted to loosen as soon as possible. a thanks was a start.

dutch just smiled and chuckled, raising his hands up like he did in the forest on their first encounter, “theres no need for thanks, just … take it a day at a time. at ease.”

y/n sat back down, almost embarrassed by her outburst but distracted when hosea spoke up. “dutch here said you had a run in with some o’driscolls. dealt with them pretty well too, where did you learn to shoot like that?”

the woman swallowed, she figured there was no reason to be coy anymore. a voice in the back of her head was yelling out, what are you doing!? you don’t know these men!? they don’t need to know nothin’!? and yet …. she was almost beyond caring about that now.

“my pa taught me,” she admitted, taken aback already by her honesty. “and my brother. he was a lot older than i am, sharp shooter and kept us out of trouble.”

dutch let out a noise, “tsss, some trouble you must have had. not even half my men here couldn’t kill with such efficiency.”

“well, we had a farm up north, a big property. it wasn’t much, just a few horses to sell and trade but it had been with my family for generations. it was home.” she paused. dutch and his partner were sitting opposite her and staring with unbroken attention, seemingly hanging on every word. it threw her off a little but she continued on. “being isolated up there we were bound to run into trouble, usually just some fool trying to swipe a horse, wolves maybe trying to take one for a meal. nothing unusual, but being able to take care of ourselves was a high priority, and my pa taught us well. he made sure we knew how to handle all kinds of trouble…”

“when my brother went and got himself killed down south in the war, it was me who was left in charge, with my father too old and my mother untrained. we got along just fine, until these men keep knocking at our door. harassing us, showing up constantly, trashing our barns, stealing our horses. they wanted us gone, for what reason i couldn’t say … after a few months it was manageable, i’d shot enough of them to make their appearances less frequent… but…”

she had stopped, her throat closing slightly her but no tears threatened to break free. she was thankful, crying in front of these men seemed like the worst scenario. never again would she let a sign of weakness slip from her. she had done her weeping, was done with meekness and dependency. she could tell dutch sensed that about her, while hosea watched her with concern and understanding, he was smirking slightly, like he was seeing straight through to her core.

“but?” dutch pushed her on.

with a tough swallow, she continued. “but… one day when i was collecting water from our well down by the river, i looked back up the to see a pillar of smoke. thick, grey and as high as i’d ever seen. by the time i ran back and got view of our burning home, our barns were pitch black, the horses aflame and running in every which direction, the air orange and almost unbreathable. when i saw the roof of our house collapse completely, i knew it was over. everything inside was destroyed, my parents included….” she cleared her throat. “i had just raced to our shed and grabbed as many guns as i could carry, when i heard men laughing. all those men, probably twenty, who had been coming up to us for months. all here. i realised they must have all been from some sort of gang, and could tell they’d tried to steal as much as they could from us. i knew we had hardly any money in the house, and by the small bad one of them was holding, they’d only managed to swipe no more than 30 dollars …. all that . my home, my family, everything. taken away for 30 dollars….”

she could feel heat rising through her cheeks, hands clenched into fists without knowing and her voice rising. “i guess they weren’t happy with that and decided to make their exhibition worth their time… their laughing stopped as soon as i started shooting. one by one, not even caring to hide or take cover, just wanting them dead. i needed them all dead. i don’t even know or care to remember what happened. a-mist the flames and gunpowder i one jumped me, but id stabbed with him their own knives. i shot though them all like they were no more than the deer i had killed countless times for supper. like it was a necessity, not a murder.”

“wether they were all dead or ran away or lost in the fires, i’d escaped with nothing but what i had on me. for months i’ve been running, not really sure what to do, where to go. stealing food, money, constantly moving and too scared to fall asleep or stay in one spot for longer than a week… i ran into a few more of those men here and there, they seemed to be scouting me. i learnt that they called themselves the o’driscolls and their leader was furious that a woman had outsmarted his men, that a quick robbery had turned into a slaughter. he wanted me dead. still wants me dead i guess…”

“and, this is where we meet?” dutch said, his arms now rested on his knees and hands fidgeting with the large rings on his hands but full attention of her words.

“yes, i’d been running for four days straight, how far i travelled i’m not too sure but i knew they wanted me dead for good. they’d sent a bunch of those irish bastards to me and i was constantly trying to lose them. i didn’t know if i was alive or dead, asleep or awake, i just shot anything that moved, trusted no one and tried to make it to the next sunrise… and yes, thats where you come into the picture and … i guess, now i’m here.”

“well … hell of a time you’ve had.” hosea finally spoke, his sympathetic gaze surprisingly comforting. when he reached out and cupped his hands on her own, she didn’t resist. “you can let your guard down y/n, you’ll be safe here for however long you need. i assure you, we hate those o’driscolls just as much as you do. for every one of those fools shot dead the dirt beneath us gains another worm!” to this, he chuckled to himself, y/n even letting out a small giggle.

dutch joined in with his deep laugh, “oh yes, you will fit in just fine here miss.” he stood up and gestured to the camp behind him, now full of activity. “this gang can be your home now, we’re all misfits and outlaws, once lost and then found again.”

he looked at her not with hoseas sympathy, but with eyes that assessed and schemed, invasive and sharp.

“yes, i think you’ll be just fine…”

#red dead 2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 x reader #red dead redemption 2 x reader #arthur morgan x reader #kieran duffy #dutch van der linde #dutch van der line x reader #rdr2 oneshots #rdr #rdr2 #read dead redemption

84 notes · View notes