#you think the man is sitting there like oh yeah better make this equal for every single person

[yooniesim]

If you harass someone over their bachelor challenge in the sims 4 for having "favoritism and bias" you are a straight up unserious loser

[corroded-hellfire]

Okay this is random but I work at a daycare and this little boy who’s about two years old looks exactly like his dad and their eyes are just so blue and distinctive but he has his mom’s hair and I was just wondering if you could write something like that with Eddie x reader, I just think it would be so cute to see their little mini me ! I love your work so sos much no pressure if you don’t want to of course:) 

Eddie as a father? If only I had some experience writing that 😜 I hope you enjoy your and Eddie’s little mini me!

Words: 900

“Can you believe it?”

“No. I mean, it’s been two years and no.”

Max and Dustin sit on the floor of your living room, watching your son rummage through the toy box on the other side of the deep brown coffee table until he finds something suitable to play with his babysitters.

Bret settles on his Fisher Price Rescue Hero action figures and tries to collect as many of them in his tiny arms as he can. A few curly strands of hair fall into his eyes which he shakes out of the way as well as he can manage in this position. Satisfied with the haul he’s gathered, he lugs himself out of the toy box and toddles back over to his favorite aunt and uncle. At least that’s what Max and Dustin tell themselves. 

“He’s like their clone,” Max speaks softly as Bret sits down and spreads the toys around his small body to get a better look. “Dad’s hair curls. Mom’s hair color.”

“Dad’s eye color, Mom’s skin tone. Jesus, I’d swear Eddie grew him in a lab if he knew the first thing about science.”

“Technically, Bret is here because of biology,” Max teases as the two-year-old in question hands the redhead a construction worker action figure.

“The one aspect of science Eddie’s willing to experiment with time and time again,” Dustin says. 

“Hmm?” the little boy asks Max, having heard her say his name.

“Huh?” Max asks, looking down at the youngest Munson. “Oh. Um, what game are we playing?”

“We playin’ heroes!” Bret announces, having the firefighting action figure he’s holding fly in an arc over his head. 

“Are they superheroes?” Dustin asks. He lays flat on his stomach to be more on an equal level with the toddler. Action figures of every occupation are spread out in front of him on the plush navy blue carpet. 

“Not all,” Bret says with a shrug, which is the spitting image of one of your usual quirks. 

“Which one do you want to be?” Max asks. 

Bret’s eyes scan the variety of toys laid out around him, his small tongue peeking out from between his lips as he thinks about it. Max can’t help but chuckle at the familiar image in front of her, just on a smaller scale. 

“I don’t know!” Bret pouts, his lower lip jutting out. He slumps down on the carpet, his head coming to rest on his Uncle Dusty’s shoulder. 

“Aw, come on, Mini Munson.” Dustin rolls onto his back and lifts Bret over his head. The two-year-old giggles wildly and starts to kick his feet as if he’s trying to swim away. The laughter is so loud and piercing that none of the three hear the front door opening.

“Careful,” Eddie says as he walks into the room, you trailing just behind him. “He had a few waffles for breakfast, and I don’t want to see them come back up over Uncle Dusty’s face.”

Bret giggles—slightly evilly—as if this would be hilarious.

You set your purse down and slip your shoes off, throwing Max a smile.

“How was the troublemaker?”

“The usual amount of trouble,” she tells you.

“So, nowhere near as much as his father. Got it.” 

Your husband walks towards Dustin, ready to scoop your son up out of his grip, but the little boy squeals and dodges his hands.

“Hey,” Eddie pouts, which only makes Bret giggle. “Bret Michael Munson. Are you trying to escape your old man?”

“Yeah!” he replies cheerfully, making Dustin laugh. 

Eddie softly kicks his best friend’s shoulder with his socked foot. 

Across the room, Max accepts the glass of water you hand her.

“How was your afternoon date?” she asks.

“It was fun. The weather’s really nice and I beat Eddie by three points because he couldn’t hit his ball through the little windmill,” you say with a giggle.

“You’re definitely going to have to be the one to teach Bret to play mini golf,” Max says. 

The two of you look over to your son, where he seems to be the object of a game of keep away between Eddie and Dustin. Bret giggles wildly, his face scrunching up in a way that makes the tip of his nose wiggle.

“It’s so crazy how much he looks like you when he scrunches his face like that,” Max says, shaking her head in amazement. 

Bret must’ve caught his aunt’s words because he looks over at the two of you, a tiny furrow between his brows.

“But Mommy’s a girl!” he protests. 

You blow him a kiss and he’s quickly sucked back into whatever game he’s playing with the guys. 

Once Bret is tuckered out from the roughhousing, he plops down on Dustin’s chest and Eddie makes his way over to you. He catches wind of your and Max’s conversation of how your son looks just like the two of you. When Max slips away to grab her things, Eddie places his hands on your hips from behind and rests his chin on your shoulder. 

“Wanna make another one and see if they look more like you or me?”

Just the thought sends a pleasant tingle down your spine.

“You’re on, Munson. Meet me in our room. Nap time.”

“Bret’s or mine?”

A snort of laughter bursts out of you, causing Eddie to smile and only hold onto you tighter. 

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Steve and Eddie lay on the floor of Steve’s living room, staring at the ceiling fan as it moved on the lowest setting. They were both equally high, floating together like they were laying on clouds.

"Eddie?" Steve asked.

"Yeah?"

"Can I tell you something?" Steve asked.

"Anything, man," Eddie said.

"I like more than one thing," Steve said. "So much more."

"More than one thing of what?" Eddie asked.

"You know how some people like one thing and the opposite thing, but some people like one thing and the opposite thing," Steve said. "I like more than one thing, you know?"

"Like some people like Star Wars and some people like Star Trek, then there are people who say it's the same thing," Eddie said. "Which is bullshit. Some people like both of them, like me."

"You like Star Wars and Star Trek?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, problem?" Eddie asked.

"Nah, man, I'm friends with other nerds," Steve said. "I also like Star Trek and Star Wars. I also like basketball. I like so many things. Is that weird?"

"Nah, man. I don't have a problem with basketball, not anymore," Eddie said. "There's just so many things out there to like, you know. Gotta keep my mind open."

"I think there's a word for what we are. I just can't think of what is," Steve said. "My head is so foggy."

"Yeah, I think your ceiling fan just turned into a helicopter, man," Eddie said.

"Oh, man. I do not want a helicopter in my living room," Steve said.

"You're right. It is better that we're both sober," Vickie said.

Vickie and Robin were sitting on the couch, a bowl of popcorn between them.

"Told you, highly entertaining," Robin said. "Don't worry, once they sober, they'll remember that they're boyfriends and that this is the fifth time they're coming out to each other."

"Eddie?" Steve asked.

"Yeah?"

"Can I tell you something else?" Steve asked.

"Yeah."

"Like sometimes, I don't feel like a man. Sometimes, I feel like a woman, but other days, I also feel like a man, and like other days, I don't feel like a man or a woman," Steve said. "Is that crazy?"

"Nah."

"Okay. Okay. We are encroaching on a territory I didn't know existed," Robin said with wide eyes.

"What do we do? Do we pretend like we didn't hear that?" Vickie asked.

"I mean, I think so. I don't know," Robin said. "Yeah, I think so. He's got to be the one to come to us on his own with that like he came out as bisexual. So, yeah, I think we just forget."

The next morning. . .

Robin walked downstairs and into her friend's kitchen. He was standing at the counter, drinking coffee. Robin stared at him, her heart full of affection and love for her platonic soulmate.

"Good morning, Robin," Steve said.

"It certainly is, good that is," Robin said, her eyes filling with proud tears.

"Are you okay?" Steve asked.

Robin sobbed and threw herself at him, hugging him tightly.

"I love you, no matter what shape you come in," Robin said.

"Uh, okay?" Steve asked. "What the hell does that mean?"

"Like if you ever decided to become. . . Astronaut shaped, I think it would be cool. Stars are beautiful, you know, and it's a beautiful thing because we're all made of stardust. And if even if you didn't want to be an astronaut, it would still be beautiful stardust," Robin rambled.

"Robin. . .did you wait until this morning to smoke weed? Why didn't you smoke with us last night?" Steve asked.

"I wanted to see what you and Eddie talked about when you guys were high," Robin said.

"And?" He asked.

"So many wonderful things," Robin sniffled. "I'm so proud of you, and just so you know, I'll support whatever decision you make."

"What if I decide to shave all my hair off?" Steve asked.

"Even then, I'll still love you," Robin said.

"Even my eyebrows?"

"I still love you. . . Dingus."

Robin kissed his forehead and skipped back upstairs to Vickie, leaving Steve with the same wave of affection that hit her just moments ago.

[euphoricfilter]

𝐒𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐲 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐𝟒

finally a family

tags/ warnings: games designer! jungkook, non-idol au, established relationship, epic fluff, bowser!!!!!!

word count: 1k

notes: it’s back!!

☆ crazy cool callob with @bonny-kookoo 💞 ☆

☆ series masterlist

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

You and Jungkook were nervous. Even that felt like an understatement, because this meeting would either make or break the decision if Bowser was allowed to stay with you. The mere idea of them telling you, you weren’t the right fit enough to wet your moods.

“What if we don’t get him?” you murmur.

You’d been stood near the front door for the better half of an hour, feet shuffling against the rug.

Jungkook leans against the opposite wall, head hung low as he mulls in his own thoughts. The adoption agent wasn’t meant to be there for another 15 minutes, yet neither of you could find it in yourselves to sit down.

“I’d cry” he admits.

You swallow, “I think I would too”

Jungkook tugs you closer to him, arms wrapping around your waist as he rests his cheek against the top of your head. Your ear pressed against his steady beating heart, that gentle thump a constant in your life, a reminder that even when you’re feeling low, he was here with you. That his beating heart will be there if today ends in joy too. Always there, always with you.

“We’d take good care of him” he whispers. You hum, “Yeah we would.”

“He’s such a cool puppy”

You tilt your head upwards, “So cool”

“I’d show him off so much”

A laugh bubbles up your throat.

Jungkook had spent all of the Christmas break and New Years looking up the perfect nutritional plan for Bowser. Dipping into the savings account for a bed he’d be able to access easily, a ramp so he could get up onto the sofa, treats stashed in the drawers of his office desk, some stashed in the nightstand.

“Do you think we should clear the table and chairs on the balcony, so he can run around the bedroom better?” you ask.

Jungkook’s fingers skim down your lower back, “That might be a good idea... we don’t really sit out there often. We could buy beanbags, get those out in the summer when we want to drink out there”

You nod, “Good idea... one of my friends was looking for an outdoor table set, could give it to her...”

Both of you perk up at the knock at the door. Your heart thrumming in your ears as you glance up at Jungkook, eyes wide.

“I’m scared” you whisper, “You open the door”

“Huh” he looks down at you with equal worry, “What if I give off a bad impression?”

You swallow, “What if I give off a bad impression?”

“Everyone loves you when they first meet you”

Your eyes narrow at him, “No they don’t”

“Well, I did”

“Jungkook—” you start, forehead pressing against his chest when another knock rattles the door.

“Shit” he whispers, arm tightening around your waist as he tugs you towards the door.

“We can both open it” you say, hands reaching for the door handle.

Jungkook lets out a long sigh, “You open it, I say hi”

“Deal” you nod, fingers wrapping around the handle, swallowing down your nerves as you pull the door open.

You and Jungkook stand there with your backs straight, stiff smiles on your face. Your eyes rake down the old man’s body, clad in an expensive suit.

“Hello” Jungkook coughs.

“Good afternoon” he nods, “I’m Bernard, here about Bowser”

“Yes!” Jungkook blurts, “Yes, shit—I mean, come in”

The both of you stumble back, letting him into your home.

“Sorry I didn’t catch your names” Bernard says, reaching his hand out for Jungkook to shake.

Jungkook tries to discreetly wipe his hand on his pants before shaking his hand.

“I’m Jungkook, this is my fiancé” he motions to you.

“Y/n” you smile, shaking his hand.

“Please” Jungkook motions further into the apartment.

The both of you trail behind the adoption agent, fingers interlaced as he types something into his phone.

Jungkook’s eyes follow Bernard’s, small doggie wheelchair sat in the corner of the living room.

“Oh that—” he lets out a short laugh, cheeks heating in embarrassment, “We wanted to make sure his wheels wouldn’t get caught in the rug... we noticed he’s quite active”

Your eyes stay glued to the floor. Finger’s squeezing Jungkook’s each time Bernard goes to type something else into the form he had.

“Have either of you had a dog before...?” he asks, peering into Jungkook’s office.

“Yes, I’ve had a few” Jungkook nods, “One still lives at my parents place”

“And you’re aware of Bowser’s... disability”

Your eyes narrow at his tone, elbow pressing into Jungkook’s arm. He seems to share the same sentiment, fingers squeezing yours.

“We know” you say, sharp.

“And that’s no issue for us” Jungkook adds.

“You know it’ll be a big responsibility” Bernard pushes your bedroom door open, eyes raking over the dog bed, scattered with toys you’d absentmindedly picked up shopping before Christmas.

Your tongue wets your bottom lip, “Both of us have a stable income, if that’s what you’re implying. We can take him for regular check-ups without an issue, and have the option to work from home so he’ll be well fed, and exercised”

The old man turns to look at the both you.

“You’re both so young” he comments, “and a dog like Bowser—”

“Is just what we need” Jungkook shakes his head, “We’re serious about him”

Bernard lets out a long sigh, slinking back through the apartment towards the front door, tucking his phone into his pocket.

“Seeing as no one else will likely adopt him... and you seem eager” he starts, “I’ll send the paperwork over. They can fly him over within a week... and due to the circumstances, I doubt they’ll ask you to visit him in the pet home before he’s allowed to come here” he explains.

“So... he’s ours?” you ask.

“After you sign the papers, yes” he nods.

You look up at Jungkook with wide eyes, Jungkook already looking down at you with a bright smile.

“Holy shit” you whisper, apologising when you glance back at Bernard.

“Thank you” Jungkook blurts.

Bernard shakes his head, “You’re the ones doing something good for the small thing, it wouldn’t have a home otherwise”

After the door clicks shut, your arms wrap around Jungkook’s shoulders, his arms wrapping around your waist. He squeezes you closer to his body, “He’s ours” he laughs, your own giggles filling the air of the living room. “He’s really really ours” you kiss Jungkook’s cheek.

“We’ll finally have our own little family” Jungkook grins, lips pressing against yours.

[johnwickb1tsch]

Yandere Tex x Reader x John Wick WIP Part 5!

Ready evil geniuses? @treedaddymcpuffpuff @sweetwolfcupcake

John lets you rest after wrecking you for the umpteenth time, disappearing off somewhere. You put off leaving the bedroom for as long as you can, but in the end you can't stand it anymore. You rummage in the closet for a new shirt. Your choices are black, black, and you'll never guess... black. 

This house must belong to John.

How many safe houses does that man have?

When you walk out of the bedroom in your new getup you find Tex in the living room watching TV. He raises an eyebrow at you. 

“We have got to get you some clothes, baby girl.”

You shrug. The boxer t-shirt combo is actually pretty comfy.

You think you might make your way to the kitchen, but Tex snaps his fingers at you as you try to walk past.

You turn to look at him with a raised brow. 

“Can I help you?”

That was the wrong thing to say, obviously. 

His grin is that of a hungry wolf. 

“I bet you can. C'mere, darlin'.”

You sigh, but after your little lesson with John, you're not quite so inclined to defy him. 

Yet.

You're going to have to get smarter about how you expend your energy. 

Easier said than done. 

You pad over next to him. He pats his thigh in invitation, but you opt to sit next to him instead. This lasts for about two seconds, before he hauls you into his lap with his big hands and his strong arms.

Goddammit.

“That's better,” he says with a sly grin, holding you close. 

You take a moment to look at him—really look at him, from up close. The sweep of his almond shaped eyes, his high cheek bones and the short scruff of his beard. He stares back at you, unabashedly. 

“What?”

“Nothing.”

He narrows his eyes at you, bumping his forehead with yours. You wish it wasn't adorable. Fucking man child, making you feel things.

“Wanna watch tv?”

It beat anything else he could dream up, so you agree. You hadn't forgot that he still owed you for your flipping of the bird earlier. You're sure he hasn't either. 

He turns on some stupid gratuitous action flick, and you kind of zone out. Your thoughts drift to John, and the things he told you in-between fucking you silly. 

He'd said that he and Tex would not take on the FBI just for a plaything, or a whore. Deep down, you knew what that meant. 

It meant, they had no real intention of letting you go. The thought filled you with equal parts dread—and wonder. 

Why the fuck would not one, but two fine ass men like this want you, for keeps? It's beyond your comprehension—and if you're honest, kind of flattering. Bat shit fucking crazy, but flattering.

Either that, or it's just...convenient. Your circumstances created a perfect storm from which to snatch you without a trace or a person to care about getting you back.

"Want to see somethin'?" asks Tex, interrupting your reverie.

"Okay?"

He clicks play on the remote once he has your attention. You watch as a 1970s muscle car jumps an impossible ramp, then lands roughly on the other side of a canal. "That was me."

You lift an eyebrow, looking back at him. "In the car?"

"Yeah."

He's grinning like a little kid, clearly proud. 

"You were a stunt man?"

"Uh huh."

You tilt your head, trying to put pieces together and failing. The square block is not fitting in the circle hole. 

"Then why...?"

"Killin' people pays better, believe me. Less dangerous, too."

A chill runs down your spine. 

"Oh."

Your gaze drifts away, but he turns it back to him with a hand on your chin. Those jet black eyes bore into yours, like he can see into your soul. His eyes flick down to your mouth, a moment before he leans in to kiss you. Your first instinct is to offer teeth, before you remember if you have to have sex one more time in the next twenty-four hours, you might literally die. You slip your tongue into the seam of his lips, and feel him smile against your mouth. 

"Mmm. A man could get used to this."

He slides his hand up your thigh, fingertips sneaking past the loose hem of your boxer shorts. 

You wrap your fingers around his, praying. "Tex, please."

"Like the sound of that," he says between kisses, outmuscling you to move his hand higher.

"I'm so sore."

"Sounds like an excuse to me. John gets you to himself but I don't?"

"It's not my fault you're both hung like horses."

This appeal to his ego makes him grin. "Ain't you a lucky girl?"

"Only if you don't hurt me."

He has the gall to give you a pouty face. Again, it should be fucking ridiculous, but somehow it's cute. He cups the side of your face, pushing his thumb between your lips. "How sore is your mouth?" he asks, eyes glittering.

It's not high on your list of things you want to do, but you're having to weigh your options these days. You suck his thumb, and you swear you watch a fire ignite in his eyes.

"Also sore," you say around his digit, sounding ridiculous as he presses down on your tongue. Your jaws hurt. Even your mouth is bruised from kissing. Jesus. You're not a goddamn python.

You try to retreat, but he forces his thumb deeper.

Absolutely out of instinct to defend yourself, you start to bite him.

Maybe you stop yourself before it can hurt or you break skin, but for the wicked gleam in his eyes you know it doesn’t matter. Suddenly you find yourself flipped on your stomach over his lap, as though you are nothing but a doll.

“You are a nippy little thing, you know that?” When he wrenches down your boxers, propping your ass in the air with his trunk of a thigh beneath you, you’re afraid you know exactly what he has in mind.

“No—”

His hand between your shoulder blades pins you down. “You’re just going to make it worse for yourself,” he says in a sing-song tone, almost as though he hopes you will fight him more. His fingers fanned out over your butt cheek rub lightly, soothing over your copious bruises. It feels so good that the first stinging smack makes you jump sky-high.

“Hey!”

“Hush and take your licks, little girl.”

“I hate you!”

“I was gonna say five, for flippin’ me off, but now it’s six. Comprende?”

You whimper, but for the first time since this whole fiasco started, you do the smart thing and shut your dumb fucking mouth, hanging your head in the pillows with resignation.

He’s just spanking you, you reason. How bad can it be?

He has a hand like a catcher’s mitt and arms corded with muscle.

Bad. The answer, is bad.

Yet he doesn’t lay into you immediately, soothing you with featherlight touches over your buttocks and the backs of your thighs. That part feels good, actually, and fuck you if you don’t start to feel the stirrings of desire between your legs.

What. The ever loving. FUCK. Is wrong with you?

“So pretty,” he says, toying with the bend of your knee. It makes your toes curl, and he offers up a deep chuckle that you almost feel more than hear. “You like that?”

“Yes,” you answer meekly, closing your eyes.

“See, I can be sweet, if you’re sweet to me.”

The next smack on the other cheek makes you jump again, but this time you do not protest.

“Ahh. She can be taught.”

You whimper, but keep your expletives to yourself. This is not exactly what you would call sweet…but the contrast of the stinging blows with his featherlight touch afterwards is doing things to you that you do not understand.

“Take this off,” he demands, lifting the hem of your shirt up your back.

For once, you obey him the first time, squirming in your awkward position on your belly and pulling it over your shoulders, leaving you bare and totally exposed upon his lap. He runs his fingers up the curve of your spine, making you shudder upon him. You can’t see his smug grin, but you know, you just fucking know it’s there.

Smack.

You can’t help but cry out, but the pleasure and the pain is strangely starting to meld together. Your treacherous, stupid little cunt has begun to throb, and as his fingers caress dangerously close to your crease you find that you wish he would touch you there.

By the time he’s finished with your licks you are a finely trembling, aching mess on his lap, your fingers like claws in the throw pillow, your ass in the air as though begging for it of its own volition.

Finally he does dip his thick fingers into your weeping slit, groaning to himself for the wetness he finds there. He circles your bud with the thick tip of his finger, making you moan and arch into him like the stupid little hypocrite you are.

“That’s a mighty nice little pussy you’ve got there,” he says, his voice turned pure gravel with desire. “Too bad you’re too sore.”

He withdraws and shoves you off his lap as he stands, leaving you in a heap of pliable naked limbs on the couch. The frustrated sound that escapes your throat is barely human, and the grin he pays you is the baring of teeth from a predator to a rabbit across the wood.

“Now don’t let me catch you touchin’ yourself,” he warns, looming over you. “You won’t like what happens next.”

 On that note he struts off, and you watch him go with a glare, unable to stop yourself from thinking he has the nicest, tightest little butt this side of the Mississippi river.

Bastard.

[tgmsunmontue]

Season to Taste - 5/? WIP

Explicit Hangster - Celebrity Chef Bradley and Naval Aviator Jake Seresin who have a relationship spanning the globe before they realize how tightly bound they are to one another. Heading into this little world.

PROLOGUE/ONE TWO THREE FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

                “I don’t like wine.”

                “I don’t care. You need to learn the flavors. What it can add to food. Which ones might go better with certain dishes.”

                “Oh.”

                So he sits, and is made to try a variety of reds and whites and then have them with certain dishes and okay, there are some he doesn’t hate, but it still wouldn’t be his first choice. He can tell that some of the food tastes better when drunk with different wines, and vice versa. Then he’s dragged along to the family vineyard, taught about the pruning and pressing, the inclusion of the skins of the grapes and the fungus that can make them sweet and he’s equal parts fascinated and horrified.

…            …            …

                He’s lying in the bed, coming down from the high and Bradley can’t wipe the grin from his face. Orgasms always put him in a good mood, doubly-so when they involve someone else. It’s why those he works with are so often telling him he needs to go out and get fucked. God, the endorphin high is something else. Jake seems equally pleased with their time together so far, in no rush to leave, his lips and fingers tracing paths over Bradley’s cooling skin which has been half-heartedly wiped clean of both their come using Bradley’s shirt. He’s warm and drowsy but also contemplating suggesting a shower, both to get clean but also to wake himself up. He can sleep when he doesn’t have an attractive man in his bed.

                “Did you know you were my first kiss with a guy?”

                Bradley startles a little, opens his eyes to find Jake peering at him with mischievous eyes and he’s so fucking unfairly gorgeous, even in the waning evening light.

                “What?”

                “Yeah. First kiss. Was great but it freaked me out. Kind of why I ran.”

                “Okay…” Bradley says, and he really doesn’t know what to do with this information. Huh. He knows DADT was repealed in 2011, and now thinking back to 2008 then he supposes there was more than one reason for Jake to run. He’s not running now though.

                “Yeah. I mean, it was almost ten years ago. I wasn’t hanging around waiting for you or anything. But, uh, it was… formative.”

                “Formative huh?” Bradley asks, shifting a little and grinning, is enjoying the fact that Jake can’t seem to stop touching him.

                “Well, I did think European guys were much hotter than American guys, but it turns out you’re American after all…”

                “Disappointed?” Bradley asks, a little worried what the answer might be. He’s had it happen before, guys think he’s one thing and then found out the almost opposite is true. Not always with regards to his nationality, but his personality and how he’s sometimes portrayed on screen. Sure, he has a temper and he lets it get the best of him in the kitchen sometimes, but it’s never translated to the bedroom. Ever. If anything the opposite is true. Not that he needs to get into that with Jake.

                “Do I seem disappointed?”

                “Don’t answer a question with a question.”

                “Baby, I am definitely not disappointed in any way…” Jake says, and his kiss is slow and purposeful, his body bracketing Bradley against the bed, pushing him down and it’s exactly where he likes to be and he lets out a moan of approval or appreciation. Regardless Jake takes it for the encouragement it is and rolls his hips, creating friction between them despite the fact that their bodies are almost flush with one another from thigh to chest.

                “You have anywhere you need to be tomorrow?”

                “Nope. On leave remember. Only my sisters and they know where I am…” Jake says, giving Bradley a slow up-and-down look and slow smirk which has him laughing.

                “Yeah? You want to stay the night?”

                “We trying for round two?”

                “Seven course degustation menu…” Bradley jokes, flexing his own hips to add to the building friction.

                “What’s that?”

                “Seven rounds…” Bradley says, which he knows is impossible, however –

                “Well, I always did like a challenge.”

                Bradley throws his head back and laughs.

…            …            …

                Jake sends a quick message to his sisters to let them know not to expect him home, even though it’s late he knows one of them will be waiting up for him. God he’s glad they have no idea the type of shit he gets up to at work. They’d never fucking sleep with worry. He knows they don’t particularly like that he’s in the service, but they’ve always been nothing but supportive of his life choices, even when they’ve had to give up on some of their own he’s always been allowed to follow his dreams. He’s the baby of their family and he totally leans into it, taking advantage of the fact that all his sisters have soft spots for him. Letting them know he’s safe right now is the least he can do.

                Safe physically at least. A little part of him worries that maybe staying isn’t the wisest course of action, that the fantasy he’d created in his mind around Leo is never going to stand up to close inspection. The sex so far has been superb, and he’s already shifted him from being Italian in his head to American, but sleeping has always felt like an even more intimate act to him. Sharing the little before-bed routines a person might have.

                At least Leo wants to have some type of mystery, has closed the door to the ensuite very firmly, the lock sliding home and Jake bites back a grin, remembering hook-ups taking a piss in front of him. He doesn’t have a problem with bodily functions, but he also doesn’t mind the build-up to that level of familiarity. He sobers then, realizes that he and Leo aren’t likely to build up to anything given Jake’s profession and Leo’s job, which he has to admit he doesn’t really understand why he’s travelling for work when his work is making food for people. Ah well, he can ask more about it later.

…            …            …

                He wakes up to the smell of bacon and eggs, along with coffee and he stretches, disappointed to find the bed empty even if it maybe explains the reason for the smells. He wonders if he should brave going out to the kitchen, given that he doesn’t exactly have clean clothes. Plus there’s the risk of running into the other people who are staying here. And if Bradley is planning on bringing him breakfast in bed then who is Jake to stop him? He settles back and scrolls through his phone and answers a few messages and sends a couple of photos from his last week into various group chats.

                “Hey, morning…You’re awake.”

                “Morning. I’m an early riser.”

                “Not as early as me…” Leo says, and he’s sliding a tray onto the bedside table and Jake goggles at it. There’s the bacon and eggs he could smell, but there are also sausages and grilled tomatoes, then some golden and crunchy-looking thing which he’s hoping is some form of potato. There’s four slices of bread and little pats of butter slowly melting on them, then another dish of what look like mushrooms which he can tell were cooked in garlic judging from the smell.

                “Holy shit, how much do you think I eat?”

                “Well, it’s my first chance to cook for you, so I had to pull out a few stops. Plus you need to keep up your energy…” Leo says, sitting on the bed and leaning forward to give him a kiss.

                “Do I now?” Jake asks, and he hadn’t planned on spending the day in bed but it’s not like he has anywhere else he has to be.

                “Uh huh. I did make that for both of us though…”

                “Thank fuck… Do you have any sauce?”

                Leo blinks at him, frowns and then shakes his head.

                “No. Here, let me make a perfect mouthful…”

                Jake raises an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk.

                “Just a mouthful huh?” Jake asks, and Leo looks at him with a slightly confused look before he’s flushing bright red and ducking, his head shaking.

                “Jesus you’re incorrigible.”

                “Well, if you’re going to sit there looking like that and offering to feed me I’m definitely going to get ideas.”

                He barely catches the roll of eyes but Leo busies himself making a little forkful of food that includes some of the golden-crunchy potato, along with some of the tomato and a sausage piece and Jake really does prefer things with sauce, but he opens his mouth obligingly, meeting Leo’s eyes and doesn’t miss the way his eyes drop to Jake’s lips which are wrapped around the tines of the fork.

                “Mmm…” Jake says, and he chews thoughtfully. It does taste good, and he’s looking forward to having more. “It’s delicious.”

                “Good…”

                “Could use a little sauce though.”

PART SIX

[flutteringphalanges]

Protostar

Adam Warlock x Star Lord!Sister Reader

Prompt: You’re pregnant. The very thought of it is so surreal. And more importantly, it’s Adam’s. Now not only do you have to break the news to the man you love, uncertain of how he will react, but then there are the rest of the Guardians too. And more importantly, your brother, Peter. 

Word Count: 3,878

A/N: Hello! I am back again with another Adam Warlock x Reader baby themed one shot! I will add a link to this one to the post that has all of my one shots to this series so far. Requests are open! I’m currently working on one at the moment! Any thoughts of any kind, my comments and mailbox are open! I hope you enjoy! -Jen

                                                     Protostar

Pregnant. A word that had seemed so foreign to you up until now. An aspect you hadn’t even begun to fathom would happen to you. And yet here you were, sitting far off from the hustle and bustle of Knowhere’s square trying to clear your mind. Trying to think through haze and churning from your own stomach as you processed it all. Wondering how you would announce it to Adam. So lost in your head you didn’t even notice when Kraglin took a seat beside you. 

“Y/N? Are you okay?” 

Kraglin had been like an older brother to both you and Peter. Though, your relationship was a little better at the time because, growing up, he felt as if he needed to compete with the boy from Terra for Yondu’s approval. That had changed though. Now the three of you were equally close. You looked over to him, not too sure what to say. In all honesty, he was the last person you’d imagined to break the news to first. 

“I don’t know.” You responded softly with a shrug. “I haven’t decided, I guess.” 

“What’s wrong?” Kraglin asked, his tone slightly concerned. “Did something happen? Is it Adam?” He paused, his expression more serious than you’re used to. “Did he do something?” 

He did, but technically so did you. You exhaled, wondering why you didn’t stay cooped up in the confinement of your room. That way you could’ve at least hid from it all a little longer. Pretend that everything was as it should be. You wished Adam was here, he had a way of making you feel better. Then again, maybe it was better that he wasn’t. 

“Y/N?” Kraglin’s voice snapped you back into reality. You turned and looked at him as he placed a hand on your knee. “Uh, you want me to get Pete?” 

“NO!” The word came out much sharper than you meant it to causing Kraglin to visibly flinch. “Sorry, I mean, no…that’s okay.” 

The last thing you needed was your brother. Peter was overprotective, he had always been. Even though you two were adults, he was still annoying when it came to you and relationships. When you and Adam first got together, he made it clear to you that he wasn’t exactly supportive of it all. Sure, the guy had saved him from literally turning into a human icicle in space, but he was still wary from the Rocket fiasco. That was something that you knew would take a long time to repair. At this point you were lucky he was tolerating it all and not getting on your case. If he knew you were expecting…well, you didn’t know how he’d take the news. 

“Can I trust you, Kraglin?” You asked, knowing full well there was no turning back after saying something like that. “Swear on Yondu you won’t say anything? Especially to Peter?” 

Kraglin looked at you with such uncertainty it was almost comical. Almost. “Yeah…” He replied with hesitation. “Cross a Ravanger’s heart.” 

You nodded, looking at the ground. “I’m pregnant.” 

“...Oh.” He said after a moment, shifting awkwardly where he sat. “...Is it Adam’s?” You threw him a dark look that caused him to hold up his hands defensively. “I’m sorry! It’s just well…congratulations? I mean, this is good, right?” 

You let out a loud groan and covered your face. “I don’t know!” The words came out muffled from behind your hands. “You’re the only one who knows.” 

“I’m honored! Thanks!” 

“Only because you showed up here.” You didn’t mean to sound so harsh. Kraglin didn’t deserve it. “I’m sorry, Kraglin, I’m…I’m not trying to take this out on you. Maybe it’s the stupid hormones, I don’t know. I found out today and I’m not processing it well, I guess.” 

“Is there anything I can do to help?” He offered, and you felt his hand rest on your shoulder. “I don’t know nothing about having babies, but if there is something you like, maybe a glass of water, or a blanket? Wait, that may be for shock…” 

For the first time that day, you actually smiled. Sometimes you couldn’t help but wonder what Kraglin might’ve become if he hadn’t ever joined the Ravangers. You leaned forward and pulled him into a tight hug. 

“Just your support is nice.” You told him, inhaling deeply. “Thanks.” 

“Well sure, we may be Guardians now, but we'll always be Ravangers at heart.” Kraglin grinned at you when you pulled back. “And Ravangers take care of our own. Well, except when we don’t, but you know what I mean. We’re family. All of us here. I guess what I’m tryin’ to get at is we’ve got your back. Adam’s a great guy, I mean, he did almost wreck all of Knowhere--”

“Kraglin.” 

“Yeah, yeah, what’s in the past, is in the past. He turned out to be a great guy, right? Saved Pete, helped fix up a mess, managed to even join the Guardians. That’s somethin’, right?” He took a deep breath. “I don’t need to be able to read minds or do that emotion thingy that Mantis does to know Adam loves you. Like a whole lot.”

“I know he does.” Your smile was soft. “It’s more than mutual.” 

“So it’s gonna be alright, okay? When have I ever lied to you?” Kraglin asked with a grin.

You gave him a look. There were not enough fingers on each hand for you to count the number of times both he and your brother had pulled some stunt on you. All relatively harmless, but you had learned not to be so gullible since. 

“I need to go find Adam.” You told him, dusting off what little dirt had gotten on your pants. “He’s probably worried. Last thing I need for him is to go hunt Peter down. I’m still trying to figure out how I’m going to approach that one.” 

“No matter what, Pete’ll come around. He always does.” Kraglin tried to assure you. “He got used to you and Adam. This is just another thing added on.” A big thing. 

It was becoming apparent that, for the time being, you needed to focus on one thing--telling Adam. The rest you could try to get yourself to stop worrying about until later. You pulled Kraglin one last time for a quick squeeze. 

“Thank you, Kraglin. For everything.” 

“That’s what family’s for.” He said with a smile. “Even if we ain’t exactly a normal bunch.” 

                                                         XXX

The nausea you felt the moment you stepped over the threshold and into your room was not from the baby. Part of you wanted nothing more than to just turn back and find a new spot to hide in, somewhere where no one could find you. But Blurp, Adam’s beloved furry F’saki, immediately bounded over and pounced excitedly at your legs. 

“Hey, buddy.” You said, giving the animal a half smile as you reached down to scratch it behind one of its ears. “It’s good to see you too.” 

“Y/N!” 

Adam came bounding in with a mixed look of concern and relief at your arrival. You straightened up as he walked over to you, his hands immediately reaching and cupping your face as he studied you carefully. You felt as if you were a piece of fruit being checked for bruises by a potential customer. 

“Are you alright? I was worried. You weren’t here when I returned and I kept waiting, but you didn’t leave a note--and I know that you can take care of yourself, as you’ve said before--”

“Adam.” You said, cutting him off. “I’m fine.” 

He beamed at your response and looked down at Blurp. “See, I told you everything was fine. No need to get anyone else involved or form a search party.” The creature gurgled and nudged your leg. 

“But, Adam, we do need to talk…” His expression changed to one of confusion as you took a step back. “It’s important.” 

“Oh?” He responded, following you as you took a seat on the edge of your bed. “What do you want to talk about? Should I be worried?” And his laugh was nervous--making your own anxiety that much worse. 

“I don’t know.” Probably not the best answer to give him. “I mean…I don’t know how you will feel about this.”

Gods, if you could have any power in all the universes, invisibility would’ve been great. You couldn’t even bring yourself to look at Adam as you feel his hand take yours. Tears started to well up in your eyes and suddenly you found yourself flooded with emotions. Damn hormones. 

“Y/N, my love, what’s the matter? Don’t cry! Tell me what I must do!” Adam was cupping your face once more, searching your eyes for answers. “Have I done something wrong? If I have, please tell me and I will make amends. Please, say something, you’re scaring me.” 

You shook your head and hiccuped. “You didn’t…you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m…” The deep breath you took was shaky, and you could only hope you didn’t look as gross as you sounded. “Adam, I’m pregnant.”

The silence that blanketed the room made you want to crawl over into a corner and die. This was it. Adam was going to get up and leave you and everything would fall apart. The Guardians would banish you from the team. From your family. Knowhere was exile you. You would have no one and nothing and Thanos might as well have snapped you for good. 

“I’m going to be a father?” 

The words snapped you back into reality. Through tears, you looked and saw Adam gazing at you with such glee and adoration it sort of caught you by surprise. You sniffed, wiping your face with your sleeve--nevermind how unattractive it must’ve looked, and nodded.

“Yeah.” You answered him softly. “You’re going to be a dad.” 

He was quiet for a moment. “I never had a father.”

The corners of your mouth twitched into a small smile at his statement. “...I don’t remember my mom.” 

“...Do you think I could be a good father?” Adam asked slowly, his gaze burning into yours. He sounded hopeful. 

“Yeah.” You said with a smile. “I know you’d be a wonderful dad. There is not a doubt in my mind that says otherwise.” There was hesitation in your voice as you asked the next question. “Do you think I’d be a good mom?”

Adam chuckled warmly. “You already are to good, old Blurp right here.” Blurp trotted over and jumped into your lap, licking excitedly at your face. “See? Even he approves, and he is very particular too.” 

“I can see that.” You laughed, carefully moving the dog onto the mattress. Sighing, you gazed into Adam’s eyes, getting lost in their golden pools. “Are you happy then? Are you…okay with this?” 

Adam said nothing as he leaned forward and kissed you. You allowed your arms to wind around his neck as one of his arms hooked around your waist and pulled you close. Nothing sounded better than staying in that moment for all eternity. The warmth and gentleness of it all. You almost had to fight the urge to pull him back in when he stopped.

“I have never been more certain of something in my entire life.” Adam said with so much pride your heart swelled. “And I will love this child as I do you, Y/N. You are--well, now it is two of you I suppose, the most important things in my eternal life. I will do better than my best to be the very best! I swear it.” 

You chuckled, sniffing as you beamed back at him. “That was quite the speech.”

“Was it what you wanted?” Adam inquired, wiping away at a stray tear that’d begun to slide down your cheek. “Are you okay? Perhaps I should’ve asked that first.” 

Even though it would be months until you felt anything, you rested your hand on your stomach. You began to imagine the sensation, what little movements, kicks, flutters your baby would give you. Your baby. Adam’s baby. Gods, it sounded so surreal and yet, so right. 

“Yeah.” You inhaled, your gaze deep as it met Adam’s. “I’ve never felt happier.”

                                                           XXX

“We need to tell them.” 

Adam’s voice was soft as his hand gently rubbed your back from where he knelt beside you on the floor. Your head hung over the toilet as you tried to fight back the wave of nausea that stirred in your stomach. Morning sickness, more like ‘all day sickness’. It had been a week since you had broken the news to Adam--and technically Kraglin--about the baby. From the get go, he had wanted to tell the others but you had sworn him to secrecy. You still were avoiding sharing the unexpected pregnancy announcement with your brother. But now, with how violently ill your body had decided to start becoming, you weren’t really left with any options. 

“Maybe we can just wait until they’re born.” You mumbled weakly, the bitter taste of bile coating the inside of your mouth. “Spring it on them then.” 

“I don’t think that would be the best idea--or even possible.” Adam responded, frowning softly when you waved away at the glass of water he tried to coax in your hand. “They’re starting to worry about how sick you’ve been. And you already told Kraglin.”

“That wasn’t in my original plans.” You answered somewhat defensively. “Besides, there’s a big difference between him and Peter knowing. The others I’m not as worried about. I’m his little sister, but he forgets I’m not so little anymore. Like a lot.” Your stomach gurgled and you heaved a big sigh. “I can take care of my damn self.”

“I know.” And the palm of his hand began to knead between your shoulder blades. “But the sooner we get it over with, the better you will feel about it. And you aren’t alone in this. I’m right with you. We’ll tell them together and it will go over well, I promise.” 

                                                    XXX

The last time you saw a look like the one Peter was giving you now was when you accidentally dropped his Walkman as a kid and it fell between the grates of Yondu’s ship. How he managed to get it back out before it slipped to its eternal demise, you were unsure--or cared. But this look was not about any sort of music box. Oh no, this was something much greater. 

“...You’re pregnant?” Peter asked slowly, eyes flashing from you to Adam. “As in having a baby? Together?” 

“Yes, I am.” Before anyone could speak up, you quickly added. “And we’re happy too. Really happy.” Adam’s arm found its way around your waist offering a sense of comfort that you needed. “And since we’re family, we were hoping that maybe you all would feel the same way.” 

The silence was killing you. The way they were all watching, Peter especially, you almost wanted to curl up into a ball and beg Adam to fly you back to your room. Try again on another day. Suddenly, a pair of arms wrapped around, followed by a squeal. 

“I am VERY happy for you!” Mantis gushed, beaming at you. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Adam nervously watching, probably concerned with how tight she was hugging you. “Oh this is such good news!” 

Drax broke into one of his deep fits of laughter. “Quill! That means your sister had sex!” Of all the anti-social things he could’ve said, he had to go with that one. How wonderfully mortifying. “But I am also happy for you!” 

One of Groot’s branches reached out and touched your stomach. “I am Groot.” Or, as you had grown to understand. “I like babies.” 

Nebula gave you a rare smile from where she stood beside Rocket. She had come so far since you first met her those many years back. Gone from enemy to a true member of the Guardians. The late Gamora, your Gamora, would’ve been proud to see what she had become. 

“Congratulations,” Nebula said with a nod. 

“I agree with the others!” The canine yipped, her tail wildly wagging when she trotted over to you. “I will protect the baby like a good dog!” She licked your hand leaving you secretly grateful she didn’t try to jump up. “This is good news!” 

Rocket, who had been at Peter’s side, made his way over. “Yeah, yeah, what they all said.” He said with a half smile, arms folded. “Guess we better get one of those sign things to hang on the ship that says Baby On Board or something.”

“So no one else sees a problem with this?!”

Peter’s voice popped you out of that blissful bubble you had found yourself in. Everyone was looking at him now, the good mood immediately snuffed out. Your stomach began to churn, only this time, it wasn’t from the pregnancy symptoms. 

“We just got our team back together and everything was fine! Now you had to go along and get pregnant!” He jabbed a finger in your direction. “I dunno, did you not consider how this might impact the rest of us?!” 

Where the hell was this coming from? “You know, just a ‘Wow, congratulations, Y/N’ would have easily sufficed!” You were fuming. Of course you knew he would be a dick when you needed him most. “This was a surprise to us! I’m sorry I didn’t take you into consideration!”

“You know you can’t come on any missions, right, Y/N?” His eyes then landed on Adam, his new target. “You know she is basically out of commission. She’s a risk! Now we’re down a teammate!”

“Peter, leave him alone!” You snapped, moving protectively in front of Adam. “He didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“Oh, really, he didn’t now?” Shit, you led him right into that. “Did you forget that whole thing when Goldilocks over there busted through our home and almost killed Rocket, not to mention trying to take the rest of us out with him?!” 

“Everyone deserves a second chance, Pete.” Rocket cut in with a frown. “You’ve said it yourself before, and it’s clear that Adam has. I’ve forgiven him, why haven’t you?” 

You weren’t sure if Rocket’s words struck a chord with Peter or not. In reality, you really could’ve cared less at that point. Tears of frustration and sadness had already begun to well up in your eyes, you didn’t want to give him the courtesy of seeing. 

“Thanks, everyone.” You said, stare fixed on the ground. “Your support means a lot.” 

Adam’s hand caught your wrist as you started walking away from the group. “Y/N?” 

“I’m fine.” You told him, pulling your hand out of his grasp. “I just need some space. I’ll meet you back in the room. I love you.” And you made sure that you said the last part loud enough for Peter to hear.

                                                   XXX

You had practically built yourself a nest out of pillows and blankets on the top of your bed. Adam’s pillow was stained with your tears because you had chosen it to be the one you cried into. He smelled nice. Honestly, your fight with Peter could’ve gone a hell of a lot worse. You could think of several things you might’ve spat out at him that would’ve hit him hard and good. There was enough that you didn’t need to add onto. 

Suddenly, you heard a knock on your bedroom door--which was odd considering Adam always chose to waltz in without first announcing himself. Whatever, it had been a weird day as it was. Who were you to dictate how your partner came and went?

“Adam, the door isn’t locked. Just come in.”

But the person who opened the door wasn’t Adam. Peter. You watched quietly as your brother made his way over to your bed, taking a seat on the edge of the mattress. After the fallout, why exactly had he decided to show up? Was he going to give you another earful? 

“Before mom died, she made me promise that I would always protect you. Even before that, I felt like I always needed to because it was just the three of us. Well, four if you wanted to include grandpa, but three.” 

You chose not to respond, deciding to see where he was going with this. 

“You may be grown, Y/N, but you will always be my little sister.” Peter said, his voice no longer harsh as it had been. “But that isn’t an excuse to lash out when you get into a relationship or, well, get pregnant. You’re tough. Quills have to be. And if you love Adam and this is what you want, you have my full support.” From his spot, he smiled at you. “Besides, I think I’d make a pretty damn good uncle.”

Finally, you looked up to meet his gaze. “That was a dick move you pulled back there.” 

Peter sighed. “I know, I’m really sorry about that.” 

“And you owe Adam an apology for trying to make him feel like shit.” He watched you, probably trying to figure out your next words. Inhaling, you continued on. “But I forgive you. I know you mean well, but I can take care of myself. Adam is a really great guy and he has changed. I really want you two to get along, especially with this baby coming. I need my big brother. I need you.” 

“Y/N, you couldn’t get rid of me even if you tried.” He replied, lightly throwing one of your pillows in your direction. You dodged it with a smile. “Call it a talent.”

You snorted, shaking your head as you beamed the pillow straight back. “You’re such a dork.” The imense amount of relief you felt now was so welcoming. “This baby will be lucky to have you as an uncle. I wish Yondu was here.” Though, you weren’t quite sure how your adoptive father of sorts would feel about a baby. “...I wish mom was too.” 

Peter moved and pulled you into a hug--one that you didn’t realize you needed so badly. “Me too.” He admitted with a sigh. “She’d be so excited. She was the best mom, and I know she’d make an even better grandma. And I have no doubt in my mind that you’ll be just as great at it as she was.” 

You gave Peter a watery smile, only this time your tears were happy. “You think so?” 

He chuckled. “When have I ever lied to you?” And you couldn’t help but think back to Kraglin at that. 

You rested your hand on your stomach, something you had a gut feeling would become more natural as time went on. Your mind wandered to the little life inside of you. What would they look like? Adam? You? Growing something inside of you that was the product of your shared love. Even though you had only known about this baby for such a short amount of time, they were already so adored. A smile crossed your face at it all. The new chapter in your life, his life, everyone’s that had only just begun. 

[propertyofkylar]

midnight visitor (m!yandere incubus x gn!reader)

you meet damien at a club and are instantly entranced by this handsome stranger. but not only is he equally entranced with you - he has some secrets to hide.

cw: yandere, nsfw, alcohol mention

The bright lights and loud music of the club swirled around you. It would’ve given you a headache if you weren’t just drunk enough for it to be enjoyable.

Truthfully, you weren’t much of a club person, but today being the birthday of your best friend was reason enough for you to let loose for once. So here you were, surrounded by people on the dance floor.

You took a step back and cringed almost immediately when the heel of your foot came into contact with what clearly was someone else’s toes. You whipped your head around to apologize and found yourself face-to-face with an incredibly handsome man.

The frown on his face quickly faded as he eyed you up, flashing you a smirk. Your breath caught in your throat - the man was beautiful, and you were only human, after all.

“S-sorry,” you managed to get out, but the smirk on the man’s face only grew. You took in his long, dark hair, his defined cheekbones and the way his eyes seemed to be a dark red. But that must’ve just been the club lighting, you figured.

“S’alright,” the man said in a smooth, deep voice. He held out a hand. “You can dance with me to make up for it.”

“Um,” you felt your face flush. You weren’t used to this kind of attention. “Okay, sure.”

His hands slid to your waist and he pulled you close, the two of you moving vaguely to the loud music. It wasn’t like skill really mattered on the dance floor, anyway.

“I’m Damien,” the man said with a smile, and the look in his eyes made you realize he didn’t plan for this to be a one-and-done sort of dance. Not that you minded - your friends might be annoyed if you ditched them for a guy, but you had been at the club for a while now, and your group of friends had spread out, so they might not really mind after all. Besides, you had seen your best friend making out with an unknown woman in the corner just 15 minutes ago, so she had no room to speak.

You introduced yourself and Damien watched you like you were the most interesting thing he had ever seen. His stare was…almost enchanting, in a way. 

What a weird thing to think, you mused to yourself. Maybe you were drunker than you thought. 

After the two of you had danced for a few songs, Damien took your hand, sending shivers through your body. “You look tired. Would you like to sit down?” He gestured to an empty booth nearby, and you nodded.

“Yeah, thanks,” you said as the two of you left the dance floor and sat. He smiled at you and you felt that enchanted feeling again.

Damien laced his fingers together and rested his chin on top of them, looking at you like you were the only other person in the building. You weren’t necessarily an unconfident person, but frankly, you really weren’t used to this level of attention, and it made you blush. “So,” he said. “What brings you here tonight?”

“My friend’s birthday,” you gestured vaguely in the direction you had last seen her. “You?”

He gave you a smile that you couldn’t quite place. “Just…looking.”

“Oh. Oh,” you said, as you caught the intention behind his words. “Um. Well, I mean I’m flattered, but I’m not really—” 

Damien’s low chuckle cut off your rambling. “Relax. Not like that, so don’t worry.”

“Oh. Um, okay,” now you felt kind of stupid. You were making a fool of yourself in front of the hottest man you’d ever seen.

His eyes looked into yours before he spoke again. “You seem like you’ve had a long night. Would you allow me to take you home?”

If you had a drink, you surely would have choked on it. “I only live a few blocks away. It’s okay.”

Damien gave you another smile. “Even better. I can walk you home. Trust me, I’m a gentleman. No funny business,” he splayed his fingers as if that was proof.

Maybe it was the number of drinks you’d had, or maybe you just made impulsive decisions. Either way, you agreed, and the stranger walked you back to your apartment.

The two of you chatted idly along the way, not really talking about much. When you made it to the front of your building, you pointed and said, “This is me.”

The man looked down at you, and gave a soft smile. He leaned in and kissed you on the cheek, which felt more intimate than if he had kissed your lips, somehow. “Sweet dreams,” he murmured, but it felt like he meant something more.

That night, you were having the hottest wet dream of your entire life.

The handsome man from the club had his face between your legs, and grinned wolfishly before diving in, licking and sucking in a way that gave you pleasure like never before. “You taste so good,” he murmured, and the vibrations from his low voice sent shockwaves of pleasure throughout your body.

“Fuck…” you mumbled. At your response, you could’ve sworn you saw Damien’s eyes flash blood red. A small part of your consciousness knew it was a dream, but it felt so real. And so, so good.

One moment you were whimpering and squirming, clutching Damien’s hair as you moaned his name, then the dream suddenly switched and his form was looming over yours, looking not unlike a hunter sizing up his prey.

You felt something against your thigh and looked down to see his thick cock pressed against your leg. Your eyes met his and he smirked.

“Don’t worry, I know it’ll fit,” Damien snickered as he rubbed the tip teasingly against your entrance. He moved his head closer to yours so he could press kisses to your neck, before suddenly biting down. Hard. 

You squealed, twitching in a way that bumped the tip of his cock on a sensitive spot and made you squirm even more. “I don’t wanna wake up…” you mumbled, desperate for more.

Damien chuckled again. “Mm, they always say that.” And with that, he plunged his dick into you with a gasp.

It was a dream. You knew it had to be a dream. But it felt so real. And it felt so good. You were whining as Damien pounded into you relentlessly, his own face bright red.

“Fuck,” he moaned. “You feel even better than I imagined.”

You weren’t even able to form a response; you just laid there as he fucked you better than anyone had in real life.

“Hah, you’re taking my dick so well,” he whispered into your ear, causing you to clench around him. “Feels like you were made for me, doesn’t it? Feels so good…”

His words, coupled with his earlier acts, brought you close to your peak. “I’m–fuck–I’m gonna…” your words were interrupted as he touched a particularly sensitive spot inside of you.

“That’s a good pet,” Damien grunted as he slammed into you. “Cum for me.”

And you did, crying out his name as you came undone. But he didn’t slow down at all. If anything, he moved even faster and harder as his own climax approached.

“Fuck!” Damien yelled as he thrust his cock as deeply as he possibly could inside of you, gripping onto your waist as he came. Breathing heavily, he pressed a kiss directly below your ear and said your name quietly. It sounded so beautiful coming from him. 

“I’m gonna have to come back for seconds,” he said with a laugh.

When you woke up in the morning, the dream was nothing more than a hazy memory that you couldn’t recall no matter how hard you tried. All you knew was that your legs were sticky and there was a dull heat throbbing inside you.

At that moment, entirely unknown to you, Damien himself was pacing back and forth on the rooftop of your building.

Damien prided himself on many things. He was a confident man. He was incredibly charming and equally as handsome. He could get anyone to do anything he wanted. He had been a demon for a very long time and had spent many, many nights hunting down prey, visiting them in their dreams, and taking what he needed from them to survive. This was how it had gone for many hundreds of years (he had lost count at this point). It was simple, there was no attachment, and he never struck the same victim twice.

Until now.

He cursed to himself as he walked to and fro, deep in thought. You had stood out to him at the club, naturally - he was not one to take on just any prey. No, he had specifics in what he liked, and always got what he wanted. But there was something different about you. Something that he couldn’t quite place, something that sent shockwaves through his body every time he thought about you and how you had behaved in your dream.

Damien should have known you were different from the instant he smelled you at the club. You had smelled like the most mouthwatering dessert to him, and that is when he knew you would be his pet that night. Actually getting to taste you, though, was something he had never experienced. Imagine the most delectable meal you have ever had, and then multiply it by five. That is how you tasted to Damien. You were so soft, so sweet, so tender. 

It was maddening.

He had to have you again. He knew that, at least. His mind was overwhelmed with millions of thoughts rushing in, all of them centered around you. How he could see you again. How you would taste and feel in your dreams again the next night. How he could make you permanently his.

That settled it. He would have to visit you nightly and keep an eye on you during the day too to make sure no one else had you. You were going to belong to him and him alone. Damien knew at that moment he would do whatever it took to make sure you were his. 

A grin slowly grew on Damien’s face as a solid plan formed in his mind. He whispered your name into the wind, savoring how it felt on his tongue.

When he was finished, you would never think of anybody else.

[justrainandcoffee]

Breakfast (Dad!Alfie Solomons & oc!daughter)

Or how babies are made, by Alfie Solomons.

Masterlist

Summary: "Yeah. That's not how it works, sweetheart." His daughter had a play date that it was cancelled because her friend's sister got pregnant and the house was a chaos. Allie says that it's because a boy kissed the girl. "Then, how it works?", she asked. Alfie and an answer with no filters.

Warnings: Alfie.

Words: 700 || While I'm dealing with my other fic, I give you this blurb. I have two more fics already written but both are equally angst (lately I only wrote angst 🫣) I wanted to change it a bit.

1931

The house in Margate was silent. Rose was in the Parliament and he thought his daughter was in her friends' house but when he entered the living room he found the girl, seven years old, sat there reading a book.

"Allie? Don't ya have a play date at Daisy's house?"

"I did. But her mom called and told me that it wasn't a good time. Their eldest daughter, Claire, is pregnant."

"Oh fuck. How old is the girl?"

"Sixteen."

"A fucking kid! I know your friend's father, he's going to kill the boy who impregnated the daughter."

"Yeah," Allie confirmed "he's not happy."

"I couldn't be happy either."

"Don't worry, dad, I'm not going to let any boy to kiss me. I don't want a baby."

Alfie, already sitting in his armchair, looked at his daughter. "Ya think this girl, Claire, got pregnant because she kissed a boy?"

"Well, yes! Daisy told me that they were kissing all the time."

"That's not how it works, Allie."

Allie left the book aside and tilted her head. "What do you mean? Then how it works?"

"Well…" Alfie cleared his throat. It was good that his wife wasn't there at the time. He never believed in sugar-coating the answers. A direct question deserved a direct answer. "First you need a woman and a man."

"In love, I know the tale."

"Not necessarily in love, sweetheart. If they're, even better but it's not always the case. Hope you know this a world full of bastards… in both senses of the world."

She, the girl, was a bastard herself because the biological father abandoned her mother way before she was adopted by the Solomons. But the girl already knew that.

"Men and a women," continued Alfie "they're physically different. Men have something called penis… it's like a sausage."

"Like a sausage?" Allie raised an eyebrow.

"Yes. And you know your body, Allie. All women have the same body under their clothes. Well, when a man is really happy to see a woman his sausage is happy too. And it will let his owner know that. If the woman agrees, she will be happy to see his sausage if not, then I'm sorry but the man can't do something about it. Well, he can, but that's another story. This is important, Allie, a woman ALWAYS must consent to see it ok? Always, right?. Well, then the man and the woman go to the bed… or the sofa, or the wall or fuckin' wherever. And the man…"

What followed was a detailed explanation of what happened with the man and the woman while they were together. He even used his hands to help himself to explain it.

Allie wasn't impressed. In fact, she found it quite boring, repetitive and complicated. She thought that a baby product of just a kiss was way better that all of that. And more romantic. Why the hell it was so hard to make a baby?

"… It's called semen. It's like milk."

"I thought only women can produce milk." Allie studied her father, thinking he was joking to her.

"It's not that kind of milk, Allie. Its only use is to help babies to be created. And that's it. Nine months later you have a baby. Sometimes one or two months earlier but it's not the rule."

"It's not interesting. It's boring as fuck, dad. That much scandal for a breakfast." Allie furrowed her brow, just like Alfie "I'd be playing with Daisy if it wasn't for Claire and her stupid boyfriend."

"Breakfast?" Interrupted Alfie. "What breakfast?"

"You described everything as a breakfast. Milk, eggs, sausages… what it's that if not a breakfast?"

Alfie laughed out loud. He just finished to explain his daughter the biological process of making a baby and Allie just compared it with a breakfast… Undoubtedly she was a kid.

Two days later, Rose saw a letter on the table. It was from school explaining that Allie had received a notification because of her behaviour. Apparently her daughter had been talking openly about sex in the classroom. Specifically about babies. Rose left the letter on the table again and pinched her nose, sighing.

"ALFIEE!"

[to-the-stars8]

Vigilant Coffee

Batfamily x Reader Chapters AO3

19-A Day Off

Contrary to popular belief, you did have days off. They were especially sparse now that the summer had started, but, when you did have them, it was like a gift from heaven. For once, you were enjoying a sunny day in Gotham, sitting in the park with a book you had just bought. You were breezing through the story, and wholeheartedly enjoying it, too, when you suddenly felt someone watching you. Looking up, you saw two guys sitting on the bench across from you. You knew you should have felt uneasy with two, unknown, strangers watching you, but something about them just felt so familiar. 

Awkwardly, you waved to them and they waved back. The shorter one got up and started to make his way toward you. Admittedly, he was handsome with wavy black hair that perfectly framed his perfect face (unfortunately, you could not think of a better way to describe how he looked). 

“How are you?” He asked like the two of you had met over a hundred times. 

“Um,” You started but began stumbling over your words. There was something familiar about the man, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. “I’m—I’m good? I’m sorry, but do we know each other?”

A shocked look passed over the handsome guy’s face, and, before he could say another word, the taller, buffer guy (who was nearly equally as perfect looking) interjected, “Sorry, he gets a bit confused from time to time.” Looking at his friend, he said, pronouncing every word slowly, “We don’t know this person.”

“Oh,” You said. Before you knew it, you added, “Have we met before, though?” The two of them narrowed their eyes at you, and suddenly you felt like you said something wrong. Yet, that didn’t deter you from going on. “I mean, it feels like we’ve met before.”

“Oh, um,” The shorter guy stumbled. “You’ve probably seen my picture in a newspaper before.”

“Newspaper…” You thought, trying to place his face somewhere. There was a thought in the back of your mind that seemed to be screaming the right answer to your wonder, but you couldn’t hear it just feel it. Finally, something cut through it. “Oh! I know exactly who you are!”

The two men exchanged a worried glance before you finally revealed the shorter guy to be Dick Grayson. You felt so stupid to not have noticed it before. He’d been on every tabloid in Gotham since he was a kid. You practically saw the guy when you closed your eyes. 

“Heh, yeah, that’s me,” Dick said awkwardly. 

You smiled at him. “Seriously, though, do you know me? Did we meet before and I just forgot?”

The taller guy, whose face you didn’t recognize, interrupted again, “Nope. He’s just a flirt and confused.”

Before you could ask what he meant by flirt, Dick Grayson was being dragged away by the tall guy. Watching them leave, you were left speechless and, ultimately, confused. Shaking it off, you went back to reading with a flashing thought in your mind; This would be an interesting story to tell your vigilante friends once you got back to work on Monday.

[do-it-jakey-baby]

Must I Go Bound?

Danny Wagner x f!reader, Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Warnings: mentions of sexual activity, profanity, drinking

18+, MINORS DNI

TAGLIST: @ignite-my-fire, @peaceloveunitygvf, @mama-likes72, @mar-rein12, @brujamagik, @myownparadise96, @jaketkiszka

Chapter 3

“Sit down. Explain.”

Em hands you a thin stemmed wine glass, filled to the absolute brim with your favourite brand of pinot noir.

You collapse into the soft confines of the couch pillows, sighing quietly. You bring the glass up to your lips, taking a hearty glug of the ruby liquid.

You take in a sharp breath. “I fucked up.”

Em looks at you, her lips pursed as she sits down beside you and rubs her hand along your arm. You’d driven straight to her house after leaving Jake’s, not wanting to face the solitude of your own home.

“Start from the beginning.”

“Well, you know Danny took me out for dinner. It was going really well. He’s so sweet, brought me flowers.” She audibly ‘aaaws’, crossing her legs underneath her. “He was listening to Neil Young on the way there, which naturally made me think of my Dad. He’s just so easy to talk to, Em. I really like him.”

“That’s great, so what’s the prob-”

You put your hand up, cutting her off. “Then, after our plates had been cleared, I get a text.” Her eyes widen and she places her head in her hands. “I’m sure you can guess who from. Says he knows I’m on a date with Danny, wants me to come over after I’m done.”

“Y/N, you didn’t.” She peeks through her fingers at you.

“I did.” You exhale, rubbing your hand over your face. “I did, and we had the nastiest, most insane sex. But that’s not the worst thing that happened. This morning, Danny showed up.”

“No! Oh fuck, did he see you?”

“Thankfully, no. But it was too close for comfort, so I left immediately and came here.”

“You need to stop seeing him, babe.”

“Yeah, this is my issue. I’m uh… falling for Jake too.”

“Shit.” She breathes.

Neither of you say anything for a while, just sitting with your confession. You throw back the rest of your wine as Em retrieves the bottle, placing it in front of you for easy access.

“Ok, so we need to make a list.”

“A list?” You eye her, topping yourself back up and sipping gingerly from your glass.

“Yeah, like pros and cons. Let’s start with Danny. What do you like about him?”

“Em… I don’t know if I wanna do this.”

“What else are you going to do? At least this way you have an idea of who is doing it most for you.”

“I think I like them pretty equally.” You groan, letting the rest of the wine in your glass slip down your throat.

Em reaches across to grab the bottle and refills your glass again, then places her hand on your thigh.

“Come on. Danny.” She extends her phone screen out so that you can see she has her notes app ready.

“He’s thoughtful, and remembers the things I tell him. He’s beautiful, his curls honestly make me weak in the knees. And his body…”

“Ok, ok. All great things. Any cons?”

“Not that I’ve discovered yet.” You shrug.

“Damn. Ok, Jake.”

“Phen-om-inal in bed. 10/10, no notes. Literally gorgeous. Cheeky, has a sense of humour, is very dominant.”

Em looks up from her phone and raises her eyebrows.

“Cons… he can be a little arrogant. He’s also not got an issue with screwing around with the same girl as his best friend.”

“So we have zero cons for Danny and two for Jake…”

“Em.” You groan.

“Look, you’re a grown ass woman, Y/N. Make your own decisions, but from where I stand it seems like Danny would be a better boyfriend.”

You physically recoil at the word, it sending a shiver straight down your spine. “Boyfriend? No no no. That’s not-”

“Babe! Would you quit it. I’m just saying, if it gets to that stage with either of them, I’d be leaning towards Danny.”

~

The next few weeks pass by with radio silence from Jake, making it incredibly easy to follow Em’s advice. You were tempted to reach out a few times, but ultimately decided that if he wanted to speak to you, he would. You weren’t about to chase a man, that went against every fibre of your being. Contact with Danny was in abundance, though. You carried on your dates when Danny had time away from band duties, and any time you were apart you spent it texting back and forth. He was a comforting addition to your life, fitting in so effortlessly. You’d almost forgotten all about Jake, but every now and then you awoke in a sweat from a dream that was definitely not PG. You tried your best to swat away the memories of being tangled up in Jake’s sheets, but they still lingered in the darkest corners of your mind. In fact, one evening whilst Danny’s head was between your legs, you started to moan Jake’s name. You swiftly changed it up to “Jesus”, getting away with the slip of your tongue by the skin of your teeth, but you swore to yourself that you must be more careful in future.

By the time Danny broke the news that they were going back on tour, you’d been casually dating for roughly two months.

You look up at him through your lashes, snuggled on his chest in the warmth of his bed.

“Oh? Wow. I mean, that’s great for you guys! How long will you be gone?”

“Hey, don’t be sad. I’ll call you whenever I can. It’s all very start stop, so the first leg we’ll be out for around two months. Then we head over to Europe.”

“That’s amazing. I’m proud of you guys!”

“I actually wanted to ask if you’d come along to the first show? It’s gunna be in St. Louis, so I completely understand if you can’t make it.”

You ponder on it for a moment, wondering if it’s the best idea, but ultimately decide that if you’re going to give things a go with Danny, you’ll need to face Jake at some point.

“I’d love to, that would be really fun. Thanks for asking.” You smile, placing a kiss to his chest.

“Ok great, I’ll make the arrangements.”

Luckily, work was slow at the moment so you managed to get the time off. A few weeks later, you found yourself on a plane to Missouri, wondering how life had changed so rapidly in such a short space of time. Danny had insisted on you flying out, stating that the tour bus was not something he wanted you to witness. You were secretly glad to avoid being in such close quarters with both Danny and Jake.

You were picked up by a driver at the airport and taken to the hotel you’d be staying at. The nerves were bubbling up in your stomach for entirety of the journey there, you had to play it cool and act as if you’d never met Jake before. You’d had plenty of interactions with Josh and Sam, who were almost always about when you and Danny would hang out at his place. Not surprisingly, Jake always opted out, springing well thought-out excuses on Danny each time. As you entered the foyer of the hotel, the scene unfolding before you quickly made you forget all about your initial nerves.

“What do you fucking mean the rooms haven’t been booked?!” Jake spits at the receptionist.

“Sir, I’m sorry, the rooms have been booked but not on the dates you’ve specified.”

“How has this happened?!” Jake turns to address the room, but finds your eyes staring back at him from the entrance.

“Where’s Jade?” Josh speaks up.

“I don’t know, stuck in traffic I think but I can’t get hold of her.” Danny responds, holding his phone up.

“Great, so we can’t get hold of our fucking tour manager. Fantastic.” Jake slumps down into a chair, throwing his hands in the air.

Suddenly, your brain flies into work mode. Disregarding that this absolutely isn’t your place to do so, but knowing that you can help, you spring into action. You step back outside, pulling your phone from your pocket and finding a specific number from your contacts. You hit the call button, bringing your phone to your ear.

“Hey, it’s Y/N. Look, I’m so sorry for this but I need a favour. I’ve got a Grammy award winning band here in St. Louis who is due to play an arena show tomorrow night and there’s been some kind of mix up with the hotel booking. Can you find me somewhere for them and their crew for two nights, near the Chaifetz Arena? I’ll get you the exact numbers as soon as you confirm- You can? Oh my god, thank you so much. Give me two seconds.”

You fly back in through the door, making a beeline for Josh.

“Do you have anyone on your team here that can help me with how many people need a room?”

He stares at you with his brow furrowed.

“I’ll explain later, but I’ve found you a hotel. I just need to know who I can liaise with on your team.”

“Uh… ok. Yeah, um. Well Jade isn’t here yet, but we have a few runners about that should be able to help.” He points in their direction.

You make your way over, confirming with the runners how many people need rooms and then sorting transport to the location, which thankfully is just down the road. You’d absolutely owe your contacts for this one, but that was a thought for later. As you were finishing up with their team, you feel a tap on your shoulder.

“How… how did you do that?” Josh raises his eyebrows.

“Oh, I kinda do this for work.” You chuckle nervously. “I’m sorry, I just overheard what was happening and before I knew it I was making the call. That wasn’t my place…”

“No, no. Thank you. We managed to get hold of our tour manager whilst you were speaking with the runners and she was struggling to find us somewhere.”

“Oh, well I have some pretty decent connections, I guess.” You smile shyly.

“No kidding. So, you’re pretty damn good at your job then, huh?”

“Oh well, I-” You’re cut off by the rest of the boys joining you, crowding around to understand what just happened.

“Y/N, did you just sort this out for us?” Danny leans in, throwing his arms around you and bringing you in for a hug.

“Honestly it’s no big deal. But we should, uh- sorry, you should get your team to round everyone up because transport will be here shortly. Sorry, I’ll leave your team to do the rest.”

Josh nods at you, mouthing ‘thank you’ before heading over to the group.

Once you were all at the new hotel and checked in, you began to make your way up to your room when you’re stopped by a woman with thick-framed glasses and jet black hair, piled high on top of her head in a bun.

“Hi, you must be Y/N. I’m Jade, Greta’s tour manager. I just want to personally thank you for helping us out today with the hotel arrangements.” She extends her hand out to you.

“Hi, Jade. It’s lovely to meet you, and no trouble at all. I’m used to this stuff, happy to help.”

“I actually have a proposition for you, if you’re interested.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Uh, ok. I’m all ears.”

“We’ve been having issues with our booking manager for a while now, this was pretty much the last straw. After what you did today, the boys and I had a chat and we would like to offer the position to you, permanently.”

You’re positive that your jaw had just hit the floor. Her words span around in your head, rattling in every corner until they became white noise.

“Y/N? If you need time to think about it, that’s absolutely ok.”

“I, uh… I don’t know. I’d need to put notice in where I’m currently based, and we’d also need to discuss rates.” You rush out, feeling completely overwhelmed.

“Whatever they’re paying you, we’ll double it.”

Your eyes almost pop out of your skull. “D-double? All I did was book a hotel.”

“Look… you saved our asses. The band are really fond of you, they’re the ones offering double. But I can tell from how you carry yourself that you’re a professional, and good at what you do. Just consider it.”

“I’ll take it.” You blurt out immediately, without a second thought.

“Fantastic!” She beams. “I’ll arrange for my assistant to take your details and we’ll get the contract sent over. Anything else you’d like to discuss, just let me know. Welcome to the team.”

As you watch her walk off, you can’t help but wonder what you might have got yourself into.

~

A while later, you’re unpacking your belongings in your hotel room when you hear a knock on your door. You take a breath, assuming it’s Jade’s assistant coming to collect your information for the contract. You open the door and find Jake stood there, his hands in his pockets.

“Evening, trouble.”

“Jacob. Or should I call you ‘boss’ now?”

He grimaces, waltzing past you and into the room.

“Come in…” you huff under your breath, turning to follow him in.

“Just wanted to give you a warm welcome.” His hands find your waist and pull you back into him. He scans your face, taking in every detail before pressing his lips to yours. You pull back, putting distance between you.

“Jake… what are you doing? You haven’t spoken to me in weeks.”

“You haven’t spoken to me in weeks either, princess.”

“We can’t keep doing this.” You whisper, your body betraying your words as you inch closer to him.

“But it’s so fun.” He clicks his tongue, looking into your soul with those warm, whiskey-coloured eyes that could disarm you in a heartbeat.

You’re saved by another knock at the door, but before you turn to answer it Jake is already there and turning the handle. He opens the door and of course, who else would be stood there than the one person you would never want to catch you in a situation like this.

“Jake? What are you doing here?” Danny raises his eyebrow.

“Hey, man. Just wanted to get to know our new recruit.”

Smooth, Jacob. Smooth.

“She’s fantastic isn’t she? Hey, no stealing her from me.” He chuckles, moving past Jake to you. He places a kiss on your cheek. “Congratulations, beautiful. It’s great news.”

Jake clears his throat, rubbing his fingers across his upper lip. “Yeah, she’s great. I’ll leave you both to it then. Nice to meet you, Y/N.”

Before you can answer, he’s disappeared out the door.

“Thank you for earlier, you really saved the day.”

“Oh it’s fine, and I got a job out of it so it worked in my favour.” You wink.

“I can’t believe you’re coming on tour with us.”

“Yeah, about that. So, I think we should probably remain professional whilst I’m working with you.”

“Oh… yeah of course. I didn’t even think about that. Damn.”

“It doesn’t mean things are off between us, we’re just pressing pause for now. That ok?” You eye him cautiously.

He cups your face with his hands, pulling you closer and kissing your lips softly. You melt into him, kissing him back as your hands grip into the meat of his triceps. He pulls back, grinning at you. “Ok, starting now.”

“Starting now.” You repeat, extending your hand out to him. He shakes it, giggling like a schoolboy.

“Well, I had other plans for this evening but now that I have to behave myself, I’ll let you get an early night. See you tomorrow?”

“I’m sure you’ll be seeing a lot of me from now on, Mr. Wagner.”

“Oh no you don’t, my name’ll do just fine.” He playfully swats at your arm.

“Fine, I’ll see you tomorrow, Daniel.” You wink, opening the door for him.

“See you tomorrow, Y/N.”

You lock the door behind him, then make your way into the bathroom to start getting ready for bed. As you’re washing your face, you go back over the events of the day in your head. Putting some distance between you and Danny would make the whole love triangle mess you had going on much easier to deal with, for now at least. It was the best thing to do, given your situation. Jake, on the other hand, wouldn’t be so easily persuaded…

You finish up your evening routine and settle into bed, plugging your phone in to charge. You notice a text waiting for you as you’re about to set your phone down onto the nightstand.

8:42pm

Jake: This tour is about to get real interesting with you around, sweetheart. Good night.

You roll your eyes, opting not to reply and instead place your phone face down and pull the comforter over your head.

~

You’re awoken by a knock at the door, which has you springing swiftly out of bed and pulling on a robe from the closet. You peer through the peep hole, noticing a small blonde woman stood waiting for you.

“Hi, Y/N? I’m Lindsay, Jade’s assistant. Is now an ok time to go over the paperwork?” She smiles politely.

“Yeah, of course. Lovely to meet you, Lindsay.”

You both huddle around the small table in your hotel room, each taking a seat. She pushes the stack of paperwork across to you, explaining everything and going over the expectations of the role, your duties, and any other important information. Once you were happy with everything, you sign the documents and shake her hand. It was explained that you’d be flying home after the show to go back and make your preparations for the rest of the tour, then reconvening with the team in Lincoln. It didn’t give you much time, but thankfully you were used to short deadlines and high pressure.

“Jade wants us all downstairs in the lobby for 11am, is that ok?”

“Yeah sure, I’ll freshen up and be down.”

“Ok, see you then.”

You have around forty five minutes to be ready, so you take a quick shower and get yourself dressed. With twenty minutes left to spare, you quickly draft your resignation email and then head downstairs on the hunt for coffee before your day begins. The hotel’s restaurant kindly provides you with a coffee to go, so you’re in the lobby and ready to go by 10:55. Jade is sat with some of the team and greets you with a warm smile. She stands, gathering the attention of those around her.

“I’d like to introduce you all to Y/N, our new Booking and Events manager. I’m sure you’ll all join me in welcoming her into our crazy little family. Y/N, if you need anything whilst you’re settling in, please just let us know.”

Jade’s sentiments are echoed by the rest of the crew around her, all seemingly content with your arrival. After a few minutes of introductions and light conversation, you look down at your watch.

11:08am

“What time is the band supposed to be here?”

Jade chuckles. “11, same as us, although you’ll find that’s never the case. It’s something we have the runners on top of.”

As if on cue, Danny enters the lobby alongside Sam and one of the runners.

“Morning! Ready to rock’n’roll?” Sam cheers, shooting you a wink.

“We would be if your brothers were also here.” Jade playfully scolds.

Danny makes a beeline for you, showcasing his vibrant grin. “Hey, sleep well?”

“Yeah, not bad actually. You?”

“Never the best the first night before tour reconvenes, but not terrible.”

“Want me to send one of the runners off on a coffee run?”

“That would be amazing, thank you. They should know our orders.”

“No worries at all, it is my job.” You give him a sneaky wink, then go off to find a runner.

Jake and Josh finally make it downstairs twenty two minutes later, deep in conversation with each other about god knows what. The conversation is halted, however, as soon as Jake’s eyes meet yours.

“Well, well. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

“Good morning, Jacob. You didn’t fancy turning up on time today then?”

“Today? I’m rarely ever on time, sweetheart. Also, what’s with the Jacob thing?” He raises his eyebrow at you.

“Just keeping things professional, sir.”

You watch as his eyes darken and his lips curl up into a smirk. He leans in closer, speaking just loudly enough for you to hear.

“You wanna play it like that, hm? Let’s see how long you can keep it up, angel.”

You feel your skin prickle with goosebumps at the feeling of his breath ghosting over your ear.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Jacob.” You smirk back, rising from your seat and breezing past him to join Jade by the door.

The day goes by pretty much without a hitch, you’re settling in well with the crew and are enjoying getting stuck into the rhythm. Once the boys have sound checked and the arena is being set up, Jade makes her way over to you backstage.

“You’re here as a guest first and foremost tonight, so take the evening and enjoy the show. We can pick back up in Lincoln.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course, there were never any expectations for today but I appreciate how much you’ve been pulling your weight already. I knew I’d be right about you. Now go, have fun.” She gives you a gentle pat on the arm and then disappears down the hall. You smile to yourself, the praise washing over you like a warm hug. It was so comforting to know you’d already made a good impression.

You make your way to the green room to collect your things, along with the folders that Lindsay had given you to brush up on, when you feel a presence looming in the doorway.

“Off so soon?”

You look up, recognising the voice instantly and letting your guard melt away.

“Hey, Danny. Yeah, Jade told me to go. Apparently I’m a guest tonight and not a member of the team.” You chuckle lightly.

“Well, you were invited here as a guest. It would be a shame if you didn’t get to experience it like one.” He leans against the door frame, cocking his head to the side.

“Are you nervous?”

“A little yeah, mostly due to wanting to impress a certain someone…”

You feel the heat rise to your cheeks, spreading across them rapidly. “You don’t need to impress me.”

He pushes off the door frame, walking towards you. “What if I want to?”

You can stop yourself as your feet begin carrying you towards him, until you’re both toe to toe. Your breath hitches in your throat as he lifts his hand up and pushes your hair back from your face.

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” He whispers, his eyes fixed on yours.

You lean forward, capturing his lips in a tender kiss. His hands slip further into your hair as he deepens the kiss. You wind your arms around his neck, pulling him desperately closer. You’re lost in the moment, completely forgetting about the decision you made the night before, until you hear movement coming from towards the door.

“Uh… my bad. Didn’t realise anyone was in here. Sorry for… interrupting.”

Jake. Of course.

You both pull away from each other, but Jake’s long gone.

“I’ll, uh, see you later?”

“Yeah, see you later.” Danny rubs his neck awkwardly, but shoots you a sheepish smile.

When you finally arrive back to your hotel room you’re fully kicking yourself for going back on your plans. You couldn’t have these moments of weakness when you needed to remain professional. It was for the sake of your job now, so this needed to end here. You decide to turn your attention to starting the process of getting ready. You take your time completing your skin prep, then intricately apply your makeup. You’ve seen from social media how dedicated their fans are with their attention to detail, so you get to work with a silver smokey eye, complete with rhinestones. Once you’re happy with your makeup, you head over to the wardrobe and retrieve your matching silver mini dress from its hanger. Slipping it on, you take a look at yourself in the mirror.

Ok, you do look really good…

You sit back down, turning your flat iron on and twirl your strands through the plates to add soft waves to your hair. You comb through them and then set them with a light mist of hairspray. Moving back to the dresser, you unclasp a beautiful little silver crescent moon pendant and put it on, the perfect finishing touch to your outfit. You stand to find your boots and notice that your phone screen has lit up from the bed.

4:52pm

Jake: Here I was thinking I didn’t need to compete whilst you were working with us, but seems you had other ideas. I hope Danny enjoyed his little taste, because I’ll be having the whole three course meal later.

Shit. What have you done?

This was all a game to Jake, and in the end, someone was bound to get hurt.

[gloveslut]

come on now. just fuck me already.

you have to face it, don't you?

why does it even matter right now?

i won't do anything against your will, but i won't let you make yourself an exception when it comes to love.

...the fuck you just said? i'm not here for your stupid ass words, fuck me, or—

or what? it won't change anything. a-ny-thing, you hear me? but what it will provoke is you leaving. i can't stand it anymore. i want you to start talking to me as an equal.

i treat you like a person.

a person who can only help you with one thing?

well, at least, that's not a lie. what are you gonna do about it? i don't think you're a good person, either. i don't really wanna talk to you.

just curious, you want me to be upset?

i don't know. you hurt me. in theory, it would sound logical.

the thing is, if it really was something, you wouldn't even ask me to fuck you.

...so what?

so you're stupid. i love you and they're not just some words.

still. words aren't material.

then i should just fuck you for you to know that i'm madly in love with you?

exactly, man. just do it, you wanted to show me, do it.

answer the question first.

i already did. i don't understand what else you expect me to do.

i'm asking you to be honest. that is all.

"that is all"? how many times a day you act genuine? how fucking many?

we were talking about you.

we were. just to make you feel better. you're so smart!

okay, i'll just fuck you, then. forget it.

you can't do this to me, fuck... no, you won't. you'll sit here and tell me everything.

what?

you know what.

i don't.

then you don't love me.

that's not— wait, don't you dare twist my words!

are you for real right now? did you forget who we are? you won't stop surprising me... okay. i just don't know how to put it into words. you're better at it. tell me something. don't be so ridiculous at my house.

...i wanna marry you.

you're nuts.

and you are not?

that's the point!

i imagined it to be more romantic.

shut up. you can't breathe without talking bullshit. ... i wanna marry you, too.

thank you, now it's definitely romantic. that is so kind of you to make my wishes come true. you're my sunshine!

shut up, my fucking god—

you're giggling like a girl at the stupidest joke ever and i'm supposed to shut up? i must write this down. you didn't hide your disgusting vices for a whole minute. that's wonderful.

...you know, this is really nice.

that's what people say just before i run from them as fast as I can. where have you hidden this shitty optimism? i should permanently stop fucking you.

god, if you can't get your shit together and response with something more thoughtful, seriously, just kiss me.

that's too much to ask, honestly.

i thought, you loved me.

i did. but do i?

...you don't leave me a choice.

oh no, what am i ever gonna do.

...you know, sometimes i just feel like a monster. i mean, i am, but—

man, wait-wait-wait, we talked about it—

as fucking teenagers?

yes. does it change the point?

of course it does! lots of things changed since then, there was even a time you said you would never sleep with me, come on.

...sorry.

for what?

i just fucked up. keep talking. i won't open my mouth.

you are being really weird, but yeah. you can't— hell. well, you did prove me that i'm not, but i— when you left— life is a rollercoaster and— ...i just couldn't think otherwise when you weren't there to repeat it to me every day. all i was wondering about is if you'd ever come back and say it again. ...fuck, don't stare at me as if i didn't see you in shittier states.

you meant 'vulnerable'. it's not bad, you know? i don't care if you think i'm bad, but that isn't. sorry, i can stop, but i just— nevermind.

what were you gonna say?

i— um, i love you? my brain kinda shut off, i'm— i'm sorry.

god. i don't think you're—

it doesn't really matter, listen—

no. it does. i love you. i don't think you're neither bad or good. i just know that i love you and I need you to be here. i need you to be at least a tiny part of my life. i don't want you to save me. like, i— well, i just don't intend it to seem like i don't want anything from you but help. i want you with every one of your quirks as long as they're real. and i want you with all the pretending. i just... love you.

well, now we're both stupid.

yeah.

so, i— i need to go.

no. you don't. you can't just leave it like that. i know you can't.

okay, you won.

so fast, too.

shut up!

you mocking me or something?

no, shut up, i have no comment on your bullshit, but i love you, i don't know anything else.

i feel you. it's so stupid, but now i want a kiss. like, a real one.

i can't—

hey, you already did once today.

it's not—

if it helps, you make me love myself sometimes. just with the looks you give me. jesus, i can't handle the talking, you know.

but neither do i! i love you and i can't stop saying it, it's— it's ridiculous.

i love you. see? it's not that bad. i love you.

okay, now i don't have a choice.

why do we have to say it before we kiss?

'cause we don't want to?

definitely not.

shit, i know. but— it just feels better?

maybe. but i think we should stop this madness. just tell me when you wanna kiss me so bad that you barely keep your voice normal, okay? it's easier.

god, did you hear what you just said?

what now?

okay, you won another time. fuck, fine, i love you and i wanna kiss you so bad that i— i don't know, i want it to stop every time i do, but i really want to, and i— it's not any less stupid.

shut the fuck up and tell me what you think.

...it feels safe when you're on my lips.

i'm in awe.

i told you—

no, i am. keep in mind, i'm the one who loves himself only occasionally, right?

i love you. you must do the same thing.

i don't know, but i love you.

i love you. you love me and yourself.

i love you. i love— i'm not that stupid to buy it, so no, thanks.

but you were about to say it! and loving me can't come without discussing your beauty. you're not anything you think you are. i see you for who you are, i know better.

shut up, jackass. kiss me.

do it whenever you feel like it.

in fact, it's just a few times in our whole lifetime.

huh, why?

ì don't wanna sound more stupid.

you're not, smarty.

you're making me blush. it's dumb.

well, it might be, but you are not. ...i love it when you blush, the blame is on me.

fuck, you're so mean.

back to the topic, why do you refuse to kiss me whenever you want to? maybe, you're right and you should just leave me alone. or you shouldn't. what's on your mind?

...i think it's— um, you're just really pretty, you know?

well, it's not all.

...ye-es. i just think it would be great to make you, like— uh, i can't.

you fuck me twice a day with no second thoughts.

well, it's not like i— ...okay. it would be great to make you come just by kissing you.

man, even i am not ashamed of it as an idea. you physically can't come without getting called a whore, after all.

it's more intimate! it's— fuck, you're just very stupid. you won't even tell me if you mind it or not. it's not shamelessness.

...oh, i think i— i would be able to do that. you know, i won't say no to you.

you said you're not ashamed.

fuck you. we're just moved to another level recently and i'm still adjusting.

so i can freely marry you?

hell yes you can? just don't— uh, now i just— i need to feel good right now.

as if you're not feeling well?

as i'm in another kind of need, but i don't wanna tell you. ...well, i need to feel— i need to feel loved. words don't work. i want you to say everything you need, just in— in another form, okay?

so i should stop telling you how—

no.

no?

i said what i said. for the love of god, shut up and do something. i need you.

...thank you for, like, everything.

show me you're thankful.

you asked me, um— about why i— why i wouldn't just kiss you any time i want and...

yeah, right, i'm listening.

so, um. i don't think i deserve it.

...that's it?

yep.

but i don't understand.

see, i told you, it's safer— and i— you know, i don't wanna be all negative, but— i don't think i should feel safe too often.

lord, and that man preaches selfcare. ...you think?

yeah. it's— it's weakness. i trust you...

but?

there's no 'but's. i trust you. i'm okay with being weak with you. however it has its effect on my routine. i love you and it's the huge part of me and my life, so i should try even harder to not get blinded by this and lose the grip. ...put myself in danger.

but you know it's just... healthy?

i guess, but— i can't.

there must be more.

...you're right. but, you know, do you really think that the person like me has a right to be normal?

everybody does.

you make yourself an exception, so i think it's not—

i'm unhuman. it's okay to do this, it's not the same.

...can i hug—

yes.

you let me make you love yourself?

i don't care what that is anymore. ...man, i truly love you for you. for who you are, who you seem to be, who you want to be, who you were... i love you.

you're really stupid at this point.

okay. i don't give a fuck.

that's crazy.

that's crazy, yeah. i love you. what can i do?

what do you—

for you. i want to do something for you. i want to see your stupid happy face and fuck it after.

well, that's the thing. you can fuck me in a way you think i deserve and only then i could think about it.

we're so stupid.

we are.

so i will try.

you will.

i will.

you so will.

[curvykittyyssmutfics]

Something New: Titanic

A/N: fic based on this position. Never seen it before, thought it could be fun to try with some of our fave jjk men.

Choso

"Choso! Yes, like that.. Keep fuckin me just like that. Uh! Uh! Uh!" SMACK.. SMACK.. SMACK.. Slow deep thrusts in missionary that make you arch, nipples scraping across his hard pecs. "Gonna make me cream, baby! Oh fuck, don't stoooop." You're most definitely wailing now, nails dragging down his back creating the dark red marks he loves so fuckin much. "Yeah? Am I.. Does it feel good?" Choso's genuinely asking, cheeks flushed as he tries to hold back his nut. He's still so shy when you guys fuck. Always asking if he's doin it right or what he can do to make it better. He doesn't have a lotta experience, but he'd sell his soul just to make sure you're satisfied in every way. "Course baby, you're so- Chosoooo!" His name bursting through your lips when he starts to tap his thumb against your clit. You're man dedicates commiting this moment to memory: how your eyes flutter shut, plump bottom lip trapped between your teeth as you cum vigorously on his cock. Quivering hard, arms so tight round him; embracing Choso just as tight as your pussy clings to his cock. Your breath is racing, heart pounding but you dont waste a second sitting up. He pulls back, hard cock pulling out as you push him onto his back. "Wh-what? I do something wrong?" You simply shake your head, thinking how cute your man is as he needlessly worries. "Then what are you-" He's stumped when the glory of your backside comes into view. Choso's swallowing hard at the sight of your luscious brown ass. You look at him over your shoulder. "Kness up, baby." You tell him sweetly. He complies, letting you make room so you can sit on his cock. You bite your lip to muffle your moans just to hear the deep groans coming from his chest "Fuuuck, your choking my dick baby." Big warm palms locking around your ankles when you lean forward and start grinding on his dick nice and slow. Just like he likes. "Y/n! Ahhhh, shit.. What are you- oohfeelsogood! Chu doin to me, baby?" Choso can't take his eye's off your ass ploppin up and down on his abs. Flawless brown skin rippling like water as you stare over your shoulder breathlessly. "'M fuckin you, Daddy." Your man's hips stutter.. And then he pours his nut into you with out warning, dark eyes open wide in shock. "Sorrysorrysorry. 'M so sorry.." Choso chokes on apologies as he fills your cunt till you leak.

Toji

"..so what chu tellin me, woman? You goin back on your word?" Toji's eye brow raised as you sit atop his unyielding abs. Piercing gaze holding your own, making you unable to look away. He's still got his shirt on, only naked from the waist down, but you still feel every single ridge of each pec as you grind on him. Your stark naked ofcourse, dress and panties shredded thanks to your husband. "Toji, please. Know I can't.. I don't know how. Never done it before." His hands, rest on your thighs, grippin tight at your words. Fuckin dick taps sticky at your ass, equally interested. It's becoming painfully obvious that you're a lil pillow princess thats probably only ever been fucked on your back. Toji's gonna have so much watchin you take his dick that way. "Now, don't you think you shouldn't make promises you can't keep? Sorry baby. No take backs." Your eyes actually tear up at your mean ass husband. Yet your hips dont stop rubbing your horny lil pussy all over him. Know for a fact he's just being an ass; that no matter what position he fucks you in, he'll be sure to breed the fuck outta you and have a good time doin it. What you can't possibly predict is your pretty teary face pulling at Toji's heartstrings. He sighs, giving you a heavy eyeroll. "Fine, y/n. Such a crybaby. We don't have to do it that way.. This time." But he has something else in store for you. He lifts you up by your hips, forcing you to turn around and face the opposite direction. Lifting his knees, he commands you; leaving no room for argument. "Sit on my dick." Your knees clench his sides nervously and you don't move right away, attempting to look at Toji scowling face. That earns you a sharp POP! to your left ass cheek. "I didn't tell you to turn around. I said: sit on my dick." You whine back at him but obey this time, using his knees to lean foward as you hold his cock and slide down. "Fuuuuck Toji.." You stop halfway, trying not become overwhelmed. That unfortunately gets you another smack in the same spot, the sting so sharp you jerk and dig your acrylics into his knees. "You think I'm fuckin playin, huh?" Toji snatches at your waist and slams you down to sit on the rest of his cock. You breath whooshing from your lungs at the pressure in your tummy. Mouth open in a silent scream as you lean forward, grippin at his calves to help you pull off his dick. Toji doesn't even notice your escape attempts. Feet planted into the mattress, fucking up into you as he bounces you on his cock. "Damn, best pussy in the fuckin world." His head dipped back into the pillow, eyes shut as he absolutely basks in the feeling of your lil pussy sucking him in. "Toooji.. Toji l-lie." Your jumbled accusation makes him chuckle as he opens one eye,peeks at you struggling to take him. "No, said you don't have to do it that way. Still gone ride this dick baby." To prove his words, your husband picks up the pace, laughing as you cry and clutch at him desperately.

Suguru

The water sloshes around the two of you, your high pitched moans flowing freely as you fuck Suguru sensually. You're in public at a spring, but neither of you give a fuck about that. Whoever comes along its about to get a free show. One of his hands hold your damp waist, the other grips onto your ass. He's addicted to watching you, every part of you. Just so completely engrossed with the way you rotate your hips against him; is goin crazy that he can't lick the drips of water off your plump chocolate ass cheeks. "Damn girl, shit is to much for me. Slow down." His words make you giggle, seeing as your already doin just that. "I am goin slow, Guru." You're doin so much more than that: keepin his sensitve cock so warm, so much warmer than the water licking at his sides. Damn, you're always the fuckin best at this, fucking him so good he's damn near delirious with the pleasure. "Shit, baby. Aint never.. Where you learn this shit from?" His dark brows pinch together as you spread his knees just a bit, gettin that leverage so you can pop that pussy on him over and over. "Porn." Your matter-of-fact answer makes him laugh a bit, quickly melting into a moan as you speed up. Waters so crystal clear, Suguru stares as it cascaded down your pretty brown skin. 'Fuck this is so much better than fuckin in the tub' he thinks mindlessly, since the clean ups usually a bitch. But then he suddenly can't be bothered to give a fuck as you toss your head back. Your hair freshly done, long y/h/c/ wavy tresses damp and sticking to the curve of your spine. Suguru doesn't know why the sight fucks with him so much. Without a second thought he's leaning forward to wrap his arms round you, holding you in place as he cums viciously. "Suguru, what the fuuuuck! Can't believe you! Are you seriously cumming already?" Your pouty whine would usually make him feel guilty but he can't even see straight at the moment, pussy's so phenomenal. He tucks his chin into your shoulder moaning lowly, his dick refusing to cease shooting his nut between your gushy walls. "Ahhh, fuck. Suck on ya lil pussy after y/n- mmmm.. Shit, you feel so damn good! Ohfuck! So so so gooood. Look at me, baby. Come on, lemme see those pretty y/e/c eyes." You roll them first before looking over your shoulder, gazing into his eyes as he pumps thick streams of cum into you. Cant help but smile a little listening to your boyfriend whimper, mouth open wide humpin you like a puppy. Neither of you notice a certain white haired sorcerer hiding nearby; dick softening in his fist, the globs of cum splattered across his knuckles cooling as he watches his best friend kiss you tenderly. Wishes to God he could switch places with Suguru right now.

[johnwickb1tsch]

Yandere Tex Johnson x Witness!Reader x John Wick Imagine Part 5 by:

@treedaddymcpuffpuff @sweetwolfcupcake @johnwickb1tsch and now featuring @tammykelly

Original Post Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Warnings: So many dead doves! Do not eat! Unless you like dead doves, that is. You're in good company here. 😘 Violence, sexual content, blood, murder, kidnapping, possessive behavior, dubcon, yandere sh!t...it's all here! Please take care! 😘

Lovely Readers! You can now follow the tag # Wicked Johnson Fic to follow along more easily! ❤❤❤

Johnwickb1tsch:

John lets you rest after wrecking you for the umpteenth time, disappearing off somewhere. You put off leaving the bedroom for as long as you can, but in the end you can't stand it anymore. You rummage in the closet for a new shirt. Your choices are black, black, and you'll never guess... black. 

This house must belong to John.

How many safe houses does that man have?

When you walk out of the bedroom in your new getup you find Tex in the living room watching TV. He raises an eyebrow at you. 

“We have got to get you some clothes, baby girl.”

You shrug. The boxer t-shirt combo is actually pretty comfy.

You think you might make your way to the kitchen, but Tex snaps his fingers at you as you try to walk past.

You turn to look at him with a raised brow. 

“Can I help you?”

That was the wrong thing to say, obviously. 

His grin is that of a hungry wolf. 

“I bet you can. C'mere, darlin'.”

You sigh, but after your little lesson with John, you're not quite so inclined to defy him. 

Yet.

You're going to have to get smarter about how you expend your energy. 

Easier said than done. 

You pad over next to him. He pats his thigh in invitation, but you opt to sit next to him instead. This lasts for about two seconds, before he hauls you into his lap with his big hands and his strong arms.

Goddammit.

“That's better,” he says with a sly grin, holding you close. 

You take a moment to look at him—really look at him, from up close. The sweep of his almond shaped eyes, his high cheek bones and the short scruff of his beard. He stares back at you, unabashedly. 

“What?”

“Nothing.”

He narrows his eyes at you, bumping his forehead with yours. You wish it wasn't adorable. Fucking man child, making you feel things.

“Wanna watch tv?”

It beat anything else he could dream up, so you agree. You hadn't forgot that he still owed you for your flipping of the bird earlier. You're sure he hasn't either. 

He turns on some stupid gratuitous action flick, and you kind of zone out. Your thoughts drift to John, and the things he told you in-between fucking you silly. 

He'd said that he and Tex would not take on the FBI just for a plaything, or a whore. Deep down, you knew what that meant. 

It meant, they had no real intention of letting you go. The thought filled you with equal parts dread—and wonder. 

Why the fuck would not one, but two fine ass men like this want you, for keeps? It's beyond your comprehension—and if you're honest, kind of flattering. Bat shit fucking crazy, but flattering.

Either that, or it's just...convenient. Your circumstances created a perfect storm from which to snatch you without a trace or a person to care about getting you back.

"Want to see somethin'?" asks Tex, interrupting your reverie.

"Okay?"

He clicks play on the remote once he has your attention. You watch as a 1970s muscle car jumps an impossible ramp, then lands roughly on the other side of a canal. "That was me."

You lift an eyebrow, looking back at him. "In the car?"

"Yeah."

He's grinning like a little kid, clearly proud. 

"You were a stunt man?"

"Uh huh."

You tilt your head, trying to put pieces together and failing. The square block is not fitting in the circle hole. 

"Then why...?"

"Killin' people pays better, believe me. Less dangerous, too."

A chill runs down your spine. 

"Oh."

Your gaze drifts away, but he turns it back to him with a hand on your chin. Those jet black eyes bore into yours, like he can see into your soul. His eyes flick down to your mouth, a moment before he leans in to kiss you. Your first instinct is to offer teeth, before you remember if you have to have sex one more time in the next twenty-four hours, you might literally die. You slip your tongue into the seam of his lips, and feel him smile against your mouth. 

"Mmm. A man could get used to this."

He slides his hand up your thigh, fingertips sneaking past the loose hem of your boxer shorts. 

You wrap your fingers around his, praying. "Tex, please."

"Like the sound of that," he says between kisses, outmuscling you to move his hand higher.

"I'm so sore."

"Sounds like an excuse to me. John gets you to himself but I don't?"

"It's not my fault you're both hung like horses."

This appeal to his ego makes him grin. "Ain't you a lucky girl?"

"Only if you don't hurt me."

He has the gall to give you a pouty face. Again, it should be fucking ridiculous, but somehow it's cute. He cups the side of your face, pushing his thumb between your lips. "How sore is your mouth?" he asks, eyes glittering.

It's not high on your list of things you want to do, but you're having to weigh your options these days. You suck his thumb, and you swear you watch a fire ignite in his eyes.

"Also sore," you say around his digit, sounding ridiculous as he presses down on your tongue. Your jaws hurt. Even your mouth is bruised from kissing. Jesus. You're not a goddamn python.

You try to retreat, but he forces his thumb deeper.

Absolutely out of instinct to defend yourself, you start to bite him.

Maybe you stop yourself before it can hurt or you break skin, but for the wicked gleam in his eyes you know it doesn’t matter. Suddenly you find yourself flipped on your stomach over his lap, as though you are nothing but a doll.

“You are a nippy little thing, you know that?” When he wrenches down your boxers, propping your ass in the air with his trunk of a thigh beneath you, you’re afraid you know exactly what he has in mind.

“No—”

His hand between your shoulder blades pins you down. “You’re just going to make it worse for yourself,” he says in a sing-song tone, almost as though he hopes you will fight him more. His fingers fanned out over your butt cheek rub lightly, soothing over your copious bruises. It feels so good that the first stinging smack makes you jump sky-high.

“Hey!”

“Hush and take your licks, little girl.”

“I hate you!”

“I was gonna say five, for flippin’ me off, but now it’s six. Comprende?”

You whimper, but for the first time since this whole fiasco started, you do the smart thing and shut your dumb fucking mouth, hanging your head in the pillows with resignation.

He’s just spanking you, you reason. How bad can it be?

He has a hand like a catcher’s mitt and arms corded with muscle.

Bad. The answer, is bad.

Yet he doesn’t lay into you immediately, soothing you with featherlight touches over your buttocks and the backs of your thighs. That part feels good, actually, and fuck you if you don’t start to feel the stirrings of desire between your legs.

What. The ever loving. FUCK. Is wrong with you?

“So pretty,” he says, toying with the bend of your knee. It makes your toes curl, and he offers up a deep chuckle that you almost feel more than hear. “You like that?”

“Yes,” you answer meekly, closing your eyes.

“See, I can be sweet, if you’re sweet to me.”

The next smack on the other cheek makes you jump again, but this time you do not protest.

“Ahh. She can be taught.”

You whimper, but keep your expletives to yourself. This is not exactly what you would call sweet…but the contrast of the stinging blows with his featherlight touch afterwards is doing things to you that you do not understand.

“Take this off,” he demands, lifting the hem of your shirt up your back.

For once, you obey him the first time, squirming in your awkward position on your belly and pulling it over your shoulders, leaving you bare and totally exposed upon his lap. He runs his fingers up the curve of your spine, making you shudder upon him. You can’t see his smug grin, but you know, you just fucking know it’s there.

Smack.

You can’t help but cry out, but the pleasure and the pain is strangely starting to meld together. Your treacherous, stupid little cunt has begun to throb, and as his fingers caress dangerously close to your crease you find that you wish he would touch you there.

By the time he’s finished with your licks you are a finely trembling, aching mess on his lap, your fingers like claws in the throw pillow, your ass in the air as though begging for it of its own volition.

Finally he does dip his thick fingers into your weeping slit, groaning to himself for the wetness he finds there. He circles your bud with the thick tip of his finger, making you moan and arch into him like the stupid little hypocrite you are.

“That’s a mighty nice little pussy you’ve got there,” he says, his voice turned pure gravel with desire. “Too bad you’re too sore.”

He withdraws and shoves you off his lap as he stands, leaving you in a heap of pliable naked limbs on the couch. The frustrated sound that escapes your throat is barely human, and the grin he pays you is the baring of teeth from a predator to a rabbit across the wood.

“Now don’t let me catch you touchin’ yourself,” he warns, looming over you. “You won’t like what happens next.”

 On that note he struts off, and you watch him go with a glare, unable to stop yourself from thinking he has the nicest, tightest little butt this side of the Mississippi river.

Bastard.

Sweetwolfcupcake:

You sit there for a good few minutes--- letting yourself just feel and realise what has happened.

No, because you realise it now-- so much has happened, you have sort of developed a temporary immunity to it all. A coping mechanism for your mind.

That is what it does when things go very wrong very quickly-- bolt out of the blue? Worry not, you won't even register it properly.

That is how your works, you realise as you slowly begin to dress yourself again. The slick between your thighs is hard to ignore but the ignited desire begins to subdue as you focus on making yourself aware-- really aware of what has happened.

John's words regarding Bradford felt like a promise and as you realise that he is gone, you fear he has gone after the agent.

You hope and pray that he is not as impulsive as you consider him to be because, with your time spent with Bradford, you have come to know of two things-- one, he is very resourceful, and second, he is no fool. He is an exceptionally intelligent, stubborn man-- whom you considered to be moral, almost idealistic. So, his betrayal has come as a shock to you.

You can't swallow it, somehow-- and his actions are not helping either. If John has bribed him and he accpeted-- why is he still messing with them, then?

What does he really want?

He has a family--

You blink.

Teenagers, he said. He isn't that old. Until...

Until he was a college dad or something. He never even mentioned a wife.

You lick your lips dress yourself as quickly as you can and rush out of the room. Finding Tex in the kitchen, you almost call for him.

Almost because you stop.

Baffled at your own instincts.

What are you doing? Don't you miss your previous life? Don't you want to be free again?

You realise you still do but you can't see them hurt. You don't want them hurt, in any way, under any circumstances.

They make you feel like a battlefield-- a battlefield for your mind, heart and body. You just stare on, lost in thoughts and questions. But Tex senses your presence.

"Sit down, accidentally added an extra egg to my omelette." He says while plating an omelette and bringing it to you-- it does not look like an accidental extra, but you chose not to comment. "Why aren't you sat?" He asks with a tilt of his head, but amusement is dancing in his orbs.

And he's back at his assholery again, just when you begin to think of him as 'not too bad'.

You sigh, too many thoughts running around to even try wiping off that annoying smirk out of his unfairly gorgeous face. You simply steel yourself and sit down-- refusing to give him the satisfaction of any reaction from you. You grind your teeth in silence, tensing up at the ache when you feel the cushioned surface against your clothed rear-- at least it isn't only wood-- that would have been way more painful. But it still hurts. Yet, you don't show it.

You've had enough of their games. Whatever they are doing, you realise that they are, perhaps winning at it. You were going to warn Tex about Bradford? You don't want John to go after Bradford-- and the first reason you think of is 'What if it's a trap'? And not 'What if Bradford dies?'

This change concerns you. You still haven't decided what you wish to do. Tell them that Bradford's actually too young to have teenagers? Are they foolish enough to not cross-check? You decide on a different approach.

"Where did John go?"

The question comes off in low, uncertain whisper, but Tex is already seated beside you with his own plate.

When did he even do that?

Tex raises an eyebrow and scoffs but holds your gaze for a moment.

"You're not worried about that agent, are ya?"

His ability to guess your thoughts (partially, to your fortune) catches you off guard and of course, it shows on your dumb face as he smirks. This time though, it does not seem as playful as before. This time, it puts you on edge as you let out a measured breath, feeling more alert than you have been in John's silent presence before.

"No--I...." You almost spill out the truth, before breaking the eye-contact and getting some hold on yourself "I was just...wondering."

"Don't worry, he went to get you somethin' to wear, so that you don't keep dirtying ours."

Your hold on the spoon tightens at that jab. It's lighter than most of his earlier ones but it somehow irks you to a certain point of burn.

You assume he is clever enough to not give you a fork because, at the moment, you want to poke him with one.

"I'm done."

You declare curtly before letting your spoon fall on the plate and pushing it away. You need some time away from their overpowering presence, you need your sanity, your rationality intact, after all.

Rising from your seat, you rush towards the bedroom with the hope of some solitude. You need that.

Tammykelly:

You barely get to the bedroom on the second floor, the forever lingering ache between your legs and anger in your heart not letting you think about anything else but a much needed distraction.

This bastard is fucking diabolical, you think to yourself, hoping the negative energy of your denial will give strength to your knees and outweigh how much your body is screaming at you to take care of the little, annoyingly loud problem created by Tex. God, they’ve trained you well.

After you’ve freshened up in the master bathroom, you sit down in a big armchair, next to the bed, still feeling frustrated, though mostly at yourself and the hopelessness of your situation.

You glance around the room once again, remembering where they’ve locked their tools, including knives that you’re pretty sure are sharp enough to cut through anything with ease. You lean back, lost in thoughts, letting your back rest against the soft cushion. You close your eyes and concentrate on your breathing pattern, after a while feeling like your body reflexes have started to calm down and the blood in your veins has acquired breath of its own, as you begin to watch yourself, as if from the third person pov.

The shrunken space of your focus seems to have been expanded, simultaneously, the room seems to have been sealed in a vacuum bubble, it’s just you and the memory of where the knives lay. You get up with determination, feeling confident enough to try anything within the boundaries of what’s allowed but timid enough to be mindful about possible consequences.

You can surely just look at them, they won’t punish you if you don’t use them.

You think about an array of ways how you’d break the lock before opening the cabinet, and run your fingers over the blades that you know could easily cut you in half through the application of force necessary to do so. You take one out, studying it, as if trying it on, wondering how much this razor-sharp knife has seen and will witness. You twirl it around, pondering whether you’d be brave enough to use it if the opportunity arises. You feel almost mesmerised by it, neither hearing anything, apart from the ringing in your ears, nor seeing anything, apart from your reflection on the blade.

“You’re sure you know how to handle it?” - a deep breathy voice comes from behind. You jump, almost dropping the knife, your eyes meet John’s obsidian ones, boring into you, making you feel like you’re being poked by the needles that lay in the cabinet next to the knives.

“Be careful not to cut yourself, rattlesnake”, - an amused voice adds and you watch Tex step into the room, as your cheeks flush red. “We were wondering how come it’s so quiet up here”, - he adds, not breaking the eye contact.

“I was napping” - you blurt out, quickly putting the knife down, nervously watching John walk closer in a lazy, almost calculating manner only a predator uses when the prey has been caught in a trap.

You catch his movements until he’s standing behind you, his chest touching your back, his arms on either side of you, capturing you in a cage that is his strong body against your frozen one. You look over to Tex and notice him leaned against the wall, watching you two with curiosity.

Fuck

John picks up the knife you’ve previously chosen and holds it in front of you, his lips close to your ear, his voice so dangerously low, you swear he sounds like he’s about to devour you in one bite.

“Want me to show you how to use it?” he nonchalantly whispers, sending cold shivers down your spine, his lips inch closer, “since you’re so curious about it”. You pray he doesn’t feel the deafening thumping of your heart.

“I was…just…uh…”, - words barely escape your dry throat. You hear Tex walk over and it makes you feel even more on the razor edge that is a mouse trap of your relationship with these men. You feel Tex’s fingers under your chin, when he pulls your face to look up at him.

“Isn’t it what you wanted?” - he clicks his tongue. His glimmering eyes shine with built-up darkness lay beneath, a hint of disappointment flashes through it when you don’t reply, “all talk, no action?”

Tex is akin to a fiery pit, predictably unpredictable in the sense that you have an idea of what to expect of him - stand too close and you get burned, bite too hard and you get splashed back with fire. But when you watch the flames, especially when he doesn’t notice you studying him or pretends not to, there’s a strangely comforting warmth to him, flickering through the coal cracks of his man-child nature. John, on the other hand, is akin to an abyss, swallowing you whole with his presence. He’s dangerous in a way that a calm untamed tiger is, for even domesticated, it still remains a threat at all times. You don’t see what’s beneath all the layers of what he masterfully conceals and you’re not sure you should want to find out how much of a predator he actually is.

“Make your choice” - you hear John’s raspy voice bring your attention back to him.

“What?” - you blink, your mind going over multitude of possibilities this could play out. Tex takes the knife out of the other man’s hands.

“Who do you prefer show you how to use it?” - he explains, but his expression says anything but teaching you about self-defence. You feel John protectively wrap around you and you don’t need him to say it. If Tex does anything out of line, this playground will become everything a human would fear to step into. You can see that the feeling’s mutual, in the way Tex glares at John.

Maybe this is the code to freedom, let them prey on each other.

Tex’s eyes move to yours, seeing the way you lean into the man behind you.

“Oh, you think Johnny boy will save you?”- he chuckles darkly, “dream on”, he tells you before motioning for John to bring you over to the bed. Your heart drops.

They sit you down on the bed, both of them circling you, akin to eager hawks, ready to rip apart and devour anything in their sight. Suddenly, you feel John’s hands lock yours in a tight grip behind your back, which makes panic arise in your chest.

“The fuck you’re doing?” - you want to sound mad but the voice that comes out of your mouth sounds like it belongs to someone else caught in a web of pretence and lies. Tex waves his hand for you to keep your mouth shut.

“You forget your place, rattlesnake”, - he laughs, though not an ounce of warmth strikes you, just sharp fire burns.

“You’re a fucking asshole”, - you growl lowly, looking him right in the crazed eyes, while John shifts to a more comfortable position to hold you still.

Bastard

“Touché”, - Tex brings his face close to yours, his hot breath on your skin making you flinch, “Biting won’t help, darlin’, you’re forgetting who you’re up against”, he finishes, placing the cold blade on your cheek before you start protesting, and moving it down your jawline, throat, collarbones and stopping at the hem of your shirt, tantalised, watching the way your chest rapidly rises and falls. He’s so gentle with it, though, but his eyes tell you he could switch up in a heartbeat.

“Sorry, John”, - Tex breaths out and doesn’t wait for either of you to reply, grabbing the fabric and making the blade slide through it with lightning speed like butter. Your wide open eyes look at him with shock, only now noticing John pressed up against your back, like an unmoving statue. You lean back, wiggling your body, seeing how hard it is for Tex to resist touching you with his hands. He extends his arm to place the knife onto your skin.

“Don’t fucking touch me”, - you glare up at him, which makes a loud bark of a chuckle escape his lips, though he doesn’t stop. You begin to shake your head and move your body, knowing he won’t do anything in this case, as not to hurt a single strand of hair on you, for John might kill him right then and there with that said knife, otherwise. Abruptly, your body freezes when Tex’s calloused hand find its place around your neck, urging you to hold your anger in and to look up at him.

“You don’t want me to hurt you, do you?” - he growls, his fingers tight around your throat, “you can’t keep playing the game you can’t win”, he smiles, placing the blade in the centre of your breastbone, the coldness of steel arising goosebumps throughout your body. Your eyes lock on his, studying the way he’s holding back the desires that will leave him hanging onto the thread of life had he acted upon them. You want to believe he’d never hurt you but you never know how far his self control and possible feelings for you can contain the boundaries of his flames.

Is it your or John’s power over him?

Tex’s knee moves in between your legs, inching closer to where you needed him when he bent you over downstairs what feels like an eternity ago. But your body responds in raging flames, lit up by the myriad of matches that are the manifestation of his power over you.

His fingers inch the razor-sharp steel closer to the centre of your neck, so infinitely slow you think you might die just from waiting for what comes next.

And what comes next is John’s lips on your skin, your temple, behind your ear, on your shoulder, his tongue tasting the heat, engulfing your body, the effect of which comes off in a form of a shuddered breath that doesn’t go unnoticed. Tex moves the blade up until it reaches your mouth, keeping it there, until you get the hint. You stare at his darkened, ravenously glowing eyes. You feel one of John’s hands come up gliding over your body up to your neck, tilting your head up, as he’s shifting his weight so you can look up into his eyes. The look you’re met with is not the one you were hoping to see, for instead of a soft and gentle one, your gaze gets sucked in by a black hole that is a pair of nearly jet-black, hungry, unmoving and barely patient eyes.

“Sorry, baby”, - John rasps.

You open your mouth, falling deeper into his void, before closing your eyes.

Your eyelids flutter open, as your breath and racy heartbeat warn you to steady yourself before gradually coming back to a stable pace, as you lay in bed.

You listen in to the sounds of an awfully quiet house, making you wonder whether you’ve been left alone after all. The clock arms ticking rhythmically, blending in with the soft, almost faint whirring of the bedroom mini fridge where the boys keep cooled bottled water for you. The sound of electricity inside the walls and static in your ears suddenly becoming louder once you focus on it instead of the faint noise of the outside world. You look around, chasing the frisky sunset light, playing on the space around you through the cracks between the slightly moving curtains. You glance at expensive looking boutique shop bags standing near the wall. For the first time you pay attention to the way the colour palette of the place is almost seamlessly blended by the dreamy fog, though you’re not sure if it’s the floating in sunlight specks of dust or your own blurry vision, for you’d just woken up from your nap. You raise your hand to cover your eyes when the sunlight makes its way onto your face, then close your eyelids, folding your hands on your lap, letting yourself bask in the vague warmth. You take a deep breath in, your senses catching a very indistinct smell of the fresh evening air, when the wind outside blows through the trees, the rustling of which you can catch a sonic glimpse of, fresh laundry and the scent of your shampoo.

But the smell of two men pervades you the most, you can practically taste the last night with John and today’s morning with Tex on your tongue and skin. You’re sure you smell like them by now, akin to a cat acquiring the smell of its owners over time, becoming one with the small nuclear tribe. It’s shamefully intoxicating how well they’ve imbedded themselves onto your body and into your mind, molding a new, unrecognizable version of you, so perfectly suited for their needs.

And you’re sure they like everything about it, especially the way they can smell themselves off you, like you belong to them, cooped up in this place away from prying eyes, their $5 million secret, just for them to play with and ravish. You can feel it sometimes through the way they touch you when passionate waves are mercifully on hold, replaced by the monumental promise of another outburst. You remember the way their fingers linger on your skin a bit too long, the way they hug you close to their bodies late at night when they think you’re too fucked out to notice - John - in a protective embrace, Tex - more on the possessive side.

The way John gently brushes your hair after blow drying it and resists leaning in to smell your freshly showered self, for every time you can feel the heat of his body getting close to you and, regrettably to your disappointment, pulling away at the last moment. The way Tex traces his own bites and hickeys on your skin when you’re in the bathtub with him or glides his fingertips over them under the covers, thinking your blissfully unaware self doesn’t feel his surprisingly delicate leisure wandering. The way neither of them want to leave the bed in the early hours of the morning, too entranced by your warmth and the feel of your body against theirs. The way one day you made each of them sigh in surprise when you’d pulled them closer, praying they explain it as your sleepy subconscious making the decisions for you, when, in reality, it was you pulling the strings of blurry lines in between sanity and conscience mistake of trying to savour their comfortingly strong bodies. You couldn’t decide which one of the duo was worse. John, who treats you like a gentleman but often fucks you disrespectfully, or Tex, who annoyingly makes every particle of your body and soul boil in every sense possible.

You tip your head back, eyelids closed, taking deep breaths in to calm your heart and mind. You have no idea how long it’ll take for the masks of sanity to slip, revealing the true nature of those men. Whatever sanity means anymore in this situation. You start feeling like their influence on you begins to seep beyond physical form.

Suddenly, you hear John quietly calling out to you: “Y/n. You here?”

Your eyebrows slightly twitch, as your eyes open to the starry sky above the balcony where you and John are standing next to one another.

“It’s like you were just here and then you were gone”, - he chuckles, his voice soft and comfortingly deep.

Fuck, the mask’s slipping.

You take a long look at him before smiling, his eyes so gentle, you almost [want to] believe he’s not faking it for you.

It’s time for a cat to come out and play with fire.

“Hi”, - you tell him, reaching your fingers out to him, finding it so irresistibly hard not to put a loose strand of hair behind his ear when you see him admiring the perfect way the clothes he’d bought hug your body, as if tailored to your exact measurements but you don’t delve into it deeply for the sake of your sanity. “Hey”, - John replies, letting your hand slip back, not showing you how much he wants to catch it and kiss it.

The serenity of the passing intimate lace comes crumbling down when Tex cheerfully comes up from the back and hugs you from behind, loudly leaving a wet trail of kisses from your ear down to your shoulder, so casually mundane, as if he’s been doing this for years.

“What are you two whispering about?” - he inquires, not removing his lips off you. “Certainly not you”, - you tease. “You don’t like me?” - he mumbles back. Now it’s your turn to laugh: “Why should I? This is just a transaction, no?”

Instead of pulling away, Tex grips you harder: “Aw, my rattlesnake, I was about to say how sweet you are when you don’t bite”.

“Thought you liked it?” - you let him feel you lean into him, which he eagerly reciprocates. “Oh, is that why you do it? You do it for me?” - he asks, as you turn around in his arms, tilting your face up, batting your eyelashes. “Dream on”, - you reply before breaking away from his embrace.

You walk over to the balcony sofa, sinking into the big pillows in a relaxed way that exudes you’re not afraid of either of the two. You let yourself be watched by their intense gazes, shamelessly scanning you up and down, as you throw one leg over the other. Moments pass before you speak again.

“I can’t quite crack the code”, - you tell them in the most couldn’t-care-less tone, “what is it that you get out of this? Apart from the obvious”. You trace your body with your fingers, John’s eyes on yours and Tex’s following your silhouette.

Tex is the first to reply: “You said it yourself, this is just a transaction”.

“Is it really?” - you inquire in a way that it sounds more like a statement.

“Why do you wanna know?” - Tex responds, keeping his eyes trailed on you.

You lean further into the cushions, trying to sound as innocuously as possible. “To manipulate you, of course”.

Silence hangs in the air, making your cheeks grow redder, though you hope they can’t tell under the starlight. Tex walks closer to you, saying: “Don’t get ideas into that pretty head of yours”, he grabs your face with one hand, “wouldn’t want you to get burned, mhhmm?”

You swallow. “Wouldn’t even dream of it”, - you tell him, holding the eye contact. Unexpectedly, Tex does nothing but lets you go and walks to the chair, near John. It makes you uncomfortable, their watchful eyes not leaving an ounce of your conscience not feeling exposed.

“What game are you playing at?” - John finally speaks up, his voice so quiet you know he’s not playing games with you anymore.

“Nothing”, - you simply say, your gaze locked on his. Hiding in plane sight, you think. Instead, you continue: “I can’t outplay the player when I got no game, yeah?”

Tex snorts: “Oh, you definitely do have game”, eyeing you. You turn your attention to him, scoffing just like he did: “Clearly, if that’s what you wanna call it”.

“I just want a lock in my room”, you add.

“My, my, Johnny boy, she not only bites but wants to have leverage over us”, - Tex chuckles.

“How’s having a lock mean leverage?” you bat your lashes.

Okay, playing dumb it is.

Tex doesn’t make you wait for his reply: “It’s not about the lock. It’s about access”.

Got you, you say to yourself.

“I’m sure other hunters, like you two, would just love that, access at all times”, - you muse, looking from one man to the other.

“We won’t let that happen”, - John’s stern whisper comes.

“Mhmhm, sure, with $5 million on the line”, - you shrug. You catch Tex’s eyes.

“Dream on, babygirl”, - he muses back.

You sigh, getting up, making your hips sway just a tiny bit more than usual. Your arm gets caught in Tex’s strong grip. “What are you doing?” - he growls, as you turn to look up at him. You look behind him at John, then back at the man in front of you. “Take a wild fucking guess”, - you retort. Tex steps closer, cornering you further to the glass door, leading into the house. “Use your pretty mouth like that, I won’t care if you’re sore or not anymore”, - he smiles sickly sweet, making your stomach turn. You ignore him and connect your eyes with John’s, who holds the same expression, not much different from Tex’s, letting you see in that moment, how titillated he is by you.

You’re fucked and you’ve walked right into it.

“Let me guess, “dream on”?” Tex mocks you, placing a hand on the glass, near your face.

You work up a smile, though you hope they can’t see it doesn’t reach your eyes. “I’m going to sleep. Aren’t you boys coming?” you purr, before wiggling your way out of Tex’s arms. The men look at each other before following suit, exchanging malevolent glances.

The code is crackable. For it’s not the “how” but the question of who’ll be the first to crack.

Tex. John. Or you.

Treedaddymcpuffpuff:

Goddamnit. Where is the motherfucking pancake batter? Does John not have PANCAKE BATTER in his goddamn house? What are you supposed to do? Make pancakes from scratch? Fuck.

Your internal thoughts are being monologued by a sailor, apparently - and he’s in a shit mood. You woke up lying in vacant sheets, minus either of your human heaters, shivering in the conditioned air.

Your bargain was simple, or at least you thought so - they could keep the temp at 62 degrees in this room (psychos) if they both slept beside you and warmed you cozy. So, when you found out they were gone and didn’t even bother to pull a blanket over your naked body in their haste to leave - okay, maybe it was actually you that kicked the comforter off, but you’re still gonna blame them - you got heated, and not in a good way.

Pretty soon, and far too late, you realized that you felt abandoned without them snuggling you like two big, bed hogging dogs, and that made you much more angry because… Well. If you’re being honest with yourself, you are far too attached to these men. In too deep. “Dug up more snakes than you can kill,” as Tex would say. You can barely function when they’re not around. So much for strong, independent woman. You’re a whitehead on the face of feminism.

And now you can’t even make pancakes. Out of frustration, you slam a cupboard shut and bustle a carton of eggs off the counter. And, of course, they land face down with the top open wide. “Fuck. Me.”

“Bad day?”

You spin on your heel, hip catching the counter painfully, although you barely register the sting, too busy clenching fists at your sides from the immediate recognition of that voice. You glare at Bradford, lip curling into a little snarl, the rattlesnake in you coming to bat. “It is now,” you snap.

Bradford sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Hey, don’t be like that. I told you I’d protect you, y/n, and that’s what I’m here to do.”

You burst into a crazed giggle fit, fists clutching at the sundress fabric over your belly, eyes watering from the sheer audacity of fucking men. It takes you a minute to collect yourself.

“I’m not going anywhere with you, you pompous asshole.” You’re still smiling at him, that little leftover sanity and hope slipping right through your fingers and landing in a sticky puddle with the smashed eggs.

He frowns, hands jammed into his pockets, this stupid look of concern coming over his face that makes you want to choke it right off. “Listen, y/n, whatever they did to you - however they hurt you - it’s okay. You don’t have to be afraid anymore. I’m here to take you away and undo all this shit they’ve put in your head.”

“You think that’s going to work on me after what you did?!” You hardly recognize your own shrill screech, don’t realize you’re jamming a finger into his chest until your toe to toe with him. “They might be assholes and manipulators, sure, Bradford, but you-“ You poke his sternum hard, make him wince and love that pained look on his face more than you should - “you’re much fucking worse. Because at least they care about something other than themselves.”

His expression is one of pity, like he’s looking at an abused, bite happy dog about to be put down. “You think they care about you?” His voice is quiet, sympathetic, overly kind, it makes your stomach turn. “Oh, sweetheart-“

“Oh, sweetheart,” you mock, the acid in your body leaking and bubbling from your throat. “Do me a favor and get out. I don’t need you. I don’t need anybody.”

He seems entirely unaffected by you. “Yeah, I thought you’d say that.”

You feel a tiny sting in your shoulder, look down to see a needled splinter sticking out, reach to pull it free, but it’s far too late, because your hand doesn’t work. And neither do your legs. You black out before landing face first into the eggs.

They’ve got you trussed up again. Pretty silk ropes dimple your skin. John finishes the knots on your thighs, fingers tickling lazily over the fabric and making you squirm and whine. “Comfy?” He asks, kissing your cheekbone and smiling at you.

You nod, pull at your bonds, become thrilled when you realize you’re not going anywhere. You wiggle your toes, testing circulation by gauging feeling to your digits. Perfect, as always. John’s handiwork is unmatched. And you are absolutely drenched and throbbing by the time he gets done tightening his last little tie.

“Oh, you’re so pretty,” he tells you, nuzzling his nose into your hairline. You shudder and giggle, melting under that praise he has grown fond of giving. His balmy voice gets your toes curling instead of flexing.

Tex comes back into the room with the bottle of sandalwood and vanilla oils. It smells heavenly and makes you clench hellishly as he works it into his bulky palms and grins at his favorite girl. “You ready for that massage, pumpkin?”

Something slams violently close to your ear, startling you out of the dreaming memory, making you gasp and flinch. You can’t go far, because you’re handcuffed to a metal chair. Hands and feet. Too tight. Fingers and toes already numb and cold. Your face feels sticky and itchy. Metal scrapes metal in a terrible symphony that jabs behind your eyes and gets them open.

You’re in a white, windowless room, far from John and Tex, but close to agent Bradford. He’s smiling now, pleased about something, leaning over the silver table to examine your face. “That’s a nasty bruise, kid,” he says, pointing to his own forehead. “Sorry I couldn’t catch you.”

You scowl at him. “Yeah, whatever.” Your head does hurt, though, and you feel like you’ve been run over by a monster truck again. Still, that fire in you doesn’t seem to want to die, and you’re incredibly grateful for whatever miracle furnace is fueling it. “Are you gonna tell me why I’m here? Or just stare at me like a fucking creep?”

He chuckles. “Do you know where you are?”

“Oh yeah,” you spit, “I definitely remember this windowless white fucking room from good times growing up.” Rolling your eyes hurts more than you think it will.

“You’re under possession of the FBI, y/n, and if I were you, I’d be grateful we didn’t just hand you over to the Bratva ourselves. Because they would have done much worse to you than we’re about to do.”

Johnwickb1tsch:

As your mind clears from the drugs Bradford gave you, you start to think a bit more critically about your situation. The fact that he has taken you hostage without the fanfare of an official FBI raid suggests he's still working under the radar. He must have baited your boys with some convincing ruse to make them both leave the house.

"You should really do yourself a favor, and return me to them," you advise. You flex against the cuffs, trying to get circulation. They really are too tight, and you can't help but compare it to the careful way John always bound you. Who is the bad guy here? All the lines have blurred.

"I can't help but notice you're not asking to just be let go."

It's a development that surprises you too, but you don't feel like analyzing it right now. All you know is that you miss them, like a crucial piece of your heart has been plucked from you. And maybe it's fucked up, but you want the man responsible to pay.

"I'm not as stupid as you are, apparently. Don't you understand who you're dealing with?"

"Tex Johnson, former Marine, dishonorable discharge in his first tour of Iraq, turned Hollywood stunt man and mafia hitman. John Wick is harder to put a thumb down on. Bogus birth certificate, it's doubtful it's his real name. He was probably trafficked into the country as a child from the Soviet Union by one of the syndicates. He's been associated with various underworld groups since he was a teen."

This was, in fact, way more than you knew about your boys, but you were loathe to admit it.

"What I mean, is if you keep this up you're a dead man walking. They'll do anything to get me back."

"It sounds like you want them to get you back."

"At this point? I like them a lot better than you."

"Yeah, you seemed pretty cozy there. I think you have a touch of Stockholm Syndrome."

The thought of this man, of all people, moralizing at you and basically calling you mentally ill, pisses you off even more.

"Did you know Stockholm Syndrome is a bullshit diagnosis favored by law enforcement, invented by two male psychologists to describe a woman who had been in a hostage situation, who they had never even met? She was held hostage by a bank robber in Sweden, and as she watched the police completely bungle the situation she was afraid they would come charging in and kill everyone in a hail of bullets. She advocated for a more peaceful solution that didn't involve her getting shot, and was branded as neurotically sympathetic to her captor for it. But you've been through Quantico. You should already know this."

Bradford frowns down at you, and your inconvenient penchant for facts.

"Alright, smarty pants, be that way. But when the media gets a hold of you after this, you're going to want something to blame, believe me."

"How about you, you crooked son of a bitch?"

"Me? I'm going to be the agent who single handedly brought down the Nobokov Bratva, two wanted contract killers, and saved their hostage. I'll be a hero."

"What about the money you took?"

"Playing a role, all part of my master plan."

He smirks at you, letting you know that at least some of that money is not going to make it into evidence.

"Wait...isn't Dmitri Nobokov dead?"

"As a doornail. But his son is still around, and he wants blood."

You think about this a moment.

"And you're using me as bait?"

"Now you're catching on. You've got a date with Igor Nobokov tonight."

"And you're counting on...them all killing each other?"

"Something like that."

You just laugh.

"Right? I think it's funny too."

"I'm not laughing at that."

"No?"

"No. I'm laughing because my boys are going to fucking kill you all."

You find that you truly believe it, to the marrow of your bones.

Bradford just smirks. "We'll see."

You certainly would.

His phone starts ringing, and he reaches into his pocket for it. "Bradford."

"Well hello, Agent Dipshit."

"Tex. Thought you'd never call."

gif by johnswick

Just hearing his ridiculous, stupid, wonderful voice, even tinny through the phone, sends a wave of relief through you.

"Gotta say, I took you for smarter than this."

"How you figure?"

"You're an FBI hotshot with a fancy degree. I'm sure you've got a profile on me. Narcissistic psychopath, is what Uncle Sam told me. That means there aren't many things in this world I care about outside of yours truly, but you've managed to take one of 'em from me. Can't say that bodes well for you."

"I guess that's a matter of perspective, Mr. Johnson."

"Proof of life?"

"She's right here. Say hello, y/n."

Glaring at Bradford, you speak into his outstretched phone. "Tex, it's a trap!"

Bradford reaches out to smack you in the mouth, staring you down.

"Ow! Motherfucker!"

For a moment there is a deadly silence on the other end of the line.

"My turn. Say hello, Mrs. Bradford."

Bradford's face goes white as a sheet. "Anthony? I'm scared. Please, just do whatever they say."

"Veronica? It's going to be ok, honey, just stay calm. If you fuckers hurt her so help me God--"

"Maybe we will, maybe we won't. All depends on you, son. So listen close."

-----------------

"Who knew this AI shit could be so handy?"

John just nods, utterly stoic, closing the laptop. After feeding multiple insufferable Facebook videos about cooking and keeping house by the lovely Mrs. Bradford through a program, they were able to create a perfect facsimile of her voice, good enough to fool her husband over the phone.

Now Bradford would meet them in a location of their choosing. The advantage was theirs.

Or so they hoped.

Either way, Bradford was dead meat.

[cowboydisaster]

The Fire In Your Eyes

part VIII: horseshoe overlook iv

pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

word count: 15.2k

summary: it's time for the train job, the biggest job you've ever done. You've got a bad feeling about it, and by the end you wish you would have listened to your gut.

a/n: Surprise! Early post! Thank you for your patience with this chapter! Yall know I always upload on Wednesday, but i was so sick that i couldn't write, and i had to go to the ER on tuesday night to get fluids. Anyway, this has been the scariest chapter to write ever. Don't kill me please and please don't give up on this series... love yall, don't yell at me and please trust me. This chapter was too long and got split into two parts: part two will be posted in three days time.

beta read by @margowritesthings

warnings: violence, death, minors dni, 18+

series extras

SERIES MASTERPOST

Arthur leaves long before you even wake up, heading back down to Blackwater to find Sean. It gives you a sick feeling in your stomach, but you trust he’ll be okay. Arthur is smart, and even though he's good at getting himself in sticky situations, he's equally good at getting out of them. It doesn't do much to help your worry, but it’s all you can cling to for right now.

You swirl your half empty cup of coffee in your hand, leaning down for the percolator to reheat it. The fire is warm, alongside the sun, and you find yourself grateful for the off the shoulder shirt you’d picked up a few days ago. It's the perfect temperature you think, tasting the bitter coffee. You're startled out of your thoughts by a weary presence.

“Penny for your thoughts, ma’am?” Kieran asks, walking passed to sit down opposite of you on a crate. He looks nervous, like he was afraid to come sit, and you feel sorry for it. Kieran seems like a nice man, just someone who was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“Just thinkin’ about all that's goin’ on… I see they let you live, huh?” You chuckle, and Kieran nods, nervously. 

“Well Mr. Morgan convinced Dutch to let me stay, I thought maybe that was your doin.” Kieran says, and your eyebrow pings up in shock. 

“Did he now?” You hum, surprised by Arthur’s choice, “No, That was all Mr. Morgan. Well good for you, I just hope he won’t regret it.”

“Oh he won’t! I'm real good with horses, miss, worked in a stable most my life. I’m sure I can be of help with anything you folks need, especially in that regard. I can do anything, even latrines. I’ll earn my keep, miss, I will.” Kieran stutters and you nod, eyeing him over. 

“But speakin’ of horses… that palomino over there, the blue eyed one, is she yours?” Kieran asks, nodding towards Athena, who has her neck to the ground, tearing through the bale of hay there. You smile, watching as she pins her ears at Old Boy, keeping the hay for herself. 

“Yeah, she’s mine. Just got her since we’ve been here.” You smile, and Kieran takes note of her configuration. 

“She looks like a thoroughbred. Nice and tall, lean and muscular.” Kieran points out, and you hum at his accuracy. 

“She is.” You respond, eyeing whether or not Kieran has a motive or if he's just a lover of all things equine. You sip at your bitter coffee, letting him speak for himself.

“Y’know palomino thoroughbreds are of the rare sort, n’ with those blues? Well you got a real fine animal, miss.” Kieran says, doting over your mare. You smile, making a note to mention Kieran’s knowledge of horses to Arthur. Maybe that could be his designated contribution. At least he’d be doing something he enjoys instead of getting harassed and threatened by the gang all day. 

“Thank you.” You hum, drinking the rest of your coffee. 

"Well I reckon I better take my coffee and head back to shuckin' corn till they give me a better job. But it was real nice talkin' to you, miss. You're the first person who's treated me like a person rather than an animal since I've been here." Kieran smiles, filling up his cup with the percolator before nodding to you and heading back to Pearson's wagon. You frown, feeling sorry for him. You were lucky enough to have been found by Arthur, but it could have gone any other way. O'Driscolls could have found you first, and you could be in Kieran's shoes right now. 

Sighing, and taking your cup of coffee, you stand up and walk past Strauss's tent, ignoring his greeting. There's a little log sitting near the edge of the cliff behind his tent, and it's a perfect little spot to sit and think. Not wanting to be bothered, your eyes stay pinned on the log as you make your way towards it. The view is breathtaking, you can see everything from the Dakota River to the tops of the Grizzlies from the spot as you sit down, drinking in the warm air. It's a secluded little area, far enough from camp to get away from the arguments and bickering, but close enough for safety. You're enjoying your solitude, watching two bucks fight down below the cliff, they're antlers are stuck together as they rip and rug. It's an interesting sight, until it's interrupted by a throat clearing behind you. 

"John." You sigh, annoyed not with his presence but the fact that you know why he's here. 

"Nice to see you too." John chuckles, bringing his leg over the log to sit next to you with a cigarette between his lips.

“Gotta get some supplies for this train job, I could use an extra hand that ain't a dumbass.” John asks, leaning backwards to stretch. You sigh, not wanting to even think about the damn train job. But nonetheless, you nod. 

“Sure. What exactly is your plan for goin’ about it?” You ask, scooching towards John as he pinches the cigarette between his fingers, shaking it before tossing it on the ground. He pulls a map from his pocket, unfolds the heavily used paper, and holds it out for you to see. 

“Trains' comin’ from Riggs Station. It’s dropping off its security detail in The Heartlands, and after dark it’s heading down to Rhodes to pick up the next regiment.” He explains, tracing his finger over the paper from Riggs Station to Rhodes. 

“So it’ll be completely unguarded for this whole stretch of tracks?” You ask. It sounds too good to be true, but you know that John and Arthur have done this enough by now. They know how to get proper information. But the idea of the train job still makes your stomach flip with anxiety as you’ve never robbed anything as big as a train. 

“Well, not exactly. The security that they’re payin the big bucks for won’t be there, but we expect a few armed passengers, and some local boys guardin’ the train for extra cash. It won't be completely unguarded, but it sure as hell won’t be a militia like you’d expect.” 

You nod, taking the map from his hands gently, and looking it over. 

“Where do we board, n’ how are we boardin’ it?” You ask, and John places his index finger over a little area labeled Dewberry Creek, just past the Lemoyne/New Hanover stateline. 

“Here. We’ll have to stop the train, or it’ll take us right into town. I figure we get an oil wagon, ease it over the tracks. When that train comes through and sees that oil? It’ll stop just fine. We board her, encourage those rich bastards to give up their grammy’s pearls and we ride out.” John explains, tucking the map back into his pocket.

“Alright… seems like a solid plan.” You admit, ignoring your gut, “Where do we get a full oil wagon?” You ask, dusting some dirt off of your new jeans. 

“That’s where you come in. Only place I reckon we find one is the oil fields, out in The Heartlands, you know of it?”

You shake your head no, “Uh-uh.”

“Well it's well guarded for the most part, but most of those guys sleep or drink on the job. And they don’t get paid enough to give a damn. I’m heading over now to scout the place out, get an idea of the schedule. Thought maybe you could tag along, put that head to use instead of washin’ clothes for old Susan.”

You raise an eyebrow, unsure if he's just complimented you or insulted you, but still, you nod. 

“Alright. Let me pack some stuff, I’ll meet you by the horses.” 

John nods as you walk back towards your tent. With a sigh, you pull the canvas open. Your saddle bag is sitting on your bed, and you stuff it with some provisions and a change of clothes, then decide that you’ll need to grab some more ammo from Arthur's tent just in case. Once everything is all packed and settled, you swing your saddlebag over your shoulder and head back out. You stop around the back of Arthur’s wagon, picking up a few cases of express bullets and some throwing knives from the makeshift armory. 

“What does she want from him now? I never liked hearin' about her…” Marybeth hisses, and you look up, startled, realizing she is standing in Arthur’s tent. You’re peeking around the back of the wagon, eavesdropping as Marybeth places a crisp white envelope on Arthur’s bedside table.

“I always thought Mary was nice…” Tilly responds, picking up the envelope and looking it over before returning it. 

“Nice like a patch of poison ivy.” Marybeth bites, and Tilly rolls her eyes. 

“You didn’t even know her. Not when she was really around, anyway. She was always kind, just… didn’t agree with our life. Can you blame her?” Tilly sighs, and they walk out of the tent together. 

Your eyebrows pull together, and you walk around the outside of his tent until you're at the entrance. You hum, looking at the envelope before striding through his tent towards it. It’s upside down on his table, and you know you shouldn’t be snooping through his mail, but you pick it up and flip it over regardless. Written in sloppy cursive is ‘Arthur’ and you look after the lettering for a while. The paper is fancy, the kind that is expensive and only available in the city. Your finger trails over the lettering, and it itches to tear the red seal off and read the contents, but you restrain yourself. You know if the roles were reversed Arthur would respect your privacy. Sighing, you place the envelope back and meet John by the horses, wondering who Mary might be the whole way over. John is just climbing into the saddle when you approach. 

“Ready to go?” He asks, settling himself down over Old Boy and checking the straps on his saddlebag.

“Sure.” You mumble, mounting up onto Athena and giving her a nice pat. Once you’re settled, the two of you start cantering out of the trails, nodding to Karen who is keeping watch. Instead of riding towards Valentine, John leads you out towards the Heartlands, into unfamiliar territory for you. You can’t help but think about those men, Milton and Ross, and wonder why in the hell you’re all robbing a train right now.

“Why does Dutch keep pushin’ this job?” You holler up, squeezing Athena to run faster after John.  

“I got no idea.” He yells back to you. Once you run over the tracks the terrain changes from grass to dry, sandy dirt, and you try to keep Athena on the trail to avoid getting any rocks lodged in her shoes. 

“It don’t make sense, we should be leavin. Now I don't want to, not at all, but there was Pinkertons right next to our camp, just a stone's throw away.” You shake your head, unbelieving of Dutch’s terrible call. 

“Do you think they know where we are?” John asks, turning in his saddle a bit as he gallops on. 

“No. No if they knew where we are they would have just came to camp… But still, approachin’ us like that when we had Jack with us? Tellin’ us, in front of him, what happened to Mac? They can all go to hell.” You hiss, and John goes quiet for a minute. All you can hear is hooves pounding as you wait for his response. 

“You and Arthur had Jack?” John asks, like he's angry, but mostly surprised. Your eyebrows draw together, unsure of why it’s a big deal.

“Well, yeah. Abigail asked us to watch him for a bit, just to cheer him up.” You respond as he leads you up the bank towards Citadel Rock. John huffs loudly, rolling his eyes and shaking his head as if he disapproves.

“You got a problem with that?” You bite, noticing the tension in his shoulders, and his quiet, aggressive demeanor.

“She acts like I ain’t there… for her or the boy.” John hisses, shaking his head. It grows quiet again as you think back to Abigail’s pleading tears, begging you to take Jack because John wouldn't.

“Are you?” You ask, with some judgment. John really thinks about your question, slowing Old Boy to a trot as he comes up near the slope of Citadel Rock. He left them, but he came back, that counts for something in his eyes. Surely, it counts in Abigail’s eyes too…. 

“Well yeah!” John says defensively, “Im tryin’... tryin’ to get money for them at least, so she can raise the boy up proper.” John says, stopping his stallion at the edge of the cliff, overlooking The Heartlands. You pull Athena up alongside him, stopping so you can look him in the eyes. 

“Money don’t matter if you ain’t there for ‘em.” You whisper, no harshness or judgment in your eyes, although he takes it with such, pulling back and scrunching up his face in anger. 

“The hells that supposed to mean?” He bites, dropping his reins and throwing an arm in the air towards you. You keep your calm demeanor, only wanting to help the little family. You have no quarrels against John or his parenting, but you’re the one in camp watching Abigail comfort a crying Jack when his daddy isn't there to tuck him in night after night.

“It’s just…” You think over your words, tongue darting out over your lips, “Your boys' real upset, he misses ya John. Abigail won't admit it but she misses you too.” Your wrist rests on the horn of your saddle, toying with the leather reins as you watch John’s face soften. He sighs, eyes downcast as he runs his hand over his face, careful not to catch the healing stitches on his right side.

“You think?” He asks, looking up to you, and you nod your head up and down, sure.

“I don't know what I’m doin’ Star.” John sighs, doubting himself. It’s not that he doesn’t want to be there for Jack and Abigail, he doesn't know how to. He doesn't see himself cut out to be a father or a husband, and he has a hard time believing his family wants him around. 

“None of us do,” You huff a laugh, thinking of your own situation with Arthur, “You just gotta try your best to do right by them.” 

John nods, offering you a small, sad smile as he leans over to tap your knee in thanks. Without another word, but with a mutual understanding, you both dismount your horses. Then it’s time to get down to work. John takes both the horses, and he hitches them down the bank a ways so they can’t be seen from the roads or the fields. As he takes them away, you pull out your binoculars. Crouching, you look through the glass and take in the infamous Heartland Oil Fields. There is one big building, the factory, on the left side of the tracks that run straight through the place. On the right are smaller buildings, you’re presuming bunks, outhouses and storage rooms. The entire place is fenced in, except for where the tracks run through and the main entrance, guarded by two armed men. You search for an oil wagon, and find a few but you’re not sure which are empty or full. Armed guards stand all around the place, and there is a damn moat of oil ponds on the right perimeter. You pull the binoculars down, hearing John return as he walks up beside you. He too is eyeing the factory, face drawn up as he thinks over a plan. 

“How do you reckon we go about this?” You ask, handing him over the binoculars. He takes them, and does the same look around that you’ve just had. 

“We stay here and figure out their routine. They have a checkpoint at the front gate, so if we watch them long enough we’ll know which wagons are full and when. Then we slip in at night, once the workers have gone home. We’ll only have to get past the guards.” John explains and you sigh, nodding. You look up at the sun, holding your fingers up to the horizon. It’s nearly 4PM, you’re gonna be here for a while.

“Why don’t you make us a fire or somethin? And grab my bedroll too. This is uncomfortable as hell.” You ask of him as you plop down on the dirt, taking the first watch. 

— — — — 

“Star?” John mumbles, and you groan, eyelashes fluttering. You curl your knees in tighter until John shakes your shoulder.

“Star, get up. It’s time to go.” John says, and those four words alone pull you from your slumber, it's time to go.

In the past six hours you and John had traded shifts a handful of times, and both picked up the same pattern. A wagon is filled every hour on the hour, and then left for only ten minutes while the guards do their rounds. Once the ten minutes are up, the wagon is taken out the front gate by a heavily armed detail, and sent off. You had suggested earlier that it might be easier to steal the wagon after it leaves the oil fields, but John had said the risk of the oil wagon getting shot would be too high. So you stick with the original plan, leaving you only ten minutes to sneak into the place and sneak out with the wagon. It’ll be hard, but it’s your only option. 

“They just started their rounds, hurry up.” John explains as you scramble to your feet. You notice he has the camp taken down already, and the fire is nothing but smoking ashes as you quickly roll up your bedroll. Quietly whistling for Athena, you wait for her to arrive before strapping down your bedroll and jumping onto her back. The ten minute countdown has already begun as you and John gallop down the hill. 

“Which way do we go in?” You ask, running after John towards the right flank of the fenced oil fields. 

“We're gonna come up on the right side, ditch the horses a ways out, and jump the fence. Wagon should be sitting right there. Then we just drive it right out the front gate.” John hollers back, slowing Old Boy down once you can see the fence. Coyotes yip and howl in The Heartlands, making the night even more eerie as you approach the factory. With the dark and the distance, none of the guards can see your horses as you both dismount and break for the fence. You shoo both horses, signaling them to flee. And then you're running, keeping your breaths controlled and steady as you watch out for any straggling guards. John reaches the fence before you do. It’s not very high and he easily jumps over it. 

“C’mon!” John whispers as you throw yourself over the fence, landing painfully on your ankle with a wince. He grabs your elbow, pulling you along with him. Once you're inside, you take a look around to get your bearings. You see a few swinging lanterns in the distance, all guards on watch, but none of them look in your direction. Most of the lanterns near the bunk houses have been snuffed out for the night, leaving you to the shadows. You turn in the other direction and see exactly what you're looking for.

“Right there!” You whisper, pointing ahead to the wagon. It’s pulled in front of one of the tents, and John helps you run towards it. Two white shire horses are hooked up to the wagon, and you’re glad to see that they’re strong and agile. 

“Go on, get up there. I’ll drive.” John says, hushed as he breaks away from you to get on the left side of the wagon. You’re not sure how much time you have, but surely it’s not much. Your heart pumps loudly in your ears as you climb up the side of the wagon, ignoring the slight pain in your ankle. John clambers up, and just as he reaches the bench seat you hear a low, deep growl. You snap your head around to catch the source and the blood runs from your face at the sight of a massive bloodhound. A guard dog. His jaw snaps as he snarls at you with a warning. 

“John…?” You whisper, so quietly that he barely hears. He turns and sees the dog, and his eyes flicker from it to the guards walking on the other side of the factory. The dog's hackles are raised as it snarls, showing its teeth. You know that if it barks, or alerts the guards in any way, you’ll both be caught. John shushes it and slowly starts to roll the wagon away, quietly cueing the horses onward. The dog snarls again, snapping its jaws as you quietly ride the wagon away. 

“What do we do? What if it alerts someone?” You whisper, heart racing. If the dog alerts a single guard, you’ll have every person in the facility shooting at you. 

“I don’t know, drive like hell, I guess.” John offers as you watch the dog. John has the horses going at a nice trot towards the entrance, and sweat runs down your brow as the dog runs after the wagon. You’re just about to breach the front gate when it happens- when the bloodhound does what bloodhounds do. It bays, and it bays loud. 

"What is it boy? What ya find?" Someone hollers, and a lantern flicks on in one of the tents. John flicks the reins over the horse's backs harshly and they pick up a canter towards the front gate. 

“Shit!" You hiss as the dog continues, head tossed up in the air as guards start to come out and find the disturbance. One man comes out from a tent, still in pajamas with a rifle in hand. Your eyes widen as he stares directly at you. 

“Right there! They’re takin’ a wagon!” The barely clothed man yells, and John curses as he smacks the horses with the reins again, and they take off. More guards and workers seem to come out and see you all escaping, and everyone readies their rifles. John steers the horses out the main gate just as bullets start to whiz past your head. 

“Stop them!” Another guard calls out, “Get the damn law!” 

Bullets ping against the wooden wheels of the wagon, and buzz through the air past your head. You lean your head down to protect yourself as you grab your carbine from around your shoulder, good thing you grabbed those bullets. 

“Shoot somethin’!” John yells, maneuvering the horses along the roads in the direction of Dewberry Creek. 

“Im tryin!” You yell back, loading your carbine before popping up and taking down two guards who were shooting from behind the fence. A few bullets ping against the side of the wagon, and you gasp, realizing how quickly it could go up in flames. You pop up from the bench again, and fire into the chests of three men who were running after the wagon.

“Watch the damn oil, you morons!” One of the guards yells to his men. You shoot down three more men before you have to reload again. John is getting you further from the oil fields, and the flashing of gunfire gets farther away until two riders come out after the wagon. You’re still filling up the magazine when they ride up on you, and John ducks, yelling something. A few more bullets whiz passed before you stand up and shoot both men down from their horses. You pant, ducking as three more riders gallop after you both. John has the horses running at a dizzying pace as you stand, taking down two men. You're extra careful not to shoot or hurt the rider's horses as you come up and shoot the last man. 

“Is that the last of them?” John yells as you pant, wiping sweat from your brow and slumping back into your seat. 

“Yeah, that's all.” You breathe heavily, tossing your carbine strap back over your shoulder. You whistle, and turn around to watch for Athena. John does the same, and luckily after a few minutes, both come running behind the wagon. 

“Where we takin’ this again? I know you said the creek, but specifically?” You ask, taking your hat off and setting it in your lap to untie your braid. You pull the cloth tie out, running your fingers through the waves that are now down your back. 

“We’re droppin’ it near this torn down house. I’ll leave the horses go and we'll come back for it when the train comes through.” John explains, and you nod. 

It’s a bit of a ride, especially with the pace you go at. The horses are exhausted and scared from the shootout, so John doesn’t push them past a trot. It's nice to just relax in the passenger seat, and you focus on the humming of bugs and frogs while your heartbeat settles. It's a cloudy night, the kind where a cold fog settles over the place, but you don't mind. It's still beautiful. The moon pokes through the fog in a hazy glow, offering some light for John to lead you to Dewberry Creek. He winds the wagons down the open hills until you reach a small trail along a big dried up creek bed. 

"Guess the creek ain't fairin' so well." You point out, watching as coyotes yip and run through the dried up creek. 

"Guess not." John offers, pulling the wagons toward a structure. It looks like a little house that burned down. The foundation is intact, along with the fireplace and support beams, but the rest has burned away. 

"We pull them off right here." John says, turning the horses to walk in between the house and a patch of trees. He starts to slow them down, and you hop from the wagon before it stops. Immediately you jog around the backside to check the cargo. 

"Shit, John! Shit!" You hiss, taking in the oil wagon that is riddled with random bullet holes. There's about five or six, and no more oil leaks from them. You knock on the side of the wagon as John jumps down, groaning when the wagon sounds hollow. 

"All the oils' gone." You sigh, rubbing your face as John paces around the backside of the wagon. Athena grows antsy from the upset, and she stomps and rears lightly. 

"Now what the hell do we do?" You ask angrily, calling Athena over to comfort her. You hand her an oatcake to munch on and stroke her neck as John comes up with a plan. Athena's gentle nickers calm you down, and you take a deep breath as she leans into your hand. John is standing back from the wagon, hands on his hips as he thinks it over.

"It'll work just the same. The conductor won't know if it's full or not." John says, biting his cheek and you sigh. 

"We can't just go get another one." John huffs, "That oil factory is on high alert now." 

"You're sure it'll work?" You ask, stepping towards him with raised eyebrows.

"It'll work." He reassures you. You nod, sighing and waking towards the front of the wagon where the two white shire horses are hooked up. John does the same on the other side, and you both slice the leather harness straps, freeing the horses. 

"When's it comin' through?" You ask, patting the shire horse to run off. 

"Tomorrow night." John says, and your stomach aches at the thought. Only twenty four hours until your first train job. 

Athena and Old Boy are grazing next to each other just a short walk away from the wagon, and you and John silently walk towards them, sheathing your knives and watching as the pair of white shire horses run up over the hill, bucking and whinnying.

"You ever rob a train before?" John asks, looking over at your anxious expression. You shake your head, coming up to Athena. 

"No, afraid not. Just drunken idiots usually." You chuckle, and John smiles. 

"Y'know I'm glad it was Arthur's watch you stole, and not mine back in Tumbleweed. I probably never would have noticed, and you'd still be runnin' all over hell in the west." John chuckles, and you smile at the memory, mounting onto Athena. 

"Still can't believe he brought ya back like he did, but I'm glad for it." John says, climbing onto his stallion. Your eyebrows pull together lightly at his remark.

"Why's that?" You ask, cueing Athena into a canter with John behind you.

"Arthur, he ain't never brought someone back to camp before you, and he throws a big fuss when someone new comes in. He gets all pissed and leaves for a few days. He says it's 'easier to lie low with less people.' Musta seen somethin' in you, though." John hollers up to you, and your features soften. You wonder why Arthur chose differently for you, why he brought you back to camp. 

"He's different with you." John says, galloping alongside you, and you have to push Athena further ahead to hide the blush on your cheeks. You want to quip something back, but you come up short because you know he's right. You've heard the same testament from each of the girls, Hosea, and Arthur himself. 

It grows quiet as you gallop through The Heartlands, avoiding the roads and any lingering lawmen. It's late, near midnight when you finally get close to camp. You can hear the cheers and laughter from the road, and you smile back at John.

"Guess they found him." You chuckle, trotting Athena under the fallen tree into camp. When you breach the trees, coming into the little opening, the sight has you laughing. Camp is lighter than it's been in a while. Sean is standing on a crate giving some grand speech with everyone gathered around, and by the sound of it he's already drunk. You hitch Athena, and John nudges your elbow. 

"Reckon I'm gonna go be with my family. Thanks for your help." John pats your back before walking off towards the camp. You smile, taking off the straps of Athena's saddle and placing it over the hitching post before walking towards the crowd.

"Get a load of this bastard." Arthur huffs, walking up beside you with two whiskeys in hand, gesturing to Sean. He hands you a drink, and you smile, glad to be home. 

"Found him strung up in a damn tree surrounded by bounty hunters." 

"A-and I owe my life to old English over 'tere!" Sean points to Arthur, "Yep, 'tats right! Old grumpy Arthur Morgan! Come to save me, ya did! You're my brother, ya arsehole!" Sean laughs heartily, jumping down from the crate and approaching the two of you. 

"Miss!" Sean calls out to you, and Arthur chuckles, sipping his drink. Sean comes to you with a big toothless grin, a contagious one, and wraps you in a hug.

"Ah, I've already got the gossip from Ms. Jones, callin ya Star now, eh?" Sean asks, letting you go before nudging you with his elbow, "It's fittin! Y'know they say you twose are tied together like glue!" Sean winks at you lightly, nudging you and gesturing to Arthur. 

"I know a couple good spots for a shag if you two need a getaway. N' I know an Irishman if you get tired a' this ol'-" Sean starts, pointing to Arthur, but Arthur has had enough.

"Would you please shut up?" Arthur bites, hand pulling away from the bridge of his nose as you giggle. Sean puts his hands up in mock surrender. 

"I was just teasin'! Only pullin' yer leg!" Sean chuckles, tipping his hat to you before backing away and rejoining the crowd. 

"I did not miss that kid." Arthur sighs, leading you towards the campfire where Javier sits, playing a tune. Everyone is in good spirits, especially as Hosea enters with Dutch and two huge, full cases of alcohol, announcing the return party. 

"Yes you did." You tell Arthur, smirking as he sits down on the wolf pelt covered log. You sit down right next to him, closer than what's expected, but you're growing used to the proximity, finding comfort in it even. Sean is talking loudly to the girls as everyone gathers around the crates of hooch. The bottles pass around quickly as Javier picks up a new tune. It's one that everyone knows, and you smile. 

"Cielito Lindo." You remark with a chuckle as Javier picks up the rhythm on his guitar. More people gather around the fire. Dutch, John, the girls, Uncle, Lenny, even Abigail and Jack join in as Javier starts to play. Jack sits on John's lap, nestled right next to Abigail, and you smile at them. 

"¡Ay, ay, ay, ay! ¡Canta y no llores!" Everyone hollers out, not sure of the lyrics or their meaning, but enjoying the energetic song. Even Arthur sings along, and you giggle at his steadily behind, off key tune. 

"¡Porque cantando se alegran, Cielito lindo, los corazones!" Javier sings out, passionately stringing the guitar as a few people clap along and laugh. The smile on your face is brighter than it's been in a while as you watch the weight lift off of the gang's shoulders. Arthur is smiling, and for that you are very grateful. You'd do anything to see him like this more often, carefree and happy. Javier continues the song verse, and everyone claps along until the chorus comes. 

"¡Ay, ay, ay, ay! ¡Canta y no llores!" Everyone calls out again, and you hold your drink up a little as you sing it. Javier continues the song, and you chuckle as Jack pulls Abigail up from her seat to dance with him. He spins around and hops with very little rhythm, just having fun. Arthur chuckles beside you, eyes bright as they lay upon the same scene. 

"You want another drink?" Arthur asks, noticing that your first is nearly gone. You shake your head. 

"No thanks, think I'm cuttin' myself off for the night." You say, handing the bottle over for him to finish. 

"I'm surprised you drank at all after that mess in Valentine." Arthur chuckles as Javier sings out the song's verse. 

"I only had one. Don't plan on bein' that sick ever again, and we got one hell of a job to do tomorrow." You whisper, mind lingering on the train job. You'd like to drink, just to forget about it, but heading into it with a foggy mind is the opposite of what you need. Arthur sighs, digging the heel of his boot into the dirt. 

"We do." He remarks, eyes flickering up to Dutch. Arthur can't understand why Dutch is pushing this job right now with the Pinkertons so close. But he trusts Dutch, and knows he'll lead them out of it. You're not so sure. Dutch is watching you from across camp, a snake-like glint in his eye. You can see the way he wants to use you, to play you like his chess piece and defeat some great power. It's useless, it's ridiculous. An outlaw runs from the law, but Dutch is challenging it, intentionally aggravating it. It's a dangerous game. 

"I got a bad feeling about this job, Arthur." You bring up that gut feeling again, and you know you're right. You don't trust this job, and something is going to go wrong. 

"I know you do… You and John get that wagon today?" Arthur asks as Javier picks up a different song on his guitar. 

"We got the wagon just fine, but it's empty. We were caught red handed and they shot it to hell, all the oil leaked out." You sigh, embarrassed to admit the failure to Arthur, "John says it'll work just fine though, the conductor won't know if it's empty or not." You add as Arthur curses. 

"Enough about that, why don't we just enjoy the party?" You ask, wanting to talk about anything other than the train job and the damn empty wagon. Arthur taps your knee with his knuckles. 

"Sure." He says, offering you a small smile and you release a breath. Javier is playing a new song now, one you don't recognize, but it's a joyful tune, light and happy. 

"Arthur!" Marybeth calls from across the fire, giggling and trodding over towards you both with a big, bright smile. 

"Yes, Miss Gaskill?" Arthur asks as Marybeth comes forward and grabs one of his hands. 

"Dance with me?" She asks, leaning back in an attempt to pull him from his seat. He chuckles, looking over to you for a moment with a rosy blush on his cheeks.

"Oh, I think I'll sit this one out-" Arthur starts, but you shove him upwards by his shoulder, laughing. 

"Go on!" You encourage, shooing them with your hands. Marybeth giggles as she pulls Arthur away, and he turns around to shoot you a glare, with pink cheeks. You chuckle, looking after them as she takes him away from the fire. She pulls him just near the back of Dutch's tent, beside the poker table. He takes her hand, standing awkwardly far from her as the other rests on her waist. You can't help but snort as he starts to dance.

He's awful. Truly the man can't dance, but it's just another quirk that you love about him. He swings side to side with her, arms loosely flinging about, and even though it looks ridiculous they both have huge smiles. A few others have joined, and now Dutch spins Molly around eloquently, and Karen and Sean cling to each other, drunk as ever. Your eyebrows pop up in surprise at the two of them. You had only seen Sean in passing before Blackwater, but Karen had never mentioned they were together. 

Your eyes flicker back to Arthur and Marybeth. They still dance merrily, but Marybeth seems to be scolding Arthur over something, arguing with him. Your eyebrows pull together as he huffs, bickering with her like a sibling would. Javier's song crescendos to an end, and as the claps die down, he starts a new one. You recognize it immediately, Ángel de Amor. It's a slower paced song, a sweet and romantic one. People join their own conversations as the song begins, leaving Javier to quietly carry the tune on his own. As it begins, Marybeth and Arthur's argument seems to come to a head as Marybeth gives him one final scold, and then walks away from him with a big smile. Confused, your eyebrows pull together as Arthur returns to you, but he doesn't sit down. He stands in front of you, extending his right hand down to yours. 

"Dance wit' me?" He asks, and you chuckle. 

"I don't know, you gonna trip me?" You ask, smiling up at him. The nervousness breaks away as he chuckles. 

"Not tonight." He says, and you take his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. 

"C'mon." He whispers, leading you past the campfire towards the front of his tent, far enough away from the campfire for some privacy.

Arthur pulls you into the same goofy dance as he did with Marybeth, and you smile brightly. Arthur's sure that your smile could outshine the stars, evoking that joy from you is one of the better things he's done in his life, something he wants to keep doing. 

"¿Quién te cortó las alas, mi ángel? ¿Quién te arranco los sueños hoy?" Javier sings softly as Arthur dances with you. 

"Y'know, I'm sorry to say this Arthur, but you can't dance for shit." You chuckle, glancing down at his feet that move with very little rhythm. 

"Oh I can. I'm just havin' fun. You shoulda seen me in my ballroom days." Arthur quips, and you laugh. You're sure he's joking, how Arthur could willingly be put in a ballroom is beyond you, it's surely a joke. Arthur raises an eyebrow at your laugh, wondering if you're seriously doubting him.

"You weren't never in a ballr-" You start, but are cut off with your own gasp as Arthur pulls you tightly against him. His hand snakes to your waist, his other clasps your hand tightly as he stands up straight and tall with a raised eyebrow. His body is stiff, but relaxed all the like, he's collected in his movements, experienced, as he leans you down, dipping you. Your eyes are wide in shock, as he holds you in the dip with a cocky smirk. Your heart rate pounds with him pulled so tightly against you, your neck exposed and hair cascading down as he bends you backwards. Then he brings you back up, chuckling. 

"You continue to surprise me more and more every day, Arthur." You chuckle, still in disbelief, "Where in the hell did you learn that?" You ask, heart beat returning to normal as he pulls you against him again, swaying you in a very simple slow dance. 

"Had to take lessons once when I was younger. Didn't care for it at all, but I was an idiot back then." Arthur says, and you hum, wondering if these fancy dancing lessons have anything to do with the letter in his tent.

"Ángel, Ángel, ángel de amor. No te abandones." Javier continues the song as Arthur pulls you a little closer to him, hand warm on your waist.

Your cheeks flush, hidden away in his chest as Arthur sways with you on the grass. A few eyes linger on you both, but Arthur turns your back to them so you never know. He's enjoying the moment. You haven't left yet, haven't walked away with blushed cheeks or made an excuse as to why you can't dance with him, and that has to count for something he's sure.

 It grows quiet between the two of you as you rest your head against his shoulder and sway with him. Soon your arm grows tired, so Arthur snakes both of his around your waist and you place yours on his chest. It's incredibly vulnerable for you to be like this, but you trust Arthur. He hasn't pushed you. Abigail nudges John across the camp, nodding her head to you, and a few more eyes linger on you both. Arthur ignores them, keeping you in a position so that you can't even see the nosey stares. 

"You look beautiful." Arthur whispers, eyes looking down at you, watching as the wind tousles your hair and your dark red shirt brings out your complexion beautifully. Your eyes sparkle up at him, but you blush and hide them away in his shoulder as he sways you to the music.

"Arthur, stop." You chastise, cheeks red as you hide them. You're a bit upset that he's ruined the mood, taken your mind from simple dancing to the conundrum of your heart. He hums deeply, nodding his head. 

"You ain't ready yet, I know… I'll wait 'til you are. For you, I will." Arthur whispers, and tears begin to pool in your eyes, "And if you decide you don't want any a' this, that's okay too. I'm still your best friend." Arthur whispers, and tears run down your face silently, soaking into his dark shirt. 

"I'll dance with you for real one day, somewhere nice." Arthur whispers, and you look up to his green eyes. They soften when they see the tears falling from your own. You're thinking of a proper response when Arthur speaks up for you. 

"S'okay. You don't gotta say anything." Arthur whispers, thumb wiping away the tears from your cheek. You sniffle, hands clinging to the lapels of his shirt as the music continues on for a bit longer. 

"Yo no siento el que me hayas querido. Yo no siento el que me hayas amado." Javier sings, strumming his guitar. 

Arthur's heart aches, holding you like this, swaying with you and knowing you won't allow yourself to open up. He places his chin atop your head, inhaling deeply before letting the breath go with his worries. You're here now, that's all he can ask for.

Your heart aches just the same. It's torn in two,  both sides fighting for different things. One is fighting for what you know: independence, freedom, and solitude in the west without being held down by a gang. And the other is fighting for what you want: family and friendships, the safety of numbers, purpose and most of all him. 

You sigh, squeezing your eyes shut while blocking the thoughts out, letting yourself enjoy the moment. 

"I'm sorry, Arthur." You whisper, and he leans back, unsure if he's heard you right. 

"What on earth are you apologizin' for?" He asks as Javier's song comes to a bittersweet end. 

"Me… us." You whisper, gesturing to him and yourself. You're a mess, unable to get your feelings in order, unable to figure out what you want, and to tell him. You feel awful, dragging him along without ever fully opening up to him but it's so hard. 

Arthur takes your hands in his own, and you look up to his eyes. 

"Cut that out. Don't you apologize to me, ya hear? Not for this." Arthur says, no room for argument and you nod. 

"Now c'mon. Plenty of people waitin' for us at the fire." Arthur says, pulling you by the hand towards the camp. You pass by John's tent, feeling a little better.

With a small smile on your lips, you walk on with him. That is until you hear a shuffling from John's tent, and a groan. You stop dead in your tracks, looking up to where John and Abigail sit next to Jack by the fire. If they're at the campfire… who's in their tent?

"C'mere ya little minx!" Sean chuckles from inside the tent. Your jaw drops, and your hand falls slack from Arthur's. He turns at your reaction, catching the same scene. 

"Isn't this John's tent?" Karen asks, and you hear the ripping of buttons immediately. You look at Arthur with wide eyes, and a slack jaw, chuckling in horror.

"Eh, it's not like he's usin' it anyways!" Fabric hits the floor as you and Arthur stare at the closed tent in shock, "Ah, you're beautiful Karen Jones, beautiful, I love ya! And I love these too!" Sean chuckles and your cheeks burn red.

"Oh." Karen whispers, disappointed in something as you start to laugh. 

"Meet Macguire junior!" Sean hollers, and immediately Arthur clasps his hand over your mouth to quiet the loud laughter that was about to fall from it. 

"Is- is that it?" Karen asks, and you're nearly wheezing as Arthur keeps his hand over your mouth, chuckling himself until you're out of earshot from their tent. 

"Oh my god." You laugh until tears form in your eyes, and Arthur is laughing as well. You've managed to escape in front of Arthur's tent to avoid the show those two are putting on. Once your laughter dies down, you wipe your eyes, moving them to the campfire once more. 

Abigail has taken Jack into her lean-to next to Strauss's wagon to lie down for the night, and some of the girls along with Dutch and Molly have retired for bed. 

"You comin' back to the fire?" Arthur asks, following your gaze. You look up to him, then to the festivities, biting your cheek. 

"I think I'm gonna go to bed, actually." You whisper, feeling bad for bailing so soon. You're exhausted from the oil wagon today, and you want to be well rested for tomorrow. Arthur’s face falls a bit as he glances at the party behind him, then to his pocket watch. 

"So soon?" Arthur asks, looking a little disappointed. 

"I'm sorry Arthur, it's just with the train tomorrow… I want to be well rested with a clear head." You whisper. 

"I understand." He whispers, it's past one in the morning, and he knows you're tired, "I reckon I'll stay up for a bit yet, keep these boys in line… Get some sleep, Star." Arthur whispers, coming forward to gently chastise you, tapping your temple, "and stop worryin' about the train. It'll go just fine." He offers with a smile before backing away. 

"Night Arthur." You mumble, attempting to follow his instructions and release your anxieties. 

"G'night, Star."

— — — — 

The next morning, you wake up earlier than expected. You don't know what time it is, still haven't replaced Arthur's pocket watch from where it was left behind in Blackwater. But it's quiet enough for you to know that no one else is up. You stretch in bed, enjoying the feel as your achy joints pop. You flex your ankle, noticing that the ache has subsided from your less than stellar landing yesterday, and then you're getting up.

You pull on a dark green overshirt, one of your favorites, a black pair of jeans that button up the whole way, and a little white neckerchief, tied in the front. It's a cute outfit, and you hum, checking yourself over before re braiding your hair and topping it with your black hat. Then you're on the move, in search of some coffee. 

You find that you were wrong, you're not the only one up. You chuckle as Jack whizzes up to you, more excited than you've ever seen. 

"Aunt Star!" He jumps excitedly, taking your hand and pointing to the hitching posts, "look!" He shouts, giggling. 

Your eyebrows knit together at the sight of Kieran taking on the role of the camp farrier. He has a very grumpy Balius with him, and he's working on pulling the nails from the shire's massive shoe. 

"Kieren's shoin' the horses…? You ask, confused as to why Jack's so excited, then a chuckle sounds out from your right. Arthur is leaning over his shaving station, face partially covered in shaving cream as he trims his mustache and beard with a barber's blade. You smile at the sight, something you've not seen him do before. Of course he shaves with an incredible amount of detail and care, just like everything else he does. 

"Well…" Arthur taps the blade against his pail of water before returning it to his cheek, "when Kieran's done, little Jack here will have four new shoes for playin' horseshoes' with everyone. We haven't been able to play in a long while, not since before you joined us." Arthur explains, and you smile at the idea. 

"Well then I can't wait!" You say, rubbing some dirt off of Jack's cheek before he runs off, on his way to tell his very hungover daddy about the ordeal. 

"You're good with him. He really seems to care about you." Arthur remarks and you smile. 

"Ah, it's nothin'. He's a good kid." You mumble, remembering your earlier task of needing coffee, and you spot the percolator from across camp near Pearson's stew pot. You wonder if it's even full, with so few of the gang members awake. 

"I'm gonna go make some coffee, want some?" You ask, but Arthur stops you.

"Already made ya some. It's sittin on my table, should still be hot." He says, wiping the extra cream from his face with a damp towel.

"On the ball this morning, are we?" You ask, chuckling as you move inside his tent to find a steaming tin cup of coffee. You gratefully accept the bitter coffee, enjoying the way the cup warms your hands and the caffeine wakes your mind. 

"Well I need a favor." He asks, turning towards you, "Ride with me?" 

You raise an eyebrow at him, seeing that he's bribed you, but you nod anyway. 

"Sure, where to?" You ask as he comes around the side of his tent, leading you to the large map plastered to the side of his wagon. 

"Think right here is a good spot." He taps the map right over a little marshy field labeled Heartland Overflow.  

"Why are we goin' all the way out there?" You ask, eyeing over the map. The marsh is near a spot marked Emerald Ranch, a place you haven't heard of before. 

"There's a feller nearby that runs a fence. I managed to steal some stuff from the camp where they had Sean, reckon I'll head down and sell it off. Then I figure me n' you can spend the mornin' there. I know you're worried about this train, we can just rest away from camp till it's time." Arthur explains, pulling out his hunting knife to sharpen the blade as he does. 

"Okay, that sounds nice." You smile, releasing a breath before taking a sip from your coffee, "Should I take my stuff for the train or will we be back?" You ask, gesturing to your tent. 

He follows your gaze, thinking for a moment. 

"Ya better take it, I don't know how long we'll be out." He mumbles, and you nod before walking back towards your tent. Amidst your anxieties, you had packed everything you might need for the train: your guns, mask, canned goods in case you get stuck away from camp, extra ammo and the shotgun you'd found at Six Point cabin. Looking over your bed and nightstand just to make sure you haven't missed something, you back out of the tent. 

"Kieran done with Balius?" You ask, keeping your voice quiet as to not wake up the many sleeping, hungover gang members. 

"Looks to be just about." Arthur says, nodding to where Kieran drops Balius's back hoof to the ground, giving him a pat. 

"C'mon then. I'll lead the way." He adds. 

You both take your time tacking up the horses. For once, there's no rush to be anywhere. You brush Athena's golden coat thoroughly, petting her and sneaking her treats while Arthur does the same for his stallion. You ease the saddle on her, tightening the cinches just enough before mounting up. 

"Ready?" You ask, looking down to Arthur with a chuckle as he is just putting Balius's bridle on.

"Just a minute." He says, rather grumpily. And you wait for him, loosening your reins so that Athena can graze while he clambers up onto his massive horse. Once he's up, he nods for you to follow him out of camp. It's a decently long ride. Emerald Ranch is pretty far out there, but it's close to Dewberry Creek, so at least you won't be far from the train come dark. You focus on the scenery, watching the way the landscape changes the further you ride on. As you get closer, the jutting cliffs turn to grassy plains, and bison cause the ground to shake as they thunder across the fields. 

"Are we close?" You holler up to Arthur. Your back is a little sore from the long ride, and you slip your feet out of the stirrups to give your legs rest. 

"Sure…  Why? You feelin alright?" Arthur turns in his saddle, glancing over your form to check. Really you don't feel alright. You didn't sleep much last night, truthfully you're not sure how Arthur is awake because he slept less than you. You're still not able to shake your nerves either. 

"Yeah, just tired is all." You semi lie, but Arthur isn't fooled. 

"I'll take you to the Overflow first. You can set us up a proper picnic while I run this stuff down to the fence. Sound good?" Arthur asks, turning Balius off the main road. 

"Yeah. You brought a picnic?" You smile, noticing that Arthur's saddlebags are bulkier than usual. You should have noticed earlier that they're stuffed to the brim. 

"I did. Nothin' fancy but I figured you might get hungry while we're out here." Arthur answers, and you chuckle, wondering what treats he's packed for you. You trot through the grass, coming upon a little collection of grassy ponds. This must be Heartland Overflow. It's beautiful, and wildlife runs about, scattering at the sound of the horse's hooves. 

"Why don't you take my bag n' find us a nice spot?" Arthur asks as you ride up alongside Balius. He turns in his saddle, untying the knots that hold his saddle bag on before slumping it over Athena's croup. 

"Okay. Don't take too long or I'm gonna be havin' this all for myself." You admit, chuckling as you turn Athena away, separating from Arthur. 

Arthur shakes his head with a smile before pushing Balius into a canter towards a green-roofed barn in the distance. Once he's down the other side of the hill and you can't see him any longer, you turn to your surroundings. 

Across the pond is a large weeping willow. It provides a perfect amount of shade, and makes a beautiful spot for the morning. You kiss to Athena, urging her to walk through the ankle deep water toward the other side. Water splashes up and soaks onto your boots as Athena trots through it, enjoying the coolness on her legs. Once you're on the other side, under the weeping willow, you slide down from your mare. You don't bother to hitch her. She trusts you enough to come when you call, and you want her to enjoy the grassy fields while she can. You take the heavy saddle bag and toss it to the ground under the willow before sitting on your knees to go through it. 

First you take out a blanket, it's a big blue one, and you stand to spread it out on the grass. The wind works to your advantage as you sprawl it out, making a perfect cushion for you both to sit on. Then, seated on the blanket, you pull out two cans of peaches, two bread rolls, a can of strawberries, two slices of beef jerky, and a chocolate bar. You eye the food hungrily, laying it out nice for when Arthur comes back. Then, just to double check, you reach back into the bag. Your fingers brush against an unfamiliar smooth texture, and your eyebrows pull together as you grip it, taking it out. 

Immediately your eyes go wide as, from the bag, you bring out Arthur's journal. You hold the precious book in your lap, looking down to the heavily used pages before looking up at the ridge.

You shouldn't… but Arthur won't be back for some time and you really want to know what he's written. You've only seen the contents of his journal once, back when he showed you in Horseshoe. 

Releasing a breath, you curse yourself, deciding just to flip to one page and then put it back. You run your thumb across the pages, flipping to one of the more recent entries. Immediately you smile, chuckling as your eyes run across the page briefly. It's a drawing of you and Lenny. He's leaning on the bar, drinking a beer and you're dancing in front of the pianist. Arthur had managed to capture the moment perfectly, as if he had paused time and drawn it. You scan down your smiling face, looking back to you in the form of Arthur's sketching. Even in the drawing you can see the drunken haze in your eyes, the freedom as you danced to the piano to your heart's content. 

Then your eyes flicker to the other side of the page where a neatly written entry is scribbled diagonally on the paper. 

In some ways I hope I never forget this night. In others, I wish to wipe it from my mind entirely. It seems that alcohol loosened Star's lips, and I guess it loosened mine too. I just hope I don't come to regret the things I said, the things I remember at least. 

You look up from the journal, jaw slack as you attempt to remember what happened that night. What had you said? What had Arthur said? 

You swallow thickly, looking down to the journal with some worry before flipping to the next page. 

Mary sent me a letter. Said she's in town and heard talk of us in Valentine. She wants to see me, said she misses what we had. I used to. I used to miss her a lot, but I reckon that's all old business now. I think I've finally put Mary in the past, moved on after all these goddamn years. I got some hope now, something good for once. 

You look up from the journal with your jaw open again. His journal has left you with more questions than answers, and you huff. Mary clearly meant something to Arthur at one point, perhaps an old fling? But the girls knew of her, so she had to mean something more. 

With a newfound sour mood, you tuck Arthur's journal back into his bag. Is it jealousy you feel? Or anger? You're not sure, but without having met her, Mary manages to get under your skin. You wonder if she's pretty, and if she has the money to wear nice dresses and makeup. Then you sigh, frustrated. Even though his journal is stuffed back into his bag, you can feel its leather cover burning into your skin, bugging you. 

Hooves sound out from the ridge line, and you look up to see Arthur appear over the hill. He's cantering down towards you, satchel lighter now that he's pawned off some items. Even though you're glad he's back, you can't help the annoyed curiosity that bubbles up in your stomach. 

Oblivious, Arthur rides up to the blanket before dismounting. 

"Good spot." He says, sending Balius off after grabbing a flask from his satchel, "Turns out old Seamus sells too." Arthur chuckles, tossing the moonshine flask down onto the blanket by your legs. 

Attempting to crack a smile, you take the flask and unscrew the lid. Arthur rests down on the blanket beside you, sitting just a few inches from you. Once the lid is undone, you take a swig of the alcohol. It burns, more so than anything you've ever drank, and you cough, throat raw from the stuff. 

"Jesus." You cough, handing the flask back to Arthur. 

"Moonshine. Nasty stuff." Arthur jokes, taking a drink from the same flask. He doesn't seem to mind it, only groaning once it's down. Arthur sees the distant look on your face, he notices that you haven't touched any of the food laid out either. 

"You okay?" Arthur asks, a little crease in between his eyebrows. You look upset, and Arthur hopes that you're not worrying about the train. 

"Who's Mary?" You blurt out, not even realizing you've actually said it out loud until Arthur's face draws up. 

"What?" Arthur asks, looking almost offended, and very surprised. 

"I asked you, who's Mary?" You repeat, looking up to Arthur. Your tone is irritated, and you realize that you're ruining the picnic, but you can't bring yourself to stop. You're mad, mad because Arthur has managed to keep this from you, and apparently you're the only one in the damn gang that doesn't know about her. 

"How do you even know about Mary?" Arthur scoffs, eyes squinted as he leans back from you. 

"Jesus, I didn't realize she was a secret. I guess I just wanna know why she's callin' you out to her house all the sudden when I haven't even heard of her before." You bite. 

Arthur's demeanor changes then, shifting to the angry, threatening man that you've only seen a handful of times in action. Part of you wants to shy away, but you push your shoulders back and meet him head on with the same stubborn aggression. 

"Did you read my damn mail?" Arthur hisses, glancing at you, and then down to the bag at your side. Everything seems to click in his head then, and he huffs humorlessly. 

"No. No you read my goddamn journal, didn't you? Just couldn't keep your nosey eyes off them pages huh?" He bites, picking up the bag just to toss it at your feet. The contents spill out in your lap, and his open journal falls out alongside the candies he had brought for you, the yellow ones. 

"Y'know I hope you read it all. I hope you read every damn page, cause then you won't have to ask anymore questions. We wouldn't be playin this damn game…" Arthur hisses, pacing as he begins to berate you. "Why do you have the right to ask me about Mary when you haven't told me shit about your past? You can't even talk to me. You can't open up at all, closed off like a damn bottle, but you have no problem pryin' into everybody else's lives!" He growls, waiting for you to bite back.

On the ground, feeling like a fool, your lip trembles. You know he's right. He's hit the nail right on the head with his assumption, but it hurts nonetheless. You've stepped too far, you know, but it doesn't stop Arthur from overstepping too. 

"Heard you was pryin' into John's business too. God- you're a hypocrite. Did you think at all about your inability to handle your own shit before you went and did that?" Arthur fumes, and you bring your knees up to your chin. Arthur is waiting for your retort, for your comeback. He knows it'll come, but with his back to you, waiting, it doesn't. You always have a retort, and your silence is louder than any insult you could have thrown back at him. When he turns back towards you, already realizing he's crossed a boundary, he sees the tear track running down your cheek.

"Don't." You whisper, sniffling back the tears that fall so often now, "I can take this from anyone but you." You whimper, head falling to your knees. 

When Arthur's eyes land upon you he doesn't know what to do. You look so small, crumpled up on the ground, a mess. He wants to argue with you, to be mad about the journal, but at the same time he wants to comfort you. He knows what you're battling right now, and he knows he shouldn't have brought it up. Feeling like an ass, Arthur slumps to the ground at your side again. He lays back against the blanket, looking up at the sky before sighing. 

"Mary was my fiancé. Long time ago. Ain't talked to her in years." Arthur admits, and you peek up from your knees, wondering what sparked the change in his tone. 

"Now that's all I'm giving you until you tell me somethin too. But for now, eat somethin. We gotta get movin soon." Arthur says, coldly. 

— — — —

It's nearly dark. There's just enough light for you to make the trip over to Dewberry Creek. You lead the way silently, still not having said a word to Arthur since the argument. You don't know what to say. Apologies aren't exactly your strong suit. You're mad. Mad at Arthur, but mostly mad at yourself for ruining the day with your selfishness, your hypocrisy as Arthur put it. 

You can hear Sean rambling as you approach the old building, and you trot Athena up to where the wagon is hidden. 

"Why the hell are you here?" Arthur snaps at Sean, clearly still irritated from earlier. You've put him in a sour mood, one that everyone is going to have to deal with. 

"Oi I’m just taggin along! Back for a day n’ already jumpin inta the action! My da always used to say that jumpin in was better than jumpin’ out! But I think he was talkin about gettin some arse!" Sean chuckles, not skipping a beat over Arthur's attitude. 

"Oh, shut up." Charles groans, and at the sound of his voice you notice him leaning against one of the beams of the burned down house. John is already in the driver's side of the wagon, and Taima and Old Boy are hooked up to the front. You dismount, walking over to the wagon behind Arthur. 

"Look at us! Four strong shootin men, and a lady!" Sean chuckles, climbing up on the wagon beside John who rolls his eyes. 

"Shouldn't we be going over the plan?" Charles points out, climbing onto the side of the wagon to hang on, just as you and Arthur do on the other side. The wagon begins to roll out of the trees as John smacks the reins over the horse's backs. 

"We roll the wagon over the tracks and leave the horses go." John explains, "They'll see the oil and stop. It's easy." 

Sean turns in his seat, looking over the wagon before turning back to John. 

"Yeah but t'eres no oil in the wagon." Sean points out, and collectively everyone else rolls their eyes. 

"Well the conductor don't know that, so it don't matter!" John bites, irritated with everyone's doubts and questions. 

"I don't like it…" You whisper, gripping onto the metal bars of the wagon as it rolls down the road, inching closer towards the train tracks. 

"We ain't got much of a choice." John replies. Once the plan is set, Arthur begins ordering people around, crafting a more detailed plan for the job. 

"As soon as she stops, board her. Charles, deal with the conductor and the front security. John take the passengers. Sean and Star, as soon as she slows, head to the baggage car." He orders, and you roll your eyes at the assignment he's stuck you with. 

"And what are you gonna do?" Charles asks. 

"I'm gonna make sure she slows." 

John pulls the wagon forward, slowing the horses to a stop once the oil wagon is situated over the tracks. You jump down as John and Arthur begin untying the horses from the front, sending them away into the woods.

"Is everyone good with the plan?" Arthur hollers, and you look around, realizing that this is happening. It's inescapable now, and you'll have to deal with the anxiety in your chest. 

"Yeah, we're good." Charles answers, and you nod your head, eyes fixed on the bed in the railroad tracks where the train will be approaching shortly. 

"Alright everyone get in the woods!" Arthur orders, pulling his mask up over his nose before placing one of his boots on the iron track. Charles notices your hesitancy, and grips your arm to pull you towards the treeline. 

"Hey, you alright?" Charles asks, pulling your neckerchief up over your nose as you've forgotten. You nod, a little too quick for his liking. 

"Just nervous." You admit. 

"Just stick with Sean. You'll be okay." Charles offers, squeezing your shoulder lightly. You nod, focusing your attention back on Arthur. 

You feel the vibration of the train long before you see it coming. Arthur's boot shakes against the track, and once he feels it coming he climbs up on top of the oil wagon. You gasp, eyes going wide as he holds his carbine in front of him, in a threatening stance on top of the wagon. He looks like nothing short of a criminal up there, a cold hearted killer. He stands on the wagon with a threatening stance, symbolizing everything that the government wishes to destroy. Feet planted on either side of the oil barrel, it doesn't appear that Arthur will be giving the law a break any time soon. The sight of him standing up on that wagon is one you're sure you'll never forget. If you didn't know Arthur, you'd be terrified. 

Nothing can be heard but uneven, anxious breathing as the train comes around the corner. it's far off, too far for the conductor to see Arthur, but once the bright white headlight peeks around the bend your breath hitches in your throat. 

Arthur cocks his repeater, and you watch as the train comes closer. You expect the train to blow its whistle, for the conductor to do something to warm off Arthur, but he doesn't. Your eyebrows draw together as the train continues to barrel forward, unbothered by the obstruction ahead.

"Why ain't it slowin'?" You ask, breath uneven as your heart rate picks up speed. 

No one responds, watching as it continues forward. Even Arthur seems to lose his composure, stance faltering as the train continues on. It's getting closer to the wagon, and you're not sure if it'll have time to stop before it crashes. 

"There's still time. Hold on." Sean says, eyes flickering up to the rapidly approaching train. 

"John?! Why ain't it stoppin?!" You beg, looking frantically between Arthur and the train. Charles pulls out a pair of binoculars, looking through them to the engine car. 

"Shit! He's dead or he's asleep, but either way the train isn't stopping." Charles says, stuffing his binoculars back as anxiety pangs in your chest. The train is too close now, it can't stop in time even if the conductor were to wake up.

"ARTHUR JUMP!" John screams as all four of you jog out of the woods. Arthur glances between the group of you and the train, unable to hear over the rumbling and screeching. 

"JUMP!" You plead, screaming. Arthur glances at the train once more, and getting the message he jumps as far out as he can. He hits the ground hard, rolling down the slope before he stops. It's only seconds later that the train smashes into the oil wagon. You thank god it's empty, and there's no explosion, but the metallic screech hurts your ears as the train pushes the wagon over in a huge crash. Sparks fly as metal scrapes off metal, but the train carries on forward, pushing the oil wagon in front of it until itfalls off to the side. 

"Why the hell didn't he stop?!" Arthur yells, whistling for Balius.

"The conductor is dead!" You yell, "Are we really still doin' this?" 

Four horses come running up the hill towards you, and the boys mount up ahead of you. 

"Yes! Now mount up, we can catch it before it gets to Rhodes!" John yells, and you leap onto Athena, urging her forward before you even put your feet in the stirrups. The chase is terrifying. It's hard to see in the dark, and you put full trust into Athena as she barrels forward after the train. Sean is the first to catch up, and he jumps from his horse onto the train's roof.

Your heart pounds in your ears as you run forward, watching as Charles, John and Arthur all jump onto the train. 

"Star, cmon!" Arthur yells, and you try to breath as you stand in your saddle, barely able to balance. You jump as far as you can, hoping that you'll make it. The jump is terrifying, but worse is the pain as your body slams against the side of the train. Only your hands have made it to the top as you grip onto the roof, feet dangling down to the rapidly passing ground below. Then a hand grips yours, and pulls you up into the roof. You gasp, looking up to yours and Arthur's hands, muttering a small 'thanks' between trembling breaths. 

"Plan stays the same. Charles, get this thing stopped!" Arthur orders, just as two armed guards climb up onto the roof.

"They're fixin' to rob the train!" One of the boys yells and starts shooting from his revolver. You unholster your own, balancing on the quick moving train as you fire twice into the man's chest. The second man breaches the top, and Sean takes him down with a headshot. The train makes you motion sick, and you have to bite down bile, forcing your eyes away from the ground. 

"We're gettin' too damn close to the town!" John yells, firing into more men as they climb up onto the roof. 

You whip around, looking for Charles to see if he's made progress in getting to the engine car. You don't see him on the roof, so you assume he's close. 

"John! Get down there, me and Star will hold them off. Sean, get to the baggage car!" Arthur yells out. They follow his orders, jumping down to the train cars from behind you and Arthur. 

"Why's there so many?" You yell over the noise as two more men fire toward you.

"I don't know, sure are a lot for an unguarded train- goddammit!" Arthur yells back. 

You lose your balance as the train quickly starts to slow down. Sparks fly and metal screeches as the train begins to slow. You release a breath, reloading your revolver as more guards shoot at you from across the train cars. The train never stops, instead in one fluid movement it slows enough and then starts going backwards.

"Wait- wait, shit!" You yell as the train starts moving in reverse. Just as quickly as the train has stopped, it starts accelerating in the wrong direction, back towards Valentine. 

"What the hell is happenin?" You scream back towards the engine car. You fire into one last guard, and then they stop coming up to the roof for now. 

"We're goin' too fast!" You point out, losing your balance again as trees start to blur by, making you dizzy. 

"Shit, I know. Just get to Sean, I'll see what's happenin' up front!" Arthur hollers, bracing himself as he jumps onto the next train car. 

"Star?" Arthur yells, and you turn around, "Don't get hurt." You nod, and with that he turns, running on the rapidly reversing train towards the engine.

You try to calm down your breathing as you run across the tops of the train cars, jumping as far as you can between each one. Your heart pounds rapidly in your ears, and the train accelerating is nothing but a background noise in your head. Revolver in hand, eventually you make it to the baggage car. 

"Sean you alive?" You yell, bracing yourself as you jump from the roof down onto the platform below. The land sends an ache through your knees, but you do land. 

"Yeah makin out real good down here!" Sean hollers back as you enter the caboose. 

"Why the hell are we in reverse?" Sean asks, stuffing a saddle bag full of cash and jewelry. You immediately get to helping him, ripping open the cupboards and stripping them of their content before shoving the precious items into Sean's bag. 

"I got no idea. Arthur n Charles are dealin' with it." You respond, glancing out the window and gasping when you see that you're nearing Flatneck Station. You've crossed the state line back into New Hanover, and in less than five minutes you'll be crossing over Bard's Crossing, the infamously high railroad bridge. 

"Oh my god, fuck." You curse, stuffing the bags even quicker. Shots ring out from the roof, and you gasp, neck snapping up. 

"That's gotta be Arthur or Charles." You gasp. You look down the train cars to see John pistol whip a man for not giving up his money. 

"Go help ‘em! I'm alright here for now!" Sean hollers, and you nod, running out of the car. Momentarily holstering your gun, you leap up onto the roof, pulling yourself up. Arthur is up there, shooting at a couple of men across the train as you run up to help him.

"You guys got the money?" He asks. 

"Yeah! Why ain't we stopped?!" You yell, shooting at the men, and clipping one in the neck. He falls off the train, and you wince as his body cracks against the quickly passing ground. Just then, Charles comes running across the cars, jumping over the gaps towards you. 

"Conductors dead! Doors locked and he fell on the reverse lever. I can't stop it." Charles explains, "We gotta go NOW, it's not stopping!" He yells, just as two more boys climb up onto the roof. 

"Rot in hell you bastards!" One yells, and you go to reload your revolver, but it's empty. You curse, looking ahead to where the caboose is barreling towards the bridge. 

A man climbs up from behind you, taking you by surprise as he knocks the gun from Arthur's hand. Arthur turns around and punches him right in the face, nose cracking as blood pours from his face. 

"Get off the train! I got this bastard!" Arthur yells, and you hyperventilate, glancing between him and the bridge. Sean and John have already jumped, and you see them riding alongside the train with Athena, Taima and Balius. Charles jumps down, just as Arthur kicks the man off the side of the train. He hits the ground with a sickening crack, and Arthur turns to you, no longer asking. 

"Star, go!" Arthur commands, and you gasp as another man comes up from the side of the train, pulling Arthur into a chokehold from behind.

"Get down here! We can't help him till you're out the way!" John screams up to you, and panicking, you leap. The jump is terrifying, and the land onto your saddle knocks the breath out of you. But then you're safe on Athena, barreling towards the cliffs edge where the bridge begins, waiting for Arthur to deal with the last guard. 

"Does anyone have a shot on him?" Sean yells, gun aimed up at the man who is fighting Arthur. Arthur's body is bigger than the man, and at the angle you're at, it's impossible to kill him without killing Arthur. Arthur struggles, elbowing the man in the gut to break free from his chokehold. 

"No!" John yells back. 

"Arthur!" You scream, though futile, watching as the train gets closer to the bridge. 

"I got this bastard." Arthur chokes out, coughing as he elbows the man enough to get away from his grip. You slide Athena into a stop to avoid running off a cliff as the train starts to go over the bridge. The wind howls in your ear from the elevation as you watch on in horror.

"What do we do!? John-" You whimper, feeling useless and helpless as Arthur punches the man, fists raised as they brawl atop the train. 

"He'll be okay. He will. He'll get down on the other side and we'll run over and get him." John replies. All you can do is watch as the train accelerates across the bridge, and you've never been so afraid in your life. Arthur takes a punch in the gut, leaving him vulnerable. 

"Does anyone have a shot!!?" Sean screams, gun raised. But Arthur is still in the way, and no one can help him, he's on his own.

Somehow the next moment happens in a lifetime, and a fraction of a second. Arthur takes a punch straight straight to the gut, and he doubles over, left vulnerable. The guard steadied himself, lifting his leg until the sole of his boot meets Arthur's stomach. The train is rolling right over the highest part of the bridge as the guard kicks out. Arthur stumbles, and the kick sends him falling over the side of the train. 

All the air leaves your lungs, your eyes go wide, and everything stops as Arthur falls. You're frozen, watching as Arthur falls down past the bridge. It's a high drop, too high. Your eyes go wide as Arthur's arms stretch up, attempting to grasp onto something that isn't there as he plummets two hundred feet down to the lake below.  

"No-" You breathe out, just barely a whisper as you stumble down from Athena, nearly falling from the saddle. 

"Arthur!-" John gasps.

"NO!-" You scream, breaths coming in quick, uncontrollable pants as tears fill your eyes and fall out in thick rivulets. You stumble to the ledge of the bridge, on the tracks, gripping the fence so tight that your knuckles turn white. 

The other three men are slack jawed, horrified. They all gasp, stunned beyond being capable to speak. When you look down, you see the rippling water where Arthur had landed, landed but not come back up.  

"NO!!" You sob, unable to hold back your tears as you fall back, hands never leaving the fence. Your cries are shoulder shaking, and you can't bring yourself to care that you are sobbing in front of the other men. 

"Get back to camp right now and don't get followed." John orders Charles and Sean, tears in his eyes that he quickly wipes away. They comply, silently nodding before turning their horses and galloping home, shell-shocked.

You're too stunned to notice what's going on around you, but your sobs have slowed, turned into aching, painful heaves as your nails dig into the fence, as if you holding on to it will pull Arthur back up to you. 

"Star?" John whispers, so quiet from behind you. You shake your head, knowing what he's going to ask of you. 

"Star, we gotta go. The law will be here soon." John tries to reason, fighting his own internal ache. You're not having it, not leaving, and John places his hands on your shoulders, begging you to come with him. You can't stop looking down at the rippling water, waiting for him to come back up, and tearing your eyes away when he doesn't, a vicious cycle. 

"W-we can't leave him John. What if he- what if he's down there and he needs help?" You cry, lungs aching. 

"I know. We won't. We won't leave him. But we can't help him if the law gets to us." He says, and you nod frantically, thinking over his idea. 

He tries to pull you backwards, away from the bridge. You make it two steps back before the anxiety of not seeing the water wins over and your body practically shies away from John. 

"I can't- I can't go, he…" You begin, biting your cheek until it bleeds, stuck in a state of shock that you can't shake. 

"John, what if he didnt-" You sob, unable to finish the sentence that plagues your mind along with the image of his plummet. 

"He did… Star I ain't goin back to camp missing two people, please come home." He pleads, turning as law whistles sound in the distance. 

"No. I can't." You say, stern in your choice. Because what is there to go back to without him? And what if he needs help?

"Where will you go?" He asks, glancing to the whistles in the distance. 

"I guess across the river so I-" your face crumbles at the idea, "so I can look for him." 

John nods, whistling lowly for Old Boy. The horse trots forward, and John quickly unwraps his camp kit from Old Boy's saddle before tightening it onto Athena's. 

"My camp kit. Take it, you'll need it." He turns to you then, red eyes looking into yours. "Be safe out here… and don't lose yourself. Arthurs my brother. But if he ain't back in a day or two, you gotta come home. He'd want that." John says, voice even raspier than usual as he deals with his emotion. You nod, tears filling your eyes as places his hand on your shoulder.

"If he comes back to camp I'll come for you right away." He offers, and you nod. 

And then he's mounting up, offering you a bittersweet tip of his hat as he rides away. And you're suddenly alone. There's no one here to pick up your broken pieces, so you pick them up yourself, climbing into the saddle and cantering away from the approaching law whistles. You don't try to stop the tears. Some are silent, sliding down your face and dripping into your saddle, but some are loud, and you have to leave go of the reins to sob into your hands. You make it to the other side of the river thanks to Athena, with Balius trotting beside you the entire way. No one tells you what to do when something like this happens. You're lost, left to figure it out as you operate like a shell of a human being, going through the motions to avoid the law. 

Once you're across the Dakota, situated just on the treeline close to the bank you slide down from your mare to sit in the grass, knees held up to your chin as you watch the water. You've never seen it so still. There's not a ripple other than the steady flow out to the lake. The law whistles get louder, and you listen for them as you numbly watch the water for hours, lost in your head. Eventually the law dissipates, giving up and going home.

You don't know if he's dead or not, but the chances of him being okay right now are bad. The bridge hangs over the horizon like a tyrant, a constant reminder of what's just happened. You try to avoid looking at it, try to avoid seeing the fall, the fear in his eyes as his feet left the train. 

You can't help but drift to the fact that your last real conversation was an argument, and you ache to go back in time and spend the day at his picnic like he'd planned. He was right about you. You're a hypocrite. All Arthur has done since you met him was offer kindness when you didn't deserve it. He gave and gave and you took and took. He told you his feelings time and again through his words and his actions. And you rejected him again and again. All because you were afraid. He said it when you went fishing with Jack, he said it when you danced at Sean's party and when you were drunk under the stars. Arthur told you he would wait. He would wait until you were ready. And here you are. It appears your time is up, and Arthur has waited all he can. 

You think back to that first night in Colter, what you'd told yourself that rang out to be true… good people die. 

Nothing happens for a long while. You don't move, and your limbs ache from your curled up position, but you don't care. You've been watching the water for hours to no avail, but then it happens. Something small washes up on the shore, something black. And as soon as your eyes flicker towards it your face crumples, and falls into your knees with a sob. 

"No, no, not him- please." You whimper to yourself quietly, realizing that he's really gone.

You wipe away your tears, finding the strength to stand up from the grass and pluck the object from the shoreline where it washed up. In your hand is an all too familiar black leather hat, wrapped with rope and adorned with a one of a kind hat ornament. 

You place it on the ground by your legs, curling in on yourself as the grief overtakes you, causing your body to ache and your lungs to burn from the sobs that erupt from them. 

taglist: @margofiore @mrsarthurmorgan7 @woman-with-no-name @tillith @luvliewriting @pine4pple-b0i @photo1030 @dudsparrow

series taglist: @catnotbread @chxosangxl @globetrotter28 @justalittlerayofpitchblack @fruittiest-of-loops @randomidk-123 @heyworld-whatsup @btsiguess-kpop @how-the-heck-would-i-know

[straykids-97]

Fever

Passion is a sort of fever in the mind, which ever leaves us weaker than it found us.

Warnings: Vampire/werewolf hybrid Jeongin, human reader, degradation, rough sex, dirty talking, unprotected sex, mentions of drinking, strangers to lovers,  lmk if I forgot anything!

Word Count: 1.5k

You were in over your head, as usual. Coming out to the middle of the woods to a party held by a pack of lycans was not the smartest thing you had ever come up with. But, then again, it wasn’t you who had been invited either. It was your friend who managed to secure the invite. As soon as you cross onto the pack grounds, you can hear the party. 

As you walk down the path, you can see a group of houses and at the center of the homes, you can see the lively party. There were more people than you expected, an equal amount of women and men enjoying the cool spring night. There were string lights connecting the houses above the heads of the crowd, a small fire in the middle where people were gathered around. There was a designated area for drinks and snacks, and a little DJ booth with a man standing behind it, fidgeting with the laptop and soundboard. 

“Oh, stop being so nervous. They’re not gonna latch onto you,” Your friend hissed, slapping your arm. You feel anxious still, despite her words. Though you knew they weren’t going to, it still made you feel on edge to be so close to such powerful creatures. “Here, have a few drinks and loosen up. You’ll see.” She put a drink in your hand. Taking a deep breath, you did just that. And true to her words, you did start to unwind. 

The two of you were dancing with each other when a pair of hands danced up your sides, causing you to turn and see a dark-haired man staring down at you, intrigued. His dark brown eyes were chocolate in the lights as they flickered above his head. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before…” He grins down at you, sharp teeth exposed in his white smile. You thought you would flinch, but you don’t as he chuckles, “In fact, I don’t think I have ever seen you around…” He narrowed his eyes before a fox-like smile spread across his face, “I like new faces, I’m Jeongin.” 

“I’m, y/n.” You introduce, “Perfect… Now we know each other.” 

You two dance for a while until you tap out, “I need a drink,” You wave your hand at him, causing him to chuckle, “Sure. We could take a break.” You could see a little bit of sweat in his hairline, and that made you feel better that he was sweaty just like you. Maybe not as much, but still affected. 

You grab a water and Jeongin guides you over to a quieter area, “Is this ok?” He asks, making you bob your head. “Yeah, this works for me.” You giggle, sitting down beside him. “Perfect.” He laughs, leaning back on his elbows on the stairs. “This is my house anyway,” He bats his hand at the house, “So, we don’t have to worry.” You can’t help the small laugh that comes out of your throat, “Ok?” He laughs with you, “What? You don’t believe me?” You shake your head, “Uh, no.” 

He suddenly stands up, offering you his hand. “I’ll prove it.” He grins as you slide your hand into his. “Prove it then.” You can see something dark flash in his eyes as you stand up. “Alright then.” With that, he gently guided you up the stairs and pushed the door open. 

“Kitchen’s over there, living room over there.” He moved down the hallway, and sure he was able to point out the right rooms, but anyone could do that. “This is my bedroom.” He opens the door and reveals a room with the shades drawn. Jeongin flips the light on, revealing a dark bed and a desk with a computer on it. It was bare apart from the small picture frame of what looked like Jeongin and a small family. 

“So… It really is your house.” You giggle, going to the picture, holding it up. “Why didn’t you stay with your family?” I question, making Jeongin snort, “Wolves don’t have to stay with their packs their entire life. I’m in a bachelor pack, with my friends. We all have the same goal…” He trailed off, biting his bottom lip as he closed the door. “And… what’s that?” 

“To find someone to bring home…” He licked his lips as he slowly crossed the room, taking the picture frame from you, and putting it back where it belonged. “Someone worth being with for the rest of our long lives.” His words were hot on your neck as his fingers ghosted down your sides. A soft whimper comes out of your mouth as he holds your hips, pushing you against the bed. 

He stares down at you, cocking his head to the side, “If you don’t want this, say something.” He breathes. When nothing comes out, he crawls to where your face is, “Do you want this, y/n?” You fervently nod your head, “Are you sure? Wolves tend to be a little rough…” A soft gasp comes from your throat but that only urges him on. “If you want me to stop, then just say so.” 

“Ok.” You squeak as he loops his fingers around your jeans, pulling them down your legs until they are off. You shiver as he crawls back up your body, hands running under your shirt until he is pulling that off too. Jeongin unclasps your bra with one hand, discarding it on the floor. “One last warning.” He murmurs, kissing your neck before growling. 

The heat in your groin wasn’t about to go away, and you knew if you went home feeling like this it would have been a long night. 

Your lack of response made him growl and lean away, quickly stripping off his clothes. “You humans are like putty.” He snorts, crawling over you and pushing your thighs up so he can run his erect length along your soaked folds. You whine, wrapping your hands around his wrists as he grinds against you. “I bet you can’t even speak right now your so fucked out.” He grunted with a laugh. 

He wasn’t wrong; your mind was like a puddle of goop. 

Jeongin groaned, rolling his now glowing eyes back as he pressed against your entrance. “Fuck-” He shoved into you, stuffing you so full that your toes were curling. “Holy shi-” You babble, clenching as he rubs against your g-spot. He stops, head sagging between his shoulder blades and a guttural moan comes from his chest. 

He liked this more than he expected. 

Jeongin rolled his hips against yours a few times, before faltering for a moment. You look up at him as he stares down at you, a sly grin on his face. He shifts his hands, pinning your legs to the bed on either side of you, your feet by his face as he angles his hips so that most of his weight is on his hands. 

You gasp as he starts to pound into you, eyes squeezing shut as he slams into you over and over. “F-f-f!” You stutter, unable to get the words out between his brutal thrusts. He was so deep, stroking you just right and to your shock, caused you to orgasm in seconds. Jeongin let out a throaty groan but didn’t stop, fucking you through your orgasm. 

“So stupid,” he grunts, “Can’t even talk. Huh? Like my cock that much?” You bite your lip as tears roll down your cheeks, nodding your head as you claw his forearms. He laughs, cooing at you, “Awe, I almost feel bad.” He picks up the speed, and you press your head between the pillows, crying out a broken moan that almost sounded like a sob. “You get any louder, I’m sure they’ll hear you over the music. But then again, I don’t think you care right now.” He moans, panting into your neck. 

You let out a disappointed whine when he pulls away suddenly, rolling you onto your side forcefully, and kissing your shoulder. Jeongin slides behind you, pulling your hips back and lifting your leg up. Your hand joins his, holding the back of your knee as he guides himself back into your weeping pussy. 

Your whole body shakes as he grinds into you, each stroke hitting that gooey spot inside you that made you sob into his pillow. “Fuc-” He grunts, holding your leg to your side as he pounded into you. “Your pussy is so fucking messy baby.” He groans, kissing your neck before biting it. You moan, another orgasm ripping through your body violently. Jeongin chuckles huskily but doesn’t say a word as he fucks you, his speed picking up as he nears his own high. 

After a few moments, his hips slam into yours, and warmth spreads across your womb, making you mewl as he slowly moves a few times before pulling out. He lets out a breathy pant, “Fuck. Tell me you live nearby.” He laughs, pulling you into his arms as he drops your leg. 

A.N: I hope you enjoyed it! Again, I’ve never written a fic about I.N. so I didn’t want to feel like I was rambling or anything.

Thank you so much for reading! ©️straykids-97

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