#in my brain all i see is young john wick | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

amiwritesthings · 3 years

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young dean hooking up with older men at truck stops. when john witnesses one of these encounters, he's furious, wants to step in, but doesn't, can't, d. on his knees with a cock in his mouth too much of a turn on, so he just watches in secret, maybe even jerks off to it. feelings of guilt. eventually confronts d. about his hook-ups. anger, drama, angst. d.: it's you, i just want you, i'm thinking about you when they fuck me, please let me suck your cock, dad. what will j. do? you tell me.

i am so so so sorry this took me so long and technically this isn't exactly what you asked for but it's where my brain wanted to go today so hopefully you still like it

link to ao3

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It’s dark when Dean walks back the short distance from the truck stop to the adjacent motel. He pulls his jacket tighter around his body against the cold, prays that John is still out somewhere drowning in cheap whiskey.

His jaw aches, his knees are sore, there’s a wet patch in his jeans, but there’s also 50 bucks in his pocket and his mind is pleasantly fuzzy with post-orgasmic endorphins.

He slides the key into the lock as quietly as he can, eases the door open carefully to keep the salt line intact. He feels his heart skip, pure rush of adrenaline, when he sees it’s not just Sammy in the room; John’s passed out in the ratty loveseat in the sitting area. It’s the next best thing to John not being here at all. If Dean’s lucky, John was too out of it to remember Dean not being here when he got back.

He closes the door behind him with a soft click, takes a second to make sure the salt line is indeed intact. Sammy snuffles softly in his sleep, turns over to his other side, and Dean shrugs out of his jacket, lays it down at the foot of his bed, before tip toeing to the bathroom, thankful for the small window, the moonlight from outside illuminating the room just enough that he doesn’t need to hit the light.

He leans on the sink, doesn’t dare to look at his own reflection in the tiny mirror that’s already gone half blind. He reaches for the mouthwash, takes a swig, lets the liquid sting his mouth and get rid off the taste of dick. He spits into the sink, blue remnants of mouthwash running into the cracks in the porcelain, rinses with water and spits again.

He freezes when there’s a rustling sound behind him, and he knows it’s John, just from the prickle of heat where John’s gaze rests heavily on the back of his neck. Fuck. Dean forces himself to look up into the mirror, to acknowledge his father’s presence. A cloud passes over the moon outside, making the room darker for a moment, casting John’s face in shadows.

John takes a step forward, eerily silent, and with how small the room is, it only takes another half-step for John to be close enough to him that his body tenses with awareness. There’s a moment of silence, unbearable seconds of uncertainty, and Dean averts his eyes, lets his head drop forward, hands bracing against the sink.

A soft puff of air against the back of his neck, warm whiskey breath, is his only warning before John’s hands come down next to his on the sink, his father’s body hot and looming behind him. ‘What’re you playing at, boy?’ John asks gruffly, voice low and dangerously quiet, and Dean swallows against the dryness in his throat, that raw sting just behind his tongue.

‘Sir?’ he asks, voice raspy and wrecked. Best to let John tell him which transgression he’s angry about before Dean accidentally adds more fuel to the fire.

‘Saw you. Out there, on your knees.’

Fuck. Dean feels like is heart is about to beat out of his chest, pulse echoing loudly in his own ears. ‘I can expl-‘, he starts but stops the moment he sees John’s hand moving, body bracing for the inevitable blow.

It never comes.

John runs a hand up Dean’s arm, a barely-there touch, hovering just close enough to give the illusion of contact while still keeping Dean acutely aware of the underlying threat. He shivers when the hand comes back down to cage him in and John leans in closer, stubble brushing his cheek, the ghost sensation of lips right up against the shell of his ear.

‘God, boy, looked so good,' John breathes, words just the tiniest bit slurred, tongue heavy with whiskey. ‘Wanted to kill that asshole for taking advantage of you like that. Old enough to be your father, that guy.’ There’s a trace of anger to the words, that sharp edge that usually has Dean bracing for a verbal lashing.

Dean exhales shakily, dares to press back just a bit into the weight of John’s body behind him. Whatever he had expected to happen if John ever found out sure wasn’t this. ‘Why didn't you?’ he asks quietly, and John drops his head forward with a sigh that fans hotly over Dean’s skin.

‘Too pretty, your lips stretched wide like that. Fuckin’ hot. Could just imagine-,' he trails off, pushes his hips forward into Dean instead, and oh. For the first time tonight, Dean wishes John was less drunk, that there was a chance this was real and not just some drunken mistake John would pretend had never happened the next morning, if he even remembered.

‘Wished it was you,’ he confesses, quietly, and behind him John draws in a sharp breath that shudders out of him in a tortured groan only a few seconds later. ‘Always wish it was you.’

At his sides, John’s knuckles go white against the sink, fingers flexing once, twice, before resettling on the cold porcelain. ‘Don’t say shit like that. Don’t know what you’re talking about.’ There’s no heat to the words, no reprimand, and Dean presses back, into John’s body, until they are flush, until he can feel the bulge in John’s jeans riding high against his ass, John’s lips dragging messily, uncoordinated, down his cheek.

‘’s all I think about. ‘s why I started doing it in the first place.’ It’s not entirely true but Dean sure as shit isn’t going to fess up about needing the money to buy food for him and Sammy when John had been gone way longer than planned a couple of years ago.

Dean tilts his head to the side when John mouths down his neck, on purpose this time, wet-hot, tongue teasing against the sensitive skin. ‘Always pretend it’s you,’ he continues, moves his hand to cover John’s, drags it to the front of his jeans where there’s still a wet spot from when he’d come in his pants earlier while sucking off some faceless stranger.

John growls, a sound that’s rumbling up from so deep in his chest, Dean can feel the vibration of it against his back. ‘Gonna let me have the real thing?’ Dean asks as he uses what little space he has to turn, face John, and he isn’t prepared for the look of sheer hunger in John’s eyes, pupils blown wide in the darkness of the room.

He drops his hands to John’s belt, fingers the buckle, waits for John to stop him, but he doesn’t. His voice is raw, low and raspy when he says, ‘Goddammit, baby, gonna be the death of me,’ and Dean can feel the flush spreading up his chest, crawling up his neck, making his cheeks pink. He deftly undoes the belt, thumbs open the button, draws the zipper down, watches as John’s eyes flutter shut, mouth dropping open in a soft pant. It’s even better than he could ever imagine.

He tugs, fingers on each side, shimmies the jeans off John’s hips, takes the boxers underneath right with it as he drops to his knees, one fluid motion, perfected with years of practice. It stings a bit, his knees still sore from kneeling in gravel earlier but he breathes through it, focuses on what’s right in front of him. And boy, when he wraps his hand around John’s dick, his mouth fucking waters. He knows that John is big, they’ve been living in each other’s pockets all of Dean’s life, he knows, but from down here, on his knees, even only half-hard, it’s impressive and his jaw already aches with the anticipation of what’s to come.

Above him, John white-knuckles the sink with one hand, the other dropping to cup Dean’s jaw, thumb brushing his cheekbone and down to drag over his lower lip, dark eyes watching his face intently. Dean tongues at the digit, just a tease, hand softly squeezing on John’s dick, a slow stroke up to the crown, and John breathes a soft ‘fuck’ as he closes his eyes, eyelashes fluttering darkly in the shadows.

The hand leaves and John takes a half-step forward, trapping Dean between his body and the sink as he braces against the wall, the mirror, and Dean takes it as the invitation it is, opens his mouth wide to take John in. He closes his lips around the head, takes it flat onto his tongue and Dean can’t stop the groan at the feeling of John’s dick finally in his mouth, at the salty-sour taste.

This is nothing like all those strangers, he thinks, this is what he’s been waiting for all along. John keeps chubbing up in his mouth and it stretches his lips, wide. He sinks down a little deeper, gets John wet, then pulls off to slick his spit down the length with his fingers. John’s breathing is heavy above him, body tense, curled tight, like he’s preparing for a fight.

Dean strokes him, once, twice, before licking around the head, wicked curl of tongue, and taking him back in, spit slicking the way as John pushes deeper with a slight flex of his hips, rubbing over the soft palate of Dean’s mouth. And fuck, Dean wishes his throat wasn’t so raw already, the drag of John’s dick almost too much when he takes a deep breath through his noses and pushes down further.

John’s hips stutter forward at the sensation and Dean pulls away with a choked cough, tries to catch his breath, as John mutters softly ‘sorry, baby, sorry’ but then his hips hitch forward again, into the loose fist Dean has curled around him. He keeps his fingers around the base this time as he sinks down, relaxes his jaw, to let John fuck into him with impatient little thrusts.

The noise his wet mouth makes is obscene in the quiet of the small room and he drops his free hand into his lap to where he’s already hard again in his jeans. He gives himself a squeeze, hums softly at the spark of pleasure, and John’s breath hitches as he flexes forward, pushing right at Dean’s throat again. Dean lets him this time, gets his own dick free, still sticky from before, and jacks himself in sync with John’s movements.

John curses under his breath, dick jumping in Dean’s mouth, and Dean redoubles his efforts, slides his mouth, wet and open, down as far as he can go, focusing on breathing through his nose. John stills on his next downstroke and the first pulse of come on his tongue almost makes Dean choke.

He pulls back, mouth open, John’s dick on his tongue, jacking him through his orgasm and he holds it there for a moment before swallowing, the hand stripping his own dick almost a blur. He hunches forward, rests his forehead against John’s hip, nuzzling at the juncture of his thigh, as he chases his own high.

When he finally comes, it’s with a high, breathy whine and a ‘fuckin’ Christ, Dean’ from John who cradles his skull, holding him close.

It takes a moment for his breathing to slow, for his heart to stop racing and when he finally pulls away, John takes a step back, the look in his eyes unreadable as he looks down to Dean. The hand slides around to cup his face, and the thumb traces his lip again, slowly, reverently, before John releases him with a pat to his cheek.

‘Get cleaned up, it’s late,’ he says, voice rough, before he steps back, away, swaying gently, leaving Dean on his knees and suddenly feeling cold.

By the time he’s cleaned up and dressed in a sleep shirt and fresh underwear, John is passed out on the bed, jeans still undone, snoring the way he only ever does when he drinks. Dean grabs a bottle of water, takes little sips – it burns to swallow – before sitting down on the edge of the other bed. He nudges Sam, all long lanky limbs sprawled out, taking up all the space, and his brother huffs in his sleep but shifts over anyway, making just enough room for him to slip into the bed beside him.

When Dean wakes the next morning, it’s to Sam already bitching about something or other and John at the table, nursing a cup of coffee, brows furrowed as he tries to make sense of something. The last night feels like a fever dream now and as Dean sits up on the bed, he tries to make eye contact with John, get some kind of acknowledgement, but he has no such luck. John pointedly avoids looking at him, busying himself with squinting at the newspaper with bleary eyes as he takes another sip of coffee.

‘You want coffee?’

Dean blinks at the question, at Sam who’s holding up an empty cup at him in question. ‘Yeah,’ he croaks, voice breaking on the just the one syllable and across the room he can see John stiffen in his seat, while Sam just looks at him funny. ‘You coming down with something?’

Dean clears his throat, tries to ignore the burn as he swallows. ‘Nah, I’m fine.’ He doesn’t sound much better, voice still all scratchy and raw, and his jaw still aches dully, and his knees protest when he pushes to stand. He excuses himself to the bathroom, taking the coffee cup Sam hands him with him. He sets the cup down on the sink, lets his eyes come up to look at his reflection in the mirror.

And there it is, the proof it was real, the smeared handprint on the mirror. Dean touches a finger to it before bringing his hand to his throat, feeling the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows, chasing the sense memory of the night before.

#prompt ask #ami answers #ami writes #deanjohn #daddycest #johndean #i did a thing

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knifelesbianjo · 3 years

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hi i just wanted to say i have been Thinking about your mary/rowena gf girlboss tag on my spn family tree...... especially the dynamic of Mary barely lives for 30 years VS Rowena who's been there for centuries

Mary who turns to Rowena for issues like 'what's your wisdom witch (affectionate)' but Rowena's advices are just either kill him, get a rich husband or move to another country in another time

Rowena knows so much about the Grand Scheme of Things and the social dynamics, like Mary will complain about minimum wage and Rowena's like 'yeh capitalism is bad blabla we've been knew' but Mary has a new look on everyday things & she adapts quickly in everyday life stuff so she'd ask Rowena stuff like 'why don't you just internet the phone number instead of doing a spell? also logically it's probably about your amazon order just call back' and Rowena pretends it's a conscious choice bc she doesn't trust muggle things but actually she just forgets how to be a regular human being

also Mary keeps a witch killing bullet around her neck and it's actually a gift & show of trust from Rowena but they both pretend it's a constant threat

YOUR MIND!!!

Thanks for coming to talk to me about mary/rowena, they live in my mind rent free, i don’t know why this ship isn’t more popular. (sorry this got a bit long, but i have many Thoughts)

I love the “witch (affectionate)” cause really Mary has grown up her whole life thinking that witches are bad, that they are monsters to be killed, but she comes back in a new world and her sons are friends with demons and angels and werewolves and she... maybe she can learn that the world isn’t as black and white as she was told, by falling for a wicked old witch.

I see it starting as reluctant allies because Mary is working a case and she needs a spell and obviously Sam and Dean tell her to call Rowena and they work it together. Neither of them trusts each other at first - Mary calls her ‘the witch (derogatory)’ and Rowena says she’s just like her sons, pretty face but no brain- but they have to learn how to work together (cause Rowena wants something from the thing they’re hunting and Mary wants to save people) and by the time they close the case Mary calls her ‘witch (affectionate)’ with a playful smile and Rowena is shamelessly flirting. (i think this happens after s13 and of course in this universe Mary never dies)

I think they make out before Mary actually accepts her bisexuality and she FREAKS OUT, because she never thought about this before. she met john in highschool (i’m not mistaken about this, right?) and yes, girls were pretty, but she was not like that, she liked dudes, so it never crossed her mind. She has a heartfelt conversation about this with Dean and when she later tells Rowena about this she’s like ‘you lads are so close minded, like mother like son’.

They bond over their failed roles as mothers. Mary tells her how she can’t help but feeling guilty over leaving after having just come back and Rowena is the first person to actually understand her and tell her she did the right thing. Sam and Dean are adults and they can’t expect her to be a mom, she should be allowed to choose her own life for the first time.

also I love you idea about Rowena using magic for everything!! neither of them is really adapted to todays world but Mary at least tries, Rowena, however, usually forgets she has a phone.

AND THE WITCH KILLING BULLET!! I LOVE THAT CONCEPT. It starts in that first case, Mary shows her the bullet, threatening her. Rowena laughs at it like ‘look at you cute young thing, all so bravado and righteousness’, but also she’s a bit worried cause she doesn’t feel like dying again. Of course Mary doesn’t use it and it becomes a recurring teasing between them. Neither of them is the kind to make a commitment but it kinda is when eventually Mary takes the bullet out of the gun and wears it in a necklace. She plays it as causal and jokes that it is to remind her that she still has it, but they both know its a way of always having a reminder of her close to her heart. Mary changes her husbands ring - a sign of what she once thought was freedom but was just another lie chosen for her, a reminder of loss and mistakes, of all that was taken from her (her youth, her choice, her life...) - for a sign of actual freedom, of new beginnings, of having control over your own life and using it to tear down the bigotry that was taught to you.

Please come and add anything you want 'cause i'm obsessed with this <3

#SORRY THIS GOT SO LONG #supernatural #mary winchester #rowena macleod #mary/rowena #aslo i'm dying with the 'it's probably about your amazon order just call back' GOLD #roublardise #maryrowena

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mab1905 · 3 years

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More Fitzjames content? Yeah... here’s a playlist for ya’ll...

These are songs which I think describe him at different points in his character developement or simply different aspects of his personality. Somewhat James/Crozier (Fitzier) but all about James.

(25 songs, 1 hour 33 min)

Song List + Most Character-Relevant Lyrics:

Fancy — Orville Peck

We didn't have money for food or rent / To say the least, we was hard pressed / Then Mama spent every last penny we had / To buy me a dancin' dress / Mama washed and combed and curled my hair / And she painted my eyes and lips / Stepped into a satin dancin' dress / That had a slit in the side clean up to my hips / It was red velvet trim, and it fit me good / Starin' back from the lookin' glass / There stood a woman where a half-gown boy had stood / ... / It sounded like somebody else that was talkin' / Askin', "Mama, what do I do?" / She said, "Just be nice to the gentlemen, Fancy / They'll be nice to you" / "Here's your one chance, Fancy, don't let me down / Here's your one chance, Fancy, don't let me down / Lord, forgive me for what I do / But if you want out, well, it's up to you / Now don't let me down now / Your mama's gonna move you uptown"

gold rush — Taylor Swift

What must it be like / To grow up that beautiful? / With your hair falling into place like dominos / ... / At dinner parties / I call you out on your contrarian shit / And the coastal town / We wandered 'round had never / Seen a love as pure as it / And then it fades into the gray of my day old tea / 'Cause you know it could never be

The Name Of The Game — ABBA

Your smile, and the sound of your voice / And the way you see through me / Got a feeling, you give me no choice / But it means a lot to me / So I wanna know / What's the name of the game?

Spectrum — Florence + The Machine

And when we come for you / We'll be dressed up all in blue / With the ocean in our arms / Kiss your eyes and kiss your palms / And when it's time to pray / We'll be dressed up all in grey / With metal on our tongues / And silver in our lungs / ... / And when we come back we'll be dressed in black / And you'll scream my name aloud / And we won't eat and we won't sleep / We'll drag bodies from the ground / So say my name / And every colour illuminates / And we are shining / And we'll never be afraid again

Dreamy Bruises — Sylvan Esso

How can we question / What we knows feels right / Black eyes turn to marigolds / In the morning light / Ohweeohweeoh kids move so slow / Shaken all over like some dogs at the pool / Ohweeohweeoh kids move so slow / They’re kicken all the records over acting like they hanging water / Ohweeohweeoh kids move so slow / Down in the basement where the sun don't show / Ohweeohweeoh kids movie so slow / Naked dollars wonder piles dreamy bruises rotten lovers / And they say I want you / To bend me back in two / To make me sing your tune / To make those words so smooth / Fill me like a song do

Wolf — Sylvan Esso

But no birds nor beast does he eat / He only wants the tenderest meat / And oh the sounds he makes them speak / Under all different patterns of sheets / ... / The modern wolf, the modern wolf / Drippin' in all the lives that he took / He'll go on home, try to wash them off / But when he shaves, he hears them call

Francis Forever — Mitski

On sunny days I go out walking / I end up on a tree-lined street / I look up at the gaps of sunlight / I miss you more than anything / I don't need the world to see / That I've been the best I can be, but / I don't think I could stand to be / Where you don't see me / And autumn comes when you're not yet done / With the summer passing by, but / I don't think I could stand to be / Where you don't see me

James — MGMT

James / If you need a friend / Come right over / Don't even knock / And I'll be home / The door is always open / And we both can say, "Who's laughing now?" / Oh, James / My little doll / You just go outside and you call / Oh, James / Oh, you're never too far off / If your fire's out / There's no need to shout / I'm always home / And walk on in / I'll make you tea and breakfast / And we both can say, "Who's laughing now?"

South London Forever — Florence + The Machine

I drive past the place that I was born / And the places that I used to drink / Young and drunk and stumbling in the street / Outside the Joiners Arm's like foals unsteady on their feet / With the art students and the boys in bands / High on E and holding hands with someone that I just met / I thought it doesn't get / Better than this / There can be nothing better than this / Better than this / And we climbed onto the roof, the museum / And someone made love in the glass / And I'd forgot my name / And the way back to my mother's house / With your black cool eyes and your bitten lips / The world is at your fingertips / It doesn't get better than this / What else could be better than this? / Oh, don't you know I have seen / I have seen the fields aflame / And everything I ever did / Was just another way to scream your name

Oh! You Pretty things — David Bowie

I think about a world to come / Where the books were found by the Golden ones / Written in pain, written in awe / By a puzzled man who questioned / What we work here for / All the strangers came today / And it looks as though they're here to stay / Oh You Pretty Things (Oh You Pretty Things) / Don't you know you're driving your / Mamas and Papas insane / Oh You Pretty Things (Oh You Pretty Things) / Don't you know you're driving your / Mamas and Papas insane / Let me make it plain / You gotta make way for the Homo Superior

Venus As A Boy — Björk

His wicked sense of humor / Suggests exciting sex / His fingers they focus on her and touches / He's Venus as a boy / ... / All across your lips, oh, then until / Well be that it's a little now, until / He believes in a beauty / He's Venus as a boy / He believes in a beauty and gentle

Winds Change — Orville Peck

Had a lover but I lost my patience / Gonna get a song on a radio station / Got a fire but you just can't use it / I don't mean no lies, baby, please don't lose it / Lost my way on the other side / I know why, I don't know when / From the way that we said goodbye / I knew I'd never see you again / Left my mind in the Salt Lake City / Met a lot of men who would call me pretty / Pack of reds, watch the days get colder / Don't it make you cry, how we're getting older?

Fluorescent Adolescent — Arctic Monkeys

Oh the boy's a slag / The best you ever had / The best you ever had is just a memory / And those dreams weren't as daft as they seem / Not as daft as they seem / My love, when you dream them up... / Flicking through a little book of sex tips / Remember when the boys were all electric? / Now when she's told she's gonna get it / I'm guessing that she'd rather just forget it / Clinging to not getting sentimental / Said she wasn't going but she went still / Likes her gentlemen not to be gentle / Was it a Mecca dauber or a betting pencil? / Oh the boy's a slag / The best you ever had / The best you ever had is just a memory / And those dreams weren't as daft as they seem / Not as daft as they seem / My love, when you dream them up / Falling about / You took a left off Last Laugh Lane / Just sounding it out / But you're not coming back again.

Cheerleader — St. Vincent

I've had good times / With some bad guys / I've told whole lies / With a half smile / Held your bare bones / With my clothes on / I've thrown rocks / Then hid both my arms / I've played dumb / When I knew better / Tried so hard / Just to be clever / I know honest thieves / I call family / I've seen America / With no clothes on / I don't know what I deserve / But for you I could work / Cause I don’t want to be a cheerleader no more

Queen Bitch — David Bowie

She's so swishy in her satin and tat / In her frock coat and bipperty-bopperty hat / Oh God, I could do better than that / Oh, yeah / She's an old-time ambassador / Of sweet talking, night walking games / Oh and she's known in the darkest clubs / For pushing ahead of the dames / If she says she can do it / Then she can do it, she don't make false claims / But she's a queen and such a queen / Such a laughter is sucked in their brains / Now she's leading him on / And she'll lay him right down / Yes, she's leading him on / And she'll lay him right down / But it could have been me / Yes, it could have been me

Boys Keep Swinging — David Bowie

Heaven loves ya / The clouds part for ya / Nothing stands in your way / When you're a boy / Clothes always fit ya / Life is a pop of the cherry / When you're a boy / When you're a boy / You can wear a uniform / When you're a boy / Other boys check you out / You get a girl / These are your favorite things / When you're a boy / Boys / Boys / Boys keep swinging

Caterpillars (Of The Common Wealth) — Will Connolly

You know you'll always be my valentine / Now swear to god that you will never tell / They're streaming every indiscretion live / For caterpillars of the commonwealth / Gotta go / You can stay / Make yourself at home / Gotta go / This campaign / Don't run itself you know / You've got potential little parasite / I tie your hands so i can wish you well / Cuz i'm a gentleman and you are like / A caterpillar of the commonwealth / Gotta go / I said no / You need to know your role / Gotta go / I said no / It's all under control

Imposters (Little By Little) — The Fratellis

You wear your mask, I'll wear mine / They don't come cheap, but they fit just fine / You can be her and I can be him / We can both sink when the rest all swim / ... / We can pretend that our fates were entwined / A beautiful lie is the beautiful kind / Everybody knows that the sun still sets / And everybody gives and everybody gets / ... / I could be the one that you just can't shake / Till you swear that your eyes go blind / We can disappear till the sun burns a hole / In the life that we left behind

Sweet Painted Lady — Elton John

I'm back on dry land once again / Opportunity awaits me like a rat in the drain / We're all hunting honey with money to burn / Just a short time to show you the tricks that we've learned / If the boys all behave themselves here / Well, there's pretty young ladies and beer in the rear / ... / Forget us we'll have gone very soon / Just forget we ever slept in your rooms / And we'll leave the smell of the sea in your beds / Where love's just a job and nothing is said

Super Trouper — ABBA

Super trouper beams are gonna blind me / But I won't feel blue / Like I always do / 'Cause somewhere in the crowd there's you / ... / So I'll be there when you arrive / The sight of you will prove to me I'm still alive / And when you take me in your arms / And hold me tight / I know it's gonna mean so much tonight

Babooshka — Kate Bush

She sent him scented letters / And he received them with a strange delight / Just like / His wife / But how she was before the tears / And how she was before the years flew by / And how she was when she was beautiful / She signed the letter / All yours...

Paris is Burning — St. Vincent

I write to give word the war is over / Send my cinders home to mother / They gave me a medal for my valor / Leaden trumpets spit the soot of power / They say, "I'm on your side / "When nobody is, 'cause nobody is / "Come sit right here and sleep / "While I slip poison in your ear" / We are waiting on a telegram / To give us news of the fall / I am sorry to report / Dear Paris is burning after all

Dream of Sheep — Kate Bush

Oh I'll wake up to any sound of engines / Every gull a seeking craft / I can't keep my eyes open / Wish I had my radio / I'd tune into some friendly voices / Talking 'bout stupid things / I can't be left to my imagination / Let me be weak, let me sleep and dream of sheep / Ooh, their breath is warm / And they smell like sleep / And they say they take me home / Like poppies, heavy with seed / They take me deeper and deeper

Hunger — Florence + The Machine

At seventeen, I started to starve myself / I thought that love was a kind of emptiness / And at least I understood then, the hunger I felt / And I didn't have to call it loneliness / ... / Tell me what you need, oh, you look so free / The way you use your body, baby, come on and work it for me / Don't let it get you down, you're the best thing I've seen / We never found the answer but we knew one thing / ... / And it's Friday night and it's kicking in / In that pink dress, they're gonna crucify me / Oh, and you in all your vibrant youth / How could anything bad ever happen to you? / You make a fool of death with your beauty, and for a moment / I forget to worry

#Spotify #fanmix #gay #fanwork #playlist #i have a crippling addiction to making playlists #james fitzjames #fitzier #francis crozier #francis rawdon moira crozier #Jim fitzjimmy #james fitzjames + gender = ? we dont know her #spotify playlist

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in-christalone · 4 years

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Former homosexual is such an insult. I'm sorry that you have been caused to think like that. God loves everyone and love isn't a sin. If you went through conversion therapy than what they taught you is all just brain washing. Be true to yourself, if you were experimenting that is fine but former homosexual is an insult.

Hello friend! I’m so glad you sent this message in, you’re giving me a chance to explain in my own words what my conversion from a homosexual lifestyle to one of Christianity is like, thank you for that!

Being a person who is same sex attracted is not a sin. YOU are not a sin, a sinner, yes (as I am too, the worst kind) but you as a person, having same sex attractions, are not a sin.

What is sin?

Sin is cosmic treason against a Holy, Righteous God - Jonathan Edwards

We are not sinners because we sin. We sin because we are sinners. - R.C Sproul

Unfortunately the lgbt community (including myself at one point) had the thought since we are gay, we are therefore a sin. As such there’s no hope for redemption. So why not have fun while we live?

However, the actions/thoughts we do/have are sins.

God created the universe, Heavens, earth, animals, and He created us. He is our Creator! The whole world is proof of His existence, the Grand Canyon is proof of the flood for example! Sodom and Gomorrah to this day is still preserved in sulfur from God destroying the city for its wicked rebellion.

When Adam and Eve sinned, they fell into rebellion against God. We have inherited their sinful nature as we all come from them (they were the first humans, all humanity comes from them)

We have all sinned and fallen short to the glory of God. We’ve all broken the law of God and like the criminals of the Law that we are, we all deserve to be in hell for our transgressions and sins.

This isn’t the end though! We have hope!

There remains hope for the sinner! God is faithful and so merciful to forgive sinners!

He has provided only One way for a sinner to be forgiven of their sins, that’s only through Jesus Christ.

Right after The Fall, God told Adam and Eve in Genesis 3:15 His plan of redemption for humanity. We can be washed clean of our sins.

Our hearts are the problem, the Bible says;

The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it? —Jeremiah 17:9

But what comes out of the mouth proceeds from the heart, and this defiles a person. For out of the heart come evil thoughts, murder, adultery, sexual immorality, theft, false witness, slander. These are what defile a person.. -Matthew 15:18-20

Where is our hope if this is the condition of our heart? How can we, who hate God, even come to love Him and His Law?

We can’t do it alone. God says in the Bible;

“I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh. And I will put my Spirit in you and move you to follow my decrees and be careful to keep my laws.”— ‭‭Ezekiel‬ ‭36:26-27‬ ‭

‬‬The Holy Spirit (which they text refers to) had always existed! He just has a new role now than in the Old Testament era.

The Holy Spirit is put within and only the believer. The Spirit convicts and causes the believer to repent of their sins, first comes spiritual rebirth, then the sinner is a believer and has received forgiveness of sins!

If we are guilty, how do we become free?

In order for a convicted criminal to walk free from their crimes, someone must pay.

We owe our lives to Jesus Christ for His death. His blood shed for our atonement, and equally important, He has taken the wrath of God, something we all deserve, and taken it all upon Himself when He suffered and died on the cross.

Only Jesus (Whom is God) lived a perfect, sinless life as a human, only Jesus was able to pay for our forgiveness of sins, only Jesus has taken the wrath of God for us, and only Jesus has defeated death once and for all.

This is all said to prove this Scripture;

“Jesus answered, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.”

‭‭John‬ ‭14:6‬ ‭‬‬

Jesus Christ is the promised Messiah of God through the life, death and resurrection of Jesus we have a perfect, sinless Savior. The Lamb of God slaughtered for our sins and resurrected for the promise of eternal life. Sin cannot be forgiven excepted by sacrifice.. This is why Jesus is the only way to heaven. As long as he has sacrificed himself for guilty centers, and had drunk the full cup of God’s wrath, and has been resurrected for the promise of eternal life.

In order to inherit eternal salvation, one must repent of their sinful living, and place all their hope in Jesus as their Savior.

——

Former homosexual is not an insult to me, it’s a hope that God has placed in me. That I am no longer bound by my past, that I now have hope in Jesus Christ who has redeemed me!

I have never been through conversion therapy, though I really do appreciate your concern, I don’t support conversion therapy in any way, shape or form.

I don’t believe in the hyper focus of one sin when we are all sinners, in need of God’s grace..

I would further challenge you to re-think “love is love”. If such is true, we would then have to accept anyone who feels love for say, their sibling, a young teenager and an adult, or even beastality. There must be a line drawn somewhere when it comes to the romantic type of love.

God created man and woman to be together in a family not to suppress us, but to help us live abundant lives, in fact, once we are adopted into the family of God, then we begin to see that the same is said for everyone of Gods Laws.

A family must have a mother and father influence.

Heather Barwick, whom was raised by two mothers, expresses her childhood, trauma, homosexuality, and deep desire for the father figure she never had in her life.

Heather writes, “I’m not saying that you can’t be good parents. You can. I had one of the best. I’m also not saying that being raised by straight parents means everything will turn out okay. We know there are so many different ways that the family unit can break down and cause kids to suffer: divorce, abandonment, infidelity, abuse, death, etc. But by and large, the best and most successful family structure is one in which kids are being raised by both their mother and father.”

Being same sex attracted is a temptation and therefore not a sin, but when one gives into temptation, they produce sin.

Anyone can be redeemed in Christ Jesus.

Thank you so much for allowing me to speak on this, I really appreciate the opportunity you’ve given me to share more about myself and what God has done in my life.

I have joy in my life, and am no longer held by fear of death. God has set me free, He loves you and desires to set you free as well 💛

#lgbt #pride #gay #lesbian #that took me an hour to formulate my response!!#i hope its okay!!

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johnwickb1tsch · 3 months

Text

Young!John Wick x Model!Reader Imagine

Imagine you are the love of John Wick's life...

You meet in Paris when he’s a young man. You spend a mind-blowing night together, and watch the sun rise from Sacré-Coeur. He disappears, and you’re devastated because no one has ever made you feel that way, and you’re certain you’ll never see him again. But throughout the years he keeps finding you as you travel for work. He kisses you silly in the Gamla Stan of Stockholm, makes you cum on his fingers in a dark club in London, and when he leaves you utterly wrecked in Rome you know that you’re in love with this man. You don’t know exactly what he does for a living, but you’re not stupid. You’ve memorized every inch of his body, and you notice as his collection of scars multiplies over the years. You are half convinced he's a spy, but then there are the tattoos...ominous as they are captivating, they suggest membership in a darker world than the shadows of international espionage. You cannot reconcile it. How can this sweet man, this man who makes you laugh, who brings you joy and such exquisite pleasure, be a part of such a violent occupation? When you finally get up the courage to ask him he just shakes his head, and says it’s better you don’t know before kissing you in that way that utterly scrambles your brain cells.

-It all started in Paris with a broken heel... You nearly fell into traffic, but a strong arm around your waist snatched you back from death.

You hid against his chest for a long moment, even though he was a total stranger, because he felt so safe. You were in Paris for your first Fashion Week—and you were so lost. It’s the 1990s, a dark age in which we didn’t have handheld computers to pleasantly tell us where to go, and we used archaic documents to find our way known as paper maps...And you’d left yours in your hotel accidentally.

You look up to see kind brown eyes fixed down on you. “Are you alright?” You hate to think it, but you are so relieved to hear an American accent. You have been yelled at no less than three times in French that day, and even if you totally deserved it, you're a bit gun shy now.

“Yes. Thank you. Jesus, I...” You look at the traffic barreling by at breakneck speed, a chill running down your spine. “Thank you,” you say again. You look up at him, really look at him, and realize you're in the arms of the most handsome man you've ever seen—and you work in fashion.

“You're welcome.”

He seems as taken by you as you are by him, and for a stretch of long moments you just stand there staring at each other like moon-eyed idiots. He looks down, suddenly shy. It's totally endearing. “Sorry,” he apologizes, releasing you slowly. You teeter on your broken heel, and you can tell he is ready to grab you again if he has to. This protectiveness makes a surprising warmth bloom in your heart.

“Do you...need help getting somewhere?” he asks. You wonder if it’s that obvious you’re lost. Usually you'd be wary of that question from a stranger. You've dealt with so many creeps throughout your life. But somehow you sense that he’s sincere.

“I guess I'd better get back to my hotel.”

Sebastiano was going to kill you. You broke a $600 pair of heels...well maybe Gucci should have made them better, the lazy bastards.

“Can I get you a cab?”

With your broken heel, you guess you’re not hoofing it back. “Sure.” He hails one down, and you’re delighted when he climbs in with you, speaking to the driver in perfect French, bless him.

“Where are we headed?” You give him the name of your hotel, and he repeats it the way it’s supposed to be said. Oh. No wonder the previous drivers gave you such contemptuous looks… You took Spanish in high school, ok? You can read French but have zero experience speaking it.

When you arrive at the hotel your savior thrusts a wad of Francs through the window before you have a chance to even open your purse, and helps you out of the cab. You are totally leaning against his arm more than you have to. You can feel the hard curve of his bicep beneath the fine fabric of his suit, and it makes you a little giddy. Only once you’re safe in the lobby does he seem willing to release you, though somehow your hand has ended up in his, and you find you don’t really want to let go. “Are you doing anything later?” you ask boldly, before he can disappear back into the bustle of Paris and you’ll never find him again.

He pays you a melancholy smile that squeezes your heart for some reason. “Unfortunately, I have to work,” he says. You make a pouty face that draws his attention to your lips. The intensity in those dark eyes is thrilling. “Maybe if I finish early…I could join you?”

You know you grin like an idiot at this suggestion. “I’ll be at the Versace afterparty. I could…have your name put on the list?”

This seems to amuse him for some reason, his mouth twisting in a smirk. “I can find you,” he says, and your heart flutters. In fact, when he presses his lips to your knuckles, your heart attempts to flutter right out of your chest.

He turns to go but you call, “Wait!” He pauses. “What’s your name?”

The smile he pays you is heart stopping. “Jardani,” he answers quietly. “But everyone calls me John.” You bite your lip, nodding, very pleased with this new bit of information, sensing that maybe he’s told you something just for you. “I hope I get to see you later.”

He nods too, touching your cheek lightly. “You will.”

It sounds like a promise.

-You should be beside yourself with excitement because you’re walking your first runway in Paris, and this could be the moment that makes or breaks your career, but the real reason for your nerves is the hope that you’ll see him again.

-The show goes great. You kill it. Sebastiano, your friend and the designer you’d modeled for, can hardly contain himself. But you find you’re just watching the clock ticking down the seconds until later.

-John does find you later. You have a drink, and you dance, and from the adoring way he looks at you, you feel brave enough to ask if he wants to go someplace quieter. You go for a little walk, and even though it’s the wee hours of the morning you feel perfectly safe with this man. He kisses you on the Pont Alexandre, his hands in your hair, and your fingers curl in the lapels of his jacket to hold him to you. You ask if he wants to go back to your hotel, and he agrees. This man looks at you like you are something irreplaceably precious, and you don’t know how you’ll let him go.

-He is strong. In your hotel room he picks you up by your thighs and presses you into the wall, kissing you senseless before carrying you to the bed. His hands are calloused, but he’s so gentle with you. He touches you like you were made for him, like he was born knowing how to make you see stars. He claims you with his hands and his mouth and his big, beautiful cock deep inside you, and you know you’ll never be the same after this. You’ve been disappointed so many times that you almost don’t know how to handle an encounter going this well.

-When he stirs in the blue light of pre-dawn your arms tighten around him. You’re not even awake yet, but you don’t want him to leave. He kisses you behind the ear and you practically purr. “Want to see the second most beautiful sight in Paris?”

“Yes,” you agree.

“Bring your camera.” You’d told him about your interest in photography. Maybe modeling was paying the bills, but you’d actually majored in fine art, and minored in literature. Naturally, your interests make for shit at paying bills.

Sleepily you get dressed. It takes a little longer than usual because you can’t stop kissing each other between pulling on garments. Soft, slow kisses that curl your toes. You sense deep down that every one of them is infused with apology, and goodbye. It breaks your heart, but greedily you’ll take every second with him you can get.He takes you to Sacré-Coeur in the heart of Montmartre, the very roof of Paris. You sit on the steps and watch the sun rise over the city, fiery oranges and pinks painting the sky and rendering the buildings aglow. It truly is beautiful, but you don’t lift your lens to try to capture it. You sit with your arm linked with his, and experience this moment with him as fully as you can. You want to remember everything.

“You didn’t take a picture,” he teases once the sun has cheerfully risen above the horizon.

You pull out the camera and frame him in your lens, his sleepy smile and bed-mussed hair. You feel something shift in your heart as your finger depresses the button. Click. You’re not sure if it’s the camera in your hand, or something settling into place in your heart that has always belonged there.

“Now I have the first most beautiful sight in Paris,” you say.

He laughs at that. “I meant that was you,” he insists, lacing his fingers with yours, kissing the back of your hand. He takes you to breakfast, and you enjoy dark coffee and delectably crafted pastries with your legs tangled together under the table. Afterwards he takes you back to your hotel, and in the gilt-appointed lobby somehow you know what’s coming.

“I have to go,” he says sadly. You actually believe his regret isn’t an act.

You nod, leaning into his large hand on your cheek.

“I’ll never forget you, y/n.”

A shuddering sigh escapes you, and you close your eyes. You are not going to cry.

“Likewise, I promise you.”

You don’t exchange any further information. You know that if it was possible to see him again, he would have offered it to you. There is something mysterious about this man. Something almost…forbidden, and a part of you knows that the little time you stole together was a precious gift.

He kisses you one last time, a passionate, soul-rending thing that leaves you utterly weak in the knees. He says nothing more, pressing his forehead to yours one final time before turning to go. You watch his tall, dark form exit the hotel into the Paris morning, and you know he’s taking a piece of your heart with him as he goes.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

tbc because goddamn this got long...

part deux >>

#john wick #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick x y/n #ok so maybe you are helen?#but its written from your pov so you're welcome lol #john wick x helen #keanu reeves #keanu x you #keanu reeves x you #keanu reeves x reader #ernff i just saw JW4 last week #that sunset tho #fucked me up

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littlestarofthewest · 4 years

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Gahd I love your kinky fics!! Pls can u do one with a younger femreader & arthur? Like they like each other but she's younger so he's hesitant to start but then just shows her how a man his age gets it done *wink wink* I'm not into the daddykink but I do like an age gap haha I know youve just done creampie (it was so daamn good!!) but pls pls creampie & dirty talk 🤤 how Javier opened her up....I can imagine Arthur loving that 😂 ps. Honestly best fics out there! ♥️ Thanks for the prompts again!

Thank you for all the love, dear

Also dedicating this to @emily-strange who had a very similar request (you two should talk xD). Sorry I kept you waiting for so long (since freaking December).

Title: Young Love | Word Count: 9352 | Rating: Explicit!!! (18+)

Pairing: Arthur Morgan & female reader | Tags: angst and fluff and smut

Arthur has no idea what it is that makes you so different. Back when he and John rescued you, you were just a young girl that needed help, and by now, he wishes he would still feel about you this way.

For months, Arthur tried to treat you like Mary-Beth or Tilly, a young girl that could very well be his sister. It’s just that you make it so hard for him. You’re not naive and silly like some 19-year-olds Arthur met, and although you’re more on the shy side, you still have a way of teasing him with winks and smiles that shouldn’t affect him as much as they do.

In the beginning, Arthur fell headfirst into your trap. He rescued you, after all, so you tended to stick to him, and Arthur let you. You were easy to talk to, with a hunger for knowledge and a good sense of humor, not easily offended when he spoke out of tune.

When it became clear that you would stay with the gang, Arthur and John taught you how to shoot, and you went on hunts with Charles. After a while, Hosea also allowed you to take part in little heists, Arthur always by your side to make sure you were safe.

It started then that he began to see you in a different light. You were smart and cunning, using your innocence to lure people in. Men, in particular, are unable to withstand your shy smile, and Arthur found himself to be one of them.

It’s not that you used it against him, but whenever you asked something of him, there was no way for him to say no. Soon, Hosea found bigger jobs for the two of you, calling you a great team. You ended up on the road a lot, often just the two of you.

Arthur did his best to act respectively, but you seemed so comfortable around him that you sometimes didn’t care much about decency. He got to see more of your long legs and your cleavage than was good for him, and you had no trouble touching him or sleeping closeby when sharing a tent.

Slowly but surely, Arthur got more and more enticed by you, and it got so bad that he dreamt about you in ways that were anything but decent. Soon, those dreams and reality blurred together, and Arthur found himself staring at you at the worst of times, imagining all kinds of inappropriate things.

Today, Arthur would give anything to not be in camp. It’s your 20th birthday, and since it’s your first one since you’ve joined the gang, Dutch announced a little celebration. Arthur gave you his present, a new hunting knife, early in the morning, and ever since then, he tried to stay away from you.

Now, Arthur‘s sitting on a log farthest away from the fire, nursing a beer in his hand. The others are going to town with whiskey and rum, the alcohol taking its toll. Karen is sitting on Sean’s lap, the two of them the loudest but not the best at singing along to the songs Javier plays.

Once in a while, Uncle chimes in with the banjo, causing some laughs. Soon, most of the gang is drunk enough to dance around the fire. John and Abigail do a surprisingly decent job, not arguing for a change, while Lenny tortures your feet.

Arthur can tell that you’re soldiering on, but while Lenny is kind and wicked smart, he’s still not the most skilled when it comes to dancing. When Hosea gets up from his seat, Arthur hopes that he might release you, and he actually claps Lenny’s shoulder.

“My dear boy, I fear you need some more practice before we can let you dance with the ladies.“

Everybody laughs, and you give Lenny an apologetic smile, but he just shrugs, not taking offense. Arthur’s sure Hosea will take over now, showing Lenny how to do a better job, but instead, he turns around.

“This lady deserves a decent birthday dance,“ Hosea says. "Arthur? Would you be so kind?“

All eyes dart to Arthur, and he wishes the ground would open up and swallow him whole. He loves Hosea with all his heart, but sometimes he would like to smack him.

"Arthur can’t dance,“ Sean blurts out, saying out loud what everybody else must be thinking.

Dutch laughs at the heartfelt announcement. "No see, there’s a big difference between not being able to do something and deliberately denying the world your gift.“

Arthur shakes his head, ready to disappoint both Hosea and Dutch, but then Hosea points at you. "Come on, you can’t say no to a birthday dance with this lovely young lady.“

That’s exactly the problem. You’re young, way too young for Arthur, and he can’t say no to you, not ever. Looking into your curious face, Arthur puts down the bottle and gets to his feet. Hosea pats his shoulder, and Dutch applauds as if they already watched a great show.

"Now watch and learn, gentlemen,“ he cheers.

Arthur does his best to ignore everybody else, his eyes focused on you. A tingling feeling rushes through his body the second he takes your hand, and he leads you away from the fire to have more room. Besides, it will be easier to talk to you without the others hearing what he says.

"I’ll have to put my hand on your back,“ Arthur warns you, wishing he could say something that would turn you away, but you just smile at him.

"It’s alright, Arthur,“ you say, amusement in your voice, "I know how dancing works.“

Arthur swallows hard when he puts his hand in place on the small of your back. You rest your hand on his shoulder, and just like so many times before, you have no problem with being near him. Taking a step forward, you close the gap between Arthur and you, and he feels like dying when your body presses warm against his own.

Counting in a whisper, Arthur tries to give you an idea when to start, and then you’re off. Although Arthur hasn’t danced in years, it all comes back to him now. Just like shooting a gun, it’s something you do without thinking. Lead by Arthur, you have no trouble following along, and some of the gang members even whistle and cheer.

By the time the song is over, Arthur has a hard time letting you go. Still pressed against him, your chest rises and falls with the exhausted breaths you take, your face flushed, and your hair a little looser and out of place from being swirled around. You look as if you and Arthur did something way more indecent than dancing, the picture searing itself into Arthur’s brain.

To make the torture complete, you smile at him as if he just hung the moon, going on tiptoes to press a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you, Arthur.”

There’s clapping from around the campfire before Dutch and Hosea take turns telling stories about heists where their dancing skills were essential. When Arthur is sure that nobody focuses on him anymore, he takes the chance to sneak away, heading into the nearby woods.

On the first day at the new campsite, Arthur found a hidden arch in between two big trees that leads to a small meadow. He leans against a tree with closed eyes, filling his lungs with fresh evening air, trying his best not to think about the dance. Of course, he ends up thinking just about that, and especially about how you looked afterward.

“Arthur?"

Your voice draws Arthur out of his daydream. It’s not you in his imagination, but you’re really in front of him. "What?”

“I’m sorry,” you say in that timid voice you use when you think you did something wrong, “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“No, it’s alright.” Arthur pushes himself off of the tree. “Just didn’t think anybody knew of this place.”

“I found it a day after we made camp,” you say, twisting the fabric of your skirt with your fingers.

Arthur knows that it’s a habit of you that only shows when you’re nervous. He’s not used to seeing it when the two of you are alone.

“Is there something you need?” he asks, thinking that you might have some sort of problem.

“I wanted to ask you something,” you say, still fidgeting with your skirt. “I know you’ve already given me a great present, but there’s something else I wish for, and you’re the only one I want to ask for it.”

Arthur’s heart pounds faster. It’s as if you know that he won’t be able to say no, and since you’re asking him in the middle of the woods, it’s probably something more than just a request for more shooting lessons. Still, Arthur can’t help himself. It’s you, after all, so he has to ask. “What is it?”

“In Mary-Beth’s novels, people always have these great kisses, but all the boys I’ve met were just-” You don’t finish the sentence, but Arthur has been a 19-year-old boy himself. They often aren’t that great with romance and tenderness.

You take a step towards Arthur, making his heart almost leap out of his chest. “I’m 20 years old now,” you continue with a sigh, looking up at him. “All I want is one real kiss. With a real man. Like you.”

Arthur can tell how hard it is for you to say this, your voice getting quieter with every word while the blood rushing through his veins becomes so loud that he can hardly hear you. Still, you manage to hold his gaze when he’s looking for words.

“Those are just books, ya know?” Arthur says.

It’s the wrong thing to say. You shrink like fruit in the hot sun, all hope draining from your face to be replaced by sadness. Arthur hates to see you like this, especially when he’s the reason for it. But what else can he say? It’s not his place to give you any kisses. The way he thinks about you is already shameful enough.

“You’re right,” you finally say, your voice near tears. “It’s stupid. I shouldn’t have asked.”

You turn around, and Arthur’s heart stands still. He failed you. After promising to protect you, he hurt you more than anybody else. And why? Because of stupid rules. It’s not like you’re asking for something terrible. Just a kiss. Just a favor from a friend.

“Wait,” Arthur says, the word barely more than a whisper.

You turn back around, and Arthur takes your hand, tugging just enough to have you come back to him. You look up to him, waiting for an explanation, but he knows he doesn’t have the words for this. Instead, Arthur cups your face with his hand, pulling you closer.

He feels like he’s drowning in your eyes, unable to stop now, so he leans in to close the gap between you. Arthur can hear you taking a shaky breath, his own chest feeling like it’s about to burst. He’s never considered himself a great kisser, but he tries to be gentle with you, knowing all too well what novels you’ve been reading.

At first, your lips barely touch, Arthur still giving you a chance to stop. Instead, you lean into it. Arthur puts his hand onto the small of your back the same way he did during the dance, drawing you in before pressing another soft kiss to your lips. Your hands come to rest against his chest, sending waves of heat through his body.

Arthur knows that this should be it. You got your kiss after all, but something deep in his soul keeps him in place. It kept screaming and clawing at him for months, telling him how much he wanted to be with you. You mentioning other boys kissing you awakened a horrible ache in Arthur, raging like a fire that consumes him.

Despite telling himself over and over that he can’t be with you, Arthur longs to have so much more with you. The thought that someone could take you away is killing him, forcing him to hold on to you.

Arthur teases your lip with his tongue, and you eagerly open up for him, giving him a sweet taste of what could be. His hand runs down from your face along your neck, touching soft, warm skin before it ventures deeper. Arthur caresses your side, his fingers trailing along the curve of your breast and down to your hip.

With his other hand moving down to the swell of your ass, Arthur pulls you even closer, deepening the kiss. Your hot tongue brushes against his own, the sensation so overwhelming that everything around the two of you blurs.

Arthur gets lost in your kisses, the warmth of your body, your scent, and all the promises your body makes, pressed against him like a second skin. His fingers claw into the flesh on your hips as he rubs himself against you, lust tightening his pants.

You let out a soft moan, and from one second to the next, the world shifts back into focus. Searing pain shoots through Arthur’s body as if hit by lightning. This isn’t one of his fantasies where he’s allowed to be with you. It’s real, and it’s you. A girl who deserves so much better than him.

Arthur steps away from you in a hurry, his tone harsh as he barks at you. “Go back to camp!”

You take a step toward him, reaching out. “But Arthur-”

“Goddamn, girl! Go back to camp, right now!”

Arthur’s never thought that he’d be able to even raise his voice when talking to you, but now he shouts, making you freeze on the spot. You stare at him for a few seconds before you finally come to your senses. You turn around and rush through the trees, running from him like a startled deer.

With a growl, Arthur turns around, punching his fist against the nearest tree at full force. He’d hoped the pain would drive out the thoughts about you, but even with his knuckles bleeding, it’s not enough. Memories rush into his mind, of you looking at him, talking to him, touching him.

Arthur remembers the dance with every detail, and even worse, the kiss you just shared. Usually, it’s a gift to see something and be able to draw it right from his memory, but now it becomes a curse. He’ll never forget the taste of your lips, the way you held on to him, how your body melted against his. In dark, lonely nights, he’ll remember that enticing sound you made when he pushed himself against you.

You didn’t shy away from his touches, and Arthur realizes with horror that you might have let him do even more. You asked him for a kiss, but that’s rarely where the stories end. Maybe, you would have wanted more. Maybe, you would have allowed him to have you, right then and there, on the forest floor.

With a grunt, Arthur frees himself from his pants, stroking his cock so hard that it’s more painful than pleasurable. The thoughts consume him, the memories of you so vivid as if you were still there.

It doesn’t take Arthur long to reach his peak, his cock throbbing, hot spurs of come shooting against the bark of the tree in front of him. Tucking himself away, Arthur watches as it trickles down. Out of control as he is, he could have done such horrible things to you.

Consumed by shame, Arthur walks back through the trees, a plan forming in his mind. If he wants to protect you, he can’t be near you until he’s ingrained it in himself that he can never have you. Arthur has to go - far away.

——–

You have a hard time focusing on your work, looking up again and again to sneak a peek at Arthur across camp. If you keep going like that, the water will be ice cold until you’re done washing all the clothes, and Miss Grimshaw will have your head. Still, you can’t keep yourself from doing it, almost like you need to have your fill of Arthur before he disappears again.

With a sigh, you remember the time after your kiss. In the morning, Arthur was gone, only Hosea knowing where he went. He didn’t come back for four weeks, and when he did, he avoided you at all costs. You barely got to see Arthur at all for about three months after that. He either was in his tent or out of camp altogether.

Over the last month, Arthur stayed more often and didn’t leave the second you showed up. You at least got a “good morning” out of him every day, and once in a while, you had brief conversations about the weather or the latest successful jobs of the other gang members.

You feel like it still might take quite some time before things could go back to normal, if at all. You don’t blame Arthur, though. You risked your friendship over a stupid crush, using his kindness to trick him into getting what you wanted.

Of course, you should have known that Arthur didn’t feel the same way as you. To him, you must be nothing but a stupid little girl that needs constant supervision and help. You asked Arthur for a real kiss from a real man, ignoring that you didn’t even come close to being a real woman.

After all this time, you still can’t forget how Arthur kissed you, giving you all that you wanted while you had nothing to offer in return. All you could do now is to apologize and beg Arthur for forgiveness.

With another sigh, you go back to scrubbing the laundry. When you carry the basket with the wet clothes through camp to hang them up to dry, Hosea and Arthur walk past you. You give them a quick nod, keeping up appearances for Hosea’s sake. Arthur looks up, and it’s the first time that you get to hold eye contact with him for more than a second.

“Mylady,” he says, his voice soft.

The two men keep walking without pause, but you almost trip, your heart pounding. It’s been so long that Arthur had a kind word for you, but the familiar greeting brings you right back into the time before the kiss when everything was alright.

Your eyes fill with tears, and you do your best to quickly blink them away, but when you begin to hang up the clothes, Mary-Beth walks over to you.

“Are you alright?” she asks, leaning over to get a better look at your face.

“Sure,” you answer, focusing on the laundry.

From the corner of your eye, you can see Mary-Beth looking over to Arthur. “I didn’t mean to say anything. After all, it’s your business if you get along with Arthur, but this? If he makes you cry in the middle of camp, I’ll have a word with him. I mean it.”

You’ve never seen Mary-Beth talking so fiercely, and usually, she adores Arthur. That she would pick a fight with him over you makes your heart melt.

“It’s not him, it’s me,” you explain. “I did something foolish, and Arthur is right to be angry at me. I appreciate that you’re trying to help, but please don’t say anything to him.”

“But the crying,” Mary-Beth insists.

“Happy tears,” you say, giving her a big smile. “I think it’s going to be alright again.”

Mary-Beth looks back and forth between you and Arthur before pulling out a handkerchief and giving it to you. “Fine. But if there’s anything you need, please tell me.”

“I will. Thank you, Mary-Beth. You’re the best.”

She blushes a little and finally walks away, giving you another chance to look over to Arthur. You almost get caught when he and Hosea come your way.

“Can we have a word?” Hosea asks you with a smile, and you almost drop the shirt you’re holding.

You can’t believe that Arthur would tell Hosea about the kiss, but you can’t think of anything else they would want to talk about. “Sure,” you say, your fingers playing with the wet fabric in your hand while your heart pounds so hard that you wonder if they can hear it.

“I’ve got some information about a rich couple that moved from the city into a cabin up north. Really secluded, good spot if you know how to live off the land,” Hosea explains, giving you a chance to breathe again. It’s about a job. Nothing more.

“And they know how to do that?” you ask.

Hosea smiles. “Not from what I hear. I want Arthur and you to go up there and check it out. You might be able to charm them, offer your help. Maybe you can find out if they still got more riches left in the city.”

“Or we could just rob them,” Arthur says, his voice barely audible, but Hosea nudges his elbow into Arthur’s side.

“Don’t act like the brute, Arthur. We both know you’re much more than that.”

You know that to be true, but Arthur just grunts as if he doubts Hosea’s words. You wish you could tell him otherwise, but you don’t even dare to look at him.

Hosea takes a piece of paper out of his jacket and hands it to Arthur. “That’s the place.”

Arthur studies what looks like a hand-drawn map while rubbing his beard. “I say we head out right now. If we make camp when it gets dark, we should be able to reach the cabin tomorrow by noon.”

You wait for Hosea to answer, but when he stays silent, you look up to find the two men looking at you, and you realize Arthur’s talking to you, not Hosea.

“Oh, sure,” you hurry to say, “just let me finish up here, and I’ll get my things.”

“Great,” Hosea says, “glad to have the two of you on this. I was worried I’d have to send Bill.”

He winks at you and walks away, leaving you alone with Arthur. You rack your brain what to say, but Arthur beats you to it. “I was kinda planning on wearing that again.”

You stare at him, drowning in his eyes until he nods to your hands. You’ve been wringing the shirt between your fingers, only now seeing that it’s one of Arthur’s. “Oh, of course. I just-"

You turn around on the spot, hastily going back to work. "I’ll meet you at the horses,” Arthur says behind you. His voice is warm, flowing down your back like a sweet caress. It tightens your chest how much you missed him talking to you.

“I’ll be just a minute,” you manage to say, only able to catch your breath once you hear Arthur walking away.

After finishing the laundry, you pack what you’ll need for the trip and say goodbye to the other girls. Mary-Beth gives you a wary look when she hears that you’re riding out with Arthur, but you give her a big smile to reassure her that you’re alright.

Not that you are. On the one hand, you’re looking forward to working with Arthur again, and the trip might finally give you a chance to apologize, but on the other hand, you’re nervous as hell. It’s been so long since you’ve been alone with Arthur, and he might still be angry with you.

With your heart almost beating out of your chest, you walk over to Arthur. He already saddled up your horse, checking if everything is in place on his own mare.

“Hey,” you say, trying to make him aware of you.

“You ready?” he asks, not looking up from what he’s doing.

“Yes, I am,” you say, and when he stays silent, you feel the need to keep him engaged. “Where are we even going?”

Finally, Arthur looks at you before handing you the map Hosea gave him. When you reach for the paper, your fingers brush over Arthur’s skin. It’s warm and so weirdly familiar that this brief touch tightens your chest again while Arthur gets back to his work.

You stare at the map, trying hard to level your breathing without Arthur noticing. Finally, Arthur pulls himself up on his horse. “Ready to go?” he asks, and you quickly climb onto your mare.

As you head out on the narrow path, you hold the map out to Arthur. He takes it back, his fingertips trailing over your skin this time. Arthur doesn’t react at all, but your body fills with heat, brought on by the memories that have been haunting you for months.

Your horse keeps pace with Arthur’s while your mind drifts off, remembering how everything started. At first, you were just thankful for Arthur saving you. Even in your short life, you had to learn that there were evil people in the world, especially men when faced with a young girl. Arthur was nothing like that.

Despite his own claims to the contrary, you can’t bring yourself to think of him as bad. He might be robbing people, but he doesn’t lay a finger on them. Just like he always respected you. At first, you thought of him as a good friend, a little bitter or sarcastic at times, but also funny, kind, and awfully sweet if he wanted to be.

Your feelings for him changed one day when Arthur helped you down from one of the wagons when the gang was moving camp. He waved at you with outstretched arms before lifting you down. You held on to his broad shoulders while his large hands closed warm around your waist. He set you down on the ground and smiled, having your heart pounding like crazy.

Maybe you’ve read too many of Mary-Beth’s books, hoping for so much more than there was, but everything changed after this moment. You found yourself staring at Arthur at all times, and somehow he turned from a friend to a man. You were always aware of his body and his voice, your body reacting to him in ways that often took your breath away.

After a while, you found yourself wanting more, and when Hosea sent you on all these jobs together, you even tried to seduce Arthur. Not that you had much experience on how to do that, but usually, a little naked skin and closeness does the trick for most men. Arthur didn’t react at all, not even when sleeping with you in the same tent, making you want him even more.

And then there was your birthday. The dance put a final nail into your coffin. There was something about the way Arthur held you, how he effortlessly made you follow him, and twirled you around. You wanted for him to do more, to take you like those confident men who swept the women off their feet in the books.

Arthur disappearing into the trees was a siren’s call to you, and when he walked to that secluded meadow, it seemed like fate. This could have been your fairytale, so you put up all your courage, offering yourself to him. You imagined it many times, but then Arthur kissed you in a way that was beyond your wildest dreams. You asked for a real kiss but never thought that it could be that good.

Despite Arthur’s anger, you still can’t fully regret what you did. Now that Arthur showed you how he feels, you have to make your peace knowing that you’ll never be with him. But no matter if you die alone or find another man, you’ll at least have the memory of one perfect kiss.

“Are you hearing me?”

Arthur’s voice only slowly reaches your ears, stopping you from wallowing in your memories. “What?”

“Let’s head for the saloon over there. They might have rooms.”

You stare in the direction of his outstretched hand, your mind racing. You planned to apologize to Arthur once you made camp, in the silence of the night. You won’t have a chance for that in a noisy saloon.

“But it’s still early,” you say. “We can make a few more miles until dusk.”

Arthur’s already steering his horse off the road. “We don’t have to. We already made more than half of the way. You’re better off with a real meal and a bed to sleep in.”

You bite your lip, hating that Arthur messes up your plan by looking out for you. It’s infuriating and sweet at the same time, the embodiment of Arthur.

After hitching your horses outside, you venture into the saloon. For such a secluded place, it has quite the amount of customers, even more so considering the early hour. You walk to the bar with Arthur, where he orders two whiskeys, but before you’re able to drink, he suddenly taps your shoulder. “Excuse me for a second. I know these men over there.”

He walks over to a table where a bunch of rowdy fellers play poker, leaving you with a burning sensation where he touched you. You make up for it by downing one of the two glasses in one go, contemplating to drink the other, too.

“Now, who would let a sweet girl like you drink alone?”

The high pitched voice behind you sends a shiver down your spine. You’ve had men talk to you like this many times, but it hasn’t happened since you’ve joined the gang. When you were out, you always had someone like Arthur or Charles with you who kept idiots at bay without even trying.

“I’m not alone,” you say, trying to spot Arthur, but you’re suddenly surrounded by four men.

The one who spoke to you before comes closer, putting an arm up on the bar to box you in. “I don’t see nobody.”

“My husband will be back any second,” you say, hating how weak your voice sounds.

The man gives you a wide grin, presenting his half-rotten teeth. “He’s not here now, missy. Only you and us.”

He trails his fingers over your hand, and you react without thinking. Using the element of surprise, you duck below his arm, sidestepping another guy before he can grab you. Basically flying through the room, you reach Arthur, immediately clinging to his arm.

Both Arthur and the men at the table are staring at you in surprise, but nothing in this world could make you let go off Arthur now. “I missed you at the bar,” you say, trying to sound casual, but your voice is shaking a little.

Arthur takes a look at them, and his eyes narrow, a wild look appearing in them while you can see the muscles of his jaw clenching. He reaches into his pocket before turning back to the men at the table. “Anyway, I just wanted to pay back what I owe,” he says, handing a few dollars to one of the men, “no hard feelings, right?”

The man counts the money, a smile coming onto his face. “Of course, no hard feelings,” he says, sharing the money with the other men.

“Have a good day, gentlemen,” Arthur says, tipping his head.

As Arthur turns, he pries your hand away from his arm, prompting you to protest, but then he puts his arm around you, his hand resting on your hip as you walk back to the bar. Arthur orders more drinks and keeps standing so close that you can feel his body against yours.

“So that’s your husband, missy?” the man with the high voice asks from the other end of the bar, letting your blood run cold. You forgot to mention that little detail to Arthur.

“Excuse me?” Arthur asks, an edge to his voice that you know. It never ends well for the person he’s talking to.

The man sneers at him. “I’m talking to her.”

“You don’t talk to my wife,” Arthur says, the words making you shiver. Then he steps in front of you, shielding you from view with his whole body.

The two men stare at each other in silence, and you know that something terrible is about to happen. The man moves his arm, there’s a loud bang, and then he falls backward, blood trickling down his forehead. All eyes are on him as he collides with the floor, his gun slipping out of his hand.

Deep down, you seem to relive every lesson about shooting a gun that Arthur and John have given you. You step around Arthur, pulling his second gun out of its holster and pointing it right at the man’s face nearest to you. He stares down the barrel with wide eyes while Arthur trains his gun on one of the others. You know you’re outnumbered, but you won’t go down without a fight, and everybody in the saloon just saw that Arthur might be quicker than them.

The men look back and forth between you and Arthur, contemplating if they can take you. Before it can come to that, the poker players get to their feet, taking position behind you and Arthur. The man who took Arthur’s money rests his hand on his gun.

“The way I see it, your friend here was outta line. That’s really no way to talk to a married woman.” He looks around, and the other men in the saloon give small nods to agree with him. “I suggest you take him out of here and be on your way. We wanna play in peace, you understand?”

The men don’t move until Arthur slowly lowers his gun. You follow his lead, and the man in front of you steps back. They put their guns away to pick up the body and quickly make their way outside.

“Thank you,” Arthur says to the poker players, and the man who spoke just shrugs.

“Never liked those fellers anyway. You fancy a game?”

“No, we’ll better be on our way.”

“Suit yourself.”

The men go back to their game while Arthur puts his hand on your back, leading you outside. He unties the horses, constantly looking around.

“Why are we going?” you say, your heart still pounding from what just happened. “Wouldn’t we be safer with these guys?”

“These guys are only friendly for a prize,” Arthur says. “And the men who left was O'Driscolls. I bet they’ll be back in numbers. We don’t want to be here when that happens.”

Arthur gets on his horse and holds out his hand to you. “Come on.”

“I have my own horse.”

“I won’t let you ride alone when those guys might come up behind us.”

Arthur just shot a guy because he didn’t like the way he talked to you. It’s probably useless to argue with him now. You take his hand, and he lifts you up with ease. “Hold on,” he says, and you happily reach around his waist, pressing yourself against his back.

Arthur spurs on his horse, quickly bringing it into a gallop, barely giving you time to whistle for your own horse to follow. You ride hard until the sun begins to go down. Arthur checks both sides of the road to find a good spot for camp, and you end up on a hilltop. A few large boulders shield you from view while the higher ground lets you see for miles in any direction. There’s no chance that anybody could sneak up on you here.

You get a fire going, and Arthur sets up a tent while you try to make a decent meal out of the provisions you brought along. When Arthur is done, he sits down on his bedroll, and you hand him a steaming bowl.

“It’s not the decent meal you were talking about earlier,” you say, feeling guilty that Arthur’s plans got all messed up because of you.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Arthur says, bringing the bowl closer to smell its content. “I remember the great meals you used to make on our last jobs.”

You almost joke about that being a wife’s job, but while Arthur backed up your lie in the saloon, he might not find it funny. Instead, you eat your food in silence. When Arthur’s finished, he takes out his journal and writes, leaving you to stare into the fire. Everything is so nice and peaceful, you’re not quite sure if you should apologize to Arthur at all. What if that only rips open old wounds?

Sneaking a look at Arthur, you can see the difference in how he moves his pencil. He’s no longer writing but draws something. You tell yourself that it’s none of your business, but you’ve always loved Arthur’s art, and you are one of the few people he sometimes shows it to. Hoping that this might be something you can talk about, you crawl over to Arthur.

“What are you drawing?”

Arthur puts the pages together for a moment, looking like he’s embarrassed, but then he opens the journal and hands it to you. The drawing shows a campfire with a woman sitting in front of it, staring into the flames. You.

“You’re so good at this,” you say, your eyes fixed on the page.

“Good at something useless,” Arthur grunts.

You have to disagree. It’s still a mystery to you how someone can capture life and emotions with a pencil and paper. The woman in the drawing looks lost, though. You won’t be able to just forget what happened, you have to talk to Arthur.

Putting down the journal, you take a deep breath. “Arthur, I’m sorry.”

He studies your face for a long moment, deep in thought. “Sorry for what?”

“The kiss,” you blurt out before you lose your courage. “You’ve always been such a good friend, and I took advantage of that. I asked you because I knew that you wouldn’t say no. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you,” Arthur says, and you feel like hitting him for taking any of the blame.

“You were right to be angry. I should have known that you’d never feel the same way about me.”

Arthur takes a deep breath as if it’s hard for him to say the following words. “If you was a little older, or I was a bit younger-”

Arthur trails off, but your heart is already pounding. You thought that Arthur doesn’t feel anything for you, but here he is, drawing your picture and worrying about your age, not angry about the kiss at all.

“I thought you didn’t like me, Arthur.”

“Jesus, girl,” Arthur huffs, almost amused, “of course I like you. You’re right out perfect. It just doesn’t matter what I feel. It’s just not right.”

“It matters to me,” you say, your voice breathless as hope blooms in your heart, “I don’t care about the age difference.”

Arthur’s lost for words for a moment, but then he shrugs. “It’s not just that. You deserve way better than me.”

Usually, you’re not one to get your way. You accept what others tell you and move on, putting their wishes above yours. This can’t be one of those times. It’s too important, and you couldn’t live with yourself if you didn’t try everything to be happy.

“I might be young, but I’m not naive or stupid. I know that you’re not perfect, but neither are the ranchers who hurt their cattle or the merchants who draw up the prices when the poor can barely pay them,” you say, talking yourself into a frenzy. “Unlike those fancy dressed crooks in the big city, you are so much more.”

Arthur lifts his hand as if to interrupt you, but for once, you don’t let him, continuing your tirade. “I fell in love with you because you’re kind, funny, and caring. You’re not lining your own pockets, but do whatever you have to to help your family and even strangers. You don’t take pleasure from cruelty, but manage to ease other people’s misery and pain. You’re a good person, Arthur. I really don’t see how I could possibly do better.”

Staring at you out of big eyes, Arthur opens his mouth, but nothing comes out until he clears his throat, his voice still hoarse when he speaks. “In love?”

It’s unnerving that this is the one thing Arthur took from this, but you said it, and there’s no point in denying it. “Yes, I love you, Arthur,“ you say, shrugging your shoulders. "I’m old enough to know that I want to be with you. Not a better or younger version of you, but you just the way you are.“

Arthur drops his head, his eyes fixed on the flames in front of him. You would give anything to know what he’s thinking, but you won’t ask. You said everything you wanted to say, and if that’s not enough for Arthur, then there’s nothing you can do.

When Arthur looks back up at you, there’s an expression on his face you’ve never seen before. You can’t tell if it’s good or bad, your heart racing in your chest. All you know is that whatever Arthur’s about to say next will decide your future together.

——–

Everything you said to Arthur is swirling around in his head, making him dizzy. For months, he tried to get over you, and Arthur only agreed to let you come along because he was sure he finally got his feelings under control. He should have known better.

What happened in the saloon showed Arthur how afraid he was to lose you, and calling you his wife, even as a ruse, made him happier than anything in a long time. After what you just told Arthur, the two of you can’t go back to things how they were before, and he has to admit that you’re right. You’re able to make your own decisions, and if you decided – for whatever reason – that you wanted to be with him, then who is he to take that away from you?

Arthur‘s heart sings at the mere thought of giving in. No matter his feelings of right and wrong, nobody can blame him for losing this battle, not if you’re sitting there, begging him with all that you have to allow the two of you to be happy.

When Arthur looks into your eyes, the longing in his heart grows so unbearable that he can’t take it anymore. He opens his arms, inviting you in. "Come here.“

You fly into Arthur’s arms without a second of hesitation, proving once more that he’s doing the right thing. Arthur pulls you into his lap, and you put your arms around his neck, making him look up into your beautiful face.

"I tried for so long,“ he says, defeat in his voice. "I can’t get you out of my head.“

Arthur trails his fingers along your cheek as you smile at him. "You’re not supposed to.“

He draws you in, and you follow, letting him kiss you. Arthur thought there could be nothing better than your first kiss, but nothing compares to this one. This time, there’s nothing bad or shameful about it.

You melt against Arthur’s body, your hands running through his hair while he holds you close, not wanting to let go ever again. Arthur wouldn’t mind staying like this forever, but you roll your hips, grinding against him.

"Arthur, I want you,” you say, looking at him in a way that makes his heart miss a beat, but then you cast your eyes down as if ashamed. “If you want me, too.”

Every impure thought that Arthur had about you rushes through his mind, and he has a hard time not to throw you down to the ground and have his way with you. After all, you deserve much better than that. He’ll respect your wishes, but he still feels like it’s his responsibility to protect you.

“Of course I want you,” he says, his words getting you to look at him again, “but we have time. There’s no need to rush anything.”

“Rush?” I’ve been thinking about this for a long time.“ You let out a little laugh before running your hand over your face as if you want to hide. "I even tried seducing you when we were alone, but you never seemed to care.”

Arthur can’t help that his mouth falls open, thinking about all those times he had to hold himself back. “You did that on purpose?”

“What do you think? I don’t just undress in front of everybody,” you say, playing with the buttons on Arthur’s shirt.

“You gave me such a hard time with that,” Arthur says with a sigh. “This is already bad enough.”

He’s holding you by the hips, feeling how you begin to move on top of him. “Then maybe I should try one more time,” you whisper.

You reach down to unbutton your dress, pushing down your chemise. This time, Arthur looks without reservation before leaning in and kissing the exposed skin. You bury your fingers in his hair, still rolling your hips, and Arthur has to admit to himself that you might not be as innocent as you seem. It makes no sense to treat you like a delicate flower when you’re actually the storm.

Arthur reaches down to hike up your skirt, his fingers trailing along the soft skin of your thighs. You hold still but reach down to help him, pulling your dress up right over your head. It takes a little fumbling, but it’s worth it. Having you sit on top of him in your thin chemise brings heat to Arthur’s whole body, and he can’t help that he’s getting painfully hard in his pants.

There’s a knowing grin on your face, almost as if you’re mocking him, and Arthur can’t take it anymore. He lifts you up and leans forward, carefully putting you down on his bedroll. Without hesitation, Arthur pulls up the skirt, and you wiggle under him, letting him undress you fully.

Arthur can’t remember having seen anything so beautiful in his entire life. In the dim light of the fire, your skin has a lovely glow, your body a perfect combination of straight lines and inviting curves. If he wasn’t so desperate to touch you, Arthur would have loved to draw you like this.

With his fingers, Arthur follows a line from your cheek along your neck, tracing your collarbone and climbing up the swell of your breast. Your nipple hardens under his touch, and Arthur can’t help but lean in and suck it into his mouth. You let out a surprised gasp, soon followed by barely audible moans when Arthur keeps teasing your breasts with both lips and hands.

You reach for him, eagerly pushing down his suspenders, and Arthur comes up for a moment to let you get him out of his shirt. Your eyes roam over his naked chest while your hands massage his muscles, coming to rest on his shoulders. You draw Arthur in, letting him kiss your breasts and stomach while your fingers dig into the skin on his back.

Arthur moves even lower, his hands closing around your thighs. You eagerly open your legs for him, giving him a first look at the sweet locks that cover your mount and lips. Arthur traces his fingers in a swirling line through them before touching your soft center. You gasp again when Arthur pushes between your folds, enticing wetness greeting him.

He wouldn’t mind teasing you some more, but you reach for him, beckoning him to come back to you. “Arthur, please.”

Arthur follows your plea, crawling over your body, his arms propped up next to your face. You pull him in for a kiss, your tongue licking into his mouth as if you might die without his taste. You keep him close like this while your hands wander down his chest and to his pants. You pry them open, getting hot waves to roll all over Arthur’s body.

The anticipation is unbearable, and Arthur moans against your lips when you finally close your fingers around his cock to get him out of his pants. Free from the enclosure, you reward him with slow strokes along his whole lengths, making Arthur bite his lip.

You soothe him with soft kisses, but you’re just as desperate, your hips moving under him. “Take me, Arthur, please.”

Arthur wishes he could show more restraint, but he’s dreamed about this way too often in too many ways to hold back now. He runs the tip of his cock through your folds, using your wetness to get himself slick as well, and when your fingers dig into his shoulders, Arthur pushes in.

You’re so hot and tight, he hopes he can keep this up and goes as slowly as he can. You still gasp in surprise, and more sighs and moans break out of you when Arthur conquers you inch by inch. Once he’s fully sheeted inside of you, Arthur holds still, enjoying the feeling of being close.

“You okay?” he whispers against your lips, and you take a deep breath before being able to reply.

“God, yes,” you sigh, rolling your hips again.

Arthur dares to move with you. You kiss, again and again, hands roaming over heated skin, while Arthur pushes into you at a steady pace. Your hands wander around Arthur’s neck, and soon you seem to hold on for dear life. With your breathing speeding up, Arthur knows you won’t make it much longer, and the harder he thrusts into you, the more desperate become your moans.

Leaning in to kiss and bite your neck, Arthur finally throws you over the edge. Your thighs shake as you come, your muscles clenching around Arthur’s cock. You cling to him, whispering profanities he never thought you capable of knowing, and it becomes harder and harder for him to hold back.

Still, Arthur tries not to overwhelm you, but you keep moving, spurring him on. “Please, Arthur. I want you, I want all of you.”

With your beautiful, young body moving under him in ecstasy, Arthur can’t hold back his lust. His fingers dig hard into your flesh as he buries himself deep in your hot core, filling you up with his come.

You’re both drenched in sweat and breathing heavily. Arthur wishes he could ask if you’re alright, but he doesn’t have enough air. Instead, you share a few soft kisses. Despite that first wave of satisfaction, Arthur can’t stop touching you. His fingers trace over your smooth skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

Arthur’s been thinking about being with you for so long, he feels as if he’s in a dream. He kisses his way down your body, and when his hands massage your thighs, you open his legs for him. Arthur trails his fingers over your soft lips, making you roll your hips.

Teased like this, Arthur can see how your muscles work, and his come is swelling out of you, trickling down. The sight steers something inside of Arthur. It’s as if he marked you, finally making you his.

He can’t help but touch you, and the urge to taste you as well overcomes him. Arthur leans in, running his tongue over your clit, and you let out a surprised moan. With his hands on your thighs, Arthur keeps teasing you with his tongue.

He doesn’t mind his own taste that’s soon replaced with yours, your moans and soft cries growing more urgent. The way you move under Arthur steers up his own arousal. Caught between your legs like this, he can’t hold in his own moans.

You bury your fingers in Arthur’s hair, lifting your hips and urging him on with pleas for more. He happily indulges you, teasing you with his fingers as well as his mouth until you let out a frustrated groan.

Arthur stops and looks up to you, and before he can ask if you’re alright, you already push him back by the shoulders. The second he’s on his back, you crawl on top of him, rubbing yourself against his hardening cock.

You lean in and kiss Arthur, taking heavy breaths in between. All he can do is hold on to your hips as you lift yourself up to push him inside of you again. Trapped in your tight heat, Arthur lets his head fall back.

He might have marked you today, but at this moment, Arthur knows that you did so long ago. Arthur’s been yours from the start, and that won’t ever change, not as long as you’ll have him.

———

You dreamed about being with Arthur many times, but none of it compares to the real thing. His every touch sets you on fire, waking a lust inside of you that you’ve never known before. Longing to be close, you keep kissing Arthur, your body pressed against his as you move your hips to feel him deep inside of you.

All of it still seems like a dream, and you have the urge to make the most of it, feeling and tasting Arthur, desperate to make as many memories of this moment as you can.

Your eager cries fill the night, mixed in with Arthur’s moans, the both of you too desperate to hold back. You claw and bite, leaving marks on each other’s skin. The thought of the other gang members seeing them turns you on more than you ever thought possible.

Now that Arthur finally agreed to be with you, you want everybody else to know. You kiss along Arthur’s neck and suck the skin between your teeth, biting down enough to make Arthur growl. His fingers dig hard into your hips, and he holds you in place while he thrusts into you.

Arthur’s cock hits you deeply as he slides in and out of you with lewd sounds, and from one second to the other, everything becomes too much. You bury your face against Arthur’s neck as you fall over the edge, waves of pleasure rolling all over your body.

You cling to Arthur, and he holds you tight, his hips bucking as you shake on top of him. He moans against your ear, filling you up with his come as your clenching muscles tighten around him.

For a while, you just stay like this, enjoying the warmth of Arthur’s body against your own. His fingertips trail softly over the skin on your back, and when your eyes threaten to fall shut, Arthur gets you to move.

After helping you into your chemise, Arthur carries you into the tent, and the second he lies down, you cuddle up to him. Arthur kisses your forehead and puts his arms around you as if he never wants to let go again.

You just lie there for a while until Arthur lets out a long sigh. “I fell in love with you, too, you know. Pretty much from the start.”

Warmth spreads in your chest, and you bury your face in the crook of Arthur’s neck. “I love you, too, Arthur.”

“Do me a favor then?” Arthur says, the words turning into a question.

“Anything.”

“Next time, just tell me right away what’s good for us. I’m an idiot most of the time.”

You laugh, but run your hand over Arthur’s chest as if to wash the thought away. “You’re my idiot now, so don’t worry, I’ll tell you.”

“Thank you, darling,” Arthur says, squeezing you slightly.

You close your eyes, feeling safer and more comfortable than ever before in your life. Everything bad in your past just drifts away, making room for happiness and a future you only ever dared to dream about.

“You were right,” you say. “It’s just books. This was so much better.”

Arthur chuckles, and you fall asleep to the sound of it, the first time of many over the years to come.

#arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 smut #rdr2 fanfic #my writing #fulfilled request #emily-strange #Anonymous

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keanuvibe · 4 years

Note

can i get a john wick x reader please ? slight eating disorder (not encouraging). the reader has issues with food and eating regularly. john notices and helps her schedule couple eating times so he knows that she is nourishing herself. just soft and fluffy please. extra words of encouragement from my mans jardani

A/N: this request hit close to home bc i struggled with an eating disorder for years between my late teens to young adulthood. If you ever need to talk nonnie, (not assuming anything, but--) my inbox or dm’s are always open <3 that goes for everybody, btw)

Warnings: eating disorder tw, fluff

The plate of fresh pasta seemed to mock you as it sat perfectly placed onto the plate, made to look like art with the sauce and garnish placement. Normally, you would’ve dived in by now; but when you looked at the dish, it just made you queasy instead. Furrowing your brow, you pushed the plate away from you and stood from the kitchen chair, rushing to the bathroom.

This was the first occurrence of John witnessing you flat out refuse to eat. Of course there were earlier occasions where things seemed off. It started as a simple unfinished plate, then followed by smaller portions, and the occasional strict ‘fasting period’ where you’d go nearly a full two days without food. A part of him didn’t want to believe it, and that’s why he hadn’t immediately addressed the issue.

But this is one thing that can’t be ignored. Not when it came to you.

He sat you down a few days after the pasta incident; taking so much time only to allow himself to think and approach the situation with a light heart. He felt some anger, yes, anger over the fact you cared so little about yourself. That your brain had told you, you didn’t deserve nutrition; or-- god forbid-- that you weren’t ‘pretty enough’. But you didn’t need a stern talking to, you needed love.

“Darling, have you been eating?” His voice is so soft spoken, it catches you off guard. You raise your brows from faux confusion, trying your best to play it off.

“O-Of course, why would you-” You began to go off, but John setting a hand onto your thigh in reassurance cut you off, and the rest of your sentence was replaced by a sad sigh.

“What’s going on?” John pushed, but gently. A lump formed in your throat, but you swallowed in an attempt to push it away. Your bottom lip betrayed you, however, beginning to quiver as tears threatened to spill.

“I-I don’t know.” Your voice cracked as you spoke, “I-I’ve just been feeling insecure lately and-”

“Hey,” John cut you off, his hand grasping your chin so softly, “You’re gorgeous, and always have been. Your body is perfect. I love the stretch marks, the scars, moles, freckles... the soft squish of your stomach and thighs.” The man had managed to pull you into his chest during his speech as you silently cried. Sometimes the little voice in your head took control, but John was always there to remind you what’s real.

You two sat there in silence as he whispered sweet nothings, rubbing your back. Knowing your partner loved you and wanted to work out this issue felt like enough motivation to get healthy again; Even if it was going to be hard work.

“Here’s what I’m thinking,” The man spoke up again after a few moments of silence, “Planned dinners, from now on. When I eat, you eat. Even if it’s one bite, I’ll be happy.”

“Okay,” You agreed softly, looking up to greet his eye line. He looked tired, like this issue had been gnawing at him too, not just you. His brown eyes looked your face over, gently raising a hand to remove a strand of hair from your sight. You nuzzled your face into his palm, causing the man to perk up at the intimacy.

“We’re in this together, darling. A team.” He added, taking advantage of his hand cupping your face, and pulling you in for a kiss. Your lips met in a gentle manor, however, the mans stubble still tickled your delicate skin.

“I love you, John.” You sighed into the kiss, sniffling slightly and pulling back to see his expression. His eyes softened at the declaration, brows pushing together in endearment.

“I love you too.” His deep voice responded, filling your belly with a loving warmth. You were in this together, and that’s all the reassurance you needed.

#john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick fanfic #john wick fanfiction #eating disorder tw #requests

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mojofun · 4 years

Text

How to chat up pretty gals - A manual by Sherlock Holmes (Sherlock Holmes x Reader)

Hello there. This is for @summer-writes; the prompt was “I’m not an assassin, but I want to take you out” “After that, I kinda wish you were”. It’s part of my small celebration for hitting 100 followers, which I’m still thrilled about; I met so many nice people here on Tumblr.

That being said, the request thing is still on if anyone wants to participate.

This story is fluff

(He’s making sure he looks good before his date with Y/N :3)

Enjoy :)

_________________________________

<<So, what do we have here?>>

<<A man, found dead this morning by->>

<<Yes Anderson, thank you for your valuable contribution. I’ll see for myself now>> Sherlock dismissed the other man, pushing past him and walking toward the body on the bed. John did not even try to apologise for him: both he and Anderson himself knew it would be pointless, a mere pretence.

The detective crushed beside the corpse, pulling out his lens to examine the scene up close. His inseparable companion slowly approached to give the body a once over

<<Livid complexion, yellowish scleras, rigidity in the sims… All telltale signs of->>

<<Poisoning>> A female voice interrupted the army doctor.

Everyone in the room turned to look at the newcomer.

It was a young woman dressed in semi-formal clothes, a Tyvek sterile suit in her hand; she had H/L H/C hair, E/C eyes and S/C skin. The smirk on her lips alone told them she was sure of her deduction.

John agreed immediately

<<Precisely. And you are?>>

<<This is Y/N Y/S>> Lestrade answered for her while she donned the protective covering <<She is the district’s rookie, fresh out of college with a degree in Criminology>>

<<Nice to meet you>> John greeted. She gave a curt wave and immediately got down to business, squatting beside Sherlock to inspect the victim

<<Damn,>> John murmured <<she already behaves like Sherlock>>

It was Sherlock who was not behaving like Sherlock.

Much to the amazement of everybody else, he simply observed Y/N do what she had to, admiring her concentration and her no-nonsense attitude.

When she was done she stood up, dusting off her knees

<<Sherlock?>> Lestrade called <<Don’t you have anything to say?>>

<<Uh? Oh, yes, of course. John, did you notice anything unusual?>>

<<Well, from my first check I can say that the cause of death is snakebi->>

<<It’s not a snakebite>> Y/N interrupted with a monotone voice.

The curly detective glanced at her in a strange mix of amazement and pride: he was expecting her to correct John, but part of him didn’t think she would notice

<<What?>>

<<It is not a snakebite, Dr Watson. Your colleague did not allow you to look very close, but if you did you would have noticed the disposition of the two punctures.

The discolouration around the wounds is not very different, meaning the second one was inflicted almost immediately after the first>> The girl beckoned him closer, pointing at one of the small holes in the victim’s neck <<What do you see?>>

<<The one on the left is deeper, more scraped than the other>>

<<So?>>

<<It was made before>>

<<Precisely. The victim probably put up resistance, hence the greater damage.

I think we have to go through the list of people invited to the party, see if there is anyone whose profession or hobbies entail knowledge of snakes and poison. Speaking of which, where are the animals kept now?>>

<<You mean the victim’s collections of reptiles?>> Anderson asked

<<Obviously>> She huffed

<<They’re at the police station; Sherlock suggested they could be evidence>>

Y/N grinned, looking at the lanky man

<<Excellent. I’m going to pay them a visit now. See you later!>>

<<Wait, Y/N! Aren’t you going to tell us anything?>>

The woman smirked

<<Oh, I think Mr Holmes may have an inkling of what is going on. Bye!>>

That said she ran out of the building, leaving them all in awe.

Lestrade, like everybody else, turned to look at Sherlock, silently begging him for answers

<<The victim likely knew the assassin, or they wouldn’t have ended up in his room.

We have to examine the list of guests and staff from yesterday’s party, see if we find someone experienced with poisonous animals, as Y/N said>>

He had a hard time saying those words; he just couldn’t believe that someone could have reasoned brilliantly and rapidly enough to be at his same level

<<So… She was right?>> John questioned, half smug half incredulous

<<Yes, she was>>

It was the first time something like that happened to Sherlock, and he was incredibly fascinated by the most talented newbie in the Yard.

_________________________________

Months passed.

The case was solved in a couple of days thanks to the combined brains of the Baker Street sleuth and Y/N. Sherlock and John found themselves crossing paths with her more and more often, but they were both far from displeased about it. The doctor was intrigued by her talent, like his roommate, but he also considerably enjoyed seeing her keeping Sherlock on his toes.

Much to the famed detective’s annoyance, he’d grown smitten with the H/C-officer: she had beauty, brains and a tongue sharp enough to cut him. On top of that, she was well-versed in many subjects, and she kept up with him spewing theories with no difficulty.

He was stumped.

He’d tried talking to her, even flirting -just the thought made him cringe- with her, but he had no idea what he was doing.

William Sherlock Scott Holmes, the clever detective in the funny hat, was reduced to a teenage boy with a major crush, and he hated it.

That was how he ended up hiding in the living room at three in the morning, praying that John wouldn’t catch him red-handed while he looked up some tips on how to “chat up pretty gals”, according to the page he was currently scrolling through.

The brunette had winced violently when he first read that title. Nevertheless, that was how he went about things: research. He was treating it like a case, and he wanted to be prepared when he met Y/N again for a new case- which, according to the clock, would be in less than four hours.

He would need coffee. The website said a nice gesture would help his case, so maybe he could get one for her, too.

He already knew how she liked it.

_________________________________

<<It was the babysitter?>>

<<Yes>>

<<With a knife>>

<<Obviously>>

<<In the living room>>

<<What, are we playing Cluedo?>> Y/N cried out.

They had solved another case in a matter of hours, and he was now accompanying her to the police station to write the report

<<John never wants to play that game with me>> He mumbled

<> The girl snickered.

He couldn’t help but notice she looked adorable when she smiled.

Suddenly, he stopped walking

<<Sherlock?>>

Yes, they’d somehow gotten to a first-name basis, which was a huge success- as far as he knew

<<Y/N, I have to tell you something>>

<<What’s wrong? You are making me worry>>

<<Nothing is wrong, doll>>

The woman’s eyes widened

<<Doll?>>

<<Do you prefer darling? Honey? Babe?>>

<<B- Ba- Babe?!>> She sputtered.

The detective went on with his tirade

<>

<<When you- Like- P- Pet names!?>>

<<And use pickup lines>>

<<Pickup lines? What the->>

<<Yes, so I chose one. Y/N?>>

The poor girl was extremely puzzled, but she went along with it

<<Yes, Sherlock?>>

<<I’m not an assassin, but I want to take you out>>

For a few moments, all was silent.

Sherlock was anxiously awaiting her reaction, even a small sign.

Then, out of the blue, she began giggling; it soon turned into a belly laugh, with tears streaming from her eyes as she held her stomach

<<Oh- Oh my- Oh my gosh!>>

The brown-haired man stood beside her, patiently waiting for her to calm down; it took more than he expected, but he did not complain.

When her laughter finally dwindled and eventually stopped, she wiped her cheeks and looked at him, shaking her head in amusement

<<Oh, Sherlock… After that, I kinda wish you were>>

<<What? It wasn’t good?>>

He frowned. The girl moved closer to him, taking his hands in hers

<<Listen, you brilliant fool… You don’t need all that to impress me>>

<>

<<Not at all. I’m already impressed by how smart you are, the way you solve cases>>

The man finally smiled, lightly squeezing her hands, but then he furrowed his brow again

<<Y/N?>>

<<Yes?>>

<<If that’s not the right way to “chat up pretty gals”->> They both cringed, and she barely suppressed a snort <<how should I do it?>>

Y/N blushed, but she did not lose her smile

<<Well, Mr Holmes… Bringing me coffee was a good move, and this… This was the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me, I have to admit, however cringe-worthy it may have been>>

Sherlock’s grin broadened

<<However, do you know what I would like even more?>>

<<What is it, doll?>>

<<Mh, doll… I could get used to that>>

Without warning, she grabbed the lapels of his inseparable coat and pulled him closer, cementing their lips together; Sherlock’s eyes widened, but he relaxed almost instantly and tightened his arms around her.

He found it surprisingly enjoyable, and she was not complaining so he assumed she did, too.

When they pulled away Y/N bit her lip, her cheeks even redder

<<Mh, doll… I could get used to that>> She giggled

<>

<<Far be it from me to deny a pretty dame her desire>>

<<Sherlock?>>

<<Yes, doll?>>

<<Stop with the dumb nicknames and kiss me again>>

<<Gladly>>

After another kiss, he gave her a wicked grin

<<Mh, it becomes more pleasant the more we do it>>

<<Then I suggest we keep experimenting>>

<>

Their lips met again, and their arms wrapped around the other in a vice-like grip.

_________________________________

A few feet away, sitting at a table outside a café, Lestrade slid a tenner toward John, who pocketed it smugly

<<It’s a pleasure to do business with you>>

<<Bloody hell, there’s three of them now>>

#sherlock holmes fanfiction #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes fluff #sherlock holmes imagine #sherlock holmes fic

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keanureevesisbae · 4 years

Text

“One cappuccino and chocolate brownie, please” - Chapter 7

Summary: Darcie Angel is thirty years old and owner of the famous cafe “The Coffee Cup” in New York City. She is known for her sweet smile and her amazing customer service. For six months now, John Wick has visited her cafe every day, earning himself a table that is always reserved for him. Darcie can’t stop thinking about him and when he asks her out one day, her dreams are finally coming true. But will it last?

A/N: Since chapter 6 was a little short, I decided to post another chapter. This one is also pretty short, but the next one is longer, I promise xx

John Wick x OFC Darcie

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: None

Masterlist // Previous chapter // Next chapter

John: I’m sorry, Darcie.

John: I can’t visit the cafe today.

John: Please give Tiki a kiss from me, okay?

John: I’ll try and be there tomorrow.

‘Don’t sweat it, Darcie,’ Jennie says, when she catches me staring at my phone again. ‘He just couldn’t make it.’

‘What if I did something wrong last night?’ I ask. ‘I bet I bored him. Or he realized that I wasn’t the right girl. I mean, I—’

‘Stop talking,’ Raye interrupts me, smacking me with her dishcloth. ‘You guys fucking kissed, okay? You are trying to read something in those texts that isn’t there.’

I sigh deeply. ‘Really?’

‘Of course. That man is so madly in love with you. He was already talking about filling the wall at your apartment with pictures of the two of you.’ Raye sends me a Really, what more do you want?-look. ‘Have you replied yet?’

Shaking my head, I stare at the texts again. ‘I don’t know what to say.’

‘Be a little coy. Say something like: just a kiss for Tiki and not for me?’

‘God, I can’t say that,’ I tell Jennie. ‘That doesn’t sound like me.’

‘Well, from what you told us what happened last night, that is exactly how you sound,’ Raye says. ‘And don’t you dare say that it was the wine.’

‘But it was,’ I whine.

The door opens and I look up, hoping and praying to see John, but I see Greg and Roger. It’s weird not to see the rest of their friend group.

‘You better answer after you helped those kids,’ Raye tells me.

I walk up to the register and cock an eyebrow when they stand fright in front of me. ‘Where is the rest of the clan?’ I ask Greg and Roger.

‘The two of us need your advice, miss Angel,’ Greg says, his voice a lot more desperate than usual. ‘Roger and I are going on a double date.’

‘No way,’ I say with a smile. ‘Roger, you listened to me and found yourself a nice girl.’

Roger flashes me a smile, one that I know for a fact has young girls going crazy. ‘Well, the thing is, Julie and I set this up, so Greg and Tina can finally do something together. You see, they are really in love, but have difficulties showing it.’

‘Right,’ I say, ‘so you and Julie is not going to happen?’

‘Well, Julie already has a girlfriend, so no.’

‘So you’re gonna keep on lurking on my Instagram?’

‘Of course, miss Angel,’ he jokes.

‘Keep on dreaming, lover boy. So, Greg, where are you going to take Tina on a date?’

‘Miss Angel,’ Greg says, ‘I was hoping you could reserve a table for us. The one right next to where the tall man who you like always sits at.’

God, is it that obvious? I can’t believe that. I’m embarrassed. ‘When are you gonna be here?’

‘Tomorrow at twelve.’

‘Then tomorrow at twelve that table will be free.’

Greg’s face lights up. ‘Really?’

‘Of course,’ I say. ‘I’m honored that you chose this cafe for your first date.’

‘Thank you so much, miss Angel,’ Greg says. ‘We should get going back to school. We just wanted to check with you.’

‘I get it,’ I smile.

Roger leans against the counter and says: ‘We could cancel Julie of course and you and I get to do something together.’

Raye decides she should interfere, because she says: ‘Sorry, kid, but miss Angel is pretty much taken.’

‘No way,’ he says. ‘It’s the bearded guy, isn’t it?’

I nod. ‘Sorry,’ I say.

‘Did you hear that? It’s the sound of my heart breaking into a million pieces.’

I roll my eyes. ‘Okay there drama queen, you heard your friend. You should get going to school.’

Greg sighs. ‘Roge, we need to go. Leave miss Angel alone. I’m sorry,’ he says to me. ‘He is just really single and really desperate.’

‘We’ve all been there,’ I say. ‘Now get your asses back to school.’

They laugh and wave before they walk out of the cafe. I grab my phone and check his messages. Raye and Jennie are right, I should answer him.

I lean against the counter and type back a message:

Darcie: Okay, see you tomorrow.

⟢⟡⟣

After I arrive home from a long day at work, I close the door of my apartment and kick off my shoes. I felt like today never ended and every customer seemed… Blah… No one is like John and not having him at the cafe… It killed me.

I don’t have a text back from him, but it’s totally understandable. After the driest text I send him, I wouldn’t answer me either.

My brain keeps going over the date. What did I do wrong? But I can’t seem the think of anything I did wrong. I assume it was that phone call. He looked slightly pissed though. I bet it was his work, a thing that he still hasn’t told me about. When I asked in about it on our date, he cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable.

‘It’s a bit complicated,’ he had said.

‘What do you mean?’ I asked. ‘Oh my God, are you a gigolo?’

John started laughing. ‘No, Darcie, of course not!’

‘How is it complicated then?’

‘Just some secret and classified stuff. I can’t really go into details.’

I understood at the time, but now, I just really want to know what his job is. I open up my phone and go to our messages. John doesn’t have a profile picture, something that doesn’t surprise me. He called it the Instagram, it that still cracks me up.

I told Jennie and Raye about his age in our group chat.

Darcie: So the date went well and I discovered that he is fucking fifty.

Jennie: How is that man fifty?

Raye: YOU ARE FUCKING KIDDING ME!

Raye: What kind of secret potion is he drinking?

Darcie: The man doesn’t even have a skincare route, which is frightening on its own.

Jennie: Well, tbh tho, I always thought that you were the one that would end up with an older man.

Darcie: And why is that?

Jennie: Eric was your age and that totally didn’t work out.

Darcie: Thanks Jen.

Raye: But how was the date in general?

Darcie: Well we kissed.

Raye: YoU fUcKiNg KiSsEd?

I open up the chat of John and me again and I type: I really missed you today.

But somehow I can’t seem to press send. It sounds so clingy and we’re barely together. We just kissed last night. I erase the entire message.

Tiki barks, pulling me out of my thoughts. ‘Oh, right Tiki, you want some food. Let me go grab it.’

And for the entire night, I try not to think about John. But as soon as I go off to Dreamland, I start dreaming about him. Starting by marrying me.

Taglist: @toomanystoriessolittletime

#keanu reeves x oc #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves #keanu reeves x original character #keanu reeves x ofc #john wick x oc #john wick fanfic #john wick #john wick x original character #john wick x ofc #one cappuccino and a chocolate brownie please

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mirkwoodshewolf · 4 years

Text

Wizard of Oz Queen x pre-teen reader Chap. 1; Somewhere over the rainbow

*Author’s note*

And here it is guys my next MOVIE AU fic series. This time this fic based on the classic movie “The Wizard of Oz”. Now I realized something, I was copying and pasting what I wrote in my author’s notes on my Wattpad when I was mentioning this. I know I didn’t really ask you guys about casting choices for this fic, it was only on Wattpad but I think you guys are gonna love whom I’ve chosen to be each of the lovable Wizard of Oz characters that we all probably grew up with.

Warnings: Dog bites, mentions of putting down dog, bit of angst, Paul Prenter, but there is 70′s Queen fluff so expect that.

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@ixchel-9275

@simonedk

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@queensdivas

@queendeakyy

@kairosfreddie

@platawnic

@geek-and-proud

_____________________________________________________________

The summer of 1975 would be a year I would never forget for as long as I live. Not only did I see history come to life, but I also experienced something that almost seemed right out of my favorite movie, The Wizard of Oz. But before I begin, I would like to tell you who I am.

My name is (Y/n) Gale and I live at Rockfield farm studios with my Aunt Em and Uncle Henry. My parents died in a car crash when I was just 4 years old, so my uncle Henry (my father’s eldest brother) took me in and he and Aunt Em became my parental figures.

The only thing my parents left behind was my fateful Welsh Corgi that I named Toto (yes I named him after the dog from the Wizrd of Oz, deal with it). He’s literally the only thing I have left to remember my parents by and he’s always been there for me when I needed him.

I was 12 years old when the famed band Queen came to our home/farm to record their next big album. And throughout that time I grew close to them, and like I mentioned before it was also the day that would change my life forever.

And so our story begins.

It was mid-July and I was running back towards the house with Toto at my side. I had been asked by my uncle to go to the market to grab some food for the guys, however I was forced to go along with the band’s ‘manager’ Paul Prenter.

God that guy just really pisses me off. He’s creepy, manipulative, and wicked. Toto always sensed something off about him cause whenever he came around, Toto would bark and try to bite him. This time he did manage to finally bite Paul on the leg after he snapped at me for not grabbing the right apples for Freddie.

After he bit him, I took Toto and ran right out of the store with Paul threatening to get the police involved. We stopped just a few feet from the house and I knelt down to Toto and said.

“I think we lost him. He didn’t hurt you did he?” I checked him over and felt no bumps or cuts. I hugged Toto close to me and sneered, “He tried to though. But we better go tell Aunt Em what happened. We can’t let the police get involved. C’mon Toto.”

We took off running the rest of the way home. I hopped over the fence that surrounded our home and raced down the hill with Toto running just ahead of me.

“Aunt Em! Aunt Em!” I soon came up to the farm to see my aunt and uncle near the old incubator counting the freshly hatched baby chicks. “Oh Aunt Em you won’t believe what happened at the market! Paul said……”

“(Y/n) please dear we’re trying to count.”

“But Aunt Em Paul said that he’s gonna get the police to take…..”

“Not now (Y/n)! This old incubator finally died out and we’re more than likely to lose all of our chicks.” Uncle Henry said to me sternly as he placed some of the chicks into his hat.

“Aww the poor little things.” I grabbed on chick and held it close to my face so that it wouldn’t die of pneumonia. As Aunt Em placed some of the chicks in with their mother in a small chicken cage, I continued to tell them. “But at the market place Paul was yelling at me and Toto was just defending me! Now he’s gonna get the police to take Toto away! But like I told you he was just protecting me cause Paul was yelling at me for picking up the wrong apples that Freddie likes!”

“Now (Y/n) we’ll discuss this matter later. Right now go find that young lad who said he was an electrical engineer and ask him if he could have a look at this incubator.” Aunt Em told me.

“But……”

“No buts. Right now go!” she ushered me away before going back to the baby chicks.

“Yes Aunt Em.” I spoke solemnly before turning away from the farm and walked towards the studio building where I saw John Deacon before I left for the market.

As I walked along, I felt like something was following me. I looked down to Toto who kept walking beside me before getting ahead of me. Suddenly I was picked up and thrown over someone’s shoulder.

“And he finally takes her by surprise and hauls her over. The fierce hunter finally gaining the upper hand!” that soft, slightly raspy voice came from none other than Roger Taylor. I could hear Toto’s frantic barking and he even hopped up and down.

“Roger put me down!” I laughed.

“Fine, fine. But first a little payback.” Suddenly I was spun around like a helicopter. The two of us laughing and shrieking before I was finally tossed into the hay pile. “Victory and Vengeance is mine at last!” he then collapsed into the hay right beside me, the two of us laughing.

“You’re nuts Roger Taylor, you know that right?”

“And what’s wrong with that? Nuts are like your Aunt Em’s cookies it’s the nuts that makes things interesting.” He said as he hovered over me grinning.

“Yeah. Nuts, handsome but brainless.”

“Oi I resent that! I do have a brain! I got my degree in biology after all. So I’m more than just a handsome face.”

“I thought you were a dentist?”

“I was never a dentist and you know that. God I can’t believe Brian and John told you about that.” He said as he bopped my nose with a strand of hay. I raised my hand up and took some hay out of his blonde hair and retorted.

“I’m glad they did, cause now I can brag to my friends about how the drummer of Queen could’ve been their dentist.” It was then Roger began to tickle me.

“Swear you won’t tell that to anyone and I’ll stop.” He threatened as he tickled my stomach. I was kicking up hay until I finally gave in and told him I wouldn’t. With that he stopped and grinned down at me while I tried to regain my breath.

“You’re insane Roger.” He shrugged cheekily.

“But you love me for it.” He said as he bopped my nose again before laying down close to me again.

“Yeah I do.”

“So—do you want to tell me just why you looked upset earlier?” I looked down sadly towards Toto and finally sat up and said.

“Paul’s threatening to have the police take Toto away just because he bit him.”

“He did?” he shot up and looked down at Toto who looked at us with a soft wag of his stub tail. “Atta boy Toto!” he cheered. He patted his leg and Toto soon tried to make his way up the hair pile.

But he sunk down into it due to his size so Rog quickly grabbed him and held him in the air.

“It’s about time someone gave that irritating, self-absorbed bastard a good bite ehh?” Toto barked and tried to lick Roger’s face. Roger brought Toto close to his face and he then began to lick the blonde drummer’s face. Rog softly chuckled as he ruffled through Toto’s fur.

“But Paul said he’s gonna get the police to take him away. What if that really happens?” Rog turned to me and handed Toto back to me as he said.

“I wouldn’t worry about that prick. He’s all talk and no bite. He’s threatened me once or twice about having me being kicked out of the band cause of my constant groupies. But Fred and the others wouldn’t dare replace me.”

“They’d be crazy to.”

“Indeed. But—if by some miracle he’s serious, I’ve got your back. Okay?” I nodded as I stroked through Toto’s fur.

“Thanks Rog. Toto’s—he’s the only thing I have left of my parents. If he’s gone then so are their memories.” Roger brought me into a one armed hug and rested his chin on top of my head.

“I know love. I know.” We stayed there for a moment before I asked him.

“Rog? Is—Deacy still in the studio? I almost forgot that my Aunt Em and Uncle Henry want to talk to him about our broken incubator.”

“Yeah. He’s still working on that song of his. Still won’t tell us what it is but that’s how John is.” I slide off the haystack and set Toto down and told him to come with me. “Oh hey!” I turned around and Rog continued, “I forgot to mention Brian and Fred are in there. So if they’re arguing, you now have a heads up.” I nodded and Toto and I raced to the studio.

The first thing I heard were Brian and Freddie’s voices talking over one another.

“I think Brian dear, this guitar solo you have for my song is beautiful but it needs more…...more…..You know rock and roll feel.”

“Well you know I’m always up for that Fred.” I shook my head at the two of them and that’s when Toto went on ahead and met up with John who was sitting in the corner with a clipboard and a stack of papers around him.

Toto immediately hopped up onto his lap. Ever since they came, Toto’s always been more driven towards John Deacon than any of the other guys. It might be because of his quiet personality, or some kind of aurora about him that only Toto can tell but any chance he gets, Toto will always want to hop onto Deacy’s lap.

“Well it would seem we’ve got a surprise visitor.” John soon spoke up as he set his stuff aside and rubbed Toto’s head. Brian and Freddie soon turned towards me and Brian said.

“And another.”

“(Y/n) my darling don’t be shy, you know you can always welcome here.”

“Sorry guys I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”

“Oh nonsense dear come on in!” Freddie gestured with his hand gracefully. I walked into the studio when Brian said.

“(Y/n) come here.” He gestured with a come hither of his index finger. I walked right up to him and he immediately began going through my hair and removed a strand of straw in my hair. “How on earth did you get some much hay in your hair?” he asked as he kept going through my hair for more strands.

“Two words. Roger’s revenge.”

“Ahhh. Blondie got back at you from when you scared him into the chicken coop.” Freddie said.

“I tried to tell him that our hens were defensive over their chicks but he wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“That was rather funny seeing those hens chase after him. And that one that even got on top of his head.” Brian laughed.

“Yep that’s our Gloria. The most protective mama hen of them all.”

“Roger must’ve looked like a tramp to them. So Mama Hen’s gotta do when mama Hen’s gotta do.” Freddie spoke.

“That’s the natural instincts of a mother. I already know Veronica’s feeling that for our son.” John said as he kept petting Toto who was now lying across John’s lap.

“Here one last strand and then you’re free to go.” Brian told me. This one was the most difficult one as it actually pulled against my hair.

“Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow!”

“Sorry.” Finally the hay strand came out and he gently massaged my scalp to ease the tension. “There, all done.”

“Thanks Brian. Hey Deacy, my aunt and uncle are wondering if you could have a look at our old incubator. It broke down and they want to know if you could fix it.”

“Yeah, I can have a look at it. I can come back to this song later.” He stood up and folded it into his back pocket when Freddie spoke up.

“Deacy dear when can we see this new song you’re writing?”

“You’ll see it once it’s ready. And not until then.” Toto followed at John’s heel as the three of us now stepped outside and walked towards the farm.

“So what is your song about anyway?” I asked.

“Oh no I get enough baggage from Fred, don’t you start now.” He groaned with a playful grin.

“I’m not. I’m just asking out of curiosity.” He sighed and looked down.

“Even if I told you, I doubt the others would allow it to be on the album.”

“Why’s that?” we stopped and that’s when he took his lyric sheet out from his pocket and looked down at it before handing it to me. I took the papers in my hands and unfolded them and right across the top in large handwritten font was the phrase.

YOU’RE MY BEST FRIEND (For Veronica and Robert)

“You’re my best friend?” I questioned.

“I know. Not the typical hard rock title song that a rock band would call a song. But I—I really wanted to write this song for Veronica. After……everything’s that’s happened with the sudden pregnancy, her parents utter disapproval of us having the baby before marriage. I really wanted her to have something happy for once in her life. Plus—she’s kept me grounded when the fame of rock and roll gets too much.”

“I think it’s a pretty song. I love the lyrics. I would probably listen to this song over and over again.”

“But it’s not really a song that a rock band would do. God I can already hear Roger’s complaints about this song. Especially with the line ‘I’m happy at home’. Sounds corny doesn’t it?”

“To some yeah, but I think it’s sweet. I mean I don’t know Veronica but the way you talk about her and your son it’s—it’s sweet Deacy. I think you should show this to Freddie and he’d back you up 100 percent.”

“You really think so?”

“I know so, right Toto?” Toto let out a couple of barks as he looked up at Deacy wagging his tail happily. He smiled and ruffled both my head as well as Toto’s as he said.

“Thanks you two. At least I know two fans of this song already.” I smiled but it soon dropped as I saw what was coming up the trail of the house.

Riding up on the bicycle I had left behind was Paul Prenter and right behind him was the sheriff’s car.

“Oh no.” Deacy turned to see just what was going on and he muttered.

“Oh great now what did Roger do?”

“It’s not for Roger, it’s for Toto. He actually went through with it oh my god he went through it!” I panicked as I grabbed Toto.

“Hey, hey, hey poppet calm down.” Deacy assured me as he cupped my face in his hands. “Whatever happened we’ll fix it okay?”

“Will you?”

“We’ll do our best.” John assured me with a kiss to the center of my forehead as his thumbs stroked my cheeks. Paul hopped off of my bike and the sheriff parked his car before stepping out.

“Right there officer. There’s the dog that bit me!” Paul proclaimed as he pointed at me. Roger who soon came up to see what was going on stood right by my side as he said.

“Prenter how dare you call this sweet little girl an animal!”

“No Roger I meant the beast she’s holding!”

“Alright Mr. Prenter let me handle this.” Sheriff Hooper soon said as he came up to us.

“Officer whatever that man has told you it’s utterly false.” Roger demanded.

“Step aside son, the both of you. I just wish to speak with Ms. Gale and get her side of the story.” Sheriff Hooper said firmly.

“You can’t interrogate a minor. Not without her guardians present.” Deacy spoke up.

“Very well son. (Y/n) is your aunt or uncle home?”

“They should be inside the house by now.”

“Alright, let’s move this discussion inside.” Sheriff Hooper walked towards the house while Paul glared down at Toto and I but Roger and Deacy stood protectively in front of me.

“You got something smart to say, you say it to me first Prenter.” Roger sneered. Paul didn’t speak a word as he slunked away behind Sheriff Hooper.

Inside my aunt, uncle, Paul, Sheriff Hooper, and myself and Toto were in the living room. Sheriff Hooper told the band to stay out of the affair since it wasn’t any of their business.

“That dog is a menace to this household. I’ll forever feel unsafe until we take our leave unless that thing is taken away and destroyed!” Paul demanded.

“Destroyed? Toto! You can’t do that. Auntie Em, uncle Henry you wouldn’t allow that to happen will you?” I pleaded to both my aunt and racing up to my uncle as I held Toto in my arms.

“Of course we won’t sweetheart, will we Em?” Uncle Henry assured me.

“Oh please Aunt Em,” I raced back over to her chair and pleaded, “Toto didn’t know he was doing anything wrong. He was protecting me. I’m the one who should be punished cause I didn’t catch him in time. You can send me to bed without supper and have me do twice as many chores for the next week.”

“If you don’t allow Sheriff Hooper here to take that dog, I’ll threaten to have this whole studio be taken away from you! There’s a law that protects people against dogs that bite!” Paul threatened.

“How about if she keeps him tied up? He’s really gentle, around gentle people that is.” Aunt Em said.

“Well that’s for the Sheriff to decide.” We all turned to Sheriff Hooper who took a drag of his cigarette. He exhaled a large puff of smoke and cleared his throat.

“Unfortunately with the evidence of a pretty severe bite I cannot let it slide. I’m afraid by law I will have to take the dog and have him be put to sleep.” He said grimly.

No. No, no, no, no, no, no they can’t do this! It was just one bite and it was in self-defense! Toto was just trying to protect me since Paul tried to hit me.

“Well we—we can’t go against the law (Y/n), I’m afraid poor Toto has to go.” Aunt Em said sadly.

“Now you’re seeing reason.” Paul said as he stood up. Sheriff Hooper then took out combined leash and muzzle.

“I’ll have to put this on him so that he won’t attack anyone while I put him in my car.”

“No! No! I won’t let you! BACK OFF! YOU BOTH GO AWAY or….OR I’LL BITE YOU MYSELF!!!” I screamed out.

“(Y/n)!” Aunt Em scolded me.

“Paul Prenter you’re a wicked old witch! Please Aunt Em don’t let him take Toto!” I then felt Paul trying to reach over me trying to grab Toto. I struggled as I pleaded, “DON’T LET HIM TAKE HIM!!”

“Take him Henry!” Aunt Em said gravely.

I watched helplessly as Uncle Henry took Toto out of my arms and held him while Sheriff Hooper put the muzzled lead on him. Toto whimpered and groaned as he swayed his head side to side due to the muzzle. My uncle then handed Toto over to the Sheriff and he tipped his hat and said.

“I’m sorry. Good afternoon Gales.” With that Toto was gone. Tears poured down my face as I quickly raced out of the living room and slammed my door shut.

I raced over to my bed and wept hysterically into my pillows. How could they do this? Grown ups ruin everything! Why did they have to take the one thing that reminded me of my parents.

I’ve forgotten what they look like, how they acted towards me, and all the memories I had with them cause I was too young to remember them. The only thing I did remember was when they gave my Toto as a birthday present.

“(Y/n)?” I heard Freddie’s soft voice call out to me from my window.

“Please……I don’t wanna see anybody.” I whimpered.

“We’re so sorry (Y/n). If we could intervene we would but—” Brian said. It was then we all heard Paul’s horrid voice call out.

“Freddie! Boys! We’re going to our next recording location. Pack up your things and let’s get going now!”

“Hold on we weren’t supposed to leave till three days from now!” Roger exclaimed.

“Plans change. Let’s leave. Pack up and get into the cars.” Great, as if things couldn’t get any worse I was now losing my new friends. The only ones who really understood the situation I was in and stood at my side.

“Well—I guess this is an early goodbye dear.” I felt Fred’s hand gently stroke head. I curled up into a ball refusing to even give the guys a final goodbye.

I heard a solemn sigh from the guys and soon all was quiet except for my sniffles and crying.

*3rd Person POV*

The boys packed up their stuff and packed them back into the cars. Meanwhile Paul had given his last statement for the Sheriff against his dog bite. Roger turned and glared at Prenter and growled.

“You know Toto should’ve bitten him in the mouth, that would’ve shut him up.”

“Rog. Look I hate this as much as you do but the law is the law.” Brian said.

“Well the law is bollocks!”

“Darling I agree but Brian does have a point. A dog bite is serious. I mean if someone else’s cat came and attacked one of my darlings I’d damn well sue the owner’s for neglect. But Toto is a sweet dog, at least between the four of us.”

“I just feel bad about (Y/n). Toto was the last thing she had of her parents. With him being—you know….it’s like she’ll lose everything about them.” Roger spoke solemnly.

“She’ll be alright.” John said as he soon walked across the three of them and placed his bass guitar into the back of the car.

“And how do you know that?” questioned Brian.

“I just know.” Freddie raised a brow and could tell his little Deacy had done something very naughty.

“Alright boys. On we go to Ridge farm. There we’ll finish this album and deliver it to EMI.” Paul said as he got into the front seat of one of the cars.

Then each of the boys piled into the cars they came in and soon they as well as the Sheriff drove off. When all was clear, peaking out from the grass was a now unmuzzled Toto.

Earlier while the Sheriff was with Paul, Deacy snuck up to the cruiser and unlocked the door and had freed Toto. He removed the muzzle from him and told him to go hide and not to come out till everyone was gone. Loving John as much as he loved (Y/n), Toto obeyed and now he was free to run right back to his master. He let out a few barks before coming through her window and standing right at her side.

*My POV*

I heard a familiar bark coming from my window but I thought I was just imagining things. That was until I felt a weight beside me and a lick at my fingers. I looked up and gasped. Toto was back!

“Oh Toto darling! Oh you came back! You came back!” I hugged and stroked through his fur, leaning my head against his. But then reality hit me. I held him close to my chest as I said, “Sheriff Hooper could come back for you if he finds you gone. We’ve got to get away. We’ve got to run away!”

I quickly grabbed my suitcase and packed the first things that I touched. My clothes, a picture of me and Aunt Em, a flashlight, and a shawl to keep warm.

Once I was packed up, Toto and I snuck out the window and we raced out of the farm and walked down the muddy road trail.

It felt like hours since we started walking. The once clear skies now grew dark and grey and the sun was long buried underneath the dark clouds. Toto walked right at my side when we came across an abandoned car along the side of the road.

It looked freshly new but why would anyone want to abandon a car like this. It looked in good shape and looked like it could still run.

“Hmm? Now why would someone want to abandon a car like this?” it’s nice black coat gleamed even through the cloudy weather.

That’s when a man around my uncle Henry’s age, maybe even slightly younger came walking back with a tank of gas in his hands.

“Ohh well. And here I thought I was going to be stranded all on my own.” He wore a nice black suit, had short dark brown hair, and green eyes. He looked like a nice man with a good head on his shoulders.

“We didn’t mean to impose sir. We were just walking along the trail here.”

“Pretty young to be traveling alone aren’t you miss? I mean it’s none of my business, I just seem concerned for your safety.” He said as he came up to the car and set the gas tank down.

“I can look after myself.” I sassed.

“Oh I don’t doubt that. I’ve got a daughter around your age who acts just like you. God that child will give me an ulcer one of these days, but I love her just the same. Sorry, Jim Beach. Although one of my clients insist that I’d be called Miami.”

“Wait—would that client be named Freddie Mercury by any chance?”

“Indeed. You know of him?”

“He and the rest of Queen were staying at our farm for a while completing their album.”

“Ahhh so you must be one of the Gale’s we were told about who owned the farm studio.”

“Yes. I’m (Y/n) Gale.” I extended my hand and he took it as we shook hands.

“As I said earlier, Jim Beach. I’m the band’s lawyer. I only came by to check and see how the lads were doing. And to see if they hadn’t killed each other yet.” He muttered the last part to himself.

“They’re doing good. Well last I saw them. They left the farm earlier this afternoon.”

“Already? But we had them scheduled to stay at your family’s farm house for three more days.”

“That’s—a long story.” I said as I looked down at Toto.

“Hmm. Let me guess, Paul’s idea?”

“How’d you guess?”

“I’ve had my suspicions of Paul Prenter. He’s never really had Queen’s, especially Freddie’s, best interest at heart. But unfortunately there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m not their manager. John Reid is.”

“Well—if I may say Mr. Beach I hope eventually you do end up managing them. You seem to really care about Queen.”

“They’re—a unique bunch. Chaotic and insane. You almost want to pull your hair out at times but……they know what they want and they work together for being 4 completely different people.” I nodded.

“Mr. Beach. Would it be alright with you if Toto and I came along with you to tour with Queen?”

“Umm……I don’t know. What would your parents think?” I looked down sadly.

“They—they died when I was 4 years old. The grownups that own the farm are my aunt and uncle.”

“Oh I’m—I’m sorry.” I shook my head telling him it was fine. “But if I may ask—why do you want to come along with me?”

“My aunt Em and Uncle Henry don’t really understand me anymore. They agreed to have Toto be taken away and be put to sleep all because Paul says he bit him. Ever since the guys came to the farm I’ve had more fun than I’ve had in years. Plus I’ve never been anywhere outside my farm or the nearby market. I want to see the world, go where Queen goes.”

Hearing the stories from the boys about all the places they’ve gone on tour from Japan, to America, all over Europe, and even Australia (even though they were booed off the stage) it’s still amazing to think they could freely travel around the world.

And I want to have that experience. Travel the world, see new places, meet new people, and be with the people that really love and understand me.

“Hmm…..are you positive that’s what you want?” I nodded. “I mean, if it were up to the guys I’m sure they’d probably let you come but I…..oh nothing. You probably wouldn’t want to hear about it from an old man like me.”

“Hear what?”

“Well. I know that around these parts everyone knows everyone.”

“That’s right. Even though the closest house to our farm is miles away, everyone’s friendly to one another when we see each other.”

“Well. On my way back from the gas station, the clerk there had gotten a call from a frantic aunt who was calling about her niece running away.” I gasped.

“Me?”

“Well I didn’t hear a name but the clerk was very concerned for the frantic aunt. I think I even heard him asking her if she was okay. She might’ve sounded sick.”

“Sick?”

“Again I didn’t pay much attention but he did sound worry. But if that is true I really hope she’ll be okay.” What have I done? Could my running away really have made Aunt Em sick?

“Come on Toto we’ve got to go home right away!”

“But wait I thought you wanted to come along with me and the boys?”

“Oh no, no, no I’ve got to get home as soon as possible. Come on Toto!” we raced back up the trail and I exclaimed, “Goodbye Mr. Beach and thank you!”

*Jim Beach’s POV*

Worked like a charm. I grabbed the tank and began filling my car up with gas when the wind suddenly started to pick up. Leaves were blowing high up into the sky and the clouds grew even darker.

I ceased my gas filling and quickly turned on the radio and heard along the weather station.

‘It would seem for the first time in over 30 years we’re seeing signs of a Tornado reaching from Monmouth to Bristol. Winds traveling at over 180mph. Please be advise to go into your storm cellars, keep away from the windows and stay out of the open fields.’

Oh god. I quickly got back in the car and started up. Oh that poor kid I hope she makes it home in time. And if the boys are still on the road, hope they can get to a shelter in time.

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tsarisfanfiction · 4 years

Text

Toffee: Chapter 3

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Gen Genre: Family Characters: Gordon, Scott, John, Grandma, Tracy Family

Not quite such a long wait for the next instalment this time. The next chapter of my response to @gumnut-logic‘s #irrelief prompt “toffee on the couch”, and the second of my three fic offerings for Thunderbirds Day, we have a little more scheming and Scott’s tale of woe continues.

<<<Chapter 2

The explosion of expletives from his eldest brother were clearly audible even from where Gordon was floating in the pool. It didn't take a genius to surmise that Scott had just discovered the toffee on the chair, and probably by sitting on it.

As far as pranks went, it was simple but effective. No-one had been in the room when Gordon had slipped the small chunk of toffee, warmed in the microwave under his watchful eye and Grandma's carefully blind one, onto the seat just after dumping his mud-lathered uniform off in Scott's despairing arms. Barring Grandma, none of the island residents had any idea that the toffee hadn't just slipped out of Scott's pocket earlier a la the first incident style, and both Grandma and their ever-watchful Eye in the Sky were firmly on his team. It had been John that had struck a conversation up with Alan to keep him out of the way, after all.

Grandma's voice carried clearly from the kitchen as she hollered up at Scott about minding his language. There was the vague threat of washing his mouth out with soap in there, and Gordon could well imagine the look on Scott's face as he called an apology back down.

He suspected Scott was already sick of soap. The washing machine had been a stroke of genius, even if he did say so himself. A little bit of toffee in Scott's jean pockets wasn't even suspicious, not when toffee in his pocket had been the start of it all. Add in an unaware Alan proving him the perfect alibi, and there was nothing to even suggest it wasn't an accident. Still, there was revenge and there was cruelty, and even Gordon had limits. Virgil would get the machine repaired by the end of the day, as long as no more rescues cropped up, and Gordon wasn't about to keep crippling it.

Scott wouldn't be the only one getting suspicious if it kept breaking, and he had no plans to get Virgil on his back, especially as his older brother was clearly annoyed about having to fix it the first time. If he realised it was intentional rather than accidental, well, that would probably be the end of a squid. No, Gordon had to keep things fluid, unsuspicious. Neither John nor Grandma were providing ideas, but as long as they kept providing the means and alibis (when an innocent Alan didn't do the job for him), he had a week to prank with his brother with no fear of retribution.

Scott's toffee stash would last a week, easily. Even if he turned to it as comfort food. Gordon hoped he did; it would be much easier to pull off his plan if Scott continued to eat the stuff. He had John on Scott-watch for that exact reason. True to form, John hadn't told him where the stash was, but he had suggested where a really good hiding place away from younger brothers might be, and sure enough, Gordon had found a whole mountain of the stuff there.

It was a literal mountain. Gordon had no idea how Scott's teeth hadn't all rotted yet. His ached just looking at it.

Above him, it sounded as though Grandma had gone to investigate the cause of Scott's language, because she was still berating him for it. As tempting as it was to go up and see the scene with his own eyes, Gordon had been a prankster long enough to know that returning to the scene of the crime automatically made him suspicious. Content that Grandma had it all in hand, he rolled over onto his front and continued his laps.

He eventually left his beloved water at a call for dinner. Reluctantly, of course – the call had come from Grandma, and just because she was helping him prank Scott didn't mean she'd suddenly become a competent cook. Unfortunately, the pool was right by the kitchen, and with his grandmother standing just under the eaves, there was no way for him to pretend he hadn't heard the call.

At least none of his other Earthbound brothers were escaping, either. John was invariably munching on some dehydrated just-add-water feast above their heads, and not for the first time Gordon thought it thoroughly unfair that he had the better deal. Dehydrated food was not supposed to be better than good old fashioned home cooking.

Maybe that was why Dad had spent so much time in space. Gordon could hardly blame him.

None of them even dared to hazard a guess at the name of the concoction on their plates, but with Grandma seated firmly at the foot of the table and watching them all closely, they had no choice but to tentatively take their first bites before simultaneously reaching for large mugs of their preferred drink.

Alan mumbled something uncomplimentary into his juice, and Grandma sent him a sharp look. Virgil chose that moment to speak, and Gordon knew the timing wasn't coincidental.

"I've got the washing machine fixed," he said, sending Scott a glare. "Don't break it again."

"I don't plan to," Scott groaned in response, throwing back his squash to get rid of the taste from his latest mouthful. "I'd like to see something other than laundry this week."

"Speaking of the laundry," Grandma interrupted. "I want that chair spotless, young man."

"What chair?" Alan asked, fixing their eldest brother with a suspicious stare when he groaned. "Is one of the chairs dirty again?"

"Some toffee appears to have found its way onto the desk chair," Grandma explained. "Your brother found it by sitting in it." Virgil stiffened.

"If that washing machine experiences another death by toffee, I am not fixing it," he threatened. Scott sighed, running a hand through his hair. He looked tired, not that Gordon blamed him after that hell of a rescue. They were all tired from trudging through mud and then cleaning it off of Thunderbird Two once they got home.

"I'll handwash them," he promised. "I have no idea how toffee even got there."

"You mean it didn't fall out of your pocket this time?" Alan chipped in.

"I didn't have any in my pocket for it to fall out, Alan," Scott defended himself. Alan shrugged as though that wasn't a factor that needed considering.

"You had some in your pocket yesterday, maybe it fell out then?"

Gordon watched a look of uncertainty flicker across Scott's face, before his shoulders slumped.

"I guess that's possible," he admitted.

"You're quiet, Gordo," Virgil commented, and he looked at him.

"Huh?"

"Something wrong?" Toffee incident(s) forgotten, Scott was straight into smothering older brother mode. Annoying, except when it was useful. He poked at the concoction on his plate dubiously.

"I don't think I feel too good." It was hardly a lie; he loved his grandmother but he could also really do without her cooking.

"Try a few more mouthfuls, dear," the wicked witch of the kitchen said. "Some good food should help."

"I don't see that here," Alan muttered under his breath, but Gordon gave her a patented Believable Fake Smile and prodded at his plate some more, reluctantly forcing himself to eat a few more bites. She beamed at him, and he gave her a polite smile back, all too aware that his alliance with her was just as tentative as his alliance with John, and therefore relied on keeping her sweet.

Which, right now, meant consuming as much of her latest cooking disaster as he could stomach.

Scott – oldest, bravest, sacrificial lamb on behalf of his brothers – was the first to cave, begging off on a full stomach and a reminder of the jeans he now had to handwash. His plate was mostly empty, although when he'd managed to stuff that much in his mouth Gordon had no idea, and after a moment of silent contemplation on Grandma's side he was given permission to wash his plate up and leave.

Gordon loved it when his brothers made things so easy for him. He shoved the concoction on his plate around for another few minutes, occasionally taking mouthfuls, before putting his cutlery down with a groan.

"Sorry, Grandma, I don't think I'm going to eat any more." She peered at him closely before standing up and walking around the table to get to him. He wasn't expecting her to press a hand to his forehead, and jumped when she made contact.

"Well your temperature's normal," she mused, and inwardly he groaned. Please let me leave the table, Grandma! "But if you're really not up to eating, off to bed with you." Yes! Grandma you are The Best!

"Sorry," he said out loud, standing up slowly and picking his plate up. "I'll just get this cleared up-"

She whisked it out of his hands.

"I said bed, young man," she scolded. "I can do your dishes for one evening, but I'll be up to check on you once I'm done and I don't want to see you out of bed." She steered him towards the stairs and, once out of sight of his brothers, gave him a wink. He grinned back, before starting the climb to the bedrooms – and, more importantly right now – Scott's toffee stash.

Having Grandma for an ally made a real difference to pranking.

He kept up the pretence all the way to his room, just in case he met Scott. He didn't, but Gordon had long since learnt not to take that for granted. Shutting himself in his bathroom, he called John.

As predicted, the ginger was munching away on cardboard-flavoured food that Gordon would do a lot to have instead of his grandmother's cooking.

"Scott's in the laundry room," his brother told him without preamble. "Brains and MAX are in their lab, and Grandma has Virgil and Alan pinned in the kitchen." Not for the first time, Gordon was pleased Kayo was off doing agent-y things with Lady Penelope for the week. Her allegiance was harder to secure than John's, and even when he had it she was liable to tell on him to Scott or Virgil at any time. Sneaking past her was also much harder. "I'd estimate you have five minutes before any of them move from their current locations."

"Roger that," he grinned. "It'll take me two."

Scott's hiding place was brilliant in its simplicity. It was both somewhere no-one, not even Gordon, would think to look, but so easily accessible that the chances of being caught in the act of retrieving some were close enough to nil – barring John and his All-Seeing Eyeness. Unfortunately for Scott, now that John had Not-Shared it with Gordon, those same factors made it child's play to steal from.

Gordon was careful not to take too much – Scott was the sort of person to know exactly how much toffee he had, and would very quickly put two and two together if toffee kept appearing in places he didn't remember having any and he noticed it vanishing from his stash. Besides, too much and the game would be up before it even began. He took a couple of small pieces from near the back, ones with identical wrappers to many others. Scott would have to be particularly observant and calculating to notice the disappearance of those.

Prizes obtained, he found his way back to his room and connected with John again.

"Grandma's on her way up," his brother warned, and despite having Grandma as an ally, Gordon figured it would be best to throw on some pyjamas and slink into bed regardless – after depositing the toffee in his bathroom cabinet inside one of his boxes of tablets.

Empty tablet boxes that had not yet reached their expiry date made fantastic hiding places for small objects. With the prescription declaring them for the sole use of one Gordon Cooper Tracy, none of his brothers had any cause to ever touch them. Not even John knew about that hiding place. Probably. You could never be too careful with the Eye in the Sky.

"You decent, kid?" Grandma asked, knocking on the door. John flickered out of sight, and Gordon made a noise that was probably an affirmative from under the covers. She took it as such and his door hissed open. Footsteps crossed his floor, and the bed dipped near his head. He looked up to see her grinning back down at him. "As you're in bed, I assume you've done what you needed to?"

He grinned back at her.

"Yup," he admitted.

"Good, good," she said. "I must say, it's a nice change to see your brother away from that desk more. Toffee or not, he was starting to stick to it."

Gordon laughed and she ruffled his hair.

"Now get some shut eye. Your brothers will have questions if you're out and about after I sent you to bed, and with you boys' job, it's something you're all lacking anyway. If I catch you out of bed again, I'll be dragging you back in here by your ear, got it?"

"Yes, Grandma," he agreed; sleep was nice, even if he'd rather be doing a few more laps in the pool. Ah well, sometimes sacrifices needed to be made in the name of pranking.

"I'll see you later," she told him, kissing his forehead – he made a face – before leaving the room.

So, Grandma didn't want to see him out and about? Well, that was what John was for.

"Hey, John?" he called once the door was shut. His brother appeared immediately, and Gordon suspected he'd never actually left, just culled visual. "Let me know when I have another five minutes free on this floor?"

"Sure thing," his brother agreed. "What's your next plan?"

Gordon grinned at him.

"You know the story of the Princess and the Pea?"

Chapter 4>>>

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