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violentdelightsandviolentends · 2 years ago

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Tranquility.

You're not good at keeping secrets from the boys. Turns out, Will isn't either.

Pairing - Will Miller x female reader. Benny Miller, Santiago Garcia, Frankie Morales x female reader.

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - Brief allusion to sexual content. No cursing in this one!!

Word Count - 4.3k

Author's Note - hi lovelies. here's another triple frontier fic for you all!! i love writing these boys so much. we all know by now that i am a total will girly, so it's no surprise he takes the lead in this one. but all the boys are included - i can't leave them out <3. as always, if you have any specific requests or thoughts, send them over!! lots of love x

my other triple frontier fics - Tethered, Time, and Home Is Where The Heart Is.

Masterlist. Requests.

“Baby, we gotta go!”

“Coming!” you yell, running down the stairs with a duffel bag in your hand. “Almost forgot my toothbrush.”

“You’d forget your head if it wasn’t on your neck,” Will winks, nudging you with his shoulder.

“Shut up, Miller,” you tease, no real malice in your voice. You lean up to peck his lips gently, before he takes a step back.

“We can’t be late again. I can’t make up another excuse – last time was bad enough.”

“That was literally your fault! You were the one that couldn’t keep your hands off me, like some sort of teenage boy,” you laugh.

“It was the green dress’ fault, not mine. I don’t regret it,” he chuckles.

Will winks at you again before picking up your bags and walking outside to pack up the car.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Four days by the lake with your boys sounded like complete and utter bliss. When Frankie had suggested it, initially, everyone had laughed it off. Realistically, it wouldn’t work. You all struggle to plan a day off at the same time, never mind multiple. It sounded like a sweet little idea. Nothing more.

Then, life got stressful. Work was tough on everyone, families causing issues, deadlines looming – the mundane routine of every day wearing the five of you down. Eventually, it was Santiago that snapped.

“We’re going to that damn lake house,” he exclaimed one evening in Benny’s backyard. “I don’t care what we have to do. I don’t care if we all have to call in sick. We are going to the lake house.”

He looked around at his friends, expecting them to instantly shut him down. Instead, he was met with unanimous nods of agreement.

That was months ago. It was a logistical nightmare, working out your schedules to intertwine with each other, but you did it. You were ridiculously ready for four days of swimming, drinking, sunbathing and laughing with your favourite people in the entire world. It sounded like the well deserved break everyone needed.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Will’s warm palm meets the bare skin of your thigh as he drives. The roads are long and monotonous, but you don’t care. Everything is an adventure with him.

“You still sure about not telling ‘em?” he asks, blue eyes flitting over to you briefly. He’s got a gentle smile on his face. He always does when he’s with you. It’s like his default setting.

“Yeah, I think I am. Are you?”

“Yeah. Think we should live in paradise a little longer.”

“Paradise, huh?” you tease, squeezing his hand.

“You know it is. I’m on cloud nine every moment I’m with you, baby.”

His words make your head spin, and you’re glad you’re sitting down already. You wonder everyday how you got so lucky. It’s rare, to know with full certainty that you are someone’s favourite person in the world. The centre of their universe. Sometimes, it’s overwhelming. Mostly, it’s astounding. It warms up your bones, settles itself carefully into your ribcage, pumping your heart to the beat of Will’s love. What a gift.

Which is why you’ve decided to keep the two of you a secret from the boys. You know that it won’t change anything between the group, not really – but you’re a little worried nonetheless. It’s scary, altering a dynamic that works so well. The five of you, stuck like glue, know each other like the lyrics to your favourite songs. You know each others strengths, weaknesses, favourite ice cream flavours, middle names, star signs, families – everything. It’s the kind of friendship that binds you together for life. Changing that in any way would break your heart. Will’s too. You know, deep down, that they’ll be perfectly accepting. But the fear still lingers, ugly and unwavering.

Also - you and Will didn’t take the most conventional route into a relationship.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

The two of you met in Delta Force. Co-workers, first. Comrades in arms. He had your back, you had his. You saved each other’s lives countless times. You’d stitch up each other’s wounds, carry each other back to base, share your water even though you only had a drop left. You were a team.

Then, you became friends. It’s hard not to, when you’re thrown into a life-or-death situation. You spent 24 hours a day together, wherever you were sent – sometimes Asia, sometimes South America, sometimes Africa. You got to know each other, learnt one another’s quirks and habits and likes and dislikes. The five of you bonded quickly and effortlessly. It made you a slick team, your missions running like clockwork. You could all predict each other’s movements, finish each other’s sentences. It’s what made you so successful, so revered.

After Delta Force, you became friends outside of work. Forced proximity friendship is one thing, but actually making the time to see each other back on home soil is another. You were worried that you were going to drift, and all of the trust built would perish. That wasn’t the case. The five of you quickly adjusted to being home together. You’d all spend Saturdays in Frankie’s backyard, Friday nights on Santiago’s porch, Sundays in Will’s kitchen. You’d pop by and see Benny on a Wednesday night after work, ready to watch another episode of that reality show you both couldn’t get enough of. You’d see Will any chance you got. Sunday morning farmers market trips and early swims and pancakes for breakfast and why don’t you just stay over? It’ll save you driving home.

You’d been best friends with Will for years before you realised how you felt about him.

It’d hit you, all of a sudden, one Sunday morning. You drove over to Will’s to pick him up, ready to go to the flea market downtown. You were going to grab lunch after, maybe cook some dinner together later. Just an average day.

You let yourself in to his house using the key he’d had made for you years ago. You had keys to all the boy’s places – just in case. You found Will at the stove, shirtless, golden skin on display. Whatever he was cooking smelled heavenly, and you wondered for a minute how it was fair that he was talented at everything.

“Morning, Miller,” you sing, throwing your bag down and striding over to him.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he replies, turning around to face you. He opens his arms and you step into his space, wrapping yourself around him and resting your head on his bare chest. You inhale, breathing in his scent deliberately. He smells like warmth and sleep and sunshine and promises.

You take a step back, craning your neck to look at him. The morning sunlight is gleaming through the windows, casting a gold hue across the room. Will’s hair is glowing, illuminating him like some sort of halo. Angelic boy.

Those ocean blue eyes survey you carefully. He rests his hands on your hips, pulling you in closer.

“What’s on your mind? I can see it runnin’ a mile a minute,” he murmurs. You try to look down, but he catches your chin with his thumb and forefinger, gently guiding you back up.

How do you explain that you’ve just realised that you’re completely, utterly, irreversibly in love with Will Miller? That it’s just dawned on you like a sunrise, warm and promising? How do you tell someone that you’re quite convinced you’ll drop dead if you don’t kiss them immediately? Is it even possible to explain these feelings? Is it possible to put all of these emotions into words? Are there enough words in any language to explain the enormity of what you’re experiencing?

Instead, you simply say,

“I’m in love with you.”

Will’s pupils blow wide, and he sways slightly, as if the weight of your confession has knocked him off balance. You steady him by cradling his face, forcing him to look at you.

“You don’t have to say it back,” you continue. “But I’ve kind of just put the pieces together, and it seems stupid not to tell you. You of all people know that life is short and fragile and can change in the blink of an eye, so I just thought –”

Will cuts you off by smashing his lips against yours. The kiss is passionate and tender and so full of love you’re convinced you could get drunk off it. He pulls back for air and looks at you earnestly.

“Don’t have to say it back? Sweetheart, do you know how often I’ve dreamt of you saying those words to me?”

You can’t help but break out into a grin. You feel like you’re floating, levitating above ground, held up purely by the love William Miller has for you.

“You have?” you ask, disbelief written on your features. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I was waiting for you,” he beams. “I knew you’d figure it out eventually.”

You smile at him ear to ear before jumping into his arms. You kiss him again, legs wrapping around his waist to anchor yourself, closing the distance. He spins around the kitchen with you in his arms, the joy of being in love filling the room.

Suddenly, Will puts you down.

“Stay here,” he tells you, before sprinting upstairs.

Usually, you can predict Will’s every move. But not now. Now, you’re more confused than you’ve ever been.

He returns, placing a kiss to your forehead, before getting down on one knee in front of you.

“Marry me,” he says, complete certainty in his voice. You’ve never heard him this assured.

“Will… what?” you ask incredulously. You confessed your love for each other ten minutes ago, and you’ve skipped straight to marriage, apparently.

“Listen. I know it’s crazy. I know it seems fast. But we’ve loved each other for years, sweetheart. I realised when I met you that I was never, ever going to love anyone else again.”

He pulls out a box from the pocket of his pyjama pants and opens it to reveal a gorgeous diamond ring. It’s understated and it’s elegant and it’s just so you.

“I bought this two years ago. Maybe you think I’m insane, and maybe you’re going to run out of that door the minute I stop talking. But I’ve never been surer of anything in my entire life.”

You’ve been trying to catch your breath unsuccessfully for the past few minutes. It feels like everything is moving in slow motion, and your brain is trying to keep up.

“Will, we aren’t even technically dating,” you tease playfully. You already know your answer. You just like hearing him bear his truth to you like this.

“We’ve been dating for years, technically,” he rallies. “Everyone always thinks we’re a couple. We’re together every weekend, we go on dates, you sleep over… we went grocery shopping last week!”

You grin, remembering how you’d jokingly argued over whether to get the red or the green grapes, and how you’d ended up getting both. It was all so domestic it made your heart ache.

The two of you sit in the silence for a minute, Will still on one knee. He’s looking up at you like you hung the stars in the sky just for him. There’s no doubt in your mind what you’ll say.

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, Will. God, yes. The easiest yes of my entire life.”

He jumps up to grab you, spinning you in circles. You kiss him with so much force he stumbles backwards. Will takes your left hand, and carefully slides the ring onto your finger. It looks like it’s always belonged there.

You always knew it’d be Will Miller. It’s the only thing that makes sense.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

That was months ago. The other boys know that you and Will spend a lot of time together one on one, so no one has suspected anything out of the ordinary. You have no doubt they’ll be happy for you both, but you’re content to keep everything a secret a little while longer. It’s easier, that way. It means you and Will get to keep living in your bubble of bliss, unphased by the outside world. You’ll tell them soon enough. You’re just trying to savour every last second.

“We’ll tell them soon,” you reassure Will, interlocking your fingers with his where they rest on your leg. “We’ll make it a whole thing, if you like. It feels like something that warrants a celebration.”

“Oh, definitely,” he grins, turning his eyes back to the road. “We’re almost there. So, you’re gonna have to act like you’re not totally head over heels in love with me for four days. You think you can manage?”

You scoff playfully, and squeeze his hand.

“I’m sure I’ll be okay,” you tease. He chuckles, and the melody of it is music to your ears.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

You arrive at the lake house only ten minutes late, which you and Will agree is not entirely unacceptable.

“Finally, they’re here!” Benny yells as he bounds over to the car. He envelopes you in a bear hug, picking you up off the ground accidentally.

“Frankie is inside,” Santiago reassures when he catches you looking over his shoulder. You turn to give him a hug, and he kisses you on the cheek. Old habit.

“Santi, did you pack bug spray? You know the mosquitoes love you,” you wink, running your hands through his hair affectionately. He has greys coming through, and they suit him beautifully.

“Yes, hermosa, I got your text reminding me,” he smiles. “Thank you.”

You and Will grab your bags and make your way inside, where Frankie is making margaritas.

“Hola, mi amor,” he greets, wrapping his arms around you. “How was the journey?”

“All good, Francisco,” you reply. “I have a very reliable chauffeur.”

Will laughs from behind you, and it makes your knees weak.

“Bad news, you guys!” Benny interrupts, jumping to sit on the counter. “You two have to share a room, since you were the last ones here. Finders, keepers, and all that.”

That really isn’t the inconvenience that the boys think it is, but you and Will play along nonetheless.

“Damn it. He snores, you know!” you laugh, looking over to where Will is pretending to be offended, hand over his heart.

“That’s what you get for being late, losers!” Benny retorts, throwing his head back in amusement. Everyone laughs along with him, and all the tension melts from your body.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

It’s day one, and you’re already struggling. You’re all relaxing on the dock, soaking up the sun’s rays. Will is wearing his forest green swim trunks with a ridiculously small inseam, his strong thighs on display. You so badly want to kiss them, lick them, bite down on them in the way you know he likes. Instead, you sip your margarita and settle for ogling him over the rim of your sunglasses.

He dives into the lake elegantly, and a bead of sweat drips down your neck. He breaks the surface, coming up for air, and pushes his hair back, water cascading down his golden skin. He’s glowing, beaming, gleaming in the sunlight like an ancient marble statue. You’re practically panting. Santiago notices.

“You okay, hermosa?” he asks, giving you a once over.

“Yeah, Santi, I’m good. Just super warm,” you lie. He seems to buy it, because he moves to grab his book, fanning you with it. Admittedly, the light breeze does cool you off, and distracts you from Will. Double win.

“Thank you, kind sir,” you joke, as he pretends to tip his hat towards you.

“You should join us!” Benny shouts from the lake. When did he even jump in?

“Yeah, come on, darlin’” Will chimes in, watching you with a slight smirk on his face. He’s not going to pass up the chance to see you sun soaked and dripping wet.

“Fine!” you huff jokingly, pulling your oversized t shirt (which you’re realising belongs to Frankie – when did you steal that?) over your head. You’re left in a bikini that leaves little to the imagination, the bright colour accentuating your skin beautifully. You look good. You feel good.

Will looks you up and down and takes a deep breath. You’re just friends, remember? He’s trying to convince himself, attempting to make the act somewhat believable. You break him out of his thoughts by running along the dock as fast as you can, and diving into the lake with a surprising amount of grace.

The five of you spend all afternoon in the water. Benny thinks it’s hilarious to pick you up, placing you on his shoulders before jumping backwards, sending you both flying through the air. You all play catch, laughing when Frankie misses the ball and accidentally punches Santi right in the stomach. You and Will easily fall back into your old habits of being friends, but you can’t help but notice the way his eyes linger just a second too long every now and again. You’re sure nobody else clocks on, all of the boys too busy splashing each other like children.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

When the evening comes, you all shower and dry off while Will and Frankie make dinner. You, Benny and Santi curl up on the couch, trying to warm each other up after hours of being in the water. You eat, you laugh, and you all swap stories about the things that you’ve missed since you last saw each other properly. It’s bliss. Perfect tranquility.

The sun sets, and you all move outside to the deck. Santi starts a campfire, and the five of you grab beers, settling into the warmth of the crackling wood. Everyone is relaxed, not a care in the world. You wish, for a moment, that life could always be like this. As if reading your thoughts, Will reaches out and brushes your cheekbone with his thumb in a fleeting moment, before retracting his hand as if nothing happened.

“I’m gonna make us some warm ciders,” Frankie decides, rising from his chair.

“I’ll come and help you. You always put way too much alcohol in - these idiots can’t handle it,” you signal towards where Benny, Will and Santiago are sat. They all scoff at you, laughing because they know it’s true.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

You sit atop the counter next to where Frankie begins gathering his ingredients. When a strand of hair falls into his eyes, you move it away gently.

“Will you let me cut your hair tomorrow? It’s getting in your way,” you ask him softly.

“Of course, mi amor. Wouldn’t trust anyone else.”

He smiles at you, and your heart swells. You love this man so much - some days you wonder how you got so lucky. All five of you are bonded for life, best friends until the end. But there’s no denying that you and Frankie have always understood each other on another level.

He stops making the drinks, moving to stand between your legs. He looks at you intently, as if he’s trying to solve something.

“I like seeing you happy like this,” he murmurs.

“How can I not be?” you whisper back. “I’m with my favourite people. I have everything I could ever want.”

“Yeah, but this is different.”

You scrunch your brows in confusion, and he chuckles. He begins to draw slow circles just above your bare knee. You can tell he’s thinking carefully.

“It’s Will, isn’t it?” he asks, gentle smile on his face.

In this moment, you could lie. You could feign innocence, deny it with your life, maintain that you and Will are just friends. But what’s the use? Why hide the best thing that’s ever happened to you from one of the people you love the most in the world?

“Yeah,” you grin. “It’s Will.”

He’s practically beaming at you now, equal parts proud of himself and you.

“Knew it,” he murmurs, careful to keep his voice down. “Did something happen?”

You realise now that there’s absolutely no point in lying to Frankie. You’ve come this far. Might as well tell him the truth.

“We’re engaged,” you whisper, grinning from ear to ear.

He pauses for a moment, processing the news. You can see the shock registering on his face. Then, he lunges forward, wrapping his arms around you.

“Oh my god, hermosa! You’re kidding!”

He’s squeezing you so tight you can barely breathe. You hear a shout from the boys outside and remember where you are.

“We haven’t told anyone yet. We’re just living in our little bubble of happiness for a while.”

“Hey, I get it,” he reassures. “I’m so happy for you. Both of you. I knew it’d happen eventually. It was just a question of when.”

You hug him again, so overwhelmed with love. What a miracle, to be loved like this by so many brilliant people.

“We’ll tell everyone soon, I promise. We were thinking of making it a party, a whole celebration.”

“Of course. Just tell me when, and I’ll be there.”

He pinches your knee playfully, before making his way back to his drinks, smile still plastered across his face.

“Hey, Francisco?” you murmur, still aware of the volume of your voice.

“Yeah?” he turns, giving you his full attention.

“So, I know it’s not traditional, but, I mean, when have me and Will ever done traditional?” you both laugh, and you continue. “I was just thinking – and you don’t have to say yes… I’d love it if you did, but really, you don’t have to – “

“Spit it out, mi amor,” he teases gently.

“Will you be my best man?”

He stops in his tracks, suddenly serious, and you’re worried you’ve made a mistake. Then, he breaks out into a grin, practically running over to bear hug you again.

“Of course I will,” he confirms into your ear. “I’d love nothing more.”

“I love you,” you tell him earnestly.

“I love you too, hermosa. So much.”

Frankie kisses you on the forehead once, then again, and begins to pick up the drinks he’s made.

“They’re gonna get suspicious if we’re gone too long. You know how they get,” he winks, leaving you alone in the kitchen.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

You sit in your happiness for a little while, just basking in the glow. You’ve never felt so at peace.

Will wanders into the kitchen, immediately coming over to stand in front of you. His warm palms find your hips, and he leans in to kiss you softly.

“Hi, sugar,” he murmurs against your mouth.

“Hi, handsome,” you mutter back.

“You okay? You disappeared,” he asks, fingers moving in warm circles on the bare skin of your waist.

“I’m good. So good,” you smile, kissing him again.

It’s then you realise what you’ve done. You broke the rule – don’t tell the boys.

“Will?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“I have something I need to confess.”

He pulls away so he can see your face, and smiles at you gently, before putting the pieces together in his head.

“You told Frankie, didn’t you?” he asks, still smiling.

There’s a pause before you bare your truth.

“Yes. I’m sorry! He kind of figured it out himself, and he asked, and I didn’t have the heart to lie to him. He’s my best friend, he can see right through me at any given moment. I know I was the one who said we shouldn’t tell them and I know this makes me a hypocrite and I’m sorry – “

Will cuts you off - just like that day in his kitchen - by smashing his lips to yours.

“It’s okay. Sweetheart, it’s okay,” he reassures when you pull away.

“Really?”

“Yes. I promise.”

He rests his forehead against yours, and allows you to breathe him in. Then, he chuckles softly.

“What?” you ask.

“We’re idiots,” he replies.

“I mean, yes. But why?”

He chuckles again, clearly amused, before answering,

“I totally just told Benny and Santi while you were in here telling Frankie.”

You process the information, before bursting into a fit of giggles. He joins you, the both of you laughing like fools.

“You’re kidding!”

“I wish I was. Benny made a comment, said he’s kinda noticed that something has changed, and I just sort of confessed.”

You’re both laughing so hard your sides hurt. What are the chances? It all feels like fate. The two of you, together. The timing of the evening. It couldn’t have worked out any more perfect.

“We’re idiots,” you agree, throwing your arms around his neck. Will pulls you off the counter and spins you around, making you shriek. It’s the most beautiful déjà vu.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

The two of you make your way back out to the deck. As you walk over to the boys at the campfire, you’re suddenly caught off guard by two of them rugby tackling you, the three of you barrelling into the ground with a thud. Benny and Santiago are crushing you beneath them, shouting as they do it.

“Congratulations!”

“Hell yeah, sweetheart!”

“How did you even keep this a secret for so long?”

“Yeah, when were you planning to tell us, huh?”

“Can’t believe you’re marrying my brother. Oh my god, we’re gonna be family!”

“The five of us are already family, Ben.”

“Yeah, but, like, legally. Brother and sister!”

Benny’s hair is in your mouth and Santiago’s knee is in your ribcage and your earring is caught in someone’s shirt and the grass is scratching your back and you can’t breathe. Will and Frankie are watching from a distance, chuckling. You wouldn’t change it for the world.

Tranquility.

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abrthephantomq · 10 months ago

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Soooo....

Turnabout Storyteller.

I had already vaguely known about Uendo having DID due to me not necessarily avoiding spoilers when reading fanfic, but...

I have so many thoughts on this as someone who HAS the disorder they're representing here.

Like, one, I definitely appreciated the way they revealed it -- during a Mood Matrix session. Having multiple sets of feelings and having them switch on and off like that is def a thing. I've/we've experienced that before.

But also -- before that, when Uendo was switching between his "characters" and everyone thought he was just putting on a performance? Yeah, see. They did that really well considering that like -- yes, the way alters hold the body/the face can be really different. They certainly felt like different people, which was really cool to see. I liked the different poses they had because as I played I was like, "Huh... is he the character with DID...? He is, right?"

The thing is, I'm like 80% certain that Uendo is the murderer, and THAT annoys me -- but I'm not done playing through the case, yet. I just started the second half of the trial, so.... I'll comment as I go.

But if I'm right and Uendo IS the murderer, I'm gonna have to roll my eyes because soooo many pieces of media use my disorder to show HEY SOMEONE WITH THIS COULD BE A KILLER AND NOT KNOWWWWW and I hate that. Because like.... no.

OH THANK GOD. Like 3 seconds into the send half of the trial and it's NOT Uendo. Yay. Yayyyyy. I'm actually really glad they did that subversion of the person-with-DID-is-the-killer trope. Thank fucking GOD.

SIMON GRABBING ATHENA when she starts to doubt she can prove Bucky's innocence is just -- fuck. Okay. Yeah, I see why the fandom loves that particular moment. (I love Simon so much omfg).

I am honestly loving this case and I actually really like the way they've presented Uendo -- it's simplified a bit for the sake of the audience, but at the same time, switching DO be like that. And you can certainly be co-conscious and share memory.

Like.... that's legitimately how our System works -- there's usually 2-3 of us up front at any given time, with someone generally more forward, while the other(s) listens / watches. Sometimes others push to the front. And there are 4 of us who more or less have access to the continual life happenings even if we don't always recollect specific details (or what we were feeling) later.

Also Owen being a LITTLE makes so much damn sense? Fuck, idk man, I love it. I kinda adore them.

I really really really got weary when Uendo's diagnosis was revealed because, y'know, the whole oh God pls tell me you're not the murderer even if it was kinda looking like you were.

That fucking balloon girl did it, didn't she? Jesus fucking Christ. I love that, but I also hate that. Also it's so unfair they made this chick so goddamned pretty.

Also man can I also say just how like.... they legitimately refer to Owen as a child, and Kisegawa with Ms., and -- that's actually a nice little piece of the writing here. Like... is it absolutely perfect? No. It's not. But let me tell you -- as someone with this disorder? Writing it and showing it for an audience is hard.

That whole, "everyone is unique" thing applies here -- every System is different. They all develop ways of functioning in order to blend in and protect themselves. Uendo may not have the denial bit that comes with this disorder (do you know how many times I find myself asking if I'm sure I'm not faking this thing? do you??? because like, it's a "rare" disorder, right? and was my trauma REALLY bad enough for me to have alters???? etc) -- but considering the confident way he, Patches, and Kisegawa speak about their experience with the disorder, I would imagine they've been in therapy for it for a while, now.

But also -- the three of them not being aware of Owen? Or denying his existence, at least? Well, they were either protecting him because he's so young, or they legitimately did not know since apparently he may only come forward when the body is drunk.

idk I love that Uendo et al was not the killer. Like so much. Thank FUCK.

Also that was a really fun case even if it was like, not entirely relevant to the overall story happening here in SOJ. I definitely enjoyed it.

#ace attorney #spoilers #spirit of justice #uendo toneido #thoughts of a person with DID #idk I ain't mad at the representation even if I was gonna be pissed #if Uendo had ended up being the culprit #thank God they did not do that

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amostimprobabledream · 4 months ago

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Falling in Reverse (Dazai Osamu x Reader) Part Two

I meant to write more of this like...two years ago? My bad. I hope you enjoy despite that! <3 -

This is fine.

You kept on thinking it as you sat there, trying to pay attention.

You told yourself to stop it. Stop nitpicking, finding fault with every little thing and refusing to live in the moment for a solitary fucking second. You could feel your fingers twitching with desperation to check your messages, and nearly sit on your hands in an effort to stop yourself. You poured your focus into acting normal instead, nodding in the right places, making encouraging noises, keeping your facial expression open and inviting instead of sliding into boredom or irritation…

It's a fucking lot of work.

The guy – his name was Ken-something, he said what it was when you sat down but the bar was kind of loud and the chance to get him to repeat it somehow slipped past you – was good-looking enough but he wasn’t especially interesting to talk to, and he kept looking around the bar like he was expecting something. He asked the basic questions, but you got the feeling he wasn’t really listening when you answered. The only time he did seem intrigued was when you mentioned your job. You kept it vague, since the Armed Detective Agency wasn’t popular with some people, and he’d lost interest when you clarified it was just a desk job.

“So you don’t get to get out much?” he asked, with a lopsided smirk like he’d made some hilarious sexual innuendo you hadn’t got yet.

“Oh, you know, I run errands sometimes.” You replied, pretending to think hard about the response. It's actually true – Ranpo had you bringing him so many snacks it’s like he thought you were the goddamn Easter Bunny, yet you could never quite bring yourself to say ‘no’ to him. “Thrilling stuff, I know.”

“That’s too bad. Maybe you need someone to show you some thrills, you know?”

A smirk accompanied that, and you dutifully waited for the butterflies in your stomach, or a flicker of intrigue, or something, but your ardour remained stubbornly cool. Frustration bubbled inside you, and you took a big gulp of your drink. It was like you were jamming keys you knew fit into the ignition of a car, but every time you turned it, the engine would not turn on, no matter how much you tried to will it to life.

But going home would feel like quitting. Like admitting defeat. Like you're really saying: I'm so obsessed with my co-worker who is both terrible and far too good for me that I can't give anyone else a chance. Sad, huh?

“Excuse me for a sec,” you said instead, flashing a smile you didn’t feel, rising to your feet. “I’ll be right back.”

He waved a hand in acknowledgement, and you could tell he was watching you as you headed for the ladies’ room, the heat of it making you strangely uneasy, knowing his eyes were going down your body, cataloguing. For sure he was looking at your ass in the dress.

The ladies’ room was blessedly quiet, and you splashed some water on your face, staring down your reflection, hands braced either side of the sink.

What am I doing here? You thought, and sighed.

It’s just a lacklustre date. You’ve gone on them before and usually put no further thought into them once you took off your makeup and outfit and slipped into bed. There are millions of people in the world, the odds of being instantly compatible with someone seemed like a rare enough thing not to take too personally.

But looking at yourself in your red dress, your hair washed and makeup still nice (if getting slightly smudgy – most of your lipgloss had already transferred to the rim of your glass), you didn’t feel like some kind of sexy badass like you’d been going for.

You just felt kind of stupid, to be honest.

You really thought you did something, didn’t you? A nasty inner voice sneered at you. You thought this was like a movie where you could put on a slutty dress, have an amazing date with a cute guy and magically cure your shitty life? You thought this would fix anything?

You hated that the bitchy voice was right.

“You stupid bitch.” You muttered out loud, your reflection mouthing the words back at you, and you shook your head and exited the toilets before somebody walked in on the stranger talking to herself.

Perhaps the drinks are hitting you a little harder than you thought, because a vague fuzz of light-headedness descended on you as you walked towards your booth, and you decided that you liked it. It took the edge of your self-consciousness and made you forget how this wasn’t the kind of dress you usually wore, or that you were going on a stupid date to get over your feelings for a co-worker who was literally a hazard to one’s health.

But then, just as you got back to your seat, younearly tripped over yourself in shock when you got to the booth and the back of the seated man’s head was definitely not the man you’d come into the bar with.

You’d know those fluffy brown locks anywhere.

“Dazai, what the fuck?!“ you said, then remembered to lower your voice into a hiss, anger coming to you in a sharp burst, like opening a bottle that’s been shaken up first. “You can’t just come in here and- “

Dazai turned his head and your ranting abruptly halted. His face was devoid of its usual playful smirk and the sparkle of mischief in his eyes, eyes that looked brown but when the light hit them just right, they got this golden sheen that looked just like honey…

You were distracted for a second, and Dazai’s voice cut through the fog.

“I don’t have time to explain, we have to move now.”

Something in his voice froze your anger – it had dropped an octave from his usual light-hearted, teasing tone he often adopted to annoy Kunikida or trick Atsushi into doing something for him. No, Dazai wasn’t playing around, and your stomach dropped when you caught the look on his face.

More questions teemed on your tongue, but he was standing up, up, out of the seat and away from the little booth, grabbing your arm as he rushed by. Your half-finished drink lay abandoned and unpaid for – you knew Dazai had a habit of dine and dashing and apparently he was putting it to good use now.

He dragged you through the kitchen, so quickly that the yells of surprise from the cooks were already far behind you as he opened the door to the back of the bar and you’d stepped into the cool outside air. Dazai didn’t pause in his stride or let go of your arm and you realised to your chagrin that you’d left your jacket behind in the booth. You could only hope some kind soul would hand it in to the place to hold onto, though they might not feel like returning it since you’d just disappeared without paying for your drink.

“Dazai, slow down-" you said, doing your damndest to keep up with him – you’re not exactly dressed for running. “What’s going on?”

“Your date isn’t just your average Joe, I’m afraid.” Dazai replied, grimly, apparently deciding that telling you something was more practical than refusing to go into detail and risking a mutiny. “I’m not sure where you found this guy, but he’s there to try and pump information about the Armed Detective Agency from you.”

Your stomach twisted unpleasantly – you barely had time to register the chilly sting of disappointment, like cool air from a fast moving vehicle whipping by you.

“What the fuck – how could you possibly know that?” you spluttered, before another, unwelcome possibility struck you. “Were you… following me?!”

“Of course I was.” He said, in a voice that sounded a bit more like his usual one – that annoying, teasy, I-know-something-you-don’t-know tone that usually got him slapped upside the head by Kunikida.

Your indignant squawk was cut off when he wrenched at your arm and suddenly, you’d stopped running and were enveloped in cool darkness. He’d found some kind of little snicket that somebody passing at a reasonable pace would probably have missed. You’re not surprised that Dazai was well-acquainted with hidden away little spots like that.

“Dazai-" you said again, frustrated and slightly out of breath – why was he stopping?

“Ssh.” He said.

In the distance you could hear the screeching of a car – no, more than one car – and an even more distant wailing of sirens. His arms caged you in and he was staring over his shoulder intently, like a fox that has heard the baying of the hounds.

“No doubt the Port Mafia’s goons are out looking for their little friend now.” He muttered, more to himself than you. It was like he’d forgotten you were there. “It’s for the best if this doesn’t get traced back to the Armed Detective Agency.”

Your mouth felt dry suddenly, noting the calculating look in Dazai’s eyes and unease crawled up your back. It’s so easy to forget that Dazai used to be one of them, that he knew the way they think and that he’s capable of switching back into that mode with frightening ease. Just because you’re co-workers didn’t mean you knew much about him, and you’re being made painfully aware of that fact right now.

“Dazai…just what did you do?” you asked, and you couldn’t hide the faint hitch in your voice.

Did he drag the guy outside and kill him? Was that why the police sirens were coming closer? If you pulled back the front of his coat right now, would his immaculate white shirt be splattered with still-wet blood? Does he think you told the guy something valuable? You didn’t think Dazai would hurt you – but you couldn’t be completely, one-hundred percent sure.

What did you really know about Osamu Dazai?

“Don’t worry. The Port Mafia don’t take kindly when you mess with one of their own,” Dazai said, seemingly able to discern your mounting fears with a glance, perhaps the look in your eyes or the tremor when you spoke gave you away. “He’ll live, but he’ll think twice before he tries using someone from the Agency like that.”

Thank god for that. You think – not that you would have lost too much sleep over one ex-Port Mafia member, but the thought of being stuck in a tiny space with a man who had just recently murdered someone wasn’t exactly the kind of exciting activity you’d hoped for tonight.

“So, we should get out of here,” you said, swallowing. “While they’re still swarming the bar.”

“Not yet. They’ll be looking for people running for public transport.” Dazai replied, his voice so certain that you didn’t question him further – why would you? This was all new territory for you, whereas Dazai had been doing this kind of thing since he was fifteen.

“So then what-?”

But you both fell silent as you heard something else – voices, drawing closer. Dazai swore softly under his breath, and he leaned in a little closer to you like he was trying to shield you from view with his body. You could feel yourself starting to sweat from the intensity of it, fighting back a grimace as you felt a trickle of it sliding down the length of your upper arm. Fuck.

"I'm sorry," Dazai said, after a beat, when the voices had drawn so close that you swore any second - any second! – they were going to find you and maybe kill you, your heart pounding so loudly in your ears.

And Dazai truly sounded regretful - he really was a good actor.

“I'm going to have to kiss you."

He didn't give you pause to process his words, which came to you as if from far away, floating to your ears, because the next thing you knew, long slender fingers were cupping your jaw, turning your face and his mouth was sliding over yours.

Most first kisses are awkward, fumbling affairs. Getting used to someone else's rhythm, trying not to do something awkward and mood-killing like clash teeth or bite the other person's tongue can slow things down, cause a few seconds where the spell is broken.

Kissing Dazai - or rather, being kissed by him, was nothing like that.

He kissed you like he'd been given a guide. Like he knew you, intrinsically and deeply, and knew the inner workings of your mind and mouth better than you did. One hand stayed cradling your jaw, the other one slid down, and his long, elegant fingers wrapped around your waist, pulling you in until you were pressed flush against him. It didn’t escape your notice that his crotch was also touching you and you were decidedly grateful his mouth was firmly joined with yours, or you might have actually whimpered out loud.

How often had you dreamed of this? Your nights had been full of sordid little fantasies of Dazai, of dropping your guard and confessing to him, and then, in your mind, he’d smile and tell you he’d always known, before he kissed you. Or depending on how raunchy you were feeling, other times you’d picture him just sweeping everything off your desk in a dramatic gesture and fucking you right then and there on the desk?

And all of it had seemed so stupid and pathetic than you’d be stinging with shame after your late-night fantasies reached their climax, lusting so hard over someone who probably barely noticed you were present in the room. Falling for Dazai’s looks was one thing, but you saw what he was like on a day-to-day basis, how he was lazy and unprofessional and sometimes kind of an asshole. But cold logic would not touch your yearning.

And now, in this cold, cramped little forgotten pocket of Yokohama, Dazai was putting your daydreams to shame. Your lips tingled as if you’d kissed something with a high voltage, heat surging along your bloodstream. Dazai’s touch was gentle but firm and the way he tilted his head, angling yours at his preference, sent a thrill chasing down your spine.

The voices were now right across from you, within arm’s reach, but Dazai felt you stiffen in fear and simply deepened the kiss, holding you tightly to him.

“Nevermind. Nobody’s here ‘cept some lovebirds.” A man’s rough voice said and it sounded so close, you could practically smell him, but you forced yourself to tune him out like someone deep in the throes of passion would, to sink into the sensation of Dazai’s hands on you, his tongue slipping into your mouth, the pleasant scent of him, sort of like freshly-cut wood and whisky.

“Come on, let’s go this way, they probably took the subway.”

The footsteps go the opposite direction, you hear one of the Port Mafia grunts swearing as he walks through a puddle, and the fear pricking you recedes. Dazai had one eye open, scanning behind you, before he finally breaks the kiss and pulled back. You felt bereft, but you were also seized by the abrupt urge to laugh at the sparkly smudge of gloss on the corner of his mouth.

“Nicely done,” Dazai remarked, his eyes cutting down at you, and his lips curved in a smirk. “Almost like it was real.”

“Yeah,” you replied, trying to sound ironic, but you sounded far too breathy to be sufficiently aloof. “Almost.”

Dazai’s hand had not left your waist yet and he stepped out of the hiding place, pulling you after him.

“Stay close to me,” he instructed, his voice husky. “We’re not out of danger yet.”

You nodded and wiped your mouth on the back of the wrist.

With Dazai, danger was a given. You just hoped you’d come out of it in one piece – in more ways than one. But your voice was steady as you answered;

“Then let’s go.”

#BSD Dazai #Dazai x Reader #BSD x Reader #Fanfiction #Writing #Bungou Stray Dogs #Reader Insert

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cowboydisaster · 2 years ago

Text

The Fire In Your Eyes

part VIII: horseshoe overlook iv

pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

word count: 15.2k

summary: it's time for the train job, the biggest job you've ever done. You've got a bad feeling about it, and by the end you wish you would have listened to your gut.

a/n: Surprise! Early post! Thank you for your patience with this chapter! Yall know I always upload on Wednesday, but i was so sick that i couldn't write, and i had to go to the ER on tuesday night to get fluids. Anyway, this has been the scariest chapter to write ever. Don't kill me please and please don't give up on this series... love yall, don't yell at me and please trust me. This chapter was too long and got split into two parts: part two will be posted in three days time.

beta read by @margowritesthings

warnings: violence, death, minors dni, 18+

series extras

SERIES MASTERPOST

Arthur leaves long before you even wake up, heading back down to Blackwater to find Sean. It gives you a sick feeling in your stomach, but you trust he’ll be okay. Arthur is smart, and even though he's good at getting himself in sticky situations, he's equally good at getting out of them. It doesn't do much to help your worry, but it’s all you can cling to for right now.

You swirl your half empty cup of coffee in your hand, leaning down for the percolator to reheat it. The fire is warm, alongside the sun, and you find yourself grateful for the off the shoulder shirt you’d picked up a few days ago. It's the perfect temperature you think, tasting the bitter coffee. You're startled out of your thoughts by a weary presence.

“Penny for your thoughts, ma’am?” Kieran asks, walking passed to sit down opposite of you on a crate. He looks nervous, like he was afraid to come sit, and you feel sorry for it. Kieran seems like a nice man, just someone who was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“Just thinkin’ about all that's goin’ on… I see they let you live, huh?” You chuckle, and Kieran nods, nervously.

“Well Mr. Morgan convinced Dutch to let me stay, I thought maybe that was your doin.” Kieran says, and your eyebrow pings up in shock.

“Did he now?” You hum, surprised by Arthur’s choice, “No, That was all Mr. Morgan. Well good for you, I just hope he won’t regret it.”

“Oh he won’t! I'm real good with horses, miss, worked in a stable most my life. I’m sure I can be of help with anything you folks need, especially in that regard. I can do anything, even latrines. I’ll earn my keep, miss, I will.” Kieran stutters and you nod, eyeing him over.

“But speakin’ of horses… that palomino over there, the blue eyed one, is she yours?” Kieran asks, nodding towards Athena, who has her neck to the ground, tearing through the bale of hay there. You smile, watching as she pins her ears at Old Boy, keeping the hay for herself.

“Yeah, she’s mine. Just got her since we’ve been here.” You smile, and Kieran takes note of her configuration.

“She looks like a thoroughbred. Nice and tall, lean and muscular.” Kieran points out, and you hum at his accuracy.

“She is.” You respond, eyeing whether or not Kieran has a motive or if he's just a lover of all things equine. You sip at your bitter coffee, letting him speak for himself.

“Y’know palomino thoroughbreds are of the rare sort, n’ with those blues? Well you got a real fine animal, miss.” Kieran says, doting over your mare. You smile, making a note to mention Kieran’s knowledge of horses to Arthur. Maybe that could be his designated contribution. At least he’d be doing something he enjoys instead of getting harassed and threatened by the gang all day.

“Thank you.” You hum, drinking the rest of your coffee.

"Well I reckon I better take my coffee and head back to shuckin' corn till they give me a better job. But it was real nice talkin' to you, miss. You're the first person who's treated me like a person rather than an animal since I've been here." Kieran smiles, filling up his cup with the percolator before nodding to you and heading back to Pearson's wagon. You frown, feeling sorry for him. You were lucky enough to have been found by Arthur, but it could have gone any other way. O'Driscolls could have found you first, and you could be in Kieran's shoes right now.

Sighing, and taking your cup of coffee, you stand up and walk past Strauss's tent, ignoring his greeting. There's a little log sitting near the edge of the cliff behind his tent, and it's a perfect little spot to sit and think. Not wanting to be bothered, your eyes stay pinned on the log as you make your way towards it. The view is breathtaking, you can see everything from the Dakota River to the tops of the Grizzlies from the spot as you sit down, drinking in the warm air. It's a secluded little area, far enough from camp to get away from the arguments and bickering, but close enough for safety. You're enjoying your solitude, watching two bucks fight down below the cliff, they're antlers are stuck together as they rip and rug. It's an interesting sight, until it's interrupted by a throat clearing behind you.

"John." You sigh, annoyed not with his presence but the fact that you know why he's here.

"Nice to see you too." John chuckles, bringing his leg over the log to sit next to you with a cigarette between his lips.

“Gotta get some supplies for this train job, I could use an extra hand that ain't a dumbass.” John asks, leaning backwards to stretch. You sigh, not wanting to even think about the damn train job. But nonetheless, you nod.

“Sure. What exactly is your plan for goin’ about it?” You ask, scooching towards John as he pinches the cigarette between his fingers, shaking it before tossing it on the ground. He pulls a map from his pocket, unfolds the heavily used paper, and holds it out for you to see.

“Trains' comin’ from Riggs Station. It’s dropping off its security detail in The Heartlands, and after dark it’s heading down to Rhodes to pick up the next regiment.” He explains, tracing his finger over the paper from Riggs Station to Rhodes.

“So it’ll be completely unguarded for this whole stretch of tracks?” You ask. It sounds too good to be true, but you know that John and Arthur have done this enough by now. They know how to get proper information. But the idea of the train job still makes your stomach flip with anxiety as you’ve never robbed anything as big as a train.

“Well, not exactly. The security that they’re payin the big bucks for won’t be there, but we expect a few armed passengers, and some local boys guardin’ the train for extra cash. It won't be completely unguarded, but it sure as hell won’t be a militia like you’d expect.”

You nod, taking the map from his hands gently, and looking it over.

“Where do we board, n’ how are we boardin’ it?” You ask, and John places his index finger over a little area labeled Dewberry Creek, just past the Lemoyne/New Hanover stateline.

“Here. We’ll have to stop the train, or it’ll take us right into town. I figure we get an oil wagon, ease it over the tracks. When that train comes through and sees that oil? It’ll stop just fine. We board her, encourage those rich bastards to give up their grammy’s pearls and we ride out.” John explains, tucking the map back into his pocket.

“Alright… seems like a solid plan.” You admit, ignoring your gut, “Where do we get a full oil wagon?” You ask, dusting some dirt off of your new jeans.

“That’s where you come in. Only place I reckon we find one is the oil fields, out in The Heartlands, you know of it?”

You shake your head no, “Uh-uh.”

“Well it's well guarded for the most part, but most of those guys sleep or drink on the job. And they don’t get paid enough to give a damn. I’m heading over now to scout the place out, get an idea of the schedule. Thought maybe you could tag along, put that head to use instead of washin’ clothes for old Susan.”

You raise an eyebrow, unsure if he's just complimented you or insulted you, but still, you nod.

“Alright. Let me pack some stuff, I’ll meet you by the horses.”

John nods as you walk back towards your tent. With a sigh, you pull the canvas open. Your saddle bag is sitting on your bed, and you stuff it with some provisions and a change of clothes, then decide that you’ll need to grab some more ammo from Arthur's tent just in case. Once everything is all packed and settled, you swing your saddlebag over your shoulder and head back out. You stop around the back of Arthur’s wagon, picking up a few cases of express bullets and some throwing knives from the makeshift armory.

“What does she want from him now? I never liked hearin' about her…” Marybeth hisses, and you look up, startled, realizing she is standing in Arthur’s tent. You’re peeking around the back of the wagon, eavesdropping as Marybeth places a crisp white envelope on Arthur’s bedside table.

“I always thought Mary was nice…” Tilly responds, picking up the envelope and looking it over before returning it.

“Nice like a patch of poison ivy.” Marybeth bites, and Tilly rolls her eyes.

“You didn’t even know her. Not when she was really around, anyway. She was always kind, just… didn’t agree with our life. Can you blame her?” Tilly sighs, and they walk out of the tent together.

Your eyebrows pull together, and you walk around the outside of his tent until you're at the entrance. You hum, looking at the envelope before striding through his tent towards it. It’s upside down on his table, and you know you shouldn’t be snooping through his mail, but you pick it up and flip it over regardless. Written in sloppy cursive is ‘Arthur’ and you look after the lettering for a while. The paper is fancy, the kind that is expensive and only available in the city. Your finger trails over the lettering, and it itches to tear the red seal off and read the contents, but you restrain yourself. You know if the roles were reversed Arthur would respect your privacy. Sighing, you place the envelope back and meet John by the horses, wondering who Mary might be the whole way over. John is just climbing into the saddle when you approach.

“Ready to go?” He asks, settling himself down over Old Boy and checking the straps on his saddlebag.

“Sure.” You mumble, mounting up onto Athena and giving her a nice pat. Once you’re settled, the two of you start cantering out of the trails, nodding to Karen who is keeping watch. Instead of riding towards Valentine, John leads you out towards the Heartlands, into unfamiliar territory for you. You can’t help but think about those men, Milton and Ross, and wonder why in the hell you’re all robbing a train right now.

“Why does Dutch keep pushin’ this job?” You holler up, squeezing Athena to run faster after John.

“I got no idea.” He yells back to you. Once you run over the tracks the terrain changes from grass to dry, sandy dirt, and you try to keep Athena on the trail to avoid getting any rocks lodged in her shoes.

“It don’t make sense, we should be leavin. Now I don't want to, not at all, but there was Pinkertons right next to our camp, just a stone's throw away.” You shake your head, unbelieving of Dutch’s terrible call.

“Do you think they know where we are?” John asks, turning in his saddle a bit as he gallops on.

“No. No if they knew where we are they would have just came to camp… But still, approachin’ us like that when we had Jack with us? Tellin’ us, in front of him, what happened to Mac? They can all go to hell.” You hiss, and John goes quiet for a minute. All you can hear is hooves pounding as you wait for his response.

“You and Arthur had Jack?” John asks, like he's angry, but mostly surprised. Your eyebrows draw together, unsure of why it’s a big deal.

“Well, yeah. Abigail asked us to watch him for a bit, just to cheer him up.” You respond as he leads you up the bank towards Citadel Rock. John huffs loudly, rolling his eyes and shaking his head as if he disapproves.

“You got a problem with that?” You bite, noticing the tension in his shoulders, and his quiet, aggressive demeanor.

“She acts like I ain’t there… for her or the boy.” John hisses, shaking his head. It grows quiet again as you think back to Abigail’s pleading tears, begging you to take Jack because John wouldn't.

“Are you?” You ask, with some judgment. John really thinks about your question, slowing Old Boy to a trot as he comes up near the slope of Citadel Rock. He left them, but he came back, that counts for something in his eyes. Surely, it counts in Abigail’s eyes too….

“Well yeah!” John says defensively, “Im tryin’... tryin’ to get money for them at least, so she can raise the boy up proper.” John says, stopping his stallion at the edge of the cliff, overlooking The Heartlands. You pull Athena up alongside him, stopping so you can look him in the eyes.

“Money don’t matter if you ain’t there for ‘em.” You whisper, no harshness or judgment in your eyes, although he takes it with such, pulling back and scrunching up his face in anger.

“The hells that supposed to mean?” He bites, dropping his reins and throwing an arm in the air towards you. You keep your calm demeanor, only wanting to help the little family. You have no quarrels against John or his parenting, but you’re the one in camp watching Abigail comfort a crying Jack when his daddy isn't there to tuck him in night after night.

“It’s just…” You think over your words, tongue darting out over your lips, “Your boys' real upset, he misses ya John. Abigail won't admit it but she misses you too.” Your wrist rests on the horn of your saddle, toying with the leather reins as you watch John’s face soften. He sighs, eyes downcast as he runs his hand over his face, careful not to catch the healing stitches on his right side.

“You think?” He asks, looking up to you, and you nod your head up and down, sure.

“I don't know what I’m doin’ Star.” John sighs, doubting himself. It’s not that he doesn’t want to be there for Jack and Abigail, he doesn't know how to. He doesn't see himself cut out to be a father or a husband, and he has a hard time believing his family wants him around.

“None of us do,” You huff a laugh, thinking of your own situation with Arthur, “You just gotta try your best to do right by them.”

John nods, offering you a small, sad smile as he leans over to tap your knee in thanks. Without another word, but with a mutual understanding, you both dismount your horses. Then it’s time to get down to work. John takes both the horses, and he hitches them down the bank a ways so they can’t be seen from the roads or the fields. As he takes them away, you pull out your binoculars. Crouching, you look through the glass and take in the infamous Heartland Oil Fields. There is one big building, the factory, on the left side of the tracks that run straight through the place. On the right are smaller buildings, you’re presuming bunks, outhouses and storage rooms. The entire place is fenced in, except for where the tracks run through and the main entrance, guarded by two armed men. You search for an oil wagon, and find a few but you’re not sure which are empty or full. Armed guards stand all around the place, and there is a damn moat of oil ponds on the right perimeter. You pull the binoculars down, hearing John return as he walks up beside you. He too is eyeing the factory, face drawn up as he thinks over a plan.

“How do you reckon we go about this?” You ask, handing him over the binoculars. He takes them, and does the same look around that you’ve just had.

“We stay here and figure out their routine. They have a checkpoint at the front gate, so if we watch them long enough we’ll know which wagons are full and when. Then we slip in at night, once the workers have gone home. We’ll only have to get past the guards.” John explains and you sigh, nodding. You look up at the sun, holding your fingers up to the horizon. It’s nearly 4PM, you’re gonna be here for a while.

“Why don’t you make us a fire or somethin? And grab my bedroll too. This is uncomfortable as hell.” You ask of him as you plop down on the dirt, taking the first watch.

— — — —

“Star?” John mumbles, and you groan, eyelashes fluttering. You curl your knees in tighter until John shakes your shoulder.

“Star, get up. It’s time to go.” John says, and those four words alone pull you from your slumber, it's time to go.

In the past six hours you and John had traded shifts a handful of times, and both picked up the same pattern. A wagon is filled every hour on the hour, and then left for only ten minutes while the guards do their rounds. Once the ten minutes are up, the wagon is taken out the front gate by a heavily armed detail, and sent off. You had suggested earlier that it might be easier to steal the wagon after it leaves the oil fields, but John had said the risk of the oil wagon getting shot would be too high. So you stick with the original plan, leaving you only ten minutes to sneak into the place and sneak out with the wagon. It’ll be hard, but it’s your only option.

“They just started their rounds, hurry up.” John explains as you scramble to your feet. You notice he has the camp taken down already, and the fire is nothing but smoking ashes as you quickly roll up your bedroll. Quietly whistling for Athena, you wait for her to arrive before strapping down your bedroll and jumping onto her back. The ten minute countdown has already begun as you and John gallop down the hill.

“Which way do we go in?” You ask, running after John towards the right flank of the fenced oil fields.

“We're gonna come up on the right side, ditch the horses a ways out, and jump the fence. Wagon should be sitting right there. Then we just drive it right out the front gate.” John hollers back, slowing Old Boy down once you can see the fence. Coyotes yip and howl in The Heartlands, making the night even more eerie as you approach the factory. With the dark and the distance, none of the guards can see your horses as you both dismount and break for the fence. You shoo both horses, signaling them to flee. And then you're running, keeping your breaths controlled and steady as you watch out for any straggling guards. John reaches the fence before you do. It’s not very high and he easily jumps over it.

“C’mon!” John whispers as you throw yourself over the fence, landing painfully on your ankle with a wince. He grabs your elbow, pulling you along with him. Once you're inside, you take a look around to get your bearings. You see a few swinging lanterns in the distance, all guards on watch, but none of them look in your direction. Most of the lanterns near the bunk houses have been snuffed out for the night, leaving you to the shadows. You turn in the other direction and see exactly what you're looking for.

“Right there!” You whisper, pointing ahead to the wagon. It’s pulled in front of one of the tents, and John helps you run towards it. Two white shire horses are hooked up to the wagon, and you’re glad to see that they’re strong and agile.

“Go on, get up there. I’ll drive.” John says, hushed as he breaks away from you to get on the left side of the wagon. You’re not sure how much time you have, but surely it’s not much. Your heart pumps loudly in your ears as you climb up the side of the wagon, ignoring the slight pain in your ankle. John clambers up, and just as he reaches the bench seat you hear a low, deep growl. You snap your head around to catch the source and the blood runs from your face at the sight of a massive bloodhound. A guard dog. His jaw snaps as he snarls at you with a warning.

“John…?” You whisper, so quietly that he barely hears. He turns and sees the dog, and his eyes flicker from it to the guards walking on the other side of the factory. The dog's hackles are raised as it snarls, showing its teeth. You know that if it barks, or alerts the guards in any way, you’ll both be caught. John shushes it and slowly starts to roll the wagon away, quietly cueing the horses onward. The dog snarls again, snapping its jaws as you quietly ride the wagon away.

“What do we do? What if it alerts someone?” You whisper, heart racing. If the dog alerts a single guard, you’ll have every person in the facility shooting at you.

“I don’t know, drive like hell, I guess.” John offers as you watch the dog. John has the horses going at a nice trot towards the entrance, and sweat runs down your brow as the dog runs after the wagon. You’re just about to breach the front gate when it happens- when the bloodhound does what bloodhounds do. It bays, and it bays loud.

"What is it boy? What ya find?" Someone hollers, and a lantern flicks on in one of the tents. John flicks the reins over the horse's backs harshly and they pick up a canter towards the front gate.

“Shit!" You hiss as the dog continues, head tossed up in the air as guards start to come out and find the disturbance. One man comes out from a tent, still in pajamas with a rifle in hand. Your eyes widen as he stares directly at you.

“Right there! They’re takin’ a wagon!” The barely clothed man yells, and John curses as he smacks the horses with the reins again, and they take off. More guards and workers seem to come out and see you all escaping, and everyone readies their rifles. John steers the horses out the main gate just as bullets start to whiz past your head.

“Stop them!” Another guard calls out, “Get the damn law!”

Bullets ping against the wooden wheels of the wagon, and buzz through the air past your head. You lean your head down to protect yourself as you grab your carbine from around your shoulder, good thing you grabbed those bullets.

“Shoot somethin’!” John yells, maneuvering the horses along the roads in the direction of Dewberry Creek.

“Im tryin!” You yell back, loading your carbine before popping up and taking down two guards who were shooting from behind the fence. A few bullets ping against the side of the wagon, and you gasp, realizing how quickly it could go up in flames. You pop up from the bench again, and fire into the chests of three men who were running after the wagon.

“Watch the damn oil, you morons!” One of the guards yells to his men. You shoot down three more men before you have to reload again. John is getting you further from the oil fields, and the flashing of gunfire gets farther away until two riders come out after the wagon. You’re still filling up the magazine when they ride up on you, and John ducks, yelling something. A few more bullets whiz passed before you stand up and shoot both men down from their horses. You pant, ducking as three more riders gallop after you both. John has the horses running at a dizzying pace as you stand, taking down two men. You're extra careful not to shoot or hurt the rider's horses as you come up and shoot the last man.

“Is that the last of them?” John yells as you pant, wiping sweat from your brow and slumping back into your seat.

“Yeah, that's all.” You breathe heavily, tossing your carbine strap back over your shoulder. You whistle, and turn around to watch for Athena. John does the same, and luckily after a few minutes, both come running behind the wagon.

“Where we takin’ this again? I know you said the creek, but specifically?” You ask, taking your hat off and setting it in your lap to untie your braid. You pull the cloth tie out, running your fingers through the waves that are now down your back.

“We’re droppin’ it near this torn down house. I’ll leave the horses go and we'll come back for it when the train comes through.” John explains, and you nod.

It’s a bit of a ride, especially with the pace you go at. The horses are exhausted and scared from the shootout, so John doesn’t push them past a trot. It's nice to just relax in the passenger seat, and you focus on the humming of bugs and frogs while your heartbeat settles. It's a cloudy night, the kind where a cold fog settles over the place, but you don't mind. It's still beautiful. The moon pokes through the fog in a hazy glow, offering some light for John to lead you to Dewberry Creek. He winds the wagons down the open hills until you reach a small trail along a big dried up creek bed.

"Guess the creek ain't fairin' so well." You point out, watching as coyotes yip and run through the dried up creek.

"Guess not." John offers, pulling the wagons toward a structure. It looks like a little house that burned down. The foundation is intact, along with the fireplace and support beams, but the rest has burned away.

"We pull them off right here." John says, turning the horses to walk in between the house and a patch of trees. He starts to slow them down, and you hop from the wagon before it stops. Immediately you jog around the backside to check the cargo.

"Shit, John! Shit!" You hiss, taking in the oil wagon that is riddled with random bullet holes. There's about five or six, and no more oil leaks from them. You knock on the side of the wagon as John jumps down, groaning when the wagon sounds hollow.

"All the oils' gone." You sigh, rubbing your face as John paces around the backside of the wagon. Athena grows antsy from the upset, and she stomps and rears lightly.

"Now what the hell do we do?" You ask angrily, calling Athena over to comfort her. You hand her an oatcake to munch on and stroke her neck as John comes up with a plan. Athena's gentle nickers calm you down, and you take a deep breath as she leans into your hand. John is standing back from the wagon, hands on his hips as he thinks it over.

"It'll work just the same. The conductor won't know if it's full or not." John says, biting his cheek and you sigh.

"We can't just go get another one." John huffs, "That oil factory is on high alert now."

"You're sure it'll work?" You ask, stepping towards him with raised eyebrows.

"It'll work." He reassures you. You nod, sighing and waking towards the front of the wagon where the two white shire horses are hooked up. John does the same on the other side, and you both slice the leather harness straps, freeing the horses.

"When's it comin' through?" You ask, patting the shire horse to run off.

"Tomorrow night." John says, and your stomach aches at the thought. Only twenty four hours until your first train job.

Athena and Old Boy are grazing next to each other just a short walk away from the wagon, and you and John silently walk towards them, sheathing your knives and watching as the pair of white shire horses run up over the hill, bucking and whinnying.

"You ever rob a train before?" John asks, looking over at your anxious expression. You shake your head, coming up to Athena.

"No, afraid not. Just drunken idiots usually." You chuckle, and John smiles.

"Y'know I'm glad it was Arthur's watch you stole, and not mine back in Tumbleweed. I probably never would have noticed, and you'd still be runnin' all over hell in the west." John chuckles, and you smile at the memory, mounting onto Athena.

"Still can't believe he brought ya back like he did, but I'm glad for it." John says, climbing onto his stallion. Your eyebrows pull together lightly at his remark.

"Why's that?" You ask, cueing Athena into a canter with John behind you.

"Arthur, he ain't never brought someone back to camp before you, and he throws a big fuss when someone new comes in. He gets all pissed and leaves for a few days. He says it's 'easier to lie low with less people.' Musta seen somethin' in you, though." John hollers up to you, and your features soften. You wonder why Arthur chose differently for you, why he brought you back to camp.

"He's different with you." John says, galloping alongside you, and you have to push Athena further ahead to hide the blush on your cheeks. You want to quip something back, but you come up short because you know he's right. You've heard the same testament from each of the girls, Hosea, and Arthur himself.

It grows quiet as you gallop through The Heartlands, avoiding the roads and any lingering lawmen. It's late, near midnight when you finally get close to camp. You can hear the cheers and laughter from the road, and you smile back at John.

"Guess they found him." You chuckle, trotting Athena under the fallen tree into camp. When you breach the trees, coming into the little opening, the sight has you laughing. Camp is lighter than it's been in a while. Sean is standing on a crate giving some grand speech with everyone gathered around, and by the sound of it he's already drunk. You hitch Athena, and John nudges your elbow.

"Reckon I'm gonna go be with my family. Thanks for your help." John pats your back before walking off towards the camp. You smile, taking off the straps of Athena's saddle and placing it over the hitching post before walking towards the crowd.

"Get a load of this bastard." Arthur huffs, walking up beside you with two whiskeys in hand, gesturing to Sean. He hands you a drink, and you smile, glad to be home.

"Found him strung up in a damn tree surrounded by bounty hunters."

"A-and I owe my life to old English over 'tere!" Sean points to Arthur, "Yep, 'tats right! Old grumpy Arthur Morgan! Come to save me, ya did! You're my brother, ya arsehole!" Sean laughs heartily, jumping down from the crate and approaching the two of you.

"Miss!" Sean calls out to you, and Arthur chuckles, sipping his drink. Sean comes to you with a big toothless grin, a contagious one, and wraps you in a hug.

"Ah, I've already got the gossip from Ms. Jones, callin ya Star now, eh?" Sean asks, letting you go before nudging you with his elbow, "It's fittin! Y'know they say you twose are tied together like glue!" Sean winks at you lightly, nudging you and gesturing to Arthur.

"I know a couple good spots for a shag if you two need a getaway. N' I know an Irishman if you get tired a' this ol'-" Sean starts, pointing to Arthur, but Arthur has had enough.

"Would you please shut up?" Arthur bites, hand pulling away from the bridge of his nose as you giggle. Sean puts his hands up in mock surrender.

"I was just teasin'! Only pullin' yer leg!" Sean chuckles, tipping his hat to you before backing away and rejoining the crowd.

"I did not miss that kid." Arthur sighs, leading you towards the campfire where Javier sits, playing a tune. Everyone is in good spirits, especially as Hosea enters with Dutch and two huge, full cases of alcohol, announcing the return party.

"Yes you did." You tell Arthur, smirking as he sits down on the wolf pelt covered log. You sit down right next to him, closer than what's expected, but you're growing used to the proximity, finding comfort in it even. Sean is talking loudly to the girls as everyone gathers around the crates of hooch. The bottles pass around quickly as Javier picks up a new tune. It's one that everyone knows, and you smile.

"Cielito Lindo." You remark with a chuckle as Javier picks up the rhythm on his guitar. More people gather around the fire. Dutch, John, the girls, Uncle, Lenny, even Abigail and Jack join in as Javier starts to play. Jack sits on John's lap, nestled right next to Abigail, and you smile at them.

"¡Ay, ay, ay, ay! ¡Canta y no llores!" Everyone hollers out, not sure of the lyrics or their meaning, but enjoying the energetic song. Even Arthur sings along, and you giggle at his steadily behind, off key tune.

"¡Porque cantando se alegran, Cielito lindo, los corazones!" Javier sings out, passionately stringing the guitar as a few people clap along and laugh. The smile on your face is brighter than it's been in a while as you watch the weight lift off of the gang's shoulders. Arthur is smiling, and for that you are very grateful. You'd do anything to see him like this more often, carefree and happy. Javier continues the song verse, and everyone claps along until the chorus comes.

"¡Ay, ay, ay, ay! ¡Canta y no llores!" Everyone calls out again, and you hold your drink up a little as you sing it. Javier continues the song, and you chuckle as Jack pulls Abigail up from her seat to dance with him. He spins around and hops with very little rhythm, just having fun. Arthur chuckles beside you, eyes bright as they lay upon the same scene.

"You want another drink?" Arthur asks, noticing that your first is nearly gone. You shake your head.

"No thanks, think I'm cuttin' myself off for the night." You say, handing the bottle over for him to finish.

"I'm surprised you drank at all after that mess in Valentine." Arthur chuckles as Javier sings out the song's verse.

"I only had one. Don't plan on bein' that sick ever again, and we got one hell of a job to do tomorrow." You whisper, mind lingering on the train job. You'd like to drink, just to forget about it, but heading into it with a foggy mind is the opposite of what you need. Arthur sighs, digging the heel of his boot into the dirt.

"We do." He remarks, eyes flickering up to Dutch. Arthur can't understand why Dutch is pushing this job right now with the Pinkertons so close. But he trusts Dutch, and knows he'll lead them out of it. You're not so sure. Dutch is watching you from across camp, a snake-like glint in his eye. You can see the way he wants to use you, to play you like his chess piece and defeat some great power. It's useless, it's ridiculous. An outlaw runs from the law, but Dutch is challenging it, intentionally aggravating it. It's a dangerous game.

"I got a bad feeling about this job, Arthur." You bring up that gut feeling again, and you know you're right. You don't trust this job, and something is going to go wrong.

"I know you do… You and John get that wagon today?" Arthur asks as Javier picks up a different song on his guitar.

"We got the wagon just fine, but it's empty. We were caught red handed and they shot it to hell, all the oil leaked out." You sigh, embarrassed to admit the failure to Arthur, "John says it'll work just fine though, the conductor won't know if it's empty or not." You add as Arthur curses.

"Enough about that, why don't we just enjoy the party?" You ask, wanting to talk about anything other than the train job and the damn empty wagon. Arthur taps your knee with his knuckles.

"Sure." He says, offering you a small smile and you release a breath. Javier is playing a new song now, one you don't recognize, but it's a joyful tune, light and happy.

"Arthur!" Marybeth calls from across the fire, giggling and trodding over towards you both with a big, bright smile.

"Yes, Miss Gaskill?" Arthur asks as Marybeth comes forward and grabs one of his hands.

"Dance with me?" She asks, leaning back in an attempt to pull him from his seat. He chuckles, looking over to you for a moment with a rosy blush on his cheeks.

"Oh, I think I'll sit this one out-" Arthur starts, but you shove him upwards by his shoulder, laughing.

"Go on!" You encourage, shooing them with your hands. Marybeth giggles as she pulls Arthur away, and he turns around to shoot you a glare, with pink cheeks. You chuckle, looking after them as she takes him away from the fire. She pulls him just near the back of Dutch's tent, beside the poker table. He takes her hand, standing awkwardly far from her as the other rests on her waist. You can't help but snort as he starts to dance.

He's awful. Truly the man can't dance, but it's just another quirk that you love about him. He swings side to side with her, arms loosely flinging about, and even though it looks ridiculous they both have huge smiles. A few others have joined, and now Dutch spins Molly around eloquently, and Karen and Sean cling to each other, drunk as ever. Your eyebrows pop up in surprise at the two of them. You had only seen Sean in passing before Blackwater, but Karen had never mentioned they were together.

Your eyes flicker back to Arthur and Marybeth. They still dance merrily, but Marybeth seems to be scolding Arthur over something, arguing with him. Your eyebrows pull together as he huffs, bickering with her like a sibling would. Javier's song crescendos to an end, and as the claps die down, he starts a new one. You recognize it immediately, Ángel de Amor. It's a slower paced song, a sweet and romantic one. People join their own conversations as the song begins, leaving Javier to quietly carry the tune on his own. As it begins, Marybeth and Arthur's argument seems to come to a head as Marybeth gives him one final scold, and then walks away from him with a big smile. Confused, your eyebrows pull together as Arthur returns to you, but he doesn't sit down. He stands in front of you, extending his right hand down to yours.

"Dance wit' me?" He asks, and you chuckle.

"I don't know, you gonna trip me?" You ask, smiling up at him. The nervousness breaks away as he chuckles.

"Not tonight." He says, and you take his hand, letting him pull you to your feet.

"C'mon." He whispers, leading you past the campfire towards the front of his tent, far enough away from the campfire for some privacy.

Arthur pulls you into the same goofy dance as he did with Marybeth, and you smile brightly. Arthur's sure that your smile could outshine the stars, evoking that joy from you is one of the better things he's done in his life, something he wants to keep doing.

"¿Quién te cortó las alas, mi ángel? ¿Quién te arranco los sueños hoy?" Javier sings softly as Arthur dances with you.

"Y'know, I'm sorry to say this Arthur, but you can't dance for shit." You chuckle, glancing down at his feet that move with very little rhythm.

"Oh I can. I'm just havin' fun. You shoulda seen me in my ballroom days." Arthur quips, and you laugh. You're sure he's joking, how Arthur could willingly be put in a ballroom is beyond you, it's surely a joke. Arthur raises an eyebrow at your laugh, wondering if you're seriously doubting him.

"You weren't never in a ballr-" You start, but are cut off with your own gasp as Arthur pulls you tightly against him. His hand snakes to your waist, his other clasps your hand tightly as he stands up straight and tall with a raised eyebrow. His body is stiff, but relaxed all the like, he's collected in his movements, experienced, as he leans you down, dipping you. Your eyes are wide in shock, as he holds you in the dip with a cocky smirk. Your heart rate pounds with him pulled so tightly against you, your neck exposed and hair cascading down as he bends you backwards. Then he brings you back up, chuckling.

"You continue to surprise me more and more every day, Arthur." You chuckle, still in disbelief, "Where in the hell did you learn that?" You ask, heart beat returning to normal as he pulls you against him again, swaying you in a very simple slow dance.

"Had to take lessons once when I was younger. Didn't care for it at all, but I was an idiot back then." Arthur says, and you hum, wondering if these fancy dancing lessons have anything to do with the letter in his tent.

"Ángel, Ángel, ángel de amor. No te abandones." Javier continues the song as Arthur pulls you a little closer to him, hand warm on your waist.

Your cheeks flush, hidden away in his chest as Arthur sways with you on the grass. A few eyes linger on you both, but Arthur turns your back to them so you never know. He's enjoying the moment. You haven't left yet, haven't walked away with blushed cheeks or made an excuse as to why you can't dance with him, and that has to count for something he's sure.

It grows quiet between the two of you as you rest your head against his shoulder and sway with him. Soon your arm grows tired, so Arthur snakes both of his around your waist and you place yours on his chest. It's incredibly vulnerable for you to be like this, but you trust Arthur. He hasn't pushed you. Abigail nudges John across the camp, nodding her head to you, and a few more eyes linger on you both. Arthur ignores them, keeping you in a position so that you can't even see the nosey stares.

"You look beautiful." Arthur whispers, eyes looking down at you, watching as the wind tousles your hair and your dark red shirt brings out your complexion beautifully. Your eyes sparkle up at him, but you blush and hide them away in his shoulder as he sways you to the music.

"Arthur, stop." You chastise, cheeks red as you hide them. You're a bit upset that he's ruined the mood, taken your mind from simple dancing to the conundrum of your heart. He hums deeply, nodding his head.

"You ain't ready yet, I know… I'll wait 'til you are. For you, I will." Arthur whispers, and tears begin to pool in your eyes, "And if you decide you don't want any a' this, that's okay too. I'm still your best friend." Arthur whispers, and tears run down your face silently, soaking into his dark shirt.

"I'll dance with you for real one day, somewhere nice." Arthur whispers, and you look up to his green eyes. They soften when they see the tears falling from your own. You're thinking of a proper response when Arthur speaks up for you.

"S'okay. You don't gotta say anything." Arthur whispers, thumb wiping away the tears from your cheek. You sniffle, hands clinging to the lapels of his shirt as the music continues on for a bit longer.

"Yo no siento el que me hayas querido. Yo no siento el que me hayas amado." Javier sings, strumming his guitar.

Arthur's heart aches, holding you like this, swaying with you and knowing you won't allow yourself to open up. He places his chin atop your head, inhaling deeply before letting the breath go with his worries. You're here now, that's all he can ask for.

Your heart aches just the same. It's torn in two, both sides fighting for different things. One is fighting for what you know: independence, freedom, and solitude in the west without being held down by a gang. And the other is fighting for what you want: family and friendships, the safety of numbers, purpose and most of all him.

You sigh, squeezing your eyes shut while blocking the thoughts out, letting yourself enjoy the moment.

"I'm sorry, Arthur." You whisper, and he leans back, unsure if he's heard you right.

"What on earth are you apologizin' for?" He asks as Javier's song comes to a bittersweet end.

"Me… us." You whisper, gesturing to him and yourself. You're a mess, unable to get your feelings in order, unable to figure out what you want, and to tell him. You feel awful, dragging him along without ever fully opening up to him but it's so hard.

Arthur takes your hands in his own, and you look up to his eyes.

"Cut that out. Don't you apologize to me, ya hear? Not for this." Arthur says, no room for argument and you nod.

"Now c'mon. Plenty of people waitin' for us at the fire." Arthur says, pulling you by the hand towards the camp. You pass by John's tent, feeling a little better.

With a small smile on your lips, you walk on with him. That is until you hear a shuffling from John's tent, and a groan. You stop dead in your tracks, looking up to where John and Abigail sit next to Jack by the fire. If they're at the campfire… who's in their tent?

"C'mere ya little minx!" Sean chuckles from inside the tent. Your jaw drops, and your hand falls slack from Arthur's. He turns at your reaction, catching the same scene.

"Isn't this John's tent?" Karen asks, and you hear the ripping of buttons immediately. You look at Arthur with wide eyes, and a slack jaw, chuckling in horror.

"Eh, it's not like he's usin' it anyways!" Fabric hits the floor as you and Arthur stare at the closed tent in shock, "Ah, you're beautiful Karen Jones, beautiful, I love ya! And I love these too!" Sean chuckles and your cheeks burn red.

"Oh." Karen whispers, disappointed in something as you start to laugh.

"Meet Macguire junior!" Sean hollers, and immediately Arthur clasps his hand over your mouth to quiet the loud laughter that was about to fall from it.

"Is- is that it?" Karen asks, and you're nearly wheezing as Arthur keeps his hand over your mouth, chuckling himself until you're out of earshot from their tent.

"Oh my god." You laugh until tears form in your eyes, and Arthur is laughing as well. You've managed to escape in front of Arthur's tent to avoid the show those two are putting on. Once your laughter dies down, you wipe your eyes, moving them to the campfire once more.

Abigail has taken Jack into her lean-to next to Strauss's wagon to lie down for the night, and some of the girls along with Dutch and Molly have retired for bed.

"You comin' back to the fire?" Arthur asks, following your gaze. You look up to him, then to the festivities, biting your cheek.

"I think I'm gonna go to bed, actually." You whisper, feeling bad for bailing so soon. You're exhausted from the oil wagon today, and you want to be well rested for tomorrow. Arthur’s face falls a bit as he glances at the party behind him, then to his pocket watch.

"So soon?" Arthur asks, looking a little disappointed.

"I'm sorry Arthur, it's just with the train tomorrow… I want to be well rested with a clear head." You whisper.

"I understand." He whispers, it's past one in the morning, and he knows you're tired, "I reckon I'll stay up for a bit yet, keep these boys in line… Get some sleep, Star." Arthur whispers, coming forward to gently chastise you, tapping your temple, "and stop worryin' about the train. It'll go just fine." He offers with a smile before backing away.

"Night Arthur." You mumble, attempting to follow his instructions and release your anxieties.

"G'night, Star."

— — — —

The next morning, you wake up earlier than expected. You don't know what time it is, still haven't replaced Arthur's pocket watch from where it was left behind in Blackwater. But it's quiet enough for you to know that no one else is up. You stretch in bed, enjoying the feel as your achy joints pop. You flex your ankle, noticing that the ache has subsided from your less than stellar landing yesterday, and then you're getting up.

You pull on a dark green overshirt, one of your favorites, a black pair of jeans that button up the whole way, and a little white neckerchief, tied in the front. It's a cute outfit, and you hum, checking yourself over before re braiding your hair and topping it with your black hat. Then you're on the move, in search of some coffee.

You find that you were wrong, you're not the only one up. You chuckle as Jack whizzes up to you, more excited than you've ever seen.

"Aunt Star!" He jumps excitedly, taking your hand and pointing to the hitching posts, "look!" He shouts, giggling.

Your eyebrows knit together at the sight of Kieran taking on the role of the camp farrier. He has a very grumpy Balius with him, and he's working on pulling the nails from the shire's massive shoe.

"Kieren's shoin' the horses…? You ask, confused as to why Jack's so excited, then a chuckle sounds out from your right. Arthur is leaning over his shaving station, face partially covered in shaving cream as he trims his mustache and beard with a barber's blade. You smile at the sight, something you've not seen him do before. Of course he shaves with an incredible amount of detail and care, just like everything else he does.

"Well…" Arthur taps the blade against his pail of water before returning it to his cheek, "when Kieran's done, little Jack here will have four new shoes for playin' horseshoes' with everyone. We haven't been able to play in a long while, not since before you joined us." Arthur explains, and you smile at the idea.

"Well then I can't wait!" You say, rubbing some dirt off of Jack's cheek before he runs off, on his way to tell his very hungover daddy about the ordeal.

"You're good with him. He really seems to care about you." Arthur remarks and you smile.

"Ah, it's nothin'. He's a good kid." You mumble, remembering your earlier task of needing coffee, and you spot the percolator from across camp near Pearson's stew pot. You wonder if it's even full, with so few of the gang members awake.

"I'm gonna go make some coffee, want some?" You ask, but Arthur stops you.

"Already made ya some. It's sittin on my table, should still be hot." He says, wiping the extra cream from his face with a damp towel.

"On the ball this morning, are we?" You ask, chuckling as you move inside his tent to find a steaming tin cup of coffee. You gratefully accept the bitter coffee, enjoying the way the cup warms your hands and the caffeine wakes your mind.

"Well I need a favor." He asks, turning towards you, "Ride with me?"

You raise an eyebrow at him, seeing that he's bribed you, but you nod anyway.

"Sure, where to?" You ask as he comes around the side of his tent, leading you to the large map plastered to the side of his wagon.

"Think right here is a good spot." He taps the map right over a little marshy field labeled Heartland Overflow.

"Why are we goin' all the way out there?" You ask, eyeing over the map. The marsh is near a spot marked Emerald Ranch, a place you haven't heard of before.

"There's a feller nearby that runs a fence. I managed to steal some stuff from the camp where they had Sean, reckon I'll head down and sell it off. Then I figure me n' you can spend the mornin' there. I know you're worried about this train, we can just rest away from camp till it's time." Arthur explains, pulling out his hunting knife to sharpen the blade as he does.

"Okay, that sounds nice." You smile, releasing a breath before taking a sip from your coffee, "Should I take my stuff for the train or will we be back?" You ask, gesturing to your tent.

He follows your gaze, thinking for a moment.

"Ya better take it, I don't know how long we'll be out." He mumbles, and you nod before walking back towards your tent. Amidst your anxieties, you had packed everything you might need for the train: your guns, mask, canned goods in case you get stuck away from camp, extra ammo and the shotgun you'd found at Six Point cabin. Looking over your bed and nightstand just to make sure you haven't missed something, you back out of the tent.

"Kieran done with Balius?" You ask, keeping your voice quiet as to not wake up the many sleeping, hungover gang members.

"Looks to be just about." Arthur says, nodding to where Kieran drops Balius's back hoof to the ground, giving him a pat.

"C'mon then. I'll lead the way." He adds.

You both take your time tacking up the horses. For once, there's no rush to be anywhere. You brush Athena's golden coat thoroughly, petting her and sneaking her treats while Arthur does the same for his stallion. You ease the saddle on her, tightening the cinches just enough before mounting up.

"Ready?" You ask, looking down to Arthur with a chuckle as he is just putting Balius's bridle on.

"Just a minute." He says, rather grumpily. And you wait for him, loosening your reins so that Athena can graze while he clambers up onto his massive horse. Once he's up, he nods for you to follow him out of camp. It's a decently long ride. Emerald Ranch is pretty far out there, but it's close to Dewberry Creek, so at least you won't be far from the train come dark. You focus on the scenery, watching the way the landscape changes the further you ride on. As you get closer, the jutting cliffs turn to grassy plains, and bison cause the ground to shake as they thunder across the fields.

"Are we close?" You holler up to Arthur. Your back is a little sore from the long ride, and you slip your feet out of the stirrups to give your legs rest.

"Sure… Why? You feelin alright?" Arthur turns in his saddle, glancing over your form to check. Really you don't feel alright. You didn't sleep much last night, truthfully you're not sure how Arthur is awake because he slept less than you. You're still not able to shake your nerves either.

"Yeah, just tired is all." You semi lie, but Arthur isn't fooled.

"I'll take you to the Overflow first. You can set us up a proper picnic while I run this stuff down to the fence. Sound good?" Arthur asks, turning Balius off the main road.

"Yeah. You brought a picnic?" You smile, noticing that Arthur's saddlebags are bulkier than usual. You should have noticed earlier that they're stuffed to the brim.

"I did. Nothin' fancy but I figured you might get hungry while we're out here." Arthur answers, and you chuckle, wondering what treats he's packed for you. You trot through the grass, coming upon a little collection of grassy ponds. This must be Heartland Overflow. It's beautiful, and wildlife runs about, scattering at the sound of the horse's hooves.

"Why don't you take my bag n' find us a nice spot?" Arthur asks as you ride up alongside Balius. He turns in his saddle, untying the knots that hold his saddle bag on before slumping it over Athena's croup.

"Okay. Don't take too long or I'm gonna be havin' this all for myself." You admit, chuckling as you turn Athena away, separating from Arthur.

Arthur shakes his head with a smile before pushing Balius into a canter towards a green-roofed barn in the distance. Once he's down the other side of the hill and you can't see him any longer, you turn to your surroundings.

Across the pond is a large weeping willow. It provides a perfect amount of shade, and makes a beautiful spot for the morning. You kiss to Athena, urging her to walk through the ankle deep water toward the other side. Water splashes up and soaks onto your boots as Athena trots through it, enjoying the coolness on her legs. Once you're on the other side, under the weeping willow, you slide down from your mare. You don't bother to hitch her. She trusts you enough to come when you call, and you want her to enjoy the grassy fields while she can. You take the heavy saddle bag and toss it to the ground under the willow before sitting on your knees to go through it.

First you take out a blanket, it's a big blue one, and you stand to spread it out on the grass. The wind works to your advantage as you sprawl it out, making a perfect cushion for you both to sit on. Then, seated on the blanket, you pull out two cans of peaches, two bread rolls, a can of strawberries, two slices of beef jerky, and a chocolate bar. You eye the food hungrily, laying it out nice for when Arthur comes back. Then, just to double check, you reach back into the bag. Your fingers brush against an unfamiliar smooth texture, and your eyebrows pull together as you grip it, taking it out.

Immediately your eyes go wide as, from the bag, you bring out Arthur's journal. You hold the precious book in your lap, looking down to the heavily used pages before looking up at the ridge.

You shouldn't… but Arthur won't be back for some time and you really want to know what he's written. You've only seen the contents of his journal once, back when he showed you in Horseshoe.

Releasing a breath, you curse yourself, deciding just to flip to one page and then put it back. You run your thumb across the pages, flipping to one of the more recent entries. Immediately you smile, chuckling as your eyes run across the page briefly. It's a drawing of you and Lenny. He's leaning on the bar, drinking a beer and you're dancing in front of the pianist. Arthur had managed to capture the moment perfectly, as if he had paused time and drawn it. You scan down your smiling face, looking back to you in the form of Arthur's sketching. Even in the drawing you can see the drunken haze in your eyes, the freedom as you danced to the piano to your heart's content.

Then your eyes flicker to the other side of the page where a neatly written entry is scribbled diagonally on the paper.

In some ways I hope I never forget this night. In others, I wish to wipe it from my mind entirely. It seems that alcohol loosened Star's lips, and I guess it loosened mine too. I just hope I don't come to regret the things I said, the things I remember at least.

You look up from the journal, jaw slack as you attempt to remember what happened that night. What had you said? What had Arthur said?

You swallow thickly, looking down to the journal with some worry before flipping to the next page.

Mary sent me a letter. Said she's in town and heard talk of us in Valentine. She wants to see me, said she misses what we had. I used to. I used to miss her a lot, but I reckon that's all old business now. I think I've finally put Mary in the past, moved on after all these goddamn years. I got some hope now, something good for once.

You look up from the journal with your jaw open again. His journal has left you with more questions than answers, and you huff. Mary clearly meant something to Arthur at one point, perhaps an old fling? But the girls knew of her, so she had to mean something more.

With a newfound sour mood, you tuck Arthur's journal back into his bag. Is it jealousy you feel? Or anger? You're not sure, but without having met her, Mary manages to get under your skin. You wonder if she's pretty, and if she has the money to wear nice dresses and makeup. Then you sigh, frustrated. Even though his journal is stuffed back into his bag, you can feel its leather cover burning into your skin, bugging you.

Hooves sound out from the ridge line, and you look up to see Arthur appear over the hill. He's cantering down towards you, satchel lighter now that he's pawned off some items. Even though you're glad he's back, you can't help the annoyed curiosity that bubbles up in your stomach.

Oblivious, Arthur rides up to the blanket before dismounting.

"Good spot." He says, sending Balius off after grabbing a flask from his satchel, "Turns out old Seamus sells too." Arthur chuckles, tossing the moonshine flask down onto the blanket by your legs.

Attempting to crack a smile, you take the flask and unscrew the lid. Arthur rests down on the blanket beside you, sitting just a few inches from you. Once the lid is undone, you take a swig of the alcohol. It burns, more so than anything you've ever drank, and you cough, throat raw from the stuff.

"Jesus." You cough, handing the flask back to Arthur.

"Moonshine. Nasty stuff." Arthur jokes, taking a drink from the same flask. He doesn't seem to mind it, only groaning once it's down. Arthur sees the distant look on your face, he notices that you haven't touched any of the food laid out either.

"You okay?" Arthur asks, a little crease in between his eyebrows. You look upset, and Arthur hopes that you're not worrying about the train.

"Who's Mary?" You blurt out, not even realizing you've actually said it out loud until Arthur's face draws up.

"What?" Arthur asks, looking almost offended, and very surprised.

"I asked you, who's Mary?" You repeat, looking up to Arthur. Your tone is irritated, and you realize that you're ruining the picnic, but you can't bring yourself to stop. You're mad, mad because Arthur has managed to keep this from you, and apparently you're the only one in the damn gang that doesn't know about her.

"How do you even know about Mary?" Arthur scoffs, eyes squinted as he leans back from you.

"Jesus, I didn't realize she was a secret. I guess I just wanna know why she's callin' you out to her house all the sudden when I haven't even heard of her before." You bite.

Arthur's demeanor changes then, shifting to the angry, threatening man that you've only seen a handful of times in action. Part of you wants to shy away, but you push your shoulders back and meet him head on with the same stubborn aggression.

"Did you read my damn mail?" Arthur hisses, glancing at you, and then down to the bag at your side. Everything seems to click in his head then, and he huffs humorlessly.

"No. No you read my goddamn journal, didn't you? Just couldn't keep your nosey eyes off them pages huh?" He bites, picking up the bag just to toss it at your feet. The contents spill out in your lap, and his open journal falls out alongside the candies he had brought for you, the yellow ones.

"Y'know I hope you read it all. I hope you read every damn page, cause then you won't have to ask anymore questions. We wouldn't be playin this damn game…" Arthur hisses, pacing as he begins to berate you. "Why do you have the right to ask me about Mary when you haven't told me shit about your past? You can't even talk to me. You can't open up at all, closed off like a damn bottle, but you have no problem pryin' into everybody else's lives!" He growls, waiting for you to bite back.

On the ground, feeling like a fool, your lip trembles. You know he's right. He's hit the nail right on the head with his assumption, but it hurts nonetheless. You've stepped too far, you know, but it doesn't stop Arthur from overstepping too.

"Heard you was pryin' into John's business too. God- you're a hypocrite. Did you think at all about your inability to handle your own shit before you went and did that?" Arthur fumes, and you bring your knees up to your chin. Arthur is waiting for your retort, for your comeback. He knows it'll come, but with his back to you, waiting, it doesn't. You always have a retort, and your silence is louder than any insult you could have thrown back at him. When he turns back towards you, already realizing he's crossed a boundary, he sees the tear track running down your cheek.

"Don't." You whisper, sniffling back the tears that fall so often now, "I can take this from anyone but you." You whimper, head falling to your knees.

When Arthur's eyes land upon you he doesn't know what to do. You look so small, crumpled up on the ground, a mess. He wants to argue with you, to be mad about the journal, but at the same time he wants to comfort you. He knows what you're battling right now, and he knows he shouldn't have brought it up. Feeling like an ass, Arthur slumps to the ground at your side again. He lays back against the blanket, looking up at the sky before sighing.

"Mary was my fiancé. Long time ago. Ain't talked to her in years." Arthur admits, and you peek up from your knees, wondering what sparked the change in his tone.

"Now that's all I'm giving you until you tell me somethin too. But for now, eat somethin. We gotta get movin soon." Arthur says, coldly.

— — — —

It's nearly dark. There's just enough light for you to make the trip over to Dewberry Creek. You lead the way silently, still not having said a word to Arthur since the argument. You don't know what to say. Apologies aren't exactly your strong suit. You're mad. Mad at Arthur, but mostly mad at yourself for ruining the day with your selfishness, your hypocrisy as Arthur put it.

You can hear Sean rambling as you approach the old building, and you trot Athena up to where the wagon is hidden.

"Why the hell are you here?" Arthur snaps at Sean, clearly still irritated from earlier. You've put him in a sour mood, one that everyone is going to have to deal with.

"Oi I’m just taggin along! Back for a day n’ already jumpin inta the action! My da always used to say that jumpin in was better than jumpin’ out! But I think he was talkin about gettin some arse!" Sean chuckles, not skipping a beat over Arthur's attitude.

"Oh, shut up." Charles groans, and at the sound of his voice you notice him leaning against one of the beams of the burned down house. John is already in the driver's side of the wagon, and Taima and Old Boy are hooked up to the front. You dismount, walking over to the wagon behind Arthur.

"Look at us! Four strong shootin men, and a lady!" Sean chuckles, climbing up on the wagon beside John who rolls his eyes.

"Shouldn't we be going over the plan?" Charles points out, climbing onto the side of the wagon to hang on, just as you and Arthur do on the other side. The wagon begins to roll out of the trees as John smacks the reins over the horse's backs.

"We roll the wagon over the tracks and leave the horses go." John explains, "They'll see the oil and stop. It's easy."

Sean turns in his seat, looking over the wagon before turning back to John.

"Yeah but t'eres no oil in the wagon." Sean points out, and collectively everyone else rolls their eyes.

"Well the conductor don't know that, so it don't matter!" John bites, irritated with everyone's doubts and questions.

"I don't like it…" You whisper, gripping onto the metal bars of the wagon as it rolls down the road, inching closer towards the train tracks.

"We ain't got much of a choice." John replies. Once the plan is set, Arthur begins ordering people around, crafting a more detailed plan for the job.

"As soon as she stops, board her. Charles, deal with the conductor and the front security. John take the passengers. Sean and Star, as soon as she slows, head to the baggage car." He orders, and you roll your eyes at the assignment he's stuck you with.

"And what are you gonna do?" Charles asks.

"I'm gonna make sure she slows."

John pulls the wagon forward, slowing the horses to a stop once the oil wagon is situated over the tracks. You jump down as John and Arthur begin untying the horses from the front, sending them away into the woods.

"Is everyone good with the plan?" Arthur hollers, and you look around, realizing that this is happening. It's inescapable now, and you'll have to deal with the anxiety in your chest.

"Yeah, we're good." Charles answers, and you nod your head, eyes fixed on the bed in the railroad tracks where the train will be approaching shortly.

"Alright everyone get in the woods!" Arthur orders, pulling his mask up over his nose before placing one of his boots on the iron track. Charles notices your hesitancy, and grips your arm to pull you towards the treeline.

"Hey, you alright?" Charles asks, pulling your neckerchief up over your nose as you've forgotten. You nod, a little too quick for his liking.

"Just nervous." You admit.

"Just stick with Sean. You'll be okay." Charles offers, squeezing your shoulder lightly. You nod, focusing your attention back on Arthur.

You feel the vibration of the train long before you see it coming. Arthur's boot shakes against the track, and once he feels it coming he climbs up on top of the oil wagon. You gasp, eyes going wide as he holds his carbine in front of him, in a threatening stance on top of the wagon. He looks like nothing short of a criminal up there, a cold hearted killer. He stands on the wagon with a threatening stance, symbolizing everything that the government wishes to destroy. Feet planted on either side of the oil barrel, it doesn't appear that Arthur will be giving the law a break any time soon. The sight of him standing up on that wagon is one you're sure you'll never forget. If you didn't know Arthur, you'd be terrified.

Nothing can be heard but uneven, anxious breathing as the train comes around the corner. it's far off, too far for the conductor to see Arthur, but once the bright white headlight peeks around the bend your breath hitches in your throat.

Arthur cocks his repeater, and you watch as the train comes closer. You expect the train to blow its whistle, for the conductor to do something to warm off Arthur, but he doesn't. Your eyebrows draw together as the train continues to barrel forward, unbothered by the obstruction ahead.

"Why ain't it slowin'?" You ask, breath uneven as your heart rate picks up speed.

No one responds, watching as it continues forward. Even Arthur seems to lose his composure, stance faltering as the train continues on. It's getting closer to the wagon, and you're not sure if it'll have time to stop before it crashes.

"There's still time. Hold on." Sean says, eyes flickering up to the rapidly approaching train.

"John?! Why ain't it stoppin?!" You beg, looking frantically between Arthur and the train. Charles pulls out a pair of binoculars, looking through them to the engine car.

"Shit! He's dead or he's asleep, but either way the train isn't stopping." Charles says, stuffing his binoculars back as anxiety pangs in your chest. The train is too close now, it can't stop in time even if the conductor were to wake up.

"ARTHUR JUMP!" John screams as all four of you jog out of the woods. Arthur glances between the group of you and the train, unable to hear over the rumbling and screeching.

"JUMP!" You plead, screaming. Arthur glances at the train once more, and getting the message he jumps as far out as he can. He hits the ground hard, rolling down the slope before he stops. It's only seconds later that the train smashes into the oil wagon. You thank god it's empty, and there's no explosion, but the metallic screech hurts your ears as the train pushes the wagon over in a huge crash. Sparks fly as metal scrapes off metal, but the train carries on forward, pushing the oil wagon in front of it until itfalls off to the side.

"Why the hell didn't he stop?!" Arthur yells, whistling for Balius.

"The conductor is dead!" You yell, "Are we really still doin' this?"

Four horses come running up the hill towards you, and the boys mount up ahead of you.

"Yes! Now mount up, we can catch it before it gets to Rhodes!" John yells, and you leap onto Athena, urging her forward before you even put your feet in the stirrups. The chase is terrifying. It's hard to see in the dark, and you put full trust into Athena as she barrels forward after the train. Sean is the first to catch up, and he jumps from his horse onto the train's roof.

Your heart pounds in your ears as you run forward, watching as Charles, John and Arthur all jump onto the train.

"Star, cmon!" Arthur yells, and you try to breath as you stand in your saddle, barely able to balance. You jump as far as you can, hoping that you'll make it. The jump is terrifying, but worse is the pain as your body slams against the side of the train. Only your hands have made it to the top as you grip onto the roof, feet dangling down to the rapidly passing ground below. Then a hand grips yours, and pulls you up into the roof. You gasp, looking up to yours and Arthur's hands, muttering a small 'thanks' between trembling breaths.

"Plan stays the same. Charles, get this thing stopped!" Arthur orders, just as two armed guards climb up onto the roof.

"They're fixin' to rob the train!" One of the boys yells and starts shooting from his revolver. You unholster your own, balancing on the quick moving train as you fire twice into the man's chest. The second man breaches the top, and Sean takes him down with a headshot. The train makes you motion sick, and you have to bite down bile, forcing your eyes away from the ground.

"We're gettin' too damn close to the town!" John yells, firing into more men as they climb up onto the roof.

You whip around, looking for Charles to see if he's made progress in getting to the engine car. You don't see him on the roof, so you assume he's close.

"John! Get down there, me and Star will hold them off. Sean, get to the baggage car!" Arthur yells out. They follow his orders, jumping down to the train cars from behind you and Arthur.

"Why's there so many?" You yell over the noise as two more men fire toward you.

"I don't know, sure are a lot for an unguarded train- goddammit!" Arthur yells back.

You lose your balance as the train quickly starts to slow down. Sparks fly and metal screeches as the train begins to slow. You release a breath, reloading your revolver as more guards shoot at you from across the train cars. The train never stops, instead in one fluid movement it slows enough and then starts going backwards.

"Wait- wait, shit!" You yell as the train starts moving in reverse. Just as quickly as the train has stopped, it starts accelerating in the wrong direction, back towards Valentine.

"What the hell is happenin?" You scream back towards the engine car. You fire into one last guard, and then they stop coming up to the roof for now.

"We're goin' too fast!" You point out, losing your balance again as trees start to blur by, making you dizzy.

"Shit, I know. Just get to Sean, I'll see what's happenin' up front!" Arthur hollers, bracing himself as he jumps onto the next train car.

"Star?" Arthur yells, and you turn around, "Don't get hurt." You nod, and with that he turns, running on the rapidly reversing train towards the engine.

You try to calm down your breathing as you run across the tops of the train cars, jumping as far as you can between each one. Your heart pounds rapidly in your ears, and the train accelerating is nothing but a background noise in your head. Revolver in hand, eventually you make it to the baggage car.

"Sean you alive?" You yell, bracing yourself as you jump from the roof down onto the platform below. The land sends an ache through your knees, but you do land.

"Yeah makin out real good down here!" Sean hollers back as you enter the caboose.

"Why the hell are we in reverse?" Sean asks, stuffing a saddle bag full of cash and jewelry. You immediately get to helping him, ripping open the cupboards and stripping them of their content before shoving the precious items into Sean's bag.

"I got no idea. Arthur n Charles are dealin' with it." You respond, glancing out the window and gasping when you see that you're nearing Flatneck Station. You've crossed the state line back into New Hanover, and in less than five minutes you'll be crossing over Bard's Crossing, the infamously high railroad bridge.

"Oh my god, fuck." You curse, stuffing the bags even quicker. Shots ring out from the roof, and you gasp, neck snapping up.

"That's gotta be Arthur or Charles." You gasp. You look down the train cars to see John pistol whip a man for not giving up his money.

"Go help ‘em! I'm alright here for now!" Sean hollers, and you nod, running out of the car. Momentarily holstering your gun, you leap up onto the roof, pulling yourself up. Arthur is up there, shooting at a couple of men across the train as you run up to help him.

"You guys got the money?" He asks.

"Yeah! Why ain't we stopped?!" You yell, shooting at the men, and clipping one in the neck. He falls off the train, and you wince as his body cracks against the quickly passing ground. Just then, Charles comes running across the cars, jumping over the gaps towards you.

"Conductors dead! Doors locked and he fell on the reverse lever. I can't stop it." Charles explains, "We gotta go NOW, it's not stopping!" He yells, just as two more boys climb up onto the roof.

"Rot in hell you bastards!" One yells, and you go to reload your revolver, but it's empty. You curse, looking ahead to where the caboose is barreling towards the bridge.

A man climbs up from behind you, taking you by surprise as he knocks the gun from Arthur's hand. Arthur turns around and punches him right in the face, nose cracking as blood pours from his face.

"Get off the train! I got this bastard!" Arthur yells, and you hyperventilate, glancing between him and the bridge. Sean and John have already jumped, and you see them riding alongside the train with Athena, Taima and Balius. Charles jumps down, just as Arthur kicks the man off the side of the train. He hits the ground with a sickening crack, and Arthur turns to you, no longer asking.

"Star, go!" Arthur commands, and you gasp as another man comes up from the side of the train, pulling Arthur into a chokehold from behind.

"Get down here! We can't help him till you're out the way!" John screams up to you, and panicking, you leap. The jump is terrifying, and the land onto your saddle knocks the breath out of you. But then you're safe on Athena, barreling towards the cliffs edge where the bridge begins, waiting for Arthur to deal with the last guard.

"Does anyone have a shot on him?" Sean yells, gun aimed up at the man who is fighting Arthur. Arthur's body is bigger than the man, and at the angle you're at, it's impossible to kill him without killing Arthur. Arthur struggles, elbowing the man in the gut to break free from his chokehold.

"No!" John yells back.

"Arthur!" You scream, though futile, watching as the train gets closer to the bridge.

"I got this bastard." Arthur chokes out, coughing as he elbows the man enough to get away from his grip. You slide Athena into a stop to avoid running off a cliff as the train starts to go over the bridge. The wind howls in your ear from the elevation as you watch on in horror.

"What do we do!? John-" You whimper, feeling useless and helpless as Arthur punches the man, fists raised as they brawl atop the train.

"He'll be okay. He will. He'll get down on the other side and we'll run over and get him." John replies. All you can do is watch as the train accelerates across the bridge, and you've never been so afraid in your life. Arthur takes a punch in the gut, leaving him vulnerable.

"Does anyone have a shot!!?" Sean screams, gun raised. But Arthur is still in the way, and no one can help him, he's on his own.

Somehow the next moment happens in a lifetime, and a fraction of a second. Arthur takes a punch straight straight to the gut, and he doubles over, left vulnerable. The guard steadied himself, lifting his leg until the sole of his boot meets Arthur's stomach. The train is rolling right over the highest part of the bridge as the guard kicks out. Arthur stumbles, and the kick sends him falling over the side of the train.

All the air leaves your lungs, your eyes go wide, and everything stops as Arthur falls. You're frozen, watching as Arthur falls down past the bridge. It's a high drop, too high. Your eyes go wide as Arthur's arms stretch up, attempting to grasp onto something that isn't there as he plummets two hundred feet down to the lake below.

"No-" You breathe out, just barely a whisper as you stumble down from Athena, nearly falling from the saddle.

"Arthur!-" John gasps.

"NO!-" You scream, breaths coming in quick, uncontrollable pants as tears fill your eyes and fall out in thick rivulets. You stumble to the ledge of the bridge, on the tracks, gripping the fence so tight that your knuckles turn white.

The other three men are slack jawed, horrified. They all gasp, stunned beyond being capable to speak. When you look down, you see the rippling water where Arthur had landed, landed but not come back up.

"NO!!" You sob, unable to hold back your tears as you fall back, hands never leaving the fence. Your cries are shoulder shaking, and you can't bring yourself to care that you are sobbing in front of the other men.

"Get back to camp right now and don't get followed." John orders Charles and Sean, tears in his eyes that he quickly wipes away. They comply, silently nodding before turning their horses and galloping home, shell-shocked.

You're too stunned to notice what's going on around you, but your sobs have slowed, turned into aching, painful heaves as your nails dig into the fence, as if you holding on to it will pull Arthur back up to you.

"Star?" John whispers, so quiet from behind you. You shake your head, knowing what he's going to ask of you.

"Star, we gotta go. The law will be here soon." John tries to reason, fighting his own internal ache. You're not having it, not leaving, and John places his hands on your shoulders, begging you to come with him. You can't stop looking down at the rippling water, waiting for him to come back up, and tearing your eyes away when he doesn't, a vicious cycle.

"W-we can't leave him John. What if he- what if he's down there and he needs help?" You cry, lungs aching.

"I know. We won't. We won't leave him. But we can't help him if the law gets to us." He says, and you nod frantically, thinking over his idea.

He tries to pull you backwards, away from the bridge. You make it two steps back before the anxiety of not seeing the water wins over and your body practically shies away from John.

"I can't- I can't go, he…" You begin, biting your cheek until it bleeds, stuck in a state of shock that you can't shake.

"John, what if he didnt-" You sob, unable to finish the sentence that plagues your mind along with the image of his plummet.

"He did… Star I ain't goin back to camp missing two people, please come home." He pleads, turning as law whistles sound in the distance.

"No. I can't." You say, stern in your choice. Because what is there to go back to without him? And what if he needs help?

"Where will you go?" He asks, glancing to the whistles in the distance.

"I guess across the river so I-" your face crumbles at the idea, "so I can look for him."

John nods, whistling lowly for Old Boy. The horse trots forward, and John quickly unwraps his camp kit from Old Boy's saddle before tightening it onto Athena's.

"My camp kit. Take it, you'll need it." He turns to you then, red eyes looking into yours. "Be safe out here… and don't lose yourself. Arthurs my brother. But if he ain't back in a day or two, you gotta come home. He'd want that." John says, voice even raspier than usual as he deals with his emotion. You nod, tears filling your eyes as places his hand on your shoulder.

"If he comes back to camp I'll come for you right away." He offers, and you nod.

And then he's mounting up, offering you a bittersweet tip of his hat as he rides away. And you're suddenly alone. There's no one here to pick up your broken pieces, so you pick them up yourself, climbing into the saddle and cantering away from the approaching law whistles. You don't try to stop the tears. Some are silent, sliding down your face and dripping into your saddle, but some are loud, and you have to leave go of the reins to sob into your hands. You make it to the other side of the river thanks to Athena, with Balius trotting beside you the entire way. No one tells you what to do when something like this happens. You're lost, left to figure it out as you operate like a shell of a human being, going through the motions to avoid the law.

Once you're across the Dakota, situated just on the treeline close to the bank you slide down from your mare to sit in the grass, knees held up to your chin as you watch the water. You've never seen it so still. There's not a ripple other than the steady flow out to the lake. The law whistles get louder, and you listen for them as you numbly watch the water for hours, lost in your head. Eventually the law dissipates, giving up and going home.

You don't know if he's dead or not, but the chances of him being okay right now are bad. The bridge hangs over the horizon like a tyrant, a constant reminder of what's just happened. You try to avoid looking at it, try to avoid seeing the fall, the fear in his eyes as his feet left the train.

You can't help but drift to the fact that your last real conversation was an argument, and you ache to go back in time and spend the day at his picnic like he'd planned. He was right about you. You're a hypocrite. All Arthur has done since you met him was offer kindness when you didn't deserve it. He gave and gave and you took and took. He told you his feelings time and again through his words and his actions. And you rejected him again and again. All because you were afraid. He said it when you went fishing with Jack, he said it when you danced at Sean's party and when you were drunk under the stars. Arthur told you he would wait. He would wait until you were ready. And here you are. It appears your time is up, and Arthur has waited all he can.

You think back to that first night in Colter, what you'd told yourself that rang out to be true… good people die.

Nothing happens for a long while. You don't move, and your limbs ache from your curled up position, but you don't care. You've been watching the water for hours to no avail, but then it happens. Something small washes up on the shore, something black. And as soon as your eyes flicker towards it your face crumples, and falls into your knees with a sob.

"No, no, not him- please." You whimper to yourself quietly, realizing that he's really gone.

You wipe away your tears, finding the strength to stand up from the grass and pluck the object from the shoreline where it washed up. In your hand is an all too familiar black leather hat, wrapped with rope and adorned with a one of a kind hat ornament.

You place it on the ground by your legs, curling in on yourself as the grief overtakes you, causing your body to ache and your lungs to burn from the sobs that erupt from them.

taglist: @margofiore @mrsarthurmorgan7 @woman-with-no-name @tillith @luvliewriting @pine4pple-b0i @photo1030 @dudsparrow

series taglist: @catnotbread @chxosangxl @globetrotter28 @justalittlerayofpitchblack @fruittiest-of-loops @randomidk-123 @heyworld-whatsup @btsiguess-kpop @how-the-heck-would-i-know

#arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #tfiye #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x y/n #arthur morgan x you #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption two #red dead redemption 2

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itsabouttimex2 · 9 months ago

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Amazing job at writing the new part as always! It flows nicely and you can easily tell how familiar Macaque & MC without making him OOC. Honestly i admire your grasp at these characters and ability of doing something as complex as interactive series. I'm kinda curious how do you plan things and how far ahead but only if you want to share it ofc.

Going back to the actually piece- it actually made me look up the meanings of flowers despite the original thought of it only being because of the color association. Two first flowers have pretty easy and basic meaning. I can see why the edgy (/affectionate) mentor wouldn't want them near his home.

Freesia - friendship trust innocence

yellow roses - friendship, joy and similar stuff

The one choosen by Macaque are a little more interesting.

Tansies - immortality, resistance, "I declare against you", sometimes used in medicine

black dahlias - (warning of) betrayal, sadness, (not specified black ones: dignity, good luck, elegance)

I'm guessing the tansies are about him being bitter about the Wukong and their more practical use. Black dahlias could be about Monkey King but also some kind of foreshadowing depending on our choice. Or I'm reading into it too much.

Hopefully I'm not overthinking it or completely missing the point (and if i am, I'm really,really sorry). Just wanted to share it in case other readers didn't look it up + i know some people like to see their work analysed but if i'm going to far please let me know! Have a good day/night! :]

(Sorry for any mistakes and feel free to delete the ask)

Oh my god, thank you so much! That’s such a sweet thing to say! (Please never stop analyzing my work I put a lot of effort into it💜💜)

🌻🌻I’ll start with flowers: you are right on the money here. Freesia especially are bright and colorful blooms, coming in many different gorgeous colors. Yellow roses are just the same, bright and cheery and so similar to the sun.

And, given that freesia come in orange and yellow… it’s possible the potted plants were a living reminder of Sun Wukong that Macaque finally got sick of and ripped apart. Or he just took advantage of someone else shredding the innocent flowers and took something that Y/N worked hard on and changed it to his liking instead. (Written to be ambiguous as to which scenario occurred.)

Notably, the new flowers not only match his own personal feelings, but even his color scheme! Yellow, then red and black. Twice over do these flowers symbolize him, something he took and changed to make more suitable to his tastes and feelings.

But he’s not the one who takes care of them- no, it’s Y/N who is dedicated to seeing them grow.

His student tending and nurturing the flowers that represent Macaque, while Macaque destroys/allows the destruction of the flowers that represent his student. Huh. Funny.

Okay flower rant done.🌻🌻

Macaque is such an interesting character to write, given that there’s a spike of cruelty barbing out from almost every action he takes. I think a lot of people have forgotten that the man hasn’t had a redemption arc in canon- he displays zero regret for, say… manipulating and trying to kill MK. Or leveling the Dragon Palace of the East Sea. Or assaulting Tang, a strict non-combatant. Or holding Mei’s life hostage.

He doesn’t feel bad for doing any of these. If he does, he’s keeping tight-lipped about it. No apologies. No direct atonement.

And even on the extremely rare circumstance that he’s being “kind”, like deciding to stop torturing MK in Shadowplay, it comes across as almost “I’m bored with you, you aren’t fun anymore.”

He’s not a good guy. So even with Y/N, who he genuinely does care for, there’s this level of manipulation.

Like, he calls Y/N adorable, which sounds nice… but there’s almost a level of victim-blaming to it. No matter how roundabout his words, Macaque basically says to his own student: “If you looked different, people wouldn’t bother you, so let me change the way you look.”

And they trust him enough to agree.

Or letting them cook in fear outside his door when he’s clearly near enough to open it, but dropping the act when they start to break down.

He’s such an interesting character to write ugh I love it.

I had a lot of the routes planned pretty far out, actually, and I’ll give a few examples of what was planned:

Spider Demon Y/N was sort of naive and excitable, but was going to mature/sour after realizing that their beloved queen was, in fact, the bad guy. They were going to have to come to terms with her necessary defeat and their own part in betraying her, as well as living on after you’ve cut ties to your family. Then, readers were going to be able to pick one other henchman to convince to join the heroes.

Dragon Y/N was going to have to both gain Ao Guang’s (their father) approval to live on the surface, and decide how they felt about MK possessing the Ruyi Jingu Bang. They fought using two strings of beaded pearls, utilizing them as whips and grappling hooks to maneuver around the battle field. Also, they hated Macaque. Genuinely throwing hands on sight if they saw that edgy rat.

Heir/Proxy Y/N was going to be a pretty miserable and clingy person, having spent most of their life alone on account of both the LBD and Mayor’s influence. Overcoming their fears and anxieties of being unlovable was going to be a massive part of the journey, learning to love themself and be loved in turn. They were going to have to learn to master the powers forcibly implanted into their body, trying to prevent themself from being sacrificed for power to aid LBD’s onwards path to ‘destiny’.

Ne Zha’s Y/N was going to be cute and polite, very excited to explore the mortal realm outside the grasp of their overprotective mentor/brother. They were also going to have to deal with the first two lotus princes (also overprotective) and Ao Bing, who served as a dear friend.

Sun Wukong’s Y/N was going to be his estranged child who was bitter over ML inheriting the staff instead of them. They were going to despise him for never training them, having to find masters and teachers elsewhere all across the world. In turn, he was desperately trying to make amends and reestablish a strong bond with his cherished progeny, hoping to reconnect eventually.

Also Mei was going to call Y/N “Broth-Face”.

#Time Talks #Choose Your Own Adventure #A Brand New Journey

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i2rizz · 1 month ago

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Quiet Promises

Fandom: Bungou stray dogs

Characters: Oda x reader

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The bar was dimly lit, the faint hum of jazz music weaving through the smoky air like a lullaby. You sat at the counter, your fingers idly tracing the rim of your glass. Beside you, Oda Sakunosuke leaned back against the stool, his usual calm demeanor a stark contrast to the chaos that often surrounded him.

It wasn’t often that you two had moments like this. Between the Port Mafia and the constant shadow of danger, nights like these felt stolen, like the world owed you both a small slice of peace. Oda’s presence alone was enough to make you forget the turmoil outside the bar doors.

“Why do you always order that?” he asked, his voice a smooth murmur as he gestured to your drink.

You smirked. “Because it’s simple. Not too strong, not too sweet. Balanced, like me.”

Oda chuckled softly, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that rare smile that made your heart flutter. “Balanced, huh? You’ve been hanging around me too much.”

“And yet I’m not the one drinking whiskey straight,” you shot back, raising an eyebrow at his glass.

He shrugged, his gaze flickering to the amber liquid. “Whiskey doesn’t lie. It is what it is.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “That’s very Oda of you.”

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence. Oda wasn’t the kind of man who needed to fill the air with words; his presence spoke volumes. You watched him as he stared at the bar’s shelves, his fingers lightly drumming against his glass.

“Do you ever think about getting out?” you asked suddenly, the question slipping out before you could stop yourself.

Oda didn’t flinch, but his gaze softened. “Out of the mafia?”

You nodded, your eyes searching his face.

He exhaled slowly, his shoulders relaxing as he leaned his forearms on the counter. “Sometimes. When I think about the kids, about how they deserve a better life... I think about it a lot.”

You felt a pang in your chest. Oda’s devotion to the children he cared for was one of the things you admired most about him. He wasn’t like the others in the mafia. There was something about him—his quiet kindness, his unshakable principles—that made you believe he didn’t belong in that world at all.

“And what about you?” he asked, turning the question back on you.

You hesitated, your fingers tightening around your glass. “I don’t know. I guess... I guess I feel like there’s more to life than this. But it’s hard to imagine leaving when everything we know is tied to the mafia.”

Oda studied you for a long moment, his teal eyes soft but unreadable. “You could leave, you know. You’re not like the rest of us.”

His words were gentle, but they struck a nerve. “You say that like you’re already writing yourself off, Oda. You’re better than this life, too. You’re the best person I know.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You give me too much credit.”

“I mean it,” you said firmly, your gaze locking onto his. “You deserve better, Oda. The kids deserve better. And if you ever decide to leave, I’ll go with you.”

The admission hung in the air, heavier than the smoke curling around the room. For a moment, Oda didn’t say anything. Then he reached out, his hand brushing against yours on the counter.

“Thank you,” he said simply, his voice barely above a whisper.

The bartender refilled your drinks, breaking the silence. You both took small sips, the warmth of the alcohol a stark contrast to the bittersweet ache in your chest.

“Do you remember the first time we came here?” you asked, a smile tugging at your lips.

Oda nodded, his expression softening. “You got into an argument with the bartender about the difference between a martini and a cocktail.”

“In my defense, he was wrong,” you said, laughing.

Oda’s smile grew, and for a moment, the weight of the world seemed to lift.

The night stretched on, the bar gradually emptying until it was just the two of you and the bartender cleaning up. You leaned against Oda’s shoulder, your heart steadying with the rhythm of his breathing.

“If we ever get out of this,” you murmured, “promise me we’ll find a place like this—a quiet little bar where we can just... exist.”

Oda placed a hand on yours, his grip warm and steady. “I promise.”

You didn’t know if it was a promise he could keep, but in that moment, you believed him. And for now, that was enough.

#anime #anime and manga #x reader #manga #x y/n #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou sd #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs odasaku #oda sakunosuke

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snootlestheangel · 1 year ago

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Just A Dude!Ghost Monster AU

Side note before this post gets rolling, I love that my post with the highest notes starts with "I don't know who else" and I think that's very reflective of what Tumblr is like XD

Anyways

We're doing it! We are writing a Monster AU featuring Ghost as the only human despite what everyone else thinks! As far as I am concerned, mostly gonna post it here on Tumblr, since I don't really have much right now for it, mostly just little blurbs but if needed for readability, I'll put it on AO3 (under my profile FeelzMaster)

I'm gonna go ahead and give y'all the rundown of what species are featured, kinda what this world's like, the stuffs, ya know? TW: talks of death (just how they can die, relax)

Soap

To be 100% honest, I really wanted to do the whole werewolf!Soap thing cause it's just so perfect for him, but I thought back to a post I made about him being lightning and thought HUH WHAT IF?

So, partially inspired by @tactax-art and their depiction of Soap dealing with fire 'n shit, I have made Soap a unique type of "nymph". Technically, nymph isn't the right word, but neither is elemental, and the true name of these things is so old it's real translation has kinda lost meaning so they stick to describing themselves as "nymphs" or "elementals".

He is a Lightning Nymph, which is rare but that's apparently what happens when you cross an "atmospheric" air nymph (his mum) and a less traditional water nymph (his dad). He's often seeing consuming/messing with things that have electrical charge in order to keep up his own energy (Gaz once had to watch him literally lick an exposed outlet and maintain a straight face). Every time it storms, he's outside somewhere as high as he can get so he can soak up the natural static energy that comes with storms. He can and will shock people for the fun of it.

As for abilities, he's obviously highly conductive, can manipulate electrical energy but it's pretty exhausting so it's more of a life or death thing, he can glow in the dark if he wants to, and he's hyper aware of changes (due to ~energy~). His diet is batteries... Jk, but seriously he does not eat like a human would, he straight up eats things that will help with energy. Like I said earlier, he's licked an exposed outlet like it was an espresso shot. Downside is he can't see for shit in the dark so he's reliant on sensing energies, nightvision, or having one of his buddies that can see in the dark guide him. Can be killed if his brain stem is destroyed, but is also very weakened by the typical stuff (gunshots, stab wounds, severe bodily trauama, etc). but can be severely weakened by being trapped in insulated rooms/wrapped in insulators. If exposed to these things and not able to find a sustainable source of electrical energy, he will die. (rubber, steel, copper are some good insulators)

Gaz

I don't know why but I'm gonna make him a Siren. For some reason Siren!Gaz just melts my heart and I wanna hold him. I don't care if he can lure me to my death with his voice, I wanna hear him sing :'(

He's typically pretty human appearing, it's a natural instinct for Sirens, but when he's tired or distracted (like working out/doing paperwork), you can start to see some very fish-like qualities. Mostly very gorgeous iridescent scales around his ears, eyes, neck, shoulders, knees, top of his feet, and back of his hands.

Can breathe underwater, has the best vision in the dark, eats like a typical person but with more sea food cravings or cravings for fatty foods (like human), when in full Siren form he doesn't have a "mermaid's" tail, it's much more shark-like so he can accelerate really fast. Generally just more shark-like, except his scales are fish-like. His nose, like sharks, is super sensitive to certain changes, so booping his nose always throws him off if it's surprise, but he will also bump his nose into people/things without realizing it to get a better sense of it. Can be killed by things humans can, susceptible to parasites.

Price

Honestly, his has been the hardest but I'm gonna do changeling. I honestly don't know a lot about them, and quite frankly I've already got one homebrewed monster here, so why not another?

He's definitely the one everyone mistakes for being human cause he's so good at keeping up appearances. But there are always times where Price manipulates his appearance/body just enough that it's a little startling for those that believed him to be human to suddenly realize he's very much not.

He's got better eyesight in the dark than a human, but nowhere near close to what Gaz has. He's good at picking up on scents though, as his nose is a bit more attune to sniffing out humans than anything. He's not a bloodsucker, but changelings typically feed on weakened/ill/very old/very young humans, so he's able to tell when something is wrong with someone. Stifles the more violent urges of his species by eating a primarily meat heavy diet with a lot of raw veggies for the crunch. Most susceptible to things with iron or salt (obvi) but can still be fatally wounded by stab wounds/gunshots. Most other stuff won't kill him but it'll certainly hurt and he'll complain the entire time.

Alejandro and Rudy

These two are werewolves and Los Vaqueros is their pack :'). Most Vaqueros are also werewolves, but they do have a variety of other creatures commonly found in North America.

And finally, the whole point of this: we got our boy Ghost as a literal human being. Nothing more, just a dude. A dude with so much fucked up shit happening to him constantly it's just assumed he must be inhuman. NOPE! He's just a dude, a very very unlucky, and probably cursed, dude.

So yeah, that's what I have so far! Working title is "Cheers to the Unknown"

Taglist (if you want added let me know in the replies/reblogs): @tacticaltaxonomist @cthulhusstepmom

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axel-ambassador · 1 year ago

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Its 4 am for me and I just wanna talk about why poly shipping is so good especially in Total drama.

TD is such a unique show that is able to get away with having an extreme abundance of characters, and by extension, ships, without it coming across as overbearing. Like name a show with over 100 characters that you know the name and personality of. It's an extremely impressive feat.

That said with so many characters there are so many different shipping opportunities. Sometimes the writers give two characters really good chemistry as friends or enemies and the fans take it to the next level. Sometimes the writers completely fumble the potential they have and the fans pick it up from there. Sometimes there are rare pairs that in context make no sense but fans make them work and that's so cool.

Anyway back to my point. I personally hate needless drama, in real life and in fiction. Fiction especially because typically said drama involves character derailment and general disappointment for the fans of said characters involved.

My point is that I hate the love triangle. I hate the drama it caused. I hate how predictable it was. I hate that it was an arc spread over multiple seasons starting in season 2 and ultimately lead to nothing by the end of season 5. I hate how such a lazy trope is what defined Gwen, Duncan, and Courtney's characters for a multitude of years only for it to mean nothing, and I'm not exaggerating, nothing, by the end of All Stars; their last canonical appearances.

Duncney was destined to break up after island, that's not what I have an issue with. Duncan didn't have to frickin cheat and drag Gwen in a long with him. I love Gwuncan in concept, I really do, but the terrible execution of it which directly contributed to the down fall of both characters sours the memory and idea of the honestly awesome relationship between two of the most popular characters in the entire series.

And then All Stars rolls around and watching it as a Gwen and Courtney fan is like getting a warm embrace, two incredible characters are finally on good terms, only for that embrace to become a suplex, Sundae Muddy Sundae. So now you're on the ground feeling hurt and quite betrayed. And then the realization that it all was for nothing, Gwen and Duncan breaking up despite them getting together being such a huge plot point, Gwen and Courtney being back to square one despite a whole seasons worth of investment in their relationship, character derailment up the goddamn wazoo on all 3 ends, is like the show consecutively spitting in your face.

You wanna know how all of this frustration, pain, and shitty writing could have been avoided? Poly shipping.

Duncan and Courtney have a serious talk about their relationship, how it's incredibly toxic and they need to smooth things out if they want to progress as a couple.

Gwen over here having a bi panic as, oh no, maybe she likes Duncan more than she thought, and she's also slowly falling for his girlfriend since they've had no one but each other to talk to for half a season.

Courtney coming to terms with huh maybe she's not as straight as she thought and how Gwen calms her in a way Duncan never could.

Meanwhile Duncan realizes he likes Gwen for the opposite reasons he likes Courtney. Courtney knows how to push his buttons and he loves how much it drives him crazy. Gwen is much more down to earth but is just as chaotic and a rebel as he is.

They don't kiss in the confessional in London. They talk. Jesus Christ if there's one thing the characters in this God forsaken show don't know how to do it's fuckin communicate. Especially in relationships.

They come to the conclusion that they like each other, and they both like Courtney. So they go and talk to Courtney, and Tyler can do whatever the hell it is he planned on originally.

So there you go. What was meant to be an informative post on poly shipping turned into a rant and ultimately sloppy fix of the love triangle.

Back to my original point I was trying to make but got side tracked. Polyshipping is a multi shippers heaven. As a multi shipper, it's so much easier to make everyone date instead of just picking which ship I like more.

There are characters with great chemistry that would never be considered canon, Gwourtney, Alenoah, Gweather, Heathney, Nowen, I could go on. There's obviously an overlap in some of those.

I love Gwourtney, but Gweather and Heathney are so cool too. I don't know which one to pick. The great thing is that you don't have to pick with Gweathney. Or Gwuncaney. Or Alenowen. Or Aleheathcan.

There is so much potential with so many characters in this show that it can be challenging to figure out which dynamics you love best and which to pick from.

Not only does polyshipping make that easier but also hella more painless and comical in terms of character interactions.

Thank you for your time and I'm sorry.

#total drama #td gwen #total drama gwen #td courtney #total drama courtney #td duncan #total drama duncan #total drama island #total drama world tour #total drama all stars #love triangle #rant #polyamory #poly ship #gwuncan #gwourtney #duncney #i'm sorry

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miyamoratsumuu · 6 months ago

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tenya iida. [ur thoughts?]

[Jordan and Eli (Kade's younger brother) make jewelry for people. Mina almost passed out from pure excitement and Ejiro has an anklet that he wears whenever he's going out]

‼️this post contains slight manga spoilers‼️

AWH THAT'S SO CUTE!!! the love I have for jordan grows everyday 🙇🏻‍♀️ I absolutely love making handmade gifts/people that make handmade gifts is so endearing 🤲🏻

and kovu you don't know the monster you unleashed LMAO this would exactly be like the time you asked me about sero

IDK WHY HE HASN'T CAUGHT MY ATTENTION BEFORE?? probably because we're almost the same person when it comes to our classes lmao I'm not as for the lack of a better word "strict" as him though? so I just saw him as a more "intense" me, and maybe I didn't like that as much before, idk 😭 I'm literally hating on my past self rn cause there was a point where I slightly disliked iida but then one of my irls pointed out he was similar to me and uh yeah 🤠

BUT now that my mha hyperfixation is back and slowly catching up to my hq hyperfixation, I dunno like I said in one of my past posts I'm starting to see iida in a new light 😹 I'm so funny the way I switch up is crazy (I'm lowkey bashing on myself rn) ANYWAY i HATE how I never noticed how much of a gentleman he was before cause WHAT maybe it's just because of the nrw seasons and everything that's been happening in the manga but STILLLL

like the whole duration of the war where he constantly checked up on his classmates??? (e.g. todoroki, bakugou) AND after the war where bakugou and todoroki hid behind him when fangirls were after them LMAO PLUS HE'S SUCH A FAMILY ORIENTED GUY???? LIKE YES PLEASE?????

these fanfics/smau's really aren't helping with my incoming obsession with him, but pls pls keep it coming u guys. I love all of you who write for him, hihi

AAAAH I LOVE HIM!!!!! AND DON'T GET ME STARTED ON HOW HE LOOKS WITHOUT THE ARMOR OF HIS HERO SUIT. AND WHEN HE HAS THE MASK ON???? PUHLEASE SIR

literally screaming into the palm of my hand as I was looking for this on pinterest 🙏🏼😕

ALSO another irl I have told me if I had a type for guys with glasses how come I don't gush about iida so much 👨‍🦯 AND I WAS LIKE HUH NO I DON'T? the way they proceeded to point out the different guys with glasses I've ever liked my whole life is crazy but we don't talk about that further

but then I was also like IDK EITHERRRR AND I FEEL SO BADDDD IIDA LITERALLY DESERVES ALL THE LOVE IN THE WORLD WHAT

and like my type in guys well irl I guess are ones that are taller than me (I live in the philippines and I RARELY see guys my age that are taller than me and I'm literally 5'6" 15 y.o. which is already pretty tall here in the ph ahahaha in my school there are literally like 5 guys that are in the same grade as me that are taller than me???ok, I'm getting off topic. but anyway, my like bare minimum in a guy is someone that's taller than me and smart (cause they gotta match my freak yk before the two of us get married we have to have been married to our academics first)

ok anyway and again, i absolutely HATE how I just noticed how iida fits that so perfectly??? my hate for my past self isn't even lowkey anymore I'm literally openly bashing myself

sero would always always be my #1, but I just think I'd like to give iida some of the love for now 🤲🏻😸

#yeah i definitely talked way too much 😭#BUT LIKE I HAD THE OPPORTUNITY TO YAP YAP YAP ABOUT HIM #thx for the opportunity kovu LMAO #anyway you guys probably won't see me talk abt anything else other than iida for the next few days #so feel free to block the tag #𐙚 tenya brainrot #ahauaha 😹#🖇️frans; [ answers !! ]#🖇️frans; [ moots !! ]#𐙚 kovu my love !!

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paradiqms · 2 years ago

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(4) to you, 2000 years from now.

hongjoong x fem!reader.

tags: angst, captain!hongjoong, royalty!reader, betrayals, misunderstandings, mentions of death, cruelty, fluff here n there, fantasy setting, strangers to lovers to enemies to..?

summary: after the death of your parents and near fall of your kingdom, you have no choice but to leave your first love in order to keep the kingdom in balance with you as the new ruler. years later, you see a familiar face - but instead of being in your arms, he's kneeling in front of the guillotine.

word count: 5,6k

currently, four out of ?

previous.

“you’re growing pretty fond of her, aren’t you?” hongjoong snaps his head up from the piece of paper he’s currently scribbling on to face the person who had spoken up. he’s met with a tall man, leaning against the doorframe of his cramped room, adorning a face that’s similar to his own.

“oh, beomjoong hyung,” the light haired boy breathes out with a small smile on his lips as he greets his older brother. “i didn’t see you there.”

“uh huh,” beomjoong scoffs lightly at his younger brother before inviting himself into the room. “that’s because you’re too busy writing about your little girlfriend again.”

hongjoong feels his face burn up at the older man’s words, which elicits a cheeky laugh from the latter. as much as he wanted to refute, beomjoong is actually correct about one thing – he is writing about you, like how he does every day without fail.

“she’s not my girlfriend.” hongjoong mumbles under his breath as he keeps his head hanging low to avoid his brother’s teasing gaze, which only makes the redness of his cheeks flare up until the tips of his ears.

“not yet, you mean.” beomjoong grins widely at his brother’s reaction before grabbing one of the many papers stacked up on hongjoong’s work table, holding the piece of parchment above his head as the young sibling tries to snatch it back.

“wow, you really outdid yourself with this one. who knew you’d be such a sap?” the older sibling laughs as he reads the poem written down on the paper despite hongjoong cursing at him.

“give it back, you’re gonna crumple it!” hongjoong groans, eye twitching at the way beomjoong is basically gripping onto his paper as if his life depended on it. he was planning to paste that one on his wall tonight after he reads it to you during your nightly visit, but he can’t do that if it’s all ugly and wrinkled by the hands of his brother.

after several attempts, the hongjoong finally gets his own hands on the paper and he immediately tries to straighten it out, but he frowns once he realizes it’s beyond repair at this point. beomjoong merely laughs at the dejected face his younger brother is making, which makes hongjoong frown even deeper, but there’s a playful hint behind it rather than genuine distress.

“did you come here just to ruin my work or what?” the light haired boy huffs. beomjoong shrugs his shoulders a little before dragging over a nearby chair to sit himself next to his younger brother by his work table, eyes wandering around the room. particularly, the pieces of paper pasted on the walls.

“joong-ah.” beomjoong says, a clear change in his tone compared to the playful one just moments ago. the younger one blinks, feeling the aura shift in the air around him, and he frowns. his brother is rarely this serious – and if he’s is, that means something’s up.

“yeah?” hongjoong replies reluctantly as he sits down next to his older sibling.

“… what are you doing?” beomjoong sighs, and hongjoong feels his heart drop. “i know you like this girl, and i understand, you’ve made quite a connection with her.”

seeing his brother tense up and lower his gaze, beomjoong can only sigh as he places a comforting hand over hongjoong’s shoulder.

“but you need to remember why we came here in the first place.” the older sibling continues. “once mother and father have succeeded, we have to leave. there’s no staying for us in this kingdom. save yourself from the heartbreak, won’t you?”

hongjoong can only grit his teeth from the words that fall from his brother’s mouth. they all carry the truth, there’s not a single doubt, and that’s why he hates it. the fact that he had met you, and even fell in love with you, under possibly the worst circumstances ever makes him clench his fists at how unfair it feels.

he’s not supposed to stay, hongjoong has been reminded of this ever since he arrived to this kingdom. for him and his family, there’s no such thing as a place they can call ‘home’, for they have moved from one kingdom to another for as long as hongjoong can remember in search of something that almost seems impossible to find at this point. all these years, he has been great at avoiding unnecessary attachment to anyone and anything, he was never the type to even reminisce much on the previous lands that he has found himself in before. they were insignificant to him, only mere specks in his journey.

but then you came crashing into his life – well, it was him who crashed into yours, he supposes. he remembers the way he bumped into you that day in the town square, making you fall backwards. he remembers the twinkle in your eyes when you looked up at him as he offered to help you back on your feet, the shine of the sun in the sky making you look like one of the ethereal beings that hongjoong had read about only in books. not only were you as beautiful as the meadow flowers that hongjoong would pick up and press into his books, you were also kind, incredibly so, as you helped him out of certain death even when you had just met him.

so, hearing his brother say that he’s only leading himself into heartbreak, hongjoong can’t help but protest.

“no,” the light haired boy says, ignoring the way beomjoong’s eyes widen. “i’m sorry, hyung, but you don’t understand. i’ve made more than just ‘quite’ a connection with her, i– she means everything to me. i know we can’t stay here forever, but that’s exactly why i can’t let her go just yet. i want to spend all of my remaining days here with her, even when i’ll end up heartbroken.”

hongjoong avoids his brother’s gaze, because he knows there’s disappointment in his eyes, but he can’t bring himself to care anymore.

“she’s worth it, hyung. she’s worth every heartbreak, every tear i’ll spill for her once we part. i know i won’t regret it, not when it’s her.”

beomjoong’s eyes soften at his younger brother’s words. he thinks it’s the first time that he has seen hongjoong so passionate about his relationship with someone, after all these years of pushing everyone away even before a single connection had the chance to form. he frowns deeply as he knows that his brother will definitely face the heartbreak of a lifetime once he parts from you, but as his younger sibling returns his gaze with one that’s showing no signs of backing up, beomjoong can only sigh in defeat.

“alright then, joong.” the older of the pair concedes, much to hongjoong’s surprise. “i don’t think i can convince you any further, can i? always so stubborn.”

at his brother’s words, hongjoong smiles softly.

“thanks, hyung.” he says, voice trembling only slightly. “i appreciate it.”

“whatever, kid.” beomjoong stands up from his seat before placing a hand on top of his brother’s head to ruffle up his hair despite the grumpy protests. “maybe introduce me to her some time, yeah?”

hopefully, hongjoong thinks, hopefully he will get the chance to introduce you to his brother. as well as his parents, if fate is kind enough to allow it.

but alas, fate has never once been on hongjoong’s side. and it never will be.

fate, the heavens, destiny, hell maybe even the gods – they’ve all banded together to make a fool out of hongjoong, to build him up with the greatest creation they made out of stardust and the shines of sunlight, only to tear him down with the same creation.

it was you all along. hongjoong was too blinded by the light that you emitted to see the dark lies that you’ve been feeding him all this time. he feels choked in the middle of the sea of people that have gathered within the execution grounds, his heart aching so much as if sorrow is sinking it’s sharp claws into his chest, threatening to dig into him and tear out the one thing that’s keeping him alive.

he can’t even hear his own cries anymore as he watches three figures line up towards the guillotine, faces that resemble his own covered with dirty sacks. the first person is forced onto his knees to kneel in front of the guillotine, and when the sack is removed, the angered screams of the crowd turn into background noise, as hongjoong can only focus on the quiet apology that falls from the person’s lips.

“joong-ah,” beomjoong whispers, a weak smile on his face. “you know what to do. i’m sorry.”

hongjoong turns away. the shrill sound of the blade coming down rings in his head, followed by the sick cheers of the people around him, and he can only bring himself to lift his head up and stare at the person who started it all.

to see your familiar face, clear from any emotions as you stand next to a king who orders for the execution of his family, it almost makes him laugh. to think that you, the person who hongjoong wanted to spend his life with, would be the one to ruin it with the calmest look on your face that he once admired under the moonlight. this was the first time he had seen you in weeks after he gave you all the love he could from a heart that he knew you would break one day, but not like this – why, hongjoong cries, why would you do this?

when you finally turn you head to look at him, he feels nothing but anger.

“joong?” you call out for him, a sweetness clinging onto your voice as you use the name that his brother would call him with.

“don’t,” hongjoong sobs as he grits his teeth, reddened eyes staring into yours that hold nothing but emptiness. “don’t call me that.”

but you don’t listen to the weeps of a man who you’ve destroyed in every way possible.

you call out for him again and again, repeating the same name that only makes hongjoong’s heart break further. his head throbs as it’s filled with the sound of your voice, a ringing in his ears that makes him feel like there’s blood dripping out and an ache in his throat as he begs for you to stop.

“joong,” you repeat, as if the cries of your first love mean nothing to you. “hongjoong, hey, wake up. hongjoong. hongjoong!”

“hongjoong, capt, wake up!”

the sound of a dagger being unsheathed echoes through the dark and quiet room as hongjoong presses the blade he keeps under his pillow against the throat of the person who’s standing next to his bed. he hears a small whimper, and it takes a few blinks of his weirdly moist eyes to finally adjust themselves in the darkness to recognize who’s in front of him.

“…wooyoung?” hongjoong whispers, quickly putting away his dagger. “what are you doing here?”

“ugh, i should’ve made san wake you up instead.” the red haired man grimaces as he rubs over the front of his neck where hongjoong’s blade was pressed on, making the captain snort lightly.

“anyway,” wooyoung continues, shifting slightly on his feet. “there’s, uh… a little problem with the queen.”

hongjoong hums, ignoring the dull ache that’s starting to crawl into his chest once again at the mere mention of you.

“don’t bother me if it’s just a ‘little’ problem.” the captain groans as he sits himself properly on the edge of his messy bed, combing a hand through his dark hair. he catches the way wooyoung is playing with his fingers nervously by his peripheral vision.

“yeah, about that…” the younger of the two mumbles. “okay, it’s not actually ‘little’. she’s refusing to eat or even talk to us ever since she woke up, like, three days ago? and she’s not going to unless she speaks with the captain.”

a scoff that he’s unable to suppress escapes from hongjoong’s lips once wooyoung is done talking. to be truthful, he’s been avoiding you as much as he can ever since he ordered his crew to bring you on his ship. it’s a cowardly thing to do, he’s quite aware, but a piece of him isn’t ready to face you again.

“alright,” hongjoong brings himself to sigh out after a moment. “i’ll be there in a moment.”

“aye, captain!” wooyoung puts on a dorky smile on his face before making his way out of hongjoong’s private quarters, closing the door behind him.

once the red haired boy is out of his personal space, hongjoong drags a calloused hand over his face, cringing to himself when he feels the wetness on his cheeks. he stands up from the comfort of his bed to walk over to his dresser, staring at himself in the mirror.

his eyes are puffy and red from sleep (at least that’s what he’s convinced himself to be the reason) and the skin of his face is as pale as the sheets he was resting under. as he looks at his reflection, he can’t help but be reminded of the one who shares the same features but slightly sharper and more mature than his own.

before hongjoong can be pulled down into another spiral of sorrow, he turns away to walk out of his room and towards the crew’s quarters.

“your majesty, please calm down–” wooyoung’s voice reaches hongjoong’s ears when he’s halfway down the wooden stairs that lead towards the lower part of the ship, and he raises a curious eyebrow. “the captain will be here shortly, just stop squirming– ow! she bit me!”

“don’t touch me, you filthy pirate.” hongjoong stops in his track for a moment when he hears you speak up. for a moment, he’s considering going back up to his room and let seonghwa handle the situation instead, but he straightens himself up and puts on the best face he can manage in your presence before descending further down the stairs.

he’s met with a rather comical scene of wooyoung crouching on the floor, cradling his left hand to his chest while san rubs his friend’s back soothingly. the taller of the duo notices hongjoong’s presence, and a quick smile appears on his lips.

“good morning, captain!” san waves with his free hand. “wooyoung was trying to feed her majesty over there since she hasn’t eaten anything for the past three days, but she refused and bit him.”

“i see.” is all that hongjoong can manage to say out loud as he feels your heavy gaze on him. he can see you from the corner of his eye, an arm stretched above your head due to your hand still being cuffed onto the pillar, just like how he left you several days ago. he can feel your eyes staring holes onto him, particularly the band on his arm.

captain’s armband, an obvious little piece of garment that clings onto the sleeve of his coat. he hadn’t worn it when he was away from the ship during his few days in the dirty cells under the palace that was under your rule, and when he put it back on again, it felt like coming home. but right now, the black band feels like it’s burning through the fabric of his clothes and searing his skin.

the crew’s quarters are uncomfortably quiet, save for the occasional creaks of wood and sloshing of water against the sides of the ship. hongjoong’s eyes are empty as he gazes forward, away from you, his mind reeling with all the possible outcomes that might arise from the current interaction.

he’s expecting for you to curse at him, to yell at him with all the anger you could store in your body when you finally realize what he’s become just like how you did back in the dungeons. the memory squeezes hongjoong’s chest, and he makes the decision to finally turn to you with fire that he sparked up himself swirling in his eyes.

“look who’s finally awake.” he says, his voice no higher than a whisper as if he’s untrusting of himself to speak any louder, fearing that his tone might falter. “took you some time, your highness.”

as he’s slowly approaching you, your gaze doesn’t move from the armband.

“cat got your tongue?” hongjoong scoffs, stopping himself once he’s standing right in front of you. “my crew told me you wanted to speak to the captain, so here i am. you better start talking before i lose my patience.”

you don’t respond. instead, you shift your attention from the armband and towards hongjoong’s face, your eyes searching for his own.

“you’re alive…” the man hears you breathe out, and he feels lightheaded. there’s a softness in your gaze as you look up at him from the hammock you’re sitting on, and it almost makes him falter.

almost.

“of course i’m alive.” hongjoong scoffs as he steps back from you. he feels that if he were to spend another second being too close in your presence, he might give in to you, especially when you almost sound like you’re relieved to see him. “your sorry excuse of royal guards wouldn’t be able to kill me even if they tried.”

you’re quiet again for a moment, suffocating hongjoong with your silence as he feels his heart race in his chest, and he notices a subtle change in your expression before you’re scowling at him.

“you’re a pirate now,” you hiss, eyes flickering towards the band that wraps itself around hongjoong’s arm before continuing. “not just a mere pirate, but a captain? hongjoong, what–”

“you are not fit to speak my name.” the man warns, poison in his tone that seeps into your veins and almost brings your heart to a stop.

hongjoong ignores the look on your face, one that carries your obvious heartbreak from his words. he straightens his back and tilts his head slightly higher to look down on you before speaking again.

“you might be a queen, but this is my ship, and i am captain. you’re only allowed to address me as such. if i hear you speak my name one more time, i won’t hesitate to cut your tongue off.”

your eyes widen once the man before you finishes speaking, and you can only afford to stare at him. you search his face for any signs of bluffing, maybe even softness, or absolutely anything that could get you to believe that the gentle poet you used to know is somewhere in there, but you find nothing. the man, or captain, returns your stare with one of his own, eyes void of any vulnerability with not a speck of the innocence you used to associate him with, and you frown.

your dear poet is, without a doubt, truly gone. all that’s left is a husk of the man you used to love, standing before you with hatred in his eyes that were once your favorite to gaze into under the moonlight.

“fine,” you breathe out, conceding into the man as you can’t bring yourself to fight back anymore. “i see how it is. it’s not like i know you anymore, anyway.”

hongjoong blinks. the ache in his chest never left ever since he came to see you, but it’s beginning to grow and mess with his head as he takes in your words.

fine, hongjoong thinks to himself. if that’s how you’re playing, then so be it.

“don’t flatter yourself,” the captain scoffs. “you never truly knew me in the first place.”

lies. you were the only one who understood me.

ignoring the screaming of protests in his own head, the dark haired man watches with a stony face as you struggle to reply to him. he watches as your lips twist into a disheartened frown, the corner of your eyes prickling with tears, and suddenly, hongjoong can’t look at you anymore.

“if you’ve got nothing more to say,” he turns around, facing his back to you. “then i’ll be leaving. all you ever do is waste my time.”

lies! i would spend all of my remaining time on this damn earth with you.

“wooyoung, san,” the captain calls out for the duo who were merely standing in the corner while he was conversing with you, and they immediately straighten up when referred to. “let’s go.”

the two boys respond with a quiet ‘yes, captain’ before tailing behind the shorter male towards the main deck. wooyoung spares a quick glance to you, and he can’t stop the pity from growing in his chest as he watches you sob on the hammock you’ve been placed on, muffling your cries with your free hand.

once they’re all back on the main deck, hongjoong turns towards the two boys.

“i’m assigning her to the two of you,” the captain speaks. “make sure she doesn’t die. force her to eat, for all i care. we need her once we’ve arrived at the next kingdom.”

without another word, he walks away from the duo and goes back into his private quarters, the harsh slam of the wooden door making the two boys flinch slightly.

that night, the entire ship is silent, save for the gentle sobs that can be heard from the crew’s quarters and the sound of glass shattering from the captain’s room.

seonghwa has known hongjoong longer than the rest of the crew. as the captain’s right-hand man and trusted friend, he’s responsible for taking over the other man’s work whenever he’s unavailable to. it’s his duty, one that he has been faithful to for the past six years.

this time, however, seonghwa is not sure how much longer he can fill in for hongjoong while the latter merely locks himself in his private quarters, day and night. he hasn’t seen the shorter man for god knows how long while they’re on their way to the next destination, and it’s beginning to get on his nerves.

“captain,” seonghwa knocks on the wooden door that leads to the captain’s quarters, leaning in slightly. “i’m coming in. i’m not taking no as an answer.”

when the blond haired man receives nothing from behind the door, he takes it as a sign of approval to push the door open and enter the private quarters.

the spacious room is dark, as it always has been, with only a few streams of sunlight escaping through the curtains that flow with the ocean breeze from the open windows. despite the darkness, seonghwa’s sharp eyes need not long to adjust themselves, and he can easily make out the absolute mess within the captain’s room.

bits of shattered glass litter the floor alongside multiple empty liquor bottles, some standing tall while others roll along the wooden panels. sheets of paper, once stacked nicely on the captain’s work table, are now in disarray and some even torn into small pieces.

the sight makes seonghwa’s eye twitch. but what almost infuriates him even further is when he notices the familiar stature of his captain, simply sitting on the edge of his bed, wearing the same clothes he had worn the last time seonghwa saw him outside his quarters several days ago. his hair is unkempt, sticking upwards in several directions, and the blond pirate can make out the greasiness of the black locks even as he stands quite far from the captain.

the room is quiet when both of the two men decide not to speak up for a moment.

“if you’re here to patronize me,” hongjoong breaks the silent, a slight hoarse sticking onto his voice. “i won’t hesitate to put a bullet in your head.”

“with your current condition?” seonghwa scoffs as he walks closer to the captain’s bed, the heels of his shoes clicking against the wooden flooring. “i doubt you can even lift your weapon.”

hongjoong reaches an arm out to stop seonghwa from coming any closer, the palm of his hand pressed against the latter’s stomach.

“don’t,” he scowls, head kept down. “i’m gross.”

“we’re pirates,” seonghwa manages to breathe out a gentle laugh. “we’re supposed to be gross.”

hongjoong can only scowl further before letting his arm fall back onto the mattress. without wasting any of their time, seonghwa casually seats himself next to the other man, the soft mattress sinking under his weight before he begins talking.

“how much longer are you going to do this to yourself, hongjoong?” he speaks, making sure his voice remains gentle but firm enough to knock some sense into the latter. “we’ve barely seen you these days, and you’re our captain, for god’s sake. if this is about the girl then–”

“don’t.” hongjoong hisses. seonghwa catches the way his fists curl up tightly. “don’t mention her to me.”

“and yet you were the one who wanted her onboard.” seonghwa rebuts, earning himself a hard glare from the other male. “do you see the problem? honestly, it’s almost childish from the way you’re ignoring your duties over a mere girl.”

“she–” hongjoong stutters over his words, pursing his lips as if he’s in thought to choose the right words. “she’s… not a mere girl. that’s the problem.”

over his friend’s words, seonghwa’s previously firm gaze softens up. he can hear the sorrow dripping from hongjoong’s voice that sounds like he’s been crying for days on end, and as much as it saddens him, it mostly surprises him more. in all the years he has known the other man, he’s never seen him shed tears like this over someone.

perhaps isolating himself in his private quarters could be justified, seonghwa thinks.

“i see.” the blond pirate mumbles. “you two must have quite the history, huh?”

“quite,” hongjoong manages to bring himself to scoff at his friend’s words. “i’d rather not talk about it, though.”

seonghwa nods, expressing his understanding on the pain of reminiscing memories with someone you’ve grown apart from. although, the older man thinks, simply grown apart might not be enough to explain the situation between hongjoong and the mysterious queen. the last time he had seen the latter seem so lost and broken, eyes swollen and red from all the tears he had shed, was the day they first met six years ago.

looking at the condition his friend is currently in and comparing it to the memory of their first meeting, seonghwa can only summarize that both occasions all come down to you.

to think that a simple girl could break down a man as strong and stone-hearted as hongjoong is now, making him look like the younger and more vulnerable version of himself six years ago, seonghwa can’t help but have his interest piqued.

so, after he offers a few more comforting words to his captain and exiting his private room, he heads directly to the crew’s quarters.

“seonghwa hyung!” a familiar voice stops the blond pirate from descending down the stairs that lead to the crew’s quarters, and he turns around to see a tuft of bright red hair.

“did captain say anything?” wooyoung questions, a curious glint in his eyes. “i saw you go into his room and now you’re going to visit miss royal down there, right?”

seonghwa blinks. wooyoung is known to have a loose lip among the crew, his chatterbox of a mouth paired with his never-ending curiosity almost always causing unnecessary headaches for everyone onboard. he’s more than useful during missions with his ability to get any information he wants from people, but said ability isn’t as appreciated when he uses it to dig the latest gossip amongst the crew.

“captain didn’t say much,” seonghwa straightens himself up. “but yes, i am going to pay a visit to the girl. it would be nice if you don’t eavesdrop, wooyoung.”

the younger one merely whines after being rejected, but he’s quick to regain his composure when he notices the stern look on the right-hand man’s face.

“fine, fine.” wooyoung huffs. “but be careful around her, she bites!”

seonghwa waves the latter off and tells him to go resume his own duties, to which he responds with a playful salute before walking away. the blond pirate continues his steps down the stairs, and he’s met with the sight of you, swinging gently on one of the hammocks with an arm stretched above your head due to being cuffed to the pillar.

as if startled by his presence, you quickly turn your head to the unfamiliar face that you’re unacquainted with. you were expecting, and honestly hoping, that it was wooyoung – since the red haired boy was the only one who showed an ounce of kindness to you during your stay these several days despite being the one who knocked you out in the first place.

to see someone who you haven’t met before makes your heart hammer nervously in your chest.

“hi,” the stranger speaks to you, a slight husk to his voice. “so you’re the one who’s causing all the trouble for our captain, huh?”

seonghwa watches with mild amusement when he notices the way your previously alarmed expression quickly turns to that of displeasure, your eyebrows arching downwards.

“screw your captain.” you spit out. “if anything, he’s the one who caused trouble for me. i didn’t asked to be brought onto his damn ship.”

“oh, but you have to be of some sort of importance to him if that’s so.” there’s an upward curl on the man’s lips that looks like a mischievous smirk, and it almost makes you sick.

“hell if i know,” you scowl. “from the way he spoke to me the other day, i’d say he sees me as nothing but a waste of time.”

the words that fall from your own lips stings into your chest, especially when you’re referring to him. if you were to tell your younger self that your first love would view you as a waste of time, she would’ve laughed at you.

“captain just needs some time to soften up,” seonghwa shrugs before stepping closer to you, making you instinctively inch backwards as much as you can while being seated on a hammock that’s swinging back and forth from the movement of the ship. “especially considering the history you two share.”

you feel the words you’d wish to spit out get choked in your throat, and you tilt your head downwards to avoid the gaze of the man who’s standing in front of you.

“i share no history with that captain of yours,” you mumble. “not anymore. he’s not the person i used to know.”

seonghwa merely hums, but his mind wanders endlessly. he leans closer to you, ignoring the way you’re grimacing up at him from your spot on the hammock as you lean backwards as much as you can to keep a proper distance between yourself and him, but he ignores you.

a clicking sound reaches your ears, and for the first time since you’ve arrived on the ship, you can move your arm.

“what–” you stutter, immediately massaging your shoulder the moment your arm falls free from the cuffs to ease the ache that’s been bothering you for days. “what– how did you– why did you do that?”

“one at a time, your majesty.” seonghwa chuckles as he takes a step back, tucking the handcuffs that once chained you to the pillar into his pocket. “stole the keys from the captain’s room, he was too busy sulking to notice.”

the sound of silver keys jingling against each other reaches your ears as they hang from the man’s slender fingers while he swings them around, as if to emphasize his statement.

“and as for why,” he continues. “we’ll be arriving at our next destination shortly. i want you to follow me once we’re there.”

you snap your head upwards to look at the blond pirate, the obvious bewilderment on your face making him stifle back an amused chuckle.

“however, don’t even think of escaping. just because i unchained you doesn’t mean i will hesitate to chain you again if you misbehave.”

“…fine.” you give in, ignoring the way the pirate offers you a praise for your obedience that reminds you of someone with a similar way of speaking back in your kingdom. at the reminder of him, you unconsciously rub your ring finger to play with the golden band, only for your heart to drop when you’re met with bare skin.

you catch a glint of light reflecting off a shiny surface from the pirate’s hands, and only now do you notice the way he’s rolling your ring across his fingers, a cheeky smile on his lips that only elicits a disgruntled scowl on your own.

“i’ll be taking my leave now,” the man announces, ignoring your demands of returning your ring. “i’ll be taking this as a gift for freeing you.”

“you sly bastard.” the insult leaves your lips in a low mumble as you glare at the pirate while he walks away from you. just as he places his foot on the first step of the stairs that lead towards the main deck, he turns to you once again.

“my name is seonghwa, by the way.” he informs. “make sure you remember that in your pretty little head.”

as the pirate, seonghwa, walks up the stairs and leaves you alone in the crew’s quarters once again, you can’t help but heave a heavy sigh before leaning back onto the hammock, allowing yourself to be swayed left and right as you stare at the ceiling.

for some reason, while you rub your fingers against the skin where your ring used to be placed over, you can’t help but feel like a sense of burden has been lifted.

next.

taglist: @atinytinaa @crimson-mia @catwhisk @lelaleleb

#hongjoong x reader #hongjoong angst #hongjoong fic #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez angst #ateez x you #hongjoong x you #okay this was a little rushed and messy #hope you all still like it though mwah #seonghwa.. *side eye*

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