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cowboydisaster · 1 year

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The Fire In Your Eyes

part VI: horseshoe overlook ii

pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

word count: 13.3k

summary: you, Arthur, and Hosea find some important horses on your trek to a hunt gone-wrong. Away from camp, Arthur opens up, letting you peek through his point of view to his heart-breaking past. Dutch asks for your help.

a/n: chapter six! Arthur and reader find their heart horses, there's a lot of hurt/comfort too which we love. Oh and I spoiled a plot point to Jane Eyre, so sorry if you were planning to read it, but also it was published 176 years ago so maybe get onto that. Also the tuberculosis in Jane Eyre was just a coincidence, so don't fret. I plan on keeping Arthur tb free. Lastly, there is some good ol' fashioned 'talking about our feelings' in this chapter. We are opening up and talking about trauma, yay! BTW, series hit 50k this chapter! Anyway! Enjoy

warnings: animal abuse (seeing a horse that has been abused), mentions of former child abuse, mentions of infertility, all are described briefly, nothing graphic.

SERIES MASTERPOST

taglist: @margofiore @mrsarthurmorgan7 @woman-with-no-name @tillith @luvliewriting @pine4pple-b0i @photo10300 @dudsparrow

series taglist: @catnotbread @chxosangxl @globetrotter28 @justalittlerayofpitchblack @fruittiest-of-loops @randomidk-123 @heyworld-whatsup

Arthur’s supposed to be on watch, and you’re supposed to be doing laundry. But he’s tired of staring at trees and you’re sick of cleaning beer and stew out of Uncle’s long johns, so here you are.

Technically, Arthur hasn’t completely abandoned his task like you have. You’re both sitting on a decent sized boulder, the one he always sits on during his guard shift, just off the trail into Horseshoe. But his eyes are not focused on the trees, instead they fixate on his journal, where he is sketching something on the ivory pages. You’re all too curious, again, about what he’s drawing, but he's positioned in a manner so the contents remain hidden from your nosey gaze. He hasn’t missed the way you subtly lean every once in a while, peering down your nose to try and see the pages. Each time he notices, a small smile tugs on his lip, and he pulls the journal a little tighter towards himself. Arthur’s carbine rests between you two on the rock, next to a little bag of candies that he had picked up when you were in town a few days ago. Currently, your nose is in a book, but you haven’t been reading it for a few moments, instead peeking over the pages at Arthur. It’s nice to get away from camp for a bit. The past few days you’ve spent doing house chores for Grimshaw. She was less than happy when you “Went to the saloon all day with the men” as she put it, those couple days ago. She made sure that you made up for the lost time, and you were stuck peeling potatoes for so long that your hands went numb.

It’s a beautiful day, the sun shines brightly, and a warm breeze passes through the camp. Birds chirp, singing their tunes as they build nests in the trees above your head. A few rabbits have passed by, even a fox, filling up on food before the storm hits, another reason you’re avoiding your chores. Charles had warned everyone that by the look of the clouds, a big storm was coming, probably tomorrow. You’ll be damned if you spent the last nice day staring at Pearson’s apron or a laundry bin.

You watch as Arthur moves his eyes from the journal to the bag of sweets, and he reaches into it, pulling out a yellow candy. With an almost unnoticeable frown, he drops it back into the paper bag, and pulls out a red one. He seems satisfied enough with this choice, and he brings the little treat to his lips. It’s been so long since you’ve had the pleasure of candy, and you’ve gone and eaten nearly half the bag. You haven’t had money for pleasantries in a long while, not since your momma died anyway.

“You don’t like the lemon ones?” You ask, reaching into the bag and pulling out the one he had dropped back inside. You pop it into your mouth, eyes slipping shut in bliss from the sweet, tart flavor of the candy. Arthur looks up at you for a quick moment, scanning over your face with a chuckle before trailing back down to his journal.

“Nah, I like 'em well enough, but I noticed they’re your favorite. Didn’t wanna take all the good ones from ya.”

You smile, grabbing another yellow candy from the bag just as you feel the remnants of the last one finish dissolving. You missed hard candies. They weren’t exactly high on your list of priorities before joining the gang. You put your book down, a piece Marybeth had let you borrow. You’ve read it a few times, and you already know exactly what the pages entail. However, you don’t know what the pages of Arthur’s journal look like.

“Whatcha drawin’?” You ask, criss crossing your legs on the boulder. Arthur huffs a laugh, having expected this question.

“Nothin’ much, just somethin’ little.” Arthur whispers. You’re confused as he leans down towards the grass, plucking a dooryard violet from a little patch of the wildflowers. So many of Arthur’s actions throw you for a loop. He’s so… dynamic, constantly showing you new sides to him that you would never expect.

He unsheathes his hunting knife, quickly snipping the stem of the flower off. Now what really throws you off is when Arthur leans over, concentrated, and tucks the flower behind your ear. He adjusts your hair accordingly.

“There,” He whispers, settling back into his former position to admire you. “Purple looks good on you, well except when it's your cheek that's purple but-” Arthur jokes, nodding to your bruised cheek, and you laugh, shoving him a bit.

“I was just about to say that you’re goin’ soft, but now you’re makin’ fun of me. I guess things are back to normal.”

Arthur’s face turns to mock hurt, as he squints at you.

“I ain’t goin’ soft.” He chides.

You placate him, putting your hands up.

“Alright, whatever you say, Mister.”

With a smile, you pick your book back up. Arthur reaches into the bag of candy, pulling out a yellow one. Words need not be said as he mumbles to get your attention, and when you look up, he tosses the little yellow candy towards you. You catch it, tossing it into your mouth and thanking him. It’s quiet as both of you pick your books back up. It’s nice, with you both silently enjoying each other's company. You’re lost in the world of Jane Eyre, and Arthur lost in his journal. Every so often Arthur will peek up from his book, glancing at you for a moment before returning to his sketching.

You reach the bit of the novel where Helen is lying on her deathbed, finally succumbing to tuberculosis. This particular scene has been read and reread by you many times, but it still manages to choke you up. Helen is so brave in the face of death, so sure of the paradise that will await her. And poor Jane, another loss, another grief. You’re not sure what happens after death, but if there is an afterlife, you’re not so sure you’ll be on the pleasant side of it. Tears begin to prick the sides of your eyes as Helen speaks her last line to Jane, begging her not to grieve, beckoning her to find joy. Arthur eyes you curiously from the side of his eyes, wondering what about that little book has you so in your head. With a sigh, you finish the chapter and sniffle, placing the book down to take a breath. Arthur’s charcoal stills on the paper as he hesitates, a question on his lips.

“What's goin’ on in that head a yours? Tough read?” Arthur asks, gesturing to the little ruby colored book in your hands. You meet his gaze with a raised eyebrow, placing the book down on it’s opened pages to keep your spot.

“How about a compromise? I’ll tell ya…if you show me what you’re drawin.”

Arthur’s eyes turn dark with mock threat as he whispers, tone gravelly.

“Never.” He chuckles, and you sigh dramatically.

You both slip into a comfortable silence again, and you find yourself bored. You don’t feel like reading any more, and you’ve picked through most of the yellow candies, so in a futile attempt to distract yourself you toy with your spurs, flicking the rowel and watching as it spins. Arthur notices this, and he huffs. He’s noticed in the past few weeks that you’re always keeping your hands busy, always toying with something or other. He thinks back to when you were tracing constellations on his palm in the bath, and his head hangs low with some shame, and a pain.

“I uh- I been meanin’ to apologize…” Arthur mumbles, eyes fixated on his book.

Your eyebrows pull together in confusion, what on earth does he have to apologize for?

“The other day in Valentine, in the bath house. I overstepped- or I misread the situation n’ Im sorry. Never meant to make you uncomfortable, Star.” Arthur all but whispers, a heavy feeling settling in his gut because he doesn’t want to mess this up, doesn’t want to push you away, and he is.

Immediately your heart sinks, you’ve been meaning to have this conversation, practicing your words when you lie awake at night, unable to sleep. But all the things you wanted to say slip from your mind.

“That wasn't… you didn't-" You mumble, at a loss for words. There's so much you could tell him right now, so much you could explain. But you don't. No, instead you shove it down, pulling that unbothered facade over your face that has been protecting you from heartache for years.

"We don't gotta talk about it, Arthur." You whisper, flicking the rowel of your spurs and avoiding his eye contact.

You can still see it though, as Arthur leans back, cocking his head with a downcast face. He wants to talk about it, but you can't.

With a sigh, you lay back against the rock, hands behind your head to look up at the clouds. As soon as your back hits the rock, Arthur sighs, humorously irritated.

"Dammit woman will you just- " Arthur chuckles, pulling you back up to a sitting position by grabbing your forearm.

"Just hold still for a minute, I'm tryin' to do somethin…" Arthur smiles because you're always moving, you can't sit still, and a moving model proves to be a difficult one.

You go back to your sitting position, and Arthur leans over towards you, adjusting the violet in your hair. Your eyebrows are pulled together in confusion for a moment until you spot the little journal sitting in his lap, closed over his charcoal. Your eyes go wide, and your lips crack into a shocked smile.

Arthur leans back, picking the journal back up and opening it. For a few seconds his eyes run over the soft features of your face, and then he looks down to his paper.

"You're- You're drawin' me ?" You ask, perplexed, honored.

When Arthur glances up, seeing the look on your face, he gets nervous. He probably should have asked your permission first. He didn't mean anything strange by the drawing, and he doesn't want you to think that.

Arthur scratches the back of his neck, searching for words to explain, but falling short.

"Uh- yeah, I am. But I don't mean anything odd by it. I just like to draw things that I like or that I find- Well, I don't know, usually I draw things that I think are pretty. Like nature n' plants and uh…" Arthur rambles, terrified you're gonna think he's some type of pervert. A smile blossoms across your face, a full, genuine one. He's dug himself in with his words he realizes when you lean in toward him, voice quiet.

"...and me?" You ask, finishing his sentence. Arthur smiles crookedly, eyes on the paper as he responds.

"Yeah, like you."

You smile, content. Arthur continues sketching. The quiet scratching of charcoal on paper is the only reminder that he's still beside you as you slip your eyes shut, soaking up the last of the sun. You listen to his sketching, to his breathing, and the little sighs and chuckles he lets out when you move too much. He knows you can't sit still, it's just one of those little things about you.

After a while, the sketching stops, and you peek one eye open, glancing down at Arthurs hands. He sets the charcoal down, closes the book and then dusts his hands off of his jeans.

"You gonna let me see it?" You ask, turning towards him, adjusting the flower in your hair.

"I never really shown anyone this… My new one or my old." Arthur says, quietly.

"You don't gotta, it's okay." You reassure, sincerely. He's very closed off about the journal, and you respect that. Having one yourself, you understand the desire to keep it hidden away. Arthur thinks for a moment, looking down to the leather bound journal in his hands.

"Here," he whispers, opening it to the correct page and handing it towards you. You hesitate, not wanting to push him, but he nods for you to go on.

"It's just for fun, I'm not real good or anything." Arthur adds, always having a lesser opinion of his works.

You very gently take the pages from his hands, pulling the book towards you. You cover your gaping mouth in shock. Anytime Arthur has previously mentioned his drawings he downplayed them greatly. You should have expected this, as he always down plays his talents. But you had expected messy scribblings, doodles.

What Arthhr has created is beautiful. He intricately copied your face onto the paper, perfectly portraying you in his own style. His shading is perfect, contouring your face and the bright smile plastered onto it. He's drawn the violet, sticking out from behind your ear.

"Arthur…" You gasp, taken aback by his artistry. Next to the journal is a little note, accompanied by your name, spelled out in all caps, and a little drawing of the north star.

She joined me for my guard shift again. We was bored so I started drawing while she read something or other. She looked real pretty with that flower in her hair, oh and she likes YELLOW CANDIES.

Arthur blushes a bit, embarrassed that you've read his thoughts, but he knows you won't judge him for it. Make fun of him, however? Knowing you, you will. He chuckles, glancing up to your face.

A throat clears behind you both, and you jump, turning to see Hosea standing there. He curiously eyes Arthur's journal in your hands, eyes flickering between the two of you, knowing that you're the first person he's ever shown those pages to.

"How's your watch goin'?" Hosea asks, knowingly quirking a brow.

"Just fine, now whatchu need?" Arthur asks, gently taking the journal back and binding it up. Hosea is unshaken by Arthur's attitude, having dealt with it for nearly twenty years.

"Your horse. I'm heading to the stables to buy a new ride, but I need a way to get there." Hosea answers.

"Thought that was your horse there? Why don't you ride him down to the stables?" Arthur asks, gesturing up the slope towards the hitching posts to where a massive black shire horse resides. You don't recall seeing the beastly animal before, but then again you've been stuck with Miss Grimshaw.

"Yes, well I'm giftin' that bastard to you. He's a nasty son of a bitch, and I'm too old to be thrown. I nearly died a handful of times just getting him back here. I stole him from a fella on the road a few days back, now Karmas got me." Hosea says, angrily gesturing towards the stallion who is pinning his ears and pawing the ground impatiently.

"He can't be all bad. You know anything about him?" You say, eyebrows pulled together as you stand up, walking up the slopes to the posts. The two boys follow you.

"Well before I robbed him of his horse and his hunting map, me and this fella got to drinkin'. He was boasting about this damn thing, and said it was immortal. Apparently he was ridden by a bounty hunter before this, and got hit with more bullet shrapnel than you'd believe. Somehow he managed to stay alive. Fella was drunker than a skunk though, so I reckon you should take it with a grain of salt."

You stand back with Hosea as Arthur steps towards the uneasy animal. The horse stomps, ears pinned, and Arthur coos to him, hands up in surrender to the animal.

"That boys' always had a way with animals." Hosea remarks, watching as Arthur calms the shire enough to pet it. His hands meet the dark horse's neck as he shushes. After a few moments, the horse begins to calm. His tail stops swishing, his ears prick to the sides, listening to Arthur and his lip becomes loose.

"Real good, boy. Now don't go kickin me, I'm just gonna take a look, I ain't gonna hurt ya." Arthur coos, running his hand from the horse's front shoulder down to its hock and pastern. He whistles lightly, pulling his hand back up.

"Feller weren't lyin'. Legs are covered in old scars. It's a miracle he didn't die from infection or just get put down." Arthur says, patting the horse's croup before backing up, eyeing the horse from a few steps back.

"He got a name?" Arthur asks, and Hosea shakes his head.

"No, never given one." Hosea adds.

"Reckon I'll start callin you Balius, you're a strong one." Arthur says, moving back towards the horse and picking up his hoof, checking over the state of it.

"Balius…?" You ask, not sure why Arthur would have picked that name. It's beautiful, but foreign to you.

"Ah, Balius. An immortal horse, a gift from Poseidon." Hosea smiles, looking at Arthur and the horse.

"Arthur, he's a smart one. Too humble to show it often, I'm afraid." Hosea whispers to you.

You think back to Boadicea. Arthur must take some interest in history and mythology. You curiously watch him, seeing Arthur in a different light.

"Okay, I can take him off your hands. Go ahead and ride my Walker to the stables. Just board him there for now, I'll see how this big guy does." Arthur says, pulling an oatcake from his satchel and feeding it to a now calm Balius.

You glance to the unhitched horses, seeing your buckskin grazing with the other gang member's horses. He's a small thing, not much muscle on him and Colter certainly didn't help that fact. He's a good horse, but not what you need. You need something strong and quick, something younger.

"I'll join you, Hosea. I've been meaning to get a new ride for a while."

"I might as well go too, get him checked out by a stable hand. He's gonna need a different saddle. Boadicea's is still down in Blackwater and the saddle on the walker is a piece a' shit." Arthur pipes in. Hosea places a hand on each of your backs as he smiles, leading you towards the unhitched horses.

"I'm not sticking around, I'm afraid. Once I get this horse I'll be heading back up to ambarino for a hunt. I hear that there's a beast of a bear up there."

Arthur stops, hands on his belt as he raises an eyebrow.

"You want help with it? Y'aint so young no more, Hosea." Arthur asks, not wanting to overstep, but worried about Hosea's cough and age. Taking on a bear is hard for someone your age, let alone Hosea's. Hosea hesitates.

"Star's daddy was a gunsmith. Sure she knows her way around what we need and I can track better than you, let us go, as long as the lady wants to." Arthur adds, looking over to you quickly.

"Alright, suppose some company would do me some good up in the mountains." Hosea nods, glancing behind him at the horses.

"I reckon me and Arthur get these horses saddled up. I'll have Charles take the rest of your shift. Dear Star, why don't you go pack a bag, we may be away a few nights. Oh and check in with Dutch, he was asking for you. Tell him we're heading out for a day or two." Hosea orders around, and you nod, anxiety pooling in your gut.

"Dutch was askin for you?" Arthur asks, shooting a look at you and then Hosea. You nod, biting your lip.

"Yeah, said he wants to get to know me on a more personal level… Whatever that means." You mumble, and Arthur's face is drawn up in distaste. Without another word, you head towards your tent.

You wave at Jack on the way, noticing that Abigail and John are fighting again. You feel bad for the boy, caught up in this life. You ignore the hungry cries of the O'driscoll, tied to a tree on the other side of camp. Dutch is a fool for bringing him here. With a sigh, you part the canvas to your tent, drawing the flaps closed behind you. A little wooden box rests on your bedside table, a gift from Tilly after you'd done her a favor. You pick up the wooden box, hand resting in the lid, and yet you hesitate to open it. You know it's not gonna be good, maybe enough change for some canned goods, but not a horse, which you need.

Frustrated, you slam the box down harder than necessary. Your hand grabs an old saddle bag from under your cot, and you move to your wardrobe.

You don’t have a tent kit, but you do have a bedroll, so you grab it and stuff it into the bag alongside a few pairs of jeans and some underthings. Damningly, you forget to grab your coat, leaving it stuffed in the bottom of your wardrobe.

Once your bag is packed you can no longer ignore the wooden box that is haunting you. You sit down on your bed, picking it up and holding it in your lap. You pull the lid off, looking down to a measly five dollar bill. It's not chump change, but it won't help you with a horse. It's the last of the money you have from stealing in Tumbleweed. You hope that with the gang you'll never have to live like that again. You were barely making it, never knowing where you were gonna get a meal or sleep. Anytime you needed to purchase something you had to steal. And now here you are, thinking about how in the hell you're going to steal a horse.

You pluck the bill from the box, fold it over and stick it into your satchel.

"Can I come in?" A voice says from outside your tent. It's Arthur, and instinctually you smile.

"Sure c'mon."

Arthur steps through the flap, coming over to your bed. You scooch over and he sits down beside you on your cot.

"What's the matter?" Arthur asks, taking his hat off and placing it on the cot. You sigh, closing the box and putting it back on your table.

"I still feel like I'm just runnin." You whisper, noting the double meaning of your words.

"From what?" Arthur asks, no judgment in his eyes.

"Everything," You huff, "Myself mostly. My past, my feelings. Just robbing and killing and lying to survive. I'm stuck back in Tumbleweed, Arthur. I have no money, I have nothin' to my name. I need a damn horse before this one up and dies on me but I can't even afford the cheapest one. I'm gonna have to steal a damn horse." You sigh, running your hands through your hair, plucking out the violet and twirling it between your fingers. Arthur rests his hand on your knee, and you look up to his ocean eyes.

"Star, you got the whole gang now, okay? You don't gotta watch your back now, cause we all got it." You nod, knowing he's right and feeling better for it.

"I'll help ya get a horse, c'mon." Arthur says, patting your knee for good measure before standing up and placing his hat back on.

"I'm not lettin you buy me a horse." You bite.

"Marybeth caught word of a train job. You come rob with us, n' get your cut, you can pay me back." Arthur says. You know he would never actually ask you to pay him back, he's only offering this to make you feel better.

Arthur extends his hand out to you, and once you take it, he pulls you up to your feet. He grabs your packed bag from the cot, slinging it over his shoulder.

"Alright, go check in with Dutch, I'll get your horse loaded."

Arthur holds the tent flap open for you, and once you exit he files out behind you. You go your separate ways then. Dutch's large tent seems to rise over the others, intimidating you. But you strengthen your resolve, walking towards it with purpose.

Just as you reach to pull the canvas aside, Molly pushes through the flap, knocking into you and pushing you to the side.

"I'm not blind, Dutch! I know what you're doing! You won't even TOUCH me anymore because you’re thinkin about her!" Molly yells, and her voice pierces the ears of everyone in camp. She points her finger at him, seething with rage before grunting loudly.

"You're delusional. Again." Dutch says, rolling his eyes, frustrated.

Molly flips him the bird before stomping off. Dutch only watches her go with distaste.

"Sorry, I didn't intend to interru-"

"Nonsense. I'm sorry. Miss O'shea has been… difficult as of late." Dutch says, clicking his tongue against the room of his mouth. He comes beside you, placing his hand on your shoulder and leading you into his tent.

"Would I be correct in assuming that you've been avoiding me?" Dutch asks, groaning as he rests down into his chair. Everything about the man is dominating. His stature, his stance, his words. He demands respect, and those who don't give it to him receive a bullet. Naturally, with you being you, you test his boundaries. Arthur trusts Dutch, but he gives you an odd feeling.

"Why would I avoid you?" You chuckle, watching as some of the charisma bleeds from his eyes. He gets off on being frightening, and you've just insulted his resolve.

"Hmm." Dutch squints at you, unsure if you're just ignorant or if you're intentionally pushing his buttons. He grabs a cigar from the pack on his desk, placing it between his lips.

"I only came by to tell you that Hosea, Arthur and I will be off on a job hunting for a few days. They asked me to let you know."

Dutch nods, holding a match to the candle on his table until it lights before bringing the lit match to his cigar. He makes you wait, lighting the cigar, slowly inhaling and then releasing the breath of air.

"Okay… I hope you haven't forgotten about our little chat. I've got plans for you. As soon as you return, come see me. We've got a lot to talk about."

You dip your head in understanding, and turn to exit.

"And miss?" Dutch calls after you, and you stop, turning on your heels.

"Hmm?"

"Do be careful on that hunt. Be a real shame if somethin' scratched up that pretty little face." Dutch says, and your stomach rolls as you exit.

You try to quell your anger, try to be the bigger person. Dutch is the one person who you cannot piss off. Your tongue gets you in trouble often but you won't let it leave you without a home. You move through camp, Dutch's remark playing through your head. The boys are waiting for you at the hitching posts, and they see your rage from a mile away.

"Miss Star, what is it?" Hosea asks, checking his girth to make sure it's tight before climbing onto Arthur's horse.

"It's that prick." You snap, finger directed at Dutch's tent.

"What's the fool gone and done now?" Hosea asks, grabbing the reins and adjusting in the saddle.

"Dutch? He botherin you?" Arthur asks, glancing between you and Hosea.

"Oh I can handle it just fine. Miss O'shea don't seem to be handlin' it so well though. Bastard makes her cry and then two seconds later starts tryin' to flirt with me." You growl, climbing into your saddle. You follow Hosea, cantering out of the Overlook.

"He tried to flirt with you?" Arthur growls.

"This isn't new for Dutch. He finds something shiny, new, and he wants it. Happened with him and Marybeth too, but I shut that down quick." Hosea yells back.

"He knows better. I'll have a word with him when we get back." Arthur hisses, disappointed.

"No. I've got it." You respond.

"Don't mind him, hard as it may be. Lately he's been nothing but greedy when it comes to women. He's downright disrespectful, demeaning… Annabelle would be ashamed." Hosea shakes his head.

"Annabelle?" You ask, never having heard the name before. You turn in your saddle to look at Arthur.

"She was Dutch's fiancé. Got killed by Colm O'driscoll." Arthur mutters, an old pain resurfacing.

"She was a sweet girl. She was good for him, too, and kept him in line. Along with young Arthur over here. He and John were a pair of fools when they were kids. She was always badgerin' them." Hosea chuckles at the memory.

"Nah, that was mostly Bessie. John used to steal my damn cigarettes all the time. Course that was my fault. God knows little Johnny Marston couldn't do no wrong." Arthur chastises.

"Oh be quiet, Arthur. We all knew you were sneakin them to him. Along with the booze."

Your eyebrows are pulled together in confusion as the two bicker, and you laugh.

"Yeah well gettin' the kid drunk was the only way to shut him up." Arthur explains.

"Wait-" You laugh, "You all knew each other when you were kids?" You ask, trying to piece together the timeline, picturing them all younger.

"We brought Arthur in when he was only a boy, about fifteen if my memory hasn't lost me. Our first stray, our unruly son. For a long while it was just me, Dutch and Arthur. But then I found Bessie and Dutch, his Annabelle, and then eventually we took in John." Hosea explains, trotting over the railroad tracks into the auction yard.

You can't help but chuckle, the thought of their younger years is a sweet idea. They really are a family, you can see that now

"How did you end up with them? How did you end up doin' this?" You ask Arthur and then Hosea, spurring your horse.

"I was just a kid, livin' on the streets for a long while, stealin' to get by. The city weren't kind to me. After a few years I decided to get away, take my chances out in the woods. I needed a horse to get away from the city." Arthur explains as you slow your horses, riding towards the livery. Hosea chuckles, and you can't help but smile, wondering where this might be going.

"So one day I'm sittin' on the sidewalk beggin' for spare change. See these two horses hitched outside the gunsmith, real fine horses. Saw a white one, knew it'd be quick and strong, just what I needed."

You chuckle, knowing exactly where this is going.

"Get up close to it, no one's lookin' so I throw myself up into the saddle."

Hosea is smiling brilliantly at the memory, as if he's back in the same setting.

"That horse threw me faster than you could blink an eye. I'm layin' there on the street like a fool, feelin' sorry for myself when suddenly these angry lookin' outlaws peek over me, lookin' down at me in the mud."

"And that was where we found him." Hosea laughs.

You make a note to ask why Arthur was alone at such a young age. Your heart breaks at the idea of him, just a kid, begging for money in the streets. You've heard amongst the laughter of the gang that The Count won't take anyone but Dutch, and Arthur appears to have been the first to test that theory. You trot past the butcher's, making your way towards the stables. Once again, you pass the peculiar one armed man posing as a veteran. You nod to him lightly as you pass, and he smiles in return.

"We can fill you in on old stories during our trek up the hills. There's a lot of goodones, especially about Arthur here." Hosea chimes, dismounting from Arthur's walker in front of the livery.

"Great." Arthur says, sarcastically elongating the word.

You slide down from the buckskin, forgoing your eyebrows as you hear commotion on the other side of the closed stable doors. A horse shrieks, whinnying with fear as thumps sound out against the door.

"Just grab her halter!" A man yells, and the stable doors shake from an apparently hard kick to them.

"I can't! She won't settle, goddamnit she's goin' through!" Another man screams, and suddenly the door cracks and is pushed open.

A beautiful Palomino mare pushes through the door, terrified and angry. You jump back out of the way with a gasp, almost getting trampled by her.

"Star, get back!" Arthur yells as the horse rears up, crying out with an ear piercing whinny.

"I got her!" One of the stable boys yells, swinging a lariat over his head. He releases a coil as the rope flies through the air, landing around the mare's neck.

The rope only seems to terrify her more, and she drags the poor stable hand who's heels drag in the dirt, trying to pull her in by force.

You know that there's no way he could possibly force this horse to do anything. She's tall, lean and strong. Her piercing blue eyes are a symbol of her ancestors' spirit. She's a force to be reckoned with, an open flame, you can tell from just a glance.

"Stop! Stop- you're scarin' her!" You call to the boy with the rope, handing your buckskin's reins to Hosea. You walk towards the spooked mare as she rears, hands placed up to placate her.

"Be careful, miss, please. She's dangerous. Wasn't taken care of properly by her last owner n' now she don't trust men. Maybe she'll take to you." The man calls.

You look to her sides, to the scarred over wounds on either side of her stomach where spurs have dug in harshly, and to the sores on her mouth from where a torturous bit has been yanked far too often.

"Oh you poor girl." You coo, taking a step towards her.

Arthur shifts behind you, wanting to just grab you and pull you backwards. But he knows by now not to question you. You can handle your own. Still, it doesn't help his anxiety as he glances at Hosea.

The horse is locked onto you. She has stopped rearing, but she snorts and huffs, prancing and snorting nervously.

"Drop the rope." You order the boy, but he hesitates, stuttering.

"I- I can't, I shouldn't. She'll run off again, and my boss-"

"The lady wasn't askin', now drop the damn rope." Arthur orders from behind you, and your lips crack into a small smile, grateful that he has your back, that he trusts your sometimes insane decisions.

The kid obliges, immediately dropping it to the ground. Your fingers are crossed, and much to your relief, the mare stays put.

Her crystal blue eyes are locked onto you, separated only by the thick, long white forelock that covers part of her face. Her golden coat is broken up by a thick white blaze, and she has four tall white stockings.

"Easy there girl, I'm not gonna hurt ya." You whisper, inching towards her. She stomps her right hoof, ears pinned back. You stand still, waiting for them to pop back up before you continue.

She has a presence about her, something deeply human about those eyes. There's a sense of understanding in them, a clarity that you find only in the rarest of beasts.

"She's got that affinity for animals too, huh?" Hosea whispers to Arthur, looking between you and him.

Hosea notices that Arthur doesn't turn his head, doesn't acknowledge the older man because his eyes are locked onto your back, watching as you approach the mare. Arthur is looking after you with a small smile, a glint in his eyes that Hosea hasn't seen in so long. He doesn't remember the last time he's seen Arthur with so much… life in his eyes.

"She's incredible ain't she?" Arthur whispers back, eyes glued onto you as he speaks. Hosea brings his hand up to Arthur's shoulder, offering it a light squeeze.

"She sure is, son."

Oblivious to their conversation, you shush to the horse, calming her down some. No one moves save for you, not wanting to interrupt this moment, lest the mare run off again.

"That's a good girl, see I'm friendly I swear it." You whisper, smiling as the horse stands steady on her feet, ears coming forward curiously towards you. Holding your breath, your fingertips reach out, inches away from her pale nose. She snorts, sniffing at you, gauging your intentions.

At the same time, you move towards each other, and your fingers brush against her soft coat. At first the mare hesitates, but after a second she leans into your touch. You laugh, petting under her forelock. When you turn around to show Arthur what you've done, you find him sweetly looking over you, eyes bright, proud.

You gently reach and grab the rope from her neck, using it to lead her back towards the stables.

"I ain't never seen nothing like it miss! She just- she just calmed right down for ya!" The stableboy says excitedly as you lead the mare back inside, followed by Hosea and Arthur with the other horses.

Hosea and Arthut deal with their horses, selling, buying and stabling while you chat with the stable hand.

"Can I help you with anything? Seein as you helped me out." The young worker asks you as the older one helps Hosea pick out a ride.

You hold the mare's rope in your hand, scanning down over the other stalls. There's a dappled standardbred, a silver turkoman, a roan nokota, a morgan… nothing that catches your eye.

You turn back towards the mare at your side, then to the stable boy.

"I want her." You say, no chance of compromise in your voice. The stablehand looks at you oddly.

"You- you want her? Miss I don't think that's such a good idea, she ain't right in the head!" He explains, but you've found your resolve, and you are going home with this mare, one way or another.

"You turnin' down a customer?" You bite, raising an eyebrow at the boy and purposely drawing his attention to his boss. Surely the owner won't appreciate his hand turning away a paying customer.

"No! No of course not, ma'am!"

"That's what I thought. She have papers?" You ask him, and he turns around with a sigh.

“Yeah she got papers.”

You nod, satisfied with the response.

“She’ll be nine hundred n’ fifty, miss.” The boy says, handing you your papers and your gut sinks. $950? Quickly coming up with an idea, you smooth your face over with a small smile.

“I'll take her for fifty.”

The boy laughs, snorting at your attempt at a bargain.

“We already lost enough money on this horse. You can have her for nine hundred.”

You squint, eyeing the man up and down.

“Seventy five.” You bite.

“I'm sorry lady, that just ain’t happenin’. This is one of the nicest horses we’ve had, and I can’t just hand her to you for nothin.” He says, chuckling as if you’re crazy.

“You sure about that? This horse nearly killed you.” You lean back on your heels, eyebrows raised, “You said she don’t like men, right? If I walk away now are you even gonna be able to lead her to a stall?”

The boy glances between the horse and you, and the mare pins her ears at him, biting out as if she wants to rip him apart. He sighs loudly, running a hand over his face before looking back to you.

“Four hundred.” He offers you, and you squint, releasing a little of the mare’s lead so her bites and kicks towards the man land a little closer to his face.

“Two hundred.” You bite, and the man rolls his eyes.

“Listen, lady, my pa will kill me-” He starts but you interrupt him. Hosea and Arthur have already checked out and boarded their horses, and they watch you with amused chuckles.

“You’re startin’ to piss me off mister! Would you rather your pa kill you, or this horse? Cause the more you continue to irritate me, the looser this rope gets, and, the lower my offers get. Now, let's try that again. I’ll take her for one hundred.” You bite, leaving go of some more rope and the man has to back up to avoid the mare’s pinned ears and kicks.

“Jesus! Fine, a hundred works. Just, get her away from me.” The boy yells, and you pull her rope back in towards you, calming her down with a very satisfied smirk on your lips.

Arthur pays the man the hundred dollars, and you switch saddles from your buckskin before stabling the horse. Arthur picks out some carrots for everyone’s new horse’s and before long the three of you are walking out satisfied, with three new rides. You stop outside of the stables as everyone mounts up. Hosea had purchased the turkoman, and now he swings a leg over it with a very satisfied grin.

“So we all got new rides, eh?” Hosea chuckles, waiting for you and Arthur to mount up.

“It seems so.” Arthur chuckles, watching as you comfort your palomino before getting up into the saddle. She feels nice to ride, got solid feet, and she doesn’t buck or fret. You pat her neck once you’re in the saddle, and then signal to the boys that you’re ready to head out.

“This one should do me good. Got nice bloodlines, a good age.” Hosea says, waiting for Arthur to mount up.

“What about her? You pick out a name yet?” Arthur asks, pointing lightly towards your horse for a moment. You frown slightly.

“No. I ain't much good with pickin’ names out truthfully, maybe somethin’ will come to me eventually.” You mumble

“Awe, well ya gotta pick somethin’ out. Horse as fine as that needs a proper name… She’s a spitfire for sure. You gotta find a name that fits her spirit too.” Arthur explains, placing a foot into the saddle and swinging a leg over. You hum, thinking.

“Well what would you name her, Arthur?” Hosea asks, turning his horse around to butt in a little.

“Oh, I don’t know, I was just thinkin-”

“C’mon, what would you pick? Tell me.”You interrupt his ramblings and Arthur looks down at his saddle horn.

“I guess I’d call her Athena. War, wisdom, beauty, sure seems to fit her description.” Arthur says, looking the mare over. Hosea smiles a bit, as do you because you can’t believe he’s hidden this apparent interest in mythology from you. First Balius, now Athena? He’s so complex, you smile.

“Athena” You test out the name, liking the way it rolls off your tongue, and even the mare’s ears prick up when you say it.

“Athena it is…” You whisper, smiling as you lean to pet the mare's neck. Arthur chuckles, watching the two of you.

“We best be on our way then, by the time we get up there it’ll be good huntin’ hours.” Hosea calls out, trotting up the road. You and Arthur follow after him, making a triangle formation up the main road. You all pass the building that's half built, and you notice they’ve made some more progress, as wooden beams stick up, framing the roof. There's a ‘coming soon!’ sign plastered out front.

“Say what are they building there, anyway?” You ask, watching as the workers carry cut beams and tools.

“A blacksmith I hear, some real peculiar feller. They say he's real… imaginative. Sounds to me like he’d be better off in a city, but he liked the ‘quaintness’ of Valentine.” Hosea pipes up from ahead.

“He’s… imaginative?” You ask, unsure of the creative limits to Blacksmithing of all things.

“They say he makes decorations, jewelry, all kinds of peculiar trinkets and the like. Alongside regular stuff, of course. He makes tools, and the odd bits are more of a side gig.” Hosea explains, trotting around the bend past the sheriff’s office.

“Strange…” You mumble, glancing back at the building one last time before it disappears behind the sheriff's office.

“Where exactly we headin’?” Arthur asks, spurring Balius into a canter now that you’re all out of town.

“A little stead, called O'Creagh’s run. Beautiful hunting up there, but it’s a bit far.”

“Let’s ride, then.” Arthur responds, and you all push your horses into a gallop. You use vocal cues, not wanting to touch Athena’s sides with your spurs. She responds well, and within no time you’re all galloping back up north.

— — — —

A few long hours later you finally arrive. O’Creagh’s run is a beautiful little place, with wildflowers, grassy hills and a glass-clear pond with massive fish swimming through it. As you ride past, you see a man in a boat, fishing over the waters.

“Just a bit further, we can leave the horses up ahead off the road.” Hosea says, veering from the road and trotting up a small hill. Big boulders stick out of the ground in places, and you maneuver Athena around them.

Hosea leads you to a little opening, and he slides down from his horse.

“Why don’t you grab that gun? And whatever bullets you see fit. We’ll let dear Arthur here shoot the bastard.” Hosea chuckles, pulling out a map and looking it over for a few moments before nodding.

“Alright this is the place to start lookin.” Hosea says as you pull the springfield rifle from your saddle, loading it with express bullets.

“And what exactly are we lookin’ for?” You ask, never having hunted before.

“Bear shit, tracks, fur, blood, anythin’ really.” Arthur answers, patting Balius before coming towards you.

You nod, falling into step with Arthur as you both follow Hosea. The three of you walk around for a long while, scanning the ground, slowly inching around. You see nothing but rocks, grass, leaves, and sticks. Arthur has noticed that you sigh loudly every few minutes, kicking a rock or a stick out of your way as you grumpily walk around in search of anything.

“Arthur, this is boring as hell.” You whisper out of earshot from Hosea. Arthur chuckles lightly, rubbing at his stubble.

“You won’t be sayin’ that when there's a half ton beast comin’ at you.”

“If we ever find it that is.” You huff, crossing your arms as you follow the men. After a few minutes, Hosea stops, waving you both to come over.

“Bear dung here, fresh.” Hosea explains, looking over the pile.

“Never thought I’d be glad to hear it…” You mumble under your breath.

“How close you think, Arthur?” Hosea asks, looking up to the younger man.

“I reckon he ain’t far. See a few tracks here,” Arthur points in the direction of the disturbed trail. “They disappear up here, it splits off into two trails.”

You look at the two trails. One wraps around the side of the hill, and the other continues through a valley. You’re tired of standing around, walking slow and looking at bear shit, so you nod, walking through the valley.

“Where you goin?” Arthur asks, gesturing to you with furrowed brows. You turn around, slowly walking backwards to yell at him.

“Goin’ to find this thing!” You holler back, and Arthur sighs, telling Hosea to go with you while he searches the other trail.

You wait for Hosea to catch up to you, chuckling as Arthur stomps up the hill in the other direction.

“I don't mean to question your thought process, but what's your plan if we do come across this bear?” Hosea asks as you pull your rifle around into your hands.

“Well I guess I’ll shoot it. N’ if that don’t work, you go get Arthur, or we run, I don’t know.” You admit, shrugging your shoulders lightly, “Wasn’t this your idea?” You ask, an eyebrow raised.

“Yeah but now that we’re actually here, I’m wondering if this was a bad idea.” Hosea huffs, and you crack a smile.

You walk the trail for a while, not really seeing much for about ten minutes. Just as you're about to turn around you see something on the grass up ahead. You jog up to it, crouching to the ground.

"Hosea, I found a fish! He's eaten most of it, he can't be far now." You chime, looking at the fresh blood and teeth marks.

"Uh, Star?" Hosea calls your attention, barely over a whisper. Slowly, you turn around.

Hosea is standing facing away from you, frozen in a statue-like stance. About forty feet down the trail stands the largest bear you've ever seen in your life. Its face is scarred, an eye is missing. On all fours this bear is as tall as you, and your breath hitches in your throat.

"Don't move." Hosea whispers, as the bear inches forward. You can't help it, fear taking over as you stand up from your crouch.

You take a step backwards, and your boot squishes right down onto the fish. The slip surprises you. Instinctually, you gasp, pulling your foot back away quickly with a yelp.

The bear's ears prick forward at your noise and motion, and he roars, spit flying from his mouth as he charges.

"Oh SHIT!" You scream as the bear charges straight forward. Quickly, you pull your rifle around and fire. You hit the bear in the leg, and then in the shoulder, and you curse your shaking hands. The bear charges for Hosea, but as you continue trying to shoot it, it switches direction, coming straight for you. You gasp, pumping bullets into it, missing some, hitting random areas and grazing it in others. It will not go down.

You cry out as the bear gets closer, firing once again before it runs into you, a paw against your chest as it knocks you to the ground. Your rifle is knocked away from your hands, and lies uselessly far away in the dirt. Your heart pumps rapidly as the bear roars in your face, ready to tear you to pieces.

You quickly reach down, unsheathing your knife as the bear's claws against your chest push down painstakingly. Your ribs ache from the impact of hitting the ground so hard, but you can do nothing about it as you plunge your knife into the bear's chest. It yelps, snarling and growling as you pull the knife out, sinking it back in until the bear falls to the ground at your side with a yelp.

You pant, chest rising and falling rapidly as you lay on the ground. Your eyes slip closed as you drop the knife to the ground.

"Am I dead?" You whisper, peaking an eye open, relieved to see the setting sun.

"Oh my God, Star, are you alright?" Hosea calls out from his position backed against a tree on the ground. You ask yourself the same question, noticing that it hurts when you breathe, your ribs ache and there are some scratches against your collarbone where the bear had dug his claws in, but other than that you're okay.

"Think so." You hum, just as Arthur approaches, sprinting down the grassy patch.

"What in the hell happened?" Arthur yells, glancing between you and Hosea and the bear, dead at your side.

"We found the bear." You whisper, placing a hand over your ribcage and hissing.

"The bear found us." Hosea corrects, standing up from the ground with a sigh.

"I'm sorry dear girl. I wouldn't have brought you up here if I would have known." Hosea says, feeling guilty.

Arthur comes over to the grass where you are lying, and he sits down beside you.

"You alright?" He asks, seeing where a deep patch of blood soaks through your shirt. It's not yours, but he's sure you're hurting somewhere.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Just let me lay here for a minute n' feel sorry for myself." You whisper, breath coming down from its heightened pace as you slip your eyes closed.

"I'm afraid my age seemed to have slipped me. I ain't as young as I used to be and it shows. I'm shaken up beyond repair, think I'll return to camp to lick my wounds." Hosea chuckles, "You folks comin' with?" He asks.

Arthur glances down at you, noticing the way you cling to your ribs. You shouldn't be riding, it's probably best that you rest for the night.

"We'll set up camp here, be back in the mornin'. She should just rest for now." Arthur responds, and you're relieved for it. A few hours' ride home does not sound fun, and besides, you packed a bag in case.

"Okay." Hosea smiles, "I'll see you kids then, be safe."

Then Hosea directs his attention to Arthur.

"Take care of her, son."

With that, Hosea leaves, whistling for his new horse and trotting off into the night with it. Once he's out of the trees, Arthur looks to you.

"C'mon, I'll set us up a camp. Looks like that storms finally comin' in."

You think back to what Charles had said about the rain, and peek up to the evening sky, colored with black clouds.

Arthur pulls you to your feet and you groan, before he whistles for the horses.

"I'll get you settled then get that bear." Arthur hums and you nod.

Arthur starts a little fire a ways away, getting it set up with his percolator and an iron cooker. Once it's set up nicely, he goes back to skin the bear. You grab your bag from Athena, rolling out your little bedroll on the grass before sitting down on it criss-crossed. The night is cold, and you dig through your bag searching for your coat.

You groan, realizing that you must have forgotten it at home. Rain starts to drip down quietly, just a sprinkle, but it's enough to chill you to the bones as you bring your knees up to your chin.

"Why ain't you got a coat on? You're shiverin'." Arthur points out, walking back toward you with a pelt and a bundle of bagged meat in his hands. His eyebrows are drawn together as he comes forward.

"I forgot it."

Arthur chuckles, setting his things on the ground beside the fire before going towards Balius.

"Course ya did." He chuckles pulling something from his saddlebag before coming up behind you. You crane your neck up to look at him as he drapes a coat over your shoulders. It's tan with a warm wool interior, it's warm, and you wrap it around your body as tight as you can, shivering.

The coat is so big on you, it swallows you up, and you relish in the warmth. But the most intriguing aspect of it is the scent. The coat smells just like Arthur, like gunsmoke and tobacco and something else so indescribably him that you dig your frozen nose into the fabric.

"Don't you got a tent…?" Arthur asks kindly, worried over you. He places a few cuts of bear meat over the cooker on the fire, eying you as he does.

"Hm hm" You mumble, shaking your head no.

"Why didn't you say somethin'? Here let me put mine up, you can sleep in there for the night." Arthur says, checking to make sure the bear meat won't burn before he starts gathering the materials to build your tent.

"Why don't you change into a fresh pair of clothes. Your shirts covered in blood, that can't be helpin' your chill. N' you can check for any cuts that need bandaged up." Arthur suggests, down on one knee across the fire, stabbing the beam supports into the wet soil.

"I ain't just gonna strip down right here. Especially not with you right here." You point out. Arthur stands up, tying together the posts.

"Get changed. You're freezin' to death n' you're worried about a gaze when we're in the middle of nowhere." Arthur chuckles, shaking his head at your stubbornness. You look down at your ruined clothes, blood spattered across your torso from stabbing the bear in the heart whilst he was right over you.

"Fine but you better not peek." You say, standing up and walking over towards Athena.

"Star-" Arthur sighs, laughing, "I ain't gonna peek."

"Good. Cause if you do peek I'll have to kill ya," You smile. "No man's ever laid eyes on me indecent before, and that sure as hell ain't changin' now." You mumble, not even thinking about your words. Arthur however, stiffens, hands stilling where they were pulling the canvas over his tent. His shoulders tighten and he swallows thickly. No man…? Ever…?

He coughs, awkwardly.

"Alright well, uh. Hurry up." He mumbles, putting all of his focus onto the tent and forcing himself not to turn around.

You take his coat off, letting it fall to the grass. Arthur counts the pieces of clothing as they fall, flinching each time a new piece hits the ground. It seems to be forever until you're undressed, but eventually you stand naked in the night. You're facing away from eachother. And if he did turn around, he would be met with your exposed backside… but he won't. He's a gentleman and he's made a promise that he intends to keep.

You stand bare facing Athena, digging through your saddlebag as a slight panic starts to creep up your neck. The rain has picked up, coating you in a cold, yet glistening wet. You dig through the bag, realizing that you hadn't brought a shirt. You were so worried about Dutch and money that you didn't bring the most basic of necessities. You shiver, covering your breasts with your hands.

"Arthur…?" You ask, sounding so coy and small, it's foreign to your ears.

"Everything okay? You decent?" Arthur asks, swallowing thickly.

"No! No, I didn't… I didn't bring a shirt." You say, quietly.

"Oh… Go ahead n' take one from my bag. It'll swallow you up, but be better than nothing." Arthur answers, finishing the tent as the rain picks up. He makes an obvious attempt not to look at you as he turns around, grabbing the meat from the fire and taking it into the tent.

"Just come in here when you're ready." He hollers from inside.

You go over to Balius, leaning up on your tiptoes to reach into the shire's bag. Your fingers brush against a soft cloth, and you pull out a neatly folded jade green shirt. It's long sleeved, it'll be warm and it smells like him. You smile, pulling it over your bare body. The shirt comes down to your mid thighs, and the top buttons are undone three holes down, leaving a little of your chest exposed, including three scratches from the bear along your collarbone. You frown at it, pulling his coat back on before reaching for your undergarments and sliding them up your legs.

Your jeans are destroyed, muddied and caked in fur and blood. You don't bother to put them on, knowing they're garbage. Instead you opt to just wear the shirt. It covers you enough, and you prefer sleeping without pants anyways.

You grab your saddlebag, running through the rain until you break through the tent flap, finally escaping the cold water.

"Jesus, cold huh?" Arthur laughs at the way you've barreled into the place. He has turned the whole floor into a bed, as there's not much room. The two bedrolls beside each other take up the whole floor. Arthur sits up, two plates in his hand, and he holds one out to you.

"Frozen." You whisper, sitting on your knees and wrapping Arthur's coat further around you before taking the plate from him. He's cooked up the bear, seasoning it with some oregano and thyme, and you smile for it.

"Maybe if you were wearing pants, ya wouldn't be so cold." Arthur chuckles, forcing his eyes away from the glistening rain on your thighs.

"Yeah well I don't want to." You bite, getting an idea, "Oh! Arthur, I brought rolls!" You chime, digging through your saddlebag until you find the little dinner rolls. You hand him one, and he lifts it up in a little toast.

"Thanks, look, we're havin' a proper dinner." Arthur chuckles.

"Yeah for once."

You eat and chat, enjoying each other's company for a long while. The rain on the tent roof is comforting, and the thunder that usually frightens you doesn't seem so bad now that you're with him. After you've both had your fill, he puts the plates away. You're still shivering, and Arthur's too big shirt slips down over your shoulder.

His eyes flicker to your exposed shoulder, and you go to pull the cloth back up but he knocks your hand away.

"You didn't tell me he scratched you." Arthur mumbles, eyes flickering up to your own as you shrug your shoulder away from his touch, covering it again.

"Just a scratch." You whisper, looking down to the sore wound.

Arthur slides forward, chest towards yours, so close that your knees touch.

"Let me salve it." He whispers, and you look up to his crystal blue-green eyes.

"It aint a big deal, Ar-"

"Please." He urges, eyes locked onto yours as you nod your head lightly.

He reaches into his bag, pulling out the same little tin of poultice that he'd used on your thigh in Colter.

"I use this on you far too much. You oughta be more careful." Arthur whispers, and his breath floats down to your skin, warming you and causing a chill to run over you at the same time.

He gently takes the collar of your shirt, well his shirt, and pulls it down to expose more of your chest and collarbone. You shiver, not from the cold, as he runs his finger alongside the scratch with feather-like lightness.

"Steady." Arthur chuckles, a sound you're familiar with and he applies some salve to your cut. It's so intimate, another thing that's becoming familiar with Arthur, which terrifies you.

To calm your anxieties, you instinctually trace your fingers over the scar on your right thigh. Arthur notices, and he brushes your fingers away from your leg gently.

"Still botherin' you?" He whispers against your skin. You shake your head, ignoring the way his fingers rest on your thigh.

"N-no, just a habit I guess." You stutter, rendered speechless. Artgur focuses his attention back to your collarbone, neatly covering it with the poultice.

His lip quirks halfway up in a smile before he continues.

"Didn't know if you was gonna make it down here after Colter. Thought that fever was gonna do you in." He mumbles, thinking about all that you’ve overcome. Your eyes are downcast, watching as his hand applies the salve to your scrapes. He finishes with your collarbone, and closes the tin up.

“I didn’t know if any of us were makin’ it down from Colter.” You admit, watching as Arthur pulls the shirt back up over your shoulder.

“I'm worried about Lenny,” Arthur sighs, “wherever he and Micah ended up. And I hope Sean is safe for now till we can get to him.”

You nod, thinking about Sean stuck down in Blackwater.

“Yeah, me too. Javiers’ down there with Josiah now. Charles should be heading down in a day or two to help him scope out the town.” You whisper, sighing before tying your hair up and lying down on your bedroll. Arthur hums, watching as you turn towards him on your side, curled up in a ball inside his coat. He chuckles, lying down on his own bedroll beside yours. He lies on his back, hands on his chest, thinking. You’re shivering still, even with his coat. Arthur takes his hat off, fully laying back while keeping an eye on you. He notices that your eyes are far away, your breathing slow and concentrated.

“Caught up in that head again. Whatcha thinkin’ bout?” Arthur asks, crossing his ankles as he intertwines his fingers over his stomach. You hum with a sad smile, drawn out of your stupor by his words.

“My parents… My past.” You admit, pressing one hand against the ground and propping your head up with the other.

“After I shot that creditor I thought I’d never stop runnin from the law. There was so much blood on me, I thought I’d never wash it off.” You whisper, sighing and biting your lip to stop it from trembling. Arthur turns onto his side, mirroring you by propping his head up so you can talk face to face.

“I guess I haven’t yet. I still got blood on my hands.” You frown. Arthur nods, looking down at the space between the two of you.

“Was he the only man you killed before joinin’ us?” Arthur asks, and your lip trembles.

“No… After I left, I was nothing. Just a shell of a person, cared for nothin’, for no one. I was so damn angry. I killed bounty hunters, lawmen. I killed-” You choke on a sob, shoving it back, “I killed people that hurt me, n’ people who tried to hurt me.”

Arthur doesn’t speak, listening to your story. He wants to know how you’ve become so hurt, so afraid of feeling.

“God, my parents would be disappointed if they could see me now.” You chuckle, humorlessly. Arthur’s eyes slip shut with some pain, and he reaches out to brush a tear from your eye with his thumb.

“Now Star, that ain’t true.” Arthur coos, heart breaking at your tears.

“Oh, it is. My daddy was anyway, when he was alive. You’d never come across a stricter man, in his later years anyway. Didn’t let me get away with or try nothin.” You huff, “Didn’t stop me from tryin’ though.”

The wind howls outside, and you shove yourself tighter into your coat.

“Tell me about em.” Arthur asks, and you’re surprised by his curiosity, furrowing your brow, but continuing nonetheless.

“They were in love, truest love you’d ever see.” You smile, and Arthur sees the sparkle in your eyes while recounting your childhood. “I was their only kid, their little miracle.”

Arthur’s eyebrows pull together, and you rush to explain.

“You see, the doctor said momma couldn’t have children n’ that's why she started callin’ me Star. She wished on em’ every night for a baby… Here I am.” You say, smiling sweetly and toying with the blanket of the bedroll. Arthur concludes that you’re right. You are a miracle. You had to have been made from some divine intervention, you're too perfect to be otherwise.

“She was feistier than me, even. I know where I got it from. N’ daddy was grounded, level headed and smart. They kept each other balanced. It was all near perfect… till momma got sick that is.” You mumble, looking up to Arthur. He’s smiling down at you, a warmth in his eyes that is piecing together the background of who you are. You blush, realizing that you’ve explained everything about yourself, and asked him nothing.

“What about you?” You ask, “What was your childhood like?”

Immediately Arthur’s smile falters, and he lies back on his back, sighing. You’re afraid that you’ve overstepped, or upset him, but after a moment he opens up.

“Nothin’ good.” He mumbles, a dark edge to his words. You leave yourself as an open ear, ready to offer him the same comfort that he’s provided you. You want to know about his parents, his life. Hell, you want to know everything about him, as long as he’s comfortable telling you. He has so many layers, so many contradictions. You’re curious as to where they’ve all derived from.

“Momma died when I was just a kid, smallpox. After she passed it was just me and daddy. He was a cruel bastard, the type who enjoyed the pain he caused. See, I was more of his punchin’ bag than his kid. He made me steal for him, made me kill for him. I knew what would happen if I didn’t listen to him. Not that it mattered, nothin’ pleased him.” Arthur sighs, running his hand over his face.

“Don’t talk about him much…” He whispers, afraid by how much he’s just opened up to you, afraid you’ll push him away.

“Arthur, I’m so sorry.” You whisper, hand resting on his forearm. You want to say more but what else can you say?

“Daddy was never kind, never good. He hurt my momma too, even when she was sick. My momma was good. She deserved so much better than that piece of shit. I wanted to protect her so badly. Was just a kid, n’ I wanted to kill him, Star. I saw what he did to her and…” Arthur’s fist clenches involuntarily, “I wanted to kill him.”

You’re at a loss for words, shocked and aching for the trauma he must have gone through. And just being a kid, he never felt sorry for himself. He just wanted to protect her. It speaks volumes about his personality, and you see pieces of that hurting little boy in Arthur today.

“I ran away once, few months after she passed.” Arthur admits, looking up at the ceiling of the tent.

“Just a boy, only eight or so. I didn’t get real far. He found me, made sure I never ran away again. He knocked some teeth out, just baby ones.” Arthur adds, as if that somehow makes it better, “even broke one of my goddamn ribs.”

“Arthur–” You interject, tears pooling in your eyes. He offers you a little smile, letting you know that he’s okay to continue.

“I never ran away again, not till I saw him swing. I’ll never forget the look on his face when he saw me standin’ at the gallows, knowin’ I wasn’t gonna do anythin’ to stop it.”

Tears slip down your cheeks, and you want to hug him, to hold him, to do anything to take this pain away from him.

“I walked up to the gallows when it was over, picked his hat up from the mud. I wear it to remind myself who not to be… I know it's in me, I got his blood, his rage.”

You glance to Arthur's hat on the ground, seeing the meaning behind it. For the first time since he’s started talking, Arthur looks at you. There are unshed tears in his eyes, ones that you wish you could wipe away.

“How can you look at your wife, your boy, and wanna hurt them?” He asks, searching your eyes for some answer that you cannot provide. He inhales, forcing those tears back.

“He was a sick man,” Arthur growls, an anger coming over him, “I never would have hurt my son, Star. Not ever.” He hisses, and you sit up on your bedroll, eyebrows pulled together.

“...Your son?” You ask, and Arthur curses, head in his hands.

You cross your legs, looking to him with no judgment, only worry.

“Yeah, I had a boy… Isaac was his name.” Arthur starts, eyes slipping shut. He wants to tell you, wants to explain everything, but it's too much.

“Can we-” Arthur sighs, looking up to you with so much pain in his eyes that your heart shatters.

“Can we just lay here for a bit? I wanna tell you everything, I do, but it's a lot, all at-” Arthur rambles, voice quiet. He stops when your hand finds its place on top of his own.

“It’s alright, Arthur.” You say, sincerely. And you take his hands, pulling him up to a sitting position. To his surprise, you wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling his head to rest on your good shoulder in a hug.

“S’okay.” You whisper against his hair as Arthur snakes his hands around your waist.

“I'm so sorry, Arthur. You didn’t deserve any of that pain.” You reassure him, but he brushes it off.

“I was alright. All over now-”

“Don’t. Don’t downplay your pain, it doesn’t work. I should know.” You whisper.

You both stay like that for a while, neither onr of you wanting to pull away. Arthur is feeling more vulnerable than ever, but he trusts you more than anyone. He knows you’ll keep this between the two of you.

"You're nothin' like him, Arthur. Nothing." You whisper, and Arthut nods, finally hearing the words that he's needed to hear for so long.

After a few more minutes, Arthur pulls away, resting down on the bedrolls and patting the space beside him. He's just a little closer to your side than he was before. He wants to thank you, to explain that you've helped him in so many ways, saved his soul time and again, broken down the walls around his heart, but he's not sure how.

You smile as you lie down next to him, soothed by the rain. Your hands are in between each other, resting on the blankets. After a while your heart beats faster, feeling his fingers brush against your own. Slowly, as if testing the waters, his hand moves closer to yours, until you both mutually intertwine your fingers. You smile as he runs this thumb over your knuckles. You’re the first to fall asleep, but even then, Arthur doesn’t pull away. The two of you are wholly comforted by each other's presence, just not quite sure how to show it.

— — — —

The next day, you arrive back at camp feeling better. There's a weight off of your shoulders, having cracked away another one of your layers before Arthur. He feels relieved and more afraid all the same. He had told you more in one night than he’s told anyone. Even Hosea. Still, he doesn’t regret it. He’s glad to know that some of the dark conversation is over, and he can breathe a little easier now that it’s no longer weighing on him. As you dismount, hitching Athena, Arthur moves past you, tapping your arm with a little nod. You smile, just taking the mare’s saddle off as a loud voice calls to you from the otherside of camp.

“You’re back!” Dutch hollers, arms outstretched as wide as the smile on his face. You turn to him, still wearing Arthur’s shirt alongside your old jeans. Dutch doesn’t miss this, and his eyes glance from you to Arthur in his tent, wondering exactly what you and Arthur got up to on your getaway.

“I am.” You say with a sigh.

“Good, now come with me.” Dutch says, and you know there's no room for argument as he leads you through camp to his oversized, white tent.

“What's this about Dutch?” You ask, irritated, as he holds the canvas up for you to walk under his arm into his tent. He enters after you, sitting down in his chair, propping a leg up on a wooden crate.

“Everyone seems to be saying good things about you…” Dutch hums, looking over your body, sizing you up, to see where he can best play you like a damn chest piece.

“That’s… good?” You somewhat ask, completely unsure of where he’s going with this. He leans back, the front feet of his chair tipping up into the air as he squints at you.

“Why haven't you been on a job yet? A real one?” He asks, and you scoff.

“I was on a job, with Arthur and Hosea, but you kinda threw a hitch in that plan when you blew up a goddamn boat.” You bite, harsher than expected. His tongue darts out over his lips, dark eyes scanning you over.

“Marybeth got word of a train, sneaking through Lemoyne in the dead of the night- filled with rich passengers. It’ll be cruisin through virtually unprotected.” Dutch emphasizes the last word, a dangerous glint of power in his eyes as they flick up to you. He seems to have pieced together where he wants you, he's found a play for you to work for him.

“I want you there.” He says, pointing at you, at your brows pull together.

“Alright…”

“A lot of these boys- they’re good boys- they can shoot, and they can steal. But you? You’re a schemer, a player. I can see it in those eyes. You’re like me, like Hosea. We could use your head out there.” Dutch speaks as if his plan is coming together.

“And I’ll get a cut?” You ask, making sure this isn’t charity work.

“Of course.” Dutch responds. You nod, thinking it over.

“Alright, whens it comin’ by?” You ask, and Dutch smiles at your eager attitude.

“Few weeks. Talk with John and Arthur. Come up with a plan, do as you see fit.” He explains, and you nod, moving towards the exit.

“Oh and miss?” Dutch calls after you, and you turn around.

“Do make me proud. I'm not a man you want to cross.” Dutch warns, and you crack a smile, nodding at his attempt to frighten you.

“Sure thing, Dutch.” You respond, and he sticks his tongue in his cheek, looking over you.

“That attitude. I would say it's not ladylike, but I've always been attracted to women with spitfire like yours.” Dutch says, voice almost as low as the glint in his eyes. You bite your tongue for a moment, adjusting your weight to your other foot, and cock your head.

“Molly know you’re sayin’ things like that, Dutch?" You hiss, and Dutch’s smile falters. His stare becomes menacing.

“Molly and I are done-” He starts, and much to his growing rage, you interrupt him.

“Yeah I can see why.” You snap at him. His face turns red with anger as he stands up, and the chair scrapes loudly from how quickly he gets out of it. He comes straight up to you, towering over you, but you don’t back up.

“Excuse me? Do you know who you’re talking to?” Dutch growls, and you only smile sweetly, looking up to him.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Dutch. I thought you liked women with ‘spitfire’ like mine.” You hum, watching as he steps back, shocked and insulted. You chuckle, parting the canvas of the tent.

Causing the gang leader to hate you is probably not a great idea, but you can’t help it. He needs to be humbled by someone. And it's funny. He sits on his high horse, in his castle-sized tent, ordering everyone around while reading, listening to music and smoking cigars. You laugh at the contradiction in his philosophy. He is exactly what he swears to destroy: an overseer, a power hungry fool. Satisfied with your little victory over Dutch, you settle in your tent, pulling out your journal.

It's been a busy few days. Got a new horse, Arthur calls her Athena. She is something special, by god. Beautiful Palomino, eyes blue as the sky. Took her up with Arthur and Hosea to catch a bear, but it nearly caught me first. Arthur and I stayed up there the night, it was real special. We talked a lot. He said things I'm sure he's never said before, and so did I. It was nice, having someone to talk to. I worry for him. There's so much pain in his heart, so much ache, old and deep. I hope that one day he can move on from it all, start anew. I guess I wish the same thing for me too…

#arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan #arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan x f!reader #arthur morgan x y/n #arthur morgan x you

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chiiyuuvv · 7 months

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• PAIRING — hunter x female reader (uses her and she a lot but you can always ignore/change that)

• GENRE — friends to lovers, kissing in the rain (is that a genre??).. that's all I can think of

• WORD COUNT — 1.78k (a long one)

• AUTHORS NOTE — heavily influenced by hunters (apparently) favorite song, paris in the rain by lauv (in their recent live) I do recommend putting it on loop when listening to it because the feels. god.. hunters birthday note at the end :)

MASTERLIST!

"Are you sure about this?" You ask nervously, your grip on your suitcase tightens as hunter turns around. "Of course, we cant fly back now can we?"

"But.. I still dont get it.." you shake your head, "why me?"

"Because anywhere with you feels right." He smiles, reaching for your hand. "Now come on," he squeezes your hand. "I promise, they dont bite."

You let out a chuckle at his cheesy statement, nodding as hunter slowly turns the doorknob to his house, in thailand. It was his birthday and he kept insisting that you come with him, to meet his family and learn more about him.

But you already knew everything about him from the long years you spent together, and you were more of the shy type. But still, he wanted to bring you and after a few pleads you agreed, which resulting in you being crushed because of his big hug.

He already told his family that he was coming in advance so as he turned the knob, his dog ran to the door, violently barking. "Godzilla!!" Hunter gasps, immediately dropping your hand and hugging the dog tightly.

You could hear some heavy steps as more and more of his family came out of their rooms, kitchens, bathrooms, wherever to greet the boy they missed dearly. And so you stood awkwardly behind hunter, watching him hug relative after relative until their eyes finally reached you.

Hunter could tell how shy you were just by your gaze, as he grabbed your hand again. "This is my family." He says with a proud smile, pointing to a member and saying their name, in which they wave at you happily.

"And this is-"

"Oh my god, she is so much more beautiful than you described hunter, I can see why you talk about her so much." His mom steps out of the kitchen and towards you, her apron dirty from cooking as she cups your cheeks and hugs you tightly.

"Mom.." hunter says annoyingly but you were too hot to notice. "Welcome to the family." His mom smiles at you, breaking the hug and resting her hands on your shoulders.

"T-thank you.." you muster out, bowing at the older lady. "And shes polite too," she whispers to hunter, winking as she heads back to the kitchen. Hunter could only smile as he sends you a glance, asking with his eyes if you're alright.

You nod until you jump from a sudden shout. "OH MY GOD IS THAT HERR?!"

A girl ran past hunter and towards you, like his mother, engulfing you into a hug. "That's my sister." Hunter annoyed voice comes back, rolling his eyes as she begins to blubber about how much shes been wanting to meet you.

The girl was much more talkative than hunter and he could sense that you were getting a little uncomfortable, if not shy. "Say it dont spray it!!!" Hunter remarks before grabbing your hand and leading you to the kitchen. "Come on.." he mumbles so only you could hear as his sister makes a teasing noise at him for holding your hand, in which hunter sends a glare.

Once you reach the dining room, hunter pulls out a chair for you to sit. He makes sure you're sitting comfortably before pushing the chair in and opening the seat beside you. He was going to sit until his sister pushed him over and claimed the spot as hers. "How are you? What's your name? You know hunter likes you a lot. What's your favorite.."

Hunter huffs as he finds a chair on the other side of the table. He really wanted to sit with you but the only thing he could do was put his head down, angrily kicking his feet under the table as he tries to calm himself down.

"Dinners ready!" His mom calls out from the kitchen, some of hunters cousins setting the table.

"..so then hunter started running but tripped over the tiniest pebble in the world." His sister slaps her knee, cackling as she tells another super embarrassing story of hunter. You were starting to enjoy being around his family, as you begin laughing too.

Hunter gave up on trying to defend himself, his head resting on his closed fist as he lazily ate. There was a warm feeling in his stomach though, as he watched you laugh along with his sister. He was happy that you broke out of your shell, that his family was starting to enjoy you as much as he enjoyed you.

"..but do you know how much hunter talks about you?? Like you are the only thing that runs through his mind." His sister remarks as the rest of the family silently nods.

"W-what that's not tru-"

"8:26 pm yesterday, 'I'm so happy shes coming with me, I would have missed her if she didnt.' 9:00 pm yesterday, 'do you think she likes m-'"

"Yah!!" Hunter jumps out of his seat and slaps the phone that was in his sisters hands. "You get the point.." she whispers as she takes a bite out of her food, hunters face burning red as he quickly runs to the bathroom.

You excuse yourself with a chuckle, knocking on the bathroom door. "You okay in there hunter?" You ask as he pops his head out of the door. "Forget everything she just said and I'll give you my dessert."

"BET!!"

Dinner was over and you were sitting on his couch playing around with his dog as his sister continued talking to you. You could see out of the corner of your eye on how hunter would constantly glance at his phone for the time, impatiently tapping his foot before he bolts up and grabs your hand.

"..then I- wow hunter how many time are you going to grab her hand??" She laughs.

"We gotta go."

"Go? I wanna talk to her some more."

"But-"

"Please.." she cuts him off as hunter shakes his head no, dragging you to the front door. "YOU TWO WOULD BE A GREAT COUPLE!!" She shouts as hunter quickly closes the door.

"Let's go.."

"Where are we going?"

Hunter stops for a second, before shrugging. "Anywhere," he smiles at you, which you return.

"Its been so long since I've been back in thailand," hunter remarks, stuffing his hands into his pocket as the light breeze floes through his hair. You only hum in response, hunter turning his head slightly to glance at you.

"Has anything changed since you were last here?" You ask with all curiosity, watching hunter think to himself, a finger tapping his chin. "I dont think so.." his voice trails off as he thinks some more, before ending it with a smile and shrug.

You return the smile before looking around your surroundings. "What about here?" You nod to the empty street. Something used to be there, you could tell from looking at the old buildings, the only thing lighting up the street was a dim streetlight.

"I cant remember.." he felt like something used to be there, but he couldnt put his finger on it. You were distracted by a puddle near the sidewalk, eagerly running towards it and jumping.

"What are you doing?" Hunter laughs as the puddle splashes through your shoes. The same warm feeling in his stomach that appeared at dinner appeared again as he laughs at your cuteness.

That's what his body language was expressing, but his eyes showed something different. There was so much longing in his gaze, as if his eyes formed into small hearts.

I look at you now and I want this forever

He eyes seemed to convey as you stop in your tracks, the dirty water sinking in your shoes as you step out of the puddle. You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came out. You wanted to call his name, but instead your feet dragged you to him.

"Are you alright?" You finally ask, lifting your head to make eye level with the tall boy. He only nods, as if he was snapped out of his trance. "I'm okay.."

"You dont look so okay.."

"I just.." he says, collecting his thoughts, "I'm just so happy you got along with my family." He tries to hide his smile by looking down, your heart skipping a beat.

"I really like th-" you stopped, you felt something wet on your shoulder.

"'Really liked..'" hunter tries to finish your sentence, until he felt something wet hit his shoulder too.

And another.

Until it was raining.

It wasn't the type of heavy rain you get sick from, but it wasn't just a light shower. Your hair was soaking wet but you didnt seem to care as you laugh loudly, grabbing the tall boy's hand and moving it around. He laughs along with you as you suddenly ran from his presence, him running after you in this sudden game of tag.

To your dismay, the boy grabs your hand with his long arms, spinning you around as he grabs your waist, you hands still intertwined as he moves you back and forth in a familiar dance.

"Hunter~!!" You laugh and he does too, spinning you around again as you dance in the rain. You accidentally step on his foot and he leans forward a bit, your foreheads touching as his hot breath fans your face.

His arms still around your waist as he looks down at you, your arms connecting around his neck as you look up.

You could see the same gaze he gave you from earlier in his eyes as his eyes flicker to your lips, the sudden urge to close the gap forming.

You let out a gasp when he finally does, your body curving into his as you hands reach up to tug his hair, pulling him down more to savor the taste of his lips. They were so much more softer than you imagined — not that you were imagining. Your eyes open slightly to find hunters eyebrows furrowing, a hand leaving your waist to hold your cheek in place.

You stood there for a moment, feeling each others warmth in the cold rain. He breaks the kiss, heavily breathing for air as you do the same. You were unable to open your eyes as you bask in the after glow, until he presses his forehead back onto yours, the hand on your cheek tracing your plump lips. You open your eyes again to find him staring at you.

You looked absolutely stunning in the mixture of the moonlight and streetlight, the rain not making it any better as he smiles. "Feels like paris in the rain."

A/n: Hunter, hunty, huntbutt, Papungkorn Lertkiatdamrong.. I actually dont know what to say in your note bc i just love you sm 😭

Without you though, I wouldn't be stanning xikers 😭 yes, I'll admit it, I would have been those atinys that hate xikers because they are in the same company as ateez (not exactly I'd HATE them but like after seeing the treatment from other companies I was a bit worried for ateez) but when I saw you, literally first glance, I knew I would enjoy xikers so much.

Like my first words was "ohh who's that guy??" And when I found out that you spoke english.. lord.. I screamed super loud

You always make me feel giggly and delulu and I love watching you fancalls for your english because- hejejebvahaisind (I have an english kink ignore me)

Without you I wouldnt have met my hunty moots and without you I (probably) wouldnt be stanning this lovely group <3

It's funny on how when you like kpop, you like korean men. But no, I fell for a thai one <33

And I'm sorry for cheating on you but like come on your members are just too fine- </3

#Spotify #xikers #xikers fluff #xikers drabbles #xikers imagines #xikers fanfic #xikers fanfiction #kpop #xikers au #xikersau #spotify #hunter fluff #hunter x reader #hunter #xikers hunter fluff #xikers hunter #park hunter #papungkorn lertkiatdamrong #HAPPY BIRTHDAY HUNTER!!

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dragonbe-writing · 1 year

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Desperation - König x Female Reader

Description: König is horny, he gets a quickie in the bathroom from his SO

Warnings: blowjob, female dom, gagging, marking

Word Count: 1.2K

A/N: So I learned something about myself when I was writing this. anyway.... MDNI (18+) This is basically all smut. Also I literally just wrote this without stopping.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After running around the base, he finally found her. She was humming to herself in the kitchen, rolling cookie dough between her hands.

“König,” she smiled, wiping her hands on her apron. “I thought you were busy.”

“We’re on a break,” he started, blown breathless at the sight of her. The apron was tight around her waist, highlighting her curves. Her hair was pulled up in a messy bun and flour coated random places on her body. She was stunning. “I had to see you.”

“Why? Is everything alright?” she furrowed her eyebrows together in concern.

“Yes,” he started, walking over to her and taking her hands in his. He played with her fingers, bending and straightening them as he avoided her eyes. “Well, no.”

His accent was heavier than normal and his body language was twitchy. She lifted his hood, putting it over her head as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. His cheeks were dusted in pink, his eyes wide.

“Do you need something, sweetheart?” she asked, bringing her hand up and cupping his cheek. She moved closer, her torso pushing against his vest as she looked up at him with half lidded eyes.

“Y-yes,” he stammered, eyes glossing over.

“Well what is it?” She teased, letting her hand fall from his face. She traced the outline of him as she traveled down, stopping at his belt. “Are these pants a bit too tight?” She hooked her finger in a belt loop, pulling him towards her until his cock was rubbing against her. He bit his lip, stifling a whine as his eyes squeezed shut.

“Please,” he whispered, pushing into her. “Can’t focus.”

“Why not?” she mocked, cupping him through his pants.

“Scheiße…” he whimpered as she slowly undid the buckle on his belt. She peeked out from under the hood, dragging him into the bathroom and locking the door behind her.

“You’re gonna have to tell me what you want, pretty boy,” she said, undoing his button and slowly pulling the zipper down. He gasped at the name, resting against the sink and lifting the hood up and off of him.

“I want anything, please, Miss,” he started, doe eyed as he helped her slide his pants to his knees. “I need to cum,” he whined, making her smirk. She put her hand on the back of his neck, toying with his hair as she pulled him down into a kiss.

He whimpered, his hands resting on the back of her thighs and pulling her into him. She hummed against his lips, her mouth parting and sucking in his bottom lip, biting it gently with her teeth and pulling it. Her tongue slipped into his mouth, tasting his sweetness as he crumbled beneath her. She tugged his hair, pulling his head back as she trailed kisses down his neck, exploring it at will. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing.

“There,” he moaned, fingers digging into her flesh as she gently bit his skin. The action pulled a broken whine from his throat. She soaked in his submission, taking her time making her mark on him.

She pulled away, her fingers gently pushing the fresh mark and some of the old, fading ones. “You look so pretty, baby,” she adored, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “You like being marked up, yeah? You like looking in the mirror and knowing who you belong to?” Her voice was sultry, lips haunting his ear.

“Ja,” he whined, eyes squeezed shut. “Danke, danke,” he chanted as she pressed more open mouthed kisses to his neck. She palmed him through his underwear, chuckling as his breath caught in his throat.

She released him again, groaning at the sight of him. “You look so delicious, bear. Can’t get enough of you,” she complimented, falling to her knees. She planted kisses along the bottom of his torso, slipping two fingers between the waistband of his underwear and pulling it down. His cock sprang free, thumping against his stomach.

The tip was red, glazed with precum. She licked her lips, looking up at him as she pressed a kiss along its base. He didn’t dare look away, his ears red with arousal as she parted her lips, taking the head of it in her mouth.

“Scheiße-” he moaned, one hand holding him up against the sink. The other hand was pressed gently against her face, cupping it and rubbing his thumb along her cheek. She swirled her tongue around him, humming and sending chills up his spine. Heat pooled between her legs as she tasted him, taking more of him in her mouth.

She dragged her tongue along the underside, tracing the thick vein back up to the tip. She felt him hit the back of her throat, pulling a slight gag from her and making her eyes water. He pulled his hand away, worry painting his face. She hollowed her cheeks, sucking him hard and reassuring him. She reached up, pressing two fingers to his lips. He took them in his mouth, swirling his tongue around them and coating them in spit. She pulled them out with a ‘pop’, a string of saliva falling on his chin as she moved her hand back down, spreading his wetness along the rest of his cock.

“Gott… so gut…” he squeaked, tangling his fingers in her hair. She used her hand to stroke what she couldn’t fit in her mouth. She bobbed her head, every noise he made going straight to her aching cunt. She was desperate to hear more, sucking him like she was pleasuring herself.

He mumbled in broken German, his slurred speech interrupted by a choked out sob as she cupped his balls, rolling them gently over her fingers. They were wet with a mixture of her saliva and his. She moaned around him, tears brimming her eyes.

The sight of her made his knees weak. Her face was red, eyes shining with desire and lips plump. Her chin was glistening with his wetness. She slid down on him, stopping when she gagged and taking a breath before taking more. A tear fell down her cheek, pulling a groan from his lips that echoed in the room.

She released him, chest rising and falling in quick breaths before she swallowed him again. His eyes also filled with tears, the pleasure overwhelming him. His eyes crossed, rolling back in his head as his eyes shut, face tilted up towards the ceiling.

“So close, Miss,” he whimpered, his hips bucking and pushing him deeper into her mouth.

“Look at me, König,” she demanded, pride swelling in her at the sight of his tear filled eyes. She kept her pace, sucking a little harder and making him whine a little more.

“Liebe, I’m gonna- scheiße-!”

His hips stuttered, hot cum shooting down her throat as his moans flooded her senses. She swallowed every drop, addicted to the way he tasted. She slowly bobbed her head, pulling overstimulated whimpers from his throat before sliding off and rising to her feet.

“You’re perfect,” he whined, pulling her to his lips in a fiery kiss. His tongue swirled in her mouth, tasting himself. “So beautiful, Miss.”

“You’re beautiful, König,” she replied, wiping the remnants of a tear from his cheek. “Such a pretty boy, also so good for me,” she continued, pressing kisses all over his face. “Always so gentle with me.”

“I love you,” he says, eyes filled with adoration and making her heart swell.

“I love you too, bear. So, so, so much,” she kisses his lips again, fingers holding his chin.

#könig mw2 #könig #cod mw22 #mwii #konig mw2 #könig call of duty #könig smut #christ he is so #god DAYUM #anyway #didnt expect to post this tonight but here we are

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elpida · 4 days

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"Right, Noah, you can head off I'm good now, the breads in, just taken the sweet cherry loaf tins out too cool so we should have those tomorrow." Eden spoke, coming from the back and brushing her hands onto her well loved apron. "Don't forget to take a loaf for your soup later and yes, yes I really did mean it when I said I want to try your lasagna soup it sounds so tasty." Noah turned to her, lifting the loop of his own apron up over his head. "You only want to try it so you can steal the recipe and impress your fancy man. Is the bloke your boyfriend yet? You still haven't told me his name." Eden spun and did finger guns at him all matter of fact. "Not going to answer the first question or his name, gotta keep you on your toes but hey if you can guess it right maybe then I'll tell you." she laughed, she actually had a great friendship with her second in command. He was just into his twenties but he'd studied catering at a nearby college and when Eden had advertised for an assistant manager he'd come in with a printed out resume and told her that he'd work his way up, that he'd learn and do his best but it was the fact he'd brought her in his speciality baked cheesecake that sold her on his passion and commitment. Since then he'd been reliable and so willing to put the time in to learn. Eden could trust him with this bakery because he'd come to love it as much as she did, his baked cheesecake was a hit and a customer favourite too. Noah rolled his eyes at you.

"You know whoever it is, just glad they make you smile. Are you seeing them tonight?" she nodded. "I'm planning to take them a sweet cherry cake, I think they'll like it with a hot drink and I know they have a friend who'll definitely enjoy it because it'd go nice with limoncello." Noah slid on his jacket and took the crusty bread Eden wrapped for him. "Tell him and his friend I say 'hello please don't turn out to be a fuckboy'." they laughed but Noah laughed even harder when Eden asked what on Earth a fuckboy was. "Oh! Don't forget, bread in the oven. Don't forget!" Noah pointed his finger and she pointed back, waggling as if she was taking note. "Got it, no-nonsense-noah, won't forget about the bread. Oh and tell Sebastian I said he needs to come by I miss gossiping about you with him." she giggled, watching him get flustered over her mention of his recently announced boyfriend. "Cruel." he commented, half out the door. "More like payback!" she called with a wide smile.

"It was about five minutes later that Eden heard the little bell above the door chime and smiled so widely when she looked up to see Agatha. "Hey Ags!" she was nearing the end of the day so typically it was quiet now, not many stopped by five minutes before closing. She'd brought forward the sweet cherry cakes, leaving the one she intended to take to Angelo's in the back. Five more minutes on the bread in the oven. "One second let me just-" slice by even slice she was prepping up the cake and making it look all perfectly presentable, especially when she covered it in the glass lid that she had for each separate item. Her bakery was so picturesque, she'd go on about how it was best to keep cake covered and at room temperature rather than refrigerated because the cold nature of a fridge would dry out most cakes. Everything was tidy and clean now, she was just getting a head start for tomorrow. "There we go." she mumbled and popped the new sweet treat in it's place.

"How's Cade? He was texting me the other night, he still really doesn't get the use of emoji's huh?" she laughed, she was so... at peace in this space, so happy but everything about this bakery screamed comfort. Even the well loved wooden work surface of the counter. Along the back lined huge bookshelves and benches, that was the free library. People brought books in to put on there and they could take them freely too. It was also great for people sitting in to have something to do, even for kids. "How are you? Oh! Oh what are you here for? I've fresh bread if you can wait five minutes you know, warm bread is always the nicest thing to smell!" like it didn't smell like heaven in here already. "I have some sweet bits too, are you feeling sweet? Savoury? Please say sweet I've the best thing today! Don't you dare get your purse out either." @wiinestories !

#eden interactions #eden&agatha #NO MY HEART SHES SO AT PEACE AND CONTENT IN THIS MOMENT

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lorichu · 6 months

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The Spice of Life

I don't usually do anything with prompt lists, or post any full chapters here, but even so, here we are! I've seen some works based off bittykimmy13's Promptober list, and decided to pick a word (Spice in this case) to write something with. If you're interested in more with these characters, you can check out their gallery over on my dA account. Enjoy, and thanks for reading!

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The late afternoon rain storm had brought the steady flow of business into the coffee shop to a dead stop. Lyra had been out on the counter for a while now, but as the final hour dragged on, she was ready to exchange the colder, professional comfort of the coffee shop for the warmth and intimacy of their home upstairs. Though he was more immune to the disconnect between the spaces after having grown up in them, John was very much of the same mind.

Keeping his hand loosely draped around the tiny woman, John grabbed his phone and stared blanky at the time displayed on the screen. He chuckled to himself and immediately caught Lyra's eye when he looked back at her. "What do you say to one last drink before we start shutting down?"

"Oh, sure," Lyra answered automatically, "but..." She glanced off to the side and did a quick sweep of the shop. "Do you think this time I could make it for you?"

John snapped to attention and rapidly blinked his eyes. "Um, I mean, I guess...? But why would you want to?"

Now that his hand had pulled away the only source of heat warming Lyra was the blush streaking across her face. "Pam's been teaching me," she confessed. "I know how all the machines work, but I'd never tried to use them on my own, so she helped me figure it out." Lowering her gaze, the Mintran woman shuffled her feet. "It's stupid, but since I can't really do much else for you, I... I at least wanted to be able to make you a cup of coffee."

His heart a puddle on the floor, John's smile lit up the room. "How can I refuse an offer like that?" Leaning in closer to kiss the top of her head, he knelt down to look her in the eye. "Is there anything you need me to do?"

Lyra lifted her head slowly as she wrung her hands. "Just pick whatever mug you want to use and put it right there." She gestured down the counter, over to the space right in front of the towering carafes.

While John did as she asked, Lyra rushed back over to the birdhouse, maintaining her momentum as she leapt up to the entrance. She was only inside for a couple of seconds, then reappeared with her tool bag slung over her shoulder and her apron already on. Not wanting to be in her way, John backed up and watched in awed curiosity as she finished putting herself together.

'You know what you're doing,' Lyra told herself as she started marching towards the mug. 'Just like you practiced. You got this.'

As she reached the carafes, Lyra slowed to a stop by the corner of the coffee machine. It still irked her that she couldn't use the massive piece of machinery, but she and Pam had come up with a good enough alternative. Reaching into her bag for her normal climbing rope, she pulled something else out with it that John had to squint to make out. It was a small, rounded magnet, which she secured to the hook on the end. She swung the weighted end back and forth a few times before tossing it up over her head. There was a thunk as the magnet hit its mark, and after getting a running start, Lyra climbed up the side of the machine without missing a beat.

A flick of her wrist detached the hook from the magnet, and Lyra looped the rope over her shoulder as she got situated on top of the Dark Roast carafe. The mug John had chosen wasn't exactly in position under the pump, but she had a solution for that as well. Planting her feet as best she could, Lyra lowered the hooked end of the rope and began gently swinging it like a pendulum. Once its arc was big enough to reach the mug's handle she flicked the rope, twisting the hook so it caught the ceramic. All her strength was needed to pull the mug into the right spot, and with another expertly precise flick the hook came free.

Lyra dared to glance up at John, and almost immediately she wished she hadn't. His jaw was hanging slack, and his bright blue eyes were wider than she'd ever seen them. The blush creeping over her face made her heart skip a beat, and despite her strong stance she felt her knees wobble. 'Focus,' she scolded herself. 'You're not done yet.'

The carafe's pump needed nothing less than her full weight to press, and while she didn't need to jump on it, Lyra took great care while using it. Once the mug was mostly filled she took a step back, using the brief pause to catch her breath. Out of the corner of her eye she saw John start to move closer with his hand raised. Firing a sharp glare his way, Lyra quickly shook her head. He arched an eyebrow, then slowly backed up to his previous spot by the other counter. She sent him a quick smile before returning to task.

After hooking the magnet again, Lyra was back on the countertop. Her gaze had followed John and was now locked on the flavored syrups lining the counter behind him. This was always her least favorite part, but she knew she could do it. A deep breath didn't quite fully steel her nerves, and she tightened her grip on the rope. Now she was twirling the hooked end in a tight, vertical circle beside her, picking up speed with each rotation. When she eventually let it go, it flew across the chasm and latched securely onto the topmost drawer's handle, just like she'd planned.

She'd expected John's started gasp when she took a running jump off the counter, but it was honestly astonishing that he didn't try to grab her out of the air. He watched transfixed as she climbed the rope while she fell, which adjusted her trajectory at the same time. When she reached the opposite side, she was most of the way to the handle, and hadn't smacked into the drawers like John had feared. His heart was still pounding as she clambered up to the countertop. She ducked behind the syrups' shelves to grab a small, lidded vessel, then continued her ascent between the glass bottles. He was too busy watching Lyra's graceful movements to pay close enough attention to which flavors she was getting, but in the end he didn't really care. Whatever she ended up making, he was going to drink it.

Unbeknownst to either of them, someone else was in the shop. Bret had been upstairs helping Pam move some furniture and had wanted to check in with his friends to lend a hand closing up for the day. However, as he watched Lyra move about the much larger space, he'd become just as entranced.

In all the years he'd known Lyra, and all the things he'd watched her do, Bret had never seen her like this.

'Everything she used to do was out of necessity,' he mumbled. 'Every move she made was calculated just so to be precisely what she needed, and nothing more. Anything extra would just been wasting energy she needed to survive the night...' Bret's heart lurched. 'We all would've punished any kind of expression. It'd have been more fuel, something else to twist and use against her to get what we wanted.'

But right now, in this moment, the smaller woman truly looked alive. She carried her freedom in her shoulders as much as she wore it in her smile. By simply being given the opportunity to exist, she'd found a place to thrive.

Hollowness settled deep in Bret's stomach. 'It's amazing there was anything left of her when John got there,' he muttered bitterly. 'We were killing her in every other way, but he still found something to resuscitate. He's a stronger person than I could ever hope to be. They both are.'

Lyra screwed the lid back on to her container before carefully maneuvering her way down the final bottle. Gathering up her rope again, she repeated her trip back to the main counter. She set the container next to the mug and strolled away with purpose. With a mixing spoon braced against her shoulder, Lyra attached her hook onto the grating of the coffee machine's drip tray and used the rope to repel down to the small fridge built into the cabinet. Once again, she needed her entire body to open the door, creating a gap just big enough for her to slip through.

Curiosity finally got the better of John. He crouched down and opened the fridge's door the rest of the way so he could see inside. Somehow Lyra had pried the lid off the container of extra whipping cream and was now wielding a generous spoonful of it. She replaced the lid and climbed back out with the spoon carefully balanced between her arms. Instead of making her struggle through closing the fridge on her own, John pushed the door shut once her rope was clear. A silent look passed between them, but there was a glimmer of appreciation in that small pair of gray eyes.

Hefting the spoon back onto her shoulder, Lyra marched down the counter to the still steaming mug. She set the spoon down for a moment and rushed over to the containers of dry seasonings to grab the cinnamon. Its unruly size made portioning a problem, but she was able to measure out what she wanted. That went into the coffee first, then the syrups, and finally the spoonful of whipping cream. Leaving the utensil submerged, Lyra stirred the cup like it was a cauldron, looking very much the part of a tired but pleased witch. Once the ingredients had been fully mixed she removed the spoon, tapped it on the mug's rim for good measure, and backed away to present the beverage.

John had completely forgotten that she was making something for him to drink and didn't actually return to reality until she nervously cleared her throat. Rushing over he scooped the mug up in both hands and happily took a sip.

He immediately straightened up, his eyebrows rising almost clean off his face. Subtle notes of spice blended beautifully with the soft cream and sharp cranberry to create a flavor unlike anything he'd ever tasted. "Lyra, this is good. Like, really good," John chuckled. "Did you come up with this on your own?"

Long strands of her blonde hair fell into a shielding curtain as she dropped her gaze, but it couldn't fully hide her blush. "Pam helped a little, but it was mostly me."

John took a longer drink, savoring the unique taste and letting the heat spread out to warm his entire body. On its own it was phenomenal, but the fact that Lyra crafted it herself made it taste that much sweeter. Lowering the mug, he gazed longingly at the woman still doing her best to avoid looking directly at him. "We should write this down," he said in a softer voice. "I'd hate to lose it."

"Your mom already took care of that." Lyra glanced up slowly, meeting John's eye without flinching away. "I-I... If you liked it, I wanted to say that you could sell it to customers too, i-if you thought it was good enough for that..." She shuffled her feet and brought her hands together. "I know all your specialty drinks have names, so I tried my best to think of one, a-and thought that maybe "All Nighter" would work, but you can name it something better if you don't like that."

The mug landed with a heavy clunk when John set it down on the counter. His freed hands were headed straight for Lyra. "No, it's all perfect. Just like you."

Instead of welcoming his very obvious affections, Lyra loudly cleared her throat and took a deliberate step backwards. Her eyes stayed locked on his, except to dart off to her left in a subtle play to direct his attention. Following the motion, John finally realized that they weren't as alone as he'd assumed.

"O-Oh, um, Bret. Hey..." he mumbled, pulling back from Lyra as well. They tried to keep their PDA minimal to the point of nonexistent around their former museum coworker more out of convenience than anything else. It wasn't likely that Bret would ever press either of them for more details about their relationship, but that didn't mean they would willingly hand that information over either.

Called out and fully embarrassed that he'd been watching for so long, Bret shifted backwards as well and lifted a hand to rub the back of his neck. "Yeah, um, hi. I'd finished helping your mom, so I came back to see if you wanted any help t-too." He inched along the wall slowly until he reached the corner. "I, um, could start on the bathroom..." Without needing to look behind him, Bret opened the door and ducked inside without a word.

John's hand was already mostly around Lyra milliseconds after they were alone again. Fingers curled to delicately support her weight as she was lifted off her feet. Waiting for her was a pair of blue eyes as deep as the ocean and twice as beautiful. They beheld her so tenderly as John leaned in to kiss her.

#g/t #g/t writing #giant/tiny #my writing #the night shift #promptober 2023 #gt #giant tiny

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wonderlandleighleigh · 1 year

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(a followup)

She reads the note twice, taking in Lenny’s looped handwriting and attempts at honesty and takes a breath.

She’s missed him this week. She thought about calling him, or showing up at his apartment or at one of his gigs to demand they talk about what happened, but his words had really stung, and she’d taken some real time to consider if he was worth all of this. If she really loved him, or just loved having someone.

She does love him, but it’s so hard when the person you love verbally kicks you in the chest. That’s happened before, with Joel. And then she’d turned around and done similar to Benjamin.

And what would she say anyway? It’s not the first time he’s called her lifestyle into question. That morning, chasing after him with his shoe comes to mind, and all of those things he’d said about her apron and her parenting.

Every time she gets too close, he finds a way to shove her back, and she’s not sure how many more times she can go around like this. Is this just the way it is? Things are great and then Lenny melts down and ends things, and then comes crawling back when he realizes what he’s done?

That’s not sustainable.

But she misses him.

She gives it a few days before she calls him.

“Hi,” she says quietly after she puts the kids to bed.

“Midge. Hi.”

“I got your note,” she tells him as she sits at the kitchen table, the phone cord stretching as she does. “I just needed a couple of days to think.”

“Right,” Lenny agrees. He sounds worried.

She takes a breath. “I really miss you,” she tells him. “But this isn’t the first time something like this has happened, and I can’t keep going around in circles with you while you freak out and then pull it together like this. And I get it. I’m not the sanest human on earth. There are days when all I think about is the night Joel left and how much he blamed me for that, and whether he was right to or not. But that has nothing to do with you, or us.”

He stays quiet, letting her talk, and she sighs softly.

“And what we have is just about the realest relationship I’ve had, too,” she goes on. “I thought things with Joel were real, and they weren’t. And somewhere deep down I knew that things with Benjamin weren’t going to last because that wasn’t real, either. But you. Us. That’s real. And it’s what I want.”

“I want it, too,” he says.

“Then why are you so afraid of it?”

She can tell that he doesn’t think about his answer when he gives it.

“Because I’m afraid of falling too in love with it and then losing it when I’m not ready.”

She doesn’t have an answer.

“I’m afraid of falling too in love with you,” he says in a quieter voice. “And losing you when I’m not ready.”

Midge lets that sink in a little before responding. “I’ll never be ready to lose you, Lenny.”

“Midge, I-”

“Give me a couple more days. And then maybe we can go on that dinner date?”

“...Yeah.”

“Bye.”

“Bye, Midge.”

#fic #au #tmmm #Midge x Lenny #Midge/Lenny

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letsbenditlikebennett · 11 months

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Timing: Current Location: Downtown Rec Center With: @letsbenditlikebennett & @eldritchaccident Warnings: Parental Death mentions Summary: A local cooking class gets two very invested students.

Finding entertainment for oneself was a never ending sisyphean effort. Teddy had a thirst for knowledge and fun that would never really be quenched. No matter what they did. No matter how many hobbies they picked up, or how they filled their time. It was like an aching pit of curiosity. Calling like a siren in any and every direction. Today, it led down to the local rec center. Not the first time the demon found themselves in the concrete cube, standing side by side with a few other ‘Resters’ or whatever the hell they were supposed to call citizens of this messed up town.

Cooking.

Something that already piqued the demon’s interest (enough that it consumed them entirely some days) was enough to drag them from their houseboat. They donned their very best apron and a massive grin. Big brown eyes behind red sunglasses staring at the instructor like they were some sort of celebrity. Giddily shifting their weight from one food to the next. It didn’t actually matter if the guy was going to teach them something new or not. It was the community aspect of it.

The Joneses were more often than not either gone too soon to make any sort of attachments, or far to suspect to really ever enjoy participating alongside the others in their locale. Wicked’s Rest had been much more than the rest stop the young demon expected it to be. Two whole years already behind them, and with the way Leviathan’s business had put down roots, maybe a whole lot more ahead. It was strange. But exhilarating. Something new. Teddy had to care what they said to people because they might see them more than once. Had to take care of people who they wanted to keep around. It all had a learning curve, and they definitely messed up here and there. But they couldn’t say it wasn’t an enjoyable ride.

“What do you think is on the menu tonight?” Ted leaned down to the smaller shape at his side, a fidgety little thing almost making them look still. “Chef hasn’t said yet, but I’m hoping it’s creme brulee. Love working with fire.”

—

The presence of her cousin in their home had Alex on edge in more ways than one, but the initial worry of him possibly wanting to kill her had long since passed. As much was apparent in the effort Kaden put into helping out around the home and pretending to like her less than stellar attempts at cooking. He was always trying to get her and Andy to eat better, likely out of concern, at least from what she could gauge. Kaden was far from the easiest person to get a read on, but she’d spent so much of her childhood reading people and mirroring them to convince everyone she was something she wasn't that she felt like she had a fairly good grasp on him.

Not enough of a grasp to outright ask him when his birthday was, but Alex had done a bit of snooping through his things and found out his birthday had just passed and she missed it. Putting an effort into making a nice dinner had to count for something. So she found herself at one of the free cooking classes at the local rec center. Maybe it wouldn’t be the fine French cuisine Kaden was used to getting back home, but he’d be happy to see her making something that didn’t come from a can or powder.

There was a lot of nervous energy in Alex as she fidgeted with the different cooking utensils in front of her. She hated not being good at things. That probably had something to do with the fact she never felt good enough for her parents, but that was a suitcase of emotional baggage to unpack another day. Today was about embracing learning something new and using it to make a kind gesture.

The voice next to her pulled Alex pulled her out of the loop of shuffling through measuring spoons that she’d been in and she looked up with a curious glance. “I’m hoping something French,” she answered, “So creme brulee would fit the bill… though not sure if I trust myself with fire in my own kitchen.” Kaden had made a lot of small repairs around the cabin, but she figured a burned down kitchen might be a bit much for him to fix, especially on his birthday.

“Wanted to make my cousin something for his birthday,” Alex explained, “He’s French… well, we’re both French, but he, like, actually grew up there.” Speaking French was about as close as she ever got to really connecting with her heritage, which never really bothered her all that much. “You ever been to one of these before,” she asked, hoping maybe they were more skilled at cooking than she was.

—

“Ahh oui!” Teddy was smiling like it was their job. Like they were ready for a photoshoot for the cover of Demon Weekly. “French cuisine is a lot of fun. They are much more adventurous than a lot of American pallets.” Thoughtfully, they clicked their tongue against the roof of their mouth. “If you aren’t a fan of torches at home, you could always use a broiler. It’s a great tool once you master it. Mostly you gotta just pay attention to it cause it can go from golden to burnt so fast.” Problems, they figured, needed solutions. Teddy liked to offer solutions to anything they had knowledge on, which kind of gave them the air of a know-it-all sometimes. But mostly they were just excited to share. They were just as excited to be corrected as they were to give out corrections.

Especially about food. Whenever the topic of cooking came up, it was like Teddy couldn’t shut up if they tried. Which they didn’t. Because why would they? Why would you go to a cooking class and not want to chat about cooking? Didn’t make any sense at all! They were always a bit of a loquacious gadabout though, when they had the energy for it. Always searching for the next bit of joy to come from someone else, or make it themselves if they had to. After all, if you couldn’t find organic happiness out in the wild, homemade was fine.

“Oh!! A birthday! Gonna make him something special then? That’s exciting! I’ve been to France a few times. Paris is a bit overrated if you ask me but Lacoste is absolutely gorgeous no matter what time of year you go. Not as close to the ocean as I’d like it to be but– Sorry I’m being a motor mouth. I haven’t even introduced myself. I’m Teddy. And yes. Been to a few. The usual instructor is very… interesting. But a really good cook too!”

Interesting, was a fun way to say ‘secretly a two hundred year old fae who got very into the rumor that eating fae food binds you to them in some way but doesn’t usually use it for that, even if they do make a mean meal’ that owed Teddy a favor or two. Which is probably the only reason they hadn’t been kicked out of class. Somehow their bright and cheery and overly ambitious attitude didn’t always come across as infectious. “How about you? First time?”

—

The amount of enthusiasm her partner in this class had was something Alex wished she could muster for… just about anything. That level of unbridled joy wasn’t something she could ever remember possessing, even as a small child. Even then, the weight of her parents’ expectations seemed crushing and now– Well, now she wasn’t too sure. It was hard to pick apart the right and wrong in how she was raised when all her feelings about her parents were clouded with grief. The blues of grief, the reds of anger, and the small yellow slivers of joy were all muddied together into a brown that she could parse through, even on a good day. The fact she couldn’t bring herself to even likely didn’t help, but even if she did, she couldn’t imagine carrying such a carefree feeling. The enthusiasm was almost contagious at least and they brought a smile to Alex’s face.

“Isn’t the American palette just like… the McDonalds menu,” Alex joked, “Which no shame, I regularly feast on cold Spaghetti-os. Just comparatively other cuisines don’t have much competition. Unless we’re throwing apple pie into the mix.” The broiler she could try to work with. Kaden had been fidgeting around with the shoddy oven and probably got it working. He was really on his Bob the Builder shit and she loved that journey for him. “Huh, that could work. May have to give it a try some time.”

While Alex wasn’t sure she had the cooking skills to back up calling anything she made special, that was in theory, the whole idea here. “Special, passable,” she shrugged, “It’s the gesture, right? And Lacoste– I’ve only been to Lyon and… well, I forget where the camp I went to was, but somewhere in France with my cousins. Cities aren’t super my vibe so I think I’d probably agree with you on Paris. And hey, no need to apologize. The enthusiasm is a whole ass vibe. I’m Alex.”

It was comforting to know that this wasn’t Teddy’s first rodeo. Alex was no Gordon Ramsey and being alongside someone who had a better idea of what they were doing would surely be helpful in the class. “Good stuff,” she responded, “First time here for me, so if I ask like 20,000 questions– well, I’d say sorry, but that’d be a lie.”

As if on cue, the instructor came in and introduced themself to the class. They told them they’d be working on a pie crust and that they would get to choose the filling. That was way too much freedom for Alex. Did she choose an American classic like Apple? That was kind of boring and Kaden wasn’t even American. He did seem to really like pie though. “Hm,” she wondered aloud, “Kinda stumped on a flavor. It’s the first birthday gift I’ve given him in like…. 15 years or something.”

—

“You’d think so, right? But there’s actually a pretty interesting dynamic to it.” Teddy bounced in place, a new energy surging through them with the chance to explain something like this. “Because so many people come to America, right? And they influence and are influenced by the culture around them. It creates this sort of… Mix? Everything is a little bit of fusion, and if you give it enough time that develops into whole new cuisines! It’s amazing and–” The excitable demon was cut off mid sentence by a loud stare they happened to catch out of the corner of their eye.

Chef Spencer was standing opposite their station, arms crossed, sporting an all too familiar expression that Teddy knew meant something along the lines of “For the love of god please hush Jones. I respect you and love you, but dear lord. You are so knowledgeable and funny and hot and have such great stories that it overshadows my class.” Or something like that. Maybe just “Shut up, I’m trying to start.” But Teds liked to think it was the former.

Teddy shot a wink along with an apologetic smile over towards the teacher, who rolled his eyes and laughed under his breath. Whether it was the topic or the fact that this wasn’t the first time this had happened in this very kitchen was hard to tell.

The class started, and the very first second of acceptable chatting time that popped up, Teddy resumed the conversation like it’d never stopped. “Go with a classic. But give it a twist. Apple, but in addition to the warming spices, add just a pinch of chili powder. It deepens the complexity and gives it this whole new bite. Plus, if you add a bit of nice gruyere on top, ahh–” A chef kiss, fit for Julia Child.

—

“Huh,” Alex pondered in response, “Never really thought of it like that, but if I’m being honest most of my meals are stolen cans of spaghettios and vienna sausages.” She whispered, as to not draw more attention to them after the Chef had all but told them to quiet down. Teddy was pretty excitable, but she found she didn’t mind it as much. It made her feel more at ease being in an unfamiliar place and doing something that was way outside of her skillset.

She listened closely to Chef Spencer explaining the basics of how to get started on their pie crust. Alex was wondering if maybe she should have enlisted Andy for this, but how different could it be from one of her labs at school? Not very– at least she hoped. Teddy’s input was helpful. She would have never thought of the addition of chili powder, but it sounded good. Her brow furrowed in confusion at the last part.

“Chili powder, I’m gonna try that,” Alex agreed more enthusiastically than she had expected, “But what’s gruyere? Is that some sorta Guy Fieri branded thing?” Diners and Dives was admittedly one of her favorite late night watches, but she hadn’t heard of that one. Not that she was an expert on ingredients that couldn’t be found in 7/11. “Thanks for the idea, definitely want him to love the pie.” Well, she wanted Kaden to love her– which in families was supposed to be some sort of given, but she wasn’t sure that same logic applied to a faulty werewolf kid in a family of rangers.

—

“Oh but those are the best.” Teddy had probably more than their fair share of the best of Chef Boyarde. The days before a settled kitchen was a guarantee often included a canned meal or two. Shared over smiles, regardless of the situation they were in. Made Teddy wonder about their little partner in crime. Food crime? Nah, this wasn’t the place for that. Chef Spencer might say otherwise considering Ted’s proclivity for strangeness, but oh well. Alex was keeping up with Ted’s jittery joy. A rare feat, which meant she was a rare find. A wonderful addition to the metaphorical rolodex the demon kept in their mind.

What was her childhood like? Was it lots of tinned meat and overly sweet sauce because she had to, because that’s all that was around? Or was that just choice? A good choice, but y’know. Not the one most humans made. Balanced meals and all that. Teddy had a lot to ponder as they worked their hands through the flour and butter. Mixing just enough to combine, not so much that the dough wouldn’t be flaky and lovely.

“What’s Gruyere?” The demon smiled again, there wasn’t any malice to it or anything like that, no Teddy was just excited to be able to expose someone to something new. And delicious, a bonus bonus. “Oh it's cheese!” They still tried to keep their voice hushed, lest Chef Spencer have something important to share with the class. “I think it’s french, but honestly it might be Dutch or something. I’m not the most informed on ch-origins.” A pause, a toothy grin. “Cheese Origins.”

—

It was nice that despite the clear passion that Teddy had for cooking, they weren’t overly judgmental about things like canned meals. There was a lot about them that made Alex curious. It was nice that they weren’t a total snob despite their clear love for all things culinary arts, but hadn’t grown out of tinned food. Not that she had either. Sure, they had a bit more money to scrap together now everyone in the household had some form of income, but it wasn’t like she and Andy could afford to go all out on every meal. Oftentimes, Alex just found the familiarity of Chef Boyardee and Velveeta comforting. She wondered if it was the same for Teddy, she wanted to ask, but at the same time, that usually meant sharing more about herself in return. And the intricacies of why she and Andy spent a good chunk of their life on the run wasn’t something she exactly delved into with… well, anyone.

Instead of voicing any of the thousands of questions running through her head, Alex donned a winning smile, and responded, “Clearly, we have a refined palette. Glad I’m taking pie-flavor advice from someone with taste.” Whether that would be up to Kaden’s tastes or not was to be determined, but she hoped that this little surprise was worth the effort as she carefully worked the flour and butter together to form a crust. Chef Spencer advised they’d want to give the dough time to chill while they prepared fillings for their pies.

The mention of fancy cheese clearly excited her new… did she daresay friend? Alex had resisted the idea of friends for a long time, but the more she opened herself up to the idea, the more she found she craved the connection. Maybe she was a monster that didn’t deserve it, but that thought was harder to hold onto when Teddy had a megawatt smile that was definitely contagious. “Fancy French cheese,” she hummed, “That’d actually be perfect. Fancy French cousin and all. You should see how long that guy spends on his hair in the morning.” She secretly hoped it wasn’t one of the extra stinky French cheeses, but she could put up with it for the sake of surprising Kaden with something nice.

A snort escaped from Alex as she made the finishing touches on her crust to give it time to chill. “Ch-orgins,” she laughed, shaking her head, “That was so cheesy.” The smirk she wore made it obvious the pun was in fact intended. It was a happy and light feeling, one she realized she didn’t want to end, which brought a sort of bittersweet feeling. She didn’t want another fleeting encounter, she wanted to be around people that made her feel like she belonged like she did in this moment. She wanted to do this again and despite the fact the idea of being rejected in an earnest moment, she asked, “Would you wanna do this again sometime? Not necessarily here, I mean, the kitchen at my cabin is small, but this is fun and you’re cool.”

—

“Oh, why I must say! I am so charmed by your noticing. It is so good to share in such resplendent company.” Teddy donned a very played up and intentionally not that good British accent. One of those Down-town Abbey types or whatever. All the while adopting the mannerisms and affectations of an old rich lady who might be concerned with such things as taste. Very, very few people on this earth shared in Teddy Jones’ taste.

They’d learned that one way or another, many people were put off by how individual the demon allowed themself to be. And for all Ted cared, they could choke on it. People that mattered, they figured, would stick around regardless of the kinds of shirts Teddy liked to wear, the strange combinations of foods they liked to try, and the peculiar way of viewing things they always seemed to have.

“Eh–” Teddy returned to their normal accent, “I can brie cheddar than that.” Puns were a specialty of the demon. Patron anti-saint of portmanteaus, silly jokes, and all things punny. Alex definitely won a basket full of points by unlocking that little number. A few more in asking to hang out after Chef Spencer’s class had concluded. “Hell yeah dude, your cabin, I also have a decent kitchen on my boat. An even better one at my dad’s place, which is still basically my place too, just gotta give a heads up. You’re cool as ice cream too half-pint.”

–

Normally, Alex would find the use of a fake British accent annoying at best, but something about the way Teddy used it in such a joking and dramatic fashion made it a lot more amusing. Much less grating than that one girl in her high school chemistry class that talked in a British accent for months after her trip to London. She laughed along as she worked on the filling for her pie, taking both Chef Spencer’s instructions and Ted’s inventive ideas into account to make this the best pie ever… or at least the best pie she’d ever made. Given it’d be the only pie she’d ever made and Andy probably still made better pies, but maybe that didn’t matter much if she was having a good time and doing something thoughtful for someone she cared for.

The pun sent her into another fit of giggles as Alex carefully added a little bit of chili powder to the apple mixture she was working on. “Okay, that was gouda,” she added with overemphasized awe, “Gonna need to get some crackers in here for all this cheese.” It was easy to joke with Teddy. Perhaps it was their openness and the unapologetic way they were just themself. She wondered what that was like. She felt as if she’d been apologizing for who she was for as long as she could remember. Then again, Teddy was human. What did they have to apologize for? Though she supposed she was once just that, too, and she had been filled with just as much self-doubt and overcompensating.

Her filling seemed to be coming along nicely and Alex had a feeling that Kaden might actually enjoy the pie. Better yet, Teddy was down to hang out in the future which indicated she may have successfully made a friend. Maybe Andy would stop recommending her to people who needed insoles, but that was a long shot. “You live on a boat,” she asked incredulously, “That’s fucking cool.” Did they have money or something? Usually boats were a rich people thing, but at the mention of their dad, it was clear parents in the picture usually meant more stable finances. “And that’s cool of your dad, to let you use his kitchen.” Was that a normal father thing? Her own father seemed to hate when she focused on anything that wasn’t directly related to her training, as if more practice would every make up for the fact that the ranger genes happened to skip her. “We can make it a thing. Switch it up where we go. Maybe make something your dad loves when we go over there since he’d be letting us use his kitchen and all.”

The threads of a plan had begun to tie together in a way that left Alex feeling good about this whole experience. She had to admit, she was curious to meet whoever raised Teddy. That level of easy confidence and enthusiasm made her wonder what their father was like. “First up will be that creme brulee,” she assured, “Then, who knows? The possibilities are endless.”

–

As Alex caught a case of the giggles Teddy felt more and more alive with an overdeveloped sense of pride. Nothing felt better than watching someone fall into that breathless joy. If they were going to live forever, if they were going to have to watch as the world changed. Watch the faces of people they’d grown to like, get older and eventually leave him for good… Well all then all they could hope for was a few moments like this with each of them. Delightful, silly, bordering on preposterous.

“Doesn’t it just melt the stress away though?” A warm hum filled Teddy’s chest as they busied themself with their own fillings. Already well on their way to making something that Levi might like. Mango and peaches, a bit of basil and tajin. All set in an earl gray custard. Sweet and spicy, just like the old kraken itself. Papa shark would like this little one, Teddy was as sure of it as they were sure that Leviathan would like the pie they were carefully arranging. “Ahh, Crackers. Then we’ll really be putting on the Ritz.”

Each slice of fruit thin and careful, they even broke out the mandolin. An element of musically homonymous danger made any dish just that much more delicious. The ‘petals’ of fruit all spun into a central bud, making the whole pie look like a blooming rose. Teddy wasn’t much of an arteest, but they had the queer audacity to believe they were good enough to do anything they set their mind to. And in this particular case? It worked out.

Time passed, pies were in the oven and all there was left to do was wait. “You know what Chef Alex, I think that sounds grand. Creme brulee day will be crackin’.” The devilish smile softened again. Excited to add another little buddy to their growing arsenal. Wicked’s Rest was full of folks who just seemed to get it. Ted’s kind of people. It was… nice. Made it the kind of place they didn’t want to leave. Even if the thought of staying somewhere more than a decade sent shivers down their spine. “Once we’re less coated in flour, I’ll have to grab your number. For now though–” timed to a scarily accurate degree, the buzzer on the oven popped off and Teddy nudged Alex with a grin. “Bon appetit!”

#wr teddy #wr threads #threads; with teddy; pie high #parental death tw #(never been a natural all i do is try try try) ;; writing #(the moonlight's blinding) ;; season 1 writing

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tu-sugar-mami · 2 years

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Tales of the side of the road #7: Let your bro take care of things

1k words, Tumblr mobile won't let me cut it.

You can read the whole thing in AO3

______________________

That time where an inhuman creature jumped in front of your car and made you and your companion spin down the hill trapped inside the crashed vehicle, could probably be one of the worst days you can -although very vaguely- recall in your life. You still hear the screeches of the slowly dying creature along with the pained cries of your companion in your nightmares, and some nights you swear you can feel the iron grip of their hand on your forearm searching for support as the pain blinds their senses. The dreams never stray from that memory, always looping in the exact same order in your slumber and making it impossible for you to gain proper sleep. Usually a few hours of shut-eye are enough to push through the long day, but as of lately, thanks to Eiddelte, it's been easier. Since you were 'blessed' with the honor of sharing your body with a dark deity, most of your memories from your life before Itsy Bitchy Spider have been slowly dissolving into a hazy fog, and numbness has been slowly overtaking your emotions towards that event. You don't even care about your late companion anymore, whoever they were, and even though you're ashamed to admit it, you're grateful for that since the heavy feeling after the nightmares was becoming annoying. You see no point in grieving for someone you can't remember.

Under that amicable and friendly mask personality you use for your everyday service, there's a lone and empty shadow of the person you once were. A stranger might think you're the human version of a golden retriever with how many friends you may appear to have, but the truth is, there are actually very few people you care for, one of them being Mark.

Mark, a fairly handsome brunette guy with the most dashing smile and the most charming dimples you have seen on a human who is a member of a cult, somehow slithered his way to your good graces and, even if you wouldn't admit it out loud, became something akin to a brother to you. He was there when you started working at the coffee shop, giving you a tour of the nearby woods and even treated you to a combo of chips and soda from the Oxxo across the street. He was the first face you saw after the Eiddelte incident, and the only one to keep putting you above everything other than said dark goddess.

You both clicked like a fingernail and dirt, sharing the freshest gossip over some sweet pastries and a cup of cold chocolate and fixing the wooden cages in the back alley while he told you about his crush on a new member of the cult or trying to play pranks on the sole cashier in that old convenience store.

Of course, spending so much time together let him learn most of your schedule, and so, as you are currently knocked out cold behind the counter, he tightens an apron a size too small for him with a coffee beans pattern print and takes it upon himself to make sure the shop doesn't fall apart.

"I see now. I'm sorry you had to go through that." Mark says, rolling the sleeves of his shirt up to his forearms. "My first encounter with our goddess was also quite a shocking experience but one gets used to it with time." A goodhearted laugh comes from him as he gently feeds a lizard from the lizard jar to the thing that lives in the vase Daniela was about to break earlier.

"How can you say something like that?! We could have Died!" Cassandra remarks, her hands gripping hard onto the counter wood.

"But you didn't, did you miss? Other than my Gary boy all of you are just fine, and I'm sure little ferret here wouldn't have let anything happen to you." Mark points at you. "See that? She fought against My goddess' power to be back in her body, that's why she's exhausted."

"Little ferret?" Daniels, who has gone through most of the cake exhibits, asks.

Mark laughs again, and crouches next to you to ruffle your hair before making a display of his strength and pulling your limp body to carry it on his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and making his way to the staff only room.

"Yeah," His voice sounds muffled from behind the half closed door. "It's kind of an inside joke between us."

"Donna says it's adorable." Angie, who is back next to Daniela and munching on a cookie, says before jumping off the counter and yelling her sing-song. Poor Donna can only jump at the realization that her thoughts are exposed and quickly chases after her doll with her face bright red and thinking-yelling shush shush shush!

"Alcina! Are your bugs okay?!" The glass doors open abruptly making the bell above the glass tinkle loudly and a tall man whose clothes have definitely seen better days barrels in.

"Uncle Heisey!" Daniela says and runs to him, almost sending him to the floor with the tackle-hug she receives him with, but surprisingly he stands perfectly and softly pats her head.

"Are you alright kid?" His voice comes chill, but worry boils under it.

"Heisenberg." The tall Lady stands from her seat and walks towards the man passing next to Bela, who's sitting on a tall chair, and pets her head on the way.

Heisenberg squints at the Lady and goes to meet her halfway. Daniela swarms back to reunite with her sisters.

"Tell me i wasn't the only one to feel that earlier, Alcina. I wasn't worried about you at all, but you know i have a soft spot for your bugs." He says, and takes a moment to sweep the place with his eyes in search for his other two nieces, who spot him and wave before going back to raiding the rest of the exhibit. Don't tell this to Karl but they know he also checks on Donna and Angie to make sure they're alright too. And maybe he was a tiny little bit worried about Alcina too.

"Yes. That." Alcina swallows and the man shifts his posture, uneasy. He has very rarely seen Alcina this hesitant. "As much as I'm reluctant to say this, Mother Miranda might not be the only goddess we know now."

"Yeah, glad you re–" His eyes open in surprise. "Wait, you're serious?"

Alcina would have most definitely laughed at the look on Heisenberg's face if she wasn't that worried about what the implications of her words were.

"A goddess… a real one you mean?" His head is already filling with plans and ideas for his personal goal.

"Karl." A voice comes from behind him and Karl jumps slightly. Donna (god knows how she's always so silent) is next to him with Angie demolishing a lollipop and back in the safe restraints of the dollmaker's arms. "Did you feel it too?"

Karl's gaze is fixed on the wooden floor. He's ashamed to admit that the pressure also got to him while he was napping. His power didn't help him to fight it, instead managing to make the metal tubes from street signs nearby pin him by his jacket to a tree a few meters from the carriage. He is also not going to admit that for the first time since he got the cadou he felt helpless and… scared.

"I did. That was her?"

Donna nods.

"What we felt is something i haven't experienced before even with Mother Miranda's wrath unleashed." Alcina looks back over her shoulder to her girls. "I don't know if she must know about this."

"Good news! Little ferret is alright!" Mark comes back into the room, wiping his wet hands on the apron. "Oh, a new visitor." He says as he spots Karl. "Welcome to Itsy Bitchy Spider! What can I offer you this lovely afternoon?"

While The Uncle Heisey is busy admiring the way the button up shirt clings to the brunette man's Dorito shaped torso and how those strong looking forearms are exposed, Bela's gaze is fixed outside wondering if it's her imagination or if it's really still afternoon when she's sure the sun should have gone down few hours ago.

_________________

If you love my work, would you like to buy me a coffee?

#lady donna beneviento #lady dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #alcina x reader #donna beneviento #lady beneviento #donna beneviento x reader #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #karl heisenberg #tales of the side of the road fic #my fic

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brucenorris007 · 1 year

Text

How it Started

“Charmy,” Vanilla said, walking out into the yard. She blinked. Charmy had Gemerl in the air by his horn while Cream was dangling upside down with her shoes hooked around the robot’s left knee joint. Gemerl himself was commendably calm with Cheese plastered across his face. She smiled; so long as her daughter was having fun. “Do you know when Espio is stopping by to get you?”

“Espio’s not coming, Miss V!” Charmy said, strafing from side to side in the air, swinging a giggling Cream and Gemerl like a pendulum. “Vector’s gonna pick me up!”

Vanilla hummed. Espio hadn’t mentioned a Vector when he dropped off Charmy; then again, the chameleon had seemed the quiet type. It might’ve just slipped his mind.

“Boss is gonna have a new job for us!”

Vanilla nodded, making a mental note that she probably wouldn’t have to prepare extra portions for dinner.

“You have a job, mis–um, Charmy?” Cream asked. It’d been an effort to break her habit of putting a formality in front of Charmy’s name, but the bee had insisted.

(“Ick! That makes me sound old!”)

“Yeah!” Charmy declared, maneuvering into a loop. “Sometimes we gotta work real late so I get to stay up past midnight!”

Vanilla froze.

“It’s awesome!”

That… gave her pause.

- - - - -

Vector rapped on the door; finding work had been a little easier without Charmy buzzing around. Kid didn’t exactly need a babysitter, but he always had something to say, and hadn’t quite learned to pick his moments yet.

Vector thought Charmy was a riot; not everyone else agreed.

Playing with his new pal’s robot friend sounded exactly like his speed.

“Coming!” An alto voice called from inside.

If he hadn’t offended Cream’s ma–Vanilla, Espio said–maybe he could hang out again.

The door swung gently outward, and a long-eared rabbit wearing an apron and folded-up sleeves blinked at him.

‘Whoa.’

Maybe Vector would visit too.

“You’re Vector?” She asked.

Vector inwardly grimaced; Espio still thought being vague translated smoothly to sounding cool. No matter how many times Vector told him that some people liked a little advance warning about his species…

He shook his head and gave her a smile; taking care that it wasn’t too wide.

“That’s me! I’m here to grab the little dude,” he said. “Hasn’t caused too much damage, has he?”

Vanilla nodded; she smiled, but it was the benign sort other adults usually aimed at Vector. Outwardly harmless, polite, usually masking some suspicion. Especially when he was with Charmy; too big and too dangerous for a tyke to be around and yet too young to be responsible for him.

Vector’s tail twitched; he kept his temper lidded. Getting angry only ever made it worse.

“You’re Charmy’s… boss?” Vanilla asked.

Vector blinked.

“Um,” he stuttered, thrown off-kilter. “Sorta? I mean, yeah, if anybody is it’d be me.”

Vanilla crossed her arms. Vector wondered when she planned on blinking again.

“And he says you’re all often working past midnight,” she said, voice cool and even. “Is that true?”

Vector swallowed. Being questioned still chafed, but most of his preemptive frustration slipped away; he couldn’t hang onto it if he wanted to. Not when Vanilla obviously prioritized protecting Charmy over interrogating Vector.

“It happens,” he admitted, glancing away and bringing a hand up to the back of his head. He looked back sidelong at her. “I try to avoid gigs that keep us out that late if I can help it. Figure it’s better he’s with us instead of alone at home, though, y’know?”

Vanilla’s eyebrows jumped. Her postured loosened and she slowly dropped her arms.

“Oh,” she said, canting her head just slightly. “You’re his guardian?”

“Uh.” Vector said, chuckling awkwardly. He raised his shoulders and offered up his palms in a helpless shrug.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t appreciate that.”

Vector huffed.

“Well, makin’ it legal’s been a pain in my–” he paused, and made a quick course-correction. “Hide.”

Vanilla breathed a single note of laughter at that.

“Like I said, if it’s anybody, it’d be me.”

“So,” Vanilla said. “You’re his friend first.”

Vector scratched his head and turned his eyes down to his shoes.

“Heh, yeah,” he said. “Yeah, he’s my bud. Friends first.”

“That’s lovely.”

Ba-dump.

Vector froze. He looked up. Vanilla was smiling again.

Really smiling, earnest and soft and pleased.

Vector couldn’t help responding in kind.

For a moment, he entirely forgot his rule about how many teeth he showed at once.

“I uh,”

“VEX~!”

Thirty-some pounds of ballistic bee barreled past Vanilla and into Vector headfirst. Years of practice and some good old physics let the croc keep his feet.

“Didja find us a job today? Did we get a call? Is Espio waiting for us? Wait, they turned our line off. Did you get the phones fixed? What about”

“Hey little man,” Vector interrupted, a little quicker than usual, oddly conscious of Vanilla listening to the rapid-fire one-sided exchange. “Yes, no, yes and I’m working on it. How bout you say thanks to Miss Vanilla before we run off?”

Charmy spun in midair, hovering upside-down to face Vanilla.

“Thanks Miss V!” He said with a wave. He raised his voice. “Thanks Cream! Tell your robot I said bye!”

The kid did a cartwheel in the air and then started buzzing back down the path away from the house. Vector sighed and threw an apologetic look toward Vanilla.

“We gotta go,” he said over his shoulder, pacing slowly after his bee. “Nice meeting you, ma’am.”

“Let me know if you ever need anything,” Vanilla called with a wave. “Your family’s welcome here anytime.”

Vector’s throat closed up around anything else he might’ve said, so he tossed back a wave of his own and jogged after Charmy. Despite the cold blood in his veins, his face felt unseasonably warm in the afternoon sun.

‘Aw crud.’

#Team Chaotix #Vector the Crocodile #Charmy the Bee #Vanilla the Rabbit #Cream the Rabbit #found family #how Vector's crush began #it's about being understood #being seen #More found family appreciation than ship #both def. present here #fanfic #Sonic #SEGA

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kaseyskat · 2 years

Text

small little fluffy future au sashannarcy because im gay and i miss them

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“That must be difficult for you.”

Sasha glances up at Anne’s untimely arrival, and she frowns. “What do you mean?”

Anne gestures vaguely at Sasha’s lap, where Marcy’s slumped over, completely curled around Sasha’s chest. Arms wrap around her neck, and Marcy’s breath tickles as she breathes, peacefully sleeping. It had been mildly inconvenient when she plopped herself down for a nap, though, because Sasha had promised herself that she would have this blanket finished before their annual Amphibia visit, which falls in just a few weeks. Between work and classes and her lessons, she hardly has the time to just… sit down and work on her knitting.

But how was she supposed to turn down Marcy?

“It’s not too hard,” she finally says, looping the needle through the yarn. She has both of her arms curled around Marcy’s torso, working around her as Marcy sleeps. “Besides, she’s comfy.”

“And it’s time for her to wake up, or she’s not gonna sleep through the night,” Anne frets, stripping off her work apron- she had taken a job in the restaurant for now, though she’s taking classes to go into child psychology, slowly working her way through school even though it’s a challenge for her. Sasha’s proud.

“You talk about her like she’s a baby,” Sasha points out, and she gently sets her needlework down to stroke Marcy’s hair out of her face. She’s freezing cold, her skin cool and damp in a way that would be concerning if they didn’t know any better. A permanent side effect of the rejuvenation tank, Marcy had explained once. “We’re adults now, sugar plum. If Marcy wants to nap, let her nap.”

Anne sticks out her tongue - probably for the name, petnames did not work on her nearly as well as they did Marcy - but she doesn’t argue, just crosses the living room to plop down on the couch next to her partners. “Fine, Waybright. But if you stab her with your needle, I swear to all things froggy-”

“You have such little faith in me, my love!” Sasha rolls her eyes, but she takes one more reluctant glance down at the woman sleeping in her arms and sighs. “If you want her so badly, you can just ask. I’m not a girlfriend-hog.”

“I don’t-!” Anne cuts herself off, and Sasha snorts at the way her expression gives away her exact thought process. “Okay, fine. Give me Marcy. I’ve had a long day at work and I want her.”

“Miss Boonchuy, that is not asking,” Sasha teases, but she still carefully untangles Marcy’s arms from her neck, shuffling her so that she’s laying in Anne’s lap instead. “You’re lucky I love you so much.”

“Am I?” Anne teases right back, even as she carefully adjusts Marcy. Their smaller girlfriend lets out a sleepy whine at being moved, but doesn’t wake up, just curls into Anne’s warmth, clutching at Anne’s shirt. After all these years, she’s never stopped being so heart-wrenchingly adorable, even though they’re all grown up and matured.

Sasha’s in love with them both so much it physically hurts.

“Does the princess want me to put the tv on?” She asks, choosing to ignore Anne’s playful teasing. “I think we have some recordings of that reality tv show you like.”

“That would be wonderful, actually.” Anne grins, making a big show out of propping her feet up on the coffee table, leaning back against the cushions with Marcy still sprawled against her. “Since you offered so nicely.”

Sasha raises her middle finger. It just makes Anne laugh; Sasha doesn’t know when she lost all her malicious charm and intimidation factor, but she can’t say she minds so much, not when both of her girls look at her like she’s hung the moon in the sky, and she gets to be here with them for all eternity.

Marcy makes another whimpering noise as Sasha turns the tv on, flicking through the programs to find their recorded shows. It’s one that she claims to hate, but she thinks Anne knows the truth, even if they both play along for old time’s sake.

“It’s getting cold outside,” Anne murmurs, and when Sasha looks over at her, she’s toying with the fabric of Marcy’s shirt worryingly, skimming fingers over the spot where Sasha knows the skin is raised and bumpy. “We still have that cream, right? The gel stuff?”

“You’re being smothering again, Annesy, dearest,” Sasha replies, picking back up her needlework. She picked such a needlessly complicated design, but she just has to outdo Percy next time they see each other, since he’s the one who first taught her how to sew, way back during the war. “Marshmallow will tell us when she’s hurting. If she doesn’t, we’ll just cuddle her until she does, you know the drill.” She pauses. “But yeah, we should still have some cream left. If we don’t, I have some aquaphor from my last tat leftover.”

“Right, right, sorry.” Anne relaxes, and she stops messing with Marcy’s shirt, choosing to instead curl fingers into her hair. “You’re right. For once.”

“Excuse you, I am always right.” Sasha scoffs, tongue flicking against her lips as she continues to work. “Now shush. I’m trying to work, you need to relax, and Marcy needs to sleep.”

“Sheesh, so demanding.” Still, Anne quiets, and she scoots over just enough so that she can lean against Sasha’s side, watching the stupid reality tv show as Marcy slumbers on. Sasha can’t wrap an arm around her, but she does gently lean in as well, sighing as she enjoys her girlfriend’s warmth.

#kasey writes stuff #sashannarcy #amphibia #marcy wu #sasha waybright #anne boonchuy #yes im tagging marcy even though she sleeps through this whole thing sdhfkdshfkdshfkdshf #listen. sashanne banter is very fun to write #consumes many of my braincells but its FUN #featuring. so many of my future au hcs #one day i will put them in one collective place but for now they just exist

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1kook · 4 years

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attachment: 1 image

— jjk x (f) reader

summary; But for Jungkook to initiate some sexting, nevertheless sexting at 1pm on a Saturday, when you were at work and you were almost positive he was supposed to be on stream right now? Unheard of, you had to mark this down somewhere. warnings; sexting, dick pics, dirty talk?, phone sex, vivid depictions of jungkook being just so sexy bc its true, rating; mature (18+) misc; mentions of youtuber kook 🥰, he’s just horny, stupid selfie trends (see here), he’s a little whiny but so hot v.v wc; 4.6k

notes; I've had this in my drafts since april 😐 n then i was like maybe we should actually finish this so i started n then last night i hit another follower milestone!!! so then i rlly forced myself to finish this bc i was so 🥺🖤👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 anyway enjoy lmk what u think its not proofread bc uhhhhh yeah 🤩

You’re at work when it happens.

It’s sometime between your usual listless thoughts of what to write for your weekly reflection papers for some course, and your trip to your store’s pharmacy to bother a coworker. Your phone vibrates in the pocket of your work apron. You’re normally pretty good at ignoring the sound, most of the times it’s just a classmate asking for help on homework or Jimin lamenting his love life, so you’ve grown used to ignoring the tiny vibrations, stocking a quarter shelf of different cooking oils before something in your brain tells you to check your phone.

You already know it’s not something grave, but that thought alone means nothing at the sight of the tiny jungkook♡ that appears at the very top of the list of notifications. Your boyfriend’s texts tended to be wildcards, never following a certain routine or alluding to any specifics. He could send you a long paragraph on how much he misses the scent of that one shampoo, the one you’d briefly run through last year because your usual brand was out of stock, with a ten point explanation on why you should switch back to it. Or two word, caveman sentences that drove you crazy because you never understood what exactly he wanted when he’d send those nondescript “munchies dip” texts.

You unlock your phone, clicking to the messenger app instead of directly on the notification. Hopefully the preview will give some warning on whether you should invest in this conversation or not. You hated the read receipts on messages, choosing to ghost conversations as you pleased, but Jungkook had wiggled his way into your phone one afternoon and specifically turned them on for his chat with you, and you’d never turned them off since. So he knows if you choose to ignore Attachment: 1 Image at 1:43pm exactly, and he'll pester you about it until you respond.

You contemplate it all for twenty seconds. It could be a variety of things, you guess, but the only way to find out is to actually see with your own eyes what he’s up to this time. He knows better than to distract you at work, is usually really good at waiting until your shift is over to spam you with messages. For him to send you something now, only a few hours into your shift, is uncharacteristic of him.

But you glance down the aisle anyway, taking note of some elderly woman you’d helped a few minutes prior and another teenager aimlessly walking around, probably looking for the snack aisle. You inhale and press down on your chat with Jungkook.

It takes you a moment to make out exactly what the image is, twisting and turning your phone around as you fight to see it without raising the brightness. It’s only when your eyes finally adjust to the dark screen, the faint beeping of the check-out registers fading into the distance, that you realize it’s a shot of the front of his sweatpants.

“Hm?” you murmur, getting brave enough to pinch the image between two fingers, zooming in until you’re able to decipher a multitude of details. For one, there’s a Flaming Hot Cheeto stain on the hem of his sweatpants, the same one you’d accidentally put on there a few weeks back and haven’t been able to wash out since. Then there’s that huge palm of his, tattoos and all, rested carefully against his thigh. It’s veiny and thick in all the right places, bringing all the attention to his knuckles, which you guess is what he was going for when you consider the centerpiece of the image—his hardened dick straining against the grey material.

There’s no text attached to the message, no snapchat font slapped over the image, so you wonder what exactly he wanted you to do with this information mid-shift. Well, realistically, you know exactly what he wants, but that doesn’t mean you won’t clown him before getting there. After all, Jungkook was seldom the naughty texter; sexting annoyed him, he would whine, because he would do all that and not even get to feel the true pleasure of sex, of being inside you. You’ve dabbled in it here and there, but it never went as perfectly as it did in pornos. He’d drop his phone and forget it, or you would straight up ignore the damn device as you went all in on yourself.

But for Jungkook to initiate some sexting, nevertheless sexting at 1pm on a Saturday, when you were at work and you were almost positive he was supposed to be on stream right now? Unheard of, you had to mark this down somewhere.

you what’s this about?

You decide to play it safe, because as exciting as the image of Jungkook at his computer chair, cock hard and angry at the thought of you, fluffy hair ruffled in that way you adored, jaw twitching and tightening as he touched himself, moaned deep and rough and just how you liked and—

As nice as that image was, for all you knew this vague message was Jungkook sending you a picture from a week ago to purposefully fuck with you at work.

jungkook♡ what time u get off? jungkook♡ miss you bad baby

Your stomach flips, and it takes everything in you to not squeal and bounce between the shelves like a toddler on a sugar rush. Here was your boyfriend, the cutest, sweetest boy, sending you dirty pictures of himself and telling you how much he needed you. Yes, YOU, not some random on the street, or someone else in a club, Jungkook needed pleasure and that pleasure could only come from you.

You glance back down the aisle again, checking your surroundings for the second time that day. You’ve been standing here, stock cart empty for a little over five minutes now, so it’s probably best to change location lest your manager come barking down your neck. You send one quick text before heading off for stock again.

you 4pm :(

Your phone dings again just as you’re leaving the stockroom, but you decide to check it once you get to the hygiene aisle you need to work on next. Still, the prospect of Jungkook having texted you has you walking with a skip in your step, one your coworker teases you about when you pass by her.

jungkook♡ fuck jungkook♡ tell me what panties youre wearing jungkook♡ please ?

You bite your lip, stopping yourself from smiling at the tone you’d picked up from his message. There was no doubt he’d been riled up for a while now, and you wonder if he sat through his usual Saturday morning streams with his cock hard, pushed against the edge of his desk like you knew he did when such things happened. The thought has you nearly fumbling with a bottle of aloe vera.

you seamless black thong you the one you bought me at the last vs sale

Briefly, you wonder if you should have lied and told him you were wearing that red lace set he’d given you last Valentine’s Day, the one he’d bought with his first big YouTube check. But the beauty of being in a relationship with someone like Jungkook is that you could have told him you were wearing grandma undies and he’d still think you were the most beautiful person to grace the planet.

jungkook♡ mm jungkook♡ tiny ones u ruined last time?

You set your phone down, speed stock a row of sunscreen like you’re on some shelf stocking national competition, before daring to text Jungkook again. Your cheeks are still warm, and your hand tightens dangerously around a bottle of shaving cream.

Before you can formulate some response, he’s sending another one in.

jungkook♡ u soaked those jungkook♡ came fast that day jungkook♡ want u so bad

Your cheeks burn, a little embarrassed that he remembers such details. As with all Victoria’s Secret panties, they were, like Jungkook said, extremely thin. You pause, shift your stance just barely, but you’re definitely wet. Not terribly so, but with this fabric, you’d start to notice it sooner than with others.

you mm you makin me wet bunny

It’s not a complete lie, but knowing Jungkook this is exactly what he needs to hear to get that competitive streak going. You shake your head to clear your thoughts, stocking another section of men’s shaving cream. It takes longer for him to message you back, and you wonder if he got off fine on his own. If it’s over now, at least he provided you with some distraction midway into your shift.

When he texts you again, you’ve almost completely convinced yourself he’s finished, so the Attachment: 1 Video that appears on your lock screen throws you for a loop.

It’s a short clip, no longer than ten seconds, but it has you scrambling to lower the volume on your device as some unsuspecting mother of two wanders past. You flash her your practiced smile, the same one you give all the store’s customers. Not like your boyfriend is jacking it off on your phone, shallow pants filtering out from the speakers.

You turn your phone over carefully after she leaves, try to at least pretend you’re still doing your job as you play the video again.

Sweats are gone, but boxers remain. Legs deliciously exposed, thick thighs with muscles that ripple when he moves. Shirt pulled up just slightly to showcase that broad expanse of tummy, cute belly button and defined abs that tighten with each glide of his palm over the outline of his cock. Your mouth fills with drool at the sight. He was so hot.

Your brain hasn’t even processed it yet, all your energy directed towards your clenched pussy, when he shoots another text.

jungkook♡ im so fckin hard jungkook♡ wanna kiss yuo every where baby jungkook♡ come ove r soon ??

Shutting your eyes and counting to ten doesn’t help ward off the sudden wave of horniness that consumes you, but it does remind you of the job you’re supposed to be doing now. You shake your head, as if the image of Jungkook’s dick throbbing beneath his boxers, low voice in your ear, will magically disappear. It doesn’t, and it plagues you even more when you begin stocking a section of sunscreen, numbly instructing yourself on what to do next. Shaving cream, sunscreen, lotion next, you repeat.

It doesn’t help.

Two minutes later and you’re scrambling for the phone you’d hastily tucked into your apron pocket, tapping your passcode in until your messages with Jungkook are pulled up again.

you after work you promise

Your head is absolutely spinning, the coil in your stomach too tight for you to try and be a functioning member of society. Something in you says to sneak off to the bathroom and call him, but your boss is a little bit of a prick when he wants to be, thinks you take too many bathroom breaks as is.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. A curt call of your name has you whirling to face your shelves again, phone tightly pressed against your ribs like maybe it’ll melt into your skin and he won’t see it. At the same time, your sudden fright has you scrambling to turn it off, fingers sloppily pressing against the buttons, hitting the volume like seven times before you eventually feel the familiar click that signals it’s off.

Your boss disappears shortly after, and with his sudden appearance having made every hair on your body stand, you find yourself now slumping against your stock cart. Jesus, that man was a handful to deal with.

The paranoia sticks for a little bit, has you stocking shelf after shelf like a robot until you finish the entire row of hygiene products, back stiff from bending over so much. It’s only when you return to the stockroom ten minutes later that you dare take your phone out again.

A pleasant surprise awaits.

It would appear that during your haste to hide your phone from your boss— Jungkook’s scandalous messages and all —your frantic hands had done something else. A fuzzy picture on your end, a blurry display of lotion bottles you had stacked just before your boss’s impromptu appearance, with no words to accompany them. Normally Jungkook would have ignored that; you frequently sent accidental messages like this, butt texted him, he says.

But there’s something about Jungkook’s horny brain that makes him do stupid things, makes him blow up your phone with a series of question marks, call you four times, whine and fuss in your message thread, and eventually, send you probably the oddest image to date.

jungkook♡ ??? jungkook♡ ????what is that jungkook♡ baby please jungkook♡ I don’t get it ??

jungkook♡ Missed Call (4)

jungkook♡ baby jungkook♡ what does it mean jungkook♡ please ur drivign me insane jungkook♡ jsut wanna hear yuor voice jungkook♡ fuck please just

And then, there’s another one of those cursed Attachment: 1 Image messages.

You shouldn’t be as surprised as you are. You’ve been dating Jungkook for a few months now, know he had that sort of unique personality most college dropouts turned YouTubers do. But every now and then the absurdity of his actions makes you question him still, makes you wonder what exactly goes on in that pretty head of his to warrant such ideas, makes him balance a bottle of body lotion on the thick outline of his cock like this.

Unlike the first few images, this one was taken in front of a mirror. The blinding fluorescent light in his bathroom paints him in a stark color, has every inch of his pretty face on display for you. Rosy cheeks, dewy skin. Perfectly swollen cock straining beneath his grey boxers, curved up against his hip. Shirt pulled up, finally freeing that expanse of muscles on his abdomen, cute little belly button on display once again. The red material is pulled up to his mouth, pearly white teeth biting down on the fabric, and he’s got this flushed expression on his face.

But the real star of the show isn’t his chiseled abdomen or sexy expression, but the sheer hardness of his dick that lets him balance a bottle of body lotion over it, like a fuckin’ shelf or something. He’s so hard, dick so full beneath his boxers. So big too, the little boxers pulled taught around said engorged cock and thick thighs.

Your brain says to laugh, to tease him for being such a clown even when he’s horny as hell. He won’t take it to heart, will probably laugh along with you and you’ll add it to your still growing list of funny memories.

But your caveman libido says call him, so that’s what you do, ducking down behind a new shipment pallet with a squeak as the phone rings. It only lasts four seconds before he picks up, voice breathy and low, but it sounds so loud in the silence of the stockroom.

He doesn’t even let you get a greeting in. “You like my picture, baby?” he husks. It sounds like he’s right there, right beside you, speaking into your ear. Your pussy throbs at the way he sounds. Paired with the picture from before, it has your body tingling all over.

“What the fuck is that?” you hiss, trying to not let the sudden overflow of arousal leak into your words. Jungkook chuckles.

“What?” he huffs. There’s the brief sound of shuffling, the scratchy noise of his phone presumably being pressed against his shoulder. “I’m so hard, baby,” he sighs before you can pretend to reprimand him any further. “Fuck— you, can you just talk to me?” he groans, and the disgusting sound of him spitting into his palm fills your ear.

Your face feels warm, eyes nervously peering across the stockroom like your boss will suddenly appear now of all times to rip you from this important phone call. The anxiety and arousal mix weirdly, have your leg bouncing but every new movement sends a shock up your aching cunt to your chest, and then out to the tips of your fingers.

“You shouldn’t be doing that when I’m at work,” you murmur hurriedly, moving to nervously bite at your finger. Jungkook moans softly.

“Uh huh,” he says.

The air conditioning turns on and you nearly jump out of your own skin. “Kook,” you stress, frazzled by your own burning arousal and the fear of being caught. Like you said. Weird mix. “I— not when I can’t respond.”

He shudders on the line. “You’re responding now,” he points out. You hate when he’s right. Before you can defend yourself, define what a proper response is in this scenario, he’s beating you to the punch. “Baby,” he whimpers, voice so airy yet low, makes your eyes roll into the back of your head, back unconsciously arching. “Couldn’t stop— fuck.”

Your mouth feels dry, all and any form of lecturing fading from your thoughts as you become consumed in Jungkook’s little whines and whimpers. He talks smoothly, a modern day Casanova, and it’s certainly because of that cult-like harem he’s gathered on YouTube. Teenage girls who kiss his ass, tell him he’s cute and dreamy. Make his ego so big.

But then he gets horny and can barely contain that lisp you tease him about, shivers and melts when you put his cock in your mouth. “Couldn't what, bunny?” you mumble, voice drawn tight because now you were really horny, and it was all his fault.

The nickname makes him mewl prettily, your speaker suddenly going scratchy as he fumbles with his phone. “C- Couldn't stop thinking about you— your mouth,” he admits, and now you’re certain he’d sat through that Saturday morning stream like this. “T- Tits,” he adds, lisp slipping through. “Fuck.”

You bite your lip, eyes fluttering shut as you remind yourself now was not the time or place to get yourself off. But, well. That didn’t mean you couldn’t get him off. “Sat through your stream like this?” you murmur, circling your kneecap with a trembling finger as if it’ll ward away the raging lust in your abdomen. Jungkook confirms with a breathy moan. “Had all your little fans wondering why you ended so early.”

He groans. “No,” he chokes, voice hot from how much it wavers. “They— I lied,” he confesses out of nowhere, “s- said I had a doctor’s appointment.”

You muffle a giggle into your palm. “Naughty,” you tease. “Too hard to do your job.”

“Just,” he cuts off, voice feathery. He sounds so close and you haven’t even said anything of substantial value yet. “Tell me,” he says quietly, “what to— mmh, what to do.”

A smirk consumes your features. You try to hide it, but there’s no one here anyway so you’re left grinning at an unpacked box of dental floss like a madwoman. “Why?” you inquire playfully, bask in the sad little whimper he responds with. “Shouldn’t you know how to make yourself cum?”

Another groan of frustration, desperation seeping into his tone when he speaks again. “Baby, please,” he begs, and it feels good. Feels nice to have this big YouTuber begging for you like this, whimpering your name like his doesn’t appear on the top 25 most viewed. “Like when you— ah — when you tell me… what to do.”

Your body feels hot, thighs pressing together with each whimper that falls from his lips. “Okay,” you concede, and he audibly moans in relief. “Tip first,” you instruct softly, eyes defocusing as your brain slowly starts to manifest the image of Jungkook spread out on his bed. Thick thighs, grey boxers pulled taught around them, fat cock between his pretty hands, inked knuckles squeezing around his member. You swallow. You can tell exactly when Jungkook does as you say because another muffled moan fills the speaker. “One finger,” you remind him quickly, head spinning from the mere memory of his dick. “Run it… run it over the slit, bunny.”

“Nngh—“ Jungkook sputters. You can only imagine the face he’s making now, the bottom lip he’s bitten raw by now. He does it a lot; it’s a nervous habit. But as sexy as it looks when you’re in bed, you know he has sensitive lips because of it, bleeds easily if he’s too harsh. You have half the mind to remind him about it now, but then he’s hurriedly gasping out for more. “And, and then? Wha— what then, baby?”

He sounds so sweet, melodic voice dripping with honey. “Touch your balls,” you say a little breathlessly. “Don’t squeeze,” you add, “just roll your palm over them.” Your palm squeezes against your thigh, as if it’s remembering the feel of his body, the soft skin between his thighs when you’re down there. He gets so jittery, thick thighs nearly crushing you if you drag him along too much. “O- Other hand on your cock,” you stumble, thighs squeezed together. “Stroke yourself just like I do, bunny.”

Jungkook complies. “Just like you?” he mumbles, suddenly sounds farther away. As if he’s dropped his phone off to the side. “Fffuck,” he grunts, “m- mouth is so pretty.”

“Hm?” you inquire, so consumed with tampering down your growing arousal for a second that you miss his sentence.

Jungkook’s breath stutters, and for a moment you’re met with the wet squelch of his cock in his hand. And then, “pretty mouth… make me— make me wanna see you cry.”

You bite your lip. “Why,” you say tentatively, finally caving in with a hand fluttering over the front seam of your jeans. Not a question, more of a gentle nudge for him to spill his thoughts.

“Be- Because,” he cries, fucking into his hand. He sounds closer and closer. You have to wonder just how long he had been riled up. It’s been a while since his first message, he was probably desperate by now. “Y- You’re so nice,” he cries, and the sentiment, though oddly out of place, makes your heart squeeze with adoration for the boy on the line. “Wanna be,” he groans, “wanna be so fucking mean to you, baby.”

The sudden change of tone makes you choke on a moan, hand pressing against your mound like it’ll somehow penetrate the thick material of your jeans and give you the sensations you crave. As it stands, it’s a muted feeling you get instead. When your hands fail, his voice compensates. “Fffuck, don’t you— don’t you think about it too?”

Admittedly, no.

Jungkook had always been a gentleman in bed. Always cared for your needs before his own, went out of his way to make you feel pampered and adored during your most vulnerable moments. Contrary to what his online persona might say, he was a good boy. Sweetest boy you knew, touched you like you were made of glass.

So to suddenly learn of this dream— fantasy? kink? —of his that you would certainly enjoy equally as much, well. It made you whimper into your palm, eyes worriedly flickering toward the stockroom’s entrance.

“Why?” you whisper, feeling like a broken doll repeating the same phrase over and over again. You’re suddenly aware of how hot everything was. Your polo felt sticky against your spine, apron too tight, jeans too stuffy. How long had you been hiding in here for? You don’t even know. Hopefully your absence on the floor had gone unnoticed.

Jungkook pants into the line; everything sounds so sticky and wet on his end, hand undoubtedly working away at his cock. “Shit,” he curses, doesn’t really answer your question until you prod a second time. “I- I like it,” he stammers. “When you… fuck, when you look small.” He elaborates before you can even ask, breath heavy and drawn out. He was so close. “When your mouth… when it hurts,” he says, thoughts a scrambled mess. “Like when you— when you cry because my cock is— it’s too big for you.”

A blatant ego boost you’ll ignore for now. Not like you can focus on too many things right now anyway. “Your cock is big, bunny,” you agree softly instead. Your legs feel cramped from crouching so long, so you push yourself to your feet. Except then you’re made aware of how fucking wet you are, panties soaked from the phone call with your boyfriend. You shift and they stick to your folds, make you release a shaky exhale that Jungkook doesn’t miss.

“I— you’re wet,” he says boldly, and this time your meek confirmation isn’t a lie. Jungkook grunts. “Fuck, baby, I—“ cut off by his own whiny cry, probably bucking into his hand like a madman by now. “Wanna, wanna kiss you everywhere,” he says, a call back to his earlier message. Your legs feel like jello. You want him to kiss you everywhere too— lips, tits, cunt that is dripping for him now.

“I- I’ll be over soon,” you stammer, feeling like you’ll pass out if he carries on any further. He sounds so good on the line, soft pants, rough growls. You can’t possibly listen anymore, not when you’re so wet and horny in the middle of your shift. “Just,” you pause, can’t get the image of his pretty cock out of your mind. Every blink makes it more vivid, reminds you of the vein on the underside, the exact shade of the tip.

“What?” Jungkook hisses, voice higher than usual, parts of it lost under the rapid movements of his hand. “Tell me, baby, tell me what to do,” he begs hoarsely, “I’ll do it.” Sounds so desperate and needy, two seconds away from busting all over his hand.

You have to lean against the wall of the stockroom to ground yourself, remind yourself you’re not in the same situation as Jungkook and can’t cum in your pants like a teenager. “J- Just cum,” you choke, eyes fluttering shut.

He must’ve been waiting for that command, because the second the words leave your throat he’s filling the line with breathy groans and cries as he comes all over himself, probably ruins his t-shirt. The sounds have your hips unconsciously bucking forward into nothingness, the frustration of not being able to cum with him manifesting in the form of a tiny little sob. Luckily, he doesn’t catch it.

When it’s all said and done, he’s left panting into the receiver, flooding your speaker with breathy sighs that only make you more and more aroused.

“You’re terrible,” you frown, cheeks flushed, body tingling. You flip your wrist over and check the time; it’s been about sixteen minutes since you disappeared from outside. Sixteen minutes of listening to Jungkook touch himself and moan and whine and whimper. Tease you with new possibilities you had never considered before. And now he’s satisfied and you’re not.

Jungkook chuckles, low and tired. The sound shoots straight to your cunt. “Come over after you shift,” he says, as if you’re not planning to fake a severe case of the flu right now in order to get off early and run to his bed. You only had a little less than two hours of your shift left anyway. Not like they paid you well to begin with. Jungkook shifts, releases one of those saccharine groans as he probably snuggles into his bed, all sweaty and worn out. “Want you to fuck my face, baby.”

You frown, counting to ten to calm yourself down. Another few minutes of listless conversation, and you hang up. Your body feels featherlight, a little woozy as you make your way back out into the floor.

Nothing has changed. Customers pour in and out, your boss scolds you for a display you didn’t do, and life inside the store drags on. No one knows that you’re soaking your panties to hell and back, Jungkook’s soothing moans in your ear. Life goes on.

you shift ends in 20

jungkook♡ sweet jungkook♡ got your seat ready jungkook♡ Attachment: 1 Image

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