#and he is ready to lie and deceive to get his way | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

brodieland · 3 months

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.˚ 𓈒 ࣪.𝝑𝝔 Betrayed, I still miss him though.. ´ˎ˗

Luke Castellan x fem!Reader Word count: 2161 Synopsis: After Lukes betrayal, all reader wanted was to hear what Luke had to say. Then she got an interesting dream... Taking place right after 'The lightning thief'.

I miss him.

He isn't physically dead. Just the version of him everyone knew, more specifically, the version I grew to love. It's been months, 5 months, 2 weeks, and 3 days to be exact since he left. Since Luke Castellan betrayed us and turned to Kronos.

Its Saturday, and just like most other days, I've been stuck in bed sulking, no longer crying, just moping. The day he abandoned me and the rest of camp is a day I can replay on loop. Its still a painful memory, still a fresh wound, still something I'd rather not think about. I never want to leave my cabin, I'm stuck in this bed, stuck in this state of desperation that I'm gonna wake up and this whole thing was a crazy dream one of the gods thought it be hilarious to give me and fuck with my mind because they for some reason love to do that, but I know deep down that's not the case, and I know that the chance of me seeing him again are slim to none.

Time passed and I'm leaving the dining pavilion and walking back to my bunk to just sleep and ignore the world, ignore all the whispers of campers, all of the, 'wasn't she Luke's girlfriend?' 'When was the last time she ran a brush through her hair?' 'Oh my god, she looks terrible.' It's annoying, I can still hear you, you know? Just because the guy I thought was my soulmate and love of my life betrayed me and this whole camp doesn't mean I lost my hearing. Just my motivation to take care of myself, he was the one I got ready for, he was my first thought of when I woke up, and the one I thought of when getting ready and got excited to see everyday. Now he was gone, and so was my motivation for anything.

No one, could replace my Luke Castellan, but my Luke Castellan was gone. Now he's just Luke Castellan.

Sleeping was the only place I could escape my problems, now at least. Right after he left he plagued my dreams, whether I was awake, or asleep, he was there. Though the dreams died down, one would sneak through every now and then. This man was everywhere, I could never escape him. I can't remember a time before him, just a during and after him, and I wish I could go back in time to when we were perfect, to before he stole the master bolt, maybe I could've convinced him not too. Maybe I could've made sure there wasn't an after us.

When he first arrived at camp, Chiron asked me to show him around camp. Of course I happily obliged, why would I turn down the opportunity to spend time and get to know and cute guy with dark curly hair and big brown eyes? I wish I could relive that day, those years in fact.

Luke Castellan was my first everything. He was my first kiss, my first love, my first boyfriend. He was the first guy whom I truly shared myself with, both physically and mentally. He knew me inside and out, literally. He saw me at my highest and my lowest and still told me and made me feel loved, but had that also all been a lie? He was a head Hermes counselor, beloved by all of a camp, best swordsman around, an older brother to the younger campers, a first crush to some of the younger girls, and a best friend to those around him. Those were all lies. But were those nights also all lies? Those nights we had become one and told each other how much we loved one another. Those nights I gave myself in a way I hadn't to anyone, and ways I didn't want to give myself to another man. Was he just using me? Was I just part of his act to trick everyone? He made me feel emotions I'd ever feel toward another man. Love, hate, lust.

What I would do to have one more night with him. And finally talk to him about that night. Luke left before I got the chance to hear about his dishonesty. Luke deceived me until the last second, and I never got an explanation from him. Sure I got one from Percy, Annabeth, and Chiron as well. But never from Luke, That night I was watching the fireworks, oblivious to the double-crossing happening in a deeper portion of the woods just behind me.

I cried myself to sleep that night.

Flash forward back to tonight. I was in another dream, but not just any dream. This was different than my other dreams. It was more than just a dream, I was truly here, like I was just plopped into a new reality, like a dreamscape. I was sitting on half-blood hill, next to Thalia's tree. Looking around everything was slightly static. As I looked over camp there was a bright light coming from behind me making me turn around. I saw a tall door right outside the border of the camp, peaking my interest. After staring at the door for a few moments, you finally walked up, grabbing the knob and waiting for a moment before finally opening the door.

When I walked in, it was like I was transported into a new world, but it wasn't a 'new world.' Through the door, it was a spacious office. A nice mahogany desk at one end of the room looking out onto two leather couches that were facing each other with a coffee table between them all laid out over nice hardwood floors and surrounded by bookshelves. I walked in slowly, not knowing what I was getting myself into when the door disappeared behind me. Slight panic and confusion ran through my bones. How does an entire door just disappear? I turned away and walked toward the desk to look around when suddenly I heard a door open behind me that I, somehow, didn't notice. When I turned around I locked eyes with the last person I ever expected to again.

"Y/N.."

"Luke..."

Silence is all that followed for a few moments. I didn't dare take a step as I turned my body to fully face him. He slowly took a few steps forward, towards me, and we were now standing just arms length from each other. God how I just want to jump into his arms, but I know I can't, so I just stick to not moving.

"How did you get here?" Luke questioned you, still staring at you as starstruck as he used to. It used to make you melt and get weak in the knees when he looked at you like this, now you don't know what to think.

"I, um, don't really know" I started stammering over my words like a loser "I fell asleep and suddenly I was on half-blood hill with this huge door.." I trailed off when I noticed Luke was now standing so close I could feel his breathe. I looked up and he still had that look of awe in his eyes. I probably had that same look in mine. How could I not, I was staring at Luke. Seconds passed and we were just standing there staring in others eyes, now with the tips of our noses touching. These seconds felt like hours when suddenly we were grabbing each others faces and slamming our lips together. I've missed him so much, and I don't care who knows how much I've missed him. I love him and missed the familiar and safe feeling of his lips on mine.

We stood there a moment with lips locked, our hands grabbing each others faces pulling us so close we might fuse together. He then slowly but firmly moved his hands down my body and gripped my waist. That's when I was wrapping my arms as far as possible around his neck pulling him further into me, if that was even possible at that point. I craved this feeling. If there was a word stronger then craved, that was the word. I was obsessed with him and I wanted to crawl in his clothes and live with him forever, but I can't and shouldn't. This was wrong, so wrong, and I really needed to stop but I couldn't, we continued to kiss passionately before a tear was sliding down my cheek. Then followed a second, and before a third one threatened to slip out, Luke pulled away and looked at me with concern. That look of care alone wanted to make me pull him right back in but I didn't, to be fair that would've looked kind of pathetic.

"What's wrong, what's with the tears baby?" The nickname alone made me want to scream. Scream that he was the problem. And scream that he was the only solution, and scream even more that the solution to my problem was forever unobtainable without stabbing everyone in my life in the back and abandoning everyone.

"Why'd you have to do it? Lie to everyone, to me. Was anything even real?" I tried holding back tears, but there were threatening to spill out, and I slowly let them. He grabbed my chin in his hand and wiped my tears with his thumbs.

"You know why. The gods, they don't care about us. They just keep having mortals fall in love with them, messing them up, and leaving there kids to fend for themselves. Think of how many kids that barely survive middle school because of selfish choices the gods made. I didn't start this meaning to lie and hurt more people than just gods, especially not you. Gods, if there was one person I didn't want to hurt, it was you. Honestly. You asked me if it was real, and I'm saying that this, you, are the realest thing in my life. I wouldn't have traded the last few years in my life for anything. They're my favorite memories that I replay every night trying not to miss you more than I already do, but I can't. When your not around its like, a chunk of me is missing. I need you like I need my air, I hate it that I can't have you the way I used too. I know I made a choice that you can't stand with, and you probably hate me-"

I couldn't listen anymore. All I wanted was an explanation but now that I got one I don't know what to think. What he did was wrong, but I just want one last moment with him. I pulled him close one last time sealing our lips together. Back in the same position as before, except now both of our faces had slight tear stains on them. Before I knew it, we were walking toward one of the couches without releasing our lips from each other. We slid down the couch, he sat upward and planted me firm on his lap with my legs straddling him. We continued to make out as he was moving my hips backing forth on his lap. That's when the air and room around us began to slightly static a little more than it was a moment ago. Luke pulled away, leaving me feeling a little empty without his face on mine.

"Y/N, the dreamscape, its about to close.." Luke began,

"What does that mean?" It can't be ending yet, please I haven't had enough time.

"It means we're about to wake up, and we might not see each for awhile.. I'm sorry" Luke apologized, he stared into my eyes for a split second before reaching into his pocket to grab something. "Here."

There it was, his camp necklace with all five beads on them. I slowly picked up and held them close, like they might be the last thing I'll ever get from him. "Thank you, Luke"

"I love you, Y/N."

"I love you more, Luke-"

I shot up in your bed, drenched in sweat. I looked around my cabin, seeing everyone sound asleep in their bunks. Then I noticed something sitting in my hand, had it really been real? I looked down and of course, there it was. Luke's necklace. A lonesome tear slid down my face as I stared at it, but it wasn't out of sadness, I was smiling. I felt better knowing I finally got to talk to him, knowing I finally got what I wanted from him, and now have a little keepsake from him. I know I'm supposed to hate him, but I can't. In the meantime, I'll start healing and starting over, but never will I hate Luke castellan nor forget him. I'll keep the beaded necklace in my pocket for now, I don't know how to explain how I got it, or what I did to get it.

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I've never written anything before, so lemme know gang

#percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke pjo #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan x you #luke castellan angst

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faerievampling · 3 months

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Homecoming

Part 2 of A Vampire's Courage. Can be read as a stand alone!

Summary: The Dark Urge and Spawn!Astarion, after having decided to remain friends, have been traveling together after the defeat of the Netherbrain. After finally sleeping together, Durge and Astarion have unfinished business. Smut and feelings ensue.

Word count: 4.2k

Link to Ao3!

Pairing: Spawn!Astarion x Female Durge

Warning: 18+, explicit. Violence. Blood. PiV. Vaginal Fingering. Cunnilingus. Blow Jobs. Inexperienced reader. Sixty Nine ;). Durge x Astarion being deeply in love.

A/N: This Durge also goes by Tav! happy valentines day :) im foaming at the mouth for patch 6. I hope y'all enjoy.

Astarion holds you for a while, only leaving to lie in his own bed after you’ve drifted off.

“That was the first time in ages you’ve slept through the night,” Astarion remarks once you wake. “We’ll have to do that more often, darling,” his tone was teasing.

The two of you traveled in silence for a while. It was peaceful, under the stars and the full moon. You didn’t know what you wanted to say to him, so you said nothing.

He had told you that you were special to him. But he could mean a million different things by that - couldn’t he? And of course you were special to him: you were the first person he ever trusted.

And to be fair, he hadn’t said anything either. You can’t help but wonder if he regrets it, if your eyes and ears deceived you and he really had just been up to his old ways.

Besides, you both had a job to do. You needed to focus.

“So, are you willing to sign?” The squat human asked; the contract lie in front of Astarion, who was still reading it over. “We are just quite ready for this little problem to be taken care of.”

Astarion did used to be a magistrate, but he hardly remembered his life before his undeath, so he was just pretending to read the contract. You both knew that if this man didn’t pay up, you would intimidate or charm him until he did.

Astarion had just wanted him to beg a little. With a sloppy mark, Astarion signed his name before handing the pen over to you. You scribble something resembling ‘The Dark Urge’.

“What an odd name,” the human remarks, giving you an awkward smile.

“A family name.” You smile back.

“Well, let’s get on with it then, my dear,” Astarion says to you before turning to the human. “We never return empty handed. We’ll see you when the job is done,” The two of you leave the man’s office; he was an assistant to the Mayor, who you could tell he was rather eager to please.

You clear your throat, trying to make sure you sound as normal as you could after last night. “So, any ideas on how to kill a Chimera?” You ask Astarion, hoping that maybe he will surprise you.

Astarion laughs. “Oh, Gods no, dear. Surely we should just cut off its heads, right?”

“As quickly as we can, I imagine.” You think you sound pretty normal. You sure hoped so, anyways. He sure did.

“So, you don’t really have a plan, is what I’m gathering.”

You sigh. “Not in the slightest.”

The battle with the Chimera went about as good as could be expected: you and Astarion kicked ass, as usual, but not without injury. You had quite the gash on your shoulder, which Astarion was insistent on lapping up once you got to a decent spot to camp.

Astarion had several protective camp items he could use to shield himself from the sun during the day: an enchanted tent and a music box that could hold constant concentration for casting a veil of Darkness. These were just some of your boons from adventuring as you searched for a permanent solution.

You felt the chill of his lips on your skin as he licked the wound clean. You wanted to tangle your fingers in his silver curls as he attended to you. The longer you two were in contact, the greater your heat was building up, and you could feel the slickness of your folds as the blood in your body rushed to your labia.

You could tell he was taking his time. The two of you had done this so many times before, but you couldn't help but feel how the pressure of his lips against your skin was softer, lighter, and he was moving his lips more than he usually did, like he was planting kisses on you.

This time, it undeniably felt more intimate, more erotic. Your heart was already racing from the contact, but gods was it fast now. You needed to say something.

“Alright, hurry up,” You say roughly, cursing at yourself for your choice of words; he relents, sticking a bandage on you and handing you a healing potion. You pop the cork of the bottle, drinking down the red liquid and instantly feeling warm all over. You would be fully healed by morning, thankfully; plus, the pain was already starting to subside, leaving you feeling greatly relieved.

But before Astarion says anything to you, he’s pulling you to your feet, his hand gripping yours with such strength it startles you.

“Someone’s coming,” Astarion whispers to you. “It’s several people. Smells like the villagers.” The two of you exchange looks of confusion before the picture comes into view.

There is a group of armored men approaching you; you and Astarion immediately go into a defensive stance. Typically, you would be in front and Astarion would be in the shadows, but this time he stands in front of you.

You realize you are only in your bra, since Astarion had been tending your wound.

“Trying to protect my modesty?” You ask with a huff, but Astarion only growls at the men in response.

“One step closer, and I won’t hesitate to kill you,” Astarion sneers at the men, who stop in their tracks. You kind of wanted to see it, secretly.

“You’d really protect that monster? That Bhaalspawn,” A man spat the word from his mouth, and you knew why they were here. “I could never forget your face. I doubt you even remember mine. You killed so many at the Slaughter of East End, my family along with it.”

‘East End’. Didn’t ring a bell.

”I was able to run but you got to them!” The man was screaming at you now, but you can only blink at him over Astarion’s shoulder.

“Maybe they should have run faster,” Astarion barks. He can’t see the mist in your eyes.

“They are both monsters. Kill the elf and then the Bhaalspawn,” Someone bellowed from the crowd, causing the men to chant in agreement.

A mocking voice rang through the night air. ”Burn her!“

That’s all the group of men could say before Astarion tore the throat out of one in the faceless crowd. You had intended just to defend yourself if need be and knock them out, but when Astarion pounced first, the men were destined to die.

You’re plunging a sword through the chest of a man when you hear another start to beg. Astarion’s laugher rings out against the last few cries of battle before quiet settles amongst the camp.

It takes a short while for the two of you to calm down. The blood of nearly a dozen men soaked the grounds of your campsite. The smell of copper overwhelmed an untapdoled (and thus less controlled) Astarion, and he had to get away from you for a while; he made sure you had your sending stone and your warding bond ring on, just in case.

You felt numb for a while, and when you finally felt Astarion’s hand on your shoulder, you weren’t sure how long you had been sitting on your shins in the blood soaked earth.

“He was right, you know. Even if I had seen his face, I wouldn’t have remembered it,” You say as Astarion helps you to your feet. He looks you over, scanning your body for injuries.

But your only injury is of the heart. Invisible, but maybe not to Astarion.

“You’re not being fair to yourself,” Astarion says, “Maybe you caused ruin in your past. But you aren’t the same person you were.”

“But do I not still deserve punishment?” You say, exasperated. “I feel like I do. Like I should pay for what I’ve done. There are some days where I can’t stop thinking about Alfira -“ Your voice cracks, and Astarion grabs your forearms as if he’s trying to hold you together, to steady you from your wavering fortitude.

“You’ve paid already, darling. You’ve saved the damn world! Isn’t that enough?” His eyes are pleading, because you know this isn’t just about you: Astarion’s own past was shrouded with victims.

“I don’t know,” is all you can say.

“Those men deserved to die, Tav.” His eyes were narrowed, his face shrouded with convicted vengeance. And despite your anguish, your guilt, those feelings subside a bit when you look into Astarion’s ruby eyes.

He’s nodding at you, further trying to affirm his words. You take a deep breath, nodding along with him.

“Let’s set up elsewhere. If we hurry, we’ll have time to set up at least one of the tents,” Astarion squeezes your forearms before bringing you into an embrace.

It was a welcome surprise, and you melt into him, a warmth from within you starting to spread throughout your body.

The two of you work hard to move the camp, setting up his sun-proof tent. You both make time to wash and put on fresh clothes; your wound from earlier is already healed, so you dress in fresh underclothes and camp wear.

As you see the sun peak over the horizon, you look to Astarion, realizing neither your tent, nor the enchanted music box, was anywhere to be found.

“I can’t find it, my tent or the music box,” You say, your tone more pleading than you would have liked. “You’re sure you grabbed them?”

“Yes, well, I think so, at least,”Astarion has a curious look on his face. “We don’t really need it though, do we?”

Oh. You knew what this meant; surely, surely, he is referencing his recent bedding of you.

“You want to share a tent?”

“We already do share a lot of things: resources, often a room, and last night, a bed.” Astarion has turned on the charm a bit, but his smile his warm, his eyes open and rounded, wet with anticipation.

You feel the blood rise to your cheeks.

“You can cast Darkness yourself, can’t you? That would be enough for you to freely come and go from my tent so you can tend to your…living needs.” Astarion flirted.

“But you wouldn’t be able to leave the tent. I can only cast darkness for about thirty seconds at a time, and I have limited energy.” You were babbling now.

“I know how your magic works, darling. But I won’t be needing to leave the tent,” Astarion steps closer to you, putting his hand on your waist.

You pause, getting lost in his ruby eyes. “So…you want me to keep you company?”

Astarion’s smirk softens, his eyes round and open to you. “Yes,”

You swallow. “The sun will be up for a while,”

Astarion chuckles lightly, so much softer than the last time you heard it. He brings a hand to cup your face, and now you finally understand what he may be asking of you. Astarion must see the realization in your eyes, and he brings his head down; you feel the sensation of his cool, soft lips as they press against your own.

His touch is so tender, you can’t help but melt into his palm. You feel like he’s holding you up now, carrying your weight.

“Worried you’ll get bored, darling? I promise you won’t be,” Astarion’s salacious voice is low and raw in your ear; it sends an urgent shiver through your body.

Astarion pulls you into his tent, and you are enveloped in him. His very presence lingered in the air, and you recognized the familiar smell of bergamot hanging in the romantic darkness.

The tent was spacious and had been enchanted to look like the night sky. You had seen it before, of course, but not with Astarion’s urgent hands on you.

His lips are on you, his tongue easing between your parted lips as he drinks you in. Astarion was an excellent kisser, likely much better than you, and you did your best to follow his lead. But his tongue dominated yours, and he gradually deepened the kiss as his dexterous fingers began to unlace your shirt.

You could sense Astarion’s desperation to see your breasts as he unhooked your brassiere.

You don’t know if you’ve ever seen him like this before, so ravenous for you. His lips trailed over your neck, to your chest, where he focused on your sensitive nipples.

You’re surprised when Astarion gets on his knees, his tongue circling the tip of your breasts while his pretty lips wrap around the swollen bud.

You see the light of the enchanted full moon reflect off of Astarion’s eyelashes as he bats them at you, causing you to gasp at the sight.

One of his hands is squeezing your other nipple, and the other is gripping the curve of your ass; Astarion groans against you, his fangs grazing your skin. You feel the pressure of the prick as they bite down, just enough to avoid breaking your skin.

You’re focused on Astarion’s rapid breathing and whimpers as his arms snake around you, pulling you down to your knees to meet him at level.

“Tav, I-“ Astarion begins, but he can’t seem to keep his lips off of you.

“Astarion,” You say, but you trail off as his lips are on yours, tongue plunging into your mouth as he brings his hands to cup the sides of your jaw.

I love you. It was on the tip of your tongue. You think it may have been on his, too. You didn’t even know if you really understood the meaning, but you knew how innately the words came to mind when you thought about Astarion.

Astarion eases you on your back, his lips never leaving yours. He makes quick work of unlacing your trousers. But before he can pull them off of you, his desperation overwhelms him and he moves to unlace his own pants, releasing his swollen cock.

“Take yours off, your panties too,” His words are firm, yearning, and Astarion watches you intently as you lift your hips to pull off the rest of your clothes, leaving you entirely naked in front of him.

Astarion groans, breaking your kisses as he moves to grab your shins, spreading your legs wide. His eyes sweep over you, pausing at your exposed core. You realize it’s rather bright in the tent with the light of the full moon, and surely he doesn’t sleep under this light.

You wonder if he adjusted the magic so that he could see you better. And the little smile on Astarion’s face as he drinks in the sight of you, naked and spread for him, confirms your theory.

“I thought about you like this all day,” He says to you in a raw voice. His hands roam your body, a hand tugging at a nipple while the other caresses your curves.

He shifts closer to you now, bringing you pelvis to pelvis, and his cock rests along your mound, the tip of which reaching just below your belly button.

“You have?” You whisper, your eyes wetting against your own protests. He begins to rub his cock between your folds, and you squirm at the pressure on your clit.

He dips down to press his lips to yours again, hand moving between your legs to your slick folds as he begins teasing you. “You’re all I’ve thought about, Tav.”

“Tell me what you want, my sweet. I want to give it to you.” Astarion whispers eagerly, and you realize just how undone he’s come: his curls are disheveled, brows furrowed with pleasure, full lips parted.

Astarion’s fingers explore you, his thumb circling your sensitive bundle of nerves as he eases a finger inside your entrance.

“I want to taste you,” You say, your eyes glued to his swollen cock. Astarion hums with approval, eager to please as he readjusts you both.

Astarion lies on his back, prompting you to get on your knees between his legs, wrapping your hand around the base of his cock.

You wanted to taste it, because you never have before; as you place your lips on his tip, gently kissing it, flickering your tongue as you do, you realize you don’t actually know what you’re doing.

Surely you’ve done this before. It seems familiar enough. Astarion looks through his lashes at you, watching as you tentatively handle his cock.

He tastes amazing: clean, cool, and you take him in your mouth as deep as you can, causing him to gasp.

“Sorry,” you murmur between your darling kisses. “I don’t really know what I’m doing,”

“Oh,” Astarion breathes, pondering this just for a moment before his focus is back on you. “Start by putting your lips around me. Go on, lover.”

Astarion watches as you follow his command, putting your lips around the girth of his cock. You start to move your tongue, swirling it on his skin as you’re already sucking just a bit.

“Yes, my sweet, oh-“ Astarion moans, his hand moving to your chin just to caress you, to touch you, to know you are there and that it is you that engulfs him.

Astarion starts to buck his hips into your mouth, his hand moving from your chin to the root of your hair, holding you firmly in place as he starts to fuck your mouth. After a moment, he’s breathing heavily, and he releases you, ruby eyes boring into you, clear as day under the light of the enchanted moon.

“I need to taste you,” Astarion speaks, his voice low. “You trust me to make you feel good, Tav?”

You’re confused about why he’s asking you this: his precum was still on your chin, the taste of his salty seed still lingering on your tongue. He was delicious, of course, and you only wanted more.

“Yes,” you say as he brings himself up to kiss you again.

“I want you to bring your legs over my face, so that I can fuck you with my tongue while I stuff that sweet mouth of yours.” Astarion’s words are sultry, low and sexy, as usual, but his voice is firm, his words chosen in such a way so that you know exactly what he means to do with you.

Your eyes go wide at this. You’ve never heard of anything like that before, and you think it sounds complicated. But, you hadn’t lied when you told him you trusted him: so you nod.

“You’ll have to tell me what to do,” Your words are heavy on your throat, thick with anticipation.

“I certainly have no problem telling you what to do, my darling,” Astarion purrs, causing you to quiver with anticipation.

Your cunt, so slick and desperate for more, throbs with desire as Astarion puts his hands on you, guiding you to position his head between your thighs, exposing the heat of your core to him as you face his cock.

Astarion let’s out an audible sigh of relief as he wraps his arms around your waist, bringing your cunt straight to his mouth; the sensation is heavenly, the angle of the position has your clit and folds fully exposed, resting in his mouth as he takes worship in you.

His tongue teases your folds before dipping between them, hungrily lapping at your entrance; you feel used as your juices begin to drip down your thigh.

The vibration of Astarion’s little moans tease you, causing you to settle into him further.

You bring him in your mouth, trying to bob your head to give him pleasure, but you’re overwhelmed by the feeling of his tongue spearing between your folds, your walls, tasting your depths before sweeping over your swollen clit.

You can’t focus on your movements any longer, as Astarion’s motions send shockwaves of pleasure through your body. As his expert tongue focused solely on your swollen nub, you go totally lax.

Before you know it, you’re moaning with Astarion’s cock still in your mouth, despite your orgasmic paralysis. You feel your rumble of ecstasy rise up within you, and you’re hoping you aren’t gushing too much as you spasm around his tongue.

Suddenly, Astarion grabs the back of your head, pushing you down on his cock, stroking your mouth. You’re still writhing in utter euphoria and creaming in his mouth as he takes you.

Once you’ve come back down from your high, your body is still lax. You’re thankful Astarion is so strong and doesn’t have to breathe, because you’re dead weight atop him.

You muster the strength to roll off of him, and he works to place himself on top of you, between your legs. Facing him now, you see the evidence of your orgasm in his eyes and on his face.

His nose, lips, chin, were soaked in your come, his pupils blown with lust at your scent.

You feel your walls stretch as Astarion inserts two fingers inside you, prepping you for the girth of his cock. His intrusion only makes your cunt salivate more.

When he’s satisfied with your stretch, he starts to sink into you.The pressure of his cock makes you gasp, and Astarion cups your jaw, guiding your eyes to him.

He’s saying your name like a prayer. “Oh, Tav, Tav, my sweetest girl, my love.”

Once his mouth finds yours, his kisses are fervent, passionate, matching the slow pace of his strokes. His tongue is so soft, and he tastes so good with your come on his lips that you’re already primed to give him more.

He pumps in and out of you, stretching your walls to his girth until you are perfect for him before his thrusts start to quicken.

You feel him putting more strength behind his thrusts, inserting himself deeper within you until he’s bottomed out.

“Gods, Tav, you’re unbelievable,” Astarion purrs in your ear. Finally, he’s fully inside you, and he can’t help it anymore: he strokes you, the tip of his cock brushing against your cervix, so deep you’re brought into a delirium of pleasure.

You heave in his mouth as he eases his tongue between your parted lips. Your stretched walls start to contract around his cock, and you’re coming on him again before you even realize.

Your hands grab at his curls, trail lightly over his back: you’re careful not to be harsh with that sensitive part of him. But you needed to caress him, to feel his body beneath your palm.

As your body spasms beneath him, you feel entirely fucked out, your body going lax again in his hands. Astarion made you so…pliant. You wanted him to be yours so desperately. Your hazy brain is ready to do anything for him.

Astarion’s thrusts become less calculated as he comes undone, and before you even realize, Astarion is moaning your name as his balls contract, spurting thick ropes of come deep inside you.

It takes a moment for you both to come back to reality. Astarion rolls onto his side, gathering you in his arms as he adjusts to ensure your shared comfort.

The coolness of him feels amazing against your skin, still hot from lovemaking.

“I love the way you feel against me,” You hum into his chest. After just a few beats, Astarion pulls away, easing himself up on his elbow to look down at you.

“I want to kiss you,” Astarion says with a swallow. “And I want to do it whenever I’d like.”

You pause, getting lost in his crimson eyes. “Y-yes, you may.” You stumble, but Astarion is smooth enough for the both of you.

He brings a finger to your chin, holding you in place as he presses a tender kiss to your lips. When he breaks away, he rests his forehead on yours, and you feel your heart thumping away in your chest.

“I don’t want anything to change between us. I just want to be able to do this with you. To kiss you when I like, to touch you when I like,” Astarion pauses, trying to ensure he gets all of his thoughts out. “And I don’t want you to do these things with anyone else.”

“I let you get away because I knew I wasn’t ready. I want to give you something real, but I couldn’t at the time,” Astarion kisses you again, so tenderly you feel a pang in your heart. And between your legs.

“But now, Tav,” He caresses your cheek, causing you to gasp a little. Astarion smiles a little before his face continues its serious, sincere expression. His eyes were wide, and he was bearing his soul to you.

His hand clasped yours.

“I want you. I’ve wanted you to be mine since the clearing.”

You’re speechless, heart fluttering at his words. You can only say what’s on your tender mind: “I think I love you, Astarion.”

A hand smooths your hair back, delicately, as if you are a precious thing.

“I love you too. But I know that I do. I want every part of you.” Astarion’s voice rumbles through you.

Your chest swells, and you feel like you’re bursting from within: it’s something you’ve never really felt before, but it felt distinctly like home.

Masterlist

Link to Part 1

#astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x female tav #astarion smut #astarion bg3 #astarion #astarion x dark urge #astarion x durge #astarion x tav #happy valentines

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cherubispunk · 4 months

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CHERUB (PART III) - Dealer!Joel Miller x AFAB!Reader

summary: the devil has a funny habit of making you want your own suffering.

a note from Lucy: Well, this is it folks. The third and final instalment of the unholy trinity that is cherub. The fic that i had no idea would get this amount of traction. The fic that gave me my username, blog theme, the majority of my mutuals and the freedom to explore more taboo areas of writing that I never felt comfortable with doing before. I just wanted to thank you all for all the kind words you’ve shared with me. Comments, reblogs, messages, they all mean the utter world. But i also want to specifically thank @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin who was such a huge help for motivation when wrting each of these. She's been there since the first day of cherub and always let me obsess over dealer!joel with her. Ange, i love you baby. Out of all my fandom experiences, this has definitely been one of the best. I know this sounds a lot like a goodbye completely, but it's not i swear! I just never really knew where this was going, but I think this is a pretty good way to end the series and I hope you agree too. Part of me isn't ready to let go after such a short run, but I honestly have no idea where to go from here so I think I did it as much justice as I could. Regardless, Cherub and Dealer!Joel will forever have a place in my heart all thanks to you lovely lot! Your love means the world to me and you are all so easy to share this with, you've given me an environment to flourish creatively and I'm eternally grateful for that. I wish you all the love, hugs, kisses, and angel wishes in the world!

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wc: 5548 Warnings: 18+ MDNI! DARK CONTENT! Unedited for now, no outbreak, no use of y/n but joel calls the reader ‘Cherub’, plot? what plot? we all know we're here for the porn anyway, bombastic age gap (reader is in her early 20’s and Joel is in his late 50s), gore imagry, religious imagry, Smut, very dubcon in theory but both want it bad, grafic smut, P in V sex (unprotected — pleaseee don’t do tis irl i beg of you), teasing, sort of edging? (idk what to call it but he doesnt fuck you until you beg for it lol). nipple play, biting biting biting!!!!!, references to domestic violence, use of pet names, manipulative! joel, stupid stupid cherub, stockholm syndrome, oral (f receiving), cum eating, pussy slapping, Joel being foul mouthed, cursing, dirty talk, overstimulation. Again, some of the most animalistic, disgustingly wretched and vile vile vile porn I have written thus far…with so little plot that this earned me my place in hell, i have my own circle now. Big Dick Joel Miller comes as his own warning.

series m.list | m.list

The danger didn't lie in his hands. It didn't sit in his closed first to be suffocated. Choked out until the life of it was compressed. Until its face was blue, then purple and its eyes were bloodshot and streaked with red. The danger lay in your heart. And it thrived off the beating.

What is ‘it’, you ask? Mania.

The Greeks had it nailed down when they split love seven different ways. To the crucifix through its punctured and bleeding palms. All equal, but different. They understood that one love is different to the other. That love can be either obsession, or lingering in the quiet parts of a person's mind. You cannot hold up a mirror to one and deceive into believing it is another. No matter how sweet the lie seeps into the ear. They don't work that way. You were not Lucifer, you had no forked tongue. And your mania wasn't Eve. There was no apple to devour. Only the strong arm of Joel Miller to cling to like a noose.

Some love passionately. Find it in the scathing friction of flesh upon flesh. The heat two bodies make only in sex. You were no body anymore. Merely a corpse for him to dig up and breathe life into whenever he needed relief. So it was not Eros. Some love playfully. In the back and forth of a conversation that makes the mind and heart float in the clouds among the soul. Entwine them together until you are too sedated to know the difference between the three pillars of personal holy trinity. There was nothing lighthearted about Joel Miller. So there was no Ludus. Affection. The subtle, it-is-there-even-when-it-is-not weight of lovers hand in lovers hand. Joel clutched your throat with his heavy hand. He didn't lace your fingers in his like tapestry threads. And he was anything but friendly. So it could never be Philia. He was not unconditional. Familial. Constant. Committed. Long lasting. Selfless. He crept in through the backdoor and took. Then slipped back out. So the thick blood red line was drawn through Storge. Agape. Pragma. The love you had was not for yourself. Without him you hated yourself. Hated how you didn’t feel needed. Or wanted. So Philautia was buried six feet under hot earth, the final nail in the coffin that was lowered into the rotting, thick-with-decaying-mulch, stenching ground. By none other than Mania.

This was something you came to realise as you stumbled from his truck back to your room. His come dribbling down your leg. Luke asleep on the sofa. Months passed of the same thing. He’d take you home from work, only letting you go once he'd had his fill. Played out the sick fantasy from mind to matter, let it bleed through his fingers into fruition. You let it happen for mania. It was the thing inside you that kept you going. Before you thought mania fed off your heartbeat. But now you realised mania fed your heartbeat. The kick it got every second fired the next muted pulse. That's what kept it alive. Energy for energy. You were never one to bite the hand that feeds. That’s a sinner's duty.

—

The usual sight of Luke slumped in his lazy boy, guzzling beer was what you expected. The liquor once again swigged past his lips and dribbling down his stubbled chin. Wiry greying hair greasy on his head, balding. Thinning. Residue from a line on the coffee table. You were never tempted by it before. And you were determined never be a Angel dust statistic like him.

Instead, you opened the flimsy door of your trailer to see him hunched over a small collapsible table. His hand running over his sunken eyes, dragging purple eye bags down with his fingertips in shame. Cards in his other. It had your breath catching in your throat like a hare in a wire snare trap. This time around the small collapsible round table. Cards in his hand. And two other men shared a knowing glance and a grim smile of satisfaction. Him.

Joel Miller.

The tension was thicker than molasses in the room. You only wished it was as sweet. You swallowed it down thickly. It stretched your throat. You watched in morbid fascination when he lay his hand on the table in a fan for all to horror at, a sly smirk slithering over his lips and curling the one corner of it up like a scorpion's tail.

“Full house.”

“Fuck!” And Luke’s hand slapped the tabletop as he folded.

The door clicked. All three looked up to see you. Luke, Joel, and the man who held a familiar resemblance to your own personal devil. With eyes on you, you felt more like that hare in the snare than ever. Clapping eyes on the hungry wolf as mutton dripped bloody from his sneer. Cruel and hungry. You imagined him as that wolf, hyde thick and bristled under your soft fingers as he led you to some deep, dark, thorny place. A place only lit by the eyes of owls who observed while he had his way with you. Ripped your stockings to get to sweet fruit.

“Great, the cunt is home.” Luke spat to the room but you, looking over the table again as he bit his thumb nervously to the edge of the hangnail. “Get me a beer.” Your nostrils flared in defiance at his demand, knuckles pale as fingers furled into a fist. An army of goosebumps had stood to attention all along your arms and the back of your neck. A shiver shattering down your spine. Your heart had enough of its prison of your ribcage in your anger, ramming into it over and over in a frantic hammering. And when that wasn't enough, you felt it in your throat. Among the tightening of your airways. “You hear me girl?” He asked, looking at you. He stood, chair scraping against the floor and you staggered back to the point your shoulderblades hit the door. While he was a thin, wiry man, he had a vicious backhand that stung. Like a vengeful aftertaste. “Y’need me to beat some sense inta ya girl, huh?!” You dared to spare a glance at Joel who was too busy collecting his winnings. You soon to be among them.

“Sorry.” You mumbled, looking to the floor and cowering off to the kitchen to get him his beer.

“Y’short, Luke.” You heard from the doorway, straining to hear the tail end of the conversation. Something about your uncle having it by monday. And then Joel telling him he shouldn’t raise a bet he doesn't have the dough to cover.

It took a second to catch your breath. Tears strung in your eyes and your chest threatened to split in two. Your sternum felt like it was cracking down the middle into clean halves under the weight of your chest. A hand clasped over your quivering lips to bite back a horrible sob and muffle it. Only your palm could know you were crying miserably. So you took a beer from the fridge, heard the hiss as the lid gave way and popped off. It clattered to the linoleum and you bared your teeth at the grating sound, picking it up and tossing it in the bin.

“Here.” You mumbled, placing it unceremoniously on the table in front of Luke.

“Y’got any spare cash on you, girl?” Luke asked, beady eyes staring you down as he raised the bottle to his lips and took a drink. You grimaced inwardly at the sight of his yellow teeth when he made a satisfied sigh.

“No.”

Joel’s brow raised. You should know by now not to lie to a man who can read you like a book. That's the thing about narcissists. They have a way of being able to understand you like a one word sentence on paper. A quick glance and you’re unravelling with concealed meaning and connotation.

“C’mon, Cherub…gotta have something from workin’ this late in that diner of yours…” You dared to challenge Joel with a look. A look that retreated soon after the advance of the glare of his eye. The same glare of the hungry wolf. Of the cheated man. It was unkind, and unyielding, and did not hold mercy upon the souls of the enthralled, the damned, or the harrowed. You might try to cross through the sentence, or turn the page. Or shut the book entirely. But the truth is still the truth even when you chose not to look. This was the man that knew your mind. Knew your body. And coaxed his will out of you each time. His word was all it took to cave, so you took the folded bills from your apron, flicking through them with a bitten back scowl,

“How much does he owe you?” Joel smiled with amusement, counting through his winnings to see what was short.

“Ninety-eight.”

‘What?” you asked, eyes wide, hurt. Disheartened. Fingers stilling halfway through the small stack. And Joel smirked.

“You heard me, Cherub.”

“Give Joel his money.” Luke warned.

“But it’s not his money! And it’s not yours to give!” You tried, and saw the warning tick of your uncle's narrow jaw. It was always set on edge before he threw a hand. Cast a palm across your cheek in a brandishing. It had you cowering. Relenting. Tossing the money in front of him. If it fell to the floor in its flurry he could pick it up and grovel about it. But Joel never grovelled. Only relished. Then reminded Luke of the money he still owed for the drugs.

And you walked back to the kitchen, biting into your lip again. With the devil and your demon in the next room over, you were sure this could be hell. A buzz filled your ears. Like the constant thrum of flies over roadkill. In festering flesh wounds where broken white of bone poked through gaping, bleeding holes. Blood matted in the hyde of the animal helpless and scattered across the road. A leg here, smashed teeth there. You were the roadkill. Joel was at the wheel of that which mowed you down. Luke was howling in the passenger side.

His boots thumped clumsily over the linoleum and he let out a huff through his nose while he adjusted his low slung jeans in the doorway.

“Cherub?” He asked, clearing his throat huskily — a consequence of the smokes he used religiously. You stood with your back to him, palms flat to the countertop and head hung low to fight the sting of tears simmering from within.

“He threatened to hit me.” You whispered, not turning to face him. If you mattered his ears would strain to meet you halfway. “And you did nothing.”

“Come on, Cherub…don't be like that.” he sighed, and you imagined him pinching the bridge of his hooked nose.

“He took my money. You took my money. How am I gonna get out of here without it?” You croaked, your tired eyes seeing faces of gaping mouths and slate black eyes in the speckled linoleum of the counter.

No reply came from the door. And when you turned it was empty. He had left. The other man had left. The tv was on again with the scream of a woman murdered. And Luke fell asleep in his lazy boy.

—

Another day, another shift. And more horror ensued. At first, what set the nerves thrumming was there was no sign of Luke. His truck was gone from its spot. No drunk slumped on the worn leather settee. No scream or grotesque image on the TV. Merely an empty bottle on the coffee table.

You swallowed, shutting the door cautiously with a muffled click of the latch. You didn't dare call his name. Just pushed it down into your stomach for it to churn the thought up in acid. But the horror jumped back up your throat into a lurid scream at the sight of your mattress tossed to the side. The moth bitten pillowcase on the floor, void of money. Your money. Gone. Someone had rifled through your belongings. Turned your only space into a mess. Strewn clothes, bed sheets, pillows in their haste. All your work. All the nights of living off bitter coffee from the pot at work, scrounging together tips. It made you seethe. The heat was an inferno at your fingertips, nails embedding crescents into your palms. You searched all over for it. But to no avail.

When Uncle Luke came home, he smelled of hard liquor. It was a miracle – or curse – he hadn't wrapped his car around a tree. He gloated, and sneered, and shoved it down your throat in his intoxication that he’d found it under the mattress. Joel had called him, told him you planned on leaving. And he connected the dots. Ransacked your room. Oh, how the man would hate his loose lips when you gave him hellfire.

You expected Luke’s reaction. You knew if he were to ever find out he’d snatch it up in his greedy, grimy hands and take it for himself. He spent all of it. Paid his debt to Joel, gambled some on bad luck bets, drank with the rest. Slugged liquor down his throat and got drunk off your labour. And then left you on your floor with tear stained cheeks and a heart of heavy lead.

You wanted your money. But would you take from the man who gave you your everything? Your sense of being. A religion and faith. You believed in nothing more than the way he held your name between his teeth. You forgot what your real name felt like in the same place. And it occurred to you that he had never said it. Did he know it? You weren't them anymore. You were Cherub.

The sweet and mourning lamb in you wanted to go over just to be his again, and not carry out the plan of taking back what was yours. That which he would see as sin. You felt guilt claw up your throat at the thought alone. It seemed blasphemous to conspire against him. Why do you insist on protecting yourself. You who was the sacrificial lamb?

If you did go – and you let him have you again – you were whole. But at what cost? Could you stand another night of temporary hell under the guise of heaven. Of touch so cold, like ivory or black ice. To have him thumb your skin with blunt endearments and the croon of ‘cherub’ past his chapped lips. Definite like black and white. No escape. What he’d do and how. Whispering them in the stone deaf shells of your ears like they were a sculpture. Pygmalion’s Bride. He’d made you all you were today. Took chisel to marble and carved out his masterpiece. Cherub.

You were soft, and pliable. Wax heated by his flame. You kissed back. You moaned for him. Begged him for his release and not your own. Bruised with his handprint. The warmth of life under flesh. But without him…you returned to marble. Another pretty thing to be gawked at. He tempted you with it because he knew more than anyone, more than god himself who watches these exchanges, that you can't live without him. It was like telling a child not to slip off to the woods in the dead of night. That was a pointless warning. You knew what lay there anyway, what threat it would be. That wolf in his thick bristled hyde. Curled up in his den. You would see it as innocence and vulnerability if you weren't so scared. But you knew when he woke up the teeth would shine again. And they’d tear flesh. Let blood. Gnash bone. Dripping from the glaring white once he finished with your carcass. Your matter between them and your crimson lacing his gums. Who knew being eaten alive could be so pleasurable.

But then again, how could bering alone really be hell if the devil wasn't there?

There is mania in your body. But you can't get it out. It rattles in your head and lungs and glues to the backs of your gnashers. No matter how much you wish to spit it out. It infects your tongue. It welds itself to the matter of your bones. Melts into the cracks between your teeth. Claggy against your tongue. All to show the sweetest of words have the bitterest of tastes. You can feel it swell underneath your skin. In the gap between muscles where it festers and heats you up. Like fever it burns, like the fire that consumes and the pillars that hold the temple up crack, the ground shakes, and the beast rears its ugly head at you. You’re losing your body to him. It's a fight you try to win. You dare to. You give your all, tooth and nail each time in the gaps between. In the silence and hollow that nestles in the middle of the meetings. In the quiet, where no one is around but the cracked plaster of your room. You stopped caring who fired the gun first. You were always the one who got shot down in the end. Right in the stomach. Blood gurgling up your throat in a grotesque plea for help.

All these weeks you had shrunk yourself to the size of a bird in his hands, sang a sweet sweet song of his name, until the squeeze of his first closest off your throat. And the sound stopped altogether. Laid there after the warning. Patient while you had your wings clipped and your freedom taken. And he took more. Took the beating of your heart with his teeth. Took the will to want. The will to love. The will to need anything else, as well as the need to have better. Below you were the foundations. Only now you saw them for what they were, a decaying mess of fragments, the stench of wood rot hot in your nose. A musk like no other. His musk. So in your anger you took an axe to a willow to see how it would weep. You slipped past the sleeping drunk you call Uncle Luke. Out the door, over gravel, past the truck he coaxed you to without the need of a sweet treat. You’d yank the axe from the bark of the weeping willow, its sob echoing in the wind that rustled its drapery of lush green leaves. Leaves that will wilt as sap bleeds from its severed trunk. Take the axe to the wolf. Cut him. Scrotum to throat.

Take back what was yours. And leave those woods skipping.

—

Your knocks descend upon his door in quick raps until he opened it with a grumble. Then a smirk. “Evenin’, Cherub.”

No salvation. No going back. No space among the clouds. Just the fall. You pushed past him into his front room. “Where is it?’ You hissed, tossing the cushions of the couch up. Nothing there. So you left them on the floor and did the same for the airchair. Nothing there either.

“Woah, calm down, girl!’ Joel huffed, reaching for your arm, which you tugged back from him in a new found strength surging you forward, out of his arms. “Where’s what?”

“My damn money, Miller!” You bit back with venom laced spit. A hunger for revenge making you salivate like a bad dog.

“The fuck you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I'm talking about, dickhead!” And he recoiled at your bared teeth, your verbal assault and battery, but went in for his own.

“Watch your damn foul language, girl!” He warned, reaching the end of his already short tether.

“You know how much he stole from me? Three hundred dollars of my hard earned chash. Forget my fucking ticket out of this shithole, I ain’t even paying rent now! And for what? Your god awful drugs!” His nostrils flared, and you watched the vein in his neck bulge under the sweltering heat of his own anger. Coiling inside him. Wounded bitch about to bite back.

“You didn’t have much of a probelm with my drugs after I fucked that pretty little hole of yours. All dumb and needy f’me, Cherub.” You grimaced at the sneer. But the feeling made your knees buckle. The name again. Cherub. You were Cherub. His cherub. “You want ya money back, huh? You can have it.”

That made you stutter. Thoughts skidding to halt at the sight of a brick wall. Crumpled matter as it smashed into it anyway. “What?”

“I ain't giving it to you for free though.”

“You're sick! It’s my fucking money!”

“Not in the eyes of the law its not.” And he folded his great oaks of arms over his chest in satisfaction. Once again one upping you.

“The eyes of the law? Says the fucking drug dealer. I bet you got way worse than coke in duffel over there. Wonder what the law would say about that?” It was said dismissively over your shoulder as you turned to leave. Alas, once again his large hand encompassed your wrist and squeezed. Pulled you back flush to his broad chest. His breath was hot on your neck as he whispered sweetly into your ear.

“Come on now, Cherub. You wouldn't do me in like that would ya? Not when I love ya…”

The way he said it…it didn't seem real. It was false. Comforting but not real. You knew it was a lie. This wasn't love. He didnt love. If he loved you he'd ask for your number then call you. Take you out. Let you cry on his shoulder and drive you home after. Kiss you in the dark for only the walls to see. Let you stay a night or two, or a whole damn week. Give you your damn money back. Stand up to Luke with a closed fist to the face. Leave swelling and a deep bruise on his cheekbone as a first and final warning.

“You love me?” You asked, voice small and hollow in your chest.

“Yeah, Cherub. I love you too.” He cooed, as if he knew you loved him already. All this and nose running over the curve of the side of your neck, tongue trailing hot in pursuit, it had you keeling over in confession at his feet. “You’re so cute when you're angry. Come on now, lemme make those tears go away…and you can have your money back, and we can forget this ever happened.” That tone…it was patronising. It made the sense in you rattle the cage of your ribs. Claw at the bars of bone and run into them like a caged animal. Because that’s what it was. A caged animal. But your heart was holding its hand over its mouth in a trance as it let his words ebb deeper. Somewhere between desperate and divine. But what was his motive?

God, Jesus, all above that is holy, you didn't care! After all this time, it was still no secret, or hushed uttering that Joel Miller was now everywhere in you. Scraping the backs of your teeth, festering like a virus in your bloodstream. Melding to the marrow of your bones. The walls of your cunt.

He still had a devastating habit of seeping through the cracks of your closed lids. Still ready to pillage and plunder his way through your head in its numbed state of sleep. When you could have finally— finally stopped and not felt. But he ebbs deeper. Always would. Always will.

It's what got you here. It would end you if it could. Snuff out your heartbeat and the fire inside of you. All he need do was lick his fingers and press them to the wick. And leave the smoke to string out and curl. You thought you were hungry for love before. But now you realised you were just hungry for the sight of your blood on his lips. The gnashing of you between his teeth. The curl you made of his brow. If it wasn’t devastating, reaping its agony in your silly little fractured chest— you didn’t dare need, nor crave it. You came for the pleasure but you stayed for the pain. And he took again, and again.

So you let him ‘make it up to you’. Let him claw at your clothes until they were scraps on the floor. Tore your stockings. Showed you those gleaming teeth. The wolf. And you, his sacrificial lamb. His Cherub.

“Feel that?’ He asked, with the slow drag back and forth of him inside you, parting you. This wasn’t fast, or rough. This was slow. And it made you need more. Need it faster. Need him hurtling you towards the edge of harrowing oblivion. He knew that. It’s why he took his time with it this time around. “Yeah. You do.” Joel answered for you. You never had to answer. But often he made you say it from your own quivering lips. Just to have the taste of the words from your tongue bleed into his. The neverending praise. “Why would you wanna leave that Cherub?” You couldn't answer, only let out a soft sob. “Huh? Answer me, Cherub. Why’d you wanna fuckin’ leave that?” And he punctuated it with pulling out to the bulbous head of his clock, then slamming back in with one sharp thrust. And then he was still.

You whined a shallow gasp into his mouth. But he didn’t kiss you. Joel never kissed you. His teeth sinking into your bottom lip shut you right up before his tongue delved deeper into it. The thumb of the hand that slithered between your legs rolled over your clit, making you mewl over the buzz of electricity causing you to clamp down on his thick, full cock. You were so eager for more. Anything more than what he was giving you. He smirked into your mouth when he felt your hips buck forward, trying your damn hardest to push his cock deeper into you. Silly little cherub. You should know better than to defy God. “See? Felt good didn’t it?” You nodded as much as you could in your current piston.

“Mhm.”

“See what you can have if you stay. Why fight it cherub?”

“Yes, Joel.”

“You gonna listen then, Cherub?”

“Yes. Yes! I’ll listen, just-” You shuddered at the thought of it, tears brimming at the the threshold of your eye. ”Please.”

“Say it.” He waited, wanting you to beg for it in the pretty way he knew you could. The choir voice. The songbirds hymn. The whole time his eyes did nothing but stare you down hungry at the sight of you falling apart from nothing but a hand to your throat and a single his throbbing dick buried in your aching cunt. It all pooled down into your centre, creating a rush your head had trouble keeping up with. “Tell me why you wanted to leave.”

“I dunno-” You stuttered, once again rolling your hips up. His hand at your throat pressed into your skin again, harder. It choked you. It had you drawing in a sharp, meagre breath. And he pulled out, running the underside of himself through the hot, drooling seam of your cunt. You shivered when the tip brushed up to your clit momentarily. The bead of precome at his slit smearing into your sex, mixing with your slick. “I dunno, Joel. I- I just wanted my money. I just wanted out. I hate it.” You babbled through closed eyes, chest heaving with sobs, and hot tears ran thick down your flushed cheeks.

“You hate it, huh?” He mocked and crooned, still catching your clit with the tip of his cock, hips waxing and waning in a slow roll. “You hate me too?” He knew the answer. But again, it was the satisfaction of knowing you were wrapped around his finger. Ready to bend over backwards for him. Him seeping into you through the cracks of your ribs, the gaps between your teeth. The opening of yourself to the twisting knot of denial within you. Your back arched like the lofty roof of a chapel, legs parting like its heavy doors. He followed you with hunger. You opened your mouth to speak but he squeezed momentarily on your throat again, oxygen starvation and the smell of him dizzying you. He relished in the whimper that he garnered from you. That and how he left you breathless just from his cruel touch.

“No.” You garbled as his thumb unhinged your jaw. Saliva in your mouth pooling while his thumb pressed your tongue down, bitter with a smokers telltale tobacco staining. It slipped past your lips, dribbled down his digits making a sticky mess at the curve of his thick wrist. He drew up a glob of saliva in his throat, watching as it drooled thickly, gluttonously, past his lips into your waiting mouth. He watched as you gagged on it, and then he let your jaw go so you could close your mouth. You swallowed eagerly, savouring the taste on your tongue. For what did it matter anymore? One day, you’ll be nothing but dust. Bronchioles in lungs will mimic roots. Navels will copy trunks. Organs will feed worms. Ribs will fossilise and lips that are kissed will mould back to Mother Nature. It's all you have ever been. Quick. Convenient. Easy to please, eager to help. Waiting lips, wanting cunt. Warm, never warm enough. But he kept you like a butterfly in a glass jar. He let you see freedom but never experience it. Why need it when you had the stretch of him inside you. The feeling of him, heat to heat with your sex.

“You want this, cherub? Wanna be stuffed full of me again?”

“Always wanted it, Joel.” You mumbled into his mouth, sniffing back the last this spurt of tears, hypnotised. His hand wrapped around his cock, the large splay of his palm did nothing to dwarf its size with he jacked himself once, twice, three times to the sight of you. He squeezed the base with hiss, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth after cursing under his bated breath. He was thick, flushed, the tip swollen and leaking, drooling greedily with a rivulet of precum down the underside of his length. He trod a path with his hands down to your breasts, kneading each one between his palms with a pinch before guiding himself back into the mouth of your heat, your cunt swallowing him down to the base. The needy roll of your hips into his showed just how desperate you were. He groaned at the start of the friction between you, and slowly dragged back out of you, moving just as slowly back inside. He repeated this twice, and then he let loose. The motion turned into a needy clash of his hips to yours. Again. Again. Again. Somewhere along the sting of passion and heat, his hand wrapped around your throat, feeling the flex of it as you swallowed under his palm. He bit down into your neck, reaching out from you as his hips slammed erratically. His heavy balls slapping against your ass with each rut forward of his unrelenting. The way he fucked you, was like holding a knife to your throat. It grounded you in the most harrowing way to each of his breaths. His panting in your ear. It swallowed you whole. Mad your legs wrap around his waist and your hips keen up into him.

Your cunt drooled down his shaft, down to the base, down the sensitive skin of his cock. He growled and hissed in your ear, teeth closing around your earlobe, his hand dragging back up and grip tightening around your neck. Getting off on the feeling of your pulse under his thumb.

You felt the knot tighten. And tighten. Right in the pit of your stomach, deep in your sopping wet cunt where the mouth of your cervix met his fucking. The walls of your cunt sucking him back in as the angle of his hips snapped up into the spot that had you seeing entire constellations. They darted to and fro across your vision. It blurred the edge, spots of dark matter, deep black, the colour of oblivion slinging over the back of your eyes that now burned with tears of pleasure. His fingers dug deeper into malleable flesh, gripped tightly at your hip with his free hand, thumb brushing over your hip bone down your mound to toy with your clit after a slap to it. And it was the action that sent you spiralling, babbling his name nonsensically among a string of curse words. So pretty and fucked out beneath him. Joel couldn’t help but stare smugly as your eyes rolled back into your head when your orgasm hit like a freight train. He came undone soon after, his climax hitting a crescendo with a growl bitten into your shoulder, bruising and brandishing you with his mark again.

He pulled back, leaving you to the mercy of the cold. Watching was his hips moved again to fuck his release back into you. Your hole quivered in protest, and you squirmed under him. “Don’t be fucking ungreatful now, Cherub.” You relented, going still and boneless on the mattress. Limbs unfurling from their tension. “That's it. Take it. Take it all.” He groaned smoothly. Just like the roll of his hips. He fucked it slowly back into you. And you took his release inside you to keep. “Good girl, Cherub.” He whispered, kissing your lips in a tender dichotomy. Not letting you rest until he was satisfied you took every drop of him. Afterall, it was all you’d have left of him until he next chose to pick you up. All the while, he trailed his tongue back down to your breasts, pressing the flat of it to your nipple, drawing it with a sharp suck into his mouth. Pressing the blunt of his teeth into your flesh. Letting the taste melt on his tongue. Salty with your sweat. He did the same to the others. When he went soft inside of you, and his hips stilled. He slipped out of you with hitched breath, the pad of his fingertips tracing your abused, used sex. Your legs twitching when he rolled your clit under two fingers. “I said stop squirming.” He grunted, landing another slap to your pussy. It made an obscene wet sound. His come dribbling out slowly.

“Open your mouth.” Joel commanded, and you did. Waiting for whatever he had planned. He licked a hot strip from your asshole to your cunt, pressing his tongue in to drag out some of his release. And he climbed back up to spit it into your mouth. A hand clamping down on your jaw. “Don’t swallow. Close your mouth.” And you did with the side of his thumb clamping it shut for you. “Taste that?” You nodded in response. It was hot, heavy and thick and salty to taste. Divine. “Show me.” You opened again, his creamy spend diluted amongst your saliva and he smirked. Clamping your jaw shut again. “Swallow.”

Joel watched in open mouthed amusement as the delicate column of your throat rippled under muscle contract. “Good girl, Cherub. Remember that taste next time y’feel like leaving again.” He warned in a growl. And you nodded, swallowing your pride. Your fear. Your mania aiding in shoving it down your throat to dissolve in acid. Once again you were in those deep dark woods. The one where the wolf lay. Remnants of you in his teeth. The willow is still weeping, slashed in half. The axe free of his bloodshed by the entrance of his den. The owls' eyes still lit the scene of sin where overhead the starlight was snuffed out by the tangle of branches thick in their black greenery.

You never got your money back. Maybe one day you'd get out of this town. But the devil has a funny habit of making you want your own suffering. Even angels can’t resist a slice of that heaven. Fallen angel. Wounded bitch. Cherub.

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ijuststareatstuffhereok89 · 3 months

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"Time & the Trickster" A Loki/Doctor Who crossover

Chapter 4: The Magic I Can Do

Your only way to begin your journey to see The Doctor is when Loki pulls out the few tricks he still has at his fingertips to lie and deceive your way onto a train, which stirs new feelings of jealousy.

CHAPTER WARNING: Reader has a panic attack, jealousy

Previous Chapter · Next Chapter MASTERLIST

Admittedly, having a panic attack in front of Loki, dignified and noble God of Asgard, was not your finest hour.

Joey’s words immediately unraveled the net of plans that you and Loki were just beginning to weave. You were back behind Square One. Your head went fuzzy and your breathing grew heavy. The room grew hotter than it already had been, and the humidity only served to further suffocate you. Your senses began to take flight, and all that was on your mind was how this was going to make staying in the apartment almost impossible unless Joey procured another job immediately.

In this economy, that was hardly likely.

You mumbled nearly incoherently, your anxiety disorder bubbling to the surface again. “Fired? But…London! And our rent! And…him!”

Everything was happening at the same time while your body began drinking its own internal speed and making things worse. Half your livelihood was gone for at least the summer, and now you had a helpless, sexy dependant who needed to be taxied halfway around the world before it got sucked into some anti-world where up and down. Your eyes began darting back and forth as if you were reading your morbid premonition on a teleprompter.

Joey knew what to do when you had a breakdown. Without adding to the drama, he brisky went for the kitchen, getting a glass of water as Loki guided you over to the sofa. Thankfully, a near lifetime of a moderate anxiety disorder meant that Joey knew how to take care of you (though it was embarrassing to admit even to yourself that your little brother sometimes had to step up and be your keeper, if only for a few minutes). The one consolation was that usually, the meltdowns were brief.

As you recalibrated, Joey forced Loki aside and sat next to you, water ready for whenever you reached for it. Loki stood behind the sofa, watching with regret.

“I’ve brought all of this trouble onto you both, and I never meant to hurt her,” he began blathering. “She’s wonderful.”

Joey held up a silent hand, his usually reckless attitude pushed to the side for the sake of brotherly love. Loki felt envious, wondering if this was what he would do for Thor, or Thor for him, if they both lived in this magicless, Asgard-less life.

About fifteen minutes passed before your heart slowed and your temperature dropped. The heat in your face receded. Loki pulled the barstool over and sat nearby, giving you the only privacy he could by looking everywhere but your direction.

“Jesus, guys, I’m sorry I did that,” was the first thing you said.

“Y/N, you know I’ll smack you if you apologize for that again,” Joey mumbled, making both you and Loki smile in relief.

“You say that every time. But I’m back,” you said.

You asked them not to bring it up, but you still sensed the icky feeling of pity falling over you from Loki’s direction. Great, now he probably thinks I’m a baby!

“Joey, what are we going to do?” you asked meekly, refusing to acknowledge the God-shaped elephant in the room while you still got over the internal embarrassment.

“This month is paid,” he reminded you. “I can borrow money for rent if it’ll ease your mind.”

You shook your head. The idea of taking on debt only added to your stress levels. “I don't want that.”

“Or we could talk to Gino. He’s not a bad guy, maybe he’ll spot us a month or two,” your brother suggested.

“Joey, even rent can wait,” you interrupted. “What about…?”

Joey looked up and nodded. “Yeah, we need to figure that out first. You think you’re back in your head enough to strategize, Big Sis?”

You affirmed with a wink. Loki’s tense posture relaxed.

You had Joey make a pot of coffee and pull out whatever food was left in your kitchen, which ended up making an odd meal of frozen fish sticks, vanilla pudding, and a few apples due to expire in the coming hours.

The summer sun took it’s sweet time setting, but even by dark midnight you were sitting around, slowly eating the last food you had in the house and planning for Loki’s escape together. The apartment cooled as the heat no longer radiated in from the west window. You hadn’t realized how much the hot, sticky environment was contributing to your stress until it was gone.

“Joey, I’m really beginning to think we need to get Loki to London,” you said. “I feel like it’s the right move.”

“Maybe I can try posing as the actor again,” Loki suggested. “Clearly it works.”

Joey frowned. “Until the wrong person spots you and it gets back to the Real Guy that he’s got an imposter.”

“You don't understand, Loki,” you sighed. “It’s one thing to fool a drunken old fart in a southside pawn shop. Getting out of the country requires paperwork and money! I mean, I think Joey and I still have valid passports, but I don’t think that shiny little stone is going to get you past customs in Merry Ol’ England.”

“Trains are cheaper,” Joey suggested. “Your paycheck would cover seats for all of us.”

Rolling your eyes, you reached out for a fish stick. Loki had been reaching for it at the same time, and your fingers brushed against one another. You almost giggled at how silly the cliche was, or perhaps at how his skin tickled your knuckle.

“It’s yours,” he insisted. You batted your eyes in flirtatious thanks. He winked back.

“And how many trains go over three-thousand miles of ocean, wise-ass?” you quickly recovered, leaning back against the sofa and crossing your legs.

Your brother threw up his hands. “I’m saying let’s get to Boston first, Sis. We’ll stay at my friend Paulie’s. We can see about getting on a plane or a boat from there.”

“Paulie, your old college friend? Ugh, he always smells like warm cabbage,” you cringed.

“Well it’s either we get to Boston via train and stay with Paulie for free, or we stay in a dirty hostel three-to-a-mattress and walk.”

Ugh, you don’t need to be a jerk, you thought. It was remarkable how quickly Joey could switch from being a sweet man to being a complete jackass.

Meanwhile, the split-second idea of sharing a mattress with Loki made your head spin in a different direction.

“And what happens when we get there? Do we know where this Doctor fellow is? Do we know for sure he can get me back to the TVA?” Loki interrogated. “And how do we do it?”

You bit your lip, looking down at your feet. “I don’t know. For all we know, he could just be a stuntman and the whole thing is a dead end.”

“But what else is there?” Loki asked. “You’re right, we need to try it, but can we really wait a whole week?”

You thought. “Well, no. I can ask Mrs. Graves for an advancement tomorrow. She’ll give it to me, but it won’t be much more than what the train tickets are worth.” You’d taken a day off the previous week for a dentist appointment that went longer than you’d expected. That meant a whole day’s work would be left off your check this week for the sake of three fillings that cost eight times as much as the day would have paid.

Loki’s ip twitch as he had a thought. “How much can this man really do if his own means of traveling has left him abandoned?” You and Joey looked at one another in silence. Neither of you had the answer, because the question answered itself.

Joey smiled, deciding to diffuse the pessimism. “Wow, going to see the Doctor! And the fact that he’s actually real!”

Twisting your lip and letting the stress melt away as best you could, you added, “Well given the circumstances, maybe that shouldn’t surprise you.”

“No,” Joey replied, pausing fondly to recall a memory, “It’s just that…it would’ve rocked Dad’s world to see this.”

“I know,” you said sweetly.

“Perhaps…” Loki chimed in, “If he has a set of films or shows like Loki of This World does, I should watch these, or I’ll remain confused about this mysterious man no matter how close we get to him. I’d rather not have any more mysteries in my life at the moment, if you don’t mind.”

You looked at Joey with a grin. “What say you? All-night Tennant binge?”

You already knew the answer.

For as invested as Loki seemed to be in the first few episodes of Doctor Who that you showed him, after you came back to the sofa from a bathroom run, he’d fallen asleep on the couch, sitting up, his head lolled back in peaceful repose.

Joey hadn’t even noticed, lost in Silence in the Library, until you pointed at him silently.

“I guess even Gods need sleep,” he joked, turning the TV off as you threw a crocheted blanket over his chest. Perhaps this was the only time his mind could be at ease in this strange, worthless universe.

You weren’t expected at work until 1pm the following day, but if time was of the essence, you decided that taking the earliest bus up into the village of Liverpool was the best course of action. Thankfully you had a bus pass that still had money on it, so it didn’t cost anything in cash to get you and Loki up and out of the city that morning.

Liverpool was a small, dense little village at the opposite end of the lake that bordered the north side. It was the closest the region got to a sweet provincial town, with several parks, small businesses, coffee shops, and libraries. The bookshop where you worked was a hop and a skip from the bus stop, sandwiched between a chiropractor’s office and a cafe.

“Mrs. Graves is a kind old lady, but she’s a bit conservative,” you warned as you opened the door for Loki. “Let me do the talking, please.”

Loki raised an eyebrow. “I regret to inform you that you have just asked an impossible task of me.”

“What?” you asked harshly, squinting your eyes.

“Well, someone once told me that I like to hear myself talk. The more I go forward, the more I guess I’m starting to believe it.” He didn’t sound overly serious. You chose not to press the matter further. Loki may have been a bit mercurial for the average person, but he had to know the basics of how to behave on Earth…

…or is it Midgard? No, Earth! You may have been adjusting to the situation now that you were thirty-six hours into it, but the absurdity of it all was still overwhelming.

“Hello?” you called as you walked in with your charge. At first, there was no answer.

“Mrs G?” you called louder, walking into the stacks and shelves, leaving Loki to meander behind you.

“Mom’s not here,” called a higher, younger voice than you expected.

Fuck. It’s Danielle. This will be a blast.

Danielle was Mrs. Graves’ daughter. She was a sour, grumpy woman the same age as you. You’d gone to school together, where you rarely interacted beyond the few times you were lab partners. While you were supposed to be working after school, she’d always ditched you to do everything while she snuck out to football practice to collect STDs from the benchwarmers.

What sucked was that she was a stunner, tall, thin in all the right places, and of course, naturally charismatic with whoever she deemed worthy of her attention. In school, she used to get away with everything. Now that she was your de facto supervisor whenever her mother wasn’t around, it was evident that some people never changed.

“I need my check early, Dan,” you continued to raise your voice, hoping to save face before she inevitably slapped it right in front of the God of Mischief. “I’ll get it and get out of your hair.”

“As if! Like you’re getting a dime before Friday!”

She emerged from the Sociology section in a bright blue sundress that you immediately envied. Automatically, she began to berate you in the way only she could get away with. “Mom called me in because she thought you were going to call in sick again. You’ve been doing that way too much lately, Y/N. Between dental work and getting sick all in the same week, are you sure you aren’t just falling apart?”

She immediately laughed at her own joke. You hung your head, aware of Loki right behind you, listening to her insults. She stopped short when she noticed him.

She was always reading every celebrity rag she could get her hands on, and you had no doubt she could recognize an A-lister from behind a brick wall. Therefore, it only took her a moment to completely change her demeanor. “Wait…are you shitting me? Oh…it can’t be! Y/N!”

She tossed her hair over her shoulder and cocked a hip to the side, posing like a runway model. “I mean, you didn’t tell me you knew Tom Hiddleston! Mind introducing me?”

You grunted, but before you could say anything resembling words, Loki gently nudged you aside, walking forward and extending a hand. “Good morning, Madame. Might I say, that dress is lovely on you.” He swept up her hand in order to kiss it delicately.

“Oh!”

She widened her eyes. You narrowed yours.

“Uh…Lokes?” you said insecurely.

He ignored you. “Y/N and I have a distant relative, and I happened to be around filming a secret project.” He flirtatiously bright his finger to his lips, punctuating the lie with a ‘shh!”

Your jaw dropped, showing off every one of those new fillings.

“Mr. Hiddles--”

“--Tom, please. It’s Tom to the prettiest ones.”

Danielle looked about ready to pee. Her body spasmed as it tried to keep poise, only to fail instantly at the god’s unfurling smile. “Oh, I’m surely not as lovely as all the girls out there--”

“--a-HEM!” you suddenly cleared your throat from the sidelines. “Uh, Cousin Tom,” you warned, hissing through your teeth with all of the self-control you were capable of, “Need I remind you that you’re married.”

The couple ignored you. Your eyes rolled so far back into your head you saw black.

“I’m afraid something’s gone terribly amiss with my accounts, love,” Loki’s words came out like smooth butter. They sounded so genuine. Of course he would go after Danielle like this! “Some monster tried to rob me.”

“How terrible!: Danielle swooned. “Who would do such a thing?”

“People who think just because I have the world at my feet that I am not still a man,” Loki answered, looking off dramatically into the middle distance. “I feed my family with that money…I earned it bringing smiles to the people of this world…”

Shoot me, you thought. Please do it quickly, before she has your baby!

“I need to get home, my daughter--”

“--son!--” you corrected with a cough.

“--my son is missing me!” he corrected without missing a beat.

Danielle held her hands over her heart, eating his disgusting story up like kibble. “Oh my goodness! Let me help you out!”

Danielle led you up a set of stairs behind the childrens’ section, up to the small office built into the second floor. The besotted bitch wasted no time in opening up the safe. First, she pulled out a slip of paper and slapped it onto the desk, signing it and tossing it to you with little ceremony. “Here, Y/N.”

Your check had a little less to it than you’d anticipated, but as it turned out, that wouldn;t matter. Danielle pulled out a large brown envelope from the safe, taking a minute to sift through it. As she pulled out a smaller white envelope, you decided that enough was enough. You couldn’t have Loki committing both identity theft AND robbery on the same day. Showing off too much would eventually draw the worst kind of attention.

“Loki, let’s leave before--”

Danielle pressed the envelope into Loki’s hand. “It’s not much, but it’ll get you first class on your way back. I’m sure coach conditions would be too harsh for you, Tom.”

You finally reached out to take Loki’s arm, tugging it firmly. “Let’s go…Cousin Tom!”

“One moment, Cousin Y/N!” Loki leaned over Danielle, laying a kiss on her cheek. “Thank you, beautiful Danielle. I shall remember your kindness forever.”

You couldn’t get Loki out of the store fast enough. You were so angry, you felt as if you could spit fire. The embers of jealousy were glowing inside your chest as you puffed it out defiantly, beginning to scold Loki like a mother.

“You can’t keep doing that!” you barked.

“Why not? I just got us--” he trailed off as he handed you the envelope. You opened it and quickly counted nearly $1000 dollars. Combined with your paycheck, it was enough for train tickets, possibly even the whole week in a cheap motel outside of Boston.

At least we won’t have to stay with that dumbass Paulie!

“Loki, you’re lucky she didn’t think to ask for a photo! You can bet she’s going to be going to all of her social media accounts about this,” you explained. “It can get back to the real man you’re pretending to be. You don't have the magic to get out of federal prison! You get busted, Loki, and you’ll NEVER get home!”

You were so angry and jealous that you turned your back, keeping tabs on the envelope, and walked back toward the bus stop. Loki had to chase you.

“Y/N, are you upset with me?” he asked, disbelieving.

“I…” you stopped yourself, touching the necklace you were wearing that he’d just gotten for you without a thought. Suddenly, it didn;t seem to matter as much that he’d batted his eyes at the likes of Danielle. He wanted something from her. He’d only wanted to give something to you.

“...you know what? I’m being silly. It’s been an emotional few days.” You didn’t want to risk another panic attack in front of him, especially seeing as you didn’t have your Emotional Support Joey this time. “I imagine you get it.”

Loki smiled, clearly relieved at your changing mood. “I do.”

You stood at the stop for about fifteen minutes. Luckily, today was a bit more temperate, the humidity giving way to a rather refreshing breeze. “Well,” you said with a smile, “At least we have a way to get to the coast….thanks to you.”

You looked up at him as he stepped toe-to-toe with you. “I owe the hope that I have to you, Y/N, but I must ask you something serious.”

You took in a deep breath. “Yeah?”

“...was my performance stirring? Was I sweet?” he asked, barely holding in his need to tease.

You pursed your lips and shook your head. “Sugary-sweet, Mr. Loki, and the last thing I needed today was another cavity.”

He chuckled, putting a kind hand on your shoulder as the bus pulled up. “Well, it seems I can pay for your surgeon’s bill this time, courtesy of Danielle!”

Of course he was only joking. Every cent of that bonus money needed to be spent on your upcoming journey, and after you returned home, it was nearly noon. Joey had fallen asleep with the TV still turned on. You chucked a pillow at him in order to wake him up, and the rest of the day spent planning and booking tickets to New England.

By 8am the following morning, the three of you were walking the eleven blocks northward toward the transit station, you and your brother with duffel bags slung over your shoulders, Loki holding the tickets, passports, and money in a messenger bag of his own that you’d dug through the closet to find. It was foggy and overcast, which was a weather pattern more common in the city than bright, sunny skies.

Luckily, the train was on time, so you didn’t have to spend much time in front of everyone in the waiting area, risking someone identifying Loki as someone of consequence.

“You didn’t spring for Business class?” Joey complained, reading his ticket. “We could’ve afforded it, Sis.”

“Twenty bucks extra each? That’s grocery and lodging,” you reasoned. “Fuck that. We don't even know how we’re going to be able to afford to get out of Boston! The first thing we do after we check into our motel is find a bodega that has food.”

Joey leaned in to Loki with an aside, as if you couldn’t perfectly hear him when he said, “She’s worse than a mom, isn’t she?”

“Well, maybe if you didn’t always act like you still needed one--”

“--here it comes!” Loki announced as you made your way onto the platform, where four other individuals stood, waiting about as you now were. The train was always close enough to hear as it pulled up, a strong breath of wind in its wake. It was nearly deafening.

Several conductors in matching suits exited the train and began scanning tickets, letting people abroad.

Joey whispered behind his hand to both of you: “Let me go first, I got this.”

You grunted with disapproval. Joey presented his ticket to the conductor, choosing the only woman among the staff. To your deep regret, she was also an attractive lady.

“I don't know, Mr. Hiddleston, trains are good for traveling incognito, but someone could still discover you in coach--”

The conductor immediately whipped her head up, observing Loki for several seconds, assessing him. Her cheeks grew red as she quickly grew embarrassed to be standing there in her stiff gray dress skirt.

“--oh, our Business class car has plenty of unassigned seats,” she said quickly. “I can let the conductor back there know that we upgraded you.”

“Oh, are you certain?” Loki asked slowly.

Don’t rub it in, showboater. you prayed. You were growing agitated again. Had Loki listened to a word you said outside the bookstore?

“It;s Amtrak’s pleasure,” said the conductor. “Go down to the last car, and I’ll radio our staff down there that you’re keeping a low profile.”

“A million thanks,” Loki pressed his hands together as you presented your ticket, choosing to brush past him.

You could hear the conductor saying in a coquettish voice, “Maybe I’ll wander back later and we could take a photo together?”

Within five minutes, the train jerked to a start, and the three of you finally left Syracuse behind, the announcer on the loudspeaker promising an arrival in Boston seven hours hence. The Business Class car layout was simple, but with more space than a coach car. One side of the aisle was lined with single seats, the other doubles. Joey claimed a single seat near the middle of the car, and you took it as a signal to put your bags up above his head and settle in the double-set of seats across the way from him.

You quickly claimed the window before thinking better of it. “Loki, you take that one. Everyone’s going to see your face if you’re right on the aisle.” He quietly got into the seat, you next to him. You instantly became aware that your thighs were touching. If he noticed, Loki didn’t say anything or shift in his seat.

“See ya in seven hours, nerds,” Joey put up his leg rest and pulled down the baseball cap he wore over his eyes.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, Loki leaned over to whisper in your ear. “Don’t fret, please.”

“You haven’t listened to me! We cannot be caught, Loki!” you answered.

“I know that, Y/N, please trust me,” he answered. “But perhaps your brother was correct. There was more of a risk sitting among all of those extra people.”

It was true, this car was nearly entirely empty as opposed to the rest of the train.

“Y/N, this world is the strangest I’ve ever seen, including the version of it where I;m from,” he confessed. “I have never been so vulnerable…so…mortal, than as I have been these past few days.”

That hadn’t occurred to you.

“This is the only thing I can do to help you and your brother with this miserable chore I’ve given you by showing up in your lives unannounced like this. I have no magic, no illusions other than the ones I can conjure with my lies.”

You were bold and laid your hand on top of his. “You’re not a burden. Never.”

Loki looked touched. “Thank you, Y/N.”

.The two of you fell asleep before being on the train for an hour. When Loki awoke hours later, he noticed that you’d never let go of his hand, and that your head was leaning against his shoulder.

He smiled tenderly and leaned his own head against the top of yours, getting the slightest whiff of your floral body spray before letting it lull him back into a pleasant sleep.

TAGLIST: @crashingwavesofeuphoria @kkdvkyya @red-shirt-mania @misschris1412 @salvinaa @marygoddessofmischief @spiderstyles04 @fireflymoonwitch @mochie85 @loz-3 @lcolumbia1988 @lokilurker @eleniblue @gruftiela @starkzdaughter @mrsbarnes-avenger @thedistractedagglomeration @km-ffluv @lokisgoodgirl @holdmytesseract @itsthattimedarling @wolfsmom1 @scully2u @shinisenko @mischief2sarawr @ririsutty73 @lulubelle814 @meg81589 @gloriuspurposeposts @theonetruepotato87 @linllewellyn @wistfulclueless @etherealkistar @tinydancer40 @hardtravelerwizard-blog

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pahtoosh · 10 months

Note

hey!! your work is so comforting and warm, and it makes me feel fuzzy. 🥰 I don’t know if you take requests, but if so, could I have little!reader who doesn’t want to have a bath/get ready for bed and how stucky react to that? reader’s insistent on staying up and will do whatever it takes to stop them from getting them to bed. thank you!! ❤️

stinky baby

masterlist

18+

wc: ~1000 words

warnings: steve and bucky call you a stinky baby😦

a/n: I absolutely take requests! it just takes me a while to get to them😅 thank you so much for your kind words and this lovely request🤍

pairing: stucky x gn!little!reader | dada = steve, baba = bucky, daddies = both steve and bucky

summary: bucky and steve resort to mild tricks and name-calling to get you in the bath.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Compared to other kiddos, you were a bit…messy. Your room was often littered with toys and craft materials. You also refused to let anyone help you eat, so your daddies never left the house without hand sanitizer, a pack of wet wipes, and a change of clothes for you.

Your daddies didn’t love messes, but they got used to the small spills and stains for you. In the beginning of your relationship, they tried acclimating you to their strict cleaning regimens from the old days, but they stopped when they saw it was holding you back from being your happy and carefree self.

So while it drove Steve mad when you left stray socks around the house, he just took a deep breath and put them in the hamper for you because you were his happy, healthy baby and that was all that really mattered. You cleaned when Steve or Bucky asked you to, so they let the small stuff go.

One thing they couldn’t let you get away with though, was skipping bathtime.

For dinner, you decided that you needed to be on Bucky’s lap to eat your grilled cheese. Baba didn’t mind too much, he loved holding you after all. Bucky finished his sandwich so he scrolled through an article on his phone while you happily munched and left crumbs on both of your laps.

“Baba, where Dada go?”

“Don’t talk with food in your mouth, sweetheart. Dada’s just doing some work around the house. He finished his dinner early.”

“But,” you took a second to swallow. “Daddies say no leaving da table.”

Bucky and Steve usually didn’t let you leave the table until all three of you were done eating because family time was so important to them. Today, Steve broke that rule to get a bath ready for you without you knowing.

A bead of sweat ran down Bucky’s back. He had no issue deceiving people on missions, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell a single white lie to your adorable face.

“How ‘bout you finish your dinner and then you can ask Dada yourself.” Bucky mentally high-fived himself for his quick save.

“Okay, Baba!”

You finished your dinner, even eating all of the veggies on your plate. You wanted to run and find Dada, but Bucky told you to let the food settle before you moved around too much. He rubbed your tummy and chuckled at your pouty demeanor while you slouched in his lap.

“Did our little sweetheart finish their dinner?”

“Dada! Where you go?”

“I was getting something ready for you, you wanna come up and see?”

“Ooh, surprise! Surprise! Let’s go!”

You and your daddies made your way upstairs. Steve led you to the bathroom, which was confusing. What kind of a surprise goes in the bathroom? You opened the door and were met with a beautifully bubbly bath complete with lots of bath toys and a light that created stars on the walls and ceiling.

It all looked so fun, but you were not getting into the bath.

“Wow.”

“What do you think, baby? Are you ready to take a bath?”

“Um…” you scrambled your mind for an excuse. “Need a snack before bath!”

“But you just ate dinner, Angel. If you’re still feeling snacky later, you can have a snack after your bath.”

“Okay, but I…I don like dis soap.” You shook your head and pointed to the soap bottle near you.

“Lucky for you,” Steve kneeled down and booped your nose. “I didn’t use that soap. I used your favorite one!” He scooped up a small handful of bubbles and let you take a sniff. He was right, it was your favorite scent.

“No more excuses, baby. It’s bath time,” Bucky said.

“Okay.” You looked at the bath, sadly. In the corner of your eye, you saw Baba move away from the door and decided to make one last escape attempt.

“Dada, you have somefin’ on your shirt!” You put a couple bubbles on Steve’s sleeve and tried to run away. Unfortunately, Dada was too smart for your tricks and caught you before you could leave the bathroom.

“Nice try, sneaky. But you can’t skip bathtime. Don’t you wanna feel all fresh and clean? We’ll put you in some fun jammies and a nice lotion so your skin is soft and cozy.”

You shook your head. “No bath! No bath!”

Steve opened his mouth to give you a lecture on routines and hygiene and “daddies know best” but Bucky cut him off.

“Welllll I guess if you don’t wanna shower, you’re just gonna be a stinky little baby.”

“Buck, what-“

Bucky subtly poked Steve in the ribs.

“Do you wanna be a stinky baby?”

“N-no. Not stinky!”

“If you don’t shower, you’re gonna be stinky! Stinky baby, stinky baby.”

“Baba, I not stinky,” you said seriously.

“I think you are! Maybe we’ll just call you Little Stinky,” Steve joined in.

“Stinky baby, stinky baby,” Bucky teased.

“OKAY! I take a bath.” You brushed aside your daddies’ hands as you got undressed and went into the tub. You did not want their help. “Nodda stinky baby,” you muttered.

“At least not anymore.” Steve picked up a washcloth and helped you bathe.

“Our angel’s clean as a whistle after this bath,” Bucky chimed in.

You were still angry. “Daddies bad and called names.”

“We did do that, didn’t we, Buck?” Steve stopped his movements and looked at you guiltily.

“We’re sorry for calling you a stinky baby. It won’t happen again.”

“Promise.”

You huffed. “Still mad.”

“Awh. What can we do to make it up to you, baby?”

You took a moment to think. “Want cookies for breakfast and FOUR stories for bedtime.”

“As long as there’s a fruit with those cookies, we can do that.”

“And I want extra daddy cuddles today.”

Steve continued washing you. “We’ll cuddle all night with you, sweetie.”

At the end of the day, you were clean, had multiple bedtime stories read to you, and you got unlimited cuddles. It was a win for everyone.

#stucky x little!reader #daddy!stucky x little!reader #oneshot #fluff #sfw regression #agere fic #littlespace fics #marvel agere #stinky baby #stinky-baby #toosh writes #requests

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cowboydisaster · 1 year

Text

The Fire In Your Eyes

part XI: Horseshoe Overlook vii

pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

word count: 10.2k

summary: Arthur has to break Micah out of jail, leaving you to work a livestock job with John. Hell breaks loose in Valentine, and once again you're forced to leave or die.

a/n: I love this chapter, angst, fluff, a fight, shootouts!! AH. Also if you speak german, I'm so sorry if I butchered the translations. I tried my best. Also tumblr formatting is a pain in the ass, so im sorry for that too lol

warnings: violence, graphic depictions of violence

beta read by @margowritesthings

series extras

SERIES MASTERPOST

The red, cotton sheets are soft against your skin as you wake up, blinking away the fog of sleep. Sunlight shines in through the french doors, making the room almost too bright as your eyes adjust to the light. But, the most important thing that you notice is the absence of that familiar, solid, warmth beside you. Your head pops up from the pillow, squinting as you scan the room.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to wake ya.” Arthur mumbles, morning voice deep in his chest. Your eyes flicker up to him, buttoning the cuff buttons of his shirt. He glances down at you from his position by the dresser, smiling at your messy hair. The sheets are wrapped around you, leaving your shoulders and back bare, and he runs his eyes over the skin he’d spent all night kissing.

“You were right.” He nods to you, and you sit up on the plush bed, looking down at yourself.

“What?” You ask, looking down over your skin until you see exactly what he means.

“Left a mark or two, like you said.”

“Shit, Arthur.” You sigh, tossing the blankets off of you as you stand and move to the mirror. There's a few off-colored splotches on your neck and collarbone, love bites that Arthur has left you. You inspect them in the mirror, pulling your hair around to see if it will cover the marks. You hear Arthur’s boots against the floor as he walks up behind your bare form.

“To remember me, just till I'm back.” Arthur chuckles, hands finding your waist as he stares at your reflection in the full length mirror. You frown, remembering that today Arthur has to break Micah out of jail. You’ve been enjoying the absence of his loud, foul mouth and stench that follows him like a bad shadow.

"Be careful. Don't do nothin' heroic for that bastard." You say, turning around in his arms to face him.

"For Micah? Course not." Arthur chuckles, leaning down to press a slow, bittersweet kiss to your lips. You know he can handle his own, but the idea of a jail spring in West Elizabeth unnerves you. You lean into him, lips locking for a moment before you pull away.

Your hands rest on his shoulders, and then you slide them to his neckline to straighten the collar of his shirt.

"Be careful, mister." You whisper to him, sighing as he pulls away from you.

“Always am.” He says, and then he’s out the door, on his way to Strawberry for goddamn Micah. It gets under your skin that Dutch is sending him, but you know better than to openly question his decisions.

After the door clicks shut, you take your time getting ready. You put the same clothes on from the previous day, and despite a few wrinkles, they’re good as new. You grab your satchel, gunbelt, and hat, putting yourself together before checking once more over the room and heading out. The stairs creak under your feet as you walk down into the check in area, finding that the familiar hotel clerk is waiting behind the desk.

“Good mornin’ miss, I hope you’ll stay again!” He greets, and you chuckle. Just yesterday he was begging you not to beat anyone to death in his hotel, now he’s asking for you to come back.

“Sure will!” You lie, knowing that you’ll be moving soon, hopefully. You’d like to come back, last night was definitely one of the best in your life, thanks to Arthur and the All Saints Hotel, a deceiving name, you think.

It's warmer than usual when you open the door, and the sun shines down from between the clouds, casting the town in a mix of light and shadows. You stay on the sidewalk, smiling softly at the people you walk past on the way to the gunsmith’s.

It’s nostalgic, going into the gunsmith’s shop. It reminds you of your father, and when you open the door, the smell of freshly polished oak and gun oil mix together, bringing back memories from years ago.

“Ah, your guns are ready, miss!” The smith greets when he hears the bell on the door knob jingle. You step towards the counter, waiting as he puts both pointer fingers in the air before dipping behind an open door into the backroom.

“William did fine work with these, miss! I think you’ll be impressed. He’s damn quick too, they’re ready for ya.” The man yells from behind the wall, and you tap your fingers on the counter in anticipation. After a few moments, he steps around the corner. He places your carbine and revolver down on the counter carefully, and you nearly gasp in awe.

Firstly, the sight of them together, clean, with improved sights, stocks, and barrels is something to admire. They look like a proper set, and you can’t wait to see what they’ll look like on your hip and shoulder.

Your attention goes to your carbine first, and the dark leather stock wrap that beautifully contrasts the silver-colored gun. Stars, large and small, connected by thin dotted lines pattern your gun, engraved into the barrel.

“Wow.” You exhale, tracing your hand over the constellations. The gunsmith smiles, eyes crinkling in the corners.

Then you flicker your eyes to your revolver, and your jaw nearly drops. The same constellations pattern the gun, but on the grip is a howling wolf, head thrown back in a howl amongst the stars. It’s perfect. You clear your throat, realizing you’ve been gawking and stuck in your head.

“Sorry- it’s just that they’re so beautiful…” You say, blushing before reaching into your satchel, “How much do I owe you?” You ask, grabbing a wad of cash out. The gunsmith shakes his head, placing his hand up to stop you.

“These have already been paid for, you’re good to go, miss.”

Your eyebrows pull together in confusion, and the gunsmith speaks up to clarify.

“The feller you came in with yesterday, he stopped by about…” He glances at the clock on the wall, “twenty minutes ago and paid in full.”

Your confused look falls into a huff, and you chew on your cheek,

“Course he did.” You smile. You’ll get Arthur back for this. He does not need to spend any more money on you, let alone something this expensive.

“Looks like it’s your lucky day.” The gunsmith says as you holster your revolver and swing your carbine strap over your shoulder.

“Sure seems to be. Thank you, mister.” You say, turning back towards the door.

He waves as you exit the store, walking back down the street to grab Athena from the hitching post.

— — — —

It’s fairly quiet when you get back to camp, as most of the boys are out working. Charles is out hunting bison, and Javier found some abandoned house up north filled with hillbillies and gold. Arthur has gone to get Micah, and most of the other boys are out on odd jobs and the like.

You hop down from Athena in search of a task to keep yourself busy. Your stomach was flipping the whole ride home, thinking about Micah coming back to camp. It’s been peaceful without him, and you know that as soon as he returns, he’ll break the little balance that the camp has been keeping.

You walk to the campfire, finding a seat on a wolf pelt covered log. It’s plush under you, but nowhere near as soft as the hotel’s bed, and you blush, getting caught up in memories. Hosea sits opposite of you on a wooden folding chair. He’s grinding some herbs together with a mortar and pestle, making a health tonic for his cough, you’re sure.

You blink, startled back to the present as Jack runs past you, giggling loudly with two horseshoes in hand. With a smile, your eyes follow him to where Kieran has hammered a piece of rebar into the ground for the young boy to play horseshoes. You chuckle, eyes returning in front of you. Hosea looks up, eyeing you over quickly.

“Where have you been, dear girl? I’ve missed you in camp.” Hosea says, leaning down to add some water to his mortar.

“Valentine.” You answer, avoiding some of the details. Hosea smirks, eyes stuck on his hands as he works the herbs down.

“And Arthur?” Hosea asks, arching an eyebrow as he focuses. You can see where this is going, and you know Hosea won’t take to any lies, so you don’t even bother.

“He’s in Strawberry, left this morning to get Micah out of jail.” You explain to him. Hosea nods, and he hums as if questioning you.

“What?” You huff, knowing that he has something to say, some odd cents to throw in. Hosea chuckles at your tone, shaking his head.

“Nothing at all, just observing… Neither of you came back last night.” He points out with a knowing look. He’s not chastising or judging you, solely pointing out something he’s noticed. Of course he’s noticed, if anyone were to figure it out, it’d be Hosea.

“C’mon Hosea… leave it be.” You say, voice hushed as to not reach the ears of any lurking gang members.

“Oh, I’m only pickin’. But you know I notice these things.” He says, and you nod. He always notices the little things. Your eyes flicker up to the older man, the softness in his eyes. In the time you’ve been with the gang, he’s treated you with nothing but kindness and respect. He’s treated you like a daughter in a way, and you know you can trust him with conversations like these ones.

“It’s just… after the train, when I thought he was gone, it opened my eyes.” You admit to Hosea, head in your hands. He looks at you with a sparkle in his eyes, a word on his lips.

“The pair of you are a lot like Bessie and I.” Hosea smiles, and you glance up to him.

“You love him.” Hosea states plainly, “It’s clear as day on your face, that worrying after him, that longing. You love him.”

“I– It’s only been-” You begin, but Hosea doesn’t let you stumble out of this one, instead, he speaks up again.

“I'm happy for you two, really, I am. That boy hasn’t had someone takin’ care of him in many a year, I reckon. I reckon you haven’t either.” Hoea says, and you put your head in your hands.

“Is it really all that obvious?” You ask.

“To an old soul like me? Yes.” Hosea smiles, groaning as he stands up from his seat at the fire. He leaves his mortar and pestle on the ground, coming around the campfire to walk towards you.

“My lips are sealed, dear girl. Now go on, John was looking for you. There’s work to be done if we’re gonna get out of here before the law catches our tails.”

“Thanks, Hosea.” You offer as he pats your shoulder lightly.

He sits back down on his chair, taking in the camp’s state before watching you stand up. John is sharpening his knife at the table sometimes used for poker, and you walk towards him with your hands resting on your gun belt, hoping that this job will go better than your last two.

“You were lookin’ for me?” You ask, pulling one of the chairs out and sitting down across from John.

“Yeah you and Arthur. Don’t sit down, we’re goin’ out.” John says, standing up as he sheathes his knife. You can hear the metallic clink of Jack’s horseshoes hitting their pole, alongside Swanson’s drunken rambling as you push the chair back in.

“Arthur’s breakin’ Micah out of jail right now, do you think the two of us can handle it? Whatever it is that we’re doin’.” You say, sighing as you follow John towards the hitching posts.

“Sure we can handle it, we’re only stealin’ sheep.” John chuckles, and you jog after him, confused.

“Sheep? I don’t know about you, but I’m no rancher, John.” You huff, looking at your thoroughbred. She’s not bred to work livestock, and even if she was, you haven’t a clue on how to.

“It can’t be that hard. Wait, shit- we need a rifle with good sights, do you have one?” John asks, and you stop in your tracks, sighing.

“No I don’t have one– Are you sure you have this job planned out right?” You question him, drawing your eyebrows together with some attitude.

“Yes I’m sure, now grab one from Arthur’s weapon’s box. He won’t mind.”

“He definitely will, but I’ll make sure he knows this was your idea.” You bite, stomping off towards Arthur’s wagon. Another job with John, another underprepared mission that’ll likely get someone hurt.

You sigh, going to Arthur’s wagon. You kneel on the ground in front of his weapons box, opening the creaky, rusted lid. Your eyes flicker down to the box, and you sift through it, searching for his rifle. You find the rolling block rifle easily enough before meeting John back over by the horses. He’s already mounted up, waiting for you to get on Athena.

—- —- —-- —

"Come on then, where are we getting these damn sheep?" You ask, mounting up. John canters out of Horseshoe as you follow.

"Should be comin' through the Heartlands sometime in the hour, probably led by a couple of ranch hands. I reckon we get those ranch hands dealt with and we have the herd for ourselves." John explains, racing over the train tracks toward the rocky Heartlands. You ride on for a while, galloping past herds of bison and deer.

"What happened with Arthur by the way? It's like he came back and then left again. I barely saw him before he ran off." John yells back to you, and you stumble for an answer.

"Well, he hid out in Strawberry till the law got away and then made his way back to the bridge. I guess there were a lot of eyes on him when we came back home, so he went to Valentine."

"I thought he was dead." John admits, "Did you go with him? To Valentine? I didn't see you in camp either…" John recalls.

"I did." Is all you say, leaving the conversation at that as you canter up the path to the top of a cliff. It's a rocky trail, but eventually you make it to the top. You can look down over and see for miles in both directions.

"They'll be comin' from Emerald Ranch." John explains, pulling a pair of binoculars out. He looks through them towards the east, waiting for some movement. After a few minutes of him watching, and you toying with your hands, he speaks up.

"I see somethin', might be them." John whispers, crouching down. You follow suit, kneeling on the rocks as you pull Arthur's rolling block rifle from around your shoulder. You hold up the heavy gun, glancing through the sight.

You see three men on horses, and about thirty head of sheep in between them.

"That's them, alright." You whisper back, lowering the barrel of the gun.

"What's the plan?" You ask, looking over to John as he lowers his binoculars.

"Wait until they get close, then shoot at their feet. Close enough to scare 'em, but don't actually shoot anyone."

"I'm not gonna shoot anyone." You bite, lifting the sight back up to your eye. You center the rifle against your shoulder, aiming it towards the herd. You zero in on a spot between the rancher’s, but you hesitate, looking back at John.

“Won’t this scare the sheep away?” You ask. John waves you off, pointing back to the herd.

“No– you're just overthinkin’ it. They’re gettin’ close now, shoot at ‘em.” John tells you, and you cock your head, going back to your sights.

“If you say so…” You hum, and John rolls his eyes.

You aim back at the ranchers’ feet, squeezing the trigger. The chamber fires, and the bullet lodges into the dirt between the three men. Their horses spook, rearing up and growing skittish, but they keep the herd tight together, not budging.

“One more shot, make it closer this time.” John says, looking back through his binoculars.

You aim again, closer this time. Your hands sweat from anxiety and the weight of the gun, and when your trembling fingers squeeze the trigger, you slip just a hair. The bullet lodges into one of the rancher’s shoulders, and you wince as he screams, falling from his horse.

“Shit, Star!” John hisses, “I told you not to hit anyone!”

“Clearly, that was an accident- shit.” You wince. Luckily he seems to be okay, save for the wound, and he clambers back up onto his horse before galloping off with the other two.

“Oops.” You whisper.

John rolls his eyes, running towards the horses. With the gunshot, and the absence of the ranchers, the sheep have scattered, running in opposite directions and bleating loudly in fear. You follow, quickly running towards Athena to catch up to John. You jump onto Athena from behind, and she starts running before you’ve even scooched up into the saddle.

“You get the east side, I’ll grab the west, get as many back as you can!” John hollers to you, running after the sheep that have run off towards the west. You run towards Emerald Ranch, gathering up as many as you can and pushing them in the direction of Valentine. You have no idea how to herd, but you try your best, shielding them from the wrong way, while encouraging them towards Valentine. It’s a mess, and you barely get them together before taking up the side of the herd opposite of John.

“We got 'em all?” You holler over, and John shrugs.

“I don't know, but we got enough.”He yells back. You trot forward, slapping your saddle every once in a while to encourage the sheep forward. It's a messy group, but it works as you push them on.

— — — —

"What in the hell are you two doin'?" A familiar voice calls out, and you glance up to meet Arthur's green eyes. He's trotting towards you on his scarred shire, eyes darting around at the herd of sheep you're barely keeping together.

"Stealin' sheep!" John hollers over the noise as the animals run amongst themselves, bleating, “Star over here is shootin’ farmers.” John jokes, and you sigh.

“I told you that was an accident, and I feel real bad for it, so leave it be.” You say. John chuckles, and Arthur raises an eyebrow at you, but you wave it off.

Seeing the mess of a herd, Arthur flanks the sheep, leaving you pushing them from the back, and John on their other side. It forms a perfect chute to push them along, and you fall into a steady trot, pushing the sheep forward.

"Those guns turned out real fine!" Arthur yells back to you, and you nod, glancing down at your hip.

"They did, thank you by the way. You didn't have to do that." You yell up, referring to him buying your guns.

"Ah, I wanted to." Arthur says. John glances between the two of you with a confused look on his face, but keeps quiet other than an occasional cluck or curse at the sheep.

"How'd it go with Micah?" You ask Arthur, and you see him shake his head. One of the sheep breaks away from the herd, and you canter to the side, cutting it off and forcing it back as Arthur speaks.

"It was a goddamn disaster. He killed half the town lookin' for a pair of guns, killed a woman he knew, it was real bad." Arthur grits, distaste on his tongue as he spits the words out.

"He go back to camp?" John asks, spurring Old Boy forward, keeping the herd in tight formation as you trot around Citadel Rock.

"No," Arthur shakes his head, scratching his chin, "He wants to make it up Dutch. He said bringin' home a take would get him forgiven, asked me if I had any leads or jobs." Arthur huffs.

Your blood runs cold for a moment. You think of the debtor Arthur was supposed to go after yesterday, and you hope he didn't send Micah.

"Where did you send him?" You ask, voice steady. Arthur doesn't respond, and the only noise is the pounding of hooves as your eyebrows pop up, waiting for an answer.

"Where did you send him?" You bite, louder and more aggressively this time. John is lost, looking between the two of you.

"I sent him after Downes."

You huff, shocked, though you shouldn't be. Athena tosses her head up a few times, picking up on the fact that you're upset.

"So it's okay to beat a man as long as your hands are clean?" You snap, "Sending goddamn Micah after him. Do you think that makes it okay–? You're not giving the beating, but you can pass it off on someone else and walk away with a clean conscience?"

John whistles under his breath, keeping his eyes on the sheep and the trail ahead. Meanwhile, Arthur scoffs, as if you're being outrageous.

"I didn't go after Downes, but I can’t stop Micah from goin'." He defends, and you squint at his poor excuse, growing more upset and angry. It's one thing to take from people who deserve it, but the poor? It takes a different type of person to rob and beat the desperate. Only someone with no honor could do that, and looking at Arthur, you wonder where his head's at when it comes to morality.

"Maybe not, but you told him to go!" You yell over the bleating sheep. They grow more antsy from you and Arthur's yelling, and everyone works harder to keep them in tight formation.

"Strauss would have just sent one of the other boys anyway! Micah needed work and I gave him some. I'm sorry we don't always have the benefit of pickin' and choosin' what jobs we go on. We need money to get out of this damn place, you should know! You're itchin' to get out of here more than anyone- so no, I didn't question it!" Arthur yells, his face is hot with anger, and as much as your mind barks at you to scream back, you can't find it in your heart to yell at him.

"Strauss's line of 'work' hurts more than just the debtor. I should know." You say, quieter than you were yelling just seconds ago. Arthur turns in his saddle, sees the tears in your eyes and realizes what a piece of shit he's being. He wonders if he's any different than the bastard who killed your father, and if you see him that way.

"You ought to figure out who you wanna be, Arthur, a good man or a bad one, cause you can't be both… Good luck with the sheep." You bid goodbye, reining Athena away from the herd.

"Star, wait." Arthur says as you kiss to Athena, cueing her into a canter past the sheep and the boys, towards Valentine.

"Star!" Arthur yells after you, but his voice gets quieter as you keep running towards Valentine. A few tears drip down your cheeks, but you wipe them away quickly. You've had a lot of reminders of your family today, and Arthur sending Micah after a debtor sure didn't help.

You don't even have to steer her, Athena rides you right into Valentine, straight to Keane's saloon, as if she knows you need it. When you pull alongside the hitching post, you spot a pearly white Arabian hitched across the road and you scowl. Great.

Your need for a drink outgrows your annoyance with Dutch, and you slide down from Athena before walking up to the saloon door. With a hand on either door, you push them open.

Your eyes immediately land on Dutch, and sitting beside him is that little rat, Strauss. Your frown deepens, of course he's here. His beady eyes scan the room, and land on you as you walk forward. The scowl you send him is heated, and he immediately averts his eyes.

"Star, we were looking for you. Where's John?" Dutch yells out, his booming voice tugging at the scowl on your lips.

"With Arthur, working." You offer.

"Come sit, have a drink with us, miss." Dutch smiles, inviting you over. You glance at the bar, then to the square table that they're sitting at. There's an expensive bottle of whiskey on the table, and you decide it's worth the pain of sitting by the bastards. You nod, walking towards their table before pulling a chair out and sitting down.

Dutch waves the bartender over, calling him to bring you a glass. As soon as the crystal glass hits the table, you're pouring the golden liquid into it. Dutch chuckles, watching as you take a long swig.

"I just wanted to–" Strauss begins to speak, but you glare at him.

"Shut the hell up." You snap at him, and immediately he goes quiet.

Dutch on the other hand, laughs boisterously. His hand rests on his manspreading knee as he tips his chair back on its back legs.

"Feisty thing, isn't she?" Dutch chuckles, and you squint at him dangerously. He places his hands in the air in surrender as you down the rest of your whiskey and pour yourself another one.

"What job are Arthur and John running? I told them to meet me here…" Dutch asks, swirling his glass.

"Stealin' sheep and sendin' them to auction. I'm sure they'll be here any minute." You say with a hint of distaste on your lips. You drink your glass of whiskey in one long swig before placing the glass back down gently.

"I better be heading out, have some debtors to attend to." Strauss smiles, but neither you or Dutch smile back as the man stands up and leaves.

"I never liked that man's line of work. It seems… worse, stealing from the poor like that." Dutch grumbles, shaking his head. You look over at him surprised.

"Something we agree on." You huff. You drink the last of your whiskey, pouring another. You watch as Dutch gets lost in his head, and he smiles at some old memory.

"You know, Arthur, Hosea and I used to steal from the rich and give to the poor… Our first bank robbery, we handed gold and cash out in the slums, gave it all except what we needed." Dutch says, and you lean back in your chair, seeing him in a new light.

"Hosea thinks we've changed, but we're still chasin' that same dream– freedom from the confines of civilization, paradise in the west." He says, eyes far away as he imagines a future for the gang. You bring your glass up to your lips, thinking over his words.

"Is that where we're headed then? West?" You ask, and Dutch nods deeply.

"That's the plan."

You drink your whiskey before placing your glass down, not knowing if it's your second or third. The old bottle is halfway gone though.

"Here they come." Dutch smiles, and you turn to see Arthur and John trotting down the road, wearing matching scowls. You can see Arthur bickering with the younger outlaw, in a sour mood.

"I'm gonna step out for a smoke." You tell Dutch, sliding your chair out as you stand. He tips his hat as you walk out the back door.

You don't want to say anything you'll regret, so stepping out proves to be your safest option. You lean your back against the outer wall of the saloon, reaching into your satchel to grab your box of cigarettes. You pull one out, striking a match against your boot to light it. Pulling the match to the cigarette between your lips, you watch as it begins to burn, orange and black ashes falling from your smoke when you tap it.

You inhale deeply, slipping your eyes shut as the tobacco works its way into your system. You feel a little better already, and you take a few steps forward, looking up at the cliffs above you. You watch on for a while, hearing Arthur and John bickering on the other side of the building, and then you hear a shuffle behind you. With your eyebrows pulled together, you start to turn. A rifle hits the back of your head, and a dull pain shoots through your head as you blackout, falling to the floor.

— — — —

Your eyes begin to flicker open, and you squint as the bright white daylight blinds you. Your head throbs, and the arms holding you up are gripping onto you too tightly. Muffled voices are yelling, but you can't make out what they're saying until you finally come to.

"Get up, we're walkin." A man grits at you, and when your eyes adjust to the light, you're met with a Pinkerton Agent. Your eyes pop open widely, and you go to yell, but there's a gag wrapped tightly in your mouth, tied behind your head.

You panic, thinking they're going to torture you for information. If they wanted to kill you they would have already. You try to grab for your holster, but your hands are tied behind your back, and your guns have been stripped from you. The Agent smirks as it all dawns on you, and he grabs your arm, pulling you with him.

"Move." He bites, pushing you forward. You stumble ahead, breathing hotly through your gag, struggling as he pushes you into the street. Two big, armed men grab onto your arms, holding you tightly. The barrel of a rifle presses up against your temple as you tremble, assessing the situation. Keane's saloon is in front of you, and you can faintly see the silhouette of Arthur and Dutch drinking inside. When you glance to your side, you see that they have Strauss with you, but he is trembling and tears slip down his cheeks. You have no weapons, your hands are literally bound, your best option is to wait.

A large man comes forward with a thick white beard. He's neatly dressed and neatly trimmed, clearly a man of money. He has a shining revolver in his hand, pointed up in the air.

"Van der Linde!" The man screams, voice booming as he roars, pacing up and down the street in front of you. You glance around, seeing that Pinkerton Agents surround the building and the shops in the town. Your breathing quickens as you glance back to the window.

"Get out here! Get out here now!" The man yells again, growing irritated and impatient.

"You don't know me, but you keep robbing me!" He screams, and all his men ready their guns at the saloon door. Your heart pounds in your chest. You're outnumbered by a lot.

"My name is Leviticus Cornwall, I am not a man to be messed with by the likes of you!" Cornwall screams, and your blood runs cold at the name. The wagon, the train, you've been stealing from Cornwall all this time, of course he was bound to retaliate. You watch as the silhouettes behind the windows move, and you know they must be coming up with a plan.

"Get out here! Before I kill them both!" Cornwall screams, and the man at your back shoves you down hard until your knees hit the mud. You yelp in pain from his shove, and the barrel of his rifle pushes hard against the back of your head for it.

The saloon door opens, and slowly Dutch, Arthur and John file out with their hands raised. Dutch stands in the middle of the porch, John and Arthur flanking him. Arthur's eyes are glued to you, and his heart pounds as he worriedly scans over you. The sight of you on your knees with a gun to your head is surely burned into his memory.

"Gentleman, this is a terrible case of mistaken identity…What is worse than admonishing a man for the sins of another?" Dutch begins, and you nervously watch as Arthur waits for an opportune moment.

"Now, I don't know who this 'van der Linde' is, but surely we can negotiate–"

Arthur unholsters his revolver and takes out the man at your back in a quick movement. All hell breaks loose, and Arthur finds cover as the three boys start shooting. Cornwall mounts up and runs off quickly, ducking like a coward as he gallops off. Strauss lands a bullet in the leg, and screams out in pain. You duck, running behind a wagon to seek cover as bullets whiz past your head.

"I gotta go help Star!" Arthur yells, firing multiple times before darting across the street towards you. When he comes around the corner, he skids to his knees in the mud, holstering his gun. His hands pry the gag out of your mouth and you cough, taking a deep breath upon its release.

He pulls out his knife, reaching behind you to free your hands as you gasp.

"Y'alright?" Arthur yells over the bullets, and you nod.

"I'm sorry-" he begins.

"We'll talk later, we're getting shot at." You yell, running towards the corpse of the man who was holding you hostage. You take your guns off him, and immediately jump in to help.

"There's more comin' in!" John yells firing into three men in quick succession. You glance at the road from the post office to see a group of men riding in on fine, bay Morgans. Your heart rate picks up as you and Arthur aim and fire, taking down all the men with your smoking carbines.

"Dutch?! What are we doin' here?" Arthur yells out, jogging up the road towards the jail, you follow him, shooting down men that peak around the gunsmith's.

"We'll get Strauss in the wagon and push it. Arthur, shoot somethin! Star, get in the wagon with Strauss, you can use it as cover!" Dutch yells, and you run and jump into the wagon. You duck behind the wall of the wagon, peeking up enough to fire at the Pinkertons lining the street. Arthur cuts Strauss free, picks him up and tosses him in the horseless wagon. He cries out in pain, gripping his leg tightly.

"I think something is wrong, I believe I severed an artery or- or nicked a nerve–" Strauss begins.

"Shut up before I put another bullet in you. You're fine." You yell. The wagon starts moving, and you glance back to see Dutch and John pushing it.

Arthur is using the wagon as cover, running beside it, while shooting men down from the balconies.

Bullets lodge into the wagon, and you gasp loudly as one hits the wood just centimeters from you. You turn around to see a man fall from the balcony behind you, dead on account of Arthur's smoking revolver. He looks over at you, terrified, until he realizes it missed you.

You nod to him, letting him know you're fine, before taking your position back and firing into as many men as you can. They pop out from everywhere, with seemingly no end to their numbers. Pinkertons come from around the jail, the doctor's, the saloon, gunsmith, everywhere. They're on roofs, balconies and porches, shooting out of damn windows. Cornwall has hired a goddamn militia.

Dutch and John are pushing the wagon down the main street, past the saloon as you near the end of the road.

"There's not many left, just keep shooting!" Dutch yells out, straining as he pushes the wagon. You and Arthur continue firing, and you stop momentarily to reload.

"I'm low on ammo!" You holler, ducking behind the wall of the wagon as you reload your gun. Once the bullets are loaded, you cock the gun to resume your shooting. When you pop up from your cover, bullets whiz past you. You take down one man from the roof of the stables, and another from the porch of Nils' shop.

The Pinkertons begin to dwindle down, until Dutch and John push the wagon to the end of the main road, and there are no more.

"Is everyone alive?!" Dutch hollers out, turning around to count everyone.

"There could be more comin' we gotta go now." You say, swinging your carbine over your shoulder as you jump down from the wagon. You jog over towards Arthur, noticing a red stain on the arm of his shirt. He sees your eyes flicker to the blood, and you grab his bicep to get a better look at it.

"Just a graze, I'm fine." Arthur reassures you, hand squeezing your elbow lightly as you nod.

Dutch grabs a whining Strauss from the wagon, whistling as the horses come running down the street.

"John, take Strauss on your horse. I'll get Grimshaw to start packing up. You two, make sure they don't follow us." Dutch orders, setting Strauss up on the back of Old Boy.

"Sure." Arthur answers.

"We can't stay here after this." Dutch admits out loud, mounting up on The Count who rears and bucks lightly in fear.

"No, we can't." Arthur sighs.

John mounts up onto Old Boy, and they all run off towards home. You stand next to Arthur in shock, glancing over the bodies that line the streets.

"You're okay?" Arthur asks, coming towards you. You nod, eyes slipping closed.

"This was a massacre, Arthur. He hired a militia." You whisper, "And he'll hire another one."

Arthur nods, hands on his gun belt.

"We'll be okay, and we'll talk about earlier, let's just get home first. Cmon, no one's followin' us." Arthur says, whistling for your horses to come closer. You mount up on Athena, glancing once more over the town. The main street is littered with corpses, destroying the sweet little livestock town. You frown deeply, pushing Athena towards home.

Upon your arrival, tents are already being torn down and stuffed into wagons. Your tent is gone, and Arthur's wagon is being taken apart and filled with items. You frown at the sight of your home being destroyed, again.

Arthur jumps down from Balius and walks straight up to Dutch's tent with you in toe. Hosea is in the tent, bickering and finger-pointing at Dutch while you wait outside.

"This is lying low? We've turned into a bunch of killers, Dutch, I mean it! We ain't even got the delusion of being nothing but a bunch of killers!" Hosea snaps, pointing his finger in Dutch's face. Dutch sits on his cot, calm as ever as he takes in Hosea's words.

"We are just trying to survive, Hosea. We don't have a choice. This will end soon." Dutch reassures.

"Damn right, it will!" Hosea yells before backing away and stomping out of the tent.

"Constipated as usual…" Dutch hums, shaking his head as Arthur steps inside.

"Where are we headed, Dutch?" Arthur asks, voice quiet, worried.

"Micah told me of a place, a while back before we came down here. Dewberry Creek."

Your eyebrows draw together as you look at Dutch, shaking your head.

"I've been there with John, it ain't gonna work. It's open and it'll be mud when it rains." You explain, thinking back to when you stole the wagon with John.

"I trust Micah. It will work. Arthur, take Charles and scout it out." Dutch growls at you. You glare at him, stepping forward.

"It ain't gonna w-"

"I said you and Charles go take a look. Clear off anyone you find before the whole lot of us move in there looking so conspicuous." Dutch interrupts you as you fume.

"And how are we gonna do that?" Arthur sighs. Dutch shakes his head.

"I don't know, start dancin'?"

Arthur looks at Dutch with as much anger as you. He's being sent on errands, when you know it's a waste of time.

"What am I now, just your goddamn errand boy?" Arthur hisses, stepping out of the tent with you. His hand is on the small of your back as he urges you outside, away from Dutch and the mess he's creating.

"You're not my errand boy, you are my son. You worry because I worry, we are just the same, you and I." Dutch says, and Arthur walks away from him with a scowl.

"I swear, he's turnin' into a goddamn lunatic, Star." Arthur whispers hotly, stomping towards Charles' bedroll.

"I know it." You sigh, following Arthur. When you glance over your shoulder you see Abigail sitting on the ground with Jack, tears streaming down his cheeks as Karen and Tilly pack up his bags. You frown, watching on as they take his books and file them away in a chest.

"But he'll pull through for us. He always does." Arthur adds, and you nod, not saying anything. You don't have to tell Arthur that you disagree.

Charles is rolling up his bedroll, and adding it to a bag of his things when you both come upon him.

"Charles, ride with us?" Arthur asks, and Charles stands up, eyebrows pulled together.

"Of course. Where to?" He asks, grabbing his shotgun from a crate before following you towards the horses.

"Some dried up river that ain't gonna work as a camp." You bite, aggression not pointed at either of the two boys.

"She's talkin' about Dewberry Creek." Arthur corrects you with a smirk.

It's a longer ride, and by the end you're exhausted. It's been a shit day so far, and this part is no exception. Your body aches from rocking in the saddle, and from the hyperextension of your hands being tied behind your back, not to mention your throbbing head from the butt of a rifle earlier.

"Y'okay?" Arthur asks, seeing you stretch your shoulders and crack your neck for the third time in the past ten minutes.

"Yeah, just hurtin' a little." You admit. Dewberry Creek is just over the hill, and you all lope over it.

"They hurt you bad?" Arthur asks, suddenly worried. He didn't have time to check over you back after the shootout, he was too worried about getting you out of there. And then immediately getting swooped into a job, he never asked.

"I'm okay." You admit, reaching over to squeeze Arthur’s hand. He nods, squeezing yours back lightly before you let go and continue riding.

Charles curiously eyes the motion, making his own assumptions, but he keeps quiet.

"Creek’s just up here." You call out, pushing Athena a little faster down the hill. Arthur and Charles follow as you come upon the dried up creek bed You slow Athena into a sliding stop, letting the boys take in the spot for what it's worth.

The creek bed is muddy. There are sinking wet spots that make it unlivable, not to mention the fact that it's in the middle of the plains, completely in the open. There are a few tents pitched in the creekbed, a hundred or more feet down.

“This is worse than I thought… Why would Micah even consider this?” Charles asks. Arthur pushes Balius forward into the creek bed, seemingly eyeing the same tents as you.

“Are there people living here now?” Arthur asks, riding forward. You follow him, squinting to look for any motion down by the tents. You see none, but ride forward anyway.

“It looks abandoned.” You say, trotting past Arthur. You scan the creekbed, stopping when you see an unmoving lump of fabric in the distance. As you get closer, you wince, realizing it’s a corpse, face down in the mud. It appears that he was shot in the back while running away. You look back up at the tents, a feeling of unease sweeping over you.

“I found a body!” You yell back to the boys, and both of them ride up to you, “There’s a camp ahead too.” You add, getting down from Athena. You move towards the body, feeling sorry for the feller as you look him over.

“Stay alert. Any issues, shoot first n’ debate second.” Arthur says, and you huff a humorless laugh.

“What is with you today?” You hiss, and Charles nods his head, also picking up on Arthur’s sour mood and aggression.

“I'm not gonna shoot for the sake of it.” Charles bites back, following Arthur towards the camp.

“Survivals for the sake of it, quit talkin.” Arthur snaps, and you roll your eyes, glancing at Charles.

You come upon the camp, hand resting near your holster as you check it out. You walk through the entrance of a white, A frame tent, finding it to be left untouched. Cans of food sit out, blankets and books are left behind. It's as if whoever was here just got up and left. Arthur and Charles search the tents up ahead, finding the same thing.

“Looks empty.” Arthur calls out, and you jog up to where he’s at. The only thing left to search is a large wagon, and you set your eyes on it as you walk past the men.

“Let's make sure.” You say, walking towards the wagon. You peek in the back, finding an opened, empty chest. When you step down, you hear the cock of a shotgun, and you pause, putting your hands in the air.

Arthur and Charles notice this, and they step forward slowly, pulling a few crates away from under the wagon. You’re taken aback at the sight of a woman and two children, cowering, under the wagon. The mother holds up a shotgun, shielding her son and daughter behind her.

“You can come out of there.” Charles says, holstering his sawed off shotgun as he backs away with his hands raised. You and Arthur follow, surrendering as you give them space to step out.

“Are you okay?” You ask, shocked at the sight of them. They look terrified, and Charles gestures for them to come out from underneath the wagon.

“We don’t mean you no harm.” Arthur whispers.

The woman comes out, with her gun raised up at you three, alternating between you all. Her children follow her, and she keeps them behind her skirt as she stands across from you three.

“The lady said, are you okay?” Arthur says, gesturing to you. The woman shakes her head as if she doesn’t understand.

“Sprechen sie Deutsch? G-German?” She asks, translating her words as best as she can. Arthur sighs, tossing his hands up into the air.

“No.” He says curtly. Much to your surprise, he attempts to shoo them off with his hands as he yells, “Now go on, get outta here! We need the land, go!” He yells, and you step in front of him, stopping him.

“You’re gonna leave these people to themselves after this?” You ask, gesturing to the body and abandoned camp. Arthur has a grumpy look on his face, a threatening demeanor that works on just about everyone but you.

“We need this land, Star– we got our own prob–” Arthur begins, but the woman’s young daughter jumps out from behind her, tears in her eyes as she yells in the best English she can.

“They took our father!!” She yells, crying. Her accent is heavy, but you understand her well enough. Charles steps forward, and the mother raises her gun up again.

“Who did?” Charles asks, and Arthur shakes his head in disapproval.

“Men, last night.” The girl adds, watching the three of you.

“Where?” You ask, but Arthur grabs your arm, pulling you back to look at him. Angrily, you pull your arm back.

“Ain’t no business of ours. I don’t even speak their language!” Arthur hisses. Charles steps forward, a mean look on his face.

“You ain't as tough and dense as all that. Come on, Star.” Charles says, and you sigh before following him.

“Arthur, stay or don’t, but I’m goin.” You say, whistling for Athena. You mount up quickly, following the direction that the young girl had pointed to.

“We’ll see if we can pick up a trail, c’mon.” Charles says, and Arthur sighs before mounting onto Balius.

Charles starts out the mouth of the trail, picking up a canter. Before he gets to the main road, he points to the ground.

“A trail, right here.” Charles says, cueing Taima faster.

“I don't see nothin’.” Arthur pouts, looking at the dirt and seeing… nothing but dirt. You point to the hoof prints on the ground, and the trail that they make along the main road.

“Hoof prints this way.” You explain, racing faster along the road. The trail dips into the woods, and you follow Charles in a single file line, racing through the trees.

“So what's goin’ on with you?” Charles asks, glancing back at Arthur. He keeps a steady pace with Taima, dodging turkeys and trees as he follows the tracks,

“Whatchu mean?” Arthur asks.

“You were just gonna send that woman and her children on their way?” Charles asks. Arthur slings his carbine off of his shoulder, sliding it down the holster on Balius’s saddle.

“We’re wanted men. We got the Pinkertons breathing down our necks. Star was nearly executed in front of us today, Charles... We should be moving camp, not runnin’ off on some wild goose chase.” Arthur explains, and you pick up on the reason for his upset.

“That's why you’re upset. Arthur, I'm okay.” You offer, but it doesn’t ease his worry. He won’t feel better until you’re far away from this mess.

“Maybe now, but that Pinkerton was seconds away from putting a bullet in you, and don’t think I didn't see that goddamn mark on your head.” Arthur hisses, and you instinctively run your hand up to the back of your head where a welt resides from the butt of that bastard’s carbine. It grows quiet as Charles breaches the woods, coming upon Flat Iron Lake.

“This way.” He says quietly, cantering along the shore. You follow, and after a while of running alongside horse tracks, you come to a grassy opening. It must be the right place, as crates and a few bedrolls lie around scattered. It's a beautiful spot, and the golden evening light shines brilliantly across the lake, cascading around you.

“This is a better camp spot than back there.” You say, looking over the large, old oak tree in the center of the camp. The lake laps at the shore of the little peninsula, calmingly.

“This looks like our feller.” Arthur hollers from ahead of you, and your head snaps in his direction to where a man is hogtied on the grass, yelling through a gag. Arthur jumps down from Balius, jogging over to the man. He slips the man’s gag off, and immediately the German man begins to scream.

“Vorsichtig!! Vorsichtig!!”

<careful! careful!> The man screams, and bullets begin to whiz around past you.

“Take cover!” Arthur yells, and you leap down from Athena, sliding behind a crate as the horses run off. Men come from behind the trees, shooting at you. You fill your carbine, popping up from the cover to fire into three men’s chests. There aren’t many of them, and you take out as many as you can.

“Watch! They’re comin’ in on horses!” Charles yells from behind the tree, and you glance towards the trail leading in where four men on horses ride in.

You take down one, and Arthur and Charles take down the rest.

“Are there any more of them?” You pant, lowering your constellation-patterned weapon.

“No.” Arthur mumbles, holstering his revolver.

You look behind you, past Arthur to the hogtied man. He's writhing on the ground, clearly in pain from being tied up so long. You jog over to him quickly, unsheathing your knife before cutting his ties free. Arthur and Charles whistle for your horses, walking towards you as the man clambers up, rubbing at his raw wrists.

"Danke! Danke!!"

<thank you! thank you!> The man smiles, turning around in both ways as if he's lost, searching for a familiar way out.

"We'll take you back to your family, mister." You say slowly, wondering if he understands any English at all.

"Star–" Arthur begins to protest, but you're not having any of it. You won't let him protect you if it leads to others getting hurt.

"Charles, go back to Horseshoe and bring the caravan here. It's a good spot." You address Charles before turning to the man, "We will take you back to your family." You say, waving him towards your horse. He follows you, looking mighty confused as you mount up into Athena. But when you extend your hand to him, he takes it, hopping up into the mare's croup.

"Was tun wir jetzt"

<what are we doing now?> The man says, and not understanding, you keep on riding.

"Also komme ich dann mit?"

<so I'm coming with you then?> He asks again, and you sigh.

"I'm sorry, I have no clue what you're sayin', mister." You sigh, following the trail back towards Dewberry Creek.

"Wo bringst du hich min?"

<where are you taking me?> He asks again. You don't respond, but Arthur does.

"What in the hell did you do to those fellers back there?" Arthur asks, following beside you on his shire.

"Was hast du gesagt."

Arthur sighs, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as he rides along.

"Those men back there. Why- did- they- take- you?" Arthur asks, pronouncing each word slower, as if it'll help the man understand.

"Geld. Money." The German husband says. You glance over your shoulder at him, wondering what trouble he's in over money with fellers like those. He's well dressed, and his family was too. You doubt he's a debtor.

"Meine Familie hat ein Goldminen Geschäft. Sie wollten ein Lösegeld schicken."

<my family owns a gold mining business. they wanted to send a ransom.> He explains, and you try to decipher the German words.

"How did someone even come up with them words?" Arthur sighs as you try to understand.

"G-gold minin'?" You attempt to say the word in German, "Your family owns a gold mine?" You say, glancing at Arthur with wide eyes.

"Ja, yes!" The German man exclaims, and your eyes boggle.

“Ihr beide bringt mich zu meiner Familie? Oh danke. Wie haben sie euch beide gefunden?”

<you’re taking me to my family? oh, thank you. how did they find you two?>

“Sorry partner, I can barely speak english.” Arthur huffs as you ride up on the Dewberry Creek bank. When you come over the hill, the man’s family is waiting for them. They’ve readied their wagon, and two draft horses are tethered to the front of it.

“There they are.” You whisper back to the man with a smile on your face as the children point and smile.

“Oh, Gott sei Dank!”

<oh, thank god!> He calls out, jumping down from Athena. He runs to his family, and catches his wife in a tight hug as the children run and wrap their arms around him.

“Schatz!”

<darling!> He exhales, releasing a held breath when he sees and feels his family.

“Andreas!” His wife cries, kissing his cheek.

“Ich dachte du wärst tot.”

<I thought you were dead.> She says, tears slipping down her cheeks.

“Ich war es fast.”

<I nearly was.> Andreas admits before looking down and greeting his children. You watch on as Arthur dismounts, going towards the little reunited family.

“Wir sind gesegnet, euch beide kennengelernt zu haben.”

<we are blessed to have known you both.> The wife cries to you and Arthur as her husband helps her up into the wagon. You’re not sure what she’s said, but you’re sure it’s some form of gratitude.

Arthur steps forward, shooing the family on.

“Get outta here, this place ain’t safe.” Arthur tells them, but no one moves.

“Get outta here! Vamos! Vamos!” Arthur yells, in a sad excuse for spanish while talking to german folks. You snort as the children clamber up into the wagon. The man points his fingers into the air as if he has an idea before digging through a compartment in his wagon.

“Ich habe etwas für dich, Augenblick."

<i have something for you, one moment.> He says, digging through the wagon as Arthur huffs, impatient. You only watch on from Athena, amused by Arthur’s easily frustrated state. Andreas turns around, holding two heavy, shimmering bars of gold in his hands. Your eyes boggle as he hands one to Arthur, and then comes forward to offer the other up to you.

“Danke aus tiefstem herzen”

<thank you from the bottom of my heart.> He whispers, glancing between you and Arthur.

Arthur stares at the gold bar for a moment before glancing back up at the man as he climbs into his wagon, slapping the reins over the horses’ backs.

“Guess it was a pleasure…” Arthur mumbles under his breath, sliding the gold bar into his satchel. You place your own in your saddle bag, saying nothing as he climbs on to Balius before you both make the trip back to the opening by the lake. You don’t have to say anything, he knows what you’re thinking. This is what happens when you help people.

— — — —

When you’d arrived at the new camp, called Clemens Point, you found out, Grimshaw had already pitched your tent up next to Arthur’s wagon. You didn’t have the heart to tell her it was a waste, so you said nothing. Your tent is on the east side of the camp, not far from the lake. If it’s quiet, you can hear it lapping against the shore quietly. It’s a little warmer down in Lemoyne, something you’re grateful for.

After helping everyone unpack, setting up the rest of the tents, grooming and untacking the horses, unloading the wagons, and cooking dinner, it’s nearly one in the morning. Absolutely exhausted, you begin pulling your gun belt off before you even enter your tent. You push the white canvas open, stepping inside and dropping your belt onto the ground. You strip down your clothes, feeling freer with every shed item until you’re left in just your underthings and a loose-fitting shirt. You take your hair out of its tie, scratching at your scalp before stepping towards the bed.

A light knock sounds out on the front beam of your tent, and you smirk as Arthur steps in. He’s already dressed down, wearing nothing but his union suit and a comfortable pair of jeans.

“Figured you’d want me in here.” He says with a smile, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around your waist.

“I’m glad you came.” You hum, leaning up on your tiptoes to kiss him. Your lips meet in a sweet, slow kiss. It’s been a long, hard day and you’re both exhausted. Your lips part as you grip his arm and drag him to bed with you. You lay on your side, and Arthur’s chest lines your back tightly. One of his arms is under your head, and the other is draped over your waist.

“I'm sorry about this mornin’.” Arthur whispers, and your lips fall into a small frown. You knew this was coming.

“It’s okay... Just, choose who you wanna be. You can’t be a good man and a bad one, you gotta pick.” You say, turning around in his arms. His hands are warm on your body as you look up to his terrified eyes.

“Do you think I’m a bad man?” He asks, eyes searching yours for any hint of an answer. You shake your head.

“No. I think you’re a good man, one of the best. But I think that can change, if you keep goin’ down this path.” You tell him truthfully, and he nods.

“Thanks, darlin’. I’ll be tryin, for you.” Arthur whispers, pressing a slow, sweet kiss to your temple while releasing a breath.

“Get some sleep now, okay?” Arthur says quietly, pulling the blanket further up over you. You hum, content, nuzzling into his chest until you’re fast asleep. It doesn’t take long with how exhausted you are.

Back in Arthur’s wagon, sitting on his bedside table is his journal, with one new entry scribbled onto the white pages:

She sees the good in me. I don’t know how or why, and yet she does. She looks at me like I’m the sunshine, brightening up her day. I fear I’m the opposite, but I’m trying everyday to be better for her. It’s an uphill battle. One step forward, two steps back, but I’m trying to be the man she deserves. She deserves so much, a family, a real home. I’d like to give her that one day. God– I’m sweeter on her than honey itself, I reckon. ♡

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 @rratman @eyelovie @mykneeshurt

#arthur morgan #rdr2 fandom #rdr2 arthur #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 #red dead redemption two #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x female reader

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seokka0o · 1 year

Text

𝑃𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐺𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑛 / 𝐾𝑤𝑎𝑘 𝐽𝑖𝑠𝑒𝑜𝑘

You like him, from the way he smiles to the last strand of colored hair. But you feel it's forbidden, gaon is your deepest fear and regret, you love your best friend and treat it like it's the greatest sin committed on earth. But after a party everything seemed to change drastically, leaving you between saying something to jiseok or living and dying with that love just for you.

Pairing: Gaon X afab!reader

🍊 : Band!au; friends to lovers; mutual pinning

Contain : make out ; fluff; smut; sex without protection; alcohol consumption; Oral;

6.7k

Author: my longest work to date and I could say I'm a little proud. I hope you like it, always remember to give feedback ♡ forgive any mistake or bad English, this is not my first language

Not fully proofread

The tip of the pen scratched the sheet slowly, your attention bent on it was not a matter if you thought Jiseok might do something wrong when writing his scores. In fact, you needed a good distraction so you didn't catch yourself looking at him distractedly. that new hair brought a fresh air to him, even if you liked the typical black something in the mix of colors made him look uniquely radiant, that was it, you were just friends but you had the right to find your friend handsome right? From finding him uniquely attractive to the way he is always handsome even in the smallest things he does, that besides being super talented he also had an incredible personality, the kind that captivates looks and people all the time, that makes girls sign his name when on top of stage with his band and you hate how he always seems ready to give back to each one of them, or how jiseok is rarely alone that long, considering those last few months the biggest record yet, despite all that he was an amazing friend, you were proud of that, of being his great companion, his inseparable friend.

Let's face it. Who were you trying to deceive? You couldn't hold the façade that long because the whole band had already noticed your bizarre behavior. but you would be able to deny it every time, even yourself and the way your heart seemed to skip a beat every time he smiled at you. you would refuse to say that you had mixed feelings, that once you didn't see jiseok as a friend, but as that guy you felt you would never be able to get over, the one that made your body warm and want to wrap yourself in his arms. but everything inside of you, because you were willing to deal with this alone, you tell yourself that it's to protect your friendship with jiseok, but really it's just to protect yourself, solely and exclusively.

"Then?" Your finger stopped rolling over your hair, A huge pout was over your mouth when Jiseok spoke to you, eyes round and dark towards you, you with your body lying on the bed and he sitting next to you with the guitar in his lap . "You weren't paying attention, were you?"

"Hm? This is boring Jiseok, I don't even know why you invited me yet" you justified yourself, Jiseok sighed, turning the instrument to the side to lie down next to you. His hair smelled like bubblegum, you hated it, everything that referred to that smell reminded you of jiseok and this type of situation was becoming recurrent in a way that you didn't like to think, the feeling was that you were always stuck with things that referred to him and that was just too irritating.

"You are my best friend, there is no one better to help me" Gaon took the phone out of his pocket and checked the messages, a whirlwind, for a second he thought he was flirting with someone by the smile he deposited on his lips, but then he dropped the attention of the device and directed you "do you want to go out today? We're playing in a pub, something simple, but I can bring someone"

No big deal, you weren't at all the performances, but whenever you could, you paid a visit to Jiseok's concerts; college and work took a lot out of you so you couldn't always watch him shining on stage, but by coincidence, you were off that day, and even if you weren't, jiseok's eyes were shining in your direction which indicated that you certainly wouldn't have any choice but to agree to go.

"I'll only go if you put me in the front row" you said quickly, making a genuine smile bloom on jiseok's lips creating noisy butterflies in his stomach.

"Stop" was an unconscious act, a strong mental state taking you out of the reality where you lived, Jiseok had no right to be that way, it made you suffer, reaching the point of despair.

"Hm? What is it? I didn't do anything" he replied looking confused, without any opportunity for an answer, at that moment you could even have tried to muster up some courage to say how uncomfortable you felt lately. Not because it was in any way inconvenient, but because you've slowly come to know that you don't feel the same way.

"Please be dressed!" Jooyeon entered the room with a bang, making you and Jiseok jump and then look at jooyeon's scared expression "am I disturbing something?"

Thank God. you felt that that was the signal for you to get rid of that weird atmosphere that you had incited a short time ago. You laughed, disguising any embarrassment and sat back down on the bed, shaking your head right away.

"Don't make assumptions like that, jooyeon, we've known each other for a while to deduce this kind of relationship" you anticipated by throwing a glance at Jiseok who looked at you and smiled in response to any comment.

"Calm down, it was just a question" Jooyeon raised his hands up in surrender and sat down on the chair that was placed next to Jiseok's desk. "There's going to be a party after the show, Gunil hyung asked to let you guys know since neither of you seems interested in reading messages in the group chat."

"I saw it, I didn't call you because normally you don't like to go to gunil hyung's parties" Gaon tell you putting

the guitar back in his lap and went back to strumming, playing with the chords giving a background soundtrack.

"I will" the guitar goes out of tune and then the boy with the colored hair looked at you dumbfounded, as if something very new and fun had appeared in front of him

"It is serious?" Jiseok asked

"Yeah" You replied

"Amazing!!" Jooyeon cut through the air looking like a new man and stood up "so everyone at Gunil hyung's house for an after party!"

"Okay then I'll meet you later" you pulled your jacket off the bed and got up rather quickly

"But are you leaving already?" Jiseok put a pout on his lips and leaned on his guitar, hoping that would change your mind at least a little bit.

"Yes, I need to do some favors for my sister and get ready, you should do the same and start getting ready" you said adjusting your jacket over your body "see you later"

You smiled at Jiseok and started towards the exit of the house, taking your car so you could drive back to your home.

Jooyeon watches you leave and then directs to jiseok a look with a smile plastered on his face, totally suggestive, which makes Jiseok frown in mental confusion.

"And then?" Jooyeon asked going to the bed where he sat in the place where you were sitting earlier

"What?" Gaon casually asked, going back to fiddling with the guitar chords but not playing a song itself.

"Weren't you guys really doing anything?" Jooyeon tossed his hair back before laying down.

"No? Me and y/n are friends, it doesn't make sense for us to be in that kind of relationship" jiseok tried to sound as clear as possible

"Bullshit. it's actually quite easy, you and y/n are both wimps" jooyeon wasn't the kind of friend you joked about, he was observant enough to know all the gaps that both you and Gaon left in the way, even if indirectly you seem to share the kind of energy that could later yield a relationship, you just refuse to see it

"Don't say that kind of shit, especially around y/n, silly" Gaon put the guitar on the base and got up from his bed " I hope you've tuned your bass at least, you just have free time to say that kind of nonsense"

“but if it happened to be convenient you wouldn’t be able to deny it right?” jooyeon asked suggestively

“yes, I think it would be great” jiseok shrugged “but that's impossible to happen, so please stop saying that kind of thing”

"I'm not the one on the defensive," jooyeon replied. Picking up phone from pocket, checking group messages, getting up right after "don't get so cranky, I'm on my way out"

"Hm" Jiseok nodded and then Jooyeon headed outside, leaving him alone.

he was beautiful, there wasn't anyone else who could demonstrate that, jiseok in his ordinary life was already naturally handsome, but on stage you could see it, all that confidence, beautiful clothes, makeup, he was radiant, which made you shiver in anxiety, deposited on the table right next to the stage you could see him tuning the instruments and taking care of all the technical part. everything at the perfect level of damage, you were feeling trapped in his image and that never felt right

the whole club was very beautiful, with well placed lights on the stage all of the band could be seen, jiseok was distracted and you were distracted by his beauty, wondering when it was that you fell into such a deep feeling, that it made your feet float, that made butterflies appear in your stomach to the point of making you feel sick, it was horrible, you wouldn't recommend this kind of situation to anyone where you just fall in love with your best friend with no pretext, jiseok was free, he wasn't meant to be loved and you he knows it, with a heavy heart, but he knows it well.

"what it was?" jiseok waved at you and snapped you out of your melancholy reverie. he kept the guitar suspended on his shoulder, now moving his fingers involuntarily

“no biggie, you look pretty good today” you complimented, jiseok smiled shyly, shrugging his shoulders over your compliment

"nothing else? for me that's actually a lot" said jiseok dumbfounded, you rarely complimented him like that

“I'm trying to be kind, jiseok” you skirted around a little embarrassed

“oh sorry and thank you,y/n ” you just smiled in return, swung your legs, it didn't take long to see them start.

you weren't sure if you were feeling melancholy at this point, jiseok was formidable on stage, giving the basic animation he provides every performance, getting everyone excited and jumping to the sound of the band. however specifically talking about his habits made you feel a bit jealous. he was at the front as usual, you saw him flirting with someone a few minutes later, smiling and winking. jiseok tended to transform on stage, but specifically at that moment you felt fully offended, without any ability to hide it, he didn't look one way even second to you in that whole course, regardless of whether they were friends, jiseok didn't seem interested in knowing if you were having fun, he just considered that the distraction of whoever it was was ahead of him, so it would remain that way.

All this toxic path of yours was observed in a way you forgot that you had other friends in that band. even if he didn't fall into the junhan concept with the jungsu who were more to the corner, they noticed his sudden drop in animation.

you didn't drink a lot, you didn't feel in the mood. watched jiseok all that time, joking, being in the prime of his life and as soon as the live ended he disappeared. you didn't need to gather too much to understand where he were, so you stayed where you were, sipping the same drink as before, in deathly silence, feeling out of sorts, wanting to cry for feeling so stupid to harbor these kinds of feelings for jiseok , unbeknownst to him, fearing, watching him slip out of your fingers like water, missing the stares and any opportunity you had to say you liked him but failing utterly in the matter, leaving it for the next day, and the next and on that if spending years where you saw him leave each time with a different person, leaving you planted somewhere, waiting for the moment he would come back.

“Hi” the voice came from behind you, soft, low tone. you turned head and looked at seungmin who smiled awkwardly, with his hands in his pants pocket

“you guys did really well today”” you quickly changed the subject, smiling a little, getting up

" paid off I would say” he smiled back. seungmin was like that, besides jiseok he was also a very close friend of yours, so it wasn't that strange that he showed up to talk "are you going to the party?"

you pondered, were you in the mood to deal with jiseok dragging the most diverse people everywhere? definitely not. but you had already promised to go to your friends, he soon nodded his head

“look, if you don't want to go I can drop you off at home” seungmin tried to look neutral but he was worried about how you looked not so comfortable there "you know no one will take offense”

"it's okay, I need to have some fun, I've been standing here for a long time, I want to at least make the night even a little bit fun" it was a party. you had your friends, there was no reason to make drama because of jiseok , maybe you were sensitive from an early age, it wouldn't be the last time like it wasn't the others, you could pretend to be used to it and have a little fun

"Sure? You know that after midnight I don't drive anymore, right?" said sungmin indicating the back exit with you, who followed him in a relaxed laugh

“I know, don't worry” you followed to the car with willpower, finding jooyeon leaning against the passenger door, lank hair and ridiculous sunglasses that made you laugh

"ayo!" he said low indicating the backseat "nice to see you"

“No way. y/n in the front seat” Seungmin said getting into the drivers seat, it was always turbulent driving with Jooyeon in the passenger seat so Seungmin made sure to get rid of it. snorting jooyeon went to the back seat and then threw yourself, you entered the passenger and passed the seat belt

“I thought you was going to give up, jiseok just left, that fucker” complained jooyeon looking sorry for being dumped by his best friend

"And what's new? I said I was going to the party, I'm not on Jiseok's feet all the time " you complained, eyes glazed over the road which Seungmin started taking you into the night to Gunil's house

“okay, fair enough, fuck that too, jiseok is a fucking hooker and I need to get my ass kicked” everyone there seemed used to these acts, even laughter came out of their lips with naturalness, but without any humor

The house wasn't that crowded, you could tell it was a private party when you entered, following your friends to the kitchen where you found the drinks laid out for everyone and Junhan in an unusual position to choose a beer or any other drink

“JUNHAN, give me the vodka!!” Jooyeon screamed in the center of the room running to his friend, serving him something that you didn't bother to identify, as your eyes started to run all over the fest, behind those typical cotton candy hairs, without success, wondering what was so special going on for him to be gone.

“He's out somewhere and you said you came to have fun” Seungmin offered you a beer you gladly accepted, bringing the drink to your lips to take a good drink.

"I wasn't looking for him, okay?" you objected rolling your eyes, turning your attention to seungmin beside you

He shrugged and laughed turning the can of beer over his lips, sipping the taste

"Whatever, it's been a long time, it's getting to a level you can't contain anymore, I just think you should be more careful with your feelings" he always knew everything, enough to be hilarious, he always knew what what to say at the right time, ready to advise you and you wished that this could be of some comfort in the future, you intended not to take too much to heart so you would seek to resolve this situation as soon as possible.

"What the fuck" you laughed unbelievably, trying to reconsider "I really thought I was being subtle"

If you were so obvious then why did Jiseok seem to not have picked up on the signs? Why did you feel in that bill snooker? Because the hell it all seemed even more absurd from that point of view, you're best friends and yet he acts like he doesn't know anything about you.

"Maybe not for jiseok" Seungmin shrugged still tasting his own beer.

"Fuck it, I don't want to talk about him right now" you mumbled with your throat full, downed your beer glass and then went deeper into that party.

You and Seungmin were glued together the entire time from there, the booze rushing into your bloodstream. even though you weren't into it, you used it as an escape, taking it beyond measure. you guys started playing, starting with beer pong, the music blaring and screaming started to rise with your spirits, you even caught a glimpse of jiseok at some point, the cotton candy hair went somewhere and then disappeared, but you he didn't give a damn, you wouldn't bother, if he wanted to be seen he would show up.

You continued the game, drinking too much, even taking a chance with gunil and his two right feet on the dance floor, laughing at the ridiculousness, joking with your friends for the first time, wondering how you didn't participate in a party like this before. Everyone seemed high in all sorts of ways, your friends would disappear and reappear twice as drunk from time to time, proving the kind of insane you were having to deal with.

You at some point felt the need to go to the bathroom, you made your way through the halls, a little dizzy, out of breath from dancing so much, and then you stopped in the hallway. that's where you saw jiseok for the first time since the show earlier

you had all the time in the world to end up in this situation, there he was, there was someone else in the vastness, he was crazy drunk and you didn't need more than your eyes fixed on his figure to realize it. Jiseok was kissing, insane, making out with someone fervently, you were sure they were capable of fucking there with some more encouragement and you felt bad again, the feeling of the drink already hitting wrong and so you turned to leave going from encounter with a body.

"All good?" Seungmin knew he was about, even if the smell of the drink was strong he would be able to stop what he was doing to help a friend.

"Hm?" So, voice cracking, you looked away a little disoriented.

"You know you don't have to go through this, right?" Nerves were getting to the edge of your skin, you muttered under your breath, feeling embarrassed.

"Could you kiss me?" You sounded off key but you didn't seem to care, maybe you shouldn't, leaving was the option, but it was after midnight and Seungmin had made it clear. " if you do not want it, no problem…"

He smiled, looked proud, grabbed you by the waist and brought you close to the wall, leaning you there, even though jiseok didn't seem to pay any attention to whoever was in the hallway, you seethed in anger, glared at seungmin and then you felt his lips on yours, a kiss that started out intense. Suddenly everything became silent, you sighed against Seungmin's lips and then you deepened, his lips had a certain strength, the taste of alcohol and watermelon, the desire for revenge that wasn't only up to you to have, maybe him feeling wronged by you.

Kissing deeply, pressing your body against the wall, your arms wrapped around his neck. seungmin presses his tongue against your lips and you sigh accepting passage, feeling bad for putting it in your mind that actually that should be jiseok there with you, and your bubblegum-scented shampoo, that the one kissing you fervently wasn't just a common friend who accepted your offer for meaningless revenge, something to stroke your bruised ego somehow. you felt bad for seungmin, but you couldn't help but let go of that contact, allow him to let go of you, you kept getting closer, tangling your tongue with his, tangled up in each other, losing your breath, drunk you lost focus for one second, seungmin did everything to give you that attention and then when the lips parted you ended up facing each other, letting a thread of sage run between your lips and relaxed faces, both panting.

you looked to the side and Jiseok was no longer there and then you relaxed your body, bewildered, not knowing how to proceed

“sorry” you whispered to seungmin and pushed yourself away from the wall, already feeling a little more sober “i shouldn't have asked you that”

"I said I was going to get out of hand…but that's okay, was it even worth it?" he asked in a way trying to get you to his answer.

“yeah, you're a fucking good kisser” you laughed suddenly feeling your legs trembling, you knew that seungmin was great like that with exuded confidence, feeling it on your skin was completely new.

“oh thank you” he laughed back “now if you'll allow me I'm going to use the bathroom”

the party was at an end, counting the last people making their way back to their homes. others still drinking and playing, even talking, you could see the remnants of what was a somewhat insane party.

you didn't live too far from there, but as a matter of caution jungsu who was the only one who didn't seem to have drunk himself to death offered to accompany you home, so while he was looking for his coat inside the house, you waited on the side of outside, on the sidewalk, saying goodbye to the people who passed you as they left.

you were already a little sober when jiseok appeared, stopping beside you, looking from side to side, also looking more sober than the last time you saw him making out with someone in the hallway

“Are you leaving yet?” he said as if he had this whole time in his presence

“yeah, when they said about the gunil parties I didn't think they were that intense,I'm tired” you answered simply, you didn't want to seem upset about a situation you didn't even have the right to be upset about

“sorry for disappearing, I ended up drinking too much in the last few hours” he laughed sheepishly

“okay, it was a unique night, you have your right to celebrate” you look away to the night sky, giving small signs of the morning that would appear in a maximum of an hour

“hm, i saw you and seungmin earlier…i didn't know you guys had that kind of relationship” he started

“we don't, we were just hanging out” you smiled and shrugged. he looked jealous and at some point that gave you comfort, as if his work had been done.

“ah…I see, it seems a little strange, but I'm glad you're free of it” you were ready to answer gaon, maybe skewer his jealous way towards you, say some truths and maybe, just maybe lay your head on the pillow with more peace in your heart, but jungsu appeared quickly cutting the subject

"Sorry I'm late, shall we go now?" jungsu asked turning to jiseok

“coming?” he asked

“no, I need to wait jooyeon, see you later ” jiseok looked strange, but you didn't notice too much, you just bowed and left together with jungsu back to your house. maybe take a break from seeing jiseok, you felt like you were going crazy and it wasn't doing you any good. however the conversation home was very comforting, jungsu had a calm tone in his voice, a pleasant conversation about things that weren't jiseok and that left you immersed until you were at the door of the house, where you thanked jungsu and went inside, looking for comfort from your bed without even cleaning yourself, just sleeping from mental exhaustion, the bitter taste and tingling on your lips from the kiss given that Seungmin without thinking twice gave you.

You met Jiseok occasionally, two or three times after that. As for Seungmin? No more was heard about this matter, you entered into some kind of agreement where you both agreed to blame it on alcohol, maintaining the friendship was important, but he had been clear in saying that if by any chance you wanted him he would be up for one colorful friendship in the future, but before that it should be resolved with Jiseok; He certainly didn't want to be in the middle of this situation, so he refrained.

As for your relationship with jiseok, everything its normal, you needed some time and even if everything seemed a little weird now you only understood it as a sign to leave it as it was, you soon accepted this condition, you had nothing to complain about just like him, already in that state, you weren't sure if you should say too much about your feelings, every time it came up you took a distance to calm your nerves, at least until you found the courage to say something. Which resulted in a mutual distance, even if everyone in the group of friends refused to say anything, you knew that on Jiseok's side there was something that needed to be said too, but that neither of the clearly irresponsible two wanted to take the first step in to say.

The day was especially hot, days like this are perfect for going out and doing something, but you were stuck there in jiseok's garage, paying attention to the nonsense you saw on your cell phone while the band rehearsed their songs for hours on end. You weren't very interested, it was too hot and that place was hot in a sense where you only thought about one thing, getting out of there and having an ice cream; which is clearly not the case as they argue about music non-stop.

"Do you want to sleep here tonight?" The voice as always came from the background in your attention. You looked confused about actually talking to you and that's when you realized there was no one but Jiseok around, you thought that was the moment where everyone disappeared and so you sat more properly on the couch.

"where is everybody?" you asked confused

“they left… you really don't pay attention” said jiseok indignantly and then sighed “so, do you want to sleep here or not?”

"For?" You didn't seem to understand for sure, but you tried hard not to appear defensive, as your behavior could be considered a bit evasive the last few days.

"I don't know, we seem very distant lately" commented Jiseok with a certain air of guilt, throwing everything into the air. "wanted to have a movie night with you"

"Really, but I don't think it's a good idea" you replied skeptically, you wouldn't face sleeping at jiseok's house and ending up more accurate in that feeling. The way his body behaved already showed that he was much more than upset for some time now.

"Why? Do we always do this?" You sometimes seem not to think, normally jiseok is hard to beat, he wanted everything to go his way and that was why you could rarely deny his requests

"Why not, Jiseok, I don't know… there's no way this is going to work" you were still feeling it, your hands sweating and the memory of him from one corner to the other bringing someone that wasn't you

"Why?" He questioned again

"Jiseok…I-I need to go" you once again being evasive, not wanting to declare yourself at all and then you stand up, making your way outside when jiseok grabs you by the wrist

"No, I want to know what's going on, y/n, since the party our relationship has been shit" he felt for you, he missed his best friend, he wished he could be with you talking and laughing again, he couldn't knowing what went wrong, why, where he seemed to sin so much to be treated as a mere stranger. It hurt deep inside you, like a sharp knife, burying and turning, hurting, wanting to make you scream, you didn't want to, but you were on the verge of crying with despair.

"Are you crying?" He started

"Sorry" you whimpered, releasing your arm from jiseok's grip, keeping your body where you were "I lost myself, it's been a while, but it's getting unbearable to deal with this, liking you more like a friend hurts my me so much which I can't measure. Seeing you paying attention to other people bothers me, because I wanted to be beyond friendship with you and I can't."

A weight seemed to come off your shoulders. You were free, now in a situation where you could be totally denied or accepted for how you feel, it was up to jiseok.

"Sorry to spoil everything, I just can't take it anymore" the tears came out thick, but with relief, until that moment he hadn't allowed himself to cry and then it seemed fair, it was jiseok, he would be able to judge you for being sensitive

"So that's why you kissed Seungmin at the party? I mean, it wasn't because you two were having an affair?" You looked confused, wiped your face with the back of your hand.

"What ?" you asked low

"I thought you were together, I don't know. well, good thing, I thought I would be replaced" Jiseok shrugged. You looked jiseok up and down and frowned, angry, was he acting crazy? Was he playing with your feelings?

"Gaon if you're kidding with my f-" it was a matter of seconds, he held you close to him, body in an impact and his thumb scraping across your cheek, wiping away the rest of your tears.

"Don't call me like that" the thick tone of voice made you skin shiver, your heart pounding and then you felt the touch of his lips on yours.

It was a dream, it couldn't be anything else. knees shaking, in sheer desperation, you had to hold on to jiseok to keep from falling. He sighed heavily when you reciprocated, keeping your body on his more firmly; moved his lips against yours with precision, as if he already knew your ways, as if he fantasized about kissing you at all times, it made sense that everyone would always want to taste him in some way.

you still didn't know how to deal well with the situation but everything seemed to flow very easily, through jiseok's hands and lips everything seemed to make a sense, deep, unique and full of feelings; you wondered if he kissed all his lovers with the same dedication, or if it was a unique privilege, if it was only for you that he sighed so deeply as he pulled your lower lip, or squeezed your hips so firmly in order to contain the hand tremors when touching you for the first time

you took the daring liberty of pushing jiseok back onto the sofa, he fell breaking the contact, eyes shining in your direction and then you sighed, climbing onto his lap without saying a word and then you went back to kissing, the butterflies fluttered through your stomach, as if everything inside you had come back together, every racing heartbeat and sigh was for jiseok and one and only, your head clouded and you didn't think twice about advancing the other's mouth with your tongue, in a sequence of murmurs and sighs you began to synchronize, steady, spinning and battling.

jiseok's hands held your shirt by the hem and pulled, breaking the kiss for a while and then getting rid of your shirt, doing the same with his soon after, right there, in the practice room of his house. you pulled his lip between your teeth and smiled, kissing him again, touching his bare torso with your fingers, delicate, given subtle touches in order to make the skin crawl, climb the destiny to the colored hair and hold him by the nape holding firmly, touching the trunks breaking any space that existed between you.

jiseok moved his hands up your back, making a trail to the clasp of your bra and quickly released it, you sighed over his lips and let go for a second to get rid of the underwear; soon you can feel his firm hands cupping your breasts, massaging, daringly playing with your nipples, circling with his index fingers making you sigh, moan low and then start moving your hips over his cock, looking for contact and relief.

The bodies getting involved madly in love, kisses and subtle touches on the surface, marking the skin with passion, taking sincere moans from both lips, getting lost in the immensity, your lips kissing him down all over the neck, touching with delicacy, feeling the smell, the texture, marking with the warm breath with each whimper you gave every time you felt his covered cock stimulating in the right way, when you felt the firm sensation of his touches on your breasts, bringing shivers down your back, Leaving you to Jiseok and only him.

Jiseok stopped for a moment, turned around taking you to lie down on the couch slowly, eyes locked on each other and you felt connected with him, like never before did you feel that you two finally got on the same page. Jiseok kissed down your neck, nibbling, tracing with his tongue, his hands over your breasts still he continued down, making his way between them, kissing, keeping the nipples firm between his fingers. He continued his way to your belly, kissing every centimeter, the low moans that came out of your lips served as a certain incentive, then his hands held the waistband of your pants, pulling them down along with your panties in moments, leaving you naked on the hips, his eyes, like never before jiseok saw you completely without clothes which made his dick throb inside the pants he wore

"You are so beautiful" you smiled embarrassed and moaned soon after, feeling gaon's hands opening your legs so he could see you. The kisses running down your stomach, touching your skin, passing over your inner thighs and then with his thumb he explored your region, with the cold fingertip eliciting an incoherent noise from your lips, you literally dripping in pleasure, biting your lip and mouth. trembling took over your body at the touch of the tongue, sliding, majestic, circling your button and sucking like it was a bullet, you don't know where so much practice came from, but you didn't reject the affection, you felt his hands touching your thigh with affection, eyes attentive in what you were doing and you completely losing your mind.

You felt every part of your body burn in a unique sensation, letting go of everything that once made you close your mouth about how you felt about jiseok and the stupidity of having waited so long to feel that way

"baby please continue" you meowed and got a grunt in response, all in your field of vision was the split hairs of your colors in the mess it often is, you never imagined you needed Jiseok between your legs until that moment and now everything seemed to be lost.

Jiseok played with his tongue over your entrance, circling and entering gently, taking your juice desperately, moaning against your pussy like a crying dog. Now and then he circles and sucks your spot like a toy, pulling from your lips the most promiscuous and beautiful sounds ever heard. Your hands touching the strands of his hair from the front, leaving his face on display and you can see how devoted he was, moaning against your clit, his eyes now intent on yours making you lose your mind again, jiseok wanted to see your every expression and that gave his dick a nice twinge with every taste of the pleasure you felt.

"I will…fuck I'm l-almost" then fingers thrust in, without warning. You moaned something and started rocking your hips towards him, jiseok sucking everything from you and fucking you with his fingers, then you sat down, desperately spilling, biting your lip to contain screaming and then jiseok drank all your liquid, stopping little by little, mounted you with wet lips and chin, licking himself with pleasure

"You're amazing" he said just like that, as he got rid of his pants along with his boxers, making his hardened cock pop out, giving you such a privilege; jiseok helped you to sit down and then he placed himself correctly waiting for you.

Still panting you knelt down on the sofa and held his cock by the base, jiseok grunted, caressed the top of your head and then gave you permission. You masturbated him, sometimes slow, sometimes fast, ran your thumb over the glans and when the nail started to come out, you mounted it, fitting it over the entrance and it started to slide. Jiseok grabbed your hips to help you and then you rested a bit. You smiled at each other without saying a word and then you started rocking, feeling his cock moving inside you, rubbing against your walls, eliciting beautiful moans from your lips. Jiseok kept a firm hand on your hip, helping the back and forth movement, moaning softly, still maintaining intense eye contact with you little by little your body picked up the rhythm, your arms around his neck and then you joined your bodies , jiseok moaned with the feeling of your breasts pressed over him and kept you in the embrace, running the tip of his tongue over your earlobe, releasing shortly after the sounds in your honor.

Your low belly tugged, your fingers returning to the hair on the back of his neck and then you pulled, stroked the chorus, throwing yourself into his arms for support in the thrusts. In a few moments jiseok moved his against your hip, fucking deep, making you moan thinner, more desperate at that time, his fingers marking your skin desperately.

"I-I'm gonna…c-cum" jiseok said with a soft tone in his voice. You didn't stop, you rocked on top of his dick keeping pace, jiseok started moaning louder and then he held you tight fucking you hard, popping noises all over the soundproof space, kissing and biting your neck and then filling you right away after.

You held on, now letting go of the hug you let jiseok play with your breasts while you continued to move, pushing his cum inside you, with soft tones of moans that started to grow again, even sensitized jiseok was pleased with the sight of you rocking and reaching your limit on his dick right after

"M-my god" you whimpered laying your head on his shoulder, feeling his nosy hands leak down to your ass, pulling in a grip that made your pussy contract even around his cock.

"Next time just tell me, I wouldn't think twice about fucking you" complained jiseok groping your ass "I just don't want to have the pleasure of sharing you with anyone in that damn band, you belong to me"

The cold ran through your belly, you murmured getting off of jiseok and fell to the side on the sofa, sitting next to him.

"I say even to you, don't you dare" you stared breathlessly. Jiseok welcomed you with a smile and then moved to the floor, kneeling between your legs, placing them on his shoulders to keep them open "round two"

He dictated without saying a word after, licking all the cum that oozed from her pussy to go back to sucking you.

#xdinary heroes imagine #xdinary hard hours #xdinary heroes hard hours #xdinary heroes smut #jiseok smut #jiseok hard hours #gaon smut #gaon hard hours #kpop hard hours #kpop smut

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smuttyassholes · 3 months

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Happy Belated Valentine's Day from the Assholes (Asshole #6 Writes)

~~The First Time~~ Your first time. Did you think of it often? Yes. Maybe. Or maybe not. At least that's what you tell your friends. Lie to them that you don't care. That "if it happens it happens". Doesn't matter with whom or where. If it's when you were 18 or 25. It was funny when you were 19. Then 24. Not so much when you are in your early 30s and you have barely been kissed. Let alone asked on a date.

And you push it out of your mind. You ''carry on". You get a new bank account, a job. It's just bussing tables, making coffees, minimum wage. You don't care, it's money in your pocket. You get a hole in the wall flat. Your parents try calling, you don't pick up. Ever. And you still don't think about getting laid. Being kissed, being held. Someone bending you over the nearest surface, tasting your skin, biting, licking.Hot breath on your neck spreading you open with hands, fingers, tongue. Then a cock. You don't think about it.

And life goes on. Drones on more like. Some color, some music. Some moments that are worth it. And still don't think about it. One of those endless days though that you spend "not thinking about it", you meet him. You don't know his name at first, his voice even. He is bent over the coffee menu, platinum blond hair falling over his face, long fingers tracing the words. He looks puzzled then disgusted almost. You aren't surprised, the coffee shop was small and the selections were too poor even for your standards. Then you hear a grumble for the first time. "How can there be no espresso for fuck's sake...." Then his face lifts, scanning for a server you presume.

His eyes make you think dragon. Dressed all in black, lips pursed, he could pass as one with the designer expensive watch you notice on his wrist and the most likely expensive thick frames on his face. They draw even more attention to his dragon like eyes and you make your way to him, thinking that, if anything, this will be an interesting encounter to look back on. You stop at his table, notepad and pen at the ready, asking politely. "What can I get you?"

Black eyes. Hazel so dark that it's black surveys you. He hums, then whispers. "Please tell me my eyes deceive me and you actually do offer plain espresso instead of those sugary concoctions from hell." You chuckle under your breath in spite of yourself as you nod then reply (it isn't polite to nod after all). "Yes we do. What will it be?" He sighs in apparent relief as he says "An americano. No water extra ice. To go." "Right away sir. Will that be all?" He nods and you jot down the order, disappearing. You don't generally trouble yourself with making coffees but today you make every single effort not only to make his coffee, but for it to be excellent. You are nervous as hell as you bring the carry out coffee as instructed to the table.

The man has risen, black pea coat pulled back on and buttoned, you catch a glimpse of a tight black turtleneck and then his voice, ice cold like the coffee you were carrying. "Double or nothing. I'm a professional and I don't make mistakes. I get results. My services come with this price tag because of it. You are wasting my time. Either you wire me the difference or I go back home to enjoy this lovely Saturday morning you are ruining for me. Now what's it going to be?"

He turns, taking the iced coffee from your fingers and swirls it slowly, long fingers tapping as he waits for the answer on the other line. He then wraps his (ridiculously full and pouty you suddenly notice) lips around the straw taking a long drag of a drink and humming in approval, following it up with "Language Mister Price. Swiss bank account, as previously discussed. Good day." He hung up and it seemed like his entire demeanor changed if only for a moment. His mouth lifted as he took another long drink and whispered as he set money on the table. "Coffee worthy enough of double the price. Keep the change rosebud."

Then he left.Long black coat billowing behind him, the only color on him his platinum blond hair. That was the day that I started thinking again of what it would be like. The first time. And the face I saw in the dead of night,in my fevered imaginings, in my broken moans,was his.

Author's Note: And with this Namjoon drabble I start introducing my writing in this blog. I have some ideas for this, so if it is liked, please let me know by reblogging and leaving some notes.

More to come!

~ Asshole 6

#bts imagines #asshole 6 writes #asshole 6 #namjoon smut

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themuseandantarctica · 6 months

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* 𝒊 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂 𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒈𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒆𝒏

sentence starters from joanne greenberg's novel i never promised you a rose garden. change however necessary. i never promised you a rose garden is a semi-autobiographical account of a young girl admitted to a mental hospital for treatment for her schizophrenia, which means...

tw: mental hospitals, medical, self-harm, suicide, suicidal ideation, ableism, ableist language

it should look as if we trust her. she must feel that we trust her…

they call it a mental hospital, but it's a place where they put people away.

we should have expected them. why should we be so surprised?

i told you the truth about these things you asked. now are you going to help me?

you are just in time for the patient's soothing tea and the end of the world.

it was considered advisable to terminate the interview.

well, i'm a hundred square yards sane.

you will not have to give up anything until you are ready, and then there will be something to take its place.

the prisoner pleads guilty to the charge of not having acute something-itis and accepts the verdict of guilty of being nuts in the first degree.

someday i hope to help you see this world as other than a stygian hell.

it seemed like a good life -- a very good life she had. now they say it wasn't.

i can't really see you and i can't really hear you.

they think that both of us would be too much just now.

it's without a cause, you see, and that's what is so frightening.

i hated it and had no talent for it. it was one of the flags to capture, you see, and he had to try to win it, even through me.

it's going to cost us -- everything. you know that, don't you?

am i not what you wanted? do you have to correct my brain, too?

you see, she knew, in her own way, that she was not attempting suicide, but making the call for help, the call of a mute and confused person.

waiting for the blows… and then there came a time, later -- a time where she began to arrange for blows to fall.

i swear to you that i will not use you.

they never said they were sorry, not one of them.

is this… forever?

that was not my doing. i was not even in on the consultation.

you are walking around your destruction and poking a little finger at it here and there.

it's funny… i never figured that kid was really sick.

i scratched my arm a little -- that's all.

do you know what a coldsheet pack is? i'm going to set one up for you.

this is the little tart i was telling you about.

there are flowers in a hospital and strength, too. you will live and be strong.

i could not be sure. i am good at getting deceived, you know.

you know… the thing that is so wrong about being mentally ill is the terrible price you have to pay for survival.

there is no injustice being done.

don't hit me, [name] -- don't hit me! i know how hard you can hit!

once i greeted my best friend and she turned from me. when i asked why, she said, "after what you did?" she never spoke to me again, and i never found out what happened.

none of the others laughed, really. you were only afraid that they might laugh. you alone made yourself lie.

there are other deaths than death -- worse ones.

we might someday… have to be "well" and be in the world.

i didn't want to hurt you -- to make you sicker.

when i get around to it, i'm going to do your portrait.

my hair feels dirty.

it is my selfness and it is poisonous. it is mind-poisonous.

another camouflage is to blame it all on someone else. it keeps you from having to face what they really did to you, and what you did to yourself and are still doing.

somewhere there is a thief who has heard that people bury and hide their gold and jewels. can you see the expression on his face when he comes on what i have buried!

i like being somebody's punishment; it makes me feel needed.

their religion doesn't permit them to commit suicide.

i found out about being insane. it really is something.

lay off [name], will you?

do you think the sick people are all in hospitals? do you think you have a corner on suffering?

you ought to know mental trouble when you see it.

it's envy! the best and smartest are always envied. walk straight and don't let them know if they touch you.

i thought i was going to die, but at last they came back.

that kid looks through me as if i'm not here at all.

i am a hair in my eye, and so are you.

a pacifist is one who uses his open hand.

i never promised you a rose garden. i never promised you perfect justice, and i never promised you peace or happiness. my help is so that you can be free to fight for all of these things.

it's because of the maybe. it's because of the little, little maybe.

she never took your world at all, don't you see?

what do they want with me, broken into and spoiled already? i'm not good enough for anyone else.

i could still be crazy if i wanted to?

i wish i could have made it to that narcotics cabinet.

are you calling me? is it me you want?

you have quite a number of bits and pieces all copied down on those papers of yours.

who ever told you that learning facts or theories or languages had anything to do with understanding yourself?

there is nothing you can do to me that my own craziness doesn't do to me smarter and faster and better.

i'll be around. you could even get privileges to come and visit me.

i never could ask for anything. i thought you knew that. when i have to ask, something happens to me and i… well, i start to fight.

i always wondered why those reports seemed to be more about [name]'s thoughts than about her body, like pulse or temperature.

maybe the cannon blast we were fearing was only what we heard.

you are captive and victim. we did not want you to escape.

it's going to hit -- please -- it's going to hit harder than i can stand up under.

god, they build their tortures cunningly!

everyone is so afraid of getting blood on the living room floor. "i can't stand to see suffering," they say, "so die outside!"

i think now, though, that you are little too happy with yourself for this trouble you have.

mommy and daddy are shelling out plenty on that bitch who isn't fit for saving.

get away from that door, [name]. you have no business there.

you are trying to hurt yourself now. what happened?

don't forget what i know about you!

i had known all those years and years how sick i was, and nobody else would admit it.

if you're seeking objective reality, this is one hell of a place to start.

even if you didn't really talk out loud, it was that look you get…

i'm not giving up; i'm just tired, that's all.

occasionally, others are damned by you to punish you.

this you have earned. i don't often give presents either, so take it.

this is one-by-one from the jawbone!

my difference is not my sickness.

when i get upset… i usually have trouble seeing properly.

did i hurt anybody? did i hurt anybody?

kid, i never knew you had it in you. you can really fight!

if i want to die, what am i saving myself for?

you've seen this… awfulness before; why are you so shocked?

measure the hate you feel now, and the shame. that quantity is your capacity also to love and to feel joy and to have compassion.

i would be worse than wasteful to give a moment's time to a hopeless case.

you will find no shortage of moral issues and hard decisions in the real world.

i have decided not to be immoral, because of what happened to [name].

where is what you used to scratch this?

it is why you need a hospital.

you are worn out, but no longer so very frightened, are you?

what am i doing here with all these crazy people!

i don't want to think anymore! i'm tired and scared and i just don't care anymore what happens.

i like an anger that is not fearful and guilty and can come out in good and vigorous english.

we just didn't get on. we didn't like each other. i think perhaps we were too much alike…

you've only got one kind of cold, the kind coats can fix.

you may not even have to do anything about it. you may not even have to think about it.

it was just a simple statement in my mind that i was going to live, to come up alive.

what hurts is being kicked by the forces that everyone else lives by and years of being nuts and not being able to tell anyone and have them believe you.

i tried to go easy. i hope it didn't hurt too much.

grapevine never told me you were back.

it can be very, very tough, but people are sometimes better than you think they will be.

somehow lately, there's been something like a caring in her.

now, am i crazy or did you make that story up?

you can have something on which to model yourself.

stop it! will you never end it!

if everybody would stop dying over the big secret, it'll be a lot easier.

you're not here that much. i want to see you this week.

no, [name], he was weeks ago -- i just went to the party with him.

when she blows, she's going to cover the ceiling.

sometimes you have to fight what won't yield and put yourself where it's safe to be crazy.

whose idea was this in the first place?

if i weren't scared to death of it, i would be so grateful!

you're not just rubbing it in good to get a little free suffering out of it?

alive is fighting. it's the same thing. i still think [name] could have made it.

well, i hope you like the room.

now, when you have come again to the world, you are able to remember what was also there with the darkness. much of it was darkness only because it was balanced against the light of loving and experiencing truth.

what about your new friend, [name]? do you still see her sometimes?

the one place i could never go… the one hunger i could never admit.

do they know how beautiful and enviable their lives are?

i can't go back to my merry high-school days again, volleyball in the gym and teeth-teeth at the school dances.

could you call them for an appointment?

just… well, i liked to think of you being outside and starting along, that's all.

hey! you know what happens when you burn yourself? you get burned, that's what!

is it true that you bring me beauty lately only when you are threatened?

if it's okay with the people down at that place she mentioned, i'll be ready whenever they are.

say "hello" for me. throw something at her and be rude so she'll know it's me.

she is prompt and obedient and never insane in the classroom.

does it all have to go? do we pile it up and throw it all out?

i will never have that. not by fighting or study or work or withstanding will i be able to walk with one of them or be warmed by their hands.

we had to call your landlady and tell her you weren't coming back there tonight and that you were here.

you rotten whore! let me go!

i am going to hang with the world. full weight.

#rp meme #rp starters #sentence meme #sentence starters #prompts #rp prompts #writing prompts

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theerurishipper · 7 months

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Real question tho. Was there ever an episode where the moment Alya was in anyway involved in the hero plot as hero herself Marinette DIDN'T treat her inherently more like a genuine partner and MUCH better than she treated/ treats Chat Noir?

The only episode i can remember where this doesn't happen is in "Mayura". But every other time?

S4 needs barely any explaining, Alya and Adrien were at the complete opposite extremes of partnership treatment from Marinette. Alya got the partnership deluxe on easy mode basically handed to her and Chat had to tank all the downsides, she got every promotion possible bc she is Marinette's civilian best friend while Chat was most of the time more of a "beloved" pet and scapegoat or punching bag than an actual partner which he had to learn to accept that he doesn't deserve any better under Ladybug's leadership. If Marinette even rememberd thinking about Chat at all.

Even s5 still keeps it consistent that Alya would be Marinette's actual partner now if only she still had her Miraculous. I don't think there has been a single time where Marinette has not explicitly chosen Alya/ Rena over Chat Noir in terms of actual partnership. "Revelation" even had Ladybug deceive Chat again, sending him out as bait, so she can get Alya involved as Scarabella so Marinette can try to trick Lila into admitting out loud that she's indeed a liar and Alya finally believes her. There was nothing noble about that. She was SURPRISED that Lila immediately deakumatized herself.

Great, and tahts what Marinette abandoned Chat Noir for on the battle field with only a hidden Scarabella who could have NOT helped him in any way if he had DARED to need help against Lila and the whole city after him.

I will never ever get over Marinette in Hack-San just not remembering Chat's existence at all besides telling Alya to try laughing at his jokes. Since day 1 Hawkmoth is after their Miraculous but apparently Marinette couldn't possibly imagine taht Chat suddenly seeing a new Ladybug holder out of nowhere is a bad thing.

But hey, SHE was taken care of, and apparently that's all that matters in her head. How wonderful that the episode basically said that if Adrien had given someone else his Miraculous before this without telling her, Marinette apparently wouldn't have feared for Chat's life at all. No concern spared for Chat Noir's survival, it's a miracle she remembered him at all, I guess?

This is not the Ladynoir I once signed up for.

Seriously, Season 4 was literally about Marinette pretty much replacing Chat Noir with Alya, and the only reason he got to be her special partner again was because Gabe stole all the Miraculous, not because she realized that the partner she wanted and the one whom she wanted by her side was Chat Noir. And apparently she didn't bother to tell him anything in Season 5 either, considering she's still ready to go behind his back (though this isn't as egregious) and lie to him. Like, the Season 5 finale has her tell Alya the secret about Gabe and that he was Monarch, but not Chat Noir (I don't mean Adrien, I mean Chat Noir), her partner who has been by her side the whole time. Like, Alya gets all this special and secretive information, and Chat Noir gets nothing, even the information he is entitled to. She hasn't learnt a damn thing. And I know, it's the fault of the writers, but it's so deeply entrenched into her character at this point that I'm finding it difficult to make that distinction.

Thank you for your ask!

#MLB #ML Salt #ML Writing Salt #ML Writers Salt #Marinette Salt #Ladybug Salt #S5 Finale #Meta #My meta #Asks

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lampochkaart · 8 months

Text

Kirumi

Little analysis⬇️

I don't think we talk enough about how manipulative Kirumi can be. When she was considered the main suspect, she began to lie, emphasizing that she always valued the needs of others more than her own. This is partly true, but in that situation she was not caring about THEM, but about other people. And in order to remove suspicion from herself (and make everyone vote incorrectly), she used any methods. She even tried to evoke pity by crying. But the dirtiest method she used was that she used Kaede's wish to convince them that she would never try to deceive them. She knew that this wish became a symbol of hope for the group, she knew that Kaede was very important to Shuichi, she knew that it was still very difficult for him to reveal the truth. But she used it to her advantage.

When she was found out and already chosen as the killer, Kirumi tried to force everyone to fight Monokuma for her (which would inevitably lead to someone's death), causing everyone to feel guilty towards the entire country for which she was responsible. And it almost worked.

But Kaito brought everyone to their senses with his speech that there is no such thing as the “price of life.” They can't just give their lives because "it's would be better that way". Their lives matter. " Life's purpose is to be lived". He firmly stated that he wanted to live, which was actually a very brave act, because people could've called him an egoist for putting his life before the lives of an entire nation. However, he was supported by... Kokichi. He brought the group's attention to what Kirumi was actually trying to do. He revealed that she planned to use them to escape. And she confirmed that he was right with her words.

Also how different her behavior was before this from how aggressive she becomes when she sees that her tactics didn't work (and at a couple of other points during the class trial when she was just starting to get accused).

I'm NOT trying to make her out to be a villain and say she's bad. But I don't like how this imperfect side of her character is often ignored. She is often positioned only as a selfless servant, which in my opinion is wrong. I DO NOT deny her selfless devotion, but I believe that the trial brought out another side of her. She really wanted to survive. She really wanted to get out. I believe that one of the reasons of her breakdown was due to the fact that she broke under the pressure of all the responsibility that was placed on her.

In the official manga, Kiyo analogizes their situation to a tradition called "jincan", where many poisonous insects are sealed in a jar and they begin to devour each other until only one insect remains. Kirumi reasons with him that if any being sees a chance to get out of the hell they are locked in, they will do anything to achieve this goal.

I love how Danganronpa often defies obvious expectations. Like, you expect Kirumi to become a killer because someone will use her and she won't be able to refuse because of her desire to serve. But in reality, she almost sacrificed the lives of the entire group in order to get out herself.

In conclusion, I think it is important to recognize Kirumi not only as a obedient Ultimate Servant, but also as a girl who desperately wants to live, who is ready to do ANYTHING to get out. She is ready to go to great lengths if necessary to achieve this goal.

Many of Kirumi's moments have a theme of surviving no matter what: her behavior at the Class Trial (the fact that she initially tried to frame Himiko, who can not stand up for herself), her manipulation at the end of the trial, her breakdown before her execution, execution itself, where she tries to escape so desperately that she climbs up a thorny vine through a tunnel, not stopping even when circular saws appear from the walls (her escape attempt was clearly part of the execution, Monokuma knew what she will try to do and made sure to cause her as much despair as possible, giving her hope of getting out).

She wanted to get out not only to continue to serve, but also because she just wanted to survive. She wanted to do something not only for the sake of others, but also for her own sake. Perhaps for the first time in my life.

I love seeing complex characters who have many sides and flaws. So I find it strange to see that sometimes Kirumi is only described as a obedient servant. She is so much more than that. This is exactly what I love about Kirumi, what makes her so interesting.

***

Uh, hey. I just wanted to ask if you would be intrested in seeing here more of my drv3 analysis (spoiler: most of them are ch 5 related). And if you are, should i make drawings to accompany them (like in the beginning of this post) or just post them as they are

#my art #artists on tumblr #danganronpa #kirumi tojo #drv3 #drv3 kirumi #danganronpa v3 killing harmony #danganronpa v3 #art #analysis by lampochka #wow would you look at that i can draw something other than two purple idiots /lh #i actually really like kirumi #so i decided to write down some of my thoughts #also i called it “little” analysis because it's not a full character analysis it's just one trait #but it turned out quite long #oops i posted it instead of saving to drafts #i guess it’s fine #drv3 spoilers

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bbnibini · 3 months

Note

650, blue and Solomon! I wanted you to write for someone I know you would enjoy ehe~ Hurt me as much as you want. Love ya 😘

--Ophelia

Blue

It was in the season when summer was at its peak, and the sky and the sea were dyed deeply in its shade. He could close his eyes again if he wished; deny himself of all the beauty he was witnessing. It was easy, after all—hating the things he was used to hating. But the irony was there. He looked at you, surrounded by everything he had hated all his life, and thought it was beautiful.

It was in the roses in your arms–a testament to his hidden feelings. ‘An impossible, unattainable love, much like these flowers’, he said this to you in his usual whimsy. A jab thrown at its “mysterious sender”. He called himself a coward in your presence. Why couldn’t he say it in your face? Someone like this doesn't deserve you. Your anger pierced through his soul and made his heart skip a beat.

“How could you say that when he cut all of the thorns for me and cleaned up the stems so prettily? So what if he couldn’t say it to my face? I might not know who he is, but I know that he loves me.” And you were right. The love that he had for you was already drowning him, but at that moment, he felt himself sinking deeper.

It was in his eyes when you caught him in a lie and pretended not to know anything. The way you spoke about him as if he was someone else, “attacking” him with endless compliments and words of love. Words that couldn’t seem to get through him no matter how loudly they were spoken. Even if you screamed, he could only hear your silence.

It was on days when his feelings reflected it as well—shades deeper than usual as he caught himself in nostalgia. As time passed and his youthfulness remained, he found himself counting the wrinkles on your face in a mixture of affection and worry.

It was the colour of your shirt that day. On a particularly sombre night where a few glasses of wine were downed to temper the lingering hollowness in his chest, he cried in your arms and begged you to stay. You couldn’t be going anywhere, not yet at least. He knew that. It was ridiculous–surely, you thought that too. This wasn’t the first time he had been this fragile —yet there was something almost calculating about it. Even at his most vulnerable, he couldn’t seem to say the words he wanted to tell you out loud.

It was the paint that chipped away at the walls of your old apartment. The usual smile on his face hid his many worries. He told you of the spells he had at the ready—some magical tools he had bought specifically to help you in your move. He could have deceived you when you knew him far less–through the smoke and mirror rumours that he didn’t care enough to dismiss. But this was the same man who moved mountains for you and risked his life just to make sure you were safe, even at the cost of his own. You couldn’t be fooled.

“Do you know where I’ll be going?”

His lips trembled slightly at the question, his facade slipping away.

“Lamentation…right?” You shook your head.

“In the past?” You shook your head again.

It was in his eyes again—shining like the starry sky. He was too taken aback to speak from his heart, so you pulled out the words from his lips as you leaned closer to him.

“Guess where?” You laced your fingers with his and kissed the back of his hand; his face becoming a lovely shade of red in shock.

“Wherever you’re going, of course. Forever.”

…along with the word he had been struggling to tell you for ages.

“Forever?”

A word you were determined to say to him until he finally believes in it.

“Forever.”

(650 words, blue)

request here

#i didn't want to write full angst lol #thank you for always providing excellent feedback to the drafts<3 you're p cool too!!#obey me solomon #obey me solomon x reader #obey me nightbringer #obey me fic

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 1 year

Note

May I humbly request some Volo x reader crumbs please? Thank you!

Why settle for crumbs when I can offer a meal? 👀

Summary: Some post-game comfort where Reader (not the MC) is Volo's S/O, but despite finding out about his plans, they know in their heart he's not all bad and wants to stay with him.

(obvious PLA spoilers ahead!)

.......

After overhearing Volo's sinister plans and subsequent defeat at Spear Pillar from Akari/Rei, you wanted to find him. As his s/o you were concerned.

According to Cogita, he went into self-imposed exile and abandoned the Ginkgo Guild, still determined to face Arceus itself without the help of some ridiculous flute.

But with knowledge of his usual hangouts near ancient/historical spots, you eventually do locate him, seeing that he definitely looks a lot worse for wear, sporting a dirty and dull version of his Arceus-inspired garb. And his hair was down, messier than ever. He just looked like a total wreck and in no condition to meet every Pokémon right now.

His Togekiss immediately senses your presence and goes to embrace you in her wings, chirping happily, which in turn alerts Volo.

He's stunned that you actually went out of your way to find him. Surely, the entire village caught wind of his evil deeds, as did you.

So why did you come here? To yell at him for his selfish desires? To cry about how he betrayed everyone?

Well he was about to find out. Tbh he was ready for whatever insults you had to get off your chest. You had to be furious at him.

"[Y/n], you...you were looking for me?" He rasps.

"Of course, Volo..I learned about what happened and-"

"You're disgusted, right?" He immediately assumes. "I deceived everyone and you've come to reprimand me for my heinous actions? For my hubris?"

"....no, that's not-"

"You're not one to lie so easily, darling. So drop the act and just admit it..what I did was abhorrent and unforgivable. I backstabbed a child, I summoned Giratina itself..I threatened to destroy this very world!! How do you not see a monster in me?!"

You're quiet for a moment, looking to Togekiss, and then the nearby field where Lucario and Roserade were having a sparring match.

"Because your Pokémon don't." You say to him. "They still love you, and...so do I. Of course, I was shocked at what you did on that mountain. I mean..you tried stealing the plates from the kid who risked their life to get them."

The answer was simple--because they didn't.

His team knew he didn't truly "wield" them, nor was he as heartless as he claimed to be. Otherwise he wouldn't still have Pokémon who evolved based on friendship status.

Plus you knew that what Volo was before isn't a facade. He was just good at hiding his ambitions.

"Because they weren't worthy of possessing them. I would've used them to make a better world for us." He gritted his teeth, eyes burning as he felt the stinging defeat in his heart all over again. "I would’ve summoned Arceus for you, I would’ve taken its powers for you, [y/n]! Yet once again..fate has been cruel to me, declaring me still unworthy of meeting it, even after all I’ve done. Now I’m left to suffer..as always.”

By the end of his rant, his voice was drained and defeated, as he hung his head low, feeling some great deal of remorse.

"...my dear, you don't need to take a deity’s powers for me to love you." You kneel down, cupping his face, where you could feel both sides growing wet with tears. “I can’t find it in me to hate you. So please..let me stay. Even if I never go back to the village again, that's alright. I'd rather be here with you. I know this world has been unkind, but there's so much beauty in it. And we'll seek it out together."

Volo just looked up at you, his heart swelling with emotions. Part of him wanted to push you away and focus on his mission, believing he deserved to be hated and alone...

Besides, his Pokémon were starting to miss you a lot when he went into exile, yearning for the treats you’d spoil them with ever since you two began dating.

But on the other hand, he knew you weren’t that easy to get rid of.

No matter how far he travelled in Hisui, you’d just find him again, being the stubborn partner that you are.

So he just nods and silently embraces you with his head buried into your chest, relieved that he still has someone to cling to even after everything.

Meanwhile, his Togekiss raced outside to tell the rest of the gang the good news:

You were here to stay with their wie-no, trainer forever.

#clanask #anonymous #pokemon x reader #pla x reader #pokemon legends arceus x reader #legends arceus x reader #pokemon volo x reader #volo x reader #pla spoilers #headcanons #hurt/comfort

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codfanficedits · 6 months

Text

Final Goodbye - Part 3

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley & Reader

Summary: You are Death.

Wordcount: 2710| Rating: M (18+ only!)

Warnings: MW3 SPOILERS

A/N: Different colours to identify dialogue better, my shit has been flopping again and my brain can't handle the lack of dopamine.

Part 3/4.

Simon Riley. You had been following the man ever since he was born. There had been times where he had been ready to leave this earth, only to be pulled back by Life on the last second.

It would be a lie if it wouldn’t make you question whether or not it would be ethical to keep certain people alive. But that wasn’t up to you to judge after all.

Even after he escaped the horror that was his childhood home, death seemed to follow Simon, his hand never steered clear from the blood that stained him.

But this time? This time it was different.

Simon couldn’t cope with the death of Gaz and Soap, leaving him a broken mess. But Simon was taught that feelings, emotions should be hidden inside, piling up until you couldn’t bear it anymore.

So Simon did what he knew best, copying the coping skill of his father, empty bottles piling up just like the feelings piled up inside of him. Whiskey replacing the companionship that his friends no longer could give them, the burning sensation of the liquid making him feel alive, a feeling he thought he didn’t need anymore, but he felt himself craving it, chasing it.

And of course people around him were worried, John tried to talk to him, John had seen this way too often before. Soldiers not being able to cope with the loss, turning to the poison that roamed this earth, alcohol, drugs and self-destruction in the from of women. And John had tried to stop it, tried to warn him, but Simon was a grown man, capable of making his own choices, no matter how destructive.

You knew you had promises Soap and Gaz that Simon wouldn’t drink himself to death, and with the amount of liquor he was pumping into his system, you almost got the feeling you had been lying.

But Simon would bounce back from the alcohol abuse, with the help of his captain that is.

It had been a day like any other, Simon would try to focus on his work, his mind already on the numbing temptation of the liquor, briefings, conversations, details, they would all go past him like a blur while he tried to deceive the people around him. And usually after a day of work, he would lock himself into his quarters, drinking until he forgot his fallen teammates.

“A word.” John’s voice is loud, a little too loud for Simon’s liking.

“About what?”

“You.”

“What is there about me?”

“Why did you join the army?”’

You watch, slightly amused at the low blow John just spat out.

“Don’t you fu-“

“Answer my fucking question, Simon. Why did you join the fucking army.”

And you can tell Simon is struggling to answer that question, hell he doesn’t want to answer that question, because that would mean he could no longer pretend he wasn’t following his fathers footsteps.

“I joined to escape home.”

“And why did you have to escape home?”

“Because my father was an abusive alcoholic.”

“Then tell me, Simon, why the fuck are you turning into your father?”

“Bullshit John.”

“Bullshit? You think you’re sleek, only bringing away the bottles in the early morning. Do you think we really don’t hear the clinking of the glass while you wander these halls? Do you really think no one can smell it on your breath?”

“You don’t get it.”

You had seen John often enough to recognize the subtle anger in his face, flaring nostrils, a slight raise of his brows, eyes narrowing.

“I don’t get it?”

“You have no idea how much their death affected me.”

“I have no idea because you shut yourself out and rather poison yourself.” John spat back at him.

“You have no idea what I have been through Captain, and I would strongly advice you stray away to this topic.”

“You’re right. I did not have your upbringing, and I do wish you dad had healed before he came your father, but you do not get to tell me about grief.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I am affected too. I was the one who asked Soap to come with me to Makarov, I was the one who approved Gaz going on that mission. And I can’t let you drink yourself to death, Simon. I will not be responsible for your death too.”

Both men are silent, straying into territory they are not used too, at least not with each other. Both men had been told that their emotions were forbidden, that emotions should not be on display for others to see.

But you could see their hurt souls, their broken souls, needing the company of each other. John is the first to give in. Holding his arms open and Simon clings on for dear life.

“God fucking damnit boy, get your shit together, that is an order.”

“I forget then when I’m drunk enough.”

“I know. But forgetting them isn’t the way to go. You shouldn’t forget them, celebrate their life because they no longer can.”

“I will, Captain.”

“Good.” John let go off him, giving him a rough pat on his back. “Do you need anything from me, the military?”

“A little time off.”

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay all by yourself? I can get a therapist for you if you want.”

“I would like that.”

“Good. Now, get some rest, I’ll pull some strings to get you someone to talk to.”

“Thanks Cap, goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Simon.”

Something was off, something was different, and John couldn’t really put his finger on it, but decided to not press any further. He had nagged Simon long enough and it felt as if his point had come across good enough.

Simon on the other hand, felt a calm feeling he hadn’t experienced before. A decision crossing his mind when he gripped his sink, tears streaming down his face when he recognized his father in the mirror. Simon knew he wouldn’t be strong to recover, he had become an alcoholic, just like his father.

“Fuck!” His fist slams the mirror, the second one this year, blood running down his arm while he takes in the freedom the pain gives him. His mind is only giving him one solution, the emotions, his grief, the craving to alcohol, they’re making it impossible to think straight.

Simons scribbles something down on a piece of paper. Before he takes a deep breath and looks around his room. John had been right, Simon thought it had alle been under control, but he was lying to himself, the half full bottles being the proof of that, but not anymore, not any longer.

He takes place in his own bathtub, a piece of glass gripped tightly in his right hand. You know what is about to happen and this is always your least favourite part.

He doesn’t drink himself to death.

Tears blur his vision when the sharp material pierces his skin, dragging down. He doesn’t even register the pain, all he can feel is the peace and quiet his mind gives him. So he does it again, and again, going deeper each time.

His head tilts back and he drops the shard of glass, causing it to shatter on the ground.

It stays silent, the only sound is his blood dripping on the floor of the bathtub. Life is nowhere to be seen, and you know this is his end. In a split second you make a decision.

The universe had been too unkind to Simon already, the least you could do was to make sure he didn’t have to die alone.

“Hello.”

“What the fuck are you? How the fuck did you get in?” His eyes snap open and his head snaps back to face you.

“I am Death.”

“Did I die already?”

“Not yet.”

“Than why the fuck are you here?”

“Because this will kill you, and I did not want you to die alone.”

“Well thanks for your concern but I don’t need your pity.”

“Gaz and Soap did not have to die alone.”

“What the fuck did you just say?”

“Gaz and Soap did not have to die alone.”

“How the fuck would you know?”

You chuckle softly. “I guided them too.”

His face softens. “How.. What.. What did they say?”

“Soap was pissed off, Gaz was worried he had let his mother down.”

“Sounds like them.”

“It is nearly your time, Simon.”

“Will the pain stop?”

“When you’re dead? Yes, yes the pain will stop.”

“I can’t wait to be pain free.”

“Tell me about your favourite memory?”

“Of what?”

“Anything you please.”

Simon has to think for a little while.

“My brother.” He eventually starts. “Had gotten a part time job, and he needed to give the money to our father, but he had hidden his first pay check. So when our father was passed out on the couch again, we snuck out.” A smile forms on his face.

“We bought a cake, one of those fancy ones with a lot of frosting. We ate it in the skatepark where we used to hangout a lot. I ate so much cake I couldn’t stand it for the longest time afterwards. But for the time that it took for us to eat that cake, we were happy, not a care in the world, just loads of sugar and each other.”

He hadn’t noticed yet, but the shackles of life had fallen off during his story, setting him free of his mortal pain.

“I miss him.”

“Tommy?”

“Yes, more than anything.”

“How’s the pain, Simon?”

“Which pa- Oh fuck.”

You watch as he gets up from the bathtub, looking at his body, he died smiling, his eyes closed, almost looking happy.

“You deserved better.”

“I did.” He agrees.

Simon clears his throat. “So what now? You take me to hell and I’ll burn for eternity?”

“Why would you burn in hell?”

“I am a soldier, I killed people. People who deserved it, and people who might not have deserved it.”

“And that is equal to eternal suffering?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Don’t you think you have suffered enough?”

His face turns pale, the words slowly sinking in while he recalls his whole life.

“So there is no hell for me?” his voice is a soft whisper.

“There is no hell for you.”

“Fuck.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Fuck I was so scared for hell, that had been the only thing holding me back from killing myself earlier.”

“So” He looks at his body again. “What would be next?”

“Once you are ready, I’ll take you to the afterlife.”

“How do I know I’ll be ready?”

“You’ll feel it.”

“I don’t feel it yet.”

“Then you can stay with me.”

He nods, liking the answers that you’ve given him. “I have some questions.”

“I’m sure you do.”

“Can I ask them?”

“Of course. I’ll answer them if I have the answer.”

“How do you know which soul to reap?”

“I just know.”

“Okay, and now you are here with me, does that mean no one else dies on the world.”

“If that was the case a lot of deaths would’ve been postponed.” You answer. “I can split myself into fragments, therefor I am able to reap multiple souls.”

“How did you, you know, get into this profession?”

“I was created to be Death. It is all I have ever known, and it is all I will ever know.”

“Hm.” His eyes shift to his body again.

“What is the afterlife, and who will be there?”

“Everyone will be there, every soul goes to the afterlife, and you’ll reconnect with the souls that love you.”

Simon has to swallow a lump in his throat, he wants to say something but is interrupted by a knock on the door. “Simon?” John’s ruff voice sounds.

“Can I answer him?”

“Afraid not.”

“Simon!” the knocking returns. “I swear to God.” John mutters, as he opens the door to Simon’s room. “If you have been drinking again.”

John looks around the room, and you and Simon watch him do so. John’s gaze fall on the piece of paper, his face turning pale. “God fucking damnit.” The paper falls on the ground, slowly twirling in the air before it gently settles down.

‘this isn’t your fault.’ Even though you knew what would be on the letter your eyes automatically shift to the words on the white paper.

Johns open the door to Simon’s bathroom, and he just stand in the door opening, taking in the dead body of his teammate. “God damn it, Simon.” He repeats. “You could’ve talked to me you know.”

John moves over to the body, taking in the smile on Simon’s face. “At least you were happy.” John mutters.

His hands reach for Simon’s dog tags, taking one of the chain to add to his own. John’s fingertips rest on Simon’s cheek for a brief moment. “I hope death treats you better than life.”

Simon looks at you. “You do.”

“Thank you.”

“Will the Captain be okay?”

“Yes.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“I feel bad, for leaving him behind, for doing this.”

“He’ll understand, and when his time will come too, I’ll tell him about you.”

“Thank you.”

Simon looks at his feet. “I don’t know if you can do this, but I want to visit Johnny.”

“What do you mean?”

“I want to go to the Scottish Highlands, to the place where we set his ashes free.”

You hold out your hand to him. “I’ll take you there.”

Simon’s eyes light up as he takes your hand into his, and before he can blink twice, you’ve transported the both of you to the exact same place.

“I forgot how beautiful it was here.” Simon says, as he sits down on the exact same spot where Johnny had sat down, and you can’t help but smile, knowing that their souls are happy together in another universe.

You go to sit down next to him. “It is beautiful here.”

The both of you sit in silence, you know Simon wants to ask you something, a question burning within him ever since John had interrupted, but you’re not filling anything in, letting Simon come to you when he is ready.

“You mentioned something about souls and love.” Simon eventually says.

“I did.”

“Who will be waiting for me?”

A faint hint of a smile can be seen on your face.

“More than you’ll expect.”

“Tommy?”

You just nod and Simon let out a shaky breath.

“It has been a while since I’ve seen him, I’ve missed him terribly. Who else?”

“Tommy, Beth, Joseph, your mother. Roach. Gaz, Soap. They will all be there.”

“Will they be mad for what I did?”

“They love you too much to be mad.”

“I’ve known more love death, than I’ve done alive.”

You turn to look at him. “I know, and I am sorry.”

“Is there anything I had done to deserve such a life?”

You want to wince, flinch at his words, but it is a fair question.

“No. Sometimes the universe isn’t fair when it gives somebody a course of life. You were a child, Simon. What happened to you, should’ve never happened, not to you, not to anyone.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re brave.” You add. “You’ve survived something you shouldn’t have had to face in the first place.”

“How do you cope with it?” Simon asks.

“With what?”

“The unfairness?”

You let out a sigh. “It is hard. Sometimes I have to guide innocent souls to the afterlife, souls I would have wished had a long and sweet life. And sometimes I see souls who I felt deserved death a long time ago. Unfortunately I cannot change the course of the universe, nor can I change the free will of humans.”

“Do you feel remorse?”

“No. I am no mortal, nor do I possess mortal feelings. I do however acknowledge the unfairness of certain situations.”

“I see. It is hard for me to imagine.”

“I get that.”

“Hey Death?”

“Yes, Simon?”

“Do you promise that they will be waiting for me in the afterlife?”

“I promise.”

Simon holds out his hand to you. “Then please, let me see them again.”

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