#★.in the vault

[bbina]

love: terms and conditions may apply [teaser] — zcl.

synopsis: ??? pairing: ceo!chenle x ceo!reader genre: arranged marriage!au, ceo!au, one sided enemies to lovers (at the start), fluff, angst (to be decided), unfortunately slow burn (another victim of bbina's slowburn) so that means lots of tension for no reason, y/n is kinda a bitch for the most part and chenle is.. chenle notes: initially for chenle's birthday but i got too carried away and the fact this shit isnt even done despite me posting this little teaser is beyond me. when will we see this full fic? 2025? 2026? who knows. obviously on the final post there would be graphics n shit but since this is just a teaser then this will suffice. but here's the moodboard for this lmfao estimated total word count: 30k???

sitting in the passenger seat, you stare at the diamond ring wrapped around your ring finger. it's to represent love— something you're yet to feel

it almost feels daunting that your life has come to this. engaged at twenty one to some fellow billionaire tycoon heir who was also around your age. you should be at the club wasting your youth away but no, you are forced to embrace your new reality. an engaged woman at that

your life has always been served on a silver platter. it only takes a lift of your finger to get whatever you want, whenever you want

"it's a perfect life!", one would say. while that was true for the most part, there were obviously some drawbacks to this kind of life

while you could get all the material things in the world as money will never be a problem, some things were just unattainable even if you had all the money in the world such as true love

your life has been planned out for you the moment you were brought upon this world. it was planned that by the time you turn twenty three, the age where you are deemed responsible, you would get engaged to someone who is worthy of marrying the likes of you, an heiress to one of the biggest companies in korea and that you would now take over of the family business

your father did not waste a single second hitching you up with certified bachelors who have ultra high profiles. the ones he deems to be worthy to be your husband

and no, you did not have any say nor do with all of this. one night you just found yourself in your dining room with guests, as your maids have mentioned.

that very night, little did you know that you were actually meeting your soon to be husband. the same night you found out that you were getting married to him by the time cherry blossoms would bloom during spring

"we're here" a voice interrupts your trance

you look out the window to see that you've arrived at the location of your father's gala. the flashing lights were a dead giveaway that there were paparazzi present as usual. your father's company is a big name in the business world after all

huffing, you start to unbuckle your seatbelt but a hand stops you

"don't go out just yet. wait for me to open the door"

you rolled your eyes. of course. your father's little plan has officially started. how could you forget? you literally just had a conversation about how you and your soon to be husband would make a grand entrance at the gala entrance knowing there would be paparazzi waiting outside

the camera flashes intensifies the moment your fiance gets out of the car, rushing to get to your side. he flashes a smile in front of the paparazzi before bowing ever so slightly to open the passenger seat to reveal you

he barely gave you time to compose yourself when your fiance opened your door. you grit your teeth but you managed to make it look like you were cheesing over his "chivalrous" act. that motherfucker even held his hand out for you to take as you step out of his vehicle

you straightened your dress and smiled in front of the cameras. you can feel your fiance's hand snake their way towards your waist as he pulls you closer to him, posing ever so professionally in front of the flashing lights

"over here!"

"y/n! look here!"

chenle, your fiance, then suddenly leans down ever so slightly, just above the shell of your ear

"smile and nod for the cameras"

you resisted the urge to roll your eyes right then and there. chenle was probably having the time of his life tormenting you like this. he knew damn well that you couldn't say no against your father and to see you like this, was simply enough for chenle to enjoy

zhong chenle. the heir of the infamous zhong co. the same man that your father had graciously picked to be your soon to be wedded husband in due time

you’ve heard about the name zhong chenle for a long time now. his family business has always been the talk of the town. a chinese tycoon who slowly started their global expansion who already marked their first expansion in korea— a successful one at that

naturally, your father saw this as a competition and what better move could he plot than binding the two heirs and heiresses of the respective companies to tie the knot and come to a forced— joint partnership to eliminate the competition from the get go?

so now you’re here. smiling and posing for the cameras knowing damn well where this was going. inside scoops, celebrity gossip sites making up over the top stories on how this sudden engagement would benefit both companies in the long run. who really knows where this was going but one thing was certain. it’s that your father is still always one step ahead of the game

“ready?” you hear chenle murmur beside you, having enough of smiling for the night. might as well get this over with already by getting your assess inside the gala to hear those boring speeches made by business partners and the such

you don’t answer him and instead strutted ahead, leaving him just a few steps behind. chenle is a little startled that you just went on ahead without him but easily catches up next to you

“warn me next time” he hisses in your ear but covers it up by giving you a cheeky kiss on the cheek and laughing with the reporters, talking about how you must be excited to hear all about your father’s speech tonight

“keep up then” you snap back, smiling so sweetly at him that it makes it look like you two are so in love

or so they thought

full fic coming soon...

this is my first time doing this teaser shit i always see it on nctblr so why not try it myself lol now before y'all throw stones at me! this is just a teaser! real thing isn't remotely done at all despite the 30k word count i just hit (i dont even have a synopsis ready!) anyway! if u guys want a taglist for this then just comment on this post so i can track it teehee this is now a passion project for me lmfao i do not expect anything that will come out of this but me brainrotting over chenle in suits (the inspiration)

[mksvault]

i forgot abt these so heres more of the little fo2 freaks

[jackdup]

❛  if ya fall, ah will catch ya, bro!  ❜ - Vault Hunter Itsuki 8DDDD

@yukikorogashi || meme

You'd think, after all this time, the whole fear of heights thing just, like . . . wouldn't be a problem anymore. Seriously: how many times did a guy have to face his fears for those dumb fears to finally go away? Exposure. Exposure. A lot of exposure. Basically endless exposure to every horror imaginable, and yet here he is, kiddos. Still mortified the very second he so much as dares to look down, and—

Y'know? Having the support is . . . great, but. That's like saying, Oh, you're afraid of getting shot? Don't worry, buddy! I'll pull the bullet out of you when it's over. Like. It's still gonna happen. Whether you're there to catch me or not— The fall will still happen.

“Coooooolsies.” It's not cool at all. And did his voice suddenly get higher—? He moves one pace closer to that edge, then looks at the extremely narrow, super ultra safe path they've made the absolutely inspired decision to take. “U-uhh . . . you should probably still go first, though.”

[nervocat]

THINGS ARE HAPPENING

[a1ecmcdowell]

all the times mechanic!dean was humbled by bimbo!reader - 18+

★ ˚⋆

dean was convinced, a lot of the time, that not a single coherent thought existed in the white noise of your brain, just accepting that you were one of those girls with a pretty face to her legacy. it wasn't a bad thing. he'd never admit it, but seeing your face light up when he explained something to you was one of his favorite looks on you - the glimmering wide eyes, the o-shaped part of your glossy lips as the pieces clicked into place.

other times, he was floored by the capacity of that pretty little head and the information it held. completely floored. you never said anything with malice either, or chastised him for not thinking in the same way that you did. just stated the things like fact, typing away on your pretty pink iphone with your pretty pink manicured nails, not even looking up to see that you'd taken his breath away.

there were a lot more of these instances than he cared to admit. he was a proud, prideful kind of guy, often convinced that it was his way or the highway.

until you came around.

he'd started a list on his phone, of some of those times, cementing them into a vault of your history. maybe he'd show it to you on your wedding or something cheesy like that, that he knew you would love. or maybe he'd keep it to himself, as to not humble himself further.

when you'd called a car's failing engine a "tummy ache", and that was how he figured out that the cause was the owner putting in the wrong gas.

the first time you talked him into trying on your panties, and he'd tried to deny it heavily, and you'd said, "it's just clothes." and it was so simple but he'd never thought of it like that. like holy shit, yeah, it's just clothes.

when you'd tried to hook up with him at his work, in the backseat of his car no less, and dean desperately tried to keep some semblance of professionalism at his job, and you were like "who's gonna see? no one comes here." and he proceeded to fuck you into the leather with, you guessed it; not a single customer to see the fogged windows and the rattling frame.

you got him to start saying things are cunty and that's not even the humbling part. the fact that he could not fucking stop himself from calling everything cunty when you were around was.

when you'd called the stars "little suns" and now every time he looks at the night sky, he can't help but think if you're looking at the little suns too.

he'd been staying late trying to finish a car and you'd gotten upset and told him "who's gonna need their car this late?" and yeah. who the hell was? he made it home in five minutes and made up for his time away.

he told you that one day he'd take you to meet his family and you called them the witch burners with the straightest face he'd ever seen. yeah. they did do that sometimes. but don't say that to their face.

sometimes his old habits would kick in and he'd start doing everything for you, like he did growing up with sammy, and you remind him every time that you were his baby but not his baby.

he joked that you were baby vers. 2, and you'd said, "you can't call everything you park yourself in baby." he started calling you princess immediately after.

he'd grabbed your hair once when you were bent over during sex and you whirled around so fast he honestly thought you were going to kill him. like there was more fear in his eyes then than there was in some of the hunts he did before he retired.

when you insisted in front of his coworkers that, no, you did not want to drive your car if he was there to tote you around already. like, fuck him, honestly, for not assuming you would want to be chauffeured. he was still living that shit down.

"no, dean, i'm not blowing you right now, this is a chanel lip gloss." right. because he was supposed to know what that meant. "i am not wiping chanel off with a paper towel, dean." tell chanel to get off her fucking high horse, thanks!

he tried to be romantic once and put his hand on your thigh while driving and you glanced down with a pout and said, "your filthy oil hands :(" with that exact sad face. he didn't know how else to convey the utter devastation in his typed list without the fucking emoticon. you'd have thought he ran over your baby or something.

notes, guys ... i fear they are rent free rn. something ab grumpy/sunshine in any form is going to do it for me every time.

tags ( if some of these dont work im gonna run up and down the street butt naked on god ) @titsout4nicholas @deans-yn @dipperscavern @devoursweetly @jasvtsc @panickedbitch @t3l3vangelism @jensenacklesfan69 @manicjk @mkendlic @hischrrypie @deanswidow @figthoughts

[noira-l]

𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 "𝐘𝐞𝐬"!

⋆ ★ '𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞' - 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

chapter summary: Satoru has finally found a way around the bureaucracy! Simple, ingenious, and by the way… he proposed marriage to you! Countless times...

pairing: gojo satoru x f!sorcerer reader

warnings: fluff, annoying Satoru, a compilation of attempts to convince you to marry him.

author's note: I don't need to explain to anyone how stubborn Satoru can be when he wants something c;

The end of school was approaching and you were both busy with exams, missions and the overwhelming responsibilities of your sorcerer lives.

But then things started to get complicated with the adoption of Tsumiki and Megumi. Bureaucratic complications, delays in paperwork and constant questions from officials about living conditions. It wasn't that you didn't want to care about the children - on the contrary, they were the ones you were now focusing on the most. But with each passing day, the adoption process became more and more difficult, and the legal bureaucracy was a tangle you couldn't unravel.

You were met with the undeniable truth, you couldn't live on school grounds with the children. Yaga had been firm, his face as unreadable as ever when he told you it simply wasn’t an option. They were too young, he had explained, for the things they might see here. You hated to admit it, but he was right.

Satoru had flat-out refused to house the kids at his clan’s headquarters. His words were sharp, unbending, like an iron door slamming shut - 'No way, I’m not dragging those kids into that mess."

And you? You didn’t have a home anymore. Not really. You had never planned for this, for the sudden responsibility of two children to rear and protect. Not like this.

There was an overwhelming shame creeping in, the thought of overstaying your welcome at the school. Yaga had said you could stay for as long as necessary, but you couldn't help but feel the weight of it. The image of yourself lingering at the school grounds - post graduation, older, with two children in tow - haunted you. You needed to find a place of your own, a real home, somewhere for Megumi and Tsumiki to grow without the specter of danger hanging over them.

And then, there was the reality of your financial situation. It was almost laughable. Though Satoru, as you soon learned, was disgustingly rich, that wealth was locked away behind the vaults of the Gojo clan. For now, all he had access to was his paycheck, and though his salary as a special-grade sorcerer far outstripped yours, it was still nowhere near enough to cover what you needed - housing, legal fees, everything. And you still wanted to share expanses.

It had been a moment of desperation when you tried to adopt them yourself first. The government official had glanced over your file and turned you down almost immediately, barely glancing at your credentials. The sting of that rejection lingered, a bitter taste in your mouth.

When Satoru tried, things seemed to move a little more smoothly, but the gears of the system were still grinding too slowly. Every day felt like another step backward, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that the longer this dragged on, the greater the chance the Zen'in clan would swoop in and take Megumi. The thought made your blood run cold.

After one particularly gruelling meeting with a government official, during which your status and living conditions were questioned, Satoru first threw out the idea.

It had been late, the sky above painted in shades of pink and gold as the sun sank below the horizon, the last rays of daylight casting long shadows across the school grounds. You both sat on the steps outside, staring out at the sprawling campus before you. Despite the breathtaking view, your mind was a tangle of frustration and helplessness, the weight of the situation settling heavily in your chest.

Satoru leaned back, resting his elbows on a stone, and looked at you with a thoughtful expression on his face that didn't quite match the playful gleam in his eyes.

"You know." Satoru said suddenly, his voice calm, almost too casual for the gravity of the moment "If we got married, all this paperwork would be easier. Like, a lot easier."

For a second, you blinked, not sure if you had heard him correctly. You turned to him, incredulous, your mind scrambling to catch up.

"What?" you said raising a brow to him.

"Marriage." he said again, shrugging as if it were the most natural thing in the world "On paper, of course. It’d make the adoption process smoother. We present ourselves as a couple, and everything falls into place."

You laughed, the sound escaping your lips more out of disbelief than amusement "That’s… the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard, Satoru." you shook your head, standing up and brushing the dust off your pants "Are you even listening to yourself?"

He grinned, leaning in closer with that mischievous look you’d seen so many times before.

"Oh, I’m listening. And I’m making sense. It’s logical. Think about it- everyone loves a married couple. It’s easier for them to trust us, easier to approve everything. We get the kids and we make sure they’re not stuck in some bureaucratic limbo, and it’ll all work out."

You rolled your eyes, starting to walk away from him, but the absurdity of the idea lingered in the back of your mind.

"You’re insane." you muttered, glancing back over your shoulder.

"Think about it!" his voice echoed after you, still playful, but you could sense the genuine offer buried beneath it "It’s a great plan!"

★ --

One late afternoon, the sun hung low in the sky, casting long golden rays across the campus as the two of you sat on the stone steps outside the dormitory. The warmth of spring had just begun to settle in, and everything felt fresh, except the familiar topic Satoru decided to bring up once more.

"Y’know." he said, not even bothering to look at you this time, staring up at the clouds instead "It’s a nice day for a wedding."

"Can you please drop this?" you groaned, burying your face in your hands as if that might somehow make his persistence vanish.

Satoru shifted slightly, turning his head to face you. His grin, as usual, was irrepressible, but there was a softness in his eyes "Why would I? You still haven’t given me a good reason not to do it. Every time I bring it up, all I hear is how practical it would be."

"Because it’s ridiculous!" you snapped, frustration bubbling to the surface as you stared back at him "We’re not... we’re not even a real couple, Satoru. Why would we pretend to be something we’re not?"

Satoru’s grin didn’t waver. If anything, it seemed to widen as though he had been waiting for this moment.

"Why not?" he teased, his voice filled with amusement but also with something deeper, something that unsettled you "We already plan to raise two kids together. We've sleept in the same bed sometimes, when it was cold, or we’ve had a bad day. Face it - we already act like a married couple."

The words hung between you, settling into the quiet air around you like the last piece of a puzzle clicking into place. You opened your mouth to argue, but the sharp retort you had prepared never left your lips. Instead, you found yourself speechless, staring at him, because- damn it - he wasn’t so wrong.

Still, you shook your head, more to convince yourself than him "This wasn't the same, and you know it."

But he only shrugged, a look of confidence lingering in his expression as if he knew you’d eventually come around.

★ --

There were the quieter moments of persistence, when Satoru’s usual teasing faded into something more subdued, but no less determined. Like one evening, after a particularly long day, you found him sitting in the common room, flipping through paperwork related to the adoption process. You collapsed beside him, your body heavy with exhaustion, the weight of everything pressing down on you.

Without even looking up, Satoru’s voice broke the silence "Did you know that married couples get fast-tracked for adoption approval?"

"Satoru, please." you groaned, sinking deeper into the cushions as though you could physically melt away from the conversation.

He glanced over at you, his grin widening as he waved the papers slightly "I’m just saying. It’s an option. A very practical one."

You covered your face with a pillow, muffling your exasperated groan. "Why are you like this?"

"Because I’m right." he said, smug as ever "And deep down, you know it."

★ --

A lazy Sunday afternoon, and you were sitting in your dorm, relaxing with a book.

Satoru entered the room, hands behind his back, humming some ridiculous tune. You glanced up warily, immediately suspicious of the way he was grinning.

"What now?" you asked, already bracing yourself.

"Nothing." he said innocently, though his eyes sparkled with mischief "Just thought I’d bring you something." he pulled his hands from behind his back, revealing a bouquet of flowers - wild, messy, clearly picked from somewhere nearby.

You blinked "What is this?"

"Just thought I’d bring you some flowers." he said, sitting down beside you on the bed and handing them over "Consider it a peace offering."

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical "For what?"

"For being so annoying." he said with a smirk, though his eyes were unusually soft "But also… as a wedding gift, in advance."

You groaned, shoving the flowers back at him "I’m not marrying you, Satoru."

He chuckled, taking the flowers back, but not looking deterred in the least "You say that now, but wait until you see the cake I have planned."

★ --

It was the middle of the night when you went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. You were going to bed. The mission had been exhausting, and all you wanted was to get back and rest. Of course, Satoru had already managed to find you and follow you to your room.

"Soooo~" Satoru began, his tone almost sing-song as he glanced over at you.

You immediately knew where this was going "Don’t even start."

He ignored you completely "I’ve been thinking - again - and I’ve come up with the perfect reason for us to get married."

You sighed, rubbing your temples "I’m really not in the mood, Satoru."

"Hear me out." he said, his voice teasing but somehow more serious this time "We’re already spending all our time together. We're friends. Like really close ones. Hell, we even know each other’s bad habits. It wouldn’t be that different from what we’re already doing."

You looked at him, exhaustion settling into your bones "Satoru- "

"I’m just saying." he cut you off, his tone gentler now, but still carrying that playful edge "I’d be a great husband. I’d let you win every argument. I’d let you pick the TV shows we watch. I’d even give you the last slice of pizza."

Despite yourself, you laughed "The last slice? That’s a big deal for you."

"See?" he grinned, clearly pleased with himself "I’m already husband material."

★ --

Of course, there were days when Satoru’s persistence was anything but quiet. One afternoon, he tried to enlist Shoko in his scheme. The two of you were sitting in her office, discussing an upcoming mission, when Satoru barged in with his usual dramatic flair.

"Hey, Shoko!" he said, all smiles as he leaned against the wall "Don’t you think we’d make a great married couple?"

Shoko didn’t even glance up from the papers she was reviewing "Are you still going on about that?" she asked, her tone dripping with disinterest.

Satoru shrugged, his grin never faltering "What? We both know she’d love to marry me."

You glared at him, your patience wearing thin "Satoru, I swear- "

But Shoko snorted, finally looking up with an amused smirk. "Honestly, I don’t know who’s worse. You for asking, or her for tolerating you."

"Hey!" you both said in unison, but even you couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped.

★ --

Time passed, and the teasing evolved. Satoru wasn’t just bringing it up in private anymore - oh no, now it was a full-blown spectacle. One afternoon, you were walking across the school grounds, arms full of paperwork, when Satoru suddenly appeared in front of you, out of nowhere, blocking your path.

"Will you marry me?!" he asked loudly, his grin wide, as if he were proposing in front of an audience.

A group of students nearby turned to stare, whispering and giggling among themselves.

Your face flushed with embarrassment, and you shot him a death glare "Are you out of your mind? People are watching!"

Satoru shrugged, unfazed by the attention "Let them watch. I’ll give them a show." he winked at one of the students who was clearly gawking at the scene "She’s playing hard to get."

You groaned, exasperated, and pushed past him "I’m going to murder you in your sleep."

"Ah, see? That’s marriage talk already." he called after you, his laughter trailing behind.

★ --

And then there were the days when Satoru’s persistence crossed over into full-blown ridiculousness.

It was a bright, sunny afternoon, and you were heading to a café to grab lunch. Satoru, as always, had found a way to tag along, much to your annoyance. You both sat at an outdoor table, sipping drinks while you waited for your food to arrive.

As you absentmindedly check your phone, Satoru leaned across the table and placed a small velvet box right in front of you. You froze, staring at it like it was a bomb ready to explode.

"What… is this?"

He waggled his eyebrows in a dramatic fashion "Open it."

You hesitated, but finally flipped open the box, revealing… a plastic ring, the kind you’d get from a toy vending machine.

"Satoru." your voice was flat, unimpressed.

"Hey, it’s a placeholder." he said with a grin, leaning back in his chair, looking entirely too pleased with himself "We can get the real one when you say yes."

You stared at him, utterly speechless for a moment, before you closed the box and shoved it back toward him "Get out of my sight."

"But you didn’t say no!" he teased, picking up the box and twirling it between his fingers.

"I hate you."

"You love me." he said, beaming "But, seriously, think about it. The kids would get off welfare immediately, and we wouldn’t have to deal with all the bureaucracy."

You sighed, rubbing your temples. "You’ve been asking me this for months."

"And I’ll keep asking," he said, his tone light but his eyes serious now "Until you see that it makes sense. For Megumi and Tsumiki, for you… for us."

★ --

Eventually, after months of playful persistence, logical reasoning, and over-the-top proposals, you found yourself sitting next to him on the bed, in his room.

Should you do it?

You stared at the ceiling, your mind running through the endless logistics of what would come next: the paperwork, the explanations, the questions from friends and colleagues. It felt surreal, and yet, a small part of you - one you weren’t quite ready to acknowledge - wasn’t entirely uncomfortable with the idea of marrying Satoru. If anyone could navigate this strange situation, it was him.

He was, after all, your closest companion.

Satoru shifted beside you, and you could feel his eyes on you. He hadn’t moved to push or tease you like he normally would; instead, there was a softness, a strange patience that you weren’t used to from him.

"You're thinking too hard." he said, his voice quieter now, lacking its usual playful edge.

"Satoru." you said quietly, not looking at him.

"Hm?" He glanced over at you, waiting.

You turned to look at him then, studying the way his expression softened just enough to remind you that underneath the bravado and charm, he cared. Maybe more than he let on.

"If I agree to this... stupid marriage thing." you said slowly, weighing every word carefully "You- "

"No strings, no weirdness. I promise." he leaned in closer, interrupting your serious tone with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You shot him a look, warning him not to get too cocky, but there was something a little infectious about the way he smiled at you.

"You better keep that promise." you muttered, shaking your head as you lay down on his bed.

"Oh, trust me." he said with a wink, "I'm a man of my word."

You sighed, the weight of your decision settling in "I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this."

Satoru chuckled, reaching out to lightly pat your shoulder.

"Hey, look at it this way - we’ll make a great team. Plus, you get to say you’re married to the most charming guy in the world."

"Don’t push it, Gojo." you shot him a tired look.

© noira-l 2024 | all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, modify, or redistirbute my work without permission

tl (open): @kalopsia-flaneur

[jackdup]

Don’t worry, she says.

Like you could look any terrified idiot in the eye and expect that to freakin’ work, c’mon. Yeah, okay, sweetheart—I’ll just get on that. If only I had thought of not worrying sooner. Would’ve really just, ya know, cleared all of this up— . . . Okay, deep breaths, Timmers. The nice little Vault Hunter was helping him here, practically babysitting his fine ass; he really had no room or right to start sassing her, even internally. Where’d he get off on being so nitpicky about her phrasing?

“Piece of cake,” Timothy chirped, hoping the lilting pitch in his voice sounded more optimistic and less like he’d just been slammed in the balls. He couldn’t help thinking that the whole “don’t look down” advice was practically asking him to, but, hilariously—in the of-friggin’-course kind of way—if his attention went anywhere, it was up. Because, while he’d distantly noticed them earlier, those rakks just making cheeky little circles in the sky above seemed a lot more of a threat now that they were on precarious ground.

He pulled out his pistol just to be extra safe. . . . which sounded a little ironic, but you get it.

As they shuffled along—literally, according to her instructions—Tim came very close to barking out a laugh at her encouragement, close to remarking, God, please don’t count on me. Probably one of the worst decisions anyone could make, for crying out loud, but instead: “You’re, uhh . . . pretty unbothered by all this. I mean, I sure as hell didn’t have a single one of my shits together when I was your age.” Still don’t, but that’s neither here nor there, kiddos. “H-how . . . er— How long have you been doing this whole . . . vault-hunting gig?”

HER SMILE WOULD GROW ONCE MORE over what would babble past his lips then, Itsuki was all to quick to nod right back in response. "Uhm sure, bro! Surer than sure~!" Even as she giggled that out, a gentle glint of SYMPATHY and UNDERSTANDING could be seen in her mirthful brown gaze.

"Don't worry, bro." She added, as she further reached her hand out until she could finally grab a hold of his. Her grasp SNUG and SECURE, almost as if she was ready to pull a close friend along with her to somewhere exciting, "Jus' hang on tight, a'ight~? Don't lift yer feet, shift 'em when ya move along wit' me. An' do yer best NOT ta look down." She would then wink, "... Lookit ME instead, 'kay~?"

She would offer one more nod, as she glanced briefly down to the other hand hovering over his pistol. "Perfect! Uhm countin' on ya, bro~!"

And with that, so would begin their journey across this terrifyingly high and narrow path. As she looked on ahead, while keeping a firm hold over her companion's hand. She would focus on what's in front of them, while he.. well, focused on their BEHINDS and what's behind 'em! They were already making the PERFECT TEAM!

IT WILL BE FINE! They will get across in no time! And, well, if something DOES come along and makes things a little harder for the two of them... well, she was just gonna worry about that when the time comes.

[mcntsee]

— ★fic recs 'twenty four

Hi! This is a masterlist for all my fic recs. This list will continue to update as I read and find more things to add. Credits go to the respective authors!

↳ Please make sure to check out the warning on each fic. Some of them contain stuff that might be triggering for some readers!

keys;

🫐 — angst

☁️ — fluff

🎧 — nsfw

spencer reid recs;

— ★ series;

↳ trouble almost all my life by @januaryembrs [ongoing] ☁️🫐

summary: the one time the bau needs you + the four times you need them.

↳ twisted by @dreamwritesimagines [completed] 🫐☁️

summary: no one can outrun their past.

↳ pierced by @rynbutt [completed] ☁️🎧

summary: moving into a new apartment in a new city is stressful, what's even more stressful is when there's a fucking murder in the apartment across from yours... at least the fbi agent is cute.

↳ american teenager by @lanascinnamongirls [ongoing] ☁️🫐

summary: all it took was one case. one case and you were back in your small town in your home state of missouri.

↳ say that you love me by @none-of-your-bullshit [completed] 🫐☁️🎧

summary: what happens when an ex cia operative survives an attempted murder and is plucked straight out of georgetown by david rossi?

↳ do you believe me now by @nereidprinc3ss 🎧

— ★ stand alone:

↳ forgiven by @reiding-writing 🫐☁️

summary: you lied to him with good intentions, but when he finds out the truth he says something detrimental in the heat of the moment. After weeks of radio silence any chance of reconciliation is almost lost after you get critically injured in the field.

kaz brekker recs;

— ★ series;

nothing here yet…

— ★ stand alone:

↳ three taps by @happyyyandcrazyyy 🫐☁️

summary: kaz taps three times. it’s his way to say i love you, i care.

↳ dive into the waves below by @rubysunnday 🫐☁️

summary: pekka rollins's reign is over and it's time for the new king to take his place (or kaz settles into his new office and his beaten face needs some tending to)

↳ alright by @liberty-barnes 🫐☁️

summary: you’ve been flirting with kaz ever since you started working as his bartender. systematic rejection gets tiring after a while, but sometimes all you need is a good chat and a large bottle of vodka.

↳ bloody hands by @rubysunnday 🫐☁️

summary: kaz never feels the need to explain his entire plan. he knows that, whatever happens, it will inevitably go according to plan. but when his plan goes wrong and y/n is injured, kaz is suddenly forced to comprehend with the skeletally hand of death once again.

↳ initials by @triptuckers ☁️

summary: for as long as the crows can remember, you’ve worn a ring with initials on it, and they’ve been trying to figure out what they stand for ever since

↳ love story by @luna-writes-stuff ☁️

summary: kaz hasn’t known life without you at his side. he doesn’t see reason for you to abandon him any time soon and he isn’t planning on letting you go either.

↳ what do you want from me? by @rubysunnday 🫐☁️

↳ this is what happens by @fishley 🫐

summary: a look into the journey of kaz losing another person he loves and how it not only affects himslef, but everyone around him.

↳ dark days by @rubysunnday 🫐☁️

summary: mr and mrs rietveld. a locked vault and approximately ten minutes of air left. what could possibly go wrong.

↳ his star by @alpurrtwhizkersss 🫐☁️

summary: kaz saves reader from drowning

↳ dust and rubble by @writing-havoc 🫐☁️

summary: a plan goes wrong. you get injured. kaz tries to help-

↳ pocket watch by @writing-havoc ☁️

summary: after years of patient progression on his phobia, kaz finds the opportunity to reciprocate

↳ call me what you like by @sophierequests ☁️

summary: kaz and the reader have been married for quite some years now, unbeknownst to their friends. but what if a slip up causes this shared secret to come to the surface?

↳ sweetheart by @bloodwrittenballad ☁️

summary: kaz's reaction to you calling him sweetheart

↳ the way of the water by @bubbles-for-all-of-us 🫐☁️

summary: reader is a tidemaker and during a heist kaz falls into the water and she uses her powers to pull him out and helps him through a panic attack

simon "ghost" riley recs;

— ★ series;

nothing here yet…

— ★ stand alone:

↳ alive by @criminalamnesia 🫐

summary: simon loses you

↳ phantom touch by @ghostheartfelt 🫐☁️

summary: you and the 141 are deployed to austria with the intel of a drug boss known as rolmuth who is harboring romanian soldiers to the east coast to smuggle illegal mercenary personnel into america. what happens when a rapid snowstorm picks up and you are separated from the others then further captured and interrogated alongside your lieutenant?

alastor;

— ★ series;

↳ a doe in fall by @hazelfoureyes [ongoing] 🎧

summary: a burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. the chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.

↳ painted smile by @worldofkuro [ongoing]🫐☁️

summary: you couldn't wait to meet new friends. what you didn't expect was this smiling little boy, only one year older than you, that would take such a big place in your life.

↳ deer dolly by @ohproserpine ☁️🫐

summary: “wife?!” angel dust cut her off, jaw dropping. “freaky face is married?”

↳ a misconduct of love by @hurthermore [ongoing] 🫐(☁️)

summary: control was something you always severely lacked in. so when a radio host enters your life, and seems to yearn to not only posses you, but for you to posses him in turn, you indulge in a love affair with the man your husband introduced you to.

— ★ stand alone:

nothing here yet…

hobbie brown;

— ★ series;

nothing here yet…

— ★ stand alone:

↳ where's my love by @autumn-hiraeth 🫐

summary: hobie's cannon event

[punkpandapatrixk]

🎡Cosmic Messages for Workers of Light ♦︎ Timeless Pick A Card

Those of you who’ve always had a feeling that you were born to do something important; those of you who’ve recently been feeling like you’re being called to something higher than the mundane; YO, this reading has appeared in your Reality now to signal that the lights are green~🥝🥦🥑

Many people have been on different timelines that are now converging as one singular trajectory of where Humanity is heading. It’s a little bit more convoluted than that tho, because we each experience this Game a whole lot differently, too. But essentially, we’re wrapping up karmic cycles and entering a Golden Age of Workers of Light~★

Technically speaking, the essence…the theme…of the New Age of Aquarius is accountability. This is an era of accountability, folks. People can no longer be supported by any kind of cosmic power to perpetuate deceit and the misuse of knowledge.

‘But when knowledge is abused or put to the servility of coining wealth for a few, without respect of the treasury which all inherit, then humanity departs from the machine and all is toil without profit. For the false-hearted who would tear knowledge apart, diminishing the light and shielding its beams from us, will make mechanicals of us all.’ – excerpt from Manifesto of The Guild of Artificers; The Steampunk Tarot

What’s your current timeline? Which trajectory of the future of Humanity are you on? This reading serves as a prelude to what’s going to be revealed more in-depth in the ‘Lion’s Gate Portal to XXX’ PAC~💋

INTELLIGENCE: Mission Mind Control (1979) on Nuclear Vault

TECHNOMAGY: Probability Alteration and Luck (Energetically Programmed Audio) by Sapien Medicine

deck-bottom: XXI The World Rx, Silver Geographer (Francis Drake) & Priestess of Shine

[PAC Masterlist] [Patreon] [Paid Readings]

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 1 – You’re Going to Change the World by Making It Innocent Again

ANGEL NUMBERS: variants of 585, 627, 657, 757, 818, 828

the meaning of NOW – 6 of Pentacles Rx

Have you ever had glimpses of imagination, or a sense of knowing, or it’s just a feeling, like you were dropped to Earth by mistake? Perhaps it’s a feeling as if you were a Greek god banished from the realms of the gods and entered Earth as a form of punishment? Or a bit of a feeling like you got scammed and arrived on the wrong Planet? LMAO Why am I thinking of that Bollywood movie called ‘PK’?

The alien kid arrived on a strange Planet: Earth. And Humanity—Indian primarily—befuddles the living shit out of him XD I think you’ve known for quite a while that you’re not from around here. You’ve never really fit in. I think you weren’t treated nicely by most people—could be your own blood ‘family’, could be your schoolmates, teachers, neighbours. Just basically, you’re seen as a bit of a freak.

It’s hard for you to feel a sense of community. No matter what stage of Life you are in, it’s always felt like that. If at the moment of reading this you’re older in age, I think you’re managing a lot better now. You’ve learnt to be OK with your own company because you’re the most smartest and interesting person you could have conversations with. But if you’re comparatively younger, you’re probably still going through the motion, and that’s OK, because it’s just part of the lore building ;P

bridging the future – King of Wands

The simplest truth about your existence is that you aren’t meant to ‘grow up’ in the same sense as most other people do. Growing up is a wonderful thing, of course, we all need to grow up and become smarter and amazinger! But what doesn’t sit right with you is people’s twisted idea of ‘growing up’ is all about. To most lame-ass Humans on this Planet, ‘growing up’ means abandoning the core essence of what makes you, you.

On this Planet, ‘growing up’ means letting go of your innocence and simple kindness in exchange for survival and brutality (in the workplace, I guess). Here on this Planet, ‘growing up’ means burning your passion to ashes; not living Life fuelled by a burning passion. Here, ‘growing up’ means being punished for authenticity and the childlike courage to question authority. Growing up, here, means becoming complicit to evil abuse of power and greed.

How are you supposed to comply to any of that? Don’t you realise how pure your Heart is? Your sense of justice is clear since day one. It’s something you may not be able to express clearly but you know what’s right and wrong on the basis of what’s good and bad for people as….just people…not numbers or statistics or traffic or casualties. ‘People are PEOPLE, dammit!’

you’re going to MAKE IT – 3 of Cups Rx

You’re befuddled? This world is befuddled! If you’ve chosen this Pile as your main pile, you have it written in your Soul’s blueprint that you’re going to be involved in the politics of the world. Yes, some of you could become politicians or activists, but even those that aren’t interested in any of that, you’re still going to have opinions and perspectives that touch on the subject of Humanity and how psychopath politicians are fucking things up for Humans.

You know what I mean? Some of you could become world players that implement new laws and principles in your society. Some of you will have the power to influence public opinions so that people begin to demand accountability from their corrupt governments. Back to basics, baby. What is Humanity, basically? What does it mean to even be Human living in a Human World, basically? You’ve questioned all of this and you will one day have a platform to extend this musing to a larger audience.

The lights are GREEN now. You’ve experienced so much personal conflict with people who don’t understand your values, all so you would learn to forge connections with people who are just as innocently passionate as you are. That was your training ground, bitch~♥︎ Your personal experiences were a microcosm model of what’s going to sweep out the entire world in the coming decades, if not centuries.

Basically, it's time nations started actually taking care of their own issues before they raid and destroy other nations for resources is what your Soul is understanding.

TIMELINE🔻💛

daydreaming – Gold Magus (Johannes Faustus)

engaging in Reality – Priestess of Innocence

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 2 – You’re Not Confused; This World Is; So You’re Alright

ANGEL NUMBERS: variants of 111, 123, 222, 414, 444, 647

the meaning of NOW – 9 of Cups

Head in the clouds, baby? You’re the type of person who has many dreams and ideas, and it’s like, it’s easy for you to get interested in all kinds of pursuits. But then, it’s also just as easy to lose interest in all of those novelties; it feels like your heart and mind are always being pulled by newer interests or topics. I’m reminded of this meme or whisper that says something like, ‘Not tonight babe. A YouTuber has just posted a 4-hour video about a topic I’ve never heard about before.’

You like to study new things or basically just drown yourself in new hobbies/interests because you’re trying to make sense out of your very existence. I think you’ve felt incredibly confused your entire Life. If not ‘confused’ per se, it still feels like you’re lacking a sense of direction. You don’t really know what’s the purpose of being here on this Planet. You’re weirded out by the fact that you’re not motivated by the same things that others have convinced you to get excited about.

‘Why am I not motivated by these promises and achievements? Damn, I simply can’t be motivated by something as unromantic as that. There’s no Life in any of those pursuits. My God, what should I be interested in for me to motivate myself to make something out of myself? I really don’t know what to pursue in this world. I don’t even know how to live…’ So you continue to daydream but your heart is quite heavy sometimes.

bridging the future – Ace of Cups Rx

Pile 2, you are magic, you know that? Being the way that you are, you aren’t in the wrong for being rather ‘impractical’. If anything, you’re so high-vibrational that you still remember that physical manifestation comes from the dream world first. I think you’d resonate with being a very Feminine person, aenergetically speaking? Maybe you have a strong Moon/Neptune placement in your birth chart as well.

You remember on a Soul level that all dreams can become real as long as you keep on to them. Your being a dreamer who dreams ‘too much’ is not wrong; it is this world that’s too rigid and restrictive. It’s grotesque how society has set up so many rules that limit what a being as divine as you can and can’t do/create. They say the sky’s the limit; in your case, your faith’s the limit.

There are many wonderful things that you want to make manifest but you often tell yourself that you’re dreaming too much or that there’s no way someone like you could ever achieve that. That’s where you’re doing ‘wrong’: the not believing in your own ability to create your dream Life. Remember that successful people usually say that the Life they have now exceeds even their ‘wildest’ dreams.

So dream wild. Dream big. Even if you don’t believe you can exceed your expectations, can’t you still believe that you’ll manifest something very similar?

you’re going to MAKE IT – 9 of Wands Rx

Stop stopping yourself, OK? Stop gaslighting yourself for fuck’s saké. Right now, you need to stop believing that Life’s supposed to be hard work and lived logically. You literally deserve to get paid for just existing. That sounds extra narcissistic but hope you get the idea. This modern society that favours hard work and believes that only after you’ve worked really hard can you then be worthy of a lot of abundance is stupid. This world is confused. People have forgotten the essence of dreaming and living in ease.

Some of you will resonate with being a fairy or an elven soul, and so you believe from the depths of your heart that people should be allowed an easy existence in harmony with nature. Some of you will resonate with being a futuristic alien android being who believes that human lives can be made easy with the right use of technology.

All in all, cosmically speaking, your Soul came into this world to be a ‘lazy’ genius who will switch things up for Humanity so that everybody can have an easier time existing on this Planet. Geniuses are never lazy, bitch. Not in the mind! If wanting things to be more streamlined and easy to do makes a person ‘lazy’ that’s hilarious. So what’s a not-lazy person? A low-IQ idiot who perpetually works hard because they got scammed by capitalism?

TIMELINE🔻💙

daydreaming – Green Magus (John Dee)

engaging in Reality – Priestess of Ambition

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 3 – Illuminate Others’ Paths by Simply Expressing Your Truth

ANGEL NUMBERS: variants of 211, 217, 303, 522, 814, 999

the meaning of NOW – 3 of Swords Rx

Do you know that you’re an energy worker? I almost feel you’re a miracle worker. You’re somebody who has a special power in the way that you express yourself, whether in writing or spoken. It’s not so much what you say or write or do, it’s HOW you say or do or write your truth that moves people’s hearts. You have the power to stir some shit up in people’s aenergetic fields LOL

You have both the power to destroy your enemies and heal those who want to get better in the world. If your power is speech, it’s the aenergy with which you talk that empowers people. Ionno, think JFK, MLK? Or some fascinating YouTubers who make us feel like, ‘Oh this guy/gal is my spirit animal!!!’ It’s their aenergy, right? Same with writing or any other thing that you do. It comes natural to you to create some kind of a ripple in people’s consciousness.

For other people, just tuning in your aenergetic space stirs them. That’s why you experience a lot of extremes. Good-hearted people feel immensely healed, comforted and uplifted in your presence or when they talk/text with you. But the false-hearted ones, they also know there’s something about you that calls out their bullshit even when you’re not ‘saying’ anything. There’s something about you that inspires people to be better! And that’s fucking annoying to narcs and the losers of the world LMAO

bridging the future – 10 of Pentacles Rx

I see that you’re honestly not the kinda person who’s ambitious about changing the world, about influencing the world. Not in that ambitious manner like some activist or whatever. Your Soul is very incredibly superbly soft; you ain’t an activist, you’re an artist; you ain’t a fighter, you a lover, baby~ So I get that you sometimes don’t really know what to do with yourself XD Like there’s this desire to heal the world, but you don’t think of yourself as someone who’s fighter enough or strong enough to do any of that.

WRONG. You’re the kinda entity who’s already doing all that healing stuff by simply being the amazing person that you are. Your aenergy is like a combination of both Pile 1 and 2. The half of you is superbly soft and dreamy and you’re so kind and empathetic; the other half of you is fiercely protective of those who are hurting, and you do a lot to make things better and easier for them—in your own practical, seemingly small ways.

The good news is, you really don’t have to be a fighter if it doesn’t suit you. Basically, you just have to be yourself and express your truth. In whatever way you find most suitable to you. Your power lies in your communication, self-expression, connection. You’re going to be a trend-setter, babe~ A trend-setter of authenticity, yup, ‘real authenticity’, ironically; not ‘fake authentic’ that’s propagated by a lot of narcs on the Internet LOL

you’re going to MAKE IT – 3 of Pentacles

With narcs who are pretending so HARD at being good, you know it’s all skin-deep; it’s all just jargon. And they’re gonna get really good at weaponizing self-love concepts to justify shit behaviour, deadbeat behaviour, toxic tendencies, gaslighting atrocities and all that shit, you know? With you, your VIBRATIONS can’t be faked, let alone emulated. The world needs a role model like you. That’s why you’re going to make it. Your Soul Mission ain’t just about you, babe~

You’re literally going to be the example whom people bear witness for what being authentic is all about. They will watch you and come to their own conclusion what a genuine soul looks like. You’re reminding me of Dr Jordan B Peterson. Yep, that kinda vibe. Be weird all you want, be scandalous all you want, the right people will see that your INTENT has been good all along. And in that sense, the people who CHOOSE to view you badly are the CLOWNS, and they’re gonna be proving that to themselves.

In essence, most people’s idols are all LIARS!!! You’re meant to break that, destroy that, and usher in a new era of influencers/celebs/thought leaders/spiritual teachers/all kinds of public figures that actually operate on Light—real information and real intent—instead of fake-ass jargon that lies to people’s faces with semantics and optics! Your aenergy is insane it’s literally gonna change the world massively, and upon finding this reading, you’re riding on the winds of CHANGE so get fucking READY, bitch~! \`★_★`/

TIMELINE🔻🧡

daydreaming – Green Astronomer (Nicolaus Copernicus)

engaging in Reality – Priestess of Illumination

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

[PAC Masterlist] [Patreon] [Paid Readings]

[ak319]

Dark J.M x fem!reader

-- ★ The Word of Claim

Syno: Word of claim, a tradition where a man fires his weapon outside a woman's home and speaks her name, and in that moment, she becomes his wife. Though long banned, deemed a crime, a taboo… who cares? Outlaws never follow laws, do they? Warnings/MDNI: forced marriage, angst, blackmailing, kidnapping, suggestive non-con, manhandling, in conclusion just men being shit as usual except Hosea-// I don't condone such behavior irl! ✰ -12.5K taglist: @shackspossum @nayykura @whalecage

"You ain't gonna run away this time, BOY!"

The words spurred him on, his pace quickening to a near sprint, even though his legs felt like jelly from the biting cold. He couldn't stop. Not now. Not ever.

Wait...what's that? There, a good hideout.

His heart pounded in his chest as the sound of galloping hooves grew louder behind him. Amateurs. They knew how to buy fine horses but didn't know the first thing about riding them right. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed it, the lawmen were dismounting, choosing to pursue him on foot instead.

John vaulted over fence after fence, each leap bringing him closer to the dark silhouette of his salvation.

A barn.

The doors were already ajar. Luck, or maybe fate, was on his side tonight. He wasted no time slipping inside, diving for the best hiding spot he could find amidst the shadows.

Outside, the world was alive with ominous noises, the muffled crunch of boots on frozen ground, the baying of dogs in the distance. The chill in the air seemed to seep straight into his bones, but the tension was far worse.

Dutch and Hosea are gonna kill me if I get caught tonight

After a tense stretch of silence, the barn door creaked open.

"Show yourself," a man's voice demanded, calm but laced with authority. "I know you're in here, I saw you from the porch. Come. Here."

John let out a quiet, defeated sigh. He had no other choice. Slowly, he emerged from his hiding spot, muscles taut with apprehension. His eyes landed on the figure of a man, no badge, no uniform. Just a regular man. Probably the owner.

"Sir--look, it was just a pickpocketing offense, I swear! Just let me stay here for the night--no, no, scratch that. J- Just give me some water, and I'll leave! But please, don't call them back, I-"

"You got nerves."

The man stepped closer, his gaze heavy and unforgiving.

"You come onto my property, and you think I’m gonna coddle your sorry ass? I've seen plenty of boys like you in my time, desperate, and reckless, they always end up worse than this."

John flinched, not just at the sharpness of the words but at the dull throb of his wounds from the earlier scuffle with the officers. His voice wavered, desperation bleeding through every syllable.

"Please...sir. Just--water... and I'll be out of your hair-"

The man didn’t even hesitate. Without a word, he struck John across the face, sending him sprawling onto the cold, hard floor. Stars danced in his vision, but before he could even register what had happened, the man grabbed him roughly, hauling him up like he weighed nothing.

John struggled, but it was no use. The man dragged him out of the barn, his grip like iron.

Outside, the officers were waiting by the gate, their grim expressions lit by the flicker of lantern light. John’s heart sank as the man shoved him forward, handing him over without a second thought.

"You wanted him? Here he is."

"What's going on outside?" you asked, placing the folded clothes your mother had handed you into the cupboard. Your expression mirrored her own as curiosity and concern flitted across her face. Without hesitation, both of you hurried to the porch to see what was causing the commotion in the distance.

"Make sure he learns his lesson. Boys like him should never go unpunished," your father’s voice carried stern authority, cutting through the cold night air.

The officer gripping John roughly by the arm nodded with a self-satisfied grin. "As if that’s even a question. This little shit’s been stealing from a lot of folks around here. Thanks for the help."

John, still reeling from your father’s earlier slap and the rough handling of the lawmen, struggled to stay on his feet. His breaths came in short gasps, his legs wobbling under him. From where he stood, his bruised gaze caught sight of two figures on the porch. Shadows obscured their faces, but there was no mistaking it.

You, a girl, around his age. Standing behind your mother.

A pang of something sharp, humiliation, resentment, or despair, stabbed through him.

"Tsk, kids these days," your mother muttered under her breath. She shook her head and ushered you back inside, the door closing firmly behind you, shutting out the scene.

It wasn’t long before your father joined you in the living room, his face stern as he explained what had happened. A boy of sixteen--three years older than you--tried to hide in the barn after looting folks and thought he could get away with it.

"This is why one should always stay alert," your mother sighed, sinking into her chair with a shake of her head.

Meanwhile, John sat in the cold, damp cell, shivering as time passed. He waited, days blending into one another, the monotony broken only by the gnawing ache in his stomach and the wish to escape.

Then Dutch came. Days later, the gang leader strode in and bailed him out, though not without delivering the most humiliating lecture John had ever endured.

"You think this is what it means to be a Van der Linde? You think crawling around barns like a whipped dog is what I taught you?! If you’re gonna live, you fight for it. You hear me, boy? You fight."

John clenched his jaw and bore it, but the sting of those words didn’t come close to the bitterness curdling inside him. He couldn't shake the memory of your father standing over him, cold and unrelenting. Denying him even the smallest shred of mercy.

Kindness, was that too much to ask for?

The years had been cruel, but this moment burned. He’d lived through enough to know that most people treated him like a piece of dirt under their boots. But this time, it was harder to swallow.

His words echoed in his mind.

"People like you don’t deserve kindness. You’re a lesson, boy, a warning to others."

John replayed it over and over as he rode back to camp. The fury in his chest smoldered alongside an ache he couldn’t explain. But what also stayed with him most was the fleeting glimpse of you, standing behind your mother on the porch.

Oh...he won't ever forget that night.

❀˖°

"Are you insane?! What are you, twelve?!" Hosea’s voice rose, his frustration nearing its peak and so was the urge to bang his head against a tree.

"I’m not a kid, and it’s about time you stopped treating me like one!"

Hosea’s eyes narrowed, the lines on his face deepening as his temper flared. "Look, John, this isn’t just about doing it! It’s about what happens after! Are you in your damn senses? You can barely take care of yourself, and here you are, standing there, demanding to do this shit like you’ve got it all figured out!"

John smirked, his chuckle low and mocking. "That’s exactly why I’m doing it, old man. To bring someone to care for me."

Hosea froze for a moment, disbelief washing over him before disgust replaced it. "You’ve lost it," he muttered under his breath. With a grimace, he stormed toward Dutch’s tent, muttering curses under his breath.

Dutch glanced up as Hosea approached, his ever-watchful gaze already settled on the scene. "No need to explain, Hosea," Dutch said calmly, snapping his book shut. "I heard it all."

John strolled in behind Hosea, with his usual casual swagger. He leaned lazily against the pole of Dutch’s tent, his smirk still in place.

"John," Dutch began, his voice low and measured. "You sure you know what you’re getting into? This ain’t some childish stunt."

"I know exactly what I’m doing, Dutch," John replied smoothly, though the fire in his eyes betrayed his calm facade. "It’s time I take something for myself."

"You are talking about a whole-ass human here!"

"I don’t see what’s wrong with it," Dutch drawled, a sly grin tugging at his lips. "Boy wants to marry... let the boy marry. Am I right?"

Hosea’s jaw dropped, his face a perfect picture of disbelief. "Dutch, don’t tell me you’ve lost your fucking mind too! You’re gonna let this little--God help me--this child pull some old tradition stunt?! What, are you trying to check off every damn crime we’ve missed on your list?"

Dutch let out a soft snort, clearly amused by Hosea’s exasperation. Without a word, he stood and moved to shut the flaps of the tent. Wouldn’t want Annabelle overhearing now, would he? No sense in tarnishing her view of him.

"Hosea, Hosea, Hosea. We’re outlaws, remember? And this-" he waved a hand toward John, who stood with his arms crossed, a stubborn set to his jaw, "this is nothing."

“Nothing?” Hosea’s voice cracked, raw with incredulity. “That’s a person, Dutch, not some goddamn prize you can pluck from a house like a trinket! And what happens when John realizes he’s too immature to handle this? Huh? What then?”

Dutch shrugged, unbothered, his calm exterior unshaken. “Then he can toss her aside. Send her back. Leave her somewhere if it comes to it. But why fret over what might happen when we’ve got a score to secure now?”

Hosea looked like he might combust on the spot. “Are you listening to yourself?! Toss her aside?” he repeated, his voice rising. "You want John to ruin someone’s life because he’s too stubborn to let go of a grudge?!”

“It's not that big of a deal."

Hosea scoffed and glared daggers at John. But Dutch continued.

"Besides," Dutch added, tilting his head toward John with a knowing look. "Didn’t you mention they’re loaded? That true, son?"

John nodded, his lips twitching into a half-smile. "Yeah… big house. Plenty of land too."

Dutch’s grin widened, "There you go, Hosea. A little risk, a big reward. Ain’t that what we’re all about?"

Hosea shook his head, exasperation dripping from every word. "So you’re gonna loot them too? Good Lord, have mercy. You’re gonna make that poor girl lose her mind in less than a day! Look... I think looting is a fine alright? So how bout' we just do that? Isn't that enough damage, John?"

"Oh yeah? And then what?! As if that's gonna affect his rich ass! That's not enough damage! Money comes and goes...but honor doesn't. I wanna strip him of his dignity! Men like him--rich snobby assholes--that's what they deserve! And this is what we are supposed to do! We are not some bunch of softies ol' man!"

"John but you are not-"

"I DON’T GIVE A FUCK!" John’s voice was raw with rage, his fists clenched tight at his sides. "Just like her daddy didn’t give a fuck about me! So why the hell should I, huh? Why should I!?"

"I’ve never seen a man so petty in my entire life. Grow the hell up, John! You’re twenty-three, for God’s sake, and you’re still hung up on something that happened years ago. Dutch! Tell him-"

"ENOUGH!" Dutch’s booming voice cut through the chaos, his towering form commanding silence as he paced the length of the tent.

"I allow it," Dutch declared, his tone final. "John...I give you my blessing." He glanced at Hosea, raising a brow. "Hosea, how do you think outlaws got married back in the day, huh? Even now, people loathe us and spit on us. And why? Because we don’t follow their precious rules. Well, guess what? We’re outlaws. We don’t play nice. But we ain’t that bad, are we? And we require some good cash for the move. This is a good opportunity, no doubt."

Hosea groaned, dragging a hand down his face, muttering something about losing his sanity.

But John didn’t hear any of it. Dutch’s words were all he needed. A smirk spread across his face as he turned and strode out of the tent, his mind already racing ahead to the moment he would face your father. The thrill of it burned in his chest, the prospect of taking the one thing that man must cherish above all else.

Just like he didn’t respect my dignity, I won’t respect his, John thought, his resolve hardening with every step.

He remembered the day he first laid eyes on you, properly, for the first time. It was at your sister's wedding, though he had only been a silent, distant observer. From the shadows of the tree line, he saw you, a vision of elegance and quiet beauty, entirely unaware of his presence. Pretty, he thought then, prettier than he had imagined.

Pretty enough to be taken, both from home and...

Your father would have loved seeing your pretty tears if he decided to go with that plan...

He could have made his move right then. Could have stepped out of the shadows, disrupted the festivities, and declared his claim in front of everyone. The laughter, and the music, all of it could have stopped on his word.

But he didn’t. He stayed hidden, watching you smile and dance, every moment searing itself into his memory. No, he thought. Not yet. This required precision. Patience.

Through his web of old connections and childhood companions, people who owed him favors or thrived on chaos, he kept tabs on you and your family. Quietly. He bided his time, gathering everything he needed to strike when the moment was right.

And now, that moment was near. Everything had fallen into place. All his waiting, all his planning, it had led to this. You would be his. Not because he could take you, but because you would have no choice. Neither will your father.

"Boys...let's go, my treat."

"Got the permission?" Javier glanced up from the fire.

John let out a low chuckle. Sean joined in, his wild energy spreading through the air like a spark.

“Permission? Your brother here got the 'Dutch' blessing.” Their laughter was like a haunting chorus as if they had no care for anything and anyone.

The three hooted, grinning to themselves, heading towards the stables. But just before John could mount his horse, a voice called out to him again.

"John..."

“What now?” John sighed with a hint of frustration. He didn't want to listen. He didn’t need to hear any more warnings, he had made up his mind.

“Just... what if you had a sister, and it happened to her, son?”

He gritted his teeth, and for a moment, his mind flashed to something else, something buried deep within.

Damn it, I know he's right, but my reason is more important than that. Throw her out? Destroy her life? The words replayed in his mind, loud and damning. A part of him bristled at the idea, hell, wasn’t that what he’d been dreaming about? Taking something back for himself, ruining your father's life? But another part, quieter yet sharper, whispered back. And then what? What kind of man does that make you, John?

Hell, John didn't know what would happen, how this would all play out. He didn't even know how he would make it through this, let alone anyone else involved. But in the moment, it felt too distant, too abstract to fully grasp.

No...

Why the fuck should I care?

It wasn’t his problem. His mind was made up. It wasn’t about what they would face, this is a matter of his honor and self-will. The kid never did learn to respect boundaries and to listen. And damn the consequences. For now, John just had to move forward. The rest could burn.

“Well, that’s why I don’t have one. Let’s go, boys.”

The words hung in the air, bitter and final. There was no turning back now. Hosea, standing off to the side, watched as John’s figure disappeared into the dusk with the others. The old man sighed heavily, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his years, and his regrets. He turned his gaze toward Dutch’s tent, where the gang leader sat, listening to music with an air of nonchalance.

If only… if only your father had shown him mercy that night. If only he had opened his door and shared a shred of kindness. Maybe then, he’d be a hidden guard dog for the family, ready to lay down his life for them.

But it was too late for that now.

❀˖°

"(Y/N)--Oh my God, this girl---HEY! Wake up!" Your mother’s sharp voice sliced through the morning quiet as she stormed into your room. You groaned, snatching the covers back over your head.

"Let me be!" you mumbled, burrowing deeper into the bed.

But your mother wasn’t having it. She yanked the covers off with a vengeance, ignoring your muffled protests. "You listen to me, young woman! Get up, have breakfast, and help with dinner! Or have you forgotten your sister is visiting this evening?"

You groaned dramatically, rolling onto your stomach. "What do we even have maids for?"

"They are doing other stuff, (Y/N)! Oh my God! Get your lazy ass up. I swear, your father’s coddling has turned you into a complete bum!" Your mother threw her hands up in frustration before softening her tone, just slightly. "I’m going to prepare your breakfast, honey, but you better be down to help with some things. You need to start learning this stuff someday. In fact, I’m telling your father to start looking for suitors soon-"

"HEY! HEY!" You leaped out of bed, cutting her off. "Woman, calm down! I swear, a hundred witches must’ve died for you to end up as my mother."

Undeterred, you leaned in, pinching her cheeks with a mischievous grin. "Like, c’mon, you’re so lucky to have birthed me and you are going to just send me away like that? No, not happening."

She swatted your hands away, her patience clearly wearing thin. "Are you done?"

"Not yet, " you teased, smirking. "Firstly, that day is far away--no--it's nonexistent. And secondly, even if it happens, tell Papa either he sends a servant with me as a marriage gift, or he makes sure there’s a line of them wherever he fixes the marriage which I think he sure will anyway. Otherwise, I’m perfectly fine staying here."

Your teasing tone only made her groan in frustration. "Tsk, get out of my way. You’ve already wasted my precious time. And make yourself presentable before coming down to wolf your food!"

You stretched your limbs with a lazy chuckle, savoring every second as you took your sweet time getting downstairs.

After finishing your breakfast, you placed the empty plate on the kitchen table and took a long sip of your coffee. "Mama, just tell me what I have to help with so I can get it done and go play."

Your mother turned to you with an incredulous look, hands already on her hips. "Excuse me? For God's sake, (S/N) and Leo are coming for the first time after the marriage. Can’t you skip your silly games just this once? I swear, (Y/N), grow up! You’re not five anymore. You and those girlfriends of yours!"

This was a familiar battleground between the two of you, and honestly, you enjoyed riling her up about it. What’s wrong with living your life and having some fun with your pals?

"Mama, don’t be pouty just because you didn’t get to enjoy your youth, alright?" you teased with a grin. "Besides, we play right out on the lawn! Maybe they can even help us with dinner-"

"NO!" she cut you off sharply. "The last time you brought them into the kitchen just to get water, my whole crockery set was broken! Keep them far away from my kitchen!"

You rolled your eyes and muttered under your breath, "Jeez… you’re a totally different person when guests are about to come."

"What did you say?" she snapped, making you jump slightly.

"Nothing! Nothing....." Please don't start again. With a sigh, you began assisting, grumbling internally about how overly dramatic and anxious she always got before any visitors showed up.

❀˖°

You were setting the table, having just come back from the lawn after instructing Mateo, the gardener, to move some pots around.

"My lovely daughter looks as lovely as always," your father said warmly, patting your head before joining you to help with the table.

You grinned and leaned closer, whispering with a giggle, "Your wife really knackered me today, Mr. (L/N)."

That earned a wheezy laugh from him. "Now you know what it’s like to deal with her every day, kid."

"Papa," you whined, playfully dragging out the word. "I hate when she brings up those stupid marriage talks! I swear, she’s going to ambush you about it next. So when she does, just dodge it. Okay?"

Your father paused, turning to you with a softer, more thoughtful look. "For how long, though, (Y/N)? Isn't it gonna happen someda-"

"Shush!" you cut him off, placing your hand firmly over his face.

He chuckled at your antics as you grinned mischievously. "No, no, no. You’re supposed to be on my side and say, ‘Of course, dear.’"

"Alright, alright, as you wish. Of course, dear. I’ll ignore her."

"Ignore who? Hm?"

Both of you jumped, startled, as your mother appeared in the doorway, balancing a tray of glasses, her focus seemingly on the task but her tone suspicious.

"Nothing," you both said in perfect unison, struggling to keep straight faces.

Your mother rolled her eyes, clearly unconvinced, and glanced pointedly at the grandfather clock ticking away in the corner. "Where is (S/N) anyway? They’re running late, aren’t they?"

"Relax darling, they might be here by 7. Let's all relax for a while." Just as you all three sat down on the living room couch, loud hooves could be heard. But it didn't sound like just a single horse carrying your brother-in-law and sister, it sounded more than that. "They came in a carriage or something?" You asked giddily and your father got up.

"I'll go check."

Outside, the night seemed unnaturally quiet, save for the restless shifting of hooves on gravel. The stillness in the air was unsettling, as though the world itself was holding its breath. Then came the sound, the sharp reports of gunshots cutting through the silence.

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

Then the sixth...

“(Y/N) (L/N)!”

Your name was like a chilling punctuation that seemed to freeze time.

It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t a call. It sounded like a declaration, a command that seemed to cut through the very air around you. You had no idea what was happening or what the hell even was that. But for your parents, it was a blow to their very core.

“Wh-at-what was that? Who-” Your words caught in your throat as you turned to your parents.

Your mother’s face drained of color, her hands trembling as she reached for you. “Upstairs. Now.”

“Mama, what’s happening?”

“(M/N), get her out of here,” your father said, his tone low but brimming with an intensity that made your stomach twist. He hadn’t even turned to look at you; his eyes were locked on the door, his jaw tight.

“Will someone tell me-”

“I said GO!” His voice boomed now, reverberating through the walls.

Your mother didn’t hesitate. Her fingers dug into your arm as she dragged you toward the staircase, her steps hurried and uneven. The panic in her movements was more terrifying than the voice outside.

You stumbled up the stairs, half-dragged, half-running. At the top, your mother shoved you into your bedroom and spun around, shutting the door behind you with a force that rattled the walls.

“Mama! What’s going on?!”

Her hand hovered over the handle, shaking, but she didn’t turn back. “Stay here,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

The door clicked shut, the lock turning with a dull finality.

Downstairs, the scene was entirely different as your father swung open the door,. The guard stationed at the gate was on the ground. Dead? Stabbed? Knocked out? (F/N) couldn't tell because his attention was on the four men standing rigidly by their horses. The one in the center, who had fired the shots moments ago, stood with his hands clasped in front of him, the barrel of his gun still gripped tightly in one hand. His smile, wide and disturbingly sweet, suggested he thought he’d done something worthy of praise, though the horror in your father’s chest told a different story entirely.

Sick--sick--sick bastard.

"What the hell you guys want?! Get off my property before I report the authorities!"

"Mr. (L/N), same as before...." John stalked closer, his gait confident and casual.

"I think I made it very clear what I came here for didn't I? Right boys?" Your father's jaw ticked as he heard agreeing grunts and snorts, even a whistle. “I said the word and you know the rules.”

"You sick--don't you fucking know what you are doing is a crime!? Now get off my property-" John didn't even have to say anything as your father halted his words when he heard the three other rifles click on him.

The cold, metallic clicks of the rifles were louder than they should have been, echoing in the oppressive silence of the night. Your father froze, his fists clenching at his sides, but his eyes remained defiant, locked on the man in front of him.

John tilted his head slightly, the smile on his face never faltering. “Crime?” he echoed, almost lazily, like he found the very word amusing. “Well now, that’s rich, coming from a man like you. Don’t act like you’re any holier than me, Mr. (L/N).”

“You don’t know a damn thing about me!"

“Oh, but I do,” John said smoothly, taking another step forward. The moonlight glinted off his gun, still hanging casually in his hand, though the threat it carried was anything but casual. “I know plenty. Enough to know you’re not in any position to lecture me about morals. Besides…” His eyes flicked up toward the mansion, lingering somewhere around the second floor. “I didn’t come for you.”

Your father’s breath hitched, and for a moment, his composure cracked, just slightly. “You’re not taking her.”

John’s grin widened, but it didn’t reach his eyes. They were sharp, cold, and calculating. “Is that so?” he drawled, almost teasing. “Well, you see, that’s where you’re wrong. I’ve said the fucking word. Everyone here heard me, and you know what that means.”

“You think anyone cares about your outdated, backwoods tradition!?”

John’s smile disappeared in an instant, replaced by a cold, hard glare. “Tradition or not, I’m here to collect. And I don’t like repeating myself, old man. Now, you go bring her down, or...I'll do it myself."

One of the other men chuckled darkly, breaking the tension just enough to make your father’s stomach churn. “Might wanna think carefully about this, Mr. (L/N),” Sean said, his rifle trained steady.

Your father’s mind raced. He could see the resolve in John’s stance, the ruthlessness in his eyes. Negotiation wasn’t an option. His hands twitched at his sides, itching for the revolver in the drawer near the door, but the odds weren’t in his favor. Four men, three rifles aimed at him, and you upstairs, unaware of the danger that had come knocking.

John’s expression softened into something almost mocking, a twisted version of pity. “You should’ve thought about that before, Mr. (L/N). Actions have consequences. You taught me that yourself, didn’t you?”

"You...tha---don't tell me...you-"

"Yes, the boy you threw like garbage to the lawmen. Here, have a good look. All grown up now, and what did you say that day? Yeah, turned out worse than you thought, didn’t I? Guess being in jail doesn’t always change a person."

(F/N) staggered back, his entire body flooding with dread. Cold sweat ran down his back, but he had to remain composed. He had to stay strong, for you.

"Look, kid," your father finally said, voice trembling but laced with fury. "You got a problem with me... take me, kill me if you want, but don’t drag an innocent into this. She has nothing to do with it!"

John’s eyes gleamed with dark amusement. "Ooooh, you don’t get it, do you? It’s not about her. It’s about you, and your suffering, ol' man. Damn, I’ve been waiting for this day. I ain’t going empty-handed. Call the whole damn battalion if you want." His voice darkened, a promise of violence lingering in his words. "But don’t worry... I’ll take care of the sweet thing."

"You son of a bitch!" (F/N) shouted, his anger surging. But before he could land a punch on John, he was thrown him aside with a swift, brutal smack, sending him crashing to the ground, just crossing the threshold.

“Do you even know what you’re doing?” your father hissed, his voice trembling with barely restrained rage. “You’re destroying her life. For what? Some petty revenge? SOME SICK GAME!?” The complaints went ignored, however.

John, followed by Javier and Sean, strode into the house as if it were his own, moving with lethal purpose. Bill stood at the door, guarding the entrance, his rifle trained on (F/N). The threat in his eyes was unmistakable, any movement, any protest, and there would be hell to pay.

As soon as John stepped inside, he waved off Javier and Sean with a flick of his wrist, a signal that they were free to do what they came for. Javier grinned darkly and immediately went to work, tearing through the house with an almost practiced ease. Drawers were flung open, cupboards ransacked, and anything of value that could be carried away was seized. Sean, equally quick and eager, followed suit, stuffing pockets with anything that caught his eye, silverware, jewelry, anything shiny or expensive.

Down the hallway, John’s attention was solely on the task at hand. He had no need for material things, what he was after was far more precious to him. He knew where you would be, locked away in your room, hiding from the chaos, just as your parents had hoped. The door was already locked, but that didn’t slow him down. With a single harsh kick, the door splintered open, the wood buckling under the force of the impact.

Inside, you and your mother froze at the sudden intrusion. Your heart slammed in your chest as your eyes met John’s, and your mother quickly moved to shield you. But she wasn’t fast enough.

"Shhh, don’t make this harder than it has to be," John said with a twisted smile, his voice dark, almost too calm.

"DON'T TOUCH HER! PLEASE!"

He moved towards you with purpose, and before you could react, he grabbed your arm, yanking you toward him with an iron grip. Your mother reached out, but John shoved her aside with a cold sneer, not even sparing her a glance.

"MAMA! HEY-"

His hand clamped over your mouth, silencing you. His grip was too strong, too unrelenting. With a swift motion, he spun you around and threw you to the floor, your limbs twisting beneath you in a desperate attempt to break free.

"LEAVE MY DAUGHTER ALONE!"

“Stop squirming,” he hissed as he quickly bound your wrists and ankles together. The rope was tight, biting into your skin as he hogtied you with practiced precision. You could feel the coldness of his touch as he tightened the knot, making sure it was secure.

"LET ME GO YOU INSANE BASTARD! YOU LUNATIC-" Your screams got muffled as he tied the rope around your face too. Your mother hits on his body doing nothing to help.

Your heart pounded in your chest, but there was nothing you could do. You were helpless. Your mother’s cries echoed through the room, but John only chuckled darkly as he hoisted you up, dragging you toward the door.

“You’re coming with me, sweetheart,” John murmured into your ear, his breath hot and threatening against your skin. “And I’m not taking no for an answer.”

Your mother lunged forward again, but her efforts were futile as John simply shoved her away, his strength overwhelming. He pulled you out of the room, your body flailing helplessly as he dragged you down the hallway.

You could see your father still struggling with Bill, but there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t stop what was already set in motion.

John paused just outside the door, glancing back at the mess his men had made of the house. The walls were littered with broken vases and frames, drawers pulled open and their contents spilled across the floor. But none of it mattered to him now. He had what he wanted.

The sound of hooves thundered outside, and moments later, (S/N) and her husband Leo appeared on the porch, rushing toward the house. Their expressions shifted from confusion to horror as John stepped through the door, carrying you in his arms, your wrists bound tightly, your face streaked with tears.

“Stop! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!? Let her go!” (S/N) screamed, her voice cracking as she surged forward. But Bill stepped in her way, his broad form blocking the door as her fists pounded uselessly against him.

John stood back, watching the chaos unfold with a cruel sense of satisfaction. "Nice to meet y'all, I am your younger brother-in-law as of today," he said, a wicked smile on his lips. "I wish I could join the lovely dinner. But got business to take care of..."

Leo moved to intervene, but Javier’s rifle cracked across his head, and he crumpled to the ground. (S/N)’s cries turned frantic as she struggled against Bill, who merely smirked at her attempts.

John’s voice cut through the chaos, smooth and mocking. “Ah, family reunions are so sweet, aren’t they?” He didn’t stop walking, his grip on you firm as he crossed the yard to his horse. He glanced over his shoulder at (S/N), his grin sharp and cruel. “Don’t worry. Your sister will be well cared for! Better than she ever was here.”

“LET HER GO!” (S/N)'s scream was shrill, desperate. “You can’t do this! Please!”

John chuckled darkly, tossing you up onto his horse like you weighed nothing. “Oh, I can. And I will. Your father should’ve thought twice before crossing me."

As they mounted their horses, victorious gunshots and howling filled the air, echoing into the night.

Your father’s voice boomed as he followed with his gun, his words filled with desperation. “You sons of a bitches! I’ll kill you! Let her go, she has nothing to do with this!

John chuckled and took off with a speed, remaining at the front while the others covered his back. You could hear shots being fired by your father and shouts of the lawmen too but nothing could stop what was happening. Your own panic was palpable by your muffled noises and panicked breath amidst the ongoing chaos.

This has got to be a fucking nightmare.

The group of four rode off into the night, leaving the house and the shattered remains of your family behind. John smirked at your muffled noises and looked over his shoulder speeding up. "Ain't you a loudmouth. But don’t ya' worry, sweetheart. I’m taking care of everything. I’ll show you a life you’ll never forget.”

❀˖°

The air was thick with tension as he rode through the night, his mare's hooves striking the ground with rhythmic, almost predatory steps. Behind him, you, his new wife, slumped over the back of his horse, bound and silent. You had no choice. No voice. So different...it felt so fucking different from the bounties he hunted.

Which made the familiar guilt bloom again in his chest but he pushed it aside like a fly out of milk.

John couldn’t bring himself to care about your struggles. No, in his mind, this was necessary. This was what he deserved. What they both deserved.

As they neared the camp, the flickering fires grew larger, their warm glow contrasting against the coldness that had settled in John’s chest. This wasn’t just about you, or this stupid tradition, this was about proving something to the others. Proving that he could do it, that he had control.

John’s boots crunched against the dry earth, his grip firm on his captive as he dragged her toward the large tent. The men watched him, their curiosity piqued, but no one dared to speak. They all knew what this meant.

John didn’t waste time. He entered the tent without hesitation and laid you, if you call throwing: laying, in front of Dutch. Your hands were still bound and your throat was in pain from all the screaming. You had lost the strength at this point.

“Well, well. Looks like we have a new addition to the family,”

Dutch sat up in his chair, his eyes flicking from John to your form on the ground. His lips curled into a slow smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Javier, Sean, and Bill, carrying the spoils of their work, approached, and John gave a small nod, acknowledging their effort.

“Well, well, look at that… Damn, John. Good job, son.”

Dutch handed over a heavy bag of gold to John, who accepted it with a slow, deliberate motion, his fingers tightening around the weight of it.

"Thanks...Dutch."

“This gold’s yours. Wouldn't want your newlywed bride to be empty-handed now, would we?” Dutch’s smile was sharp, a predator's grin, as he pressed the bag into John’s hands.

John didn’t smile back, his eyes darting to you, the girl who had been claimed, bound, and dragged here. His grip tightened on the bag, his expression unreadable...

'What did you gain John....? You destroyed a girl's life to feed your own ego?'

His eyes met with Hosea's whose expression seemed to concur with his own thoughts.

'This is how you gonna treat her? You already failed as a man.'

You heard it all, the words, the taunting, the lecherous laughs. Each syllable felt like another crack in your heart, another layer of your dignity stripped away. These men, every one of them, were complicit in this. In what John had done. In what they all were willing to let happen.

Dutch’s voice broke through your spiraling thoughts again, though it wasn’t directed at John this time. Instead, he crouched down in front of you, his voice low, almost mocking in its softness. “Now, you listen here, Missy,” he began, his words dripping with false kindness. “We’re good people here, alright? And in time, you’ll understand that. I raised this boy in front of me, so rest assured.”

The bile rose in your throat as he spoke, and if it weren’t for the ropes binding you, you’d surely be sick. You held it down, the nausea gnawing at you, but you refused to show any more weakness than you already had.

“No doing anything silly here, to anyone else, or even yourself. Also, I wouldn’t suggest running back, ‘cause…” He paused, his eyes narrowing. “I don’t think a woman being taken by a hoard of men and then returning home would be labeled with any honorable name.”

Is...this it? You can't escape this? Not after what had happened?...Ever? The words, these horrible words...no...

"And John?" Dutch's voice brought him back to his senses. "You gotta behave responsibly now...got it? Cuz' I assure you, marriage ain't a kid's game. Right, Hosea?" The latter ignored Dutch's joke and stormed off, fed up with this nonsense.

John’s hand found you again, roughly pulling you up, dragging you away from Dutch’s feet. The fact that he was your “husband” now sent a chill down your spine.

Dutch called after him with a final, taunting word, “Get her settled, boy. And congratulations!”

John pushed past the flaps of the tent, you felt your body being thrown down onto the ground again, a soft thud as you hit the dusty floor. The tent was dim, but you could make out the faint outline of bedding and supplies.

John stood over you for a moment, his shadow dark and looming in the light of the flickering fire outside. He was silent, staring down at you, his expression unreadable. The ropes around your wrists burned, but you didn’t try to move. What was the point?

His voice was low when it came, like a command more than a suggestion. “You stay here. Don’t make me come back and remind you why you’re here.”

And with that, he left, the flap of the tent snapping behind him as he went. You were alone now, but not really. The weight of the men’s presence lingered in the air, suffocating, even as they all carried on with their laughter and celebrations outside.

The only sound was the rustle of the tent in the wind and the faint murmurs of the men as they settled into camp. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you could feel the burden of this new life, of your new reality, pressing down on you.

Mama...Papa...(S/N)..

God...why you? Why--just why?!

You didn't know how long you stayed there, or how many times you panicked and even fainted once. Then he came again...

"Listen--I... I’m going to take the ropes off, and you better stay quiet, alright?"

For a moment, his words almost felt like a plea. What the hell was this? The same man who had torn everything apart now seemed... pathetic. The man who had taken you, who had stolen your life, now sounded like he was afraid. His shaky voice didn't make you feel sympathy, it only fueled your hatred.

As soon as your hands were free, you didn’t hesitate. You swung with all the anger you’d been holding in for what felt like an eternity. Your hand collided with his face, not once, but twice. The sharp slap echoed in the air, and John staggered back, his face flashing with surprise.

“You wanted revenge, right?! YOU GOT IT! YOU MADE MY DAD SUFFER, SO NOW KILL ME! DO IT. I DON’T WANNA LIVE WITH YOUR SORRY PATHETIC ASS! JUST LOOK AT YOURSELF! Nothing, fucking nothing screams HUMAN about you! YOU DUMBFUCK!”

He didn’t react at first, standing still, his mouth tight. His mind seemed to stall, his eyes betraying a flicker of confusion. Maybe he thought you’d just... accept it.

"You listen-" He started, his voice suddenly more commanding, trying to regain control. But you weren’t going to let him.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" You screamed, your palm crashing into his face again, hard enough to make him step back. “Either take me back or kill me!”

John recoiled, blinking hard, but he didn’t speak for a moment. You saw him swallow, like he was struggling with something.

"STOP WITH THE KILLING TALK! I DON'T KILL WOMEN!"

You sneered, your blood boiling with disgust. "OH YEAH!? BUT YOU SNATCH THEM, HOW FUCKING NOBLE!"

His eyes were still locked on yours, but now there was something else there, something resembling frustration, even confusion. He didn’t know how to deal with you, didn’t know what the hell he was supposed to do now. His whole plan had been thrown off.

You saw it in the way he stood there, shifting uneasily, the cracks in his control finally starting to show.

"Take me back or kill me, you son of a bitch!" You shouted, your chest heaving with raw emotion, your hands still clenched in fists at your sides. You were done begging. "You are nothing but a coward! All of you here are nothing but cowards, not men-"

That's it.

His grip was unforgiving, forcing your head up, his fingers digging into your chin with such force that it hurt. The pressure was unbearable, and your neck strained under the weight of it, but there was no escaping him. His eyes were cold, hard, and unblinking as he stared down at you, his breath hot against your skin.

"No," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "You will fucking listen, got it?" He shook you violently with every word, the anger seeping from his tone. "I ain’t always gonna deal with these temper tantrums like your daddy. I am your husband now. Yeah, get that," he spat the words, venom in every syllable. "Get that fucking imprinted in your head. You gonna come to terms with it, whether you like it or not."

Your breath hitched in your throat, and you felt the tears, those damned pathetic tears, begin to form again. You tried to speak, to shout, to do anything to make him stop, but your mouth was clamped shut under his forceful grip. You could barely breathe, could barely move. His words hit you like a punch to the gut, making everything inside you twist with dread. The world around you felt like it was crumbling, the horror of what was happening suffocating you in a way you hadn’t experienced before.

"Please..."

The single word you managed to croak out hung in the air, fragile and desperate. It caught his attention, just long enough for him to look away, his jaw tight, his eyes shifting in something close to irritation. And then, with a sudden motion, he released you. The force of his grip pulled away so quickly that you tumbled backward, crashing onto the cot with a jarring thud.

"Just fucking stop! I said NO!" he repeated as if your resistance was some kind of insult to him, a challenge to his authority that he couldn't let slide. "And take this..."

He tossed the pouch at you. It landed on the cot with a soft clink. You froze for a second, blinking at the pouch. When your trembling hands slowly reached for it, you realized what it was, your mother’s gold jewelry.

Inside, there was more than just that, the gleaming gold pieces and the precious gems were accompanied by something much more sentimental. Your grandmother's necklace, an heirloom that had been passed down for generations, was nestled carefully within the folds of the fabric. You could almost hear your mother’s voice, her warmth in every memory attached to the jewelry. As you held it in your trembling hands, you couldn’t help but feel a strange relief.

At least this wasn’t taken from you.

You tried a different approach, your voice trembling with desperation, hoping, praying, that perhaps this might reach him.

“Y-you’re… going to do all this?” Your words broke with hiccups, but you pressed on, your desperation giving you courage. “Call someone your wife, k-kidnap them?... Someone who will hate you for eternity? You’re going to live with that? How do you people...sleep at night... hm? H-how?”

“You think I care how I sleep at night?” His voice was low, rough like splintered wood, and it made you flinch. “You think I don’t know what this is? What I’ve done?”

He took a step closer, his boots heavy against the ground, and you instinctively shrank back.

“Listen to me,” he spat, pointing a finger at you, his hand trembling just enough for you to notice. “I don’t want your damn hate, but if that’s all you’ve got, fine. Hate me. Curse me. Throw whatever you want my way. But don’t think for one second I’ll let you run. That won't have good consequences...remember that. Especially for your family. Whether you run to them or elsewhere. Imma' take my anger out on them either way."

Your breath hitched, but he wasn’t finished. He crouched down to your level, his face inches from yours, his words colder now.

“You think guilt’s gonna stop me? You think your tears are gonna make me let you go? No. You’re staying here. You’ll learn, one way or another, how this is gonna work.”

“I’m not proud of this,” he muttered, more to himself than you, his tone quieter now, though no less firm. “But it’s done. And you better start figuring out how to live with it. Because I ain’t letting you go.”

You stared at him in horror, tears streaking your cheeks. There was no reasoning with him, no way to break through his own guilt and stubbornness. He stood abruptly, towering over you once more.

“You’ll learn to live with it...you’ll understand. Eventually. You will have to for your own sake."

The tent flap shifted as Susan entered, carrying a bowl of food. She said nothing, her expression unreadable as she handed the bowl to John. For a brief moment, her gaze flickered toward you, a glance heavy with something you couldn’t quite place. Pity? Disdain? You couldn’t tell.

Then she turned and left, the fabric of the tent swaying shut behind her, leaving you alone with him once more.

John sat down, the bowl in his hands. The air between you crackled with tension as he placed it firmly on the makeshift table beside him.

“Now eat,” he ordered, his voice low and sharp.

You shook your head, your body trembling as you choked on your sobs.

His jaw tightened, and his gaze darkened, the softness from earlier entirely gone. He stood, leaning over you, his presence oppressive and inescapable.

“Don’t make me say it again,” he growled. “I’m not asking. Eat.”

Still, you shook your head, tears spilling freely down your face.

John’s patience snapped. He grabbed the bowl and held it up as a threat, his tone cold and unwavering. “You think I’m playing with you? I swear to God, if you don’t eat, I’ll force it down your throat. I. Said. Eat.”

His words cut through the air like a whip, leaving no room for argument. You flinched, staring at the bowl with wide, tear-filled eyes, knowing you had no choice. Your hands trembled as you reached for the spoon, your stomach churning with dread.

“Good,” he muttered, backing away just enough to let you breathe but keeping his eyes fixed on you. “About time you started listening.”

The minutes dragged on, each one more dreadful than the last, as you mindlessly forced the stew down, barely aware of its taste. When you finally pushed the bowl away, too sick with fear and despair to continue, he grabbed it and set it aside with an air of finality.

Then, without warning, John reached for the pouch of jewelry your mother had so carefully saved. He yanked it open, spilling its contents with no regard for the sentiment or sanctity they held. Your heart clenched as you watched his calloused fingers sift through the delicate gold pieces, his touch desecrating what was meant to symbolize joy and love.

"Here," he said, holding up the bangles, his tone commanding and without patience. "Wear these."

You instinctively backed away, clutching your hands to your chest as if shielding the last remnants of your dignity. The urge to snatch the precious jewelry from his sinful hands burned hot inside you, but the fear of his reaction held you in place.

"I said, wear em'."

Before you could think to resist, his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist in a bruising grip. You winced but didn’t dare cry out, not wanting to provoke him further.

With a brutal kind of carelessness, he forced the gold bangles onto your trembling wrists, each one slipping over your hand with a sharp jingle that felt like the sound of shackles locking into place.

"There," he muttered admiring his work as if he’d achieved something. “Now you look the part.”

John’s gaze lingered on you as you sat there, your shoulders hunched and trembling, every ounce of defiance beaten down into quiet submission. You didn’t dare look at him, your hands resting on your lap, fidgeting with the edge of your dress as if trying to distract yourself from the weight of his presence. His earlier words of gruesome threats, and fear for your family still echoing in your mind.

The golden bangles on your wrist caught the dim light, gleaming against your soft, trembling skin. His eyes drifted to your face, the softness of your features now marred by fear. There was something about the way you sat there, quiet but unyielding, that made him feel like he won something precious.

Precious indeed.

“Look at you,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. His voice was low, almost reverent, though it carried a jagged edge. “All quiet now, huh? Guess you’re finally startin’ to get it.”

You didn’t respond, didn’t even flinch, but he noticed the way your shoulders tensed under his gaze. It was enough to make him smirk, though the satisfaction in it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts, John suddenly pushed himself to his feet. The movement was abrupt, startling you enough to glance at him before quickly looking away again. He stood there for a moment, towering over you, his arms crossed as he regarded you with an unreadable expression.

“Listen,” he began, his tone gruff, “I ain’t sleepin’ here tonight.” For a moment, relief flickered across your face, so brief he almost missed it. Almost.

“But,” he continued, “come tomorrow, you’d best start makin’ some space. ‘Cause this is my tent. Got it?”

You swallowed hard, your breath hitching as his words settled over you like a suffocating weight. He waited, watching for a reaction, for some acknowledgment that you understood. When none came, he gave a low, humorless chuckle and shook his head.

“Silent treatment, huh? Fine. You’ll come around.” His voice softened, but the undertone was still sharp enough to cut. “You’ll see. This ain’t as bad as you’re makin’ it out to be.”

With that, he grabbed his hat from the table and left the tent, the flap snapping shut behind him.

❀˖°

The second night fell heavier than the first, the air in the tent still and suffocating. You hadn’t moved much throughout the day, just sat there, staring blankly at the tent walls, every sound outside making you flinch. Food had been brought and taken away untouched. No one had come to check on you, not that you’d wanted them to. The isolation wrapped around you, heavy and unrelenting.

When the flap of the tent rustled, your heart leapt in panic. He stepped inside like he had every right to be there, his figure casting a shadow across the space. John’s hat was off, his coat slung carelessly over his arm. He moved with an air of certainty, his boots scuffing against the ground as he set his belongings on the small table by the cot.

“You’ve been quiet. Guess that means you’re learning.”

You didn’t respond, your arms wrapping around yourself protectively. His eyes landed on you, taking in your hunched posture, the way your face turned away from him. For a moment, he didn’t say anything. The silence stretched between you, tense and unbroken.

He walked closer, and every step made your breath hitch. When he finally stood over you, his shadow loomed large, swallowing you in its weight. “Scoot over,” he ordered, his voice calm but firm.

You froze, shaking your head before you could stop yourself. The fight was small, but it was all you could manage.

His jaw tightened, his lips pressing into a thin line as he crouched down to your level. “Didn’t think I’d have to remind you how things are. But I will if I need to.”

You shrank back, but there was nowhere to go. He sighed, straightening up and running a hand through his hair. “I ain’t here to fight with you, but you’re makin’ it real damn hard.”

Without another word, he sat on the cot beside you. The mattress dipped under his weight, and you shifted as far away as you could, your back pressed against the tent wall. He didn’t seem to care, leaning back and kicking his boots off as if this were just another night.

“I told you last night. You’re gonna have to get used to this. To me.” His gaze flickered to you, lingering for a moment. “The sooner you do, the better.

You wanted to shout, to tell him how much you hated this, how much you hated him, but the words were stuck in your throat. You couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, paralyzed by fear, by helplessness.

“No,” you whispered, your voice cracking as the tightness in your chest made it hard to breathe. You said it again, louder this time. “No.”

His lips curled into a mocking smile, barely visible in the dim light. “Mhm... funny.”

He stretched out, reclining with one arm behind his head, and the weight of his presence filled the space between you like a physical force. Your body instinctively flinched as he purposefully spread his legs into your space, a quiet challenge in his movements.

“Go to sleep,” he muttered, his eyes half-lidded as if he were already drifting off. “We’ve got a long road ahead tomorrow, and you’ll need your rest.”

You barely had time to process his words before your mind went racing. Where!? Where were they taking you? Even more far from your family...what if they never will be able to find you?!

“W-where...?” You managed to croak, confusion creeping into your voice.

"Far, far away... to mountains and caves,” he said with an exaggerated flourish, his eyes twinkling as he gestured through the air. The dramatic gesture made you freeze, eyes wide with a mix of fear and disbelief.

He burst into a laugh, the sound echoing through the tent, thick with derision. “I’m just kidding, Princess. But it’s still gonna be far.”

His laughter faded as he leaned back on the cot, his casual tone not fading, he wanted to see the reaction again. “Though, if you really wanna go home,” he added with a shrug, his lips curling into a mocking smile, “you’re welcome to ask. Hell, I’ll even walk you to the edge of the camp myself. Let you find your way back. You’ll be easy pickings out there, though. Lots of nasty things in these woods, not all of them human. It’s just you and the big, wide world. Wolves , bears… maybe worse as in...bandits." His voice dipped lower, soft and dark, almost a whisper.

The insinuation hit you like a punch to the stomach, your throat tightening as panic crept in. He watched your reaction closely, his smirk widening as fear flickered across your face. “But maybe you’re braver than you look and stronger,” he said, almost teasing. “So, what’s it gonna be? Want me to toss you out right now? C'mon then, get up.” He grabbed your wrist which you instantly flinched away from.

You shook your head quickly, your voice breaking as you stammered, “No... no...please.."

“Good answer,” he drawled, reclining again, satisfied. “Smart girl.”

Your chest started heaving as you fought to steady your breathing. The tears came suddenly, hot and uncontrollable, spilling down your cheeks as you sat there, trembling. Another blow of his cruelty crashed into you, and you couldn’t hold it in anymore. Sobs wracked your body, sharp and desperate, as your chest heaved with the weight of it all.

“Please…stop, s-top it,” you whispered between sobs, your hands shaking as they gripped your hair as if you were going insane, Hell you already had. “I-I can’t...I just wanna go ho-me...ple-ase.”

Inside, something twisted painfully in his chest. He hated it, seeing you like this, fragile and terrified because of him.

Fuck fuck fuck--Just what the fuck is wrong with me?!

"Alright, alright," he muttered, his tone softer now. "No need to get all worked up. I...was jus'...I was jus' messing around."

Was I? Or was I about to do that?

You didn’t move and kept weeping and he felt that unfamiliar pang again. He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Look, don’t cry, alright?" he said gruffly, almost annoyed with himself for caring. "I’m not gonna... leave you out here or.... anywhere."

When you still didn’t move, sobbing quietly, he muttered a curse under his breath.

"Lay down," he ordered, his voice low but not unkind.

"C'mon, jus' lay down, I...am sorry," he repeated, softer this time and gently, he eased you down onto the bedroll, your sobs still trembling through your body. He tugged the blanket over you, his hands lingering awkwardly before he sat back, watching you silently for a moment.

His jaw tightened as he listened to your broken sobs. The sound tormented him, louder than any scream, worse than any wound. What the hell was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he stop himself from hurting you, only to hate himself when he did?

❀˖°

The long journey had ended, and the camp settled into its usual rhythm, dust hung in the air, mingling with the acrid scent of campfires and the distant rustle of wind through the brush. You sat by the tent, legs pulled tightly to your chest, trying to steady your breath. Every bone in your body ached from the relentless days of riding, your wrists still red and raw from how he'd gripped them during the trip. The journey had been brutal, with no rest, no kindness, only his clipped orders and the suffocating silence that surrounded you. Yet, there had been moments, brief and fleeting like the time on a cold morning, when he had given you one of his warmer coats, the thick leather lined with fur, his gruff voice commanding you to put it on. You had hesitated at first, but had no choice but to obey.

“Get up and go fetch me some coffee,” he ordered without even looking in your direction.

You didn’t respond right away. Your hands gripped the edge of the crate, your heart pounding in your chest. The idea of getting up, moving, doing anything for him was unbearable. You knew the drill, he could force you to do anything, but right now, in this moment, you wanted to pretend you had control over something, anything.

“No,” you retorted sharply, your voice hoarse.

"Excuse me?"

"I am not...your maid."

The next thing you knew, you were yanked off the crate, your body jerking against his iron grip. He dragged you by the arm, unceremoniously. The camp was alive with activity, and you felt every pair of eyes land on you. His grip tightened, making it impossible to escape, his voice low and cold in your ear.

"You think you get to refuse me? I don't think you understand, sweetheart. This is your life now."

He tugged you toward the large stew pot, where a man was stirring it. He looked up as you approached, and John gave a single, dismissive wave of his hand. "She’ll be working here, Pearson. You got it?"

Your stomach churned as you were forced to stand beside the stew pot, the acrid scent of boiled meat and thin broth filling the air. Your mind drifted, traitorously pulling you back to unreachable memories of a life far removed from this. Memories of sitting at a polished table, sunlight streaming through wide-open windows, and more than one dish laid out before you for breakfast alone, fluffy eggs, fresh fruit, steaming tea, and pastries you could barely finish.

Now, the single, unappetizing pot seemed almost mocking, its contents a reminder of how far you’d fallen. You blinked hard, willing the tears away, but they pricked at your eyes nonetheless, a lump forming in your throat

Everything here is going to taste nothing but broken dreams and grief to you.

"Now," he ordered, pushing you toward the cooking wagon. "Get used to the smell. Get used to the work. You want to know where you're going to spend most of your time Princess? This...right fucking here."

But John wasn’t done. He moved again, dragging you along with him to the laundry area.

"And here, you’ll wash the clothes. See how nice it looks? This is your world now, little by little. I don't care if you're tired. I don't care if you're angry. Nobody does. You’ll do what I tell you, or it’ll be worse for you."

His words were venomous, and they stung deeper than you cared to admit. The powerlessness of it all seemed to suffocate you, leaving you with nothing but the grinding reality of your situation.

He let go of your arm then, but still hovered over you.

"You can stay here and sulk if you want, but just know this," he added, his voice cold again. "You’re part of this family and there is a limit to where I and Dutch will tolerate your moodiness. He can be pissed too when he wants to be so don't embarrass me in front of others. And I don’t take kindly to disobedience. Not from you. Daddy must have spoiled you but here none of that shit happens."

You didn’t respond, but the pit in your stomach grew heavier. The space around you, the smell of the stew, the relentless noise of the camp, it all felt suffocating. You felt like you were drowning, your heart aching with every passing second.

"John! Stop it!" Sharp with panic, a voice broke through the suffocating fog of confusion that had clouded your mind. You turned, eyes blurry with tears, just in time to see Annabelle rush to your side. Her presence was like a shield, her arms wrapping around you as she positioned herself between you and him. "As if you already hadn't disappointed me enough! Get fuckin' lost right now!."

Their argument became muffled as you stood there, breath shallow, heart pounding. Everything that had happened, everything you had lost, overwhelmed you. You thought back to that final day with your family, the day that now felt like a distant, unreachable dream.

Why had you taken everything for granted? The simple comforts, the warmth of your home, the sound of your mother’s scolding, your father’s jokes, their laughter that filled the air. How you longed to hear those things again, to feel their embrace, to be wrapped in the safety of your old life.

You closed your eyes, letting the memories flood your mind. Mama… The name escaped your lips in a breathless whimper, and you clutched at Annabelle desperately, as though she could somehow give you back everything you had lost.

Annabelle's arms tightened around you, her face hardening with a scowl as she glared at John. She didn’t need to say anything. The fury in her eyes spoke volumes. But in that moment, you felt like you were in a world of your own, lost in the painful yearning for a life that no longer existed.

"I can’t," you whispered, the words barely a sound. "I can’t… be here. I want to go home. I beg you.."

Annabelle’s grip on you softened slightly, but she didn't let go. She didn’t have the words to ease the ache in your chest, but she had the strength to offer you something, a shield, a comfort, even if it wasn’t enough to erase the crushing weight of your new life.

John stood there, a silent observer for now, but you knew the storm was far from over. Every moment with him felt like a battle, and you were too broken, too tired, to fight anymore. You thought yourself crumbling once again.

Annabelle whispered something to you, comforting words, but they were lost in the haze of your thoughts.

God, this is heart breaking to watch, why can't it be just a piece of cake? Why are you making it so hard?

But John knew it wasn't your fault, not in the slightest. He couldn't take it anymore so he turned, his boots heavy against the dirt floor of the camp and walked away with a grumble, disappearing into the shadows of the camp, leaving you behind in the dimming light, holding onto whatever remnants of dignity you had left.

Annabelle, still by your side, squeezed you tighter, her expression hardened as she watched John leave. Her voice was a whisper, a promise, as she comforted you in the only way she knew how. "I am here, alright. Don't be afraid. We’ll get through this... together."

❀˖°

John lay on his back in the dimly lit tent, the muted crackle of the campfire outside casting faint, flickering shadows across the canvas walls. He knew you were awake. His gaze shifted downward, catching on your hands where they rested near your chest. The bangles on your wrists glinted faintly in the low light, the same ones you hadn’t been allowed to remove. But it wasn’t the jewelry that held his attention. It was the raw, chapped skin of your fingers under the shadow of the blanket, evidence of the cold and the endless work you’d been made to do. Not to mention your shivering...

With a quiet sigh, John sat up, the bedroll creaking under his weight. He stood, the night air slipping into the tent as he stepped outside. A few moments later, he returned, a spare blanket draped over one arm. Without a word, he leaned over, laying it carefully across you.

He laid back down with a soft huff, his hands laced behind his head as he stared at the canvas ceiling above. Silence stretched between you, but it didn’t last.

"I know," he murmured, his voice low but steady. "It’s probably a nightmare for you. Not exactly the fairytale you might’ve dreamed of...I mean...I would be the last person you would even imagine yourself to be with..." He chuckled, the sound bitter and humorless. "But it’s real. And it’s done. There’s nothing that can be done about it now."

His head turned slightly, enough that you could feel the weight of his gaze even though you couldn't see it. "What do you want? For me to throw you out? To let you go back? You think that’s an option? Because it’s not. Believe it or not but...it ain't some tradition...it's a commitment and... I’ve taken on a responsibility, and I’m willing to see it through. But not if you keep acting like this."

The cycle was obvious to him now.

He gets gentle with you, just for a moment, and you start acting up, that defiant spark in your eyes resurfacing. Then he gets pissed, and you get scared. And that fear? Those tears? They make him more fucking pissed.

Your tense back beside him seemed to beckon, and he found himself turning toward you, his hand hovering hesitantly. His fingers twitched, itching to close the space between you, but for a fleeting second, something strange held him back. Fear? Doubt? Is he doing this then? He brushed the thought aside, refusing to examine it further.

When his hand finally settled on your waist, you immediately swatted it away, which he both expected and loathed. He placed it back, this time firmer, pulling you against him.

"Listen here,” he muttered, his voice low, close to your ear. “If you start to accept it, this, us, I might even take you to see your family...” He let the words out, unsure himself if they were a genuine promise or just another thread of control. But right now, it didn’t matter. He just wanted to feel the soft warmth of you against him, to revel in the fleeting sense of peace it gave him. He wanted to test all of this out...unravel this sweet chaos he had caused.

Damn, the warmth, the softness, the scent. Mhm. Not...bad... I could get used to this.

“Got it?” he whispered, his lips almost brushing your ear. You didn’t answer, only buried your face into the pillow with a shaky nod. A smirk tugged at his lips, satisfaction blooming in his chest and e tightened his arm around you.

"Good, that's what I thought, Princess." This time, his voice lacked its usual taunting edge, carrying a note of unexpected softness instead.

"Or should I say, Mrs. Marston.."

He buried his face into your hair and neck, sighing at the softness, and his mind, as if on its own, pictured it almost too vividly...even when he tried to stop himself.

Children with your eyes but his resolve running through the camp, the echoes of their laughter filling the space he once thought too hollow to hold anything but emptiness.

He always wanted a family, a real one. Something steady, something lasting. What he craved for himself as a kid. And maybe if he had that, people would finally start to see him as more than some reckless kid. As a man. A mature, responsible man.

Responsibility... That was what he needed, wasn’t it? Something to ground him. A driving force to keep him steady, to give all of this chaos some kind of meaning.

His legacy, carved into this broken world. Something that wouldn’t burn away with the next heist or the next score.

And when he came back from dangerous jobs, when the blood and the dirt weighed heavy on his shoulders, what then? A man’s eyes needed to see somethin’ peaceful after all that. Not just poker cards and stolen loot. No, he’d need somethin’ better. Like....you, rocking his kids to sleep in your arms. Their tiny fists clutching at your shirt, your voice humming low to calm them.

You’d resist at first, of course, you would, and damn it, that only made the thought burn brighter. He could see it so clearly, the defiance in your eyes softening with time, with understanding. And then, after a while, you wouldn’t be able to fight it anymore.

He swallowed hard, the image filling his mind. The thought of you, his woman, his wife, with his child.

He smirked in the dim light, his grip tightening and his chest rumbling with a hum, " You'd make a fine mother. Yeah...they’d be beautiful. Tough, too. With my grit and your… well, everything else.”

Your body stiffened instantly in disgust and terror. The thought sent a cold wave of dread through you, the very idea of this made you sick to your stomach. “No way in hell,” you hissed, your voice sharper than you intended.

John stilled for a moment, the smile slipping from his face. The quiet that followed was dangerous. Then, slowly, he shifted, propping himself up on one elbow to overtop you.

"Say that again." His voice was quiet, too quiet, but the simmering anger beneath it was impossible to miss.

"I said, no way in hell. No. I’m not… I won’t…you are insane to think-"

His hand slid to your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. "You think you get a say in this, Princess?"

You tried to turn your face away, but his hold tightened just enough to make you freeze. He leaned closer, his voice dropping into a dangerous whisper. "I’ll make you see it my way, one way or another. You’ll thank me for it one day when they’re calling you Mama and lookin’ up at you like you hung the fuckin' stars."

He let go of your chin harshly. Turning back onto his side, he muttered under his breath.

"Might be the only thing that keeps your mind away from your home. A family. My family."

(AN: Do yall want an Arthur version for this concept?👀 Also to be in the taglist , just comment down below. )

[biggestsimponhere]

Guilty as sin?

➻ Synopsis: Reader has been fantasizing about regulus

➻ CW: Smut, unprotected p in v, oral (f!recieving), masturbation

➻ Requests are always welcome!!!

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

he’s a paradox, i’m seeing visions am i bad? or mad? or wise?

Regulus Black. Arguably the most attractive guy in school. At least.. he is to you. You sit at your table in the great hall trying to focus on whatever it is your friends are talking about but you can’t. He’s sitting, laughing with his friends. He’s only one table over but he has some sort of hold on you.

“Y/n? Are you even listening to me” Mary questions. You turn to look at her, a bit dazed “What?”

“I was asking you what you’re doing this weekend but you seem distracted” She smirks as she glances towards regulus. You quickly shut her down. “I was not distracted” You complain.

You listen to her as she starts talking about something else but you can’t take your eyes away from the slytherin table. Your mind drifts to the dream you had last night. Regulus… in your room… touching you. You glance at him and he’s seemingly already looking at you. You look away quickly but when you look back he’s no longer looking at you. Maybe he never was. You sigh as you bring your attention to the food in front of you in an attempt to distract yourself.

I keep these longings locked, in lowercase inside a vault

Watching Regulus play quidditch while trying to keep your thoughts from drifting to having him in your bed is not easy. You watch as he chases the snitch, curls messy from the wind, shirt tightening exposing his form. You’re practically salivating when the match ends. You roll your eyes at the way your Mary yanks you from your seat to pull you with her. Of course the slytherins just had to have a victory party.

This information from your friends had you in a deep blue mini dress in the slytherins dungeons. For some reason you agreed to come with though you’re not sure why, considering some girl was probably going to be draped over regulus and it wasn’t going to be you. You groan at the thought as you’re dragged to the drink table. Searching the party for him over your cup you’re surprised to find him already looking at you.

“Come on! Someone said we should play seven minutes in heaven” Adelia says as she pulls you to the circle. Of course they want to play a stupid muggle game that ends up with two people in a closet.

Regulus spins first and everyone watches as the bottle lands on you. He smirks up at you as he stands up and reaches for your hand. Instead of taking the opportunity to snog your crush like you’ve always wanted, you speed out of the dungeons.

these fatal fantasies, giving way to labored breath, taking all of me, we’ve already done it in my head

You lay on your bed, your dress on the ground. Your dormmates aren’t going to be back tonight. They all had someone to go sleep with. Your thoughts drift back to regulus. Him on top of you. Touching you. Tasting you.

“Come on sweetheart” He breaths as he pounds into you.

“I’m close regulus, please” You moan out as he captures your lips again.

“Shhh baby, we don’t want everyone to know do we?” He questions. You rapidly shake your head.

Your thighs shake as you touch yourself. Merlin you should not be doing this you think to yourself. Your thoughts of him rule out any other thought you could have had. You cum. Hard. All over your hand. You gasp, breathing in and out rapidly.

if it’s make believe, why does it feel like a vow well both uphold somehow

You gasp as your pulled into an empty classroom. You turn to see who has basically kidnapped you, only to come face to face with Regulus Black. You move back a few steps, sitting on a desk a little bit away from him. He smirks as he stalks closer. Ending up directly between your legs.

“Would i be that bad to kiss l/n?” He says brushing a hair behind your ear. You flush, shaking your head.

“Then why did you run away little dove?” He questions as he spreads your legs to better fit between them.

Your brain stutters as you try to think of what to say. What could you say? You ran away. Fast. “I- well” You try to speak but your brain can’t seem to form a sentence. He slides down till he’s on his knees in front on you.

You look away at the implication of what he’s doing but his hands wrapping around your thighs bring your attention back to him. “Do you want me to help you dove?” He asks as he breaths against your exposed thigh. You nod feverishly. He pushes your underwear to the side. Slotting his face between your legs he brings his tongue to your core. He licks a long stripe from your hole to your clit. Sucking lightly once he gets there

You cry out his name as he eats you out. He groans lightly against you sending delicious vibrations through you. You practically sob as he pulls away leaving you on the edge before kissing your thigh and standing up. He leaves you there, gasping for air, left of the edge.

if long suffering propriety is what they want from me, they don’t know how you’ve haunted me so stunningly

You’ve found it even harder to focus on anything except him since he left you in that classroom. You stare way more than you should. You swear you see him everywhere. It’s like he was always trying to be in your eye line. You groan at the thought of being left on the edge as you rest your head against the table. Your friends have noticed your off behavior but chose not to comment on it… too much.

“Why don’t you just go to the dorm and rest?” Adelia suggests. She was trying to be helpful but you know if you end up in your bed you’re just going to want him.

“I think you should get some sleep y/n/n, i don’t think i’ve even seen you sleep the last couple of days” Mary says as she looks at you with sympathy.

You nod. Though you know you’re not going to go to your bed. You stand and head out, hoping that going on a walk will help clear your head. It didn’t. Everything you saw made you think of him or rather places he could take you and you’d let him. You sigh at the thought as you continue walking, you must not have been paying attention to where you were going cause you ended up in front of the slytherin dorms.

I choose you and me… religiously. What if he’s written ‘mine’ on my upper thigh

What you didn’t expect to see was Regulus, leaning up against the wall, breathing heavily. You go to question what exactly he’s doing but he’s already stood up and walked towards you. He grabs your tie bringing you close so he can capture your lips with his. You both moan into the kiss, breathing stuttering as he moves to your neck. You sigh, he continues kissing along your neck and jaw.

“I want you.” He says hurriedly against your jaw. You nod and let him pull you into the common room and to his dorm.

“You’ve been stuck in my head since that stupid party” He says, pushing your robe off. He undoes your tie, unbuttoning your shirt. Your lips crash as he continues to undress you.

“Please Regulus, I need you” You moan against his mouth. He lifts you up before laying you out against his bed. He kisses up your thighs before pulling down your skirt.

“I’m sorry, i would but i just need to be in you” He says kissing your thigh before moving up so he can slot his legs between yours. You both moan loudly as he slips inside you. He begins to thrust, slowly at first before speeding up.

You let him go at whatever pace he wants as you slide your hands into his hair. He whines against your lips as you clench around him. You kiss him more firmly letting him slide his hand up into your hair. He moves his other hand, sliding it between the two of you so he can reach your clit. He rubs it in circles as he continues to thrust into you. You continue to make almost inaudible sounds.

After one particularly good thrust, hitting exactly right, you cum, clenching down hard on him. “y/n, i have to- please let me come in you” He breaths against your neck. You allow him to and he spills inside you. You both breathe heavily against each other as you come down from your high.

You’re about to pass out and sleep before he wakes you up to get cleaned up. After that the two of you fall asleep in each other’s arms. Recalling something stupid your friend said about how your thoughts wouldn’t be sinful if you never touch him. The thought quickly disappears as he tightens his arms around you and you drift off to sleep.

[bbina]

chenle month wip ヾ(≧∇≦)ゞ

[zenlesszonezero]

As the conspiracy reaches its finale, the Void Hunter joins the fight.

Uncover the Conspiracy in Zenless Zone Zero's All-New Version "A Storm of Falling Stars", S-Rank Agent Hoshimi Miyabi is here! With S-Rank Agent Asaba Harumasa Limited-Time Giveaway! Pre-register to obtain additional rewards.

[mksvault]

presenting allll fallout protag mkvbs plus their little mascot selves ^_^ hopefully one day i can knock out references for each one of them so yall know whos who

[writtenbyjeanofarc]

・⸝⸝﹒₊˚ UNDRESS ★・⸝⸝﹒₊˚

an album dedicated to Arlecchino.

TRACK 001.

What Looks So Strong, So Delicate

𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: psychological horror.

𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: Arlecchino X You (Reader)

𝖈𝖜: possessive behavior.

𝖘𝖞𝖓𝖔𝖕𝖘𝖎𝖘:

You’ve grown tired of Arlecchino’s antics when it comes to her trying to overprotect you from head to toe, let alone keep you from seeing other people she deemed as a threat. After holding back your urges to end the intimate relationship between both of you, you finally gave into your plan of packing your belongings, ready to travel back to your family’s home. To compensate for your absence, you left a note in her office while she was gone, stating your intentions of breaking up with her and leaving for good.

Little did you know, days after arriving to see your family out of fearing confrontation, your family was nowhere to be found. After thinking you’ve had the chance of a successful escape, you just had to surrender every bit of your pride upon confronting your crazed lover.

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗’𝖘 𝕹𝖔𝖙𝖊: Something from the vault. Unreleased.

Banner credit by @benkeibear.

“I thought I’d find you here.”

All it took was one voice that rendered you weak on the knees, its tone penetrating your eardrums. Before even looking back, you were greeted with a shadowy figure towering over you from behind. Your eyes widened in shock. You stopped dead in your tracks, caught within the predator’s trap this time, not knowing where to go and what to do. That kind of voice seemed familiar, you thought, as it sounded deep and threatening; it sounded as if someone was about to kill you at that very moment, your instincts telling you to jump out the window in fear.

It was definitely the voice of someone angry, someone completely crazy over your presence alone.

Your heart rate increased as you turned your back to face the Knave herself. Not knowing how she got access to your home in Mondstadt was something that creeped you out, shivers sending chills down your spine upon realizing that fact.

It’s been days since you last escaped from the Fatui Hideout in Fontaine, defeating all your lover’s most loyal guards and escaping the possessiveness that overfilled the hole of your relationship. It was to no denial that your combat skills were refined and belonging to that of a seasoned warrior. After all, your valor and competence in the art of war was what caught the Knave’s attention, so far as to confess her feelings to you.

After months of arguing over financial matters and resisting The Knave’s desire for control over your freedom, you thought to yourself that YOU had enough of her bullshit. Packing your belongings didn’t feel like a chore, it felt like something you could do forever, for as long as you kept your distance from The Knave. You just didn’t want to be associated with her antics anymore. So all you did was write a sincere letter to her office stating your intention to split up, and that you were leaving to Mondstadt with your family for good.

Days passed since your escape. You spent your quality time bonding with family and enjoying a cup of tea while indulging in joyful chatter. Things went well. However, these memories came to a halt upon witnessing the sudden disappearance of your family when you woke up from a nap tonight. Oh, how the tables have turned. You didn’t expect such a sudden change in the atmosphere when you realized there’s twe was someone who had entered your home.

“Let’s not beat around the bush, shall we?” the Knave spoke. “Tell me, dear, are you tired of us now?”

“I’ve had enough of you.” you replied. “Let’s cut to the chase, alright? I escaped because I felt as if our entire relationship was suffocating me. That letter I sent you is proof of it.”

“Ah, yes…..that letter you gave me. A great argument, but that’s NOT enough.” the Knave said darkly. “I just wanted to surprise you a bit by holding your family captive while indulging ourselves in a rather…. decent conversation. Take this as a moment to clear any form of misunderstanding between us.”

“What is there to be misunderstood, Arlecchino?” you asked. “I already stated my side of the story through that letter. I want freedom. I want to end our relationship.”

“End our relationship?” the Knave chuckled. “Don’t make me laugh. You swore to the Tsaritsa that you shall fight for our relationship to the death once you gave yourself to me. That was a hard promise.”

“Promised? I only mentioned fighting for our relationship to the death because I had faith in you, Arlecchino.” you replied. “But things happen, and people change. We were never fated to be together, knowing all you desired was control over my life and decisions. I’m leaving.”

“You’re not going anywhere.” the Knave warned you. “One escape attempt, and I’ll make sure your family will never see the light of day again.”

“Anything but my family…..” you thought.

“Cat got your tongue?” the Knave sneered. “Poor little creature cares way too much about their family…..I’m almost jealous.”

“Let them go.” you said darkly, your eyebrows furrowing. “I won’t hesitate to run if need be.”

“Are you really going to make things harder for us, my dear? No. You’re not leaving. I won’t allow it.”

“Make me.” you said bravely. While you started running, you were ignored by the Knave this time. However, you felt a knife slash through your arm. Despite the pain you felt from that swift slice, you didn’t stop running. Surprisingly, there was no blood gushing out of your wound as you continued to run. The escape was uncalled for, but you just had to run away to call out someone to help you out, like Amber.

While making your way out of the house, you felt your limbs cramp and your vision starting to blur. It was as if you were about to be paralyzed. You couldn’t feel your legs, your knees wobbling as you lost balance and fell into the ground face first. Looking up, you couldn’t make sense of whose silhouette it was. But it was definitely the Knave’s heels.

“As I thought.” the Knave muttered. She knelt down to grab you by the neck, while your consciousness was about to fade. The last thing you saw was her smirk, her mouth speaking inaudible words as your eyes closed.

“I’m going to have a little fun with you tonight.”

[drarryspecificrecsdaily]

2024.12.01

Complete fics posted on AO3 this day

1. Heatwaves by KateBishopHawkeye [E, 58k]

Summer, 12 years after the war. It was not the worst heatwave in London's history, but Hermione and Harry would be damned if it didn't feel like it. Especially in 12 Grimmauld Place, where four unlikely housemates find things heating up in unexpected ways amid old hurts and new threats.

2. Under Your Spell by SairleB [E, 23k]

In a world where omegas are cherished in the Wizarding World, while in the Muggle World they're viewed as less than…Harry takes after Vernon in the worst of ways.

---

Fest/Exchange

1. Where Starlight Falls by Anonymous [E, 33k]

The magic concealing Sirius’s Last Will and Testament doesn’t reveal the full extent of Harry’s inheritance until two years after the war. When it does, it turns out that Harry has inherited more than just the Black Family vault—he’s inherited the family’s magic, too. He just has to find it first. And he needs Draco Malfoy’s help to do it. ★ H/D Erised 2024 | @hd-erised

[sparklingjay]

Here is the whole Sonic X Shadow Sonic channel translation for you just in case you haven't read it before or if you want to read it again:

I got the translation from here:

Beneath the light of the full moon stood the trendy business and shopping district of Mission Street. Sonic perched atop a storefront that overlooked the block, stargazing.

He came here tonight to witness a celestial event.

As usual, Sonic arrived with time to spare, so he turned to watch the hustle and bustle of the city below — when he spotted a black hedgehog engaged in fierce combat behind a back alley… Shadow.

Shadow was one of Sonic's most formidable foes, rivaling his abilities in every way.

He didn’t always choose the dark side, but his ruthless “ends-justify-the-means” attitude had a dangerous unpredictability that sometimes put him at odds with Sonic and his friends…

What was Shadow doing here?

Curious, Sonic dropped to Shadow's side.

Before them lay the wreckage of several G.U.N. Beetle surveillance drones, spewing black smoke and sparks. This was serious.

With an accusatory tone, Sonic asked:

"Yo, Shadow. Looks like you're having a fun night?"

"This is none of your business. Stay out of my way."

Shadow responded curtly, then disappeared into the darkness — but Sonic wasn't one to be left behind. A high-speed chase ensued as they weaved through the twists and turns of Mission Street.

They ran along walls and leaped between buildings, coming to blows as they sped through the rumbling highway into the tunnel… After some time, Shadow kicked out his heel with fearsome agility, but Sonic caught it with both hands.

I'm ending this…

I couldn't dodge it…

They paused in blade lock until Shadow jumped aside, seething in frustration.

"Why are you following me?"

"I don't want anybody pinning your crimes on me again."

"Ha, aren't you paranoid? I'm busy. Farewell!"

Shadow pointed at Sonic, a flickering stone in his hand… A Chaos Emerald.

"Wait! Hold up!"

"Chaos — Control!"

There was a brief flash of blinding light! And when it cleared, Shadow had vanished.

Chaos Control… This was Shadow's signature move, wielding the power of the Chaos Emerald to warp time and space.

To perform this technique with a weakened Chaos Emerald, after exhausting his own power in the previous battle, was an impressive feat for Shadow. Left alone, Sonic could only stare up at the night sky.

"Shadow…"

☆ ★ ☆

Later…

A few blocks away, Shadow had silently infiltrated a suspiciously large bank. The wreckage of a newly-destroyed Beetle rolled at his feet.

"Here. I'm sure of it."

He dispatched another armed Beetle that emerged from the back and proceeded to the second-floor vault, incapacitating the guards who dared fire upon him. As he reached the reinforced vault door, he saw —

Sonic, standing with a smirk, twirling the key card between his fingers.

Using the energy detector he borrowed from Tails, he tracked Shadow’s location and snuck into the bank through an alternate route.

The fact that there were military Beetles all over town, that not one of them sounded an alarm after being destroyed, that they open-fired without warning…

Well, Sonic thought there was something unusual about the whole thing.

"So, what are you willing to exchange for that key card? …No, stupid question. You want the full story of this situation."

With a dour sigh, Shadow lifted his head and recounted the evening’s events.

"This place looks like a bank, but it's a fake… It's actually some sort of a G.U.N. research facility. They're conducting experiments on a mysterious electromagnetic capsule seized from the Doctor's base after our last battle. Now I fear they're using this place as a front to develop even deadlier weapons within the city."

Shadow slowly approached Sonic, continuing:

"I received intel that this capsule is a disguised time bomb set to explode at midnight tonight. If true, it has enough power to obliterate half the city. I tried to send a warning, but they failed to heed it. That's why I came here. What do you believe?"

Shadow paused in front of Sonic, glaring at him interrogatively. Several seconds passed.

"I don't know what to say."

It was a lot to take in. As Sonic worked out his reply, the detector picked up a sudden energy spike and sounded a loud BEEP! Whatever it detected was inside the vault.

"But I know I trust Tails' device."

Sonic grinned at Shadow as he slid the key card through the card reader on the vault. A heavy metallic clanging echoed from within.

Undeterred, Shadow placed his hand on the vault when…!

BANG!

The vault door swung open from the inside, and a group of researchers frantically rushed out.

"Get out of here!" "It's about to explode!"

Emergency sirens wailed as people fled the scene. The whole facility was in a frenzy.

When Sonic and Shadow burst into the lab, they found that it was much larger than they expected, and at the center was a glass-encased capsule about 6 feet tall, protected by an electromagnetic barrier, emitting intense light.

A swarm of armed Beetles spotted them and unleashed a barrage of bullets, despite the imminent countdown.

"Talk about a work ethic! Shadow, you get the bomb!"

“…!”

Sonic easily cleared out the three guard robots before him. Shadow leaped through the ensuing blast toward the capsule. The electromagnetic barrier sensed his approach and emitted an electric charge — then deactivated just before Shadow touched it. At that exact moment, Sonic found and destroyed the barrier generator. And then…

"Chaos — Control!"

A halo of light erupted from Shadow's Chaos Emerald, enveloping the surrounding area. And when the light subsided… There was no trace of Shadow or the bomb. Then, seconds later…

A massive explosion filled the sky above Mission Street.

The fireball was so huge that it eclipsed the moon. The soundwaves that followed shook the surface of the earth. Sonic saw it as he leaped from the bank and gave a cheerful thumbs up.

Meanwhile, Shadow, already outside via Chaos Control, looked on with frustration. He had intended to teleport the bomb into space. However, he could only do so much with a malfunctioning Chaos Emerald.

Shadow pulled out the Chaos Emerald and tossed it to Sonic.

"Shadow…?"

"This is no better than a fake emerald. If I give it to you, maybe your soft nature will restore it."

Sonic shrugged as he caught the Chaos Emerald with one hand.

"I was gonna say thanks, but I take it back…"

☆ ★ ☆

"Why are you still following me?"

Shadow asked without turning back as Sonic trailed him down a deserted road outside Mission Street. Sonic wrapped his hands behind his head and gazed into the night sky.

"I'm the one who should be asking the questions. Since when did you become such a guardian of peace?"

"I don't care about peace. I don't care about these people. What I can't stand are the fools of this planet who believe they can get away with whatever they want — whether that's the Doctor or anyone else, including you. So don't misunderstand me."

A few seconds of silence followed. Shadow scowled, but Sonic kept grinning.

"Okay. I getcha. I'll do my best. But I think some people out there would wanna thank you for what you did today."

"Nonsense. Who would —"

Fed up with Sonic, Shadow stopped cold and finally turned back to shut him up…

"…!?"

Sonic stood with his arm outstretched, the lights of the distant city behind him, pointing up at the full moon shimmering out in space — and floating just above that, staring down at them, was the Space Colony ARK.

The sight of this spectacle left Shadow speechless, the ARK appearing otherworldly in the glow of the moonlight.

The ARK… An ark of hope and pain. The place where Shadow was born, where he gained and lost so many precious things and so much time. A tomb lost in the void with nothing left to sacrifice for this planet.

Once a year, there was a night when the orbits aligned, and the ARK was visible directly above the full moon.

Mission Street was one of the best spots to see it, and Sonic loved the view of the two cold, majestic “moons” against the sea of warm city lights.

Shadow silently watched the ARK.

Nobody knew how many memories or secrets of the past remained in his heart or how he felt about them to this day. But to Sonic, his silence seemed like an answer.

As if in response, Sonic slowly lowered his pointed finger.

Shadow traced Sonic’s gesture downward with his eyes —

— until it landed on Sonic’s own smirking face.

"Enough…!"

Shadow dismissed, then straddled a hidden motorcycle in the bushes at the side of the road. It was a heavy G.U.N. bike. He must have prepared it there ahead of time.

The engine revved to life, drowning out any further comments from Sonic…

"It looks better on its own anyway."

Shadow sped away at full throttle. Sonic didn't chase him this time, but as he turned away, there was a hint of disappointment behind his smile.

☆ ★ ☆

Beneath the light of the full moon stood the trendy business and shopping district of Mission Street.

Beyond the peaceful glow of the city, a lone shadow drifted away as if it was exiled.

The shadow was indistinguishable from the darkness — except to the moon, hanging over the bustling metropolis, watching the shadow from above, always… ★