#can you tell that i was listening to mitski while writing this...

[mad-hunts]

❛ today isn’t your day, is it? ❜

dead eyes. that is one of the common words that people such as psychologists used to describe a narcissist gaze, or perhaps more accurately in barton's case, a sociopath's — and this was due to the distinct lack of life within them. of that spark that people typically had within their eyes, indicating they were fully present and feeling things. barton didn't even realize it at the time but this exact same phenomenon was what was taking place in him; for, in his head, he was somewhere at least a thousand miles away from the hospital chair he sat in. he just couldn't cope with the knowledge that it was essentially his fault that his child had gotten severely hurt today without escaping into himself.

and judging by the scrapes, as well as the deep lacerations that decorated his features like a morbid reminder of how badly he had messed up that day, he had also gotten hurt in the crossfire of it. what the doctor that was in charge of taking of his son said about jack seemed to be on a non-stop loop in his head: that he had several fractures to the skull and blood was clotting within his brain, so they'd have to perform surgery on him immediately. well, the surgery had ended about two hours ago, but barton's worry and guilt surrounding the accident continued to persist like white on rice.

he didn't even realize someone had stopped to talk to him until he could suddenly feel the sting of tears. barton couldn't cry here, not now. this quickly snapped him back to reality and just when the other began her sentence was when his hearing was restored. before, it'd been ringing, as if he had the worst case of tinnitus. but barton knew deep down that that wasn't the cause of it. after swiping at his eyes with the back of his hand to prevent any tears from escaping them, he looked up at the source of the voice, noting that they were a complete stranger. barton supposed they were probably just asking out of pity, ❝ uhh, yeah. i guess you could say that. sorry, it's just my son isn't doing well. me and him got into a motorcycle accident, ❞ a sniffle came from him as he mumbled this to the other.

what a pathetic sound. if his bio father, wesley, were here today — he'd probably tell him to 'shape up' and 'be a man.' he always was kind of a figure of toxic masculinity in his life, whenever he thought about it. barton cleared his throat then and thought to divert the attention off of himself by asking her a question, ❝ are you here visiting someone else? i would hate to hear that... one of your relatives wasn't doing well, either. so for what it's worth, i hope everything's alright with your family. we don't get enough time with them on this earth already with tomorrow not being guaranteed. ❞

[fortjester]

me while I'm at work: can't wait to get home so I can write

me when I get home:

[not-neverland06]

I don't know why I bite

Logan howlett x fem!reader

a/n: Had Mitski’s ‘I Bet on Losing Dogs’ on a loop while writing this, now I’m sad Inspired by the isle of dogs quote “I’m not a violent dog, I don’t know why I bite” BECAUSE OUCH (they’re both toxic, fair warning) bittersweet ending Summary: You've tried for so long to get Logan to accept you the way he does the others. You want so desperately to be someone who means something to him. But he doesn't want you, maybe he never has. And you both seem to be stuck in this loop of hurting each other.

You’re stability, security, but you’re never comfort. Try as you might, you just can’t get Logan to accept you. You want to. So desperately, you want to be something good for him. But he hates you, or at the very least, he can’t stand you. 

You don’t know what it is about Jean that he craves, but you wish you could replicate it. You’re not your friend, though, you never will be. And it’s pathetic, trying to change yourself to make someone else happy. You’ve never done that before. Yet, there is something about Logan that you want so desperately to help. 

You clean his wounds, metaphorically because he’s never once needed anyone for that. You lift him up after a rough mission and you remind him that the team does need him. They do love him. They want him in that uniform beside them, even Scott. 

You have your suspicions that he doesn’t appreciate your efforts. He’s never outright said anything to you. But you can tell the novelty of your kindness is wearing off. He used to brush your efforts off with a simple look. 

But he’s begun to be mean, saying these little things that you can never completely call out. A lot of what he says is based in truth. “Do you ever stop talking?” No, you don’t. You like talking with your friends, like sharing stories, and laughing together. 

“Has anyone ever told you to fuck off?” Yes, and it hurt. And it continues to hurt. “Why don’t you just shut up for once?” You can’t. You can’t because if you stop talking, if you stop distracting yourself then you’ll actually feel everything. You can’t stop talking, you can’t stop taking care of others because you cannot take care of yourself. You’re incapable of it. 

You can’t say that he’s being rude or mean. He’s just being blunt, and gruff, that’s just how he is. That’s what everyone tells you. They tell you to just ignore when he’s being a dick because he doesn’t really mean it. That’s just what he does because he doesn’t know any other way. 

You shouldn’t have listened. You shouldn’t have placed so much faith in others. You should have just left him alone. Maybe then he wouldn’t have snapped, wouldn’t have said such cruel things to you. 

It broke you a little inside. Hearing what he really thought of you. Despite it all, despite the cruel words and harsh attitude, you had hope. You thought they were all right, that he just needed to warm up to you. And you so desperately just wanted to be something for him to lean on because you’ve never had that before and you know what it feels like to be so lonely. 

“Hey, Logan.” You step into the kitchen, rooting around in the fridge for something to snack on. “Weren’t there apples in here?” You’re talking aloud, but it’s meant for yourself. 

It’s that moment that it all finally comes crashing down. This pathetic illusion that he wants anything to do with you or your friendship. It almost makes you laugh, that this mundane moment is when you feel your heart shatter in your chest. When you get so sick to your stomach your bones ache and your limbs tingle with this odd phantom pain. 

“Could you just shut up?” his voice is low as he leans over the counter. His fingers spin idly around the neck of a beer bottle. You wonder how he managed to sneak it in here, Charles has banned alcohol. You watch the condensation collect on the cracks of his palm and shrug the pain off. 

You’re used to this. This is normal. “Right,” you squeeze past him and look in the pantry. “Sorry,” you whisper, if you speak any louder your voice will crack and that will just make everything worse. 

“You’re just always around, aren’t you?” You glance over your shoulder at him but you don’t respond. Deny it as much as he wants, you have gotten to know him. You recognize the tells. 

He’s had a bad day, he needs a way to get it out of his system. You just happened to walk into the kitchen at the wrong time. It could be anyone he snaps at, but today it’s you. Which seems to be happening more often. 

You do what you did when you were a kid, eyes forward, face flat. You keep yourself neutral, let yourself sink into that apathetic place so whatever he yells at you doesn’t hurt. “You tiptoe around me, act like I’m this wounded stray you need to fix.” 

Your brows pinch in confusion and you shake your head. Second mistake. You shouldn’t have walked into the kitchen in the first place. And you definitely shouldn’t have argued. “No, Logan, that’s not true-”

Although, maybe he has a point. You can’t fix yourself so you try and fix him. 

“I don’t know why they keep you around. You contribute nothing, you do nothing for any of us. We can’t even take you out on the field,” his voice begins to raise and you find yourself backing into the cabinets, hating the way this is beginning to make you feel. “You’re so fucking sensitive we can’t trust that you won’t just kill us all if something goes wrong! You don’t deserve a spot on this team!”

You jump back as he shouts at you, hip jamming into the corner of the island so hard you have to bite your lip so you don’t make a noise. Spit flies from the corners of his mouth, the ferocity of his voice and words are that strong. 

You take in a few quick breaths, blinking the sting out of your eyes and focusing on the wall behind him. “Get it through your thick fuckin’ skull,” he warns, his voice quieter now. “I don’t want you around. Leave me alone.”

You don’t cry, you can’t cry. You don’t speak because you’re afraid of what other cruelties that might provoke. Maybe you would understand all this if you’d been bugging him when he’d already made it clear he needed space. All you wanted was a fucking apple. 

You don’t feel much of anything as you slowly nod your head, not agreeing but appeasing. He watches you with something like surprise on his face. You don’t know that he’s wondering why you’re not saying anything back. 

It’s why he yells at you when he doesn’t know what to do. You can take it, you can put him in his place. But you’re not speaking and he doesn’t know why this time is so different. 

Finally, you turn on your heel and leave, footsteps soft as you retreat back to your room. Logan watches you go with an odd twisting feeling in his stomach. He didn’t think you could be pushed too far. You seem to always just have this endless patience. 

You treat him gently, even when the others get sick of the way he processes things. Today was hard, you just happened to be nearby. He didn’t mean half of what he said. He doesn’t know why he lashes out the way he does, he just doesn’t know what else to do. 

He doesn’t like it, contrary to what the others think. He doesn’t like hurting you or being mean to you. He doesn’t know what it is about you that provokes this side of him that no one else does. Maybe it’s because he’s afraid. He can’t say what he’s afraid of, he’s never been able to admit it to himself. 

He’s yelled at you plenty of times before. You don’t know what it is about that one day that was so different. Normally, it doesn’t bother you. You’ll set him straight or give him space. But today, it was needless. You weren’t doing anything. 

You didn’t deserve to be lashed out like that, cornered and scared in the place you call home. 

It was unprovoked and maybe it finally made you see him for what he really is. A bully. It doesn’t make sense, how he can be so kind and caring to Marie. How he can help Jean and Ororo so sweetly, but can’t muster one kind fucking word for you. 

You don’t let yourself cry, even though you want to. Even though there’s a cloying, suffocating feeling clawing its way up the back of your throat. His room is on the same hall as yours and you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he made you cry. 

You, at the very least, finally stop asking yourself what you did wrong. Instead, you start to wonder what’s wrong with him. You get sick to your stomach, thinking about all the ways you cared for him. Remembering how much of yourself you gave up to make him happy. 

He was right about that, you are pathetic. He never deserved your help or your patience. You should never have offered him any grace. You’re embarrassed that you didn’t see it sooner. This isn’t a little boy pulling your pigtails because he likes you. This is a grown man who can’t regulate his emotions and decided you were the next best punching bag. 

You take in a few deep, shaky breaths and close your eyes until you’re forced to fall asleep. You don’t want to think or feel any of what just happened.

Logan hovers in front of your doorway for ten minutes before he heads downstairs. He’s got a class to run, he doesn’t have time to wait for you to wake up, he reasons. He’ll find you later and apologize then. 

It didn’t take a genius to realize he had gone too far yesterday. Even if you could take his usual level of dickishness, you didn’t deserve it. He just didn’t know what to do around you. You made him confront so many different conflicting emotions. It’s like every time he looks at you his brain is being ripped in twenty different directions and he doesn’t know what to do. 

You’re so endlessly patient and gracious. It makes him realize he wants to be a better man and he can’t be. He resents you slightly for that. For having such a wonderful idea of what he could be, even though he knows he can never be that man.  

He doesn’t find you that day. He makes up enough excuses that he goes to bed promising himself he’ll apologize tomorrow. Which he never does. Because actually saying it would be an admittance that he knows what he did was wrong. And what does that make every other time he’s yelled at you? What does that make him?

It returns to the same cycle it always does. He waits a few days until things are cooled down and you’ll have already forgotten about it. He starts to feel overwhelmed and he goes to find you because you always know what to do. And if you don’t, then you provide an outlet. 

He spots the back of your head in the gardens. You’re with Jean and he expects the usual dirty look she gives him after you’ve both fought. Instead, she smiles warmly at him and waves. Which is odd, usually you tell her about what’s happened between the two of you and she holds the grudge longer than you do. 

You glance over your shoulder, a small smile on your lips, to see who she’s waving at. Logan sees the way it falls when you see him and his steps falter. You never do that, you always look so happy to see him. 

“Jean,” he greets curtly, eyes on you. 

She says hello and they both look to you. Normally, you would have already spoken. But you don’t, you turn your eyes to the kids. Jean frowns and turns back to him, “Everything alright, Logan?” 

He can’t take his eyes off of you. You read his moods, and know them better than he does. You should have already offered to talk. Maybe he really does need to apologize. The thought leaves a sour taste in his mouth. 

He says your name and your brows just barely raise in question, though you couldn’t seem less interested. “Need to talk to you.”

You shrug, “Sorry, can’t. I’ve got a meeting to get to.” You brush past him and walk back into the mansion. He and Jean both watch you go, each of them shocked by how dismissive you were. That’s never happened before. 

“What the fuck did you do?” Jean demands, the smile gone from her face and her tone deadly. She glares at him, clearly expecting an answer. But he doesn’t have one. Because this is something he’s done a million times and this has never happened. He doesn’t know what’s gone wrong. 

He thought your absence would be a relief. After a few more days he begins to realize that he was wrong. He thought that not having someone constantly badgering him to be better and set good examples for the kids would be a relief. 

There’s no one nagging him. No one forcibly checking on him after a mission when he doesn’t need it. No one to care. 

There are chunks of his day that you would normally fill that now seem to drag on. Lunches are quiet without you constantly rambling about nothing in his ear. When there’s friction among the team and they’re ganging up on him, you remain silent. He supposes he should be grateful. 

You finally listened to him for once. But he’s angry. He always seems to be angry and he doesn’t understand why. There is so much of his mind and life that was stolen from him. He wonders if he got any of it back if it would explain why he is the way he is. 

It doesn’t matter because it wouldn’t fix what he can’t undo. He sees you with the others constantly. You’re always laughing, always happy. Like nothing’s happened. Like you haven’t cut him out of your life completely. And then, when you’re around him, it’s like a switch is flipped. 

You’re irritatingly silent. Practically a brick wall. He pokes and he prods, using every weapon in his arsenal to try and provoke a reaction from you. But you give him nothing. 

There is an ache in his chest when he sees the way your smile drops when he walks into a room. He doesn’t understand the feeling. This is exactly what he wanted. To be left alone. 

It feels so wrong. 

It happens in the kitchen again. Odd, that that’s become such an important place to you. 

Your back is to the entrance and you’re busy slicing up some fruit for yourself. You don’t hear him come in. Not until he speaks. “I’m-” you jump at the sound of his voice. Whirling around with a shocked look on your face. 

He chuckles a little at the reaction but when you don’t smile he stops. “I’m sorry,” he blurts out. It sounds semi genuine. But it also sounds like it hurt him to say. “I’m sorry, so can you please just stop ignoring me?”

You shrug and go back to cutting up the fruit. “I’m not ignoring you.”

“No?” He demands. “Then why don’t you talk to me? Why don’t we eat lunch together anymore? You can’t even fucking look at me.”

You slam the knife down on the cutting board, taking in a deep breath so you don’t do something you regret. Your nails dig into your palms, trying to center yourself. “I’m doing exactly what you wanted,” you utter, voice low. 

You turn just enough to make eye contact. “I’m leaving you the fuck alone. That’s what you wanted right? I don’t think I could have misheard while you were screaming it at me.” You turn to leave, abandoning your fruit because you don’t have an appetite anymore. 

“I didn’t mean it,” he whispers before you can make it out of the kitchen. “I,” he stops and starts again, “I miss you. I’m not a mean person, I don’t know why I hurt you.”

You stare at him, face unflinching. You give him nothing and he knows it's what he deserves. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness, and I’m not asking for it-”

“Good,” you cut him off with a disgusted sneer. “Because I’m not looking to hand it out. Especially not to you. You only want me because you miss what I do for you. You don’t deserve my forgiveness. You don’t deserve me.” You turn on your heel and walk away from him, unwilling to entertain any more conversation. 

This is what you’ve always done. When someone hurts you, really irrevocably hurts you, they’re gone. They’re gone from your life. From your mind. More importantly, your heart. You don’t have any obligations to entertain him or speak with him outside of professionalism. 

You thought cutting him out of your life would hurt more. But it’s like you can breathe for the first time in months. You’re no longer striving to gain someone’s approval. You’re not chasing after something you’ll never catch. 

You can find happiness within yourself. Begin to do the things you would do for him, for you. It’s a relief. And a little sobering. Perhaps, in your mission to help him, you’d burdened him with the desires you had for yourself. 

You believe that you’re unfixable. You believe there are facets of yourself that are too dark to face. That you are undeserving of love and kindness. You recognized those things in Logan and tried to force on him what you’ve always wanted for yourself. 

It was wrong. A mutually toxic relationship that never would have made it far had anything actually happened between you two. You can’t paint yourself the victim and you never meant to. It’s why you didn’t tell anyone what happened between the two of you. 

They wonder, of course, why you no longer spend lunches together. Why you no longer rush to defend him when he doesn’t need the help. Why you don’t smile around him anymore. There are questions that you deflect. Saying, you just needed space from each other. 

Your harm was a silent one. Forcing him into a mold he was never going to fit in. Despite the claims of loneliness, you can see the way your absence benefits him. He’s calmer, less likely to yell when provoked. He just needed the space to find himself. Not to have someone try and make him something new. 

You feel an ache in your chest when you think about how differently things could have been had you just let him be. If you had let things happen between the two of you naturally then maybe you really could have been something great. 

A month goes by without speaking to each other. After that day in the kitchen, he seems to understand that there’s no putting back together what was broken. It was already cracked to start with, the break was inevitable. 

You warm slowly to him. Give him polite greetings when you see him. And he smiles at you sometimes, on the jet when Scott says something ridiculous, or just in passing. It’s nice, being a stranger to him. It’s comforting. 

“We need to stop meeting like this.”

You look up from the paperwork in front of you and give Logan a small smile. He’s hovering in the entrance to the kitchen and you know he’s waiting for your permission. “Hi,” you say softly.

He takes that as the go-ahead and walks in, heading for the fridge. You listen to him rummage around before he pulls out a beer. “Where do you hide those things?” You ask, and you almost bite your tongue. This is the most you’ve spoken to each other in a long time. It feels wrong to joke so easily. 

“Can’t tell you or Wheels is gonna stop me,” he grumbles. You just nod and turn your head back to your paperwork. It’s silent for a few minutes after that. He sits a little further down the island, nursing the beer while your pen scratches across the reports your students gave you. 

He clears his throat and you glance over at him from the corner of your eye. “I,” he starts but quickly closes his mouth. “Ah, forget it.”

Your brows pinch in confusion but you decide to leave it. You oddly don’t feel scared or anxious. You don’t worry that he’s going to snap at you if you provoke him. You choose not to because you’re not interested in engaging. 

You don’t really recognize the man before you. Maybe it’s because you never tried to get to know him before you tried changing him. It causes that familiar clenching feeling of guilt in your gut. 

You know if you gave him a chance things would be different. You could be friends, real friends. There’s a reason you latched so readily onto him. There’s a familiar pain in him that’s reflected back in you. 

You stand up, shuffling the papers into a neat stack and pushing your stool in. Logan straightens up as he watches you wash off your dishes and collect your items. Before you can make it out of the kitchen he’s standing from his chair. 

He stops in front of you, hand outstretched before him. “Logan,” he greets. 

You tilt your head in confusion, glancing between him and his hand before it finally clicks what he’s trying to do. Start over, reintroduce yourselves. Actually give each other chances to understand the other. 

This all started because you shared the same pain and you resented each other for it. But you could comfort each other instead. Be pillars of stability and strength in each other’s lives instead of trying to tear the other down so you don’t see yourself in them anymore. 

You were both too afraid to face who you truly are and it nearly destroyed you. But this is a stranger in front of you. You don’t know this man, but you think you’d like to. You give him your name and shake his hand firmly. “Nice to meet you,” you whisper, a slight joke to your tone. 

He holds on for a second longer than he should, the breath rushing out of him like he hadn’t thought you would accept. You smile softly at him before you pass by to go upstairs. His hand lingers on your, skin tingling under your touch until you can no longer hold on. 

You don’t know what it means for you, this odd new truce between the two of you. But you won’t linger on that tonight. You’ll go to bed feeling comforted that for the first time since you’ve met him, Logan has made you happy. 

a/n: felt more like a diary entry than a fic, sorry lol

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

General Taglist: @evasmlp

Logan Taglist:  @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always ♡

[delulustateofmind]

This is Love, Right?

Part two of Can My Friend Join?

Next part: It's all your fault, isn't it?

Yan!SatoSugu x Reader

Sum: You're starting to grow used to Suguru, maybe evening learning to accept his love.

TW: Yandere Behaviors (Cameras, Obsession, Manipulation, trapping), Really toxic relationship, dubcon, oral (F and M receiving), Brief smut, Reader is going through it. SatoSugu (Just a warning in itself), Angst

WC: 4.7k

A/n: Listened to a random Mitski playlist and it lowkey made me depressed while writing this, expect some fluff after this one.

This is love.

You keep telling yourself that, don’t you?

Even as silent tears streak down your cheeks in the furthest bathroom—the one tucked away from the master bedroom, the one even Satoru’s Six Eyes can’t reach.

This is love.

The way Satoru leans down, his snowy white hair falling across his forehead in that effortlessly tousled way, pressing a fleeting kiss to your lips before heading out on a mission. His crystalline blue eyes, so striking they feel otherworldly, linger on you for a moment too long before he straightens up, a lopsided grin pulling at his lips. Suguru follows, his dark hair tied neatly back, though loose strands frame his sharp, beautiful face. He gives you a casual wave, the corners of his mouth lifting into a faint, teasing smile as he murmurs, “I love you.”

You’ve never seen Satoru happier than he’s been since Suguru joined your relationship. Happier than back when it was just the two of you, curled up on the couch, his long legs stretched across the cushions while you laughed at some cheesy anime. Back then, his laugh was unrestrained, carefree. The way his shoulders would shake, his hand coming up to push his blindfold up and wipe away a tear—it felt real.

You miss those days.

You didn’t cry as much back then.

But they love you, don’t they?

They still pay your tuition, still ensure your life is cushioned and cared for. Suguru, always measured and composed, suggested once, “Maybe you should switch to online classes.” His voice was soft, his tone coaxing. It made sense, didn’t it? His reasoning was sound: “There was a special grade curse at the school the other day. We just worry about you, baby.”

Suguru always seems so calm, his velvety voice soothing and warm yet guarded dark eyes giving him an air of quiet authority. You begin to find comfort in that. However, the weight of his presence feels heavy, suffocating even some days.

Satoru, on the other hand, radiates energy. His presence fills the room like sunlight—blinding, inescapable. His tall, lanky frame always seems so relaxed, but you know better. Behind the teasing lilt of his voice and his constant grin lies a man who rarely lets his guard down. The way he looms, leaning just a little too close, reminds you of the distance he refuses to let exist between the two of you.

They worry about you so much. Yet whenever you voice concern for them, they hush you. Suguru’s deep voice reassures you, as if he’s talking to a child, while Satoru’s lips curl into a too-bright smile, his hand patting your head like you’re something fragile.

They love you. They take care of you. It would be selfish to leave them, wouldn’t it?

And Satoru—he’s never been this happy.

He’s working less, smiling more. Suguru’s return has lifted a weight off his shoulders. He’s not carrying the burden of being the strongest alone anymore. You can see it in the way his smile softens when Suguru speaks, in the way his gaze lingers on him longer than it ever lingers on you.

And yet, you tell yourself:

This is love.

Still, you wonder… wasn’t Suguru supposed to be going to therapy? You think back to his promises—vague, half-hearted reassurances—but did he ever actually leave for a session? Ever join a voice call?

You don’t recall.

You try to push the thought away, like so many others. Ignore the red flags. Focus on the green.

The relationship has its moments. You’re growing used to Suguru.

Especially your drunk self—the one that gravitates toward him, curling up on his lap like a loyal dog, seeking out his touch and the warmth of his arms. He always accepts you, his large hands stroking your back or brushing through your hair with a tenderness that feels almost too loving, almost cruel. You wonder what side of yourself that is, the part that craves his affection so desperately, the part that lets the lines blur between love and dependency.

You might even say you’re learning to love him—or at least the version of him that exists in the quiet of the night. The version that pulls you close under the weight of darkness, his voice low and unguarded as he whispers, “I love you.”

It’s in those moments that he feels human, almost fragile. A man with calloused hands and a broken heart trying to mend himself through you.

And it’s hard not to wonder—are you really learning to love him, or are you simply surrendering to the inevitability of it all?

Satoru, though… he never used to cuddle at night. Even before Suguru entered the picture, he always sprawled out in his ridiculously expensive sheets, claiming restlessness from the constant hum of his cursed energy. He needed the space, he said, and you told yourself he deserved it.

Suguru, however—Suguru surprised you.

At first glance, he didn’t seem the type for soft affections, but you quickly learned otherwise. Every night, his arms would find their way around you, wrapping you in a firm but gentle embrace. His warmth seeped into you, grounding and comforting, as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck. His lips would brush your skin with soft kisses, a tenderness you hadn’t expected from him.

Sometimes, his deep voice would murmur, “Sorry we came home so late,” heavy with sincerity. Other times, his words were more vulnerable, whispered just above a breath: “I love you,” spoken in the dark when he thought you were asleep.

It’s hard not to love him in those moments. Hard not to feel your resolve slip as his presence surrounds you. His breath fans against your neck, steady and warm. His rhythmic breathing eventually syncs with yours, as if his body is learning the cadence of your every inhale and exhale.

For those fleeting moments, you almost forget the cracks beneath the surface.

Other good moments were the intimate ones, the kind that left no room for doubt about how thoroughly they possessed you.

Suguru’s lips would meet yours in slow, deliberate kisses, his touch soft and coaxing, as Satoru’s tongue worked between your legs. The wet, obscene sounds filled the room, clouding your vision and overwhelming your senses. Satoru’s tongue moved with precision, his mouth relentless as he lapped at your cunt, delving deep until your mind felt as hazy as your breathless moans.

Suguru’s fingers never faltered, rubbing tight circles around your clit in perfect rhythm with Satoru’s ministrations. Their combined efforts dragged you over the edge again and again, your body trembling and giving in to the relentless waves of pleasure.

It became impossible to think of anything else—impossible to care about anything other than the bliss they brought you. Their hardened cocks stretched you beyond your limits, filling you completely, their stamina nearly too much for your quivering form.

Suguru would cradle your face in his hands, his dark eyes soft yet intense as he cooed sweet nothings. He’d murmur praises, soothing and possessive, as Satoru pressed the tip of his cock into your overstimulated, leaking cunt. The stretch made you gasp—a sound Suguru captured with his lips, his kiss slow, methodical, leaving you no room to shy away.

Satoru’s hands gripped your hips harshly, his long fingers digging into your flesh, ensuring you stayed exactly where he wanted you. You could already tell the marks would bloom into bruises by morning, a physical reminder of their claim. Suguru, ever attentive, would turn your face gently toward the camera, his voice a low murmur against your lips. “You’re such a good girl,” he’d praise, his thumb brushing your cheek before pulling you into another kiss.

When they were finally spent, when your body gave out completely, Suguru always carried you to the bath. His embrace was steady, grounding, as the warm water soothed your trembling form. You’d lean against his chest, your body limp, lulled by the rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing.

Sometimes, Satoru would join, his tall frame slipping into the water beside you. Their voices would soften as they spoke over you, discussing mundane things or recounting their mission. Occasionally, a kiss would press against your temple—a fleeting gesture, tender and claiming all at once—as you drifted in and out of sleep.

For a little while, it felt like you belonged.

And then, when he thinks you’re asleep, Satoru murmurs, “I knew you’d come around.”

You’re never sure who he’s talking to—Suguru, the man who swore to eradicate non-sorcerers? Or you, the girl who’s finally learning to love the monster who holds her at night?

It’s in these moments that you find yourself slipping out of bed, mumbling an excuse to use the bathroom. Suguru always lets you go with a teasing “Come back fast, or I’ll come get you.” You never linger long enough to see if he’s joking.

Once inside the furthest bathroom, the one that feels like your only sanctuary, you clutch the edge of the sink and sob. Quietly, so no one hears. Until your knees give out and you’re on the floor, shaking and clutching yourself.

This is love. Right?

They loved you. So why were you crying in the bathroom?

Why did each love bite feel like a brand, etched into your skin with every lingering gaze in the mirror? Why did their cum, warm as it seeped down your thighs, burn like it was searing itself into you, a mark you couldn’t erase? Why did the blank, soulless stare of the camera lens feel like an accusation, making you flinch away from any piece of technology?

Before too long, you would wipe your tears, force a smile to your lips—steadying it just enough so it wouldn’t wobble—and return to Suguru’s waiting arms. His hum would vibrate against your back as his dark hair tickled your neck. He’d cradle you close, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.

“Goodnight, baby,” he’d murmur, and you’d close your eyes, pretending his embrace felt like comfort instead of confinement.

But mornings brought their own discomforts.

You found yourself rifling through the master bathroom, searching the countertop with rising panic. Where is it? The nagging thought ate at you.

Satoru, brushing his teeth beside you, glanced over with those striking blue eyes. His tone was soft, almost too casual. “What’s up, baby?”

“I can’t find my birth control,” you admitted, the words trembling as much as your hands.

“Did you misplace it? You’ve been doing that a lot lately.” He walked over, his long arms wrapping around your waist. A kiss brushed the top of your head, his voice gentle but firm. “Go ask Sugu. He’s the one who organizes everything.”

So you did. Suguru was at the desk in the living room, working through a report. From over his shoulder, you could see the numbers—charge rates, payments for missions—enough to know your schooling costs barely amounted to a fraction of what they earned in a single week.

“Your birth control?” he repeated absentmindedly, his tone light, almost dismissive. “You’ve been misplacing that a lot, haven’t you, baby?”

His words felt condescending, like you were a child searching for a lost toy.

“Where is it?” you asked, voice still soft but with a growing edge of desperation. You were five minutes late—exactly.

“Ah-ah, no need for that tone, baby,” he chided, his eyes still glued to his paperwork. “Check the kitchen counter. Your purse? Maybe your school bag.”

It took thirty agonizing minutes of searching, panic simmering under your skin, before you found it—perched on top of the fridge.

You stared at it for a moment, unmoving. You would have never put it there.

Suguru’s behavior had become harder to ignore. There were moments when his touch lingered, his eyes softened, and his voice carried a wistful tone. He had baby fever—you could tell. Maybe it was tied to the twins he lost.

You’d asked him about them once. His face shuttered, dark and unreadable, and he didn’t respond.

You tried asking Satoru, but he had simply glanced away, his usual bravado vanishing for a moment too long.

You decided not to ask again.

Some questions weren’t meant to be answered. You had a sinking feeling the truth lay buried somewhere with the higher-ups, in a place you weren’t allowed to tread.

Suguru’s baby fever didn’t fade, no matter how much you tried to ignore it.

When the three of you went to the store, you’d catch that soft smile tugging at his lips whenever he saw a child. It wasn’t the type of smile he gave just anyone—it was warm, tender, hopeful. And it was always followed by a kiss pressed to your temple. A gesture you used to pull away from, but now, you found yourself smiling through.

Sometimes, he’d suggest wandering into the baby section, his tone casual, almost playful. “Just in case. Want to see what’s out there.”

The words always made your skin crawl.

Because no matter how innocuous they sounded, your mind couldn’t help but spiral. It always went back to the hidden birth control, the misplaced pills, and the monthly pregnancy tests he insisted on. He’d stand there, watching you pee on the stick, his arms crossed but his expression almost serene—waiting, anticipating. He wanted to know right away.

You tried to shove those thoughts into the furthest corner of your mind. Tried to convince yourself it was all harmless.

Satoru, by contrast, didn’t seem to care much for babies. He never lingered in the baby aisle and rarely commented on Suguru’s behavior. But he’d hum softly, his hand clasping yours, and flash you a loving smile.

You liked to think that as long as everyone else was happy, Satoru was happy.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

Occasionally, when they left for long missions, the apartment felt suffocating in its emptiness. You’d pad softly through the vast, cold space, the silence amplifying every creak of the floorboards beneath your feet.

Your eyes darted around, searching for the hidden cameras you knew were there. You weren’t sure where they all were, or when they liked to check the footage, but you’d found one blind spot: the hallway closet.

You moved slowly, deliberately, ensuring you didn’t do anything that might raise suspicion. Even though you were alone, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.

All because they loved you.

Slipping into the closet, you nestled yourself on the floor, silky yukatas hanging above like a shroud. Your laptop glowed faintly in the darkness as you opened it and began your quiet rebellion.

You searched for apartments—something small, something within your budget. Each listing felt like a whisper of hope. You lingered on them, imagining the freedom they promised, before methodically deleting your browser history. Clearing the cache. Erasing every trace.

It was a silly idea. A foolish one, really.

But for a few stolen moments, it was yours.

It didn’t seem so silly after the heated argument with Satoru when he got home.

He was already overstimulated, frustrated, and teetering on the edge of losing his patience. Those moments were the worst—when the teasing lilt in his voice faded, replaced by something sharp and mean. His cerulean eyes, usually playful and glinting with mischief, turned cold and calculating, the glow of his Six Eyes adding an eerie sharpness to his gaze.

All he wanted was release. That was all.

“It shouldn’t be a big deal,” he said, his tone flat but brimming with expectation.

Except you weren’t in the mood.

“I’m sorry, Toru, I just—”

“I do everything for you, and you can’t even provide me with a little comfort?” His words came out harsh, the grin curling his lips into something too sharp to be soft. He stepped closer, his towering frame casting a long shadow over you. His presence always felt overwhelming—broad shoulders, perfectly sculpted face framed by stark white hair, and a lean body that seemed to hum with restrained power. You swallowed hard. Did he get taller?

“I just got off my period, so it’s—”

“It’s what?” His voice cut through your hesitation, his hands flexing as if he were trying to leash himself. “Come on, baby. Just a quickie. Or let me use your mouth.”

The fight drained out of you before you even realized it.

You ended up on your knees, the cold tile biting into your skin, a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from your flushed face. His long fingers twisted tightly into your hair, guiding your head as if you were nothing more than a puppet for his pleasure. His pale chest rose and fell steadily, the faint sheen of sweat on his skin catching the light, glinting like cruel punctuation to his earlier frustration.

The tip of his cock pushed past your lips, the stretch almost unbearable as he moved with slow, deliberate thrusts. His head tilted back, exposing the sharp lines of his jaw, tightening with every wet sound that filled the room. A low groan rumbled deep in his throat, vibrating in the space between you like a growl of satisfaction.

Your throat burned, gagging and gasping as you struggled to adjust. Your hands clutched at his thighs for balance, fingers digging into the hard, taut muscles beneath his impossibly smooth skin. His hips began to move with more force, his breaths growing heavier, the faintest smirk curling on his lips as he reveled in your struggle.

His moans grew louder, rougher, until with a sharp tug of your hair, he pulled out. Hot ropes of cum painted your face, the heat of it stark against your flushed skin. You blinked through the haze, barely catching your breath, the sting of humiliation bubbling up in your chest.

Before you could even reach for something to wipe yourself clean, the sharp click of a camera shutter echoed through the room.

You didn’t need to look up to know what he was doing. You could already imagine him grinning at the screen, tapping a few buttons with casual ease. You could picture the caption as clearly as if he’d whispered it into your ear:

"Our girl is so beautiful, isn’t she? <3"

The thought sat heavy in your chest, a mix of shame, anger, and something else you didn’t want to name.

And then, as if nothing had happened, Satoru turned sweet again.

He brought you a towel, his large hands surprisingly gentle as he wiped your face. “Come on,” he coaxed, his voice softening. He guided you to the bathroom, his fingers lacing with yours, and drew you into the shower.

Under the warm water, he washed your hair, his hands threading through your strands with care. His crystalline eyes softened as he began to tell you about his mission, his lips quirking into a small smile. From the counter, he produced a small box of mochi, your favorite snack.

“You’re everything to me, baby,” he murmured, his lips brushing your temple. His arms wrapped around you, his broad chest pressing against your back. “I’m going to marry you one day. You know that, right?”

And just like that, the storm passed, leaving behind only his affection.. 

Your heart sank at the mention of marriage. With them, you knew they’d find a way to make it happen—the three of you, bound together, no matter how impossible it seemed.

After the shower, you slipped into bed, craving the comforting warmth of the sheets. It was a small solace, a fleeting moment where you could envelop yourself in something soft and familiar.

Satoru liked to cuddle during naps, and true to form, his lanky arms found their way around you. He pulled you close, his chest pressing against your back as he nuzzled into you. His kisses came next, peppered across your lips with deliberate exaggeration, loud and obnoxious.

You used to giggle when he did that. You used to squirm and laugh, batting him away as he grinned and pulled you closer.

But now, you stayed still, letting him press his kisses and settle into a nap with you.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d giggled like that. Or the last time you’d laughed at all.

On their next mission, you had exactly six hours.

Exactly six hours for a stupid idea. A fleeting thought. 

You’d planned this carefully, down to the second. When they asked where you’d be, you made some excuse about a doctor’s appointment. It was believable enough—Suguru always asked to see the summary of your visits when you got back, a habit you knew was less about care and more about control.

But this time, you lied.

There was no appointment.

Instead, you booked a one-way trip. Far, far away from Tokyo. Far enough that they wouldn’t be able to find you, at least not right away.

The States. It was the only place you could afford with the small stash of cash you’d scraped together over the years—birthday cards, Christmas cards, anything you’d managed to squirrel away without raising suspicion. You even bought a prepaid flight gift card, ensuring it couldn’t be traced back to you.

No suitcases, no sentimental keepsakes, nothing but the clothes on your back.

Before you left, you scrawled a simple note, placing it where you knew they’d find it. Just three words:

"I love you."

Ironic, isn’t it? 

As you sat at your terminal, the minutes ticked by with agonizing slowness. You told yourself a 14-hour flight wouldn’t be so bad. It was freedom, wasn’t it? The first real breath you’d taken in months.

But then, a familiar figure caught your eye.

Megumi.

He wasn’t alone—the other first-years trailed beside him—but it was Megumi’s gaze that stopped your heart. His dark eyes widened when they locked onto yours, a flash of recognition that made your stomach churn.

Your anxiety hit you like a freight train, crawling under your skin, seeping into your every bone as they walked past. Megumi glanced back at you one more time, his lips parting just enough to mouth the words: “I’m sorry.”

And then you saw it—his hand reaching for his phone, his fingers already dialing.

You didn’t have to guess who he was calling.

Your heart sank, but you told yourself it wasn’t his fault. You knew Megumi had his reasons—his own happiness to protect, his own precarious balance to maintain. He was trying to survive too, wasn’t he?

You understood. You really did.

But understanding didn’t make the fear any less suffocating.

You cried the entire car ride home, your sobs tearing from your throat, raw and uncontrollable.

Satoru didn’t even glance your way. His icy, dull gaze stayed fixed on the window, his jaw clenched so tightly you thought it might snap. The silence between you was deafening, broken only by your muffled cries and the hum of the car engine.

In the passenger seat, Suguru sat quietly, his expression unreadable. His hands rested on his knees, fingers drumming absently, as if the tension in the car didn’t weigh as heavily on him.

Poor Ijichi-san gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white, clearly caught in a situation he didn’t want to be in. He glanced at you through the rearview mirror—sympathy flashing briefly in his eyes—before he quickly looked away, the moment shattered by Satoru’s cold, piercing glare.

The car felt suffocating, like the air had been sucked out, leaving only the weight of your despair and the oppressive silence of the two men who claimed to love you.

Your brows furrowed in confusion as you watched the familiar sight of your apartment complex slip past the window. Panic prickled at the edge of your already frayed nerves, your grip tightening on the fabric of your clothes. A small sniffle left your nose, your voice coming out hoarse and broken.

“Where are we going, Toru?”

You turned your gaze to Satoru, hoping for an answer, for anything—but he didn’t look at you. He didn’t respond. His profile was cold, distant, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Your stomach twisted, guilt clawing at your insides. You must have hurt him. He always clung to your love like it was his lifeline. You must have broken that lifeline, snapped it in two with your attempt to run.

You shifted your gaze to Suguru, hoping for some clarity, but his face gave nothing away. His dark eyes flickered toward you for the briefest of moments before returning to the road ahead, his expression as still and unreadable as ever.

The car veered away from familiar streets, the urban sprawl giving way to the shadowy embrace of the woods.

Your chest tightened.

Every nerve in your body screamed as the car crept deeper into the forest, the tall trees looming like silent sentinels. Your mind raced with grim possibilities. Were they planning to leave you here? Like an unwanted dog, cast into the cold for daring to run away?

But then, just as the panic began to claw at you, your gaze caught the sight of something familiar—something that made your heart sink even further.

The tall, imposing torii gates emerged through the mist, their vibrant red striking against the muted greens and grays of the forest.

Oh.

The Gojo Estate.

“I don’t think I can trust you enough not to leave again,” Satoru said quietly, his voice uncharacteristically calm, almost detached.

He wasn’t usually the one to chide you—that was Suguru’s role. Suguru, who would dole out punishments with a sharp tongue or a chilling, parental tone, as though you were a misbehaving child. But now, Satoru’s words held a gravity that made your chest tighten.

“So,” he continued, his crystalline eyes fixed ahead, “I figured here, you could have a few more eyes on you. Maybe even enjoy it more. Who knows? You might even come around to the idea of being Mrs. Gojo or Mrs. Geto. Your pick.”

He smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“We already filled out the documentation. You’re married.”

The words hit you like a physical blow, the weight of them crashing into your chest. Your mind spun, unable to comprehend the sheer audacity of it, the sheer finality.

You felt chained.

Like a dog, tethered to their will, stripped of freedom, and locked away under the pretense of love.

They didn’t say anything as they walked you through the grand, silent halls of the Gojo Estate, and for that, you were almost thankful. The air was heavy with whispers and disdainful glances from the servants. A non-sorcerer? Their murmurs carried through the air, sharp and cutting, as though your very presence was an affront to their world.

When you reached the bedroom, Satoru’s hand guided you forward with surprising gentleness, his fingers brushing yours as though nothing had changed. He led you to the edge of the plush, sprawling bed, and you forced a small, trembling smile to your lips—a weak attempt at peace, at hope.

His bright eyes softened, and for a moment, you thought maybe, just maybe, you could reason with him.

But then his hands caught your wrists.

A light kiss brushed your lips, so soft you barely registered it over the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. The faint click of the cuffs was almost lost in the quiet, but the cold metal digging into your skin was impossible to ignore.

He stepped back, his expression unreadable.

It was Suguru’s voice that filled the air next, low and calm, like a lullaby that promised nightmares.

“You’re going to provide us an heir,” he said, his smile almost serene, even as your eyes widened in horror. “It was Satoru’s idea, actually.”

His smile deepened, almost teasing, as though he enjoyed the shock and betrayal etched across your face. “And you’re not leaving this room until you’re safe and pregnant.”

The words hung in the air, suffocating you.

Suguru’s tone carried a quiet, unmistakable happiness, as though this was something he’d always wanted. Maybe it was—he’d always longed for a child, hadn’t he? You turned your gaze to Satoru, searching for something, anything.

But all you found was the lovesick smile he gave Suguru.

Not you.

Your chest tightened as tears pricked your eyes, the overwhelming urge to scream, to sob, to lash out building inside you.

But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

Instead, you sat there, the cold metal biting into your wrists, the weight of their love crushing the last sliver of hope you’d held onto.

You had grown numb.

Must be from all the love, right?

[cherryblossom-heart]

I hate you (9.5/?)

modern!Sukuna x Reader

Things get clearer for Sukuna

Content Warning: Fluff, Enemies to lovers, Sukuna being nice? (if you can call it that) Sukuna is his own warning, mention of sexual content, slut shaming (both sides). Sukuna battling his feelings. This is a +18 series so MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. If I catch any minor or ageless blog interacting with this series I will block you.

W.C. 2.6.K

A/N: Hi besties! I am so sorry for the delay on this chapter, memi messed up my convos for other series and this one too so I was just busy re doing everything again. Hope you guys like it! Oh btw I listened Mitskis' My Love Mine All Mine on repeat while writing this in case you want to give it a try haha

<Previous Chapter. Next Chapter>

7:17 P.M.

“Finally.” Sukuna rolled his eyes as you walked to him. “Taking forever, for what?”

“Oh, shut up. Like you don’t like what you see.” You winked at him.

A faint wave of heat rushed to his face and he wanted to ride away. Even if he had gotten used to this unexpected reaction, they didn’t make them any less annoying. He wasn’t about to admit he knew that even if you were wearing a garbage bag as a dress, his heart would still race any time you came through that door.

He remembered his cousin laughing once he told him he would take you to that stupid bands concert and asked him if he would cover your shift.

“So you’re telling me you’re taking her to a concert, of a band you don’t even like, just because?” Choso’s words were strained as he fought to get air back to his lungs.

Sukunas patience was running thin, not that it was hard to get it to that level to begin with, but the more Choso’s words bounced around his head, the more he questioned what the point of this was.

Why was he even taking you? He couldn’t even stand their music.

“You’re covering her shift or not?” Sukuna barked, which typically was enough to make people around him quiet. Unluckily for him, Choso didn’t hold the same fear for him as others, it didn’t help him, and Sukuna knew each other since they were in diapers.

“Oh, I’ll definitely take it. But you just have to answer one question.” His voice was full of amusement as he hung an arm around Sukuna. “How long has she had you this whipped?”

“Fuck you.” He shook off his arm of his shoulders.

Whatever, taking you wasn’t worth this hassle.

Or any hassle at all.

Maybe he could talk to Toji. Cash in a favor.

“Hey, don’t get me wrong. If anyone was going to be able to tame you, it definitely would be her.” Choso laughed.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, you’ve seen her right? Girls got a little crazy in her. Remember that time she beat up that Yorozu chick for saying all that fucked up shit about Uraume?”

Sukuna raised an eyebrow “What?”

“Oh yeah, I forgot you were too busy to go to school. I’m surprised you even graduated.” Choso rolled his eyes, pulling out a cigarette from the carton he kept in his pocket, a habit he displayed whenever he talked for too long with his cousin. “After their mom died, Yorozu began the rumor Uraume fucked people to get money to pay the rent, that’s why they were never in school.”

That cunt.

Sukunas memories traveled back to his teenage years, he remembered a day where he had found you in the living room, your messy hair and a busted lip catching his attention. He had made the mistake of leaving you alone, thinking he didn’t care enough to ask.

And you didn’t like him enough to answer.

“Then one day your girl comes in, walks to Yorozu and sucker punches her right in the jaw. No warning, nothing. By the time the teachers were able to pull her off Yorozu, she already had a broken nose and her whole face was turning purple. I’ve never seen anything like that, I really thought she was going to kill her.” Choso shook his head. “Maybe you finally found your match”

His cousins’ words tormented his thoughts ever since.

God, he was right, wasn’t he? He was completely and utterly whipped. He didn’t remember the last time he had fucked someone else without you popping in his head every five seconds. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last day he had gone through without thinking of you at least once.

“What’s that?” You asked as you reached him, looking back to the hand he has behind his back.

Fuck.

“Here.” Sukuna pulled out a bouquet of deep red roses, almost slamming them against you. “Jin said I should bring this.” He scoffed, as if he wasn’t the one that decided to buy them.

“Aww.” You coo at them as you smell them. Sukuna’s eyes diverted from you, not wanting that brewing warm sensation you brought him to pop up, this was already hard enough as it was. “I love them. Maybe I should’ve gone out with Jin instead.” You teased him with that cocky little smirk that made his blood boil.

“I’m taking you out on a stupid date and you can’t stop being a slut for five minutes?” Sukuna rolled his eyes.

He expected to get a snarky remark, perhaps a slap in the arm or head but you had the annoying tendency to surprise him. You leaned over to him, placing a tender kiss on his cheek before walking backwards to your house.

His heart began racing. The drumming of his pulse echoed on his ears so loudly he thought you might’ve heard it.

“Don’t be an ass, you know I have more fun with you.” You winked at him before turning around.

“Where you going?” Were the only words he managed to say.

“To put them in a vase. Don’t want them dying on me, this might be the only proof of you ever being nice.”

Darkened eyes followed your every step, each one giving Sukuna a clear answer.

He was losing his mind, and it was all your fault.

8:21 P.M.

“Are you going to kill me?” You asked as you hopped of his bike, pulling down on the now inconvenient black skirt you had decided to wear.

“Piss me off enough and I might.”

“Whatever.” You glared at him, kicking a rock in the ground. “If you’re not going to kill me then what are we doing in the middle of the woods?”

“What? You scared, brat?”

You laughed. “As if. I’m more scared of an animal eating us. If a bear attacks us, I’m leaving your ass.”

Sukuna made his way through the path he had grown accustomed to, the sound of your heels scraping against the unstable ground the woods offered following close behind. He could hear you cursing under your breath, your annoyance growing the more you kept tripping.

“You could’ve told me we were going to the fucking woods.”

“Not my fault you dress like a cheap prostitute whenever you’re going out.”

“First of all, fuck you.” You caught up to him, slapping him in the back of the head. “Second, if I was a prostitute, you could never afford me.”

Sukuna held you by the arm, spinning you in front of him. His chest pressed against your back; his grip tight on your hips. He leaned over you, lips almost brushing against your ear.

“Why would I pay you when I already have you for free.”

“For now.” You turned around. “Piss me off enough and I might just change boytoys.”

You placed a kiss on his cheek before moving along and Sukuna never wished more to fuck you and strangle you at the same time.

8:29 P.M.

“Over here.”

“I swear if you brought me all the way over here for nothing I will cut your balls– “

“Hey.”

Jin’s voice cut through the emptiness of the forest making you jump. You turned to the direction of his voice, racing to Sukunas twin brother. It never ceased to amaze you how similar they were physically, but as soon as your eyes connected with Jin’s the softness in them almost made you chuckle.

“Jin!” You raced to him, engulfing him in a suffocating hug. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ve been busy with Yuji.”

Jin’s eyes met his brothers as he debated where to settle his hands. Sukunas burning gaze gave him the answer he needed.

“What are you doing here? Please tell me you’re my date instead of your idiot of a brother.” You teased him, causing a slight blush on his face. “You’re already much better than him. The flowers were a nice touch.”

“Flowers? I didn’t… oh. Oh! Yeah, no problem.”

Sukuna was about to turn Yuji into an orphan.

“I was just helping him set this up.” Jin pointed behind himself,

Your eyes grew wide as you took in what your date would be. In the middle of the field laid a lightweight red blanket, a couple of lanterns on each side made it visible. Laid out in the middle there were a few containers with what you assumed were food, steam covering the inside.

You smiled at Sukuna, and he could’ve sworn his world stopped for a second.

“It was his idea.” He grunted, hoping his brother would take the hint.

“Yeah, I thought you would like it.”

You stared back at Sukuna for a second longer, a playful glint on your eyes, before you turned around and hugged Jin again.

“You’re so sweet, thank you.” You placed a small kiss on his cheek, your lipstick tainting his skin. “Maybe you should stay, and we’ll ditch your brother.”

“I– “

“He’s leaving. Now.”

“Bye, Jin!”

Sukuna dragged his brother, pulling him to the main road that led back to the parking lot. He took out his keys, throwing them to Jin before snatching away his brother’s car keys.

“If there’s a scratch on her I’ll fucking kill you, you understand?” Sukuna warned his brother.

“Yeah.” His brother cleared his throat, making sure they were at a safe distance from you. “You know, it’s not the worst thing in the world if you do like her. She’s always been nice.”

Nice wouldn’t be the word that Sukuna would use to describe you.

“Whatever, just don’t crash my fucking bike.”

“I won’t.” Before turning away Jin called for your attention, his arm waving in the air. “You’re coming to Yuji’s birthday?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

After one last menacing look from his older brother, Jin finally left. Sukuna had made a mental note of reminding Jin who the older brother was, even if it was just for a few minutes of difference.

“So, a picnic huh?” You teased and Sukuna wanted the earth to collapse right there and then.

“Jin’s idea.” He shrugged, grabbing a can of beer from the ground.

You sat down, crossing your legs in front of you as you settled down. “Oh yeah, it was his idea? Just like the flowers you got me?”

“Shut up.”

Why did he agree to this in the first place?

9:23 P.M

“... then all of the sudden Uraume bolts in the room and grabs me from the back of the neck, tossing me to the floor and I’m thinking ‘this is it, my life is about to end at thirteen all because I wanted to use a stupid pair of boots that stink and aren’t even that great’. Before they could even put a hand on me, I hooked my feet in the back of their leg and Uraume just straight up just collapses.”

“No fucking way you got them like that.” Sukuna half scoffed, half laughed, shaking his head at the thought of you overpowering Uraume.

As if.

You shoved him playfully. “I swear on my life, I don’t know why but that’s their Achilles point. Well, more like knee but you know what I mean.”

“So, you’re telling me you did the same thing to get them to back off my dick?”

“Pretty much.” You shrug. “I got on top of them, coughed up some phlegm and threatened them to get it on their face if they didn’t stop.”

“You’re fucking disgusting.” Sukuna laughed, his stomach hurting from the laughter the mental image of Uraume being defenseless brought to him. “No wonder they didn’t fucking told me what you did.”

“Let’s keep it a secret between us, pretty boy.”

“Fuck off, I told you not to call me that.”

You turned to him, eyelids half open as the alcohol relaxed your body. “But you are my pretty boy.”

That damn smirk made him want to choke you.

And kiss you.

“Tell me something.” You took another sip of your beer, a small drop falling from the corner of your lips. “Why are you doing all this?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

The question of the year. Why do all this? Why put any effort behind this? Why did the thought of another man touching brought an anger in him he couldn’t explain? Why did he care about you? Why did the thought of spending time with you made his heart race? Why did your touch bring a tenderness in him he wasn’t aware of its existence before?

He had no idea, yet he craved you with everything in him.

“I don’t know. Just trying to see what happens.” He grunted, his nonchalance being his refuge when he couldn’t even explain it to himself.

“Uh huh.” Unconvinced by his words, you moved closer to him, your arm almost touching his. “Wanna know what I think.”

“Not really.”

“I think you like me. A lot.”

Sukuna scoffed

“You wish.”

“And I think you want to date me.”

“Shut the fuck off.”

“And you want to know the worst part about it?”

You laid down on the floor, your eyes focused on the starts above you.

“What?”

You sighed. “I think I might want to date you too.”

Sukunas head snapped to you.

“I know, crazy.” You let out a small laugh, as if you were just now coming to that realization. “You’re violent, obnoxious, immature, selfish, a sociopath at times, a bigger slut than I am, you have a terrible way of dealing with things, at times I really wish I could strangle you so I would never have to see you again. And yet… I still like you. Enough to try at least.”

I still like you.

The words bounced around his brain as he tried to make sense of them. He knew what he was supposed to do, he should push back. Deny every crazy allegation, go deeper into the reasons why he would never like you, tell you about every logical point on why he could never date you. Your fear of relationship, your extensive list of sexual partners, the fact that you drove him insane and the fact that only you could enact so much rage off him with just a couple of looks.

He hated you.

He hated the way you made him feel.

He hated the space you had taken over in his thoughts.

He hated the space you had carved in his heart.

He hated everything about you but lately he couldn’t remember why he had started to hate you in the first place.

“God, I fucking hate you.” He said as he laid down with you, the toughness of the ground aligning his back.

You chuckled. “Ditto.”

Your hand found his, fingers entwining with his.

Sukunas eyes stayed on you, watching you admire the night sky. He could see every movement you made, the way your eyes focused on following the chain of stars, trying to find sense in the constellations up in the sky.

And right there and then, with the moonlight hitting your skin, Sukuna thought he never saw anything more beautiful.

His hands moved faster than he could control them, pulling your face to look at him. Your eyes widened in surprise, and he wondered if you could feel the same warmth he felt whenever he touched you. Judging the way your eyes softened, he thought you did.

His hand traveled to your neck, his fingertips barely connecting with your skin. Your eyes darkened, traveling back and forth from his lips back to his irises and Sukuna knew he was screwed.

He truly did like you.

Fuck, he might even…

No, he could only deal with one catastrophic realization a day. That could wait.

At least until tomorrow, when his mind and soul were stronger to fight of the truth.

<Previous Chapter. Next Chapter>

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[melzula]

All I Ever Wanted

pairing: zuko x reader

notes: this was originally requested by an anon but i also took inspiration from mitski’s song “your best american girl” while writing this. give it a listen during your read !

summary: as a peasant and servant girl for the palace, you should have known better than to fall for the Prince

The sun is warm against your skin and the grass is soft beneath you as you land on your back in a fit of giggles. Azula is unamused by your antics, but Zuko finds himself laughing right along with you. It’s a peaceful summer’s day in the palace gardens, and you spend it as you would any other day by playing with your friends.

“I caught you,” you tell him with a breathless laugh after turning your head to face him.

“No way, I was just going easy on you,” he argues with playful grin, his nose nearly brushing against your own due to your close proximity on the grass. Your heart beats fast in your rib cage as you try to ignore the rising heat on your face and play it off as a result of your exhaustion and not your nerves from lying with the Prince. You haven’t realized it yourself, but you have a crush on Zuko, a painfully obvious one that he hasn’t seemed to notice yet. What you also don’t realize is that he reciprocates the feeling, and he shares the thrill that comes with being your playmate.

“Are you two done yet?” Azula finally interrupts with a roll of her eyes as she offers you her hand and helps you up from the ground. “It’s my turn to hide this time.”

“I don’t think we can play anymore,” Zuko notes with a frown as his mother makes her way towards your group. You quickly bow in respect to the Fire Lady, but she waves you off with a smile.

“I’m sorry, y/n, but Zuko and Azula must attend their fire bending lessons now. I’m afraid playtime is over for today,” she informs you apologetically.

“Yes, Fire Lady Ursa,” you reply politely before turning to give both of your friends departing hugs. “Bye Zuko, bye Azula!”

“It’s too bad you’re not a fire bender,” Azula remarks after halfheartedly returning your embrace. “Maybe dad would let us play with you more if you were.”

Her words make your body hot with embarrassment and shame, and though you don’t voice your discomfort Ursa is instantly able to pick up on it. With a scolding glare, the Fire Lady quickly urges her daughter to apologize.

“Azula, that is not a nice thing to say to a friend.”

“But it’s true,” the girl mutters under her breath only to have her mother drag her away before she can get the chance to say anything else. Zuko hesitates then, giving you an apologetic look and promising to play with you tomorrow before rushing after Ursa and Azula.

You’ve never really cared about being a non-bender, but there’s something about Azula’s words that has you questioning your worth. As the daughter of a royal family servant with no title or money to her name, you knew you were lucky to be able to grow up in the palace and play with the Fire Lord’s children. However, you never once realized that you weren’t their equal. They were royalty, a Prince and a Princess destined to become powerful benders and ruthless leaders of the Fire Nation, and you were simply a girl who would one day grow up to live a life of servitude. You had no real future or purpose ahead of you, not like they did, and yet you were the only one unaware of your unfortunate fate.

Perhaps it’s because they never treated you in such a way, and your mother did her best to shield you from your true heritage. For now you could grow up blissfully unaware of the fact that your friends would one day outgrow you.

“Mom?” Zuko asks once they’re safe inside the palace. “Do you like y/n?”

“She’s a sweet girl,” Ursa notes with a faint smile, “and she makes you both happy. So yes, I like her.”

“Then why doesn’t Dad?”

The Fire Lady’s smile fades into a remorseful frown, and she simply ushers her son forward with a shake of her head. “Let’s not worry about that now. You’re going to be late for your lesson.”

Zuko isn’t satisfied with her answer, but he isn’t give a chance to discuss it further with her. For now, he remains content with the fact that he likes you, and his mother likes you.

That is enough for him.

~~~

The day is calm as you carefully hang the clothes to dry and enjoy the warmth of the sun basking on your skin. It’s rare that you get tasked with the outdoor chores, so you savor the opportunity for as long as you can. Doing the royal family’s laundry certainly beats scrubbing the floors of the palace, and you are grateful the spirits have taken mercy upon you today.

You’re freshly fifteen and the summer is just beginning. You’ve grown into a well-mannered young woman, and you’re old enough now to be able to take on some of the work that once fell to your mother. One day you will take her place and continue to serve the royal family until you’re no longer physically able. You’ll never get to leave, but you consider yourself grateful to live on the palace grounds. You will forever have a roof over your head, food on the table, and, most importantly, your friends.

You take great care to pin Azula’s dresses down without getting any creases or wrinkles in the fabric, and you’re so lost in thought that you don’t notice the figure carefully creeping up behind you. You’re too busy reciting the words to an old Fire Nation folk song your mother had taught you to pay any mind to your surroundings, and it gives Zuko the perfect opportunity to catch you by surprise.

“Y/n!” He exclaims with a grin as his hands land firmly upon your shoulders. You nearly jump out of your skin at the act, and your reaction has the Fire Prince laughing so hard his cheeks begin to hurt.

“Zuko!” You scold with an irritated scowl as you chuck a handful of clothespins at him in retaliation. “You need to stop doing that!”

“I’m sorry, you just make it so easy,” he teases with a light nudge to your side before taking it upon himself to pick up the pins you’d discarded.

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready to leave for Ember Island?” You ask him with a quizzical look as you resume your previous work of hanging the clothes.

“That’s actually what I was coming to talk to you about,” he admits with a sheepish smile. “I want you to come with us.”

“What? You’re not serious, are you?” You retort apprehensively, halting your movements to gauge his reaction for any hint of insincerity or humor.

“I am serious. You deserve to have fun once in a while too,” he notes with a careful smile. You’re too oblivious to notice the look of admiration on his face and definitely too concerned with finding a way to let him down gently to realize he’s inviting you because he likes you. Despite your own feelings for the Prince you’ve developed over the years, you’re much too self-depreciating to ever believe Zuko could possibly feel the same. If only you knew.

“I can’t just up and leave! There’s work to be done, a-and my mother would be so upset with me if I abandoned my chores and-“

“Azula will tell our father she wishes to bring you along as a personal servant so you can come with us, and someone else will be tasked with taking on your work while you’re away. There’s no way your mom could be upset with you for serving the Princess, could she?”

“Azula would really do that for me?” You question meekly, a hopeful glint in your eyes as you hang on to his every word. You’re trying your best not to get your hopes up, but you wish for nothing more than to leave the capital city to see the ocean for the first time and feel the sand beneath your feet. As the daughter of a servant and now a servant yourself, you know you’d never get a chance like this if not for the fact that the siblings had grown fond of you over your years of friendship together. You’re lucky, because you know without them you’d truly be nothing more than a floor scrubbing peasant.

“Of course she would, she wants you there just as much as I do,” Zuko assures you. Gently taking your hands in his own, he gives them a comforting squeeze and looks into your eyes with a loving smile. “We leave tomorrow morning. Bring enough clothes to last you three days and a bathing suit.”

“I don’t own one,” you admit with an embarrassed frown, but your friend doesn’t display any sign of judgement in the slightest towards your shortcomings.

“Then I’ll take you shopping myself when we get there.”

Your heart melts at his words, your gaze falling to the ground bashfully as you try not to dwell on the fact that he’s still holding your hands. You’re in love with the Prince, and the Prince is in love with you, and everyone but you has figured out just how much you mean to each other.

Even Fire Lord Ozai, who odiously watches the scene unfold before him from the top of the palace balcony.

~~~

The shores of Ember Island are beautiful.

The waves almost seem to sparkle underneath the moonlight as they crash peacefully against the shore, and down below the lively chatter of your friends carries through the air and fills your heart with contentment. You’ve had the most perfect time here at the beach, and it pains you to know that tonight will be your last night of freedom before you must return home and resume your life as a servant girl.

The wooden doors behind you carefully slide open and closed, and soon a familiar warmth joins you out on the balcony. For a while you say nothing, simply enjoying the closeness of him as you watch Azula, Ty Lee, and Mai practice tricks in the sand below. You don’t know how to thank the Prince for all he’s done for you, for always looking out for you since you were children, for never once treating you as less than for your heritage. You don’t know how to tell him that you love him with your entire being.

So he does it for you.

“I got you something,” Zuko says after a moment’s silence, waiting for you to turn your gaze to him so he may pull out a small clam from beneath his robes. You raise a curious eyebrow at his offering as he gestures for you to take it.

“A clam shell?” You note inquisitively as you turn the gift around in your palms, carefully feeling out its grooves and intricate ridges.

“Open it,” he directs you quietly, anxiously watching your movements with bated breath.

You smile curiously at your friend before delicately pulling the top half of the shell open to reveal the contents inside. Your eyes widen in surprise at the gift that greets you, and you immediately look up to Zuko to ensure this isn’t some kind of joke.

Inside the clam sits a beautiful gold necklace with a dainty sun pendant resting in the center that shimmers under the light of the moon. It’s beautiful, and it’s certainly worth more than your own life, which is why you immediately try to hand it back to him.

“I-I can’t accept this!” You hastily insist with a quick shake of your head as you struggle to return the clam to him. “It’s too nice!”

“You can accept this,” Zuko reassures you as he carefully pushes the gift back towards you. When his efforts fail due to your persistent attempts to give back the shell, he lets out a sigh and carefully removes the necklace from the clam. “Y/n, I want you to have it.”

“But why?” You demand apprehensively, almost flinching away when he moves towards you with the necklace. You’re completely overwhelmed by his gift and unsure of what it means or why you’d ever be deserving of such a thing. You don’t want to take advantage of his kindness or his status, and you feel like he’s done more than enough for you by bringing you along on this trip, so it just feels wrong of you to take it.

“Because you deserve nice things too,” Zuko explains, and after giving you a pointed look you finally allow him to carefully put the necklace on you. The sun rests daintily along your neck, and he thinks it suits you perfectly. “I brought you on this trip because I wanted you to have fun for once, but also because… well, because I love you, and I thought a romantic setting might make it easier to tell you that.”

“You love me?”

“You haven’t noticed?” He retorts with a meek smile. “I’m not the best at words, but I know that I’ve loved you since we were children feeding turtle ducks in the pond and playing tag in the gardens. You have the purest heart of anyone I know, the sweetest smile, you are everything to me. I hope that by accepting this gift, you’ll be accepting me as someone worthy enough to be your boyfriend.”

“Oh, Zuko…” you murmur softly, eyes full of tears as you throw yourself into his arms and hug him as tight as humanly possible. You’re still shocked by the fact that the boy you love will all your heart feels the same, but you try to remind yourself not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Zuko is right when he says that you deserve to enjoy what life has to offer just as much as he does, so maybe it’s time you finally start allowing yourself the chance to finally let your guard down. You can be more than just a servant girl from the palace.

You can be happy.

~~~

You sit quietly before the vanity mirror as your mother tediously brushes through your hair to ensure not a single strand is out of place. The wrinkles in her skin crease with her nerves as she carefully begins to pin your hair back into the perfect top knot. Immediately after your return home from Ember Island, you were informed that the Fire Lord wished to speak with you. You were expected to drop your chores for the day and make yourself decent before presenting yourself to him. His request to see you surprised you considering the fact you previously believed he didn’t even know of your existence, but it made you nervous all the same. If anything were to go wrong during your meeting, you’d be jeopardizing both yours and your mother’s jobs.

“Make sure to sit up straight and no slouching,” she reminds you quietly while stopping to admire her work. “Hold your tongue until he allows you to speak and thank him for all he has done for us. It is a great honor to speak to Fire Lord Ozai, so you must treat it as such.”

“Mother, what could the Fire Lord possibly want to talk to me about?”

She doesn’t meet your eyes at first, looking away as if contemplating carefully what her next words should be. With a sigh, she sets the brush down and looks at you through the reflection. “Word has spread quickly about you and Prince Zuko, and I think he knows.”

You swallow nervously at her admission, absently brushing your fingers against the sun that hangs around your neck. You never once considered what Zuko’s father would think about his son’s choice of a partner; Ursa had always treated you as one of her own, and Azula considered you to be a good friend, but what would Ozai say of the peasant girl who had stolen his son’s heart?

You don’t have much time to mull over it further as a guard arrives to escort you from your quarters to the throne room. All eyes seem to follow you as you walk through the palace, the gold and red hues overwhelming your senses as you do your best to remain calm. You have no idea what awaits you at the end of the hallway, but there’s no escape now as the grand doors open and you’re pushed inside.

Ozai sits on the throne with a wall of flames roaring behind him. His features are stoic but his gaze is menacing as his eyes watch your meager form approach. You immediately bow in respect to the man once you reach him and kneel before his seated figure. Just as your mother instructed, you say nothing until you are spoken to.

“So you’re the girl my son has chosen to be his partner?” He drawls with a raised brow, obviously not impressed by the person before him.

“Yes, sir. It is an honor to present myself to you, my Lord,” you profess as earnestly as possible while adding another bow for good measure. You need his approval not only to continue dating Zuko, but also to ensure you and your mother are both able to continue living behind the palace walls. Even if you are there as servants tucked away in the peasant quarters, it certainly is a better place to be than out in the streets.

“I know who you are, child,” Ozai scoffs callously as he peers down at you from his place on the throne. “You are the peasant girl who managed to worm her way into the lives of my children. You are a lowly servant with nothing to your name and nothing special about you, and yet you have managed to corrupt my only son."

“Fire Lord Ozai, I-I apologize if my actions have upset you,” you quickly try to interject, but he holds a hand up and signals you to halt your pathetic rambling. Ozai does not have the time nor care to hear your excuses or explanations. That’s not what this meeting is for.

“Do you know how poorly it would reflect on me to have Zuko galavanting around the palace with a servant? Do you know how poorly it reflects on him to be seen with you? It’s a disgrace, and it is something I will not tolerate.”

“I know,” you utter quietly, trying to make yourself appear as small as you feel on the inside. Despite what Zuko has told you, you know that his father is right. You are nothing compared to him. He is the sun, the Prince, the heir to the throne. His future ahead is bright, and there is much for him to accomplish. You have no future, no plans for your life, nothing as grand or important as him and Azula. You are not the sun or the moon or even the stars that hang in his sky, you are insignificant, and you will never be worthy enough to be his.

“A future Fire Lord cannot have a maid as a wife. You must break his heart so that he no longer wants anything to do with you, so that he can move on and find a girl more worthy of becoming the future Fire Lady. You must make it appear to be your own doing and not mine, otherwise it won’t work. Have I made myself clear, child?”

“Yes, Fire Lord Ozai,” you whisper softly, a single tear sliding down your cheek as you bow to the cruel man before you. “I understand.”

~~~

The clouds that hang overhead are gray as Zuko makes his way towards the servants’ quarters. It is unheard of for any royal to ever set foot on these grounds, and so all eyes watch the Prince curiously as he approaches your humble home and knocks gently on the door. Movement sounds from the other side, and after a moment he is met with the startled face of your mother. It’s clear that she hadn’t been expecting him, and he takes her by surprise when he bows to the woman in respect.

“I apologize for coming unannounced, but I was hoping I could speak to y/n,” he utters with a look of defeat on his face. His sullen features make his lack of sleep obvious, and his eyes are full of desperation. You’ve been avoiding him for weeks and he has no clue as to why, but he hopes to figure it out soon before he starts to spiral any further.

“She’s…” your mother begins to say, glancing unsurely behind her before looking back to him, “she’s not feeling well. You can come back another time.”

“But-“

“Please, Prince Zuko, we can’t risk you catching whatever it is she’s come down with. You must go.”

She gives him no time to argue before slamming the door in his face. Zuko is stunned, but his shock quickly turns to anger as he lets out a frustrated breath of flames from his mouth before stalking off to cool himself down.

His footsteps fade into the distance as he departs, and you can only sit by the window of your room and watch him walk away. There’s a tightness in your chest that makes you feel as if you can’t breathe, and once he finally disappears over the horizon you break down into an inconsolable mess.

You love Zuko with all of your heart, so it kills you to act as if he means nothing to you. You’re trying to do what Ozai has demanded of you, but it’s agonizing and difficult. You’re too much of a coward to face him and break it off for good, so you’ve resorted to avidly avoiding the Prince at all costs. You hope that by pushing him away he’ll take it upon himself to end the relationship; it would be much less painful that way, but he’s too stubborn for his own good, and he’s persisted despite your best efforts.

The days seem to blend together as you lock yourself in your room while your mother continues to turn Zuko away. You haven’t done any of your chores or worked in days, but Ozai has not faulted you for your incompletion of tasks. Breaking Zuko’s heart is your task, and so long as you keep your word he couldn’t care less what you did with yourself.

After another week has passed, suffocation finally catches up to you and you’re forced to leave your room in order to get some fresh air. You sneak out at nightfall when the palace is quiet and your mother is sleeping so that no one can detect your presence. You retreat to the well out in the back and stare contemplatively into the water below. Clutching the sun that hangs from the gold chain around your neck, you admire the moon’s reflection in the ripples and wish you could be anywhere else but here in the Fire Nation.

“I thought I’d find you here,” a voice utters quietly, causing you to jump in alarm at the intrusion. You turn to meet the solemn gaze of the Prince, and as your back hits the cool stones of the well you find that you are cornered. You can’t avoid him now, and it’s a fact both of you are aware of.

“Zuko, I… I was just leaving,” you stammer hurriedly as you try to push your way past him, but he catches you by the arm before you can get away.

“No, not until you talk to me!” He demands, his eyes full of desperation and despair. “You’re supposed to be my girlfriend, yet you keep avoiding me. Why? Was it something I did?”

“No, Zuko, you didn’t do anything,” you insist despite refusing to meet his gaze. You’re terrified that someone will see you both together and alert Ozai, and you wish he would just release you so you could go back to hiding away in your room.

“Then why won’t you even look at me?”

Slowly, you peek your head up to meet his exasperated face. It seems he’s not going to give up without a fight, so you’re going to have to resort to doing what you’ve been trying to avoid this entire time.

“I don’t love you.”

“W-What?” Zuko stammers in quiet surprise, his hold on your arm loosening slightly. He doesn’t believe what he’s hearing from you, and his mind is scrambling to process your words.

“I don’t love you. I want nothing to do with you,” you repeat firmly, your eyes hardening as you stare up at him and yank yourself free from his grasp.

“Y/n, you don’t mean that-“

“I do mean it! I feel nothing for you, Zuko. I never have. I just felt like I couldn’t say no to you because you’re the Prince, so I had no choice but to say yes to being your girlfriend.”

Hurt flashes across his features and you’re dying inside at having to be so cruel to him. The heart of your childhood best friend is in your hands and you crush it with every word despite how much it pains you. But it’s better for both of you this way, it must be. Ozai will never let you be happy together, but apart he still has a chance to capture the promised future ahead of him. You’re doing him a favor, and you hope one day he’ll be able to see it that way too.

“I don’t understand,” he murmurs weakly, tears beginning to well in his eyes. Then, with frustration clear in his tone, “This doesn’t make any sense!”

“Did you honestly think we could actually be together?” You retort in disbelief. “Azula always said you were a fool, but I didn’t think you were this naive. A servant and a Prince don’t belong together, and you’re the only one who can’t seem to get that!”

“Alright, fine,” Zuko mutters indignantly. His sadness has quickly morphed into anger, and you hate the way it makes you feel. “Can I just ask you one thing?”

You say nothing in response, and he takes your silence as a sign to continue.

“If you don’t love me, then why are you still wearing the necklace?”

Your eyes widen slightly as your hand immediately flies to your neck to clutch the pendant, and your heart slowly begins to sink to your stomach as you realize you’ve been caught in your lie. It’s your turn now to be at a loss for words, unsure what to say as you simply stare up at him with your mouth slight agape.

“You don’t mean what you’re saying,” Zuko says firmly as he moves closer to you. “Someone else is speaking for you, aren’t they?”

“I…”

“What’s going on, y/n?” He presses gently, carefully resting a hand upon your cheek. “Why are you acting this way?”

“I can’t tell you,” you argue weakly, your own eyes becoming full of tears as you allow yourself to melt into his touch. You’ve missed the feeling of his warmth and the comfort of his closeness, and despite your mind screaming at you to remove yourself from him your heart keeps you planted in place.

“That’s nonsense, of course you can. You’ve always been able to tell me anything, so why can’t you now?”

“Can’t you just believe me when I tell you it’s for your own good?” You plead emphatically despite the wavering of your voice.

“How can this possibly be for my own good?!” He retorts in exasperation. “I’ve been miserable without you. Life feels empty when you aren’t around, and I don’t know how to deal with the fact that the girl I’ve loved all my life can’t seem to stand me.”

“It’s not like that!” You cry defensively as the tears finally begin to fall.

“Then what is it?!” Zuko demands, and you can’t seem to take any more of this torture. The lies are killing you, and you can’t help but to finally crack under pressure.

“I’m not good enough for you!” You finally exclaim as you pull yourself away from his touch. You try to choke back your sobs but the ache in your chest makes the task difficult, and you can do nothing but let your words flow freely after keeping them bottled in for weeks. “I-I have nothing to offer you, nothing that makes me special, nothing ahead of me like you do. It’s an embarrassment to the Fire Lord for you to be with me, and it will be an embarrassment for you to have me as your Fire Lady.”

Stunned by your admission, it takes Zuko a moment to process your words. He steps towards you and you flinch, effectively breaking his heart in the process. It’s clear you’re frightened, but not of him. Your fear is geared toward someone else, and the culprit must be responsible for you now feeling this way.

“Who told you such nonsense?”

“Your father,” you admit quietly much to Zuko’s dismay. His eyes immediately harden and his chest is immediately tight with anger, but he does his best to keep his emotions at bay so as to not upset you further. “He spoke to me when we returned from Ember Island and told me we couldn’t be together. Ozai demanded I break your heart so that you can move on and find another girl more suited for this life than I could ever be. I didn’t want to, I still don’t want to, but I’m doing this so that you can have a better future. I’ll only hold you back, Zuko.”

After taking a moment to digest your words, Zuko carefully steps towards you again. You don’t reject his advances this time, so he allows himself the opportunity to carefully wipe away the steady tears that fall down your cool cheeks. Despite how much of a mess you assume you must look like, the Prince still sees you as the most beautiful girl he’s ever laid eyes on.

“I don’t care what my father says,” he assures you gently as he takes your hands in his own. “You’re not an embarrassment, and there’s no other girl that could ever compare to you. I love you, y/n, and I’m not going to let anyone ever get in the way of that.”

“You mean that?” You ask with a quiet sniffle, holding his hands tight as if he’ll leave if you let go.

“Every word. Let my father and anyone else who disapproves of our relationship say what they want to say. I want to be with you, and I hope you still want to be with me too.”

His looks to you with pleading eyes that seek your reassurance, and for a moment you hesitate. Being with Zuko is all you’ve ever wanted, and now he stands here before you professing his loyalty and his love to you. The boy from your childhood had stolen your heart, and you’d be lying if you said you wanted it back.

You know being with him won’t be easy, especially not with his father’s adamant disapproval of your relationship, but you trust Zuko, and so you have to trust that everything will turn out okay. You meet his desperate gaze and gift him a faint smile, and despite knowing you’ll regret this, you wordlessly lean in to meet his lips in a kiss.

You can worry about Ozai’s wrath later. But for now, you allow yourself to melt into his embrace by the moonlit well as you share your first kiss in weeks. It feels right being in his arms once more after spending so much time apart, and you hope you’ll never have to be without his touch ever again.

| zuko tags: @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @taeeemin @livelaughlovekuni @lovialy @alexatiu

[daydreaming-in-letters]

I don’t have a picture specifically but it is my birthday today! Can you write something with Andrew surprising you when you thought he’d be on tour somewhere else and wouldn’t be able to make it for your birthday? Can start out fluffy but then turn into smut please :)

Well, let me present you with a picture then... (He is on his way.)

Happy Belated Birthday, love. (It seems we share that special day. 😉) I hope you don't mind I kept it fluffy this time. I'm having a mild fever and I couldn't handle more heat than I am already battling with.

warnings: language; a little heartache

 Only fifteen minutes left. Thank god, you thought. You could not wait for this day to be over.

It was your birthday today. And you loved your birthday. But birthdays without Andrew sucked. It did not even feel like a real birthday, much less like a day you wanted to celebrate. And so you had not. 

You had told your friends and family that you would be busy at work all day and that after that, you definitely would not be in the mood for company. And astonishingly, they had all accepted your excuse and taken to calling or texting you instead of coming round to congratulate you in person. 

All the better, you thought, as you prepared to go to bed. Disposing of your empty glass in the sink, you walked over to the open window. The world outside lay in complete silence, slowed by the darkness of night that had settled a while ago. It was time to let go of the day and rest. 

But how could you let go? How could you find peace when a part of you was missing, leaving a void in your chest that seemed to grow bigger with every passing second, like a black hole that swallowed all the goodness you should have felt on a day like this?

You sighed. This was unfair. You knew it was. It was unfair to you as much as it was unfair to him. If there would even be the slightest chance, the tiniest possibility, he would be here with you right now, no doubt. And still you felt like crying.

He had called you, first thing in the morning and you had talked for a long while. He had reserved some extra time for you, more than he usually could, and still you missed him. So much. More than you had ever thought it possible to miss someone. In some moments, the worst of them, when you just could not hold up your walls anymore, it hurt. It hurt to a point that you needed to lie down and roll up into a bundle of misery, and all you could do was just stay like that until the pain had faded. 

Afterwards you always felt a little stupid for being so whiny. He would be back with you soon enough, no time to act like a clingy puppy. But most importantly, he could never know. It would break his heart. And one broken heart was bad enough already. 

You jolted as your ears picked up the harsh buzzing of your phone on the living room table. Probably another message of birthday wishes, you assumed, as you walked over to pick it up. But as soon as you read the name on the screen your heart jumped a little. It was his goodnight text. He sent you one every night. 

Told the moon to hold all my love. So don’t be surprised if it shines a little brighter tonight. Just for you.

Well, someone had clearly been listening to an awful lot of Mitski lately, you thought, and chuckled to yourself. But only one glance outside was enough to make your heart drop, opening the vaults, and letting your eyes spill over. The moon was nowhere to be seen. 

If only he were—

But you did not get to end that thought as the clock made you jump again, telling you it was midnight. Your birthday finally over. 

The wave of relief that washed over you made you sigh through the tears. Time to go to bed at last. With two harsh strokes of the back of your hand, the visible remains of your heartache were gone and you were just about to switch off the lights, when an unexpected noise startled you for the third time tonight. 

Had that been a knock on your door? At this time? It could not be. You had probably misheard. Still you chose to stay for a moment and wait, and it did not take long before it came again. Loud and clear this time. 

This was impossible. Insufferable. Had you not been absolutely clear about not wanting any company today? Well, obviously not. But you would correct that mistake right away.

“I told you I didn’t want to see anyone. Go away!”

But instead of some well-earned silence, there was another knock. 

“For fuck’s sake, can’t you just leave me alone?”

Obviously they could not. Just as they most likely could not read the atmosphere to understand when it was time to leave. And when they even showed the audacity to knock yet again, you felt like you had no other choice. With a huff of pure rage you stomped over to the door, let your hand smash down on the knob and yanked it open. May god have mercy on the poor soul that was waiting outside.

There had been so many words on your mind, all the curses and swearwords your vocabulary had to offer, but as soon as your eyes landed upon the intruder that stood in your doorway, you could not remember even the simplest one of them all. 

“I just wanted to make sure the moon is shining perfectly for you."

This was not real. It could not be. You had probably fallen asleep and your desperate mind had chosen to give you exactly what you needed, what you had been craving ever since he had left through that exact same door, looking back at you from a pair of watery green eyes. But it seemed you were not granted this little treat for long as tears began to blur your vision once again. 

“The moon is not even shining tonight,” you managed to pipe up, your voice breaking halfway through your statement, making it sound awfully shrill.

“So, it’s a good thing I came then. Because how else would you have know how much I love you?”

A loud, clattering noise echoed through the night as his bag fell to the ground. It had taken him less than a heartbeat to decide whether to hold on to it or hold you instead, and as his arms closed around you now, the familiar warmth of his body pressed against yours, back where he belonged, for the first time in months your heart seemed to remember its natural rhythm again. 

“Sorry I’m late, baby.”

You hugged him a little tighter, basking in the way his breath slowly crept along your neck as he spoke, the way even one word from his mouth was enough to silence the white noise in your brain and let you breathe again.

“It would be so out of character if you weren’t.”

You chuckled, and so did he. 

“Happy Birthday, my love.”

[amaranthineghost]

DOUBT SEEPS INTO ME AND I CAN’T GET IT TO STOP (BUT YOU CAN) ( charles leclerc. )

charles leclerc x reader

uncertainty plagues her mind, and self-sabotage looms over her shoulder, as if its whispering in her ear to tell her it’s a bad idea. he still manages to be the voice on top of all her doubts at the end of the day.

authors note: literally wrote this because this is how i felt while i waited for the days to pass so i could ask the guy i like for his number. mf got me feeling in love and shit, listening to mitski and lana del rey, writing fucking poems. liking a guy is the best and worst thing ever. gonna work on other things soon tho!

THE THOUGHT OF LOVE twisted her stomach into knots. even the mere thought of simply asking a guy for his number made her body churn with anxiety and the looming feeling of rejection held over her head.

relationships never lasted for her because she wouldn’t let them, the idea of getting too attached and the possibility of it shattering her heart was too great to risk it. she would watch from afar, stalk his socials, but never had the guts to approach him, or even look his way.

all throughout high school, she dreamed of a relationship that others around her had, but she lacked everything they didn’t. social skills were never her things, and confidence was something she always lacked. she just wanted to be a teenage girl in love, and she wouldn’t get that. she wasn’t sure she ever would.

she felt as though she was unloveable. even though it was so easy for her to give love, it was far harder to accept it. if anything, it was impossible for her to even imagine doing so. her trust was a thin thread that always seemed to snap. no matter how many times she tried to re-tie it, it always came back undone.

it wasn’t like she never liked any guys, boy she did, but the chase factor was a part of every single one. she never had guys come to her, and she would never go to a guy. still, she chased and chased, yet she never caught up. she worried she never would.

she worried she would never experience the thrill of being in a relationship, all because that thrill was shrouded with anxiety, uncertainty and distrust, though the distrust mostly lied within herself. deeply rooted in her brain was the idea that she wasn’t capable of ever accepting she could be loved, that someone would ever be so patient, understanding, and wanting.

she wanted it so bad, yet she felt like this. it felt stupid, she felt stupid. she felt like a walking contradiction because she couldn’t make up her mind. her heart wanted one thing, and her mind shut it out. a defense mechanism that she felt could never disable, that tinkering with it would only worsen the intensity. deep breaths only temporarily stopped the nausea that plagued her stomach, but only giving the man, the one she so desperately craved to be with, up would change how she felt.

she was a hopeless romantic at heart, but at mind, she was never going to let love in. as much as she held out her accepting arms, vines adorned with thorns grew through her veins, lacing her fingertips with sharp edges to cut back anyone who would try to get close.

the week leading up to finally getting his number went by so painfully slow; she had built herself up too high in those days. she worried she would come crumbling down before she even managed the chance of getting close. from afar she watched, glances exchanged and she gushed to her friends, but she could never be so sure that they were meant for her. after all, she was just an employee for ferrari, he was an athlete in the sport.

her friends were unsure if the brunette was the right fit for the girl, if he was even attainable at all. he was known for being a red flag among fans, he literally drives for a team based around the color red. she didn’t care, she was convinced he was right for her, but still she was scared she wasn’t his type. she knew he wasn’t taken, his entire private life, which was never even private to begin with, was broadcasted across the internet. if he had found someone new, she would know, and for now he hadn’t.

oh, she desperately wanted to be a wag. who wouldn’t? her job made it complicated though, she worked under the team, she didn’t have authority anywhere, she was a nobody. she never knew how she managed to catch his striking gaze to begin with.

she thought she would’ve looked like an idiot, an awkward, nervous girl in front of the charles leclerc, prince of ferrari. she felt like one, maybe she was, but the way he looked down at the shorter girl gave her the courage she needed to mutter the words she had thought about saying everyday for the past week.

“uh—could i get your number?” she barely managed out, she was nervous, it was evident in her tone and the way her voice was up an octave. his brunette hair and green eyes were enchanting, she had fantasized about him for that week. she even went as far as making a playlist to listen to to occupy her time, laying around when she wasn’t at her job. she had never been this lovesick for a guy in her entire life until she first laid eyes on him.

the sick feeling in her stomach became all too familiar, she hated it at first, but now she began to feel comfort in the sickness, and began to miss it over the weekend. the mopey love feeling of hopelessness while listening to lana del rey, or mitski. the fantasization of how the scenario would play out in her favor etched itself into her brain.

the moment of silence was harsh, she could feel the rejection coming. she braced herself for it, holding her breath.

he looked down at her with those damn eyes, a certain gleam in the light reflection over his pupils, part of her knew his response before he did. a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he pursed his lips to hide the smile forcing its way on his face.

he couldn’t deny the pretty girl in front of him, he could tell she dolled herself up for this, for him. he wouldn’t let her efforts go to waste, but that wasn’t the sole reason he didn’t reject her. her confidence sparked something inside of him.

he had plenty of girls who threw themselves at him, buying him drinks, or whatever they could to get their hands on him and themselves in his bed. she was different, a breath of fresh air in the fog. her awkward nervousness was endearing. he hadn’t meant to leave her hanging so long, but he admired her.

his smile brightened, looking down at the phone she clutched so tightly, her skin began turning white. “of course, darling.”

she certainly hadn’t expected to hear the words and yet she did. she was so unprepared, scrambling through her phone. should she write it in her notes app? should she go ahead and shoot him a text? what should she send? should she send a ‘hi’ text? should she send him an imessage game? the music she had listened to throughout the week hadn’t prepared her for this.

his brow raised at her, his arms crossed in front of him as he watched her panic slightly. he was so patient, waiting for her cue that she was ready to take his number and save it in her phone. he recited the string of numbers to her and she smiled internally. she was so giddy inside, yet she couldn’t show it. she couldn’t show how much this excited her, but she would talk her friend’s ear off at her actions because for once she had done something to take a step forward towards a relationship she wanted.

“thank you!” she squeaked out, mentally facepalming—she sounded a little too grateful for something as simple as his phone number. she couldn’t wait to run far away and into the corner of her work office, hiding behind her job position.

he smiled as she scurried off, looking at his phone as it lit up at the movement. he knew to expect the text from the girl later, not now though, because he could feel the nervousness radiating from her body.

later that night, he had received the very text he had been waiting to see. an unsaved number with a blank contact photo he knew was her without reading the contents of the message. his stomach fluttered at the words in the texts, and the following imessage game, 8 ball. it was oh, so endearing to him.

the text contained a simple ‘hiii’ and a simple reminder that she was the girl who asked for his number—as if he had been handing his number out to other people. he texted back, it was simple enough because he didn’t want to scare her off, but he also didn’t want her to overwhelm with worry that he just wasn’t interested in her. he was.

simple texts throughout the day, telling each other what they’re doing, company lunches whenever they had time. flying her out to watch his races, inviting her to his driver's room to watch the race from there because the possibility of their relationship becoming a reality was just a secret for now. the entire process he was just so understanding, it baffled her. he was gentle, like a dog laying their head in your lap, so blissful and light. days he would lay across a couch with his head in her lap as he let her mess with the strands of his dark, brunette hair. she commented on different, potential haircuts his mother could give him and he chuckled at the ridiculous ones she suggested.

something so simple showed her the trust he gave her, the trust he was slowly earning.

slowly, they hung out more. instead of spending his time in clubs after podiums, he spent time with her in his drivers room, or a restaurant about to close—he would leave a hefty tip for the inconvenience.

eventually, she would appear in his garage, watching with a headset on her ears, simply posing as a ferrari employee holding more importance than she really did—except to charles, she held all the importance in the world.

she never knew how he didn’t get pricked by the thorns adorning her body, how not a scratch tainted his even skin, not a drop of blood.

maybe it was because he knew that behind the thorns that laced her body, waiting was a rose. a reward so sacred and so fragile. to be shielded from the world in his very arms was her trust, her love, her mind, her thoughts, her everything.

in his arms, she felt everything she longed for; security, openness, trust, loyalty. he showed her what her heart was worth.

—

taglist (found here): @decafmickey @slut4lrh @kaa12 @taylorslovesswifties13 @sbella13 @nhlfs @beskardroids @hiireadstuff @lorenica @delululeclerc @c-losur3 @casperlikej @thearchieves @soamericn

proofread by @foreveralbon <333

[mikeysonly]

Losing Dogs - Manjiro (Mikey) Sano

♡ tw: angst, blood, no happy ending for y/n and mikey here sorry.

♡ yes, this is loosely based on the song by Mitski. I was listening to it while writing this. u know it’s getting bad when even my fictional stories have shitty endings. enjoy I guess.

♡♥︎♡♥︎♡

Mikey stood alone, his silhouette illuminated by the neon of a nearby sign. The roar of Kanto Manji’s latest battle was distant now, nothing but a faint echo. The blood on his hands glistened, and he remembered every punch thrown.

She was still there, waiting.

Mikey turned, his gaze landing on her. Y/N leaned against the wall, her arms crossed tightly, her face streaked with dirt and exhaustion. He never dared to ask why she stayed. It was a question he was too afraid to hear the answer to.

“You’re still here,” he muttered.

She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I always bet on losing dogs, don’t I, Mikey?”

He stared at her, trying to decipher the meaning behind her words, but really, he already knew.

“I don’t need saving.”

“I know,” she replied softly.

Mikey Sano, the invincible leader, was nothing but an empty shell of a man. He had lost Draken, Emma, and so many others, and yet here she was, despite knowing he’d only hurt her in the end.

“You should walk away,” he said after a long silence. “I’m not someone you should bet on.”

She pushed off the wall and stepped closer to him. “Maybe I like gambling.”

Mikey’s fists clenched at his sides. He wanted to tell her to stop, to leave before he dragged her down like he had with everyone else, but he couldn’t. He wanted her there. He needed her there.

“I’ll hurt you.”

“I know.”

He wanted to scream in her face, push her away, hit her, do something to make her hate him, but instead, he reached out, his hand trembling as it hovered near her cheek.

“I can’t love you,” he whispered, the words insincere.

“That’s okay. I can love you enough for the two of us,” she replied, her voice steady.

For a moment, Mikey let himself believe it was possible. He let himself think that maybe he wasn’t doomed to destroy every single little thing he touched. But as the moonlight caught the scars on his hands, he pulled back.

“I’ll only let you down,” he said, turning away. “You deserve better than me.”

Y/N didn’t try to stop him. She knew Mikey well enough to understand that chasing him would only make him run further.

“You’re not a losing dog, Mikey. You’re just afraid to win.”

She didn’t realize it then, but as he walked away, he mouthed the words back to himself, hanging on to everything she said.

[sh1-n0bu]

Omg hello fellow lumine main!

I don't know if you watched the recent Xiao teaser but i got inspired by it so if it's okay with you can you write an angsty scenario about this:

After fighting with the "evil" Xiao, Xiao feels extremely tired and after walking for a while he bumps into you in a deserted field he then confuses/ hallucinates as if you are his evil self so he starts choking you(?) tries to attack you(?) And no matter what you say your words doesn't reach his ears and he snaps out of it only when Zhongli calls his name when he happened to be passing by

Hope this is not too specific! Feel free to change any part that you don't like and it could end with whatever genre you want whether it's angst or angst with fluff!! Thank you and please ignore this if you don't feel like writing it<33

✿ 𝙠𝙖𝙧𝙢𝙖 ✿

characters: xiao x nb!reader

warnings: angst, slight spoilers to xiao’s backstory, hurt/no comfort, fighting, descriptions of blood and canon violence, confession, big ouchies, major character death

notes: just wanna add that the reader doesn’t have a vision! since you didn’t specify the reader’s gender, i went with the “you” pronouns thing. also hiii❗️fellow lumine main❗️(ps: i wanted it to be different but my mitski’s playlist hurt me)

karmic debt is something that all yakshas bear in their lifetime until their timely demise. it is a collection of their evil deeds, of slaying demons, of taking the life of a corrupted being. of tainting one’s hand with blood whether that blood was already tainted or not.

out of five yakshas that guarded liyue and kept the land of any evil, three had died. minds corrupted by their own karmic debts, hearts shattered by the ones they once used to call a family, bodies torn apart, leaving behind only ashes with nothing to bury and reminisce about in the future. while one had disappeared without a trace.

out of five, only one remains.

and that one would sooner or later fall into his own karmic debt as well. it was only a matter of time. however, there was a small glimmer of hope in the yaksha’s tainted heart. a small glimmer in the shape of you.

sweet, loving you in all your glory who first met the legend of a being when he protected you from a mitachurl. kind, gentle you who thanked him later at the wangshu inn with a plate of hand-made almond tofu with a small offering at the side. thoughtful you who kept appearing every once in a while at the balcony, talking out loud to him about your day, your latest travels and business trades, knowing full well he was listening.

passionate you who gleefully accepted him with open arms when he first decided to sit beside you to hear about your day. understanding you who kept your distance when he warned you of his karmic debt, respectful of his wishes.

and the idiotic clumsy you who would sometimes trip over on the way up the stairs. who would smile at him with the same smile, calling out his name with a scratched hand or forehead. who would brush it off as something small and mediocre.

but the yaksha hated that you would always say your injuries are mediocre and “nothing to worry about”.

of course he would worry. you were one of the few people in his life that he held dear in his heart. one of the few who accepted him, karmic debt, dirty hands, tainted heart and all. the only one… he ended up falling in love with.

“if one day, this karmic debt that binds my soul becomes too much and i no longer can tell the difference between friend or a foe, call upon mister zhongli or the traveler. they’ll get rid of me before i can harm anyone” was something that the lonely yaksha would remind you often.

“it’s fine. that won’t ever happen” you would console him, hands weaving a flower crown together from the qingxin flowers he picked up for you.

“because i’ll be there to knock some sense into you” was your sweet promise as you would place the flower crown atop his head with a smile.

he always found it meaningless that you would weave the flowers into something as useless as a flower crown. but he couldn’t bring himself to ever take it off or throw it away, even after the flowers have dried up and he would pick up the fallen petals, storing them in a glass. he loved how even in death, without nourishments, the petals would continue to keep their beauty.

perhaps that’s why he always brought you flower bouquets back. ones made from random flowers. sweet flowers, glaze lilies, qingxin, silk flowers — he always brings back a flower for you whenever you visit. and on certain days when he feels an odd emotion gripping his heart, unable to tear his gaze away from you as you look at the setting sun, his gloved hand would slowly reach out, tucking one of the flowers behind your ear.

“pretty…” the lonely immortal would whisper without notice. only when you glance at him with a smile, would the yaksha realize what he had done, turn beet red and teleport away. too shy to confront his feelings, too conflicted to stay beside you, too afraid of your mortality.

there are so many times when xiao fears for your mortality.

the times when he feels his karma gripping his heart. hand clutching his jade spear tight to the point he fears he would break the weapon. blurry figures in his sight, muffled voices in his ears, an annoying high pitched ringing in his head.

it was just supposed to be another night. another night of keeping liyue safe. another night of banishing demons and abyss mages, mitachurls, what nots.

and yet it drained him so greatly. when was the last time he had ever felt this exhausted? down right almost collapsing right then and there in the fields of liyue? muscles straining, dragging his feet, vision blurry — the yaksha was exhausted.

amidst the chaos of the voices screeching in his head, demanding more blood, more death and sacrifices, xiao finds himself staring back at a familiar mask. his own mask. himself. or what kind of a twisted joke of himself it was.

their speed was evenly matched. spear swings and thrusts sharp, aimed at his weakest parts, the same feeling of adrenaline pumping as he fights against his own self. with some sort of blind luck or fate, the yaksha manages to make his other self kneel. a single plummet of his jade spear to the heart was all it took for the illusion to disappear.

this was a tiring night. xiao just wanted to go back to wangshu inn and collapse in your arms. you always had a soothing presence that quelled the karma in him.

“xiao?” a voice sounds from behind him. turning back to look at the person who spoke the immortal’s name, he finds himself growing enraged. another look alike of himself.

this was getting tiring.

and yet when the yaksha slipped on his mask and attacked, something was weird. this illusion was slower, weaker, never attacking back and he would almost daresay, felt wrong to fight against.

it didn’t took long for the seasoned fighter to leave a nasty cut on the illusion’s side, almost plunging his spear through their ribcage. he’d just have to try a bit harder then.

xiao wanted nothing more than to go back to you. to feel your arms around him. to feel your hands run through his hair, rambling on about your day or just simply choosing to stay quiet. either way, the lonely immortal loved it. he wanted to go back to you. to your loving embrace. sweet smiles. little nods when he whispered about somethings he wanted.

xiao just wanted to be with you.

just your presence alone was enough for him. he would savor the warmth your skin excludes as he sits beside you on the balcony. cherish every little moment you would spend with him. treasure the small gifts and the almond tofu you would make for him.

and yet why was it that such a familiar hand was touching his own gloved one when he finally drove his jade spear through the illusion’s chest.

it was only then the illuminated bird noticed.

there was no second ‘illusion’. there was no need to fight against the voice that called out to him. for it was you. for it was the one person he cherished the most. for it was his beloved that was now bleeding out, blood tainting the tips of his spear, warm hand covering his own gloved one. warmth that was so quickly fading away.

his beloved… that he killed.

taking his spear out, xiao moved quickly to catch your falling body. the warmth that your hug gives him, the comfort he feels now being replaced by the warmth of your blood.

“no. no no no no, h-hang on. i’ll get you to liyue harbor” what was he saying? it was no use. he had already pierced your heart straight through, there was no hope for you. but xiao wanted there to be one. xiao wanted you to stay alive so he can confess to you. xiao wanted you to live, wanted to taste your hand made almond tofu again, wanted to put flowers in your hair.

xiao wanted to spend his tomorrows with you.

“don’t. we both know i won’t make it” your voice calls out. weak, hoarse, tired. you were bleeding. eyes dull, losing life, losing it’s shine. you were dying and it was all his fault.

“please… please don’t go” the yaksha didn’t knew he was crying until his tears landed on your face. even when bleeding out, even when dying, you still smiled. and by the archons, you were still beautiful even as you lay dying in his arms.

“please don’t go. i love you too much to let you go…” the yaksha sniffled, sobs coming out as he holds you in his arms.

it was just like how you two would lay on the rooftops of wangshu inn. watching the stars, the cloud move by, pointing out the shapes as you two enjoy each other’s presence.

except the warmth that came from your body was now the warmth of your blood gushing out, staining his clothes. the smile you used to give him now dead, stoic, almost like a puppet’s forced smile. the bright shine of life that was once in your perfect [color], dull like a matted blood.

“i wanted to spend my tomorrows with you…”

[glitter-stained]

I'm always thinking about Jason because fixation so my judgement is biaised because every song I listen to makes me think about at least one of my Jasons, but here are some songs though were definitely written for and about canon Jason Todd, and I will take no criticism (but you are definitely welcome to add your own songs):

-Take me To War, by The Crane Wives

>"But I keep snapping at Goliath hands with all of my tiny might"/ "All of the fire I swallowed, all of the sparks that went down in my guts, I am always burning out"/ "I'll be the sweetest thing to ever scare you"

The Robin -> Red Hood transition is so seamless

-Little Soldiers by the Crane Wives

> "On the broken back of all the words we spared, Like little soldiers in the trenches; It was a march we made towards ruin and despair, But we held hands all the while"

I always rant about how how Jason's character and story is centered around love, this is the song that plays in my head while I'm yapping

-Blue Lips by Regina Spektor

> "He took a step but then felt tired, He said I'll rest a little while; but when he tried to walk again, he wasn't a child"

If you ever wanna be sad about Jason's resurrection, catatonia and stolen childhood, this is the song to listen to

-The Horrors and The Wild by The Amazing Devil

"Think of all the horrors that I promised I'd bring, I promise they'll sing of every Time you passed your fingers through my hair and called me child, Witness me old man I am the Wild"

> If Under The Red Hood has one song it's this one

-The Old Witch Sleep and The Good Man Grace by The Amazing Devil

"There's a fire burning/And I'm learning to be/So much more than my tiredness/ So much more than that old witch sleep wishes/ She kisses my eyelids, and I/Breathe"

> If Red Hood: Lost Days (minus the gross bits) has one song it's this one

-Elsa's song by The Amazing Devil

>"And you'll throw some sage and lillies/ And roses where I'll rot/ Of all the flowers you picked/I knew you would forget/ Forget-me-nots"

idk who Elsa is this is about how Jason was grieved but he wasn't remembered

(Yeah I'm pretty convinced that at least either Madeline Hyland or Joey Batey read Under the Red Hood so many of their songs fit so well I restrained myself to three but there are so many)

-A Burning Hill by Mitski

>"I'm tired of wanting more, I think I'm finally worn/ For you have a way of promising things/ And I've been a forest fire"

Jason admitting loss and giving up on begging Bruce is something that can be so personal actually

-Heaven Knows by The Pretty Reckless

>"Now you're on your knees with your head hung low/ Big Man tell you where to go/ Tell them it's good, tell them okay/Don't do a goddamn thing they say"

Crime Alley united!!! Also, "tell the big guy I said hello" :))) (the God/Batman amalgam in Death in the Family is such an incredible one-liner and works so well for Jason omg)

-For the Departed by Shayfer James

>"Now I must finished what I started/I'll write a symphony for the departed/And I have no time for second chances/ So I survive on bourbon blood and backward glances"

The amount of angst, dramatics and intense devotion to his cause at the cost of his life, the literature references, everything about this song? Jason at his angstiest for sure

-Goodbye by Bo Burnham

> "If I wake up in a house that's full of smoke I'll panic/So call me up and tell me a joke/ When I'm fully irrelevant and totally broken dammit/ Call me up and tell me a joke /Oh shit/ You're really joking at a time like this"

exploded warehouse parallel aside, this song feels like not being able to heal because you're not capable of asking for what you really need, wanting to come back but feeling like you aren't allowed to because it would ruin you or the you that was shaped by other's perception of you and most importantly, begging to matter and to have mattered. So. Jason.

[cuntressgoingdigital]

I BET ON LOSING DOGS | johnny slaughter x reader

notes: i was listening to mitski at work and was gifted with the vision that is this short fic. i feel like i never see people explore how pathetic a relationship (that term is used loosely) with johnny would be. wrote this while at work so it might not be the best but i still wanted to post it!

lmk yall's thoughts! :)

cw: 18+ content MDNI, stockholm syndrome, brief sexual content (nothing too nasty), bloodplay (sorta?), praise, hair pulling, canon typical violence (vaguely mentioned), angst!, no happy ending

word count: 1.4k

the blood of another woman was smeared across your collarbone as he placed tender kisses along your skin. these were the only times he was ever gentle with you. he breathed life into you after cutting some unsuspecting girl’s short. 

at first the thought made you ill. the way he sought your affection (validation?) after a kill. it took you witnessing a few screaming matches between him and his other family members for the pieces to fall into place. the only time you had ever heard them sing his praises was when he brought home another body to be shoved unceremoniously into the cold room freezer. johnny had mentioned his past to you only once.

it had happened after a particularly ugly argument with his mother. nancy had made her usual remarks about wanting you dead.

“what do you think you’re gonna do with that girl? run off and marry her? you think she loves you? she doesn’t and she never will! put her out of her misery!” she screamed. “all you need is yer mama. blood runs thicker than water, boy. remember that.”

that was the only time you had watched him retreat with his tail between his legs. he sought out a bottle of whiskey he kept tucked away between the cushions of the peeling leather couch in his shack. the shack you had accidentally began to think of as home. he took two big swigs and leaned back against the cushion.

“ya know …i hate her. i wish she was dead. every day i wake up and hope i would finally be rid of her.” 

whenever he would get like this, you knew it wasn’t an invitation to speak. you were a diary of sorts. one he didn’t need to know how to read or write to maintain. 

“sometimes i wonder what my real mama was like. what she looked like. the sound of her voice. what she smelled like.” he took another big swig.

that night he had snuck you into the guest room in nancy’s house and fucked you so hard you felt sore in the morning. his hand clasped over your mouth so as to not disturb his mother in the room next door. he held you extra tight that night. perhaps afraid that in that moment you’d finally try and run again. not tonight. he wouldn’t be able to take that tonight. after a few hours of sleep he snuck you downstairs and back into his shack like you were two teenagers fooling around.

the next morning it felt like everyone stared at you a few moments longer than usual, inspecting the bruised bite marks along your neck and hickeys that decorated your chest. 

when sissy called you out to the garden to help pick flowers for her powders you immediately perked up. she was the only one who spoke to you outside of ordering you around. it seemed like she needed a friend as well. 

“can i ask you something? and can you promise you won’t tell johnny i asked?” you whispered, looking over your shoulder ensuring you didn’t have an audience.

“sure, dear. what’s on yer mind?” her honeyed texan accent always made you smile.

“about johnny  …” you explained the conversation you overheard and johnny’s private musings (omitting the part about him wanting nancy dead).

“oh, darlin’ ya didn’t know? johnny ain’t blood. nancy adopted him when he was young.” her voice lowered. “let’s just say it weren’t no formal adoption and leave it at that.” 

you nodded and thanked her for the information. after that the two of you carried on chatting about trivial things. how sissy should cut her hair, what color dress she should buy, and so on. 

you were the only normal thing johnny had (as normal as this arrangement could be). now when he held your chin and forced you to look into his eyes, you saw the poor child snatched from his mama’s arms before he could even remember her face. on one occasion you let a few tears fall before you could push the thought from your mind

“why are you cryin’?” his brow furrowed in bewilderment. 

“i’m sorry. i don’t know.” was all you could choke out. he used his thumb to swipe the tears away. that small, likely empty, gesture was all he could afford you as consolation. soon after, it became obvious that he was uncomfortable with the energy in the room. you watched him throw on a shirt and swipe his pack of cigarettes and lighter off the countertop. he slipped outside, letting the shack door slam shut behind him. some time passed and you followed him outside. judging by the numerous cigarette butts decorating the porch, he had spent that time chain smoking. 

“can i have one?” you meekly request. sharing a cigarette with him was one of the few activities you two bonded over. 

he pulled a fresh cigarette out of the pack and placed the filter between your lips. he leaned down and touched the cherry of his cigarette to the end of yours. you inhaled and let the warm feeling creep into your throat and down into your lungs. 

and now here you were, hours later. one blood covered hand stationed on your right breast, playing with the sensitive bud, and the other stroking your cheek. he always dirtied your body with blood from a fresh kill as an excuse to bring you into the shower with him. he would roughly fuck you from behind into the tile walls that nancy always kept in pristine condition and whisper sweet nothings in your ear.

“good girl”

“you take me so well”

“you look so beautiful like this”

you stopped breathing. he had never called you beautiful before. such a delicate word had never fallen from his lips in reference to you. a rough tug at your hair ripped you away from the thought. he turned you to face him, making sure his cock never left its space between your legs, and kissed you roughly. your back was flush against the cool tile as he positioned your legs around his waist. the kiss was nothing short of hungry and animalistic. he sloppily fucked up into you, only breaking the kiss to take a few breaths every so often. this time when he finished, he came inside you. he loved to smear the white hot liquid against your skin as if he were marking his territory. tonight was different. you had long since learned not to try and guess what he was thinking and you didn’t dare ask any variation of “why?” it always irritated him.

he wrapped you in a towel and led you to the guest room to lay down. nancy be damned.

the moonlight illuminated his dark eyes and shone off his still wet dark hair. you ran your fingers through his hair, an intimate act that always kept him docile. you needed this moment to last as long as possible. 

“yer never leaving me.” he never asked. he always commanded.

“i won’t. i promise.” you reassured him, just like any other time.

no matter how hard you tried, you would never fix him. the damage nancy had done was irreparable. all the love in the world couldn’t excuse his actions. even though you tried to silence the thoughts, your heart was too soft. as sick as it is, you love him. 

but, he would never love you. he couldn’t. he needs you in a way he doesn’t quite understand, but it was nowhere near the love you felt for him. he’s gone the last twenty something years without tapping into that emotion. why would he start with you?

you often imagined a life away from nancy. a life where he was never corrupted by her evil. maybe you two would meet at the counter in a diner. he would ask about your university of texas sweatshirt and you would happily tell him about your studies. he would scrawl down his phone number on a napkin and tell you to call him. you would date until you graduated college and run off to get married. coastal california always sounded nice to you. 

anywhere but newt, texas. anywhere but here. 

maybe in that life he’d say “i love you”. 

until you learn how to rewind time, you’d continue to bet on the losing dog that is johnny slaughter. 

[angxlofvenus]

A Shoulder To Cry On

Requested By: @saturnsapothecary Genre: Hurt/comfort Ship: The brothers x reader TW: Mentions of crying, distressed reader, physical contact, Undisclosed stressful situation, soft characters, angst tbh Word count: 1,107 An: Hi! What you are about to read is probably the most angsty thing I have written thus far. I joke a lot in my other writings but in this one I went with a more somber approach, mostly bc I listened to Mitski while writing this entire thing, Anyway, Heed the TW, and Happy reading ♥️

Pt. 2 can be found here (Dateables+Luke edition!)

It had been a rough week, 'Thankfully it's Friday' You thought, Climbing up The HoL staircase as you felt yourself start to break, By the time you had reached your room- all you could do was walk in, close the door, and start crying, collapsing onto the floor, Not hearing the door reopen and a certain demon pop his head inside...

Lucifer

Immediate concern, What has happened? 

He makes a bee-line toward you, kneeling infront of you.

Will rub soft and slow circles into your back as you start to calm down

Once he knows nothing is currently threatening you in any way, He would lead you to his bedroom (Not like that, get your head out of the gutter)

Will offer you a beverage as you sit on his bed, You don’t have to talk to him but…He is here for you and he needs you to know that.

If you want physical comfort, He will sit on his bed, gather you up into his arms and start to rock the two of you, His body crashed against yours like gentle waves, Pulling you in and then pushing you back out.

If you don’t wish to be touched, He absolutely understands either way. He hopes his soft-spoken words of comfort will help you.

He gets it, He feels nonstop worry and exhaustion from his many duties, He strives to make the Devildom a happy place for you but he knows he can not always insure that, But let him try to fix what has plagued you.

Mammon

When he finds you crying he feels horrendous and angry, Not at you of course! Just-

He’s supposed to be your first man, The guy you can find solace in no matter what! But looking at your tear-stained face he can’t help but feel like he’s failed you in a way 

He will do everything in his power to help you though, He may have not been there to stop this all from happening but that doesn’t mean you have to go through this alone!

Ask and you shall receive, No complaints! Anything you want that will make your grief lessen, He’d do it for you.

He isn’t the best speaker but he’ll start shooting off at the mouth about how much he cares about you and how he hates seeing you like this- Please let him help, In any way he can. 

Levi

Panic, He can barely handle himself- Let alone another person!

With shaky hands he will put a hand on your shoulder before looking at your reaction, 

If you want Physical comfort, he will slot himself beside you, not outwardly touching you, just kind of leaning onto you

If not, His hand retracts rapidly as he instead sits across from you

Either way, He’ll quietly ask if you want to talk about it, After your done talking/You tell him no- He will invite you to his room where you all spend the rest of the night watching your favorite animes/series

He knows he can’t take away all of your pain, But he hopes he can atleast put some nicer things in your mind

Satan

Brows furrowed, He takes quick but cautious steps toward you, almost like he would a cat.

The first thing that comes to his mind is anger, “Are you okay? Who did this?” He will ask you as softly as he could.

When he finds out what has happened, He will feel the surge of anger come back to him, Not at you- never at you, But at the world. He hates how powerless he feels in these moments, knowing there is nothing for him to solve.

So instead he does what he knows how to do, He takes you through breathing exercises and ways to help you calm down, He has spent centuries managing his anger so he has learned a thing or two-

Will talk you through your worries if you wanted before walking off, Only to then bring back your favorite book with him. He reads to you in the same soft voice you have grown to love, He knows he is only one demon but that doesn’t mean he won’t try to take the weight off your shoulders.

Asmo

His first thought is to swarm you, Asking questions, giving hugs, wiping away your tears- the whole nine yards

But he won’t. He knows how to respect boundaries no matter what, So he pushes down the feeling, instead dropping to his knees infront of you and asking what’s wrong.

If you want a hug or a shoulder to cry on he is their the second it comes out of your mouth, You don’t have to pretend with him, not ever- He won’t think badly of you for anything you vent to him about- He is there for you no matter what, Through thick and thin.

Only if your feeling up to it ofcourse, He’ll lead you to his room and bring out his ‘self care box’ The ice mask he lays across your face washes away the remnants of your tears as his hand cards through your hair

Beel

Drops all of his snacks in a flurry to get to you.

Unlike the others, He is looking for injuries- So your personal bubble is feeling a little violated

Once you tell him you are physically fine, His shoulders relax some and he takes a step away from you and says that he’s sorry for running up on you like that.

Gentle giant mode activated, Is gonna talk to you like he does Belphie, Asking what’s wrong and how he can help.

He feels so much responsibility for you, As he does all of his family, And is so crushed that he can’t go back in time and help you

He starts to think about what makes him cheer up and asks if you’d want to go to Madame Screams with him, If yes then he would put in all of his effort to making you forget all of your troubles

If no, He get’s it! Sometimes he doesn’t wanna go out either, He’ll just offer to go and pick up whatever you like from anywhere, No matter what! 

He wishes he could do more but sharing a dessert with you sounds like a good start.

Belphie

Blinks twice, Trying to see if he was seeing things right

Will make his way over to you in confusion, “Hey what’s wrong?” 

You decide whether you actually tell him or not, he’s chill either way- He understands why you would and wouldn’t want to talk to him about it

He isn’t the best at comforting but he does what he can, He’ll move y’all to your bed and will even give you his special cow pillow

Will start talking about random things, anything and everything- Letting his voice will you to sleep, Making sure that all of your dreams are nothing but happy days, Days he’d hope to make a reality soon.

Hey! Fancy seeing you here, I get that this post was a little heavy on the feelings, I just wanted everyone out there to know that You are not alone- No matter what you are going through and that my Dms and inbox are always open if you need to vent or just to talk in general, My blog is a safe space to anybody who needs it 🖤

[jenflirts]

my lovely, jenna

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 : Jenna Ortega x Fem!Reader

𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚎 : Angst

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢 : you have been adoring Jenna since you were little

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 : mention of homophobia and Language & also my bad writing

A/N: kings and queens era. listen to the song if you ever want to feel what I felt while writing this lol.

“Jenna, can I tell you something? Promise me you won’t run away or freak out” You said as you sat down under the tree where the two of you often sit just for shade. 

Jenna nodded and sat down beside you looking at you adoringly. 

Jenna and You have been friends since you can remember—the two of you did everything together whether it’s good or bad—it’s been a few months since she turned eighteen and you thought about asking her for a marriage proposal. You never ran this down to your parents nor hers, but you will once you get her consent. 

“Jenna, we’ve known each other since we were kids and I’ve been adoring you since then. I knew what I was feeling is all wrong, I knew that I won’t be accepted for being who I am, but to hell with that—I would go through the depths of hell just to love you freely, I would course through war and have my heart pierced just to make you mine—I love you, every part of you I would be on my knees and worship you just so you could feel how much I appreciate you. I want you to be mine for eternity, I would love to have you by my side and rule this kingdom with me” 

Jenna’s look softened when she looked at your hopeful eyes, all her what if’s and worries for what other thinks faded away. As long she’s with you she knows that everything will be fine. 

“I love you too, I promise you that you only have my heart and no one else can have it” Jenna replied. 

You were content, you have her and no one else can. 

It’s the day that you’ve been waiting for, the day that the both of you are waiting for, it’s Jenna’s and Yours special day. Jenna’s practically trying her best to calm down and not panic, overthinking if she did the right thing, if her dress looks good on her, her saying yes to this marriage, and her being a good queen to this kingdom. She wanted you here, but you can’t see her just yet. A knock interrupted Jenna’s panicking mind and told the person to come in and help her calm down.

Emma saw the girl’s state and went to her and gave a box of tissues and tried to calm her down, but to no avail. Emma thought of giving her the letter that you gave her earlier this morning with a light-weighted box. 

“Y/n told me to give you this, she said read the letter first then open the box” Emma said as she handed Jenna the envelope and the box. 

Jenna hurriedly opened the envelope containing a letter with some tear stains. 

My lovely, Jenna

I hope this letter finds you well, I want to apologize for my inappropriate behavior and not attending your special day. I know you want me to be there and I want to be there too, my love, but I want to be the one waiting for you at the end of the aisle. I want to be the one holding you, I want to be the one appreciating your beauty, I want to be the one sacrificing my life just to save yours and I want to be the one assuring you that I love you every single day. 

My love, I know you’re doubting yourself and every decision you have made, but I’m here to assure you that you did not. You will be an amazing queen to this kingdom and my brother is lucky to have you as his wife. 

I know this is too late to give to you, but once you finish this letter open the box that Emma gave you and read one poem. All of them are about you, my love. If you ever need to let yourself know that you’re appreciated, just read one of my poems because every single one of it is about you. 

Jenna, I just want you to know that this is also my last letter to give to you as I will be joining the knights for the upcoming war. Father instructed me to lead them and as a child that wanted to go to the fields I’m honored to lead them. I promise you that I’ll be back and still love you, and if not, I will be waiting for you and hope that I could love you again like I did before. 

Congratulations on your wedding, my love.

I love you so much. 

Sincerely your loving friend,

Y/N Y/L/N

Jenna was stunned, she dropped the letter at the table and opened the box hurriedly and to her surprise it was full of folded paper—she never knew that it would be full of paper because of it being light-weighted—she picked up one paper and read.

Your eyes, like stars, in the midnight sky, Hold secrets and dreams that make my heart fly. Your smile, a beacon, in the darkest night, Fills my world with warmth and light.

In the curve of your lips, the softness of your gaze, A beauty that leaves me in endless amaze. A secret admiration, I can't help but feel, In your presence, my heart's secrets I conceal.

Though silent, this love in my heart resides, In friendship's embrace, it sweetly abides. For you, my love, are a work of art, A beauty that's etched within my heart.

Jenna knew she fucked up by accepting your brother’s proposal, she knew she hurt you, but she was too blind for it to see, she wanted to let the remarks of her relationship with you to subside that’s why she accepted this. She wanted you, she wanted to be with you for eternity too like the one that you both promised.

[carisisrolledupsleeves]

79. "we're not just friends you know that" with Sonny please please

thank you anon, i hope you like.....listening to one of my favorite songs (First Love/Late Spring by Mitski) inspired this....also Peter in Mutual Friends gif because I needed something pre-SVU (also i love Nate sm, iykyk)

i got a bit carried away with this ngl

PS: to anyone else sending prompts, im gonna be super busy in the next few days so i have no idea when ill be able to write again but keep on sending them!

‘Carisi, I swear to God you stay the fuck away from me with that water gun!’ you squeal while running to the other side of the pool to escape the ice-cold water stream he’s been trying to aim at you. 

‘You’re gonna get wet eventually!’ he warns with a smirk, making it sound incredibly suggestive. 

You shake your head at him and roll your eyes but you can’t help blushing at the same time. Admittedly, you love his childish attempts at teasing you, and you know in this atmosphere and with all the alcohol flowing this weekend, the flirting will only get worse. Not that it ever leads to anything. You’re just friends, it’s innocent. So far. And you tell yourself you don’t want it to go further even though you catch yourself staring, your eyes wandering over his body as he takes off his shirt. 

It’s always been like that between you two. Ever since you met as undergrads at St. John’s a few years ago, taking the same sociology course. Sonny ended up sitting next to you, and that same evening you found each other again at a party and had started talking. He was sweet, and funny, and you could see yourself falling for him immediately if it hadn’t been for your recent heartbreak, that grueling breakup from your highschool sweetheart. You’d still had feelings for your ex although looking back now, it must have been nostalgia, and the fact that along with him, you had left girlhood behind for good. Going off to college meant becoming an adult and starting this new chapter was scary. When you met Sonny, all you needed was a friend. And he had been an amazing friend to you all these years, without ever asking for more. 

‘What’s that?’ your girlfriend asks, pointing at your chin and you avert your gaze from Sonny. 

‘What?’ you instinctively touch your face.

‘Oh, it’s nothing. Just swear I could see a bit of drool there.’ she laughs and you shove her.

‘Stop!’ 

‘Hey, I don’t blame you! He is hot. And you know he’s been checking you out in that bikini.’ she states and you swallow the lump in your throat just to let out an awkward laugh. 

‘We’re just playing around. You know how he is. It’s not that serious.’ you don’t know who you’re trying to convince, her or yourself. 

It’s true, your friendship has always been on the verge of becoming something more. The flirting wasn’t even the worst of it; it was the intimacy you shared, the fact that you had always been there for each other when times got tough. When Sonny questioned his choice of becoming a cop after finishing his degree in criminal justice, wishing he had gone to law school instead of the police academy. When your mom had that cancer scare and your dad was losing it, absolutely helpless and unable to take care of himself while she was getting her treatment. It wasn’t just fun and games. At the end of the day you had a deep and true friendship, and neither of you wanted to throw that away. 

But you can feel something shift. It is the way he looks at you as the sun goes down on that first day of your 4th of July weekend. Between laughs and giggles your eyes meet and he gets all quiet and serious, and there’s something in the air you can’t quite grasp. Or maybe it’s the way that friend of a friend asks you about him. If he’s single, and her smile in his direction when you tell her he’s not seeing anyone as far as you know. And then as you get tipsy in order to forget about it all, you realize that he’s keeping his distance for some reason, when he would normally be right by your side, having shots with you, annoying you with his lame jokes. 

Your phone vibrates and it’s a text from Sonny. A song by one of your favorite artists that you weren’t even aware he knew of. You look up to scan the crowd for him and find him sitting by the pool by himself, a bottle of beer in his hand. 

But I find that lately I’ve been crying like a tall child

You know the lyrics by heart, and there it is again, the lump in your throat. And that devastating feeling in your gut you’ve ignored so many times in the past. The longing to be close to him, to reach out and touch him, you’ve fought time and time again. His eyes meet yours and you draw in a sharp breath, wishing he would just go back to goofing around with you instead of this. Because this, you can’t come back from, you can’t undo.  

The only thing you can do is flee but he catches up with you just as you reach the top of the stairs, about to go hide in your room. Sonny’s hand grabs yours and you turn around to face him. And all of a sudden his lips are on yours.

Even if you wanted to protest, you can’t. It feels too good. After the initial shock you kiss him back, your hands are around his neck as his wrap around your waist. Maybe this isn’t right but you want it. You want him. Finally admitting it to yourself is your doom but what if it’s a blessing at the same time? Harboring this secret for so long, these fantasies you had about him and you, what if he’s had them too? Or was it all just another silly little game encouraged by the summer heat and booze?

Please, hurry, leave me, I can’t breathe

Please don’t say you love me

A spark shoots through you and starts to linger between your thighs as his tongue slips into your mouth, a needy moan on his breath. No, you can’t. You can’t give in to this if it’s simply a desire you have to satisfy, or curiosity. Your friendship means too much to you, and it would ruin everything. 

One word from you and I would jump off of this ledge I’m on, baby

Tell me “don’t” so I can crawl back in

You push him away and Sonny gives you a confused look, searching your eyes for the answer to a question that hasn’t been asked. 

‘We can’t, Sonny.’

‘Why not?’ 

‘Because…I know we would regret it. And then I would lose my best friend.’ you reply, looking down on the floor to avoid his blue eyes piercing into yours.

‘We’re not just friends, you know that.’ he whispers, his finger under your chin lifting up your head again. 

‘Don’t…’ you’re scared of what he’s going to say next but it bursts out of him.

‘I’ve been in love with you since the day I met you. But I knew you were hurting and being your friend was enough for me. I would never ask for more if I didn’t think it is what you wanted as well. And now we’ve been in denial for so long, and I keep thinking, what if it’s all in my head, y’know? So, please. Tell me it’s not all just in my head.’ he pleads and you can see his eyes filling with tears and it feels like your heart is twisting around itself in your chest. 

‘It’s not just in your head.’ you assure softly, your hand reaching out to touch his cheek where an ecstatic smile appears. 

‘So you’re in love with me too?’ Sonny asks, sounding like a little boy. 

It’s time to let go of your fears. Your own insecurities that had been holding you back although he had always brightened your day, always made your heart beat faster, ever since he asked you your name on that very first day of college. 

‘I am, Dominick. I’m in love with you.’ you confess, biting your lip shyly before kissing him again. 

A sweet, timid kiss, and yet it doesn’t take long until you pull him towards your room, shoving him against the door the second it closes. He groans, his hands traveling under your short sundress before almost tearing it off you. The rest of your clothes, and his, follow, landing all across the room. 

‘Fuck, you should always be naked. You’re so beautiful.’ Sonny breathes as you push him down on the bed, straddling him. 

‘I would get arrested.’ you grin, feeling him hard against you.

‘Good thing I’m gonna be a cop soon.’ he chuckles, his hands wandering over your body, making you tremble as one finds its way to your wet folds.

‘Dominick…’ you moan his name as he starts dragging his fingers back and forth through you, his thumb on your clit, massaging there. His touch is heavenly. 

You lift your hips again to guide his hard cock into you, letting him fill you to the hilt as you sink down on him. Fuck. In all your wildest fantasies you could have never imagined how amazing he would feel, stretching you in the most delightful way, throbbing so deep inside you. His thighs tense as he lets out the prettiest moan, taking in the sensation of your pussy around him, so wet and tight.

‘God, baby, you…-fuck!’ Sonny pants as you start moving on him, your fingers digging into his shoulders, waves of pleasure already crashing over your body. 

Finally being with him is exhilarating. The way he grips your hips, pulling you down harder onto him, showing you exactly how badly he wanted you for all this time. And you’re desperate for him too; your lips on his neck, sucking, licking, nibbling as blind passion takes over. His deep moans are music to your ears, unleashing something inside you you didn’t know was there before. You push him back on the bed in order to ride him harder, and his mouth hangs open as he watches his cock disappear into your glistening cunt. It doesn’t take long and you’re both panting hot messes, close to your orgasms. Sonny reaches down to find your clit, rubbing tight circles and you clench around him in response, feeling yourself climbing towards that peak and you steady yourself on his chest, smiling down at him. 

‘’You’re so fucking hot.’ you purr breathlessly. ‘You’re gonna m-make me c-cum. Fuck! Dominick!’ 

He thrusts up into you roughly, hitting that sweet spot just right, sending you over the edge. You come hard, scratching his skin and making him hiss as your pussy twitches around his cock. Your orgasm is earth-shattering, and if it wasn’t for the loud music downstairs, everyone would have heard your moans, the string of curse words leaving your mouth as you shake. You keep riding him, your flushed body grinding against his as you feel him tensing beneath you, and he spills into you, crying out your name. Fuck, having him come inside you makes you feel even more delirious; having him rub your clit still, making you pulsate around him again and again. 

When you finally collapse next to him you are both struggling to catch your breaths, and your thighs are still shaking as he pulls you close, kissing your hair. You remain like this for God knows how long before you decide you’re in need of a shower and you get up, dragging Sonny with you to the bathroom where you turn on the light.

‘Oh shit!’ you gasp, staring at his chest.

‘Guess I will have to keep my shirt on for the rest of the weekend.’ Sonny states, as he looks down, noticing the red scratch marks all over his upper body.

‘I’m so sorry.’ you cover your mouth with your hand, looking at him apologetically. 

‘Don’t be. I like it.’ he bites his lip, wiggling his brows at you. 

You have to laugh, and he reaches out to tickle you, to make you laugh even harder. The excitement of it all makes you dizzy. Dominick makes you dizzy. And your hands are all over him once more as you step into the shower, the feeling of his body pressed against yours making you moan again.  

request a prompt from the smut prompt list 🔥

[annasinterests]

going out, she's getting into something

|| main masterlist ||

a/n: here's my contribution for the season, witches! i had SO much fun writing this piece and i hope to get out more for this month! i definitely didn't think it'd be this long but i absolutely loved where it went. also ten points if you could tell when the tone shifted because i started listening to mitski LOL

the dividers are by @saradika — be sure to check them out! 🤍

word count: 10.4k

pairings: arthur morgan x f!reader

warnings & tags: minors dni, halloween time!!! tried to be historically accurate but then again this is fiction y'all, readers having the time of her life honestly, pining, cursing, mentions of alcohol, perhaps some errors??, and some wholesome moments here n there :) — please tell me if i missed anything!

“I already told you girls, the answer is no.”

She didn’t look up from her washing basin as she gave a firm response, her voice tinged with fatigue from the relentless persistence on this matter.

Miss Grimshaw– the unyielding matriarch of the gang– always looking out for the best interest of the camp, even if it meant extinguishing your hopes of a joyous venture beyond its confines.

Normally, you’d accept the answer and move on. But this time, that wasn’t the case. No, you’d been going at it all this week, employing every conceivable tactic to sway her decision– most of which involved volunteering for additional chores atop your designated ones already– because today wasn’t just any other day.

It was Halloween.

And you were damned if you weren’t going out to celebrate it in all its glory.

“Ms. Grimshaw, please,” you continued to beg, “I won’t ask for a thing more!”

The ceaseless scrubbing paused, her hands moving to wipe across her skirt before pressing them against her forehead, muttering words only audible to herself. You stood before her eagerly, hands folded neatly over your apron, shoulders squared– striving to project an aura of innocence that might influence her.

She shook her head as her hands fell hard on her lap, huffing out a frustrated sigh. “Go ask Dutch. If he says it's fine, then you girls can go.”

The elation you felt at her response made you want to dart away before she could have second thoughts, yet your feet remained in the same spot of the muddy grass your heels slowly sunk into. She eyed you as she stood up, your presence a mystery even though she’d already granted your request.

Even though she kept you all on a tight leash, her actions were rooted in sound judgment.

The whole reason there was any stability at camp at all was because of her, no matter how long or short you stayed in some places. She possessed an innate sense of what needed to be done, always placing the welfare of the camp, and more particularly, her girls, at the forefront, even if she had a funny way of showing it sometimes.

“Won’t you come out, too?” Maybe it was naive of you to ask, given she almost never step foot outside camp unless absolutely necessary.

Her hardened stare softened for a moment, peering behind you at camp momentarily as if she really were contemplating it. Her gaze returned to you, her eyebrows drawn together with the faintest curl on her lips.

“What happened to not asking for another thing?”

With a small smile and nod, you excused yourself and set out to find Dutch.

Much to your surprise, he wasn’t in his tent, and a lack of an answer of his whereabouts from Ms. O’Shea didn’t help. Nor did one from Javier out on the post claiming that he hadn’t seen him ride in or out today. And through your thorough search around camp, none revealed a trace of the man you eagerly sought.

On your way back to his tent for a second try, you recognized a figure donning a signature white shirt and black vest standing at the far end of camp, where the view was best of Horseshoe Overlook.

Your smile grew wider with each step to approach him, only calling his name when you were within a few feet.

“Dutch! Can I-”

While your voice caught his attention, it had also gotten the man who stood just nearby him, concealed by the trees until now. You came to an abrupt stop, flickering your widening gaze between the men, feeling hot embarrassment creep onto your cheeks.

It’d been Arthur.

He’d only looked over his shoulder to you, still facing the canyon with his thumbs tucked into his gun belt. The brim of his hat rested just above his eyes as he appraised you, running his eyes up and down your figure.

“I’m sorry..” Your hands instinctively folded against your stomach, “I didn’t realize you were..”

A low chuckle rumbled from Dutch’s chest as he approached you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Nonsense, Miss. Arthur and I were just enjoying the view. Why don’t you join us?”

Your gaze shifted from Dutch’s to Arthur’s, who maintained his position with his chin tucked over his shoulder. He gave no indication as to whether or not your presence affected him, and a slight unease settled in as he was usually quick with a polite comment or sarcastic remark, but he did neither and continued to look at you.

Returning your attention to Dutch, you found him patiently waiting for your response– one hand lingering on your shoulder while the other was outstretched in an invitation to join them at the plateau.

Your lips curled up into a small smile as you walked forward, Dutch appearing to your right and Arthur to his.

The view was nothing short of breathtaking. Below and in the distance, dense forests and mountain ranges stretched for miles, a white veil of mist shrouded at the peaks, and the Dakota River flowed through the canyon, its waters reflecting the brilliant blue of the sky.

What made the scene even more enchanting was the weather– the sun shining bright with barely any clouds to obstruct its rays, its warmth a delight on your skin. The air was crisp in a way that each breath rejuvenated your lungs, a cool and fresh quality trademarked by the fall season.

“What do you think, Miss?” He asked without averting his gaze.

You turned to him, stealing another glance before you, “Pretty as a picture, Dutch.”

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he softly echoed your sentiment. “Indeed it is.”

For a moment, your eyes fell to Arthur. Like Dutch, he made no move to look away, fully immersed and reveling in the simple pleasures of the moment. His hat still lowered over his eyes, shielding sunlight from those bright blues that could be the sweetest or most intimidating sight. His facial scruff was perfectly tailored for the season– substantial yet manageable, complementing his rugged appearance.

Even in his relaxed stance, you could see his clothing fighting to fit around his muscles, especially in the shoulders and arms. The cuffs of his sleeves clung snugly to his forearms, the contours of his strength evident in raised veins and muscular definition. His thumbs remained tucked into his belt, his large hands lazily curling over it, an embodiment of quiet strength and presence.

A flurry of thoughts swirled in your head– the loudest among them an undeniable realization of just how incredibly attractive this man was.

And how this definitely wasn’t the first time you were thinking this.

You hadn’t realized that you were looking right at him while your thoughts were running wild, and immense embarrassment hit you like a freight train when your eyesight focused on him staring right back at you.

To compound your mortification, your initial reaction was to smile– a smile that aimed to conceal the fact that you had been thoroughly checking him out. You tried to maintain some air of sweetness and innocence, but you knew he could see right through it.

It faltered when he broke contact and looked down, his hat serving as a convenient shield to hide his face entirely. You squeezed your eyes shut and bit your lip, cursing your own lack of composure. It was painfully obvious. You’d gone ahead and made a fool of yourself in front of the man.

Dutch’s voice interrupted your thoughts and commanded you to pull your attention back.

“Camp’s in mighty fine shape thanks to the help of you women here,” he remarked, finally looking at you. “Your contributions are always valued.”

You smoothed out your skirt, a chuckle leaving your lips. “Wouldn’t be as good as it is without Miss Grimshaw. That woman is the glue that keeps us together, I swear by it.”

“That she is.” He agreed, “But with all the effort you ladies put in, I ought to say that you girls deserve a little time to yourselves. Not in camp, that is.”

Your jaw slacked and eyes sparkled with excitement. Barely able to contain the thrill that coursed through your body, your hands began to gesture emphatically as you started up.

“Actually, that’s why I was looking for you!” A grin spread on his face as he took notice of your demeanor, “The girls and I have been dying to go out!”

You caught Arthur lift his head to you, but continued on.

“We would love to go out to town,” you reached out and grazed his arm as he listened, “pleeease, Dutch. Just for tonight?”

He nodded, that reassuring hand finding your shoulder again. “Of course, how could I say no to that?”

You beamed at him, buzzing with even more excitement.

“Where would you ladies like to go? Valentine? Perhaps even Strawberry?”

You bit down on your lip again in a futile attempt to suppress the wicked smile that grew on your face, sheepishly shrugging your shoulders. “Saint Denis?”

“Saint Denis?” Arthur interjected before anyone could speak, stepping in front of Dutch and briefly glancing at you, “Dutch, that’s–”

“Quite alright if that’s where they want to go,” Dutch smoothly derailed his refute, “Arthur.”

But Arthur, being the obstinate man he was, didn’t heed the cue. He furrowed his brows and tilted his head, “That's far, Dutch. Too far.”

Dutch fell silent for a moment, drawing a hand to his hip and shifting his weight to one foot. You wanted to say something to counter Arthur’s point, but you knew his standing with Dutch, so contradicting him could jeopardize your argument, especially after Dutch had already expressed his approval.

“Well, then I guess it’s a good thing we’ll all be going to Saint Denis tonight.”

Dutch’s ability to orchestrate a plan that convinced everyone to head down to Saint Denis was a mystery to you, but the best part was that you had absolutely no responsibility in their efforts to move camp for a night.

Because the only thing you had to focus on was having fun.

After Dutch’s final say, Arthur grumbled, shook his head, and retreated back into camp. It likely didn’t improve his mood when you broke the news to the girls and you all erupted in joyful shouts and jumped around, clinging to one another out of pure delight.

Or when you all approached Lenny and Javier in front of him to ask if they’d take you to town and they agreed without putting up the slightest fight.

Or when you couldn’t resist teasing him by suggesting that he wear his best costume for the evening ahead, earning you a glare that you couldn’t help but smirk at.

You hadn’t even had the chance to get out a proper goodbye to the boys as Tilly grabbed your hand and practically dragged you off the wagon to emerge yourselves in the scene of the town, disappearing into the crowds on the paved streets and dodging the ever flowing trams.

Jack O'Lanterns adorned nearly everywhere you turned, perched atop picket fences that lined the slums to the mansion district. Hay bales, while adding to the festive atmosphere, served as a dual purpose as both sustenance for horses and a playground for children to climb upon– an amusing sight that elicited giggles from you.

Karen had led you all into the markets where several vendors hunkered down for the long night ahead, selling various treats and services from harvest foods, to jewelry, to fortune tellings. They all beckoned and invited you over with their expert sales tactics, and usually you would be able to just ignore them, but given today, you gave in to a woman at a jewelry stand.

You and the girls encircled her table and ogled at all the shiny pieces before you, your hands hovering over a splendid array of rings, earrings, and necklaces. With the utmost care, you picked up a ring to examine it further, capturing the saleswoman's attention.

“Oh, that’s gorgeous.” Mary-Beth leaned in to admire it with you, “I’ve never seen somethin’ quite like that before.”

She was absolutely right; it was one of the finest pieces you’d ever seen, far surpassing what you’d observed other women wear. It was a tri-colored gold ring– a dainty gold rose in the middle, flanked by a pink and green leaf to each side, all set against a band crafted with a delicate weaving pattern.

“Would you like to try it on?” The woman offered with a kind smile. “See how it fits?”

You slipped it on your ring finger with ease, gently turning your wrist to admire it from different angles. It hugged against your skin like it was meant to be.

But when you looked down at the price tag, you quickly changed your mind.

“This is a very lovely piece,” you took it off and placed it back on the table, earning a raised brow from Karen, “but it’s more than what I can offer.”

The woman simply nodded at your honesty. You were well aware that most items in these markets were overpriced, with prices inflated to maximize profit, but you felt that this one was truly worth it’s value. With a polite smile, you stepped away from the table and began to walk off with the girls, your heart feeling a little heavy but knowing it wasn’t the end of the world.

But a gentle hand on your elbow caught your attention, pulling you away from the group– the woman.

She took your hand and cupped hers over it, feeling a small object fall into it. Silently, she observed as her hand revealed what she’d given you.

The ring.

Your mouth formed a small ‘o’ shape and your eyes widened, quickly covering it with your other hand.

“Ma’am, I can’t possibly– I don’t have enough–” Her hand on your arm again made you quiet.

“You could’ve easily stolen it from me, but you told the truth and walked away.” Her smile was warm as she plucked the ring from your hand and slipped it on your finger. “Not many people do that here in Saint Denis.”

You looked at her sympathetically, holding her hands in your own, “How can I repay you?”

She grinned and leaned in to whisper, “Come back if you wind up stealing from anyone else.”

You muffled your laughter with a hand over your mouth, giving her a knowing look as she playfully shooed you off with a wink.

You were certainly going to pay her another visit.

Rejoining the girls, you discreetly but excitedly displayed your new possession, allowing each of them to take a turn at holding it up to their faces for a closer look, their voices filled with admiration for its beauty.

Moving out of the markets, you came across the park of Saint Denis. A massive tent had been pitched across the field with people busy setting it up for the evening’s events, clearly designed to cater to a younger crowd. Beneath it were several rows of seats arranged in front of a stage that featured a couple of large basins evenly spaced apart– instantly recognizing it for apple-bobbing. Taking notice of the flairs of red gingham about the area, it made you smile with the detail put into celebrating the day.

The girls had been chattering excitedly about something you hadn’t been fully tuned into, but you snapped back to attention when Karen seized your hand and urged you to run.

Spinning around, Mary-Beth and Tilly were a few paces ahead to your right while Sadie came bolting closer from your left, a wicked grin spread on her face as she pointed towards the other two girls.

“Jump on that trolley!”

Without a second thought, you began weaving in and out of the crowd, your knees kicking your skirt up with each leap. Laughter escaped from you as you heard the startled cries of townsfolk being pushed aside in your hasty getaway, though you really had no idea why you were running at all.

You grabbed Tilly’s hand and hauled yourself up as Mary-Beth did with Karen, whipping around and sticking your hand out for Sadie who was too far away for your liking. Your heart was pounding as the men behind her were catching up, your smile from the adrenaline dropping and turning into panic.

Glancing back, you saw the trolley was due to turn a corner, inevitably too quick for Sadie to keep up with. Your panic escalated until you spotted a way to effectively cut off her pursuers– a tall stack of hay bales just waiting to be tipped over.

Swiftly, you sat on the rail and leaned back with the three girls holding your legs and waist, giving you the ultimate leverage.

“Sadie!” You shouted. “Cut the corner when I say!”

A thumbs up from her was good enough for you. You quickly alternated your gaze between her and the approaching corner, slowly leaning back and stretching out your arm until you couldn’t anymore, your adrenaline pulsing through your entire body now.

With one last look, you yelled your cue, and at the last moment threading your fingers through a band of twine and yanking with all your might.

Slowly, then all of once, they came tumbling down like you intended, fellow townspeople causing an even bigger commotion– or distraction, for your case. The men had no choice but to stop, tripping over the bales and crashing into other people, your plan executed perfectly except for one crucial detail– Sadie.

Frantically, you scanned the crowd, gripping the rail so hard that you were sure to put a dent in it. Shit– Had they got to her after the cut?

Before you could conjure a series of worst-case scenarios, she came sprinting from your right and jumped on to the trolley with ease, all of you ushering inside and taking a seat to catch your breaths.

“I keep tellin’ ya' to trade that skirt for pants, girl.” Sadie smacked your knee, “With quick thinkin’ like that, it’s a waste you don’t get out more.”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. The thrill of doing jobs got you antsy, seeing it was something that you could seriously enjoy once in a while, but being a caretaker was what you were at heart. You liked providing stability in a different way.

“What in the hell was all that about?” Karen asked before you could while fanning herself with her hand, “You’re supposed to save the mischief for later, ya’ know.”

Sadie smirked and raised her hands defensively, “I may have miscalculated some things, but–” she dug into her pockets and revealed two handfuls of money, jewelry, and pocket watches. “I think it was worth it.”

You sighed back into your seat as Tilly, Mary-Beth, and Karen hovered over to get a better look, “I say we take that and go straight to a saloon.”

Sadie shot you an incredulous look, “I just worked my tail off for this, and you wanna spend it already?”

“No–” You dragged a hand over your face and huffed out a laugh, “For bets, idiot. Take more from their pockets, but the fair way.”

She contemplated for a moment. “I ain’t very good at table games.”

“I am!” Karen perked up.

You shot a sly look at Sadie, the dots connecting immediately. And just as you found your new activity for the next couple hours, the trolley slowed to a stop, and you all quickly hopped out the back and right into Doyle’s Tavern.

Hours in, Sadie was racking up more cash and treasures than all five of you could even carry.

It’d been more packed than when you first entered, the festive spirit flourishing through the establishment. On top of all the autumnal decorations already in place, skeletons dangled behind the bar and burning candles littered about to give the right impression of mischievous yet inviting. Round tables were busy with patrons, some full of drinks, others invested in rounds of poker or dominoes– like your own. And when you weren’t glued to a game, you were at the bar flirting your way for a free drink or charming men just to get close enough to discreetly pilfer valuables from their person.

Now, you sauntered over to Karen’s side after taking a brief stroll and glance at Sadie’s hand from the opposite side of the table. While you weren’t intimately familiar with poker, you knew what constituted the best possible hand, and it just so happened that your dear friend held that in her fingers without even knowing it.

You could see the men at the table underestimating her, their smug smiles stemming from her being the lone woman and their belief that they held the winning hand.

But none of them came close to a royal flush.

Nudging Karen, you whispered your observation, a smirk appearing on her face instantly. She shot Sadie a wink– the cue to let them have it– and watched the scene unfold as she splayed her cards across the table.

Their smug smiles dropped to open-mouthed astonishment and disapproving grumbles, slamming their hands down on the table and begrudgingly pushing their bets towards her. She kept her head down in a noble act, but it was really to hide the shit-eating grin on her face as the table cleared and her opponents drudged to the bar for another much needed drink after losing their fourth consecutive round.

Sadie joined you at the side as you all began to leave with the earnings. “God, why don’t we do this more often?” She mused while placing a chunk of wealth into your hands, “Better than the guys doin’ busted-up, ass-backwards jobs if ya’ ask me.”

Mary-Beth spun around and walked backwards as she received her cut, “Well we would if Miss Grimshaw wasn’t such a damn witch.”

“Mhm,” Karen agreed over her shoulder, “I wouldn’t be surprised if we saw her ridin’ a broom tonight.”

Amid their hearty laughter, you quietly chuckled. You knew that despite her being a hell-bound handler, she loved you girls more than anything.

“Y’all are terrible,” you playfully chided while poking them in the back, “both of you!”

The sun had set as you entered the streets of Saint Denis again, now lit up by streetlights, candles, and Jack O’Lanterns. Your eyes twinkled at the sights, the town completely transforming for the night life. Children roamed the sidewalks in noisy groups, no doubt ready to wreak havoc and fully embody the spirit of mischief. Townsfolk flooded in front of every tavern, saloon, and vicinity that promised alcohol, money, and a good time.

But what really caught your eye was the other women– more precisely, their attire.

Left and right you spotted the most beautiful Victorian dresses you’d laid eyes upon– rich in color and carefully designed with the best materials money could buy– and as well as soft and colorful medieval gowns that fluttered and flowed in the gentle breeze. You couldn’t help but stare in awe of their beauty and how well-fitting they were for the evening.

Sadie saw your hands curl around your money as your eyes flitted around and a sly smile curled the corner of her mouth. “Ya’ know, there’s a boutique just around the corner.”

You shrugged at the idea, but she insisted. “Don’t give me none of that– Go on, go get yourself somethin’ pretty,” she bumped you with her elbow, “I know you wanna.”

You bit your lip as a smile crept on your face, glancing down at your hands and back to her while slowly backing away.

“Give me five minutes.”

It was a lie.

Five turned more into twenty with trying on several different dresses before finding the one.

Initially, you tried on the first dress you saw in the window of the shop, a gorgeous navy dress with an integrated corset between the flared skirt and puffy sleeves. However, the bustle was more than you bargained for, and you certainly didn’t fancy the look of having a shelf on your backside. The mirror in the fitting room let you know that the ‘regal’ look was something you weren’t interested in.

The second was a significant improvement from the first. It leaned toward a more gothic style, featuring a mix of black and red satin, as if the red were a robe draped over the black gown, yet both were stitched together seamlessly. Strings criss-crossed over the bust and torso, giving it a unique backward corset appearance, and the sleeves were long and chinched near the elbows. It even came with a hood adorned with black lace trim– a distinctive feature compared to most gowns you had seen. You loved how it looked and felt, but there was a persistent voice in your head that told you it looked too cultish, especially with the hood. In the end, your conscience had guided you out of the fitting room and onto the next.

Picking through the collections had consumed more time than you had anticipated, and your impatience grew as you felt your precious night slipping away.

Nothing was catching your eye and you just wanted something.

You looked out the window to all the bodies strolling through the streets– laughing, smiling, talking– while you were wasting time away finding a silly dress to wear.

The sound of the bell above the door ringing brought you back as a couple customers entered the store, a trio of young women in animated conversation about accessories and making a bee-line for the displays. But as you eyed them, your gaze shifted to just the right of them, falling on exactly what you were looking for.

There it was– a long, crimson floor-length skirt cinched at the seam under the bust, paired with a striking black blouse. But this wasn’t just any black blouse. No, it had balloon sleeves with exaggerated cuffs adorned with buttons that matched the body, and a stunning combination of lace and mesh on the collar that extended gracefully from shoulder to shoulder.

Not wasting another second, you swiped it and practically flew in and out of the changing room, taking a look in the mirror afterwards and absolutely falling in love with how it looked on you. It was comfortable and conventional with a dash of sexy– a match made in heaven! You slid a wad of cash across the counter to the gentleman in exchange for a paper bag for your other clothes and were quickly out the door.

Clutching the bag, you navigated the labyrinthine alleyways and main roads of Saint Denis in search of your girls, thinking just when you found them, it was just another bunch that looked similar from afar. Head on a swivel, you did your best to avoid getting distracted by the lively celebrations around you, despite your strong desire to join in.

So set on your mission, you didn’t even think to look both ways before nearly stepping in front of an oncoming trolley– being saved by a large hards on your arm and waist.

“Oh!–” You palm flew over your chest as you gasped, “I– Thank you! I didn’t even see where I was going!”

“Quite some timing there,” the figure chuckled, “we just got here.”

We?

Looking up, you were met with Charles looking down at you with a kind smile, putting you at ease. In the not-so-far distance, you saw Dutch, Jack, and Kieran hitching their horses and making their way over to you.

“I see you girls have been busy!” Dutch declared as he grandly gestured to your new clothes. “Having fun I hope?”

You nodded politely. Fun and causing trouble, but who were you to spill about that?

A satisfied grin crossed his face, “We’re off to meet the others at Mayor Lemieux. Care to join us, Miss?”

Reuniting with the rest of the gang? Say less.

Before you could answer, you remembered the bag in your hand and looked down at it, your thoughts not lost on the men around you. Not that your old clothes were worth much in a town like Saint Denis, but they were still yours.

“You three go on, we’ll meet you there.” Charles insisted to Dutch, then turned to you as they walked away. “You can leave your stuff with me, it’ll be safe.”

You smiled as he just knew what to do, the protective side of the men you always appreciated. A short walk over to the stables, where he insisted on keeping his horse rather than in the open, and stowing your things later, you were back on track to the mansion district– after some jokes about all the wealth you’d been carrying, of course, and keeping a couple pieces on you for when you saw your market friend.

You marveled at the increasing crowd in the town– kids’ laughter echoed through the streets that mingled with the roars and singing reverberating from every saloon, and occasionally, there were startled shrieks of terror caused by juveniles of the night. You made comments about the atmosphere and were very careful to stay out of the way of the ongoing trolleys, a small inside joke brewing between you both.

In Charles, you felt a strong sense of safety and trust. He was one of the few men you believed to be genuinely good, his only flaw being part of a criminal gang, but even that could be justified with loyalty. He was kind and respectful, not just towards women, but towards everyone. He was someone to have on your side, always.

“So, is everyone really out here?” You inquired, “I didn’t think that Dutch could really rally everyone up to come into town.”

“For the most part,” Charles shrugged, “a couple of them wanted to stay and watch camp. Said they weren’t too big on celebrating.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Who decided to hang back?”

Charles chuckled and glanced at you, teasing, “What’s got you so curious? Expecting somebody?"

Your cheeks burned at his question. You hadn’t been thinking of him until this very moment.

“Maybe I was praying for a miracle that Micah didn’t come.”

He laughed louder this time, “Well, it was answered.”

You cracked a smile at your banter, but now your mind was totally elsewhere and remained that way well into the district, the buzzing of your thoughts stopping at the front entrance of Mayor Lemieux’s estate.

Before you was a huge mansion, white with pillars supporting the sprawling balcony that extended to each side of the house and a wide staircase that led up to an opulent wrap-around porch. From the outside alone, you could tell that every inch of this property was occupied between the amount of people and staff.

Charles led the way into the estate, making sure you didn’t lose him along the way as you looked about. You thought the exterior was grand enough already, but the interior proved to be much more. The flooring in each room varied, from carpet, to tile, to wood– all extravagant. As soon as you stepped inside, a staircase greeted you and split off into two more on each side for the second level, all lined with a rich red and gold carpet. The walls were lined with exquisite light fixtures and portraits of people you couldn’t even begin to name, and an enormous chandelier hung over the center of the entrance, adding to the luxurious ambiance.

Making your way to the back, you grabbed a drink and some hors d’oeuvres off a tray from a nearby server, nursing the drink and nibbling on the food a little bit at a time. As if you thought the place couldn’t be anymore rich, the gazebo and water fountain in the backyard told you otherwise. It was also now that you noticed that the estate had been on the water which reinforced its extravagance. Every single detail had been thought out to make this place the go-to spot for the people of Saint Denis between the assortment of food and beverages, games, decorations– everything.

Your favorite part, though? Finding your people again.

The girls cheered as you locked eyes at the same time, flocking to you and immediately forcing you to spin to show off your attire for the evening. Charles rejoined Dutch, Jack, and Kieran again as they watched you five with amused expressions.

“Next time, we’re comin’ with,” Sadie raised her glass to yours, “five minutes my ass.”

You sheepishly smiled at her and clinked your glass against hers while looking around, “Where’s everyone else? Charles said-”

“There she is!”

Your voice froze as you heard the familiar sound of a particular woman, turning around to meet them.

“Was wonderin’ when you’d show up.”

Your face dropped.

“Miss Grimshaw?”

She took complete pleasure in your utter surprise, sporting a smirk as she sipped from a glass of dark liquid. You approached her, gesturing to say something, but words eluded you, earning a chuckle from her. She savored her drink and waited patiently, her smug expression unyielding until you finally found your voice.

“I didn’t think you wanted to-”

“Celebrate the Day of the Dead? I don’t.” You raised your eyebrows at her bluntness. She took a few steps towards you, “But it beats bein’ in that camp for once. And free drinks ain’t so bad either”

There’s the Susan Grimshaw you knew.

You were quiet as she surveyed your attire, ruffling your sleeve from awkward creases and smoothing it afterwards. Her gaze drew up to your face, looking everywhere but your eyes, making sure all your hairs were in place and that you didn’t just walk straight out of a barn. She placed her fingers under your chin and tilted up to her.

“Don’t be dumb. Don’t be stupid. And don’t go diggin’ up graves. Ya’ hear me?”

You smirked. “No promises.”

She rolled her eyes as her hand dropped, smacking you on the shoulder. “Lord, y’all are the reason I have all these grays.”

She winked at you as she moved on from your conversation, and when you turned back to your friends, they had vanished.

Again.

You let out a suppressed laugh at the circumstances. Of course– if you weren’t glued to their hip, you were bound to lose them. And with as many people there were, finding them again wouldn’t be easy. So, you chose not to.

Swiping another drink from a passing server, you wandered about the property and drank while you observed the various scenes that played out. Suited men overindulging in beers and politics, staff lingering in the corner and gossiping in hushed tones, and young women trying to appear more desirable by loosening buttons or letting a sleeve slip off their shoulders.

The further into the night, the more increasingly bold and uninhibited people became, embracing the wicked and mischievous aspects of the holiday. You noticed it more as you went about the district, slipping in and out without attracting much attention– a level of anonymity you found strangely enjoyable.

The only interruptions were the occasional sightings of familiar faces when you were least expecting them– like Lenny and Kieran on the corner of a saloon, or Karen and Sean talking it up on the staircase of another mansion. Despite their lack of acknowledgement, you still grinned towards them and continued your exploration.

As you came across one of the last estates, you’d barely stepped foot on the property before hearing your name shouted out, causing you to jump.

“Over here, Miss!”

Realizing it to be Dutch beckoning you over, you relaxed and crossed the yard to join at his side, accompanied by a few unfamiliar men. You graciously made their acquaintance and accepted a drink offered by Dutch.

“Gentlemen, this here is one of Van Der Linde’s finest.” He bowed to you, eliciting a shy chuckle out of you, “Truly, she’s one of a kind.”

“You don’t have to tell us twice,” the man to your left winked in your direction. He extended his hand to you, “It’s a shame we haven’t met earlier.”

He was conventionally attractive; kept hair, clean shaven, chiseled features, well dressed. His accent you couldn’t particularly place but found it interesting nonetheless– carrying a definitive air of sophistication.

Taking his hand, he brought it up to his face and kissed the top of it– an act that normally would be acceptable, but you got an icky feeling from him. You bowed your head only to be polite, finding words unnecessary.

“What do you say, dear, let me take you for a drink and have the privilege of getting to know all about Van Der Linde’s finest?”

The bold request had you raising your eyebrows and an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. You flushed with embarrassment, was this really happening right now, especially in front of Dutch? It felt so wrong. You didn’t realize how long you’d been silent until another voice interjected.

“She ain’t interested.”

Your eyes widened and back straightened at the deep drawl.

Arthur.

His imposing presence settled beside you, taking the opportunity to steal a glance at him while he was focused on the gentleman before you. It turned into a double-take once you realized what he was wearing.

His hands held his trusty gun belt over a pair of dark pants– jeans, maybe, but it was hard to discern in the dim light. He swapped his typical suspenders for a ragged dark brown leather belt, a unique change yet fitting one. And his shirt– God, his shirt– a white and red gingham button-up that he filled out perfectly with cuffed sleeves. Now that was different, and probably not his preferred style deep down, but you loved it. Even his hat was different, trading his father’s for a much fancier one with a wide front dip and roll, as well as the band featuring brass rifle bullets.

You couldn’t help but gawk. He looked so damn good, and also the only one out of the gang that actually dressed up for the occasion.

“Last I checked, I was speaking to the lady.” The gentleman puffed his chest a bit, elegantly gesturing to you.

Arthur chuckled lowly, his demeanor remaining cool, “Yeah, well, last I checked the lady wasn’t talkin’ back.”

The gentleman, clearly insulted, narrowed his eyes on Arthur as his fingers pinched the stem of his wine glass– the difference between their behaviors clear as day. During their small exchange, you kept your eyes on your hands that held a drink, though you weren’t interested in it much at the moment.

“It’s clear you’ve made her uncomfortable with your poor manners,” the irony of his words made the faintest smile curl on your lips.

Arthur laughed louder, turning to you and draping a hand behind your back while the other settled on his belt still, “Miss, have I made you uncomfortable with my poor manners?”

You met his gaze with a knowing look, biting your lip to fend off the smile that was deepening at him fucking with the man. You knew the answer, and so did Arthur, and you got a kick out of his way of making him look like a fool.

“What poor manners?” You raised your drink to your lips to further conceal your amusement while maintaining eye contact with Arthur, a smirk appearing on his face.

“See? She just ain’t wanna talk to you.” Arthur’s hand pressed against your back, directing you to move, while he tipped his head and gestured a farewell, “Now, you gentlemen have a fine night.”

As you walked further away you could hear bits and pieces of Dutch attempting to soothe the situation, which, to you, sounded like a lot of ass-kissing to salvage whatever relations he had built with those men before suffering a blow from Arthur.

Speaking of him– your skin was warm where his hand touched and guided you, steady as he maneuvered you both through the crowds. It was reminiscent of the feeling you’d had with Charles earlier, but with Arthur, it was different– more intense. Even from behind, you could sense his frame towering over you, feeling a warmth in your cheeks just at the thought of his broadness alone. He mumbled a series of ‘excuse us’ and ‘watch out’ as you moved along into the backyard, the scene nearly the same compared to Mayor Lemieux’s, of course the obvious difference was the actual yard itself.

It was only when you were nearly at the back that his hand dropped from you as he rested against a pillar, his eyes carefully scanning through the sea of people before returning to you.

“M’sorry about that,” his sincerity was evident. “Dutch’s been with ‘em all night, and I ain’t got a very good feeling about it.”

You appreciated his apology though it wasn’t really necessary. His intent was clear, and you admired him for it.

“Well, I’d say you’re my knight in shining armor, but it’s looking more like..” Your eyes danced around his attire again with a hint of a smile.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he shook his head and put his bottle to his lips, giving you a fine sight to see. “S’your fault I’m wearin this get-up, by the way.”

He pointed at you while leaning back, shifting his weight to one foot with the other crossed in front of it. His arms crossed against his chest in a way made his arms look ridiculously big, and you couldn’t help but wonder how this man didn’t have women lining up for him around the block.

“Oh, you say it like it’s a bad thing,” you retorted, taking a sip from your glass before gesturing to yourself. “And you’re not the only one, see?”

With a graceful twirl, you spun around, allowing your skirt to flare for a flashy effect. Arthur couldn’t hide the smile that tugged at the corner of his lips as he watched you.

“Are you supposed to be somethin’, or?” There was a genuine curiosity in his tone that had you raising your brows, which caused him to stutter. “I-I mean, don’t get me wrong! It looks, you look–”

A laugh from you calmed his nerves, “I’m not, I just wanted to be festive, is all.”

He nodded and shifted his weight to the other foot, casting his gaze towards the crowd again. An awkward silence filled the space for a moment.

“What about you? What’s your get-up?” You grinned as he rolled his eyes at his word choice for costume. “And don’t say a cowboy.”

He fell quiet.

“An outlaw?”

Your laughter mingled in the air with Arthur’s, seeing a dash of red spread across his cheeks. It was exactly the kind of answer you had expected.

As it died down, his attention returned to the yard, and you couldn’t help but look at him. With his rugged looks, quick wit, and heart of gold, it was hard not to feel something for him. And for how much you were having a good time in the short duration you were with him, you couldn’t believe he ever protested coming out here.

Your heart fluttered for him. He could’ve been anywhere else right now, either at camp or drinking and getting into trouble, but yet he stayed with you, and it didn’t look like he was leaving your side anytime soon.

“Arthur–”

“We gotta move–”

The sudden urgency in his voice caught you off-guard. He stood from the pillar and a protective hand was on your back again, preparing to lead you away once more. Both of your gazes were fixed on several unfriendly-looking staff members who were combing through people with lanterns– grabbing them by the shoulder, holding the light to their face, then carelessly throwing them aside when they weren’t the face they were looking for.

Just your luck.

Quickly, Arthur guided you down the steps and to the right to what you assumed was a storage house. You kept an eye out while he found a way in, though your panic rose as they kept sweeping the yard and moving closer.

“Arthur, any day now would be gr–”

He pulled your arm into darkness and swung the door shut, immediately blocking it with an object that was too dark for you to see. The space was much smaller than you imagined and quite stuffy, the music and conversation muffled to your ears now.

Your heart hammered in your chest, surely this wasn’t because of a bruise to the ego? But then again, these rich folk seemed sensitive. You joined Arthur at the small window, just peeking around the curtain to watch the unwelcomed company grow closer, “Some staff this place has.”

“This place belongs to Angelo Bronté. And that ain’t staff.”

You scoffed, “Who?”

“Somebody we ain't need to piss off.”

You faced him, “And let me guess, you pissed him off somehow?”

As he turned to you, you became acutely aware of the lack of distance between you both. Just the slight inch forward and–

No– now was not the time to lust over him, even if your body was giving you all the telltale signs, especially the fire that burned in your core. But it didn’t help when he smirked at you for an answer, the dim illumination of half his face making him look criminally more attractive. You groaned at the overall situation– grappling with your desires and figuring how it wouldn’t be a true Van Der Linde outing if someone didn’t cause trouble.

Your fingers curled around the curtain as you watched them gather near where you’d been standing no more than ten minutes ago. Glancing back, you noticed another window that would lead just over the wall– your escape.

“Hey, there’s a–”

“Where'd you get that?”

You knitted your brows in confusion at him, letting a beat pass before seeing where his eyes had been glued to– your hand on the curtain.

The ring.

The dim light from outside still made it twinkle in the darkness of the room, catching his attention. You glanced at it before redirecting your gaze to the henchmen that had now come down the stairs and searched the opposite side of the patio behind some barrels. It was only a matter of time before they came looking where you were.

“Someone gave it to me, but listen–”

“Who gave it to you? His voice was insistent as he stared at you intently.

You stared back dumbfounded. Between wanting to have him right in this storage house and your pursuers less than twenty yards away, you couldn’t comprehend he was pestering you about this right now.

Letting out a huff, you blindly reached around for anything to give you a boost, finding your footing and hoisting upwards to reach the higher window. With one arm supporting yourself, the other made work with the pane, pushing it up little by little. It proved to be more difficult than you expected from its old age and scarce use. Your heart raced when you heard the twisting of the door knob and voices from the outside congregating around it.

Shit.

With a final push, you opened it all the way, whispering urgently, “C’mon!”

Arthur followed swiftly after you, his plunge to the ground a bit more graceful than yours, but certain he wasn’t looking anyway. Just as hit feet hit the ground, you heard the door bust open from inside, followed by several heavy footsteps and angry voices.

He grabbed your hand and pulled you to the right to run down the street, bumping into townsfolk along the way and hearing their unpleasant words go in one ear and out the other. But they weren’t the only ones disgruntled– so were more henchmen that were right after you. How many people did this guy have?

Your muttered profanity let Arthur know that trouble was on your tail, tightening his grip on your hand and looking for any way out.

An intersection was coming up as you ran further into Saint Denis, which meant more people, more places to hide, and more–

“Trolley!”

You pointed at it as it was approaching too quickly for your liking, hoping Arthur would see and redirect your route. But instead, he tugged for you to run faster.

“We’re not gonna–”

“Just trust me!”

Your eyes darted from the street ahead to the trolley, panic at an all time high as you were essentially running to your certain death.

You squinted as the bright lights blinded you, your legs pumping as fast as they could, and your shriek swallowed by the horn of the machine– you accepted your fate as an oversized bug smeared across its windshield.

You felt your body jerked to the side and slam against concrete. You were disoriented, your senses in chaos. This was it. The afterlife already– dark, cold, and full of..

Ragged breathing?

“Goddamn...” Arthur’s voice reached your ears.

You shot your eyes open at Arthur’s rasp, your heart painfully thumping in your chest and lungs aching with every breath. You heaved and peered around the corner to see Bronté’s men grouped in the street looking for a sign of either of you, but their efforts yielded nothing. WIth an angered look of defeat, they turned back towards the estate, and you let out a deep sigh of relief.

When you turned back, Arthur stood close to you, his gaze drawn to the men then falling to you after.

“You,” you poked at his chest, “are absolutely insane. Never make me do that again!”

“Remember,” his hand reached up for yours, “I’m an outlaw, not a liar.”

You shared a soft laugh, captivated by the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled and the soothing timbre of his voice. Your gaze shifted down to your conjoined hands, appreciating the gentle way he held yours despite his larger and rougher ones. His skin was warm against yours, and although you expected fireworks, it was more like a softness, surrendering to its familiarity despite never having experienced it before.

Lightly, his thumb grazed your palm and stopped at the band around your finger, gently turning your hand over so that the design was visible. He examined it closely, tracing the delicate details with his thumb.

“A woman in the market here gave it to me... Told her I couldn’t afford it, but she wanted me to keep it– insisted on it.”

He continued to look at it, taking in all the tiny details as best as he could in the dark alley. A faint smile appeared on his lips as his thumb ran over it, “Sounds like it was meant to be.”

His choice of words resonated with you, reaffirming the same feeling you’d had when you first tried it on.

A chuckle and grin from you caused him to tilt his head with a playful expression, slightly leaning closer to you, “What?”

You glanced at the ring and back to him, briefly holding your bottom lip between your teeth for a moment. Your gaze flickered from his eyes, down to his lips, and back up again.

“You believe in fate, Arthur Morgan?”

His smile faded and eyes slightly widened, but your soft gaze remained steady on him. Your hands left his and traveled to his shoulders, carefully smoothing out any wrinkles. His breathing quickened, especially after the sudden touch. He stared deep into your eyes, searching for any sign that would tell him it was all in his head, but it wasn’t. You knew what you were asking.

He lowered his head for a moment, his expression softening under your touch and drawing closer to you. When he met your eyes again, a fleeting look of sadness crossed his face as his hands found themselves under your elbows.

Being involved with someone like him came with hardships for both sides– a lifestyle that one had to keep and the other suffered because of it. It wasn’t fair, eternally caught in moral dilemmas and forever denied the chance to settle down. There wasn’t the luxury to cherry-pick from life’s offerings, to have it all. This was his life, and he carried the weight of it heavily.

“I don’t believe in a lot of things,”

But you didn’t care. You had embraced a life similar to his, akin to that of the Van Der Linde gang. If you hadn’t, would you all have winded up together anyway?

You understood the unconventional life you all led, far from the standard, civilized existence that others pursued. But it worked for you, and you had each other to rely on, and that’s what truly mattered. You saw beyond the surface, beyond the cold outlaw label that clung to him, a man with flaws and virtues. Maybe he lost his temper too quickly at times or wielded a sharp tongue, but beneath it all, there was love, kindness, and a sense of honor that ran deep within him.

The world may have painted him as the Devil incarnate, but you knew him differently. He was a good man, capable of both selfless kindness and quiet introspection. In your heart, you held this belief, and nothing could change that.

Life had conspired to bring you together. And in that union, there was fate.

“But I have my exceptions.”

He pressed his lips gently against yours, his arms snaking behind and around as yours curled over his shoulders.

It was slow and sweet just like how you imagined he would be– taking his time to know your body and touch. His hands spread along your back and held you protectively, your bodies melting into one another. The breaks between were short, too focused on the fact this was happening to pay attention to anything else but each other. Your hand moved to his cheek and ran your thumb along his beard, earning a hum of pleasure from the small act and had you smiling against his lips.

When you finally broke, you rested foreheads together, pushing up his hat slightly in the process. Even in a dark alley, you could still make out his bright blue eyes and a deep shade of red gracing his skin. You couldn’t even begin to conceal your toothy grin, nor could he.

“I have my exceptions, too.”

His hand reached up and curled around yours, “Hope I’m the only one, then.”

You pecked his lips before stepping back and lacing your fingers with his, gently tugging to walk, “I’ll think about it.”

He rolled his eyes at your wink but still grinned, happily following you around wherever you dragged him to. Slipping between alleys, you merged yourselves with the lively nightlife again– the same sights you saw during the day looked even better now.

As you strolled through the town hand-in-hand, a sense of domesticity settled upon you. Tonight, you weren’t part of a highly wanted gang, you were just another pair in the streets of Saint Denis– clinging to his arm, catching snippets of entertainment through saloon doors, and getting the other’s attention when something of interest was spotted.

One of the things you enjoyed most was Arthur’s reactions to when kids jumped out to scare you both, a prank played on anyone who dared to walk the particular stretch of the street. The younger the prankster, the more dramatic Arthur’s responses became. He would place a hand over his heart and tightly cling to you with feigned disbelief, saying things like “Haven’t been scared like that in years!” or, “Never even saw ‘em comin!” before saying some words of encouragement that fueled the next scare.

Teenage boys who attempted the same stunt received a more wary reception from Arthur, recognizing their motives often stemmed from a desire to appear cool in front of friends or impress girls, and that their pranks were much more juvenile. In most cases, his glare and sheer size alone were enough to send them fleeing, but those who dared to persist were subjected to his quick tongue and left them retreating like chastened dogs with their tails between their legs. Your laughter always followed the encounter, adding to the lingering sting of Arthur’s verbal reprimand.

Eventually, your route had led you near the markets again, and you eagerly pulled Arthur along to find your favorite stand. He chuckled and followed your lead as you navigated through the crowd, your excitement palpable.

“Oh please tell me you stole him!” Came a familiar voice around the corner.

You smiled at the sight of her and approached, seeing that her table had been decently cleared, a sign of a good night for profits.

Arthur politely tipped his head towards her with a shy smile, “Afraid it’s the other way around, ma’am.”

You felt a warmth on your cheeks at his answer and gently squeezed his hand before letting it go to dig out your promises tucked expertly within your clothing. “But I do come bearing gifts!”

Her playful frown turned up into genuine surprise at your reveal of assorted jewelry and trinkets– indeed impressed with your take as it was more than she anticipated. Carefully, she examined each one before placing them with her own wares for sale, whispering a praise about the item while doing so. As she spoke, her eyes flitted about her table, her gestures revealing a hint of embarrassment.

“I apologize that I don’t have more to offer, dear,” her eyebrows furrowed apologetically, “but please, do take whatever you like.”

You glanced over the table, hesitating as you hovered a hand over an item before retracting it, shaking your head slowly. The woman and Arthur exchanged puzzled glances, the woman’s expression now tinged with concern.

“It doesn’t have to be tonight, I’ll be here–”

“It’s quite alright,” you replied sweetly, though the confusion was still apparent in her expression. “I just wanted to repay you.”

She layered her hands over her chest in gratitude, and you felt the act of pure kindness from one human to another to be worth more than any dollar bill or piece of gold.

You also knew that besides the girls, each member that was out had surely pickpocketed or gambled their way into getting a cut for themselves and camp.

Her eyes peered over to Arthur for a moment, his posture straightening when she pointed a motherly finger at him. “Don’t let this one go, you hear?”

You giggled at her demand, and another wave of red kissing his cheeks only added to your amusement as he tipped his head at her once again.

Slowly, you exchanged goodbyes as Arthur placed a hand on your lower back and subtly scooched you along– only for it to be an excuse to slip a wad of cash towards the woman without you noticing. Her hands were quick to replace the cash in his hands for something small and delicate into his, darting her eyes between your turned figure and him before shooting a wink. Without looking, Arthur knew exactly what she gave him, and placed it right in his pocket before giving you his full attention as you continued through the strip.

A warm smile graced your lips as Arthur’s arm wrapped around your waist and he planted a gentle kiss on your head, feeling a tiny swarm of butterflies in your chest. His attention made you feel important with the way he had to touch you, like he needed everyone to see you on his arm, proud to have you by his side.

As the night wore on, you couldn’t suppress the heaviness of your eyelids. You tried to hide your yawns that wouldn’t stop coming after the initial one, but Arthur noticed after the second one. After exploring nearly all the sights of Saint Denis, with the exception of the mansion district, of which you had wisely avoided for the rest of the evening, he convinced you to rest at a hotel for the night. You protested at first, but another yawn and knowing look from him persuaded you to give in.

He’d slipped the clerk a little more than the average room cost, wanting you to have the best possible after such a physically taxing day. The clerk, more than willing to oblige, had graciously handed over the keys.

While the lofty bed and opulent room details were certainly appealing, you immediately took to the private balcony that gave the perfect view over the town, allowing you to continue enjoying the night from the comfort of your room. Your skirt fluttered in the breeze, mirroring the movement of the curtains as you leaned against the iron railing. A soft, ambient glow illuminated your figure, creating a picturesque scene that Arthur couldn’t help but admire– a sight he would undoubtedly sketch later.

He joined at your side, his presence reassuring as he brushed against your shoulder. You continued to gaze down at the bustling town below, the sounds of murmured conversation and laughter from the open buildings– mostly taverns and saloons– filling the night air. You rested your head against Arthur’s shoulder, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you.

“I know I acted like I didn’t wanna come out here tonight,” he mentioned as he looked down at you, meeting your gaze that reaffirmed his statement that pulled a smile from him. “But I’m glad I did.”

Adjusting to face him properly, he snaked his arm around you as he did the same, drawing you closer to him with a soft, affectionate look. You brushed noses as you settled in his space, your lips mere centimeters from his.

“I’m glad you did too.”

Your lips locked in a passionate embrace, and the cheers and woos from below had reached your ears, causing both of you to break into smiles at the unexpected audience. But he paid no heed to the commotion as he pulled you in for more, his hands finding your face to deepen your connection.

In a brief moment of separation, you took the opportunity to give him a suggestive smirk and nod to the room that told him everything he needed to know– quickly peppering kisses along your jaw and neck before swiftly sweeping you off your feet and right into bed.

If tonight proved one thing, it was that you needed to get out of camp more often.

Especially with Arthur.