#god bless present tense

[theteaisaddictive]

if the fair botanists was waterstones’s scottish book of the year then 2022 must’ve been a pretty shite year for scottish books ngl

[enviedear]

JASON TODD deserves to retire—far away from gotham—so without further ado, i present…FARMER!JASON.

i think he’d be in his early to mid thirties before he ever even thought about leaving gotham behind. he’d have to have achieved some form of retribution for what he went through, i just don’t see him forgoing that—even if it’d bring his mind peace.

so when he finally decides to get his affairs in order and retire out to some small, inconspicuous town—he’s thriving. he only has himself to worry with, reminiscent of his childhood. he’s good with his hands, can work long hours, and likes the solitude. damian convinced him, before he left gotham, to get some animals—so he does. a few chickens, some cattle, and a fainting goat an older neighbor couldn’t care for anymore. he’s happy with how it is. nice, peaceful, and quiet. a complete 180° from his old life, both of them.

so enter you, product of a small town and hungry for something more. the first time he meets you, you’re working at your families general store, bored out of your mind. he only had come in for some cow feed, but just one look at you had the big bear of a man scouring shelves to lengthen his stay.

to you, jason sticks out like a sore thumb. he can dress just like and do all the things as the other townsfolk, but the air of something more lingers. you reckon he’s probably like any other city dweller who happens into town—ignorant to how the world works here and usually gone within six months. but then he walks up to the counter, and he’s vastly different to what you expected. soft spoken, weary of eye contact, and rigid manners—uttering, “ma’am” and “thank you so much.”

jason, bless him, is at a loss. you’re so pretty he doesn’t know how to correctly present the fact to you. his hands are all clammy and he picked up at least seven things that he doesn’t fucking need—but he’s still determined. he opens his mouth, once, twice…nothing. finally, when you hand him his change—he clears his throat.

“nice place for a young lady.” and immediately he stills. because it’s not at all what he wanted to say. his embarrassment catches him last, confusion at his own screw up falling ahead.

you huff out a laugh, amused at him more than anything. plus, you encounter plenty of ‘conversationalists’ on the clock.

you give him a smile, “thanks hun,” and then you gesture toward the XL paper cup on the counter with TIPS written across it, “this young lady wouldn’t mind some charity though.”

you wait for him to blink. he does, and the reaches back for his wallet. you stop him, “i was joking, of course.” his hand freezes mid-motion, halfway to his wallet. you can almost see the precise moment the realization actually dawns on him.

jason feels idiotic, childish, and so flustered—he hates that—he's a grown man. god, he doesn’t need to tip you, it was a joke, and now he’s overthinking it. His shoulders are all tense, and for a guy who looks like he could snap a tree in half with his bare hands, the sight is unexpectedly…endearing.

"right," he starts, grabbing for his assortment of goods. "i—uh, got distracted, sorry." and again, he stops—not what he meant to say. he stops listening at this point, nervous as all hell and beat at this little game of wits. he fumbles into a goodbye before bolting for the door.

for the first time since leaving gotham and all that he used to be behind—jason feels a tug. a little liveliness to the quaint life he's carved out. the fact both vexes and amuses him.

he decides that day, to do his shopping with you from now on.

[lovelykhaleesiii]

ok but chubby!Aeg with a new wife reader and him just fucking her constantly with a breeding kink and barely letting her out of his chambers until his family finds her would be incredible...

And good luck with your period beautiful, it seems I'm headed there as well

sorry for the delayed response lovely, hope you are better now xox this ask is delicious, thank you for sending it in! any type of Aeg with a breeding kink is something else...

Duty to the Realm.

PAIRING: chubby!King!Aegon ii Targaryen x Queen!fem!Reader

WORDS: 3,522.

WARNINGS: arranged marriage, breeding kink, lactation kink, pregnancy kink, slightly cruel!Aegon ii, female receiving (f*ingering), edging, overstimulation, creampie, cockwarming, swearing, posessive!Aegon, p in v sexual intercourse, mentions of pregnancy/birth.

A/N - I may have gotten carried away a little bit, but that's okay. shoutout for my bitchass anon, that seems to be OBSESSED with me, enjoy reading and hating on this asshole.

​​The marital duty expected of the woman to the man was one of a common, natural phenomena, that many in the realm would often not bat an eye to, yet one that held great anticipation for you, in your case. Particularly considering, your lawful husband was no other than the sole King of the Seven Kingdoms. An heir was the ultimate and primary responsibility, expected of you both to fulfil. A royal decree and order of the Faith.

He was to bed you as much as it pleased your Sire, as you were to carry and birth as many lively heirs as possible, blessed as the Gods saw fit. Your anointed Septas had spoken to you countlessly to this coming night, and your dearest mother before her untimely passing: all reinstating the other, that childbirth was no easy game. A duty of womankind and also an honour. To be blessed by the Mother herself, with the gift to carry and birth healthily.

Nonetheless, arrangements made, your House meticulously selected, as your husband to be, Aegon the Second of his name, had been thoroughly consulted by his liege council, thought that the most viable candidate to bear the shared responsibility of carrying out the infamous Targaryen dynasty, was you. Now that the Dance had come to its long-awaited end, Aegon the ultimate successor, reparations needed to be made and lines secured for the generations forthcoming.

The wedding was a swift and grandiose occasion: rich food and wine, opulent gifts and crowds [many faces unfamiliar to yourself] gathered in abundance, the union was legitimised by the Faith of the Seven, binded by law. Aegon scarcely spoke to you during the special occasion besides catching his lingering, lilac eyes fleeting over towards you. Strangely you had also noticed, Aegon would not allow for you to speak for yourself. Often promptly intercepting, answering general questions and well wishes on your behalf, before a peep escaped your reddened lips: you found it odd and somewhat harrowing.

It was an ambivalent feeling, as though Aegon acknowledged your physical presence, yet refused to grant you the privilege to speak nor appreciate you? You felt trivial against his stance, nothing more than a vessel at his complete disposal. You came to the haste, haunting conclusion of neglect... "Aegon does not love me."

Aegon took you to bed that dreadful night, ruling against his Council for a meek audience to be present. He vowed a promise, his lingering words "the deed will be done" remained echoing in your thoughtlessly numb mind.  The door locked as Aegon saw to it himself, no words spared other than fleeting glances, as he took a swift swing of his Dornish wine that accompanied him, as he departed from the feast with you. Observing Aegon this near, his authority in the realm, was not the only quality in him that held a substantially formidable presence...

Unlike his younger brothers, Aegon was fuller in size. His stocky thighs and legs accentuated in size by the tightly fitted breeches, was accompanied by a portly round stomach that looked tense and swollen from the delectable wedding feast and drinking. Not that you had much of an appetite that evening, however, Aegon did not halt when a full serving was laid in front of him, nor the seconds that he demanded for, or a slice of the exquisite cake. One thing you had noticed tonight that you had never heard of before, was that Aegon had an impressive appetite. Whether it was from the nerves of having to bed a woman he scarcely knew, or the undeniable, looming fear of failing to provide an heir, he ate intensely and seemed to enjoy himself rather. The way he'd savour his last few bites, eyes rolling back in satisfaction, how he did not shy away from sculling two full pitchers worth of wine [yet remained stable on his feet and wickedly alert]. Although, a strange, yearning sensation began to churn below, a dull ache growing stronger right between your inner thighs, as you fleetingly observed Aegon's large hand tenderly palming over his distended belly. Close enough in his proximity, you heard an occasional low belch escape from Aegon's plump, greasy lips, poorly attempting to muffle his discomfort with a tight fist over his mouth.

Now in the privacy of your shared, royal chambers, his arms looked strong and sturdy: the flesh of his fingers pooling tightly around his precious rings. Although his face was wildly handsome as most Targaryen men beared celestial-like attributes, history would tell. The ruggedness remaining evident from blatant, healing scars strewed across the side of his cheek and forehead, proof of the recent battles he had bravely fought and won, did not hinder your undeniable attraction towards him. And yet, there was also a softness to his features, the flesh of his jaw ample and blurred, his cheeks plump.

You prayed in that very moment, that Aegon was just as pleased about you, as you were with him.

Undressing himself off his fine fabrics, lashing the pieces onto the floor as though they cost nothing, your tense body froze completely, as Aegon took slow strides towards you. Only inches apart, his rough hands snaking their way behind your illustrious gown, untying the strings effortlessly, as though this was not the first time he had bedded a woman.

"You know what is expected of you," Aegon firmly uttered, his tone unfaltering and deep, you felt your body grow rigid, as his rough hands met your bare skin, the gown loosely falling off your body.

Your naked body rigid, and mind frail, you could not muster the valour to respond timely, seemingly infuriating Aegon.

"Speak woman, use your words for me."

Feeling his thumb simultaneously flicking at your sensitive, perked nipple, sent shivers down your spine, his fierce, glowing eyes cursing from your breasts to your timid face.

"Y-Yes, my dear," You delicately stuttered, your sullen breath hitching in your throat, as you tried to focus solely on fixating your gaze on Aegon and not daring to look to the ground.

"Hmm, therefore you realise what is expected of me, yes? As your dutiful husband and as the King of the Seven Kingdoms, you understand what I must do to you, yes?"

Aegon's hand that was previously occupied playfully kneading and teasing your breast, now sneaked below to your waist, along with his other, his fingertips firmly tightening around the curves for your hips. His head tilted down, lowering his taller height to meet yours, as his lips found their way melting over your flushed skin.

"Y-Yes my King. Y-Yes, Aegon. A child I must bear, an heir... As many heirs as you see fit my King, I will do as you ask, as you please."

A low growl etched from Aegon's throat, animalistic even, as they momentarily broke free from you, as his thumb now gently grazing over your blush cheek and shut lips.

"Together we share this burden, but rest assured, my dear. I will do everything in my power to ensure the Kingdom has an heir. If that means fucking you day and night, sealing you in this room and chaining you to this bed then so be it. Till your dripping proudly of my seed until you take. Not until I see your belly swell greatly with my babe growing inside, may I let you roam the halls freely once more. Understood?"

"Understood."

That night Aegon took you to bed with caution and great intent. He was effortless in handling you, guiding and adjusting your body according to his positions, lifting and carrying you as though you weighed nothing more than a feather. Kissing you abundantly and with passion, often suckling at your tender flesh around your neck and breasts, you felt the spots that he had latched onto growing sore. His eager mouth occupied, his free hand found its way to your cunt, now moist with excitement, throbbing for something more. He remained generous, inserting two of his longest, thick digits inside, pumping himself in a steady, slow pace, feeling your keen walls stretching mildly, clenching around the base of his knuckles, the deeper he plunged himself in. With each helpless moan that slipped from your mouth that he earned, the deeper he shoved himself in, feeling a slick smirk spread against your neck.

"That's it, my love. You don’t even need to tell me just how bad you need your King to fuck you, I can practically feel your body begging for me, baby."

Countless more breathless moans escaped your lips that you'd desperately bit shut, that you could no longer resist. The silent void of the room gradually filling with the natural sounds of lust, as you stuttered and whimpered your King's name aloud.

"Ugh- A-Aeg. I need my King n-now. I w-want my Aeg-"

"Fuck-" Aegon spat, his teeth softly biting down on the ample flesh of your breast, tugging at your tender skin, causing a sharp jolt of pain to shock you, before letting loose. All the while unknowing to you, your Grace had a third digit inserted deep within your walls, his fist now coated in your pooling wetness, oozing between the gaps of your entrance, as his pace had hasten, his thick fingers deeply inside pumping and pushing against the natural tightness of your enclosure. The strange, dense weight and friction of his fingertips rousing against your sensitive clit.

"That's right. Warming you up so, yet it seemed you were already a soaking mess for me, my love.”

Muffled moans as you weakly attempted to fight the urge to scream and beg for more. Aegon's wicked fingers inside, tormenting you as he quickened his pace and the ferocity of his motion. Your back arching lusciously, as your hips bucked upwards and back again, motioning for more.

"Think you are ready for me, baby? Think you are ready to take my cock, till I fuck you full of my hot seed. Are you ready to be a mother?"

"Y-Yes, Aeg!" You breathlessly yelp, your hands having instinctively found their way to his platinum locks, the mottled strands caught in your fingers, as you grasped and pulled at his roots. As your arms outstretched below your sides, your breasts naturally shoved and pressed together in unison, accentuating your obvious cleavage more so, that Aegon helplessly found himself tempted. Only a second bypassed, before the bulky King found himself crawling further up atop your yielding body, with great effort, huffing and puffing as he subtly caught his breath, before burying his handsome face between, suckling at your hard, perky nipples. His heavy, round belly laid sprawled against your own abdomen, feeling his clothed, rigid cock beneath his tight pants, the tense bulge probing at your inner thigh walls.

"Soon these will be greatly full of the Mother's blessed milk, and I will relish myself with the spoils of my babe growing inside. Knowing that it was all my undoing, that made you so. Gods be good, they will be full enough, practically leaking from the vast supply. Our babes will be well fed, and I, too, hmm."

"A-Aeg, I need you. F-Fuck a babe into me, a-and I shall feed and fuck you, a-as you please."

"Mhmm, my good, pretty wife. Already at my mercy-"

Feeling the rush movements of Aegon's free hand below [as the other remained steadying himself], you had no sense of what was occurring below, nor could you see, as his stout belly blocked your view. Yet the sudden, grazing sensation of his moist, hard cock teasing at the entrance of your wet, throbbing folds, you could bear it no more.

"You promise you can take me, baby? Show me how well of an obedient wife you can be, just as much of a pretty one you are."

No warning and no remorse, Aegon shoved his thick, stiff cock into your aching, tight cunt. Despite Aegon's perilous efforts of 'warming you up', nothing amounted to the concoction of sheer ecstasy and pain that coarsed through your veins, as your King's cock, stretched you out, pushing your limits beyond comfort. And yet, you could feel the familiar, dull throbbing sensation growing more palpable by the second: desperately trying to clench around the girth of his fat, bulky circumference, your nails digging into the plump adipose flesh of his broad shoulders and back, as you remained stagnant and tense around him.

"That's it, baby- Fuck. D-Doing so, so well for me. I can just fucking feel how tight you really are around me, fuck! L-Let me just break into you, easy, easy now-"

Moaning cries and whimpers filled Aegon's ears, yet he remained focused. His pace although messy and sloppy was steady, slowly slowly, thrusting himself as equipped as his larger frame would allow him, his solid weight weighing him down against you, you move no further than squirm with remaining, great effort. Feeling his pulsating cock inside, striking adamantly against your cervix, and the pressure of his swollen, distended gut, pressing from above, with each passing second as you felt an immense, stimulating arousal brewing from below. The fierce, physical tensity of Aegon's size inside and out, was invigorating, as your body obediently attempted to adjust to your husband's size.

"Good-Good wife. That's it, baby, I'm going to cum any second now. Fuck this pretty, tight cunt of yours was needy for her King to spoil. I can feel how desperate you are for my babe, huh?"

"Y-Yes, Aeg-"

"I'm going to keep you locked up, all for myself. Till I can fuck as many heirs as I see fit. U-Until this entire quarter is full of our babes, till the realm can hear their cries. You and this tight cunt of yours are not leaving. Not until I'm fucking satisfied. All mine, now."

"Of-Of course, my King-"

"Fuck, Y/N, was I right about you, huh? Obedient from the start, you greedy, little brat, you wanted this just as much as I. Could you imagine yourself as I did, only full of my royal seed, only you worthy to take me."

"O-Only me. M-Made just for you, Aeg, as the Gods deemed it."

"No, woman. I deemed it. I made the decision. I wanted you. O-Only this cunt to take my seed, these hips to grow wide for the birth, and this belly to swell proudly. Till I see these tits leak and you waddling around, begging me to hold and carry you, this was all my undoing from the start. I am the King, the closest thing to the Gods, and farthest from men."

"Th-Then I am eternally at your mercy and will. M-My beloved-"

As you felt the tense excitement sparking below, the invigorating relief as your wetness had reached a peaking climax, the shudder of chills that echoed through your body, the momentum evaporated, as you twitched and felt feeble against Aegon’s sturdy build. Your wetness drenching his cock, as it once more, oozed heavily against your folds and inner thighs. Aegon's immediate, instinctive release adjunct to your own, earned a mouthful of deep, growling moans and breathless swears from the King himself in relief. His hot, ample seed shot through inside, painting your inner walls, as you felt his body weight drop even more against you, all energy exerted.

Shifting himself to your side, as to not suffocate you against his bulky frame, embracing your flustered, exhausted self in his strong arms, his twitching, thick cock, however remained buried inside.

"Tonight we shall remain united as man and woman, like so. Heed my words earnestly, Y/N. Until I see this belly grow round and full, you will stay in this chamber, until I say otherwise. You obey no other orders unless directly from me, understood? I will send maids to help you, you will not lift a single finger so long as you are my wife. You answer to no one but me.”’

Feeling your nod against his plump, meaty chest. Aegon’s hands found their way to your unkempt, loose hair. Brushing the strands off your sweaty, blush face. Although his words were stern and mildly threatening, his actions remained tender.

“B-But what if the Gods do not see me fit to mother your heirs? W-what if I am… What if I am barren, my King?”

Aegon’s silence was eerily unnerving, although his breath did not hitch in shock of your sudden question, his breathing now regained to stability, remained unfaltering as he contemplated.

“You are my wife, the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. If anyone wishes to question your purpose in my life, regardless of whom, will answer to me… The King. And they will anguish as I see fit.”

The bright days and chill nights had passed since the wedding night. Aegon, committed to his promise, whenever his duty fulfilled and time free, he would return to you, only to embrace you, love you and fuck you. Proudly filling you day and night full of a fresh batch of his seed, despite practically still being a drenching mess from when he had last left you. Servants attended to your every need: when he felt he had you exhausted, pushed to your limits, your body delicate and tiresome eyes drifting off to a deep slumber. He would let you be, only sharing close proximity as he embraced you cozily. He ordered the chefs to have your supper and meals sent piping hot, in a timely manner and occasionally found himself joining you in attendance, than his own family feasts. A table set up for the both of you, an intimate quiet dinner between a husband and his wife. He much preferred your company, anyways.

His family, more often the Dowager Queen and Hand, himself, promptly questioned Aegon regarding your whereabouts, he would disclose to you.

“At one point my dear mother had feared you’d run away,” Aegon chuckled, as he scoffed a piece of his roast down, followed by a scull of his wine.

“And what if I had? Would you let me be, or have Ser Arryk sent out to seek me out, dear husband?”

Aegon’s familiar eyes flashed towards you instantly, although the longing, tender look was replaced with a cold, menacing pierce.

“Go against this union, means you go against my decision… The decision of your King. I would send out a whole battalion if need be, and when I have you in my grasp, I will rid you of this luxury and see to it that I lock you up in one of the cells below the Red Keep. Fuck you like a common whore, and summon you like a predator to its prey. Until I’m certain you’ve learnt your lesson… Now are you still tempted to run?”

Shaking your head promptly, Aegon’s half-hearted smirk was enough to ease the tension. With all the intimacy involved, you had both gradually become quite comfortable with one another, enough to speak your minds, as Aegon often urged from you on your behalf. Although, only between you two. He firmly ordered for servants and guards alike, to be absent during your shared moments, in an attempt to ease you into speaking with confidentiality and also, to avoid whispers being spread. After the Dance, Aegon was often sceptical of people’s intentions, considering all the treachery he’d been exposed to during the early years of his reign.

Regardless, it was Aegon who was the first to notice subtle changes, only adding it all up when you had meekly disclosed to him that you had not bled in the past two months. Immediately he sought a guard to fetch for the maester and soon enough, his long-awaited wishes had been confirmed.

Aegon often watched over you more intensely now, his eyes ogling over your swelling belly, how the waistline of your gown had grown slightly tighter around your stomach, and your breasts looking fuller, more sensitive under his teasing touch. Relieved, however it was far from the end for Aegon... The King himself, had become even more brutally protective over you, and the babe inside, still adamant on keeping you confined, rested and guarded.

"No harm will come towards you or the babe, so long as I breathe and rule."

He even had Sunfyre tenaciously fly above your tower, granting him peace of mind that no threat could overpower the fury of a dragon.

Nonetheless, the Gods had blessed you to full term, and a healthy babe was born. A son, a true embodiment of the Targaryen dynasty, and the rightful heir to the Seven Kingdoms. Aegon was beyond sated that you and the babe had recovered from the gruelling nature of birth, and seldom to his words, he allowed you free to roam, with the newborn warmly nestled in your arms, and Aegon relentlessly by your side. That was until, the King felt the desire for yet another heir to be proclaimed."Need I remind you of our wedding night, my beloved... You promised your King as many heirs. It is only natural as a true-born Targaryen, that I take what is mine."

general taglist - @evenstaris @bel-bottoms @fan-goddess @malfoytargaryen @ilikeitbetterangsty @bibli0thecary @m1ndbrand @connorsui @elegantsplendour @randomdragonfires @sylas-the-grim @arcielee @s-we-e-t-t-ea @sahvlren @aemondtargaryensrider @watercolorskyy

Aegon ii taglist - @who-told-you-this-was-butter @f4ll-for-you @amiraisgoingthruit @bucknastysbabe

credit for divider - @/babesindestroyland

[sallowsarchives]

Clash and Convergence

Part I | Part II | Part III

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader Summary: Tensions are running high as you continue to grapple with your conflicting emotions. However, with another job thrusting you both back into close proximity, could this new development be the key to easing the tension and mending the rift between you once more? Word Count: 8.2k  Warnings/Tags: no use of y/n, angst, gunfights, injury, canon-typical danger, dead bodies (nothing too graphic), not proofread!! A/N: Hey again! Alright so compared to the last chapter, I've taken some creative liberties and sort of deviated from the canon for this one, so I’m hoping this one turns out good. Also, no smut for this part but I promise it’s coming in the next chapter, which I hope to finish as soon as I can. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and feedback is always appreciated!

Read on AO3

A few weeks had passed since that night, yet despite the passage of time, the unspoken tension between you and Arthur remained. 

In the first few days after the party, you withdrew into yourself, steering clear of the usual banter and small talk. You went about your tasks with mechanical precision, your movements efficient but devoid of the usual liveliness.

The memory of the events that occurred lingered in the back of your mind, casting a shadow over your usual routines. Your tried to bury those thoughts, focusing on the small, manageable tasks that kept your hands busy and your mind occupied.

Lately, the days had been filled with nothing but the usual activities—scouting for potential heists, tending to horses, helping with chores, and maintaining the camp.

Arthur was rarely at the camp, often off on some job Dutch had given him. Some days, you'd catch him heading to his horse early in the morning, riding out to God knows where and wouldn’t return for a few days. When he did, he'd usually arrive with freshly caught game or extra cash to contribute.

On the days he was gone, the camp felt a little quieter, a little less tense. His absences were a small blessing, giving you the space needed to collect your thoughts and maintain the fragile peace between you both. During those times, you could almost pretend that things were as they once were.

But on the days he was present, you both made a concerted effort to avoid each other. Conversations were brief and strained, and any interaction was kept to a bare minimum.

He often busied himself with tasks around the camp—chopping wood, organizing supplies, and carrying hay bales to the horses as if they weighed nothing.

When he wasn’t working, he’d sit by the campfire, engaging in small conversations with the others or scribbling in his journal. On some days, he’d spend the entirety of his time hidden away in his room.

You, on the other hand, would retreat to the outskirts of the camp until Miss Grimshaw scolded you, at which point you'd bury yourself in tasks of your own, your demeanor just as distant. 

You found solace in the routine of chores, focusing on the small, manageable tasks that allowed you to avoid any unnecessary interaction with Arthur. 

You missed the days when you'd head into town with the girls or accompany some of the men for small jobs where you’d use your nimble fingers to good use. Blending into the bustling crowds, you’d quietly lift wallets and purses from unsuspecting townsfolk, finding a strange satisfaction in the simplicity and thrill of the task. 

But lately, with the Pinkertons breathing down the gang's necks even more, there hadn’t been much in the way of work. The lack of action only heightened the tension, making the days drag on with a restless energy that seemed to seep into every part of your life.

Before long, the unease between you and Arthur became palpable to those around you. The camp was abuzz with quiet speculation, though the mood remained outwardly unaffected.

Conversations with the others were tinged with curiosity as they noticed the stark shift from the usual lively banter to the strained silence that now characterized your interactions. 

The frequent arguments and sharp exchanges had given way to a stifling quiet, and it didn’t take long for the gang members to sense that something was off between you two. The change in dynamic was unusual and unsettling, prompting whispered conversations and knowing glances among the camp.

One evening, as you were helping Pearson with the supplies, you overheard Javier and Bill talking by the fire. 

“Have you noticed how quiet it’s been without those two at each other’s throats?” Bill said, shaking his head.

Javier nodded, glancing discreetly over at you. “Yeah, it’s strange. Almost miss the excitement.”

Lenny and Karen, who had joined the group, shared their own takes. 

“It’s strange,” Lenny said. “I mean, they’d always bicker and fight, but there was some kind of spark to it. Now, it’s just… cold. A whole lot of nothin’.”

“You’d think they’d have worked it out after gettin’ the chance to spend time together. But it’s like whatever went down just left a permanent chill between ’em,” Karen added.

Pearson, catching the conversation, gave you a look but said nothing. You simply shrugged and continued with your task, trying to ignore the growing weight of the situation.

Though the camp had noticed the shift between the two of you, no one had really confronted you about it—except for one person. 

Hosea, ever the keen observer, had picked up on the change in demeanor from you and Arthur during the ride back after the party. 

That night, as soon as you arrived at camp, you dismounted the coach before anyone even had a chance to offer a greeting and headed straight into the house without a word. 

The usual warmth of the campfire and the lively chatter that greeted the return of its members felt distant and muted to you, a stark contrast to the storm of emotions churning inside. 

Arthur had watched you storm off with a mix of frustration and concern, feeling a pang of guilt but too wrapped up in his own stubborn pride to approach you. His internal conflict was evident, as he struggled with his own emotions while grappling with the distance growing between you both. 

The weight of his own pride and the fear of further complicating things kept him from reaching out. He knew he was part of the issue, yet he couldn’t bring himself to make things right, leaving him brooding by the fire long after you had disappeared into the house.

Hosea didn’t miss the tension in the air as you left abruptly or the way Arthur’s mood had darkened. He watched Arthur’s restless movements, the firelight dancing over his face and revealing a rare glimpse of vulnerability and frustration. The usual calm and quiet confidence Arthur exuded was replaced by visible agitation, a stark contrast to the man Hosea had come to know.

At first, Hosea hadn’t thought much of it, assuming it was just another round of the aftermath from the usual quips and disagreements between you and Arthur. But as weeks went by and the tension persisted, he began to sense that something deeper was at play.

Fast forward to now, as you were engrossed in cleaning a rifle— which Hosea had actually gifted you after witnessing your impressive marksmanship on a hunt you had accompanied him on—you caught sight of him approaching out of the corner of your eye. 

"Mind if I join you?" he asked gently, settling himself on a nearby log. His tone was casual but his eyes held a deep concern. "I've been meaning to check in, see how you're doin' after the party."

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak without betraying the turmoil inside. Hosea sat down beside you, watching as you continued to clean the rifle, the rhythmic motion of your hands almost mechanical.

He hesitated for a moment before speaking, his voice soft and careful. "I, uh, noticed you’ve seemed a bit... off since that night. You've been keepin' to yourself more, and there's not as much of that fiery spirit you usually show. I don't mean to pry, but, well, I reckon somethin' happened, didn't it?"

You looked up, meeting his gaze. There was no judgment in his eyes, only an open, sympathetic understanding. Sighing, you tried to find the right words. 

“Arthur and I just had a… disagreement. Nothing that hasn’t happened before.”

“Disagreements are one thing, but this feels different,” Hosea said, his voice carrying a hint of concern. “I’ve seen you two go at it before, but there’s a coldness now that wasn’t there before. Something’s weighing heavy on both of you. You want to talk about it?”

You shrugged, trying to keep your tone nonchalant. “It’s really not that big of a deal, Hosea. Just a rough patch, like always.”

Hosea’s brows furrowed slightly, but he didn’t push further. 

“Alright. Just don’t let it fester. If you need to talk, you know where to find me.”

You nodded, giving him a tight smile. “Thanks, Hosea. I appreciate the concern, but I’m fine. Just need to keep busy.”

With that, you turned your attention back to the rifle, the rhythmic motion of your cleaning a soothing distraction from the thoughts clouding your mind. Hosea left you to your task, though his concerned gaze lingered a moment longer before he walked away, leaving you with your uneasy thoughts.

You knew his concern was genuine, but you were determined to keep things at a distance and focus on moving forward, despite the emotional undercurrents swirling beneath the surface.

You took a deep breath, letting the familiarity of the rifle and the routine of your task provide a semblance of control amid the chaos of your feelings.

Later that evening, as the campfire crackled and cast flickering shadows around the camp, you sat with Abigail, the two of you enjoying a rare moment of light conversation.

The warmth of the fire was a welcome contrast to the chill in the night air, and Javier’s gentle guitar strumming in the background added a soothing ambiance to the evening, offering a brief respite from the weight of your thoughts.

As you and Abigail chatted, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere, the quiet rustling of footsteps and the gentle clearing of a throat drew your attention. Turning around, you saw Arthur standing there, his expression guarded yet earnest.

Arthur had arrived at camp some time in the afternoon, his presence marked by the familiar rhythm of his horse’s hooves and the clink of his spurs as he carried in another fresh load of game. His arrival had been met with the usual nods and grunts of acknowledgment, but he had kept to himself since then.

Arthur’s presence seemed to amplify the quiet of the evening, his stance betraying an unease that matched the tension between you two. The firelight cast shifting shadows on his face, revealing the weariness and frustration etched into his features. 

“Evenin’,” he said, his voice rough but steady. “Uh, Dutch needs to talk to us both.”

Arthur shifted his weight, his gaze flickering to the side before meeting yours again. “He uh… said he wanted to talk to us about something,” he added, his tone attempting to be casual but betraying a hint of the underlying strain.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself against the rising unease about what Dutch might need to discuss. Abigail, noticing the awkwardness in Arthur’s demeanor, chose not to comment. Instead, she offered a sympathetic smile and stood up, her gesture a small comfort in the tense moment.

“I’ll catch up with you later,” she said softly, giving your shoulder a reassuring pat before heading off to give you and Arthur some space.

As you watched her walk away, you felt a brief flicker of gratitude for her understanding. You turned back to Arthur, who was still standing silently, his gaze shifting uncomfortably, before making your way towards Dutch’s quarters. 

Arthur’s footsteps were heavy behind you, his usual easy stride replaced by a more deliberate, uncertain pace. He cleared his throat, as if to break the silence, but no words came.

The crackling of the campfire and the soft murmur of distant conversations slowly faded, leaving only the sound of the wooden floorboards creaking under your steps as you both made your way inside the house and up the stairs.

You raised your hand and knocked on the door, the sound echoing louder than you expected. After a moment, Dutch’s voice called out from inside, inviting you both in. With a deep breath, you turned the handle and stepped into the room, ready to face whatever Dutch had to say.

Upon entering, you found Dutch and Hosea on the terrace, engaged in a low conversation. The evening light cast a warm glow over them, adding a sense of calm to the otherwise tense atmosphere. Dutch looked up as you approached, a smile etching onto his face.

"Ah, there you are, come on out, we’ve got some things to discuss."

Hosea gave you a nod of acknowledgment, his expression one of quiet understanding. 

Dutch gestured for you and Arthur to join them at a small table set up with a few maps. 

“I wanted to go over a few things with you both,” Dutch said, his tone casual but authoritative. “Hosea and I have been discussin’ a plan, might just be what we need to get away from here and finally throw the Pinkertons off our scent for good.”

Hosea turned to you, adding to Dutch’s explanation. “There’s another job, particularly concerning the stagecoach details you picked up from the party, actually. You know, the one rumored to be packed with jewels and cash. We’ve gotten word that it’ll be rollin’ through just north of Lemoyne, somewhere in New Hanover, tomorrow.”

You felt a jolt of realization as Hosea’s words hit you. The mention of the stagecoach, packed with jewels and cash, immediately brought back the details you’d nearly forgotten in the whirlwind of recent events. 

Your mind raced, piecing together the fragments of information you’d gathered during the party. This was the opportunity that could turn everything around, but it also meant diving right back into the chaos. You could sense the weight of the mission ahead, the stakes higher than ever.

You nodded slowly, absorbing the gravity of the situation. “Alright, so what’s the plan?” you asked, trying to focus on the task at hand despite the whirlwind of emotions.

Hosea glanced at Dutch, who took over the explanation. “We’ve got a basic outline. We reckon the stagecoach will be guarded, so you’ll need to stay sharp. Essentially, your task is to take out the guards and haul that coach right back here for safekeeping,” he said, pointing to a spot on the map.

Arthur leaned in, his expression serious. “Sounds like a plan. Who else is comin’ with us?”

Dutch and Hosea exchanged a glance, then Dutch answered, “It’ll just be the two of you. We’re countin’ on you to get it done.”

You blinked, eyes widening as you begin to feel a surge of frustration. “Wait, what? You can’t be serious,” you said, your voice tinged with disbelief.

Arthur's eyes widened slightly, his unease becoming more evident. “Just the two of us?” he repeated, trying to mask his discomfort with a gruff tone. He looked between Dutch and Hosea, clearly taken aback by the lack of backup.

Dutch looked momentarily taken aback by your reactions, his brow furrowing in confusion. “What’s the problem?” he asked, clearly oblivious to the underlying tension between you and Arthur. “I figured you two would be the best for this. It’s a straightforward job. I know you can handle it. You seemed to do fine back at the mayor's party.”

Arthur fidgeted with his hat, looking uncomfortable. He glanced at you, his face showing a mix of frustration and reluctance.

Hosea, sensing the growing discomfort and understanding the gravity of the situation, stepped in. “Since you were the one who uncovered the details about the stagecoach,” he said, addressing you directly, “We figured you’d lead this one. You know the specifics and what to expect. Arthur here is our best bet to go with you, handle any trouble, and watch your back while you’re at it.”

“And besides,” Hosea continued, his tone softening, “I know you’ve been itching to get out of camp and put your skills to use. This job could be a good chance for you to get out of the camp for a bit and do something you’ve been craving.”

Oh you had been hoping for a change of scenery, but not the kind that would throw you right back into close quarters with Arthur. 

This is just fantastic… Just what you needed, no? You couldn’t make this up if you tried. Here you were, thinking you’d get a breather from the endless tension, only to find yourself on a direct collision course with it. Really, the universe must have a twisted sense of humor.

Arthur’s dry laugh cut through your thoughts, and you glanced at him, noting the mix of annoyance and amusement on his face. Yeah, he’s probably thinking the same thing. Didn’t expect this to come with a side of enforced teamwork. We’ve barely been able to keep it together when we're in camp. Now we’re supposed to be a seamless duo out there?

Before you or Arthur could voice any further objections, Dutch cuts in with a firm tone. “It’s settled. You two will handle this job together, and that’s final. No more complaints or arguments.”

The finality in his voice left no room for negotiation. 

Arthur let out a deep frustrated sigh. “Well, ain’t this just perfect,” he grumbled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. You shot him a resigned glance, both of you silently acknowledging the irony of the situation.

“Now you two get some rest tonight, and we’ll go over the details tomorrow. I trust you two will make it work.”

With that, Dutch gave a nod, signaling the end of the discussion.

As you were about to leave, Hosea approached you and Arthur with a gentle demeanor, clearly aware of the tension between you two. 

“I know it’s not ideal, especially with how things have been between you two,” he said quietly, his voice filled with understanding. “But you’re both capable. I have faith that you’ll handle this just fine.”

Arthur shot Hosea a skeptical glance but nodded in acknowledgment, his gruff exterior softening slightly. “We’ll do what we can,” he muttered, though his tone suggested he wasn’t entirely convinced.

You managed a tight smile, appreciating Hosea’s attempt to offer reassurance despite the circumstances. “Yeah, I suppose we’ll give it our best shot.”

Hosea nodded approvingly and patted Arthur on the back. “That’s the spirit. Now, try to get some rest. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”

With that, Hosea gave you both a warm, encouraging smile before stepping back, leaving you and Arthur to face the uncomfortable reality of the task ahead.

The promise of the job loomed large, and the need to navigate both the heist and your fraught relationship now seemed inescapable.

The silence stretched, awkward and thick as the both of you grappled with the weight of the situation in your own way, the unspoken tension hanging between you like a heavy fog. You could almost feel the gears in Arthur’s mind turning, his usual confidence replaced by a reluctant resignation.

Arthur shifted his weight, glancing sideways at you before speaking. His voice was low, tinged with hesitation.

Arthur shifted his weight, glancing sideways at you before speaking. “Look, I know this isn’t exactly ideal. We’ve had our share of run-ins, and I’m not expecting us to suddenly be friends or anything. But, for what it’s worth, I’ll do my part to make sure this job goes smoothly.”

You studied Arthur for a moment, taking in the sincerity behind his words. Despite the tension, there was something begrudgingly reassuring in his willingness to make the best of the situation. You sighed, trying to keep your tone neutral but not entirely devoid of acknowledgment.

“Yeah, well, I’m not expecting us to be the best of friends either,” you replied, forcing a small, wry smile. “But I appreciate the effort. We’ll both just have to keep our heads in the game and get this done. For now, let’s try to focus on the job and not let our… differences get in the way.”

Arthur gave a short nod, the lines of tension on his face momentarily easing. “Fair enough.”

There was an awkward pause, the silence stretching out between you. Arthur finally cleared his throat, his eyes flickering towards you. “Look, about what happened—”

You cut him off, your voice sharp. “We don’t need to rehash it. Let’s just focus on this job so we can continue with our ways.”

The last thing you wanted was to dredge up the emotions and pain that had been bubbling beneath the surface. Revisiting the topic felt like opening an old wound that had yet to heal, and you weren’t ready to face that vulnerability all over again. 

Arthur’s expression shifted, a mix of resignation and understanding passing over his face. “Alright,” he said, his tone flat. “We’ll do that.”

With that, you give him a nod before turning heel and walking away downstairs, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the quiet. 

Arthur watched you go before heading to his room, the weight of the conversation and unresolved issues hanging heavy on his mind.

As you settled into your sleeping roll, the familiar comfort of the bedding did little to ease the turmoil inside you. The day's events, combined with the strained interaction with Arthur, made it difficult to quiet your racing thoughts. 

Despite the brief truce, the underlying tension between you and Arthur was far from resolved.

The next morning dawned crisp and clear, the sunlight filtering through the cracked windows. The sky outside was painted in soft hues of pink and orange, casting a warm glow over the sprawling estate of Shady Belle. 

You woke with a start, the unease of the previous night still heavy in your mind. The camp was already bustling with activity as the early risers went about their morning routines, preparing for the day ahead.

You and Arthur had gotten up early, each in your own way preparing for the job that lay ahead. The conversation this morning with Dutch and Hosea had been brief, focusing mainly on the specifics of the job and the logistics of the route. The details were clear, and the plan was set.

With that in mind, you were left to prepare for the task ahead. Preparing your saddle bag, you set about stashing away the essentials: ammunition, a spare set of clothes, and other provisions.

You grabbed your rifle, carefully checking it for any issues before securing it onto your horse, running a final check on your gear and making sure everything was in order.

The horse you were saddling stood patiently, its calm demeanor a stark contrast to the storm brewing in your mind. As you adjusted the saddle and tightened the straps, you tried to focus on the task at hand, pushing aside thoughts of the upcoming journey and the inevitable interactions with Arthur.

Arthur was nearby, working on his own preparations. Though there was no direct conversation between you, the occasional glance or nod indicated a mutual understanding of the importance of the task at hand.

You watched him for a moment, feeling the unspoken words and unresolved feelings between you. The air was thick with the weight of the unaddressed issues, but you both knew that there was no room for sentiment right now.

You let out a sigh before mounting your horse. The two of you had a job to do, and despite the personal issues that loomed, you had to find a way to make it work. This job had to go smoothly, and you needed to focus on that, no matter how difficult this job was already proving to be.

Arthur gave a brief nod, acknowledging your resolve, and mounted his own horse. With a final deep breath, you spurred your horse into motion. 

Arthur fell into line beside you, and together, you set out on the journey ahead.

The road stretched out before you, winding through the dense forests and swamps. The sun was high in the sky, casting a warm light over the landscape. 

The journey had been relatively uneventful so far, a few scattered encounters with travelers and the occasional wildlife breaking the monotony.

You and Arthur rode side by side, the silence between you still thick and uncomfortable. You focused on the landscape around you, the dense trees and winding paths offering a certain level of tranquility.

Arthur, for his part, appeared deep in thought. He occasionally glanced over at you, but the eye contact was fleeting.

His usual confident demeanor was replaced with a quiet determination, and the silence spoke volumes of the discomfort that lingered.

You had both briefly reviewed the details of the job, and the execution was expected to be straightforward. The plan was simple enough: intercept the stagecoach, secure the loot, and make a swift escape with the coach to a hiding place somewhere near camp. 

After a beat, Arthur finally broke the silence. 

“You ready for this?” 

You nodded, keeping your eyes on the road ahead.

“Yeah, just like any other job, right?” you replied, keeping your tone steady, though the edge in your voice was unmistakable.

Arthur sighed, clearly sensing the strain in your words. “Look, I know things ain’t been... easy between us. But we gotta get through this.”

You glanced over at him, your expression hardening. 

“I know that, Arthur. I’m not gonna let whatever’s between us mess up the job. I’ve got a job to do, and so do you. I intend to see it through without letting personal grudges get in the way.”

Arthur nodded slowly, his eyes filled with a mixture of understanding and resignation. “Yeah, I know you will. Just... stay close, alright? We need to be on the same page.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “Understood. Let’s just get this done.” 

The tension lingered, but for now, it was buried under the urgency of the job.

The terrain shifted subtly, the once marshy ground giving way to the rich, green embrace of dense forests, rolling hills, and steep mountains. 

The road followed a river that wound alongside you, its surface catching the overcast sky’s light in a subdued, shimmering dance. The rhythmic flow of the water provided a gentle counterpoint to the tension between you and Arthur, a quiet reminder of the natural beauty surrounding your uneasy journey.

Arthur’s gaze remained fixed on the horizon, his focus unyielding. He kept his gaze sharp, scanning the surroundings for any signs of trouble. Despite the coldness between you, you couldn’t help but notice the way he took his job seriously, his focus unwavering. 

His attention to detail was evident as he navigated the terrain, maneuvering his horse with practiced ease. Each time he glanced over at you, his eyes were a mix of concentration and something softer.

Eventually, you reached a vantage point overlooking the road where the stagecoach was expected to pass. You dismount your horse, feeling the weight of the upcoming task settle heavily on your shoulders. Arthur followed suit, his expression serious as he joined you.

"So, how do you wanna do this? You take the front, and I cover the back?" Arthur's tone was practical, but there was a hint of something less guarded in his voice.

A smile unexpectedly crept up on your lips, a rare break from the seriousness that had defined your recent interactions, as you thought of how you approached these jobs with a different flair when you were with the girls.

Arthur glanced over, his expression guarded but curious. You continued, “Or I could play the helpless lady who needs help while you sneak up on ‘em?”

His eyes narrowed slightly, and a small, begrudging smile tugged at his lips. “Oh, so you’re thinkin’ of dustin’ off the old act, huh? Think you still got it?”

You raised an eyebrow, the tension easing just a bit as a genuine smile tugged at your lips.  “Oh, I’ve still got a few tricks up my sleeve. But you better keep up if you’re gonna be my backup.”

Arthur nodded, his smile widening slightly. “You got it.”

You checked your gear, slinging your rifle securely behind you. Arthur did the same, both of you falling into the familiar routine of preparation.

As you moved into position, the earlier unease shifted into focused, purposeful energy. 

The playful banter had served its purpose, bringing a brief moment of levity to the serious task ahead. Now, with the weight of the mission on your shoulders, you prepared for the role you’d play and the action to come.

“You think this’ll work?” you ask, your voice tinged with both curiosity and apprehension.

Arthur glances up at you as you both make your way slightly further down the hill. 

“It’s our best shot. We’ll need to time it right. ‘Sides, we’ve got the element of surprise on our side.”

You nod as you stop just before the road, positioning yourselves behind the trees and thick bushes, your eyes scanning the road for any sign of the stagecoach.

The sun was at an angle indicating that sunset was within an hour or two, casting long shadows that merged with the undergrowth, providing natural cover. The sound of the flowing river in the distance had faded into the background as you both waited in tense silence. 

Then, amidst the quiet, you both heard it—a distant rumble growing louder. The roll of the coach’s wheels crunching over the road, steadily approaching. 

You exchanged a sharp glance with Arthur, the anticipation spiking as you prepared for the imminent arrival of your target.

Peeking over the edge of your hiding spot, you counted around five guards stationed around the stagecoach, each one mounted on horseback with rifles gripped tightly in their hands. They occasionally glanced at each other, their movements synchronized but relaxed, their attention more on the road ahead than on the dense cover flanking either side—rookie mistake.

The impending arrival of your target presented a perfect opportunity. Their lack of vigilance provided a window to implement your plan.

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you signal to Arthur with a subtle nod, your heart racing as the time to act approaches.

You step out from behind the tree and move to a position where the road curves, creating the illusion of a stranded traveler in need of assistance. 

As you raise a hand to signal distress, you adjust your expression to one of genuine concern before you stumble forward, making sure to catch sight of the approaching vehicle, your movements exaggerated for effect. 

The guards notice your presence immediately, their posture becoming tense as they exchange wary glances. The coach begins to slow, and one of the guards shouts over.

“Hold up! What’s the matter?” His voice carries a mix of suspicion and urgency as he strains to see what’s going on.

That’s your cue. You force a shaky voice as you call out, “Help! My horse threw a shoe, and I’m stranded here! Please, I need assistance!”

You stagger slightly, clutching your arm as if in pain, and glance anxiously towards the coach. The guards’ expressions shift from suspicion to concern as they assess the situation. 

They exchange a few quick words, and one of them starts to dismount, moving towards you with a wary but reluctant gait.

Concealed by the trees, Arthur remains hidden, his sharp eyes locked on the scene. He watches as the guard approaches, waiting for the precise moment to make his move. Your heart races as you maintain your act, trying to keep your expression a mix of fear and gratitude.

As the guard comes closer, his eyes seem to fixate on something behind your back and his expression shifts to alarm, his hand moving instinctively towards his weapon.

“Hold on a minute,” he calls out, voice now laced with suspicion. The tone of his voice immediately alerts the other guards, who begin to look more closely at the situation. “What’s that on your back?”

Arthur’s eyes narrow as he notices the shift in the guards' demeanor. His movements are fluid and calculated as he positions himself strategically, drawing his rifle with practiced precision. He takes a deep breath and steadies his aim, preparing to act at a moment’s notice.

You freeze, trying to keep your expression composed despite the sudden shift. Your heart skips a beat, and you shoot a quick glance toward Arthur, who’s watching intently from his hidden spot.

The guard takes another cautious step closer, his gaze fixed on your rifle. “Seems a bit odd for someone stranded to be carrying a rifle, don’t ya think?”

As steady as you can manage, you respond, “I— I just needed it for protection. I didn’t expect trouble.” 

You can feel the weight of his scrutiny, and you silently pray that your composed demeanor is enough to keep suspicion at bay.

As the guard’s suspicion grows, he signals to the other guards, who start to move in closer, their hands gripping their weapons with increased wariness. 

The tension thickens, palpable in the tightening of their grips and the narrowing of their eyes. You can almost see the wheels turning in their heads, questioning the authenticity of your situation.

Arthur’s eyes narrow, realizing that the plan might be in jeopardy. His fingers tighten around the handle of his own rifle, ready to act. 

The guards' wary movements signal that they're about to take a closer look at you, their caution evident in their deliberate steps. You catch Arthur's eye, and he gives a barely perceptible nod—a clear signal that the time to act is now, before the guards get any closer or the situation escalates further.

With a deep breath, you prepare yourself, knowing that the success of the job now hinges on a delicate balance between deception and action.

As the guard steps closer, his suspicion hardening into action, the tension snaps like a taut wire. The moment he raises his hand to signal the other guards to move in, the situation escalates rapidly.

The air fills with the sudden sharp crack of gunfire as Arthur’s rifle erupts from the trees. His shots ring true, striking one of the guards and sending him crashing to the ground. The remaining men, caught off guard, scramble for cover as the shootout begins in earnest.

You draw your own rifle, aiming at the nearest one as you move quickly to the side, seeking cover behind a large rock. 

Your shots are quick and precise, the loud reports of your gun blending into the chaotic symphony of the firefight. The guards on horseback begin to return fire, their rifles barking in rapid succession.

Amid the chaos, you catch a glimpse of Arthur, moving with practiced precision. He’s taking them down with controlled bursts of fire, his movements fluid and efficient. He’s clearly in his element, but even so, his eyes occasionally flicker toward you, ensuring you’re holding your own.

The stagecoach driver, realizing the situation has gone terribly wrong, frantically tries to maneuver the vehicle away from the danger. His hands tremble as he struggles to keep the frantic horses under control.

One of the guards, attempting to flank you, takes a well-aimed shot, forcing you to duck behind your cover. You peer out, seeing Arthur’s form in the distance as he intercepts the guard, eliminating the threat with a single, decisive shot.

As the last of the guards fall, the chaos begins to wane. The sound of gunfire now replaced by the restless snorting of the horses. 

You scan the area, assessing the situation, and your heart starts to slow as you see the immediate threat has been dealt with.

Arthur, breathing heavily from the exertion, emerges from his cover, his eyes scanning the scene for any remaining danger. He gives you a quick nod of acknowledgment before turning to secure the stagecoach. 

You emerge from your cover and make a beeline for the stagecoach, reaching the vehicle just as Arthur approaches it, his face a mask of focused intensity. 

The driver has managed to bring the horses to a halt. Without a moment’s hesitation, Arthur nudges the man with a sharp flick of his rifle. Clearly intimidated by Arthur’s commanding presence, he scrambles off the seat and retreats into the road with a frantic pace.

With the situation now under control, you watch as Arthur focuses on calming the restless horses. He approaches them carefully, his voice a soothing murmur that cuts through the chaos. The horses’ breathing begins to slow, their agitation easing under his calm presence.

You take a moment to catch your breath and collect yourself, observing Arthur’s handling of the situation. His actions are steady and confident, and you can see the familiar ease with which he interacts with the animals. It’s a side of him that, despite everything, has managed to impress you.

Catching the subtle shift in your expression, he glances over at you. His gaze lingering for a moment. For a brief instant, his own hardened expression softens, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in a small, almost self-satisfied smile. 

You blink, momentarily flustered. You hadn’t realized how much you were letting your guard down, caught off-guard by the warmth in his eyes and the easy way he spoke. 

The sight is fleeting but significant, a silent acknowledgment of the shared success and a momentary easing of the tension that had previously clouded your interactions.

You attempt to steady your voice, but it comes out softer than intended. “Come on, let’s check if this thing has exactly what they said.”

Arthur gives a nod, his focus shifting to the task at hand as you both move to inspect the stagecoach. 

As you open the coach's doors, the sight inside is nothing short of astonishing.

Chests, small pouches, lockboxes, and crates are crammed into the coach, each one overflowing with a dazzling array of jewels and cash. Arthur’s eyes widen as he takes in the sheer volume of riches. 

Seeing the score, the weight of the day's hostility seems to have dissolved, replaced by a palpable sense of accomplishment and satisfaction.

Arthur whistles, clearly impressed. “Damn, we hit the mother lode, this is more than I ever expected.”

You nod, grabbing a small bag to carefully assess the loot. This one was filled with sparkling rings and ornate necklaces. The sight is overwhelming, and the weight of the haul is tangible even before you touch it.

Beside you, Arthur takes to opening a lockbox with his hunting knife. The contents inside reveal neatly stacked bundles of cash. 

“This is a hell of a find,” he says with a hint of admiration in his voice. “Dutch is gonna be thrilled.”

“This is more than enough for the gang,” you comment, carefully handling each piece. “Who in their right mind would only send five guards to accompany this?”

“Seems like they were a bit too confident in their security. Their loss is our gain, though.”

“Let’s get this sorted and packed up. We need to move quick before anyone starts sniffing around.”

You whistle for your horse and begin stashing a few bundles of cash and select pieces of jewelry into the saddlebag. Arthur mirrors your actions, moving with deliberate speed as he fills his satchel with a mix of valuable items from the coach.

You and Arthur quickly secure the remaining loot and prepare the stagecoach for its journey before he climbs up to the driver’s seat, taking the reins with a firm grip.

“Let’s get this thing moving,” he says, his voice low but determined.

You nod, taking your place beside him whistling to your horses once more, signaling them to follow. The stagecoach lurches forward as Arthur cracks the reins, guiding the horses into a steady trot. 

With the weight of the haul securely packed and the adrenaline of the heist gradually fading, a sense of accomplishment settles in. The tense moments of the plan's execution now give way to the satisfaction of a job well done.

Arthur glances over at you, a trace of a smile lingering on his lips. “Good work back there. Reckon we make a pretty good team, don’t we?”

You catch his gaze and, despite yourself, feel a flicker of warmth. “Yeah, just don’t get used to it.”

Arthur chuckles softly. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Half an hour in, you continue your journey to the agreed location with the fruits of your labor securely in tow.

The adrenaline from the earlier confrontation has faded, replaced by a sense of accomplishment and relief. The surroundings have returned to their tranquil state, the earlier chaos now a distant memory as you and Arthur ride side by side, the silence between you now more comfortable and less charged than before.

With the sun setting, you keep a vigilant eye on the surroundings, focusing on the road and surrounding area ahead for any signs of trouble. 

Suddenly, the faint sound of galloping hooves slices through the calm, growing abruptly louder. The rhythmic pounding signifies an approaching group, and the urgency in their pace suggests they might be heading straight for you.

You glance over at Arthur, noticing his instant shift in posture, his hands tightening slightly on the reigns. 

Following the sound, you look behind and see a horde of riders emerging from the tree line, their horses kicking up clouds of dust as they charge forward. The group is sizable, and their intent is clear—they’re coming fast and with purpose.

Arthur’s jaw clenches as he takes in the approaching threat. He adjusts his grip on the reins, his frustration evident but his focus unwavering. “Damn it,” he growls. “We can’t outrun ‘em with this load.”

With resolve, you kneel a leg on the seat, bracing yourself against the coach roof for stability. Your expression is determined as you aim your rifle at the approaching riders. 

“You just keep those horses running. I’ll handle the welcoming committee,” you call out to Arthur, your voice steady. Arthur glances over, a flicker of amusement in his eyes despite the urgency, before his gaze sharpens back on the road. 

The coach surges ahead, the horses racing faster as Arthur skillfully maneuvers them away from the oncoming threat. The clash of gunfire and the thunderous pounding of hooves create a frenzied soundtrack to the chaos unfolding.

The vehicle sways with the sudden bursts and you brace yourself, focusing on keeping your aim steady amidst the chaotic barrage.

Bullets ricochet off the ground near the coach, their danger unmistakable. You grit your teeth, cursing under your breath as you see both your and Arthur’s horses veering sharply to another direction to evade the attackers, separating them from you.

From beside you, Arthur's curse breaks through the chaos. You glance over to see the road ahead sharply climbing, winding up the mountain with a steep incline.

The horses strain against the uneven terrain, their hooves scrambling for traction as the coach teeters perilously, the situation now becoming more complicated, with the treacherous path adding another layer of danger to the already tense escape.

You turn to see Arthur’s face set in grim determination, his focus entirely on the road. His efforts to control the coach are apparent as he wrestles for control, fighting against the treacherous surface.

“Dammit!” Arthur growls, his knuckles white as he grips the reins tightly. “This isn’t exactly what I had in mind for a getaway route!”

The incline grows steeper, and the coach struggles to gain traction.

You return your gaze to the unmistakable sound of more guards closing in, aiming steadily at those who are getting too close for comfort.

Their pursuit is relentless, and the weight of the situation becomes increasingly apparent. Each shot you fire feels like a desperate attempt to stave off the growing threat, as the gap between you and the pursuing riders narrows with every passing moment.

“They’re gaining on us!” you shout over the cacophony of gunfire and the rumbling coach. “There’s too many of them. We have to leave the coach!”

The sound of men shouting and the sharp crack of gunfire splintering the wood of the coach fills the air, heightening the chaos. The horses, already on edge, begin to panic, their frantic movements causing the coach to lurch.

The coach tilts precariously toward the edge of the mountain, and for a moment, you feel yourself tipping dangerously close to the edge of your seat. Rocks tumble down the steep incline as the coach seems on the verge of tipping over completely.

In a split second, Arthur’s arm shoots out, grabbing you firmly by the waist and pulling you back into place while still maintaining control of the reins. The coach rights itself with a jolt, the wheels crunching heavily on the loose gravel as it stabilizes. The sudden movement pulls you both back from the brink, but the threat of the approaching guards remains ever-present.

“You alright?” he calls out, his voice edged with worry amidst the chaos, his hand still wrapped around your waist as you cling to him for stability.

You nod quickly, forcing a shaky nod. “I’m good… Just keep this thing steady.”

Arthur’s hand slips away as he refocuses on guiding the coach.

You lean back, gripping onto the seat with both hands to brace yourself against the relentless jostling. 

You can feel the coach shudder under the strain of the terrain and the impact of the guards’ gunfire. The unstable footing and the increasing danger make it clear that staying in the coach is no longer an option.

Realizing there's no way back, you scan the surroundings desperately for an escape route. Ahead, on a flatter section of the mountain, your eyes land on a bridge spanning a rushing river below. It’s a precarious-looking structure, but it might be your only chance.

“Arthur! That bridge up ahead!”

Arthur’s eyes dart to the bridge, and he curses under his breath. 

"That thing looks like it's barely hangin' on," he mutters, a worried frown on his face. 

The two of you exchange a worried glance, the urgency of the situation clear. With no other options and the guards closing in, the risk of crossing the unstable bridge might be your only chance at escape.

Arthur takes a deep breath, his expression set with determination. 

He grips the reins tighter and steers the coach toward the bridge, maneuvering through the challenging terrain. 

The stagecoach lurches and tilts dangerously as it approaches the bridge, the horses straining against their ropes. Every bump and sway sends a jolt through the coach, and the bridge creaks ominously under the pressure of the approaching load.

The guards’ shouts grow louder, their pursuit relentless, adding to the mounting pressure.

Arthur's knuckles whiten as he clenches the reins, his eyes locked on the rickety structure ahead. “Hang on!” 

The wheels hit the first few planks with a jarring thud, the structure shuddering violently while you brace yourself against the seat, gripping it tightly. The bridge sways and creaks under the strain, the narrow path making it clear that any wrong move could spell disaster.

The wooden planks of the bridge groan in protest, threatening to buckle under the weight. You can see the river below churning violently, a reminder of the precarious situation. 

As you and Arthur drive the stagecoach across the rickety bridge, the relentless pursuit of the guards continues. Gunfire cracks through the air, and the panicked horses struggle to keep their footing on the unstable wooden planks.

“Arthur, watch out!” you shout, gripping the edge of the coach seat tightly.

Arthur's eyes dart to the side, spotting the weak planks giving way under the weight and stress of the coach. The bridge shudders violently, and a loud cracking sound echoes through.

Without warning, the bridge gives way entirely. The horses scream in terror as the entire stagecoach plunges into the rushing river below. 

The world blurs around you as you're thrown from the driver’s seat, hitting the icy river with a jarring impact.

Cold water engulfs you instantly, and the current's force pulls you under, dragging you downstream. As you struggle to stay afloat, you catch fleeting glimpses of the stagecoach being smashed to pieces against the rocks and debris.

The river’s powerful current quickly separates you and Arthur, each of you fighting to keep afloat. Your heart races, and every instinct urges you to fight the current. The roar of the river overwhelms your senses, making it difficult to think clearly. You reach out, trying to find something solid to grab onto, while the chaos of the river makes every movement a battle.

"Hold on!" Arthur's voice, hoarse with effort, barely reaches you over the roar of the river, eyes widening in alarm as he sees you being dragged away by the current.

"Arthur!" you scream back, your voice filled with panic as the water pulls you under again. 

You fight to surface, gasping for air, the relentless force of the river carrying you further away. The rush of water roars in your ears, drowning out any other sound, and your vision blurs with each desperate attempt to find your footing.

In the chaos, the water pulls you under once more. As you struggle against the current, a sharp pain explodes in your head. The impact sends you spinning, and the world around you blurs into a dizzying haze. Each breath is a struggle, the cold water overwhelming your senses as you fight to stay conscious.

The agony in your head intensifies, and the cold, relentless river drags you further from the surface. The muffled, distant sound of Arthur’s voice calling your name is the last thing you hear before darkness engulfs you.

A/N: Alright so not much going on between the two this chapter, hopefully everything is resolved in the next. Stay tuned for the next one which is the final part!

[toxicanonymity]

vampire joel: the first few days.

3k, vampire!Joel x f!reader | vampire masterlist FLASHBACK, occurs within the special one. WARNINGS: I8+ I guess; dark fluff; big girthy age gap (440s vs 20s-50s); excessive lore; softdark!Joel; kidnapping/captivity; mild angst; creepy behavior; irreverent humor; Joel has sweet and spicy thoughts and gets turned on; shifts to present tense after time lapse; Joel carries reader.

You’re a miracle. Running on you, Joel feels more alive than he has in a few hundred years. He almost feels alive alive. And it lasts. That little sip he took the night you met? It lasted so much longer than it should've, he began to wonder if you somehow un-turned him.

For years, Joel had sniffed out what he needed by instinct. He’d taken what he could get-–some here, some there-–subsisting on a rolling cocktail of different bloods. That was the trick to feeling good: diversify the sources. It was also the hardest part, but he found a way.  After so many years, he stopped hoping he’d find the whole package in one warm body. 

Over the years. Joel had known some other people like him-–he liked to think of himself as a person, at least. Some of them believed in the one; others were more pessimistic. He'd never met anyone who had found their special one, but for a long time, Joel believed it was possible, if improbable, that he'd find you one day.  He thought about it a lot back then, visualizing you in different ways, with various personalities and interests. He thought about you in different genders, ethnicities, and bodies. He imagined different ways of meeting you. For all he knew, you could have been anyone. As time went on, he thought about it as less of a hope and more of a dream. 

But then, one night, there you were. He wasn’t on the hunt. He wasn’t out for blood. He was enjoying a book and a beer. When you first looked in his direction, Joel assumed you had your eye on someone else.  Then, he felt it: you were watching him. Your eyes met for a moment, then he looked down at his book again.  He could hardly read the words on the page. That gaze of yours. . . you were like a magnet, pulling on him. He resisted, and left you alone, but out of the corner of his eye, he still caught your vibe.  You were distracted. Your friends laughed together, and you sometimes joined in. And then, when your friends left, you stayed behind. Not for long, but long enough for Joel to decide to approach you. 

Joel watched you slowly move toward the exit, and he was drawn to you. When he held the door and got close enough to smell you, he knew there was something special about you.  When his hands met your bare shoulders in the alley (God bless that rat), he felt a warm rush, warmer than he felt in ages.  When he tasted your lips, something ignited deep in the core of his being. And then, when his lips brushed your neck, it really hit him—you could be that special. He couldn’t resist an impulsive bite. He could only slow down enough to whisper an apology.  Sorry. Only gonna take a little. When you wouldn’t let him kiss you again, he left you alone. 

(He tried to.)

—----

When Joel’s first taste of you faded, the prospect of finding nourishment elsewhere wouldn't do. He had to find you and keep you. 

By the time he met you again in the same alley, he was desperate enough that he didn't give you a chance to say no. Not gonna hurt ya, sweetheart. Hurting you would be the last thing he'd want. You were a precious jewel. One of a kind. The scent of you was enough to put him at ease as he carried your limp body to the end of the alley. He draped you in the back seat of his station wagon, and put your bag in the passenger seat.  It took all he had to wait until he got home. 

He brought you inside and laid you down on a velvet chaise.  You looked so peaceful, so beautiful.  He almost kissed you right then and there, then remembered how you’d flinched away the last time, against your car, after he took that fateful sip. He would only take what he needed. He would do what was necessary, what fate demanded. He didn’t want to scare you. He didn’t want to hurt you. He covered your mouth and nose with the damp cloth again, just for a moment, for good measure, then put it aside. 

Joel cradled your head, planted his lips on your neck, and bit into your flesh. Your blood rushed out of you like it wanted into him.  It was intoxicating.  He could hardly pry himself away.  When he released you, he felt a wave of guilt, but it was overtaken by the physical rush.  For almost an hour, he stayed kneeling there on the floor in front of the chaise, simply existing in the same space as you, and watching you exist. Then he realized the only secure place to keep you was downstairs. 

He brought you downstairs, laid you on the floor, then sat and watched you sleep until he remembered there were things he needed to do. He took off your shoe for you–the other must have fallen off upstairs–and chained you by the ankle. Then he went back up to the den. 

Joel sat on the chaise, feet planted on the floor, elbows on his knees, staring at the antique rug, deep in thought. 

He took you. He did it. Okay, what next? Keep you. Make sure no one takes you away.  

He put on his glasses, turned on the TV, and started an episode of Dateline. Keith Morrison's voice was always so soothing, but it wasn't the right kind of story and hearing the family members talk kinda made him feel bad. He went to Investigation Discovery. After scrolling through some episodes, he found one that fit. He periodically nodded along with the reenactment, and paused it when he knew what to do. 

-

Joel went out to his car to get your keys. Then, just as he finished ordering a Lyft, something buzzed under his elbow and he realized he was holding your bag. He dug for your phone and silenced a call. He pocketed the phone and put your bag back in his car. Oh God, he almost forgot that part. He rushed back inside and downstairs, cardigan trailing behind him for half the stairs, then slowing down and stepping as quietly as he could. He knelt on the floor and carefully lifted your hand. He pressed your thumb onto your phone and it unlocked. It worked. He changed your settings, then went back outside.  He walked briskly down his long driveway. He let himself out of the gate and stood in the fog, waiting on his ride. 

Joel didn't really go through your phone. He didn't want to violate your privacy more than necessary, but he also didn't want people to worry, and he didn't want you to worry about people worrying. It was still early–no need to respond yet.  But on the ride to the cafe, Joel looked out the window and thought of texts that would buy him some time if people kept trying to reach you. 

-

Fortunately, you were parked near the spot he walked you to before.  Once he picked up your car at the cafe, he stopped for groceries on his way home, mentally patting himself on the back for remembering you needed food. Joel himself hadn't eaten in days. He was wholly preoccupied with the thought of you. Years ago, he got into cooking as a hobby, but at this point, he mostly ate and drank socially. Even if he was alone, it was a good way to get out of the house and interact with people.  

Joel made a mental grocery list as he went into the store. Hemoglobin, you needed iron. Spinach, steak, spring mix, fish. Hey, he's not bad at this.  The two of you were  going to be just fine.  Maybe you'd even enjoy a glass of wine with him. He picked up a bottle of red.  His phone buzzed with a text and he ignored it. 

****** Day 3 *****

Now, almost two days later, he’s seen you awake, he’s helped you to the bathroom, he's brought you a mattress and a sheet, and even coaxed you into eating. 

You’re sleeping again, and you’re sleeping longer than he expected.  

Joel watches you sleep again. At least that means you're comfortable. He dares to get on the mattress with you, but he stays on the opposite side, giving you personal space.  He didn’t think this far ahead, and he’s having trouble thinking now. The only thing on his mind is the fact that he found you.  He found you when he wasn’t even looking. 

Joel snaps out of his trance when you begin to wake up. 

—- ✨ you ✨—--

You rub your eyes, and as Joel comes into focus, you’re only half awake. He’s lying on the floor with his head resting in his hand, but he quickly sits up when he notices you wake up.  He's dressed casual and cozy again. He leans forward, looking at you affectionately as you stir and stretch.  Your heart flutters at the sight of him, like you’re still in the alley that first night when he kissed you.  Then you feel the heavy chain around your ankle and it all comes back, like you’re in a bad dream. You slowly push yourself up into sitting. The chain drags as you move to the wall and slump down against it.

“You can't just—(yawn)--keep me here,” you tell him. You look at him pleadingly. 

His face falls. “Yeah,” he mumbles. “You said that.”

Your eyes are heavy. “People are gonna look for me,” you hope. But really, you're bad at staying in touch. You've been known to shut down and take off for days or weeks at a time. 

“Oh,” he perks up. “Don't worry about that.” 

He braces his forearm on the mattress and reaches into his pants pocket to fish out your phone. He quietly reassures you, “Didn't want ya to worry.”

What did he do? Your stomach drops. With a little smile, he adds, “Didn't wanna wake you up.” He moves cautiously like he might startle you.  The truth is, for some reason, you don't mind him being near you.  He settles in by your side, sitting against the wall.

He smells so good, you try to breathe through your mouth so it doesn't intoxicate you (but what's the use).  He holds the phone so you can see the screen. It looks small in his hand. He swipes open your text messages. Nothing unread. He opens the most recent one and watches your face in anticipation. 

It's from a friend.

Her: what's up  Her: call me, bitch  You: Hey, bitch. Something came up and I'm not going to be around anymore. Her: lmao wtf You: Lmao, I met someone. Her: hey  Her: call me You: Let’s catch up soon.

Your chest tightens. You close your eyes and take a deep breath (inhaling his soothing scent, ugh).  When you open your eyes, he's studying you, waiting for you to say something. You turn and face him. His wrist folds, and the phone hangs sadly from his hand. You're leaning your head against the wall, looking at him. 

“This isn't okay,” you tell him weakly. 

He swallows and nods, “Sorry.” He dips his head and looks at you pitifully. “Tryin’ to help,” he whispers. His face and body language make it sound believable.  

You look at the phone. “How does that—” you think better of reasoning with him. “Let me call her so she leaves you alone.” 

He looks at you contemplatively.

“I’ll act normal,” you promise.

He looks you over, and concern spreads across his face. “No,” he states calmly, then  pockets your phone again on the side farthest from you. 

You close your eyes and rest your head against the wall for a few minutes, then the buzz of his own phone jolts you back to reality. Joel leans far enough away that he doesn't elbow you when he slides his phone out. The contact picture on his screen is a woman wearing glasses. He rejects the call and slides it back into his pocket. 

You plead, “Lemme go and I promise I’ll come back.” He might not believe you, but you would.  It's the (somewhat shameful) truth. You don't know where your survival instinct is.  You've tried to conjure it.  But you're drawn to him as though by a physical force. You might even be willing to take him home with you instead of being locked up here,  but you don't offer that yet.  

His brows knit as he searches your face. You wonder if he can see you're telling the truth.  When your eyes meet, you feel something.  You swallow and your eyes drift to the silver bits in his beard.  After a moment, he shakes his head. No. He won't let you go. Your heart sinks. You feel a chill and wrap yourself tighter in the sheet. 

“Shit,” he mutters to himself and abruptly sits up off the wall. He looks guilty. He takes his cardigan off, and the veins in his neck bulge. “C’mere,” he whispers. 

He drapes the cardigan over you. It's remarkably cozy, like a warm hug of its own. He reaches over you to unlock the cuff and slip your foot out of it. He pushes the chain away. “C’mere,” he repeats and nudges you forward. He inches closer, and you let him.  He gets behind you so he's sitting against the wall with you between his bent knees. You sit there rigidly for a minute, but you don't have the energy to stay tense. You relax into his strong arms, and they settle securely but comfortably around you.  It feels like you're his plushie.  “You’re alright, sweetheart,” he whispers. He presses his lips into the crown of your head. Instead of pulling away, you relax more.  Soon, you fall asleep. Your hands open and release the edges of the sheet wrapped around you.

— Joel 🩸 —

Joel sits there holding you while you sleep. He still feels bad that he took too much blood, but he’s not as worried anymore, and he won't let it happen again. You're just tired. You'll get your strength back. It makes him feel good to feel you breathing. Your back is against his tummy and chest. He slips his arms under the cardigan and brushes the smooth skin of your inner elbow, feeling the slightly raised vein. That's a good sign. He wants to kiss you there. He wants to kiss you everywhere. He's been waiting for you for hundreds of years. You have no idea how special you are. 

You shift in your sleep, and he lets your head rest on his shoulder. He lightly strokes your temple and finds your forehead is beading with a fine mist of sweat. When you're sweaty enough that it might wake you up, he takes the special cardigan off you and puts it aside. Warmth is a luxury to him, not a necessity. 

Earlier, he was worried about you sleeping too much. Now, you're so peaceful, and the feeling of you in his arms is so soothing, he doesn't want to wake you up. 

He adjusts his arms.  As he gently hugs you, his palm grazes your lower belly. It sends a wave of desire through him. He wonders if you'll let him, when the time comes. If the time comes–if you bleed, that is. He has a feeling you do. Maybe he should get you one of those menstrual cups in case you don't want him to.  But God, he hopes you let him. He wonders what you’d feel like against his lips, what you’d taste like. He’s getting hard. He doesn't want you to wake up, feel him hard against you, and think he's a pervert. 

You've felt him hard against you before, that first night, but it's different now, because you're here and you didn't ask to be.  He squints at that harsh reality. He's counting on you forgiving him and understanding. He wonders if there's any other way he could have done this. Could he have resisted that first bite?  He feels regretful for a minute, playing out an alternate reality in his mind, however self-loathingly optimistic the alternate reality is.

He could've resisted. He could’ve ignored what he smelled and tasted in you. He could've treated you like a regular woman. He could’ve acted like a normal man. He could've slid his hands between your ass and your car and pulled you into him as you made out. He could've invited you back to his place. 

He could've laid you down on the sofa and pressed himself against you as he kissed (and only kissed) your neck. He could've pulled your dress up, kissed you from your breasts down to your knees, pulled your underwear off, left your sneakers on. He could’ve tasted your cunt, he could've fucked you. 

He could've taken you on dates, romanced you, and made love to you. . . Maybe. If you wanted. You did, you wanted it, he could feel it. He could hear it in your voice that night.

“Fuck,” he whispers; he's pretty hard now. He twitches against you. 

You sigh in your sleep, barely audible, but it nearly does him in. His heart races, and his hands come to your hips, gently nudging you forward.  God, he wants to pull you closer, not push you away.  He carefully begins to scoot out from under you. He lays you on your side and tucks the sheet around you. He picks up his cardigan and slowly gets off the mattress. He stands up and lets his palm graze the hard bulge in his pants. He feels like a sicko. But God, he hopes you let him do these things one day. All of it. He hopes you do these things together. He hopes you want it again. 

He hopes you want him. 

--------

Wow, you made it all this way and I didn't even really put out! Thank you so much for reading 🥹

I'm still trying to use @toxicfics for notifications but from what i hear, it's kinda hit or miss, as are the tags sometimes lmao.

@silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda  @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @prettypartyfavor @babeincolor @switchbladedreamz

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[logansargeantsbabymom]

Too Good To Say Goodbye pt8

Logan Sargeant x Fem!Reader, Lando Norris x Fem!Reader

A/N: First I wanted to say thank you to everyone for all the kind messages I've been receiving, I keep rereading them and tearing up. It lets me know that there are genuine people in the world and that I can take a few days or a week to finish a request. Sorry this part took a bit longer due to the short break I took, I'll try my best to get the request I have out in a timely manner!

warnings: cursing

part 1 I part 2 I part 3 I part 4 I part 5 I part 6 I part 7 I part 8 I part 9 I part 10

Follow my instagram account (THATS STRICTLY FOR THIS BLOG) for updates on when i post and fun stuff like that!

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A drive to Lily's that normally would've taken 25 minutes depending on traffic only took Lando 10 and I think the way he is flooring it right now has been the fastest he's ever driven in his life. I mean anyone could've easily mistaken him for Max Verstappen in this moment and rightfully so, my bastard of an ex-boyfriend and baby dad is an absolute dick for what he just did.

I get being upset that I'm pregnant and that my boyfriend right now is treating me 10x better than you ever will but actually spoiling the gender for us AND spoiling the fact that I'm carrying twins is on another level of insanity.

When we dropped Yelena off, Lily had told us she wasn't going to be expecting a baby pick up anytime soon. Which by the way, God bless Lily for just being able to drop whatever she had planned for today to be able to watch my kid while Lando and I dealt with baby daddy drama.

The blaring sound of a ringtone is what yanked me from deep in my thoughts. I picked up the phone to look at the caller ID before answering and placing it on speaker "Carlos, now is really not a good time". I said while running a hand over my face to try and ease some tension building up.

"Logan's at my place." Lando's knuckled gripped the steering wheel tighter at the mention of his name.

"Why is he there and why does he need to have a conversation with you present?" I questioned

"He told me to tell you and Lando to meet him here to talk to you but wants me present and he thinks Lando is going to kill him." Carlos started, doubt coating his voice as he talked.

"I FUCKING AM" Lando screamed as he pressed down on the gas pedal harder.

I’ve seen Lando upset and even angry before but what I was seeing from him right now wasn’t either of those, this was pure hatred. Lando was seeing pure red in his vision as he was driving, almost hit a pedestrian (who shouldn’t have crossed but people don’t pay attention to signs).

Now that Lando knows he has to book it to Carlos’ place instead of Logan’s he makes a sharp turn, which could’ve easily flipped the car if you weren’t as much of a skilled driver as Lando is.

"BABE! I KNOW YOU'RE MAD AND ALL BUT DON'T CRASH THIS CAR AND KILL ALL 4 OF US!" I screamed as I grabbed ahold of the center console

Something about the fear in my voice as I screamed at Lando seemed to get through this barrier of red he had coating him and he seemed to ease up on the steering wheel and drove a bit more safer.

-

Arriving at Carlos house, we were greeted with Carlos standing out front. Lando and I got out of the car and started making our way to the front door of Carlos' luxurious house while Carlos started walking towards us, meeting us halfway.

"Ay, I talk to Logan. He meant no harm pero I think he did. He is in the living room." Carlos said as he patted Lando's tense shoulder before turning his attention to me. "I'm so sorry Logan did what he did. I feel so bad but just know that I'm here for you with whatever you need." Carlos added while he pulled me into a hug.

I've always loved Carlos' hugs because of the level of comfort they always brought was just unmatched. If you're sad, have a Carlos hug, if you're happy, have a Carlos hug, if you don't want a hug, have a Carlos hug. Moral of the story: a Carlos hug can fix everything. Well, almost everything.

"Thank you Carlos, I really needed that hug. I just-" The sound of glass breaking is what caused me to stop mid-sentence and I turned to look over at my boyfriend, only to find him no where in sight.

My heart dropped to my feet when I was met with no sign of my boyfriend and all I could hear from a distance was arguing. Carlos wasted no time in spinning on his heels and running into his house and into the living room where all the arguing was taking place.

"I DON'T UNDERSTAND WHY IN YOUR MIND, YOU THOUGHT IT WAS OKAY TO SPOIL A FUCKING GENDER REVEAL BY POSTING IT ON INSTAGRAM AND ON TOP OF THAT SPOILING THE FACT THAT WE'RE HAVING FUCKING TWINS!!!" the voice of Lando booming louder as I inched closer to Carlos' living room.

"I DID IT BECAUSE YOU TOOK EVERYTHING FROM ME! YOU TOOK MY BABY, MY LIFE, MY GIRL, YOU TOOK IT ALL! I HAVE NOTHING TO LIVE FOR!" Logan shouted in rebuttal, his face contorted in a way I've never seen before and his skin as red as a tomato.

When our eyes locked, I could see Logan's eyes soften but when he opened his mouth to say something, Lando cut him off.

"I DIDN'T 'TAKE' YOUR GIRL, I SHOWED HER WHAT IT'S LIKE TO LIVE IN A HOUSE WHERE SHE DIDN'T HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT DOING SOMETHING WRONG WITH HER EVERY MOVE. I SHOWED HER WHAT IT'S LIKE TO BE IN A HAPPY AND HEALTHY RELATIONSHIP, I SHOWED HER WHAT IT'S LIKE TO BE LOVED BY A REAL MAN! I SHOWED HER EVERYTHING YOU COULDN'T AND YOU KNOW WHY? BECAUSE YOU'RE A COWARD!" that seemed to set Logan off because the second the word "coward" came spilling out of Lando's mouth, Logan lunged towards him in an angry manner.

Before they could make any type of contact, Carlos was in the middle trying to set some type of boundaries between them.

"YOU GUYS ARE NOT FIGHTING IN MY HOUSE! LOGAN, OUT NOW! BEFORE I CALL THE COPS!" That seemed to be enough for Logan to walk away but not before stopping in front of me, his face so close to mine I could feel his breath against my skin.

"I hope I never see you again until your fucking funeral, slut." Logan walked away brushing his shoulder past mine as he did.

I knew Logan felt some type of way towards me since I left him while I was pregnant and refused to give in to all his promises of being a better man for me but hearing those words coming out of his mouth hurt. I always hoped we would be able to work it out for the sake of Yelena but after what he said, I don't know if we can, even if I wanted to.

Everything after what Logan said was blur, I don't remember him leaving, I don't remember Lando running after him and Carlos after Lando, but more importantly, I don't remember my legs giving out under my weight and me collapsing to the ground.

All at once everything started to hit me like a semi-truck. The pain in my knees after the fall, the ache in my heart but also the excruciating pain in my abdomen.

"BABE?! BABY ARE YOU OKAY? CARLOS GET THE CAR STARTED! WE HAVE TO TAKE Y/N TO THE HOSPITAL!"

-

The whole car ride to the hospital had to be the worst 15 minutes of my life. Every bump or sudden brake of the car increased the pain in my abdomen by 10. At one point it literally felt like there was an elephant sitting on me, restricting my oxygen intake.

When we finally arrived, Carlos quickly parked in front of the ER doors before rushing inside. Less than 30 seconds after running into the hospital, a group of doctors and nurses came running outside with a gurney.

Seeing them, Lando swung the car door open and quickly got out, allowing them better access to get to me.

Getting transferred from the back seat of the car to the gurney hurt just as suspected but they quickly rushed me in so they could evaluate my symptoms to tell me what's wrong.

No matter how much pain medication they gave me, the pain was still too much to bear.

"Do you want us to give you something to sedate you?" The student doctor said. She sounded genuinely hurt at hearing how much pain I was in.

"YES! PLEASE, I CAN'T DO THIS ANYMORE!" I screamed and I watched as she grabbed the vile of liquid.

Just as the student doctor was done giving me the sedative, I heard the doctor come in.

"So, unfortunately I've got some ba-AH NO! WHAT DID YOU GIVE HER?"

"I- Uh, Gave her a sedative?"

"YOU'RE NEVER SUPPOSED TO DO THAT WITHOUT CONSULTING ME! THE SEDATIVE IS GOING TO DO MORE HARM THAN GOOD!" that was all I heard before slipping into unconsciousness.

-

After I fell unconscious and was of no use, my doctor made his way to the waiting room to have a talk with Lando in order to figure out the steps going forward.

Once Lando locked eyes with the doctor, he shot up from his seat "Doc, how is she??" Lando asked as he searched the doctors face for answers.

"Unfortunately your girlfriend has a rare condition that affects the babies called Monochorionic Twins, which is where the babies share the same placenta and amniotic sac which can cause tangling of umbilical cords, imbalance of nutrients, blood and problems to other vital organs. Your girlfriend also has a history of major bleeding, vomiting and dehydration during pregnancy which also puts her at risk. We have to operate to save them, the babies have a 25% chance of survival and would have to be in the NICU for many months whereas your girlfriend has a 75% of surviving with minimal damage to any part of her reproductive system. " the doctor started, he tried to look and sound as sympathetic as possible.

"What are you saying Doc?" Lando asked, his breath and hands shaky and his knees trembled beneath him.

"You have to choose who we save, your babies or your girlfriend."

-

Again, thank you guys so much for the overwhelming amount of support I've received in the past few days. I appreciate and love each and every single one of you guys and I hope you enjoy this part.

Unfortunately this series is coming to an end soon but I really don't want to say goodbye to it yet.

taglist:

@luckyladycreator2 @itsmiamalfoy @jeffs77 @ilivbullyingjeongin @forevercaffeinated-lee @daemyratwst @gulphulp @callsignwidow @f1wintermoon13 @teenwolf01 @victoriassecret101 @hiireadstuff @formulaal @eddieharrington @kazza72584 @zabwlky1999 @dark-night-sky-99 @rougekiki @xoscar03 @jess-wither @bountychanti @dhanihamidi @Ggasly.p @tellybearryyyy @a-panseuxalmess @love-simon @tallrock35 @iiaik0ii @Milkyymelanine @ilovsyou3000morgan @styl1shl1v

[babyarmywrites]

mastermind - kth

idol!kim taehyung x fem. reader

Summary: After seeing you for the first time, there is nothing that could stop Taehyung from making you his. Nothing.

Word count: 7,4k

Warnings: swearing, I may have gotten some things wrong, cause I don't know everything about BTS yet, so please don't hate me for that. Also, English is not my first language, so sorry for that as well.

Genre: slight angst, but mostly fluff

Song in title: mastermind - taylor swift

All your adult life you experienced how some people had more luck than others. For some, everything fell into place, they were at the right place at the right time, maybe they won some kind of lottery with the gods above or they were simply blessed from birth with an easy being. You had no idea what kind of amazing deed you had done in your previous life to be blessed with the angel boy you could call your boyfriend, Kim Taehyung, but you were not complaining.

You didn’t quite understand how or why you ended up in a posh club in the heart of Seoul, full of celebrities and rich people. Probably because of Nari's, your best friend's, influence from her Marketing Manager position at HYBE, but there you were. An outcast for sure, but a radiant presence that caught the eye of the one and only V from BTS. You were sitting at the bar accompanied by a whiskey sour that you had been sipping on for the last 40 minutes, the ice completely melted, watering down your overpriced drink. It was clear as a day, even for a stranger, that this was not your usual scenery. Your shoulders were tense, eyes scanning your surroundings, your face scrunching up in disgust every time some drunken idiot bumped into you while trying to approach the bar. You felt someone's presence on your right side and glanced at the person standing close to you, waiting for the bartender to notice him. The place was so crowded it was difficult not to invade someone's personal space, but the handsome stranger was visibly trying to be respectful, which you were thankful for. As soon as your eyes landed on him you noticed how his pretty orbs were already on you and you quickly turned away, but slow enough to catch his lips curling into a kind-hearted, polite smile. Your cheeks reddened upon being caught and you couldn't resist looking back at him again. He was staring at his shoes, his smile still present, his eyes now hidden by the perfectly styled bangs framing his handsome face. He glanced back up, raising an eyebrow playfully and you couldn't help the intensifying blush adorning your cheeks. He chuckled slightly and you thought it was the most beautiful sound you've ever heard, despite it being obstructed by the loud music playing in the posh club.

"This is not your usual scenery, huh?" he asked, clearly enjoying the situation at hand.

"No, not really," you answered shyly, slightly embarrassed by how evidently out of place you were.

"So what brings you here?"

"Best friend obligations. What about you?"

"Contractual obligations," he responded curtly and you couldn't help the laughter erupting from your lips.

Inexplicably, Taehyung felt proud that he managed to make you laugh. He could see clearly how your shoulders relaxed and your body language shifted. He spotted you sitting alone at the bar approximately 30 minutes ago and he instantly thought that you were the most gorgeous human being he ever laid his eyes on. For the last couple of years, he did his best to get out of events like this, but his management forced him to show up and contrary to Jungkook and Jimin, he was having a terrible night. He couldn't just let loose in a crowded club like this without the papers being filled with his drunken shenanigans the next day. He opted for a calmer approach, sitting in their VIP booth, scrolling on his phone. After he deemed the content on the device boring, he pocketed it carefully and started looking around in hopes of finding his bandmates. However, his eyes landed on you and for some inexplicable reason, he felt drawn towards you. It could have been the fact that seemingly you were in a very similar predicament as him or simply that as an art enthusiast he was drawn to pretty things. He wasn't looking for any logic in his instant infatuation with you, he deemed that trusting his instinct was the right thing to do. So he downed his drink and walked to the bar with the intention of getting a refill. And maybe talk to you.

"I'm Taehyung." he put out his hand for you to shake, his smile never faltering. You put your significantly smaller hand in his, giving him your name. You were slightly flustered, considering you knew who he was. Everyone in Korea knew. However, you were not necessarily a BTS fan, so you kept your composure.

"Want to get out of here?" he asked curtly and your jaw dropped to the floor. His question could have been easily misunderstood. Did he think simply telling you his name would get him into your pants? Before you could get furious by the insane assumption that it would be so easy to swoon you into his bed, he realized his mistake. "Oh my, that sounded awful. I just meant that we both clearly feel uncomfortable here and I would like to go somewhere more quiet so that we could get to know each other better. Like the Ttokpokki place next door. My treat, of course."

"Why would you want to get to know me?" he couldn't stop thinking about how adorable you were. So humble, so innocent, so genuine...

"It's not every day a commoner like me gets to meet an angel like you."

You laughed at his corny pick-up line, which again, left the boy grinning in satisfaction. How could you say no to that?

That night, the planets and the fates and all the stars aligned. That's how you met Kim Taehyung.

As a hopeless romantic, you believe in love at first sight. However, it's not Taehyungs striking good looks that make you fall for him, but his actions. He is polite with the staff at the hole-in-the-wall Ttokpokki place, he is elegant, he pulls out the seat for you, and pays for your food and drinks without hesitation. He asks you questions about yourself and listens to your answers with undeniable interest. Despite meeting him not even an hour before, he seems so infatuated with every word you speak that he makes you feel like you are the center of his universe. Similarly, you try to get to know him better as well and you learn a lot of interesting facts about him, like how he studied interior design, which he is very passionate about, he tells you anecdotes about his dog, Yeontan, he even shows you pictures of the puppy, like a proud father. He thinks your reactions to Tannie are adorable, an image in his mind appears of you coddling the little dog with so much love and gentleness. He is convinced the temperamental puppy will adore you, despite him not liking many people.

Your little talk is annoyingly interrupted by a call from your best friend and it is difficult to understand her words from how slurred they are, but you manage to interpret the drunken mess as her wanting to go home. You apologize profoundly and Taehyung notices how you seem irritated from your conversation being cut short. And you think this is it. A fun chat that is going to end with you going home and never seeing the charming man ever again. However, you fail to consider the fact that Kim Taehyung is also a hopeless romantic and he refuses to let you go without asking for your number. He firmly believes that people get one chance in life to meet their person and he is convinced that you are someone meant to be in his life by a higher power, one that he cannot explain nor understand. He is not going to mess up this chance presented to him so he gives you his phone. You gladly give him your number and the two of you part ways, both of you smiling like idiots. You turn around to get one last glance at the handsome man who swooned you with his charm and your smile widens when you notice him doing the same thing. A bubbly laugh leaves his pretty lips and he shakes his head in disbelief. You observe his frame as he gets smaller and smaller with the increasing distance between you. You can still see him when the phone in your pocket buzzes and you smile at the new number and message on your screen. You save his number in your contact list, not knowing, that you will know it by heart in a few months.

Taehyung lmk when you get home, pretty girl. take care! :]

His texts don't stop from that point. Despite being insanely busy and rarely having time to respond, he makes an effort to make you feel like you're in his thoughts 24/7. He sends you pictures throughout the day, about Tannie, selfies from his studio, photoshoots, dance practices with the group, anything really. Your heartbeat nearly triples when he sends you a picture of a plushie, claiming how its cuteness reminded him of you. Despite talking to him constantly through texts, you don't get to see him in person for two weeks and your second meeting is just as accidental as the first. Nari invites you to the HYBE building for lunch, because she still feels bad for ruining your night with Tae. You accept, not knowing that he happens to be in the building that day.

As you munch on your kimbap in the HYBE cafeteria you hear a small dog yapping in a high pitch and you look under the table finding a nicely groomed pomeranian with black fur looking at you with curious eyes. You coo at the puppy, letting it sniff your hand before petting it gently. Taehyung observes you from a distance, his boxy smile adorning his face. Tannie jumps on your leg, signaling how he wants to be picked up and you do, which prompts Tae to move towards you.

"Where's your owner, cutie-pie?" he hears you asking the dog as you run your hands soothingly through the soft fur on his back. Yeontan, like he understands what you are saying, starts barking in Taehyung's general direction and you follow his line of sight, spotting the idol. You smile at him shocked, but it is evident from the glint in your eyes that you are glad to see him. You should have put the two and two together: the little dog sitting on your lap looked eerily similar to Taehyung's and there was a chance of him being at HYBE, considering that his studio was in the building.

"I see you met Tannie." he greets you with a wink and nods towards your friend, who bows slightly. He is basically her boss after all.

"He is cuter in person." you smile and you hug the puppy closer to your chest and he starts licking your face lovingly, which causes you to giggle. Taehyung is glad he was right. Yeontan loves you and he takes that as a sign from the universe that the two of you are truly meant to be.

"I could say that about you too, pretty girl." your face reddens at the compliment and you find it unfair how smooth he is with it.

"Do you want to sit down, Taehyung-nim?" Nari asks him, offering him her seat.

"It's alright, I don't want to interrupt for long." he gestures for her to stay seated "I just came here to retrieve Tannie and ask a pretty girl out on a date tomorrow night."

Your eyes widen at his boldness, and you nearly spit out the sip of water that you took. Taehyung seems to be amused by the situation at hand, but you fail to notice how his foot clad in comfortable sneakers taps the floor, a nervous tick of his. On the inside, he is a mess, the fear of rejection plaguing his beautiful mind. You look around the cafeteria as if you're trying to find the pretty girl he is talking about. You finally point at yourself, your eyes never leaving his and he nods with a small laugh.

"What time should I be ready?"

"I'll pick you up at seven if that's alright."

"Perfect!"

"Would it be alright if we had our date at my place? I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable, but I can't really risk being seen out and about with a gorgeous woman," he explains, his features contorting, making it evident, that he is displeased with the unfortunate attention he gets for being an idol. If it was any other man you would be hesitant to have your first date at their place, but this is Taehyung. He is so polite and respectful, you believe that he couldn't hurt a fly, not willingly at least. So you agree and you make sure to assure him, that it's alright and that you understand.

The next day you're pacing around your apartment nervously, you're wearing jeans and a cute top, making you look put together, but still comfortable, a perfect outfit to lounge at someone's place. You're waiting for Taehyung to pick you up and you get a text from him five minutes before seven saying that he's arrived. You appreciate his punctuality and let him know you'll be out in a second. As soon as you leave your building you spot the fancy car with all the windows tinted, but the driver flashes the headlights, letting you know that it is indeed the person you were expecting. You step towards the passenger side and the door opens automatically and your eyes meet Taehyung's, who's smiling widely.

"Good to see you, pretty girl!" he greets you as soon as you step into the vehicle and the door shuts on its own when you get situated. Truly luxurious, you make a mental note.

"Good to see you too, Taehyung!"

"How are you on this fine evening?" he asks as he starts the car and drives away. You've been texting all day, he told you he had a looser schedule for once, only having to spend a few hours at the studio. He seems well-rested, his warm eyes focused on the road ahead. You notice the light music playing in the background, some soothing jazz coming from the speakers of the fancy vehicle. You appreciate how despite the car's probable insane performance, Taehyung never goes beyond the speed limit, unlike other men his age driving similar automobiles.

"I'm good, thank you for asking. Kinda nervous, not gonna lie, this insanely handsome guy is taking me on a date, you know?" you flirt, making Tae smile even wider.

"He must be a lucky bastard to be able to take a gorgeous woman like you out."

"Stop it!" you exclaim, burying your face into your hands as your cheeks heat up. Taehyung chuckles and glances at you while stuck at a stop light. He takes in your outfit and notes in his head how effortlessly elegant you look. Your eyes sparkled with excitement that was evidentiated by the night lights of Seoul, the pretty sparkles of the scenery around you reflecting in your irises. The boy couldn't keep his eyes off you, his train of thought interrupted solely by the irritated honking coming from the cars behind him as the lights turned green. You giggle at him, knowing exactly what caused him to stutter in his driving like that. He is glad that the interior of the car is dark, otherwise you may be able to see the rosiness of his cheek. Which you do notice, but you decide not to comment on it this time around.

The two of you soon arrive at his apartment building and you're not surprised to see the security guards, the tall gate, and the double checkpoint to the garage and the entrance. After parking his car, Taehyung is quick to get out of the vehicle and sprints to the other side, opening the door for you. A shy smile appears on your face, you knew he was a gentleman, however, you still get a bit flustered by the gesture. None of the people whom you've dated before did anything like this for you. He guides you to the elevator and you cannot help but think about how many women he did the same thing with before you. However, you quickly leave that thought behind as he smiles widely at you, his eyes glimmering like a sky full of stars. You take the opportunity to take his appearance in a little bit better. He is wearing black slacks, with chunky Prada loafers and a black Celine shirt, a black belt accentuating that slutty ass waist of his. God clearly has favorites and Kim Taehyung is among the top, you are sure of that.

You observe as he inputs the code for the elevator, which leads to the top floor of his penthouse. He gestures for you to leave the elevator before him, like the gentleman he is. Then he opens the door for you and you step into the dimly lit apartment. He takes your coat and gets you a pair of guest slippers.

"Welcome to my humble abode." he jokes, knowing that nothing is humble about his home. You chuckle, but take in your surroundings. The main source of light is his sunset lamp, which gives a warm hue to the place. Then you notice the tens of candles placed strategically around the open-concept living room and kitchen.

"They're battery-powered. I wouldn't leave the house with a thousand candles lit and a curious doggo who doesn't know better." he explains "Speaking of..."

You hear the pitter-patter of tiny paws on the floor and you soon spot the puppy in question. Yeontan sprints to Taehyung at first, clearly pleased that his owner is finally home again. Then he looks at you, barking two times before he approaches you. You lean down to pet his little head and Tannie licks your hand lovingly. Taehyung gestures toward the dining area, where the table is made for two people, two wine glasses in sight. It's at that moment that you take note of the amazing smell coming from the kitchen and you ask the boy curiously what the menu is. He explains how he made your favorite food and you're amazed because you don't remember ever mentioning it to him. He just smiles, saying that he had a lucky guess. He then proceeds to the wine fridge, taking out a bottle of 2012 Bordeaux natural orange wine and he goes into detail about how amazing it is. He pours you a glass first and one for him, then he gestures for you to click your glasses together. He then serves dinner and you are amazed by the first bite. Kim Taehyung is a man of many talents, cooking apparently one of them.

The dinner goes smoothly, the wine helps ease your nerves and the conversation between the two of you flows naturally. You talk about art, your travels, your job, and your studies, he's mesmerized by how many books you've read and the languages that you speak. He swears his fondness towards you only grows with every word that leaves your pretty lips and he can't stop thinking about how he wants to kiss you. So he asks for permission, again, like a gentleman, and you grant it for him. His lips connect with yours and a spark emerges as you share the softest kiss you've ever had with the boy who swept you off your feet in barely two weeks of knowing him. At that moment, the dominoes cascaded in a line. Everything suddenly made sense. Your past heartbreaks and hardships lead to that moment. Both of you knew that it was meant to be.

You then move to the couch, continuing your conversation, his arms are draped over the back of the comfy sofa lingering around your shoulders. Yeontan jumps up to your knees, gesturing that he wants to join the two of you and you oblige, lifting the puppy and placing him on the couch. He instantly sits down on your lap and makes himself comfortable.

"Unbelievable! You barely spent a few hours with Tan and he already prefers you over me." Taehyung puffs, but you can hear the amusement in his tone.

"He must think I'm cool because I've only been here for..." you look at the time on the screen of your phone "Jeez, it's been 7 hours already?!" you exclaim as you notice that it's well past 2 AM.

"Time flies when you're having fun," Tae notes cheekyly.

"I have to go home, I have work tomorrow morning."

Taehyung is clearly displeased by that. He could spend the whole night talking to you, but he understands. He gets up from the couch and leaves the room to make a phone call. You are hesitant to move considering that Yeontan is now asleep on your lap, but you stroke him awake. Upon realizing that his owner left, he jumped off the couch running around the apartment, looking for his dad. Tae emerges with the puppy following behind him.

"I called a driver for you, he's waiting downstairs. I can't really drive after half a bottle of wine, but I will accompany you," he explains, walking towards the entryway. You follow behind him and he helps you put on your jacket. "Oh, I nearly forgot."

He rushes back into his apartment and you wait for him patiently to reappear with a huge bouquet of camellias and pink peonies. You have no idea whether he knows the meaning behind those particular blossoms, but it makes your heartbeat race. You accept the concoction of flowers with a wide smile.

"Thank you, Tae! These are very pretty."

"I'm glad you like them. What kind of a man would I be if I didn't bring flowers to my last first date?"

You're left speechless by his remark. It's not that you don't understand what he's hinting at, but it is a truly bold statement to make after a first date. He doesn't expect an answer, but he believes it's true. You'll understand one day. He's a firm believer that strategy sets the scene for the tale. He is willing to do everything in his power to write the perfect love story. You just have to get on board.

He steps into his shoes silently, not putting them on properly. As you walk down the corridor, he puts his arm around your waist, pulling you in closer. You blush from the close proximity, but you welcome his touch nonetheless. He doesn't distance himself from you in the elevator either. Once you get to the car, he opens the door for you and then moves to sit on the other side of the backseat, close to you. His hand takes yours into his as he gently strokes it with his thumb. You swear your heart beats out of its rhythm from the soothing feeling and Tahyung sends a tired smile your way as you approach your home. Upon your arrival, he insists that he walk you up to your apartment, which you try to talk him out of, but he's inconvincible.

"Thank you for tonight, I had a lot of fun!" you say as you reach the door of your apartment, turning towards Taehyung.

"When can I see you again?" he asks eagerly and you smile like a schoolgirl at the thought of sharing another evening like this with him.

"Whenever you're free, Mr. International Popstar." you joke and he scoffs.

"Luch tomorrow then?"

"You got yourself a date, sir!" Taehyung dramatically punches the air in victory, making you laugh at his silliness. "Text me when you get back home, alright?"

He nods and steps closer to you, leaving a soft kiss on your forehead. His lips linger for a second, but then he looks at you and notices a frown on your face.

"What's wrong?" he asks, his eyes running all over your face, trying to find the source of your displeasure.

"I just thought I would get a proper good-night kiss, you know?"

Taehyung laughs, but he doesn't hesitate to kiss you on the lips, the same way he did in the dining room of his home. This kiss is a bit rushed, maybe more eager and passionate, but it seals the deal. The perfect ending for the perfect night, you both think.

You're already in bed when your phone buzzes and you smile at the text on the screen, sleep finding you in peace knowing that he got home safely.

Taehyung: just got home. Tannie (read: me) misses you already. Goodnight, pretty girl.

The following weeks go by pretty much the same way. You keep texting Tae, and the two of you meet up whenever he has some free time. He shows up at your workplace to have lunch with you, always bringing some snacks for you to munch on in the late hours of your shift. He always greets you with a peck on your lips, the first few times he asks for permission, which you grant him eagerly, but after a while the whole thing comes naturally. You don't mind it at all, you quite enjoy locking lips with him.

Today, however, he seems off. He's nervous, fidgeting with his hands, picking at the skin around his nails. You frown a little bit, over time you come to know all his nervous habits, so you take matters into your own hands by intertwining your fingers with his, which visibly calms him down. Until that point, he kept avoiding looking into your eyes, his gaze locked on the nose of his shoes, but as soon as your thumb starts rubbing soothing circles on his knuckles he turns towards you.

"What's wrong, Tae?" your voice is a near whisper as you try to avoid startling him further. You don't want to sound accusatory, you just want to figure out why he's acting so different around you suddenly.

"My bandmates keep asking me why I don't eat lunch with them anymore. Jungkook keeps teasing me about having a girlfriend so..." he takes a deep breath and starts looking for something in the backseat of his car "... I know this is a sloppy way to do this, but I really want to be able to tell my bandmates that I do indeed have a girlfriend." he finally finds the thing he was looking for - a plushie that eerily resembles Yeontan, wearing a tiny T-shirt with the word 'jagiya?' and a sticker-like cutout of Taehyung's pouty face printed on it. You can't help but laugh at the design that resembles something you put together in Comp-Sci class in middle school using Paint, the execution is horrendous at best. Tae is glad you're amused, that was his intention with the ridiculous choice of styling the plushie. However, he's also nervous, biting the inside of his cheek, waiting for your answer. You just lean in, kissing his lips passionately, which is enough for him to relax.

"I will take that as a yes," he whispers, his forehead resting against yours, a profound smile on his face.

"Well, of course, it is a yes! I've never heard of anyone asking someone out with a ridiculous plushie like that." you joke, taking the soft toy from him, and hugging it close to your chest. For some reason, it smells like Taehyung, which makes you love it even more.

"Do you want to hear something more ridiculous?" he asks playfully and you nod. He starts unbuttoning the Hawaiian print shirt he's wearing and your eyes widen.

"Woah, Tae, I know I'm your girlfriend now, but we shouldn't rush into things like this." you joke, but the boy just blushes.

"No no no!" he exclaims, trying to stop you from drawing the wrong conclusion "I just wanted to show you, I'm wearing the same shirt!"

He opens up the flannel, revealing the white tee underneath, a life-size version of the one the plushie is wearing. You can't help the laugh shaking your body, the print looks even more comical in a bigger size.

"You're something else, Kim Taehyung." you shake your head as you smile widely. He's so effortlessly corny and romantic it makes you swoon for him.

"Wow, the full government name, huh? Aren't you supposed to call me baby now or something?" he teases.

"You would enjoy that, wouldn't you?"

He nods eagerly, leaning in for another kiss. Your lips meet again, and your stomach fills with butterflies, knowing that you're going to be the only one he kisses for a while. Or at least you hope it's going to be for a while. The wholesome moment is interrupted however by a ringing sound coming from the car and you can see Namjoon's name across the dashboard as Taehyung's phone is connected to the vehicle.

"Duty calls," he states, you can see the disappointment in his eyes. You both knew your meetup would be cut short anyway, considering you only had 45 minutes for lunch, but that doesn't make it any less annoying.

You quickly peck his lips, already getting out of the car.

"See you later, babe!" you exclaim and you're sprinting towards the building of your office, knowing that otherwise you're gonna be late for a meeting. Taehyung's stomach does somersaults upon hearing you use such a word of endearment for him and he swears he doesn't want to hear that from anyone else ever again. As soon as he gets back to the dance studio he's teased to no avail by his bandmates. He forgot to change his shirt back, so he has to go through the remaining hours of practice wearing that ridiculous tee of his. However, he wears it with pride, knowing it had the effect he expected from it. You're his girlfriend now. That's all he has been wishing for ever since he met you.

Tae 🧸: just finished with our practice jagi 🩵: oh no babe, it's 2 am. you must be tired. Tae 🧸: exhausted Tae 🧸: can you please come over? I miss you. I will send a car for you. jagi 🩵: Tae, you should sleep and I don't know how much of that you're gonna get if I come over, sweetheart Tae 🧸: I promise we're gonna go straight to bed. I just want you here, jagi. I have a big day tomorrow and I could use some cuddles to help with my nerves. jagi 🩵: okay

Taehyung and the boys have been practicing non-stop for a big concert in Seoul. Above that, he's been busy with photoshoots, long studio sessions as they started working on their new album which gave you little to no time to see each other. He tried calling and video chatting with you every night when he got home, but tonight he didn't think that would be enough. He needed to hug you, inhale the sweet scent of your perfume and body wash, he needed to kiss you, feel you. He didn't care how overworked and downright drained he was, he couldn't spend another day without seeing you in person.

He was scrolling through his calendar, which was packed, his eyes heavy from exhaustion, trying hard not to fall asleep before you could get there. Soon, he heard the chime of his intercom, the receptionist of his building warning him about your arrival. Yeontan's ears perked like he understood what the announcement was about and the little puppy rushed to the door, looking up at the knob, waiting for it to turn. He soon started barking and Taehyung knew that meant you arrived. After three months of dating the boy gave you a key to his home so that you could keep Yeontan company on the days he was working late and the puppy was left alone for hours. You opened the door silently, not knowing if Tae was asleep already or not. In case he was, you didn't want to wake him up by being obnoxiously loud. Yeontan, however, was excited to see you, barking away at you, demanding you give him the attention he wanted.

"Tannie baby, you have to be quiet, ok? We don't want to disturb your dad, do we?" you whispered with a disciplinary tone. Taehyung smiled, slowly approaching you, to give you the biggest kiss possible. You heard the sound of feet dragging on the floor and you looked up to your very tired-looking boyfriend.

"Woah! Your hair looks really nice, babe," you exclaimed and Tae involuntarily ran his fingers to the permed mess on his head. Lately, he's been rocking his natural hair, which was dead straight, but they had it permed today, giving him nice waves that made him look ten times more attractive.

"Thank you, jagi," he says, his voice a sleepy grumble. His large hands snaked around your waist, pulling you closer into a tight hug as he buried his face in your hair, inhaling the familiar scent of your shampoo. Your hands instantly found their place in his hair, massaging his scalp, the way you knew he enjoyed it. "I missed you," he murmured, his soft lips finding their way to yours, inviting them into a slow, meaningful dance. Before he could deepen it, you pulled away slowly, knowing too well that if it was up to him, you would be engaging in activities other than sleeping, which would leave him even more exhausted than he already was. You took his hand in yours, leading him down the hallway to his bedroom, one you've spent countless nights in ever since you were officially a couple.

The two of you proceeded to go through your nightly routines together, Taehyung nearly falling asleep on his feet while he brushed his teeth.

"Come on, baby boy, you need rest." you urged him out of the bathroom, and that's when you observed the odd way he kept dragging his left foot behind him "Why are you limping?"

"It's nothing, I just put too much pressure on my left knee today and it's a bit swollen. Nothing to worry about tho."

"Tae..." you shook your head, completely dismissing his carelessness. You hated how he didn't take care of himself properly. "Are you going to wear shorts tomorrow during the concert?" you questioned.

"Uh, no. We had our fitting today, I'm gonna wear black slacks," he says, confused by the sudden question about his clothing.

"Wait for me on the bed, okay? I'll be there in a second."

He doesn't have time to respond, you're already out of the room and he hears you opening one of the kitchen drawers. He listens, however, and sits down on his side of the bed, his back against the headboard. He picks Tannie up, and the puppy takes his rightful place on his lap. You emerge a few minutes later with an unfamiliar box in your hands and a pair of scissors. You sit down in front of Taehyung and Yeontan approaches you, smelling the items you're holding in your hands. You silently touch Taehyung's left ankle, straightening out his leg. You inspect his knee carefully, noticing how it is quite swollen, just as he mentioned earlier. You take out a tube of soothing gel from the pocket of your hoodie, which belongs to the boy watching your every move. You put a decent amount of the ointment on your fingers and you slowly massage it into the swollen area. After that, you open the box you were holding earlier, taking out a roll of black Kinesio tape. You measure the tape to his knee, cutting a piece that you deem adequate for him. Then you manage to round the corners and give it the right shape. You then place it around his knee expertly, Tae's eyes never leaving you. He's infatuated by the delicate movement of your fingers, you take care of him so gently that it reminds him of his mother. No one besides her treated him so carefully before and it makes Taehyung realize how irreversibly in love he is with you.

"I didn't know you could use kinesio tape," he mutters lowly, his eyes barely open.

"I had problems with my knee ever since I was in middle school, one of the trainers I had taught me how to do it," you explain as you get up to put away everything you used and climb back into bed to finally go to sleep.

"Thank you, jagi. I don't know what I did to deserve your care and affection."

"I could say the same thing about you too, sweetheart." you say, your voice soft and full of adoration "Another reason why we were meant to be. You bring out the best in me, Tae, and I hope that I can do the same for you."

He nods, his heart panging with guilt. You say things like that a lot. How the two of you were meant to be, brought together by a higher power neither of you could understand. However, Taehyung knows it is not true. It was all his design. Cause he's a mastermind.

He feels the need to confess right then and there. He wants the truth to be out. He can't carry this burden with him anymore. But he's scared of your reaction. That you're gonna leave him for lying to you all this time. So he stays silent and goes to sleep with you in his arms, because that's where you belonged, regardless of how you ended up there.

The next morning, Taehyung wakes up earlier than planned to surprise you with a nice breakfast. He gets out of bed slowly, careful not to wake you up. However, you turn in your sleep, to cuddle his pillow. He recalls all the times he found you in that exact position on his bed as you fell asleep waiting for him to get home on nights you agreed to spend together. He smiles widely, glad he was scheming like a criminal to make you his. You were the wind in his free-flowing sail and the liquor in his cocktails. The first night he saw you he knew he wanted you. Here he was now, making you breakfast as you slept peacefully in his bed. Everything fell into place, just like he wanted it. You were the love he was dreaming about his entire life. The least he could do was cherish you like the queen you were. He's so deep in his thoughts he doesn't hear the shuffle of your sock-clad feet as you approach him, hugging his torso from the back. He jumps slightly, but his shoulders relax instantly as he turns around to kiss you good morning.

"Did you sleep well, pretty girl?" he questions, putting a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You nod with a wide grin on your face, running your hand through his unruly bangs. He buries his forehead in your palm, enjoying the coddling you give him.

"I woke up to an empty bed tho, that was not nice of you, you know?"

"I'm sorry, jagi, I wanted to surprise you with breakfast in bed," he explains, going back to prepare the exquisite food you were going to share in a few minutes.

"You shouldn't have, Tae-bear. You should have slept a bit more, you'll need all that energy tonight as you play a sold-out show for your ARMY."

"Speaking of, you're coming too, right?"

"Yes, I'll be there."

"I can't wait for you to see it, jagi. And the boys are dying to finally meet you in person." he jabbered excitedly, the joy evident in his tone. He's so cute, you think, everything about him is charming and genuine. In the few months you knew him, you respected how he never changed. Despite his exhaustion, and his hardships he stayed just as enthusiastic and energetic about what he does. He and the boys worked hard to deliver the best show that night. As you observed him as he performed you understood why he was considered the idol of idols. He moved so effortlessly, singing his heart out, and having fun with his brothers. His boxy grin never left his face, he truly was in his element when he performed. You understood everyone's infatuation with him. It was so easy to fall in love with Kim Taehyung, even from a distance. Without knowing who he truly was. You couldn't blame yourself anymore for falling for him.

Meeting his bandmates after the concert leaves you a nervous wreck. However, the six members you haven't met yet greet you like an old friend as you walk backstage with Yeontan in your arms. They all hug you tightly, poking fun at Taehyung for keeping you hidden from them for a couple of months. Tae takes Yeontan from you as he observes how you get along with his brothers. He knew you were going to fit right in, your bubbly personality showing as you laugh at their stories and go along with their craziness. He decides at that moment that he has to come clean. No more secrets, he has to lay everything out for you, so that you can live your life together for a very long time.

"We need to talk," he says as soon as you arrive back at his apartment and your stomach sinks. He seems serious and you can't help but panic, instantly thinking of the worst. He surely was not breaking up with you right after you met his bandmates? Did you say something wrong? Did the whole thing not go as well as you thought it did?

"Are you breaking up with me?" you ask, your voice weak as you try to swallow the lump that you formed in your throat.

"What?!" he panics too "Hell no. But you might after I tell you what I want to," he says shyly.

"Go on." you say as you take a seat on the couch. He follows your lead, sitting close to you, Yeontan sitting in the middle, curiously moving his head between you. Taehyung takes a deep breath, his hands shaking slightly.

"What if I told you none of it was accidental and the first night that I saw you nothing was gonna stop me?" he begins "You and I ended up in the same room at the same time. I saw you meeting with Nari after her shift one night in front of the HYBE building. I felt drawn towards you even after seeing you for a few minutes. The next day I went to her, begging her to let the two of us meet. It was because of me that she dragged you to that party at that club. I knew you were going to be there that night. I searched the whole place for you and walked up to the bar with the sole intention of talking to you. She invited you for lunch the day you met Yeontan, because I asked her to, I wanted to see you so bad and I didn't know how to bring it up. I let Tannie free in the cafeteria so that I could watch him interact with you to make sure that he would like you. I got Nari a picture with all the guys' signatures so she could tell me what your favorite food was for our first date. I searched the internet for the meaning of different kinds and colors of flowers. Jagi, you always talk a great deal about how your and my meeting was destined to happen. That we are meant to be with each other, a higher power leading us to meet. This is the first time I felt the need to confess, everything happened because I was scheming. I laid the groundwork and then just like clockwork the dominoes cascaded in a line, and now you're mine. I was so drawn to you, that I knew I needed to do everything in my power to make you my girlfriend. In the end, it was all worth it because I'm irreversibly in love with you, Y/n."

He couldn't look you in the eyes during his monologue, but as the last sentence leaves his pretty lips, his eyes find yours and he's surprised to see a wide grin on your face. You knew the entire time. You knew he was a mastermind.

"Baby, I knew that the whole time." you laugh and Taehyung seems genuinely confused. "I knew something was fishy when Nari tried to drag me to a HYBE party, one she refused to go to adamantly before. When we were having lunch, I saw you as you let go of Yeontan. I knew you were behind everything, however, that doesn't mean that we're not meant to be with each other, silly. It doesn't mean that we weren't destined to meet by a higher power. I'm in love with you too, Kim Taehyung. Nothing can change that, sweetheart. You're stuck with me."

All you did was smile, because Kim Taehyung is a mastermind. And now you're his.

[vleanne]

𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁 a.t

Summary: Aemond loved you since he was a little kid. He loved you even when you had eyes for someone else. Six years later You make the first move.

Author's Note: Feel free to suggest anything in the comments such as future one shots or fanfics ideas(also beware the sexual tension)

part II

⤹At ten years of age, Aemond knew little about love. He only received it from his mother, the queen, but rarely.

That being said, he became quiet, the pout visible on his face at any time of the day. The bullying from his so-called 'family' didn't help either. If more, it only pushed him to the edge. He felt an indescribable anger that was channeled for many years. The loss of his eye making the final cut.

This storm of emotions thought him to be a fierce warrior, a feared dragon rider and an unpredictable prince. When people walked past him, they would often put distance so that they wouldn't risk an outburst. Those weren't often, because no one from King's Landing provoked him, or dared to do so.

So, when he was training with Ser Criston, in his focused state he managed to catch sight of the only people he wished to never see again. His nephews.

"Well done, my prince. You'll win tourneys in no time" The dark haired knight, congratulated rather heavy, catching his breath.

Aemond lowered his sword which was pointing at the knight's throat and turned his full attention on the two boys that hid their bodies with the help of people "Nephews…have you come to train?"

Jace and Luke were disturbed. Aemond was glaring at them, a hint of danger present in his eye.The boy's expected at any moment for their uncle to point his sword at them but he never did.

Someone else was pointing the sword at him.

"Believe..I make a way better match"

Aemond's body turned to stone. He didn't move an inch, not when your weapon was pointed right at his neck. Your arm was holding it in front of his body, making it impossible to turn fully around.

With a nodd you signalized for the Velaryon boys to take their chance and leave. The two ran inside leaving only a few men to witness the scene displayed before their eyes.

"Ser Criston, me and the prince will take it from here. Get everyone out" You demanded ignoring his skeptical look. However, he obeyed when the prince slowly shook his head as much as you allowed.

When everyone was out of sight you leaned into him, your lips touching the shell of his year "Why don't you fight me instead? I'm a way better fighter than any of them kids"

Your voice was soft, sending a few shivers down his tired body. The prince turned his head to the side, his eye looking down on you. The two of you were so close your lips almost touched, your breathing twisting into one.

"It's not in my interest to hurt you, my lady"

The smile he had hoped to see again was plastered on your face, reaching your eyes. Aemond still remembered it clearly, it was an honest one. One that you would give to your cherished people. And Gods be blessed he happened to be one of these people.

With his right hand dropped onto yours he lowered the sharp object so he could move freely without any concern of you slicing his neck.

Dropping your weapon to the ground you wasted no second to wrap your arms around his torso and flush your body onto his. The leather of his clothing rubbed your cheek and the smell of steel lingered on his form.

Gods, you missed him.

Aemond hesitated for a few but engulfed your body in his hold nonetheless. He was a bit tense but that's how he always was ever since you were kids. He never relaxed fully.

"Mother told me about my sister's return but it didn't cross my mind that you would come back as well" He stated, keeping his voice stern and composed. Formality of a prince was not needed at the time. You would rather have his clumsy, awkward self back. But six years is not nothing, of course he changed his way to be.

You pulled back your hands coming to rest on his side of the neck and on his cheeks where a scar was hidden beneath an eyepatch made of leather "Are you happy that I'm here? Because I am"

His lips were suppressing a smile, as Aemond took in your features. You've grown into a beautiful woman. With long lashed and pink lips, a beauty indeed.

Aemond moved his hand to rest on your upper arm, squeezing your clothed skin. He didn't respond, instead he hummed, moving his thumb up and down slowly "See..I don't want things to be tense between us. After all our separation was quite rapid..even so, I want to make up for last time"

The boy, no. The man in front of you was someone ripped from the pages of old fairy tales. He was tall, with long silver hair that rested on his back and a face which held such painful memories that shaped him into who he was today. A true prince.

You waited for his answer but it never came. He was just looking at you, his hand working his way to cradle your face. The pads of his fingers lingered on your skin, landing eventually on your lips upon not resisting the temptation.

His touch was so soothing you resisted the urge to close your eyes and lean into him. If only you were alone. Truly away from the ears and eyes of servants that watched shamelessly from the massive windows. Maybe then you would allow yourself to do so.

When his thumb grazed your lips, you placed a short, faint kiss on it. You were desperate for him to say something. Until now, you did all the talking.

You were about to open your mouth and speak something again when his lips touched your cheek. Instead of pulling away he rested his temple on your side, his hand still on your jaw "Tonight"

With that he walked away inside the Keep. Leaving you in the middle of the training ground with red cheeks and an awfully fast heartbeat.

➛part two?

[cyber-night]

Hihihihi, so important update as to why I have vanished. I was diagnosed with a genetic condition that affects my muscles and means I'm losing my fine motor skills, skills like typing and writing, so this is taking so much effort to actually do as it's getting worse. I'm okay. I'm going to keep writing, but it's going to be at my own pace so I can mitigate the effects.

Content Warnings: Non-con to Dub-con, Priest Fyodor, Religious themes, Dom Reader, Sub Fyodor, Drowning, Degradation, Hair pulling. Tell me if I missed something.

Fyodors head was pushed down under the water, his robes flipped up over his ass and pushed up his back, exposing his pale skin and malnourished body. You held his hair in a death grip under holy water, water he himself had blessed.

He was struggling to escape your grip, not really afraid but more angry. He was too weak to fight you off physically. He trembles as he tries to flee. Your cock pistoning into his tight hole. He manages to push himself out of the water, making you laugh as he struggles to hold himself up on the slippery marble lip of the font. After taking his skinny wrists in one hand and then shoving his head under the water again with the other you shift him so his toes are the only part of him touching the floor and then go back to brutally fucking him. He's left writhing and the fear kicks in as his lungs scream in pain at the lack of air. The way you fuck him like you hate him makes him want to cum but he can't he needs more, after all you're fucking him like hes a toy with no care for his own satisfaction.

When you shift to finally abuse his prostate, his body trembles, going weak he no longer tries to fight back, too lost in fear and pleasure. He's struggling to stay conscious with the lack of air. When you pull his head up above the water so he can breathe, he takes in gasping breaths, moans interspersed alongside them. "Think you can keep quiet, Father?" You ask cruelly. "Imagine what your parish would do if they knew you weren't just a sinner but a common whore." Before he can argue and fight back you push his head under the water again his head pressed against the bottom of the marble basin as his body weakly twitches. You pet the back of his neck with your thumb as you pull harder on his pretty black hair. Fucking him against the font with only your pleasure in mind. Once you cum deep inside him you let him fall to the floor in a heap and start putting yourself back together.

Father Fyodor weakly crawls over to you, drenched in water and trembling. His eyes wide as he throws away his pride. "Please- c-can I..." You cut him off with a laugh "aww did my holy fuck toy not get to cum? How sad. Tell you what, you can use my boot but that's all you get." There's a look of hesitation in his eyes as you lean back against a pew offering him your boot.

He crawls forward and positions himself so he can grind against your leg like a mutt. He hides his face in shame against your thigh before you yank his head back by his hair "Look at me when I'm being so generous to you Father." Fyodor looks up at you weakly his hips stuttering as he grinds faster trying to get it over with. "You should thank me." Fyodor closes his eyes before forcing out a garbled "Thank you" He then pauses and looks at you before whimpering "Need... more." You smirk and wrap a hand around his throat. "You need to feel like your dying is that right slut? Don't worry I can do that for you." Fyodor's body tenses as he cums on your boot his eyes rolling back in his head. "Father~" you sing, bringing him back to the present. "You made quite a mess. Why don't you make your God proud and clean it up." You say smiling sadisticlly "Though I hardly think we should waste it." Fyodors eyes widen at the implications but leans down and kitten licks at the cum covering your shoe.

Once it's clean, you lift your boot and press it against his head, pressing his head to the floor. "I can't help but think you need a less... absent God. You need one to keep you on a short leash and put you to use. I think I could be that God. We could trade your clerical collar out for a nice locked collar with a leash. What do you think?" You ask the priest idly, knowing he's so lost in the after shocks of pleasure and pain that he'll agree to anything.

[watarfallar]

Is this your order? More incorrect quotes? Okay then, scroll to the next window please. Have a good day!

Scott: If we were in prison you guys would be like my bitches.

Jimmy: Life keeps fucking me and I can't remember the safeword.

Etho: Hey, what’s the name of the guy who lives down the hall? Skizz: His cats' names are Walter and Rose. Etho: That's not what I asked. Skizz: That is all the information I have.

Etho: Murder literally doesn’t hurt anyone! Mumbo: What are you talking about? Of course— Tango, holding out a hand to shut Mumbo up: No, no, they have a point—

Cleo: Scar... How do I begin to explain Scar? Jimmy: Scar is flawless. Bdubs: I hear their hair's insured for $10,000. Mumbo: I hear they do car commercials... in Japan. Etho: One time they punched me in the face... it was awesome.

Cleo: I can be your partner for the next race. Lizzie: Sorry, Cleo. It's a sibling race. BigB: Maybe there's a contest for lonely children after this. Lizzie: It's only children, BigB. A lonely child is what you're gonna be when I sell you!

Impulse: Go ahead, Ren. Let it out, cry. If you don't, your tear ducts will get blocked up, and then when you get old, you won't be able to cry. Skizz: Just when we thought it was safe to let you back into the conversation.

Bdubs: Hey guys, I found a spider. Cool little lad. Thanks for eating the mosquitos. Bdubs: Oh no, where did it go? BigB: BDUBS WHAT THE FUCK?!

Etho: Do you need help getting up? Gem: Nah, I'm cool down here on the floor.

Pearl: What do you three have to say for yourself? Bdubs: Scar: Lizzie: Oops?

Jimmy: *shatters a window and climbs through it* Jimmy: *turns around and helps Impulse through it* Breaking and entering is wrong Impulse. Impulse: Okay.

Jimmy: Pearl’s out the will. Pearl: That’s honestly fair. I deserve that. Impulse: Wait, you have a will? Already? You haven’t even graduated. Jimmy: I’ve done some things in my life. Upset the wrong people. Martyn, you have a will too, right? Martyn: Lots. Good luck figuring out which one’s real.

Scott: The fastest way to a Gem’s heart is through ch- Etho: Chest cavity. Scott: Scott: Cheese.

Ren: I have locked Bdubs in a cage designed by their own art. Oh, they have been well and truly hoist by their own petard. Cleo: Could you put it another way? I didn’t understand a word of that. Ren: I’m blackmailing them. Cleo: Oh, happy days.

*The Squad is gathered in the living room for a meeting* Scott: *walks in and sits on Martyn’s lap* The Squad: … Lizzie: Why are you sitting there? Scott: There’s no free seats! Lizzie: But we made sure there was enough room for- Martyn: *hugs Scott tightly* There are no free seats.

Etho: You’re drunk. Cleo: Correction: drinking. Present tense. Grammar, Etho.

Grian: Could you be anymore annoying? Joel: Yes.

Martyn: "Go hang a salami" backwards is "I'm a lasagna hog". Skizz: How did either of those sentences occur naturally for you to discover this?

Pearl: .. .----. -- / … --- .-. .-. -.-- (translation: I'M SORRY) BigB: What's that? Pearl: Remorse code. BigB: I'm even angrier now.

Bdubs: *standing on a balcony and sneezes* Etho: *standing on the roof* Bless you. Bdubs: God?!

Pearl: Hey! Wanna hear a joke? Gem: Sure. Pearl: Your life! Gem: Actually, my life isn’t a joke, jokes have meaning. Pearl: Gem, no.

Grian: Sometimes I drink milk straight from the container. Pearl: The cow?? Grian:What? Skizz: Pearl, W H Y?

Joel: *very seriously* You need to stop doing weird things to cope with the stress. Going outside might help. Mumbo: I went to the park today. Joel: There you go! I hope you got something from that. Mumbo: *opening their coat* This duck.

Grian: You disgust me. Mumbo: *eating a kitkat sideways* I realize this and don’t care.

Scar: Is… Is that meant to be on fire? Mumbo: No… not really. Scar: Are you going to do something about it? Mumbo: Hm… nah.

[ivy-loves-chocolate]

Note: I know I’m late aaaaaahhh. I had some busy days and couldn’t finish this on time 😔. Hope you’ll like it tho! Your feedback is appreciated 💖

Pair: the reader gives Nanami the best birthday present.

Pair: Nanami Kento x F!Reader.

Tags: smut, blowjob, unprotected sex, 18+, minors DNI!

Word count: 1k

It’s no surprise that a man like Nanami works on his birthday. He hardly takes a day off, and he doesn’t consider his birthday to be a reason to skip work. Still, he enjoys the gifts that he receives, especially when they come from his amazing girlfriend.

Your lips were wrapped tightly around his hard cock. Nanami had his head resting on the back of the couch while his legs were spread wide so you could have space. His mouth was wide open as throaty moans came out of it, blessing your ears and making you wet between your legs as well.

God, I almost forgot how good you were at this…" he whispered, and soon you felt his strong hand taking a fistful of your hair.

"Then come home often, idiot…" you thought to yourself as you bobbed your head down to take all of him, then quickly came back up just to the tip.

"You’re too good for me…" he continued, feeling the grip tightening. As the good girl you were, you picked up the pace, sucking and twirling your tongue around the needy shaft, feeling as if a few droplets of precum graced your tongue. The fantastic taste made you moan, and the vibrations of your throat applied more stimulation to Nanami’s cock. He was super sensitive, as he’d immediately whimper once your tongue touched his tip.

Oh, that’s right, baby, that’s the spot," he said between heavy breaths.

Your jaw hurt at this point, but you were determined to continue and give this man the best birthday present. From his position, he had a clear view of your figure. Your big, y/c eyes were staring at him with lust and love; your back was arched so your ass could be visible to him; and those beautiful nails dug into his thighs.

You kept shoving him down your throat over and over, focusing on giving his throbbing cock the best care. You ignored your own arousal, even if at this point you might as well have made a puddle of your own juices on the floor.

"I’m so close..." His hands were pushing your head up and down on his shaft as he desperately chased his release. His abs tensed, his breath was erratic, and his moans became louder. He began to thrust his hips as well, thus making it difficult for you to breathe. You tried to focus on your breathing, but it was hard since your nose hit his pubic bone multiple times. However, with one final, deep thrust, he released his load down your throat. Warm, thick, and long shots of cum coated your throat repeatedly. You barely controlled yourself from choking, but you swallowed every single drop.

While Nanami was still panting from the intense orgasm he just had, you pulled out, his soft cock gently brushing your lips. There was still a string of saliva and cum connecting his tip to your numb lips.

His hands were still on your hair as he tried to fix the rebel strands that fell over your face.

"I’m so sorry." He said this with a concerned and embarrassed look on his face as he saw the mess he had made. Your mascara was ruined, and it ran down your cheeks; your lips were red; and there was a mix of your saliva and cum running down your chin.

"It’s alright, love." You said that, whipping your face and standing up to sit on his lap. He wrapped his arms around your waist and buried his face between your breasts.

"You are too nice to me." You heard his muffled voice and smiled, pushing him deeper as you tightened the hug.

"You deserve it."

He raised his head to look at you. God, you were so beautiful. He wonders up until this day how he managed to get someone like you, his admiration being visible in the glimmer from his blue eyes.

"Happy birthday, Nanami." You said it in a sweet voice as you leaned to place a kiss on his sweaty forehead.

Your lips slowly descended, leaving a trail of gentle kisses along his face until they reached his own lips. From there, it became passionate very quickly, raising the arousal inside him once more.

Eagerly, he flipped you on your back and aligned his half-hard cock at your entrance. After a few strokes, he pushed a couple of inches inside your needy cunt, stretching it as he went deeper.

"Oh yes..." You said it breathlessly, as this sensation was already overwhelming you.

In one deep thrust, he buried himself completely inside you, as he wanted you more and more. This sudden move made you grip his shoulders so tightly that his skin turned red under your fingertips.

Then he began to pound mercilessly inside you. Tears rolled down your cheeks for the second time tonight as he repeatedly hit your cervix. You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him closer, needing to feel the warmth of his body.

"Babe..." you whispered between sobs, clinging onto him like never before.

"I’m here." He said it in his smooth voice.

His head was buried in the crook of your neck, and you could clearly hear all those moans and praises coming from his lips.

"Don’t stop," you said, feeling the pressure increase in your lower abdomen.

"I won’t..." Feeling you clenching around him, he picked up the pace, going fast and deep, making you cum undone on his cock. Your body began to tremble, and your walls contracted as you came, making him cum as well for the second time in the night.

You felt some thick, warm spurts of cum filling you slowly. Your cunt was milking him of every single drop, making him moan because of the feeling of your throbbing hole.

Once he pulled out, a mix of your juices and his cum gushed out of your weary cunt.

"It’s your birthday," you said weakly.

"I know, but honestly, the best gift is you." His nose brushed against your skin as he pressed gentle kisses on your cheeks. "When was the last time I had you like this?" Another kiss on your cheek "With my cock buried inside you?" His lips came close to your lips. "Having you moaning my name?" His voice turned into whispers, and soon he kissed your lips. "I want you over and over again."

"Nanami..."

"Y/N..." He lifted his body slightly to take a better look at you. Once he saw your messy appearance in the dim light, he let out a small chuckle.

"But I think we should get you cleaned first."

He lifted your body and carried you to the bedroom.

"Besides, the day is not over yet," he said as he gently laid you on the soft mattress, taking care of you for the rest of the night.

I want to make a tag list for this fandom too, so if you wanna be added just DM me ☺️💖

[dotster001]

In Which Carrion Tells James How he Eats

Summary: An oc story. James and Carrion have been growing closer. And the mortician is finally feeling brave enough to confess his sins to the Saint.

Previous Two stories until I get them a masterlist James Lore Doc How they met

CW: Religious trauma vampires, disaster gays, blood drinking... cause vampires

It had taken a long time for Carrion to open up at all. But, today, he had told James he needed to tell him something.

Well, more accurately,

“Blessed Saint James-”

“It's just James-”

“No. Blessed Saint James, I have a confession.”

Carrion had shocked him by dropping to his knees and bowing his head low, his hands folded in prayer.

“I do not have the official power to do a confession, my lamb, only He can forgive sins. But I can always pray that He will show you His divine mercy.”

Carrion nodded.

“I…” he paused. James was scared to say a word. He was worried that Carrion would disappear if he said something now. And he could feel this would be a turning point.

“I…when I eat…” he seemed like he was gagging on the words.

“I consume the blood of the dead,” he finally spit out.

James tilted his head, confused. “Sorry? I don't follow-”

“When a corpse comes in, I drink its blood.”

James froze. He opened his mouth. Then shut it. Then opened it. Then shut it. By then, Carrion was staring at him, his eyes revealing just how nervous he was.

“Why?” He finally settled on. Carrion tilted his head to the side, before looking back at the floor.

“Because I'm hungry. And I don't want to do that to someone living. To have to remember someone like me leeching off of them. I'm,” he stuttered, covering his face with his hands, “I'm disgusting. I can't do that to someone.”

James wasn't sure what to say. He knew if he wasn't delicate, he'd never be able to help Carrion.

“Little lamb, forgive me if this comes off as impertinent or rude. But, you do know that you don't have to consume directly from a human, right?”

Carrion's head whipped up, his eyes wide.

“What?”

“Many of us don't consume from humans. I don't. There's a humane distribution system where witches drain some blood, and either sell it or donate it for those who don't wish to eat from a human. And,” he hesitated, “at my bakery, half of the goods have blood mixed in for those who are repulsed, or for those who cannot tolerate it alone.”

Carrion was staring at him with wide eyes by now.

“So, you know,” James said quietly, not sure what that look meant. “You have options.”

After a tense silence, James decided to add, “I am not against you doing what you have to to feed yourself, but the dead cannot heal themselves with time. When the second coming arrives, their bodies will have holes that were not present when they died. If you need a body, use mine.”

Carrion's jaw dropped, but he continued.

“As I will not rise again with the second coming, I have no use for my earthly body. If you stop feeding from the dead, it's all yours when I pass. And if you need it now, it's yours. You need only ask.”

“I- I can't-”

James knelt down, pushing his hair to the side. He gently placed a hand behind Carrion's head, and lightly pulled him so that his face was pressed to his neck.

“I do not find you disgusting, my lamb,” he said as he gently stroked the back of his head. “You have the word of a Saint.”

He really hated throwing the title around, but he knew it would be the only way to get through to Carrion.

For a long moment, Carrion just stayed in that position, stiff as a corpse. James was worried he'd offered too much too fast or that Carrion was going to have some sort of breakdown.

Then Carrion slowly moved, his mouth pressing against the skin of his neck. His lips tickled James' skin as they parted slightly, and he slowly, gently, sunk his fangs into James' neck.

James fought off the slight wince, knowing if he reacted, Carrion would stop and hate himself even more. God wanted James in Carrion's life for a reason, and if it was for this, he couldn't ruin this now.

He'd only been fed off of one other time. And it was a far different experience than this. This was gentle and soft. Like the person drinking from him saw him as a precious item that deserved to be cherished.

James gently caressed the back of Carrion's head, running his nails against his scalp as a sign that, not only was he okay, but that he wanted this to continue. James himself was frequently malnourished, so he could scarcely comprehend how it must feel to never have had a fresh meal.

James nearly jumped out of his skin when Carrion's arms circled tightly around him, allowing him to pull James, somehow, even closer. He continued to caress his head, sending the constant message that he was okay.

It may have been minutes, it may have been hours, but eventually Carrion pulled his head back, looking up at James with his blood still staining the corners of his mouth. His eyes glittered, and he whispered hoarsely,

“I'm so sorry.”

“Hush now,” James murmured, gently rocking the both of them back and forth. “God sent me to you to help you. So, I'll help you however I can.”

He was feeling a bit light headed, but he dare not share that information. While they sat on the floor, it wouldn't be a problem anyway. He worried that this might send Carrion back to darkness, that he'd accidentally undid all the work they'd been doing. But he hoped Carrion's arms still holding him tightly were a sign of the opposite.

[amberedcorpse]

@malefikant brought wine!

"To live for eternety. All the things you can do! The opportunity! To learn. To understand. To get answers…" Grating behavior. His for him and vice versa. Who appreciated being talked to so aggravatingly and who enjoyed being bothered when having a bad day? The truth was, Alexander did not mean to be the fuel for negative emotions (although well knowing that his presence alone had them growing, regrettably). Intentions were meant-well. Felix' state of existing was a curious conundrum he merely wanted to understand. "Why are dwarves so short but carve their tunnels so tall? Do you think if anything is possible, it is still possible for anything to be impossible?" Grating, surely. That seemingly ever-present hint of a smile that had his mouth subtly crescend, faintly curved. Meant genuinely as it could be meant to mock, to tease. Perhaps. Maybe. "I will help", he hums. "What can one catch that is not thrown?" A pause, then a soft laugh. "A cold! See? A day lived, an answer learned. It is not so bad, is it?" and as if to offer peace and ask forgiveness for his playful deceit (he really was just teasing. or was he?) pulled forth from underneath the thin leathery fabric of his overcoat a corked wine bottle. His smile widened. "To your health."

Learn what knowledge? Answers to which questions? 

A twinge broke through the anger like a knife thrust through both of his temples. He could’ve sworn the blade was real then and not another one of his symptoms, slicing his gray matter into a wet pulp. Both hands quickly clawed the sides of his head to wrench the specter from his skull, but found nothing more than his hair and his flesh still intact. 

And still he listened to their incessant babbling, forced to by the very clarity of his blessing, too conscious even if he were on the verge of bleeding out. No hope for escape, not even the relief of a coma. But if looks could kill this mortal wouldn’t be saved. 

His dearest shadow, the god nestled inside and out of him, let out a boisterous laugh. A low roll, the rush of sound before an earthquake, answered by the yowling of a dozen cats in the distance. They loved a good joke at his expense. He was their fool on strings, set on the stage to perform a mockery of life and be justly ridiculed in turn. Yet as the witch pulled out the dark bottle of wine both of them reared at attention. All of his muscles tensed. 

“Give me that!sweet and pretty creature, sweet kisses for you.” Felix pushed forward and snatched the wine from their trickster’s grasp, savagely wrestling the cork with his teeth. Then after a moment of fruitless struggle, he sneered and let out a rough, feline cry. 

“Ugh! Do you have a corkscrew hidden in there as well?Do you enjoy torturing him?” 

[johaerys-writes]

As Fate Would Have It

Achilles/Patroclus | E | Omegaverse | Ch. 5

Read on AO3 | Read from the beginning

Patroclus doesn't realise how exhausted he is until his head touches his pillow. And then he sleeps deeply and soundly, dreaming soft and warm dreams filled with light. 

He dreams of being at the beach at sunrise, of watching the gulls fly overhead and clouds roll over the horizon. It is so quiet and peaceful. The salty sea breeze is mellow and sweet, and Patroclus lets it fill his lungs. It's such a comforting and familiar smell, reaching deep into his core while enveloping him like a blanket. Patroclus never wants to lose this; he never wants to be away from this place which makes him feel so good, so safe. This is where he's meant to be, he knows. And it smells, it smells…

Like home. 

There is still a smile on Patroclus' lips, delicious warmth blooming through his entire body, when he slowly emerges through the spider silk webbing of his dreams. The scent is still with him, following him even as he opens his eyes. 

Patroclus realises, in a sudden rush of consciousness, that he isn’t gazing up at the open blue sky, nor at the ceiling of his room; he is staring straight into bright and impossibly green eyes, that are staring right back at him.

"Good morning," Achilles says. 

He is bent over him, his face so close to Patroclus' that their noses are pressed against each other’s. Achilles blinks, and his long golden lashes almost touch his skin. Patroclus simply lies there, petrified, completely paralysed by their proximity as his brain tries to figure out what's going on.

His body and his instincts have no such trouble, though, as heat instantly pools low in his belly with the intensity of Achilles' scent around him, the warmth of his skin. 

Achilles edges back, his hair a lovely curtain of gold around his face. "You're awake, finally." 

Patroclus glances out of the window; it's later than he usually wakes up, but still not very long after dawn. He clears his throat and pushes himself up on his elbows, rubbing the grit from his eyes. 

"Sorry, I slept in, I guess. Um, what were you just—"

"It's alright," Achilles rushes to say, interrupting him. He sits back on Patroclus' pallet, but he seems a little tense and wired. He is watching Patroclus' every move, hardly blinking. "I was just waiting for you."

"Did you… need something?" Patroclus asks cautiously.

"There is something I wanted to show. Some things."

He stands up, and it is only then that Patroclus notices the array of ornaments strewn at his feet. It’s an impressive display that looks as if it has been carefully arranged while Patroclus was asleep, and it was evidently done so quietly that he never even stirred from his sleep. Achilles kneels at the foot of his bed, his features very sharp and serious.

“Patroclus,” he starts in his princely manner, “noble son of Menoetius, most cherished of companions, blessed by the gods; please accept these offerings I present to you, as keepsakes to mark our special bond. I hope that they will please you, as much as gifting them to you is pleasing me.”

He picks up one of the artefacts, a bronze bowl, and extends it towards him with both hands. His head is bowed reverently so that Patroclus can only see his golden crown; it is as if he is offering a gift not to a therapon, but to a king, or a high priest. 

Patroclus stares mutely for a long moment; longer than he ought, as his still sleepy brain tries to make sense of this. Achilles doesn’t lift his head, waiting patiently until Patroclus gingerly plucks it from his hands and gives it a careful look. 

“Right,” he says, his voice cracking. He clears his throat and tries again. “Um… thank you?”

Achilles lifts his head then, his eyes fixed intently on Patroclus’ face in that unsettling way of his, pupils wide and pitch black. “Do you like it?” he asks. The hurried, almost breathless way he says it makes it sound as if he’s anxious to hear Patroclus’ response.

“It… is very beautiful.” Patroclus turns the bowl in his hands, this way and that. It really is lovely: it is relatively small but expertly crafted, with elegant carvings of courting doves in the centre of the bowl, and of flowers along the rim. It’s a prize ornament, far too expensive and well made for one to give to a therapon—unless it’s the spoils of a battle just won. “If I may I ask: why are you giving me this?” 

Achilles blinks, taken aback by the question as if Patroclus asked him why the sky is blue. “Last night, you gave me a gift,” he says. “Today, it’s my turn to give you one.”

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[rosewaterandivy]

caught in the throes

Summary: Were you praying at the Lares shrine? || He supposes it could've gone better. || a crawl til dawn blurb

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

WC: 522

Warnings/Themes: 18 +, MINORS DNI. Series contains graphic depictions of violence and sex. Psychological horror/trauma, botched forced sterilization, abortion, memory loss, body horror, dark and sacrilegious themes, and mutual corruption.

A/N: been missing my babies, so i figured a blurb was in order.

Please do not interact if you aren’t 18+.

Nota bene: Reblogging, commenting, and liking my work is always appreciated; reposting, however, is not.

Enjoy! 💜

series masterlist | playlist | currently spinning:

TO: DIRECTOR OWENS

FROM: ██████████ █████

ACTION: EXTRACTION 

STATUS: COMPLETED

4 JAN 1996

SUBJECT: Operation successful. Team apprehended the volatile subject with minimal injuries incurred. Subject had to be sedated for transport and has remained stable on board. En route to base; anticipated arrival 0800. 

Bruises bloom on her cheekbones, mottled and purple and he knows they’ll be gone by wheels down. Aside from a few scrapes and bruises, she remains serene and maybe it’s the cryo talking but he’s never seen her that beautiful. But it’s a tragic kind of beauty, like Ophelia in the river hair tangled among the waterlilies. In the back of his mind, the dark depths of his heart he’s always known that when the reaper comes for her, it would be a fool’s errand; beauty like that is too cutting to be buried under a tombstone.

The jet remains quiet, the steady pulse of machinery and coiled tension in the cabin. He can sense Hop’s apprehension as he steps toward him. A few steps closer and then:

“Don’t,” He warns. 

Robin perks up at that, her lip thankfully clotting now, shouldn’t have ever been in the field but here they were. And it had been them, of fucking course who else would it be, that had taken most of the licks; her assaults always had a flair for the dramatic. Rob huffs a disbelieving laugh as Hop comes to a halt several feet away; and oh, he’s never loved them so much.

Love, the word feels foreign on his tongue. Love, it’s a complicated thing. He knows what he has with Rob is a forever deal - a sister, or as close as he would get to one now, and the father he never quite had. The pair of them seeing her that feral, well… it was upsetting to say the least. Since Steve’s rescue, they’d created some semblance of family, or normalcy in what could only be described as a clusterfuck of a situation. But he knew that the hollow ache in his chest wasn’t matched by anyone at present. 

Hop, bless him, has always been careful - with his words and his actions, always slow to judge and never one to assume. 

“Steve,” his voice is soft and low, soothing, “Ya need anything?” 

The thought is nice, and he knows the old man means to help but there’s nothing to be done. He knew in completing this extraction, the one favor he’d needed from Hop, that there was a chance she’d be too far gone; who’s to say that the miracles worked by intensive therapy and a cocktail of meds could be successful again?

And god, he could kick himself - he really could, but he’d already lost so much time. Months gone to cryo, then recovery and therapy, followed by that joke of a recruitment attempt from Owens. He could fall to his knees in tears from all the years wasted in not having her. But he was desperate to get her back, he would claw his way to hell and back if it meant she was safe. 

He runs a thumb down the slope of her neck in thought, “No, I’m good.” 

He watches as her jaw tenses and god, she always was a teeth grinder, wasn’t she? He can feel rather than see Hop nod and fuck off back to the cockpit, leaving him and Rob to their silent observations.

Everyone wants to be saved, right?

Only time would tell.

[katnissmellarkkk]

Hiiii! Okay so I know this isn’t my usual type of story but I for this idea and decided to try something new! I have much of this story already written so hopefully I can give y’all quick updates for this fic! I appreciate all you loyal readers and especially you loyal commenters! You guys make my day and make me so grateful for getting to share my writing with such sweethearts 🤍🤍🤍.

I hope you all enjoy this fic, the storyline is little darker than my usual content, but it’s very much an on-brand Everlark story from me! I was inspired by videos of celebrity stalker stories. Also this is the first time in about 5-ish years that I wrote in the past tense. So forgive me if I slipped up here and there with that. The story begins in past tense and by the end of chapter 2 or start of chapter 3 it’ll move back to the usual present tense The Hunger Games is known for.

Thank you for reading and God bless you all 🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

-

Summary : when a strange man comes to Twelve and begins to pop up unexpectedly wherever Katniss is, her and Peeta find themselves quickly in over their head with a stalker.

-

I’d never seen eyes two different colors before. That’s what struck me most about the strange man. I became accustomed to seeing people walk around with their skin dyed unnatural shades, with jewels implanted in their flesh, with feathers in their rainbow hair and eyelashes made of pure glitter. But I’ve never seen a person have one eye green and one eye purple before.

In fact, I’ve never even seen someone with two purple eyes before.

That was the first thing about him that gives me pause. His eyes. But not the last.

No. That was far from the last.

-

I was walking down the street the day I saw him for the first time. He wasn’t tall. Taller than me, sure, but not taller than most. Especially not for a man. Peeta could easily tower over him.

Maybe that’s why I didn’t feel afraid. Because for as long as I had my husband next to me, holding onto me, his muscular arm swinging our interlocked fingers happily between us, rubbing the back of my hand with his thumb as we made our way into town, I had no reason to be afraid.

I was never afraid when I had Peeta with me.

And out in the woods, I’m in my element. In the woods, I know exactly who I am. I’ve always known where I belonged when I set foot among those trees. I’ve never felt afraid out there. And it’s not just because of the loaded bow across my back.

No, the woods were my first home. Before Peeta, before the games, before I was the head of my household, caring for my mother and sister, I was just a girl in those trees. With just my father by my side.

Until the last couple of years that was the only place I truly felt at home. I never felt like myself in a crowd. I never felt comfortable in my own skin when I was surrounded by people, when I stood in the town square, when I bought and traded in the market among the merchants and my schoolmates, when I sat in class as a child. Never could I let my guard down around people, aside from the handful that snuck their way into my heart.

But of course, if anyone could change my heart, it was Peeta. The boy with the bread, the one who showed me hope time and time again, who loved me unconditionally, who refused to give up on me, even when he couldn’t separate me from the mutt that haunted him.

Peeta taught me how to love, how to forgive, how to live again. He made me feel safe and comfortable wherever we were. He made me belong, no matter who else was around.

But maybe that wasn’t such a good thing. Maybe if I had felt a little more on edge, I’d have noticed the strange man, with the purple and green eyes, right from that very first moment on the street.

But that’s not how this story went.

-

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