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moonit3 · 2 months

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I can order a yandere cute (kawaii), who maybe because of his cute and innocent appearance managed to get close to his beloved, but maybe this boy is not only cute and has a very disturbing past...

i love this concept, a cute person who is actually a freaking person behind the curtains. that’s why i love my readers, always giving me the best ideas to write.

ꕥ CUTE BOY ꕥ

➽ context warnings: yandere! male, gn! reader, sfw but there is some nsfw lines down there, a small age gap (like two-four years, but both reader and yandere are legal age!), manipulation, murder off scene.

➽ word count: 998 (sorry for that, guys!)

➽ synopsis: perhaps you would see him with another eyes if he was the same age as your.

➽ yandere! cute boy x gn! reader

➽ a/n: another few weeks later and i am here with another work of mine, today i present to you all my new creation that i am proud to be the mother of it. this work is a little too short for my own likes, but i feared that if i wrote more i could easily ruin it…so please, bear with me today’s writing.

➽ walking around the streets without paying attention led you to meet someone completely different from most people you met before. clothes so bright that might your hurt at first glance full of cute patterns on it, hairclips all over his dyed hair and of course, his personality being way too soft for a world like this, but with a little extra spicy that can’t be compared to anyone else.

➽ micah is his name, a sweet boy that isn’t so tall compared to most guys that you’ve encountered. yet, is the one who catch your attention the most with his odd smile, unfamiliar style and unique sense of humor. you consider yourself lucky to have met someone like him and even luckier to have someone by your side after moving to a new city.

➽ you might have know him for a couple of weeks, but it’s feel like he been around your whole life by the way he acts with you. many people even mistakenly you two as a couple by how affectionate he is in public, always holding hands and kissing your cheek as a way to greet you, so you don’t blame them for thing the wrong way when explaining that micah is just too friendly with you. but no one seems to believe you, always telling you that there is no shame in being touchy with him in public or hide the relationship.

➽ well, they aren’t wrong about micah being so much cling with you in the public eyes. sometimes, you ask yourself the last time you went out without him or for how long he can go without touching you (almost a minute, you recall). your best friend being like this doesn’t make you uncomfortable, by the completely opposite, you are kind into it. after all, everyone needs some physical affection and you are in no place to deny it.

➽ as more time goes on, you only got closer to micah while your other friends began distancing themselves away from you. why would they do that? the sense that you’ve done something wrong quickly makes you anxious, overthinking and even forgetting things that you were supposed to do. it’s hurt to see so many people leave you, abandon you. but hey, at least micah is by your side with no intention to leave.

➽ “let’s go out, [name]!” he brings you to the mall whatever he feels like, buying expensive outfits that match his style and making you pose with him to post at his social media. mostly of the comments compliment how the two looks so perfect together, some even saying that micah is a lucky guy to have you in his life. “look, look, [name]! they think we are a couple! isn’t that cute? maybe we do fit to be together like that.”

➽ “don’t be silly.” always patting his head makes him melt under your touch only if you could do that on other parts of his body, and he couldn’t be more grateful to be receiving those head pats too. “aren’t you a little to young for me? i know that you enjoy hugging me a lot and even kissing my cheek whatever you want, but you have to remember that i am older than you.”

➽ “hahaha, i know that.” can’t you see that his smile is no bigger as it was? your eyes does look at him, seeing that he isn’t playful like before, so you hold one of his hand and smile at him. “but you will stay by my side, right? like forever without anyone else trying to separate us.”

➽ “i promise, micah.” his pink dyed hair has become a messy by the time you stopped patting him, making him slightly better to the rest of the hanging out. even with your words promising to stay with him forever, the boy can’t help but want more than your friendship.

➽ he wants to be your boyfriend, then fiancé and then husband! the plans for the wedding are already written down at his journal and the ideas for your dress/suit to match his outfit can’t be ruined by your mindset of him being ‘too young’. he is already twenty-one! just because he still on his second year of college, doesn’t mean that he isn’t mature enough to marry the love of his life!

➽ that’s why he promise himself to study hard to graduate with the best grades from his fashion design class, so he can get a degree and a good paying job at his area. maybe you will see him with other eyes when he becomes a fully grown man who can afford to pay rent without struggling and to make the best matching outfits to both of you when he gets himself a studio and able to buy the most comfortable materials ever made.

➽ he can already imagine the large house he will buy for you. a big one at the countryside of the country so no one will disturb his peaceful and lovely spouse (you, of course!), maybe he will give/adopt a child with you like he always dreamed of. but that only will happen if he works hard, so micah has a long way to go. for now, he will stay close with you as a friend only.

➽ in meanwhile, he will act behind the scenes when someone might try to steal you away from him. those idiot who think that have a chance with are all disposable and you won’t never need anyone else in your life other than him (and probably a future pet to keep you company), so micah waste no time in making sure those people won’t be found and of course. he always makes a good job in hiding the remains of those people into the deepest parts of the woods, after all, he can’t do any mistakes or else he won’t be there for you in the future, [name].

@moonit3 writings

#yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere writing #yandere male #yandere x gn reader #yandere x gender neutral reader #yandere x female reader #yandere x male reader #male yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere original character #yandere oc x reader #yandere man #my oc micah #➥·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ moon writings

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wake-me-up-inside-imagines · 3 months

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Obsessive yanderes who can’t stop thinking about their darling. Their thoughts are consumed by them at all times, unable to think of anything or anyone else, no matter how much they try. But why would they want to think of anything else? Their darling is all that truly matters to them, nothing could even hold a candle to how ethereal they are to these yanderes.

Obsessive darlings who learn everything they can about their darling, listening in on every conversation they can just to find out another detail about their lives and interests. Yanderes who will immediately find a way to relate back to what they’ve learned, desperate to be able to converse with their darling over things they like.

Obsessive yanderes who insert themselves into their darling’s life, whether they like it or not. They’ll cling to their darlings wherever they go, happily chatting their ears off while savoring every second in their presence. Theyll be over the moon if their darling reciprocates their affections, deluding themselves into believing that every smile, every moment they spend together is a sign that they belong with each other, that their darling already belongs to them.

Obsessive yanderes who spend an unhealthy amount of time scrolling through their darlings social media accounts, studying every single photo and video until they can recite the tiniest details from memory. Yanderes who save every piece of media their darling’s appeared in and keep them in a folder saved on their phone, even if it’s from other people’s posts.

Obsessive yanderes who start stalking their darling when the overbearing need to be around them gets too much to handle. Yanderes who follow their darling home from work, from hang outs, from chores, yanderes who learn everything and anything they can about where their darling is going and when so they can keep an eye on them. They never let their darling see them, oh no, that would scare them away! But they’re always there, watching.

Obsessive darlings who have a whole shrine of photos and belongings from their darling, all taken without their knowledge. Who cares how they got them? All that matters is how dedicated and devoted they are to their darling, no matter how odd it may seem to others. Yanderes who add more to the shrine when they can, desperate to have more of their darling in any way they can have them, at least before they get to be with them.

Obsessive yanderes who will do anything to be with their darling. They’ll change everything about themselves, they’ll become a whole new person if it means their darling will give them a second glance. It doesn’t matter that they’re completely destroying themselves for the sake of someone else, nothing matters more than their darling, nothing. Of course, most of the time they don’t have to change a thing, but if it came down to it they’d be willing to do whatever it took to insure their darling stays with them.

Please…stay with them.

Obsessive yanderes: RAIN, Leo, SASHA, Micah, Gwen, KEITH, Dave, BRIAR

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thefirstknife · 18 days

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ViDoc... 2!

A lot of cool stuff shown, my favourite being the strike, but first I want to mention this:

They said that when looking at Ace of Spades they realised they have the potential to make the rest of the deck of cards so this is why TFS weapons look like this and have character portraits; they're a deck! And specifically, these characters were chosen because of their ties to Cayde's story.

Obviously we have the generic Warlock, Hunter and Titan to symbolise the Guardians, but then there's others. Ikora and Zavala are obvious. Bottom left is most likely Shiro-4; hooded Exo with Hunter knives, I'm not sure who else it would be. The hood first made me think Elsie, but the Hunter knives don't make sense then.

Bottom right? That's Maya Sundaresh! Both as human and as Lakshmi-2, as we've learned from Veil Logs. It helpfully also has the Ishtar Collective logo. For those that don't know, Cayde worked as her guard, as an Exo, while she was still with Ishtar on Venus so that's why she's connected to him.

And top right? We have the "neoteric kiyot" cloak with the symbol of the Six Coyotes. Six Coyotes Exo member with ties to Cayde? That's Micah-10. Micah-10 category 10000 event.

Also for those that don't know, back in Beyond Light we got a really neat story about Micah-10 as a child in the lore book Your Friend, Micah Abram and some associated lore pieces that confirm Micah-10 is this kid. In one of the entries from the lore book, Micah is exploring Europa and accidentally alerts two Exos who then end up panicking, trying to shoot the intruder and then catching the kid. Then on one of the raid armour pieces, we have Cayde's flashback to this event from his POV, showing us that he was one of the Exos (as Cayde-1 then). He tried to shoot Micah, not realising it's a kid, then later grabbed them and held them up; the implication here that this is almost certainly the source of his mismatched memories that made him think he had a son. Him holding Micah is what eventually progressed in him simply remembering holding a child and constructing a story to go with it.

Micah-10 is an incredibly interesting character in general, as she is the closest thing we have to someone fulfilling the prerequisites for a speaker; even as a child, she was having strange prophetic dreams where something was speaking to her (most likely the Traveler) and showing her as an Exo. As a Guardian, she has the unique quality of being followed by Ghosts and has the title of "den mother of Ghosts."

She was also illustrated for the Volume VI grimoire collection, the one about Ghosts! Her Ghost Stories lore book is featured there accompanied by an illustration which shows her with a sniper, which the weapon with her image in TFS seems to be:

And yeah the sniper appears to have trans colours which I can't see as anything other than deliberate because Micah-10 is canonically trans! (Link to my post about it with links to a few more posts about it)

Incredibly exciting to see her featured on one of the TFS weapons, especially after she was featured in the grimoire and also in the TFS CE, in the autograph book where she left her own message, and so did the Ghosts that follow her. It's also interesting to tie her to TFS when we're going into the Traveler, given her unique relationship to the Traveler that she's harboured since she was a child. Can she become more than just a lore character now? Please?

Destiny fandom when a minor lore-only character gets one new mention be like: time to write an essay.

#destiny 2 #destiny 2 spoilers #the final shape #the final shape spoilers #micah-10 #long post #me looking at this card and thinking then suddenly the lightbulb turned on and like. oh my god that's micah #please please please micah as a full character in the game #or at least more lore about her

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brujahinaskirt · 11 months

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Okay, I obviously made the above post as a leetle joke, but since it's getting not insignificant traction, I do want to offer a more serious note.

I love this about Arthur. It's probably my favorite thing about him, but let me use this fresh new RDR2 meta post to clarify exactly what I mean. Despite the aspects of his personality & appearance that are traditionally hypermasculine, and despite how often he is annoyed with people (especially incompetents or people who meddle with his plans), Arthur is decidedly NOT annoyed by the social performance of femininity or by traits that are/were frequently stereotyped as feminine. Ever. Regardless of subject. I might go so far as to say he seems to canonically prefer hanging out with women and with "feminine" men.

Your long-winded, bullet-pointed analysis is below!

The Girls. Most noticeably, Arthur actually sits down to talk with and actively confides in the camp Girls (Tilly, Mary-Beth, Karen) more than anyone else around. These three are the most traditionally "girly" (single, 20s, active, pretty, unattached, highly social, feminine, chatty) members of the gang, though of course they are still criminals and don't perfectly adhere to all period-typical standards of feminine comportment. He doesn't mock the girls** like he sometimes does with other auxiliary members of the gang (like Uncle and Pearson, playful or not). Notably, he doesn't even gently tease Mary-Beth for writing her "silly" romance novels, a highly feminized hobby which she speaks about in a self-depreciating manner, much like Arthur speaks about his own artistic hobbies. Rather, he talks to her about writing like a peer and encourages her to write more by going out of his way to get her a nice pen. Crucially, there is no canon romantic or sexual interest in any of the girls on Arthur's behalf. He just feels the most comfortable in their company and seems to value their advice/opinions on life the most. To me, this is much stronger proof than his forever-burning torch for the cultured & ladylike Mary, which is (or was once) rooted in romantic desire. ** Unless the player persists in Antagonizing them, and these lines (while sometimes shockingly cruel and offhandedly sexual in nature; see Arthur teasing Tilly about pursuing Javier) are largely about goading them for laziness or, in Karen's case, her alcoholism. That said, many of the Antagonize lines strike me as clumsily tacked-on & poorly rooted in canon, which could indicate: (1) an Arthur who is deliberately trying to be disruptive (a generous interpretation), or (2) writers instructed to add throwaway content that will make a certain type of childishly misanthropic gamer (think 13 y.o. boys) squeal in glee with relatively low impact on the overall story.

Campmates. Following the above point... who doesn't Arthur hang out with much? The manly men of the gang; the very people social mores suggest he ought to be hanging out with. Bill, Micah, Joe, Cleet, and even Dutch. (To some extent, this includes John and Sean, but I'd say John sort of lives at the edges of gang life anyway, and Sean is, well, Sean.) Conversely, which male gang members does Arthur hang out with a lot? Sweet little bookish Lenny, a wordy, positive-energy, breezy intellectual who has just barely become an adult. Introspective, soft-voiced, long-haired Charles, who is traditionally masculine by some standards (strong, usually calm, can be standoffish) but decidedly NOT so when his appearance/demeanor is judged by the white Christian American male standards that began to dominate masculinity concepts in the later decades of the 1800s.

Algernon. Oh, my, Algernon. Arthur clearly dislikes Algernon's fancy, loud, outrageous clothing. But weirdly, he seems to like Algernon, not just tolerate him. Arthur in fact goes through significant personal discomfort to avoid hurting Algernon's feelings (the awful hat, the POST.MAN. sobbing), and he immediately says yes to having tea with him without any awareness of a coming business proposition, though half the time Arthur clearly has no fucking clue what Algernon is talking about. I am left to conclude that on some level, he just enjoys hearing Algernon talk, which is word-for-word what he says while listening to the Girls argue about romance novels ("I just like listening to you [all] talk." Hello????). I mean, for God's sake, he meets the man while he's choking to death on a nut at a fancy party, and the second thing Algernon does is tell him he looks like a guy who wears a corset. If anything was going to set off the boiling defensiveness of a dude who worships masculinity, thirty seconds with Algie would have done it.

Margaret, Mistress of Fucking Danger. It's pretty clear Arthur doesn't like Margaret. But that has little to do with Margaret's femininity & cross-dressing (this doesn't faze him at all when Charles Châtenay does it; more on that below) and everything to do with Margaret's deceptiveness and highly selective memory. It's not until the bullshittery unveils itself that Arthur starts getting visibly pissed off at Margaret. Conversely, Arthur does seem more positively disposed toward Sally Nash. (That said, this quest has a lot of problems and poorly aged lines that are depressingly easy for a politically motivated jerkoff to soundbite and miscast as Rockstar being pro-bigot. Cue 800 heterobnoxious gamerbro ARTHUR MORGAN ULTIMATE ANTI SNOWFLAKE SIGMA MALE OF THE WEST YouTube videos.)

Albert, my beloved. Rather than goading him to man up, Arthur tries to persuade Albert (whom he very obviously likes) to pick safer animal photography subjects, e.g. horses, and doesn't insult him for his lack of wilderness knowledge (an aspect of traditional manliness that is highly relevant to Arthur's lifestyle). You'd think he would tear into him for this shortcoming, given that they share so many of the same interests and passions, and IMO his genuine eagerness to serve as Albert's protector and facilitate his art is highly convincing evidence that Arthur does not necessarily view masculinity as a net positive.

Arthur is a basic goddamn boyfriend-hater. He pretty much harshly disapproves of every husband, boyfriend, male partner, etc. in the game and is very, very vocal about it... except one extremely unlikely candidate: Beau Gray. Weak, dandy artist Beau Gray, whom Arthur takes one look at and promptly hands the only gun to Penelope. Arthur is curt and impish to Beau at times, but helps him in his relationship troubles willingly (without collecting repayment), and seemingly for no other reason than the fact he can see that soft, fearful Beau is genuinely head-over-heels in love with Penelope. Is he projecting his own young love for Mary onto them? Maybe/probably, but Beau could not possibly be more different from young Arthur, and Arthur seems to believe this difference will make him a good husband for Penelope. A good husband, in Arthur's view, seems to simply be a man who ardently loves his beloved, regardless of his ability to provide for/protect her, and whose only goal in life is to live that life at her side. This is completely antithetical to mainstream late-1800s views on what constitutes a good husband and what it means to be a man.

Châtenay. Arthur shows us some of the most obvious delight and mirth he experiences in the game when he's hanging out with Charles "Allo Boys" Châtenay, who is straight up in drag a third of that time. This baffles Arthur a little, but doesn't disgust or repel him. I've written about this mission elsewhere at greater length because it is one of my favorite disasters, but it's worth mentioning here too.

Trelawny. Arthur clearly enjoys Trelawny despite his grumbly claims to the contrary. Most of these "claims" are just Arthur's established way of affectionate teasing (he does much the same with Uncle and Pearson, both of whom he genuinely likes). His authentic gripes about Trelawny are all about a perceived flightiness/lack of loyalty to the gang, not about his flamboyance. And even these gripes are half-assed, in Arthur's usual way.

Bluegills & Daisy Chains. One of the most genuine moments of softness we have with Arthur in RDR2 is when he takes Little Jack out of the camp to go fishing. Arthur's usually a much truer version of himself when he doesn't have to play the Big Bad Gang Lieutenant role, but this moment of escape is especially important, and not just because Arthur reveals his fondness for children and his natural understanding of how to talk to them. I notice this: Arthur tries to gently teach Jack about fishing, and Jack is completely fucking uninterested. Jack prefers to make flower chains for his mommy. Arthur doesn't scold him for his drifting attention or his lack of attraction to masculine past-times; on the contrary, Arthur goes out of his way to encourage and protect Jack's natural sweetness and innocence. That's a wild stance for a murdering outlaw to have re: the "next generation" of his family. Hell, I've encountered far too many 21st century dads in my own family who flip their shit when their tiny sons prefer hanging out with women & partaking in "womanly" hobbies like art, cooking, and flowers rather than hunting and fishing.

"...and be a god damn man." This seems like classic masculine bluster on the surface, but what does this keynote line mean in the context in which Arthur says it? Well, it's complicated. This statement serves as (a) Arthur's goodbye to John, (b) Arthur's final call to action for John, and (c) Arthur's last wish for his brother's life. But it certainly does not mean standing and fighting or being tough; i.e., "dying like a man." In that moment, it means abandoning all masculine bluster and revenge fantasy, and running away: leaving violence and fighting and brotherhood and all that crap behind to simply be there (alive, present) for your wife and son.

The Best Women People. Who are the best people Arthur knows, by his own crystal-clear declaration? Abigail and Sadie. Sadie's a rough-and-tumble, super-violent gunslinger and Abigail's a stubborn thief & a former sex worker (in the time Arthur has known her), but they are also, critically, two wives: the most traditional feminine role for a woman of the time period (and indeed perhaps most of human history once the concept of "wife" subsumed that of "mother"). It's also important to note that Arthur doesn't truly give up on Dutch until Dutch abandons Abigail, which serves as Arthur's point of no return. The other men left in the gang at this point specifically note that she's "just a woman" and not worth going back for. Arthur is straight-up shocked by all of this; he obviously considers her among the most worthwhile and value-having members of the gang, and certainly one of the most core members of the gang. Without any hesitation or doubt, the instant it's clear Dutch is cutting Abigail loose, Arthur declares: "That's that, then."

tl;dr: Arthur unironically prefers hanging out with women and queens and I love that for them.

#rdr2 #arthur morgan #red dead redemption #i promise to wait an appropriate amount of time before hurling another one of these massive essays at you tumblr #redmeta

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cowboyfromh3ll · 8 months

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Hcs for the boys' toxic traits. Preferably arthur, javier, john, and charles, but other boys are welcome too! I'm curious to see what you'd say Dutch's toxic traist are, though they're pretty self explanatory 😭

I just love how you write sm sorreyyyy

Van Der Linde Gang's Toxic traits

(Arthur Morgan, Javier Escuella, John Marston, Charles Smith, Micah Bell, Dutch Van Der Linde, Sean Macguire, Kieran Duffy, Eagle Flies)

HAHAHA THIS WAS SO MUCH FUN TO WRITE. I tried not to sugarcoat anything.

Arthur Morgan - He definitely has some trouble communicating. Not to say he never will communicate with you but it'll be long in between and after it's been plaguing him for a milenium. As we've seen, this man is capable of having deep, well thought out conversations. He'd also be pretty prideful to some degree. Mostly depends what point in time you start dating, later in game he'd be able to see past his pride. Also, I feel like if you were dating a major point of contention in your relationship would be questioning whether it's time to move on from this life.

Javier Escuella - WAY too jealous. I don't even mean it in a cute way but in a way that would genuinely cause several arguments between you two. "Why were you looking at him that way?" "That sounded like you were flirting with him" "Why do you spend so much time around the other guys?" Would also be around you 24/7. Someone would be incapable of having a conversation with you that doesn't include Javier. You two would also argue about Dutch's leadership skills.

John Marston - Oh my God this man is so indecisive. Doesn't know what he wants ever. In a modern setting you two would be sitting in the car, asking each other back and forth "what do you wanna eat?". And his commitment issues? Good lord. At some points in your relationship it'd probably feel like you guys aren't dating at all. You'd probably have to beg him to put some effort into the relationship to be honest.

Charles Smith - It's so hard to think of ANYTHING this man can do wrong but alas, I must. You probably wouldn't be his top priority at all times. Which isn't to say you should ALWAYS be at the top of his list, but sometimes it can result in your feelings being neglected over a situation that affects you. Only when the day reaches it's end will he consult you over something, which will have you feeling incredibly frustrated.

Micah Bell - This man is a walking red flag so let's not dance around his flaws. Incredibly prideful, will ignore your warnings over something just to get his way. Also probably lies to you A LOT. Can be way too rough with you in many aspects. Also this man embodies the word sleezy. Yuck.

Dutch Van Der Linde - Do I even need to say. So fucking stubborn. He also probably thinks he's intelectually superior to you. If you bring up a concern to him he'll probably use as many flowery and big words as possible to make himself appear smarter during the discussion than he actually is. And if you advise him to do anything he'll probably just ignore you, saying you don't know what you're talking about. All in all, thinks he's better than you. Also you're probably a trophy wife since Dutch views women as accessories to his success, if you can even call it success.

Sean Macguire - He doesn't take anything seriously. If you're trying to have a genuine discussion with him he'll play it down and make it seem less important or severe than it actually is. Don't even bother trying to emphasize how serious you are because he won't take that seriously either. It's only until he feels the consequences of his actions will he listen to you, which results in a frustrating cycle.

Kieran Duffy - Also very indecisive but in the way where he can't speak up for himself because he doesn't think it's important. Has such low self esteem, he also probably thinks his emotions are less important which results in a lot of miscommunication on his behalf. Sorta just let's you take the lead all the way, always let's you have your way, with no valuable input of his own. You have to shake his shoulders and beg for him to actually speak his mind.

Eagle Flies - He's probably so childish. Like, mommy issues CEO over here. Will probably seek for you to fulfill that role in his life. Has almost no control over his emotions and has trouble identifying them, and when he does indentify them, has absolutely no idea what to do with them in terms of expression. He will make various efforts to communicate with you but will struggle immensely. Being with him will probably be like teaching a man how to experience emotions in a healthy way. I could write an entire post dedicated to what I think his toxic traits are

More eagle flies ones

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lordofthecherubs · 3 months

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Hello Euphoria [Part 1]

“Knew it was too strong for your liking.”

“For my liking? I looove this stuff, Arthur.” You slurred, pointing to the drink in your hand for emphasis.

“Love is a strong word, cowpoke.” He offhandedly said.

“Strong feeling, too.”

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x F!Reader

Warnings/Tags: 18+, MDNI. Eventual Smut. Slight slow burn. Reader is part of the gang already. Drunkness. Horseshoe Overlook Chapter. Reader is a lightweight.

The summer this season was particularly grueling. As the sound of birds twittering overhead remained the same as they always were, everyone in the camp seemed to be barely making it day by day without turning into a melted puddle in the ground. Even Charles, stoic and resilient as he was, seemed to be letting the heat get the best of him; nearly planting Micah into the dirt ground after he had made one of his insensitive comments. Tensions were high.

In the late 1800s, there were scarce few ways to find relief from the heat and cool down. Modern luxuries of air conditioning or plug-in fans were not of access. You could swim in a lake, or buy yourself a small handheld fan; which seemed to be an idea Mary-Beth was keen on, holding the piece of plastic close to her face while attempting to still appear presentable. She was a nice young girl. She still had that going for her.

However, there were others who didn’t care to remain modest. Sean had taken to waltzing around camp in nothing but his drawers, which was more unpleasant to see than surprising— if you were anyone but Karen. John seemed to think this was a good idea, because he soon was seen in the same attire, or rather lack thereof. Abigail was not as thrilled with the sight as Karen was.

“John Marston!” She shouted. “Get yourself decent before folks start thinkin’ you’re a drunkard!”

You laughed at the sight, pulling pieces of hair away from where they’d stuck to your neck with sweat. The two of them weren’t exactly the perfect couple, but you could tell there was love there. If your judgement of love was educated enough.

Your gaze turned to another area of the camp.

Arthur sat at the base of a tree, head leaned down, and arm resting above his bent knee. You rolled your eyes at his ability to look how he did even given the harsh circumstances of the weather. The cowboy would never agree with you, but he was very easy on the eyes. So easy, in fact, sometimes you stared at him with such intensity it was like you were preparing to hunt him for sport. Not a bad idea.

Your daydream doesn’t last long. Not when Dutch, the gangs leader, voices his opinions about the current situation loud enough for everyone to hear.

“We are better off laying down and dying in the middle of Valentine than staying here and looking miserable all day!”

For once, you agreed with him. Dutch was a man of many thoughts and opinions, ones it seemed he couldn’t bear with keeping locked inside his head for long. Which is why, he continued his remarks.

“Arthur, Lenny, Micah, John—“

For the first time today, Dutch caught a look of what John’s best idea of cooling down was. The two shared a look for a moment until Dutch shook his head, waving his hand in the direction of the long-haired cowboy. Then, the gang’s leader looked in your direction, a smile filling his face as he walked over to where you were.

“Well now, I believe it would be in our interest to have a lady on this trip.”

“A trip? In this? You really are losin’ it, Dutch.” A voice commented, the sound of gravel crunching signaling to you that someone was heading your direction.

Arthur looked at Dutch with a hint of fatigue in his eyes, having been woken up from his nap by another one of Dutch’s antics. Lenny and Micah soon followed behind him, and the once empty table you occupied was now surrounded.

“Listen, I think it would be best if a few of us went down to some of the cities.” Dutch explained, looking between different members of the small group he created. “You two—“ He gestured to Micah and Lenny, “See if you can find some information about O’Driscoll’s in Strawberry, maybe steal us some supplies. And you two,” He pointed at you and Arthur, but paused for a moment after reviewing the exhausted look on both of your faces.

While Dutch wasn’t a soft man, he wasn’t evil. He cared about every person in the gang like they were his family. And, in a way, they really were his family, or the closest he’d ever get to one.

The dark-haired man opened his mouth to speak again. “You two, go to the saloon in Valentine. See what you can find out there.”

“What? That’s it?” Micah scoffed, stepping closer to Dutch. “We gotta go robbin’ and chattin’ while these two get to have a bar date?”

You tried to tell yourself the heat that crept up the back of your neck was not because of the inclination that Arthur and you were going on a date, but because you might’ve been getting a sunburn. Yeah, that was it. Looking upwards from where you sat, Arthur’s jaw visibly clenched. It could be unrelated. Maybe he had a bad dream during his nap?

Dutch began walking away to his tent, ignoring Micah’s complaints. “Just find something useful to do, would you?” A hint of annoyance in his tone.

In an attempt to hide his embarrassment, Micah shrugged his shoulders back, feigning nonchalance. “So, it’s you and me kid, huh? Hope you’re ready for the ride of your life!”

Stepping off into another direction, you gave Lenny a sympathetic look before he followed behind Micah, no hints at all in his step that he was happy to be sent on this mission. Who would be?

“Can’t help but feel bad for him.” Arthur said, watching the duo ride off on their horses in the direction of Strawberry.

You laughed, shaking your head. “It was him or us. And, Dutch is smart enough to know sending you off alone with Micah is a recipe for disaster.”

“Disaster?” The cowboy parroted, smiling down at you. “What kind of disaster, cowpoke?” His eyes seemed to pierce right through your own, possibly even right into your brain, where your thoughts were aimlessly spinning around, trying to stay focused on the fact that you were in the middle of a conversation.

You cleared your throat and broke eye contact, opting instead to ease yourself up from where you sat instead of sitting and sharing eye contact any longer. “The kind of disaster where one of you gets killed,” You quickly said, pushing away from the wooden table. “Preferably, Micah.”

This made Arthur laugh heartily while he followed you to where both of your horses were hitched. The sound of his voice was enough to make you smile softly to yourself, patting the animal on its side while readying your saddle. Almost in sync, the two of you mounted them, slowly exiting the camp while riding next to each other. You wanted to look at him, but instead you focused your attention on the road ahead of you, hands clasping tightly onto the reigns.

***

The trip to Valentine was as quiet as it was short. You and Arthur hadn’t shared many words to each other, but you assumed that was because he was still tired, being woken up from a nap was never fun. You almost felt bad that Dutch had sent the both of you on this mission. You’re sure you’re not the only one to have noticed, but Dutch really liked to send Arthur off on missions that could be done by anyone else. The cowboy worked hard, if not the hardest out of everyone in the camp. But, all things considered, you weren’t one to complain about having such pleasant company.

Tying your horses up at the front of the saloon, Arthur walked up the steps, leaning against the front of the building as he waited for you to follow suit. He watched as you removed a gun you had stowed on your horse and placed it in your holster, surprise bubbling in his stomach. Most of the women in the gang didn’t have guns. And while he wasn’t opposed to it, he wondered if there was more to you than you let on.

You were a fighter, he knew that well enough from how you never shied away from telling Micah off when he disgustingly flirted with you, even having drawn a knife one time when you were slightly intoxicated. You had no real intentions of using said knife, but the blond man needed to be shut up one way or another. That same occurrence was when Arthur had learned you weren’t the best at handling your alcohol. A lightweight, the term he commonly heard being used.

The cowboy, still leaning against a wall by the entrance of the saloon, had a keen eye for things when it came to you. He wasn’t sure of how obvious it was, but he didn’t miss the way he’d sometimes catch you staring his direction when you were sure he couldn’t see you. The thought made him smile to himself, hands resting on his belt as he waited for you to catch up with him.

“All ready?” You asked, admiring the way stray pieces of hair stuck to Arthur’s forehead due to perspiration. He nodded, moving himself off the wall to push the saloon doors open, holding them for you to walk inside.

With a smile towards the cowboy in thanks, you followed him to the bar. The table in front of you wasn’t the tallest, but it was hard not to notice the way Arthur basically towered over it. Looking away before you were either caught staring, or consumed in your thoughts, you began to wonder why Dutch sent the two of you on this “mission”. Before you could get whisked away in your head with that topic, Arthur spoke up again.

“Got a preferred drink?” He asked, elbows leant against the wooden platform in front of you.

“Even if I did, I doubt they’d have it in a place like this,” You said, looking upwards at the bartender in front of you. Your eyes widened, not realizing the owner would be standing right in front of you. “Oh— I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” You trailed off, a feeble attempt at an apology, and heard Arthur bite back a laugh beside you. You kicked him beneath the bar.

“Don’t you worry, miss. I’ve been to enough saloons to know this one ain’t all that pretty.” The bartender said, smiling genuinely. “And,” He paused, wiping down the wooden expanse in front of him with an old rag, “I don’t actually own the place, I just work here.” The man in front of you winked with a laugh, standing up straight to formally address the you and Arthur.

Arthur, smiling and obviously very entertained by the whole interaction, sighed out contently before speaking up. “I’ll have a whiskey, and for the lady…” He looked down at you, examining your face for a quick moment. “Brandy.”

The bartender nodded, turning around to fill up some glasses with your drinks.

“What’s brandy?”

Arthur laughed again. He seemed to be in a better mood now, thankfully. “Think it comes from a fruit, if I remember right. Not much of a drinker, are you?”

You shook your head silently, looking down at your hands. As much as you wanted to be able to drink like the rest of the gang, you knew all too well that you and alcohol did not mix well. Loose lips, unsteady feet, tiredness, and giggles were your common reactions. All of which are far too embarrassing to display in front of Arthur, someone you wanted to think highly of you. Yet, here you were, thanking the bartender for the drink as it was handed to you. For a moment, you examined the glass in your hand with an eyebrow raised.

“Scared?” Arthur teased, turning towards you with his own glass gripped between his fingers.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes playfully. “Of a drink? I think I’ll be fine, cowboy.”

Were you a bad liar? Or did Arthur always have a look of suspicion in his eyes whenever you spoke to him? Despite whether or not he truly believed your words, he raised his drink towards you, cheersing it with yours, the sound of the glass clinking filling the space as you both took your sips.

Being the man that he was, Arthur didn’t flinch at the bitter taste whiskey left on his tongue, or the way it burned down his throat. Especially not when he wanted to see the way you reacted when your drink did the same to you.

Pulling the glass to your lips, you were met with the initial taste of something slightly fruity. The flavor wasn’t too bad, compared to any other alcoholic beverages you’d had before. Then, as the liquid traveled down your throat, a sweltering feeling overcame you. With great effort, you managed you swallow it, despite your brain's efforts to try and get you to spit it back out. The overall feeling was intense enough to make your eyes water, looking up at Arthur in front of you.

The cowboys face read a mix between surprise and concern. Clearly, whatever reaction you just had was not the usual. You grew embarrassed, cheeks turning a shade of crimson.

“Should we get you somethin’ different—“

“No!” You almost immediately said, clearing your throat. “No, this is good. I like it.” You half-lied, reaching for the drink again.

Arthur seemed to be shocked by this response, because he tilted his head to the side slightly. “Really? You like it?”

You nodded, taking another sip and willing yourself not to have the same reaction as before.

The cowboy carefully watched your face as you drank, taking note of the way your eyes watered again after you pulled to drink away from your lips. He wondered why you were lying to him about something like this. It wasn’t a bad thing to not be able to stand strong drinks, especially if you were someone who didn’t usually drink in the first place. Momentarily, he remembered the first time he’d been offered a drink by Dutch. He was about fourteen, and as soon as the liquid met his tongue, he spat it back out onto the ground, gagging dramatically. Compared to the way he was casually drinking the whiskey in his hand, that memory was laughable.

“Can I try yours?”

Arthur was shook from his memories by your voice, glancing down at his drink to your face with a nod. Handing the drink over, he spoke up to try and warn you. “Just be careful. This is a lot stronger than—“

Before he could finish speaking, you quickly pulled the glass to your lips, eyes closed tightly as you gulped the entire drink down. Arthurs jaw fell slack at the scene before him, looking around to see if this had been some kind of joke. Upon surveying his surroundings, he noticed the cup that had once been full of the brandy he ordered you was now empty. You placed his now matching glass beside it, wiping a hand over your mouth.

“S-sorry, I drank all yours…” You sheepishly said, looking up at Arthur. “I’ll get you another, ‘kay?”

Was it possible for someone to fall under the influence that fast? Or had he been daydreaming about his childhood for too long? Whatever the answer was, his feeling of shock lingered as you pulled two large mugs of whiskey towards the both of you. “Maybe we’ve had enough for today.” Arthur said, voice laced with concern for where this would go if you got any more liquor in your system.

“Let’s find somewhere else to sit, it’s too loud here.” And with that, you were off, both drinks clutched in your fists as you wobbled to find a quieter place to sit.

The cowboy had no choice but to follow you, worried for your wellbeing. Maybe it was his fault, getting you started on brandy of all things. But in his defense, he thought it would put you off from drinking altogether, not send you into a spiteful frenzy to prove you could drink the same way that he did. Arthur stayed close behind you as you made your way outside, using your weight to push the back door open. Luckily for you, there was a small table with two chairs on the back patio, looking almost as if they had been waiting for you and Arthur to come and use them.

“Perfect!” You exclaimed, carelessly plopping yourself down into one of the wooden chairs, placing Arthur’s drink on the table and bringing yours to your lips.

The outlaw carefully sat down across from you, reaching for his drink at a more relaxed speed than your own. Carefully, he eyed you. You were definitely drunk, there was no denying that, but he had underestimated just how quickly that could happen to you. This was a fault of his memory, because only now was it reminding him of the time when you got woozy from one beer.

“You know, after a while, it doesn’t even burn anymore.” You laughed, turning your head in the mans direction.

“So it did burn you,” Arthur couldn’t help but smile. “Knew it was too strong for your liking.”

“For my liking? I looove this stuff, Arthur.” You slurred, pointing to the drink in your hand for emphasis. Now, you turned your entire body towards him, almost leaning completely over the table in his direction. This action caused a sleeve of your shirt to slip off, revealing a soft shoulder to Arthur’s eyes, making him gulp down his drink with a new intensity.

“Love is a strong word, cowpoke.” He offhandedly said. Unlike many of the other women in the gang, besides Sadie, you tended to dress less traditionally. Your wardrobe consisted of different pairs of worn in pants, and some button up shirts that happened to fit you sometimes, while others did not. Only so often did Arthur ever witness you in something like a dress. And presently, the shirt you wore was probably a size or two too big. Not a fault of your own, though. It was rare to find clothes made for working in diverse sizes, more so ones that fit women.

Within his thoughts, he reached forward to ease your shirt back onto where it belonged, willing his hand to not linger on the spot longer than it needed to.

“Strong feeling, too.”

Arthur had almost forgotten what he’d said to make you respond with that, but the look in your eyes brought the same spoken of feeling to burn in his chest. Still leaning over the table, eyes trained on the cowboy in front of you, your pupils were blown wide and your cheeks were flushed.

It was nearing dusk, crickets began chirping ambiently, and the air was starting to cool down from its prior harshness.

“We best start heading back.” Arthur quietly said, all too aware of the way you were silently staring at him. It’s not as if he was opposed to you being this close to him, in fact, it was killing him inside to not reach over and pull you across the table into his lap, where he could finally get his hands on you. But you were drunk. He wasn’t going to take advantage of you like that.

You hummed in response, eyes lowering from his to now look at his lips, coated with the whiskey he had been nursing all this time. They were entrancing, really. Everything about Arthur was. The way he carried himself. His voice. His arms. His calloused hands. The way he always seemed to look out for you. How could you not feel some kind of way about him?

The sound of your name coming from his mouth made you focus up, albeit you found it hard to keep your attention on one thing.

“You alright?”

“Y-yeah… just thinking…’s all.”

If you weren’t so drunk you’d be embarrassed of the way you were speaking.

“Thinkin’, huh? What about?” Arthur challenged.

You pulled yourself back into your seat, the final drops of your drink finding its way down your throat before you spoke again.

“‘m not sure I can tell you.” You mumbled, leaning your head back against the wooden chair.

At this, Arthur felt a bit defeated. He wasn’t going to make you talk if you weren’t comfortable with it. If there was something you were withholding from telling him, he was sure there was a good reason.

“Well, looks like our time here is up.”

As the cowboy began standing up from his seat, he felt a force grip his wrist, making him instinctively turn on his heels. What he was met with shook him to his core.

Eyes glazed over, lip pouted outwards, hair a beautiful mess, you reached for Arthur.

“What’s goin’ on—“

“Please, Arthur.”

He was going to pass out. Your voice, defeated and pitiful, spoke his name in a way he’d never forget. Regaining his composure, Arthur spoke up again.

“Please what?”

Cheeks flushing an even darker red, you looked down at his wrist, turning it in your hand from where you had grasped onto it. For a second, there was no apparent reason for what you were doing.

But then, calloused palms met soft cheeks.

You had pulled Arthurs hand to caress your face, leaning into it with a soft smile.

“‘thur... I don’t wanna go back to the camp…”

Confused, but compliant, his brows furrowed on his face. “How come?”

You nuzzled your face against his hand for a moment before responding. “Not enough room on my bedroll for both of us…”

Arthur hoped the way his whole body stiffened wasn’t noticeable. How could you say something like that to him? He was going to lose his mind. Right here, on the back patio of Valentine’s saloon. He started thinking of ways to solve this problem. At this rate, getting back to camp on the horses without a fuss from you wouldn’t be possible… There was a hotel not too far of a walk from here, maybe that would work? Only, he’d have to get one with two beds. You weren’t in any condition to be consenting to share a bed with another person, even if your previous statement said otherwise.

“Can you walk?”

Removing your face from his hand, you used the table as leverage to stand up again. However, walking proved to be a difficulty, akin to a baby deer taking its first steps. Yeah, this wouldn’t work.

“Okay, I’m gonna pick you up. Is that alright?” Arthur said, hovering his arms around your shoulders momentarily.

Immediately, you nodded, leaning into his touch as he carried you bridal style to your next location. Wherever it was, you didn’t care as long as you were in his arms.

The cowboy made quick work of the situation, careful of the mud that laid the town of Valentine as he made his way to the hotel. He was lucky it was still open at this hour, pushing the door open to be greeted by the owner.

“Well howdy, you two! Looking for a room?”

“Yes, a two bed, please.” Arthur said, trying not to sound too strained. It wasn’t that he was having trouble holding you, no, that was far from the problem. It was the way you buried your face into his chest that caused his heart to race. He hoped you didn’t notice.

“Two bed?” The man behind the counter said, raising a brow at the two of you. “You sure? I got plenty of other—“

“Yes! Just a two bed, please.”

Arthur was never more thankful to be a threatening man in his life than right now, it seemed, because the tone of his voice was enough to send the man on his way to find keys to a room.

“Up the stairs to the left, mister.”

And with that, Arthur made his way in the direction he had been told, carefully unlocking the door with you still in his arms. None of this felt real, if he was honest with himself. One second, he was talking to you inside the saloon; and the next he was carrying you to a room to put you to bed. He paused to look down at you, your eyes closed as you quietly breathed. There weren’t many things that could make the heart of a man like him soft, but you were definitely one of them.

As Arthur entered the room, he took note of the two beds that were inside of it. While they were on the smaller side, there was no doubt they were probably much better than the makeshift beds the gang had back at the camp. Slowly, he pulled back the covers of the bed and placed you in the one furthest away from the door, his mind considering the situation where an emergency might happen, even amongst its slight buzzing from the whiskey.

When he began to walk away to get into his own bed, he felt the same grip on his wrist from before. Only this time, he knew there was no threat. Slowly, he turned around, looking down at where you laid.

“Please… sleep with me. I don’t wanna be alone.”

If his heart hadn’t softened entirely from the sight of you dozing in his arms, it was melted right out of his chest now.

Opening his mouth to give you an excuse as to why he shouldn’t, you cut him off.

“If you don’t, ‘m just gonna get into yours later.” A slight sleepy giggle in your voice.

Who was he to deny you right now?

Finally, he gave in, sighing quietly before sitting himself down on the bed. Maybe if he slept as stiffly as he did at camp, you wouldn’t want to lay so close to him. It wasn’t that he didn’t want you near him, at this point, he craved you near him. But he couldn’t be entirely sure that this is what sober you would’ve wanted. So, as he laid down on the small bed, likely intended for one person, he was surprised to see you keep your distance initially.

But, it was short-lived. Once Arthur had completely settled into the bed, you grabbed onto his arm, hugging it close to yourself.

The cowboy squeezed his eyes shut, not in an attempt to sleep, but rather to keep himself contained.

“Night, Arthur…”

He could die right now.

He’d be happy.

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fic #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 fic #rdr2 arthur #rdr2 community #rdr2 smut

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thefanartisthoho · 3 months

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I saw a entrapdak genderbend somewhere and find it cute, so I pick my pen with my stinky grubby hands and drew those (ENTRAPDA AND HORDAK DESIGN ARE FROM @faie-bae , I LOVE UR M ENTRAPDA DESIGN )

Also a fanchild, bcuz why not

(Fanchild design ellow)

Yes, for a moment I gave Nebula white sclera and more purple features, but then i stopped and thought...

'Oh yeah micah prob have PTSD bcuz of hordak'

So I gave her red eyes and a dark iris and made her a carbon copy of her dad.

I like when "hero is unsettled with the villain child (who dont have anythin to do with what their parents did etc etc) bcuz of their appearence"

The few small details that differentiates her from her dad is the color of her skin (hordak has a dark blue, nebula is more purple ish) and the presence of a iris

#hordak #entrapta #entrapdak #she ra #she ra and the princesses of power #I COULD MAKE A MORE DIFFERENT APPEARENCE FOR F HORDAK BCUZ SHE'S AND ALIEN BUT MAN #I WAS LAZY AND SLEEPY.#spop

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polakina · 4 months

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on his knees for you

pairing: javier escuella x reader

rating: mature

outline: a robbery goes sideways, and your already rocky friendship with a fellow camp mate is put to the test as you evade the guards of Van Horn

warnings: cursing, so much bickering, canon-typical gore and violence, flirting, slightly suggestive (this is by far the tamest thing i've ever written)

requests are open! hope you enjoy, petals <3

a/n: i can't believe how many notifications i've gotten about my works over the past week. its fucking crazy. thank you so much, you're all absolute stars

masterlist

It was a simple job, really. Get in, steal the bonds, and get out.

But nothing ever went as simple as the original plan, did it? Not with the Van Der Linde gang. There was always a little bit of improvisation to be had. Which was exactly what you were doing right now.

Bullets firing past your ears, blood running down your leg, the target’s personal guards chasing you down the winding paths of Roanoke Ridge.

One day earlier.

The plan was set. Arthur, Bill and Lenny were to infiltrate the building and steal the bonds, while Micah and Charles handled the guards. You and Javier were on lookout, posted at the entrance gates.

You were all stationed just outside of Van Horn, your target being the mansion and its occupiers. Trelawny had brought intel of bonds on their way through Van Horn to Annesburg, stopping off at the mansion overnight. Roanoke wasn’t a place anyone wanted to be caught up in at night.

“It’s fucking freezing out here,” you muttered, leaning further against your horse, absorbing his body heat as much as you could. It had been hours of waiting around and checking on the mansion. No movement whatsoever since the sun began to set. Darkness was nearing and the coach was nowhere to be seen.

Javier stood beside you, rifle in hand, eyes fixated on the road to the right, where the coach should appear from. “Want my poncho?” He asked, glancing at you briefly.

You didn’t even cast him a look as you responded. “Wouldn’t want to ruin your style, Escuella. I think I’ll survive without it.” You sighed, and moved from your position, heading further down the road, hiding in the trees to watch from a different position, seeing the road winding down Roanoke Ridge to New Hanover.

The two of you had never gotten along. He didn’t like your attitude one bit. You were snarky, cold. Something you’d developed after years of running with Arthur and John. He’d try and make conversation, you’d brush it off. He’d invite you on a fishing or hunting trip, you’d decline and say you preferred to hunt alone. He couldn’t win. You never sat with the camp during his songs or meals, you were always perched somewhere else, keeping lookout. That’s what you did. That’s all you ever did.

So after a few months, he gave up. Not exactly understanding your harshness to him, he just accepted it instead. He returned your cold comments and your mean stares. Years passed and you bickered like enemies living beside one another.

You whistled out to the group as you spotted the coach. Your whistle blended with the birds, so it was undetected by the gourds watching the bonds.

Everything went smoothly, Arthur, Lenny and Bill making quick work of breaking into the bonds lock box, and you heard the guards grunting and groaning as they hit the floor from Micah and Bill’s attacks.

Through your scope, you spotted as the boys grabbed the bonds, throwing them into their satchels. Drifting your rifle along the side of the mansion, you sensed something wrong with Bill. He was arguing with Micah. More so than usual.

“What’s going on?” Javier whispered, lying beside you, hidden between the trees.

You shushed him, focusing on Bill. Their argument grew even more heated, and you caught a glimpse of lantern light behind them. You watched as they turned, cursing loudly before returning fire. Micah had scurried off during the brawl with the guards, seeking other treasures and getting himself caught in a scuff with guardsmen minding their own business.

“Shit, shit,” Javier cursed, throwing an arm over you and holding you down, protecting your head as bullets fired your way. “He can’t keep his head for one mission, puta madre!”

Arthur had ordered for, if the mission went south; which you had good money on it that it did, that you scatter. Split up and evade Van Horn at all costs, go the long way around New Hanover until it was safe to return back to camp so you were sure you weren’t followed.

They had the bonds, all they needed to do was escape without getting caught. But you wouldn’t have minded if Micah got murdered in the. Just when you thought he’d found your last nerve, he managed to hit another one.

“I think this is our cue to leave,” you said through gritted teeth, pushing yourself onto your feet and grabbing your gear. Javier was on your heels, close behind. You hiked deeper into Murfree Brood territory, constantly keeping an eye over your shoulders for lantern light.

“Our safest path is through Roanoke,” Javier said from behind you, following your path through the trees. “The guards won’t dare follow us through there this late at night.”

You halted suddenly, whipping around to face Javier. He was caught off guard, almost stumbling into you, a surprised expression on his face. “Are you crazy, Escuella? Murfree Brood hunt here at night. If it’s not the guards who get us, it’ll be them. And I’d rather take my chances with bullets rather than-”

A bullet shot through the wind, straight through your leg into the tree behind you. It caught your words in your throat and you almost crumbled to the ground under the pain firing down your leg. Javier didn’t even blink as he wrapped an arm around you, catching you before you fell. He pulled his gun from its holster at his hip, pointing it over your shoulder and firing it straight into the head of the guard who fired at you first.

It drew attention. Of course, it did. Javier pulled you away from the scene, down the winding path leading to New Hanover. His arm stayed firmly around your waist, and you tried to hold in your groans of pain as your feet collided with uneven terrain, worsening the sting of the wound.

You both heard voices, coming from the top of the hill of which you had just descended. Javier pulled you around a large oak tree, pushing your body against the bark which pulled a pained gasp from your lips. “Fucking hell, Javier. At least try to be gentler with-” His hand clamped over your mouth, his body pressed against yours as he looked past the tree trunk to the guards making their way past you, checking their surroundings as they went.

“You need to learn to shut up once in a while,” he whispered, looking back to you. His hat was tipped down his head, shielding his eyes. “I’m trying to save you and you’re still complaining.”

You looked up at him, your mouth still firmly covered, your hand wrapped around his wrist, instinct from when he shut you up. He smelled of whiskey and firewood, his scent filling your nostrils. His hand wrapped around your waist protectively, tightening as the footsteps grew closer.

Pulling his hand down, you noticed his skin never left yours. It rested around your neck. Softly, no pressure in his fingers, but the heat of his palm burned against your pulse, and he felt your heart rate jump. “Thought you would have wanted to get rid of me, Escuella,” you whispered, looking up at him.

But he just looked down at you, surprised. “What?”

“Get rid of me. Hand me off to some guards searching through half the woods for us.” Your gaze never wavered. “Would certainly save you the trouble of dealing with me back at camp.”

He just smirked, tilting his head up, his eyes turned down to look at you. “And why would I want to get rid of you? Perhaps I enjoy the trouble you cause me. Ever thought about that?” His eyebrows raised as you stood there, unable to form words. “So are you going to shut up and behave yourself while I get you out of here? Or are you going to keep talking until they figure out where we are?”

Javier waited for your response, but it never came. You just bowed your head, sealing your lips in a thin line. He took that as a sign that you’d ‘shut up and behave’.

The men eventually left, abandoning their search for you, leaving both you and Javier a window of opportunity to flee.

The sun poked out above the trees from the makeshift camp Javier had set up in New Hanover. You were shielded by the canopy of branches, the fire in front of you keeping you warm. But it wasn’t doing anything good for the bullet wound in your leg. You stretched out your leg, wincing at the pain shooting through your body.

“I told you not to try and fix it by yourself,” you heard Javier say as he emerged with an armful of firewood, dropping it by your bags. “Your hands will shake before you’ve finished stitching it.”

You glared up at him. “Would you suggest I just leave it? Cut my leg off?”

Javier rolled his eyes at you, kneeling in front of you, his knees on either side of your wounded leg. “I would suggest…that you should wait for me. I’ll stitch it for you.”

Pulling his knife from the holster at his ankle, he sliced the blade through the fabric of your pant leg like butter. All the way up to your hip. “Hey!” You called out. “They were new pants.”

“I’ll buy you a replacement. Now shut up.” He was always harsh with his words, but now, it was even more so. A slight pang of worry soaked his tone.

“You’re such an ass sometimes-ow!” His fingers pushed against the wound on your leg, blood pooling out to the floor. “The fuck was that for?”

He looked indifferent as he looked up at you. “Feeling for any shrapnel. You don’t have any, thankfully, or else this would have hurt a lot more than its about to.”

“I could have told you that,” you grimaced as he began cleaning the wound. Applying pressure to one end of the bullet hole only forced blood through the other side. You could see both the entry point and exit point of the wound, stretching across the left and right sides of your leg.

You were both silent as he cleaned your leg, but you gasped as he pulled out a needle. He saw a panicked flash across your face, seeing it appear as quickly as it fled. “Easy,” he soothed, patting your knee. “I’ll be quick. You won’t feel it.”

“Don’t lie to me,” you whispered, your eyes only focused on the needle.

He sighed, leaning closer, tipping your chin up to meet his softened gaze. “Okay. You will feel it. But not much. A bee sting, that’s all it feels like. But it’ll be easier if you lie down.”

“Why?”

“Your muscles tense when you sit upright. You could at least be comfortable while I stitch you up.” He helped you into a more comfortable position. Javier still straddled your shin, one of his hands pressed against your thigh while his other stitched the hole closed. You laid there, his poncho acting as your pillow as you looked up at the trees.

You ignored the sting you felt each time the needle pierced your skin. Javier wasn’t wrong, it did feel like a bee sting. What’s more important, was that you could manage that sort of pain. “Thank you,” you said quietly, but you weren’t certain he heard you at first, until the needle stopped in your skin, his actions immoveable. Lifting your head and straining your neck, you met his eye. There was a small smile on his face, the corners of his moustache turned upwards with his laugh lines driven deep into his skin. You always did like his smile. That was the one thing that never changed about him.

“It’s the least I can do,” he smiled, turning his attention back to your stitches. “It’s sort of my fault you got shot in the first place.”

“Sort of? You mean ‘entirely’?” You laughed as he playfully slapped your other leg with the back of his hand.

“Quit laughing,” he chuckled with you. “Or I’ll end up stabbing you in the wrong place.”

He finished quickly, wiping away any trace of blood before gently bandaging your leg. His soft touch lingered for a little while, his thumb gently rubbing soothing patterns into your skin. Your breath stopped in your throat as his touch rose higher. Higher up your thigh. To where your thigh met your hip. He was so fixated on it, he didn’t realise what he was doing until he felt your pulse beating at an ungodly rate at the top of your inner thigh.

His eyes flicked up to yours, where you laid, patiently. You were curious what sorts of thoughts were running through his head right now. What sort of cogs were turning in that brain of his.

You pushed yourself up onto your elbows, your face closer to his than it had ever been before. “What?” You coaxed, too curious to keep quiet now.

“Nothing,” he moved to lean back, his hands drifting down your thighs, but they never left your body before you grabbed the front of his shirt, holding him in place.

“What did I say? Don’t lie to me, Javier.” Your voice never raised above a whisper. It didn’t need to. You were so close a whisper felt like a shout.

He didn’t respond. He couldn’t speak. The close proximity had rendered him faulty in speech. So instead he closed the gap. His lips touched yours, his body melting against your touch. You didn’t expect it. All those years of bickering. All those years of cruel comments and nasty looks. Nothing prepared you for this. But you welcomed it.

Javier leaned you back, your head meeting the poncho as you felt his body settle on top of yours. Breaking away for air, you saw a softened, kinder look in his eye when he looked at you. “Is this your apology for me getting shot?” You asked, smiling against his lips as he kissed you once more.

“Is it working?” His lips moved to your neck, hovering above your skin to a point where it tickled.

“Hmm…maybe.”

“Then perhaps I’ll try a different angle,” he smirked, unbuttoning your pants, encapturing your lips in a soft kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth. He had a lot of making up to do.

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