#the grass is there just as hay n such

[feralfens]

[speed runs thickening the top soil layer in one spot]

[love-toxin]

MEAT - thomas hewitt (leatherface)

a/n: i had to be a little silly ehe <- delusional

(cws: fem!reader, DDDNE, extreme violence, blood, gore, broken bones, a whole array of weaponry, domestic abuse, forced relationship, evolution of victim -> perpetrator, psychological torture, mentions of very dubious consent, breeding, huge size difference, ownership marking, protective tommy, implied cannibalism, unnamed victims of the tcm.)

wc: 10.7k

Lungs burning in your chest with the humid Texas heat, you forced the corn stalks aside as you stumbled through them in a frantic sprint. Each leathery pod whacked against your shoulders, your hands, your chest, and your bruised-up legs, but you wouldn't stop for nothing.

You couldn't stop. The people you'd hitchhiked with were all dead, or at least very well on their way to being so–they had been hunted one by one, by bear traps and shotguns and hay hooks, and you were sure you were the only one the family were left hunting. It'd taken all night to spread you thin and weaken you all with sadistic tortures of every kind. Now your group was down to one. You. Hauling ass was not enough to describe how frantically you were tumbling through the crop field, practically hand-over-foot crawling with how dizzy you'd gotten. Blood loss and a few hits to the head would do that to you.

Finally, the maize parted one last time to spit you out into the dewy grass, the labyrinth of sameness finally coming to an end. But when you tilted your head up to the starry night sky, your heart dropped into your feet at what laid before you. The farmhouse. You'd run in the wrong direction. Warm light glowed from within the drapery behind the windows and you spotted the older woman standing on the porch, a rag tucked between her hands as she called out a name. Terrified and hoping for the blessing of going unseen you army crawled your way right back to the corn–

Thunk. Only halfway there, the grass split with the force of a sledgehammer dropping into it. A boot stepped into view right by your head; attached to it was an enormous calf, and your eyes trailed upwards slowly to reveal the whole of that crazed maniac you'd seen manhandling the others into that house of horrors across the lawn.

Greasy hair hung down in long tresses, wary eyes pierced into your skull, an apron sat snug around his midriff stained with dark blood. Up close, you could listen to the way he breathed heavy through the mask that obscured his lower jaw, only the bridge of his nose and his forehead visible through it. He stunk of sweat, rot, and fresh meat. His weighty hand tightened round the handle of the hammer he'd set down, veins popping out with the sheer size and strength of his enormous, hulking body.

“Tommy!” The woman's voice cracked out in the night, the name finally ringing clear enough for you to hear. His head whipped around to the source and he stared in her direction; you watched her turn a blind eye to your predicament in the grass and step back inside the house. It felt as though your heart might burst in that moment, the fear and tension running through you like a taut wire about to snap in two.

The giant grunted overhead. You looked back at him again and squeezed your fists against the dirt, expecting him to lift that hammer and crush your skull into the ground with it. But upon resting his palm on the blunt end of it, the monster instead used it to lower himself to one knee. With a hand outstretched, he slowly, carefully brushed your damp hair aside, and pressed his fingertips firmly into your cheek. You shuddered as they moved downwards, probing around the soft spot beneath your ear and the curve of your jaw. He tilted your chin back and slid his whole, grubby hand down your neck…and with the most tentative squeeze around your throat, you swallowed and he all but jumped back. Your skin ran cool again as his warm hand ripped away from you, but with just as much hesitation he grazed your lips with his knuckles and trailed them across your forehead, leaving smudges of wet blood behind.

“Tommy!” A harsher voice tore through the quiet night, yanking his attention away from you again. The sheriff–the fake sheriff, that is–came stomping up from around the back of the barn, the shotgun hanging at his side causing you enough panic to scramble to your knees. But you wouldn't get far. Not even a couple feet. Your body hit the earth within moments of you climbing to your feet, and you heaved out a pained moan at the mountain of weight that pinned you down and crushed you underneath him. The giant had thrown himself forward and taken you down without thinking twice; his beefy arm came around your neck and tightened, his muscles flexing under the coarse fabric of his shirt for him to hold you in place.

“Attaboy, Tommy.” The older man came around his side as you struggled, clawing at the bicep that was crushing your windpipe with barely any effort. The sheriff kicked your flailing leg with a holler, cackling at the way you squirmed under his nephew's brute strength. “Stupid bitch. Gonna learn your lesson now, aint'cha?”

Dying squeaks for mercy escaped your throat, your words barely tinged with any discernible syllables. Thomas’ grip only grew tighter. Your arms went slack, then your legs slowed to a trembling halt…and before long your head slumped forward as you passed into unconsciousness, hoping to god this would be the last time you woke up in this sweltering Texas hell.

Clink. Clink. Clink. The chatter of voices melted into the gentle clatter of silverware. It wasn't the sounds that stirred you from your sleep rife with nightmares, though–it was the sliver of a sunbeam cast through the window that shone gently on your face. You blinked blearily as your head lolled in a stuttered circle, slowly and quietly coming to. Clink. Clack. Eyelids cracked half-open, you raised your head up despite the weight of a pounding headache, and watched a pair of wrinkled hands set down a teacup on a saucer in front of you.

Although there was much to see, you instantly turned your gaze to the woman you'd seen on the porch. Your nerves jittered and you flinched as she reached out to touch you, but it passed with her gentle shushing as she tenderly caressed your cheek. The age showed in creases all across her face, her eyes soft but wet with something terribly uneasy behind them.

“Such a pretty girl,” She crooned, a smile like nothing had happened plastered across her face. The eagerness with which she watched you unsettled you to your very core, but it would be second to the nightmare that was waiting to explode on you across the table. “I always wanted a little girl. Never seen one so pretty.” Despite the sweetness of her words, a shift of your hand rattled the chair you'd been tied to; both wrists buckled under the tough ropes used to bind you, indented where you could see dry blood crusted over the fibers. Either you moved a lot in your sleep, or someone really wanted to punish you for trying to get away.

As tenderly as if she was your own mother, the lady brought your teacup up and tilted it for you to drink, which gave you a moment to let your eyes wander. With a glance around you took a mental sweep of the place. Your chair sat at the end of a dining table, and aside from the woman you spotted two other older men; the frightening man with the shotgun, and an elderly man in a wheelchair. Framed photos hung around the room against peeling wallpaper, and aside from a decent amount of clutter and antique decorations of a house long lived in, nothing struck you as out of the ordinary from the cutlery to the frayed rug that cushioned your bare feet.

The aging woman tottered around the table to pick up a plate and slid a few eggs on from a saucepan in the middle. That and a few strips of bacon made their way down to your placemat, still sizzling.

“Why're you givin’ this bitch special treatment, mama?” The fake sheriff glared you down from his seat at the head of the table, spitting off to the side with his hands still clasped in front of him. “Already got enough mouths to feed.”

“Hush.” She finally snapped, and gestured with the spatula still in hand. “This is your fault. You wanna play sheriff so bad, Charlie.”

“It's Hoyt, mama, for god's sake!”

“Don't you cuss at me!” The old woman warned, aiming the spatula right at his chest.

“U-Um,” You whimpered softly, and drew the attention of all three of the frightening strangers, who turned their heads in your direction. The focus on you made you falter, but the problem at hand was far more pressing than fear. “Th-The rope…please..” You managed to squeak out, and only then did they seem to notice your hands were changing colours. They were so tight the blood wasn't circulating, and you feared even a few moments more of the ache would result in something very unpleasant in the near future, especially when you knew there was a chainsaw floating around here somewhere.

Just then, the floorboards creaked at your back. Too afraid to turn your head you only shifted your gaze, and in your peripheral you saw it. Two thick, fat-fingered hands reaching downwards to tug at the binds round your wrist. For someone so huge, he made short work of untying you even without the aid of one of the knives scattered round the table settings. The rope loosened and dropped to the floor in a coil like a dead snake, but as he reached over you to undo the other–and you got a whiff of soap amidst his sweat in the process–the man naming himself Hoyt grumbled and slammed his fist down on the table, rattling the plates and silverware.

“Goddammit, boy–what'd I say? We ain't keepin’ her, for Christ sakes!”

“Watch your mouth!” The woman–mama–shrieked, and her fist shook as she dumped the spatula down on the table with a thunk. The other cuff came loose and you released a sigh of relief as you touched your wrists, wincing at the open cuts that had only half dried over. And while the two continued to bicker about one thing or another, a great shifting of clothes and a thump beside you caught your gaze. Thomas, the giant that you'd watched haul the others off to the slaughter, had knelt down by your chair like a dog and still came up to eye level. God, he was just massive. Somehow it made him less intimidating though, since he looked at you like he was waiting for scraps from your plate. It was somewhat pathetic, but…endearing? Was that a word you could even consider using for a maniac like him, or was it beyond all common logic to even think of him in such pleasant terms?

“A-Are you…hungry?” You whispered, only to be met with a slow shake of his head. Thomas raised a melon-sized arm and pushed the plate closer to you, as if to say ‘eat up, it's getting cold’. Emboldened by his tender gesture, you shakily plucked your fork off the placemat and leaned in to examine the bacon. It looked like…bacon. Hot, crunchy, cut in strips like you would see any day in the supermarket. Still, you tentatively went for the eggs first, and raised the tiniest bit to your mouth as the two older ones finally managed to settle down whatever argument they'd been having.

“Boys, time to say grace.” Suddenly flushed hot with embarrassment, you lowered your fork in an instant and followed their lead. You bowed your head with them, listened to mama say her standard prayers of thanks–and then, when everyone else began to eat, you cautiously lifted the bite to your lips and chewed thoughtfully. It felt like forever for you to discern whether or not it was normal, if it tasted like it should, but after a while of chewing you had to relent to the fact that it didn't taste abnormal, so it was about as fine as you could expect. You ate in silence alongside them, but just when you pondered whether the food might be drugged or other awful possibilities, the sheriff cleared his throat and drew your attention to him once again.

“Now,” Mama scowled at him, but he continued to speak nonetheless. “You got two options here, kid: eat, or be eaten. Them's the laws of life.” He reached up and scratched the back of his neck, readying himself to say more, but an interruption came with a grunt from your side. Hoyt raised a hand and waved the wordless concern off. “Don't you mouth off, boy. Gettin’ to it.”

You shifted your gaze to Thomas, who only nudged your plate closer to you to urge you into eating more. Something gnawed at the back of your mind. Their behavior was so strange, the looks exchanged even stranger–there was something that wasn't being said, like a plan was brewing right under your nose.

“See here, this is how it is. You got choices. Now, my nephew here happens to like you,” His honeyed southern drawl couldn't hope to mask the hopelessness that stirred in you at those words. “Ugly as sin, but he's a good enough boy, ain't that right?” He looked to Thomas, but the ‘boy’ in question stared right at you when he nodded. “So you choose. You wanna eat-”

“I'll eat,” The answer flew from your mouth without hesitation, so much so that even the most uninterested of folks around the table caught your gaze. Your breath hitched in your bruised throat. “I'll eat, I swear. I'll eat.”

“Mm-hm.” Hoyt eyed you and nodded. Something about the way he watched you made you feel overexposed, like your skin had been stripped raw from the bone and he was peering into every inch underneath. “Fine then. Whore's all yours, Tommy-boy.”

At those words, your world shifted with a violent blur of motion. Before you could even gasp there were huge, strong hands under your armpits, and you were lifted out of your seat like a child who weighed less than nothing. You'd be thanking yourself later that you at least polished off most of your plate, because aside from an accidental thump of your foot hitting the table on the way by, you wouldn't be touching the rest of your breakfast again. Thomas slung you over his shoulder and cradled your lower half in the crook of an enormous arm, and with a shriek you felt yourself being carried off by the giant and taken away into another world.

The basement.

It had been a month and a half since you'd been taken in, now. Life had gone on despite you vanishing from the world you knew, and regardless of whether or not you woke up each morning and wondered why you were still kept alive, the earth continued to turn. Time went on and you adjusted, albeit shakily, to the routine of a life in the backcountry of rural Texas. You learned to help on the farm and Luda Mae, or momma as you were taught to call her, passed on her generations-old knowledge of cookery and cleaning and caring for the household. Sometimes you'd get driven out with momma and one of the uncles to tend the store, but that was on the rare side since they didn't trust the locals not to mess with you. Pretty things like you didn't come by often and you had values to uphold, now.

Plus, you had a man at home. Tommy was the reason you survived that awful first night, but now it was expected that he was also the reason you kept on living.

The rest of the family kept out of your business together for the most part, but you'd long been perplexed by the dynamic that had ensued since you'd first arrived. For as hulking and strong of a beast he was, you came to find out that Tommy's appearance was a shell that sheltered a soft-natured, sensitive boy at heart. His penchant for murder was not so, rather it was a duty carried out regardless of will in the service of a family he was lucky to have, despite you certainly thinking otherwise. He liked to work, and eat, and make things. His rage could certainly be a problem, but it was a rare thing that only cropped up once in a great while. He would endure more than ten times a normal person before he finally snapped, and even then he wouldn't ever let you see it. The few times he got mad, he would stomp out to the barn or head to the now-abandoned slaughterhouse, and take out his aggression on the thing he knew best. Meat. And most of the time it was a beating from Hoyt or a few too many bouts of yelling before he felt the need to get away.

After all, it wasn't anger that led his interactions with you. It was odd; he'd pointed you out specifically as the one he wanted to keep, but he seldom showed any entitlement in taking whatever it was he wanted from you. He'd lean in for kisses but most of the time he missed anyways. You weren't exactly sure what you could call your one occasion of intimacy with him that you recalled, because he didn't ask if you wanted it, but you didn't really tell him outright that you didn't. Would it have even mattered? Maybe not. But he barely managed to find the hole he was looking for anyways, and by the time he did it was obvious he had no clue what he was doing. Fumbling hands and a bit of awkward thigh-humping later and he'd finally left you be, albeit soaked and sticky with sweat and the residue he'd clumsily left behind on your bare stomach. Since then, it'd been just a few fingers on your thighs and some tame through-the-mask kisses, nothing more.

Not that you should really be questioning the love of a serial chainsaw butcher, but as the days passed it grew harder to see him in that light alone. You witnessed too much of the deformed, mentally-disturbed man who refused to eat before you did, who wouldn't lay a hand on you like he'd had laid on him all his life. Thomas showed affection in odd ways but they were more endearing than you thought they would be, from picking you flowers off the side of the road to cleaning up the small room you shared so you'd feel more at home. Sometimes his arousal would grow against your back while you laid in his arms, but a bit of shuddered hip-rocking through your pajamas while he thought you were asleep and the moment would pass. He was pretty easy to please.

There came a time when new visitors drove through town, however, and you knew what was going to happen as soon as Hoyt came home and called for Tommy to come upstairs. You stood at the sink washing dishes while you peered through the window; out in front of the same cornfield you'd crawled out of nearly two months ago, a van sat parked next to Hoyt's stolen Dodge. You watched with your breath held tight in your throat as five people hopped out the sliding door one by one, all seemingly chipper for where they were. Three girls, two guys. Their sunbleached hair and fancy beach clothes said all you needed to know about what type of people they were. One of the girls had a pendant hanging round her neck that caught the light just right, and you found yourself staring at it as it jostled against her sweat-soaked collarbone.

Chnk, thuuunk. At the sound of the basement door sliding open you turned your head, and there stood Tommy in the kitchen. Quiet as ever he came walking up and placed his thick hand on your head. The look in his burning eyes said it all. “Everything's okay. Don't fret.” He touched your hair a moment until Hoyt's voice rang out again, and with a silent huff he stepped away and made his way out to the lawn.

The light in each and every one of their eyes left the moment they spotted him approaching. One of the girls even grabbed her friend’s arm, stepping behind him halfway out of fear of the hulking giant that couldn't sleep without cuddling you at night. A dish slipped from your hand into the sink and splashed you, but as you pulled a rag from your apron pocket to dry the counter a bang and a high-pitched scream cut through the peaceful din of your quiet afternoon. You hopped up to see what was happening, but struggled to piece together the aftermath of the last five seconds.

On the ground lay one of the girls with a cavernous opening in the back of her head, collapsed in a steadily-growing pool of her own blood. Her lifeless eyes stared through you from across the lawn, they pierced into your very soul as she choked listlessly on her own blood, and you dropped to your knees behind the counter. Hands clamped over your mouth, you heaved each breath and hoped not to puke all over the freshly-mopped floor. Momma would have a fit if you ruined your own hard work.

Blind to whatever senselessness resided in their screams, you held back the churning of your stomach on your own bruised knees while the two of them took care of the rest. Within a few minutes you'd managed to pull yourself back up on shaky feet and finish washing the dishes. Within the hour, Tommy and Uncle Hoyt had gathered up the remaining survivors and taken them in. Two in the barn, one in the guest bedroom…and one locked up in the basement.

“Momma?” You called out softly into the hallway, wiping your fingers on your apron. Your chores for the day were finished, and the sun was starting to set on the horizon. Now would usually be the time you headed out to the chicken coop to lock it up, but with new visitors around, you didn't know the protocol. The last time this happened was…well, you didn't like to think about it.

“Down here, darlin’.” Luda Mae popped her head out from the living room, and you hurried down the hall with your skirt fluttering around your legs. All your dresses were pretty modest and most of them were out of a trunk stored up in the attic, since momma had a whole collection of clothes she'd worn in her younger days that she figured would suit a young lady just fine. When you stepped in, you weren't expecting to see what you saw lying on the couch near uncle Monty's favourite spot.

It was one of the guys from the hippie van. His long hair had been soaked with blood and he was gagged, his face sporting bruises from an undoubtedly rough encounter with uncle Hoyt, who stood on the opposite side of the living room glaring at him.

“Fucker tried to escape.” He sniffed, nursing a bloody nose with a hanky as he spoke with momma. “Other one's putzin’ around somewhere. You two keep an eye out, you hear me?” He pointed in your direction and you nodded out of instinct. Your eyes flicked towards the bound man on the couch as he made muffled noises of panic, but he was soon silenced by Hoyt whacking him over the head with the butt of his shotgun before he left to continue the search. Meanwhile, uncle Monty sat in his wheelchair unbothered, listening to the radio as it played on the windowsill and reading without a care in the world.

“Momma-” You tried again, but she turned to you with gentle eyes and gripped your shoulders lightly.

“Go clean up the kitchen for me, sweetheart?” She asked in earnest, and the plea you had to beg her not to make you take part died on your lips.

“Yes, momma.”

“That's my good girl.” Your hands fell at your sides, while she petted your hair lovingly and turned you away from the scene, patting you on the back as she ushered you back towards the kitchen. Blowing your hair out of your eyes, you resigned yourself to at least being a bystander to the horrors that were about to come, and made your way down the hall with your arms crossed over your chest in contemplation. Was there nothing you could do? No way to get out of playing a part, or at least ensuring they wouldn't ask? You had no doubts that you didn't have the stomach to do anything to the visitors, but then again, momma didn't have to do much either. Maybe you'd be saved by the tradition that dictated the six generations-deep household, and be regulated to the homely chores you'd tended to since first becoming a part of the family.

As you pushed through the door that led into the kitchen, the sounds of pots and pans clattering already grabbed your attention. It would be too late to do anything, however–because before you could even take a breath, someone's chest hit your back and there was a knife pinned to your throat.

“Don't you fucking move!” An unfamiliar voice whispered harshly in your ear. Your fingers scrabbled for purchase on the hand he had at your neck, but he jolted and the blade sunk deeper into your skin, causing you to cry out–and immediately be hushed by the stranger now holding you hostage. The bruising grip he had on your wrist now moved to clamp over your mouth, his body moving with you as you struggled in a momentary panic. Despite his warning, you brought your elbow backwards and loosened his grip on the knife as he choked in pain, throwing his arms off you as you stumbled forward and tripped over one of the dining chairs. Your skirt ripped as he tried to grab ahold of you again, but in his scramble to pick his weapon back up you kicked it away; and that was when fear truly started to pulse through your limbs like a heartbeat, when he glared daggers into you with a murderous rage, and you cried out the one name through tears that came to mind.

“Tommy!” You sobbed, crawling away and trying to use the table to hoist yourself up, only to be kicked down again with a harsh shoe planted in the middle of your spine. Coughs ripped through your lungs as they seized in desperation, the wind having been knocked clean from your chest, and the sticky wetness of blood started pooling under your chin from hitting the floor face-first. Your nose wept with scarlet-red blood into your trembling palm, but that realization couldn't come close to the terror you felt at being grabbed by your hair and painfully lifted up off the ground.

“You fucking bitch!” He screamed, voice hoarse and frighteningly loud so close to your face. “I'll kill you–I'll kill all you psycho motherfuckers!” He brought the knife so close to your heart you felt it cutting through the air–but before he could bring it anywhere near your skin, a muffled thump from close by yanked him right to attention. He turned his head frantically towards the source, and you took the opportunity afforded to you. You brought your foot up hard into his groin, and released his grip on you for the second time for you to drop to the floor in a heap. Your dress smeared the blood you'd left on the pristine, freshly-mopped floorboards as you shuffled away from him, fearing the worst of retaliation from the panicked, indignant captive.

That is, until the thumping grew so loud you heard it clearly coming up the stairs, and without so much as a hint of ceremony your savior burst through the kitchen door; his eyes wild, his fists clenched with indomitable rage. His gaze swept over the scene to you, so small compared to him, huddled in the corner between the cabinets with a blood and tear-stained face. What could only be described as a growl erupted from his broad chest, and he grabbed the legs of your hunched-over assailant and dragged him closer between his feet.

“No!” He cried, but it was far past too late. Tommy grabbed him by the back of his head, yanked him upwards to the height of his shins, and slammed the guy's head so hard into the floor that you could hear the sickening crack of his skull. Dazed but still semi-conscious, he fumbled for the knife he dropped or for anything that could save him, but it wouldn't be enough even so. With his nose ten times as smashed up as he'd done to you and his eye sockets bruised, Tommy's grip trembled on his head like he was considering whether or not to end him right here, right now. Evidently he figured that would be too easy, and before your very eyes he hauled the man up and carried him screaming down into the basement, where you heard the thwacks of him being cuffed down to the workbench before footsteps came echoing back upstairs. He found you in the same spot, still shaking like a leaf, and pushed the table aside to waste as little time as possible getting to you.

“Tommy..” You winced, touching your own face for your fingers to come back bloody. He knelt down like a mountain sinking into the sea and felt around your neck, his concerns for the shallow slash you'd gotten in the struggle that you hadn't even noticed was bleeding. He grunted in reply; one hand slid up to cradle the back of your head, while two meaty fingers lightly pinched the sore bridge of your nose. Knowing what he was about to do wouldn't make it hurt any less, but you still gave him the go-ahead to do it anyways–he forced the bone back with a gut-churning twist, and you squealed out in pain, but it was momentary and the ache that followed was a dull one, thank god.

But still, you sat with a face full of blood and bruises and cried, half out of pain and half out of pure misery. This wasn't the life you wanted to lead, and you hated that you had no choice in the matter. You wanted to go but you knew it would mean the end, and you hated that whenever you thought of all the things you despised about this life, your mind would always wander to Tommy and you'd feel guilt over hurting him or leaving him behind. You hated it all, but somehow you couldn't really hate him, and it left you trapped in this cycle that you loathed to think would never, ever end.

While the tears continued to streak down your face, Tommy took to patting your cheeks gently. He held them and squeezed them carefully, so tender and cautious when it was you that was the meat between his destructive hands. He moved in close, his breathing hot and stifled beneath the mask he never took off in front of you. His head tilted, tongue wetting his lips in anticipation, and he-

“Boy!” Uncle Hoyt roared as he burst through the kitchen door, alerting you both and tearing Tommy's reverent gaze away from you. He stood fast and took you with him, your elbows cupped in his rough hands as he hauled you singlehandedly to your feet. “You find that fucker yet?!” He swung his shotgun around and you flinched at the way he aimed it so carelessly. The ‘boy’ in question tucked you under his arm out of habit and shielded you almost entirely with the sheer enormity of his titan-esque frame. Wordlessly, he gestured towards the direction of the basement door with your trembling self still pinned tightly to his chest. The pseudo-sherriff narrowed his eyes at the both of you, namely the blood caking your otherwise pretty face, and scoffed. “Hose her down, Jesus almighty..” He muttered that last blasphemy under his breath as he moved past out the back door, leaving the two of you wide-eyed and uncertain; his arm squeezing you tight against him, and your calloused fingers digging into his dirty sleeve as the crickets chirped outside the screen door.

“You..” You swallowed dryly. The words came to you when no others did the same justice. “You're a good boy, Tommy. You did a good job.”

Your praise hit his ears just right, as it always did. Tommy nuzzled his face into yours just so gently, barely grazing your skin with the damp leather as he tended to your wounds. With your broken nose already re-set, he rummaged through the drawers around you without taking his hand off your arm, sparing little time before his hand clasped around a roll of familiar gauze and he nudged the drawer closed. Though it was shallow enough to have stopped bleeding already, he wrapped some around your neck for the cut that would surely leave a scar, and used a clean rag to mop up your face with a bit of water from the tap. As he moved down your body to your waist, clearly concerned by the generous bloodstain marring your pretty, cotton dress, something caught his eye that froze him in place and sent a throbbing anger right into his dense fists. Worried, you set your hand on his shoulder, but it would do no good at comforting him after what he saw.

Your skirt. Torn like it had been yanked apart, desperately, and it had. Was he worried you'd be upset over the damage? You wondered for a passing moment, but as his fists shook with rage and your dresses’ hem balled within them you knew it to be a different reason entirely. He thought–

Oh. So that's what he thought. You sought to comfort his fears but he'd had enough. Your delicate hands tugging at his mammoth arms made barely a dent in his intense march towards the basement, your begging too saccharine to even reach his ears. He walked with purpose into the hallway, wrenched open the sliding door with a force that bent it slightly, and with a palm outstretched to ward you off from following, he slammed it shut with an enormous bang that rattled the whole house. Standing there in shock and horror, you listened to his footsteps pounding the stairs before turning away and heading back towards the kitchen.

You had quite the mess to clean up in there, and there was nothing better to distract yourself from the howling screams of agony that would persist until dinnertime.

Maybe this was exactly how awkward it was when you'd been sat in that familiar chair. You remembered little of your first meal, the very first breakfast of many you would share with the family that had adopted you in to their home.

This was a lot less…friendly, though. Out of the five people who had arrived, two of them were dead. The one that had attacked you in the kitchen had grown silent in the basement. The other two–the hippy with the long hair and a redheaded girl–had their wrists bound to two chairs diagonal from each other. The guy sat at the very end where you'd once been, and the girl to his right with tears streaming down her cheeks, sobbing softly as you filled everyone's bowls. Luckily for you, Monday was chicken soup night, so you had no worries over what kind of meat Hoyt would want to prepare for the special occasion. You'd been the only one to stir the pot, and the only one who made it at all for every Monday that rolled around. It had quickly become Tommy’s favourite, hence why he was only a few minutes late to arrive outside the dining room for dinner. Though you could tell that he'd barely cleaned up, his apron and his pants still soaked liberally with clotted blood.

“Hands?” You questioned, your ladle poised over the pot of hot soup, and waited until the hulking giant tentatively stepped in the doorway to hold out his massive hands for inspection. When it was your turn to cook, you learned that you held the authority over the table for that evening. So you rarely followed the lead of uncle Hoyt or the others, and wouldn't wait until after grace to invite Tommy into the room. You checked over his knuckles–bruised, but scrubbed clean–and only then did you nod towards the seat you saved for him and waited until he settled uncertainly into the chair to pour him a bowl and set it down in front of him.

If not for the whimpering captives at the table, it would be a better-than-average night. You'd improved on your recipe with a bit of creative seasoning, and the night had cooled off considerably to offer a bit of respite from the oppressive heat. You led grace, and smoothing out your fresh dress to fan out under your thighs as you sat, the table commenced with clinking spoons and bread being buttered that you thanked the stars hadn't gotten stale yet. Though of course, the unexpected visitors weren't so keen on your homemade cooking and didn't so much as look down at their bowls.

Tommy was too distracted to be frustrated by it, though. With his head dipped down to the table like a mutt, he slurped up his soup through the mask and chewed noisily on bits of chicken and corn. You'd saved the biggest roll for him and he tore into it like it was nothing, ripping chunks of bread off with his teeth and enthusiastically gulping down broth to wash it down. You hadn't even had time to butter his bread for him first like you usually did, but it pleased you to see him enjoying your cooking even more than usual.

“Please,” A wobbly voice pricked at the tense silence. The redheaded girl pulled at her restraints again, shaking the table in the process. “We didn't do anything…please, please, let us go!” She sobbed, wailing even louder as she thrashed against the stiff arms of the old chair.

“C'mon, man! We won't tell anyone, swear!” The hippie chimed in, only for Hoyt to slam his fist down on the table to silence the whining of his two captives.

“Shut the hell up!” He snarled, whipping out a revolver from his holster to point at each one of them. “Had enough of your shit today. Shut your mouths.” He motioned towards his still-bloodied nose, and endured yet another scolding from momma for cussing at the table as he tucked the gun back into its place. You peered over at the two of them, but regret came immediately when the hippie's green eyes locked on yours like he saw a glimmer of hope within them. You forced your gaze back down to your bowl. You couldn't be their saviour, no matter how much they wanted you to be.

“Lovely soup, sweetheart.” Momma smiled over at you, while uncle Monty nodded quietly in agreement.

“Mm-hm. Momma taught you all her secrets, eh?” Hoyt added with a slurp off his spoon, the irritation from earlier having vanished. You thanked them politely, keeping your pride to yourself at the coveted praise directed your way. In a household where anything could go wrong at any time, you had to hold the good things as tight to your chest as you possibly could.

From beside you, Tommy lifted his head from an empty bowl and sighed softly with satisfaction. The remnants of spilled soup dribbled down his mask and his grimy neck, so with your own cloth napkin you reached over and did the job that was normally momma's; you wiped his face clean with a gentle hand, and he sat still for one of the only people he didn't flinch away from when you touched him.

“Good, Tommy?” He wasn't used to being asked his opinion, much less on something as scarce as food, when you didn't have much choice on what you ate. He nodded slowly, looking at you like you held the world as you finished wiping up the mess he'd left on the table.

Just then, one of the captives–maybe both of them–kicked their legs out in frustration, and shifted the table with a jolt that sent hot soup splashing out of the pot. The redhead's bowl tipped over and dumped her untouched meal all over her lap, but the porcelain shattering as it hit the floor wasn't what had Tommy rising out of his seat.

Wasteful. That's what they were. Insulting your cooking. You saw it in Tommy's eyes as anger overwhelmed him again, and for the second time tonight your reassurances weren't enough to halt him in his tracks. His chair legs scraped the floor loudly as he got up and maneuvered around the table, the tense quiet peppered by the screams of the girl as he grabbed the back of her head and slammed it down into the slick tabletop. Not nearly as hard as he'd done to the other guy, but enough so that he brought her back up with a nose gushing blood and a harsher sob on her lips.

“You teach her a lesson, Tommy!” Hoyt eagerly encouraged the violence, but you reached your hand out over the table and pressed your palm flat against her forehead. At the resistance you gave her, Tommy's grip grew slack and a look of panic came over him at the distress etched clear on your face. He looked conflicted, peering over at Hoyt and then back at you. Was he being bad, or being good? Was what he was doing right, or was it wrong? Hoyt started shouting and cussing at you for stopping him, but Tommy skirted back around the table to your side and put himself between you and his furious uncle. A swat to the back of the head wasn't totally uncommon for you, even if it didn't happen often, but the punishments Tommy received were always far worse. The belt or a two-by-four were considered light work in Hoyt's sadistic mind, but after what you'd been through today you were certain Tommy wouldn't be keen on letting you endure any more pain. He would take punishments and beatings for you whenever he had the chance–sometimes Hoyt had even asked him what he preferred, and not once had he put you up for the chopping block if he could take it for you.

“Enough of this shit!” Hoyt finally roared. He jabbed his thumb in the direction of the basement and shoved both you and Tommy towards it. “Take these sons a’ bitches downstairs, and don't come up until they're meat!”

Both of the captives shrieked and flailed in their chairs at his demand, but you managed to undo their binds despite the struggling and let Tommy haul each one up in his arms; one over his shoulder, and one tucked up under his armpit. Your heartbeat thudded in your throat as you followed Tommy's lead towards the stairs, and when it came time to shut the door, you had to swallow your fear with a gulp as the metal scraped on metal and a heavy thunk pitched you into darkness.

The only times you'd watched Tommy work before was when he'd taken you to the slaughterhouse. It was an aging, now-abandoned building that had seen generations of hard workers come and go, and despite it no longer being in business he still came by to do some work when he wasn't needed for chores at the house. You weren't sure why he didn't usually take you along or why he decided to on those few occasions, but regardless of the stench, the blood, and the intensity of chopping and cleaning meat, it was easy to tell that Tommy was good at it. Real good.

It was a little different today. About a week had passed since the visitors came through town, and by now all five of them were taken care of. You'd barely eaten since you couldn't stomach the fresh meat, and with you excusing yourself to throw up that first dinner after you'd had guests, the rest of the family had been looking down on you. Momma was sad for you, and Monty was mostly indifferent when he wasn't straight up disappointed in you. But Hoyt was vindictive and angry. He thought you were turning your back on the family, judging them, acting “all high and mighty” and worst of all, risking your family's safety. You'd gotten caught leaving the locks loose on the two survivors' shackles, and they'd nearly escaped out the basement before Hoyt caught both of them in the cornfield and finally shot them dead.

You swore it was an accident. Hoyt thought otherwise. He would've killed you right then and there if Tommy hadn't stepped in for you, and even then the air had been strained in the house ever since, as uncle Hoyt demanded you be properly punished for your sins.

That's why you'd been dragged along with Tommy to accompany him to the slaughterhouse. By the end of the day, Hoyt wanted a proper apology–one in the form of a bloody limb, an organ, or maybe just your head on a platter as recompense for betraying your family. And worst of all, he wanted Tommy to be the one to do it, to decide what would be a fitting price for you to pay. To ‘grow some balls and be a man’, as Hoyt put it so delicately.

But since morning, he'd just been chopping meat. Tommy hadn't even looked at you the whole time you'd been here, not even on the walk down the side of the road to get here in the first place. He'd picked you up under your arms and sat you up on the table behind him, and then he'd turned his back to you as he brought down his cleaver on the piles and piles of dripping meat. Sometimes he would turn around and hand you chunks to wrap up in butcher's paper, but for the most part he indicated nothing towards the task he had primarily been sent here to do. Somehow it just made it all worse; you felt on the edge of snapping from the anxious terror that tightened up all your muscles, wondering what on earth Tommy would do to you before the day was done. Was he just procrastinating? Because if he arrived back home with nothing to show for it, it wouldn't save you in the end–it would just make it worse for both of you when he got punished too.

“Tommy.” You gnawed on your bottom lip. He brought the blade down on the chopping block with a thunk. With the bone separated, a squelch hit your ears as he slid the sections apart and dragged over another hunk to slice through. “I'm sorry.”

Thunk. Not even a passing glance over his shoulder. And it was hard to tell if he was mad when he wouldn't even look at you.

“I didn't want to get you in trouble…”

Thunk.

“I was just scared.”

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

“Tommy-”

The slow escalation of his measured cuts finally culminated into an uproarious clatter, his cleaver smacking down on the soaked table before he turned himself to face you. Blood marred the clothes you'd taken off the laundry line for him that morning, apron slick and sticky with viscera as it almost always was. Sweat poured down his arms and his hairy chest and beaded at his dense forehead. Every inch of him was dirty, and yet you didn't cringe away from it when he closed the distance between you and came up harrowingly close. The stench of blood and meat wafted off of him from barely an inch away. His hips edged in between your knees as you sat on the lip of the counter, keeping personal space far from his mind when he grabbed your arms and dwarfed them under his massive fingers. Each breath heaved beneath his mask like swallowing a bubble, ready to pop.

This time, Hoyt was nowhere around to interrupt him. Momma wasn't there to scold him. Nobody would hear for miles what he would do to you, and you had no idea what he'd had brewing in his mind since he'd choked you out in the cornfield that first meeting. That intense stare of his was like a bear honing in on a rabbit, and if you had the thought to run, it was already too late.

Thick fingers clamped down around your neck, dug into the scar that had formed from the asshole that had sliced you, and you felt your heart stutter as Tommy pulled you along the length of the table and slammed you down into it by the throat. This way you were laid out like a cow would to be butchered, plenty of room for him to work as he held you down and reached over to pull a leather strap over your midsection. He affixed the buckle tight to the opposite side and tightened it more when you squirmed against the pressure, but not quite enough to be as painful as the ropes that dug into your wrists at your first family meal. With that in place he didn't need to hold you down to keep you pinned against the table, and although you whimpered in fear and fought against the bindings he paid your resistance little mind, instead looking through his tools on the cutting table to find a decently-sized paring knife–drenched liberally in blood–for him to hook under the neckline of your dress and make a cut down the middle. Once he hit the tough leather over your stomach, the tool skittered across the table as he abandoned it in favour of ripping your skirt apart with his bare hands, the thin layer of cotton offering no resistance to his brute strength.

Why did it make you so wet? You couldn't shake the feeling of arousal from how animalistic he was behaving, nor the sheer, overwhelming musk of man and sweat and blood. Tommy was never rough with you but he was certainly making up for it now; you flinched at the firmness of his fingers digging into your skin, leaving trails of thin blood and dirt behind as he tore your cotton bra into loose pieces. His hands trembled at the sight of you exposed like this, too much skin to handle, and such soft flesh that filled out his palms when he cupped your breasts in each eager hand. A hitch of breath was enough to show him that you liked it, whether it was the attention itself or exclusively because it was him touching you. It didn't matter.

Tommy massaged each one with such eager reverence, his handwork clumsy compared to the ease with which he handled so many other forms of meat. He wasn't keen on ripping these off your body and eating them; although he did want to test how they would feel in his mouth, especially those plum, soft nubs of yours that perked when he brushed his thumbs over them. By now you weren't completely certain he wasn't going to butcher you, but you had a pretty good idea that this was his plan B–take out that inner aggression on you that would not make his god-fearing family proud.

A deep, weighty groan slipped out of him at the taste of sweat on your skin. Every bruise he left with his teeth would have to be covered up and powdered, but god, god it was so easy for him to undo every vestige of purity you'd put on for show. Your back arched and your worn shoes squeaked against the steel table as you wiggled, the globes of fat he held in his palms jiggling with a mesmerizing glow every time you moved. As much as you wanted to wrench yourself free in some moments, in most others you couldn't bear the breaks he took to catch his breath, leaving your chest prickling with goosebumps as a draft hit your spit-sticky skin. He squeezed and kneaded to his heart's content and took a twisted glee out of making you squirm, especially when you made those gurgly noises that were so traitorous to the pristine image you painted for momma. She'd made it clear that you weren't to go off messing with boys when they came strolling up to the store's counter, or return any of their flirtations no matter how many times they called you pretty.

Obviously she didn't think her son would be the one you had to keep from tempting, but that train had long left the station now. Thomas’ index finger tore through the thin fabric of your panties with a swipe, and there you laid bare and naked to his wandering eyes while he yanked the shreds of them down the rest of your legs. He probably didn't know what positions were which and how girls had their periods, but he knew enough to slide those thick fingers through your folds and to keep going when you moaned like a dying animal. “Tommy, Tommy, Tommy”, it was a mantra that hit his ears just right and urged him into clambering on top of the table with you with wild eyes. They drank in every inch of your sweltering body, the pulse of your heart through the hole he was jamming his fingers into, and on instinct he was guided to push down his waistband and throw off his apron as he knelt back on his haunches.

You might've thought he was nothing but hair if he wasn't so thick. Clearly he'd never shaved in his life with the erroneous bush he sported, curly hair matting down his thighs and his belly too once his shirt started riding up. But that fat, drooling knob of his swayed to hit his thigh, and you got an eyeful of pure, veiny, gut-smashing terror that you were sure would kill you if you didn't manage to relax. The further he leaned over your body, the more you felt like he was going to crush you as soon as he lined himself up with the hole he'd be stretching out like a little homemade cock sleeve. His hands slid under your knees to prop them up, but rather than sling them over his shoulders he bent them back and pinned them to your chest. An aching burn raced up your thighs but he paid no mind to your trembling; Tommy knelt over you and settled between your legs, and without warning, started sinking slowly into that hot opening he'd been dying to get deeper inside.

“H-Hold–wait, T-Tommy, hold oh-!”

Were you really so convinced he would play nice with you? Maybe you'd become complacent with the gentleness he showed you at his best, because when Tommy finally pressed in past the tip, he was gone. Forcing your knees back even further, he let out a groan and pushed himself up higher over you; all just to settle himself into your deepest pits and trap you in a violating mating press. After doing nothing but enjoying your heat, smushing his hips down against yours in a grinding motion, he soon seemed to realize he could move–and move he did, drawing back just to crush your hips with a deep, stomach-punching stroke.

“Unh,” What most resembled a moan fell from his scarred lips, and he fumbled around the back of his head to unclasp the leather from his face. This was the first and only time he'd ever felt safe enough to take it off since you'd met, and it was when he'd finally listened to his body and acted on his need to force every inch of him inside you. To be one. Now you finally were, and his synthetic face dropped on your chest before slowly sliding off to hit the floor.

If your jaw hadn't already gone slack from his violent thrusting, it would probably fall from the realization of what hid under that mask day after day. The sallow, sunken nose, the scars, the jagged skin and self-inflicted wounds…why wasn't it as scary as you thought? You figured, in the moment, you'd just gotten too used to him in personality, or maybe because you were just too distracted at the moment, but…

“Tommy-!” You squeaked out. The wet smack of his balls on your ass stuck in your ears, the strings of creamy slick linking you flesh-to-flesh as he went to town on your pussy. If he truly was losing his virginity to you, then all that pent-up frustration must be the source of him absolutely ruining any semblance of tightness you might've had. “A-Are you tryin’ to–you wanna gimme a baby? S'that it?” You slurred, slowly losing your good sense the longer he showed you your place.

Though you thought it would be to your horror, his slow nod only sparked something dark and tremulous within your loins. Something more than sweat and slick and the vile squelching of his seldom-washed dick rubbing up to your womb. It hit you then; this was your punishment. Every clap and sticky smack of flesh on flesh was a promise, an urge fulfilled to tear your meat from the bone and thrust a new purpose unto you. A homemaker. Tommy's little bride. A momma. Make his momma a grandmama like she was always praying for.

Shluck. Shluck. Shluck. Shluck. No doubt in your mind that was exactly what he was doing, and exactly why he brought you all the way out to the slaughterhouse to do it. The leather strap over your stomach kept you from wriggling away, but that would only be if you could somehow get him to pull out, and that for sure wasn't happening. He didn't bother with long strokes and leaving the tip in, your cunt was a home for him to bury himself in and he wasn't about to waste a second of this. His thick thighs trembled over yours, and he ground the swollen head of his cock deep against your cervix. So deep it was painful, but why would he care? He was doing a good thing. He was being a good boy, giving you what uncle Hoyt told him all women wanted, even if they didn't say it out loud.

Tommy's moans grew to a higher pitch once he affixed his hand like a necklace round your throat, swelling with the faster, faster, faster pace of his thrusts downward. He pressed his other meaty hand into your knees and shoved each one further apart, which made you whine but gave him easier access to pound you into greedy, delectable mush. Whereas it might've turned off weaker men, your nails digging deep, long scratches up his back made Tommy groan and tilt his head back in delirious pleasure. His knees kept you pinned at your sides and his weight–his stomach squishing into you from above–held you down where you belonged, where you'd be the most beautiful and of best use. Beneath him with a womb spilling over with cum, sown by his seed and his seed alone. His picturesque, pretty little wife. Hewitt property. He wouldn't stop, and you wouldn't beg him to even if you weren't being choked of any air you had left, and the world started to spin as the ecstasy took hold and Thomas was squeezing your moans out of you with trembling fervour. It felt as though your lower half exploded and left you with a warm, full, tingly sensation, marred by pearly-white globs of a load he'd had saved up since birth.

In contrast to the violent lovemaking he'd just shown you he was capable of, you were slowly brought back to life by small, soft little pecks. Kisses like the fuzz of a bumblebee brushing by your cheeks, pressing into your lips with a sweetness you weren't used to. This felt like Tommy again, like the gentle touch he used when nobody was around to laugh at him for being so sweet on you. He shuddered with bliss as his cock pulsed with your heartbeat and milked him of what little he had left, but with his chubby fingers rubbing at your jaw and brushing your sweaty locks aside he managed to drag himself off of you. Slowly, like molasses on a cold day, he brought himself back down off the table and let his feet hit the floor, having to brace himself against the table to keep from stumbling to the ground. Click-shuuunk. The leather belt snapped back into its holder as he released it, which left a sizeable indent across your abdomen that you'd have to hope would be covered enough not to show bruises. All you could do was watch as Tommy did up his pants on his way around the table, only to return to your side with the biggest, sharpest knife you swore you had ever seen. You flinched away and nearly cried out-

Shlip. With a strand pulled taut, Tommy made quick work of separating a lock of your hair from your head. Just a short one, so as not to make much difference–but he held it to his face and sniffed deeply, and it ashamed you to say that the gesture in itself just made your clit throb with need you thought you'd been completely overdosed on. Despite that, you laid still while Tommy reached over and retrieved his mask, tucking the tuft of hair inside it so he could smell it all the time. To calm him down, to cool him off, to just enjoy…all the things that you brought to him when no one else did, or could. From his pocket he produced something small and shiny, and dangled it over your face to show you before he set on fixing it around your neck. The pendant you'd seen that girl wearing a week ago now hung against your collar, the gleam of gold in it polished clean of the blood spilled to take it.

You barely let out a moan as he set on rearranging your limbs, turning you over, letting his cum spill down your thighs and all over the table like the blood from a fresh cut of beef. His calloused digits traced down your spine and up again til he found a sweet spot, and padded down your springy flesh that separated bone from his fingers. The carving knife had tinged when he'd sharpened it but he didn't show it to you–that would be too much for you, given what he was about to commit to.

Every arc, long and curved or short and straight, burned. The tip of the blade dug into your flesh like a red-hot needle, but Tommy's warm palm on the back of your neck kept you from moving out of his reach. He needed to start and to finish and his hand was already unsteady, mostly from the way his breath still hitched and his cock stirred all over again at the sight of your writhing body. Your blood turned him on. He hadn't touched any of the victims before you, not in that way, but you weren't really the same as them–no, you were special. If you weren't, Tommy wouldn't be carving those words into your back, and putting on display his ownership over the one and only thing he would ever see as more than meat.

If you didn't get pregnant this time, then this would surely be enough for the family to forgive. The letters scrawled in bloody ecstasy that would heal over, scar, wounds to be reopened over and over again.

Tommy's girl

forever

[b14augrana]

Scrubber

Your actions on the field are a product of your childhood idol

Barça Femení x teen!reader

pt. 2 masterlist

Warnings: reader suffers from the scrubber trait. 🥹

A/N: #yanited (not proofread as always x)

It was the last few minutes of the semi-final against Chelsea. If you kept the clean sheet at Stamford Bridge, you were sure to win it. If you didn’t… well, Fridolina tried explaining to you that you’d still win, but you weren’t willing to see for yourself.

“(Y/N), watch the wing!” yelled Mapi, who pointed to the flank. Lucy had overlapped and when the possession switched, you were left to take on Macario.

You glanced in the direction of the left wing, feeling slightly — no, very scared to go against Macario… on your own.

You could tell just by looking at her for a split second that Mapi was a bit worried for you too, and if she could deal with Macario she would, but unfortunately you were closer.

Nevertheless, you ran towards her side-on, trying to anticipate her next move. You knew what Mapi would say; hold her off until Lucy’s back in position, just delay her.

At the same time, you knew what Nemanja Vidić would do, and that is knock the living daylights out of her with a slide tackle. Guess what path you decided to take?

You sent yourself flying feet first towards the ball. As you slid across the grass, pushing the ball out of play. The last thing you saw before getting to your feet again was the distraught expression of Macario as she tumbled over your body, seemingly going headfirst towards the ground.

You could barely hear the groan she let out, because soon you were stood up and Mapi was at your side, patting you on the back for your tackle. Lucy ran to retrieve a ball and quickly toss it in to resume the play.

You hadn’t even registered your tackle until the side of your thigh started to hurt a little. A short glance beyond your shorts helped you discover that it was a bit red, but the tackle was worth any bruise that was sure to form in its place.

The game only started to pick up again when the red card was shown to Buchanan. Holding down the back line when the through balls and dribbles kept coming felt like a real Vidić-esque thing to do.

If it wasn’t already super obvious, Nemanja Vidić was your idol. You bled blaugrana in every shape and form, but that didn’t stop you from taking inspiration from the former Manchester United defender. If you hadn’t been a lifelong Barcelona fan, you would’ve trialed for the Manchester United academy and played for them just to say you played at your idol’s former club. You always had a pen and paper on hand in case you happened to come across him, and if that ever did happen you’d immediately get it tattooed (legal or not, you’d find a way).

The team found your love for Vidić very endearing. It was obvious that you admired his fearlessness because of how you tried to imitate it on the field by putting your body on the line, and Lucy loved that; she called you a ‘little brick wall’. Irene was a more solid defender than you, though. Your tactic was to just throw yourself at the ball whenever you were in doubt. She actually had tactics.

So, when Lauren James was at the edge of the box, winding her leg up to take a shot, you couldn’t find the time to think before flying in, cutting her out. You were smart enough to face the other way, and the ball deflected off your back instead of your face.

“¡Así es!” Ona yelled from the other side of the pitch, running into the box to defend further until Lucy cleared it down the wing.

The match ended with the scoreline being 2-0 to Barcelona. Everyone said your tackles were the defining factor that kept it that way, but you thought it was all thanks to Aitana, Frido and Cata. Regardless of who did what, you were happy your team were into the finals. You were happy you did something to keep them up on aggregate.

You ditched the celebrations a bit early to go sit down in the locker room and get your daily logins on Hay Day. The adrenaline wore off almost immediately after you sat on the bench, and your attention was brought to the minor grazes and bruises scattered along your legs. You felt one on your abdomen and somehow, you had a scratch on your shoulder.

You were glad. Vidić would never come out of a big match like that unscathed. You did your idol proud on the field, or so you hoped at least.

Most people often asked why you wanted to be a defender and subject yourself to the most physical parts of the game. Truth be told, you just really loved denying people of a goal. Lucy said you ‘played for the badge’ and despite not knowing what that meant, you hoped it was good.

You were also really bad at aiming and every time you cleared the ball or made a pass up field, you hoped and prayed it would at least go straight. You could never be a goal scorer like Caro or Aitana or Mariona.

“(Y/N),” a voice called out. You looked up from your phone to see Lucy. “Why aren’t you out celebrating?”

“I almost missed my Hay Day login. Have to do that before anything,” you replied. Lucy laughed, walking closer and sitting down on the bench beside you.

She put an arm around your shoulder, the way she always did. It felt older sister-y, and you liked that. “You really know how to tidy up back there,” she remarked. You smiled slightly, your cheeks burning up. Lucy was an insane defender so her praise meant the world to you. “Thanks, Luce.”

“They’re looking for you to give you the Player of the Match trophy, but you ran away too fast,” Lucy laughed, and your eyes bulged out of your skull.

“What about Aitana? She was the one that scored.”

“And you’re the one that kept out almost their entire team. You deserve this!” Lucy added, shaking you. You were a bit confused because you didn’t think your tackles were that vital, but you were proved wrong.

“Okay, okay. I’ll go out in a bit, after I put my slides on,” you responded. The woman smiled and gave you a tight side hug.

“Nemanja would be proud, scrubber. Good job today,” Lucy added while she stood up and began to walk away. Your face couldn’t help but form a smile of its own.

“But, don’t start slide tackling in every game. The last thing we need is for you to get hurt trying to wipe someone out with a Brexit,” she said sternly, suddenly turning around with a finger pointed at the plotting expression on your face. You raised your hands in defense.

[unholyhelbig]

I just want to say I'm already hooked on the beast you made me. I can't wait for the next chapter!

Center picture Cred: Jadiakallisti

Title: The Beast You've Made of Me [Part 2/7]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

Wordcount: 5151

Summary: When reader wakes up in her own grave, she's suddenly aware of a past that spans lifetimes, but she's not the only one. Two Avengers are tasked with keeping readers past a secret, or at the very least, controlled.

Warnings: Blood, fatal injuries, animal bones, mentions of death, containment, and horrible grammar because I don't proofread

[a/n: Thank you all for the overwelming support on the first chapter! I truly didn't expect that much reception. I'm going to be traveling for the next week so the next chapter might be delayed a bit]

[ Part one | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven ]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

1917, Rural Pennsylvania

A sweeping river cut through the patch of sweetgrass on the south side of the farm. It emitted a gurgling sound that often soothed your nerves. There was a rocky clearing sandwiched between the tree line and the plain of grass that had become a perfect spot for you to settle in and read the hard-covered books you’d gotten from the corner store.

Your father would bring back any book you requested from the city during his travels. You devoured them faster than he could provide them and had read ‘Eight Cousins’ ,Lousia May Alcott’s foray into the adventures thirteen-year-old Rose, enough to nearly tear the pages from the binding.

The book itself held the clean honeyed scent of the earth, of the secluded spot that you called your own. Your muscles would thrum from loading the bales of hay into your fathers ford. Your fingers were calloused, and dirt caked around your ankle in a dark ring. All of that vanished when you cracked open the book about a girl that was so much like yourself.

It was easy to lose yourself in the paragraphs, the hum of the river sometimes lulling you to sleep. Your mother would pack you a sandwich on warm, hand-kneaded bread, usually some salted meat and mayonnaise. She’d pack sweet tea and send you on your way, knowing that you wouldn’t return to the house until you saw a flicker of a firefly.

Today, you’d fallen asleep under the sun. The book was discarded, and your forearm draped across your eyes. It was easy to drift, and easier still to dream about leaving the small dairy farm for something bigger- the very city that your father would return from with new literature and arts, and spices that made your mouth buzz with flavor.

You were in a haze when the ear-piercing scream cut through the air as if it were a natural solid. Your ears pinched at the sound, heels digging into the coarse sandy shore. Maybe it was a dream. It could have been an animal that had sunk its pointed teeth into the artery of another.

So, you waited, panting with your heart in your chest and the corner of the book barely lapped by the muddied water. And there was this sound. It was no fox caught in a trap or bovine tangled up in the barbed wire fence around the property- no, this was familiar. This was your sister.

Helena was quiet, often described as demure and borderline submissive. Despite being younger than yourself she carried a certain poise about her. Mother would often boast about how she would have no trouble finding a husband, how the boys already fawned over the child of hers that was not feral and unkempt.

Her cry was the loudest you had ever heard her and it had you on your feet, scrambling up the bank. Once past your small world of wonder, you were greeted with an endless sea of sweetgrass that was waist high in some areas.

A warm breeze created waves against the landscape, the farmhouse a small speck among the expanse of land. Your head was spinning, it was hard to track exactly where it had come from. It took another cracking screech to set you North.

Your legs pumped until you were consumed in a blind speed. You’d been renowned for your quickness, for your dedication to get from point A to point B. The kids in your town often joked that you were steadier than a steed. Not only were you the fastest in the class, but the fastest in the county according to some. Still- only a child of fifteen, and no man would want to wed someone with speed. It wasn’t a practical skill.

There was a pit deep in your stomach whirled, instinct knowing precisely where Helena was yowling from.

Jorge had gotten there at the same time you did; his brow was leaking with sweat and he panted against the hot air that surrounded you both. Your older brother was tall and lanky, serpent-like with beady black eyes and pitch hair to match your father’s. His shirt hung low against his midsection, his skin pale despite his hours in the sun working the fields.

“Stay back, y/n.” He demanded sharply.

The old well was a mere foot in front of you both but neither made the effort to move forward. The aged wooden plank that covered the stone shaft had been splintered through the middle, worn from age and weather.

Helena’s soft cries echoed up. When your father had first acquired the property, the previous owners explained that it had been boarded up after of the bulls had fallen down and snapped it’s neck. It was too large to pull out and they left it to starve and then rot.

Your father never let any of his children peer down into the well. You wondered if something had pulled Helena here, or if she had simply forgotten of it’s existence. Jorge dropped down to his knees and did a cautious crawl as if his own two feet couldn’t’ hold him anymore.

You saw the exact moment his skin became waxier, almost a gray porcelain paleness that had a green tint. He was swallowing too much, his white shirt coated in the red clay dirt.

“What?” You asked, voice breaking “What is it?”

“Go get Mama.”

It would have been easy to listen to your brother. He was the man of the house when your father wasn’t there but with him pleading for your mother, for an adult, you got a rancid taste in your mouth.

Against your better judgement you edged close enough to the abandoned well. The sun was setting in a fire-filled orange haze with enough color and angle to get a good view of the bottom; a slosh of fallen grass and rainwater, and muck, and yes; the bones of a beast once left to decay and rot in its own silence.

Your sister was wedged within the ribcage of the befallen bull, almost as if she replaced the beating heart that stopped pulsing long ago. Her hands gripped at the sun-bleached bone, knuckles nearly the same color.

It took you a moment to make out the slick, and the red that stemmed from the center of her stomach. The head of the bull had shattered under her weight, all expect the stretching length of it’s curved horn. That was wedged through her abdomen, surrounded in a vibrant rose red that puddled and had already coated her hands.

Prints from her struggle were against the limestone edges of the well. Her eyes pleaded up at you; your kind and caring, and animal-loving sister was trapped inside the remains of one. You fought back the urge to vomit, the rash thought that if the bone ripping through her flesh didn’t kill her, then infection would.

“Y/n get mama!” Jorge hissed again, and this time you didn’t hesitate. You nearly tripped over your own boots with the fever it took to back away from the scene, the metallic scent of blood mixing deliciously with the turn of rotted soil.

You had never run so fast in your life.

Wanda Maximoff had never felt the cold that wormed its way to her bones before. It was the type of cold that almost wasn’t, a stinging, horrible feeling that had her startled from the folded metal chair. It collapsed within itself as the blinked the wine-dark color from her eyes.

She stumbled backward, only to be brought back to the starkness of the room by a soft grip on her elbow. Wanda allowed herself to be held, if not for stability but for comfort. Steve Rodgers had a welcoming hand on the small of her back, the other steadying her.

He was a solid force, and her reaction stirred him.

“Fuck,” the expletive fell from her lips, “Jesus Christ.”

There was quietness to the room in the aftershock of the fallen chair. It was nicer than a standard holding cell. The walls were cream colored, triple enforced to keep people like you inside. There was a bed bolted to the wall, a bunk that was almost like a summer camp endeavor.

A charged glass wall was blocking you from the rest of the world. It was seemingly unbreakable, and in this moment, so were you. Wanda didn’t want to test the glass, nor did she know how to make sense of the memories- your memories- that had flooded every inch of her body.

You were asleep, chest rising and falling at a normal pace, as if none of what Wanda had just seen was flitting around your mind. Soft snores pushed past your lips, one arm hanging over the side of the bed while the other followed the flow of your breathing as it rested on your chest.

Wanda didn’t understand the secrecy and the precaution that surrounded you. The Avengers compound was a constant ebb and flow of different heroes, Inhumans and mutants. What made you so different? What made you an 0-8-4?

It was a term that Natasha had used only once that was usually attached to objects, not a person. It was an object of unknown origin and in that case, it was a power-filled object from space. Space. She’d been through different dimensions, but that, for some reason, struck her as terrifying.

0-8-4’s were never brought here, but then again, they’d never been alive either. Steve had told her that your energy signal was off the charts, and that they wanted her to dig around your head. Something that she denied doing at first. It was an invasion of privacy.

But, there was a certain pleading within Captain America’s eyes that scared Wanda more than the personal rules she set for herself when it came to her power. What she had seen, what she had felt was barely scraping the surface of what your mind contained. She wasn’t keen on pushing past that barrier for the conclusion of that story. Was it even yours?

“What? Wanda, what is it?”

“I… I don’t” She shook her head, eyes hardening as she stared into Steve’s “Where did you find her?”

He hesitated to answer, his eyebrows furrowing before he looked away from the witches’ prying eyes. She’d been part of this team for years now and they were still reluctant with what they were willing to share. Wanda clenched her jaw, then unclenched it before her stare flashed back to your resting form.

There was a small frown that creased your features. You looked so… harmless. You had shifted, folded into yourself as if you were scratching the surface of what flashed before her. Your arm was folded under your head, knees flush to your chest. A small, beautiful whimper escaped you.

“She’s in distress, Steve.”

“Discomfort, more like. It’s better for all of us that she stays in there for right now. The last thing we want to do is harm anyone but if that requires some temporary-“

“Imprisonment?”

“Containment.” He said firmly, eyes hard. Wanda crossed her arms over her chest but stayed silent, letting him continue. She was sure she wouldn’t have been asked if not for her ability to worm her way into minds, to rearrange things. “What did you see?”

“A memory, one that can’t possibly be hers. The timeline doesn’t fit, this is a woman in her mid-twenties and who I saw was barely a teenager on a farmstead. To experience that much tragedy, that much fear and heartache.”

She started to pace, trying to not only work through her own thoughts, but yours as well. It could have been a story, and she was convinced of the fact save for the vividness. There was the feeling of grass tickling her arms and the sharp, undeniable stench of blood.

“Her younger sister died, fell through some rotted wood and fell to her death.” Wanda’s fingers pressed against the edge of her hairline. “She could have lived, but I have my doubts.”

He lifted a perfectly sculpted brow at her. His expression betrayed his compassion towards you, his stance uncomfortable with the topic. While the revelation was heartbreaking it hardly made you extraordinary. They’d all lost people, none had stirred Wanda as you did.

Wanda’s stare found his after darting to you once more, “Steve, I have the sinking feeling that what I saw was only scratching the surface. There are hundreds, maybe thousands, of memories that were pressing in on all sides.”

The sensation of being observed is what pulled you from your fitful sleep. Exhaustion had washed over you like a tidal wave, all at once and leaving your mouth dry like a spoonful of salt. There was a stiffness that rivaled that of the grave you’d crawled out of, and you hoped that it was all a dream.

You were in your bed, in your apartment, after having one too many drinks. It was a horrible stretching nightmare that had plunged you into one sea of darkness from another. But even you weren’t that naïve.

Just as you felt a stranger’s eyes on you now, you had felt the dirt under your nails, the cold sodium-filled takeout as you attempted to chew it. More than anything, you remembered the burning feeling of the Black Widow pressed fully against your back, bending you over Jenn’s kitchen counter.  

“I would prefer if you kept the feeling of my wife’s body against yours out of your mind.”

You shot up with a dizzying amount of quickness, heart suddenly in your chest. There was an imbalance to the bed that you were laying on. It was smaller than your own and unfamiliar. The room was stark white. It hurt your eyes and you had to blink the color away. You pressed the heels of your palms close to your eyes.

It felt as if you were locked in a glass shower with an audience and stage lights. The more you looked, the more you realized it was a room, something with no personal effects but a bed and a dimmer switch that you itched to utilize.

A pitcher of water was on an end table. It wasn’t color exactly, but it was more than the rest of your surroundings. Possibly with the worst manners you’d ever exhibited, you drank straight from the pitcher, not remembering the last time you had a drink. Suddenly, you were parched enough to soak your collar.

Despite your audience, you continued until you felt your stomach protest. You used the back of your hand to wipe away the moisture, black dirt was smeared across your skin. It was then, and only then, that you forced yourself to look past the walls of your prison, your enclosure.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” The woman said, walking close to the glass. You could see her clearly now, there was an heir of recognition about her, in the same way that there had been with the Black Widow.

“You were in my head.”

“For a while. It’s my job. But your thoughts are also deafening.”

“Sorry,”

This woman was intoxicating. Alluring and beautiful in her presence. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun, a pair of sweatpants and t-shirt hugging her form. You weren’t positive what time it was- what day it was- but it could be late into the night. She looked like she was roused from sleep, and a part of you felt guilty for the fact.

“Don’t apologize, sweetie.” Her voice was much more tender than it had been a few moments ago. “You can’t control being brought back from the dead. A lot of trauma comes with that.”

You stood shakily and walked closer to the glass. They’d taken your shoes and the tile under your feet was frigid. You crossed your arms over your chest and shivered into yourself. You didn’t want to think about the fact that they had undressed you, probably taken your clothes for testing. Instead they left you in a blue set of scrubs.

You averted your stare from your own reflection, not willing or ready to look too hard. You’d much rather look at this stranger, your heart not slowing, your head pounding. Nothing but a simple pane of glass separated you.

“And I was brought back from the dead, wasn’t I? That wasn’t a fucked-up dream where I got hit by a car and then poof God, if there is one, decided that me of all people was worth bringing back.”

She lilted her head, quirked an amusing brow at you. A chill flushed down your spine and seemed to fizzle out at your toes. This woman was gorgeous and terrifying and made you want to squirm. But if this was prison, you had to assert dominance. Right? That’s what Wentworth taught you.

This cell didn’t look or feel like Wentworth, and this Warden had an amused smile tacked to her lips like she had heard your every thought. And she had. At least you assumed that she did. She’d mentioned her wife earlier, and the woman’s body against your own was plaguing you like a runaway freight train.

When she didn’t say anything, you clawed to fill the silence “I want to talk to Bruce.”

“Bruce? Honey, he’s off world.”

“Off… world.” You laughed, softly at first but then almost manically, tears forming in your eyes that you wiped away with your cold fingers. “No, no, that’s really cool. I worked a 9-5 and now I can’t talk to Bruce because he’s in Outer Space.”

“Maybe not outer space, maybe another dimension.”

You leveled her with a humorless glare. She had both of her hands up as if she wanted to comfort you, or the caged animal you had become. You had to give her credit, she seemed just as horrified as you were. She offered up a dim, faltering smile.

There wasn’t a way for you to process this in a gentle manner, there was no one to guide you through it other than Jenn. She’d done this before, lived a whole life that was flipped upside-down and she’d come out on the other side. It was the uncertainty that scared the hell out of you.

“You were in my head earlier,” You stopped suddenly, pressing your fingers against the glass. The woman didn’t flinch. Your frantic breath fogged with each exhalation. “Do you know why I came back?”

She shook her head, “No. Do you remember what you were dreaming about?”

“No.” A weak chuckle, you let your hands drop. “At least we’re on the same page.”

The nurse they allowed to enter through the side of the containment unit took cautious steps towards you that made your chest ache. All your life, people had said how welcoming and kind you were; how they were never afraid to come to you with their worries. It had bothered you before the incident, before your death, but now you missed seeing the stare of those who didn’t harbor any fear.

She was small, a mouse of a thing that had pale blonde hair and startling blue eyes. Her name tag read Julia. Your mind rushed with the paths she’d taken to this place. She must be interning here, much too young to hold a classification herself.

Your finger twitched on your knee, palm sweaty. It’s heat radiated through the thin blue fabric of the pants they’d provided you with. You hated needles, always had. But, you struggled to stay still and the effect that had on poor nurse Julia was making you fidget more.

There was a scent about her. It was under the layers of hairspray, nail polish, and shea butter. It was a sweet metal that made your stomach swirl. Was it her sweat? You’d never smelt anything past walking by the bomb that was the boys locker room, and it certainly had never been this tantalizing before.

Your eyes met hers, crystal blue and uncertain. “You’ll just feel a little pinch”

This is when you pulled your gaze back and instead focused on the cream colored walls. There was no problem with needles, you’d dutifully sit for your flu shots, but something about the sharp edge pushing through a layer of skin and fat before hitting your vein made you nauseous.

“We just need enough to run a few tests.” Julia soothed.

She was a normal nurse in that one, small way. Your mind was itching, blood seeming to congeal. It refused to cooperate and her burning touch was all but dominant against your skin. You both waited for the small tube to fill with black liquid. 

Finally, you felt her press the gauze against the crook of your arm and withdraw the needle. Another small pinch and then a massive relief. Her smell hung around you and filled the room. There was an undeniable urge to sink your teeth into her. To taste her.

You’d stopped the elevator just hours before to assess your penchant for brain consumption, but this wasn’t that. This was an intoxicating pull. This was animalistic, the same rush of emotion that had flooded you without prompting during your earlier conversation.

Julia squeezed your shoulder calmly, not entirely over her own reservations, but on the penance that she was a nurse and this was her job. You kept yourself rooted to the bed, fingers digging into the wood. She left the room and you could hear the compressed lock reseal you inside, breathing a sigh of relief.

That sweet odor lingered, and your reaction to it scared you more than anything. The wood beneath your fingertips splintered, and suddenly that anger, that fear, rolled away to shock. That wasn’t… normal. None of this was normal, but you weren’t exactly picked first in sports either.

You were a middle kid, a I guess I wouldn’t mind having you on my team kid. Suddenly your fingers were cutting through wood like it was butter. You let out an indignant squeak and shifted the blanket until the slashes were covered.

“Is everything alright?”

Wanda, you had learned that her name was Wanda, occupied her usual spot in front of the window. A slick sweat covered your forehead. She was holding a small tray that had a steaming bowl of soup and a delicious hunk of French bread.

“I figured you were hungry,” She lifted her chin towards the panel next to your door. “May I?”

“I’m at your mercy.”

And you were, truly. You hadn’t seen anyone but her since you’d woken up. There were shadows of others, people that made the pit in the center of your stomach grow three sizes. You knew exactly what they were doing, you watched enough true crime with Jennifer to know.

Here was this beautiful and powerful woman offering you food and words of comfort, and you allowed yourself to fall for all of it. Listlessly. Because what did you have to lose? You’d already died, and the thought of putting your family through the heartache of resurrection and then possibly enough committal to the ground was too much.

So, let her Stockholm syndrome you. The food smelled divine.

Wanda didn’t hold the same fear that Julia had. In fact, once the compression of air signified that it was okay for her to enter, she did so without hesitation. She set the food down on the equally dull side table and lowered herself onto the corner of the bed, making herself at home.

She’d changed into a pair of jeans, a simple t-shirt that had the outline of SHIELD on its sleeve. You frowned, for a company that does everything in its power to keep itself hidden, they sure loved that stupid bird so much.

“Go on, sweetie. You can eat.”

Wanda had a command about her that made you fold and listen despite any reservations. You took up a spot on the far end of the bed and shoveled the first spoonful into your mouth. An explosion of heady flavors coated your tongue, coaxing a low moan from your lips.

Blush rushed to your cheeks at the spark in the set of stormy eyes that watched you like a hawk. You rushed to break the tension. “So, what’s the plan here? Run a bunch of tests and keep me locked up?”

“Somewhat.” She paused, carefully thinking of her next words. “Y/n, I have the ability to get inside the psyche. Not only can I read every thought, every action, but I can control them too. It’s not something I like to do, nor something I want to. Not without permission.”

You frowned again. You certainly hadn’t given her permission to enter your mind before, and she tensed at the realization. But, you took another bite of soup and swallowed down the spiced broth. What’s done was done. You didn’t expect her to ask, much less admit to her wrongdoing.

“I prefer to ask. Can you tell me what you do for work?”

“Paralegal, the bar seemed like too much stress. But I’m good at my job. I was good at my job before a car turned me into sidewalk art.”

“Right, and your family, what about them?”

There was no desire to think of them and their perfect lives that you’d shattered with your death. Your mother used to sit in the tepid air on the porch swing, downing a glass of wine before she turned to you with tears in her eyes. She’d urge you to be careful working in the city. She’d plead for you to come home. More than anything, she’d utter the phrase a mother should never outlive her daughter.

“My mother is a seventh grade biology teacher and my father runs a painting business that’s been operating my whole life. They’re not very exciting people. They must be worried sick about me.”

Wanda nodded, “Any siblings?”

“Not anymore.”

She stilled at your words and didn’t pry. You were well aware of the fact that she could push through your deflections and learn the information that she wanted to know. But, you respected that she didn’t. Instead, she stared at you, and you stared right back, suddenly not hungry.

Wanda was someone that you felt the need to open-up to. Unlike the brief encounter you had had with her wife. Not that you let that word stick with you, not in the same way that her touch did. Again, you had to push the thoughts to the back of your mind, even if Wanda wasn’t prying.

Instead, she placed a warm hand on your thigh, sending a wave of shivers through your body. You suppressed a whimper at the sudden contact.

“I had a brother named Pietro. He was fast, unnaturally so. Neither of us ever wanted to be heroes, we didn’t think about the future like that. So, when the Avengers, these so-called saviors of the world, recruited us, we knew about the dangers. But it still shocked me when he died. He was my brother. He wasn’t supposed to be fragile like that.”

You stared at her with an amount of tenderness in your eyes that she wasn’t used to from the others. They cared, sure, but in the way that a co-worker would care enough to purchase cut flowers and a ‘sorry for your loss’ card. You were different.

“They’re our protectors.” You swallowed hard, mouth dry “when something drastic happens, it doesn’t seem real.”

“It still doesn’t.”

There was a lapse of silence that pushed memories in your direction. The burning cold weather on the day your own brother had died. You remember the scream that died in your throat and the way you’d knelt in the cracked snow until you couldn’t’ feel your legs or your fingers. It took an EMT with a heated blanket and a horror story about hypothermia to pull you to your feet.

“Jonathan.” You whispered.

She let out a questioning hum, pulling her feet from the floor and making herself more comfortable on the less-than-comfortable bed. “Your brother?”

“My older brother. I followed him around like a lost puppy, but he never complained. He was a hockey player and a damn good one too. He’d use the lake behind our house in Jersey to practice and one winter the ice broke underneath him. He drowned, and I was too weak to save him.”

Wanda let out a shuddered breath. You couldn’t read her facial expression. It was a mix of confusion, or sadness, but not pity and that was something you appreciated. You’d had enough pity, just as your family had enough grief without you adding to it.

She opened her mouth to reply, but both of you were startled when three quick knocks shattered the silence. The Black Widow, Natasha Romanoff, stood on the other side. She showed no interest in breeching the containment unit. Instead, she leveled her wife with a dark stare and held up a folded piece of paper.

“Excuse me,” Wanda whispered, giving your leg a settling squeeze.

She left the plate and exited the holding cell. Her words were muffled, but those unripe green eyes that Natasha possessed kept flicking to you nervously. She too, didn’t’ show pity. It was interest and if you were being honest, you thought you saw the smallest spark of fear.

Wanda took the paper from her wife, squinted at something you couldn’t’ see. You felt like you were at a parent teacher conference, just out of bounds of hearing but you could see their body language; the way that Natasha itched to move closer to Wanda, the fingers that the taller woman pressed to her lips, thumb creasing the paper.

Finally, Wanda turned back towards the glass. Natasha met your stare without issue, hitting the intercom on the other side of the cell. It was her who spoke, her raspy voice falling from the speaker.

“In the spirit of transparency, we want to be honest with you about your blood results.”

You stood from the bed, moving to one side of the barrier. They were intimidating like that, standing shoulder to shoulder with a natural beauty. It made you want to shrink. If not for the paper in their hands you would have curled into yourself at the sight.

“Don’t tell me I’m dying.”

“No, honey.” Wanda shook her head, “Quite the opposite, you’re getting stronger.”

“I don’t understand.”

Natasha lifted an eyebrow and pressed the paper against the glass so you could read it. None of it made sense, it was lines of DNA that looked like musical notes. You shook your head, giving her a confused look.

Natasha scoffed, peeling the paper from the surface of glass. Wanda bit her thumbnail nervously. “According to these…You’re Asgardian, Kitten.”

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[sonoyoung]

Meadow ❀༉‧

non idol!crush!mingyu x gn!reader | fluff + friends to lovers | 1.0k | slow dancing - pow

a/n. i am back again after impulsively deleting my account for the 3rd time, i truly do believe this time i will stay, i just have to stop being a hater !! also the lets dance part is just me being obsessed with emma stone :)

When the feelings started rushing in, when you realized you were starting to grow feelings for your friend, Mingyu, you figured they would pass just as quickly as they came, that you would have to tell him because feelings could be concealed but now it was unclear. The feelings that you wanted to keep tucked away so badly were slowly dictating your behaviour around him, even he was noticing the change.

It was probably closer to the time you woke up than the time you went to sleep by now, you had been pumping your blood with alcohol of all sorts hoping maybe you could spend one night where the primary thought in your head wasn’t your friend, and perhaps it had worked out for the majority of the night but it wasn’t working it’s effects anymore.

Here you were once again alone with him, somehow through all your avoiding you found him and mentioned the field you had seen earlier on your way there, consequently you were now surrounded by tiny drops of yellow and white in a vast field of green and of course you were with him.

“We could just stay for the sunrise, this is really beautiful” he smiled looking out to the horizon where far at the end of all the daisies you could see the brightness peaking in, you nodded, it felt like a scenery that was begging you to erupt all your dumb emotions, this is where people confessed, in a nice scenery far away from any distractions.

A faint melody brought your attention back to him, he had been watching you stare at the view, towering above him as he sat on the grass, he knew something was on your mind and had been for a while but he also knew you didn’t want to talk about it so he just looked carefully when he knew you wouldn’t see it, trying to reassure himself that you were okay and you just needed some time for the words to freely flow out.

Mingyu didn’t mind waiting for that moment as long as he could be by your side in the process, he would be patient for you, it was the least he could do, he cared so much about you it sometimes hurt. He wasn’t sure if you knew this or if it was something to share with you. He never knew how much was too much with you, and he didn’t want to scare you off, if the way his heart melts at the sight of your smile was too much.

Listening to the quiet music from his phone surrounding the both of you as you soaked in the moment, you finally made up your mind it felt like all the signs were pointing to it, you wanted to make sure you had savoured your friendship even if your words ended it all today. You stood up brushing off every thought, just to enjoy this at least, smiling at him as you shake your shoulders playfully along to the beat of the song playing.

“Oh my God Mingyu, get up here! Let’s dance,” looking up at you from his spot in the grass, smiling so adoringly loving every minute of your little show before taking your hand stretched out for him to join you, “let’s dance”.

As if you had totally gotten rid off the encumbering thoughts that had been plaguing you, you danced to the music carefreely not even minding the distance between you, laughing at the absurdity of the situation, at the stupid moves you’d form trying to freestyle through it. As the tempo changes, slowing down you almost retrieve back to the green, but he takes your wrist gently pulling you closer, placing it on his shoulder, swaying to the jazzy tune. Now your eyes had met and there was no escaping this, his soft smile was enough to put you at ease, you let your arms rest on his shoulders, holding your hands together behind his neck.

You could see the yellow sun splash against the daisy meadow, the light hitting your back sun beams shining through the gaps in your hair, his eyes were glistening almost shining back the light on you, he was so beautiful in this filter, that was all you could think.

“I might be the luckiest man alive” his voice is quiet almost silent mumbling those words, you tilt your head amused by his remark, “this is a such beautiful view” he told you keeping his gaze fixed on yours, you let out a quiet “oh”, the feeling of your cheeks heating up from the sudden realization had your eyes bouncing around unable to maintain the contact, but it felt useless when you were standing so close. You hadn’t realized how close he was, how his hands held onto your waist like you were the most delicate thing in the world.

He studied your face as you stood there your chest heaving against his, trying to keep any absurd thoughts away, but the proximity made it so hard to focus, the music could have stopped but your focus was elsewhere. You wanted so badly for him to do something, say something anything to save you from yourself, you could only hold back for so long, as much as you wanted to escape from the situation you wanted to stay even more, just to see.

The soft gasp escaping your lips from the feeling of his hand against your neck sliding his fingers gently to your nape, letting them into your hair, you could barely hide the anticipation in your face as he leaned in closer, looking at your face, his gaze bouncing from your eyes to your lips for confirmation, a slight part in your lips and it was done. It felt like dancing once again, the way his lips pressed so gently yet passionately against yours. His hand on your waist massaging you softly along with his kisses, exchanging breaths as you pull away.

“Kiss me more?” you plead as you lean in closer so easily drawn to his lips again.

ty for reading feedback is much appreciated

[itsabouttimex2]

How Can We Use Y/N?

So I’ve been watching Delicious in Dungeon, and… thinking about Beastman!Y/N. Or, rather- how the party consumes them.

Maybe outright eating them is off-limits, because, you know, Y/N is still a person, and cannibalism tends to bring about some pretty nasty stuff. Marcille is hard on that stance. She’s opened up to a lot of different foods, sure, that’s true- but she’s not eating a person! The potential for diseases and sickness is too high, no matter how you prepare the food, after all.

But eating isn’t the only way for someone or something to be consumed! Time is consumed! Energy is consumed! Labor is consumed! Products are consumed!

So what can we make out of Y/N?

Maybe you’ve been fused with the soul of something like a Firefly Squid, shifting your flesh to bear a pleasing bioluminescence- and if sometimes a tentacle falls off or is chopped clean in combat? Well, Laios doesn’t really see the issue in skinning the rubbery tendril to make glow-in-the-dark hilt wraps and canteens… even if his friends think that it’s a little gross.

Or maybe you’re some form of Cervidae, bearing a soft, short pelt and a pair of antlers to boot, which means… you’ll end up shedding at the end of the year, and the team now has a fresh set to utilize! The keratin is good for carving, especially if you’re making arrowheads or figurines. If nothing creative comes to mind, they’re at least good for trading to orcs or kobolds.

But I’d like to think that you’re a cute little Valais Blacknose, who hasn’t quite learned to trim your own fur, so it’s up to the Touden Party to take up the shears and chop those woolen locks! Chilchuck is a little estranged from his family, admittedly, but he’s still a father of three, and has learned a bit about haircare in the process. Expect lots of reminders to “hold still, dammit!” and maybe a few “oh, shit”s along the way, but the Half-Foot will get you fixed up.

Once he’s trimmed you into a presentably adorable little lamb, it’s finally possible to walk around without tripping over your own fluff, and see without a collage of thick headbands pinned in place to hold back a storm of woolen locks… and the team is left with several pounds of fluffy wool.

And team Touden does not waste resources- especially if those supplies are coming from their precious little Y/N!

So the team scrambles to find a way to use all of the floof, each one taking a portion to use in some way, at least.

Laios knows that winding his cooking ware with spun wool will only make them harder to clean, especially if blood or fat soak into the threads, and he really doesn’t want to waste such a soft part of his dear Y/N by having to throw them out over something like a minor spill… which also rules out his sword’s grip, because, again, wool holds nasty fluids really well. Probably he’ll settle for something extremely practical that can be used many times over, like a pair of socks or gloves. It’s not impossible for the monster enthusiast to keep a handful of unprocessed fluff in his pocket, just so he has something to grab and squish during stressful or boring trips… or so he can “prove” to nearby parties/“friends” how soft you are. (Shuro and Kabru are on the receiving end of more than a few rants.)

Ever practical, Senshi probably makes cheesecloth from your threads, albeit over the course of several days spent knitting the yarn together. If he doesn’t have that sort of time, or maybe just not the motivation, he’ll bind himself up a washcloth or two- perfect for sopping up cooking spills, or scrubbing the inside of a pan. And, now that you can actually see without constantly peeling pounds of fluff from your eyes, expect to given more tasks during cooking. Anything to keep you close and safe. It’s also very probable that he’ll have you on a “Beastman-friendly” diet comprised heavily of leafy meals and chopped veggies. Maybe he’ll even scrounge up some hay, or cut and bind up some grass to have on hand for you as a snack. He won’t even consider this strange- to Senshi, it’s just the proper way to take care of someone that he obsesses over the safety of cares for.

Happy to have “monster” supplies that she doesn’t have to eat, Marcille binds a few of the finer threads into a set of little ribbon for her hair. I also imagine that she’d be primarily responsible for taking caring if your hair after the cut, so she’ll make a few extra in order to style yours like she styles hers. If there’s plenty extra when everyone else is done taking their share, the elf girl just might make herself a little plushy version of you to sleep with… and one of Falin, too.

Divorced father of three, deft of hand Chilchuck has learned his way around a needle… mostly. It’s not above him to maybe weave something nice up for his daughters, like matching bracelets. He’ll want six in total, one for him and his ex, three for his daughters, and one for you- just so everyone in the “family” has a common thread to bind them. A particularly young Y/N will most likely be adopted by the Tims family at the end of their journey, providing a safe and happy (if viciously protective and smothering) space for them to grow. His daughters receive letters every now and then, each one waiting anxiously to meet the individual who is; unbeknownst to them, being propositioned as a brand new family member. Even his ex is mildly excited at the thought of someone brand new to raise, given that all her daughters are grown and moving on in the world. Maybe it’s what they need to get back together… or maybe that’s just the possessiveness talking.

And for Izutsumi… she wants a new scarf. Not that she knows how to knit, or has any interest in learning, but still. The cat girl will scrounge up a hefty handful of wool and toss it into Marcille’s lap with a huff, demanding a properly knit scarf to add to her arsenal. And although she’s not exactly above whining or making threats to get her way, there’s no need- the mage is totally on board to have every member of the party decked out in the softest parts of their collective favorite member. So, Izutsumi gets her scarf, and then everyone finally has a part of Y/N to keep close and hold dear.

Not that anyone is going to start ignoring the real thing, unfortunately for you.

[shadowdaddies]

Freedom

Helion x Reader fluff

A/N: this is a self-indulgent one-shot; I've been daydreaming about riding a pegasus through the Day Court for awhile

Dried hay crunched underneath your boots, the smell of Helion’s barn - if you could even refer to the palatial home for his pegasi as such - wafting fresh apples and grass through your nose.

Stepping aside as he held the door open for you, you smiled up at the High Lord, blushing under his charming gaze. Following behind you, Helion placed a large hand to the small of your back, guiding you past stalls of pegasi until you reached the end of the walkway.

Stopping in front of a large white mare, you gasped at the beautiful creature, her stark coloring almost iridescent in the daylight. “She is yours,” Helion murmured in your ear, nipping the skin there as his strong arms wrapped around your waist.

“Mine?” you whispered, breathless as you turned to Helion with wide eyes. Full lips spread into a bright smile that sent your heart aflutter, the High Lord nodding in confirmation.

A gleeful laugh escaped your lips, hands sliding up Helion’s muscular frame to pull his lips to yours. Pulling back slightly, you let his forehead rest against your own. In a poor attempt to contain your excitement, you whispered, “can we go for a ride?”

“Of course, Sunshine.”

Letting out a squeal of excitement, you stepped aside to let Helion open the gate, following him into the stall where you greeted the beautiful creature. Reaching out a tentative hand, a surprised laugh escaped you at the eagerness with which the creature nuzzled into your touch.

“She already likes you,” Helion noted with a proud smile, moving around to the animal’s side to secure her saddle.

As you ou ran your hands along her neck and mane, you allowed her to nudge you closer into an embrace, her feathered wings relaxing behind her. 

“We’re ready to go,” Helion announced from where he stood in front of you, bringing you out of the moment with your pegasus. With a last pat on her shoulder, you released the mare and walked toward Helion.

With a gracious smile, the High Lord knelt into the hay, hands knitted together in front of him in a make-shift stepping stool. “Allow me to help you up,” he purred, making you blush furiously as you took a tentative step into his hand, swinging your other leg over the horse as he lifted you.

With seemingly no effort, Helion slid into the saddle behind you. “Are you ready?” he asked, hands winding around your waist to grip the pommel. 

You looked down at the pegasus, noting the lack of reins. As if reading your thoughts Helion patted the mare’s neck, urging her forward. “She doesn’t need me to tell her where to go. There’s a spot I want to show you, that she takes me to.”

You nodded, smiling through the nerves and excitement as you trotted out of the barn and into the green pasture. 

“Let’s go, girl,” Helion murmured, tapping the creature’s hide affectionately. Without warning, the pegasus started running with impressive speed, and you looked up to see you were headed straight for the cliff’s edge.

“Helion,” you muttered, voice trembling as you gripped his arms for any sense of security. You were nearing the sharp drop off that led into the ocean, heart pounding harder than the beast’s hooves against the dirt. “Helion!”

“You are safe with me,” he promised, his warm body enveloping yours as the pegasus dove off the edge of the earth and towards the sea below. Your stomach dropped, a small scream escaping your lips before white wings spread out beneath you, catching the air as you shifted into a glide just above the shimmering surface of the water.

Wind whipped around you, the cool breeze at odds with the warm sun on your skin. It was a feeling unlike anything you’d experienced before, a freedom of losing your tether to the earth. 

You relaxed into Helion’s hold, enjoying how the magnificent creature wove through the skies with ease. She carried you along the cliffs, your reflection bright in the sparkling sea when you approached an inlet. The pegasus shifted, wings tilting to guide you around the corner to reveal a grand waterfall pouring into a small lake.

Large oak trees surrounded the oasis, multi-colored wildflowers blossoming everywhere you turned. You were so distracted by the beauty of it all, you hadn’t recognized the stupor you were in until the pegasus’s landing drew you out of it. 

Helion slid off her back, hands finding purchase on your waist as he helped you down. Words escaped you at the serene setting before you, like something from a masterpiece painting as the pegasus approached the water for a drink.

“This... This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” you admitted, awestruck.

“This was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, before I met you,” Helion murmured, stepping around to take your hand, amber eyes focused on you as he pressed his lips to your skin.

He led you to the water’s edge, where each of you slipped off your shoes in favor of dipping your toes into the cool lake. You watched the pegasus as it rested by the waterfall, like something from a dream.

“What is her name?” you asked, nodding at the beautiful animal.

“Her name is Alzena. But I thought you could change it to whatever you please.”

You hummed, recognizing the name. “Alzena. Freedom.” Helion dipped his head, smiling with pride at your acknowledgment. “It’s perfect,” you smiled, thinking not only of the name, but everything about this moment.

Helion’s eyes glowed gold in the sunlight, his breathtaking beauty perfectly at home with this magical land. Flashing him a mischievous grin, you crawled into the High Lord’s lap, straddling his hips as your lips hovered over his own. “Care to go for a swim, my Lord?”

[looooochie]

𝗽𝗶𝗻𝗸 + 𝗯𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗸 | héctor fort

summary: hector fell for his friend's sister.

pairing: hector fort x guiu! reader

y/n your average teenage girl, her life was pretty boring, but there's one part about about it that wasn't boring.

Yeah, she was the younger sister of Marc Guiu. Yes. Marc Guiu Paz.

For some reason, whenever she was seen at the Estadi Olímpic, they always thought of Hector Fort.

Well, if anything, she and Hector were completely DIFFERENT.

You might think, Hector is into the type of girls who wear black, wear short dresses, makeup, yeah.

But, this is how Y/N's style is.

She liked the color pink, liked wearing pants most of the time. Liked Melanie Martinez, liked drawing, and vice versa.

But she was actually Hector's type.

Marc invited his teammates/friends over and everytime this happened, he asked her not to go in his room.

Well, let's see what happens now.

y/n's pov:

I SAT ON my bed, kicking around because my phone was dead, and I wasn't allowed to go in Marc's room.

But as you already know, I wanted to feel like a rebel, and sneak in there. I rolled on the floor, slithering like a snake out of my room and heading to Marc's.

Luckily, the door was slightly open so I could get in there. Without being noticed, actually.

From what I could see, Marc and his friends, were sitting on his bed.

Marc was the one playing the game and one wad sitting on his gaming chair, and the other was sitting on the floor.

I slither on the carpet amd get ready to scare my brother. God, I was gonna get him so good.

I popped up from behind him, practically jumpscaring him, and put my hands on his shoulders.

"BOO!" I say, as Marc gently screamed at dropped the controller, which paused the game.

He stopped for a few seconds before turning to me, looking pissed and he crossed his arms.

"Hermana, ¿no te dije que no entraras en mi habitación cuando mis amigas están cerca? (Sis, did I not tell you not to come in my room when my friends are around?)" he said, still pretty upset.

"Oh, entonces así será, ¿eh? ¿No puedo entrar a la habitación de mi hermano sin su permiso? Sí claro. (Oh, so that's how it's going to be, huh? I can't go in my brother's room without his permission? Yeah, right.)" I responded, putting an arm on his shoulder.

"Aquí hay algunas palabras simples. No entres a mi habitación cuando mis amigos estén aquí. (Here are a few simple words. Don't come into my room when my friends are here.)" Marc replied, slapping my hand off his shoulder.

"Ah, bueno, adiós entonces. (Oh well, bye then.)" I shrugged, and went on my way to my room again.

"Esperar! (Wait!)"

I look back to see Hector, it looked like he tried to get my attention.

"¿Quieres jugar videojuegos con nosotros? (Do you wanna play video games with us?)" Hector asked me, he then scooted up a little on Marc's bed and motioned for me to sit next to him.

Marc had his mouth open in shock. I smile and go to sit next to Hector, then Marc looked at me with an annoyed expression.

"Sólo tienes suerte porque Héctor está aquí. Nunca más volverás a sentarte en mi cama. (You're only lucky because Hector is here. You're never going to sit on my bed again.)" he said, glaring at me.

I simply ignored it, and began playing video games with Lamine, Pau, Hector and Marc.

2nd person's pov:

EVER SINCE THAT day, Hector somehow always managed to convince Marc to let him hang out with you. And you slowly started to develop feelings for Hector, it was a slow process.

I mean, who wouldn't fall in love with him?

He's got the face of a practical angel, brown hair, dark eyes, what else?

You were watching all of Melanie Martinez's music videos, on repeat to be precise. Then you got a text for Hector.

(DA HECK-)

Ey

y/n

sí?

meet me at the park

por qué?

come on, just do it

fine

You ran to the park to see Hector sitting there. You waved at him and he waved back at you and you ran towards him, and laid on the grass with him.

"So, what was so important?" you asked, sitting up on the grass.

"Uh y/n.. I have to tell you something." he replied, taking both your hands, and cupping them together.

You blushed, not having a clue what was happening.

"Look, I've been meaning to tell you this for a really long time. I'm sorry if it's too sudden but, I.. like you Y/N. You don't have to like me back if you don't I understa-" you cut him off by hugging him tightly and then cupping his cheeks.

"Yo también te amo, Héctor." you replied, and began kissing him gently.

You ran your fingers through his hair and his arms around your waist. This felt magical, amazing, good, the list is endless.

Hector and you pull apart, blushing madly.

"If you're wondering 'What am I gonna tell Marc' Don't worry amor, I'll tell him so you won't have to." Hector said.

"Gracias." you reply, and pull him into another hug.

y/n.guiu posted a story!

reactions:

marcguiu9 😨

vickylopezz._ 🤭🤭

tagging: @hectorth <3

[whoyacallinyellow]

Borrowed Time hurt me a lot omg- Now I offer you even more angst.

It's sad that Javier became the very thing in 1911 that he swore to destroy (working as a hitman for a tyrant government) but it would be even sadder if (as a part 2 ig of borrowed time) Javier and his love meet again but this time, he was there to arrest her and bring her to town to hang.

Borrowed Time II

Javier Escuella x F! reader

Spoilers: major RDR1-2 events Content: 18+, low honor Javier, angst, betrayal, loyalty, dramatic, possessive, referenced/implied sex, canon typical events & violence, possible unintentional spelling mistakes, google translated Spanish Type: I-II changed to second pov (wc - 4133) / pc: pinterest a/n: i can feel this request in my veins, so here’s my mediocre yapping! live, laugh, angst 

Summary: Following the events of Beaver Hollow and your departure, Javier falls into work with Allende. After your reunion he reflects on his time with you, to only turn you in by nightfall. 

It was a warm day in New Austin, the orange rays blanketing the barren dirt landscape, and not a cloud in the sky. Javier only imagined finding himself wandering these lands again, but yet he returned on what seemed to be borrowed time.

A few years had passed since he last saw you at Beaver Hollow. The man could not bear to show his face, the embarrassment of being wrong about Dutch was an ego check it say the very least. 

Yet your note lived in the far corner of his mind, a small cabin just north of MacFarlane's Ranch from his understanding. 

It did not take the man long to find it, local cowpokes cowered at the sight of the large Mexican outlaw sitting upon an even larger steed, interrogating them about a maiden. It was almost as if the best pieces of you resembled him, immediately reminding the folk of who it was he was searching for. 

Boaz grunted against Javier’s spurs, digging deep into the loose red dirt below. The sunbeams which crept through the dry pine trees created quite the atmosphere, allowing Javier to get lost in his head, even if it were just for a few moments of bliss. 

Despite the directions given to him, Javier hoped you had moved on after all these years, fled somewhere safer, started a new life, perhaps changed your name as well. Somewhere he would never find you. 

Boaz continued to race down the winding path, feeding Javier’s anticipation against the warm breeze. As it gusted past the side of his head, loose strands from his tied hair tickled his ears, merely reminding the man how badly he needed a haircut. 

The starving grass which bordered West Elizabeth held a yellow tinge, the land rolled and waved, flourishing with birds and wildlife. Javier reckoned he has not been to the area before, but you were not lying about how appealing it was— a perfect home for you two. 

Upon whipping around the corner, abruptly revealed a small cabin with songbirds singing to him in the trees. The place was quiet, cozy, and seemingly inhabited, with small smoke stacks exhausting from the brick chimney. 

Bringing Boaz to a halt, there was no sign of you— but sure enough a big black cloud skulked in the nearby pen, following you wherever you wandered like a burden. 

Javier stiffly slid off Boaz, his knees nearly giving out from under him as his boots crunched onto the dirt. The beast was grazing on hay as he approached the fence post 

After whistling and calling your shire a few times, Javier was promptly ignored, perhaps the slow and ominous brute heard the man call him el diablo one too many times. 

He was still a strong believer the only reason the horse broke for you was out of pity— you looked like a child struggling to climb him every endeavor. Maybe the beast had a soft spot for you, just like himself. 

But now the old shire was relieved from his saddle, serenading in the New Austin sun, not bothered to obey the envious man’s command. 

Javier leaned against the corral post, admiring what he could have had with you, the thought of being a family man loomed over his shoulders and displayed no signs of leaving. 

You and Javier ran together prior to joining Dutch, less for money and more for survival. Your past crimes covered bounty boards and train stations as a permanent reminder, never forgetting the wrongs that were written. That price only increased once Mexico inevitably caught wind of all the messy jobs in neighboring lands. 

He drowned and you sank with him, the price of his sins were bricks added to your back. Being his accessory, the government saw you as a pawn, smart and knowledgeable, if caught— Javier would come for you, and they would be ready for him. 

Those days were nearly from another lifetime. 

Now under Allende’s ruling fist, he offered him a twisted plea deal of sorts; protection at the cost of something the man held more dearly than life itself—you. Your capture was not about the money nor status, but simply a test of his loyalty to Allende; if Javier did this job, he’d do anything. 

The poor man’s convoluted loyalty never got him far, proving time and time again, leading him only to dead ends and false hopes. Charismatic attributes and big promises was something Javier foolishly gave everything to with a blind eye, something you always warned him about.  

“Javier?—“ 

Your voice could have made him leap out of his own skin. As he hesitantly turned towards you, his gut twisted into something mean. You were beautiful as ever, after all these years you waited for him— just like you promised. 

“Never thought I’d see you again, especially in the west.” You spoke again in disbelief, rag wiping your hands clean of a job he should have been doing. 

Your voice only lived in his memories, hearing it again nearly whipped Javier back into shape, feeling sick for your puppy love he desperately relied on so long ago. 

“Home sweet home.” The man swallowed dryly, throwing his arms out awkwardly and gesturing towards the open lands around you both. 

Before his thoughts could catch up to the moment, you ran to embrace him, flinging yourself into his arms with a long awaited kiss. Javier grunted softly against your lips, staggering back to support you, the extra attention only reminding him how saddle sore he really was.  

Just for a moment things felt normal, a feeling he was searching for since you split. He had a place in this cruel world once again, everywhere had a price on his head, no place to retreat to besides you— you were home. 

Perhaps he could head tail between his legs back to Allende, saying you disappeared. 

Maybe he could take you to Canada, or a tropical island— oh, anywhere but Guarma. 

We must leave,

Javier’s unsaid words pricked beneath his skin, prodding relentlessly at his deepest desires for redemption. 

“Oh—amor.” 

Was all the man could choke out, the words exiting pitiful and weak, a near cry for help you assumed was just your bittersweet reunion. 

Leaning away you smiled coyly at him, admiring your lost cowboy;

Your time apart was not easy on Javier, his hardened stare and the chip on his shoulder now set in stone. 

The constant blazing sun of Mexico, along with surviving off rationed canned beans really took a toll on the man. His face was dull and lacking the usual pigment he wore so handsomely when Mr. Pearson cooked for everyone. 

Javier’s newfound demeanor only put emphasis on his sharp brows peeking from under his bowler cap brim, residing above dark cunning eyes, ready to match any cowpuncher who dared challenge him. 

Over Javier’s shoulder was where his mount rested, hoove digging into the dirt at the end of the cabin’s path. 

“—and Boaz?” You began after a shared silence, slowly approaching the overworked horse. 

“Still kickin’.” He uttered gently, a large hand scratching the back of his neck. 

Boaz never really liked you, or anyone besides Javier that is. It wasn’t until the gang hunkered down in Colter for the stubborn bastard to take a liking to you. 

The weather and unpredictable circumstances was not easy on the gang, including the horses, causing rations to be small among the mounts. 

You always carried treats in your satchel to gain Boaz’s affection, and your efforts would eventually succeed in Colter. You would secretly slip him sugar cubes every time you left the shack, he must have appreciated the extra attention. Javier barely recognized Boaz trotting up to him in the snow, you mounted on top wearing a proud grin. 

You wore a similar grin now, full of satisfaction and pride that he returned to you— with warmth flowing through him, his heart rapidly thumped in his ears, all the pent up feelings for you were reopening like floodgates. 

“What’a nice feller, huh.” You cooed to the mount after a slow approach. 

Showing no distress Boaz allowed your kind pats and rubs. Tenderly nudging you, the horse’s chops tried sneaking its way into your pockets, searching for the snacks you usually held after a long journey. 

“Ai, fácil!” 

Javier exclaimed, quickly guiding Boaz’s large snout away, the loving gestures nearly toppling you over. 

“Guess I’m glad he still remembers me.” You beamed, tipping your hat lower to shield yourself from the beating sun. 

“Or perhaps your donations, amor.” Javier quipped softly, his eyes wandering meekly. 

Something besides time passing seemed different about him, you could not quite pinpoint it. Javier was always a timid man at first when it came to his lover, maybe your time apart presented this old side of him. 

You knelt slightly, peeking under his sunken head which hung towards the ground. 

“Javier? You don’t look so good.” 

Your soft words managed to dig their way through his ringing ears, the man squinted his eyes tightly before swiping his lids with rough fingers. 

“Uh— maybe you oughta sit for a bit, I think you’re overdressed for this heat.” 

Your words broke through once again, giving a small tug on his poncho, his disoriented vision cluttered with black floating spots as you guided towards the porch. 

As his vision continued to warp, the cabin doubled and skewed while you put him in the shade. 

Javier knew you were speaking, your voice fading in and out irreguarly, piercing his ears every so often. 

The words felt like they were being consumed by the ocean, his head bobbed up and down as if he were drowning. All he could think about was Dutch’s screams over the storm and waves, as he was about to be consumed by the large void. 

But Dutch snagged him before being swept away, yanking him upon the tiny rowboat that threatened to tip from the added stress. Javier’s senses were waterlogged, rejecting the mean salty water from his lungs. As he gasped for air; the only thing he thought of was you. 

“S’alright, son, You’re not dying today!” Was the first thing he heard. He faded in and out of consciousness as Dutch beat the sea water out of him, his ribcage rattling under each and every smack. 

Javier sometimes wonders if Dutch should have just let him die, abandon him and allow the dark waters to engulf him whole, repaying his sins to his maker. Maybe his death would free you of your burdens. 

He felt like his time had withered before Dutch had saved him anyways. Being a prisoner in Guarma is what convinced him that he would never make it back to you, sealing the deal. Your previous words borrowed time scratched at his skin again, yearning to be acknowledged. 

“Ah well, I knew you’d come crawling back, you’re here for a reason.” You would always say to him after a particularly dangerous run with the gang. He would dismiss you with a mumble and a kiss, but always knew he was lucky to be alive as more of his brothers began to fall. 

Sometimes he would catch you talking to a disgruntled Arthur as he packed his horse. 

Upon inquiring about your words, Arthur being a somewhat vague man would shortly grumble; 

“Jus’ focus on the job, and returnin’ to your woman, Javier.” 

—and he always did. Javier knew you did not worry about him much, at least outwardly. But he did notice Arthur’s presence whenever trouble presented itself. 

~

“Javier— some water.” 

Your words along with a canteen dangled in front of him, the prior hallucination of a watery grave was almost enough to empty his stomach. 

Javier stared back towards your shire lounging in his corral, his mind once again wandering back to the life he could have had with you. 

In the midst of his tunneling vision, a lean coyote lingered through his gaze, stalking towards him, icy eyes sending daggers into his before diminishing. 

“Javier. Say something.” Your words were now much clearer to him, breaking through his consciousness, the ringing disappeared from his mind fog. 

“‘M alright.” He muttered, spitting out the bitter taste from his mouth. 

“I reckon you oughta take it easy, being an old man n’ all now.”

Javier frowned at you and blinked a couple times, jaw agape, processing the pun you made at his dismay. 

“Ha— so sorry, chica, ‘suppose I’m no longer the young buck you remember.” 

He replied sarcastically, his voice both bold and hoarse as he raised back to his feet, every step whining for rest. 

“Ride with me?” Javier suddenly asked as if nothing happened. It took you by surprise, he had just arrived after all. 

“Alright.” You obliged shortly after a pause. “Let me grab my belt.” You continued, motioning towards the missing holsters on your frame. 

“No need.” He cut you off quickly, his voice leaving traces of urgency. 

“Boaz is packed.” 

You eyed him up, watching the man shutter under your antagonizing gaze, how he hoped you were not suspicious of his intentions after all this time. But rightfully so, the man was yellow-bellied. 

But you had no reason not to trust him. 

You were not exactly sure where Javier was taking you, but for now his company was enough to keep you satisfied. The ride was eerily quiet, even for his standards, being a man of few words. 

After riding a little down south he brought you to a small mountain that overlooked Mexico. He perched you both on a small flat area, just in time for the sun to sink below the land. 

Javier stared over the horizon, he never really did think about how big the south was, yet how small he felt in comparison. A glimmer caught onto his peripheral, turning towards the shine was the pendent he had given you, when you both first started running with the gang. 

The feeling presented itself again, feeling so small in the world— you were the home he had been searching for since the gang's fallout. It was always you. 

He sank into his memories, a vessel of his former self was all that remained. 

You two were quite away from your newly shared camp, with all the members and leads, the moments you had alone became quite sparse. 

“What do you think, Javi?” Your sudden presence caught him off guard. 

“The gang?—“ he pondered your words, leaning against a shady oak. 

“I suppose they’re family for now, señorita. We’re much safer, and they’re good to us.” Javier replied, a hand brushing over the stubble on his jaw. You smiled gently with a nod, making your uneasiness all too obvious. 

“It’s just temporary, amor, once we have the money to get on our feet— it’ll be the two of us again.” He reassured, a polite arm sliding around your waist. 

Javier remembers the look in your eye, doubtful and full of sorrow, but you still trusted him, knowing he would never lead you astray. The same he thought about Dutch.  

Repositioning himself behind you, he dug a necklace from his pocket, draping it over your chest and clasping it. You fidgeted in surprise against his movements, gazing down at the beautiful silver pendant that glistened off the very same sun. Before you could say a word he planted a kiss on your lips, gentle and quick before mounting Boaz. 

“I promise!” 

He called out. After blowing a kiss to you, he was off to assist the gang. He didn’t have much money at the time, but Javier always knew how to make things work—

Oh how naive of him— bright eyed and lovesick, he wanted to make a woman out of you, settle down. That is, before Dutch’s plan captivated him. Which ultimately led to this mess, but who is he kidding, he never really had a chance anyways. 

Javier thought back with immense regret, wishing he was more romantic with you in a way, officially making you his chica earlier on, instead of prolonging it due to the possibility of death. He always feared that courting would further your heartbreak if something bad were to happen. 

It was his own unaddressed way to cope with the harsh reality of survival and being an outlaw, he always prioritized your safety over intimacy until joining the gang. When he looks back on it, your shared time at Horseshoe Overlook and Clemons Point were some of the best times of his life. 

Around that time of riding with the gang was when your relationship with him really began to evolve. The potential competition of other men drove Javier and his intimacy up a wall— his usual gentle lips ghosting over yours turned into small nips, and purple blotches he would mark on your neck late at night. A tight palm covering your mouth which muffled the moans of his name, words the man would kill to hear in such an uncaged manner. He entertained no confusion of who you belonged to; even if he did not make things official until that night at the lake.  

Javier had nearly forgotten the sun had already set, and he somehow had no recollection of it. He looked down at you, only in a thin shirt as you gazed longingly off the mountain side.

The final sunset you shared was simply a ticking clock for him. 

“Cold?” He whispered, words he could barely choke out. 

“A little.” You replied, big doe-like eyes staring up at him, holding so much love for the man. Love he was not sure he ever deserved. 

Forcing his gaze away quickly he arose, soles of his feet vibrating and pulsing with each step. After approaching Boaz his shaking hands freed his bedroll clasps, attention locked upon his rifle poking out of the saddle. 

His head spun, finally digging himself out of his trance. After returning to you, he draped the cloth over you coyly. 

“You okay?” You suddenly asked, your hush voice startling him, he sighed in despair. 

The words you said to him at Beaver Hollow replayed through his mind,

Leave with me. Let’s run away. 

But he could not get them out, his chest quivered under the constraint of his uneven breaths. 

“Course.” He managed to form the word, you nodded in contentment, fresh air filling your nose. 

His response would have to do for now, you decided to cut him some slack since he returned to you, after all. 

By now you knew him well enough. Some nights he would stay up and collect his thoughts before laying beside you. You always respected his space, he had his demons, like everyone else. Soon enough in your slumber  you would feel his protective arms drape around you, his steady breaths hitting the nape of your neck, tense body encapsulating yours— those were the nights you felt the safest, and knew he was going to manage just fine. 

Other nights Javier would stay up while you were by your lonesome. He always feared something would kill the both of you while asleep, reluctantly you agreed. But the man always let you rest, you needed it more, that is for putting up with him all day round. 

Your memories swam with always being coaxed to sleep, eventually giving into the soft lulls he would sing. A wordless agreement that there was no point for the both of you to be cranky and tired in the morning. 

—But there he sat, only to turn into the monster he swore to protect you from. 

“I love you, Javier.” 

Your words racked his brain, digging and clawing invasively into each one of his bones. Javier thought he imagined them until he looked over to find you staring this entire time. You knew there was something seriously wrong, but surely he would tell you within due time. 

Javier’s voice was lost, swallowing suppressed sobs down his dry throat, he nearly felt like he was drowning once again in the frame he called a body. 

Just like the days he would not say it back while pursuing a lead, with doubts he would not make it back to your arms— but he always did, it was the least he could do. It felt like lifetimes ago to him, how could the man choke out a te amo before sending you in? 

Instead, he planted a kiss on your soft lips, lingering there for a moment, knowing it would be your last. 

Looming below in the shadows, trailing to the border resided monsters he used to protect you from— two Mexican soldiers camped out by the tracks. Their lanterns flickering softly in the distance, patiently waiting for the man to arrive at the agreed meeting spot. 

Javier shivered, feeling like a young boy again. His eyes fixated on the stock of his rifle that Boaz held. 

Your breaths became shallow, harmonizing with the warm night’s breeze as you fell into a slumber. You trusted Javier’s judgment on setting up camp or heading home, you perhaps allowed yourself to get a little too comfortable. 

It all happened so fast for him, and there was no going back. Javier’s mind blurred as he rode, Boaz fussing and fighting under his control. His very own horse feared the  monster he had become, maybe poor Boaz thought he was Javier’s next victim. 

He rode fast— but not fast enough to flee from himself. 

A coyote lurked around the darkness, gazing at Javier from behind the two Mexican soldiers who taunted him, puffing on their big cigars from Uncle Sam.  

The coyote disappeared as Javier reached for his revolver, patiently waiting for the man to shoot him— but he never did. 

The soldier simply laughed, knowing Javier’s bark had no bite. While under Allende’s power, he was simply a coward a soldier would not even match out of pity.  

Soon enough the two men fled into the night, banter that could be heard a mile away through the ravines. Anyone could have mistaken them for sick hyenas. 

He could hear their stallions riding hard in triumph, with a new prize Javier held so close for many years, he watched the soldiers grow smaller and smaller over the uneven land until the darkness swallowed them whole, taking a piece of him along. 

The nighttimes ahead would find Javier in a one horse town saloon, nodding off more times than he could remember. His glass turned from full to empty until his vision doubled. 

Javier was not sure how many days had passed, the whiskey dulling his mind and senses, but the thoughts still ate him alive. 

Did you think he would come for you? Or would you be envious, spilling everything you could before meeting the gallows. 

Javier hid in his palms, knowing he got it all wrong— it should have been him. 

It did not take too long for the man to get kicked out from the saloon due to his drunken stupor, not even the bartender wanted his dirty money. 

Javier took Boaz to what he thought was east, the coyote returned to accompany him, lurking around on the monotone forest floors he traveled. 

The night breeze made Javier reminisce of the times at camp, the very same breeze that whipped through your hair as you would drag him off somewhere secluded, your mischievous grin reflecting off the summer night's moon as you snuck off into the bushes. 

You gave everything to each other— all for nothing it seems.

Javier sank lower into himself before eventually staggering off Boaz. It only took him a few unsteady steps to empty his bowels on the dirt path, elbows hoisting him up on his shaky bent knees. 

Peeking out from his jacket cuff was a scar he once wore proudly on his wrist. A scar he earned in some honky tonk town just because another man looked at you wrong. The mere thought of it worsened his nausea.  

All signs pointed to you, and you were gone because of reasons he barely understood himself— He feared he didn’t know what loyalty was anymore. Or what he stood for in fact. 

Your blind love killed you in the end, and it was his cross to bear. 

The sky was dark and dull, which was just as familiar as a bottle and a glass. Not a single star in the sky greeted him, leaving him to fester alone. 

The wind howled violently through the trees, causing the leaves to rustle and sway. A northern was quickly sneaking upon the lands of New Austin. 

His lone coyote joined him on a distant cliffside, coat black as sin, mocking the cowboy who lingered below. 

~

[urhoneycombwitch]

*me throwing things at the wall to see what sticks*

something, something cowboy eddie in the field just after the sun has risen uh... dew on the grass, warm sunlight with a slight chill to the air... his curls are definitely lighter, maybe shorter cut, and he's got freckles from being outside so much... uh... reader (!) leaving the farmhouse in her nightie (!) to find him... some plot, some sweet talk, blah blah blah

he kneels down in the middle of the field and eats her out (!!!)

foreword: oooohhh baby it’s stickin’ for sure, anon. I tweaked ur plot a bit bc sunset is sexier to me ya feel. tysm for sending this in bc I literally went to the rodeo the other day and have been pondering cowboy!Eddie. Appalachian Eddie specifically… think of the accent alone… let’s hear a little commotion for the low bun with pieces falling out ‘n cowboy hat combo!!!!

cw: feminine nicknames used for R, breasts + V, setup for R receiving oral

wc: 1k

The sun has almost disappeared for the evening, sinking low behind the distant northern mountain range. Everything around you is cast in gold, humming with life; wind hushes through long willow branches, crickets and frogs chorus from the nearby pond.

Your bare feet are near-silent in the grass as you track a path towards the barn, dinner keeping warm on the stove the furthest thing from your mind. 

Eddie said he’d only be ten minutes, snagging his hat from the front door hook and winking at you for good measure- that was a half hour ago. Patience waning with every glance out the farmhouse window, it’s finally eluded you enough to seek Eddie out. 

Soft grass gives way to smooth concrete as you pause at the threshold of the barn, poking your head around the corner to peek. Eddie’s on one knee near some stacked hay bales at the front of the barn, winding twine around the wide span of his hand. 

Quiet snuffling noises from the horse stalls confirm your suspicions- Eddie got distracted after feeding the girls their nightly grain, hence the holdup. You doubt he even realizes the late hour; farm work is never done, and your boy has a blind eye for time.

Doesn’t mean you’ll make it easy on him, though. Intending to sneak up and surprise him, you step inside, cotton nightie swishing around your thighs as you loom closer- until Eddie’s low timbre freezes you in place.

“You better not be out here with no shoes on.”

Eddie rises from the hay-littered ground, starched denim Levi’s pulling tight across his thighs as he turns, one eyebrow cocked. 

His doey brown eyes flick down to your bare feet, and he tsks as he approaches, boots thudding in time with your heart. “You know how I feel about you wearin’ no shoes out here, doll. ‘S not safe. ”

It’s hard to concentrate when he’s so close, filling your lungs with a whole garden of intoxicating smells- cigarette smoke and light sweat, Irish Spring soap from his morning shower, something muskier and warm, too, like a horse that’s been soaking in sunny pastures.

You’re feeling bold, rolling your eyes while Eddie wipes the grime off his fingers with his black handkerchief, knowing he won’t touch you in your freshly line-dried cotton until he deems himself clean enough. “I was walking in the grass- not like I’m going riding or anything. Just came to pick up my stray.”

Eddie fights off a grin when your foot, flecked with blades of grass, arches to tap at his calf. 

There are new freckles dotting the bridge of his nose, lines around his eyes crinkling as you lean in, looking up through your lashes, the picture of innocence as you coo- “Oh, honey. I think you got a sunburn today.”

“Uh huh.” Eddie flicks at the brim of his hat, making room enough to bring his face to yours as he catches your chin between thumb and forefinger. “And I bet butter wouldn’t melt in this pretty mouth’a yours.”

“Wanna find out?” Your voice is impressively steady, but you decide not to push it, shutting up quick as Eddie slides his other hand down the length of your back to rest just above the curve of your ass.

The first kiss he gives you is sweet, almost chaste, plush lips enveloping your bottom one as you’re pulled in tighter, chest flush against his.

The second kiss is decidedly less sweet as he holds you in place, tongue sweeping past your parted lips, swallowing your little noise of delight; he pulls back to sink his teeth into the side of your neck until you’re panting and twisting the checkered flannel of his shirt in tight fists.

“What ‘m I gonna do with you.” Eddie grumbles around kisses and flashes of tongue to the sweet spot just under your ear. He walks you backwards until you hit the barn wall, one hand between your shoulder blades to cushion the blow, the other pinning your hip still. “Skinny dippin’ in the pond, making friends with the barn pests, and now this-”

The tip of Eddie’s boot taps at the top of your bare foot, a reprimand- then digs into your ankle. He gets his way, your legs parting easily so he can press his knee to your clothed core. 

The pressure is good, your head falling back to the wall with a half-whine- but it won’t be enough to get you off.

And Eddit knows it, smug bastard, lust-blown pupils betraying the feigned laziness of his smile as he croons down at you. 

“Don’t think you quite deserve a reward, tonight, baby. You’ve been working my last nerve, makin’ me worry ‘bout you…”

Your arms slide up over the planes of his back, while his hand slides to the back of your skull, threading hair between his long fingers and giving a sharp tug at your roots.

At the soft inside of your thigh, you can feel the hard jut of his cock,filling out and throbbing underneath a layer of denim. With each roll of Eddie’s hips, a path of cooling precum is left behind.

Your slick is seeping into the top of his thigh right now, so you figure you’re even.

Eddie’s still got you by the hair, not too hard but enough to keep your focus on him as he bends to whisper in your ear, brim of his hat bumping into your forehead- “Shoes, next time, missy. I’m not joking.”

For the second time that night, Eddie returns to his knees. His wide, warm hands slip past the hem of your skirt to cup the side of your thighs. To thumb at the edges of your underwear. To make your breath hitch.

Feeling brave again, you reach down to knock his hat to the floor. (It’s an old one. He won’t mind. He’s also a little too busy kissing up the inside of your thigh to care.) Your turn to croon.

“Gonna let me ride your tongue, cowboy?”

[ghostlyforxst]

In LOVE with your Tengen fic!! Can I request something similar to it: a farm au where a Centaur Sanemi is trying to breed the reader?? 👀👀

I really love how you write!!

❱ http:˚♡I Wanna Be Yours by Arctic Monkeys˚ˑؘ 🍄 ·˚

GENDER: Gender Neutral Reader

WARNINGS: Monster AU, Inappropriate Reader, +18, Slight! Breeding, Hair Pulling, Slight! Non-Con, and Marking.

CHARACTER: Sanemi Shinazugawa

WORD COUNT: 561

A/N- I apologize for taking forever to respond to your request and I also apologize for not adding much breeding since I made it gender neutral. Though I am still hoping that this meet some of you expectations and that you enjoyed it!

     Another day had dawned, the muggy weather had your clothes embracing your dewy skin and your muscles were tense from the laborious chores you had completed. You had tidied up the stables, harvested the garden, and naturally you cared for your monsters. Yet, rutting season had caused those supposedly uncomplicated chores to become complicated. But thankfully-ish your centaur was the last for the day, though his rutting mindset had you nervous. He became territorial, brash, and overall just desperate—countless of times you had to fight him off and run, screaming as he galloped not too far behind you.  

   You released the pail to the ground, breathing through your nostrils, and eased the stable doors open. His presence was absent from the stable, your shoulders slumped with a sigh. You take the rake and begin to scrape up the previous hay, ignorant of the lustful beast that snuck noiselessly behind you until fingers tangled themselves into your hair and forced your head onto the scratchy hay bale. “Wah!” 

    “You are not going anywhere.” The beast, Sanemi, growled as his calloused hand swept down your back to your jeans and yanked them to the ground before his hooves came into view on either side of your head. “You're mine this season and the seasons to come.” 

     “Sanemi.” you yelped, hips raised high in the air and legs parted for his massive girth. “g-get off!”

     Sanemi went seemingly deaf to your words, disregarding them as his hand eased between your legs and teased your arousal. You knew you had stripped him of his sanity from the way his desperate hand stroked and rubbed you, the way he blushfully whimpered under his breath when his cock prodded at your hole. You bit your cheek, restraining the moan that was lodged in your throat as his dick dryly persuaded itself into you. 

     “I can’t,” Sanemi breathed, “I can’t wait.” 

     Your blowzy cheeks dampened with tears as you blubbered pleas from him to remove himself, writhing beneath him as his length buried itself into your warmth entirely—the pain becoming near unbearable. 

     “Begging is a good look for you.” Sanemi smirked breathlessly, bucking his hips into you. 

     You cried out, grasping at the dead grass, ashamed at how pleasurable it felt. Sanemi stoops down, his tongue darting past his curved lips and he glides the wet muscle along your nape before biting and sucking at the skin—a purplish bruise remaining as he seated himself back up. 

     His hands raveled themselves back into your hair, roughly tugging, as he rocked himself into you. 

     “M’feeling so fucking good around me, feels good doesn’t it baby?” Sanemi grunted, yanking your head back and kissing you abruptly. “It has to, you are a mess on my cock. I can feel you falling apart around me. ” 

     You sobbed at his dick thrusting into the right spot, your tummy tightening before releasing; swallowing air as your hips jerked on his length with a drawn-out whine. Sanemi reaches below you, rolling your niple between his thumb and fingers—his silvery tail whipping behind as his thrust quickens.

    Sanemi’s hips stammered, his chest rumbling with a guttural growl, before he emptied himself in your clenching hole. He lazily smooches the back of your head and weighs himself against your back. “Mhm’love you.”  

    You hummed in response and Sanemi chuckled, “rest, I'm wanting a second round soon.”

[violettduchess]

A/N: This is my gift for @readerinsertfanfiction 💜 The moment I saw Cyran on your list, I was thrilled. I hope you enjoy!

A huge thank you to @ikemenlibrary for her support and friendship and for being a generous, caring host 💜

Prompt: A servant, someone who knew Cyran from before his time in Rhodolite

Cyran x AU Emma

WC: ~4k

Obsidian: the Past

She runs across the cracked, sunbaked cobblestone streets, her treasure wrapped in a cream-colored tea towel and held protectively against her chest. Her worn leather shoes make a pleasing thunking sound against the stones as she hurries past dusty shop windows and faded porches, carefully dodging people on the street.

“Langsam, Emma!” someone yells as she flies past but she doesn’t listen to their warning. She can’t slow down. She has somewhere to be.

Finally she reaches the edge of town and takes a sharp left, leaving the cobblestones behind for a ribbon of dirt road that winds its way along tired hills covered with sparse sage-green grass and dotted with scraggly yellow dandelions. Another turn onto an even smaller path, a faint thing that meanders through the knee-high growth and then, finally, the faded barn comes into view. 

She smiles, pumping her young legs harder, willing them to swallow the distance faster and faster until she reaches the peeling, splintered wooden doors and haphazardly flings one open.

“Cyran? I’m here!!”

The boy, just shy of fourteen, turns away from the wooden beam he has been faux-sparring with, lowering the dull, well-worn practice sword he is so proud of. His hair gleams like fire in the hazy sunlight that shines through the pocked roof. 

Emma hurries over, gulping down huge breaths of musty air as she grabs his thin forearm.

“C’mon. I’m dying to see how they taste.”

Cyran laughs, struggling to sheath his sword as she drags him over to the blanket thrown over the hay in a cozy corner of the barn. This is their favorite place to meet, an escape from the outside world they discovered several years ago while exploring. It is here that Emma sometimes reads to him from one of her treasured books. She’s even shared stories she’s written, romantic tales of princesses and dragons, knights and monsters. Cyran is always the hero, the knight who slays the monsters and rescues the damsel in distress. Emma will change her roles in the stories. 

Sometimes she needs rescuing. 

But sometimes, she is the dragon.

Often they sneak treats to each other, hard biscuits or smoked meat or, if they are really lucky, sweet berries brought across the border from the lush neighboring country of Rhodolite. Cyran’s neighbor is a servant for some of the merchants that make the risky trips over and when he’s lucky, she manages to tuck away a few treasures just for him.

He settles himself down on the frayed checkered blanket and pushes his bright hair away from his forehead, eagerly watching as Emma drops down next to him, laying the tea towel down. Her face is flushed from her run and from the thrill of what she’s managed to bring him.

“Ready?”

He nods, enthusiastically motioning for her to unwrap it already. He has hands that are too big for his young body, growing the way many boys do at this age, in odd fits and spurts. 

Emma leans forward, pushing up the sleeve of her too-big dress and carefully pulls back the edges of the tea towel.

The smell hits them first, the warm spice of cinnamon, the tang of nutmeg, the slight bitterness of the cloves, the unmistakable scent of ginger. It wafts up towards them, exotic and tempting. Cyran breathes in deeply and then sighs happily as he looks at her, eyes bright and admiring.

“It smells so good.”

Cyran had carefully been saving up the exotic store of spices, some of them gifts from his neighbors, others decadent purchases made at the market from his meager earnings made mucking stalls and chopping wood. He knew that Emma would be the one who would create something special with them. Young as she was, she was a talented cook and baker, able to make the most fantastic treats out of the simplest ingredients. And now that she had been given such a treasure trove to work with, she had spun pure magic.

The spiced biscuits are dappled dark brown and gold. When she hands him one, it is with a reverence that echos a priest giving communion or a child receiving a shiny new toy at Christmas.

Their gazes meet and she nods.

“Together.”

He returns the nod, staring into the warm depths of her soft brown eyes.

“Together.”

They bite into the cookies at the same time. Emma breaks into a proud smile as Cyran closes his eyes, savoring the medley of flavor and even better, the knowledge that she made them just for him.

“It’s good, isn’t it?" she asks, grinning. She sees the look on his face, the way he is practically melting with enjoyment.

He lifts his shoulder in a casual shrug, feigning indifference.

“I guess……”

“What?!”

He takes another bite, leaning back on one hand. “I mean, they’re ok. But you know, Hilde’s biscuits are also really good–OOF.”

She’s tackled him, throwing herself at him with all the force of a frenzied feline, her nimble fingers scratching at his sides. Cyran breaks into laughter, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and tries to squirm away from her.

“Ok ok Brown Eyes, enough!”

Emma lets him go, sitting back on her heels with a glowing, triumphant smile.

“Never say that about Hilde’s cookies again.”

He pushes himself up, heart pounding furiously in his chest. Only some of it is from laughing. He tears his gaze away from the unsettling beauty of her eyes, traveling up to her hair.

“You’re a mess. You got straw in your hair and your braid is a disaster.”

Emma turns and scoots until she is sitting in front of him. “Since it’s your fault….you fix it.”

Cyran heaves a sigh he doesn’t mean and then settles himself into a comfortable position, reaching forward and with a tenderness and care far beyond most boys his age, begins slowly picking the straw from her messy plait.

Emma’s eyes drift closed as she revels in the attention he’s giving her, the gentle way he untangles her braid and then very slowly begins brushing his fingers through her soft, chestnut-colored hair.

It feels comforting and safe.

It feels thrilling.

It feels like the early evening has come to a standstill and they have all the time in the world.

But their time together is like a rose slowly losing its petals.

A petal falls as he tells her, wide-eyed and shaken, that his neighbor has been killed in her own home, throat opened in the dead of night and left smiling its ghastly red smile until she was discovered hours later. Emma rubs his back, not knowing what else to do. This is not the first death in their village as of late. And it will not be the last.

A petal falls as they lay, side by side, on the blanket in the hay, staring up at the patches of starry sky visible through the holes in the roof. “My parents are scared,” she whispers. He turns his head to stare at her profile and knows it isn’t just her parents who are frightened. “I’ll protect you,” he whispers, voice fierce with youth’s naïve promise. Her gaze remains on the silver stars but she reaches out, taking his hand and squeezes it.

A petal falls as she comes to their favorite spot, face pale as bone, to tell him that her family is leaving. Her father has contacted distant relatives that live far to the north, as far from Rhodolite and the dangers it poses as one can get. Cyran feels like his young heart may break right there in his chest and he will be forced to live the rest of his life with its pieces rattling around inside of him. Though filled with dismay, Emma’s eyes are as beautiful as ever. They shine with tears, rivaling any star they have ever spent time gazing at.

A petal falls as she rushes through the dark, on the night before her family is to leave, her throat burning with feelings she can’t quite name, waves too strong to try and understand for fear they will sweep her away. She bursts through the barn doors and finds him already there, his hair dark as garnet, damp with sweat. He has spent the entire day doing heavy labor, removing heavy wooden beams, hauling ancient and broken equipment, sweeping the dusty, straw-strewn floor. Several lanterns placed around the interior bathe the space in warm, yellow light. The barn is as clean and inviting as he can make it. He wanted to give her one more memory, something beautiful, that she can take with her on her journey away from here. Away from him.

Emma is frozen in place, soaking in all he has done, before finally stopping on the young man at the center of it. He’s breathing hard, his chest rising and falling unevenly. Already his shoulders carry the hint of what manhood will bring him: strength and breadth. Arms that with training will turn hard and sculpted, legs that will lengthen until he is taller than most. He is the faint beginning of what he will become. Emma wonders wildly if she will ever get the chance to see the finished masterpiece.

“Emma,” he says, his voice raw and rough, deeper than she has ever heard it.

She sets down the bundle she is holding, the one she carried so close on the way here, leaving it on top of a weathered wooden barrel.

“Cyran,” she answers, her muscles tense, like a fawn when it hears a crunching in the underbrush.

He starts forward, one hesitant step and that is enough. She flies towards him, throwing her thin arms around his neck and buries her face in his worn linen shirt, clutching him to her. There is power in her small frame, something fierce and bright, a hurricane in crystal. Cyran holds her close, his eyes closing as he breathes in her familiar scent. He’s been teased his whole life because of his last name, but she is the one who reminds him of a rose, who always smells so sweet.

The anticipation of loss that has them clinging to each other slowly ebbs and something else, something that has been burning low and quiet in every laugh, every touch, every glance begins to emerge. She is suddenly aware of the press of her chest against his, of how much taller he is, the earthy smell of his skin. She leans back to look at him and sees the same awareness mirrored in his dark eyes.

Outside a rooster crows, loud and discordant.

Cyran turns his head toward the sound and Emma, sparked by the frantic knowledge that she must leave, grabs his chin, pulling him back to her and rises onto her toes, pressing her lips to his.

It is a sunbeam bursting through gray clouds. A spark breathing life into a pile of dried leaves. It is hope and promise and wonder.

And heartbreak.

With a stifled cry, she steps away, turns and flees the barn, not wanting to see the look on his face as she leaves, not wanting that to be her last memory of him.

Cyran watches with a thundering heart as the door swings shut. Flooded with helplessness and misery, he notices the bundle she left behind. Tenderly he lifts it, undoing the sky-colored ribbon. It’s her favorite handkerchief, white with pale blue forget-me-nots painstakingly embroidered along the edges, and nestled inside are several of her spiced biscuits. His favorites.

Rhodolite: The Present

Rhodolite is so much MORE than she expected. The streets are wider and cleaner and lined with greenery, more trees and flowering bushes and grass than in the entire garden of the palace in Obsidian. There are more people than she expected too, many standing under awnings and lampposts, peeking through windows and around doorways, watchful eyes in beautiful faces following the royal procession as it makes its way towards the palace. 

When she had been told by the Head Chef that they would be accompanying Prince Gilbert and his entourage to Rhodolite, Emma had felt a familiar ringing through the cockles of her heart. Rhodolite is where Cyran was rumored to have ended up. Whispers from the south had traveled her way, over the many years since they parted. He had joined the army when he was of age. He had left Obsidian for the verdure of Rhodolite. He was employed by one of the Princes there. Crumbs of information she had managed to gather, hoarding them tightly like precious drops of mana. 

He may not even be here, she reminds herself as her tired gray mare plods along down the street. She and the other servants are at the end of the procession and most of the people have turned away, not interested in anything but the dangerous Prince Gilbert with his sharp smile and blood-red gaze. 

Still, Emma finds herself scanning the crowds as they pass, looking for any head of red hair. She spots a few but they are never him.

As the overwhelming elegant palace suddenly rises towards the heavens before her, she draws in a sharp breath. 

We’re here…….

…….Is he?

The palace looms closer, a breathtaking monument of pale beauty.

And if so….how in the wide world will she ever find him?

Cyran runs a hand through his thick mass of russet hair as his long strides make quick work of the pathway towards the training hall. It’s late evening and the young, freshly-minted knights are at the end of their training and he needs to make sure everything went well without him there. He knows Lucian is more than capable of leading them through their drills but Cyran has a responsibility to make sure. They are all under his charge.

Entering the hall, he sees several of the knights laughing in a corner. Some are sitting and catching their breath, others are pushing the heavy sandbags they sometimes train with back into their storage room. What he sees reassures him. They look tired and sore, yet satisfied, faces bright with the feeling of accomplishment a tough training session will leave behind.

He’s about to go look for Lucian, expecting a full report when he notices several of the knights standing by the wooden table at the far end of the training circle, the one usually covered with straps for shields and rope and other odds and ends. They’re smiling, far too widely to be discussing anything so mundane as weaponry. Several are chewing. He approaches the table, greeted by his men with smiles and respectful nods. Immediately he notices the tin: it’s round and black, covered with decorative golden swirls. 

“What’s this?” He glances towards the first knight at his left, a tall lad with sandy blond hair.

“They were brought here by an Obsidian servant. She said they were a present for us.”

Cyran frowns, a skeptical look on his face as he reaches inside the tin for one of the golden brown cookies.

“And you didn’t think to–” He was going to ask if they thought accepting gifts from strangers was a good idea when the scent hits him, cutting through the sweat and musk of tired men.

The warm spice of cinnamon, the tang of nutmeg, the slight bitterness of cloves, the unmistakable scent of ginger.

He goes still, the breath knocked from his lungs.

Could it be…..

Something in his face hushes the men around him. They watch, curious as Cyran lifts the cookie and takes a bite. 

The man who sees everything, ever watchful, closes his eyes as he chews and the knights are transfixed by the absolute stillness that has overtaken their leader.

And then those eyes open and something in them has begun to burn, bright and alive.

The other half of the cookie falls to the dusty ground as he turns on his heel and, practically jogging, exits the training area, leaving behind the half-eaten biscuit and a slew of surprised faces.

The rose gardens are somehow even more beautiful in the twilight of evening. The red petals seem to have darkened, shedding their bright rose-red for a sultry scarlet. Shadows emerge from the trimmed hedges, stretching across the winding stone pathways, giving a visitor like Emma glimpses of hidden benches and secret dirt paths leading into clandestine corners of the gardens.

She has taken several of these more narrow, less-trodden paths, not at all afraid of getting lost. Her heart is a bird, flitting between dark branches, full of a nervous, tightly-wound energy she can’t quite explain. 

As the sky darkens to a deep navy blue and the first stars open their eyes, Emma pauses in front of a gray stone fountain. Two swans, nuzzling their beaks together, bodies curved towards one another as a blossoming flower rises above them, water spraying outward in celebration. She tilts her head, the romantic in her sighing at the way the two swans perfectly mirror one another, two halves of a whole, two souls in perfect harmony. So enchanted is she by the fountain that she doesn’t hear the footfall on the path, doesn’t notice the man who has stopped several meters away from where she is standing, the sight of her freezing him in his tracks.

“Emma.”

She jumps at the deep voice, her eyes wide and dark as she turns towards the sound. The owner of said voice is standing, half in shadow, at the place where the small path to the fountain begins, beneath a shadowy arch of crimson roses. She is so startled, she doesn’t even register that he has said her name.

“Oh….s'il te plaît, excuse-moi,” she says quickly, doing her best to remember the phrases of the common language spoken in Rhodolite. “J'espère que ça va…” She trails off, trying to remember how to say she hopes she is allowed to be here but the man takes another step closer, leaving the blanket of shadows and stepping into the fading light.

Even the dusky hue of evening cannot hide the red of his hair.

A gasp as soft as the flutter of a bird’s wing escapes her. The young boy she knew juxtaposed against this tall, broad man before her sends her heart into a tailspin. Her hand flies to her mouth as she takes him in. She sees the same bright light of recognition and admiration and overwhelming emotion plain as day on his beautiful face.

“Cyran?” The word is a whisper, a breathless repetition of the name she has kept in her prayers for decades.

His eyes never leave her, almost as if he has the power to hold her there with his gaze, to keep her from vanishing into the realm of his dreams where she has lived for so long. Slowly, he reaches up and loosens the laces at the top of his tunic. His hand slides inside and when it emerges, he is holding a small square of cloth. As he slowly opens it, her heart falters.

It’s white, with pale blue forget-me-nots embroidered around the edges.

He holds it out to her, his chest rising and falling with every deep breath he takes. That handkerchief has lived next to his heart, in an inner pocket, one he has sewn into every shirt he has ever owned since the day he watched her leave.

“I think…..this belongs to you, Brown Eyes.”

She chokes back a sob, unable to contain the thunderstorm of emotion coursing through her and runs to him, falling into his arms as naturally as a willow bends to the wind, tears falling freely down her cheeks. Cyran wraps his arms around her, sheltering her, holding her the way he has imagined a thousand times. His throat burns with all the words he has ached to say, all those sleepless nights spent remembering the lilt of her smile, the music of her laughter, the bittersweet taste of her kiss.

Emma squeezes her eyes closed, breathing in the scent of him, at once so familiar and yet so strange. Her arms wind around his waist as she presses herself against him, drinking in the sensation of his body on hers. 

This is Cyran….her Cyran…..her….

A thought pierces her heart as she suddenly steps away from him, eyes wide, still so beautiful as they glimmer with the remnants of her tears.

“Oh…I…I didn’t mean…..you could be married. I shouldn’t have-”

His laughter is coarse, rough with emotion, a roll of rushing water as it careens over the lip of a cliff.

“As if I could ever love anyone else.”

Love…..

As if summoned by the very word, the moon itself parts the soft gray clouds, flooding the small section of the garden with silvery light. The tinkling of the fountain fills the momentary silence. 

Cyran’s cheeks suddenly flush, a hot mixture of embarrassment and panic overriding the elation of the previous moment.

“I…..I don’t mean to presume of course that you feel the same. It has been a long time and…..” He trails off, wincing. Fluster is such an uncharacteristic state of being for Cyran. “Ah, shit. I’m sorry. I–” 

His words are cut off as Emma launches herself back into his arms, hugging him fiercely.

“Please, don’t apologize.” She tilts her head up to look at him, still in awe of how she sees the young man he was and the handsome man he has become in his beautiful eyes, in his exquisite face. “It has always been you.”

Cyran drags air into his lungs, hardly able to believe he isn’t dreaming. His rough fingers capture her chin, his thumb running over the sensitive skin just under her lower lip. 

Slowly, he leans down as she stretches upwards, eager and nearly trembling with emotion. 

He kisses her, his hand still cupping her face. Gently his mouth moves over hers as he tells her a wordless story of longing, of a bruised heart that learned to somehow keep beating. 

He kisses her, a strong arm pulling her closer, his lips and tongue weaving the tale of a young soldier who never forgot the girl with the tender heart and radiant spirit. The soldier who dreamed of her face during his darkest nights and longed for her laughter on days of sunshine.

She meets him, kiss for kiss, stroke for stroke, sliding her palms along his broad shoulders, clutching him as she answers his tale, confessing without words how he has never left her heart. How his smile was her light in times of worry and despair. How seeing him again has been her northern star from the moment of parting.

Only the moon knows how long they stand there, wrapped in each other’s arms, lost in each other’s yearning.

When they finally part, Cyran rests his forehead against hers, still keeping her tightly in his embrace. He may never let go again.

“You’re….in the employ of Prince Gilbert. I am here.” He frowns ever so slightly as he brushes several loose strands of hair away from Emma’s charmingly flushed cheek. “This could get complicated.”

Their gazes meet and she nods.

“Yes…..but we’ll figure it out.”

And suddenly he is carried back in time to an evening when her eyes shone just as brightly, just as excitedly, a young girl with something to give a young boy, a homemade cookie, an offering of love.

“Together.” 

Her voice echoes across the years, that word wrapping itself around his battered heart, a balm, a blessing.

He returns the nod, staring into the warm depths of her soft brown eyes, tenderly stroking the silk of her hair, and answers her now as he did back then. 

“Together.”

Tagging: @xbalayage @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage @redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @olivermorningstar @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @ikesimpleton @namine-somebodies-nobody @cellophanediamond @whatever-fanfics @justpeachyteastea @chirp-a-chirp @got7igot7family @kookie-my-little-sunshine @mastering-procrastinating @portrait-ninja @queen-dahlia @themysticalbeing @nightghoul381 @whitelittlebunny @chi-the-idiot @bubblexly @wordycheeseblob

[bluegalaxygirl]

Canvas (Zosan X Reader)

Thanks to @mrstrafalgardwater24 for the request on the first part. again i'm sorry for the wait.

Plot: Kuina and the crew paint your baby bump.

Warning: Bad language, extreme Fluff, Violence and Pregnancy stuff.

Reader is Female, Zoro X Sanji x Reader, Poly relationship, established relationship. Kuina is 5ish and has blonde hair, your eye's and skin color. Reader is about 6 to 7 months along.

You have no idea where Kuina got this idea but now that it's happening its hard to complain about it, you know the crew already loves your daughter and the baby still growing inside you but once the little girl mentioned painting on your stomach suddenly everyone wanted to do it all having different ideas of how to show their love and care for the baby. Its turned into more of a competition between a few of the crew member's so to stop any fighting and to let everyone have some fun Kuina decided to make into a contest lasting over the next week. Sitting on the deck of the sunny you can't help but smile as your daughter stands in front of you with several large tubes of different colored body paints, paintbrushes, plastic plates, pencils and paper all laid out on the grassy deck "Alright so the teams are, Luffy and Us opp, Robin and Nami, Chopper and Jibe, Franky and Brook and of course me and my dads" Kuina gives a big smile turning to her farther's who are next to her both giving her a confirming nod, Zoro can't help but smirk at his daughter taking charge as he sits cross-legged in grass facing his little girl while Sanji stands behind him mainly leaning on the swordsman's shoulder with hearts in his eyes. "Everyone will put their deigns down on paper and tomorrow we'll draw straws to see who goes first, i don't want anyone changing their designs after seeing anyone else's. We'll try and do one a day and if Mama needs a break then she gets a break" Kuina puffs out her cheeks making you giggle as Luffy, Usopp and Franky all bow their heads "Yes ma'am" the three say in unison making some of the other crew laugh seeing the hold the young girl has over her uncles. With a big smile your daughter starts handing out the pencils and paper letting the groups start to plan their designs and choosing their color scheme, "Hay wait a minute, who's going to judge?" Nami asks suddenly realizing, Usopp and Luffy are quick to look up from the paper their both sitting with to look at Kuina both realizing there isn't one.

Your daughter giggles taking a pencil and paper before rushing over to the bench your sitting soon followed by Sanji and Zoro "Mama of course" She states sitting down to you as you place a hand on her head and ruffle her hair "Hay thats not fair, of course Y/n is going to pick your design since your her daughter and partners" Usopp jumps up pointing his hand out at the four of you, Zoro lets out a chuckle letting a cheeky grin form on his face "Too bad for you long nose, just try your best then" Before an argument can break out you lightly slap the swordsman's arm then turn to the sniper "Your right, i would be biased so maybe we should have a point's system. Like 1 to 5 stars, I'll count them up so only i can see" You elbow Sanji slightly as he sits down next you his smile growing at the food reference you made "Oh my love thats so sweet" The cook sways slightly a blush appearing on his face making you giggle, Usopp sighs feeling more relaxed about things and nods his head along with Kuina who's happy that everything seems to be going well. Through the day the teams worked on their deigns most of the either measured your belly to work out proportions while others dragged you off to have a privet chat, it made you more curious about their designs since Chopper pulled you into the medical room and with the help of Jinbe placed a strange snail device on your stomach, they secretly talked before saying you could go while Brook and Franky did a lot of measurements even going as far as to get a drawing compass, a proctor and a drafter tool. None of them let you see their designs not even your own family who did most of their work in the kitchen discussing and some times arguing on what to do and coming up with an idea they could actually do instead of something big and complicated.

The next day came quickly and everyone was back outside eager to draw the straws and see what order they would be in, the plan was they would have the whole afternoon to do their work and then a photo would be taken before showing everyone who will then each secretly write down on a slip of paper how many stars which you would then count up and keep in a small book. Of course, you would be voting too but you made a mental note to not add your scores until the end as not to be tempted to add more or less to other peoples scores, with your pregnancy brain you will mostly likely forget what ever you wrote down the day before, last night you forgot what chapter you were up too in your book even though there was a bookmark on the page. "Ok, on three. One, Two… Three" Kuina yells as a member from each team pulls a straw out of your hand each a different length "Yessss" Luffy yells while holding the longest straw out of the bunch soon followed by Usopp who lifts his captain into the air as if they've won the whole contest "Calm down you two, geez" Nami sighs while pinching the bridge of her nose waiting for Robin to compare her straw with that of Chopper's and Brooks who were all the middle people "Looks like were going last" Kuina states holding the smallest straw, you thought she would be sad about it but instead she has a massive smile on her face while looking up at you and her two dads, Zoro nods sitting next to you on the bench and placing an arm around your shoulder "It'll give us more time to practice painting" the swordsman leans forward ruffling his daughters hair who groans and shoves his hand off earning a chuckle form her farther.

Sanji shakes his head while taking a seat on your work side placing his hand on your large stomach "If you ever need a break love just say so… I'll kick their asses out if i have too" The cook smirks, turning to face him you place your hand over his feeling your heart swell with love, you couldn't ask for better partners, the two are always so caring and eager to help you out when ever you need "Thanks darling" You whisper leaning in to place a light kiss on his lips which he happily leans into. "Alright gets get going, come on" Luffy and Usopp run over holding out their hands for you to take, in the past they would have just grabbed you and ran off but the first time that happened while you were pregnant with Kuina your two boys almost kicked them both off the ship and into the ocean then made them do all the chores and heavy lifting on the ship for a week, safe to say they learned their lesson. Standing up with the help of Zoro and Sanji you kiss the two goodbye before turning to your daughter who hands you your book and pen, placing a light kiss on Kuina's head you take the book and give her a looking look while running your hand over her cheek "See you later sweetie" With a wave to the others you head off with Luffy and Usopp who have already gathered what they needed and guided you to the aquarium bar. The once dim room was now light making it easier to see, a section of the large sofa lining the long fish tang was covered in a white sheet that flowed down onto the floor being held in place with white tape and two old tables on either side.

Luffy helps you get comfortable while Usopp sets up the paints and the paper they used to draw on, sitting down you sigh relaxing into the soft cuisines of the sofa "Do you need more cuisines? Water? Food?" Luffy asks hovering a little seeming a little nervous for some reason, taking his hand you give him a smile "A bottle of water would be nice but are you ok captain?" You look up at him with concern, Luffy gulps while rubbing the back of his neck "W-well, while Sanji and Zoro aren't here it's my job to look after you and.. I don't know what i'm doing, Usopp's here but.." The captain sighs looking over to his friend who is loft in thought while mixing colors together to get the right shade. Patting the captains hand you give him a big smile feeling your chest warm up at how much he cares for you and your health "Your doing great, if i need something I'll tell you, ok?" You ask getting Luffy to look at you, his eyes search yours before giving you a nod knowing your not lying to him, a large smile starts to from on his face before quick to rushing off to the bar area letting his arm stretch as to not pull you along. Letting out a little snort you can't help but start to laugh, your hand grips onto your belly as you lean forward finding the starching arm still holding your hand unbelievably funny, Luffy soon finds a bottle of water and rushes back over watching you wipe tears from your eyes before taking the bottle off him "T-thanks Lu" You giggle managing to calm from your laughing fit and let go of his hand, Usopp soon snaps out of his own little world and turns around going to speak when he see's the tears in your eyes, his body goes stiff in panic before lunging at Luffy grabbing his captain by the collar and shaking him "What did you do? Why is she gonna cry?" The captain raises an eyebrow at his friend letting his body be shaken back and forth "Usopp it's ok, Luffy made me laugh thats all" You reach out managing to stop the sniper from panicking.

With the room much calmer and Usopp apologizing to his captain the two get started on painting your belly, at first you have no idea what their making other than it being food related since Luffy kept saying how yummy it was going to look only to be hit by Usopp stating they can't eat it. The two kept you entertained or the next hour with banter, food jokes which lead Luffy to rush off for a few minutes to get snacks and the snipers adventure stories, it was so sweet seeing the long nosed man telling his obviously fake stories to your baby, It was also sweet to see Luffy look after you in a way he's never done so before, always checking if you needed anything, asking if your comfortable and helping you up if you ever needed to stretch. Two hours later they were done, after taking a photo and letting you have a look first they let the rest of the crew in to see the finished product "The great captain Usopp has created another fine master piece" Usopp smirks while pointing a thumb at himself clearly proud of his work, Kuina smiles wide while running up her uncle with big sparkling eyes "Wow, it looks so good" Chopper soon joins in on your daughters praising boosting the snipers ego more much to Nami and Zoro's dismay who both let out an annoyed sigh. Luffy groans with a pout some drool forming at the side of his mouth while laying on the floor his arm and head propped up onto the sofa next to you "It looks so yummy, now i really want cupcakes… Sanji" The captain whines while turning to look at the cook with puppy dog eyes only to be hit over the head by the cook "Don't you dare look at her like that and you can't have anything else, you've already had snacks" The blonde huff crossing his arms over his chest.

Letting out a giggle you look down at your tummy seeing the massive cupcake the two have done, the blue icing with sprinkles and a red cherry really does look yummy, the bow was also a very cute idea even though the two were slightly reluctant to use pink, no one knows what the gender is but the two are convinced it's going to be a boy. "Alright thats enough, lets vote so the two of you can get cleaned up, your both a mess" Nami sighs crossing her arms and handing out pieces of paper and pens letting each person write down how many stars "It really does look good Uncle Lu" Kuina gives the captain a big smile while handing you her piece of folded up paper "Thanks, it really does look yummy…. Quick let raid the fridge before your daddy finds out" Luffy whispers quickly passing you his piece of paper before picking your giggling daughter up and running to the kitchen, with a small laugh you watch as the cook makes his way over to you with a raised eyebrow handing you his piece of paper, all it took was one sorry look from you to know what was going on, in an instant the blonde goes from confused, to shock and then anger "Luffy, get your ass back here" Sanji yells with fury running off to stop his captain from raiding his kitchen and teaching his daughter bad habit's, with a chuckle Zoro plots down next to you and places his arm around your shoulders, the swordsman places his piece of paper on your lap before kissing your head which you lean into.

----- Team 2, Robin and Nami -----

The next day was Robin's and Nami's turn, again the aquarium bar was cleaned and set up so you could sit while they paint, luckily the paint was easy to wash off in the shower last night and didn't leave any residue so your stomach was a clean canvas for the two girls. Sitting down on the sofa you watch the two girls work together while chatting and filling you in on gossip you may have missed, it's a much calmer experience than yesterday which your glad for since after yesterdays antics your a little tired. As the two girls pause to get more paint you shift a little to rub your lower back only to feel two hands start to rub it for you, turning in surprise you see two hands attached to the sofa rubbing your lower back for you, knowing right away its robins doing you turn to the black haired woman and flash a thankful smile grateful for her kindness "We can take a break if you want" Robin smiles back putting down her paint and paint brush to clean her hands on a wet cloth, Nami quickly turns with slight concern not noticing you were unconformable but you don't blame her since you tried not to show it until now "Yes please" Pushing yourself up Nami is quick to rush over and take your arm helping you stand straight up "Do you want me to ask Sanji for some snack?" The navigator asks but you shake your head not feeling the need for food right now, starting to walk around Nami sticks next to you holding your arm while Robin continues with the paints and cleaning any mess they have made "I'm not an old lady Nam" You giggle taking the orange haired girls hand in yours happy to walk with her without assistance, Nami sighs before letting out a laugh gladly taking your hand and letting your arm go "Sorry"

Looking Nami over you let out a sigh wondering why she's so tense all of a sudden, before you can ask the navigator sighs seeing your giving her questioning eyes "I've never been in charge of looking after you while pregnant, i'm just… nervous that I'll do something wrong" Looking away from you Nami refuses to look you in the eyes even when you stop and take her chin bringing her face to look at you "Nami, your not doing anything wrong and i know you feel like you have too but you don't need to look after me, just because i'm pregnant doesn't mean i can't do things or tell you if i need something… Just having you around is helping me, your so caring and quick to jump to my aid either physically or verbally… mainly physically, i can't ask for anything else" You can't help but laugh at the last bit remembering how if someone made you cry or angry even by accident Nami would be so quick to hit who ever it is and make them apologies. The navigator looks up at you as you squeeze her hand in reassurance noticing the soft thankful look on your face, a small smile starts to spread across her lips while squeezing your hand back "I'll always come to your aid, if anyone hurts my girls their going to feel my wrath" The two of you laugh at her statement even though its true, all the girls on the ship feel the need to protect each other no matter what "I'm in safe hands" You hug the orange haired girls arm and lay your head on her shoulder as the two of you start walking again letting laughter fill the air.

Your greeted by Robin as the two of you get back to the sofa, the black haired woman sitting with one leg over the other while patting the place next to her for you to sit "Unfortunately were no where near done yet so to relieve your back pain i thought of an idea" Sitting down next to the woman you suddenly feel something press against your back that isn't the sofa, with a squeak you turn seeing 5 rows of hands with no wrists pressed into the sofa so you could lean back with comfort while so getting any benefits of a message. Letting out a laugh of relief you lean back against the hands, it's a strange feeling but as they start to lightly run circles over your back and shoulders you forget all about it "Thanks Robin, this is amazing but are you sure? i don't want you over working yourself" Robins sweet smile growls wider as she stands taking a plate of paint from Nami who has grabbed her own and kneels down to start working again " Thank you for your concern but I'll be fine, it's the least i can do for letting us do this" The black haired woman kneels down beside Nami starting her work again as you relax into the light massage revealing your back pain. Once the girls are done Robin takes a photo while Nami heads off to get the others, its clear now what the painting is and it brings a big smile to your face seeing the birds nest with flowers around it and three little eggs in the middle "Its so cute, my girls did so well" Sanji smiles wide while swaying from side to side, hearts appearing in his eyes making Robin giggle and Nami crosses her arms with pride "Three Egg's? Does that mean something?" Jinbe asks directing his question at Robin.

The black haired woman looks to Nami with a closed eye'd smile making the navigator blush and turn away "There were supposed to be five, one for each member of the family but… it would have been too small" Luffy is quick to run over and wrap his arms around the navigator trying to cheer her up with the help of Chopper and Kuina all telling her how good of an idea it was and that it's ok that it didn't work out that way. "Ah i see, so one for each parent" Franky states leaning down to look over the work, Brook stands behind him tilting his head to look around the cyborgs head "Its a lovely design, i'm starting to think ours is too sim-" Before the skeleton can finish his sentence Franky whips his head around an intense look on his face "Our's isn't simple" Zoro gives the two a cocky smile as he walks past them to sit next to you and wrap an arm around your shoulders "It doesn't matter if its simple or not" With a sigh you lightly hit the swordsman's secretly telling him to stop since you know where this was going, but he ignores you since Franky and Brook both turn to him with puzzled looks taking the bait with ease "Your not going to be the ones to win… I'm gonna win and there's nothing you can do about it… I have the judge on my side" That cocky smile gets bigger as the two growl at him, the swordsman's arm pulls you closer, so he can place a kiss on your head all while keeping his eyes on the two "That's not how this works" Franky yells with anger stepping a little closer, you would be scared it you didn't know he wasn't going to hurt Zoro, your too close to the green haired man so Franky won't risk it. Brook on the other hand tries to calm the situation down to the best of his ability soon having to get help from Robin and Sanji.

----- Team 3, Brook and Franky -----

Sitting once again in the aquarium bar you try not to laugh as Franky kneels in front of your talking to your stomach while Brook sets up everything on the floor, so they don't have to keep standing up. "This is very important little dude or dudette, were going to create the greatest masterpiece anyone has laid their eyes on but for this to work you have to keep as still as possible. I don't mind you moving around but please… i beg and plead with you to not push or kick towards us.. Ok?" The cyborg taps your exposed belly with his finger as if he's giving your baby a head pat before looking up at you with a big smile "Think they understand?" Letting out a laugh you place a hand on your belly and nod, with a sigh Franky leans back crossing his arms over his chest "And none of that either, you can't laugh or cough, this is delicate work" a pout forms on the cyborgs face making you throw your head back in laughter soon joined by a chuckle from Brook. After you manage to calm down and get comfortable the two start working on your stomach painting fine lines, Franky works on one said with Brook works on the other, its clear the two have been practicing in their spare time since their lines match each other perfectly, once in a while you would feel the baby shift so to stop the cyborg from panicking you would tell him about the slightest movement which he's quite thankful for.

Half an hour later you feel the baby getting fussy, its foot starting to press into your side, it doesn't hurt much its just a little uncomfortable and its probably best you get up and walk mainly to see if that will help the baby settle "Can we take a break?" You ask looking down at the two, Franky is lost on concentration his tongue peeking out the side of his mouth while Brook quickly look up at you and nods putting his stuff down before tapping the cyborg on the shoulder to get his attention "Of course, are you ok?" Brook asks standing up and offering his hand to you, taking his hand he helps you to your feet while Franky moves things out of the way for you "Yea, just a little uncomfortable, sorry the baby's being fussy" Brook shakes his head and links your arm with his while walking with you, its only now you realize someone always seems instant on walking with you, it makes you wonder if Sanji or Zoro said something or if your crew is just that concerned. "Don't be, its natural and you and your baby's comfort is more important… just don't tell Franky that" The skeleton whispers getting you to let out a little giggle, you know the cyborg cares but when he sets his mind to something its almost impossible to stop him, no wonder him and the captain get on so well. "So tiny" Brook whispers before a blush forms in his face realizing he said it out loud, raising an eyebrow you look between him and your belly noticing the tiny foot pressing into your side is now more visible than before.

Taking the Skeletons boney you lay his fingers over the foot knowing it won't move away now that the baby seems comfortable in this perspiration "I know right, its weird to think that one day they might be taller than me, stronger than me… i often wonder what adventures they might go on or what they will inspire to be, they have a lot of options and a lot of good teachers" A large smile forms on your face while looking up at the slightly teary eye'd skeleton as his fingers lightly run over the baby's foot "What ever they will be i know they will be amazing at it." Brook looks back to you with his smile getting bigger only for the moment to be interrupted by Franky "Hay be careful don't smug our work" The cyborg yells earning a sigh from the both of you, brooks hand is no where near the art work, but he removes his hand anyway and holds it up in the air in surrender. "The baby's settled now so hopefully it will be easier for you" You state walking back over to the sofa followed closely by the musician and being helped back down onto the sofa by Franky. Despite the design looking simple it takes almost three hours to do but once's its done and your handed the photo to see painting better your shocked at the thought and effort put into it. "I see you went for a mandala theme, it works perfect on her round stomach and the design also has pieces of each parent" Robin ponders once everyone has entered the room to have a look, Luffy and Chopper tilt their head in amazement and slight confusion while Usopp steps closer to get a better look "Its amazing, i can't tell whose work is who's and there's not a line out of place, no wonder this took almost four hours" The sniper states in amazement.

Raising an eyebrow at robins words you take another look at the photo before gasping in shock, Zoro is quick to rush to your side about to ask what's wrong but you turn to Brook and Franky with a giant grin that starts to hurt your face "Oh my gods, you didn't" A giggle leaves your lips getting the two to blush slightly and shy away a little, Zoro sighs in relief while placing a hand on your head "Don't do that to me" after shooting the swordsman a sorry look you see Kuina walk over to you and look over your belly also giving a gasp "Oh i see it now, Daddy your eyebrows are there and Dad so are your swords" Kuina pointing them out without touching the design, the two take a closer look noticing it too, Sanji's cheeks turn red as a smile forms on his face while Zoro flashes Brook and Franky a grin seeming to boost the two's ego's "Wait you said all the parents so where's Y/N?" Nami asks looking to the two artist's, Brook lets out a small chuckle since he did tell the cyborg that it was too subtle to notice, with a sigh Franky walks over to you and bends down while holding his palm out, the tiny hand inside his large one springs out before tracing over the image in different area's "We'll all the large curves mean hidden and the small circles surrounding them mean strength, so in other words hidden strength. The large flower like pattern means truth and these small things sticking out the stops mean joy, add that all together and its Y/n in a nut shell"

Your eyes tear up with his words as Kuina looks at him with stars in her eyes "You are such a sap" Nami giggle with a large smile on her face, Franky quickly turns to her blushing at her comment but doesn't have time to speak when you tackle him with a side hug "Oh Franky that is so sweet, i love it so much and thank you too Brook, you boys did an amazing job" You start to cry out of joy shocking the cyborg who puts an arm around you to try and comfort you, while holding his head back trying not to cry himself at your words, Sanji lets out a chuckle while taking Zoro's hand shooting his partner a cheeky grin which earns a cunning one from the swordsman both knowing there going to tease the cyborg about this later. Kuina giggles while rubbing your back happy to see how much love her mother is getting, she's soon pulled into the hug when you wave brook over wanting to thank him as well.

----- Team 4, Chopper and Jinbe -----

You took a day off from all the painting before letting the next two have their turn, as much as your enjoying all the love and care your baby is getting it made you tired so you spent most of the day sleeping, only waking up to eat. When ever you woke up you weren't alone either Zoro was sleeping next to you his arm around your waist and head on your chest or Sanji was reading with his arm around you letting you cuddle into his side as he quietly reads, sometimes whispering parts of his book he thinks the baby will like, then theirs Kuina who would be either drawing or reading a children's book to your baby while laying as close as possible to your belly. After your rest day it was finally time for Chopper and Jinbe to start their work, this was one of the most confusing to figure out from the start, that strange device they used on your belly days before along with only picking black and white as their color's made it hard to figure out what they were going to do. During the process you kept looking at your belly seeing them paint a big black area and then start adding strokes white "You ok? You look uncomfortable" Chopper asks with a concerned tone not liking the strange face your pulling, snapping out of your thoughts you look to the doctor, your facial expression instantly softens at seeing white and black paint spots on his cheek and blue nose "No i'm ok, just can't make out what your design is, with most of the others i could make it out at least half-way through" You giggle grabbing a damp cloth and leaning forward slightly wipe the paint of Choppers face.

Jinbe returns from the table with a cleaned off brush and more white paint going back to kneeling in front of you "I'm actually glad you can't tell what it is" You raise an eyebrow at the fish man who lets out a small chuckle with a large smile, Chopper lets out a small laugh too letting you whip the paint off his nose before speaking "Don't worry, it's going to be great, i don't know if we'll win but i know it will make you, Zoro, Sanji and Kuina happy" Putting the damp cloth down you lean back into the sofa, being kept in the dark leaves you a little anxious but you trust the two and know that they mean what they say "We would like the family to come into the room before showing the rest of the crew, i feel the reveal should be shared with the parents and sibling" Jinbe rubs your arm giving you a comforting smile, letting out a breath you relax and nod deciding to watch the fish swimming around in the tank while the two get back to work, the fish man is somehow amazing at calming you down even when your partners can't, you don't know if it's his experiences that make him that way or the fact that you see him as the jolly and kind uncle figure. Their deign was simple but still took about an hour and a half the two constantly looking at the sheet of paper in front of them along with a photo they kept out of your sight but you tried not to pry thinking it would be best to wait until your partners and daughter are in the room before looking.

Kuina runs up to you with a large smile seeming super excited to see what is so special that only the four of you get to see first, Sanji and Zoro walk in behind her both giving you a smile before looking down at your belly, all their smiles drop making anxiety well up inside. Zoro tilts his head in confusion along with Kuina who squint her eyes trying to figure out what it is but Sanji slaps a hand over his mouth, his eyes welling up with tears. Jinbe lets out a jolly laugh before handing you the photo they took of the painting along with the photo they have been hiding from you, your jaw drops tears welling up in your eyes at the first image of your baby, while the painting on your belly was enlarged only showing the head and chest, the scan of your baby was a full body one showing off his little hands and feet. "Oh, Jinbe, Chopper… Thank you" Tears fall down your cheeks as you look to the two who both have big smiles on their faces, Sanji suddenly breaks seeing you cry, tears fall down his cheeks as he rushes over to you, standing as quickly as your can the two of you hug each other "Oh my love, their beautiful" The two of you happily cry into each the cooks arms around your waist rubbing your back and crying into your shoulder while your arms wrap around his neck, one hand running through his hair. The scene makes Zoro and Kuina even more confused, seeing this Chopper walks over taking both their hands and pulling the two over to you "I managed to find a all ultrasound machine, it lets you see inside a person's body and maps out organs and stuff, but we used it to see the baby inside" Pulling away from Sanji you look to the two and hand over the photo in your hands but its only Kuina who takes it in slight shock.

Zoro wraps his arms around you placing kisses on your cheek down to your neck and to your shoulder before pulling away to cup your face "Sanji's right, their beautiful, I love you so much" the swordsman's voice is shaky, but he holds back the tears "I love you all so much" You whisper back placing a kiss on his lips before turning to Sanji who pulls the two of you in for a quick three-way kisses "You're amazing my love, I love you and Zoro, thank you both for another beautiful gift" The cook starts to cry again getting a small chuckle out of the swordsman who pulls the two of you back in for a hug. The three of you can't help but grin like idiots feeling giddy and overly excited about seeing your baby before its even born. "So.. thats my baby brother or sister?" Kuina asks still in slight shock as Chopper points out things for her on the photo helping her see the baby better, placing a hand on your stomach being careful of the slightly smudged art work Zoro moves out-of-the-way so Kuina can have another look "Sorry about your work" The swordsman looks to Chopper and Jinbe feeling a little bad at ruining their work but the big fish man chuckles walking over to pat the green haired man on the back "Its fine, we knew this would happen, were just glad you all love it" Chopper nods at his friends words watching as your daughter walks up to your belly with a smile placing her hands either side of the art work "Hello, it so weird seeing you before your here"

Placing a hand on her head you lightly stroke her hair feeling your heart swell with warmth at seeing how excited she is "We have one more surprise if you want to hear it" Jinbe smirks moving to stand next to Chopper who's still holding the photo in his hand "We know the gender of the baby, do you want to know?" Chopper asks with a large smile slightly bouncing on his feet in excitement, Kuina looks up at you silently begging to know if it's a boy or a girl while you look to your boys, Zoro places a hand around your waist while his other hand goes of Kuina's on your stomach giving you a slight nod while Sanji places his hand over his daughter other hand, his other hand going through your hair before resting on your shoulder "Its up to you love but.. i would like to know" The cook whispers his giddy smile getting even bigger, "Ok.. Yea, we'd like to know" You state looking back to Chopper who jumps a little with joy "You're having a boy" Kuina lets out a loud gasp before hugging your waist not caring that the paint will smudge on her face "Your so cute baby brother" Your heart swell once again as tears from in your eyes, Sanji is quick to kiss your cheek wrapping his arms around you and Kuina, he honestly didn't care if it was a boy or a girl but at least now he can start calling the baby his little prince, Zoro finally lets a tear fall but shoves his head into your neck while rubbing his daughters back hoping to hide it, he didn't mind having another girl but now they would have one of each, for some reason it made him feel like the family is complete.

It took a while for the four of you to calm down enough to thank Chopper in Jinbe, you couldn't help but pull the two into a hug, Chopper let you keep the ultrasound photo while he kept the photo of the art work knowing now he needed to show it to the crew. Unfortunately with all the hugging, crying and touching the once beautiful artwork was now nothing more than a gray patch, you felt bad but the two artist were just happy that they could do this for you. As Chopper and Jinbe let the others in you sit down on the sofa next to Zoro who grabs wipes ready to get rid of the large patch while Sanji pulls Kuina onto his lap next to you wiping off the paint thats covering almost half her face. "That's it? a gray blob" Usopp comments looking thoroughly disappointed after all the hype it got while Robin lets out a chuckle already seeming to know what has happened "Judging by everyone covered in gray paint i think it just got smudged right?" The black haired woman smiles walking up to Chopper who hands her the photo of the finished painting before bringing it back to the others, Nami and Brook are quick to gasp already knowing what it is while the others tilt their heads in confusion. Letting out a laugh you lay your head on Zoro's shoulder as he continues to clean the gray mess on your belly "You two were right, it's a boy" Luffy and Usopp quickly look over at you then back to the photo letting their gears turn until it finally clicks "I told you so" The captain happily cheers hugging the sniper who happily hugs back while cheering as well.

----- Team 5, Kuina, Sanji and Zoro -----

Its the last day and even though your excited to see what your family has planned your also kinda sad its over so soon, the art work everyone has done has been amazing and the experience has been a whirlwind of emotions but above all you've felt so much love, seeing your crew so happy and invested in your children and family life has made any doubts about bringing another child into this world completely fade away. Walking into the aquarium bar with Zoro at your side your greeted by a sweet sight, Kuina and Sanji are mixing paints hoping to get the perfect shade of the color they want and testing it on each others skin, your daughter dips her finger into the light blue paint she's made and rubs it on the cooks cheek who lets out a small laugh as she examines it. The blondes cheeks are full of different shades of Pink's, blue's and light purple's making you hold back a laugh as to not disturb the moment, Zoro wraps an arm around your waist while shoving his head into your shoulder trying to hold back his own laugh "Perfect, we have all the shades now" Kuina gives a big smile while grabbing a damp cloth to help her daddy clean on his face "If i didn't know what you were doing i would say you look sick" Zoro chuckles walking you over to the two earning a growl and a glare from Sanji "Shut it moss head, i don't see you helping" The cook snaps but his expression softens when his daughter finishes cleaning his face for him giving her a thankful look and a small kiss on the cheek before glaring back at Zoro who helps you sit down on the sofa "Helping? While your getting your makeup done, i'm helping our girl get comfortable"

Quickly standing Sanji grabs the grinning swordsman by the Kimono pulling him closer to growl at it, the two bicker back and forth while Kuina hops off her chair and makes her way over with a piece of paper in her hands completely ignoring her two dads. "Even though we know it's a boy know i did say that no one can change their deigns so i hope it's ok that we're using pink" Your daughter looks down at the paper on her hands unsure of how to feel about this but you place a hand on her head giving her beautiful blonde hair a few strokes "What ever you make will be amazing, your so talented plus colors don't have to be gender specific." A smile forms on your daughters face as you pat the seat next to you, placing the paper aside so you can't see it the little girl hops up next to you as you grab a hair tie and start tying her hair up not wanting it to get to messy "Thanks Mama". After tying her hair up Kuina gives you a smile before wrapping her arms around you, hugging her back you place a tender kiss on her head while rubbing her back, the two of you stay like that for a while enjoying each others company and warmth all while Sanji and Zoro are still bickering, the two grabbing onto each other but soon turns flirtatious, both picking on each other while making cocky complements. With a sigh you pat Kuina's back before letter her go knowing you have to stop your partners before their cocky comments turn sexual "Sanji, Zoro, come on already i can't wait any longer" Your laugh and voice gets the two to look at you, Zoro's grip that was firmly around the cooks tie loosens while Sanji lets go of the swordsman's Kimono.

The cook glances at Zoro looking from the man to his tie then back to the man giving him a glare since the green haired man hasn't let go yet, with a cocky smile the swordsman leans closer placing a light kiss on the blondes lips before moving to his ear "We'll finish this later" Zoro whispers slowly pulling away and letting go of Sanji's tie before making his way over to you "I'll get the paints" Kuina happily cheers rushing over to the table and grabbing the plate of mixed paints and some paint brushes while Zoro leans over you running his hands over your clothed stomach before starting to lift up your shirt exposing the skin underneath "So beautiful" He whispers while bending down to place his lips on yours, reaching up you place a hand on his cheek letting your thumb run across his skin as his lips move with yours, Zoro's hands move your shirt up and under your breasts tucking it into the underside of your bar so it won't get paint on it. Slowly pulling away from the kiss the swordsman gives you a loving smile before looking down at your stomach letting his hands run over it while bending down further to place a kiss just above your belly button, the sight makes your heart pound in your chest while tears well up in your eyes knowing how much he loves you and his unborn baby boy. Sanji is snapped out of his flustered shock by Kuina who giggles while pulling on the arm of his jacket "You should really take this off dad, you'll get it dirty" The cook quickly looks down at his daughter than to his jacket managing to come back to reality "Thanks sweetie"

Taking off his jacket and putting it aside Sanji starts turning up the sleeves of his white button down shirt, it doesn't bother him it gets paint on it but it would mean less washing later. Kuina happily makes her way back over to the sofa sitting down next to you as Zoro steps away to take off the top part of his kimono, the little girl can't help but let out a laugh at your flustered face that goes much redder when Sanji walks over taking his black tie off "You two will be the death of me" It slips out before you can stop it causing a squeak to leave your lips as you slap a hand over your mouth, your partners let their grins widen while looking you over with loving and mischievous eyes while your daughter throws her head back on laughter. Throwing his tie to the side making it land on top of his jacket Sanji steps closer letting his hand run over your stomach "Oh my love, you flatter us too much" leaning down to your ear the cook places a kiss just under it as your body stiffens knowing he's going to say something that will make you even more flustered "But if that does happen, i will be more than happy to give you mouth-to-mouth" Your face blows up red as you slap his arm starting to stutter but unable to form a sentence trying to tell the cook to shut up, Sanji laugh while kissing your burning hot cheeks ignoring your halfhearted protests and light hits on his chest and arms. Luckily Kuina couldn't here what was said mainly because she's laughing too hard, it's always a joy to see you so flustered since it's a rare sight and its something over her farther's can achieve.

Zoro lets out a chuckle with a shake of his head while grabbing a plate of paints and a paint brush "Alright, lets get started" The swordsman states getting the rest of his family to calm down enough to start, using Kuina's drawing as a guide your daughter paints on your side while Sanji and Zoro work on the rest, the outline made it every clear what their making bringing a smile to your face, a giant ribbon and down cutting diagonal across your belly leaving a big gap on one side, your daughter kept stepping away once in a while to look at it from a different angle and some times going up to Zoro asking him to redo a line. The swordsman didn't mind since he knows he's not that good at drawing but would often grumble under his breath having to redo a line several times to get it the right way mainly being mad at himself, reaching your hand down while trying not to move too much you run your hand through his green hair helping to calm him down which he gives you a thankful look for. Sanji's lines are neat and tidy, but he would always have a damp cloth wrapped around one finger, so he can run it under the line he's made making sure its perfect. With the three focused on their work there isn't any kind of conversation leaving the room in a comfortable and relaxing silence other than a few words here and there and at least one of them checking to see if you need a break. It didn't take long for them to finish all three stepping back to admire their work "Its almost done" Kuina jumps a little with glee happy to see it looking just the way she wants it too.

A look of surprise crosses your face since it looks down to you "Really? It's already amazing" Your comment gets your daughter shaking her head while running over to the table and grabbing four different pastel colored paints, green, yellow, orange and purple. "Were gonna need your help for this one love" Sanji smirks holding his hands out for you to take as Zoro comes to your side the two helping you stand up, the swordsman stands behind you placing his chin on your shoulder placing kisses on your neck "Ok Dad is green and Daddy is yellow. Ready?" Kuina lifts up a paint brush covered in green paint, Zoro holds out one of his hands letting his daughter paint the palm of his hand as Sanji moves to stand behind you as well placing his chin on your other shoulder "What is going on?" You whisper but only earn a small laugh and a kiss on the cheek in response, once Zoro's hand is painted your daughter takes a different brush with yellow paint and starts painting Sanji's palm that the cook holds out for her "Don't worry baby, i know you'll love this" Zoro whispers placing a few more kisses on your neck which you lean into enjoying his touch "Ok make a heart" Kuina states putting the plate down before helping her farther's make a heart with their joined hands, she adjusts the thumbs to make it perfect before standing back to have a look. Leaning back into the two you can't help but smile now knowing what their doing, Zoro's other arm goes around Sanji's waist keeping you snug in between their arms all while trying not to smug their work since his arm is hovering over the painting on your belly.

Kuina moves her farther's hands into the perfect position before giving them a nod, In perfect unison your partners press their hands onto your belly and hold it there while peppering your cheeks and neck with kisses, lifting your hands up cup their cheeks pulling the two closer to you "You boys are too sweet" You giggle turning to look at Sanji who gives you a sweet loving look "Anything for you Mi Amour" The cook whispers his lips brushing against yours before locking fully, letting out a happy hum you lean into the kiss while stroking his cheek, after a few short kisses you turn to Zoro who has a smirk plastered on his face "I told you'd like it" Leaning in the two of you share a short kiss before fully locking lips hoping to draw the feeling of his lips against yours, as another happy hum leaves your lips the swordsman lets out a needy groan wanting more so you open your mouth a little, Zoro's tongue is quick to enter your mouth roaming around as your hand moves up to hair. Kuina lets out a sigh, she's glad that her parents are in love, but she doesn't want the art work to get ruined, the swordsman's arm is perfectly still but that might change if this goes on "You can move your hands now" Your daughter states managing to brake you and the green haired man apart giving the young girl a sorry look, slowly your partners lift their hands up and off your belly leaving perfect hand prints with their thumb and fingers making a heart in the middle, in the middle a strip of green and yellow meets blending together a little and making a very light lime color.

Zoro and Sanji give you one last Kiss on the cheek before stepping away to clean their hands while Kuina walks up to you getting a better look at the hand prints "This is an amazing idea, I'm guessing the next to paints are for me and you?" You ask getting your daughter to look up at you and nod "I know my hands a lot smaller, but we can make it work. I picked Purple for you and orange for me" The young girl picks up her plate again and grabs two more paint brushes showing you the colors, placing your hand on her head you ruffle her hair before offering your hand to her letting her paint your hand. As she paints you look over to your body's seeing Zoro cleaning up Sanji's hand with a damp cloth, the two don't speck but do share an intense loving look, the cooks the first to step closer placing a light kiss on the corner of the swordsman's lip earning a groan of annoyance from the man, with both their hands clean Zoro throws the cloth down on the table then grabs Sanji's shirt pulling him in before the blonde can react. Crashing his lips onto his partners the swordsman lets out a satisfied moan forcing his tongue into the cooks mouth who instantly gives up and melts into the kiss, his hands run up Zoro's arm and take the hand that is holding his shirt managing to pull it off and interlock their fingers. Your brought back to your daughter when she puts the paint brush down and turns to her dads going to ask for help painting her hand only to see the two kissing.

With another sigh she shakes her head "Dads please… Art first, kissing later" Letting out a laugh you watch your partners pull away and slightly pout at being scolded by their daughter, it's hard to say no to Kuina when she's so determined, so the two pull away from each other and walk over, Zoro takes the plate from his daughter and starts painting her hand while Sanji looks over your purple palm flashing you a sweet smile "That color suits you mi amour" The cook tucks some hair behind your ear while leaning in to give you a light kiss, you happily return it before looking back at Kuina who has now moves to your side, with the help of Zoro and Sanji you manage to make a heart despite the size difference, placing your hands on your stomach your daughter follows along as you wrap your arm around her shoulder keeping the little girl pressed to your side "Thank you sweetie, this was a great idea, I've had so much fun" The two of you smile at each other while pulling your hands off your belly leaving the art work complete. Kuina leaves your side to look at her work her smile bigger then ever as she bounces on her feet in happiness "It looks so good" She praises as Zoro chuckles lifting her up into the air and holding her close "Heck yea it is, my little artist" The swordsman nuzzles his daughters cheek before kissing it not caring that she's trying to push him away with a paint covered hand all while giggling her little head off. Sanji quickly grabs the camera taking a photo of your belly and placing it back on the side, so he can hold you, being careful of the arm work the cook holds you from the side wrapping his arms around your waist and under your belly while your hand comes up to meet his cheek so you can pull him into a kiss.

Zoro smirks at seeing the moment your having with the blonde cook so puts his daughter down and takes her hand "Come on lets get you cleaned up and then show the others" The swordsman states pulling her over to the painting table and grabbing another cloth to clean her hand off all while praising her work. With your lips locked with Sanji's you tilt your head back a little to get a better angle letting his tongue push into your mouth with no resistance, your tongues dance around each other as light hums and moans of happiness leave your lips, it warms your heart to feel how much love your family has for each other and the unborn baby boy they haven't even met yet, you can't ask for anything more. As you pull away Kuina flings the door open and yells out for the others that their finished, of course the first people to rush in are Chopper, Luffy and Usopp, your not sure if their excited to see the art or find out the results of the contest but it doesn't seem to both Kuina. "Arrr thats so cute" Chopper smiles looking up at your belly admiring your families work "I like the hand idea" Usopp comments patting your daughter on the head as she beams up with pride at the sniper. "Its simple but beautiful" Nami smiles walking in with the rest of the crew, Jinbe walks up to Kuina placing a hand on her shoulder with a proud smile "you have an amazing talent young lady, keep it up" His praise makes her eyes sparkle with glee her pride in her and her parents work growing by the second. "Perfectly gift wrapped, how thoughtful" Robin giggles making some of the others laugh too including you and Zoro, the swordsman grabs your book and pen handing it over to you while Kuina hands out pieces of paper and pens to the crew "I can't believe this is the last one, its gone so quick" Franky chuckles after writing on his paper and handing it to Sanji as Zoro helps you sit back down.

Once everyone has scored the last piece of work you add it all together in your book before pulling out a small envelope from another page "Do we get a prize?" Luffy, Usopp and Franky all yell their eyes shining like starts making you giggle even though your feeling a little bad "No, I'm sorry, there's are just my scores, I've been writing them down and put them in here so i'm not tempted to change my own scores, I've forgotten what I've put down already" The three pout only to be slapped across the head by Nami, placing her hands on her hips the navigator scolds them for not noticing, you never told anyone what you were doing but the others could guess since you didn't hide it. With all your scores down and Robin calming Nami down the crew looks to you for the verdict, reading through the scores you can't help but let out a laugh at how things ended up "The winners are Chopper and Jinbe while the rest of you all come in second" A large smile grows on your face as you turn your book around to show them the page, everyone is tied expect for the winner who won by 4 point. There's a collective "What?" full of different emotions, happiness, disbelief and confusion "I can't believe we won" Chopper cheers as Kuina tackles him in a hug the two laughing and cheering as Zoro picks the two up kissing the tops of their heads "Great Job Chopper and thanks again.. Thanks you too Jinbe" The swordsman puts the two down before turning to the large fish man who rubs the back of his head "Oh it was all Choppers idea" Sanji shakes his head placing a hand on Jinbe's shoulder "Still thank you, it means a lot"

Nodding you give Jinbe a smile agreeing with your boys, what they did was beyond sweet and thoughtful, you got to see your baby before it was even born and find out the gender something you couldn't do with Kuina, speaking of the young girl she walks over to you her hand gripping onto Choppers "I'm glad you liked it but i'm sorry you guys didn't win" The doctor gulps feeling a little bad about it but Kuina shakes her head and takes your hand with a big smile "I didn't really care if we won or not, it was really fun and made this week at sea go bay really fast… Did you enjoy it mama, it wasn't too much was it?" Your daughter asks with sudden concern, squeezing her hand you lean closer placing a kiss on her head "I loved every second of it and even though your baby brother was a little fussy at times i think he enjoyed it too" Patting the seats next to you the two hop up cuddling into your sides, your arms wrap around them holding the two close as Kuina places her hand over her hand print on your belly "I'm glad, i can't wait to meet him" Your little girl whispers, kissing the top of her head you nuzzle into her feeling your heart swell with happiness and love only for the moment to be broken by Luffy's loud yelling "I want a rematch" Zoro, Sanji and a slightly stressed out Franky who's going over your scores are quick to look at their captain with a glare "No way" The three yell in unison making Luffy groan with a big pout before flopping onto the sofa away from you, he looks up at the three with puppy dog eyes trying his best to get them to agree like how they do with Kuina, letting out a laugh your soon joined by the two at your sides and a few other crew members as the three groan trying to ignore their pouting captain.

[ballad-of-birdy-lamb]

This was requested by @chloelight143!! They asked for Coriolanus Snow x Reader comfort fic

Coriolanus Snow x Gender neutral! Reader (comfort fic, romantic)

I find it funny whenever someone asks for a Coriolanus fanfic, especially fics like this. Like, why do you want to be comforted by a psycho?

Btw, the reader replaces Lucy Gray/Jessup. Anytime they are referenced they are both put together to keep this as neutral as possible

The sun had risen high into the sky, and the July heat pelted onto Coriolanus’ pale skin, his Academy uniform growing uncomfortable. The day had gone by slowly for him, the seconds ticked by at the speed of an hour. All he wanted to do was see you, was that something so harmful?

His mind had been jumbled for a while, since the delay with the arena bombings, and his mind was filled with horrific events, mainly nightmares. Nearly every night he would wake in a cold sweat from the memories. But the bombing had gotten the Capital involved in the investigation, leaving time to keep himself busy and hope for a stress-free time until the Games. Of course, that didn't always happen.

His shoes made a soft click as he walked through the zoo. There was no one there except peacekeepers, the surviving tributes, and himself. It unnerved him to no end thinking of how lonely they must have been, how hungry. The public was their main food source, it was undoubted that they needed to be fed. The idea of the tributes getting skinnier and skinnier as the nights went on from never being fed made him feel even more grateful for the disgusting broth he had to eat back home.

As Coriolanus’ mind trailed on and on about the hunger the tributes faced, he thought of you. His tribute starving in a cage, dead by the first night in that dirty arena. That was no place for you to die. It was embarrassing, even for him to think about. But your possible death was the last thing he needed on his mind.

Once the peacekeepers got the ‘go ahead’ from Dr. Gaul, he stepped into the monkey house, he was almost immediately hit with disgust. Though the feeling mixed with pity, he couldn't deny he felt nothing but disgust for the tributes. They sat with their backs turned to him, their bodies hunched and covered in bandages. They sat in small piles of thin hay, their bodies crumpled against the uncomfortable grass. Coriolanus grew worried if this was what happened to the other tributes, what happened to you? His mind raced with theories of the injuries you had sustained. Once he got to your cage, he tried calming himself. It wasn't professional for him to worry so much over.

Coriolanus looked away from them and eyed your enclosure, reaching his hand to hold the bars, which almost boiled under his fingertips. He scanned the chamber until he found you, lying in your pile of hay, much of it pulling up grass from around the enclosure. Your stiff body was partially covered in your/your district partner's coat. Coriolanus’ eyes lit up at the sight of you, of course, he couldn't tell if you were hurt badly or not but he was grateful you were here.

“(Y/n)! (Y/n)!” Coriolanus called to you in a soft tone. Your body stirred and sat upright. At the sight of him, your face lit up. You were quick to leave your makeshift bed and scamper to the bars. As you got closer, he fully took in your possible injuries. Your left eye has gotten cut from falling debris but everything else about you was fine.

“I wasn't expecting you to visit,” you smile and reach to hold the bars. Coriolanus nodded, he couldn't help grinning but it faltered from hesitation. He hoped you didn't notice his change as he kneeled.

“I just wanted to see you,” he answered slowly, his eyes trained on you. “I didn't bring any food, I’m sorry.”

You tried keeping your reaction minute but he could tell you were disappointed. You nod unhurriedly. “That's fine.”

Your dissatisfaction made Coriolanus pause, wondering how you really felt about this. You were starving, after all. He wouldn't blame you for crying about it, he might have judged you but he would understand. The idea of the unending starvation you and the others were going through brought along the idea of what they could eat. Maybe it was grass they pulled from the ground. If the peacekeepers weren't here twenty-four-seven, maybe they would have eaten each other. It wasn't something they were incapable of. People grew disgusting when hungry.

Coriolanus pushed the idea out of his mind. “I’m guessing time in here is a lot quieter,” he smiled again. You nod.

“Yeah, it gets kinda lonely. A lot of the other tributes don't talk to each other, especially the tributes without their district partner,” you mutter. You didn't look him in the eye as you spoke. He couldn't imagine the idea of watching the death of someone he cared for. He couldn't imagine it with Tigris, he couldn't imagine it with you.

Coriolanus gazed at you as you muttered the words. It wasn't far-fetched for tributes to gain a form of care for another, but they never bloomed into relationships that were familial or romantic. He hadn't seen all the Games but he knew the tributes rarely cared about relationships in the arena. He couldn't blame them, he wouldn't care if he was in their position. Thankfully, he never would be. Thankfully, he wasn't district.

“I’d imagine they’re mourning their district partner. It would be difficult talking to others and getting scared others would die too,” Coriolanus replied. He couldn't help but move his hand down on top of yours holding the bars. “I couldn't imagine what would happen to your family if you passed.” He desperately wanted to be vocal about how much it would have affected him too but he held his tongue.

You leaned your head against the bars, slowly nodding your head. “They would have been pretty sad,” you mutter. Your fingers intertwined with his, causing your hands to be pulled from the bars. “I’m grateful I have you, you're much kinder than other mentors.”

Warmth washed over Coriolanus’ face, not only from your hand but from your words. You were grateful for him. He knew for sure his face was red. He couldn't help but gaze down at your hand, your fingers cold against his. “I had a dream about you last night,” you say suddenly. The idea almost caught him off guard. Coriolanus rarely remembered his dreams, he couldn't imagine dreaming of another person and it not being odd.

“Oh?” He raised his brow and smiled. You possibly dreaming of him made him smile a little too wide. Coriolanus wondered if you noticed. “I hope it was a good dream.”

“It wasn't,” you state. Your expression was blank as you gazed at him. Coriolanus’ expression fell quickly but he was still willing to know what it was.

“What made it so bad?” Coriolanus moved his fingers along your cold ones, waiting for an answer.

You paused, taking in a breath before speaking again. “I don't remember much but I had imagined you had passed in the bombing, the same going for Lucy Gray/Jessup.” You pause again. “I know it sounds stupid but I would be so lonely without you visiting. I do love Lucy Gray’s/Jessup’s company but I like yours too.”

Coriolanus couldn't help but give a slightly confused look. Did you cherish his company that much? He did like you and your entirety but he thought you viewed him as only a mentor. He apparently was wrong.

“I’m still here and alive. You don't have to worry about it,” he smiled reassuringly. You gaze at him with a saddened look but nod. Your somber look made him more confused. He was here, holding your hand, going out of his way to visit you. He was here with you.

“I know, I’m very grateful for that. I'm glad you're alive.” You reach for his other hand, wanting to feel his skin against yours. Your expression grew sadder as you peer up at him. At some point, he thought you were on the verge of tears.

Coriolanus observed you closely, hoping to understand your quickly changing emotions.

“I’m gonna miss you, Coriolanus,” you took a shakey breath and tightened your grasp on his hand. “I’ll try my best to win, I promise you that.”

Coriolanus nodded at your words, his hand tightening around yours. “You’ll win,” he remarked, as though it was factual.

He would make sure you win. Nothing seemed to keep him going past that. Your victory wouldn't benefit you in the slightest in District Twelve or the Capital but it would help him, that was what mattered.

“You seem sure about that idea,” you mutter. Gazing at him, his face was soft, taking in your saddened features. “You know I’ll win?”

“Yes, I do,” Coriolanus stated, nodding his head. “I’ll keep you safe and you’ll come out a victor.” He said those words like they were factual but they weren't. He couldn't guarantee your victory but he hoped you thought he could.

“Promise?” You hesitantly asked. You must have hesitated out of embarrassment, at least he would have if he asked something like that.

“I promise. I promise to take care of you and ensure you’ll go home at the end of all this,” Coriolanus nodded and took your hand fully into his.

Tears formed in your eyes as he spoke, at least someone in the Capital cared for you. You squeeze his hand a bit firmly yet don't try to hide your tearful eyes. “I hope I won't just be a tribute to you. I don't want to be gone with the wind as quickly as I had come.”

Coriolanus tilted his head at your words. He knew what you meant but the way you said it was odd to him. “I won't. I do care about you, I truly do,” Coriolanus tried leaning closer, hoping the proximity would comfort you to an extent.

“I care about you too,” you murmur and lean your head against the bars. “You’ll root for me.” The way you said those words was like stating a fact. Coriolanus would, it was just how confident you were.

He gazed at you silently for several seconds, watching your tears roll down your face. Lifting his hand, his thumb wiped the tears from your face. “I’ll do everything in my power to take care of you and to keep you safe. There's nothing in this world I won't do to keep you alive.”

You sniffled and gazed at him. Coriolanus couldn't help but admire you. You were radiant, even when you cried. “I’ll get you home to your family, friends, or whoever is waiting for you in District Twelve. No matter what.” He said again, almost a mantra of promises he didn't know if he could keep.

The soft yet comforting calm was ended by the sudden feeling of your lips on his. The impulsive affection drew him in, causing him to press as much into the kiss as he could. Coriolanus’ hand trailed from your cheek to the back of your head, desperately wanting to keep you with him.

As you kissed Coriolanus, he almost tried bringing you closer but the bars stopped him. It annoyed him for a millisecond but it was washed away by the pleasantries of your lips on his.

At the sound of nearing footsteps, you pull away again. Coriolanus was silently disappointed by the feeling of your lips away from his, wanting more from you. But he couldn't tell if he wanted just a kiss. The sound of footsteps getting closer caused him to turn to the sound and was met with the sight of a peacekeeper.

“You aren't allowed to get all touchy with the tributes,” commented the officer, grabbing Coriolanus’ shoulder harshly. He was pulled from you, your hand slipping from his. You reached for him, watching as he was pulled away.

Coriolanus finally started to walk normally as he left the monkey house. He tried fixing himself, hoping not many others had seen his intimate moment with you. But he couldn't deny it was a lovely feeling. Walking down the dark road, his mind was full of ways he would greet you next…

… Maybe a kiss was the easiest ‘hello’ now.

__

Thank you so much for waiting! I am so sorry I haven't finished this earlier but I’ve been caught up in school and have been very busy. I hope you enjoy it.

[ankoluvly]

Every girls favourite way to past time is to cuddle with a horse <3

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . “Y/N? where in merlins name has she gone off to..” Draco muttered to himself, he feels as though he’s looked around the entire Malfoy manner and 10 hectare’s out. He sighed in frustration before deciding that he’d simply meet you at the stables, you can find him if you want to play the disappearing game.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . walking into the stables he went to Winston, his own, nicely and well groomed Shire horse. he smiled slightly to himself as he patted his horse, who was currently eating away at Hay.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Dracos peaceful attitude quickly grew to confusion when he finally noticed the empty stable next to his, which should be containing a beautiful, black Friesian horse, but instead was left open and empty.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Draco started worrying, did your horse manage to get out? how long has it been out? is it dead? did he travel to god knows where? he immediately left the stables, he decided to head towards the river just a bit aways, perhaps the horse was thirsty for river water instead of container water?

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . he started his way over to the river, before Stopping dead in his tracks, he saw a leg, which no doubt belonged to his girlfriends horse. it was laying almost dead like in the grass, longer grass covering the rest of its body. holding his breath, he walked forward.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ‘Oh merlins sake don’t tell me this bloody horse is dead..’ Draco thought to himself, finally walking into view of the horse.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . his breath immediately left him when all he saw was you cuddling with your horse, sleeping peacefully. he immediately shoved you with his foot, waking you from your peaceful sleep.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . “Bloody hell Y/N you made me think this horse was dead, tell me next time before you go on a little sleep adventure thank you very much.” Draco said frustratedly, though relieved he didn’t have to tell you ‘hey your horse is dead.’

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . “Sorry Draco..you were taking so long so i brought him to the river…then decided to wait for you here. i thought i left you a note.” You reply sleepily, sitting up. Dracos attitude softened a bit at your sleepy reply.

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . “It’s fine this time, i suppose. though i thought i was going to need to fire that filthy mudblo-”

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . “Draco!”

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Written by Ankoluvly 2024 on Tumblr!

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . Guys what should our horses name be? i was thinking something like Eris or Ash 🖤

[lxstfathier]

Heat

Cowboy! Alejandro Vargas x Horse Hybrid! Reader

Summary: you’re given to Alejandro as a gift, soon becoming an important piece in his new life as a lonely cowboy. But things get out of hand when you get your first heat.

Warnings: slight degradation, unprotected sex, p in v, pussy slapping, breeding kink, corruption.

A/N: i absolutely love the hybrid!reader fics that i see around here, but they’re always a puppy or a bunny, so i decided to write one with a horse reader and finally here it is, i hope you all enjoy reading this just as much as i enjoyed writing it! 💗 (and before y’all come at me, no, this is not zoophilia and i don’t expect it to look like it)

Soon after catching Valeria, Alejandro decided to leave the military, leaving Rudy as the colonel of los vaqueros, opting for a more peaceful life away from violence.

He bought a nice house in the outskirts of las almas, with lots of land to plant and raise cattle. So, once he moved in to his new home, he put his hands at work to get everything nice and perfect, planting some seeds and acquiring some animals, just starting with some chickens, a small herd of cows and two horses.

His new life in the middle of nowhere seemed to go just right, like dream come true. That’s until, one day, he received a gift.

A black truck came into his property, saying that the had a special present from another high-ranked colonel in the mexican military that he used to know. And how could he deny such thing? of course it would be something to be grateful for.

However, nothing could have prepared him for when he saw you for the first time.

Getting out from the backseat, you finally put your feet on the dry soil, looking at Alejandro with big innocent eyes as he admired every single inch of your body. Hell, you were definitely a rare sight, one of a kind. He had never seen a hybrid before, and you looked almost human, but those pointy ears and long tail revealed your true nature.

“A beautiful young mare” that’s what the strange men told him you were, created in a laboratory with the most pure and strong bloodline. But to Alejandro? you were just a pretty girl who slightly resembled to a horse.

So he took you under his care, even though he knew nothing about hybrids and you were too shy to speak to him for several days, still not used to being out of the horrible lab where you were raised for almost two decades.

First, being careful not to scare you, Alejandro showed you around, all the way from his house to the vast land surrounding it, introducing you to the other animals there, with whom you connected immediately. Then, he prepared a stall for you to use every night, using extra wood shavings to make it more comfortable.

And, with such kind treatment, it wasn’t long until you started trusting your new owner.

Two weeks later, you got out of your stall by your own, running on the field with the other horses, hanging out with the cows and their little calves, or simply just sitting in the grass every evening, enjoying the last rays of sun while you watch Alejandro from afar, admiring the way he unloads bales of hay from his truck, shirtless, with his tanned skin and strong muscles glistening under the orange sky.

Sometimes you even eat diner with him on his kitchen, chomping on a bowl of grain and carrots while he eats whatever he finds, hearing him talk about all those interesting stories from his days in the military.

It all went well for a while, enjoying the time spent together, just getting to know each other. Until everything got complicated again.

After a few months, when your body reaches full maturity, you get your first heat. Something that you’re so innocent and naive to even understand what is going on. You feel weird all day, with a strange tingle between your legs and a sensitive hot skin, aching for any kind of relief.

So you ask Alejandro for help, thinking that an experienced man like him should know what to do in that situation, but he refuses every time, telling you to just get some rest till it goes away.

And you try, you really try, but by the end of the week it’s unbearable, growing desperate and needy, clenching your thighs together, almost whimpering in pain at the slightest friction.

It’s practically a torture for both of you. And he finally snaps when he sees you there, leaning on the fence, mindlessly trying to flirt with his stallions, even though the poor animals can’t smell your hormones due to your mixed dnas.

“Can you stop being a little whore for at least five minutes?” Alejandro grabs you by your arm, practically dragging you away from there, clearly fed up with all that.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, i- i don’t know what’s going on, i just want to feel better” you apologize, still not quite used to that new change in your body, looking up at him with teary eyes and flopped ears. “Please don’t be mad at me.”

He’s not mad, he’s just pent up after all those days of teasing. But he understands you, he knows full well that you’re going through something difficult and suffering because of it, and he doesn’t like to see his animals suffer.

“Then tell me what do you need to feel better” he says, as if he didn’t knew exactly what, letting go of your arm to caress your cheek and run his thumb over your pouted lips.

You don’t know exactly how to put it into words, but you try your best to communicate your needs and not get distracted by his pretty brown eyes, that delicate caress, or his bare torso where you can clearly see his toned muscles.

“Touch me. Please.”

“Así?” Alejandro asks, a smirk appearing on his face as one of his hands gets under your shirt to play with your tits and the other one finds its way between your legs, exploring your soaked folds.

You just nod, unable to speak, feeling as if you were about to melt from his touch, holding on to his strong arm for some stability.

“You’ve been such a tease for days. Whoring yourself out for everyone here to see, and do you know what happens to little whores like you? huh? they get treated like one.”

You can’t process his words, you’re out of your mind already, but you’re willing to let him do whatever he wants to you, as long as he keeps giving you that sweet relief that you’ve been craving all week.

Alejandro smirks, almost mocking how pliant you are him, easily pushing you with his arm until your back hits a pile of hay bales. Now totally cornered and slightly scared, feeling your prey instincts come to surface.

Then, he grabs you by the waist, effortlessly lifting you up to make you sit on top of a few bales, just at the perfect height for him to spread your legs and admire that pretty pussy between your legs, all swollen and slick, practically dripping with arousal.

“Look at you, hermosa. So fucking wet. Who would have thought that such a innocent creature would be a total slut begging for cock.” he says, placing a few hard smacks to your sensitive cunt, making you squirm and whine with each impact.

“Please” you cry, trying to stop his hand.

“Please what?”

“F-fuck me Ale. Please, i need it.” you plead, looking up at him with teary eyes, wanting nothing more than to end your agony.

“Si?” Alejandro smiles, unbuckling his belt and undoing his pants, letting his hard cock spring free. “You want me to breed this little pussy?”

He wraps a fist around his length, dragging the tip along your slit, mixing his pre cum with your sweet juices. And the pure sight of that big veiny cock teasing you poor cunt is enough to make you clench around nothing.

You buck your hips, encouraging Ale to put it in already. And he does it, being kind enough to decide that it’s been enough torture for you, guiding his fat cock to your entrance, sliding it inside inch by inch, growling when he feels how tight you are around him.

There’s a slight stinging in the way he’s splitting you open, stuffing you so full and deep that you can almost feel him in your guts, but you like it, even if your eyes get teary and pained cries escape your lips.

“Tranquila hermosa. Let me take care of you, si?” he soothes you once he’s fully sheathed inside, caressing your fluffy ears as he kisses you softly, pushing his tongue into your mouth.

Alejandro starts thrusting slow, just to get you adjusted to him, and also because he doesn’t want the moment to end so soon. If he could be buried in your warm cunt for an eternity, he would, without a second thought.

But, when both of you start to get eager for more, he picks up a fast pace. His thrusts become harder, impaling you with his girth over and over, making you feel as if you were about to break in half, but at the same time, an immense pleasure with each hit against that soft spot deep inside you.

It’s too much. You break the kiss to moan loudly, digging your nails on the soft skin of his back, already knowing that you won’t last any longer.

And he can tell quite easily that you’re close by the way your walls hug him tight and your body tenses. So he gives you a little help, moving a hand down to rub your clit with his thumb, in fast circular motions that have you screaming out his name.

“Ale! f-feels so good! ah! i’m- i’m gonna-“

You can’t even finish your incoherent babbles when the orgasm hits you, exploding with waves of pleasure, crying and shaking under him, with you arousal being enough to form a creamy ring at the base of his cock.

“That’s it, good girl” Alejandro praises you, slowing his thrusts for a few seconds while you ride out your high. “Now i’m gonna pump you full of my cum, and you’re gonna carry my child and be a good mommy, si? you want that?”.

You’re so cockdrunk that you can only nod, just being able to concentrate on how his hands keep your legs open, the way he fucks you with new newfound strength, abusing your tiny hole, and the filthy squelching noises between your bodies.

Alejandro mumbles curses in spanish while you whine from the overstimulation, and it’s not long until his thrusts lose rhythm, finally coming undone. His cock twitches inside your warm cunt, flooding your fertile womb with thick ropes of white seed as a deep grunt escapes from his throat.

He ruts into you for a while, enjoying the delicious sensation, and then slowly pulls out, keeping your legs open to admire the mess. Your pussy is absolutely wrecked, with slick smeared all over it, slightly sore and dripping with his cum. And he’s proud of it.

“You’re feeling better?” he asks, rubbing your trembling thighs and fixing his pants.

“Yeah. A little bit” you answer shyly, knowing that it’s going to take more than that to calm your heat.

“Well, i guess that we’ll have to do this all weekend. Until your heat is gone, or until you give me a little filly… or a strong colt, i don’t care.”

You smile at his comment, not caring about it either, anything sounds good to you. But Alejandro is not shy to hide his desire to be a father, in love with the idea of having a lovely kid just like you, with ears and tail, running around the farm.

But, for now, he has to take care of you, his precious little mare. So he takes you in his arms, carrying your exhausted body to the house as you cling to his neck, ready to give you a nice bath, braid your hair and dress you with another clean shirt.

All while thinking that you are definitely the best gift that he has ever received.