#he would rather make himself sick to get you to dote on him than say how he feels oh my DAYS

[yuwuta]

omega satoru who purposefully makes himself sick and tries to trigger his own heat after hearing you’re going on a date or something with someone else there’s such a desperate need to have your attention all to himself. he doesn’t take his suppressants, he goes out of his way into crowded areas where he knows the mix of scents will agitate him and he paws at you all week before your date, each time more desperate than the last until his body finally breaks down and he’s borderline delirious, crying and cooing and nuzzling his nose into your neck and begging and begging and begging you to take care f him, to be his alpha

[wttcsms]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪ let you lock me down tonight !!

ᝰ.ᐟ high off of ending the soccer season with a world cup win secured, your newlywed husband showers you in all the attention he couldn’t give you when he was too busy being the world’s best striker. ( fem!reader )

pairing yoichi isagi x reader word count 2.7k content contains HEAVY breeding kink, creampie, marathon sex, wet 'n messy <3, yoichi's crazy stamina lol, marital bliss!!!!, you two are newlyweds and so in love it's kinda sick!!! kinktober masterlist

“Ah — fuck, ‘Ichi! Right there, right there!” You can’t help but let out high-pitched moans as you tangle your fingers into the white satin sheets of your bed. Your new bed, you realize, the sweet thought momentarily cutting through your haze of pleasure. Your new bed that you’ll be sharing with your husband.

Yoichi Isagi, your loving, doting husband — so loving, so doting, that the minute the two of you are finally alone, he wasted absolutely no time in ravishing you. His eagerness is endearing, and you’re dizzy with pleasure and glee and bliss. It’s your wedding night; the two of you are supposed to hop on the plane in just two days’ time to go on your honeymoon, but clearly Isagi wants to keep tradition alive by consummating the marriage right away. Not that you’re complaining. When he licks a stripe against your folds before sucking on your clit, you realize you have no room for any complaints. 

The only issue is that Isagi is the absolute worst when it comes to taking off your clothes. His excitement gets the best of him, and it’s cute to watch him fumble with the straps and buttons and knots of your outfits, but you had to get your bridesmaids to help you into this dress. You should’ve known Isagi’s greatest obstacle tonight would be your wedding dress. 

Rather than fiddle with your dress, though, Isagi manages to make himself at home between your thighs, eating away at your pussy. You wish you could grab his hair, to touch and feel your husband and show your appreciation, but it’s hard when he’s buried under the skirt of your dress. He couldn’t even be bothered to lift your dress out of the way; like in most situations when he has his laser-focus set on one goal, his tunnel vision only allows him to see the route with the highest success rate. Why bother with messing your clothes when he can just dive in? 

Isagi swears that you have the prettiest pussy in the world. He mumbles this praise but you can’t hear him over the lewd sounds of him lapping at your cunt, trying to savor all your juices onto his tongue. You feel your thighs clench up, almost smothering his head, and he has to dig his fingers into the plush of your thighs to hold you down. You still try to buck your hips up, trying to get more sweet relief for your cunt, and Isagi only complies, each swirl of his tongue feeling like a declaration of his love for you. 

When you feel the familiar tight knot inside of you about to unravel, Isagi gives one final lick before pulling back, removing himself from underneath your dress. You let out a whine at your ruined orgasm, and all he does is cheekily look up at you. He’s wearing that same lopsided grin of his, the one that suckered you in, and the lower half of his face is glistening with your juices and his spit. His cheeks are tinted pink, probably from the heat of his movements and the fact that he was basically suffocated by your thighs, your pussy, and the massive skirt of your wedding dress. He doesn’t look too upset about this; actually, he looks even more energetic than ever.

He wipes his face off with the back of his hand, just like he does when he’s sweating on the field. 

“Yoichi,” You whine, complaining about how he didn’t let you cum. He sits up, still smiling. 

“We have all night, baby. The first time you cum as my wife should be on my cock, right?” He shouldn’t sound cheerful when he says this, but the fact that Yoichi Isagi is as whipped for you as you are for him sends a fresh wave of arousal to wash over you. 

Isagi makes quick work of his belt, sliding it off before tossing it to the floor of the bedroom. He doesn’t bother taking off his clothes; he just pulls down his suit pants and briefs all in one go, just enough to free his cock. Thick, with the head red and leaking with pre, you can’t help but think that maybe Isagi had a point. Your first orgasm of the night should be on his cock.

He reaches a hand to go up your dress once more, and you can’t help but squirm and let out a squeal as his thick fingers brush against your folds, gathering up the slick before prodding at your entrance. His touch is teasing and fleeting, and right when he lets the tips of his fingers enter slowly into your aching hole, he removes them. With the same hand that was just toying with your pussy, he pumps his cock slowly. You watch, mesmerized at the sight of his hands dragging up and down his fat cock, your juices coating his length before he smears some of his own precum alongside it. 

“You remembered what we talked about, sweetheart?” 

How could you forget? It’s all you two could ever talk about, really. Yoichi Isagi and you both want to start a family, as soon as possible. 

And it’s like you’ve said before, when Isagi is focused on a goal, he always chooses the best path for success. 

You nod, biting down on your lower lip as you continue to watch him stroke himself. “I’m gonna fuck a baby into you tonight. You don’t need to do anythin’ but take all of my cum, okay? Can you do that for me, baby?” 

It’s hard to think when he’s bunching up the fabric of your dress, pushing it out of the way before tapping the head of his cock against your soaking slit. Drops of his precum smear against your cunt, and you moan at the contact, at the intense heat of his cock and cum even though you haven’t even received a taste of his true power yet. 

“Can you feel it, honey? Feel how hard my cock is for you?” He groans as he teases the both of you, guiding the tip of his dick to just barely entering your hole, before he pulls out. There’s a feral look to Isagi that you’ve seen many times before, but it’s still enough to get you even wetter, to get you excited, to let you know that Isagi will stop at nothing until he feels like he’s accomplished his goal. His eyes are focused on the way your needy hole is just clenching at nothing, practically begging for his cock, begging for his cum, begging for his baby.

“Yes.” You whine out, blinking out tears from your eyes. “Wan’ your cock so bad, ‘Ichi. Want your baby.” 

He has you teary-eyed in a wedding dress, begging to be bred. Just last month, Yoichi Isagi was being carried on the shoulders of his teammates after he scored the goal that won them the World Cup. That feeling of accomplishment, of pure joy, doesn’t compare to how he feels right now. Right now, staring down at you, the woman he loves, Yoichi Isagi feels on top of the fucking world. 

You let out high-pitched moans as he slowly sheathes himself into the welcoming warmth of your cunt. Your pussy greedily swallows up his length, walls clenching down on his thick cock. His hands curl around your waist, the thick fabric of your dress doing nothing to protect you from the strength of Isagi’s grip, especially as he grits his teeth and tries to give you time to adjust to the burning stretch of your pussy trying to accommodate his size. 

“Too big, ‘Ichi. Ah — you’re too big!” 

He leans down to kiss you on the forehead, fighting the urge to start thrusting into you immediately. Your mind is telling you that he’s too much for you to handle, but your greedy pussy is telling him something else entirely. With the way your walls are clamping down on him, you want him to fuck you ‘til you milk out all his cum. 

“Relax, sweetheart. You always say this, remember?” He rubs comforting circles on your hips, slowly drawing back before thrusting back in. “But I know that you love it. My good girl likes the pain of taking my cock, doesn’t she?” His experimental thrusts are getting rougher and quicker, but he’s right. You like the feeling of pain bleeding into pleasure. 

He buries his cock deep inside of you, pounding away at your pussy. All you can do is lay there and take it, a long string of never-ending moans leaving your mouth as Isagi has his way with you. You feel your back arch, your walls twitching and pulsing, and right when you’re about to cum, Isagi’s quick to use his thumb to rub rough circles against your click, using your juices as the perfect lubricant. Fuck — you’re so wet and tight for him that it’s a wonder he hasn’t blown his load yet. 

You’re cumming. You can’t even warn Isagi that you’re cumming, but your subconscious knows that Isagi knows. He’s the best when it comes to reading you, and it’s no coincidence that he started toying with your clit the second he caught on to your oncoming climax. He wanted you overwhelmed with pleasure, and he delivered. 

Not even giving you time to come down from your high, Isagi continues to fuck you through your orgasm. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He growls, hips stuttering as you tighten up around him. “Feel so fuckin’ good, atta girl, baby. Shit, I’m gonna fuckin’ cum. I’m gonna cum in your pussy, and you’re gonna keep it all in, gonna carry my fuckin’ kid.” He’s rambling, losing himself to lust and the intense desire to breed. 

He leans down, his cheeks flushed and your own face warm. Everything about you is warm — no, hot. Your face, your chest, the heat between your legs. You’re practically on fire, burning with desire, and so is your husband. Isagi leans down to plant a kiss against your lips, and you let him. Nothing is sweeter, you decide, than being kissed by your husband while he jackhammers his cock into you, promising to get you pregnant. 

The kiss is messy and rough; he’s swallowing up your spit, and the two of you are basically sharing saliva. There’s a mess between the both of your thighs as well; your inner thighs and cunt are wet and sticky. His cock is coated in your cream, the fabric of his suit pants wet with your juices, and there’s an obscene squelching sound as he continues to thrust into your sloppy cunt. Isagi adds to the mess when he buries himself as deep as he can go, letting out a groan into your mouth as hot cum splatters inside of you. It takes several seconds for the stream of his cum to stop pouring into you, and your walls are still twitching, still oversensitive from the pounding it just took. 

He doesn’t remove himself from you. Instead, he hovers over you, careful not to smother you with his weight as he pants slightly, strands of his black hair sticking to his forehead due to his sweat. 

“You okay, baby?” 

You give a weak nod, and he only grins. 

The two of you stay like this, sloppy and connected, for a few minutes before you look up at him. He’s been staring at you with heart eyes this whole entire time.

“Do you think it worked?” You asked him, somehow too shy to look down at where the two of you are connected. You’re sure it’s a mess. You can feel a mix of your cum and his seeping out of your cunt, getting the sheets dirty. 

“Well, I do have a great direct shot.” He jokes. “I probably aimed right at—”

“You’re lucky you’re so cute!” You interrupt him, trying to sound like you’re scolding him but he makes you laugh too hard. He laughs with you, peppering kisses all over your face while you giggle. He’s so in love with you, he can’t stop smiling, and neither can you. 

“But…” The gentleness in his expression wavers as something darker, something more determined flashes over him. “We should make sure it takes. Let’s go another round.” Throughout this entire time of you cockwarming him, you realize that Isagi never quite softened. “For good measure.” 

By good measure, Isagi means he has to fuck you from the back this time. Something about how it’ll help him reach even deeper. To prove his point, he takes your hand and guides it to your belly; his larger hand engulfs your own, forcing it to remain where he places it. “You feel that?” He asks you, and you do — you can feel the bulge of his dick reaching deep inside of you every time he thrusts, and it’s so insane, it makes you cum all over his cock. “That’s the fuckin’ cock that’s gonna get you pregnant.” 

The second round isn’t enough to satiate Isagi. He’s kind enough to suggest that the two of you take a bath, to get cleaned up, but that’s a fucking joke. While he waits for the water to heat up, he places you on the marble counters of the bathroom, spreads your legs, and wolf whistles when he sees your hole clenching, struggling to keep the flood of his cum contained. He takes his fingers and scoops it up before shoving it all back inside of you, which leads to him fucking you with his fingers. Your juices are all over the counter by the time he’s done with you, and your legs feel so weak, he has to carry you to the tub. His original suggestion of “getting clean” is thrown out the window when you ride him, the water spilling over and getting all over the floor, but the two of you are too fucking horny and deep in your pleasured states to care. He loves watching your wanton facial expressions as your oversensitive pussy screams for both relief and more pleasure, more of his cum. He finishes inside, holding down on your hips and making you sit still as he gives you his cum. 

The two of you fuck like bunnies for the rest of the night. Your poor pussy is overflowing with his cum by the time he’s taking a breather, and your skin has indents of his fingers. It’s gotten to the point where he doesn’t even need to stimulate your clit to get you to cum for him; he called you his good girl, the best wife in the world, when you came from just penetration alone. You don’t think your cunt will ever forget the hot feeling of his cum coating every centimeter of your walls. 

You’re laying on the messed up sheets, completely bare and sweaty. Isagi returns with a towel wet with cool water and a glass of water with an electrolyte blend mixed in. You’re still so sensitive that the friction of the cotton towel brushing against your pussy has you twitching, and Isagi shushes you as you whine. He wipes up the mess between your legs, blushing as he admires the fact that there’s so much to clean up. There’s something primal and possessive inside of him that goads him to continue to do this, to fuck you more, to “mark his territory,” so to speak. 

“Sit up, baby. You need to drink some water.” He helps you up, holding you steady as he brings the glass to your parched lips. You greedily drink the entire thing, and Isagi coos that you’re amazing. You smile at the praise, before laying right back down on the bed. This time, he joins you, holding you close to his chest. 

“I’m so happy you’re my wife.” He says, rubbing circles against the small of your back. “You’re the best girl in the world. I’m going to spoil the fuck out of you once we go on our honeymoon.” 

You giggle at that. “You’ll have to carry me everywhere.” You tell him. “After tonight, I don’t think my legs work anymore.” 

He kisses the top of your head. “I’d carry you everywhere for the rest of our lives.” 

Which is a sweet sentiment, until he continues.

“Because I’m not stopping at just tonight. You’ve got one more round in you ‘til the morning, right, baby?” 

Right.

[elssero]

bakugo would be the type of dad who for the life of him cannot say no to his little girl.

k.bakugo

♰ girldad ! bakugo fluff <333

he never imagined himself as a family man, he’d always had the idea that he’d work his ass off for number one and just.. do that forever?

he kept that mindset right up until he met you. pretty little thing with a mouth just as snappy as his and that was all it took for him to be whipped.

to say you swept him of his feet would be an understatement. he physically bumped into you in his agency building and in return you raised your voice at him and told him to watch where the fuck he’s going.

the rest is certainly history, he chases after you and you let him. much to his delight your married a mere 3 years later, laughing at the stupidity of your first meeting.

when discussing children you decide on one for now, bakugo grew up and only child and he quite enjoyed being the center of his parents attention, he only wishes the same for his own.

your pregnant in no time, thanks to his… persistent efforts and he can’t contain the love he has for you as you begin to swell. he completely dotes on you.

your hungry? a three course meal is on its way. your sleepy? he’s carrying you bridal style, laying you down in bed and tucking you in. you deserve only best in his eyes, just as his little girl will.

he doesn’t leave you or the baby’s side for weeks after the birth, your begging him to go back to work at this point because kirishima cannot work another 16 hour shift to cover for him.

he hates every minute he spends away from you, it’s spent grumbling about how he’d much rather be curled up in bed with you. he drops in the charts the first year the child is born but he doesn’t care, he can’t care, not when he’s coming home to you- his beautiful wife and his pride and joy of a baby girl.

as the kid gets older he starts working full time again, you too go back to work a couple days a week while your child’s at school, he insists that you don’t- he takes good enough care of you right?? but you do it anyway, it’s more for something to do rather than for the income.

now spending more time away from his kid- the time he does spend with her he cherishes every minute, they’re baking cookies, he’s taking her shopping, he’s spoiling her rotten :(.

she feels a little sick and wants to stay off school? suddenly they’re both begging you to let her stay off and when you finally agree- he’s calling into work saying he can’t make it so they can spend the day together.

he helps her with quirk training when she insists she wants to be a hero just like daddy. he cries the first time he hears it, unable to control the surge of joy he feels seeing his kids face looking up at him with admiration.

he takes her into the agency to meet all her favorite pro heros- he sets up play dates with his friends kids so his little angel can grow up around kids her age.

as she grows he makes sure that they never lose their closeness- he promises her that she can tell him anything and she does, she truely the light of his life.

it’s the last year of middle school for his girl when he gets the phone call he’s been dreading for years- she got into a fight today in school, a serious one too it seems and he’s rushing as fast as he possibly can, he doesn’t even take the time to phone you because he’s so worried, he makes a mental note to call you the second he’s out of the place.

he bursts through the door and he can’t help the sigh of relief he lets out when he sees that she’s okay, infact she’s not ruffed up at all- which only makes him more worried. had his kid been the one to start the fight? his little angel?

the principal explains the situation pretty clearly, the other kid involved admitted that they had been purposely attempting to get under her skin- using his name to do it.

he’s furious of course- but he can’t help overwhelming happiness that bubbles in his throat when he realises this is your first fight- a fight that you had only started to protect his name.

he thanks the principal for his time and escorts his kid out, she’s silent the entire walk back to the car while he fights back a smirk- “are you mad at me?” she looks up at him from her place in the passenger seat and he just bursts into a smile-

“let’s go get some ice cream kid- just don’t tell your mother about this alright?”

[ddarker-dreams]

each version of yan scaramouche throughout the years is ridiculously clinging in their own strange way. 

as kabukimono, the others at tatarasuna often joke that he follows you around like a duckling. there are practically stars in his eyes whenever you’re so much as mentioned, he’s absolutely smitten. his way of getting closer to you — and staying there — had a rather innocent origin. he just so happened to notice that you dote on him even more whenever he makes a mistake or seems to be struggling with ‘simple’ human tasks. at first, he really was having difficulty with things such as getting dressed and brushing his hair, but over time, he learned to conceal his progress so you would take the time to help him. 

the unknown feeling that blossomed in his chest whenever your fingers brushed or he was close enough to smell the incense on your clothes was divine. he’d come up with any excuse to remain by your side, leaning into his harmless image a little too much, albeit subconsciously. after all, you may not have been so willing to allow a man in your bed just because he claimed his nightmares were making it difficult for him to sleep... but because you think he’s so sweet and lacking any ulterior motive, you don’t even bat an eyelash, gladly opening up the futon for him to lay beside you. he just can’t help himself. there’s nowhere he’d rather be than with you. 

as scaramouche, he has a simple and ineffective formula. keep the doors locked + be the only person you can have verbal interaction with = profit? (there is no profit to be had). you’re so sick of him but he’s there anyway. what makes matters worse is his audacity to act like he’s doing you a favor, spending a few hours of his busy day entertaining someone such as yourself. he says it that way too. word for word. with his nose in the air. you really can’t stand him. this method is what he prefers to utilize by far. sure, there might be some sour feelings on your side, yet it eliminates the risk of you leaving him altogether. he can withstand anything — your glares, the frequent cold shoulder treatment you give him — because it means you’re still there. 

for a person who comes off as greedy as he does, he’s surprisingly content with very little. the slivers of mostly negative attention you give are enough to sustain him, the same way a cactus can survive on very little water. if the balladeer had it his way, he’d always be in your vicinity, but unfortunately, he has constant work as a harbinger. which is why he leaves reminders of his existence on and around you to compensate for his absence. even if he can’t physically be with you, the lingering touches you feel and the marks you see make him impossible to forget. 

as the wanderer, he’s essentially jobless, allowing him twenty-four hours in the day to stick by your side. to make matters worse, the dendro archon herself came to you to ask for your cooperation. lesser lord kusanali has seen how taken with you he is, and after some observation, decides you’d be a good influence on the ‘reformed’ wanderer. lucky you. instead of following you around like a cute duckling, he’s more of a feral stray cat. you’ll ask him if he has anything better to do and he’ll shrug and say not really. trying to throw him off your trail is impossible as well, his ability to track you down is uncanny. he claims that he has a sixth sense for ‘sensing idiots’ every time he catches you. 

in his humble opinion, there’s just nothing more thrilling than seeing every side of you there is to see. he doesn’t want to miss a second. if he isn’t in the mood to chase after you and you try to run away, you’ll end up facing a gust strong enough to knock you off your feet. should he be in a good mood, he’ll catch you. if he isn’t, however... he’ll let you fall over and snicker over your misfortune. his antics to keep you close are mostly bearable, since he doesn’t freeload and offers a decent amount of help in your journeys, whether it be fighting off hoards of monsters or cooking meals. it becomes far more sinister if anyone tries to intrude on what he perceives to be your special relationship, though. 

[cinnamonest]

we've talked about mommy darling and Rhinedottir darling before for Albedo; have we considered Alice darling? sweet momma (soft and squishy...) with just enough crazy to keep Albedo intrigued, and she's so much nicer than Rhine, really wants him to think of himself as part of the family. comes pre-packaged with a kid, too! and if i could be so bold, she's probably still lactating by the time Albedo comes along

only issue is the husband being in the picture still, which Albedo doesn't like, and the fact that you keep running off for Celestia knows what and leaving him behind, which Albedo really doesn't like. you put him in this family, take some responsibility. he won't tolerate a second neglectful momma- er, female... role model...

bless his little artificial heart, he's trying his damn best

In love with this concept anon, as much as I love Creator!Darling there's also an appeal to our baby boy getting this stark contrast of someone treating him nicely for the first time and having no idea how to handle it, developing an obsessive attachment but because it's Him™ he just cannot keep it healthy or sane, poor thing.

He finally gets to meet you after hearing about you before, and you're so sweet and gentle while you talk to him, but he just can't pay attention to anything you're saying because he can't un-glue his eyes from your blatantly swollen tits… it's not fair, it's too distracting. He likes to think of himself as mature and self-disciplined, so it's quite annoying and shameful that he feels so captivated, frustrating that he can't stop himself from looking.

Nor can he stop the weird feeling in his chest. Especially if it's shortly after his abandonment — he's in a state of emotional distress and pain, feels so lost and unwanted and here you are all sweet and doting. It's not just that it's a substitution for his Master, rather, you're nicer and sweeter l, in all his life he's never been treated so well.

Master was always so harsh and biting in her tone, always criticizing him, always manipulating him with threats to leave — and until now, that's really all he's known. But you, you're sweet, even if there's more distance between you two because you don't know each other as well. You smile at him and say nice things, you ask him about himself, you tell him to let me know if you need anything.

It feels strange. It's uncomfortable, in a way, feels like someone peering into his mind and heart, it's vulnerable and makes him squirm, yet, it feels good, he likes it, despite the discomfort. He’s not naive nor lacking self-awareness. He can recognize it for what it is from the start, and for that reason, he desperately seals it away early on, knowing it would not work, knowing you have a family, knowing there's a gap in your stages of life and maturity.

But it’s not wrong to notice you like him, right? Even if not in the same way. He knows you feel positively towards him.

It really hits him hard when, once day, there's some virus or another going around, he catches it and ends up having to stay at home sick, in the little lodging he's been provided in the town. He thinks nothing of it until you come knocking on the door.

You sigh in relief when he opens the door, say you were worried when you hadn't seen him all day. Your eyes widen when he explains (with a stammer he hopes you don't notice) that he's sick.

And your reaction feels so foreign. He's used to a sharp glare, a frustrated sigh, being told to suck it up and get over it and stop making excuses. But you, you start to fuss and coo at him, tell him to go rest, say something about how you'll get him some hot tea and run off, leaving him standing there, staring at the empty hall.

You noticed he was absent. He crossed your mind. It makes sense, in a way, but it just feels so… warm, fuzzy.

He crossed your mind. You think about him. You missed him. How much do you think about him? Do you do it every day? How much space in your mind does he occupy? How significant is he to you? There's this swelling feeling in his chest.

But he's often realistic to the point of pessimism, and so he suppresses the childishly hopeful thoughts with bitter self-criticism — telling himself he's being foolish and ridiculous and self-important to think it's anything more than just by chance, that you just happened to think of him for some reason. Taking that innate sense of wishful thinking in the most vulnerable depths of the heart and crushing it himself before reality does it for him. Less painful that way. It doesn't mean anything, he shouldn't hope for anything, he can't let himself form feelings that are just going to bring him pain in the long run.

And he does try to distance himself from you, for some time. It's like a form of addiction — he really does try, but he finds himself moving on a mental-autopilot anyway, seeking you out, letting the words of are you doing anything later? fall out of his mouth on their own and feeling so elated when you happily, willingly spend time with him.

And in time, he even lets himself start to think too much, stops pushing away those absurd thoughts that he knows better than to allow himself to have because he knows that if he has those thoughts and lets them fester, he's just going to get hurt, because the fantasies will never come to fruition, the feelings will never be reciprocated. He lets himself feel some sense of pride and pure bliss and vague sense of irrational hope when you tell him how grateful you are that he takes such good care of your precious girl when you ask him to look after her and how you're so happy he's bonded to her and tell him that she really looks up to him.

Lets himself bask in your praise and lets himself ride the euphoric high a single nice word from you brings him all day, rather than suppressing it. Lets himself look forward to seeing you, something he felt was only going to go badly for him and thus suppressed before.

Lets himself indulge in long drawn-out fantasies that he knows are so unrealistic and shameful, gradually progressing over time from embarrassingly vulnerable thoughts of your praise and kindness and affection, allowing the depravity and perversion he's repressed to slowly seep out further and further until the fantasies progress into those that have him locking his door and panting and gripping the table with his other hand until he's shivering and slouched over in the shameful clarity that follows.

He also tries to fight these thoughts and feelings initially not only because they're shameful and vulnerable, but because these feelings are accompanied by a much darker feelings, too.

One that is strictly unpleasant, rather than the other, more confusing uncomfortable-but-good feelings. This burning, twisting feeling in his gut and chest, whenever he sees you with others, particularly when you smile or laugh. The way the bitter heat blazes whenever he thinks about the fact that you had to be with some other man to have your child. The way his muscles tense and his eye twitches and he grips his utensils harder as he works. He's certain those feelings aren't good — rather, they're very bad, dangerous even.

The other is the longing, yearning pain when you're gone. He has to struggle to summon the motivation to work — what's the point, when he won't see you all day? The work itself isn't motivating enough anymore like it used to be — something that concerns him, yet remains true all the same. He works slower, he mopes, he doesn't do much of anything until you return, at which point his mood suddenly does a complete reversal, and he feels happy and good and motivated again. He knows that's not good, he knows that degree of dependency is alarming, but it's beyond his ability to resolve. It's a frustrating feeling, identifying a problem but having no way to resolve it.

The feeling of frustration only grows when the yearning itself begins to metamorphosize. It shifts over time, a sad longing that begins to turn to frustration, then bitterness, and finally reaches a low, dark resentment. One he knows is irrational, but the thoughts come anyway — why would you leave him alone here? What's more important than he is? Doesn't he deserve to have you stay with him? Don't you realize he's sad when you're gone?

Didn't you once say you'd be there if he ever needed anything? That you'd help him in any way you could? How do you intend to do that when you're gone so often, huh?

These thoughts can only grow worse with time, and yet, by this point, it's not a matter of letting himself do anything — the thoughts just happen, flowing out without any reign, and even if he tries to summon some restraint, they just slip through. Spiteful, bitter, vengeful, selfish, childish thoughts, darker —

(If you're just going to use him to take care of your kid, shouldn't you treat him like a partner, too? Isn't that selfish of you to not give that to him? Doesn't he do a lot for you? Doesn't he deserve a reward?)

— and darker and darker —

(Maybe you do know how he feels. You're just pretending not to. You know. You're just using him. You're taking advantage of him.)

— and he lets his mind sink to its lowest point.

You're just like her.

Yes, the bitterness gets strong. A sense of entitlement, frustration, a sense of transgression. You just dump your kid off on him to help care for, and then leave? And then you have the audacity to give him money, gifts, so on and so on when your return from your long trips.

As if that's what he wants, as if he cares about things like that. It feels insulting, almost, he'd rather have nothing if you're not going to give him what he actually wants. It feels like some pathetic attempt at substituting, even if rationally, he knows you don't mean it that way.

But bitterness easily overrides rationality, and so maybe he can let himself feel that way. Let himself feel a bit mad about it. Let himself grind his teeth and clench his hand into a fist when you start talking about your next journey you're planning, even if he responds with perfect calmness in his voice, a skill that strikes him as increasingly remarkable when he's so so so damn mad on the inside.

And maybe, if the frustration becomes more than he can bear, if it overrides his sense and inhibition entirely, he can finally let himself act on it too…

[crazyunsexycool]

Another drabble thought

Heart’s Munition Steve coming down with a cold/the flu. He’s really trying to milk the situation but instead he’s getting doted on by Elijah because mom did this for me and it worked! Bucky and Sam are loving the situation.

hahahahahahahaha this is great!

I'm making this before Steve and Baby get together which I think

Nurse Elijah

The flu had hit Steve out of nowhere. It had been years since he'd been sick. Most of the time if he needed some type of medicine it was because he'd been stabbed or shot or got into a fight. But the flu? it was the last thing he'd expect.

The first few days you had been taking care of Steve. Making sure he was comfortable and had everything he needed. To be completely honest, Steve was loving the attention. But a few days in something happened. Steve started to get better but he wasn't ready to not have your attention so maybe he made himself look a bit more sick than he was. This idea backfired though because instead of having more one on one time with you he got someone else to watch over him.

Elijah.

"Mom did this with me and it helped." Eli held up a glass for Steve.

"What is it?"

"It's salt water. Mom makes me gargle and it helps."

Steve gives Eli a side eye but the young boy just holds up the glass.

"C'mon it's gonna get cold."

"Fine." Steve mumbles before doing what Eli told him too. "Hmm, my throat does feel better, thanks bub."

"You're welcome. Now go to bed."

"But I just woke up." Steve says amusedly.

"Not to sleep but to rest. It's the only way you'll feel better."

"But I just did the water thing."

Elijah crosses his arms over his chest and furrows his brows, the corners of his lips pulled down. "If you're sick you need to rest. Mom makes me rest all the time."

"Ok, I'll lay down."

"I'll be back in a little bit." Eli says before running off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

All day long Elijah kept going into Steve's room. Sometimes he had soup and something to drink and other times he had medicine. Bucky and Sam couldn't get enough of Elijah taking care of Steve. They would even give Eli more pointers on how to better take of 'sick' Steve. You had told Bucky how Steve was better but was trying to milk the situation just for more attention. Bucky took that information and ran with it. Sam was also in on it and even went out and got things Steve didn't even need.

Sam and Bucky were in Steve's room talking over some plans they had when Eli walked in with some chicken soup.

"Here's dinner."

Steve takes the bowl out of Elijah’s hand carefully before pulling him up to sit beside him.

“Thank for looking out for me bubs. I think I’m feeling a whole lot better now.”

“I told you all those things mom did would work.” Eli says rather proudly.

“You’re right. They did work. You did a great job, it means a lot that you took care of me today.”

“Mama said you’d feel better faster if I helped you.”

Bucky and Sam smirk both of them aware of your plan. You walk in just at that moment a knowing smile on your face as Steve realizes what you’ve done.

“You sneaky little minx.”

You start laughing while sitting at the edge of the bed.

“I think you were the sneaky one. But you got the best care ever.”

“That I did.”

[new-tella-us]

How would the boys react to Mika being pregnant? Would they know before her (I feel like James would) and what kind of fathers do you think they’d be?

Well they would all be happy by default. It seems to be in the succubus instinct to REALLY wanna further your lineage so, naturally they would all want this on a genetic level.

However. Mentality always beats genetics. Let's go into that.

If any guy could know that a girl was prego before the girl herself, James would in fact be that guy. I think of all of them he would be the most.... pleased? I guess? I feel like that's not the right word but happy isn't the word I'm looking for either. He was the crowned prince. Other than ruling the kingdom well, having an heir was probably the highest priority he was taught. Plus he does dedicate a good chunk of his life to making sure his brothers are happy and successful in life. It would be natural for him to be a family man.

Though as a father, one hurdle he would force himself to get over is his emotional distance. He knows that he's not the most emotionally open and that was fine when it was just Mika and she seemed to understand but he's aware that his judgmental nature and distance would negatively affect his child so he would work that out to give his child the best chance of a good life. On a positive though? That child is gunna be educated as fuck! They are going to read higher level books as a teen than most people do ever. Easy ticket to a stable life.

I feel like Erik would have a feeling but also after the events of Demon War, he would be a little doubtful. He says himself that he would be happy if Mika was the mother of his child so he would happy with the pregnancy, his only concern would be for Mika's health and safety. I kinda joked about this in a previous post but because of the whole "demons are born with tiny horns" thing, that could probably scrape up Mika's insides especially since -if the kid is born with horns like Erik's or his mother's- that shit is coming out of the sides of their head. So O U C H.

As a father though, I can see Erik being very doting possibly to the point of mildly spoiling the child. He wants to give his child all the love and freedom his mother denied him, giving them the opportunity to do any activity they could ever want regardless of how it seems socially. He would essentially be raising his opposite for better and for worse.

Sam would absolutely NOT be able to tell. He probably didn't even think it was possible. He would be shocked but happy. I don't think he sees himself as the fatherly type but he's more than willing to learn. His concerns will change based on what route you're on. If you're on the King Sam route, his concern would be the race of the child. Sure Mika was turned into a succubus but how much of that changed her genetic makeup? Would she make succubus children or human children? And, the more concerning part, how would the kingdom react? They barely accepted Mika as their queen, they would NOT accept human children as their future rulers. Sam would rather not have to fight his entire kingdom, yknow?

By contrast, if you went down the default good route, Sam couldn't give less of a fuck about race if you paid him to. Now his concern is how he's gunna raise the kid. Royalty gives you structure, without that he has to freestyle.

As a father, I can see Sam as kind and soft but only with his wife and daughters. Yes I said "daughters", I made a mother's day drawing that shows Mika and Sam having twin girls. (So like double OUCH on the birth for Mika) Sam is your typical overprotective dad type. He wants his girls to be safe so he will protect them with his life. He would also teach his daughters self defense so they can protect themselves once they're grown.

Matthew would also not be able to tell. If Mika gets morning sickness, Matthew would be more concerned that she's caught something from work. Though when he is told, he will be SQUEALING with happiness. He would absolutely be the happiest of the five to be a dad. It's far beyond "biological need", he genuinely wants to be a parent. Mika is not lifting a goddamn finger for any of the chores or physical work. Hell even Simon Tabby causes fewer issues to not stress Mika out.

As a father, he would be fun loving. His child would never be bored or feel neglected as long as he's around..... However, like Mother, like Son. It's not that Matthew is anywhere near as crazy as Aezera but he would probably share a few of her values on family and magical education. He would prioritize the child's happiness and self expression while also making sure that they are well trained and well educated especially in magic. After all, even if the child doesn't show immediate promise, he had a runt phase too. They just need some training. This is the exact way Aezera raised Matthew, with Matthew just being not invasive or horribly controlling. Definitely an improvement, still room to improve though.

I would say "Damien is a mindreader" but he isn't at this point! YAY! So he might not figure it out until he's told. Now, I think Damien would be happy, however after seeing a video from Michaela, I realize he would have more of a nuanced response. His anxiety would take hold as he questions if they even have the physical and emotional resources to care for a child. On top of that, race comes back as an issue but it's now the opposite. Has Damien's DNA changed when he was truly turned human or would he produce demon kids? How would two humans deal with human-demon hybrids? He would be terrified of any of his kids gaining his mind reading seeing how miserable it made him and he would probably also be concerned from Mika's safety with the horns thing again. However, when his anxieties calm down, he would show more of that happiness. The best part of the next nine months would be Mika and Damien getting to set up their child's room and fill it with everything new parents need.

As a father, I think Damien would be a sweet but stern dad. Teaching his kids morals and kindness so they can grow up to be empathetic people. As much as his last interaction with his mother broke his heart, from how heartbroken he was we can tell that Damien's mother had a close relationship with Damien once. I think he would try to reform that relationship with his child and mimic all the things he loved about his mother hoping that his kid could view him the way he viewed his mother. Where I think his fault would lie would be his slightly possessive nature and his PTSD. That would extend to his children and may make him stifle them in an attempt to keep them away from danger, real and perceived. Though an honest conversation, either from the child or Mika, would help.

[cowboydisaster]

The Fire In Your Eyes

part VIII: horseshoe overlook iv

pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

word count: 15.2k

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

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

beta read by @margowritesthings

warnings: violence, death, minors dni, 18+

series extras

SERIES MASTERPOST

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shake your head no, “Uh-uh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

— — — — 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"G'night, Star."

— — — — 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He follows your gaze, thinking for a moment. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oblivious, Arthur rides up to the blanket before dismounting. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

— — — —

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm gonna make sure she slows." 

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

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

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

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

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

"Just nervous." You admit. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You guys got the money?" He asks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No!" John yells back. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Arthur!-" John gasps.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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[fixfoxnox]

Summary: Just a short little thing I wanted to write since my back is hurting again (which naturally means Roach's back is hurting again). This is technically a mini-sequel to Replacement, which I wrote a long while ago, but you don't have to read that to understand this! Enjoy!

"This is it," Roach groaned, feeling pain shoot up his spine as he shifted, "I'm done for. I love you both, split my items amicably. Make sure the worlds best son mug goes to Eddie, just to see Johnathan pout about it."

There was a small laugh from next to him, "You're not dying bug."

"Besides," Ghost chimed in from the other half of the room, "you wouldn't be dead for long, I'll drag your ass up from hell. No getting rid of me that easy." He didn't look up from his stack of paperwork.

"You would force me back i to a world of suffering and pain?!"

"You're being dramatic," Soap chimed. He took Roach's hand in his own, rubbing circles onto his skin with his thumb. "You've just thrown your back out again. Dr. Sanchez said you'll be fine in a day or two."

"My own boyfriend, doubting the depth of my suffering." Roach threw his head to the side dramatically, only to groan again as the movement jostled his back.

The heating pack he had on was helping a bit, but it couldn't erase all of the pain he was feeling. Not even the Tylenol could really help with that. It was just something his body would have to deal with and fix on its own. Just as it had caused the problem on its own.

On the bright side of things, Roach had the privilege of being doted on by his darling boyfriends for a few days. The two hadn't been willing to leave his side after his rather dramatic moment of his back trying to kill itself.

He'd just bent down to pick up his dropped keys, then the moment he'd started to rise back up and there had been a shooting burning pain down his spine. The pain continued on, flooding down through his legs until it felt like it was at the tips of his toes. His knees had given out then, and before he'd even had time to realize that for himself, both Soap and Ghost were at his side checking on him.

"Why do I have to have these issues?" Roach gave a whine, finally done with his dramatics. At least for the moment. "I'm not that old yet!"

Soap gave another laugh and moved into Roach's side, cuddling up to him with his head on his chest. "You know thats not why your back does this."

Roach gave a huff, "You get hit by a car one time and now you've got to deal with lifelong back problems." He shook his head, "Sick and fucking twisted."

Soap gave a small hum and Roach knew the man was likely agreeing with him. After all, Roach knew that Soap had his own issues and recurring pain with his shoulder. He remembered well enough the panic he'd felt when Soap had taken a bullet to the shoulder. Then the panic that came after that when months after healing Soap had a few days where even lifting the limb slightly would cause him pain.

Ghost didn't say anything, but Roach figured the man dealt with much of the same issues as them. He was certainly better at hiding it, but Roach always noticed when he was favoring one leg over the other or would give a wince under that mask because he'd stepped a bit wrong.

It was part of the job. Roach knew that, and he knew that they were all lucky to have only those slight problems, rather than lost limbs like Alex and Jackson, or worse like the many men he'd seen fall in battle before him.

He gave a final sigh, deciding that it would be more beneficial to just enjoy the warmth of his boyfriend next to him rather than complaining further. He needed to take the opportunity to relax anyway. And what an opportunity this was.

Bonus:

"So are you guys gonna blow my back out like you did the last time I was bedridden or what?"

[kiame-sama]

Yandere OC's during your darling's pregnancy

Walter Woods;

"I'm so excited for this next chapter in our lives. Do you think they'll be interested in medicine?"

- Walter is thrilled to have this next part of your lives together. He is happy to spend countless hours thinking of names and planning out early life activities to do as a family. It is clear that Walter is going to give you the best at home care and he will try to do everything in his power to keep you happy.

- Whatever you are craving or wanting, he will happily go get it for you regardless of what time it is. He has all of the maternity items you will need to be comfortable during your pregnancy. Walter is a doctor and will be obsessing over your health at all times, you should just let him because it is his way of showing his love.

Evan Rothchester;

"Fuck, I don't think I'm gonna survive this."

- Brings a whole new meaning to the saying "we're pregnant". Evan is so stressed over the pregnancy that he is worrying himself sick. Odds are this is the first time since his father's death that anyone has seen him this distressed and emotionally worn.

- Don't get him wrong, he's thrilled that you're pregnant, but there is so much to worry about when it comes to pregnancies. Blood and family means more than anyone would admit when it comes to mafia families. Evan had been the sole head of the family since his father was killed, now he is the patron of the family. He has to emotionally mature rather quickly, so the stress is getting to him.

Carlos Vargas;

"Kid's gonna grow up with a zoo for a family."

- Carlos is excited to have a family with you and wants to make sure that the fur-children are nice to the human-child. He knows the kid will grow up feeding elephants and watching their father lounge with the tigers. There is little doubt the house serval, Mimis, will be able to resist the baby crib and will be the most excellent babysitter to the infant.

- The elephants somehow know you are pregnant and the matriarch will be using her trunk to examine your belly often. The dogs will sit with their noses to your stomach and guard you fiercely. Carlos is keen to remind you that even if you guys can't get to a hospital quickly due to living in a wildlife rescue, he can still help you deliver your infant.

Jackson Locklear;

"I couldn't be happier!"

- Jackson loves the idea of having a kid with you, being able to teach the kid about his culture. It does make him sad to not have his tribe with him to share in the birth of his child, but he will do what he can to stay strong. There is a chance Jackson could fix things with his community through his child, but all he wants is for the kid to be happy and helpful.

- Jackson will make whatever you are craving and is the kind of guy to give you a massage and take care of you every day. He will be sure to get you to your appointments and checkups on time. Whatever he can do to help you, he will.

Orion Medici;

"Our very own star. They are destined for great things."

- Orion is proud as a blackbird and will be so thrilled to meet his child. No doubt he will try to keep the family naming theme going, so expect a bunch of star themed names for your kid. Since Orion is a powerful and proud man, he will no doubt hold his child to high standards and will do what he can to give them the world.

- You are going to have to be the one to scold or punish your child because, in Orion's eyes, your kid can do nothing wrong. He will never oppose to how you want to raise your child, but he will spoil them and always dote on them. Even if he is wealthy, he will insist to be part of his child's life and let them know he loves them.

Hahne Yamare;

"Do you think they'll want to learn about the mafia?"

- Hahne is only joking... Kinda. He won't expose your kid to the mafia until they grow up a bit more. Sometimes he will bring home work, but he will still do what he can to spare the kid from dealing with anything illegal.

- Whatever you may be craving or you may want, he will make sure to get it for you as soon as he can. He may have to leave you alone for a bit to do his job, but his boss- Evan- is quite understanding about the whole thing. You can always bet that Hahne is going to be doting to you the entire pregnancy.

Amira Woods;

"Okay, I scheduled the consultation appointment for between my Business in Environment lecture and my Finance IV class."

- Have no fear, Amira has amazing planning and organizational skills. She will be excited to plan out appointments and classes, but she may be a bit more stressed during this time. Amira is working quite hard on her education, but she sees you and the life you carry as far more important. She won't choose if she doesn't have to, but she will always choose you.

- Amira will likely call her big brother for help because she trusts him and knows he will drop everything to help if he isn't working. She wants to be present for everything she can be present for, but please try to be flexible since she is balancing education and parental rolls.

Kaya Braziel;

"The most rare and stunning flower in the garden."

- Kaya is a bit new to this whole parent thing, but she will happily face it head on because it means she can spend more time with you and help raise the life growing inside of you. The house will change practically overnight as she puts the dangerous or toxic plants in the locked greenhouse and makes sure the plants in the house are safe or out of reach. Every corner of the house will be baby-proofed long before it needs to be.

- Many of the names Kaya suggests will be plant names or have some kind of horticulture importance and meaning. Every book on properly taking care of you and the infant will be read cover to cover. Expect for Kaya to be quite the mother-hen about the whole situation.

Julie Winter;

"How is our little clay-pot in the kiln?"

- Julie is excited and draws great inspiration from the prospect of raising a family with you. She will swoon and coo over your stomach, talking to it frequently while praising you endlessly. More of her recent pieces have to do with maternity and the potential that new life carries, some of her most abstract ideas yet!

- When the kid is born they are likely going to be a very creative soul as any art material they could want is right in their own home. She will likely suggest names more common in European countries as opposed to artists or famous people. She wants the kid to make their own name have meaning instead of being assigned meaning due to relation with famous artists or otherwise.

Hada Yamare;

"Goodness, our little shark certainly is restless today!"

- Hada absolutely LOVES talking to your stomach and she fondly refers to the life inside of you as a 'little shark'. It is her kind of endearment and affection as she adores sharks in their many forms. She wants to talk about a water birth as there are many benefits to it as opposed to a normal birth, but she recognizes that it is completely up to you and not her.

- Hada goes into extreme protection mode when it comes to you and she will certainly send any hecklers or general jerks right into the hospital. She will hover and try to take good care of you even if she is a little lacking in personal space with you. Good luck trying to do anything without her insisting that she can take care of it for you even if it is something simple like watering plants.

[thottyimagines]

I just randomly came up with this idea about the jonins being sick/hurt and there s/o taking care of them and I want to hear how you think they would act 🤭

(I know everyone says this but I truly love your work🩵🩵🩵)

Thank you!! I appreciate hearing it each and every time.

SICK JONINS + CARETAKER S/O:

Kakashi is so, so pathetic. You'll simply have to try to keep in mind it's a wild show of trust that he turns into a big baby about being sick, considering his hospital routine is well-known to be "escape at all costs and lick wounds in private," no matter how battered he is. But with his sweet, sweet s/o, he wants to be taken care of. He wants to be pet nicely and have his s/o make nice, consoling noises agreeing that he's very sick and very brave. And he won't say it, but he'd like to be held.

Gai is a model patient, but only after his s/o has beaten it into his thick skull that he's only making it worse for himself in the long run by refusing the rest he needs to heal, and, most unyouthfully of all, it hurts their feelings terribly when he won't let them help. He cries big, shiny tears.

Kurenai is kind of like a wounded beast when she's in pain or discomfort. She'd rather be left alone for the most part, so she's very low-maintenance. Her s/o can leave her offerings of soft, warm foods and maybe even braid her hair back so it isn't sticking to her sweaty face, but she'd rather not be touched or spoken to. They may, however, read quietly in the corner in the same room as her.

Asuma, like Kakashi, is also kind of a baby about it. He'd like to be doted on. As the Hokage's son, he expects it, even. He's even worse to deal with than Kakashi, though, because when he's sick or injured and recuperating, his s/o won't let him smoke. So he's rude because he's going through some light withdrawals and whiny because he's not feeling well. He's...lucky they love him a lot.

Bonus:

Genma is easy. When he's not feeling well or in pain, he just wants to hibernate with his s/o by his side. Considering he even purchased a bed larger than the twin-sized one he used until he met them just so they could sleep with him, it'd be pretty rude to refuse. The s/o will inevitably get sick.

Anko pretends she's fine and gruffly turns away any doting unless she absolutely can't refuse. She likes it, secretly, but being taken care of used to make her sniffly and strange until she got used to it.

[goddess-aelin]

Antics

Made for Rowaelin Month Day 20: Drunken antics

@rowaelinscourt

Masterlist

Word count: 1k

Warnings: drinking, drunkenness

It all began when Rowan insisted Aelin needed a night out, something he absolutely should not have done. She had been working so hard in the year since the war, never taking a day off and doing her best to attend to the needs of every single resident of Terrasen. Until yesterday, when she almost half collapsed from exhaustion.

Rowan took it upon himself while she was resting to cancel all of her meetings for the following two days and adamantly insisted that Lord Darrow not speak to her the entire time. The latter alone would make her feel loads better.

All the while, Rowan played the part of doting husband. To anyone else, it just looked like he was taking care of his sick wife. But to those of fae heritage, he knew they could see the thin rope he was dangling from, fae instincts riding him hard, just moments away from stabbing someone if they even dared to come near his mate.

But that was okay, Rowan thought, since he got to lounge in bed with his mate all day. To his surprise, Aelin didn’t put up that much of a fuss about not working, something that was actually very concerning to him. When he said as much, she simply said that she’d rather be spending the day with her handsome yet overbearing mate than a bunch of stuffy old men. He wasn’t sure if he should’ve taken that as a compliment or not.

Once the end of the first day rolled around, Aelin was itching for something to do, he could tell. She had already read through the stack of books that he brought her and snacked away on enough cake that even she said she couldn’t possibly eat any more. And that was when Rowan decided it was time for a night out, just the two of them.

He knew that if they left through the front door, the guards would insist upon accompanying them, Aedion and Darrow would berate them otherwise. But Rowan didn’t want that. He wanted it to be just the two of them, a date of sorts. He could also tell that Aelin’s eyes lit up when he mentioned sneaking out of the castle, handing her a dark cloak and telling her they were going on an adventure. An adventure which ended with them in a fairly run-down bar, drinking the night away.

Rowan had a fairly high tolerance for alcohol so by the end of the night, he was barely tipsy. Aelin, on the other hand, not so much. If anyone would ever mention it to her, she would deny it to her last breath, but Aelin was a lightweight. And this delighted Rowan. Very, very, much. His Fireheart didn’t get to be the carefree young woman she was almost ever, so if he could give her this small slice of fun, of what life would have been like without a war, then his job was done.

And this was how he found himself half-walking, half-carrying the almost dead weight of his mate up the dusty road to the castle. There was absolutely no sneaking back in in their state, his large form supporting the stumbling and babbling Queen. Aelin typically had a lot to say on a normal day and when she was drunk? It was like a floodgate was opened into her brain. Anything she thought would make its way out of her mouth at some point, no matter the content. Rowan loved it. He loved her.

“You’re such a han-some buzzard. Di’you know that?”

With amusement, he nodded his head. “Only because you’ve told me 20 other times tonight.”

“Psh, I’m jus speakin the trusth.”

“Mmhm. And you, my love, are very, very drunk.”

Her contentment quickly turned into dramatic outrage. “No! No, I’m not! You’re the one who’sh dru–.” The statement was quickly ended by a stumble.

“See?” Rowan looked pointedly at her.

“Shut up, Buzzard. Jus’ carry me, damnit.”

“If I carry you, though, you’re going to fall asleep. And before you do that, we absolutely need to get some food into you. Otherwise, you’re going to wake up and regret every decision you made tonight.”

Aelin stopped walking and crossed her arms. “Hmmph. You’re a mean buzzard. You’re not my mate ‘nymore.”

Rowan chuckled at her grumpy expression. “I’m not sure that’s quite how this works but, sure.” He started walking away, knowing that as soon as he did, she would try to follow.

And follow she did, albeit crookedly and looking like a baby fawn who just found their legs. Abruptly, she stopped and stomped her foot. “Why can’t you just carry me?”

“If I carry you, are you going to fall asleep?”

She kicked her foot through the dirt guiltily. “No.”

He chuckled and walked closer to her. “Fine, I’ll carry you.”

A smile lit up her face and she stretched her arms out to the side to embrace him. But Rowan had other ideas to carry her, bending down and hauling her over his shoulder, her hair falling down his back and her ass in his face.

“Hey!! Put me downnn!” Aelin’s voice was a screech in his ear, probably loud enough to wake up the entire city, though definitely loud enough to catch the attention of the guards standing by the palace gates.

“Hey! You there!” Both guards turned toward Rowan, spears pointed. Rowan quickly pulled his hood back, revealing the silvery hair only a few in the entire world had.

“Your Majesty! I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize it was you!” The poor guard looked frightened, probably ready to throw up at the prospect of what punishment he’d get for pointing a spear at the King and Queen. “Is she…is she okay?”

“No worries. She’s fine, just dramatic.”

“Hey!” she cried.

“Now if you’ll excuse us, I have to get this one,” he lifted the shoulder that Aelin was flung over, “back to the castle before she wakes up the entire city.” Indeed, Aelin was now jauntily singing a sailors tune, her voice loud enough over the unsavory parts to make the younger guard blush a deep tomato red. Both of the guards simply nodded and cleared the way for Rowan to enter.

“Hey where’r we goin?” Their path to the kitchens, at least, stopped Aelin from singing long enough to give his ears a tiny, much needed break.

“To the kitchens, remember? You need food.”

“Nooooooo, I sleep!” She started wiggling violently, causing Rowan to almost drop her when trying to set her down. He huffed a laugh. If he knew taking care of drunk Aelin would’ve been like taking care of a child, he never would’ve suggested a night out.

Who was he kidding, he’d deal with anything his Fireheart threw his way if it meant she was happy.

He took her hand, trying to pull her toward the kitchen, enticing her by naming all of her favorite foods. She tugged back with a surprising strength for someone who was heavily intoxicated.

“No, I sleep!”

“You need food, Fireheart.”

She put her finger to his lips, “Shhhh.” With surprising dexterity, she wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head on his shoulder. “No food, only sleep.”

He chuckled, once again trying to get her to relent. But unfortunately, drunk Aelin was just as stubborn as sober Aelin. “You will regret it tomorrow morning if you don’t get some food in your stomach.”

He felt rather than heard Aelin’s scoff. “Sleep is food. I sleep.” He could tell by the pauses between words that she was just seconds away from falling asleep on his shoulder. “Dream of meat. Meat on a stick!” Her laughter was maniacal. Yet a few seconds after it began, it abruptly stopped and he could hear her breathing even out.

Rowan let out a sigh. Looks like he wasn’t getting her to eat something tonight. Gently, he maneuvered her so he was carrying her in his arms again, this time bridal-style. She settled in, nuzzling his shoulder and curling her hands between their chests. The sight was so cute it almost made him stop in his tracks. He settled for a gentle kiss on her forehead and made his way back up to their suite.

To Rowan’s dismay, Aelin woke up before him the next morning, fit as a fiddle and ready to start her day. Rowan, on the other hand, had a splitting headache. Though it hurt, he just shook his head with a smile and was grateful that his Fireheart was happy.

A/N: I had at least two other fics before this that I was planning on writing but didn’t get to do keep an eye out!

Tagging:

@cretaceous-therapod @morganofthewildfire @tomtenadia @live-the-fangirl-life @charlizeed @violet-mermaid7 @euphoric-melancholyy @kritical24 @rubyriveraqueen @dealfea @wellofnothing @ayaashryver @moonknight-spector @leiawritesstories @whoever-you-choose-to-love @holdthefrickup @heirofflowers @thecrispypotatochip @shanias-world @rowanaelinn @bruiseonthefaceofhumanity @hanging-from-a-cliff @fantacysoup @swankii-art-teacher @thegreyj @fromthelibraryofemilyj @westofmoon @lovely-dove-zee @books4eva04 @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @backtobl4ck @dreamer-133 @elentiyawhitethorn @writtenonreceipts @shyvioletcat @aelinchocolatelover @captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship @athena127 @highqueenofelfhame

[frozenmoonshine]

Headcanon - Kokonoi Hajime as your boyfriend

I've kept these HCs in my notes for months, never daring to share them, but it seems their time to shine has finally come, so... enjoy! ^^

Fluff; No reader pronouns/gender mentioned

☆ ‌Lord help you both when you start developing feelings for each other! He'll first be so skeptical that you only want him for his money, like almost every other person in his life ever, but he'll also try to "buy" your affection if you're not showing that you're into him as much as he is into you. (Yes, he contradicts himself, leave him be!)

☆ You contstantly feel like you'll never know when he might leave you for/cheat on you with Inupi, cause you're so damn sick and tired of hearing about him 24/7! You haven't even met the guy yet, and you already hate him out of jealosy! (and it only gets worse once you see how doting he actually is over Koko!)

☆ ‌But Hajime is loyal. If he's dating you, it's because he genuinely has feelings for you. He might subconsciously compare you to Akane sometimes, but never openly, he'd never tell you to be more like her, or anything else like that, he's respectful. He just can't help but wonder occasionally what his life would have been like if Akane lived, and the two of them were dating. He gets over that thought as soon as your relationship becomes stable and he can fully trust you.

☆ ‌Another positive thing about Hajime is that he's deeply, fervently passionate when he loves someone; actually, all of his emotions come out like gigantic tidal waves and flood everything in front of them, even if he hides them behind that sarcastic grin. He'll smother you with affection and professions of love, only if you let him! He might come off as overly dramatic sometimes, but he means every single thing he says, does, and shows.

☆ ‌Kisses you whenever he gets a chance, and when he doesn't get the chance, he steals those kisses! He's very touchy-feely, and not afraid to hold your hand or hug you in public. Especially if he catches other people giving you the eye, he'll make sure to show them you're his. He's not exactly jealous (a lie, he's just too proud to show it), but "territorial and protective" - what's his is his alone!

☆ ‌If you have any problem whatsoever, he'll literally go to hell and back, and bend over backwards, and move mountains and dry out lakes, and do whatever he can, even the impossible, to solve it for you or help you, and he doesn't care what happens to him in the process!

☆ ‌His favorite food is your homemade food, like, literally whatever you cook, as long as you cooked it for him! He's such a sappy softie, but would rather die than openly show how mushy, and fuzzy, and warm it makes him feel on the inside (he hides those feelings with his trademark bleps), whenever you do something specificially for him! Especially cook! So, make sure to prepare at least 3x as much food as you normally would, cause this lanky financial genius can eat!

☆ ‌He's also super romantic, so expect sunset/sunrise watching dates, Ferris Wheel rides (and kisses at the top, ofc), flowers, cuddles (lots and lots of cuddles), post-it sticky notes with cute messages everywhere around the house/apartment... but only once he's comfortable enough in your relationship. It can also take a lot of time for him to relax and be himself fully, so be patient with him, he's been through a lot, ok?

☆ ‌He can get random bouts of melancholy and self-doubt, and he will bury himself in work to forget about it, so make sure to check up on him, reassure him how much you love him and how much he means to you, and remind him that he's worthy as a person, not money making machine, so that he doesn't spiral into burnout and insecurities.

[meowww-ffxiv]

After... After everything. After Liios remembered the exact circumstances of his and Ptolemy's violent exile from home, and the patricide and kinslaying Liios committed to make it possible.

Ptolemy gingerly asked him if he was...alright? He knew it was almost inappropriate a word. Never mind that the reason it happened at all was because of Ptolemy himself. Liios made him swear to not be sorry about it, but growing up the way he did would always make a part of Ptolemy know, rather than think, that everything would be far less complicated and easier for his entire clan if he had either succumbed to his disease early or not have been born at all.

Perhaps he should not have asked his older brother. Liios looked at him, stricken, as he always did whenever Ptolemy started feeling the bitterness of that old sentiment claw its way back.

But what Liios said was, "Do you remember when we gained our Echo? Not that we knew what it was at the time."

"Yes," Ptolemy replied.

It had been during a rare starshower. Ptolemy had loved the stars since he was a child, and at that time, bedbound and feeling like death as he was, he had begged Liios to let him see it. And Liios had somehow snuck him, carried him, out of their camp and up a cliff.

Looking back, perhaps the other hunters had let them go in the hopes that this was going to be it. That they would get rid of the weakest link in their survival in a merciful way. But the twins had made it to the cliff and back, and as they sat there on a cold boulder watching that star shower, Ptolemy had heard a voice.

Their first vision of the Echo was shared. They saw each other's lives through each other's eyes, their souls reflected.

Was it more bindings between them or an affirmation? Ptolemy wanted to ask. But Liios said, "I never knew they told you to your face that they hope you would die sooner so as to ease the burden of food and drink on the hunters. Our resources were scant, but not that scant."

The reminder clawed at Ptolemy's heart. More so, the memory of how his own father had said no words of contradiction to the clansmen's sentiment. Or that none dared said any such thing when Liios was anywhere within earshot.

"What good would it have done to tell you?" Ptolemy said. "You had quite the temper back then. Especially when it comes to me."

"I was the only one who had any sort of concern for you," Liios said. "Father doted on you, they said. And I suppose he did, for a time. But he caved to others' complaints. I know why they complained, but still. They stood aside and watched their own siblings be thrown to the river when they were deemed too sick to be of use to the tribe and hated me for resisting the same cruelty to my own. But that's not your problem, nor mine."

"Most of us didn't have a choice," Ptolemy heard himself say.

"We always had a choice, even when others prevent us from making it," Liios replied. "When we were ten, the chieftain-- our mother, was already thinking about it. At the very least, she said, your soul might nourish the clan's protectors. She gave me a whole solemn speech about it and everything. I ran to Father and begged him, and he begged her. It was why he took us from the village even before he knew we were boys. We were fortunate in that. But why must it have been fortune and the charity of our father, which dwindled away to nothing, that allowed you to survive?"

And then Ptolemy understood that though the shock of killing their father caused Liios to lose his memories of the event and haunted him until very recently, it was also their father that Liios hated the most.

Over something both of them probably knew was unfair. If their father had chosen Ptolemy, why did he not keep choosing him? Because once he ceased to, it revealed itself to be a sunk cost fallacy all this time.

Did Liios care? No. Ptolemy saw it in his brother's eyes, unspoken. No one is as insane about this as you are, Ptolemy thought. No one is as insistent or devoted as you are about me. Even I told you--

"I know," Liios said. "I know. I made quite a mess of everything. I'm sorry."

"If you are sorry, where will that leave me?" Ptolemy replied.

"At the doorstep of the world, free to go where you wish. Free to live, to want, to love, without wretches in your ear telling you that you were this or that or a waste of anything," Liios answered instantly. "Free to choose your own fate, with the strength to make demands and have them be met, to speak and be heard. To not have to beg your brother for what we both thought might be a last wish, to make as many wishes as you want upon as many stars as you want."

This was what Liios had bought with his blood price and the lives of their clan, he did not say. There was a cold, almost heartless certainty to his voice and his face. They told him this would be the price if he committed to the course, and he made it. So their blood painted the snow.

But the moment passed. Liios closed his eyes. Tired. "You, who are my everything. My brother. Greater to me than any pride or joy," he said. "Tell me this, and tell me true. Had your journey been good? Had it been worthwhile?"

[mintys-musings]

ik yandere stuff isn't everyones thing. esp the more brutal parts to it. but i find it interesting to explore the obsession... so ig maybe a similar way to how izumi acts sometimes? (because wasn't he supposed to be just a tsundere but the writers threw in some yandere tendencies into him?)

idk. i just think it's interesting to see how characters behave when they feel a certain spark for someone that leads them down to infatuation. especially if their feelings arent reciprocated or they are too aware of their actions. examples below.

just to be safe uhhh cw some stalking

like anzu being so obsessed with a producer that she switches her whole schedule to line up with theirs and sabotages projects sometimes so they gotta hang out and fix her fuck ups. and even when they're berating her because they're tired of her antics, she's crying tears of joy because wow to have theyre full attention like this is a blessing!!! i think she'd be the type to have a little shrine of shit she's picked up from the producer. empty pens, failed proposal papers, a paper cup thats stained slightly with coffee— all sentimental. acts like a doting wife, much to the annoyed producer's dismay.

or makoto feeling conflicted as he uses his access to the info bureau to get info on a voice actor he likes and trying to get cast in the same game— or constantly spending his time in places he knows they frequent for a chance meeting. he's been a victim of izumi's infatuation so it feels wrong, but he can't help it. he's too scared of actually approaching them so he builds this elaborate delusion by just sitting in the same general area as the person. he orders what they order. and he mentally pretends to have a conversation with them as they eat. he uses audio editors to splice together clips of them saying "I love you, Makoto ♡" among other things and listens to them on loop (Check Check One Two by KurageP vibes) the odd feelings he has on this whole ordeal haunt him. every time he creates a new sound file he feels sick. why is he like this? they dont even know makoto exists. he'd like to stop but their voice is so sweet...

mayoi.... well... he's always watching from the vents anyway. now he's just making sure things are okay for his beloved. he acts as both a phantom that sends chills down their spine as they don't know if they're being watched AND as a guardian angel who leaves trinkets, snacks, notes, etc. not too different from how he is already actually. he just is more scared. he already hates his own intrusive thoughts that struggle to stay in. he doesn't want his beloved to hear them especially. so he's content watching them from afar. though sometimes he gets cold feet that day because of the creeping guilt + the looming fear of getting caught and being labelled as a creep and avoided by his beloved is too much. if, however, his beloved's heart is taken by another, im sure he'd spiral into a depression considering he'd be too cowardly to make himself known. he'd just wish them the best as there's nothing else that he can do without bravery, but anyone who sees mayoi notices he's a bit listless.

hiyori being much more forward in his affections than everyone else, showering the apple of his eye in gifts and love galore. he's used to getting what he wants if he has a say. while even in this state i think all idols would be able to take rejection, hiyori would be hit the hardest and be in denial for a while. his gift giving wouldn't falter and his compliments still are never ending, but the more they affirm that "yeah no... id rather not." he'd grow distant. maybe angry? he couldn't remain as such towards them though. in the end, he'd settle for just providing them with whatever they could possibly need and keeping a friendly distance. he still loves them. and it hurts they don't feel the same. but it would hurt infinitely more to have them hate him.

[rumble-aint-a-rumble-without-me]

Could you maybe do head cannons of the gang taking care of you when you’re sick? <3

A/N:  We love seeing soft greaser boys taking care of their sick and needy partners <3 thanks for requesting Nonny!

DARRY CURTIS

Darry’s a good doctor in the sense that he’s aware of what needs to be done and he knows how to do it

But his disposition is entirely different when he’s caring for you rather than his two brothers

With Pony and Soda, if they complain in anyway, Darry snaps back and will force them to take medicine and to do whatever needs to be done

With you, however, Dare tends to be as soft as he can possibly be

Quiet murmurs and gentle kisses pressed to your forehead as he softly asks you to take your medicine and drink your warm soup

Pony and Soda are honestly a little jealous of how gentle Darry is with you, but they know why the relationship is different and they’re alright with that

SODAPOP CURTIS

Sodapop isn’t exactly the smartest when it comes to getting you healthy again but he makes up for it in effort

My baby boy will carry you around and bring you anything you could possibly want while you’re sick

He might try to get out of work early to come see you, he just wants to make sure you’re feelin alright

All the cuddles! So many cuddles from Soda when you’re sick and soft kisses to your temples

He’s not afraid of getting sick so don’t even try telling him that you don’t want to kiss him

My man wants kisses and you might as well give him kisses lest you have a pouty Sodapop

PONYBOY CURTIS

Ponyboy standing on your front porch, holding your missing homework from school and a few small flowers he grabbed on the way to your house

He’s a real sweetheart when it comes to you being sick 

Definitely offered to do your homework for you so you didn’t have to worry about it, Pony’s confident that he can do the work for both of you

Darry questions why homework is suddenly taking him longer, but Pony just shrugs him off and does the work <3 

He’s gonna hang around you, no matter how you’re feeling, and sit with you in your room

Pony’ll read to you too! Think Princess Bride style, he’ll sit by your bed and read and talk with you until he’s gotta go home

DALLAS WINSTON

Being honest, Dal sucks at taking care of you and doesn’t want to get sick so he’s nowhere near as physical with you when your sick

But it really depends on how sick you are on how Dally reacts!

Like if you’re just runny nose sick, Dally’s a little better at taking care of you

He’ll hold onto you and kiss your temples, softly ask every so often if you need anything

But that’s when he’s in a soft and caring mood-

If you’re really sick, like coughing, fever, stay-home-from-school sick; expect a phone call with get well wishes but Dally won’t show up to your house like Ponyboy would 

 JOHNNY CADE

Johnny will do his best? But honestly? This boy doesn’t know what to do unless you’ve got a runny nose, cough, or headache

Just imagine Johnny shyly offering you a box of tissues when you won’t stop sneezing

Like, isn't that just the cutest thing??

Trust me, he just really wants you to feel better and will do anything you ask!

Like if you want the schoolwork, he’s bringing it to your house and might even stick around for a while to do some of it with you

In general? Johnny’s a sweetheart here, doesn’t always know what to do, but willing to try!

  TWO-BIT MATHEWS

Two-Bit honestly doesn’t care whether you’re sick or not, he’s going to hang all over you and kiss you

His scatter-brained tendencies totally mean that he just straight up doesn’t realize your sick until someone says something

Like you could be coughing up a lung and Two-Bit would think maybe you just choked on air or something and gently pat your back

But he really means well, he’s super doting once he realizes you’re actually sick

Takes it upon himself to cheer you up and make you laugh with soft jokes and smiles, the occasional tickling if you’re up to it

If he ends up cuddling with you to “make you feel better”? He’s gonna end up asleep and you’ll fall asleep with him 

STEVE RANDLE

Once again, Steve’s got no idea what he’s supposed to be doing to make you feel better but that’s the way we like it, right guys?

Cause this means he’s gonna show up to your house, arms laden with the most random things you can think of in an attempt to make you feel better

Steve strongly believes that cuddling is an assured way to get you back in good health so just picture him wrapping around you from behind and placing a small kiss to your shoulder

He’s willing to do whatever will make you feel better faster so tell him whatever you need, whatever you want and he’s running to get it!

The boys, mainly Sodapop, will tease him for doting on you so much, but Steve doesn’t care

The sweet smiles and little kisses you give him as he delivers whatever it was you wanted makes up for all of the teasing and more <3

TIM SHEPARD

Okay, okay, just hear me out on this alright? Just trust me

Tim would take one look at you being sick, frown and refuse to sit anywhere near you because you have germs

Literally! I’m serious guys, you can’t tell me I’m wrong (Well, you can, but that would be a little rude

So like, Tim’s got his arm around you and you cough? My boy slowly pulls him arm off and steps to the side, crossing his arms over his chest and side-eyeing you

But, but, but, that’s the public part of how he feels about you bein’ sick, behind the scenes, however…

It’s pretty much the same (: although, if you’re the kind of sick where it’s hard to sleep and Tim finds you asleep somewhere in the house, he will bend over to press a soft kiss to your forehead with the cutest smile you’ll ever see  

  CURLY SHEPARD

Do not expect Curly to tease you any less when you’re sick than when you’re healthy, it’s just not going to happen guys; I mean, unless you’re like hospitalized sick or bed-ridden, Curly isn’t going to change anything really from how he acts

But at the same time? He gets super protective over you while you’re sick

So like, let’s set the scene here for you guys:

Curly’s got his arm around you with a smile, your head’s on his shoulders as you sleepily try to argue the fond banter he’s throwing your way and someone steps up on your side-

Curly is immediately shifting you to the other side, putting himself between you and the other person to make sure that sick little you can’t be possibly injured by anything

He’s a gentleman, alright? Our little southern boy!