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pursuitseternal · 10 months ago

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“The Sixth Day:” packed with literal steam in “Antics of the Newly Ascended”

Ascended Astarion x f!Reader | E | 3.7 K of mist form issues and smut

(Sfw) 🎨 by @mouldering-casket —nsfw version, on ao3 link and their X account.

Summary: You promise him anything if he can just get his powers under control for once… only anything means you are at his loving, demanding mercy as he finally takes you in that way you have been hesitant over…

CW: a$$ play, double penetration, illicit use of Mage Hand, Wet Cat Astarion, bathing foreplay and aftercare.

Previous Ch | ao3 link | Masterlist

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“Astarion, did you get those arrows of dragon slay….”

Your hand pushes the door to your rooms open. Those private rooms that have already seen nearly every hole of yours filled with his cock or fingers or tongue… and your fingers filling all of his too.

You hear mostly silence… just a sort of slow swirling sound.

“I need a moment, my consort,” he speaks to your mind, that voice trying hard to ring with power and purr. But he just sounds… caught.

“Maybe I can help, I told you to check the trunk….”

Shutting the door, you see why he’s using your connection. Why he can’t just talk to you with those sultry, smirking lips.

Why he’s taking so fucking long.

“Mist? Really? We need the Vampire Ascendant in mist form to get the arrows, now?” You laugh as it starts to form a new shape. But only… half of him materializes.

His strapping, leather-bound legs form easily, but the rest of him… does not. A small cloud of mist hovers over his legs as he sways uncomfortably.

“Fucking hells, Astarion…” you grumble, burying your face in both your hands. “All I can do is ask… why.”

“Why, what, my treasure?” His voice still purrs against your mind. “At least my best and most prominent qualities manifest—“

“No,” you hold a hand up just in case. “No, Astairon, I am not going to be railed by only your lower half, before you start insinuating anything even close to that.”

His hips cock to his left. Annoyed. “We won’t know what we’re missing, my darling…”

“For fucks sake, no,” you do smirk back at him. “Don’t make me spank you, mighty Ascendant. Not like you could fight back.”

“Oh… my love. You always know what to say…”

You roll your eyes, over the top dramatically. “We best not keep them waiting, you know. You either figure this out, or I’m getting Gale. We need those arrows if we are going to face Ansur.” And you flop down to sit on the edge of the bed.

He begins to pace, or at least half of him does. “Fine,” he growls. “But… I might need a hand.”

“As long as it’s not pumping your cock below your diapperated torso, I’m fine with that.” You can feel the shiver of desire caress your core, heating down your bond. “Tell you what, my love…”

You stand and cross to him… whatever he is. Sticking your hand into the bubble of mist, you feel it leap to brush your skin, as if he can’t get close enough to you. “You make your whole body reappear immediately, and I’ll let you try that… thing… you’ve been asking for…”

You can’t see his face, but even as he breathes the single word, “Really?” you can picture that ravenous gleam in his narrowed eyes, that cant of his left brow. That look that makes you quiver under the gaze of your predator, knowing you are his next meal.

“Oh… yes,” you purr, reaching a single finger to trace up that line of his chorded thigh, stopping before it disappeared into the mists. “But only if you can….”

Pop.

A slight tingling wave of magic, and suddenly his upper half materializes, arms already wrapping tightly around you, ravenous lips beginning to tear into yours. The beading of his fine jacket presses into your sensible tunic, beads so sharp and refined. Just like him.

“Easy, my love,” you giggle as he begins that caress, that little trickle of lust that always ends with him ravaging you. “We have to get to…”

But a squeal replaces your words, his hand cupping on your mound, fingers already working through the buckskin to press between your folds. The other set of dancing lithe fingers claws hard into the curve of your backside. Friction rubs hard against both, sweeping in tandem and making you pant in an instant. You ride those hands, strong and long and warm as he fucks his fingers against your trousers.

You gasp, not expecting to enjoy the pressure on your ass, the tickle of his pressing touch brushing places yet to be explored….

But with one of his deep and rumbling laughs, he leaves your body, just the cold draft of his haste to cross the room and retrieve those godsforsaken arrows you had mentioned.

“Best not keep them waiting…” he spits your words back at you, that clever, rakish grin on his features as he watches you writhing in place. Knees buckle as you struggle to stand after… all that.

“Seriously…” you grumble again, rolling your own pair of crimson eyes at his game. “I offer you to do what you will with me… and you…” your words end with a frustrated groan as he shoves three arrows in your flapping, gesticulating hands.

“I won’t be giving them any more reason to think me a selfish bastard than I already have, darling…” he gives you that half-lidded, hungry stare that makes your innards melt. “You’ll just have to wait to give me what I want until we return, my consort. We are so close, I can almost taste it.” He lets his pink tongue linger on his last words, wetting his lips, a performative little display meant to leave you in agony.

And fucking hells, doesn’t it just.

In battle, your mind half flits through fantasy after nasty fantasy, no matter how many arrows get fired or bodies hit the ground.

Astarion didn’t fail to keep those scarlet eyes locked into yours every chance he could. His lithe hands brushing your body every time you crept in close to him. Your ass, even through armor, was decidedly his favorite to toy with. Little pats or strokes in passing… even in the midst of bloodshed and battle.

And once that armor is off, once you make it back with your weary party to the Elfsong… you are fair game. You nearly make it up the stairs, the companionship and warmth of a hot meal calling you. Until that Ascendant Lord purrs his excuses from the top of the stairs. He begs their forgiveness, hopes their stomachs enjoy their meals and that their ears don’t heed the noises he’s about to draw from his consort’s mouth.

You hold tight to the railing, shaking your head at the sound of their groans from inside the doors before your love shuts them tight.

Head tilted, eyes narrowed, and lips twisted just so… he races for you, sweeping you over his shoulder like the spoils of war you are. His treasure.

Nothing but the suede of your leathers on your legs and the damp tunic hanging loose from your frame, you feel every drag of his fingers as he grips your thighs. Your world hangs upside down, weightless. At his mercy as he kicks open your doors and carries you into the inner dark. Doors close with another kick, Astarion does not even bother to turn. The heel of his boot collides with wood, a fraction of a second before his palm does the same with your ass cheek.

You squirm on his shoulder, crying in surprise at the ripple of slight pain. “Astarion!” you chastise. But he only laughs as he sets you back on your feet. You smell it in the air, the floral oils and soaps you use for bathing wafting on the steam. Your feet settle on the floor, your body dragging down his front, but you ignore that virile smirk and ravenous gleam in his eyes. Scanning the room, you breathe the scents in the air. A steaming bath… soaps and towels and oils lining all within reach. “Seems a bit much for how I incentivized you earlier to get your head out of your ass…”

“Mmmm,” he purred, hands racing down to cup the full curves of your backside. “Yes…. Get my head out of my ass… so I can finally sink deep into yours.”

Gods, your cheeks ignite, your belly dropping to your toes as if you were falling through the air.

“But, my little love, it’s so much more to me than you finding new ways to trust me,” he whispers, those narrowed, hungry eyes softening just slightly as you turn to meet his gaze. “You have been, ahem,” he clears his throat awkwardly, that veneer of the Ascendant cracking with his sincerity, “been patient with me, keeping my… limitations secret as I learn just what these powers can do for me… for us.”

“So you’re eager to buy my continued silence… and fuck me in the ass?” you taunt in reply, slowly teasing your soiled shirt up from your belly.

“Well…” he gives that silken purr, hands freeing her body of that fabric, “you are my consort, and I’ll never leave you wanting, darling. I’ll wrap you in every luxury, bathe you in the finest oils, make every intimate moment you offer me the most… exquisite union for us both, because…” his velvety voice trails off with a deep throated chuckle. Because I love you, the words simmer in your mind, a caress from his thoughts against yours.

You smile softly, your body on fire, your heart welling with that feeling, even if he is too proud to voice it aloud. “Don’t I feel pampered and spoiled, brimming with anticipation…”

“You’re about to feel a lot more than anticipation brimming inside you, but,” he sighs and pulls off his own shirt in one fluid jerk, “let’s not get too hasty, hmm?”

Before he deigns to slip off his own trousers, his hands tear off your soiled shirt, your trousers freed from your skin in a matter of moments before he sweeps you up and deposits you in that warm and foaming water. Rose scented steam billows around you and permeates your every breath. You close your eyes and sink into the waters completely, letting it cover your head and drench your every inch.

You feel the water surge higher, two long, chorded legs fold to sit beside you. Arms pull you above the water, and you gasp, his body slipping around you, the perfect throne as he shifts you to face him. You feel that telltale prodding against your belly as he slides you closer, your legs brought to wrap firmly around his narrow hips. His eyes seem to devour you. That smirk on his lips that has always made you melt glints at you, his hands shift you just a little higher, fingers teasing around the soft swell of your ass.

You shudder, that molten touch barely sweeping you apart, a little towards that tight and puckered hole. Gasping, you flinch, making him laugh as he steals his hand back between your bodies, returning to all-too-familiar territory. That rumbling laughter in his chest rattles into your frame as his touch braces you closer, nails digging into your lower back.

Those other long, skilled digits take command of your folds, drawing heavy breaths from your mouth as he digs in deeper and toys with your clit as if it’s his favorite plaything. It’s a matter of seconds, a moment of winding tight in the hot water, the heady scent of rose petals in your nose and on your tongue as he drives you without mercy or reprieve towards orgasm. Your head rests on the hard edge of his collarbone, and you wince and shudder as that one hand throws you into the hot release that your body demands.

His name on your lips, you squirm and buck as heat finally explodes inside you, as your slick walls clutch hard in waves. Those warm lips of his suckle on the curves of your ear, rubbing their damp to the bend in your neck. “Now, let me show you my deepest gratitude, my little love, and trust me,” he breathes against your flesh in that velvet voice of his. “I promise you, I know what I’m doing…”

“A little too well at times, Astarion,” you breathlessly laugh in reply, trying hard to raise your head. But his hands rests its weight into your damp mess of hair, keeping you cradled on his shoulder.

“You’ll thank me, someday,” he rasps that deep laugh as he slides your hips to angle just right away from him. Every muscle clenches and shivers as his fingers explore that tight circle, the spoils you’ve offered.

That hand keeps you pinned in place, your ear shoved against his jugular to hear how his heart thumps harder the more he begins to circle around that untouched hole. A moan pours from your lips when he teases that soft and tight skin more, as he begins to dip inside and stretch you out.

Just a little, just playful and light, but already you groan at the new and overwhelming lightning it makes course through your nerves. “Ah!” you whimper with every teasing touch inside you.

“You’re doing so very well, my pet,” his other hand lifts your chin with the warm pads of his fingers. “You’ll take more, like the good girl you are…”

A noise leaves your throat, desperation and trembling fear whimpering in response. But that silken touch only glides another digit into you. Stretching, hot and painful, it makes you recall that first time anything stretched your cunt so full.

“Don’t worry… I’ll protect you… take good care of you… as if you were my own little virginal consort…” Silken touch and velvet voice sends shivers down your spine until your toes curl into themselves.

A third finger enters you, his mouth devours the gasping moan that slips free. His other hand returns to catch that aching clit again, and that water around you suddenly feels ice cool against your skin.

Decimated, shaking, exploding. Your walls clench around nothing and yet you feel yourself bursting full. Fangs bite your bottom lip as you gasp, unable to shut your mouth or swallow or move or…

You taste your blood on your own tongue, the warm pad of his own sweeping to lap and lips closing to suck you clean. Even as you wait for your world to stop tilting so you can recover in his arms, one more gasp rushes from your mouth as he slips from inside you.

He stands and pulls you with him from the waters. Lithe fingers grip yours to guide you safely over the edge. You watch his cock prod prominently through the gap of his towel as he tucks it around his waist, its little jolts as you stare and smile only serve to make you giggle and make you wetter.

Hastily, you dab yourself dry, and that gleam in his own crimson eyes signals the end of his patience. That towel gets ripped from your hands and flung somewhere on the floor behind you. Astarion’s eyes scan over you, so hungry and so smug. Those hips cock, his laugh flexing those ridges of his stomach as he watches you growing more agitated and flustered. Until he beckons you closer with a crook of his finger. Wet feet patter loudly as you rush him, arms wrapping around his neck, pulling that insufferable, conceited smirk into your mouth so you can kiss it off his warm lips.

You notice one of his hands is closed around a small vial, his other pulls the towel he just secured around those etched and narrow hips of his. It flutters to the bed, a heap of white that he guides you towards. He’s delicate for once, laying you with reverent touch on your stomach, putting that little glass bottle between his teeth so he can run all ten of his skilled fingers over your skin with featherlight touch.

Your breath is ragged, head turned so you can glimpse every movement from the corner of your eye. That pointed gaze is fixed where his hands trace up and down your back, sometimes warm and soft, sometimes tickling and scratching his nails up and down your sides. He gives a low, rumbling chuckle as one hand starts to massage the globes of your ass, the other reaches for that bottle of clear oil. The cork pops as he pulls it free with his teeth, its warm slickness pours over your rear. He sweeps it into that seam, suddenly pushing that oil back into that hole, easier than before but just as… nice.

Pleasurable.

He spits the cork out, you hear it bounce quietly across the floor, the light scent of the oil the same as the bath, floral and sweet. Slick noises squelch somewhere behind you, and recognition sends a bolt of desire flooding to your core. He slathers it on his cock, beating, rubbing himself in his fist, even as his other hand teases you apart on his three fingers again.

And that’s when his well-oiled hands lift you to your knees, face still panting into your pillows.

Something cool and light sweeps up your seam, dipping deep into your cunt. You lift your chest just enough to watch from under how that magical touch of a Mage Hand thrusts over and over into your folds.

Finally, you groan, something to clench around. You relish it, that magical touch at last filling you in all the familiar ways. As if your vampire's cold touch has returned. You shiver, blissful and bucking.

Until you feel something warm again prodding just behind that already-filling touch. You know it, it’s blunt and oiled and hot and fleshy. “Breathe my Consort, even if you don’t need to any longer,” he chuckles, rolling his hips to thrust that hardened length up the crease of your ass. “You’re about to need to breathe, so don’t you forget how.”

You obey, the scents of your oils and soaps making your body limp, even as you sense his anticipation. His hand grips just beyond his cock’s head, sweeping more oil to make everything so slick over him, over you. And so hot. You do breathe, that prodding returning inside your ass, pushing inside you bit by agonizing bit. He groans, pausing, giving you the time to loosen, to take him at your leisure. Thank gods that Mage Hand hasn’t lost its charms, still pressing and filling you. And now, as he slides inside just that bit more, you are busting.

That magic touch in your cunt, that pressing pressure just beside it, they rub almost against one another, paper thinness separating them. And that sensation makes you forget to breathe. Especially as he works his way more and more, slowly and carefully.

Ever so skilled, he is. Like someone who has done this dance a thousand times, but with the knowledge and tenderness of one who worships your body. Who adores you.

Slowly, he withdraws, only to slip inside you again. Over and over, he takes his time as he takes you. Over and over, you try to breathe, air hitching every time his cock brushes against that other touch that buries inside your channel.

Never… never before have you been so filled, not with a cock or pleasure or love. To be so used and worshiped, to be touched gently and fucked roughly… to be trusted and to trust, it brings a little sting of tears to your eyes and not just from the suffocating bliss he’s drawing from you now.

You keep yourself panting, face buried in the bed as he slowly buries himself into you deeper, still deliberate and slow. Sometimes, they shove into you in synch, sometimes they piston against each other, opposing forces that fuck you back and forth. A single brush of fingers over your belly to catch your clit in his all too real touch is all you need to explode. So breathtakingly good. You clench around magic, the grind of that wam and hard length pushing you harder into waves and coils of pleasure you didn’t even think your undead body could handle.

Astarion picks up his pace, grunts in his throat, his voice rough and thick with his praises. “So beautiful, my very good girl,” he rasps, that addictive feeling of his hips snapping against your rear, that sound of slapping flesh sending another bout of shivers down your spine. “You lovely, tight thing… so good to me, spoiling me, my love.”

You barely hold yourself up on your knees, that touch inside you slipping out after the last tremors of your orgasm. His breath grows ragged. His fingers claw into your hips. His cock splits you past fullness to another realm of pleasure. Until, for as slowly as he entered you, he slips away.

You groan so loudly, you hear your voice ricochet from the wall. He beats his cock, hips and thighs still braced against your backside as you hear that wet rhythm of his self-pleasure. It takes only another beat for him to push against you with all his strength, to feel ropes of hot cum drip and trail down your back.

“Exquisite…” he sighs, warm touch painting white streaks over your cool skin through the mess he’s made all across your back. “Simply exquisite…” he proclaims proudly, voice rich like velvet and panting with exhaustion.

“Mmm,” you mumble into the bed beneath you, far too boneless to stand, far too pleasantly sore to do much more than lower your aching hips to the bed. “Am I?” you purr back as you barely turn your head.

“Indeed,” he chuckles and rises from the bed, “and you’ll be exquisite forever.” One hand massages your ass cheeks, and you moan and hiss in one unabashed noise. “Now, to clean you up, filthy thing. You really were detectable, you know.”

You giggle into your hand as you raise your head and toss your tangled mess of hair from your eyes. “Just don’t go trapping yourself as a mist too often, I don’t know how frequently my ass can serve as incentive, my love.”

He just cants his brow and flashes his fangs down at you, hovering at your bedside and creeping closer. A shock of magic and a caress of mist as he shifts once…. A pop and rush of power as he shifts back.

Fully this time.

Astarion laughs deeply and pulls you by the hand to your feet. “Seems you’re safe… for now, my darling.”

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devillexi · 2 years ago

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Walking In On Their S/O Masturbate

BSD Headcanons

Warning: degradation, use of the word slut, extremely smutty, afab reader, etc.

Hope you enjoy!

Dazai:

• Usually after work, Dazai liked to hang out at your place, so he could tell you all about his day.

• But he didn't expect to find you pleasuring yourself in bed. You were so preoccupied with chasing after your own release that you didn't notice him standing in the doorway.

• He was in a trance really. Seeing your fingers work so desperately, in and out, opening your pretty pussy. Your slick pooling underneath you, leaving a wet spot on the bed. It was a magnificent sight to come home to.

• He couldn't take just watching any longer when you started whimpering his name, frustrated with how your fingers weren't enough compared to his cock that would often ravage, wreck, and destroy your pussy.

• You were startled out of your stupor when you felt something touch your hand and gasped when you saw it was Dazai. Your face blew up in a sea of red as you asked him how long had he been there.

• His answer: "Just long enough to get me hard, my belladonna. If your pretty fingers aren't enough to satisfy you, then I'll replace them with something that will."

• It's a long week before you could finally walk properly after that.

Chuuya:

• You little minx...! How could you masturbate without him!? You know he likes to watch.

• As punishment for touching yourself without his explicit permission, he uses his ability on you to lift you off the bed. An absolutely startling surprise for you as you had no idea he was there.

• You shrieked and called out his name in surprise. He smirked as he watched you desperately tried to sturdy yourself but you were in the air. What could you possibly balance yourself on?

• "My naughty kitten...what was that you were just doing a moment ago?"

• "Ch-Chuuya!? Put me down!"

• "Not until you finish that little performance you were doing. Ah, what was it? Stuffing your fucking cunt without my supervision!"

• You were ticked off for being interrupted. You were so close to reaching your high!

• You wanted to be let down, but this position of being suspended in mid air with your legs open was tempting as well.

• Chuuya could see it in your eyes and smirked, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. "Why don't you go ahead and show me just how you were pleasuring yourself, huh? Lemme see, baby."

• His husky voice, heavy with lust, tempted you and you brought your hands back to your soaking cunt.

• "That's it, baby," he coaxed you, a tightness forming in his pants as you held his gaze. He licked his lips as you circled your fingers around your clit and groaned out, "Do a good job and I'll reward you good, baby."

• "Promise, Chuu?"

• "Oh, it's a promise. Now work those fingers and cum for me. I want to see you dripping on this fucking floor."

Rampo:

• His deduction skills was what lead him here in front of your bedroom door as it stood open, slightly ajar. You see, Rampo had noticed a couple of changes that had him curious. Whenever he came by, he noticed that your sheets would be replaced and there was often a heavily perfume smell in the room. Now the sheets by themselves wouldn't have been a clue if it wasnt for the fact that you change them before he arrives, every other day. And the heavy fragrant smell was just the tip of the iceberg. So naturally he became curious about what you were hiding from him, but he already knew what it was.

• He watched as you plunged your pink dildo into your tight heat. Your legs trembling as they laid wide open for the whole world to see. He watched as your dainty fingers circled your clit as you repeatedly sunk your dildo deeper and deeper.

• He knew that this was what you were doing but his poor feelings were still hurt. Why masturbate when he can give you just what you need? Was your little toy more satisfying than his cock? He thinks the fuck not. He becomes increasingly angry at the thought of you masturbating and pleasuring yourself without his permission. Your pussy belongs to him.

• Unable and unwilling to witness such travesty, he barged into your room, startling you.

• "So this is what you've been up to? You've been so sneaky I almost had the wrong impression that you were cheating on me!," he glared. Your heated face flushed an even more bright crimson.

• "Ra-Rampo, I thought-"

• "Save it. I think you're in need of a punishment," he said as he stalked over, taking hold of your dildo as he stared you down. "This filthy thing's been hogging my pussy. Who gave you permission to do this, slut?"

• You stammered, stumbling over your words, unable to give him a proper answer. It didn't matter though as Rampo removed the offensive thing, forcing it out of you and making you yelp. He discarded it haphazardly in the corner of your room.

• "If you're gonna please this cunt, it's only going to be through me. I guess I gotta teach you who this pussy belongs to, huh?"

• You could only whimper as your legs were spread and Rampo slid in between. You could see the fury and lust swirl behind his eyes as he eyed how soaking wet you were.

• "So disappointing," he sighed, already unbuckling his belt. "Who knew you'd go behind my back like this, you little slut?"

#bsd smut #lexi writes #bsd headcanons #bungou stray dogs #nakahara chuuya #osamu dazai #edogawa ranpo #dazai smut #nakahara chuuya smut #edogawa ranpo smut #bsd dazai #bsd chuuya #bsd ranpo

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agirlandherquill · 8 days ago

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the seventeenth day of writemas

day 17 came around faster than i expected, can you believe there's only just over a week left of writemas? it's been truly wonderful seeing everyone participate and i cannot wait to see you all continue to write amazing things over the next days to come!

the rules, for those of you that are new or simply need a refresher: choose a prompt from the list, write something and share your creation with the rest of writeblr, and share the game with others, because as we all know writing is a gift and it deserves to be shared! and of course, tag me in your responses because i cannot wait to see them!

p.s - the game is open to all, as discussed in the invitation post - which, if you'd like to be added to the tag list, is still being monitored for newcomers and late additions - all are welcome to the game!

now for the part you're all here to see - the prompts!

Prompt List:

Dialogue Prompts:

"Let this fight be our last, make it so."

"I wish we were enough to fight this, I wish this was all it took, but as I've told you darling, a dozen times before, love can never win."

"Take that look off your face. Take your pity and drown in it."

Setting Prompts:

A temple

A mountain

Nothingness

Narration Prompts:

She quivered before her greatest foe, let her fear consume her, let terror ravage her body and ice the blood in her veins.

He forged his own war, waged upon himself, for he was his greatest enemy.

The pull toward one another was inescapable, no matter how hard they fought it, they still drew closer, closer until their breaths mingled together.

Feeling Prompts:

The sparkle of stars

The glistening of tears

The shimmer of sparks

(because i'm insanely overeager, this post like its predecessor will be going live at 00:01 UK Time, apologies to those of you that receive it early but hey, early presents are still pretty good presents :) )

eagerly awaiting your creations, and as always, happy holidays!

~ A Girl And Her Quill

the invitations have been received so here you all are, i bestow upon you the gift of writemas! p.s if you want to be added to the tag list, interact with this post <3

@365runesofthesystem @glasshouses-and-stones @tildeathiwillwrite @nothoughtsjustmhaandotherthings

@willtheweaver @theverumproject @phoenixradiant @thatuselesshuman @melpomenelamusa

@loverboyxbutch @i-hate-happy-endings @corinneglass @whatwewrotepodcast @aalinaaaaaa

@aseriesofsmallthings @kelseyjade @lauravanarendonkbaugh @i-do-anything-but-write @nuclearr-wessels

@95angeltears @sunflowerrosy @thebadphilosopher @ellowynthenotking @xarrixii

@the-ellia-west @myniceisniceblogbloglog @kitty-is-writing @girl-with-bones @crimsonlyinglilly

@fantasy-things-and-such @shiningstars-world @purplehandshumanfeelings @mxxnlightwriting @aquadestinyswriting

@17panicattacksinatrenchcoat @seastarblue @sacratos @afyerarchive

@sabba-tumbling @aurumni-writes @burntblanc @angelfevr @lead-to-code

@inkoherentbabeler @selfemployedmess @theeccentricraven @sarandipitywrites

@kaylinalexanderbooks @rickie-the-storyteller @grace-thomas @wonda-ch @nyoxy-ghostie

@calliecwrites @happypup-kitcat24 @woodnymphdancinginmoonshine @storycraftcafe

@rhikasa @buffythevampirelover @moltenwrites @vesanal @foyle-writes-things

@thesorcerersapprentice @diabolical-blue @elsie-writes @pepsiwriteswords @sharkblizzardblogs

@zmwrites @satohqbanana @avian-king @wordwizards @theimperiumchronicles

@ryns-ramblings @thewritingcoroner @the960writers @m-r-levine @writingsfromspace

@detective-bird @k--havok @saharasunset @the-letterbox-archives @katwritesshit

@thebookishkiwi @that-expat-girl @lyssthewriter @elligatorrex @fablesandfragments

#writeblr #tag game #writemas

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lindalofbroome · 12 days ago

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07 - Time

i dont have the bandwidth to elaborate today but i've had a headcanon that reeah's skeleton got preserved in the grey tide and then centuries in the future archaeologists dig around and they discover big snake??

Flames, begun and spread by the blazing fire beads, roared in the ancient rafters. The giant snake lay dead on the floor, its body covered by gnawing rats. DELTORA QUEST 1 City of the Rats Ch 17 Hope

And they could see, enclosed within the bend, the gigantic, poisonous yellow bubble pushing the damaged buildings aside as if they were children's building bricks. [...] The shapes of the ruins of the City of the Rats were visible around it — but only the shapes. Every ravaged building, every fallen tower, every brick and stone, was covered in a thick grey shroud. And here the grey no longer moved, and no longer shone in the moonlight. It was setting hard. DELTORA QUEST 3 The Sister of the South Ch 18 The Revenge

#roddacember 2024 #roddacember #lyn's roddacember prompts #postlyn #postlyn art #emily rodda #roddaverse #deltora quest #reeah #city of the rats #//#i uh went over these rocks too many times send help

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splendsay · 1 month ago

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COD FF // Callsign: Sunshine // Ch. 44: Just a .22

WE'RE IN BOSTON FOLKS THIS IS NOT A DRILL

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Callsign: Sunshine // Chapter 44: Just a .22

Rating: 18+ !!MDNI!! Chapters: 44/? WC: 118,410 Pairing(s): TF141 x F!Reader (You) Chapter Warnings: Explicit language, suggestive content Chapter Excerpt (🚨spoilers!!🚨):

"Fuck you," you seethe through clenched teeth.

Your upper thigh is clamped between both hands. Blood dribbles down your fingers, the makeshift tourniquet Simon made from the hem of someone's shirt not quite enough to stem it. Ricky is digging around in the hole near your knee -- parting skin and sinew with a surprisingly surgical pair of tongs to root out the bullet currently lodged somewhere close to the bone.

The only reason you haven't ripped the skin off his smarmy mustachioed face is because you're a little tipsy. And restrained by the arms of Soap, whose lap you're in.

"Don't be so dramatic, darlin', it's only a .22," Ricky chides.

"How could you possibly fucking know that?"

"Got an eye for 'em'."

"Course you do."

Even through the liquored haze, it still feels like a fire is ravaging your entire leg. The pain of the gunshot itself is sharp. Throbbing. But the attempt to remove the bullet has truly been a grueling test of your ever-fluctuating willpower.

"How's about I carve your eyes out with my bare hands and make you eat them, you f--."

Ricky lets out a hearty guffaw, cutting you off.

You don't mean it, though the thought does bring a small amount of joy to your otherwise pain-addled brain. In the short time he's been stabbing you thoroughly and repeatedly, you've learned that batshit threats of violence usually make him laugh. And making him laugh is a nice distraction.

Not a very effective one.

But it's better than nothing.

"Take another shot o' moonshine," Ricky instructs, gesturing to the flask beside his foot.

Moonshine doesn't remotely begin to describe the heat of Ricky's horse piss liquor. You'd told him as much after your first swig.

"You should call this shit Sunburn," you'd sputtered. He'd laughed at that too.

It's the only medication you're going to get, but you're not sure getting hammered is going to make this experience any better.

"No, thank you."

"Suit yourself, darlin'."

Soap idly traces his thumbs along your biceps. Another nice distraction. Together, you sit in the first row of first class on an American Airlines passenger jet. An Airbus. Ancient, but still moving.

Turns out Cap's friends are looters of a grand sort. Grand larceny, to be specific. Slim's defense when pressed was that nobody else was fuckin' usin' it. Without Cap conscious to otherwise vouch for her, you'd had no choice but to take her word for it.

Cap himself is in Slim's hands, which the siblings -- you think they're siblings -- all four of them: Slim, Ricky, and the other two pilots, Junior and Rabbit -- insist is a good thing. She's got him somewhere behind the curtain separating first class from the rest of the plane. You've asked about him a dozen times. At least. They've assured you each time that Slim was a trained combat medic. Has seen a head injury or two in her time. Nimble fingers and whatnot.

But you can only think of Alex. Alex and his weeks' long coma. Alex who hasn't ever quite been the same, though you suppose you never truly knew him before his injury. He's been stoic. Quiet since you got on the plane. Resting against Farah's shoulder just across the aisle from you.

Simon is on your other side, in the window seat, holding your hand. Well, really, you're holding his. Squeezing the shit out of it. The tips of his fingers are white.

Gaz, Gary, and the Los Vaqueros boys are behind you, silent enough to suggest they've all fallen asleep.

Ricky's hand slips, sending his tongs deeper than they ought to be. You howl in outrage, thrashing in your seat, almost kicking him in the chin, but Soap quickly detains you -- with an arm banded across your chest and a low murmur in your ear.

"Be still, love."

You hiss at him. "Fuck you too."

He chuckles, which sends a flare of defiance through your skull -- a shock of red on the edge of your vision. You buck against him, wriggling your hips, trying to set yourself free of his grip. But it only tightens.

"You don't mean that," he croons.

"Maybe I do."

"Careful, Ace."

The heat behind his warning softens your ire instantly. "Don't 'careful Ace' me," you lecture -- but there's no tooth to it. Not as you become very aware of his breath, hot on the back of your neck. One of his hands drops from your arm down to your waist.

Some of the pain eddies away. Dulls. Like someone threw a blanket over it. More effective than Ricky's toilet liquor, anyway.

Your eyes slide to Simon's, whose twinkle with something mischievous. Something dark and husky and deviant. The ever-present thread between you tightens -- though, now there's more of it. Another branch. A third anchor.

Everything is taught.

"Ace..." Soap murmurs, following your gaze.

You shift your hips again. Just a little. He stiffens beneath you. Releases a huff of air, blowing your some of your hair into your face.

"Be still, woman," Ricky scolds.

"Eat me, asshole." Your voice is soft. Throaty. You couldn't be more transparent if you tried.

"Just fuckin' relax."

"I am relaxed."

"Then stop movin'."

You can't.

You feel feral. You need to get up and walk around, if you only could. You need to run a hundred laps around the plane. Shed your skin. Get out of Soap's lap and into -- something else.

Soap plants a gentle kiss on your shoulder and a shiver skates down your spine.

"Johnny," you hiss. "Knock it off."

"I'm distracting you."

You let out a quiet groan -- a mix of chagrin and desire -- hardly audible. But Soap hears it, the growing firmness in his lap a delicious confirmation.

But another sharp throb of pain in your thigh dumps a bucket of ice water over your head, involuntarily sending your foot forward into Ricky a second time.

"Oof, hey now, I've almost got it," he scolds, dodging you.

"Fuck off, Ricky."

"Foul mouth."

"Bite me."

"Just -- think happy thoughts or somethin'."

"Happy thoughts? Really?"

"I dunno, have your other boyfriend whisper sweet nothings in your ear, since the one ain't enough."

Simon and Soap both go still. You blink at him, incredulous. Indignant.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?"

"Loaded question."

You snort. "Confidence inspiring."

"I ain't one to judge, don't you worry."

"That's not what I meant."

"Well don't worry 'bout this neither," he gestures to your leg with his free hand. "I know what I'm doin'."

His words don't quite match his physicality. His brow is coated in sweat -- the headlamp he's using to see what he's doing sliding down a little as each minute passes.

Not exactly soothing to the nerves.

You miss Doc.

..................................................................... Links to: Spotify Playlist Full Fic

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thebigstar-abouttofall · 15 days ago

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The Way That You Suck All The Darkness Out (Chapter 11, Like Past Visions of Osiris)

Wolfstar. Ch: 11/14. Explicit. Slow burn.

This is an unrelenting portrayal of post-Azkaban Wolfstar, from July 1995 to June 1996. A story about grappling with what you once loved, when you’ve both lost so much to the ravages of time. And the attempts, slowly but surely, to put the pieces back together.

An old birthday tradition is revisited for Remus’ 36th.

“Just a little something.” He mumbled, his grey eyes sparkling. Remus damned Sirius for being so bloody good at presents, and glanced down at it. The strangled sound that he made was, admittedly, demonic, but entirely warranted. Because he was holding a tape. Its white sticker surfaces illustrated with felt tip pen. Sirius isn’t Van Gogh by any stretch of the imagination, but Remus could make out the drawings immediately. Tiny Moonys and Padfoots. Chasing each other in the grass. Underneath the light of a full moon, coloured in bright yellow. He sniffed back tears and gaped, not knowing what to say.

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moeitsu · 7 months ago

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The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Ch 14 - A Hundred Months ‘Twas Flowery May

Summary: As Kate navigates Arthur’s recovery, she discovers that true strength lies within her trusted companions, finding relief in their unwavering support during the trials of his healing journey.

Ao3 Wattpad Masterlist - All Chapters Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

A/N: ~10.6k words. Sorry this chapter took longer than I anticipated. It's more of a filler than anything, but lots of fluff/comfort nonetheless :') (trying out a new layout!)

Tag List: @photo1030 @ariacherie @thatweirdcatlady @ultraporcelainpig @marygillisapologist

**please let me know if you would like to be tagged in future chapters!

Story Tags: Widowed, Original Character(s), High-Honor!Arthur Morgan, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Chubby!Arthur Morgan, Canon Divergence, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Eventual Smut, Eventual Sex, Eventual Romance, Emotional Sex, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort,Touch-Starved, Sexual Tension, Friends to Lovers, Child Loss, Infant Death, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Torture, Blood and Violence, Survivor Guilt, Aftermath of Torture, Caretaking, Injury Recovery, Period-Typical Racism, Anxiety, Self-Hatred, Night Terrors, Emotional Constipation, Self-Doubt, Men Crying, Bathing/Washing, Sweet/Hot, Romantic Angst, Romantic Fluff

Nearly three months had slipped by since Kate and Arthur's lives intersected on that fateful day at Emerald Ranch, though to Kate, it felt like an eternity. The days following Arthur's return with her had stretched out endlessly, each moment laden with uncertainty and worry. It seemed as if a hundred months could have passed in that single week alone, as Kate grappled with the ever-present fear that each day could be Arthur's last. Despite the relentless onslaught of challenges and worries, Kate found herself adapting to the rhythm of each new day.

Determined to provide Arthur with the best possible care during his recovery, Kate took to heart the doctor's instructions. She made it her mission to ensure Arthur's comfort, meticulously tending to his wounds and faithfully administering his medication. She gave him the penicillin each day, crushed and mixed with a spoonful of honey. And yet, every day brought its own set of trials, but Kate faced each one with unwavering resolve.

As Arthur battled against the fever that ravaged his body, Kate remained steadfast in her optimism. Though his skin burned hot to the touch and his body trembled with chills, Kate saw the fever not only as a sign of infection but also as a testament to Arthur's fighting spirit. With each passing hour, she held onto the hope that Arthur would prevail in the battle against the illness that threatened to consume him. Only time would reveal the outcome of their struggle—where victory hung in the balance between sickness and survival.

Kate tended to Arthur's needs with resolute care and devotion. She recognized the subtle cues indicating his thirst, gently offering him water-soaked cloths to moisten his parched lips, ensuring he stayed hydrated despite the challenges. When his stomach rebelled, she was quick to react, keeping a bucket nearby and assisting him to sit up, determined to prevent any mishaps like before.

The day following the doctor's departure, Kate took on the task of bathing Arthur herself. Knowing he would be more comfortable in clean skin. With a bucket of warm water and fresh cloths in hand, she ventured into his makeshift room, drawing the canvas flaps closed to provide them with privacy. As she worked, memories flooded her mind—recollections of the night Arthur had confided in her about his body, merely days before he would be tortured. He didn’t have to say it, but she knew he felt ashamed of the way he looked. Though the reasons why were beyond her, his body was perfect in her eyes.

And yet, on that haunting night when she found him again, she had seen beyond his physical scars. His whole body laid before her, his most vulnerable secrets exposed from the cruel hands of fate. Scars carved so deep she knew they would reach his soul. Kate knew how violating it felt, and she vowed to respect every part of his body with tenderness and acceptance.

Regret weighed heavily on Kate's heart as she took in the sight of him, wishing she had expressed the admiration she felt for him during their intimate encounter. To her, Arthur's form was a testament to his strength, he was a strong man built to withstand the storm. But he was also gentle and soft. It was a canvas of stories waiting to be discovered. His body carried with it the song of his past, and Kate longed to hear it.

Lost in her thoughts, she entertained fleeting fantasies of exploring his body with affection and adoration. Lips gently brushing over every insecurity. Warm hands wandering over every inch.

Kate shook her head at the thought, jolting herself back to reality with the pressing tasks at hand. Blushing at her own thoughts, she refocused her attention on caring for Arthur, knowing that there were more immediate concerns demanding her attention.

Deep down, she cherished the secret longing that stirred within her—a silent promise to honor every aspect of Arthur, body and soul.

Starting with his face, Kate delicately wiped away the layers of sweat and grime, unveiling the sun-kissed skin beneath adorned with a constellation of freckles. As her fingers trailed across his beard, she marveled at its softness, each stroke a tender caress. With gentle, wet fingers, she combed through his hair, untangling knots and brushing away dirt and dried blood, restoring its natural silky luster.

Moving down to his arms and abdomen, she carefully pulled back the sheet to reveal his stomach, noting the dampness of the blanket beneath him from sweat. Making a mental note to replace it, she reached for more cloth. The water, now cold, offered a refreshing contrast against Arthur's fever warm skin. Despite the chill, each touch was infused with tenderness.

Kate hummed a quiet melody, her touch gentle as she traced the cool cloth over Arthur's skin. His face twitched, rousing him from his slumber. Blinking wearily, he uttered her name, his voice a whisper in the dim light.

"I'm right here, honey. Need to sit up?" Kate's voice was soft, friendly. As if they were discussing the simplest of tasks.

Their eyes met, Arthur's still bloodshot but slowly regaining their vibrant blue hue. He shook his head, a silent response to her question.

"Did I wake you?" Kate inquired, her head tilted with concern. Arthur nodded, his weariness evident even in this small gesture. "I'm sorry, hon," Kate offered with a jaded smile.

"S’alright," Arthur breathed, his eyes closing again, reassured by her presence. "Feels good. M'really hot," he mumbled, words heavy with fatigue.

Kate hummed softly, dipping the cloth back into the cold water, letting its refreshing droplets cascade over his overheated skin. Arthur sighed in relief, savoring the cool sensation. "Feels good," he repeated, his voice muffled by exhaustion. "You washin' me?" he asked, words tinged with a hint of vulnerability.

"Yes," Kate replied honestly, her touch tender as she continued her ministrations. "Is that alright?" She was prepared to stop if he was uncomfortable.

Arthur nodded once more, "S'rotten work, Kate," he murmured, the echoes of past torment still haunting his thoughts. His expression a mixture of gratitude and self-deprecation.

Kate paused, her hand resting on his now-clean cheek, he opened his blue eyes meeting her gaze with unwavering sincerity. "Not to me," she whispered, her words carrying a depth of emotion. "Not if it's you."

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

As the days passed, life in the camp gradually resumed its familiar rhythm. Kate, Lenny, and Sadie took turns tending to Arthur, but Kate remained a constant presence by his side, especially during the long, dark hours of night. Only swapping shifts with her trusted companions when she needed to eat or bathe.

Arthur spent most of his time asleep, rousing only when he needed something. Kate felt immense gratitude for the assistance of Charles and Hosea, especially during the more intimate moments of caregiving. Their help spared Arthur any unnecessary embarrassment, allowing him to retain some semblance of dignity amidst his recovery.

Despite her body's protests, Kate stubbornly refused to leave Arthur's side for a proper rest. Nights were particularly challenging for him, the fever raging through his body like a wildfire, casting his veins in searing, white-hot flames. With just a week's supply of antibiotics remaining, Kate found herself praying fervently for them to be effective, desperately hoping they would be enough to quell the relentless onslaught of infection.

Arthur's evenings were plagued by haunting night terrors and feverish delirium, his mind a battleground of fear and confusion. He would often awaken in a state of panic, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he grappled with the phantoms that tormented his dreams.

In the quiet of the night, amidst the shadows that danced around them, Kate would find herself stirred awake by the sounds of Arthur's restless slumber. His cries, soft yet troubled, echoed through the stillness of the camp, tugging at her heartstrings like a grim melody. With each silent hiccup, his face contorted in pain, resembling that of a child lost in the throes of a nightmare. It was a sight that weighed heavily upon her, casting a veil of sorrow over her weary soul.

Drawing closer to him, Kate would perch on the edge of his cot, her presence a beacon of relief in the darkness. With tender care, she enveloped his uninjured hand in her own, the warmth of their touch a fragile lifeline amidst the turmoil of his dreams. Her fingers traced soothing patterns through his tousled hair, a gentle caress to ease his troubled mind. In whispered words, she offered him a remedy, weaving a tapestry of reassurance around him like a protective cloak.

In those moments, as she sat vigil beside him, Kate found herself transported back to a distant memory, a bittersweet recollection of her infant daughter Lorena. The late-night awakenings, the cries for comfort that echoed through the still darkness—each moment a testament to the unbreakable bond between a mother and her child. Kate offered him the same unwavering love and protection that had once been bestowed upon her own flesh and blood.

Reflecting on those tender moments of bonding with her newborn daughter, Kate's heart swelled with a mixture of nostalgia and longing. The sleepless nights, the endless feedings, all intertwined with an indescribable sense of purpose and fulfillment. It was a journey marked by both exhaustion and euphoria, a testament to the depths of a mother's love and devotion.

As she gazed upon Arthur's sleeping form, a soft smile graced Kate's lips, her heart swelling with a bittersweet tenderness. The trail of tears that had once stained his cheeks had now dried, replaced by the tranquility of peaceful slumber. With a soft kiss pressed against his forehead, she allowed herself to be enveloped by the comforting embrace of sleep, where memories of her daughter awaited her in the quiet space of her dreams.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

As Arthur’s first week of recovery drew to a close, the camp adjusted to his absence, each member picking up his slack with newfound determination. No longer the camp's handyman, Arthur's absence was palpable, highlighting the countless tasks he once effortlessly juggled. Even before his injury, he never knew a moment's rest, always putting the gang's needs above his own.

The afternoon sun bore down on the camp, its intensity softened by rare clouds that offered brief reprieves from the oppressive heat of a July day in Lemoyne. Despite the welcome shade and gentle breeze, the air remained thick with humidity. In Arthur’s tent, Kate sat perched, using a folded newspaper as a makeshift fan to combat the stifling heat. Exhaustion threatened to overtake her, her eyelids growing heavy as she battled to stay awake, the weight of fatigue pressing against her.

Kate sat upright, shifting uncomfortably on the hard wooden chair, as the sound of John's urgent call echoed through the camp, accompanied by the quick patter of footsteps. "Jack! Get over here!" John's voice rang out, his own footsteps hastening toward the tent.

Suddenly, Jack's eager face appeared at the tent entrance, his eyes alight with excitement. "Uncle Arthur!" he exclaimed with a wide grin, poised to step inside before he was swiftly scooped up by someone outside, his protests muffled by the canvas flaps.

In Jack's place, John's weary face appeared, offering an apologetic smile. "Sorry 'bout that," he said, his arms occupied by the squirming boy. Jack wriggled against his father's hip, clutching a book in his small hands. "Put me down! Why can't I see Uncle Arthur?" he demanded with a hint of frustration.

Kate rose from her seat, bridging the distance between them with a reassuring smile. "It's alright. I can keep an eye on him for a bit, John," she offered warmly, her words soft and comforting.

John hesitated, lowering Jack to the ground. Uncertainty etched in the lines of his face as he glanced at Arthur's slumbering form. "Y’sure? I don't want to..." he trailed off, his grip tightening on Jack's hand, “trouble you.” He silently noted the tiredness in her eyes.

With a gentle smile, Kate reassured him, "It's no trouble at all." She crouched down to Jack's level, her eyes sparkling with kindness. "Did you bring Arthur a book?" she asked with genuine interest.

John sighed ponderously, ruffling Jack's hair affectionately before departing. Kate watched him go, a soft smile playing on her lips as she noticed John's growing presence in Jack's life.

"Papa Hosea taught me a lot of new words. I wanted to show Uncle Arthur," Jack piped up excitedly, his eyes shining with enthusiasm.

Kate's smile widened. "That's a wonderful idea, Jack! Why don't you come sit on my lap, and we can read to him together?" she suggested, voice warm with invitation.

Jack nodded eagerly, allowing Kate to lift him into her arms as she settled back into the familiar wooden chair. His gaze shifted to Arthur, a puzzled expression on his face. "How long is he gonna sleep for, Auntie Kate?" he asked with innocent curiosity.

"I'm not so sure. He'll sleep as long as he needs to, I suppose," Kate replied honestly, gentle yet tinged with uncertainty.

Jack turned his gaze back to Kate with a worried frown. "Is he gonna sleep forever?" His voice trembled with a hint of fear, his young mind grappling with the concept of mortality.

Kate could sense the weight of Jack's question, knowing that he had been exposed to the harsh realities of life at a tender age. She struggled to find the right words to comfort him, to shield him from the harsh truth that lingered in the air.

"Arthur will wake up when his body is ready, Jack," she reassured him, offering a comforting squeeze. "Right now, he just needs all the rest he can get so he can keep up with you once he's feeling better." She playfully tickled his sides, coaxing a bright giggle from the boy as he squirmed in her lap.

After a moment, Jack's expression softened as he revealed his longing. "I miss him," he admitted softly, voice tinged with sadness.

Kate's heart swelled with empathy as she felt the depth of Jack's affection for his uncle. She fondly remembered Arthur's dedication to the boy. Abigail had told her how he stepped into the role of a father figure during John's absence from the gang. The thought of their bond being severed filled her with a profound sense of sorrow.

"I miss him too, Jack," she whispered softly, pressing a kiss atop the boy's head, her touch warm and comforting like that of a mother's embrace. "But I know Arthur would love to hear those big words you've learned." Her smile radiated reassurance, instilling confidence in the young boy.

Jack beamed back at her, his grin revealing a gap where his tooth had recently fallen out. With newfound enthusiasm, he eagerly opened the book, its size seeming comically large in his tiny hands.

"The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn," he announced proudly, each word spoken with growing confidence.

As Jack read in her lap, Kate marveled at his proficiency, surprised by his advanced reading skills at such a tender age. Since the day she joined the gang, her mind recalled memories of Hosea's patient efforts in teaching Jack, a heartwarming display of mentorship and care that would surely be treasured by the boy for years to come.

Kate entertained the idea that Hosea must have been the one to teach Arthur to read. She pondered this as her gaze drifted to Arthur's journal, a testament to his inner thoughts and reflections. Despite his reserved nature, Arthur was diligent in recording his thoughts, a habit that intrigued Kate endlessly. What tales did he document within those pages? Did he share his dreams or pour out his frustrations? And amidst it all, did he ever write about her? The questions swirled in her mind, a curious blend of wonder and anticipation.

Although Arthur's journal sat tantalizingly close on his bedside table, Kate resisted the urge to pry into his private musings. Instead, she harbored a hope that one day he would willingly share his thoughts with her, trusting her enough to confide in her the words he committed to paper.

Jack nestled comfortably in Kate's lap, his small frame relaxed against her chest, his feet swaying gently. The rhythm of his soft voice, intertwined with the gentle cadence of his breaths, lulled Kate into a serene half-slumber, the cares of the world momentarily forgotten.

Minutes later, her peaceful reverie was shattered by Jack's urgent grip on her arm, Kate jolted awake, her eyes snapping open in alarm. Startled, she sat up abruptly, her heart racing as she followed Jack's pointed finger to Arthur's cot.

Kate's gaze shifted to Arthur, his discomfort palpable as he shifted restlessly, his brow glistening with sweat, signaling the onset of nausea. With a weary sigh, Kate sprang into action, moving him from her lap. She swiftly lifted Arthur's body while shielding Jack from the distressing scene unfolding before them. With practiced efficiency, she reached for the bucket, ready to offer relief to her ailing friend.

As Arthur lay back on his cot, Kate's gaze shifted to Jack, her heart twisting at the sight before her. Jack stood by the entrance, his book clutched tightly to his chest, his lips pursed and cheeks stained with tears. His big, sad brown eyes met hers, his voice barely a whisper as he choked out his question, "Is... is he going to die?" The words hung heavy in the air, trembling on his tongue.

"Oh, Jack," Kate murmured softly, lowering herself to her knees to meet his gaze at eye level. "Arthur's fighting with all his might. He just needs some time, sweetheart," she reassured him, reaching out to grasp his small hand in hers, her touch warm and steady, enveloping him in comfort. "And a whole lot of love," she added, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

Jack nodded somberly, wiping away his tears with a sniffle before darting off without another word. As the tent flaps billowed in his wake, Kate sighed, understanding his fear but determined not to let him dwell too deeply on Arthur's condition.

Kate eased back into her chair, a low groan escaping her lips as she massaged the soreness from her back, her fingers kneading the tension from her shoulders as she rolled her neck. Suddenly, a groggy voice broke the silence, startling her from her trance. "Did I scare the kid?"

Arthur's tired pink eyes met hers, a hint of blue returning with each passing day. Kate offered him a solemn smile. "He'll be alright. You need somethin’?" she asked gently, weariness lacing her words.

Arthur let out a deep sigh, his good hand dragging down his face in a gesture of fatigue. "I feel like I'm losing my mind, Kate," he confessed, his voice raw with honesty. "I don't feel like I'm in control."

Kate's expression softened with understanding as she realized he was speaking about his night terrors. Tainting his once quiet evenings with haunting shadows. "It's just the fever, Arthur. The dreams will fade with time," she reassured him, placing a comforting hand on his arm.

Arthur glanced up at her, his eyes tinged with sadness, and she sensed the weight of his torment mirrored in his gaze. "Seems all I’m good for is makin’ people suffer, and it’s finally caught up to me."

“I don’t think that’s the case Arthur,” she added soothingly, leaning closer to him. “You’re suffering is not a punishment, it’s a second chance.” Her thumb traced gentle patterns against his warm skin. Lulling him back into a blissful slumber. Her sweet words like a sugar cube, disappearing into the heat of a dark cup of tea.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the evening air took on a refreshing chill, carrying the aroma of Pearson’s savory beef stew. Kate’s stomach, stirred by the tantalizing scent, demanded attention, and she finally complied, settling into her chair beside Arthur’s slumbering figure with a steaming bowl cradled in her lap. With each spoonful, the warmth of the hearty stew spread through her body, offering relief amidst the trials of the day.

With dusk settling in, Kate made the decision to open the tent flaps of Arthur’s makeshift shelter, inviting in the cool embrace of the summer night. The once stuffy confines now filled with a gentle breeze, carrying with it the symphony of the wilderness awakening with the ascent of the moon. The chorus of crickets, the rhythmic chirping of cicadas, the haunting calls of owls, and the resonant croaks of bullfrogs formed a comforting backdrop to the solitude of the evening.

Amidst the serene ambiance, Kate discerned the approach of two sets of footsteps, drawing closer to Arthur’s tent with purposeful intent.

"Hey Kate," Bill's familiar, slurred voice cut through the evening calm, accompanied by the shuffling footsteps of Micah behind him. Kate let out a weary sigh, her hopes of enjoying a peaceful meal dashed by their unwelcome intrusion.

"Seems Arthur’s gone and turned himself into a real crybaby," Bill jeered with a drunken swagger, casting a mocking glance at Micah. "Think when she’s done playin’ nursemaid, she’ll wipe my ass if I get shot?" His words dripped with alcohol-infused arrogance, punctuated by a bitter laugh that grated on Kate's nerves.

Kate leaned back in her chair with casual indifference, reaching an idle hand for her pistol that rested on Arthur’s table, “you wanna find out?” She retorted, her voice cool and composed, tinged with a hint of warning.

Micah chuckled at her bold response, while Bill's face flushed with embarrassment, his drunken bravado deflated. "Relax, princess," he muttered gruffly, “was just pokin’ fun.” He retreated back to his seat by the campfire. Micah lingered near the tent, his hands resting casually on his gun belt.

Kate stifled a deep yawn, rubbing her face wearily. Feeling the weight of exhaustion pressing down on her like a heavy blanket. Each movement was a struggle against the fatigue that threatened to overwhelm her. Micah's chuckle grated on her nerves as he closed the distance, casually leaning against the makeshift table that served as one of the walls of Arthur’s tent. He lingered like a pesky mosquito, buzzing around her head.

"Poor little cowpoke is tired," he remarked with feigned amusement.

Rolling her eyes, Kate brushed off his comment with a sharp retort, "Spare me, Micah. I’m not in the mood for this."

Micah raised his hands in a mock surrender, his smirk still evident. "Just making an observation," he quipped. "Why don’t I take over for a bit? Me and Arthur got some catching up to do anyway."

Kate's response was swift and sharp, her tone laced with defiance, "Over my dead body."

Micah sighed, a moment of uncomfortable silence passed between them as he eyed her with suspicion. "How were you able to find him, anyway?" he asked, curiosity and skepticism coloring his words.

Kate's patience wore thin, her fatigue adding to her irritation. "Dumb luck," she snapped curtly.

Micah huffed, his disdain evident in the tilt of his head. “Sure don’t seem like he got too lucky.”

Kate's gaze turned steely, her eyes flashing with spite. "If only someone had spoken up sooner when he didn't show up after the parley."

Micah shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t call the shots ‘round here, sweetheart,” he replied dismissively, showing no hint of remorse for Arthur’s condition.

“Oh, really?” Kate shifted in her chair, facing Micah directly. “Because it seems to me Dutch has quite the worm in his ear.”

Micah's grin was wolfish, his amusement unsettling. “Care to explain that?” he challenged.

“I don’t buy into your games, Micah,” Kate spat, dripping with contempt. “And Arthur doesn’t either,” she added, gesturing toward the sleeping figure beside them.

Leaning in, Micah loomed over her, his presence imposing. “There’s no game, Kate. Arthur is nothing more than an old dog at Dutch’s heel, just begging for scraps,” he growled. “He’ll do whatever that man asks him to do. You’ll see that soon enough.” With a final tip of his hat, he vanished into the darkness without another word, leaving Kate alone with her thoughts and the quiet of the night.

Kate sighed, feeling burnt out as the weight of exhaustion settled on her shoulders while she observed Arthur's slumbering figure. "Quite the friends you got here," she murmured to him, words tinged with weariness. Yet, her moment of respite was short-lived as the sound of approaching footsteps reached her ears once more. With a groan, she buried her face in her hands, bracing herself for whatever interruption was to come.

Turning her gaze towards the source of the noise, Kate spotted Jack hurrying towards the tent, dragging something bulky and hollow-sounding behind him. Javier trailed close behind, calling after the energetic boy. "Más despacio, hermano!" he urged, his voice filled with a mix of amusement and exasperation.

Furrowing her brow, Kate strained to make out what Jack was hauling in the fading light of dusk. As he reached the entrance, panting heavily, it became clear—he was bringing her Javier's guitar. "Auntie Kate!" Jack called out eagerly, his small frame vibrating with urgency. Kate's heart softened at the sight, touched by the earnestness in the boy's actions. "You have to sing to Uncle Arthur!" he insisted, presenting the heavy wooden instrument to her with small mighty hands gripping its neck.

Kate's chuckle resonated softly in the tent as she cradled the guitar in her lap, its weight a comforting presence against her. Her gaze lifted to Javier, who had followed Jack inside. "Sorry for his antics," she murmured. Apologizing on Jack’s behalf for his uncanny thieving. Her tone tinged with a hint of amusement, "do you mind if I borrow this for a while?"

Javier brushed off her apology with a warm smile, his demeanor relaxed and jovial. "Little hombre insists your voice is the best medicine," he remarked. “How could I argue with that?” A fondness was evident in his tone. Stepping closer, he regarded Kate with a hint of concern, his brows knitting together in a silent question.

Kate's surprise flickered briefly across her features as Javier's hand gently guided her chin upwards. His touch was tender, filled with a quiet concern that spoke volumes. "Ay, cariño," he murmured softly. "Have you been getting any rest?" His eyes searched hers, Kate’s dark circles and tired hollowness not escaping his notice.

A reflexive instinct prompted Kate to pull away slightly, a feeble attempt to shield her exhaustion from Javier's perceptive gaze. "M’fine," she replied, her voice carrying a weary resolve. "Just a little tired, s’nothing I can't handle." Her reassurance was touched with the gravity of her fatigue.

Javier's worried expression softened into one of understanding, a silent acknowledgment of the burdens she bore. With a nod of farewell and a gentle squeeze of her shoulder, he left Kate with her little companion.

Jack had nestled himself into Arthur’s cot, finding security in the space beneath his uncle's uninjured arm. Curled up like a beloved house cat, he nestled snugly against Arthur's side, seeking comfort in his embrace.

Kate's heart swelled at the sight, her lips curving into a tender smile. Jack's innocent affection for his uncle made her feel like she could endure every sleepless night if it meant they would be reunited again.

As she adjusted the guitar strings to her liking, Kate's voice softened to a gentle murmur. "Jack, sweetheart," she began, warm with affection, "where did you get the idea to sing to Arthur?"

A warm virtue radiated from Jack's heartfelt gaze. “Mama told me Uncle Arthur was having nightmares,” he said honestly, “you have to sing him a lullaby so he knows he’s safe.” His wide eyes reflected honey-brown in the low lamp light. Radiating a genuine sincerity. Kate adored how big his young heart was, and she prayed he would retain that kindness long into his adult years.

Her mind wandered to a cherished memory—the night Arthur had kissed her. The warmth of his touch, the tenderness in his eyes. Kate was lost in her emotions as she sang Jack to sleep, and Arthur’s presence was like warm sunshine after rain. Shrouding her in comfort and protection amidst the storming clouds of her loss. She began to notice that Arthur always brought out a tender side in her, one she had long thought vanished with the woes of her past.

A soft chuckle escaped Kate's lips at Jack's earnestness, her affection for him overflowing. "Arthur is lucky to have you, Jack," she murmured, her voice filled with admiration.

With a quiet hum, Kate's fingers began to dance across the guitar strings, weaving a melody that echoed through the tranquil night air. Each note resonated with the quiet beauty of their makeshift home in Clemens Point, a sanctuary amidst the chaos of their nomadic existence. As she sang, the words flowed effortlessly from her lips, a heartfelt lullaby born from the depths of her soul.

I don't know what steps to take, I do the easy ones until it helps.

Little acts of conversation, I don’t think I really like myself.

Am I comfortable in this silence, or is it eating me alive?

Nothin’s ever really quiet when you need distraction to survive.

It’s part of me, wouldn’t you believe it’s nothing?

I’m already going under, nothing I can do but sit and wait.

Are you really having fun, or do you like becoming what you hate?

Am I comfortable in this silence, or am I waiting till it ends?

You were just too stubborn to pretend.

It’s all you need, to keep the rain from coming.

I’m good at letting you go, I’m good at letting it get to me.

I’m good at letting you go. No, you were never the enemy.

Kate's fingers danced over the guitar strings, the soft melody lingering in the air even after she had stopped playing. Her eyes were fixed on the tender sight before her: Arthur and Jack, their bond unbreakable in the way Arthur's arm had moved to enveloped the small boy, a gesture of pure love and affection. Defying the trials of his torment.

A heavy sorrow settled over Kate, like a thick fog descending upon her weary soul. The burden of her exhaustion pressed down on her being. Her eyes felt raw and heavy, strained by the lack of rest. It was a relentless force that threatened to overwhelm her at any moment. In the quiet of the tent, emotions swirled within her, a tempest of longing and love that stirred her heart. She fought the urge to surrender her resolve.

Kate watched Arthur and Jack, a lump forming in her throat as she struggled to contain the torrent of emotions threatening to spill forth. It wasn't just concern for Arthur's well-being that kept her rooted to his side, but a deep-seated devotion that bound her to him in ways she couldn't fully comprehend.

As she looked upon Arthur's sleeping form, a pang of fear gripped her heart. The shadows of her past loomed large in her mind, casting a dark shadow over her hopes for the future. Like some divine conspiracy was once again taking a man of her heart from her grasp. But she had vowed to do better, to not let Arthur meet the same fate.

Though exhaustion threatened to drag her into the depths of sleep, Kate remained vigilant, her eyes fixed on Arthur's face, her heart remaining unshaken to see him through the storm.

As her emotions threatened to spill from her tired eyes, she sighed and put the guitar down. In a moment of spontaneity, she reached for Arthur’s journal. Flipping to a blank page, she grasped his worn dull pencil and spewed her plaguing thoughts onto its pages:

Dearest Arthur,

As I write these words by the light of the moon Jack has curled up by your side, sleeping peacefully. He insisted that I must sing to you, to chase away those bad men that haunt your dreams. How could I refuse? His heart is as vast as the sky above, and he holds you in the highest regard. Oh Arthur, one of life’s greatest tragedies, is that you will always be loved more than you’ll ever know.

In these quiet moments, I’ve had a lot of time to reflect on my life. I've come to understand the depth of my feelings for you. They have come on gradually from the day we first met and I have been ever so sweet on you since.

Arthur, there are no words sufficient to convey what you mean to me. And yet, some part of me fears that you will never hear these words from my lips, so I commit them to these pages in the hopes that they'll reach you when you return to this journal.

I yearn to live an honest life, and never be cruel. A quiet life, where I can be good to you. A life filled with family and friends, where we soar like birds in the endless sky. But I fear we may never change, that we may never learn from our past.

In my fleeting moments of slumber, I dream of a wooden house. Filled with our laughter and love. Where we can sit upon a porch swing, admiring the sunset. As we whisper to each other and say, “it was hard, but we made it.”

As challenging as it has been, to sit by your side in these dark times. My heart aches to see you back in the saddle, riding free across the open plains. To witness once again the spark in your eyes and the warmth of your smile, the very essence of the man I hold so dear.

You are a beautiful soul, Arthur Morgan, and I am blessed beyond measure to have crossed your path. If you'll have me, I will give you the beautiful life you deserve.

With all my love, Kate

p.s. On my honor, your words contained within have not graced my eyes. They belong to you, and to you alone.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

With a weary sigh, Kate closed the heavy leather journal, the weight of its contents lingering in her thoughts. As she rose from her seat, she stretched her arms wide, her tired muscles protesting the day's strain. "C'mere, little love bug," she whispered softly, lifting Jack's sleeping form and cradling him in her arms.

Like a mouse with gentle steps, she navigated through the camp, the darkness enveloping her like a comforting shroud. Intending to settle Jack into his own bed. She returned to Arthur's tent, only to find Hosea occupying her usual spot.

"Evening, Hosea," Kate greeted, her voice soft with fatigue, though her smile held a flicker of warmth.

Hosea nodded in response, his gaze distant, lost in the recesses of his thoughts. "A fine evening it is," he murmured quietly, his tone tinged with a hint of melancholy.

Leaning against the post of Arthur's tent, Kate studied Hosea's weary demeanor, a pang of concern tugging at her heart. "Something troubling you?" she inquired, her voice laced with genuine curiosity despite her exhaustion.

“I can't shake this feeling that I should have done things differently,” Hosea confessed, his voice tinged with regret. “I raised him to be the way that he is. I’ve come to realize that my teachings were a death sentence.”

Kate took a moment to absorb Hosea's words before responding. “Hosea,” she began softly, “you've been a father to Arthur in ways that go beyond his actions. You gave him guidance when he needed it, and stood by his side. You gave him a home and the tools to navigate an unforgiving world.”

Hosea let out a rueful chuckle, tinged with bitterness. “Taught him how to kill and steal, and look where that got him.” He gestured to Arthur’s sleeping form.

“Arthur was taken by Colm,” Kate gently reminded him, “protecting what he holds dear. Because he was taught to fight for his family.”

With a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of years, Hosea leaned back into the chair, his eyes fixed on his son's still form. The lines etched on his weathered face told stories of countless battles fought, both on the frontier and within himself. After a moment of silence that hung heavy in the air, he spoke up again, his voice tinged with a vulnerability that seldom surfaced.

“Do you mind if I stay with him tonight?” His request was simple, yet carried a profound sincerity that resonated with Kate.

She smiled softly, a tender expression that spoke volumes of her trust and respect for the older man. She would have hesitated to leave Arthur with anyone else, but she knew he was in loving hands with Hosea by his side. With a nod of understanding, she gathered her belongings, preparing to take her leave. But before she could step away, Hosea called out to her once more.

“By the way,” his voice carried across the dimly lit tent, “Abigail is looking for you. I believe she’s over by the chuck wagon.”

As she stepped out into the cool night air, the stars above seemed to twinkle with secrets, whispering tales of uncertainty. What could Abigail possibly need her for at this hour? Perhaps she doesn’t want Jack to be around Arthur too much, or maybe she wants Jack to visit him more to give herself a break. With each step Kate felt the world bearing down on her shoulders, her muscles aching with the weight of her own body. As much as she loved the little filly, she was growing increasingly more drained with each encounter. Kate's heart ached with the weight of her responsibilities, the constant juggling act of tending to Arthur's needs while fulfilling the demands of their community.

As she neared the back of the chuck wagon, the soft murmur of familiar voices reached her ears, weaving a tapestry of comfort and familiarity. With a mixture of trepidation and curiosity, she rounded the corner, her eyes alighting on the gathered group before her.

"What's all this?" Kate exclaimed breathlessly, her eyes widening in astonishment. There, amidst the soft glow of lanterns and the gentle summer breeze, stood Abigail, flanked by Sadie, Mary-Beth, Tilly, and even Karen, gathered together in a tight-knit circle. They had fashioned a cozy enclave behind the bustling chuck wagon, cocooned by canvas blankets that offered a sense of sanctuary from the outside world. The space was dimly lit by flickering candles and oil lamps, casting warm shadows that danced across the makeshift walls.

In the center of the little haven sat a large wooden wash barrel, steam rising from its depths like wisps of magic. Nearby, a small table was adorned with a bounty of provisions: fresh fruit, savory meats, and an assortment of cheeses, a feast fit for royalty.

Overwhelmed by the gesture, Kate felt her eyes welling with tears, her heart swelling with gratitude. "I... I don’t—" she stammered, unable to find the words to express her emotions.

Abigail approached her with a gentle smile, her eyes shimmering with warmth and compassion. Taking Kate's trembling hands in hers, she guided her into the cozy sanctuary. "You've been working so hard, Kate," she murmured softly, her voice like a soothing lullaby. "We thought you deserved a proper rest."

As Kate stepped inside, she was enveloped in a hug by Mary-Beth, who stood by her side with a reassuring presence. "We turned the storage wagon into a room for you," Mary-Beth whispered, her voice filled with tenderness. "You can use it for as long as you need."

With a heartfelt smile, Kate allowed herself to be led into the haven of peace and comfort. The weight of the week’s burdens seemed to lift from her shoulders as she stepped into the warm embrace of the steaming bath. Had it not been for the supportive presence of the girls, she feared she might have collapsed to her knees from the overwhelming gesture of kindness.

With tender care, they helped her undress, their movements gentle yet purposeful. They said nothing about her scars, silently embracing every aspect of her being with no questions asked.

Mary-Beth meticulously washed away the grime of the day from her arms and body, while Tilly worked her nimble fingers through the tangled knots of her hair. Karen, ever the nurturing soul, offered her bits of succulent fruit and creamy cheese, providing nourishment for both body and soul. Meanwhile, Sadie tended to the bath, ensuring that the water remained at the perfect temperature, adding more as it threatened to spill over the sides. Eventually bringing her a fresh clean pair of clothing to change into.

By her side, Abigail sat with a comforting presence, her skilled hands kneading away the tension from Kate's shoulders and palms. The warmth of their collective care enveloped Kate, soothing her weary soul in ways she had never imagined.

As she surrendered to the comforting embrace of the bath and the love of her companions, Kate felt a swell of emotion rising within her. Overwhelmed by a mixture of love and exhaustion, she could no longer contain the flood of tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. Hot droplets mingled with the bathwater, forming a poignant symphony of release. Her sniffling hiccups echoing into the night.

They held her close, offering silent comfort and understanding as she allowed herself to be vulnerable in their presence. Their actions showed no judgment for the state she was in.

Abigail tenderly tucked Kate's head against her chest, her fingers tracing soothing circles on her cheek as if she were comforting a crying child. "It's okay, Kate. We're all here for you," she whispered softly, the warmth of her embrace a comforting balm to her shattered spirit.

Kate sniffled, her voice quivering with emotion as she struggled to articulate her overwhelming grief. "Christ," she choked out between sobs, "I've barely graced his life. I just–I can't–I thought I had more time with him." Her heartache was palpable, the ache of longing for the man she had grown to cherish threatening to consume her.

Karen's voice broke through the heavy tension, her words carrying a mixture of tenderness and determination. "Arthur won't go down without a fight, sweetpea," she reassured Kate, "but you need to look out for yourself too."

From behind her, Tilly's gentle voice joined the chorus of support, her hands working magic as she massaged Kate's scalp with a tender touch. "You can't take on all these burdens by yourself, Kate," she urged softly.

Abigail echoed their sentiments, her voice filled with unwavering solidarity. "Anything you need, you've got us girls. Just say the word, and we'll be there," she promised.

As Kate nodded in silent acknowledgment, a kaleidoscope of emotions swirled within her soul, painting the canvas of her heart with hues of gratitude and awe. In that moment, she realized she was not just an individual navigating the tumultuous seas of life, but a cherished member of a sisterhood, bound together by threads of resilience and unwavering love.

Each tear that traced its path down her cheek was a testament to the profound impact these women had made on her life, transforming her solitary journey into a tapestry of shared experiences and dreams. With them, she found solace in the embrace of kindred spirits, a sanctuary where her fears were met with understanding and her joys amplified by celebration. They were the pillars of strength that held her aloft, the guiding stars that illuminated her path through the darkest of nights. And in their warm embrace, Kate discovered a sense of belonging, a home within the hearts of her newfound sisters, where she was cherished, accepted, and loved.

Kate had found family once again, and they had become her fortress.

As Kate whispered amidst the tide of tears, her voice trembled like the flickering candlelight around them. Each word carried the weight of a soul laid bare, grappling with emotions too vast to contain. "Thank you," she confessed softly, her words barely audible above the rustle of water and fabric, "I don't know how to say it. Arthur he– I just... I..." Her voice trailed off into the night, lost in the labyrinth of her thoughts as exhaustion cloaked her in its tender embrace. With each passing moment, she felt herself surrendering to the warmth of their love and care, a sanctuary amidst the chaos of her mind.

Mary-Beth's voice, filled with gentle understanding, saw the depth of her heart. "You love him, Kate," she murmured, her words laden with shared experiences and whispered confidences. Kate's nod was accompanied by a choked sob, her cheeks flushed with the heat of her emotions. Once more, the girls gathered around her, their arms forming a protective cocoon against the harsh realities of their existence.

"But what kind of woman loves a man she barely knows? I may never know if he even feels the same," Kate lamented, tinged with doubt and longing.

In that moment, the air seemed to shimmer with unspoken truths as the girls exchanged knowing glances. They had witnessed the subtle nuances of Arthur's heart, the tender gestures and lingering gazes that spoke volumes of his affection for Kate. Though shrouded in the shadows of their unfavorable situation, his feelings were as undeniable as the stars that adorned the night sky. All he needed was time, and perhaps a gentle nudge, to unveil the depths of his love for the woman who had captured his heart.

Tilly's soft giggle cut through the heavy air, a beacon of light in the midst of Kate's swirling doubts. "You and Arthur, my oh my. You two are like a match made in heaven," she chimed, her voice dancing with warmth. Drawn from her reverie, she could hear the smile in Tilly's words.

"Really?" Kate's voice trembled with uncertainty, her heart hanging on the edge of Tilly's response. The other girls exchanged cheeky grins, their eyes sparkling with mischief as if they were engaged in the usual camp gossip that takes place during their shared chores.

"If I were none the wiser I’d say your souls were meant to find each other," Karen interjected, her fingers delicately plucking a piece of fruit from the tray Kate had abandoned.

Abigail, ever the beacon of reassurance, enveloped Kate's shoulders in a comforting embrace. "Love waits for no one, Kate. It has no rhyme or reason, it comes when it comes," she whispered.

As Kate nodded, her vision blurred by tears she couldn't contain, Sadie's strong hands enveloped hers with a tenderness that belied her fierce exterior. Kneeling before her with unwavering sincerity, Sadie met Kate's gaze with an unspoken understanding born of shared loss and unwavering resilience.

"I understand what it's like to lose a husband, Kate," she began softly, her words drawing from the depths of sorrow. "That fear of losing someone you love, it can weigh heavy on your heart for a long time." A silent understanding passing between them. "But you can't let that fear chain you down," she continued, her tone urging Kate to consider her own well-being. "You've got to rise above the waves, put yourself first to stay afloat. Or else you’ll drown in that fear."

As Kate felt the weight of Sadie's words sink in, she was overcome with a sense of gratitude for the support surrounding her. Abigail stepped forward, eyes brimming with admiration. "You're the strongest woman we know, Kate," she said with a warm smile. "But even the strongest need time to rest."

With gentle hands and loving care, the girls helped Kate dress in fresh clothes, their actions speaking volumes. As she settled into the cozy embrace of the transformed wagon, now a sanctuary of comfort, Kate felt a wave of tranquility wash over her.

With a whispered "thank you" to her companions, Kate allowed herself to surrender to the embrace of sleep. In the warmth of their support and the quiet comfort of the unlikely bedroom, she found peace, knowing that she was not alone in her journey. And as she drifted into slumber, she silently hoped that Arthur also felt the love and support of his makeshift family.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Kate slept through two moons, rising with the dawn of the third day. She felt like a new woman, rejuvenated and ready to tackle the challenges ahead. The girl's kind gesture had filled her with an undeniable surge of gratitude and strength. She knew Arthur was in good hands, and together, they would see him through his recovery.

Rising from her cozy makeshift bedroom in the back of the storage wagon, Kate stretched her limbs with a satisfied groan, feeling every muscle come alive. She stepped out into the fresh morning air, the camp bustling with the start of a new day. The sun cast a golden hue over Clemens Point, and the familiar sounds of morning chatter and clinking pots filled the air.

Making her way to the chuck wagon, she was greeted warmly by Mr. Pearson, who looked up from his preparations and smiled. "Well, look who's finally up and about! You look refreshed, Kate. Like your usual self."

Kate returned the smile, her heart lightened by his words. "Thanks, Pearson. I feel much better."

Pearson wiped his hands on a rag and approached her. "I was thinking of heading into Rhodes later to get some ingredients for a soup. It would be easier on Arthur’s stomach and help him keep down food so he can recover his strength."

Kate nodded appreciatively, touched by his thoughtfulness. "That's a great idea. Thank you. It's good to know everyone cares about his well-being."

As she savored a hearty breakfast, Kate realized it wasn't just the girls who were looking out for Arthur. The entire camp shared the burden of his recovery. Pearson's gesture struck a chord in her, reminding her of the importance of community and the support that surrounded them.

With newfound energy, she decided to make some house calls to the other members, expressing her gratitude and checking in on their needs. She was determined to give back to those who had shown her such kindness.

While the women normally took care of the chores, Kate knew the rest of the gang had stepped up in Arthur’s absence. She finished her meal with a sense of purpose, ready to contribute in any way she could. Rising from her seat at the table, she made her way to greet her mare, Lorena. She had been neglecting her faithful companion, only tending to her in fleeting moments when she could steal away from her duties.

As she neared the hitching station, a tender sight met her eyes. Lorena’s familiar black coat lay next to another horse, Belle, whose brilliant white contrasted sharply with Lorena's midnight sheen. The two horses were comfortably sprawled in the grass together, nuzzling their heads in a display of equine affection. The scene warmed Kate’s heart, momentarily lifting the weight of her worries.

Approaching them, she was suddenly interrupted by a wavering voice calling from beyond the treeline. "I-I wouldn’t get too close to them!" A moment later, Kieran stepped into view, visibly relaxing when he saw her. "Oh, it’s just you."

Kate smiled warmly, appreciating the sight of the skittish young man. "Morning, Kieran," she greeted. Raising a curious eyebrow, she asked, "Is something the matter with them?" referring to his earlier warning.

"N-no! Nothin’s wrong," Kieran stammered, scratching his neck nervously. "It’s just, um—your mare, Lorena. She don’t really like when anyone gets too close to Belle," he explained, his voice trailing off. "She’s become real protective of her since, um, you know." Kieran looked away, a guilty expression crossing his face.

Kate’s eyes softened as she regarded the two horses. Lorena’s protectiveness over Belle mirrored her own feelings toward Arthur.

Kate recalled how Kieran had come to join the gang, once a reluctant member of Colm’s crew. His past affiliation with the O'Driscolls had initially cast a shadow of doubt over him, but over time, he had proved himself loyal and trustworthy. Nodding in understanding, she approached the horses cautiously. Lorena, recognizing her rider, whinnied in excitement, while Belle's ears perked up with curiosity.

“I’ve missed you girls,” Kate cooed, bending down to scratch their snouts affectionately. As she ran her hands over Belle, she noticed the horse's wounds had been carefully stitched and tended to. “You did this?” she asked, turning to look at Kieran, who stood awkwardly nearby.

He nodded, shuffling his feet. “I did the best I could. She’s still a little skittish about getting the saddle on, but she should recover fine.”

Kate beamed at him, her heart swelling with gratitude. Arthur would be immensely thankful for Kieran’s care, she was sure of it. “Thank you, Kieran. Really, you’ve been a huge help. I don’t know how I can repay your kindness.”

Kieran shrugged modestly, brushing off her gratitude as a faint blush colored his cheeks. “No need for that, Kate. Just glad I could do something useful.”

“I’m serious, I would be lost without my girl. Arthur too. I’m really grateful for your help.” Kate urged.

A wide smile tugged at Kieran's lips as he looked down bashfully. "Oh, s’nothing. I just really love horses. I’d do it for any of ’em," he said, gesturing to where the other horses were idly grazing.

Feeling a new sense of confidence, he joined Kate on the grass, running his hand along Lorena’s strong neck. "You know, I tried singing to her."

Kate chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? How’d that go?" she asked, her grin cheeky.

Kieran raised his brows in amusement. "Oh, she loved it so much she nearly bit my ear off!" He laughed, the sound rich and genuine. Kate couldn't help but join him, their laughter mingling with the gentle rustle of the trees.

As their laughter subsided, Kate found herself reflecting on Kieran's presence in the camp. She had never had much of an opportunity to get to know him, but she was finding him to be quite pleasant. A pang of guilt struck her heart as she recalled how some of the other members, especially the guys, had treated him with suspicion and disdain.

"I took the hint after that," Kieran added, shaking his head with a chuckle.

Kate's smile softened. "Well, sounds like you've done a great job with them, Kieran. They look happy and healthy. Arthur’s gonna be real happy when he sees how well you’ve taken care of Belle."

Kieran's eyes lit up at her praise. "Thanks, Kate. That means a lot. I just want to be useful, y’know?"

Kate nodded, understanding all too well the desire to prove oneself. "You are useful, Kieran. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. We all have our roles to play, and you’ve found yours."

A moment of comfortable silence passed between them as they groomed the horses. The simple act of brushing the horses' coats brought a sense of normalcy and peace to Kate's heart. The rhythmic motions, the gentle rustling of the leaves, and the occasional snort from Lorena and Belle created a tranquil atmosphere.

Kieran suddenly faced her with a hesitant expression. “Kate, I-I’m sorry for what happened to Arthur,” he squeaked, his voice shaky despite his earnest apology.

Kate’s expression softened as she looked at him. “S’not your fault, Kieran. You got nothing to apologize for.”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know, s’just… Colm, he’s a nasty man. Scares the piss outta me for sure. I’m terrified he’s gonna find me one day, and Arthur he’s—” Kieran hesitated, searching for the right words. “He’s lucky to be alive. I’m honestly shocked Colm let him live.”

The gravity of his words sank into Kate, a cold shiver running down her spine. She had never met Colm, but after what he did to Arthur, their feud had become personal to her as well. They had tried to take someone from her, and she had vowed long ago to never let anyone make her feel so powerless again.

“I’m sure Colm will get what's coming to him,” she said gravely, her gaze distant and hard.

Kieran scoffed, shaking his head. “That man is like a cockroach. Every time you think he’s dead, he ain’t. And somehow he always comes back with more men. And he will come back.”

A heavy silence enveloped them, broken only by the soft rustle of leaves and the breathy whine of the horses. Kieran kept his focus trained on the horses, his hands moving methodically through their manes. After a moment, he spoke again, his tone serious and low. “Colm don’t care what Arthur means to you, Kate. If you were wise, you’d keep your head down and out of the crossfire. 'Cause he’ll kill you too and won’t think twice about it.”

Kate swallowed hard, the weight of his warning pressing on her. She understood the danger, but the thought of hiding away while others fought for their lives felt unbearable. Micah’s words hung heavy in her heart ‘Arthur will do whatever Dutch asks of him’. As much as she despised the greasy blue-eyed snake, she couldn’t help but feel his words held some truth. She glanced at Kieran, his face etched with genuine concern, and gave a resolute nod.

“I hear you, Kieran,” she said softly.

Kate bid Kieran farewell with a gentle smile and a grateful nod. She watched him for a moment as he continued to tend to the horses, his quiet dedication a testament to his loyalty. With a sigh, she turned and made her way across the camp towards Dutch’s tent. Each step felt heavy, laden with the weight of the confrontation she knew was coming.

Dutch's tent stood at the heart of the camp, its presence grand and imposing. As she approached, she felt a mixture of determination and apprehension. Dutch had always been a commanding figure, his charisma and vision drawing people to him like moths to a flame. But beneath his charm, Kate sensed a deep responsibility that he sometimes seemed to neglect. She felt that Dutch bore some responsibility for Arthur’s condition, and he had not even so much as glanced in his direction nor asked about his recovery. It made Kate’s blood boil, the facade of brotherhood and family that he so often preached about. But was never a man of his words.

She stopped outside the entrance, taking a deep breath to steady herself. The flap of the tent was slightly ajar, and she could hear Dutch inside, muttering to himself as he pored over maps and plans. Steeling her nerves, Kate stepped inside. Slightly surprised to see he was sitting alone, Molly must be occupied elsewhere.

“Dutch,” she called softly, her voice firm but respectful.

Dutch looked up, surprise flickering across his features before he masked it with a charming smile. “Kate, my dear. What brings you here?”

She met his gaze steadily, refusing to be swayed by his easy charm. “I need to talk to you about Arthur.” As frustrated as she was, she dared not to challenge his command.

Dutch’s expression shifted slightly, the charm dimming as he registered the seriousness in her voice. “Arthur? Worry not. I’ve already got a plan to get back at Colm. We’ll show the O’Driscoll’s who’s in charge ‘round here.”

Kate shook her head, frustration bubbling beneath her calm exterior. “You know that’s not what I mean Dutch. He needs to see you, now.” Her words came out with a sharp bite.

Dutch leaned back in his chair, a hint of irritation creeping into his voice. “Kate, you have to understand. Everything I do, I do for the gang. Arthur knows that. He understands the bigger picture.”

Her patience waning, Kate took a step closer, her eyes flashing with determination. “I don’t care about the bigger picture. Arthur is fighting for his life. He needs you by his side. Not plans, not strategies. He needs you.” Kate emphasized her words, straining to get her point across without insulting him.

A heavy silence filled the tent as Dutch stared at her, the weight of her words sinking in. He looked away, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he struggled to maintain his composure.

“Kate, you have to trust that I’m doing what’s best for all of us,” he said, his voice softer but still laced with stubbornness. “I had a plan to get Arthur back–”

“Enough about the plans!” Kate shouted, her voice echoing through the tent. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. Dutch's eyes widened in surprise, but his hard gaze never left hers. At that moment, Kate realized it wasn’t about the money, nor the family Dutch claimed to have created. It was about control.

Dutch always had to be the one in control, dishing out orders, calling all the shots. Kate knew, deep down, there was a part of Dutch that truly cared for Arthur. But his disappearance meant little to nothing to him; he had bigger plans, different goals on his agenda. Now that Arthur was back, Dutch seemed confident he had regained his throne, as if Arthur's torture were nothing but a minor setback in his grand scheme.

The realization made Kate seethe. Dutch treated Arthur like a soldier, cannon fodder in his relentless pursuit of power and influence. His indifference to Arthur’s suffering was a betrayal of the brotherhood he so often preached about.

“Don’t you get it?” Kate's voice was raw with emotion. “You talk about family and loyalty, but where is that now? You say you make all these grand sacrifices for the gang, but where is your sympathy for the sacrifice Arthur made?” Her voice boomed, and though she knew she was losing composure, she couldn't hold back.

Dutch's eyes softened slightly, a flicker of guilt crossing his features. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Kate, it was a miscalculation. I had no idea that—”

Kate cut him off, stepping closer with an accusatory finger, like a mother scolding a child. “You should count yourself lucky it didn’t cost him his life. He may never use his arm again, did you know that? His ankle was nearly shattered. It’ll be a miracle if he can even ride.”

Her worries and fears bubbled to the surface, and she poured every ounce of frustration onto Dutch, heedless of the consequences. “He ain’t gonna be the same, Dutch. And I’m real worried because you haven't shown a care in the world. Like he’s just some retired workhorse.”

Dutch's gaze hardened again, but he rose from his seat, his posture stiff. “No, no, of course not,” he murmured, shaking his head. “Arthur is... Arthur is more than that.”

Kate's eyes glistened with unshed tears as she continued, her voice softening but losing none of its intensity. “Arthur thinks highly of you, Dutch. He looks up to you, always has. And now he needs you more than ever. He’s lying in that bed, fighting for his life, and he needs to know you’re there for him.”

Dutch swallowed thickly, his expression grave as he nodded silently. “Alright, I'll go to him,” he said, his voice carrying a weight of solemn determination. With a final, meaningful glance at Kate, he bid her farewell, his footsteps heavy as he left the tent.

As Dutch's departure left Kate alone with her frustrations, she couldn't help but feel a weight being lifted from her shoulders. Though uncertainty lingered, she found solace in the knowledge that her words had struck a chord with Dutch. For the first time, she dared to hope that perhaps things could change between them. That Arthur can be the kind of man he wanted to be, despite the changes in himself that lie ahead.

~~~

A/N: My lord, I wrote way too much. That last section with Kieran and Dutch was added last minute because I forgot about the horses and then that reminded me of Dutch and I was like AHH! So much tooth rotting fluff coming up next. Also lots of healing and tender moments. Things between Kate and Arthur are finally beginning to pick up pace. I’m sorry for making y’all wait so long…sometimes I have to remind myself this is a slow burn.

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darkeraurora · 11 months ago

Text

Admissions - Chapter 11

VERY NSFW - Word count: 8638

Ch 11 of ??

First of all, thanks to everyone who read, liked, and reblogged the previous chapters!!

This isn't quite what I wanted it to be, but we're moving and life is about to get really hectic. So I didn't want to wait months longer to post this. I'll probably go back and add to it later after our move. Make it jucier.

The corridor outside was bustling with people heading to their barracks for the night. Simon, for once unperturbed by their racket, paced the length of their room while he waited for Sereza. The Brit kept sneaking little peeks at the drawer of his bedside table, then over to the door, and back again.

Internally he fought to maintain his resolve that his past wouldn’t interfere with him showing Sereza how much he loved and desired her. Not anymore. But unpleasant memories were especially loud in his head tonight. The past had already robbed him of so much, and Ghost was trying his damndest to draw the line at it threatening to take Sereza and this chance at happiness from him as well.

Still unnerved and his stomach twisted into knots, but he kept repeating Sereza’s words in his mind: he had her full permission to touch her as he wished but also, he didn’t have to force himself into anything physical to keep her love.

Rationally Simon knew he had nothing to worry about; they were both looking out for each other just like she had said some time ago. He was her priority just like she was his.

Ghost just had to argue with his trauma-ravaged brain about the whole thing first. That obstinate fucker.

Walking over to the small table, Simon opened the drawer and pulled out his black bandana. The fabric slid through his fingers, catching occasionally on the rough edges of tiny scars and callouses. A bit of silver in the drawer caught the Brit’s eye. One of her earrings. She hadn’t wanted to sleep with them still on last night and this morning she’d run off in a hurry after being paged, so they remained in the drawer. Dwarfed in his hand, Ghost held one of the small jewels.

The tiny thing a physical reminder of her that calmed his racing mind. He exhaled deeply. The suffocating weight of his anxiety and apprehension gradually ebbed.

He could do this.

XXXXX

“Remember your safe word?”

His beauty nodded, “Gummy bears.”

After some snickering on both sides over the word’s silliness, Simon laid the blindfold over her eyes and secured it behind her head. Ghost searched what he could see of her expression for the smallest indication of reluctance or unease, but found only a bit of tightness in her body language. Nothing more. “You alright Love?” he checked, sliding his palms down to her shoulders. Sereza didn’t hesitate to give him a nod and a small smile in response to his question. Once more Simon found he was thoroughly humbled by the amount of trust his girlfriend was showing she had in him.

But Ghost stood rooted to his spot as he regarded her. A feeling of deep dissatisfaction enveloped him.

This was wrong.

The Brit sighed unhappily and reached back behind her golden curls, gently tugging the bandana off again.

He was met with a very confused look. “I can’t do this,” Simon shook his head. “This, I mean,” he quickly clarified, gesturing with the bandana before flinging it onto his desk. “For a lot of reasons but mostly it’s… I hate the idea of you forcing yourself to do something you might not want to because of me. And I can’t- I can’t handle the thought of making you feel like a body I’m just… using.”

Sereza rested her palm under his jawline. “You love me, right?” Ghost nodded without hesitation. “Just like I love you. I’ve never felt anything but safe with you Si, but if that feels wrong to you then we won’t do it,” Sereza smiled up at her ghost with an expression of pure adoration. “You really do have a beautiful heart Simon.”

Ghost cupped his hands around Sereza’s face as he leaned down to kiss her. Relishing how it felt to be like this with his little one. To be loved. Wanted. “You are everything good in my life. And if I’m going to show you how much I love you then I want to do it the right way,” Simon told her fervently before taking her lush lips in another ardent kiss.

Her small moans and warming body were already making his blood rush. Not toward his brain.

Rather quite the opposite.

Simon pulled Sereza’s hips snuggly against him as they deepened their kiss. Her back sensually arched into him. But as it often did with everything else, his mind decided to ruin the moment by interjecting an itty-bitty detail he hadn’t thought of until now…

“Fuck!” Ghost snarled as he whirled around away from her.

“What’s wrong?”

Simon ran his hand over his hair in aggravation as he turned back to Sereza. “I hope this doesn’t come across wrong, or like I’m fucking stalling – because I’m not; or not trying to at least– but… I don’t have condoms… and I don’t want to uh, uh…”

“…to get me pregnant,” Sereza finished for him.

“Mhm,” the Brit replied sullenly. This made him sound, again, like he only wanted to use her body to satisfy his needs and didn’t know how to communicate what he meant without sounding like a complete asshole. Simon’s mind began racing at the growing tension within him, making it that much harder to put his thoughts into words. “I don’t want to cause something that will impact your life and career like… that… Not that I wouldn’t be there!” he hurriedly explained, “I-I would, it’s just-”

“Si,” the petite female tried to interrupt.

“-Fucking hell Love, I don’t know how to say what I mean properly, I just don’t think that’s a good idea right now-”

“Simon,”

“-not for either of us. And I’m not a good choice for… for that anyway. I know I fucked up and I should’ve thought of condoms. I’m so sorry, but I promise I’ll fix this-”

“SIMON.” Ghost’s rambling finally halted at her shout. With a guarded expression, he stared down at her like he was expecting an excoriating scolding over his mistake. Sereza picked up his hands and held them between their chests. “First of all, take a breath mi amor.”

Huffing out a held breath, Ghost forced his shoulders down from under his ears. Again. He couldn’t believe he forgot about those. The possibility of… tonight’s events… had his thoughts flying through his head in a hundred directions at once, so much so that he’d completely forgotten about protection. What in the bloody hell was wrong with him?

Actually… he didn’t want to think about that just now. That was a long list.

“Si… I’m on the pill. Not for, um, this exact reason; it’s to better regulate my hormone levels. I’ve been on it for about three years.”

“You are?”

“Yeah,” Sereza said as she pulled a small white plastic case from her pocket. Simon glanced down at the case she showed him with tiny pills rattling around inside. “I was actually just about to interrupt things to tell you that before we went any further – if you still wanted to try tonight, I mean,” she hastened to add.

“Oh. I see.” So… he hadn’t ruined it. They could still-

Ghost exhaled, letting his head hang as he closed his eyes, the last remnants of his momentary panic fading away. Good god he was a mess.

Sereza giggled slightly at his evident relief, Simon soon joined in with her, resting his forehead on top of hers. “You don’t need to apologize for mistakes or things that aren’t your fault mi amor. And I’m not ready for a baby either,” his beauty went on to say. “Maybe one day, but not right now. We can discuss little Simon Rileys another time, but for tonight our focus is us, yeah?”

‘Little Simon Rileys’… warmth filled Ghost’s heart. “…Yeah,” he agreed, smiling down at the face of his love. The unbidden image of Sereza pregnant with his baby, himself as a father, flashed across his mind’s eye and Ghost had to admit, he wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea… one day. Maybe.

‘One day’ just didn’t need to be nine months from tonight.

He’d never envisioned his future before or entertained the idea much. The Brit had just been existing until he met this woman who brought meaning to his dark life. And building a family hadn’t crossed his mind at all. However the thought of planning for the future – a future together – with the woman he treasured felt so… natural.

“You’re right Love, another time.” Simon bent his head down, kissing his beauty and feeling immeasurably grateful for her ability to break him out of a spiral. Holding her tenderly, he kissed her harder, appreciating her taste. Sereza tilted her head back to give him better access to her mouth while his large hands wandered down, tracing the contours of her chest, to grasp the hem of her shirt. After a quick glance back at her making sure she was alright, Ghost carefully tugged it up over her head. Dark eyes focused on the black lace bra concealing her from his view. Not wanting to pounce on Sereza like some lust-driven arse, his fingers skimmed over her shoulders, across her collarbones, and up the column of her neck. “You’re so stunning,” he whispered against her as he leaned down to kiss her forehead, “Can I take it off?”

Sereza nodded but guided his hands behind her this time as she pressed closer to his chest. Curious at what his love was showing him, Simon peered over her shoulder.

Bloody hell, did all of these things have such absurdly tiny hooks? And did they all fasten in different places?

It took an annoyingly long time with his wide fingers but at last the hooks came loose. Straps hanging loosely around her figure, Simon ran his palm up and down her bare back as he nibbled her ear. Dainty hands pulled needily at his sleeves. Soft breaths of satisfaction reached the Brit’s ears. The feel of her skin, her scent, and sounds… his little one was already inundating his senses and he only had her half-naked. Barely, even.

Sereza shrugged the straps off her shoulders and let the bra drop to the floor. Feeling her movement, Ghost gazed down at her unclothed chest, exploring hands eagerly getting to work as he gently kneaded. Twisting the dusky peaks, making her moan louder for him. Without removing his hands from his beauty, Ghost backed up until he could sit on the edge of the bed. Simon pulled her closer, tugging gently on the back of her thighs, until she knelt on either side of his legs. The height brought Sereza’s breasts to the perfect level. “Beautiful,” he hummed low in his throat as his mouth closed over her nipple. Sucking. Licking.

He groaned at the taste of her skin and decided it had been far too long since he last spent time with Sereza like this. Worshipping and loving her as she deserved. A whole 24 hours since he'd last enjoyed time alone with his love - an intolerable injustice he vowed to rectify once he got past this. Tonight.

Above him, Sereza began to whimper and squirm. Simon abruptly switched to her other breast, carefully closing his teeth over the firm peak and making her bitten-off moans grow louder. Left arm around her lower back to keep her close, Ghost’s right hand splayed across her thigh before venturing upward until it came to her center. Fingers grazed over the hot, damp fabric, almost making her whine. His thumb pressed to her most sensitive place.

“Ohhh God… Si…,” she panted as she pressed her hips lower, seeking more.

Sereza’s pleasured sounds overrode the traumatized part of his brain, Ghost pulled her down onto his hand, almost aggressively, fingers firmly rubbing in circles, making Sereza buck in response. He removed his hand and pressed her down onto his covered erection by her hips, breath catching at the feeling of her through the fabric of their pants. Her warmth alone was enough to make heat start building within him.

Ghost licked up her chest and neck until he latched onto her pulse point. Sucking hard. His free hand reached around her hip to squeeze her backside. Sereza began rolling her hips while her nails sunk into her Brit’s hoodie. Parting from her throat, he observed his little one. Her head was thrown back as her hips moved slowly over Simon’s, creating a delightful friction for them both. For a moment the lieutenant simply watched, mouth slightly open. Her stunning body twisted and curved as her pelvis worked against him. When her chest moved closer to his lips, Ghost’s tongue flicked against the swell. Sereza mewled and ground her center firmly over his cock.

Growling, Ghost flung Sereza onto the bed before settling over her and kissing her like a man starved. Rising onto his knees, he hastily shed his too-warm hoodie. Dark eyes hungrily took in his half-naked beauty lying in his bed and was struck by the sight of such perfection.

As well as the contrast…

Simon was a man of war; Sereza was an angel. She saved and bettered lives; all he did was end them. A harbinger of violence juxtaposed against a spirit of mercy. A dream come true, and someone’s worst nightmare. Good… and evil?

Ghost sighed inaudibly as he sunk to his elbows, averting his eyes, and dropping his forehead to her chest. Loving arms held him close. “Mi amor?” Sereza whispered as she kissed over his hair, “I’m here with you. Come back to me, my love.” Ghost snuggled into her a bit at her soft call. Letting her voice break through his thoughts.

Despite his reputation, his prowess as an elite soldier, the slightest shred of tenderness from this tiny slip of a woman and the legendary Ghost would crumble to kneel at her feet. Sereza already knew everything about him – all his flaws, faults, traumas, and weaknesses – and accepted him anyway, just as he was. Simon was beginning to understand… even believe, that in her eyes he was worth something. Worth being cared for.

Butterflies in his stomach and heart unbelievably full, Simon lifted his face and took her lips in a kiss full of profound affection. Thanking his lucky stars for this woman having come into his life.

Wrapping an arm underneath to grip the back of her neck, his cock ground against her warm core. Simulating what was to come. Hazel eyes drifted closed at the sensuous friction. “Eyes open sweetheart,” he prompted with a small shake of her neck, “Let me see you Love.”

Sereza complied, though with considerable difficulty. Simon’s rocking hips hit all the right spots, making heat pool low in her stomach and amber eyes glaze over.

A smirk drew the corner of his mouth up. “That feel good, sweet girl?” If the wetness seeping through their clothing was any indication it very much did, yet he wanted to hear her express it. Sereza’s eyebrows knitted together as she nodded enthusiastically. She clawed at his shirt with increasing fervor and without warning, Simon broke contact and sat up on his knees. Sereza bemoaned the sudden lack of his touch. The Brit chuckled at her complaining and gazed down at his love. Partially naked, wet, and her skin flushed. Waiting for him.

But his stomach was churning.

Wanting to push on rather than give in to rampant thoughts that threatened to bring everything about tonight to a standstill, Simon reached for the hem of his shirt.

And froze.

Ghost blinked hard, fighting the tunneling of his vision.

His little one came to his rescue again. “You look like you need to stop, Si. Do you?” She laid her hands over his still holding the bottom of his shirt.

Well – yes and no. While he was beginning to feel overwhelmed, Simon was also stubbornly determined to finally show Sereza how much he cherished her. Plus he was also fairly positive that if he stopped now his painful erection might actually kill him so… maybe if he slowed down some? While he got his mind right again?

Forcing down his trepidation, Simon affectionately stroked his knuckles over the soft skin of her cheek. “You’re so important to me, Sereza. I love you so much and I’ve wanted you so… so fucking badly all of this time,” he spoke, desire deepening his voice and making his accent more pronounced. “I want to be honest with you, and not keep things from you anymore. I don’t… I don’t know that I can do this, but I want to try. I just– I need to go slow. Really slow.”

She held his wrist near her face, caressing the back of his hand. “We will do whatever you say mi amor. As much or as little as you want and we will stop the second you say because you have complete control, okay?”

“…okay,” he whispered.

Sereza paused for a spell. It was obvious he wanted this, but the sheer amount of pain he held made this level of vulnerability terrifying. We need some safe boundaries. She would be crystal clear on what her ghost was comfortable with and he would know exactly where her hands would and would not go so it should, she hoped, reduce his anxiety. “Can you help me know where is okay for me to touch you?” she asked.

“Uh,” Ghost’s eyes flicked to the side. This felt weird. “Well, my shoulders and up is good. And my chest.”

“Like here?” she asked, lowering her hands down near his diaphragm.

Simon flinched away violently, “N-no…” She snatched her hands back instantly, holding them up.

He took a second; a few deep breaths, and closed his eyes. Sereza knew he’d been hung by the ribs, but she didn’t know where the scar from it was and had been precariously close to it. That was his fault; he should have told her. Simon brought her hand up and kissed it reassuringly – both for her, to show her she hadn’t done anything wrong and he was okay, as well as for himself. That it was Sereza that held and touched him this time. “Not quite that low. Please.”

“Arms?” Truthfully, Sereza already knew those were a safe, non-threatening place. She touched his arms all the time but reestablishing their safety didn’t hurt. Plus it was an excuse to glide her fingers over his tattoo sleeve, which Ghost often said was soothing to him. All-in-all, a good way to take the pressure off Simon’s mind so he could calm down.

“Yeah arms are good,” he straightforwardly answered.

“What about hips?” His little one’s hands hovered near his lower stomach without touching.

Simon’s eyes widened as he tried to discern how he felt about that one. She had touched him there before, and lower. But only twice – once while he covered her eyes and another accidentally while she was asleep. He enjoyed both instances immensely, but tonight though was altogether different. He would be fully exposed to her… someone would see and feel all of him for the first time since Roba had…

“Don’t,” Sereza finished for him quickly as she watched his abyssal eyes lose focus again.

“Yeah don’t,” he shook his head. Ghost’s gaze became hollow and his body stilled above her. A tell-tale sign he may be shutting down.

Time to try a distraction. Moving her palms over Ghost’s broad chest, Sereza purposefully skimmed over his nipples. Just barely. Only enough for the sensation to reach him through the fog.

Simon’s mind snapped back to the present. Her hands fisted into his shirt and gave the gentlest tug. “I really wanna kiss you,” she hummed, looking up at him through her lashes as she shifted closer to him.

Simon grinned, having caught onto her plan. For all the fuss that others made about how mysterious and hard to read he was, Sereza sure had an easy time of it. Effortlessly hauling him from the dark recesses of his damaged mind. The heart he’d once assured Johnny was cold filled with warmth at Sereza’s actions because it showed she truly saw and understood him.

Dipping his head low, Ghost's warm breath fanned over her plump lips. “What’re you gonna do about it then?” his gravelly voice teased.

His beauty raised an eyebrow before she shocked him by tugging him closer until her naked chest was pressed flush against his and licking up his neck to his chin, pausing a hair’s breadth from kissing him as if daring him to finish what she started.

Blood rushing southward once more, Simon seized her under the jaw and crashed their lips together. Boldy dominating her mouth. Small palms roamed over his shoulders, up his neck to his nape, and down again toward his pecs. Tingles pleasantly prickled across his skin. Ghost’s chest rumbled as he sighed, “Your touch feels good Love.”

Sereza grinned into their kiss. “I like touching you,” she murmured. She brushed over his nipples again, causing Ghost’s muscles to quiver at her touch. His breath caught. “You like that?” her quiet voice asked.

“Yeah,” his husky growl responded, “Felt… it felt nice.” No one had ever touched him like that before, and Ghost didn’t think he’d like it but he was pleasantly surprised.

Carefully observing his expression, Sereza softly ran her nails over them. Simon inhaled sharply, the sensation sending a searing heat straight to his groin. Distantly he wondered what other surprises she had for him; what else she might do.

Not tonight – he could only conquer so many inner demons at one time – but perhaps eventually. An exceedingly entertaining thought.

Deciding he was more than sufficiently distracted now, Ghost pulled her small body close. “What if I touch you?” he mumbled near her ear while lightly nibbling the sensitive skin below.

Sereza caressed down the planes of his hard chest. “Mmm,” she moaned, “Yes please.”

Kissing and licking his way down her olive skin, Ghost laid her down on the bed again, working his way down to her stomach. His fingers toyed with the top of her leggings. “Can I take these off?” he asked her throatily. At her consent, Simon sat back and tugged the snug leggings down. Tossing them uncaringly behind him, dark eyes took the view of his beauty. Caramel curls fanned out around her, nude except for a single small piece of clothing, legs shut and drawn up protectively. The image burned into Ghost’s memory.

As wild as the sight drove him, Simon could sense her nervousness. Which wouldn’t do.

Warm palms rested on her knees as he took in his love’s doe-eyed appearance, the hint of blush on her cheeks. “You’re breathtaking Love,” his deep baritone whispered. Rough hands mapped her small, lithe frame as he explored every inch of her. “So fucking beautiful.” Slowly, always, giving her ample time to push him away if she wanted to stop, pushing no further until they were both ready, his battle-worn hands slid down her sides, splayed over her stomach, and hooked into the lacey edge of her panties. Simon paused and glanced back at his little one. Sereza lifted her hips, so Ghost tugged the black lace down along her smooth legs before dropping them over the edge of the bed.

Once again, Sereza’s legs pulled up close to her hips. Simon rubbed his hands over her thighs while leaving tiny kisses on her bent knees, giving her time. Feeling her muscles begin to relax, he lightly pressed against the insides of her knees, encouraging her to open for him while keeping his eyes on her for any sign she wanted to stop or was uncomfortable. His beauty hesitated only a breath of a second before relenting.

And allowed Ghost to spread her legs.

His midnight gaze adhered to the wet slit on full display for him. “Fuuuucking hell,” her ghost rasped as he at last had his first look at her, heart pounding out of his chest. “Holy fucking shit,” he breathed, the view having robbed him of most of his words. “Fuck… you’re so incredible, Gorgeous.” Attention entirely absorbed by her sex, the Brit’s hand absentmindedly dropped to the enormous bulge in his pants, palming his covered cock.

“Si?” a soft voice called to him.

Ghost’s stare immediately broke at her call. Leaning back over her, they whispered sweet words back and forth to one another, calming one another. Physician or not, it was still her first time with a man. Only when the worry left her eyes did he return his attention to her body.

“Can I make a small confession?” he asked, continuing at her murmured assent, “I’ve never… pleasured a woman before.”

“So I get to be your first?” Sereza smiled up at her ghost.

He flashed a sentimental grin back at his little one, “Affirmative sweetheart.” Lowering his face, he trailed slow, meticulous nibbles and licks down her neck. His body resting between her legs, Ghost’s mouth made its way down to her chest, lavishing warm licks from one breast to the other. Taking time to suck at each before his large hands slid down the sides of her torso as he continued to work his way along Sereza’s body. Past her ribs, her navel, before finally reaching where he’d dreamed of being for the past months.

Gripping the back of her calves gently, Simon opened her legs further. The bright pink flesh stood out against her olive skin. Open and wet for him. “God… look at you,” he rasped. "So gorgeous, so wet..."

“All for you, my love.”

Ghost let out a deep, greedy growl, “All for me.” Lowering onto his forearms, he kissed along the inside of her thighs, relishing her small noises. Continuing to coat her tan skin in wet kisses, leaving subtle petal-shaped marks in his wake, he moved closer to the flushed pink lips of her core. Palms sliding underneath to grip the sides of her hips, Ghost lightly nipped at the skin around her center. Soothing the small marks with a lick afterward, listening as Sereza mewled with each nip of his teeth.

A tentative lick up her slit.

Sereza let out a loud gasp as her body arched up off the mattress. He licked her again and was rewarded with a similar response. She was already panting though he’d hardly done anything yet.

Craving more of her reactions, Simon’s hands spread her pink lips apart and his mouth latched onto the bundle of nerves above the dripping entrance. Sereza loudly moaned at the sensation but had the presence of mind to swiftly cover her mouth.

“Jesus,” he moaned against her wet flesh, “you taste so sweet.” His tongue delved into the tight hole, “… my beautiful girl, holy fuck…” Ghost wrapped his arms under her trembling thighs, holding her firmly in place as he unabashedly ate his fill of her.

Clawing fingers of her free hand sunk into her pillow, needing something – anything – to keep her grounded while Ghost feasted on her.

The noises he coaxed from his love, her mouth-watering taste, and the squelching sounds of a woman being pleasured were driving Simon out of his mind. Making him almost delirious with need. Without slowing down in his feast, the Brit angled his lower body so he could press his raging erection against the mattress to relieve some of the building pressure. Making him groan, which in turn made his beauty’s toes curl when the vibrations radiated through her.

Lifting his head, Ghost took in Sereza’s heaving chest and curls tousled from all her writhing. Expression blissful as she panted from what pleasure he’d given her thus far.

With a deep inhale, he sat up and lifted his shirt swiftly over his head. Dropping it beside him – close by just in case his mind decided to act up again. He was absurdly appreciative Sereza still had her eyes closed for the moment. Leaning back over her, Simon cupped her face tenderly, raining small kisses along her jawline and cheek.

Sereza turned toward her ghost, nuzzling against his profile. Hands trailed up his biceps until she paused once she came to his shoulders. Honey-colored eyes, dazed and curious, opened when she felt only warm skin instead of a shirt.

His expression scarcely concealing his uneasiness, Simon didn’t dare breathe while he waited for her reaction to the feeling of his mutilated skin. ‘I will still love you and be with you regardless’ she had said. Fucking hell he hoped that was true.

Half of his brain had faith in his little one and all the care she had demonstrated for him thus far, while the other half screamed at him to put his shirt back on, convinced that his girlfriend would be as repulsed by his appearance as Simon was himself.

Sereza’s fingertips brushed across muscled shoulders, up to his jaw and back down his neck, slowing at the collarbones and feeling the countless scars of war and torture, both deep and superficial. Meanwhile her ghost was motionless. A massive unblinking statue looming above her. Clearly fighting an internal war with himself. Wrapping him in her arms, Sereza began kissing everywhere she could easily reach. Along his cheek and jaw, just as he had done with her moments ago, then over his adam’s apple and down the scarred flesh to the notch at the base of his throat. Humming appreciatively.

The static filling his mind retreated at her actions. Burying his face into her curls, he exhaled a shuddering breath and wrapped an arm across her back, holding Sereza to him in a firm embrace. Silently thanking every heavenly being in existence that his beauty didn’t hate him.

Ghost’s blood quit pounding in his ears now that his clearing mind was focused on the naked woman dwarfed below him. He could feel his shaft beginning to strain against his sweats and boxers again; the short-lived anxiety having wilted his arousal somewhat. Still supporting her back, Ghost’s other hand pinned her hips to the bed as he began to grind his cock against her core.

Sereza’s fingers found his on her hip and curled around them as she moaned. Their foreheads touched, obsidian and hazel staring back at one another, heavy-lidded, breath mingling as they began to pant from the building pleasure. “Si-Simon,” came a breathy call, “does that… feel good?” she asked. Attempting to keep him present and grounded in the moment with her.

Ghost’s eyelids fluttered closed as he nodded, breathing heavily. Eyebrows knitted together and a light sweat coated his skin from the effort of holding himself back from ramming his throbbing cock into her. The feeling of Sereza naked in his arms, grinding his sensitive erection against her heat, and listening to her voice would make quick work of him before long.

But one more thing had to go first.

After a kiss full of reverent adoration, Ghost swiftly sat up and pushed the sweats and boxers down from his waist.

Sereza gasped as the bulbous tip of his cock peeked over the waistband. Eyes widening and her mouth falling open as more of Ghost’s thick shaft was revealed to her for the first time. Several dark veins standing out against his pale skin and an impressive amount of girth. The darker head pointing at her, seemingly pleading for attention.

Her small hand reached out, pausing halfway between their bodies as she looked up at her ghost towering above her. Simon gave her a subtle nod but it didn’t seem to her that he was truly consenting willingly. But rather forced, and Sereza didn’t want him to force himself. Not through this. Adjusting her approach, her hand rested on the middle of his stomach instead, just above his navel.

Abs involuntarily flexed under her touch and Simon inhaled sharply through his nose. Abyssal irises flicked between his love’s face and her hand on his stomach as he tried to determine what she was doing, not understanding until she moved downward a few centimeters while holding eye contact with him.

She was asking permission. Giving him an opportunity to say no if he wanted. To decide for himself what happened next.

Such a considerate and caring action stunned him. Another reminder of how safe he was with his little one. Nothing would happen that they didn’t both want. Ghost sidled up a bit closer and picked up her hand from his stomach, bringing it to his lips to kiss the wrist in gratitude. “I’m okay Love,” he whispered with a small tender smile, looking down at Sereza over her knuckles, “you can touch me.”

No way Simon was turning back now after coming this far. Guiding her wrist down, he brought her hand to his cock where she curled her dainty fingers around his length. Just as he had the first time, he dropped his hand and allowed her to explore him at her own pace.

A low groan vibrated out of his chest when Sereza tightened her grip and began moving her hand up and down in a firm stroke. Half-aware, Ghost’s hips pressed forward just slightly, moving in time with her. When his sac began to tighten much too soon, he quickly and clumsily shed his clothing the rest of the way.

“Actually have… two confessions,” Simon panted, “I haven’t…” Fuck’s sake, he thought to himself, how in the hell should he phrase this? “Never, uh… finished with anyone.”

He'd seen to his partner's satisfaction, but not his own. He hadn't allowed himself to. It had been something too intimate for his mind to handle. Allowing someone to get too close. So he'd always finished it himself afterward.

Sereza’s bright eyes only shined back at him with all the love they always held. Never holding any judgment. Simon breathed a bit easier now that she didn’t appear put off by his admissions. “You’re the best thing I never knew I needed, and I don’t wanna do anything to risk losing you so… think about what you want when it’s time for… that.”

“You won’t lose me. Ever. But what about you? What do you want Si?”

Ghost shook his head and groaned again at a particularly pleasant stroke. “Doesn’t matter what I want,” he replied contrarily, looking down to watch her hand stroke him.

A conditioned response, she knew, and one she wasn’t letting go this time.

“Simon,” he stilled at her tone and looked back into amber eyes. “What you want absolutely matters. Especially right now. You have a voice in this too so please tell me, amor, what do you want?”

What I want matters… the Brit silently repeated to himself.

Repairing all the damage from his past was arduous work, but Simon was learning that it was far easier when he listened to what his other half told him. He gulped, suddenly feeling oddly… shy… about what he wanted to say.

Though he’d sooner go jogging through a minefield than admit that out loud.

“I want,” Simon began, “…to finish inside,” he muttered, carefully scanning her features for signs of disgust. But it was the truth. He wanted the complete experience with her. Only with her.

“Inside?” Sereza asked.

Her ghost nodded almost imperceptibly with bated breath. Just as his nerves were about to get the better of him, to convince him he’d offended her, fucked everything up just as his father said he would, his beauty smiled and tightened her grip, thumb running over the slit on his tip and making Simon’s body jolt pleasantly. “I'd like that,” she purred seductively even as a light pink tinted her cheeks.

Simon blinked dumbly at her a second before huffing out a breath he’d been holding. Sereza smiled brightly at his obvious relief.

Sitting upright, Simon removed her hand and peered down between their bodies, taking a moment to relish finally being between her legs and admiring his view of Sereza from his height. Naked, wet, and spread open for him. Fucking hell she was lovely like this. Before his brain could interrupt their night again, Ghost lined up the tip of his cock with her entrance. “I’ll be easy. Yell at me or… something… if you need me to stop.”

His beauty nodded and opened her legs wider to accommodate his large frame. Holding himself with one hand, Ghost brushed his weeping cockhead over her, coating it in her arousal. With his other hand, he gently played with the swollen nub to coax more wetness from her body. He began sliding his heavy length along her slit to prepare them both for his intrusion.

Sereza wrapped her arms around him. Bracing herself.

Prodding gently, Ghost grit his teeth as he began to breach the small entrance. The sensation of just pushing his tip past the outer lips was wildly sinful.

Inch by agonizingly delightful inch, Simon penetrated her hot core. “Fuuucking hell you’re tight,” he gasped as he fought her inner muscles to push further inside. He knew she would be of course, but he hadn’t quite anticipated such a vice-like grip. The feeling of her warm walls slowly enveloping him had Ghost seeing stars. “Fu-fuck, god… you’re so… fucking small. Holy fuuucking hell, uughh,” his throaty baritone vibrated throughout his chest.

His cock and brain both demanded he hurry the hell up, but Simon held himself back – by the skin of his teeth – resolutely refusing to hurt Sereza before it was time. His advances halted when his tip prodded against something deeper inside her. Something in the way. A barrier… the Brit’s eyes widened, having realized he’d reached her maidenhead. “I… I feel it… fuck,” Simon rasped.

He held still, anxious. Once he moved he would break it. The woman he loved would be his, completely and forever just as he would be hers… but Simon would have to hurt her to do it. Dark brown eyes glued themselves to amber, wordlessly pleading. He didn’t even know what for but, just – damn it, something. Some miracle that would spare them both from the pain that was coming.

Sereza’s senses snapped back to earth at the feeling of her Brit no longer moving. “Talk to me, amor,” she whispered at seeing his overcast expression, “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I-I don’t know that I can do this. When I… it’ll hurt you.”

His love smiled reassuringly while combing her nails through his blond waves. “It probably will some, but it doesn’t last very long and it’s not like what you’re thinking.”

“You’ll bleed.”

“Maybe. Or maybe not,” she said rather matter-of-factly. “Actually most women don’t. But even if I do, it’s only a little. Whatever happens Si, I promise you I’ll be okay.”

“You’re sure you want this? Me, as your first?”

Sereza pulled his head down for a deep kiss. Her fingers traced across a few scars on his face, “I will always want and choose you. Because I love you. But also, we don’t have to do this for me to still love you and stay with you.”

Tucking a curl behind her ear, he peppered small kisses across her cheeks and down her neck where he buried his face. “I love you too. So fucking much.” Holding her as close as he could manage, Ghost quickly thrust his hips forward, breaking through the barrier and bottoming out inside her.

Sereza yelped, her body stiff and trembling under him, nails digging into his back. Simon’s throat seized up at the sound of her pain. Cupping the back of her head, he screwed his eyes shut and pulled her closer to him, caging her small form within his arms as he whispered how sorry he was for hurting her. Something damp fell on his skin and Simon’s heart nearly shattered. His love was crying.

“I-I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.” He couldn’t take this, her suffering because of him. Because of something he’d done. This was unconscionably selfish of him and now he’d hurt her, just like he always knew he would. She was hurting and crying all because of him and his fucking selfish desires.

Right when he was about to pull out and call the whole thing off his little one blew out a few deep breaths and her hands eased their death grip on his shoulders. Gentle arms now held him close just as they had countless times before tonight. Chancing a look at her, Simon lifted his head, fearful of what he might see.

Brilliant hazel irises met his midnight ones. No tears or traces of pain. “I’m okay mi amor,” she smiled, continuing with soft little assurances and his favorite head scratches when her ghost still seemed rattled.

“You cried,” he whispered hoarsely, “I made you cry...”

Sereza quickly put a stop to that, pressing her fingers against his lips while shaking her head. “It made my eyes water but no Love, I wasn’t crying.” Slender legs moved against his thighs and silken muscles fluttered along his hardness, making Ghost tense and hiss through his teeth. “I’m just fine mi amor, I promise. But could you maybe start slow? You’re kinda… big,” Sereza finished with a small laugh and raising her eyebrows.

Blood pounding in his ears, Ghost nodded at her request. Whatever she wanted. Anything in the world, just as long as he didn’t have to see or hear her in pain ever again.

Only now, with his beauty calm, could Simon relax again and focus on the feeling of being sheathed within her body. The Brit couldn’t recall ever feeling anything so exquisitely perfect. All his dreams and fantasies didn’t do the goddess beneath him any justice at all. “You’re so beautiful,” he rumbled, each and every muscle in his body taut. “All the time but… especially like this. So gorgeous. So warm…” The hot walls flexed and hugged around his cock as if unsure whether to force him out or draw him in further. A sensation that made his erection throb excruciatingly and compelled him to begin moving. “You-you’re so wet… god… you feel so fucking good.”

Simon kissed her lips with all the passion he could as he embraced her small frame tighter. “You’re mine now. All… mine,” he growled, accentuating his words with the first movement of his hips. “I love that no one else has seen you like this, that no one has… been inside you. They don’t… get to have you,” Simon wheezed while he unhurriedly pumped in and out of her. Moving slowly as she’d asked. His love’s head pressed back against the pillow with a moan as Ghost drove his cock in. Filling and stretching her, forcing her body to open up for him. Each movement both gentle and intense. Knocking stilted breaths from her lungs with every snap of his hips against hers.

“Simon…,” Sereza whimpered between small uneven gasps.

The Brit hissed through his teeth. “Say it again,” his gravelly voice demanded.

“Simon…,” she bit down on her lip, “S-Si… more… please…”

Ghost stared. Did she just… beg?

Ohhhh he liked that.

Taking her lips in an ardent kiss, he picked up his pace. Feeling only too happy to oblige. His love groaned into the kiss. When the need to breathe forced them apart her mouth drifted over to his neck, just below his ear, before working its way down to his shoulder. Ghost’s heart began to pound. He increased his pace a bit more. Jostling her small frame and making her whimper against his neck.

Bloody hell she was responsive. While they drove him magnificently irrational with lust, Ghost didn’t particularly care for others hearing Sereza’s sounds. Those belonged to him. Only him. Combined with her working on his neck like she was, and how wonderful she felt wrapped around him, was bringing his orgasm on sooner than Ghost wanted. He wouldn’t allow himself to finish until his beauty did.

Removing her from his throat, Simon placed his palm over her mouth. “This okay?” Sereza nodded frantically back at him with bleary eyes. A look that made his cock throb. “My good girl… All… mine,” he ground out, punctuating his words with a hard thrust that made Sereza groan deeply and squeeze around his shaft. A low, carnal growl from Ghost’s chest shuddered through them both. “You like that do you? Like being my good girl?” Another strong squeeze at his words stole his breath, “Holy fuck, ugh!... I love feeling you clench around me like that.”

Restraint gone, Ghost’s pace and force increased.

Sereza’s thighs began trembling against his hips, telling him she was already close. His heavy sac began to draw up tightly; he wouldn’t last any longer either. Slipping a hand between their sweaty bodies, Simon began rubbing her sensitive flesh, causing her to wildly thrash from side to side. “That’s my sweet girl. Let me feel you… come for me, Gorgeous,” Ghost commanded as he lengthened his thrusts, every roll of his hips catching her sweet spot perfectly. “Be a good girl… come for me sweetheart.”

Dazed amber eyes rolled closed as her spine bowed off the bed while she cried out beneath his hand. Molten-wet walls clamped down on his shaft, causing heat to explode within his veins. Liquid fire shot through his every nerve and down through his cock as he buried himself to the hilt. Groaning loudly through bared teeth at each pulse. Giving a few small thrusts as he came.

Behind his eyelids, Simon’s vision flashed white at the intensity of emptying himself inside the woman he loved. A feeling closer to paradise than anything he’d experienced before. The gasping lieutenant withdrew slowly and sat back on his heels as he held Sereza’s knees apart to look down between her legs at his semen seeping out of her slit.

Holy shit!

A sight that would have made him come a second time if he’d had any left in him.

His woman, lying naked in his bed and looking thoroughly pleasured because of him, had Simon feeling ridiculously proud of himself. As well as ridiculously in love. Slinking back up her tired body, Simon’s thumb brushed over her lush, parted lips before he tasted her sweet mouth once more. “God how I love you Sereza,” he sighed once pulling free from her lips.

“Mmmm… Yo también te amo, amado mio.”

Still winded from his orgasm, Simon chuckled weakly. “English, sweetheart,” he playfully groused.

Sereza mumbled random nonsense as she furrowed her eyebrows, trying to switch her brain back over. “I love you too, my love,” she murmured, finally able to string enough thoughts together to form an intelligible sentence.

“Say it again? The ‘I love you’ part?”

“Te. Amo,” she enunciated carefully.

“…Te amo,” Simon tried. Sereza tiredly nodded at his attempt. “Te amo,” he repeated confidently. If she had learned his language then it was only fair that he should learn at least some of hers. It also felt right that his first phrase was ‘I love you.’

“Sí, perfecto,” she praised with a peck on his cheek.

"Te amo Sereza, um… so much.” Sereza burst with giggles and Simon couldn’t help joining her, the melodious sound heaven to his ears and a balm to his soul.

“M-muchísimo,” she corrected, despite her giggle fit.

XXXXX

Sereza sighed softly as she woke up in her Brit’s embrace. Laying still for a moment as she relished the feeling of Ghost’s naked body spooned against her own unclothed one, arm draped over her waist and curled up by her chest. Even in his sleep, the massive arms held her both lovingly and protectively.

After some careful maneuvering, Sereza managed to turn herself around to face him. Between the weight of his arm and trying to not wake him, it was slow-going, but fortunately her ghost remained fast asleep. Idyllically handsome in the early morning sunrays coming through his window.

Tilting her gaze up, Sereza admired his peacefully sleeping face, his strong jawline, and how the morning sun hit his features just right. Simon deserved every moment of peace he could get; he’d more than earned it in her opinion. Honey irises scanned his broad chest as it steadily rose and fell with Simon’s quiet breaths, taking in every scar, every evidence of a past he’d fought to escape until she landed on the large scar at the bottom of his rib cage. The mangled gash left behind by the hook he'd been hung from, many shades darker than his alabaster skin. A reminder of unfathomable pain that stood out in stark contrast to the rest of him.

“It bother you?” a velvety baritone rumbled from above her.

The feeling of her breath hitting his exposed skin had woken him and he found her staring at the scar from where he’d been hung. Simon’s fear resurfaced tenfold as he watched and waited for her answer.

Sereza met his guarded, unblinking eyes staring back at her from where he still rested on his pillow before she turned away and pressed her lips against the middle of the scar. Trailing lingering kisses over the full length of the old wound.

Ghost couldn’t breathe or look away.

His little one showered the same attention on every scar she found as she kissed a path up to his mouth. “I love you Si. You, all that you are and just as you are.” Sereza knew it would take time for her Brit to believe those words, to let them replace the toxic words of his father and his own self-hatred, and she silently promised Ghost she’d be always there to remind him, no matter how many times he needed to hear it.

Cupping his face lovingly, they kissed with all the tender affection they could summon. She sighed against his lips once their kiss wound down, “Good morning Si.”

“Mm, yes it is,” the Brit smiled back as he caressed her bare back, loving the feeling of her naked body pressed against his own nude one. “Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you last night, did I?”

Sereza shook her head and smiled beatifically down at her ghost, “I’m wonderful. Just a bit sore is all.”

Being a virgin, Simon knew she would be, especially with how small she was compared to him, but it didn’t stop guilt from brewing. “What about you?” Her question drew Ghost away from encroaching dark thoughts, “How do you feel after last night?”

Simon pulled Sereza in for another long kiss. “Amazing, Love.”

XXXXX

It physically pained Ghost to watch Sereza’s divine figure disappear as she dressed, but responsibility called. The military still wanted things done, and regrettably they couldn’t spend the entire day naked in bed – no matter how much they both wished to.

For him, there were new operatives to train and his little one had patients to see. Not much either of them could do about it except sneak a quick goodbye kiss and go their separate ways down the corridor.

Ghost rolled his blackened eyes at the recruits’ ineptitude. He understood they were new and learning but good god climbing a half-wall should not be this fucking difficult.

His pocket vibrated and the Brit fished out his phone. Lucky for the recruits, the other lieutenant would have to handle them. A text from Price lit up the screen:

Need to talk to you. My office in 10. And bring your lady.

A towering skull mask opened the captain’s squeaky door and stood aside for the petite female to enter.

“Some… comments… were made to me about you two.” Price was speaking seriously and Sereza felt her chest become tight. Was the captain about to forbid Ghost from having a relationship with her?

Her own commander couldn’t care less about relationships as long as everyone still did their job and there wasn’t any drama, but had someone higher up in the SAS found out and ordered Price to intervene? Ghost was a valuable asset; did they not want him distracted or encumbered by a relationship? That would make sense…

Internally her every fiber began preparing to fight for him. No matter who or what rank she had to go up against, she would not give up Simon.

Perfectly attuned to his little one, a large comforting hand discreetly grazed across her lower back.

“You’re being moved,” Price said to his lieutenant. “Effective immediately.”

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review-anon · 2 months ago

Text

Despair Time Chapter 2 Review Part 1: The Good

Hey guys Review Anon here and what’s this? I’m reviewing something other than ASOOT arcs? Yes, yes, I am. Shocker I know but I am not treading too far as I’m still covering Danganronpa as I’m reviewing Chapter 2 of Despair Time now it’s finished. I have my thoughts on it and now I’ve taken some time to take it all in I can talk about what went well, what didn’t go well and what lessons we can take away from the whole thing. I was gonna wait until Bubbles does their review/rant but natural disasters are bitches and power hasn’t been restored yet. So, I’m doing this now to get out of the way.

And for any people coming here from non ASOOT related tags then I will apologise in advance because you are gonna be in for a LOOONNNGGGG read. If you are the type to go tl;dr then turn away now.

I presume the rest of you want to read it? Well, let’s get right to it. I’ve split this into three parts because I don’t want to do Google Docs for this, and it would be an easier read for those who came from the non ASOOT space as you guys aren’t used to my lengthy reviews. Consider this your crash course on how I review, in extreme detail and excessive word count. This right here is about 8.5k which is a bite size by my standards which should tell you everything.

Please bear in mind you will have to wait a bit for the next parts as I want to get my current project done before this. Its just I didn't anticipate this taking so long.

Anyway, let’s get right into it, shall we?

Chains of Friendship

Chapter 1s for any Fanronpa tend to be very shocking as it’s the creator’s way to try and surprise the audience and subvert any expectations they have. Some do this well, others do not. But Despair Time was one of those who did it well by how it handled the main protagonist Teruko Tawaki.

At first glance she seemed to be an atypical Danganronpa protagonist. Ultimate Lucky Student? Check. Has an ahoge? Check. Believes in friendship, trust, hope and all those bollocks? Check. Gets backstabbed by someone they believed to be a friend in the first chapter? Check quite literally. Forgives said friend and continues to be a ray of sunshine? Ch- oh wait hang on a minute she didn’t do that at all.

Yeeaahhh while Xander’s sudden attempted murder on Teruko was a massive shock, what was even more so that Teruko decided to say fuck friendship and trust and not trust anyone ever again. On one hand you can understand Teruko’s rage. She was very close to Xander and he used that trust to try and kill her. Min was also someone who supported Teruko and she was willing to throw Teruko under the bus to save her own skin. None of the others stood up for her as they all decided that Teruko killed Xander, and it was only thanks to the power of protagonist energy and using basic logic that saved them. As such Teruko was well within her right to call everyone out for being selfish bastards. Especially since as we get to know more of Teruko this chapter, we learn that what happened in Chapter 1, while extreme, is a snapshot of her entire life due to how ruinous her luck has been.

I don’t think I’ve said this before, but I will say it now, luck SUCKS in the Danganronpa universe. Look at all the Lucky Students we had, Makoto is the only one who has a decent life and he loses the most. Nagito is so ravaged by luck he’s become suicidal and depressed. Yuki goes through literal hell due to his luck and the less said about Utsuro, the better. And while it’s still very much a WIP, one of my OCs is a Lucky Student and her life is equally ruined by her luck. But don’t worry I’ve not copy pasted it from anyone else as the direction I’ve taken my OC is in a way nobody has done before. And what Teruko has here is a fine example of that. She is an orphan who was abandoned by everyone in her life, she has numerous wounds on her body, she barely has any education as she has to sneak into large schools as a student and then once the gig is up, run away and her finances are in ruins due to the hospital bills. Its little surprise why she likes the Killing Game, as she gets guaranteed food and shelter here, which is more then what can be said outside. But even that has a silver lining as we know whoever the mastermind is, they have it out for her.

However, while this is a massive departure from what the typical protagonist would go through, it’s a known fact that in a Killing Game, you NEED to work with others. Class Trials are decided by majority vote and so if you become a pariah, you are very likely to be ignored and might risk dooming yourself or others if what you are saying is true. Teruko doesn’t have to like her classmates, but she needs to learn to coexist with them. Especially since Teruko switching from “I hate and distrust everyone” to “We are all friends” is a major mood whiplash I doubt anyone would do. So naturally one of the main themes of this chapter is learning to rebuild trust after its broken and the consequences of not trusting anyone.

Two major voices object to Teruko’s self-imposed isolation and distrust of everyone. The first is Eden Tobisa. She’s always been a cheerful and optimistic person within the Killing Game and has taken Xander’s and Min’s deaths harshly. In a way Eden behaves more like what a typical Danganronpa protagonist does, wanting to be friends with everyone and being kind. When she tries to get Teruko to bake with her, Teruko reminds her the last time they baked was with Hu, Rose and Min and that was later used for Min’s murder of Xander. She calls her naïve for being optimistic and says she won’t be friends with her, because she knows that at some point, Eden will crack from the harsh reality of the Killing Game and the luckster doesn’t want a stake in it. Kindness will always be rewarded with cruelty.

But when she says this Eden surprises her as contrary to what Teruko thinks, Eden isn’t oblivious to the cruelness of the Killing Game and reality as a whole. Yet the small clockmaker chooses to be kind because it’s the right thing to do, and if you give someone kindness while people can backstab you, you can be rewarded. When it comes to trust and distrust you need a healthy balance.

When I reviewed Black and White Christmas, I didn’t like how Sunako was forcing the Quantum Crew to trust the 76 Squad for a couple of reasons. I tried explaining it at the time, but I felt I telegraphed it quite poorly and I’m sure that’s irritated Mod Poi. The first one is on me, as I didn’t really know the 76 Squad then and as such couldn’t really tell at face value if they were to be trusted or not. Since they are from NWPM and I struggled to read it, my lack of knowledge led to that judgement, but the other thing is that I compared the whole thing to Raja and the Last Dragon and how it mishandled the theme of trust. Expect I didn’t explain it very well or misunderstood the hate. The main reason Raja got betrayed the first time was because she trusted Namaari too much, which you should never do to people you literally just meet. Give them the benefit of doubt yes, but never open yourself up to someone you don’t know that well. Teruko made that mistake with Xander and that’s why she got a knife in her gut.

While it’s a heartfelt speech, it had a notable impact on Teruko as she didn’t know how to respond. When you expect nothing but betrayal and backstabbing, having someone be kind for the sake of it can shock you. It’s the same shock Kyoko experienced in Trigger Happy Havoc when she didn’t expect Makoto to keep his mouth shut about evidence that he knows is false, and he explained it’s because he trusts her, she didn’t know how to respond. While Eden isn’t the main protagonist, the same principle applies.

Eden isn’t the only person who objects to Teruko’s views that you should never have faith in others as the other is Charles Cuevas. Starting off Charles was your atypical smug intellectual who believes he’s superior to others, akin like Byakuya and Rei. But much like them, he softens up and learns to work with others though in Charles’s case it’s a bit more extreme. In Chapter 1 he was revealed to suffer from Hemophobia, so much so that if he sees blood, he literally goes into shock and can’t remember anything. Xander uses this to his advantage to try and frame Charles for his would be killing of Teruko, but when it seems like everyone is turning on Charles, Whit is the one who stands up for him, gives evidence why he couldn’t do it and so Charles is cleared. This has caused the formally smug chemist to go through a bit of character development as while in Chapter 2 he still thinks his intelligence is beyond that of most of the cast, he isn’t pushing them down as much and has soften up to certain characters, most particularly Whit and Teruko. The former because he stood up for him and is an honest friend and the latter due to demonstrating that unlike most of the cast, Teruko actually uses her brain. It’s a slow burn but assuming Charles survives all to the end, he will become a much better person.

So, when Teruko talks about her disbelief that he is trusting people after what happened in the Class Trail, he brings up some valid points on why Teruko is actually being quite illogical as cooperation with others is key to surviving this game and humans are social pack animals by design, we work better as a team.

Chapter 1 Charles is pretty much Chapter 2 Teruko but after learning he cannot look at a corpse and thus is incapable of surviving on his own, Charles has started to learn how to rely on others. In some ways he doesn’t like how everyone pities him now so Teruko is a relief as her interactions with him haven’t changed. But while Eden says why Teruko is wrong from an emotional and moral perspective, Charles approaches it from a logical and factual point of view. As many analysts have already pointed out, it’s impossible to do a solo act in a Killing Game, if you want to live, you need to learn how to work with others. Either to prevent yourself from becoming a target, or so others can help you when you are down, much like how Whit helped Charles in his lowest point. As such using his own experiences, he knows the direction Teruko is coming from and implores her to reconsider as eventually events will occur which will force her back to trusting others again.

I like this as we have two different characters, both who get tons of development this Chapter, attacking Teruko’s morals from different angles. But while they are definitely making dents, Teruko is able to justify in her worldview that she’s been beaten too many times to be like Eden, especially as Eden seems to have had a good life where her worst secret is that she’s a closet lesbian. Which okay its definitely something Eden might have been harassed over if bigotry is still a thing in this world, but with so many of the cast being LGBTQ, it’s not the worst secret in the world. And for Charles, he has a deliberating condition which prevents him from surviving on his own. Everyone knows about Teruko’s luck and she’s survived this well without needing help on it so she doesn’t need to rely on others.

Expect of course, she’s wrong, because during an interaction with Veronika, she brings up the suggestion that Teruko might have prosopagnosia.

While it’s not confirmed in this Chapter, I do believe Bubbles has a point that Teruko might have face blindness but I don’t think its prosopagnosia. Recall that Teruko has had a very harsh upbringing where she couldn’t get close to people or have a solid support network. It’s known that having a disruptive childhood can lead to arrested development in various areas. I recall a case where a woman had blurry vision for a long time as a child and wasn’t diagnosed as shortsighted until much later in her life and because this happened after the point in a child’s development where the sense of self develops, it means this woman had a lot of self-identity problems and has a hard time recognising herself or others. But she doesn’t have prosopagnosia as that’s a neurological condition you are born with. Rather I feel the face blindness is due to people fazing in and out of Teruko’s life so much that she doesn’t bother forming connections and that is what’s fucked her up.

Regardless of the technicities, it IS a problem in a Killing Game because it would be very easy for someone to trick Teruko by merely dressing up as someone else. That wouldn’t be a problem if Teruko has a support network in place, but if she doesn’t, then she’s a goner. So, like Charles, for medical reasons Teruko doesn’t have the means to stand on her own and needs others to help her.

But the one character who shattered Teruko’s worldview and made her realise what she’s doing is wrong is the victim of this chapter; Arei Nageishi.

When Arei was introduced back in the Prologue at first it seemed like she was gonna be an insufferable Hiyoko-like character. She’s vicious, mean and enjoys tormenting others. But Chapter 1 reveals some layers to her as when Eden invited Teruko, Rose, Min and Hu to bake, Arei got really upset because she wasn’t invited, implying she wants to be involved with the group but doesn’t know how to approach it in any way other than being mean. Then during her FTE with J, she reveals that she has a ranking system in place for how badly she bullies other, while some like J get mild teasing, others she will try to ruin their lives completely. And for kind people she will make sure they cry because she cannot stand anyone being kind, implying that Arei seems to have a real problem with people being kind.

As such when Eden goes to apologise to Arei for excluding her, at first Arei behaves like how Teruko would think she would, she belittles Eden, calls her dumb and says she’s gonna die if she keeps this up, which causes Eden to burst into tears and run away. But alone with David and Teruko, Arei confesses that she didn’t like doing that. She said that stuff to Eden to protect her, because she believes the world is like what Teruko says it is, that kindness cannot be rewarded with anything other than cruelty. And if Eden keeps this up, she’s gonna die. The reason for this is as you would expect due to trauma as Arei’s older sisters would torment her constantly and make her life hell, until Arei just had it and frame her sisters for a bunch of crimes which resulted in them getting send to reform school. This here is a snapshot of one of the main themes this chapter has so we will come back to it later. So, is Arei just reinforcing Teruko’s worldview? Nope. Because then Arei reveals that despite all of that, she WANTS kind people to exist, she HAS to be doubtful of Eden because she’s so kind and optimistic, the exact person Arei wants to have in her life, but her past experiences have gotten in the way. And as she breaks down sobbing due to that, something stirs within Teruko.

Without realising it, Arei has shot a massive wound in Teruko’s armour. She’s someone who is basically like Teruko, who is rude and cruel to others because every time she’s tried to be kind, it was slapped down and punished. She also believes the world is a dark and evil place, but she also wants to believe kind people exist, despite what her experiences have taught her. This is what Teruko is going through. The fact she does cactus puppet plays of Xander and Min, shows that despite what Teruko claims, she is not a sociopath and can care for others, and she wants to be friends with everyone but having been hurt so badly, she cannot get close again. Teruko, without realising it, sees a lot of herself within Arei. She denies it at the time but those words have an impact on her.

David’s speech to her, even though its hollow and not even Arei believed it because she saw his secret and knew he was a piece of shit, still didn’t mind it. The reason being is that even if someone like David, who is seen as a beacon of hope and sunshine, is a rotten bastard deep down, then its proof she isn’t too far gone. While obviously we don’t have David reveal this to the others, we see the conversation happen, and it clearly had an effect on David, due to him remembering it so vividly. Arei’s drive to become a better person wound up saving Eden’s life twice as she interrupted Arturo’s attack on Eden when she tried to reveal his secret to him, and by doing her stunt Ace, the culprit for this case, decided to switch targets and go for Arei instead of Eden. Which I’m glad that Eden didn’t die because if she did, that would convince many that Despair Time was gonna be a cynical work like the Another Series and The Mistake. And why of course Arei still died this chapter, her death was NOT caused by her reaching out to others because Ace was gonna kill regardless of what was happening. And Teruko’s rage at Ace for killing Arei was less about him having a shitty motive but because had Arei lived, she and Teruko would have become good friends, since she would have understood Teruko’s pain and her desire to want to trust others regardless of her past.

Teruko also suffered the consequences of shutting others out as by being isolationist, Teruko has missed the context for a lot of what shenanigans have unfolded among others, and due to believing her viewpoint to be the only correct one, she makes mistakes. During the Class Trial, Teruko misreads the time and assumed the murder occurred at 8pm and NOT 8am which is Arei’s true time of death. Had Charles not pointed this out, David would be ruled as the culprit and everyone would have been executed. Another major mistake Teruko made was in how to end the Killing Game. When Veronika said that Eden had an idea to end the Killing Game by being as boring as possible, Teruko said that wouldn’t work as that’s why motives exist, whereas she has an idea but she needs to wait until the next murder occurs. We are left hanging, and for Arei’s case quite literally on what she meant by that, that is until Ace was exposed as the culprit and Teruko asks Ace to do something outrageous; Kill MonoTV.

Teruko’s logic for this at first glance seems sound. The reason the Killing Game occurs is due to the fact they have to follow MonoTV’s rules, and breaking them results in death. However, with Ace due to die via execution, he has nothing to lose. If he destroys MonoTV he has a chance to save his own life, of course if he fails, so what, Ace is gonna die anything so it achieves nothing. In short, there is no downsides and only upsides.

Expect of course if you have been paying attention, this is not the case. Firstly, normally with the mascots they tend to have copies, one gets destroyed, another takes its place. Thus, the game will carry on, but then there’s another one and one that tripped a lot of people up. When MonoTV was asked who would be the blackened, he said whoever was the most “mastermind-y” Now a lot of people interpreted this as being whoever is behind the murder and not necessarily the murderer. This is why Bubbles proposed that while Hu would be the one to kill Arei/J, David would be the blackened as he was the one who manipulated Hu into doing so. But this logic doesn’t just apply to murders, when Ace obliges and tries to smash MonoTV, it doesn’t work due to the robot being more durable then initially thought, the AI said that while Ace did break a rule, he was gonna be executed anyway so it would achieve nothing. As such the one being punished would be the one who told Ace to break said rule; Teruko herself.

As the countdown for Teruko to get gatling gunned occurs, I wasn’t worried like Teruko, as I KNEW someone was gonna jump in front of her and take the shots. The question was; who? I was thinking either Eden or Charles would do so as both have strong connections to Teruko, and for both it would be a massive contribution to their characters. In Eden’s case its shows she’s not scared to fight what she believes in, and returning the favour. Teruko stood up for her when the culprits narrowed down to Ace and herself, and Teruko decided to focus on Ace, so the petite clockmaker would return the favour. For Charles, it would be him facing his fears as he is terrified of the sight of blood and gore, so him jumping in front of the way of a gatling gun, assuming he survives, would show how much he is starting to care for the others. Anyone else aside those two…I didn’t think so. Ace would have never done so as I’m sure he is the one who voted for Teruko. Nico clearly wanted to get away with their crimes and the others either aren’t close to Teruko or jumping in front of the gun would be out of character for them. So, when the timer hit zero, I expected a CGI of either Eden or Charles with a lot of bullets in them…

But instead, my expectations were blown wide open by the fact that Levi of all people jumped in front of Teruko and shielded her from the bullets. This reminded me very much of when Akane was almost blown up by a bazooka by Monokuma but Nekomaru blocked his way and got shot. Considering what we learnt about Levi in this Chapter, this really took me off guard AND bumped him up several tiers in my character rankings.

But this had a total shock on Teruko, as she believed if she didn’t care for anyone else, nobody would likewise care for her, so the fact that someone cared enough to shield her from pain, and that they are on death’s door because of her, send shockwaves through Teruko’s body as when after Ace’s execution as everyone rushed to the infirmary to treat Levi, Teruko stayed behind to do something she said she would never do; mourn.

The amount of people who contributed to Teruko’s character development doesn’t end there as while those four are examples of positive interactions for Teruko, we have had two cases of negative interactions who serve a different purpose, the first is David Chiem.

When introduced David…seemed off. He seemed like an affable and friendly person who believes everyone has the motivation and desire to change, and Xander in particular seems to be a massive fanboy of him. But like most celebrities and people in public that is just a façade is in the Prologue when Xander went off to get something for his idol to sign, we see David chuckling to himself on how much of an idiot Xander is, without realising that Teruko was there to see it all, and his shock when she reveals she heard that, says it all. Chapter 2 brought up the suss meter even further when David ‘confessed’ his secret and implored everyone to discuss their own secrets, which far from doing good, ended up causing a lot of drama and tension. Anyone with a irk of sense could tell David was fake, I knew he was fake, Bubbles knew he was fake, pretty much most Youtubers reacting knew he was fake.

Another factor working against him is his VA. Quite a few SDRA2 English Dub VAs also worked on Despair Time, and for the most part is interesting to see their contrasts. Bblackroses is known for playing Hibiki Otonokoji, but here she is J who while Hibiki is a bubbly peppy girly-girly, J is a complete tomboy who hates the starlight and fame. Artimmissis Setsuka Chiebukuro, who is a very reliable woman with a prankster side to her, but here she is MonoTV an incompetent mastermind who tells the worst jokes. David Chiem’s VA is Sword of Swords who also worked on SDRA2, and what character did he play there?

Oh, nobody important, just Mikado Sannoji the Mastermind of that game, the leader of the main antagonist group Void and more or less a piece of shit.

At first glance the contrast seems to be that Mikado is an evil bastard whereas David is a moral force of good. But as the pressure mounts for David and the fact his secret is that he’s a manipulator who likes to deceive others, as well as how he mocked Arei’s desire for friends earlier, meant when it reached the boiling point the mask came off and David revealed his true self.

It’s here the true contrasts between him and Mikado become clear. Both are men who hide their true selves behind a mask, literally for Mikado and figuratively for David and both pretended to be forces of good before their masks slip and their true vile nature is revealed. David is obvious as he tried to be a good moral speaker whereas Mikado you might have missed it tried to be a hero and claim Void was a force of good before Rei and Teruya ruined it. In addition, their true selves are so VERY different. Mikado always remained polite and affable even when he is being extremely bastardry whereas David is rude, condensing and swears all the damn time. I also cannot help that David’s true self looking a lot like Utsuro, who is the main object of Mikado’s desires cannot NOT be a coincidence.

But what does David show for Teruko? Well, he seems to at a glance reinforce Teruko’s beliefs that nobody can be trusted as Teruko smugly pointed out she saw the warning signs of him being evil way before anyone else did. And whenever he talks to her, he seems to want to keep this act of Teruko hating everyone up, saying it’s her nature to distrust others and the only thing she trusts is the truth. And then here is his final confession he wants Teruko to trust what he’s saying. David is in a way a warning of the kind of person Teruko would become if she keeps on her current path. I also think that David had Teruko’s secret and knows it’s her fault the Killing Game is going on. The fact he keeps seemly praising Xander and calling him a good person is obviously an attempt to get under Teruko’s skin due to how she feels about him. I for one second don’t believe he cares about Xander.

Mr. Politician isn’t the only person who serves as a warning as the culprit of this chapter, Ace Markey does as well. Ace always seemed to be a coward as he is easily scared of his own shadow and while he talks tough, he doesn’t have the actions to back it up. However, in Chapter 2 Ace gets sick and tired of being a wimp and thus decides to become a bully, which is still being a coward as pretty much most bullies bully because they are cowards who want someone weaker than themselves to lord over to make themselves feel better. Yet what drives Ace’s actions is his Thanatophobia, fear of death which is a very bad thing to have in a Killing Game. Due to this fear, Ace decides to commit murder as he feels if he doesn’t kill someone, someone will do the same to him and the fact Nico almost does, reinforces this belief. Teruko is someone while not paranoid, is very distrustful of everyone and if she feels that anyone and everyone is out to get her, she could fall down the same slippery slope that Ace does.

Despite this, Ace still manages to surprise her as when Levi takes the bullets for her, everyone needs to get to the infirmary to treat Levi otherwise he dies, but the lift won’t work since Ace still needs to be executed. Ace has already made it very clear he hates and despises Levi, especially after the latter confesses that he doesn’t care about the former, which seemed to really hurt him, but seeing someone he hates that much do something so selfless, means he decides to do the one decent thing in his life, while also being his last, getting MonoTV to execute him so the lift doors open and Levi could be saved.

That I think was the final straw which broke Teruko. She has had mounting pressure throughout the entire Chapter but then someone who was a coward, sacrificing himself so that someone else could live, is the final crushing proof as well as the knowledge that while she avoided making the same mistakes as before, she just wound up making new ones, that caused her to cry alone in the Trial Room.

We also get interesting character interactions with Teruko and MonoTV throughout the chapter. Since Teruko isolated herself so much from the others, MonoTV hires her to do maintenance around the Killing Game since he’s too incompetent to do it himself. As Monokumas were originally butler robots this would have never happened in the main series. We learn a far bit about MonoTV, that he is a simple robot designed for the Killing Game and he doesn’t have full knowledge on who’s running the thing as he was only programmed to do what his tasks enabled. And as Teruko pointed out, he is sadistic as Min was executed before she could say everything she wanted to and Ace’s execution was dragged out for as long as possible, in both cases it’s to make the victims feel the most despair. The other interesting thing is that Teruko can use Monocoins to get him to remove other characters who are bothering her which is the complete contrast to FTEs. What should we call them instead? Exclusion Zone Effects or EZE? Nah that doesn’t roll off the tongue.

In conclusion, I really liked how Teruko was handled in this Chapter due to how much of a cliffhanger the previous chapter left with her. This chapter did so much to knock her down for her high and mighty view and while she won’t be buddy-buddy come Chapter 3, I do believe that she will be more approachable to the cast. Teruko’s journey throughout this fanganronpa will be interesting to see and I see her opening up more about her past as she gets more comfortable with the cast.

Trust in Nature

Every Danganronpa game has two themes, no matter how you slice it. The first theme is the most obvious one and this is a theme that the protagonist and the mastermind have in common. For Trigger Happy Havoc its Hope vs. Despair, Goodbye Despair is Future vs. Past and Killing Harmony is Truth vs. Lies.

Some have said that it’s too early to call what the themes for Despair Time are, but I disagree as Chapter 2 imo is the ideal time to introduce your themes, and I think I’ve worked them out. The primary theme is one that doesn’t take much to deduce and others have caught onto it and that is Optimism vs. Cynicism. Teruko is a very cynical individual and doesn’t think she can trust others but more optimistic people disagree, saying being jaded makes you more open to being deceived. Eden and Charles, who are 100% the partners in this fanganronpa serving similar roles to Kaito and Maki in Killing Harmony where one represents the emotional connection and the other the logical one. Eden is always a bundle of sunshine and wanting everyone to be happy, but unlike someone like say Makoto, she isn’t oblivious to the fact the world is cruel but chooses to be kind regardless because its decent and it’s the most moral thing to do. Charles is more logical based and originally was quite cynical but having been shown kindness by Whit, he has opened up a bit more to some other people and while he definitely is a work in progress, he is more optimistic about surviving and escaping the Killing Game.

And this brings me to the Rival of the Fanganronpa; David. Bubbles didn’t like David surviving past Chapter 2, ignoring their own hatred for David aside because they didn’t think David contributed anything meaningful to the overall narrative of Despair Time. I disagree harshly as if I am right with the main themes of Despair Time, David is 100% a perfect Rival character as he represents those themes so well. The cynicism side is obvious as David believes that everyone is gonna die in the Killing Game and there is no point to continuing so might as well get it over and done with. This is why when David’s true nature was exposed, he tried to claim to be the killer, which is another typical rival tactic, so everyone votes for him and they all die. This very logic is why Teruko said she is not the culprit because as soon as David went on his tirade, it would have been an instant win condition for her. And as the game progresses more and more people are gonna want to live to prove David wrong and his mental sanity is probably gonna decline as a result until his Rival protection cause expires in Chapter 5 where he probably dies in a way to try and spite the cast. Going back to the Mastermind, I believe they think the Despair Time cast are all horrible people that deserve to die, whenever that be because they are Neo Remnants of Despair or something to do with Teruko, and as such use the Killing Game to kill them all. By the end of the fanganronpa, Teruko would have become more like a typical Danganronpa protagonist and be able to defy the mastermind wanting to kill her by showing the world is not a bleak place and people can change and improve.

That brings me nicely to the secondary themes. The primary themes are shared between the protagonist and the mastermind, whereas the secondary themes are shared between the group and the rival character. This take a bit more thinking to figure out but I think I’ve cracked what Despair Time’s secondary theme is. Trigger Happy Havoc’s is working together as a team as the class are trying to work together to survive the Killing Game while Byakuya is trying to play the Killing Game in order to “win” and isolates himself from the others. Goodbye Despair’s secondary theme is a deconstruction of the idea of talent as despite being Ultimates, Class 77-B doesn’t really care about their talents and support each other for their own individual characteristics and despite Hajime being revealed to be a Reserve Course Student, are extremely accepting of him. Nagito by contrast believes Hope’s Peak talented and talentless system is gospel, praises his fellow Ultimates for their talents which they do not want to be reminded by and is extremely cruel to Hajime when he finds out he is a talentless person who thinks he can mingle with his idea of the elite. Killing Harmony’s secondary theme is wanting to remain stagnant and compliant as the V3 Cast are very content to stick to the status quo and carry on with their lives, whereas Kokichi would rather shake things up and challenge said status quo. All of these secondary themes are very important to the story. And with that I believe Despair Time’s secondary theme is if humanity is inherently good or evil.

That seems very similar to Optimism vs. Cynicism but it isn’t. This theme tackles if humans are capable of changing their nature or if they are always either good or evil. From this it’s very easy to see where David lies, he believes humanity cannot change their nature, people are either saints or scum. If someone can “change themselves” it’s because they were never that bad to begin with, whereas truly evil people cannot change. And Teruko also seems to agree on this concept because whenever Eden says she is a good person, Teruko tells her to stop as by saying that, she makes her feel worse for the fact she can change but she hasn’t made the effort to do so. Teruko always believed she was scum and would die like scum if she cared about nobody around her.

Naturally this chapter has a few characters who challenge this rule big time. Let’s start with Levi, the guy has always seemed chill but we get to see more of a scary side to him when he threatens to kill Ace if he doesn’t stop being an arsehole. We also have an interesting opening discussion with him and Eden where Levi confesses that he doesn’t see himself as a good person, contrary to what Eden thinks. This all gets revealed in the Class Trial when Levi admits that he doesn’t possess empathy and therefore cannot care about anyone around him, the fact he’s killed 4 people, one of whom being his own father and yet he treats it with the same disinterest as one would swat a fly, is very telling.

Fans were quick to diagnose Levi with Antisocial Personality Disorder, and this is where DT Dev actually impressed me big time. This disorder is one of the most maligned within society, even more so in my opinion then those on the autistic spectrum. The reason being is simple, almost every single time a fictional character is revealed to have this disorder they are almost always a psychopathic villain who kills everyone around them and gives zero shits. To say how damaging this stereotype is unbelievable and Levi is frankly the most realistic portrayal of someone with this disorder. Yes, Levi doesn’t have empathy, or a very low level of it, but he still tries to be a good person not because of morals and emotions, but more so out of a sense of duty, especially as before Levi revealed it nobody suspected a thing due to Levi not behaving like the usual stereotypes. He isn’t very good at it because he's trying to figure out how to be a good person which isn’t easy when it’s not instinct. When Ace asked if he cared about him at all and Levi responded with flat no, while Ace screamed at Levi in his usual manner, it’s clear the jockey was hurt by this reveal as a small part of him wanted to consider Levi a friend.

So, for Levi to then shield Teruko with his body from the gatling gun, not only comes as a massive shock but I believe this is Levi’s attempts of trying to prove he is a good person. Chances are, he wasn’t happy with how he handled the situation with Ace and wanted to prove something to him, so that’s why he protected Teruko, not only because thinking about it, Levi was probably one of the few characters who could survive that, but to try and redeem himself from how he mishandled the situation with Ace. And the effects of this are very clear as Ace, who was trying to prolong his death as much as possible, upon realising the only way to save Levi is for him to die, demands MonoTV to execute him. If someone without a clear concept of empathy can be a good person, then isn’t that proof humans can change?

Arei is another character who also wants to believe she can change. After she decides to become a good person, the bowler saves Eden from being threatened by Arturo and then later that night confronts David about the fact she knows he’s full of shit. We heard some of this originally from Ace who overheard the conversation, but when David is thinking about what to say to Eden, we hear the other half where Arei says she’s glad David is horrible because it means there is no such thing as a pure good person. That even someone like Eden might have done something nasty and if he’s so deprived then there’s hope left for her. She even offers a hand of friendship to David because she thinks they are one and the same, and they can improve their behaviour together. The fact David remembers this means the conversation had a meaningful impact on him, even though he doesn’t show it. What Arei is showing is clear existentialism or optimistic nihilism. Nihilism which I’m sure 75% of people reading this believe in, is where you believe nothing in the world matters because it’s all meaningless. Optimistic nihilism by contrast is saying that yes nothing matters, but that’s okay because you have the power to decide what is most important. Arei clearly believes there is no such thing as a pure good person, but what she can be is a slightly less shitty person then she was before.

And finally, there’s Ace. Ace’s motive for killing Arei is the fact he is scared of death, and that if he didn’t kill someone, then he would be killed. His reason for targeting Arei was simply coincidence, his original target was Eden but upon learning of Arei’s desire to change, decided to exploit that to target her. Ace also demonstrates a level of intelligence we haven’t seen from him before given that he was able to memorise how Nico tried to kill him, replicate that method, overpower Arei with a method unique to him and since everyone thinks Ace is dumb, he was able to pull the wool over their eyes and he could have damn well gotten away with it, especially with David’s stunt making so many convinced he was the one who killed Arei. Goes to show that people are not as stupid as you think. He gets chewed out big time by Teruko who calls him a coward, his motive is dumb and that Arei didn’t deserve to die because of that. However, even when facing death there is still a chance for character development and that comes when Levi eats a rain of bullets. Not only does this change Ace’s opinion on Levi considering he hated his guts before, but he gives Arturo a well-deserved callout who claims he doesn’t know how to treat Levi’s wounds because of his mix-maxed medical skills, but Ace calls him a coward saying as a surgeon he should know the basics and apply that skill to save Levi’s life or at least keep him alive as he gets executed. And yes, despite being as scared as possible for his death, he accepts it as it’s the only way to save Levi as the lift doors won’t open until he is executed.

Onto Ace’s execution I was pleasantly surprised as I have seen somewhere on YouTube an Ultimate Jockey Execution where the horses are used to tear the victim up, and I would have complained MASSIVELY if Ace went down a similar route. But no, the execution is more tailored to Ace’s fear of death by him escaping horror scenario after horror scenario, no wonder Veronika was orgasming over it, until when facing an execution squad, they shoot confetti and Ace suffers a heart attack and dies from fear. This is actually a real way people can die as during the 1970s, there was a string of cases where Hmong refugees would die from heart attacks in their sleep despite being healthy and middle-aged. Doctors at the time concluded that they were suffering nightmares so bad it would cause heart attacks and kill them in their sleep, and if this sounds familiar to you, it should as it was one of the inspirations behind A Nightmare on Elm Street. There’s a reason you shouldn’t scare someone with heart problems and while Ace might not have any heart issues, he has been suffering a lot of stress which could have made his heart rate dodgy and then the execution delivered.

These themes are extremely heavy hitting and I’m glad Despair Time is covering them. I could be wrong about them but that’s my theory on what they are.

Murderer Among Us

And finally, my last big positive about Despair Time’s Chapter 2 is the fact we not only get an attempted murder, with the plot twist the would-be victim would later become the culprit but the fact that this attempt didn’t succeed means the would-be murderer walks among the cast still and they have to deal with the consequences.

I have wanted this since Killing Harmony when Monokuma offered the tantalising prospect that if there are two blackeneds, only the first murder counts. So, when Korekiyo confesses to killing Tenko, the cast cannot vote for him because if he didn’t kill Angie, they would have got it wrong. I REALLY wanted it to be that Tenko was Angie’s killer, my logic being that Angie invited Tenko to her Talent Lab for a chat which got into a heated debate about how Angie was brainwashing Himiko and Tenko, who is quite hot-headed and doesn’t always think straight, accidently killed Angie in the heat of the moment. She would then either cover up her crime or someone else like the Mastermind would make the locked room mystery which the cast discovered and when Kiyo announces he is gonna do a séance, Tenko grows worried as if the séance is a success, Angie would reveal the culprit so Tenko offered to become the vessel which led to her death. You could also argue that maybe she sensed Korekiyo was up to something and did it to protect Himiko. Either way that would make for an interesting Chapter 4 because tensions between Korekiyo and Himiko would be high, but of course Kodaka doesn’t do anything with that and as a result we end up with 4 deaths, and 2 ruined chapters.

No other fanganronpa tried anything like this as they were all not willing to commit so I thank Despair Time wholeheartedly for actually having the balls to do so. As Nico, being pushed to their limit by Ace’s tormenting of them, which is very similar to how they are ostracised for being non-binary, meant they tried to commit murder by hanging Ace on the fans, but they not only miscalculated the strength of the fans but Ace woke up from being knocked unconscious and struggled awake. Before Nico could try again, Teruko and Eden showed up, foiling any would be attempt. Not only did Nico try to commit murder, but they betrayed the trust of both Hu who was trying to protect them but also Rose as Nico stole Hu’s wire and Rose’s turpentine to use for their murder scheme. What’s interesting is they didn’t apologise because they not only were not sorry for trying to kill Ace but know an apology won’t cut it. J gave Nico a very harsh verdict that even though their attempt was foiled, the point is they still tried to commit murder and was willing to give up the lives of everyone here for their own, and betrayed the trust of those who reached out to them. Hu hasn’t had a very good time this chapter because two of her closest friends; David and Nico, turned out to be using her for their own schemes, and we see the consequences of her mother hen nature. I feel a major theme for Chapter 3 is gonna be forgiveness as both Nico and David have burnt a lot of bridges this chapter and the fact they still live, means they need to somehow get back into the good graces of the group. How they do this I don’t know; David probably would be fine being a pariah but I’m not sure if Nico is wanting to make amends. They might, but they might also think they went too far. I do hope that Nico tries, especially after they have seen that even people like Levi and Ace were willing to act selflessly. And who knows, maybe David might try but I think it would be a ruse, which will still work because this cast isn’t the brightest.

Does this mean Nico would be a survivor? I don’t know as I do believe between David and Nico, one will be a survivor and the other will die, probably as a victim but who I cannot tell as Chapter 3 would probably expand upon these two a bit more. Regardless I’m glad this is being touched upon and I for one am looking forward to see where it takes Nico.

And that’s all the positives I have to say about Chapter 2. Teruko had a good character arc, I like how we know the main themes, we know who presumably the partners and rival characters are, we have an attempted murderer walking among the cast, quite a few characters like Levi, Arei and Ace got moments to shine and the execution was well done. But it cannot be all sunshine and rainbows. As much as there is good, there is also bad so when we come back next time, I’m gonna talk about what didn’t go well for Chapter 2 and what DT Dev could do to improve things.

Until then, see ya! -Review Anon

#review anon talks #danganronpa #a student out of time #drdt #danganronpa despair time #danganronpa despair time spoilers #super danganronpa another 2 spoilers #don't ask me when the next parts are coming out #it will be for a long time #as i want to focus on my other projects first #and this is the easiest bit to talk about #the other two won't be so

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detectivemarvelingcomics · 1 year ago

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Not Your Classic Vigilante [Ch. 10]

Alternate Dimension AU TW: Language, Mentions of Death, Graphic Descriptions of Violence, Body Horror, Monsters be destroying shit, Lots of Gore, Fires, Major Character Injury CW: OC Use, See the OC Guide [Here] Genre: Drama, Action, Angst, Light Comedy Pairing: Batfamily & Batsis!Reader, OC x Reader YN Pronouns: Female (She/Her) Word Count: 4.9K

(10/?) [First] | [Previous] | [Next] [DC Masterlist] | [Not Your Classic Vigilante Masterlist]

Notes: HA I FINISHED IT Bi-annual update fr fr

Disclaimer: This series is originally by @fandom-meanderer who is a close friend of mine, but she has since fallen out of her Tumblr days and asked me to finish a few series for her, hence why I am now in ownership of the Not Your Classic Vigilante series, I hope I can still live up to her writing as I rewrite this series! (I promise not to change too much, hehe)

Taking heavy breaths, you took your time to steady yourself. Your hands were beginning to cramp from how long you’d been holding your rapier, and your uniform had been singed and torn at the edges. You stood your ground, but barely, and before you the daemons were twice your size, maybe even more, but they were mutated so heavily that you couldn’t even tell what they used to be. If one thing was certain, it was that you’d never seen a monster like them before. The casualty count, although you didn’t know it specifically, was immense. Today, regardless of whether or not you made it out alive, is a huge loss for the Guard.

“Captain! The S squadron has arrived!” You heard a voice shout. Reinforcements have just arrived at the nick of time, whilst more beasts wandered out of the woods and towards the ravaged town.

“You see the situation, if you find any living civilians they are your first priority to get to safety, we’ve determined the daemons’ weak points to be their underbellies, aim for that area first! The skin is loosest there,” you commanded. “This place is already razed down, I don’t understand why they keep coming,” you mumbled. An axe lodges on the ground next to you, just barely missing your side. “Nixon! Now’s not the time to get lazy!” You pulled the axe with one hand and flung it back towards him, something he easily caught while blocking off the daemon’s claws.

“Thanks, Cap!” You couldn’t respond, too busy dodging the swings from the daemon in front of you. Its movements were slow and heavy, but they hit hard. You could barely get in a good attack with the equipment you had. Turns out, and maybe you should’ve expected this, rapiers aren’t the best for large opponents.

“Ugh, this is getting nowhere,” you mumbled just as you ducked below the beast’s arms. You jogged back, keeping your eyes on the monster, and you switched out your rapier for the rifle strapped to your back. You aimed quickly, precisely, and with a deep breath you fired. The bullet pierced the daemon’s skin, but, if anything, you just pissed it off more. “Fuck, well, we’re screwed. Is it just me or are these things getting taller?”

“Not just you, Captain! Not just you!” Evangeline scrambles up from the floor, casting a spell to knock away the hoard. The blonde runs next to her Captain, shaking slightly. Instinctively, you took a defensive stance in front of her while reloading your rifle. “Where are they all coming from?” Hints of French laced her panicked tone.

“No clue, but we’re going to be here for a very long time,” you grimaced. “Take deep breaths, Eve, if you can’t handle it we’ll switch to base-tactics,” you said

“There’s just so many of them,” Eve huffs. “Almost like… like they were waiting for us to get here,” she coughs. That struck a cord, you turned to her for a moment, but hearing the monsters roar, you refocused back on the situation, doing your best to push the daemons back. Could all of this have been an elaborate trap? Who was pulling the strings? Now that you had thought about it, it would make sense for this to be a trap. All of the Guard were here, high ranking military officials, Starspire was even a village well known for their exports, getting rid of this area would disrupt many industries. But the village was also far enough for it to still be somewhat controlled. Everything happening here, surely, had to be part of some elaborate plan.

‘Take a deep breath, (Y/N),’ Alex’s words echoed in your head. You looked around the field.

‘Where the hell did you go, asshole?’

‘Calling for backup. I don’t think we’re dealing with the natural world anymore, there must be some sort of magic involved.’ Despite your efforts, you couldn’t find Alex anywhere. ‘Don’t worry, I’m still as much a part of the fray as everyone else. But if my theory is correct then I know someone who could help us.’

‘Call them in, I’ll take anyone at this point, anyone who can get rid of these monsters,’ you replied.

‘Certainly, Captain, remain vigilant.’ Then, his side went silent while you pushed forward. Two magic circles appeared under Eve’s hands as the field became encased in a bright light. Half of the daemons, that had already been hacked away at, fell at the attack, while others trudged on.

“Gah, Eve, warn us before doing that!” Carter rubs his eyes harshly.

“Ay, if it’s getting more than half of these fuckers, hell, do it again, Eve,” Nixon shouts back.

“I’m sorry!” Eve apologizes despite it.

“Are there any more coming in?” You spoke after tapping your earpiece.

“All clear in the North, Captain,” one voice says.

“None coming in from the West either.”

“The East is clear.” You looked forward.

“The South is clear,” you said. “Focus on the remaining daemons, we’ll reconvene once they’ve all been killed,” you flicked the blood off your rapier. “And someone get me an actual sword.”

“Captain,” Carter addressed you curtly while offering his own sword. Regal in all rights, Carter’s sword, much like yours, was a gift from the Royal family. As was every weapon belonging to the Brigade, granted. However, Carter’s was a marvel to look at. A silver broadsword upon first glance, but to its wielder it becomes their greatest protection. You made the trade quickly and just in time, too, for what happened next was something you would have never expected and something you would’ve never wanted to happen.

The sounds of despair and destruction had been drowned out by an all too familiar cry. Cries, when you first ran into the burning village you heard them everywhere. Men, women, and children alike were screaming for help all around you. That was hours ago. To hear shouts that weren’t from your squadron only spelt trouble. You turned your head towards the voice, and saw a sight that was some sick twist of what you’d grown up fearing. Without any care for yourself, granted you had other things to worry about, you sprinted towards the young boy with the silver of the broadsword reflecting the flames. In a delicately crafted move, you felled the already wounded beast. You held your stance, your left arm blocking the one behind you, and your right arm holding the sword parallel to the ground. Then the beast slumped to the burnt earth, making no attempt at any further attacks, but your split decision move wasn’t without consequence. The sharp pain across your front side was enough to tell you that next time you should think more carefully before doing.

“Captain!” Eve was running towards you in seconds, but her actions were a second thought to you. No, you were more concerned about the boy behind you. The boy wearing a ripped uniform, mask half hanging from his face and half tied around his head, and with slight cuts and bruises to his face and hands. True, this was the least of the wounds you’d see him have, but the knowledge that he’d been here long enough to get those was what scared you the most. Once you were certain the beast was dead, you were quick to turn, pull your gloves off, and cradle your hands around Damian’s face.

“How… How did you get here,” you huffed, wavering slightly. You moved his face around to see if there were any bad cuts, and your thumb traced under a fresh, but shallow, one under his eye.

“(Y/N)…” Damian’s eyes widened. His eyes fall to the three large gashes that stretched across your hips and abdomen. “You’re hurt…”

“We don’t have time to worry about that, how did you get here?” You repeated despite the good many number of daemons on the field. You brushed off the sparks on his shoulders and offered to help him up.

“I was looking for you,” Damian took your hand and stood up slowly, you didn’t yet know if it was from shock or if he was hurt.

“Is that the whole story?” People don’t just drop out of the sky. And to enter this universe is something that should be incredibly hard, if not impossible.

“A man in a lab coat brought me here,” his voice was shaken. You didn’t fault him for that, the young boy was just dropped in the middle of a blazing battlefield with heaps of dead bodies sprawled across the ground. It was a sensory overload with the blinding flames and the heavy stench of iron. Not to mention the fact that you were covered in blood, your own, your comrades, and the monsters’ alike. Now wasn’t the time for answers, and you’d be damned if anything happened to Damian here, so, instead you strengthened your grip around his hand.

“Do not, under any circumstances, let go of my hand,” you said firmly, holding your conjoined hands up so he could see, if he didn’t already feel it, the tight hold you had around him. Damian nods, what else could he do in this situation? With your left hand holding Damian and the right brandishing the sword you charged across the battle field. It might be better to carry him at this rate, but then you’d be more susceptible to attacks. Hard to dodge when there’s more weight on your back or on your front. This would be best, if worse comes to worse, you’re sure Damian would forgive you for throwing him to safety. But if he kept lagging behind, then there might be a problem. “Keep up!”

“I’m trying!” Damian barks. It was now you noticed the way he moved his gaze from you to the ground in rapid succession, no doubt trying to keep his steps in align with yours. “If you want to go faster then just let—”

“No, Damian, if I let go of you it would only be seconds before one of those monsters picks you up and kills you, do you understand?” You stopped only for a brief moment before taking off again, seeing one of the daemons take notice of your little brother. “Shit, they’re everywhere,” you said with grit teeth.

“Is that a kid?!” Nixon shouts. He pulls his axe from the broken ground. Damian first noticed the red stains on his white uniform before the disgust directed at him. “Lose him, Cap! He’s slowing you down! He’s going to get us all killed!” You pulled Damian along before he could shout an argument back. One, you just need one building that’s at least a little intact to stash Damian in for the time being.

“Just stay focused, Nixon!” You deflected a piece of charred wood. Damian’s hand slips for a moment and you react with a vice grip. “Don’t let go, Damian!” You shouldn't have been upset, it wasn’t his fault, it was the blood between your hands that made it all the more slippery.

“Sorry!” Damian is taken aback for a moment before regaining his senses. You looked to the woods and watches more of the monsters emerge. Luckily, if there was any in this situation, they seemed to be smaller monsters compared to the daemons. If anything, they were probably scavenger beasts, the lot of them will turn tail and run once they see the daemons, while the braver ones will venture more inward. Though you had to be realistic. A monster is a monster, and that’s an added problem on your plate.

“Oh fuck me…” You shook your head. Then a small ray of light. Sure, the roof was on the verge of caving in, but a house is a house. “Eve!” You turned back for a second to make sure the blonde was still in ear shot and when she notices you running towards the house, she opened a warp portal next to her and slipped in, immediately appearing at the front door to open it, and allowing for you to run into a building and push Damian inside. You knelt to his level, and with a stern expression, instructed him. “Do not leave this building, I’m going to have Evangeline place a protection charm up, alright? I’ll come pick you up once I resolve this mess, then you have to tell me every single thing that happened to you before you came here.” Though you spoke clearly, you knew when words go through one ear and out the other. You’d have to trust Eve to explain the situation to him, but you didn’t know if Damian would trust her.

“I can help.” That’s definitely the last thing you wanted to hear. Typical of Damian, though, he was still young, and he still thinks he can do anything, still thinks that he has to. But not here, and not now.

“No. You can’t.” You kept your words curt enough for him to not misinterpret them. “This world is very different than our old one. You’re not in Gotham anymore. Those things out there can crush your skull in less than a second, and I don’t need anymore deaths on my mind right now, let alone the death of my little brother. Got it?”

“Yeah…” Damian looks back to your abdomen. It was still bloody but the wound was gone. “What happened to—” That might be the hardest one to explain to him.

“No questions right now. I have to get back out there before any of my teammates die. You can trust Eve, she’s a good friend of mine. Now, please, stay here.” With that, you ran out, slamming the door behind you. Not a moment later, Evangeline ran in, her white and silver uniform singed around the edges. She closes the door and places her hand on it, a magic circle appearing between the two with words of an ancient language inside of it. She waves her hand in the air and the building is surrounded in a veil of blue. She eyes the singed hole in the roof, but pays no mind to it, instead looking to Damian.

“So you must be Damian Wayne, right?” She smiles through the tired breaths. Damian nods and looks out the window. Eve seats him on the ground and hands him a thermos. “The Captain has told me so much about you. I’m Evangeline Chandler, your sister and I are good friends,” Damian suspiciously eyes the thermos, but takes it anyways.

“Yeah?” He unscrews the top, seeing some kind of soup inside of it. Eve takes the thermos from him, placing the cup in his hands and pouring the soup into it.

“Yes! I owe her a great deal. She asked me to give this to you, it’s actually Nixon’s, but I’m sure he wouldn’t mind sharing with you,” Eve grins. “You can trust it, Nixon is actually our resident healer. This soup should fix you right up,” she insists. “If you don’t believe me, I can drink it first,” she continues.

“That wouldn’t matter if you’d grown a tolerance to poison,” he gives her a pointed glance.

“Are you saying that the son of a vigilante and an assassin doesn’t have a well built tolerance?” She fires back.

“… touché,” he takes a tested sip of the soup, the immediate taste of a hearty vegetable broth greeting him. He could feel the warmth circle around his face, his chest, and his stomach.

“You don’t have to mind it, Nixon’s vegetarian too,” she chuckles, kneeling down next to him and dusting off her uniform.

“You know a lot about me,” was Damian’s next statement.

“That Captain tells me a lot about you,” she smiles. “Let’s see… you have a dog named Titus, your best friend’s name is Jon, for your tenth birthday you and the Captain went out to an arcade and ended up staying there for hours so you missed your celebration,” she counts the events on her hands, “oh! And how could I forget my favorite story? Whenever you had nightmares, the first place you’d go is to her—”

“I get it, woman,” Damian clears his throat and, again, Eve could only smile.

“And that is exactly how the Captain described you. She doesn’t talk about her family often, but her expression is always so kind when she does, especially when it comes to her siblings. Of course, this is only after a good number of drinks. Goodness, though, once she starts, she won’t stop, it’s a bit cute,” she rests her cheek on her hand. “I’m glad to see that you match her stories.” Damian could only look out the window as the screams got closer.

“What is going on out there?”

“There are quite a few of you correct?” Eve changes the subject and, with the wave of her hand, the voices deemed to dampen out into mumbles. “Two older brothers and two younger brothers, an older sister and two younger ones as well, if what she told me was right.”

“Yeah,” Damian caught on. She’s trying to distract him from the hell outside.

“Let’s see,” her eyes drift up in thought. “Barbara Gordon, Richard Grayson, Jason Todd, (Y/N) Wayne, Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown, Timothy Drake, and then there’s you,” Eve says.

“That’s all of us, but recently father brought in a new one, Duke Thomas,” Damian explains.

“Ah, yes, the Captain has explained that her father loved to take in children,” Eve crosses her arms. “But, and perhaps I’m biased, I must say that his biological children are just so adorable,” Eve coddles. “Are you still hungry? I always have something on me.” As much as her efforts to divert his attention were somewhat appreciated, she’s wasting her time on him.

“What exactly is your role?” Damian presses. Eve takes a deep breath in before sighing and shaking her head.

“I should’ve known that it would be a lost cause to try to distract you, you’re very much like your sister in that regard, but I’m keen on at least trying to follow orders. Allow me to introduce myself properly then. I’m Evangeline, Evangeline Chandler, and I am from Earth-78, born and raised in Versailles, France. I’m the magic dealer of this team, you can tell because of these silver linings here, see? However, I specialize in support, which is why my uniform is white,” she claps her hands. “Ah, the Captain, your sister, is a damage dealer, she specializes in up-close combat with blade-type weapons. She truly is amazing.”

“I see… I assume this is normal for you.”

“Not in the slightest, no. Oh, well, battle yes, but not these beasts. These monsters just started coming out of nowhere, actually,” Eve scooted away from Damian slightly and, with a few waves of her hand, an image constructed of light appeared between them, “come take a look. These are the variants we’ve been fighting for quite some time,” she invites him to move the image around. The base animal was a kind of wolf, that much was certain, but the creature had mutated the ability to support itself on its hind legs whilst also gaining articulate hands. It was as if it was some gruesome mix of human and wolf, a terror of nature, and a horror of nightmares.

“What are those?” Was all Damian could say.

“In truth… We have no idea.”

Alex stumbled behind a building, holding his phone close to his ear.

“Come on… connect, connect…” he plead. Finally, an answer.

“Alexander.”

“Remember when I told you to come tomorrow? Scratch that. We need you now.”

“What in the blazes is going on? Why do I hear fire?”

“Get over here and I’ll still be alive to tell you.”

“You really don’t take no for an answer, alright, hold out for a few more minutes.”

“Will do. I’ll take care of the stragglers, everyone else move inward!” Alex hangs up the phone, waits until everyone was out of earshot, and pivots on his heel, both hands flying out and several magic circles appearing in the ground in front of him. “Sanguis voragine.” In the slight wave of his hands, the circles began to rotate in on themselves before ultimately converging into a larger one. Spilled puddles and splatters of blood began to move in toward the centers of the circle.

‘Alex, don’t do anything you can’t handle,’ your voice had a warning tone.

‘No need to worry, I'd been saving my stamina for this moment,’ he reassures you before walking into the middle of the vortex.

You, meanwhile, glanced behind you at the fortified safe house. You’d instructed Eve to keep your brother busy, but you didn’t know how long he’d sit still. You’d have to wrap this up quickly now, somehow, at least.

“Okay,” you took a deep breath yourself, steadying the sword in front of you such that you were facing the blade. “Infallible guard,” a magic circle surrounded the sword and, in moments, a clear barrier surrounded you.

‘Perhaps I should’ve said that to you.’

‘See you on the other side.’ You readied your blade for what you hoped to be the final time that night, and charged forth.

Eve looked like she’d just seen a ghost. Eyes wide and jaw tensed.

“What’s wrong?” Damian asked quietly, a now empty thermos in his hands. Eve, wordlessly, stumbled to the window and peered outside.

“They’re using artifacts,” she mumbles, she looks back at Damian. Your orders conflicted with her morals.

“What are those? Something bad?”

“Call it a last resort. It should be fine since it’s (Y/N) and Alex but…” her scarred fingertips rose to her mouth habitually and, before she could begin to lightly bite down on them, she answered, “they take a lot of stamina to use, some that I doubt those two still have,” she mutters. She takes a seat with Damian once more.

“Then leave me here, I can fend for myself well enough,” Damian insists.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, young sir,” she replies. “Even if I wanted to, the Captain benched me,” she shakes her head. “I’m unfit for battle at this moment,” she stretches her hands out, the cuts and tears on them, fresh and weeping, were enough to tell Damian all he needed to know. “What good’s an archmage with anxiety?” She laughs pathetically. “Plus, I do enjoy talking with you,” she nudges him softly. “You must be so confused, aren’t you? Scared, maybe, but too stubborn to admit it. I don’t blame you, we all were like that before as well,” Eve clasps her hands together. “You know, I had a brother around your age as well, Felix, I haven’t seen him in so long, he’s back home where he belongs though,” she rests her cheek on her hand.

Curse his sister, it wasn’t Eve on babysitter duty, it was him also.

Damian couldn’t help but glance out the window again, the flames had begun to die down, he could tell from the way the room slowly darkened.

“Your family must be worried,” Eve tries to strike a conversation yet again.

“They don’t care.”

“Or so you think,” she shoots back. Then, when someone bangs on the door, both people stood up in guarded stances. “Being unfit for battle means nothing in war,” she sighs. She picks up her gloves from their spot on the rugged table. Despite the state of herself and her uniform, the gloves were pristine. She slips them on.

“Could be one of your teammates.” The door started to strain against its hinges.

“They would’ve been able to open the door,” a magic circle appears in her palm, “your sister told me to keep you safe at all costs, please respect her wishes.”

“If she’s really my sister then she knows I won’t,” Damian stood next to her, ready.

“She told me that you’d say that too,” the door bursts down, one of the few remaining beasts stood tall at the doorframe. “Divina vocatio,” she chants. Veils of light surround the both of them. “Have faith, Damian, that I will keep you safe,” she says. The beast roars in a way neither of them had heard before. The magic circles in either of Eve’s palms begin to rotate counter to each other as she crosses her wrists in front of her. As soon as she broke the formation, multiple circles appeared in a cross pattern over the beast’s chest, effectively pushing the beast back, but not doing much to detain it, rather, it charged despite it.

What could he do in this situation? Think, Damian. He scanned the shack for anything he could use. The image that Eve showed him, something stood out to him, but he couldn’t quite put where he’d seen it from. Then, kicked under the bed, something gleamed against the dying flames. He dove toward it, holding it up and the beast stopped. Eve chanced a glance back.

“Crucifix…” she holds her hand out and Damian tosses it toward her. “Made of silver,” she weighs it in her palm. The beast takes a step back. It could only work as a repellant, but as a weapon it was hard pressed. Damian looked around again, something made of silver, anything. The cross in Eve’s hand was a likely choice, but he’d rather not chance the karma. Surely there’d be something else?

Well, fuck it. He ran toward Eve, hand outstretched to grab the one silver item in his sight. Then, blood, lots of it. He and Eve turned to the beast, who’d been cut clean in half. Its torso slid to the ground in front of them, while its legs fell backward. Nixon stood at the door, if anyone had never seen him before, they’d think his uniform to be naturally red. Without a word, he falls back, completely passed out.

“This fool,” Eve clicks her tongue. “Help me pull him in here, would you?” She asks.

“Sure,” they both grab one leg each and pull him in, Eve slamming the door shut and placing another charm on it.

“His axe is made of silver,” she says. “And his artifact is an imperial one of strength,” she explains it well enough but Damian still stared blankly at her. “Meaning he’ll be out for a while,” she shakes her head.

“Where’s that help you were talking about, Alex?” You shout, stumbling backward and just barely keeping your balance.

“On his way… hopefully,” Alex bumps into you, the magic circle under him flickering weakly.

“After all the damage has been done,” Carter backs against the two of you.

“Well… the good news is that there’s one left,” you handed the sword back to Carter and held your rifle instead.

“And the bad news is that it’s the biggest one,” Carter sighs. You spot your rapier sticking out of it’s shoulder blade.

“Well… your effort is appreciated, Carter,” you nudged him and Carter stumbled further from you. “We’ll need a miracle.” The beast groaned.

“We are called the miraculous trio,” Alex takes a step back, distancing himself from the beast to ready an attack. “Let’s live up to that title,” Alex bends down slowly, tapping the blood puddle beneath him.

“You think we’ll get a raise?” Carter asks.

“Nah,” you aimed your rifle. “Dead Shot,” you said under your breath. A magic circle appeared on the daemon’s body. “There,” you pulled the trigger and Alex focused a ring of magic circles on it. “Carter!” Carter slid in front of you and launched the sword forth, the tip barreling toward the beast before the sword impaled it. The beast staggered back, but it did not fall. Instead, it looked to you, directly at you, in a way that sent shivers down your spine.

“W… W… Wayne,” the beast growled out. You held your hand up, stopping Alex from dealing the last hit. “I… know… you,” it fell forward, but still it’s gaze never wavered. “Do… know… me…?” It asked. You took a step forward.

“Hey,” Carter spoke up.

“It’s fine,” you reloaded your rifle. Soon, you were an arm’s length away from the beast. You spotted a hint of silver on it’s neck and, as if it were calling you, you pulled it out of it’s loose and tattered skin. It was an ID tag, one that every Knight received, hell, yours was around your neck right now. The name was almost entirely worn through, but you could still just barely read it.

Then… realization. You staggered back, suddenly feeling weak in every limb.

“Captain?” Carter’s voice behind you again.

“Oh my god…” You shook your head. You looked around the battlefield, corpses of knights and beasts all around, and then to the one in front of you. You fell onto your knees and you placed your hand on the beast’s head. “You served well, Major Syke,” you said the name on the ID.

“Thank you,” the beast breathed it’s last before stilling. The field was quiet, quiet except for the sound of you pulling your rapier out of the Major’s shoulder. You turned your earpiece on and waited for it to connect.

“The field is clear, report the total number of casualties and damages to me whenever you can, we will regroup in the North delta base,” you turned the comm off and turned around to Carter and Alexander. “Don’t tell anyone this,” you whispered, “but… we’ve been killing people.”

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