#but it still feels so normal to me lmao and apparently it is not in any way normal | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kimstills · 6 months

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i can see you

pairing: aaron hotchner x f!reader summary: "here i was thinking that i was special because you would only look at me with that desperate look on your face, but i see that you give any old man that look, right?” content warnings: jealous!hotch, reader is a panther (aren't we all), bathroom sex, mirror sex, p in v, sexual tension, unprotected sex (r mentions being on birth control but wrap it before you tap it!), rough sex, dirty talk, size kink if u squint, spanking, hair pulling, choking, dom!hotch, sub!reader. word count: 3.9k (y’all this was not supposed to be this long lmao) notes: day 18 of @hotchfiles marchhotchness 'self-image' but also HEAVILY inspired by this post from @softhairedhotch because it made me go FERAL and i love jealous hotch (but pls lmk if taking inspo was okay!!) this is also my first hotch fic ever so pls lmk ur thoughts or any other feedback <333

aaron hotchner was not a jealous man.

he had no right to be jealous over something that technically did not exist or someone that technically was not his.

and although he only had himself to blame for that, he really did wish that you were his. and as much as he was telling himself not to be, he was jealous.

but it wasn’t the typical jealous where he watched you be approached by someone much younger than him—someone your own age instead of his—and by someone who already had him beat in reciprocating that flirtatious energy you often used on aaron himself.

no, this type of jealousy was one that was boosting his ego and making him feel lightweight, albeit the fact that it still made him see red.

it was a typical night out with the rest of the team, all of you having agreed that the eight of you were in need of a couple of drinks after some long weeks of paperwork and back and forth cases.

you were all engrossed in the conversation, but you had left the table to get yourself another refill on your drink and had taken far too long than it normally would have, the rest of the younger members—all besides reid—having decided on hitting up the dance floor throughout the time you hadn’t returned to your seat.

it was practically natural for aaron to look for you in a crowd, but what he hadn’t expected to find was you, sitting in a bar stool on the right side of the bar, being hit up by a man who had to have been a couple of years older than aaron himself.

the front hairs of the man’s head were peeking of several grey hairs, paired with a matching grey beard and an overall radiance that screamed of that older man type that you were apparently into.

the sudden revelation made aaron feel dizzy, the confirmation of your attraction towards older men making his pants tighten as he watched the way you stared up at the man with that sultry look of yours—the one where you were somehow able to perfectly mix mischief and innocence seamlessly together.

while you had used that look on aaron countless times before, times where it had been only you and him alone in his office, way past working hours, he had never done anything about it. but, god, as he watched you do it to someone else, out on the open, there was nothing he was currently regretting more.

aaron’s train of thought was interrupted as he felt someone kick him from underneath the table he sat at, whipping his head to the person in front of him only to find rossi staring at him with a smug look on his face.

he cleared his throat, “what?”

aaron mentally cringed at the way his voice wavered.

“you gonna be done being jealous anytime soon and make a move or are you just gonna sit there throwing daggers at the guy?” dave asked, brows raised.

he took a long sip from his drink, trying to avoid the question for as long as he could as he tried to compose himself, “i don’t know what you’re talking about,”

rossi rolled his eyes, “oh, please, aaron. you don’t have to be a profiler to notice the way you can cut the tension that’s between the both of you with a butter knife,”

aaron’s brows furrowed.

“you have all the confirmation you need right there,” dave pointed his thumb behind him, signaling at you and the man, “if that’s not enough for you, then i’m declaring you helpless at this point,” he let out a sigh, standing from his seat, “i’m going to get another drink and if i find you still sitting here, wallowing in your thoughts after getting my refill, i’ll go up to them and encourage her to go home with the man.”

aaron’s fists clenched at the thought. at the thought of you sprawled on the bed of another man, wearing that same look you had on just now and staring up at him as you—

his body acted faster than his brain did, and before he even had the chance to process what he was doing, he stood from his own stool, not allowing for another moment to pass by as he stormed over to where you and the man were sitting.

from your side of the room, you can see aaron make his way over to you through the peripheral of your vision, the excitement of finally getting a reaction out of him making your heart skip and your thighs press together as you took into count the way his fists clenched and unclenched at his sides.

the pressure you put on your thighs didn’t do anything to relieve the ache you felt in your core as he reached where you sat, coming to stand behind—was his name michael? although the stranger you had began talking to was definitely older than him, aaron was a good several inches taller, towering over the both of you.

he cleared his throat, cutting michael off from whatever he had been talking to you about as he turned around with a raised brow. aaron’s expression didn’t falter, not sparing a single glance at the man as his eyes landed on you, “y/n, can i speak to you for a moment?”

you mentally rolled your eyes. ever the formal one.

michael scoffed from in front of him, angling his body so that he was able to properly glare daggers at your boss, “we were in the middle of a conversation here, if you don’t mind?”

although your attraction for aaron skyrocketed in comparison to the man you had just met, you were thriving off of the jealousy radiating off of the one you wanted the most, the ache in your stomach only growing.

before aaron had the chance to shoot out a reply, you set your hand on michael’s forearm, giving him a small, but sad smile, “i’m sorry, michael,” you butted in, jumping off of the bar stool, “i’ll be right back, okay?”

another scoff comes from michael’s direction, “whatever,” he grabs his drink and rolls his eyes, “don’t even bother coming back,”

ew.

this time you actually rolled your eyes, grabbing at your drink and drowning the rest of it. you shrug, “older men are always a hit or miss,” you mumble, setting the glass down.

aaron’s hand comes to wrap around your wrist, a firm but gentle grip on it as he pulls you close to him, “let’s go,” he seethes in your ear.

you hide a smirk as you follow behind him, letting your body practically flail as you struggle to keep up with him. when he notices your staggered pace, he matches his footsteps with yours, moving his hand from your wrist to your waist as he guides you through the crowd and towards the hallway that lead towards the bar’s restrooms.

the both of you gave a silent thanks at the fact that there was no line, the hallway scarce and dimly lit with the exception of a few people standing together against the walls, either flirting or talking.

“what are you doing?” you ask, standing behind him as he knocks on one of the doors, his grip on your waist still very much present.

“you’ll see,” he mumbles, yanking the door open by the knob after no one replies and pulling the both of you inside before slamming the door shut behind him.

you try to take a good look at the interior of the bathroom, trying to guess if it was a good enough place to do whatever the two of you were about to do.

a faint gasp escapes your lips as you feel something hard press into your ass, immediately melting as one of aaron’s big hands comes to rub at the side of your leg, right below your hip. his whole body comes up behind yours, his other free hand coming to your stomach to press you into him.

“aaron—” you try to speak but get cut off as you let out another gasp, one almost like a sigh, as the hand that was rubbing at your leg sneaks further up and wraps itself around your hip, aaron’s thick fingers digging into your skin despite the material of your shorts that blocked his hand.

aaron dips his head so that his mouth is right next to your ear, his breath and the faint touch of his lips against the lower part of your jawline sending shivers down your spine.

“is this okay?” he asks softly, a total contrast from the vice grip he had on both your front and hip.

you nod quickly, your hand coming up to your right where he held your hip to wrap around his own.

“use your words, honey,”

the pet name makes you whimper and your thighs clench in spite of the fact that you were standing up. you let out a ragged breath as he awaits for your answer, the hand that was pressed to your stomach furthering down until it was right above your pelvis but below your tummy, pushing you further back until you could feel how hard he actually was.

you whine, your other hand coming to wrap around that one, too, “yes,” you sigh, “it’s okay,”

aaron presses his lips into that same spot below your jaw, gently and lovingly before whipping you around so that you were facing him and pushing you up against the counter.

not even giving you a chance to process what he had just done, his lips crash onto yours roughly, making you moan directly into his mouth. your bring your arms up around his neck, running your fingers through his hair and tugging.

aaron hisses, slapping at your thigh in a firm way that had you let out another moan.

“aaron,” you whine, pushing up into his chest out of desperation.

he hums, “do you want my attention now?” he asks through the kiss, “don’t wanna go back and talk to that guy you were all over just a couple of minutes ago?”

“no,” you mumble, huffing as he breaks away from you to wrap his fingers around your chin.

he chuckles as your lips form into a puffy pout, “here i was thinking that i was special because you would only look at me with that desperate look on your face, but i see that you give any old man that look, right?”

“no!” you whine again, your arms dropping from around his neck to wrap around his bicep, squeezing at the muscle to try and pull him closer to you, “just you!”

his confidence was beyond what it normally was, feeling you squirm from against him yet still wanting his touch, “really? so you weren’t planning on going home with that man? all those times you touched his shoulder or the times he would touch your thigh meant nothing?”

“yes, they didn’t mean anything!” you huff, “you’re the one i want to go home with all the time!”

aaron’s heart clenched at your confession, knowing that deep down you really did mean all the time. he had just never been sure if you truly were interested in living a joint life with him. up until now, that is.

he brings his hands to your back, right by your shoulder blades as he connects your lips once more. your shoulders relax and you lean into him with earnest, squeezing at the muscle from his bicep.

you hum, satisfied as he begins to run his hands up and down, resulting in the fabric of your shirt lifting with every time he went up, eventually ending up in nothing but rolled up fabric under his palm. he breaks the kiss once more to toss your shirt over your head and near the sink’s counter, leaving you in only your shorts.

aaron stared at your bare breasts, not expecting you to have not been wearing a bra despite the tight shirt you just had on.

you shiver under his gaze, opening your mouth to say something before he lowered himself and quickly attached a mouth to one of your breasts, the other one coming up to grab and squeeze at it. you moan, gripping onto the marble counter for support as he presses sloppy and wet kisses to each breast.

his fingers come to undo the button of your shorts, hooking them inside your panties before shoving both articles of clothing down your legs, signaling you to kick them off of you. you toed your shoes off as well, leaving you completely naked and bare for him while he remained fully clothed.

he turns you around gently, bringing you face to face with the sight of you completely stripped in the mirror, the image making you clench your thighs together once more as you stabilized yourself on the sink.

aaron’s hands soothed all around your body, a whimper leaving you at the feeling of his calloused hands groping at your breasts before moving down to your soaking pussy.

as if on instinct, you spread your legs open for him, practically inviting him to dip his fingers into your folds and inside your entrance. the thickness of both his index and middle fingers stretching you out. you knew you had always loved his hands for a reason.

a moan bounced off the walls as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, moving torturously slow before he began to pick up the pace. you could feel your slick drip onto the floor and probably onto the rest of his hand, but all you could focus on was shamelessly bucking your hips into your hand and spreading your legs for even more access.

“you’re soaking, honey,” aaron says, hand coming back around to squeeze at your breast again, leaving you gasping as he pinched your nipples.

you whimpered, “just for you,”

“‘just for me?’” he repeats, “not for anyone else, right?”

you shake your head no, pussy clenching around his fingers, “j-just for you, aaron,”

his hand left your breast to smack at your ass, making you jump, “good girl,”

with that, he takes his fingers out of you, a throaty whine leaving your lips at the empty feeling. you arched your back into him, but immediately stilled at the sound of him removing his belt filled the room. you watched from the mirror in front of you as he undid his pants button, reaching past his boxers to pull out his cock.

oh shit.

your mouth dropped at the sight of his dick spring out from where it had been confined, your slick hole clenching at nothing at how big he was. you knew that aaron hotchner was definition of big dick energy, always wondered what he was secretly packing, but now you wondered if you were going to be able to take it all.

he was thick, veiny all around with girth too thick that it hurt just looking at him. as much as you could tell you wouldn’t be able to walk after this, it excited you far too much.

you gulped, meeting his eyes in the mirror, landing on his hungry gaze, “is it going to fit?” you ask quietly, trying to bring your legs back together.

“we’ll make it fit,” he says, sounding confident of himself, a hand coming to stop you from closing your legs, “will you let me know if it’s too much?”

you take another look at his cock before giving him a determined look, “i will,” you nod.

he nods back, angling your head with his hand so he could press a kiss to your mouth.

you give into him easily, arching into him until you feel the tip of his cock slip through your wet folds and line up with your entrance. you had taken dick before, but never this big, so as he gave you one last look, you took a deep breath before feeling him sink into you.

you gasp, already feeling full by just the tip, though the slickness of your pussy helping you in adjust.

“still good, honey?”

you nod again, too busy focusing on how his length was stretching you out further than his fingers had.

smack!

aaron’s hand landed another spank on your ass, making you snap your heads toward him with a confused, dumbfounded expression. he glared, “use your words.”

you huffed, doing your best to not roll your eyes, “still good,” you replied, going back to focusing on how full your pussy already felt, “is it in yet?”

“almost, baby,” you whined again, pushing your ass back onto him and earning yourself another inch inside.

humming in delight, you felt aaron begin to move, setting a slow pace as he inched himself in and out to get you used to the length that was already inside you.

“aaron,” you sighed, “give it all to me,” you pleaded at him through the mirror, “i can take it,”

he studied your expression, all needy and flushed as you tried to buck your hips further back to fill yourself up more, “let me know if it’s too much,” he warned.

you nodded eagerly but didn’t get a chance to reply as he shoved the rest of his length inside, the tip immediately hitting that one spot. you gasped loudly, the feeling of his whole cock inside you awakening a hunger inside of you, “fuck,” you moaned, dropping your hands so that you were resting with your elbows on the counter, “please, aaron. move,”

he hesitated for another moment, and just as you were about to look behind you, you felt him begin to move, pistoling his hips into your ass roughly.

you let out a shriek, your hands grabbing at anything you could reach in order to stabilize yourself as he began to mercilessly pound into you from behind. he slipped his dick in and out of you each time, your pussy hugging the veiny length each time he did.

the sounds your juices made due to you being soaked vibrated against the room each time his hips hit your ass roughly, and it only edged you on further.

“a-aaron,” you moan, breasts jiggling against the cold sink as the girth of his cock stretched you out, “aaron! oh, fuck!”

you thought you had felt good getting his attention when you were back flirting with the guy, but nothing could have prepared you for the feeling of his dick slamming into you.

from above, aaron grunted and groaned, fingers and nails digging into your hips harshly as he pounded into your perfect pussy. he loved the way you clenched around him, taking it back perfectly each time he slipped back in.

his hand reached for your hair, wrapping his hand around it and pulling you back until you were flush against him with your back still perfectly arched. he dropped his hand from your head to wrap around your neck, fingers digging into the sides.

you gasped, not having a choice as you looked at him through the now foggy mirror, the image of your body rocking with every smack against your body only adding onto the sensation.

“such a perfect pussy,” aaron grumbled into your ear, “this pussy was made for me, wasn’t it sweetheart?”

you did your best to nod regardless of how weak your body felt, of the way you could feel your slick drip down to your thighs or the way you were drooling from your open mouth, “belongs to you, aaron,” you mumble, surprisingly coherently despite the way he was choking you.

“yeah, it does,” he grunts, free hand coming to grab at your stomach again before pushing against the spot where his cock was evidently sliding in and out of you, making you squirm, “this greedy pussy belongs to me. not to that bastard you were flirting with, right, honey?”

you nod again, eyes stuck on the tummy bulge you currently displayed, your hole clenching at aaron’s cock even tighter at the way the indent disappeared when he slipped out versus when it reappeared when slipping back in.

“feels so good, aaron,” you mumble, saliva dropping from your lips and onto your pointy, practically rock hard nipples that jiggled with each thrust.

“yeah?” he asks, breath hot against your ear, “taking it so well for me, such a good girl,” he praises, hand leaving from your stomach to slither down to where your bodies connected.

you let out a squeal as his middle finger slipped through your finger and his index began to rub furiously at your swollen clit, the feeling making the knot in your stomach tighten and tighten.

you babbled aaron’s name like a loose mantra, bodies rocking together as he quickened his pace after realizing that you were close to orgasming, hand tightening around your neck and finger rubbing even faster than before.

“c’mon, honey, come for me,” he encouraged, “come all over my cock, pretty girl,”

it was all the confirmation you need to let yourself go, body shaking and aaron’s name being repeated as you chased the high, glad that he was holding you up with his hands as your whole body stuttered.

the feeling of your pussy clenching and unclenching around him violently made aaron groan, sweat dripping down his body as he began to reach his own high just from the way your body reacted to orgasming from his dick. from the way he was fucking you and from the way he was naming you as his own.

you could feel his pace falter from behind you, lazily meeting his pace as you tried to encourage him to finish, “come in me, aaron, please,” you whined, needing to feel him fill you up to the point where his come would leak out of you, “fill up my pussy, aaron,”

he gave you a look of unsureness through the mirror before you nodded at him, “i’m on the pill. it’s okay. please,”

that had been all the confirmation he need for him to finish inside you, his cock twitching inside you as his seed filled you up, making you moan as you rode out your own orgasm, still clenching tightly around him.

you giggled at the way his body practically toppled onto yours as he tried to catch himself, bodies pressed together as he held onto the counter with his dick still inside you.

he snaked his hand around the side of your face as his breath evened, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek and shutting up your whines as he pulled out from inside you with a kiss to your mouth.

“jack’s at a sleepover today,” he says after a few moments of silence.

you inch an eyebrow at him, watching as he leaned over to grab some toilet paper, snatching some off the holder before wiping himself clean of you and wincing at the sensitivity as he wiped gently at your own folds and thighs, “is he now?”

he hums, tucking himself back into his boxers and quickly buttoning his pants to help you put your own clothes on, “he is,” he grabbed your discarded shorts and parties from the floor and signaled you to lift your legs, “we can go home and i’ll wake you up with breakfast in bed and ask you to be go on an official date with me in the morning,”

your heart pulls as he buttons up your shorts for you, reaching for your shirt, too, “i’ll only say yes if we keep going when we get home,” you admit, making him freeze in his movements.

he pinched your nipple.

#marchhotchness #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid #david rossi #derek morgan #penelope garcia #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #maddie’s stills

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natailiatulls07 · 7 months

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OMG I love the Marguerite series and would love to see more!! Maybe another smau or about Charles protecting her when the press gets to be too much.

Paparazzi

Jules Bianchi x Daughter!reader

Charles Leclerc x little sister!reader

Summary - Being close to a formula one driver means that privacy isn't always respected by the paparazzi and press

Warning - Paparazzi being invasive

A/n - Charles and Y/n aren’t blood related but consider each other brother and sister

Marguerite

f1gossip

Spotted: Y/n Bianchi seen shopping in Las Vegas ahead of the grand prix this weekend. I'm sure we'll see her in the paddock supporting her brother and Ferrari

Liked by username and 87,427 others

username This is disgusting, she's a young women and has to deal with press in public. Disgusting

username Fucking leave her alone man

username Disrespectful in my opinion

username Leave the girl alone!

username Like the look she gave to the camera, you can tell she uncomfortable

yourusername

Art?? Okay whatever you say charlie!

Tagged: charles_leclerc alexandramalsaintmleux

Liked by arthur_leclerc and 132,277 others

username Ferrari girls through and through

username Charles looks so proud of his suit lmao

charles_leclerc Yes it is art! You couldn't do better if you tried

= alexandramalsaintmleux I bet she could ngl

= yourusername Alex is my favourite!!

f1gossip

Spotted: Ferrari driver Charles Leclerc and his girlfriend Alexandra Saint Mleux entering the Las Vegas paddock without Y/n Bianchi. They were repeatedly questioned about Y/n but whilst Alex stayed quiet, Charles just replied with a simple 'no comment'

Liked by username and 78,843 others

username It doesn't take a genius to know why they aren't as friendly as normal

username They need to get over themselves in my opinion

= username She is a minor, imagine if you had grown men following you around in public with massive camera and then tell me how you'd feel

username All Charles asks for when it comes to Y/n is privacy yet they still doesn't listen omfg

username Someone needs to teach all paparazzi that Y/n doesn't like this kind of attention at all

yourusername posted a private story

f1gossip

Spotted: Y/n Bianchi and her boyfriend Tom seen in a restaurant with a few friends. Y/n and Tom seen to find something on her phone whilst waiting for their meals

Liked by username and 63,468 others

username Leave her alone

username She can't even hang out with her friends without being pestered by the paparazzi

username What has the modern world come to?!

username They must be so stupid to not understand that this borderline stalking

username Apparently privacy doesn't exist anymore

f1gossip

Spotted: After recent posts of Y/n Bianchi and her boyfriend Tom hanging out with friends, Charles Leclerc and Alex Saint Mleux were spotted that evening having dinner with their friends. A fan overheard and saw the exact moment when Charles was shown the paparazzi photos

Liked by username and 59,436 others

username And it is understandable why he looks so angry and annoyed

username They pushed too far now

username He is well and truly done with the paparazzi now

username Even Alex looks angry

username I am truly disappointed in humaity

charles_leclerc

We've asked so many time and I don't know how you can still leave your houses, wives or husbands and children to go out and invade the privacy of a minor. To invade the privacy of someone who just wants to go out with her friends, wants to shop until she drops and wants to hang out with her boyfriend.

You have all just pushed her to the limit. I want you all to know that she no longer feels safe to leave the apartment. Look at what you have done, think about that.

Liked by maxverstappen1 and 187,732 others

*Comments have been disabled*

- A couple of weeks later -

yourusername

Long time no see equals to lots of relaxing and hanging with Tom, Charles and Alex!!

Tagged; charles_leclerc alexandramalsaintmleux tomsusername

Liked by francisca.cgomes and 177,734 others

*Comments have been limited*

#marguerite #formula one #formula one x reader #formula one fanfiction #formula one x y/n #formula one x you #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 fanfiction #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #charles leclerc #charles leclerc fanfiction #charles leclerc x sister #charles leclerc x sister!reader #jules bianchi #ferrari racing #scuderia ferrari #smau

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eggcats · 4 months

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Still thinking about this post bc these two morons have taken over my mind.

And I'm just like. Even after the revelation that Alastor thinks Vox is attractive, and even AS Vox is trying to get this idiot oblivious deer to realize he likes him, Alastor doesn't really change how he treats Vox. Like, at all.

The only change is that now part of his mockery is calling him stupid for not realizing that he's the most eligible demon in hell, lmao (he didn’t realize Vox didn't already know, how stupid of him).

He still likes picking fights and actually fighting him for real. (It's Fun and Entertaining - and for him, nothing has changed that would make him stop)

And I'm kind of thinking that THIS, and not everything else, is what makes Vox realize that Alastor ISN'T mocking him about this. He's serious. Because surely if this was an entire plot to make fun of him, Alastor would at least ATTEMPT to woo him properly before he pulls out the rug from under him, right? He wouldn't just continue on with his day as if he didn't just upend Vox's entire afterlife.

Like, maybe after the first conversation, and after Vox powers back on, he's hopeful, but he knows both what he looks like and what ALASTOR'S like, so he kind of just assumes that Alastor has figured out his less than 100% rival feelings towards him and decided to add it to his mockery.

But then he shows up the next day, determined to beat Alastor at his own game (he will PRETEND to be wooed and then throw it back on him when Alastor tries to mock him, it'll surely work! Totally). And Alastor is like, "Why are YOU back here?!" And doesn't even act any different towards Vox than he did the day before the Revelation.

And Vox is like. Oh, fuck. He was serious.

Suddenly, Vox realizes that, rather than the Normal Hell he THOUGHT he lived in (one where Alastor makes fun of his crush on him) he lives in Weird Hell, where now he has to somehow convince Alastor that he just, is attracted to him and NOT that everyone, somehow, is just. In love with him? Or something??? (What the Fuck?)

There are times when he's tired of fighting with Alastor about this, that a part of him wishes he DID live in Normal Hell, because at least he'd know what to do. (It's not like Val doesn't ALSO mock his crush on Alastor, he at least knows how to respond to THAT).

Even when he convinces Alastor to date him (to make everyone (who doesn't exist, by the way) jealous), Alastor still barely treats him any different. He still pokes and teases at Vox, even as he is (seemingly unintentionally) complimenting him.

One time, Alastor is like, "We haven't fought in ages, we should do that the next time we plan an outing!"

Vox, about to lose it because he had just NOW thought he understood what was going on: What the fuck??! I thought we were dating, why do you still want to kill me?!

Alastor: Dear, we've never been trying to kill each other! If we were, one of us would be dead, ha ha! This is entertainment, pure and simple!

(Translation: Alastor is bored and requires enrichment in his enclosure).

And now Vox has to now grapple with the fact that Alastor apparently saw fighting with him as fun, and not, y'know, rivals legitimately trying to kill one another. What.

Also, Valentino notices very quickly the sudden change in Vox's demeanor - usually when they fight, Vox doesn't take long before coming to him for forgiveness. Or, the few times he doesn't, Val doesn't have any difficulties changing Vox's mind (and getting Vox to buy him whatever he wants).

So, when Val decides that if Vox is going to stay pissy about his little comment, he'll "apologize" - ("Come on, amorcito, you know you're the only one for me! Those whores mean nothing compared to you!") But Vox, just, doesn't forgive him and go back to his arms. And Valentino is at a loss.

He LOSES it when he finds out Vox has been hanging at that shitty hotel and chasing that radio bastard (again!). He doubles his efforts of letting Vox know there is absolutely No Way Alastor cares for him at all, let alone as much as Valentino does!

And then Vox and Alastor are dating, and Val tries to shoot one (or both) of them. (He also tries to get Vox to leave Alastor for him when he finds them fighting and destroying empty buildings in a part of the pentagram, but it doesn't work because once they're done fighting Alastor is like "Well, that was fun!" And invites Vox to dinner after, lol. The fighting was the date activity for the day for the silly little radio man, and Vox is too confused to question it.)

(Also, ironically, Val being pissed at Alastor dating Vox just validates Alastor's beliefs - because it never occurs to him to Val is mad because keeping Vox hanging off of him made it easier for Val to get whatever he wants).

But, slowly, Vox is starting to realize that, despite Alastor INSISTING that he's not into him and is only dating him for the (nonexistent) clout - he does weirdly care in his own way, and somehow, he's a more romantic partner to him than Valentino ever was, even without seeming to even try to be or realizing it.

One time, Alastor notices that Vox not been to the hotel once in the past few days (since this whole thing has started, he's basically been showing up consistently), so he goes to break into Vee tower to see what's up.

"What's up" is Vox overworking himself and not sleeping for days and only consuming energy drinks as he hasn't left his little computer dungeon even once.

So. Alastor just. Kidnaps him. Refuses to listen as Vox is like, yelling that this project needs done, like, yesterday!

Alastor: Dear, are there not two others in your team who could do this?

Vox: Val is fucking useless at this shit, and Velvette doesn't care if it's late!

Alastor: Well, what's the point of them? You should let me eat them for this. Regardless, it's been at least 3 days of this for you, so if they wish for it to be on time, they can do it themselves.

And then Alastor just brings them back to his room and forces Vox to eat a real meal, before picking him up and dumping him on his bed.

(Vox, suddenly wide awake: What the fuck. What the FUCK. Since when were we having sex?!?!)

(They're not. Alastor changes his clothes to pajamas and threatens to eat one of his employees for every minute he's not sleeping for the next 8 hours.)

(Vox wonders what's wrong with him that he considers this to be romantic).

Either way, Vox passes out for at least 10 hours before waking up to 30+ missed calls, 50+ missed texts, and 100+ missed emails, all wondering where he disappeared to and why the project he was working on wasn't finished. Once again, Alastor offers to eat them. Vox refuses to find it charming. (He's lying, he does).

Especially since after this incident, Alastor will break into Vee tower now more often if he thinks Vox hasn't eaten or slept properly.

And then, one day, Vox just realizes that, despite Alastor saying to the contrary, they're definitely, like, dating for real. But Vox can't tell Alastor that, because any time he even implies this, he calls Vox an idiot because he's only dating him for publicity. (Never acknowledging that, like, anything he does for Vox that isn't in the public eye is very clearly not for that, lol)

#radiostatic #vox #alastor #hazbin hotel #fic #mine #hazbin alastor #hazbin vox #hi sorry this is a Valentino hate blog only #long post #im sorry i see the vox and val relationship as not great and that val does a lot of the same love bombing to vox as he does to angel #esp in this au #idk what to call this au #i like the term weird hell bc its funny to me #Alastor's love language is picking fights and offering to eat anyone who bothers them #i also accidentally wrote like way more than i intended lol #they have Consumed my Thoughts #Everybody Loves Vox AU

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atlabeth · 1 year

Text

bad luck - nikolai lantsov

summary: you have little hope after being captured by slavers in the depths of ravka. but then your ship is commandeered, and you get a little more than you bargained for with your privateer savior.

a/n: sorry that it has been a while since ive posted anything on here and sorry about my neglect for my other series but i am a nikolai lover first a writer second and a person third!!! apparently i cannot write a normal length one shot with this man but i hope you enjoy

wc: 5.3k

warning(s): fem!reader, sturmhond!nikolai, reader is captured by slavers but there is no detail, mentions of fighting and killing, mentions of arranged marriages, reader is highkey annoyed by sturmhond lmao, but a fluffy (and lowkey steamy) ending

At first, you’d thought you were hallucinating.

You couldn’t remember the last time your captors had given you, given anyone in the brig, water, and the beginning of a spiral into insanity wouldn’t have exactly surprised you.

Explosions, gunshots, the screams of dying men. You’d imagined the entire crew dropping dead many times so it wasn’t a shock that this was where your madness would begin. You just closed your eyes, tried to pretend you weren’t in chains, and reveled in the sound.

And then the door to the brig was broken down, and your eyes shot open. You moved to the front of your cell, gripping the cold bars as you looked to see what sort of new danger had been brought upon you.

Instead, you were met with a cocky-looking man—though he hardly appeared old enough to be called a man—a pistol in his relaxed grip and another hanging by his side. His bright teal frock coat didn’t belong in a dingy place such as this.

“Hello, all,” he said pleasantly. “I am happy to say this ship has been commandeered.”

Your grip slackened. “What?”

Your question was drowned out by immediate rioting by all the other prisoners, and the man glanced at the woman by his side. She took one of her two axes from its place at her hip and walked over to your cell. Her golden eyes gleamed, and her axe moved in a barely visible flash. She’d chopped the lock clean off, and the cell door creaked open. The whole brig had fallen silent.

You took another step back, eyes still wide. The man walked up next to her, peering inside your cell at all the prisoners bunched in together, but when his eyes met yours, they widened. His entire body went rigid for a moment, so imperceptible that you thought you’d imagined it when he looked away.

“I have no desire to keep you all here against your will,” he said. “Call me your liberator, call me your savior, call me a captain who just hates slavers—it doesn’t matter to me right now. The only thing that matters to me right now is that this is my ship.”

“Are we free?” you asked.

Again, the captain’s expression changed ever so slightly when he looked at you—this time, you knew you hadn’t imagined it.

“Yes,” he said, the corner of his mouth turning up in a slight smile. “You’re free.”

You couldn’t help but smile yourself, and the chains around your wrists felt lighter knowing they would be off soon.

The captain cleared his throat as he turned away, looking at the rest of the prisoners. “Now, do any of you know where they keep the keys on this ship? If we can’t find them, Tamar here will use those handy axes on your shackles.”

Someone spoke up and the captain sent one of his men off to retrieve them, then he looked at the golden-eyed woman. Shu, no doubt. “Tamar, get the rest of these cells open then bring them above deck. I’d like to make a speech.”

She nodded and got to work. Soon enough, you were breathing in salty air and reveling in the wind on your face. You’d been below deck for far too long, and the feeling of sunlight on your skin was glorious. You allowed yourself a moment to close your eyes and just enjoy it. Your mind blocked out the spilled blood and dead bodies of the crew that you had to walk through. You wouldn’t shed any tears for them, but you weren’t accustomed to the brutality that your parents sheltered you from.

“I’d like to introduce myself to you all.” You opened your eyes and the captain was speaking, standing in front of the orderly line you’d all formed. The Shu woman from before—Tamar, he called her—stood at his left, and a similarly golden-eyed man had just joined them. Between his size and her axes, you were quite thankful they were—at least for now—on your side.

“You can call me Sturmhond,” he said. “Perhaps you’ve heard of me, perhaps you haven’t. I don’t particularly care. As you likely saw, each and every man and woman previously aboard this ship is dead, in case you doubted my promises to your freedom. That is what I care about.”

The thought would have normally made bile rise in your throat. You may not have been accustomed, but you liked to believe you weren’t wholly naive.

“But I want to be clear,” the captain said, “this is not a rescue. This is an opportunity.”

Sturmhond gestured with his head and a woman stepped forward, lithe with wispy hair divided into two braids. She moved her hands apart and concentrated, and with a few concise movements, the cuffs around your wrists broke apart and fell to the ground. Your eyes widened, and the exacerbated clatter made you glance down the line, same as some of the others—she removed everyone’s shackles at once.

Sturmhond kept company with Grisha. You knew the captain was Ravkan from his accent, but any connection to the Grand Palace and the King sent unease trickling down your spine. The chances were small, what with how much time Grisha spent in the Little Palace—Saints, the Fabrikator might not even be Ravkan—but there was still a chance. The last thing you needed was to be recognized.

“We didn’t really need the keys,” Sturmhond said with a boyish smile. Again, you were struck by how out of place he looked—he should have been in university, not heading operations like this. “I just wanted to make you all squirm a little. Tamar’s axes are quite terrifying.”

“Who says we want any part of your opportunities?” asked a man from down the line.

“Because I’m allowing you the choice,” the captain said. “Those of you who wish to be free of the sea and her constraints, we are by the Zemeni border. You will be dropped at the nearest harbor, and your fate will be back in your control.”

There were grumblings throughout your fellow prisoners and you glanced at them. It was a better offer than any of you would have gotten, a chance for freedom that you thought was long past you. Novyi Zem had no grief with Ravka, so you would be safe enough there. You could get a job working the fields or in a factory, and once you had enough you could book passage back to Ravka. You could find your family again.

Your throat tightened. You ran from them—that was why you were here in the first place. Maybe it would be better to try and start a new life all together, nameless in Novyi Zem. No one would ask questions, you were sure of it. You would be in control of your fate again.

And then the captain got a glint in his eye. Your spine straightened almost on instinct.

“As for those of you who want revenge,” he tilted his head, “you can earn a place in my crew.”

“Why would we work for you?” a woman from across the brig shouted. “We’ve got our freedom!”

“Because there is little more satisfying than causing the destruction of those who tried to destroy you,” Sturmhond said. “And because the sea is rather lovely when you’re not a captive.”

“That is my opportunity to you all.” He clasped his hands together, the wind ruffling his red hair. “A chance to help those like you, and put slavers at the bottom of the ocean where they belong.”

“Why would we want to work with pirates?” you spoke up. “We have lives to get back to. And half of us aren’t fighters.”

You didn’t know what it was about you that made Sturmhond’s expression shift just so each time he looked at you, but it was beginning to irk you.

“Privateer, actually,” he corrected. His voice was annoyingly smooth, and his unyielding confidence even more irritating. “As I said, it’s your choice. And it will take us three days to reach Novyi Zem, so you will have time to decide.”

You huffed a laugh, but decided to stay silent. You’d dealt with too many men like him, but it wasn’t a bother—in three days, you would be back in the same position you were in before your bad luck struck.

“Now,” the captain said with an equally smooth smile, folding his hands behind his back, “any questions?”

Nobody spoke up. Whether it was out of fear or simple ambivalence you didn’t know, but you didn’t feel like getting on the captain’s bad side. You planned to keep your head down for three days and figure it all out in Novyi Zem.

“Wonderful. We’ll divide our forces between this ship and the Volkvolny,” he said. “Any of you who wish to transfer ships will be allowed.” His lip curled as he looked around the dingy conditions of the slaver ship. “I doubt you want to spend much more time on board this wreck.”

“Some of my crew will get you situated as we prepare to set sail,” Sturmhond continued. “If you find you have any burning questions later, save them or direct them to Tolya here.” He gestured to the Shu man as tall as a tree standing by him, and he only looked slightly irritated to be given up like that.

“I suppose the only thing left to do is officially welcome you aboard.” Sturmhond swept an arm through the air. “I hope you’ve all earned your sea legs.”

He walked off, Tolya and Tamar following him. They must’ve been his first mates—you were immensely glad they weren’t against you, what with his size and her axes.

But as he did, you couldn’t help but stare. The strangest feeling had come over you during his speech, one that was exacerbated every time he passed the slightest glance at you, every time his expression changed. He was just… unnatural. Unsettling.

You allowed yourself a deep breath and shook your head, trying to focus on the crewmember that was speaking to you all. You didn’t care if he was unnatural or unsettling—you would be gone in three days.

All you had to do was keep your head down.

Sleep wasn’t easy after the day you’d had, but your tired limbs won out after an hour or so of staring at the ceiling. The cot you’d been assigned wasn’t much for comfort, but it might as well have been the plushest mattress you’d ever felt after what you’d been sleeping on before.

You slowly opened your eyes, your grogginess fighting against you at every step, because you had the dimmest feeling that something was wrong. When you saw golden eyes above you, you nearly screamed.

You thankfully held it in, but you could feel your heart hammering in your chest.

“What are you doing here?” you whispered.

“Sturmhond wishes to speak to you,” Tamar said, wholly unfazed as if she did this all the time. She probably did.

“Why?”

“My job isn’t to ask questions,” Tamar said. She left it at that, and you sighed as you pulled yourself out of the hammock. You followed her, squinting in an attempt not to bump into anything in the darkness. The Volkvolny wasn’t familiar to you yet, but it was easier once you were above deck. You rubbed the grogginess out of your eyes when she opened the door to the captain’s quarters for you.

She didn’t follow you in, and you didn’t know whether it was a relief or not.

“Ah. You’re here.” Sturmhond turned around from a cabinet, holding a bottle of kvas, a slight smile on his lips. “Drink?”

“You didn’t just invite me here for a nightcap,” you said placidly, “did you?”

“Of course not,” he said. “I thought it would remind you of home.”

You frowned. “You’re Ravkan. Who’s to say I am too?”

“How did you know I was Ravkan?”

“Your accent.”

“Then how do you think I knew you were Ravkan?”

“Maybe I will need a drink,” you said bitterly. “It’s the only way I think I can keep dealing with you.”

Sturmhond sighed as he poured a fair amount into two cups. “Such harsh words for a noble girl. Quite a stroke of bad luck for the daughter of a duke to end up on a slaver’s ship.”

“Who’s to say I’m the daughter of a duke?” you asked.

He arched an eyebrow. “Do you really want to keep playing this game?”

You crossed your arms in response, and he shook his head with a chuckle.

“An accent gives quite a bit away,” Sturmhond said. “It’s also obvious to anyone that looks at you—and I assume you have quite a few admirers. You speak Ravkan like a princess, like you were taught in schools rather than the streets. You have a gleam in your eye that says you still have hope. And,” he looked you up and down, “you carry yourself with confidence despite your position. Not the attitude of a girl on the other side of the ditch.”

Your lip curled. “How astute of you.”

“Thank you,” he said with a smile.

“Born and raised in Os Alta,” you acquiesced. You offered a thin smile of your own back. “And I suppose you’re correct. Bad luck seems to follow me as of late.”

“You wound me,” he said, pressing a hand to his chest. “Are you claiming that my rescuing you is a continuation of your bad luck?”

“I thought you said this wasn’t a rescue, captain.”

“Sturmhond,” he said.

Your lips twitched in a momentary smile. “I thought you said this wasn’t a rescue, Sturmhond.”

“It isn’t,” he agreed, taking a sip of kvas, “it’s an opportunity. I’m just curious of what drove your choice.”

You crossed your arms. “Strange of a pirate to be so curious about a prisoner.”

“Privateer,” Sturmhond corrected, “and you’re no longer a prisoner.”

“My point still stands,” you said wryly.

“Is it wrong of me to be curious?” he asked.

“It’s pointless,” you said. “And if you’re done with your little interrogation, I’d like to get back to sleep.”

“I’m not here to be your enemy.” He sat up, taking another sip of his drink. “Surely you understand that.”

“I understand it perfectly well,” you said. “I just don’t see why you care.”

“Fine,” he amended, “I’ll let you be. Just one more question.” Sturmhond sat up in his chair, leaning forward as he looked you straight in the eye. His were the strangest shade of green. “Why did you run?”

You actually recoiled at his question, your reflex winning over any desire to hold back your emotions. “Excuse me?”

He didn’t waver. “I thought my question was quite clear.”

You picked up the cup he’d poured for you and threw it back. The kvas burned your throat—your tolerance never was all that—but it didn’t make much difference with the scowl already on your face.

“You don’t get to ask me questions, pirate.”

“Privateer,” you heard him correct, and it only made you slam the door harder on your way out.

Three days of keeping your head down should have been easy. Sturmhond, however, appeared to have a different agenda.

He ignored you for the entire next day, but that night, Tamar was waiting for you before you could even get to the barracks.

“Seriously?” you asked. “Did he not get my message clearly enough last night?”

She shrugged. “He just asked to see you again. I don’t know why.”

You sighed and made an offhanded gesture. “Fine. Let’s go.”

You opened the door yourself this time when she got you there, not even bothering to shut it as you stared at Sturmhond.

“What are you playing at?” you demanded.

“Good evening to you as well,” he said. “How did you sleep?”

“What are you playing at,” you repeated flatly.

“I’m not playing at anything,” he said. “Is it a crime to enjoy your company?”

Your jaw ticked, and your hands clenched into fists. “If you’re after what I—”

“I’m not after anything,” he assured with a frown, “and certainly not what you’re thinking.”

His interruption peeved you, but you found that you actually believed him. The tension eased from your shoulders ever so slightly.

“…Good,” you said after a moment. “But I still don’t understand the need for these meetings. I plan to be gone by tomorrow.”

“Because I know you,” he said. “You may not know me, but I consider myself generally knowledgeable of Ravka and its upper class.”

“What,” you said wryly, “do you want my advice on how best to rob them?”

“Of course not,” Sturmhond said. “I wouldn’t need your advice for that.”

You huffed a laugh. “So what do you want?”

“I’ve been at sea for quite some time,” he said, “and you’ve only just left Ravka. I’d very much appreciate it if you could share some of your insider knowledge on the Lantsovs.”

“You assume I have any.”

“I assume that the woman who used to be Nikolai Lantsov’s betrothed would have some,” Sturmhond replied smoothly.

Your heart stuttered for a beat at the mention of Nikolai. Any doubt Sturmhond might have had over his claim had to have dissolved with your expression.

He arched an eyebrow. “Well?”

You allowed yourself a deep breath before you finally took the seat across from him.

“Fine,” you said. “You’ve got me. I’m the daughter of a Ravkan duke and I used to be engaged to a Lantsov prince. Did you just want to prove your knowledge?”

“Not at all.” Sturmhond wisely poured an additional glass—brandy rather than kvas, thankfully. You needed something stronger if you were to deal with this. “I want your knowledge.”

“My being betrothed to Nikolai is why I don’t know as much as you think,” you said. You downed half the glass at once and your chest burned less than the memory. “Nikolai and I were to be wed when we were of age, yes, but he disappeared before I got the chance.”

“Disappeared?”

You nodded. “He was meant to come back after his service so we could prepare for the wedding. Instead,” your lips curled in a disdainful smile, “he up and left. The king broke off our engagement and I haven’t heard a word from Nikolai since.”

Sturmhond frowned. “My deepest apologies.”

You shrugged. “He made his choice. Apparently he’s in Ketterdam studying, but I very much doubt that. He was never good at sitting still. But wherever he is, I hope he’s still alive.” You huffed a laugh. “I cannot imagine Vasily taking the throne.”

“I’m sure he is still alive,” Sturmhond said. “And I’m sure he hasn’t forgotten you.”

“How kind of you,” you said dryly.

He was silent for a long moment before he spoke again. “You say you plan to be gone by tomorrow. Does your plan include returning to Ravka?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “But I ran from my family and my fate, and that’s why I ended up here. I don’t think I can go back just yet.”

“And what fate did you run from?” Sturmhond asked.

“A marriage I didn’t want,” you said plainly.

“As opposed to the marriage you did want.”

“Are we done here?” you asked. “Because I don’t think you need to know more of my personal life.”

Sturmhond smiled after a moment and nodded. “Yes. But I’d like to see you one more time tomorrow, before we officially part ways.”

“You’re not going to change my mind,” you said.

“And I don’t intend to. There’s just one last thing I wish to share with you.”

“And you can’t do that now?” you asked wryly.

“Patience is a virtue, darling.”

“Don’t call me that.”

He held up his hands. “Enjoy the rest of your night.”

“You’re very strange for a pirate,” you said.

“I’m quite normal for a privateer,” Sturmhond said.

You huffed a laugh and shook your head as you stood. “Enjoy the rest of your night, privateer.”

You felt his eyes on you as you left, and now more than ever you couldn’t shake that feeling. You looked at Tamar as you shut the door.

“How long have you been part of his crew?”

“A few years,” she said.

“Do you ever get used to him?”

Her lips quirked into a smile. “No.”

You sighed as the two of you started to walk. “What a surprise.”

You were at Sturmhond’s door the next afternoon, Tamar by your side. She hadn’t come to deliver you, but on your way there she told you she would be joining you. You certainly weren’t going to refuse her.

As usual, you didn’t bother to knock. As usual, Sturmhond was sitting at his desk. Tamar followed you in and shut the door, not as usual. Your brows knit together slightly.

“You actually came,” he said.

“Consider me intrigued,” you said. “I couldn’t just walk off and never know what you wanted to ‘share with me’.”

The corner of his mouth curled up into an achingly familiar smile. “You’re just as fiery as I remember.”

“We just met,” you said dryly.

“On the contrary.” Sturmhond sat up, and he removed his jacket. A metal pin glinted on his vest, a crowned double eagle. The Lantsov coat of arms. Your frown deepened. “You spent the other day describing our lost time together.”

“I’m…” you blinked and shook your head. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m Nikolai Lantsov,” he said. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make me say all my titles, though.”

For a moment, you just stared at him. And then you laughed in complete disbelief.

“Is that what this is? You consider me a fool?”

“On the contrary,” he repeated. “It is because of your intelligence that I deigned to reveal myself.” He offered a wry smile. “And because you don’t hate me the way you should.”

“You cannot just say something so absurd and expect to believe it,” you said. “Anyone can rummage up a coat of arms. I have not heard and or received a single word from Nikolai, and now I am supposed to believe that he is right in front of me?”

“It sounds absurd when you put it like that,” Sturmhond said with a frown.

“Because it is absurd,” you enunciated. “I actually thank you for this, because now I know I’m making the correct choice. You may be a good captain, but you are a complete blackguard.”

You turned and offered a tight smile to Tamar. “Please move. I’d like to leave.”

“He speaks the truth,” Tamar said. “I promise you. He’s Nikolai Lantsov. My brother tailored him into Sturmhond at the beginning of all this, when we joined his crew. ”

You paused and looked back at the pirate claiming to be the man you loved. “What?”

“Nikolai Lantsov is much more valuable as a hostage on the seas,” he said. “No one spares a second glance at Sturmhond.”

“Then change him back,” you said, looking back at Tamar. “Get your brother and make him change him back if you want even the slightest chance of me believing these lies.”

“They are not lies,” she insisted. “And I’m not the best tailor.”

“You’re both Grisha,” you said flatly.

“Heartrenders,” Sturmhond (Nikolai?) supplied. “My most trusted crew. Come on, Tamar— I believe in you. Work your magic.”

She rolled her eyes as she walked over to him, and though your immediate instinct was to take the exit you’d been given, you crossed your arms and waited as she did her work. It didn’t take long for his muddy green eyes to change to hazel, his red hair to blonde. A slightly less broken nose.

He… he looked like the Nikolai you knew. It was staggering to just be standing across from him—or at least a mirror image of him—after so long apart. Older, more weathered, but with the same glint in his eye. The same glint that you looked forward to with each day, the glint that you remembered when you didn’t have him anymore.

“That doesn’t mean much,” you finally said, glancing away. “If you can tailor him into Sturmhond, surely you can tailor him into a Lantsov.”

“You overestimate my tailoring abilities,” Tamar said dryly.

“I still don’t trust it,” you said, and you started again for the door.

“When we were seven, I convinced you to sneak out of our etiquette lessons and go down to the river,” he suddenly said. Your hand froze on the door. “You scraped yourself on a particularly sharp rock while we were traversing the waters—you still have the scar on your ankle.”

You turned around. “How do you know that?”

“My father held a party and your family attended,” he continued. “We were ten and it was the most boring night possible. We evaded our parents’ attention and snuck off to the kitchens.” He smiled. “I don’t think I’ve ever had so many pastries in my life.”

A smile of your own, almost subconscious, began to form on your lips. You hadn’t thought of that party in years.

“And when I was fifteen, the year before I enlisted, I did the worst thing I could have done to your father.” He chuckled and shook his head. “I took one of his prized swords and did all sorts of moves trying to impress you—I only managed to dent it and get banned from your home for months.”

“I can’t believe you remember that,” you murmured.

“And…” he sighed and opened his drawer, rummaging around for a moment. He held a ring between his fingers when he emerged, and your heart stopped beating for a second. “I still have this.”

Your hand was shaking when you reached beneath your collar and took hold of the string around your neck. You pulled it into view, and the ring hanging on the bottom glinted in the light.

Your engagement rings still matched perfectly.

Nikolai’s smile was bright as you remembered as the realization hit. “And you still have yours.”

“Of course I do,” you said. “It was a lot of work to keep it in my possession.”

“I’m glad you went through it, then.”

“It really is you,” you whispered, letting your makeshift necklace fall back against your skin. “I— I just don’t understand. Why are you here? Why are you playing pretend as a pirate?”

“Privateer,” he corrected. He glanced over at Tamar, still holding her post. “Could you give us a moment alone?”

She nodded and left, shutting the door behind her. The room felt smaller with just you and Nikolai in it, with the man you were meant to marry who left you in the past.

“I do this because I can do much more to help Ravka from the seas as Sturmhond than gallivanting around court as a second son—a bastard son at that. My parents appreciate Sturmhond much more than they would Prince Nikolai.”

“I appreciated Prince Nikolai,” you said. “I appreciated just Nikolai. You could have at least sent a letter.”

“I know,” Nikolai said. To his credit, he did look mournful. “If there is one thing I regret about all of this, it is how I left you. I said what I said the other day because it’s true—I have not forgotten you. I never did.”

“Then why go through all of this with me?” you asked. “Why annoy me into spending time with you?”

“Because I’ve always been quite good at annoying you,” Nikolai said wryly, then his expression sobered. “And because… I didn’t know how you would feel about me after all this time. Everything you said yesterday was true—I did leave you, and I haven’t said a word to you since. I wouldn’t be surprised if you hated me, and if you did, I didn’t want to force myself back into your life.” He managed another small smile. “Fortunately for me, you did not hate me.”

“I could never hate you, Nikolai,” you murmured. “I— I loved you. For a long time, and I think I still might.”

“Even more fortunate for me,” he said softly.

“So why didn’t you come back?” you asked.

“I…” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. Still cut in a military style. “You talked about how you despised your parents for forcing you into a marriage at such a young age. I didn’t want to force you into a life with me. If I had known you—” he chuckled, a boyish smile on his lips— “if I had known you loved me, I don’t know if Sturmhond would have ever come into fruition.”

“You are the reason I was here,” you said. “My parents thought they struck gold when the king agreed to a marriage between us. I thought I had struck gold as well, in you—a marriage my parents wanted couldn’t have been all bad if you were meant to be my husband. But you left that in the dust, and they still wanted a husband for me.”

“A marriage you didn’t want,” he echoed, his eyes soft.

You nodded. “They did all the work behind the scenes—I was going to meet him on our wedding day, some Kerch banker’s son. And I just… couldn’t face a life like that. So I ran. And with all the luck in the world—” you gestured lazily— “I ended up here.”

“Then I suppose it’s only fair that I ended up rescuing you,” Nikolai said.

��I thought this wasn’t a rescue,” you said wryly.

He chuckled and shook his head. “No. It’s still an opportunity— one I think you’ll like much more.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“I plan to go back and take the throne someday,” Nikolai said, moving around his desk to be closer to you. “But I don’t want to miss another moment with you, not now. So until then,” he took your hand, encasing it between his own, and the warmth it provided was something you’d sorely missed, “will you do me the honor of sailing by my side?”

“I’m not a sailor,” you said with a breathy laugh.

“I can teach you,” he said eagerly. “I can teach you everything I know until you’re a better privateer than me. And you can teach me everything I’ve missed while being at sea—all the noble things I ought to know for when I return home.”

Your lips quirked in a smile, hardly able to contain the giddiness bursting in your chest. Your life went from destruction at the hands of slavers to renewal with Nikolai Lantsov by your side once more.

“How can I refuse?”

Nikolai grinned, and he tugged on your intertwined hands to pull you into a kiss. It wasn’t the first one you’d shared, but it was surely the best. It felt like a promise of something new—the promise that he wouldn’t let you go like he did before.

You were breathless when you pulled away, and the sight of Nikolai, blonde hair slightly ruffled because of you, his lips slightly red because of you, made you kiss him even harder the second time.

Your back hit the side of his desk and Nikolai was practically on top of you, seven years of lost love pouring through him all at once.

“And if it wasn’t clear,” Nikolai murmured between kisses, “I never stopped loving you for one moment.”

You groaned and pulled him even closer, your hands clenched tight around the fabric of his jacket. “You wear too many clothes.”

“Then fix it.” His voice was sultry in your ear and you didn’t know how you went seven years without him.

You were very thankful that he asked Tamar to leave.

#nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov x you #nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov fic #nikolai lantsov fluff #nikolai lantsov angst #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone fic #grishaverse x reader #sadie writes

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roseghoul26 · 7 months

Text

Part 2

Arthur Morgan x f!Reader

"'Do you love me?' You asked, voice barely louder than a whisper.

Arthur nodded, gazing at you like you hung the moon and the stars.

'Then say it. I promise you, nothing bad is gonna come from it.'"

Synopsis: A retelling of the mission "Blessed are the Peacemakers", where instead of Arthur getting kiddnapped, it's you.

Tags: fluff, friends to lovers, eventual smut, smut, torture, mentions of sexual assault, no actual SA, dutch is father figure, so is hosea, arthur morgan deserves everything, fem reader, afab!reader, she/her pronouns used for reader, not beta read

Author's Note: this was meant to be a short one shot lmao i got so carried away with this

part 1 ❉ part 2 ❉ part 3 ❉ part 4

For what felt like the millionth time over the past few days, Arthur glanced beside him, expecting to see you riding beside him, the sunlight illuminating your face in a way that took his breath away. And, for the millionth time, it was still only Charles, who had joined him on his search for you over the past days.

After you failed to show at the designated meeting spot after the negotiations, he had to practically be dragged to camp by the other men. “She’ll be fine,” Dutch had said. “You know how she gets sometimes. She’s probably out helping some stranger on the side of the road. She’ll be back before you know it.”

Deep down, he knew something was wrong, but he still allowed himself to be led back, keeping an eye out for you or your horse. After waiting in camp for an hour or two, he decided enough was enough, speeding out before anyone could stop him. He knew you could handle yourself, but something about the whole situation felt wrong. You were never gone for this long without letting him or someone else in camp know.

It only took a few minutes of fast riding before he returned to the meeting spot, climbing the hill to where you had perched. With a keen eye, he scanned over the area, nothing standing out to him except a small splatter of mysterious liquid a few feet away, barely visible in the dirt.

Stepping closer, his suspicion was correct, causing bile to creep up his throat.

It was blood. More specifically, your blood, something he never wanted to see.

Crouching down, he took in the surrounding area. A path cut through the dusty ground, like something was dragged through it, before stopping at a set of hoofprints, receding down the hill with another set in tow, like the other horse was being led.

All Arthur could hear was his heartbeat anxiously pounding as he remounted, taking off down the hill, following the barely visible tracks as best he could. He managed to follow about a mile, nearly reaching Valentine, before other hoofprints intertwined with the track he was following, making it impossible to continue following.

“Shit,” Arthur cursed, scrubbing his face with his hand as he figured out what to do. If you had been kidnapped, which was apparent, then someone had to have seen something in town. You’d have been slung over the rump of the horse, which he figured someone might remember if they saw.

It was about two hours later when he left town, having gotten a lead from some of the residents about someone carrying someone through town, heading southwest toward Strawberry. The sun had long since set, and as he rode back to Clemens Point, he was lost in his thoughts.

He had to finally admit to himself that the things he felt for you went beyond a normal friendship. Friends don’t wonder what it would be like to hold you in the night. Friends don’t wonder how your lips would feel, how your hands would feel, how your body would feel. Friends sure as hell don’t lie awake at night fantasizing about you, then be too embarrassed to meet your eye in the morning.

Your compassion towards him throughout the years was something he cherished, the way your face lit up when you saw him, or the way you held him when he confided in you about his troubles. Every moment with you filled something in his chest that he didn’t realize was empty.

He hasn’t felt something like this toward anyone since Mary, but this felt different. This felt genuine, natural, like it was always meant to happen, born from years of trust. He had felt it for some time, but fear of ruining something great stopped him from saying anything. If his relationship with you crashed and burned the same way it did with Mary, his heart wouldn’t be able to take it.

He vowed to himself that he would tell you everything once you were safely back home.

“Who goes there?” He heard Charles shout out, barely registering he was back at camp.

“Just me,” Arthur sighed, slowing down to a trot as Charles came up beside him.

“Find her?”

“She's been taken… O’Driscolls took her through Valentine, heading southwest.”

Having only heard Charles swear only a few times, it took him by surprise when he heard the man mutter a curse under his breath, escorting Arthur as he entered camp, still staying on his horse. A light pat on his leg caught him off guard. “Rest up. We’ll head out at sunrise.”

“I’m just grabbin’ a few thing. She ain’t… I ain’t got time to sleep…” he trailed off, fighting back a conveniently timed yawn. “I can handle this myself.”

“She’s my friend too, you know. Maybe not as close as you two, but I care about her. And don’t think you’d survive ambushing a camp of O’Driscolls by yourself,” Charles shook his head, turning and walking back to his guard post, keeping his eyes on Arthur. “I only got a half hour left on my shift. We’ll rest until sunrise and head out. Neither of us will be able to help her if we’re dead on our feet.”

After failing to move, he watched the hunter turn back around, his face calm despite his words. “Don’t make me pull you off that horse, Arthur.”

He couldn’t help rolling his eyes, dismounting before walking toward his tent, sitting down on his cot with his head in his hands, hat left on the nightstand next to him. “Hang on, princess,” he muttered, as if it was going to help anything, before trying his hardest to get any semblance of rest.

True to his word, Charles woke him at the crack of the rising sun, and he left a note for the others letting them know where he was going, just in case. That was roughly four days ago, nowhere close to finding you than before.

He just prayed he would get to you in time.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

“Miss Grimshaw, I need help!” Dutch’s panicked voice jolted you to consciousness, your eyes squinting against the harsh sunlight, bringing your arm up to block against the intrusion, before realization settled in.

Dutch was talking.

You were home.

Instantly you were awake, bolting upright into a sitting position, scaring the hell out of said man, who you saw take a step back, before rushing to your side.

You could barely understand the words coming out of your mouth, your eyes finally clearing as you took in the leader of your group kneeled before you, relief etched across his face. “It’s Colm- Dutch, I-, he–” you were almost hyperventilating as your eyes darted around manically, your body and mind suddenly overwhelmed.

Two hands grabbed your face, focusing your attention on the man in front of you. “Breathe, my dear. Just. Breathe.”

Following his instructions, you took a deep breath in, and out, repeating the action until your heart rate slowed down a tick. Miss Grimshaw, at this time, was by your side now, asking you questions that you were too out of it to hear. “Dutch, it was Colm. I- It was a setup. He took me. But I got away.” You only noticed you were crying when Dutch wiped away the tears with a handkerchief, something almost fatherly in the action. “I got away.” You repeated, more to yourself than anything.

A rare, true smile graced Dutch as his hands moved from your face to your shoulders, being mindful of the obvious injury there. “Yeah, that you did. But you’re safe now.”

“He was gonna set the law on us, Dutch.”

“Of course he was.” Sighing, you felt Dutch’s grip on you let up as he stood. “But that’s not a problem for you to worry about right now. All you need to focus on is getting better, okay?”

Nodding, you went to try and stand, almost collapsing until you felt Miss Grimshaw on your right side sling your arm over her shoulders, allowing you to rest your weight on her. She led you to your cot, Dutch following behind with his arms out like you were a child learning to walk for the first time. Exhaustion made its presence known again, and you felt your head grow fuzzy, black spots dancing across your vision.

You were almost fully tucked into your cot before a new thought caused you to sit right back up, earning you a disapproving sigh from Miss Grimshaw. “Where’s Arthur?”

Dutch, who stood at the entrance of your tent, left, and you heard him shout to Javier. “Go track down Arthur. Tell him his girl’s home.”

Glancing over to Miss Grimshaw, you asked again. “Where’s Arthur?”

Cupping your hand in hers, she responded. “Him and Charles are out looking for you. Have been since you’ve been gone.”

“How long was I gone for?”

“About four days, dear. You gave us quite a fright.”

“And he’s… they’ve been out looking for me?”

She rolled her eyes, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Of course. People really care about you, you know. Arthur especially. But,” she pressed down on your good shoulder, making you lay down flat on the bed, “you need sleep. Javier’ll find him in no time. He’ll be here when you wake.”

Your hand in hers was the last thing you remember before sleep overcame you.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

“Nothing here,” Charles shouted from a closeby building as Arthur investigated the small hut, long since abandoned, the rotting floorboards barely holding him as he searched.

Opening the final room and meeting only dust bunnies and brown rats, he holstered his gun, his increasing anxiety causing his heart to beat wildly. “Same here,” he shouted back, exiting the building with a huff, sitting down on the dilapidated staircase as Charles approached him.

He was getting desperate at this point. They had searched what felt like every abandoned campsite and building, no sign of you or O’Driscolls anywhere. Not allowing himself to go down a rabbit hole, he pulled out his map, spreading it across his lap so Charles could look as well. With his pencil, he crossed off their current location, another X added to the page.

Weariness was also starting to take a toll on him, not as alert as he was days prior, the same going for Charles, but neither of them would be able to stop until they’d found you. Muttering under his breath, he scanned the map for their next location, reaching for his revolver when he heard the sound of fast hoof beats approaching the two of them.

Glancing up, a familiar black and white horse whizzed past, skidding to a halt as the rider practically jumped off, running up to the startled duo.

Javier stood before them, hair in disarray, panting as heavily as his horse, who gladly took a break from a straight dash from camp. Arthur couldn’t read the man’s expression, and he stood up warily, the map falling somewhere in the dirt. There was only reason why Javier was here, a fact that Arthur and Charles seemed to understand at the same time, anxiously waiting for the man to speak.

“She’s home.”

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

A new hand held yours when you woke.

It was significantly larger than Miss Grimshaw’s, strong callouses adorning the fingers, yet despite that roughness it held your hand like it was the most precious thing in the world.

When it felt you begin to stir, it held on a little tighter, a sigh of relief coming from the owner. Groggily, you opened your eyes slightly, almost immediately wanting to close them as the sunlight streaming from the entrance of the tent nearly blinded you, and you tried rolling over, crying out in pain as you rolled on to your left shoulder, having completely forgotten about the wound there.

“Easy there, princess,” Arthur murmured, the low gravel of his voice music to your ears.

Moving slowly, you glanced over to your side, smiling gently at the rugged cowboy who held your hand. “Hello-” a coughing fit wracked your body, throat dry from dehydration. Within seconds Arthur was right at your side, using his free hand to prop you up, rubbing your back as you coughed.

After a few seconds the fit subsided. Groaning, you rubbed at your eyes, your hair falling around your face. Arthur’s hand moved from your back, and you nearly let out a noise of complaint until he presented you with a waterskin, which you gladly took and began to greedily gulp down.

The water, despite being a tad bit warm, felt amazing, some of it spilling from your mouth and onto your lap. As you drank, you heard him call out for Miss Grimshaw, loud enough to be heard, but not loud enough to startle you. Within seconds the tent flaps swished open, Miss Grimshaw standing with her hands on her hips as she looked you up and down, a small smile on her face. “Well, it’s about time you woke up.”

She pressed her hand against your face, feeling for any sort of fever. “How’re you feeling?”

Bringing down the water skin, which Arthur took away to stop you from making yourself sick from drinking too much. “I feel like I was hit by a train. Everything hurts.”

Removing her hand from your face, she quickly left the tent, returning moments later with a tonic in her hands, opening and offering it to you. “For the pain,” she simply said, gesturing for you to drink it.

It burned as it went down, the bitter concoction instigating another coughing fit, luckily shorter than the other. Arthur took the empty bottle from your hands, tossing it behind him somewhere in the tent as Miss Grimshaw sat in front of you on the cot, beginning to remove the bandage that now covered your left shoulder.

Glancing down, you noticed that someone had cleaned you, the grime from the O’Driscolls basement nowhere to be seen, replaced by a fresh nightgown and clear skin. Well, clear in the sense that there wasn’t a speck of dirt on you. Various cuts, bruises, and burns adorned your body, most of them having already scabbed and on the way to be completely healed. Only a few were bandaged up, the worst being the gunshot wound on your shoulder.

While you had taken in the state of your body, Miss Grimshaw had been able to fully remove the bandage from your shoulder, and you let out a wince as the air hit the wound. The wound, you saw, wasn’t infected, but it was irritated, glaring red as Miss Grimshaw applied a slave to it, tears pricking your eyes at the pain.

You felt Arthur begin to rub your hand soothingly, murmuring small praises as she redressed the injury. “You’re healing well. Won’t be too long until you're back on your feet,” Miss Grimshaw spoke, brushing her hands on her skirt as she stood. “Just make sure you’re getting lots of rest, drinking lots of water, and eating good food. That one right there will make sure you do,” she winked at Arthur, who looked away embarrassed. “I’ll let the others know you’re awake. Visitors, or no?” When you shook your head no, she nodded in understanding. Turning to leave, she paused right at the entrance, before glancing back over at you. “It’s good to see you awake, dear.”

Before you could get a chance to respond, she left, leaving you and Arthur alone, still holding each other's hands. You felt your hair, which still hung around your face, begin to move as Arthur tucked it behind your ear, smiling lightly as he finally was able to make eye contact with you. There was obvious relief in his eyes, but something vulnerable there as well. You noticed the dark circles beneath his eyes, and noticing the chair pulled up to the side of your bed, as well as some of his personal belongings sitting beside him, you were able to quickly piece together that Arthur had been at your side the entire time you slept.

An unfamiliar yet not unwelcome pang hit your heart as you took in the man beside you, the man who was unyieldingly devoted to you, and the man you were so helplessly in love with. In any other circumstance, you would have pushed those thoughts away, but now you let them wash over you, sweeping away all the ache in your bones. You felt yourself smiling brightly at the cowboy, the cuts on your face making their presence known as the skin moved, but you couldn’t care less. All that mattered right now was Arthur.

Glancing down at your entwined hands, you let out a content sigh, before bringing his knuckles up to your lips, giving them a quick kiss before letting it fall back to your lap. Your heart hammered fast in your chest as you opened your mouth, ready to spill your most closely guarded secret to the man beside you. “I’m-”

“I’m sorry,” Arthur said at the same time, his louder voice covering yours, the confession stuck between your lips as you sealed them back up, and you furrowed your brows, momentarily forgetting what you were about to do.

“I’m sorry.” Arthur went to stand up, his stoic mask back up, trying to disentangle your hand from his, but you held on as tight as you could, stopping him from pulling away completely. “I’ll… I’ll leave you be now. Said you didn’t want visitors.”

“You know damn well that doesn’t mean you, Arthur Morgan,” you nearly growled, your voice scratchy as you tried to pull him back down to his seat. When he didn’t budge, you sighed, tugging lightly at him. “Please stay,” you whispered, and you could see the war being fought in his head as he stood there, unmoving.

A minute passed before he relented, letting you drag him back down to his seat with what strength you had. He was looking at you, but he wasn’t making eye contact, instead taking in every injury on your body that you had obtained at the hands of the O’Driscolls, squeezing your hand tighter as his gaze settled on your shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” you heard him apologize for the third time, and you just shook your head at him.

“And I still don’t know what you’re apologizing for, mister. You weren’t the one to do this to me, right?”

“God, no,” he replied, visibly disgusted at the notion.

“Then you have nothing to be sorry for.”

Shaking his head, you saw him bring himself closer to you, the chair gliding through the pelt that lined the floor of your tent. “I knew it was a trap. If I hadn’t made you-”

You cut him off by pressing your finger to his lips, silencing him as his eyes widened in shock and disbelief. “We all knew it was a trap, Arthur. But the thought of having any sort of peace with the O’Driscolls made us turn a blind eye. And you didn’t make me do anything. I went of my own free will. And besides,” you removed your finger, failing to notice how his eyes had darkened slightly during the whole action. “If it wasn’t me who got taken, then it would’ve been you or the others. It was inevitable.”

“It shouldn’t’ve happened.”

You shrugged. “Maybe not. But it did. It’s done now. We gotta move on now.”

“Next time I’ll be doing overwatch.”

“Like hell you are,” you scoffed, some of the tension leaving the conversation. “I’m the better shot, anyway.”

Arthur raised his eyebrows, leaning back slightly in his chair away from you. You tried to not look disappointed. “Is that so?”

“Yup,” you nodded vehemently, smirking slightly. “Best shot in the camp, hands down.”

“Uh-huh. Wanna go prove that to me then?”

“I ain’t got nothing to prove to you, Arthur, and you know it,” you laughed.

“Nah, you’re right,” he conceded. “You’re incredible.”

The total honesty in his voice caught you off guard, and you felt a slight flush creep up your face, no doubt turning your cheeks dark. Glancing away, the two of you fell into an easy silence that only came with him, and he mindlessly stroked your hand.

A few moments had passed before you looked back up at him, a crease in his brow, deep in thought, barely even registering your movement as he hung his head low. Shaking his hand slightly, you were able to get him to look up at you, giving him an easy smile. “What’s on your mind, cowboy?”

Looking like a fish out of water with the way his mouth gaped, he rubbed the back of his neck, no longer looking you in the eye as he fumbled with the words he was trying to say. It was almost silly, seeing the deadly man before you, someone who could send a person running with only a glance, at a loss of words. “Why’re you nervous? It’s just me,” you reassured him.

Or at least you tried to reassure him, your words stressing him more than relaxing him. “How’d you…” be began, trailing off shortly thereafter.

“I’m a mind reader.”

“You ain’t a mind reader. If you was, then I wouldn’t have to sit here, stumbling over my words like an idiot trying to figure out how to tell you…” he trailed off again, sighing anxiously, his face almost beet red.

“You’re not an idiot,” you chided, moving to sit on the edge of the bed, your knees knocking against Arthur’s. You ignored the butterflies erupting in your stomach at the proximity, bringing your hand up to cup the side of his face to bring his gaze back to yours. You tried to move your hand away but he caught it, keeping it pressed against his cheek. “And, even if I could read your mind, I’d wanna hear it from your lips anyway.”

He pressed his forehead against yours, collecting his thoughts for a moment. “I’ve been… I’ve been real scared to tell you this, you know. Everytime I try, the words just don’t come out right, and I ain’t too keen on making a fool of myself in front of you. I just… I hope this don’t change things between us… I don’t think I’d be able to live without you by my side. And if you don’t feel the same… which I pray that you do… then we never have to talk about this again. We’ll just move on, like you said.”

He pressed a quick kiss to the inside of your wrist, his beard pleasantly tickling the sensitive skin. A little gasp left your lips, the cowboy chuckling in response. But he didn’t continue speaking, his own anxieties halting his words. You knew what he was going to say; it was on the tip of his tongue. He just needed a push.

“Do you love me?” You asked, voice barely louder than a whisper.

Arthur nodded, gazing at you like you hung the moon and the stars.

“Then say it. I promise you, nothing bad is gonna come from it.”

“How is that you make me feel so calm yet terrified?” Arthur sighed gently. “When you were taken… it made me realize how big a fool I really am for you. And I almost didn’t get to tell you… I was ready to tear down every O’Driscoll until you were back home. But you went and saved yourself, cause of course you did. I wasn’t kiddin’ when I said you was incredible. You’re back home now, so now I get to tell you I love you. I really, really do.”

He let out a shaky exhale, a visible weight being let off his shoulders. “I have for a while now… but I just kept pushing it away and denying it. After what happened the last time I bared my heart out for someone, I was scared of it happenin’ again. I knew you wouldn’t hurt me… but a part of me refused to let me feel this way. I’m… I’m not a good man. I’ve done bad things, I’ve hurt people. Maybe I don’t deserve you, but I’m selfish enough to want you anyway. If you want me too, then I will spend the rest of our time together proving that I am worthy enough to be by your side.”

“Oh, Arthur,” you felt tears beginning to well up after finally hearing the words you’ve been waiting for for some time. “You silly man. I love you, too.” Despite the tears, you were smiling brightly, a similar expression mirrored on Arthur. You felt giddy, laughter bubbling from your lips. “I love you so much, and there is nothing you could do that would change that. And you don’t have to prove anything to me. The man right here is all I need.”

Blue eyes looked down at your lips, the distance between the two of you was so close yet so far, lips merely inches from your own with your foreheads connected. You watched as Arthur wet his lips, looking back up into your eyes with a look of longing.

“May I kiss-'' your lips pressed against his before he could finish the question, silencing him the way you wish you could have earlier. The cowboy let out a surprised grunt, the momentum of your body pressing against his nearly sending him backwards, his hat sitting precariously on his head. It only took him a second to recover from the shock before his lips moved, plush but chapped yet perfect in every sense.

Using the hand still cupped to his face, you moved it behind, scratching your nails lightly up the back of his neck before tangling your fingers in the short hair, tugging slightly. A delicious whine left Arthur, mouth parting slightly against yours as the kiss deepened. You felt his hold on your hand leave, instead grabbing your hips and pulling you towards him so you were practically on his lap.

All you could think about was Arthur. He flooded every sense, every fiber of your being fully enraptured by the man. So enraptured, in fact, that you temporarily forgot the trauma that your body had just been subjected to, so when you tried to use your left arm to situate yourself better, a shock of pain overtook you, forcing you to break away from his lips with a pained groan.

Immediately, whatever love fueled haze had flooded the two of you dissipated, leaving a concerned Arthur holding you as pain tore through your body, before dissolving into an incessant ache. “Shit… sorry,” you were panting, out of breath for two incredibly different reasons.

“Nothing to apologize for. You alright?”

“Got a little eager,” you smiled a tad bit sheepishly. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.”

“So we’ve both been fools this entire time?” When you nodded, he laughed, partially in disbelief. “And only a little eager?” he jested, rubbing his scalp tenderly.

“Yeah… sorry.”

“And I said there was nothing to apologize for. Besides,” he brought his lips close to your ear, voice rumbling as he spoke. “I like it when it hurts a bit.” He sat up, pressing a kiss to your temple before doing so.

The implications were not lost on you, yet you still found yourself staring wide-eyed at him. Noticing your hesitation, he backpedaled slightly. “If that’s alright. I don’t wanna force ya… or make you uncomfortable…”

“I’d like that, very much. Just not now, though. I’m exhausted.”

“It’s alright. We don’t gotta to do anything until you’re ready.” With a gentle smile, he gave you a quick kiss, pulling away too quickly for your liking. When you pouted slightly, he chuckled and shook his head. “There’ll be plenty of time for that later. You, princess, need rest.” You sighed, and with Arthur’s help you situated yourself back on the cot, still sitting up as he fixed the pillows behind you.

“Will you lay with me?” You thought he was going to say no, but he instead started toeing off his boots, setting them beside the bed before sitting behind you. A firm arm wrapped around your front, pulling you down to lay atop of him, your head resting comfortably on his chest. He kissed the crown of your head, and you snuggled into the man. The smell of him, a mix of gunpowder, leather, and something woodsy, filled your nose, lulling you into a relaxed state.

“I love you,” you mumbled out, face partially buried into his shirt. Gentle fingers combed through your hair, a pleased sigh leaving you as your eyes fluttered close.

“I love you, too. Now, rest. You’ve got a long few weeks ahead of ya.”

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

The first day of your recovery was the worst. Not because of the aches in your body, but the fact that everyone in camp had decided to come see you sometime in the day. You were grateful, yes, but it was exhausting. As nice as it was, a part of you just wished all the attention on you would go away. One more sympathetic look and you were going to throttle someone.

Dutch came in first that morning (with your permission), two cups of coffee in his hands as he sauntered in. He looked a bit caught off guard when he saw Arthur sitting behind you, still partially asleep in your cot as you sat up in the bed. After the initial shock wore off, a large shit-eating grin took over his face.

Setting one of the cups on the nightstand, he roughly patted the cowboy on his shoulder, who practically yelped at the sudden aggressive contact. “Atta boy, Arthur!” his boisterous laugh shook the tent, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the expense of Arthur. “Took you long enough. Thought you’d never grow the balls to tell her.”

In a sudden change, his face took on a serious expression as he leaned down close to Arthur, talking quietly enough for only the other man to hear. Whatever he said must’ve scared Arthur, his face turning a few shades paler. But within moments laughter returned to the black haired man who now had his full attention on you, handing you a cup of coffee which you gratefully took. “It is good to see you up, dear. Nothing can keep you down can it?”

“Not so sure about nothing, but O’Driscolls sure as hell can’t.”

“No ma’am,” he chuckled, pulling up and sitting in the chair that Arthur was in last night. “And trust me when I say they’ll regret ever touching a single hair on you.”

You nodded, lightly sipping the hot beverage in your hands. “Just don’t do it without me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Standing up, he gestured to the drink on the nightstand. “Help yourself to that Arthur. It was mine, but I wasn’t expecting you to have… company this morning. Now, get better quickly. Can’t have my best shot out of commision for too long.” With that, Dutch left your tent, Arthur giving a sigh of relief when he did.

Glancing over at Arthur with an I told you so look, you found him still paler than normal, shifting uncomfortably behind you. Snuggling up into his arms seemed to snap him out of partially, but you still saw his eyes flicking across the room, like he was expecting danger to pop out from anywhere. “What’d Dutch say?” you asked, Arthur’s arms wrapping around you as your face buried into his shoulder.

“I… nothing important, trust me,” he muttered, trying to brush over the question. Not taking that as an answer, you tilted your head to the side so you could look up at him, an unimpressed look on your face. Sighing, you felt his lips press a kiss to your forehead before he responded. “Let’s just say you got some… uh… guardians around camp.”

“Aw. That’s sweet.”

“Not so sweet when you’re the one getting threatened with gelding tongs,” you heard him mutter, and Arthur’s panicked look made a whole lot more sense now. You couldn’t help the giggles that erupted from you.

“Did- did Dutch threaten you, Arthur?” you barely managed to get out. His answering sigh was all you needed for confirmation, and you felt another fit of laughter overtake you. Arthur wasn’t long to stay upset, feeling his chest rumble with a light laugh.

“He’s always kept me in line. As best he could, anyway. But that’s enough about me. How’re you feeling, princess?” He sat beside you on the edge of the bed, wrapping an arm around you gingerly. Pulling you down, you felt him pull you towards him, giving you a kiss atop your head.

“I’m feeling like I’m gonna be sick of that question soon.”

You swore you could hear him roll his eyes. “Just answer the question.”

With an exaggerated huff, you turned so you were facing, his arm and hand now in your lap. You intertwined your fingers with his. “I’m okay. Just really sore.”

“And…” Arthur tapped lightly on your forehead. “How ‘bout there?”

“Surprisingly alright. I… I don’t really remember too much, to be honest.”

“Well, that’s good. But, if something changes, or you need… ‘dunno… someone to talk to, let me know. I ain’t the best with words… but I can listen pretty well.”

“Thank you, Arthur.” With a smile, you pressed your lips against his cheek, the slight prickle from his beard tickling you. He didn’t let you move back too far, however. A light hand cupped the back of your head, keeping you steady, but not strong enough to keep you from moving if you wished.

“And you said you was the best shot in camp. You missed.” Arthur had an almost cheeky smile on his face.

Scoffing in fake indignation, you kissed him, a satisfied hum leaving the cowboy as your lips made contact. His one hand still made contact with your head, the other wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him. Running your own through his soft hair, another satisfied noise left him, and you pulled back with a pleased smile. “There. Happy?”

“Very. Now c’mere…” he said with a playful growl, before peppering kisses across your face, neck, and shoulders, being mindful of your injuries. You found yourself giggling as he continued his attack, turning into a yelp when you felt him nip lightly at your jaw. Lightly swatting at his shoulder, he moved back, still holding you gently. “You make me so happy, don’t you ever think otherwise.” With a final brush of his lips against yours, you watched his eyes flick behind you where the entrance to your tent was. Turning around, you saw Hosea standing there, tonic in one hand, a book in the other.

Sitting back down at the edge of the bed, you gestured for the older man to come in, a soft look on his face as he sat in the chair in front of you. “So that’s why you weren’t at your tent, Arthur,” he commented, and the younger cowboy sheepishly looked away. “You’re looking better. At least, better than you did twelve hours ago. How’re you feeling?”

Fighting the urge to bash your head into the nearest hard surface, you gave him the same response you gave Arthur. With a nod, he handed you the tonic, the greenish bottle filled to the top with liquid. “For the pain. And,” he handed you the book, “For the boredom.”

It was a copy of A Cristmas Carol, a brand new one at that. You knew that Hosea was quite the reader, so it came as no surprise that he knew where the name of your horse came from. “I know it’s nowhere near Christmas time, but I hope it will bring you some comfort.”

“It will. I… Thank you, Hosea.”

“You’re very welcome, dear. Is there anything else you need?”

“I think… I think I’d like some food. Let me just…” with your feet planted on the ground, you tried to stand up, the idea of a fresh meal urging you to leave your bed. As soon as you were fully upright, however, the world began to spin. Two arms caught you before you made contact with the floor, Arthur having stood up when you did, and he eased you back down to the bed.

At this point, Hosea was on his feet too, his hands planted on his hips like a parent would when scolding their child. “You’re in no state to be moving. Me ‘n’ Arthur will get your food for you. Just stay here.” Patting your right shoulder affectionately, he beckoned Arthur with a nod, the two of them leaving your tent together after Arthur put his boots back on.

You calling out Arthur’s names stopped the cowboy in his tracks, a concerned look on his face as he turned to face you. “Please take some time for yourself. Change your clothes, take a bath, something like that.”

“You sayin’ I smell?”

“I’m sayin’ you smell like you haven’t been at camp for a few days. Now go.”

“Alright, princess,” Arthur laughed, a grin on his face as he left the tent.

For the first time since you’d been back, you were alone. The tent was eerily silent, the only noise your breathing and the rustling of sheets as you got back into bed, sitting up against the pillows. Grimacing, you downed the entire tonic bottle, the liquid bitter as ever. You set the empty glass on your nightstand, your throat already going numb from the ingredients.

Waiting for Hosea to return with food, you thought over the events of the last couple of days. Most of it was hazy, in your brain. The only things you remembered were flashes of pain and the voices of the O’Driscolls. Everything else was gone, just blank spaces in your memory. Rubbing your face with your hand, you winced slightly as you pressed down a little too hard at what you assumed was a bruise on your cheekbone. You realized you had yet to see your face, unaware of the damage done to it.

Sighing, you barely noticed that Hosea was back in the tent with you, a bowl of hot stew in his hands, the smell causing saliva to begin pooling in your mouth. Handing you the bowl, along with a fresh skin of water, the man returned to the chair next to you.

“Don’t get too lost in those thoughts of yours. It’ll be hard to get you back out.”

“It’s not like there’s many thoughts in there anyway. I hardly remember anything that happened. I can’t tell if that should be concerning or relieving.” You said through spoonfuls of food, the temperature of it burning your mouth.

“Did they do anything… untoward to you?” Hosea asked, hesitating slightly.

You shrugged. “If they did, I don’t remember. But I don’t think so, saying nothing hurts down there.”

The older gunslinger let out a small sigh, his body relaxing some in relief. “Well, we can take some assurance that they aren’t animals.” He fell silent, giving you a few moments to eat. “Don’t be too worried about your memories. It’s common for our minds to shut out events that happened to us. Whether you want them to come back, however, is up to debate. Some events aren’t worth remembering.”

He fell silent again, lost in thought as you took another bite of your food. You were getting full now, your stomach not used to having so much food in it. You sat the bowl, which still had about half its contents left, on your nightstand. At the clattering of the bowl, Hosea seemed to snap out of whatever headspace he was in, giving you a small smile as he took the bowl. “Thank you,” he said while standing up, and you gave him a confused look.

“Thank you for coming back to us. To the gang. Lord knows what would happen to us if we lost you. Don’t know what would happen to Arthur, either.” He laughed humorlessly while shaking his head. “We’re all proud of you. I’m proud of you. You’re tougher than most, that’s for sure.” With a final kind smile, he left, leaving you, and your tears, to your lonesome again. Sipping lightly from the waterskin he left you, a gentle warmth growing in your chest from Hosea’s words.

It seemed like the universe still didn’t want you to be alone, however, because before you could even collect yourself, a small body came barreling into your tent, a larger one following with an apologetic look on her face. “I’m so sorry,” Abigail began, trying to usher an eager Jack out of your space. “When he heard you was awake, he wanted to come see you, and I tried-”

“It’s all good, Abigail. I don’t mind the company.” You tried to brush away the remnants of your tears. Abigail didn’t see, or if she did, she didn’t make a comment about it. Either way, you were grateful.

An eager Jack stood beside your bed, a wide grin on his face. Stretching out his arms, he held in his fists a small bouquet of wildflowers, with various flower types that ranged from all sorts of different colors. Pressing a hand over your heart, you gratefully took the bouquet from Jack. “For me? Thank you, Jack. They’re beautiful. You wanna help me put them somewhere safe?”

When the boy nodded, you handed him the waterskin, and he held it like it was the most important thing in his life. Grabbing the empty tonic bottle from your nightstand, you held it in your lap. “Pour a small amount of water in, so I can get the old stuff out first.”

After doing what you asked, you swished the water around the bottle, clearing out any extra tonic residue that might be left over. Pouring it out somewhere behind your bed (avoiding the pelt that acted as your carpet), you gestured for him to refill the bottle again. This time, instead of dumping it back out, you placed the small bouquet in it, the opening of the bottle barely big enough to hold all the flowers. Carefully you put the bottle back on the nightstand, and when it didn’t tip over, you let out a celebratory clap.

“Look how pretty those are, Jack! You picked out the best flowers.”

“I hope they make you feel better, Auntie Morgan. Ma says you got hurt real bad.”

“I bet they will,” you replied, not even registering what he said until a few seconds later. “Auntie Morgan? Where’d that come from?”

Jack shrugged, and you saw Abigail give you yet another apologetic look. “Well, I saw Uncle Arthur leave your tent, and he never did that before. And Ma told me that when someone has a tent with someone, it means they are dating! And when you are dating, you have the same last name! So that means you are now Auntie Morgan!”

“Oh… I mean… well…” You’re sure your face was significantly darker than it was moments ago as you stumbled over your words.

“Jack!” Abigail reprimanded, a horrified look on her face at Jack’s comment. “I’m… I’m so sorry, I just… that’s the only way I knew how to explain it to Jack when he asked.”

“Well, you’re not entirely wrong. We are… I think.”

“You… you are? When you nodded, Abigail gasped excitedly. “Oh, well that’s wonderful! I’m happy for you!” She hugged you gently before taking a step back by her son. “It’s about time…” she teased, and you rolled your eyes.

“I told you she was Auntie Morgan, Ma!”

“Not quite yet, Jack. We’re not married. Only married people have each other’s last names,” you tried to explain.

“So are you gonna marry Uncle Arthur then?”

Thank goodness you hadn’t decided to take a drink of your water, or else it would've been spat out at his question. Your face felt flame hot at this point, and you nervously picked at your nails. “We’ve only just started dating, Jack. I… He hasn’t asked me that question yet.”

“Do you want to marry Uncle Arthur?”

“That’s enough!” Abigail practically jumped to cover Jack’s mouth. You laughed at Jack’s lack of filter despite your growing flustered state. With her hands on his shoulders, she led Jack outside, returning by her lonesome a short while later. Sighing, she sat on the side of your bed. “Sorry ‘bout that, again.”

With a wave, you dismissed her concerns. “It made me laugh.” You could tell she was itching to say something, but couldn’t tell if it was rude or not. “Me and Arthur spoke last night. We… confessed some things to each other, and, well, you heard what I said. There’s… something between us.”

“I really am happy for you,” she smiled at you, taking your hand in hers. “You two are good for each other. Being close with someone, in this life, it ain’t easy. But that don’t mean it ain’t worth it. Treasure the moments you have together, and take time for you both. Be there for each other, but don’t be fully dependent on the other. Communicate, even if it’s hard. Lord knows I know that all too well.” An almost regretful look crossed her features, a tiny frown pulling at her lips, as if reminiscing over past mistakes between her and John.

“And, if he breaks your heart, which I pray he never does, just know that there is a camp full of nasty outlaws that would do anything for you. Myself included,” she added, a playful look replacing the old one.

“Thank you, Abigail.”

With a final squeeze of your hand, Abigail stood up, brushing out the creases in her skirt. “I’ll try my best to stop Jack from saying too much ‘bout the two of you. But, be ready for anything.” As she exited the tent, you could hear Jack loudly talking to someone about the conversation he just had with you. Groaning, you flopped your head back, praying that someone wasn’t Arthur.

The rest of that first day was filled with rest broken up by people coming to visit you. Charles had come in about twenty minutes after Abigail, and the two of you had chatted for a good while, catching up on his and Arthur’s adventure to find you. He had also gifted you a small whittled version of your horse, the wood stained to match his black and white coat. You had accepted the gift with gratitude, setting it by your flowers after staring at it in your hands for a long while.

Arthur had come back during Charle’s visit, freshly bathed and with new clothes on. His hair was still slightly damp as he stood awkwardly at the entrance, not wanting to barge in on your conversation. Gesturing him further inside, you then patted the bed behind you where he was before, moving further up so there was more space for him.

As he came over, he patted Charles on his shoulder, joining into the conversation with a few additions to the story as he slid into the bed behind you. You didn’t fully lay against him, not wanting to get too affectionate in front of your friend and making him uncomfortable. Charles only stayed a few minutes after that, giving you a light hug before leaving the two of you.

Reclining fully against Arthur’s chest, you let out a pleased sigh as you felt him embrace you. “Y’know, I heard some crazy things from Jack not too long ago.” You felt him laugh as your head rolled back defeatedly, eyes closed.

“He’s definitely Marston’s kid, that’s for sure. Nosy little…” you grumbled, and you felt him laugh again.

“He’s not the only one. Mary-Beth and the girls nearly jumped me after they saw me leave. Barely made it down to the river in one piece.”

“How’d you survive?”

“John got ‘em off my back. Then, once the other’s were out of earshot, began hounding me with his own questions. I swear, the whole camp is a bunch of high society folks who got nothing to do but gossip all day.”

“Can’t fault them. It’s not everyday that the gang has a new couple in it.” You hadn’t meant for the term couple to slip out. You knew there was something between the two of you, but you feared putting a label on it. Slowly opening your eyes, you tried to gauge Arthur’s facial expression, but to no avail. You remembered Abigail’s words about communication, so you took the leap of faith. “We… Are we a couple? Are we… dating?” It felt juvenile to use the word dating, but you knew no other way to ask.

“Yes?” Arthur replied almost immediately, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Oh. You felt a little silly, and you closed your eyes again, avoiding Arthur’s confused glance.

“Unless…” you could hear the panic and disappointment in his voice, and you immediately reopened your eyes, lifting out of his embrace to turn and face him fully.

“No, we are! It’s just, you… we never said that we were, like, official, and I didn’t want to put a label on it and make you uncomfortable and I really want to be yours but I don’t want to push you into somethin’ if you’re not ready for it and… what?” Your rambling was cut short by the fond yet amused look on Arthur’s face.

“I’m more than ready for this. Trust me. I want this. I want you.”

“Okay,” you nodded, kissing him quickly, before laying back down on Arthur, this time facing his chest, your face burrowed in the crook of his neck. You felt his hand rub up and down your back, pressing kisses on the top of your head as you settled in. You were starting to feel sleepy, a mix of the food, tonic, and Arthur lulling you back to unconsciousness.

“You smell good,” you mumbled, voiced half muffled by his neck.

“Do I meet your standards, princess?”

“Y’always do, pretty boy.”

“Pretty boy?” Arthur scoffed lightly.

“Very pretty. Prettiest boy I’ve ever met.”

You felt him shake his head, clearly not believing you, but you could feel his heart rate began to pick up. You didn’t have to look up to know he was blushing.

“Go ahead and rest. You want me to send away visitors?”

“Only for an hour. Just gonna close my eyes for a bit. Promise me you’ll only let me sleep for a bit.

“I promise,” was the last thing Arthur said to you before you fell asleep.

By the end of the day, your nightstand and the floor around it was filled with various trinkets and goods from the other gang members; Lenny had brought you your favorite candy; Javier had gotten you a new necklace that he totally hadn’t stolen; Mary-Beth bought you a new shirt, your previous destroyed beyond repair. It was at that point you remembered that your old boots and hat were still at the O’Driscoll’s camp.

To your surprise, even Micah had stopped in, albeit briefly, giving you a quick apology before leaving. You and Arthur had shared a good laugh at that after he was long gone. As sick as you were at hearing the question “how are you doing”, it was nice to be cared for like this.

Throughout the day, Arthur stayed by your side, leaving for only a few moments to relieve himself, grab something for you, or to confer with the others in camp. He would call on one of the girls in camp to help you when needed to relieve yourself. Dutch, bless him, didn’t call on Arthur once that day, giving both of you much needed rest. When you weren’t getting visitors or resting, you and Arthur chatted or cuddled in silence.

Darkness had long since flooded your tent, the lantern hanging unlit in the center of your tent. Laying on your right side, Arthur lay behind you, arm strung across your waist, keeping you pulled close to him. As you closed your eyes, the warmth of the man behind you better than any blanket on the market, you realized there was no way you were ever going to be able to sleep alone again.

You found yourself fine with that fact.

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