#i dont think i have enough that it would look streaked i just have enough that my hair looks a bit ashy

[gunstellations]

double trouble

[hiddenbeks]

u ever just. think abt ur warden and the decisions u made in dao and realize they would not make some of the decisions you made. and then u have to replay the game all over again just to do that one (1) thing differently

[vagueconfusion]

i have enough white in my hair that i'm curious how it would look if i dyed it purple

[ryebread0605]

OMG I loved your Jamil sport smut you just wrote! Do you think I could request you write an idea similar to that, but with Leona instead? Leona in his spelldrive outfit is just so appealing to look at!! Thank you! :D

Leona in his spelldrive outfit rly makes me simp HARD like that man could step on me and I’d thank him ;)  

MINORS DNI

Despite just winning the game, a scowl cemented itself onto Leona’s face. The reason for it? That damn skimpy cheer uniform on you. Sevens he both loved and hated the fact that Crowley had it made for you, the only female cheerleader at the school. Sure, it showed off your body perfectly, but that meant that other men also got to see your curves. And by other men, he currently meant Chenya.

The cat beastman was practically hanging off of you, flirty compliments pouring out his mouth to you as you giggled in response. The lion beastman growled, only he should make you laugh like that and here he was watching the damn cat ignore his scent on you. Stomping over, he wrapped an arm around your waist protectively and glared at Chenya.

“Dont you have a team to be celebrating with?” Leona’s voice was harsh and the glare he sent Chenya’s way was sharp enough to kill. Unfortunately, the cat didn’t know when to keep his mouth shut and not taunt the predator.

“My bad, I guess you forgot to make sure your scent was on her~ here I thought she was single and for the taking~ it truly is your own fault little lion~” his teasing took immediate affect as the now very pissed off lion beastman hoisted you over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes and made a beeline for the locker rooms, all the while Chenya’s annoying laughter rung through his ears.

“Leona I can walk just fine! Put me down!” You huffed out, more than used to your boyfriend’s jealous streaks by this point and especially with Chenya being a little shit at times. The stall door of the shower room nearly fell off the hinges with how hard Leona slammed it shut.

“So you like it when other men ogle you, huh? Wanna be a little slut? Fine then, maybe I need to remind you who you belong to” a growl penetrated from deep within his chest as his eyes narrowed at you. You gasped as his rough hands tore the cheer uniform off of you, heat pooling in your cunt from just that one action alone.

He snarled as he looked at you, pinning you to the wall with a smirk. “Maybe I should let the team do a victory lap with you. Make you show which team you really cheer for”

Within what felt like a fraction of a second, his clothes were off too and the sudden feeling of his tip prodded your leaking entrance, him smirking at your flustered state before pushing in roughly. His hips met yours with such brutal speed, the sound of skin on skin and your loud moans echoing through the room.

“Careful dear,” he grunted out, “wouldn’t want them to come investigate the noise, now would we?” All you could do was shake your head in response, the knot in your stomach growing tighter and tighter. As you felt it about to snap, Leona suddenly stopped all movement, making you whine out in complaint.

“Did you really think I’d let you cum after what you did out there? I don’t reward *bad girls*. Now get on your knees and show me who you really belong to”

[with-my-calamitous-love]

I DONT LIKE ANYONE EXCEPT SOMETIMES YOU

shinso x reader

thoughts about how shinso would act in a relationship. same premise as the kirishima ver.

inspired by backburner

hitoshi shinso, who’s facetimes with you always run late into the night. you ramble on about your day while he hums in response, knowing that you know he’s not the talkative type. he never asks “how was your day?” he always says “tell me about your day.” because he really, truly wants to hear about your day. you could have cured a disease or simply just gotten out of bed, and he’d still want to hear every single detail simply because its from you.

hitoshi shinso, who loves to cook. only you're aware of it, because he doesn't always like sharing personal details with others, but you never complained- it just means more for you. you're always the first person that gets to try his food, though he claims you're not a very good critic. but you can't help it, everything he makes tastes so good. and with every compliment you shower him in, he'll hit you with a 'yeah, yeah, whatever.' and then next moment, make you more so you can always stay fed during long days at UA and long hours during hero-training. its his silent way of telling you he loves you.

hitoshi shinso, whose cats love you more than they love him. he has three triplets, a black british short hair, a siamese, and a grey ragdoll- pepper, lexi, and mustache- he absolutely hates the last name, but he had just adopted the kitten and you named it for its white streak right below its nose. he'll deny it forever, but he gets pouty and huffs in annoyance whenever he sees the cats run to you, even after he's fed and taken care of them for all of their lives. but he also cant deny the way his heart skips a beat whenever he seems them cuddled up with you on his bed, wearing one of his big t-shirts. it softens his heart in a way that nothing else does- your love fills his heart more strongly and more passionately than anything does.

hitoshi shinso, who is the closed-off, funny but quiet dickhead of his friend group. he's known for his out-of-pocket roasts at the right times and his nonchalant nature that contrasts with the loud, spunkiness of his multicolored-haired friends. but with you, he softens. the few times he's brought you along with him to movie night or training sessions, you've softened his heart enough for the love in him to seep out towards others as well. whenever you crack a joke, make someone else at the table smile, and draw laughs and happiness from their chests, a blush blooms across his cheeks. obviously, he fell for you, how could he not?

hitoshi shinso, who's favorite activity with you is your sunday-ritual. you'll wake up together, either in the same bed or over the phone, and bike down to the coast. you'll bug him about wearing a helmet, but he always complains that it ruins your hair. he'd never admit that its because he thinks you're absolutely adorable when you dote on him. afterwards he'll share a smoothie with you- he hates all the flavors except for mixed berry, which is the one he always insists on getting. he hates the the overpricing for what the product actually is, but loves the smile it puts on your face after a tiring bike-ride. and afterwards, you two will go back to either his of your place. his place if your parents aren't home, and his place when his parents are home, and binge watch a long t.v show of your choosing. he'll always complain that its stupid, poorly written or drawn out, but get pouty whenever you watch an episode without him. it's the one thing he looks forwards to at the end of a long week, drawn out with endless studies, training, and burnout. you're his safe place, and he needs it more than he'll admit.

hitoshi shinso, who somehow remembers every tiny detail about you. his mind works like gears, arranging formulas and deciphering codes, but the intellect of his mind makes you its priority. he remembers the way you pick your nails and cuticles when you have anxiety, and how placing his warm palm over yours soothes some of those thoughts. he remembers how prefer to tie your hair back during training but how you somehow always forget a hair tie- and he knows how you always give him a peck on his cheek once he shows off the one he's been keeping on his wrist for you. he remembers how you can't sleep without your nightly calls, and how he needs to hear your voice before he drifts of too- maybe more than you need it. he remembers the first day you met, the first thing he said to you, the first time he ever felt love for you. he remembers all of it and keeps it embedded in his heart. hitoshi shinso may seem like he hates everyone, but the one exception to that is you. and he'll remember that forever.

[kyoghurts]

"you're weird, girl. i like you."

ϑℓ . SHIMIZU KIYOKO/FEM!READER

synopsis. the closest you’ve come to attain the stars is through her soft eyes and saccharine lips, and the greatest gift the cosmos has given you was the opportunity to fall from the sky and into the arms of a girl whom you cannot live without. ( fluff | 2.4k wc )

notes & disclaimers. i am truly a sap. enjoy reading this abominable & tooth rotting flowery sapphic oneshot. (dont bother w the weird interests the reader has in this fic its for the plot ok + dont play the game i mentioned it is not recommended <3)

“please stop.” you hid your face with both of your palm, an exasperated sigh departing your lips — kiyoko shimizu with her sweet snicker in response, something that inevitably melts you on the inside.

she gifts you yet another imitation of one of your stupid lines from two years ago. long lashes of hers shining like specks of stars against the neon lights, lips tilted with a teasing smile. her slice of mint choco cake on the table a crescent empty and left forgotten, her focus solely on you and your reactions. “whatever you say, captain obvious. though you’re probably just trying to make up an excuse to see me.”

“ughh”

four years sounds so far for you, nostalgic in the way that you wouldn’t have imagined yourself outgrowing something that was once considered an inherent part of you, and now you’re reminiscing how flirtatious you were with your lovely girlfriend in a cafe, the night of the city wide awake, your memories flashing before you as if you were driving fast, the scenery so vivid yet fleeting all the same. you wouldn’t have imagined yourself falling so head over heels for a pretty girl until you blurted out the first thing that popped into your head, your flirty streak so prominent back in your sophomore year.

“that was one of the first few times we interacted. summer classes, right?” you mindlessly sway your drink in your hand, before taking a sip on the straw.

kiyoko nods. “we always bumped into each other in the hallways, sometimes in the same neighbourhood, yet,” she huffs a chuckle, “what made you suddenly take an interest in me is when you saw me reading your favourite manga.”

you know this scene clearly, and you’d like to drive back a u-turn once more, “that was just the start, pretty.”

it starts as that. you see her across the classroom, a rare occurrence more to yourself than for her because you’re not the type to go to school early, but at times like these, you simply just woke up without needing your alarm to do the job for you. the sight of her frightens you, just a little, but enough to trip your feet and end up hitting the cold floor like a corny romcom classic mc would do.

congrats to you for achieving something first thing in the morning, though.

“you alright?” it takes approximately 5 seconds for you to register that in. footsteps approach you with slight haste, a hand comes into view, when you take it, the softness of touch blows you away. her skin slightly cold against your warm one (or perhaps its the other way around?), her calm eyes shone despite her glasses, and looked at you in quiet concern. something about her presence screams elegance, and you’re here being graced upon a beauty well deserved of its reputation.

when you stand and try to regain back your remaining dignity left in your body, which you’re sure its hiding between your teeth as you suck in a breath, seeing your shoes instead of the pretty girl in front of you, you nonchalantly say, “yeah, ‘m fine. thanks.”

she turns back to her seat, watching her as you realise how close she actually was to where you usually sat. you’re both under a class you don’t pay much attention to, but maybe this time, you might just be a little more considerate so as to not doze off every time your boring teacher arrives anymore.

(is this what you call infatuation at first sight? that’s ridiculous. you think, but the blush permeating your cheeks as you push your chair and sit, right next to her, says otherwise.)

you sift through your bag to check if you forgot something, skimming through your notes and lists when you hear pages softly turning from your left. curious, you flicker your attention to shimizu and nearly jump doing so.

she’s reading one of your favourite mangas of all time.

“no way! you read them too?”

shimizu blinks, wide eyed and surprised. “yes? i always read them in the morning.”

ah shit. maybe you really need to pay more attention from now on.

days after, you’ve learned a lot more about her than the lessons of your shared class, and you can’t seem to take your mind off of her even if you try. you learn that she likes her nails perfectly short and shiny the same manner your lip gloss glint against light, you notice how she tucks strands of her dark blue hair specifically behind her left ear when she’s reading or generally focused on something, eyes never leaving her subject with intensity you’re a bit apprehensive to break. she likes her writing neat and highlights perfectly aligned and in the right coded colours (compared to yours, which you ruin them by making it a rainbow). you like the way she tries to talk to you, and insists that your presence is never unwelcome, reciprocating your smiles that leaves you breathless, and letting you stick close to her every morning before your day runs its course.

if you allow yourself to pause your running thoughts, she’s actually the first friend that lets you roll off your flirty tongue and you receiving mean remarks in lighthearted tones, first friend to keep the energy you exert in your shared spaces; your yapping sessions and her quiet forms of reciprocation. she’s the first friend that’s gotten you this giddy and up to your feet, made you do things for her even without asking. and the thing is, when she doesn’t refuse, it certainly makes you wonder how lucky you are, to be able to touch an experience of unbridled fulfilment and happiness. this is not something you’re used to—proves of how special shimizu is, the first girl that makes you so happy in the most mundane yet fun ways.

there are many firsts that you have experienced with shimizu in just a span of 2 weeks and a half. and maybe one of them—albeit spontaneous and unexpected—might change a major part of you, leaving you no option to run away.

it’s precisely when the sun bathes shimizu in gold that seemed to erase anything else in your sight, when the classroom is your world and she’s right at the center of your vision, sitting in the usual seat in the usual time and in the usual quiet elegance that she carries herself. you greet her good morning and sit beside her, like any other day, but that voice of hers saying it back to you sounded so sweet and genuine, your chest warm like the hot showers pouring into your skin. she asks you something, and you wonder if she notice how you’ve been staring at her mole on the underside of her lips with awe, her miniscule smile’s enough of a distraction.

you stagger out a ‘what?’ and desperately compose your thoughts from running rampant like scattered monkeys on the loose. smoothing your shaky breaths into an even out pattern, all while waiting for her to repeat herself.

“you play psychological horror games, right?”

“yeah? what about it?”

“i found one last night, i tried to play it for you.”

“…” truly, you didn’t expect for her to pick up one of your questionable hobbies like it’s normal. you’re about to reassure her that she doesn’t have to do such things if she’s not comfortable when she follows up with “it kept me up that bad. but i enjoyed it nonetheless.”

you’re so bewildered that you couldn’t think she’s telling you the truth. but you had to ask, “…what’s the name?”

“therapy with doctor albert krueger-”

“no fucking way”

“hey. language.”

“YOU’RE INTO THAT SHIT?”

by now you’re standing in front of her while she sits, dumbfounded at your sudden outburst. the curious and weird stares of your peers retrieves you back to your senses just as quickly, awkwardly shuffling your chair closer towards shimizu and hide your face dramatically. you try to whisper instead. “that game’s underrated and particularly niche for a reason. it has its own kind of creepiness that you can’t find elsewhere. dream therapy turning out to be a method of luring you and turning you into a dream eater or some zombie slave? and you say you enjoyed that?”

perhaps you’ve gone delusional, but shimizu’s complexion don’t exactly turn this rosy pink, almost as if she’s blushing. no no, you’re definitely just being delusional.

(and yet for some reason. your face burns at the possibility that she might be feeling shy at the moment. part of you is in denial of this, but your internal self is just as jittery as she might look. god, could she actually get anymore cuter?)

and then she averts her gaze and stammer, eyes locked on her lap as she mumbles. “isn’t that the p-point? to creep you out in the most uncomfortable shivering way? that it never leaves your mind even after you’ve finished it?”

it’s your turn to look away as you swallow. tentative as you ask before the thoughts in your head starts pulling your tongue back. “…you’re weird, girl.”

that sounded funny to you, so a huff of air makes way into a fit of giggles. your heart is being weird too, beating so strongly against your chest as if it wants to leave your body. shimizu can only watch, speechless, still blushing. though the moment you set your eyes on her once more, it’s only then that you knew, that whatever you’re about to say next, may or may not be understood of it’s message clearly like you do.

(you remember being 7 years old was a heaven of the youth before your brain develops the sense when someone is really, really attractive in your perspective. and you’re not sure which is worse, either that you’ve had your very first crush on a girl or that you punched a guy for calling you out a weirdo in front of the girl. maybe the latter was bound to happen, maybe the former was a mistake.)

(right now, you’re certain the claims are switched, because you’re no longer a stranger to being a giver of affection. the way you give them is important, you can’t close your eyes and imagine that whoever you like could be anyone else. right now, you want to give these feelings to shimizu kiyoko if she lets you, you’ll grasp any possibilities presented in front of you, especially when she’s in full view.)

“i like you.”

fuck. if she asks you if you’re flirting now or if you’re confessing, you can’t promise yourself to say the first.

shimizu gets even more redder than you’ve ever seen, making your jaw drop as she softly say, “i know.” eyes falling back on her lap, repeating “i know you do.”

you turn uncharacteristically demure, crossing your arms on your desk as you rest your head against it, sighing in relief, heavy blush soaked on your lifted cheeks as you smile hard that it hurts.

and everything else is an afterthought.

“can i have a sip?” shimizu glances towards your drink you’re holding, then looks at you, expecting.

you pull it back slowly, narrowing your eyes. “say it back first.”

“pardon?”

“you didn’t say it back when i told you i liked you.”

her stunned silence makes this little attempt of yours so worth it, you hide a smile as you wipe your mouth with a tissue. “kidding, here-”

“i like you. i like you a lot. we’re girlfriends for a reason.”

she snatches the drink before your heart pounds too harshly to fully feel it in your chest, you wish it was her pouting right now instead of you as you cross your arms in a playful and childish act. “…you’re lucky i’m nice for you to let you play unfairly.”

“indeed i am.” she giggles, light and feminine and everything you’re not. you can’t waste a breathe not being by her side anymore. everyday is a chance to dream, but dreaming can only take you so far, it’s not enough, you want her to be this close to you as much as she wants to. as much as life allows you.

so when the both of you are at the front of your shared apartment’s door as the keys slightly jingle in her hand and about to insert through the doorknob, you place your palm on top of hers so suddenly she forces herself to look at you wide eyed. she asks you in that soft tone of hers what’s wrong, but nothing is ever wrong when it comes to her.

nothing would come to you to change how you feel for her. you’re a giver of affection, that much you’re certain in all your years of living, but as selfish as this sounds, you want to be the one receiving, too.

“i know i sound like a broken record here but when i asked you out like, four years ago. uhm, i really do want to be yours.”

you lock through the gaps of her fingers of that your own. your face mere inches away from her, skin warm and drizzling in its apprehensive passion. “i am yours. and that you are mine?”

you promptly gaze at your intertwined hands, smiling. “dunno i just. want to hear you say it, is all.”

she pulls you by the waist with her free hand, rubbing in slow movements just the way you always like it. under the moonlight’s command, she presses her lips with yours and parts you with a gift full of stardusts collecting your eyes. she whispers, “i have been yours all this time. so much that your sappiness grows into me, so much that i can’t see myself without you.”

(you truly are a weird girl, kiyoko. my one and only weird girl.)

you push the door open together and shut the world like an afterthought, the same habits you do when you’re home.

(and that your definition of home is both a place and a person simultaneously.)

notes. this was supposed to be a short drabble but then i remember that the fucking title dialogue is actually based off of a real conversation i had w someone (as well as the psychological horror game part) + got a lil emotional with the part where i inserted the childhood flashback thing bc it touches a slight part of myself and BAM i overdid it. oh well. didnt say i hated writing this tho <3

© kyoghurts ★ reblogs & likes are well appreciated!

[achelouise]

Together, forevermore

Fandom: Honkai Star Rail

Pairing: (Yan?)Blade x fem!reader

Warnings: Pretty dark, (at least its the most dark thing I've written so far DONT JUDGe me), blade is not nice here, non-con but no sex

Summary: Someone visits you on your deathbed.

A/N: ...... i may be on a slight toxic writing streak......... I WILL BRING SOMETHING ELSE FLUFF ENJOYERS I PROMISE

imma be honest i dont know if this is considered as yandere but i will tag it as such just in case

Your bones are weary. Wrinkles are prominent on your face, and your hair has completely faded to white.

You savor it all. The way time robs you of your youth, the way you bend to its will, morph yourself into a fragile being that couldn’t continue her adventure on the Express. The way you laugh when you spill a cup, when eons ago you would charge towards the enemy with your spear in hand.

You were satisfied with yourself. You have lived, breathed, and entertained yourself before the curtain fell. You have made friends, enemies, lovers, and experienced the joy and suffering of life. The galaxy is your sky, and the worlds you travel to is your home.

Well- perhaps just one lover. It felt like many, though. You could never forget him, but he is just a hazy memory in your old brain.

To think, a former Cloud Knight soldier would live and breathe without mara- truly, a wonderful end to a blazing life like yours.Granted, you weren’t from the Xianzhou- but to be on the battlefield is to sign up a guaranteed death by Abudance.

Even as the Crew parts, their memories and cherished ambitions lay dormant in your heart- beating weakly, slowly, and closer to eternal rest.

You loved this life, and you hated to see it go. Perhaps this is the wisdom Jingliu was desperate for- to understand mortality, and to understand an end to a life well spent.

You feel your fear of death grasping your chest as you heave, drinking in every breath. Unparalleled joy also envelops you; ah, the precious catalyst life holds for this body. Even as you have withered away, this body still yearns for a little bit of life, still squeezes every last drop, a complete opposite of the mara-stricken soldiers tethering between sanity and mania.

Beautiful. How beautiful this life could be.

You could only wish for the others to feel the same. You hope March understands the beauty of fragile mortality, and Dan Heng’s rest during his rebirth.

Even then, human will never dies. You and the trailblazer have entrusted yours to the Cosmodyssey, greeting the future generation of trailblazers from the distant past. Only this way, would you be immortalized, encapsulated in a beautiful dream.

A soft creak of the door alerts you. You smile, even as you struggle to inhale enough air to speak. “... Can’t you leave an old lady… to her death bed?”

Your voice is grating and unpleasant, but you cherish it all the same.

The visitor doesn’t speak. They walk in slowly, carrying a glass of water. At least, it looks like it- oh, you can’t blame yourself for not recognizing anything with such poor eyesight.

Probably one of the nurses that are hell bent on keeping you alive. You don’t really like them, you never have. Ever since you resigned yourself to an elderly shelter on your home planet, where you could meet even more friends before your end, the nurses have been instructed to keep you alive for as long as possible. Probably because if you do, you can attend more interviews, review more biographies about you and the Legends of Akivilli.

You can’t muster up the strength to retort any more, though. The nurse doesn’t really speak, either. They have a comically large mask on, one that shields their whole face, with only eyes piercing back. You don’t recognize them. Eugh, poor eyesight.

The monitor begins to beat feverishly. You are quite parched, though. No harm in quenching your thirst one last time before you kick the bucket.

As you reach for the glass, memories flash before your eyes. Your mother cradling you, your father holding you tight, your celebration with your friends as you pass your finals, your first arrival on the Xianzhou, your first kiss, your promise for a future with him, your losses, your despair, your fears-

And-

The Express. Your true home, the fondation which you rediscovered yourself and rebuilt yourself on. A place where you will never part, not even in death.

The warmth you felt for it, and the warmth it returned to you will never be forgotten.

You heave as you gulp down the drink. “Thank… you.”

You close your eyes.

Farewell, everyone.

You feel so light. You can properly feel your hands again. The backache is gone, stripped away, and you marvel at the skin that seems to reweave itself- granting you your youth, your past, prime shape. So the afterlife is merciful, after all.

You open your eyes. The birds near the windowsill are still chirping. Nothing has changed.

Wait.

What?

You feel your body reconstructing itself, your bones rearranging and your senses returning. Your eyes grow sharp and your face feels soft. The scars on your arms grow rapidly smaller, and smaller, until they are gone before you can blink. Uneasiness crawls in your chest.

And all the while, strange, delicate branches curl around your limbs, a soft green glow imitating the blessing of-

No. No no no no no no no no no.

No.

NO.

You find your strength to speak properly again. Your voice is lighter, easier to speak with, a voice or a bygone past, and it only nausates you as you grip your blanket. “What did you do?”

You turn to look at the nurse properly, as they finally start to make a sound- a soft, unsettling chuckle, one hand removing their mask.

The cruel smirk dances on Blade’s lips as he gestures to the glass cup in your hand.

Only now do you see the Emenator of Abundances’ blood swimming in the clear water you were so desperate for, only moments ago. You feel light-headed. You feel sick to the core.

You drop the cup, and it shatters on the floor- your skin feels cold, and your brain is spinning. You’re hyper-aware of how the liquid seeping out still flashes with the curse of Abundance, how the birds are screeching, and how Blade is cackling.

You heave, your breaths growing shorter by the moment. You watch as Blade reaches for your face- and if you flinch, he pretends to not notice.

No. You were close. You were so close.

“Why?” you cry, the first tears finally dripping down your cheeks. Blade’s bandaged hands wipe them away, and his dry lips press on them- as if savoring them.

“Did you honestly think you could escape me?” Blade reprimands softly, his empty eyes shining with disgusting, sickening adoration. “You promised you would stay, for as long as you could, for me.”

“You disgusting, wretched beast.” You lament, curling in further of yourself. The effects of the mara have started to settle; your muscles pound hard with fresh life breathed into your body, your bones gritting far worse than when you were of old age, and your mind starting to delude your sight. “I had forgotten you. I had lived, unlike you.”

“Promises are not to be broken.” Blade responds coldly, gripping your chin with sheer strength. You cry out as your skull cracks, only for it to mend itself, in perfect shape, the phantom pain lingering on your jaw. “I watched you blaze a trail for yourself. To me, your life was only moments worth of mine.”

“I married. I had children. They will remember me wedded to someone else.” you seethe.

Blade only chuckles mirthlessly at that. “Your attempts at deceiving me are truly pitiful. I know I was your first and last lover. I watched you fall apart in my absence. I watched your success. I watched how you withered away, and I envied you so, so much. Why couldn’t I feel that happy? Why couldn’t I feel that free?”

His hand ghosts over your neck, a silent warning if you dared to cry for help. Not that you would- you knew exactly what bringing his wrath would entail. Breaking your neck over, and over, and over again, to feel the pleasure of death like his master brought for him.

“I watched you pave a way for yourself. I hated you. I loved you. I don’t know how I feel anymore. Kafka has numbed everything away. But I chose to hold onto these feelings. Only you could give rise to new emotions after my rebirth. And you will be my partner. Together, we will be betrayers of death.”

You shake your head, and you wish so badly that all of this was a figment of your imagination. But it is real. You’ve seen enough soldiers fall prey to mara. You might have only succumbed to a dilated version, but it still tears away at your soul.

“Your playtime is over. Death will never reach you. Not even Nihility can bring you the peace you need. So stay with me.” He leans over, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear. Your head pounds. Shapes and colors blend into a mess. Only Blade sits before you.

“Not that you have a choice.” He nips the bud of your ear, his voice soft and stifling. The stench of blood and rain clings onto his skin, and you succumb to the despair that fills your heart. “You will join the Stellaron Hunters. Kafka will help you, as she did with me.”

He leans back, and he smiles, deranged and devoid of sanity, living in his own world of pure delusion.

Sometimes, when you were dating, you wondered what he was before he was Blade. Would he still date you?

And even now, as he seals his promise with a kiss, you think. Would he condone any of this? How would he feel, knowing he has turned into a monster?

You close your eyes. You envision your friends and comrades, who all bear no burdens of eroding immortality, an apology on your tongue.

I’m sorry. I failed you all.

“Together, forevermore.”

[skeeterofthefeeder]

9 year old me would be shatting her pants if she knew what i was drawing right now. hi billy

headcanons and tidbits about my hum!bill design below because im ill

- i wanted to kinda have a balance between alex’s one drawing of human bill and The Tumblr Design. as well as some of my personal design choices because i wanted it to be lore accurate but still visibly projected on by Meeee

- bills still only got one eye (hence the closed lid, he chooses not to have a prosthetic) and i gave my design of him polycoria so he has two fused pupils in one big eye. he still has long ass giraffe lashes

- ive seen a lot of human designs of him with a suit and jacket and i think thats really cool but i wanted mine to be a bit simpler n try something new so i gave it a caped coat thing. which i actually like a lot but i might experiment in the future shrugs

- pierced ear with teeth because he would methinks. im not disclosing whether its deer teeth or human teeth

- crooked gapped discolored + missing teeth because i think its fitting + an aspect of alex’s bill that i liked and a design choice i like in general sniles. his breath smells like beer and issues

- not skinny like the Tumblr human bill design, i wanted to emulate the triangle shape w/ his body type so hes a little bottom heavy at the torso (tho it might not be too noticeable w/ the coat) and has scrawny limbs. he gets to be a chubby old man as a treat also ive seen designs of him with pointed ears and i thought that was neat. just human enough to be human passing but still Questionably Inhuman

- his bow tie looks a little bit less like his canon design’s, i liked a ribbon-looking one better since its kinda a parallel with stans ribbon thing + i hc he got it from his mom and the hat from his dad

- i dont really know if i wanted the lighter streaks to be highlights or greasy hair i could see it being both or either tee bee aych. i hc that his hair gets a lot longer when hes in the theraprism + dwelling on the divorce, and i really wanna draw that at some point

- i dont really have a face claim for him atm but if i ever find one im passionate ill edit this and out it here. i think hes got pretty sharp cheekbones but theres some chub under his chin + hes got a pointy nose. yknow cus hes. pointy

- i got this hc from tiktok but i thought it was really interesting; his hands are really charred from the fires of his deals, + expanding on that hc i think hes got burns from the euclydia fire under his coat and gloves

thats about all the thoughts i have for now, thanks for reading !!!

[metis-iphigenia]

SO I HEARD ITS NIKATOBER!! i cant draw or write fanfiction so have some headcanons!!

•nika LOVES dancing but she especially loves wearing twirly dresses so it will look cool when shes spinning

•nika is non-binary and asexual!!

•they dont like the rain that much since it messes up her spiky hair but they love the smell of the dirt after the rain

•nika adores wearing suits but ONLY if the said suit has some kind of flare or personality(as in if its just a bland suit she absolutely wont wear it but if the suit was different they would absolutely love it)

•her body is natually cold and they are used to cold weathers(unironically, her favourite season is also winter)

•sends edits of nikolai and fyodor from bungou stray dogs to damian with the caption "us" lmao

•rip nika you would have loved manspreading

•they love recieving flowers and also buying flowers(they once went to central chile to find pink alstroemerias for damian(headcanon that alstroemeria is damians favourite flower)

•her favourite flower are carnations(white carnations to be exact)

•nika cant cook(other than basic things but they also dont taste that well(you better know connors trying to lie😭😭)

•connor is their bestfriend and she is connors bestfriend(underrated besties fr) they are still in contact idc

•nika isnt the biggest fan of chocolate but they do love gums, jellies and gummy worms so so much(while mila is the opposite average agreement between siblings)

•she got really emotional after seeing mila because they really missed their family but shes trying to hide it(mila missed her deeply too but shes too wrapped up with her own powers to fully reunite with nika)

•nika loves watching movies like coraline it always gives them goosepumps

•hardcore creepypasta fan, used to stay awake past the sleeping hours and use her moms phone secretly to watch slenderman videos under the covers quietly

•talia didnt like them at first(not because she had something against nika she was just thinking of damian) but as time went on she grew fond of nika

•damian has a spider named "arachne" and since nika isnt the biggest fan of spiders she found a lizard and named it "pallas athena" out of spite(fun fact: lizards eat spiders btw(not that she would let anything happen to arachne she just thought it was funny))

•they love making their own jewelry(her hairclips, bracelets, necklaces etc)

they made mara bunch of hairclips to match her red streak and also look cool and since damians hair is getting longer nika also made him multiple hairclips

she loves giving out bracelets to people she loves for example she made enough bracelets for rose to cover up her entire arms(not that rose is complaining they love eachother <33)

•nika still has a russian accent(i have been imagining them with an accent😭😭)

•makes a lot of skeleton jokes(think of sans from undertale😼😼)

I will do more headcanons this silly girl later <33

[im-a-luxury]

i am a HUGE sucker for “peter looks in the mirror one day and all he can see is uncle ben” but i am also a sucker for every other swap-in you can make. (mini fanfics below the cut, with many self indulgent headcanons LMAO)

miles is talking with his dad one night after everything calms down. the conversation is light, easy, but his dad goes quiet suddenly. his dad looks at him, and miles has never seen him so quiet. his eyes go misty, and miles is scared something happened for a moment. but his dad just sets a hand in his shoulder and says, “you look like your uncle.” miles cries in his dads arms that night.

gwen is talking with her dad over breakfast, and something slips out of her mouth. she recognizes the sentence, why she has it in her head, but she doesn’t know from where. her dad freezes, before turning to look at her. his eyes soften, but his face and shirt are painted and streaked in blue and grey. “you sound just like her.” he doesn’t give gwen time to ask who, before he turns back to his eggs.

peni never knew her mother. she died while giving birth to her, so her father raised her, then her aunt and uncle after he…yeah. peni doesn’t know much about her either, just that she was smart, and her dad thought she was pretty. peni’s going through her dad’s stuff one night, when she pulls up a picture of her. peni finds that her reflection matches up perfectly.

hobie doesn’t have many memories of their parents, no photos either. it’s fine, they dont miss them much, and they figure they dont look much like them either. they have one thing that ties them back to that little apartment in old york. it’s a picture, old and faded, of their brother. as the picture gets more worn, the only thing that hobie can see is their brother’s face. it might as well just be a picture of themselves.

jess loves her mother. more than anything on earth (besides her baby). she’s been there throughout her pregnancy, she was there when her captain stacy died, and she was there when her husband did too. it was the first time jess ever saw her mother cry, and she finds out that tears make people look a lot alike.

noir doesn’t look like uncle ben. the thought used to make him angry. why am i never good enough?! then it depressed him. why am i never good enough…? but he slips his glasses on one morning, and his hair folds and curls down on his forehead and sticks up at his neck. he ties his tie, and looks in the mirror. he finds himself wondering, how long can you look in the mirror before you start looking like your father?

miguel doesn’t have a father. at least not anymore. george o’hara died a long time ago, and tyler stone…well, why would he want anything to do with him? miguel rages at himself everytime he thinks about him—not stone, but the man who raised him. george’s been dead for years, why can’t you just get over it?! but years of blood and fear don’t just disappear because a stone gets plunked in the ground. miguel tears up the last photo he has of george, and goes to splash water on his face. he looks in the mirror, and he sees himself. miguel looks nothing like his father, and he finds himself thinking that’s a good thing.

[unicyclehippo]

one word prompt: lavender

i shouldve brought flowers right?? that would have been polite shit

oooooh it's THAT sort of dinner date

Irritation prickled at the back of Imogen's eyes. She closed them. Imagined irritation and the cruelty that followed it as a vile little bug, imagined plucking out of her brain and squishing it, crushing it in the fist she clenched tight at her side. She wiped her hand on her jeans and messaged Fearne back.

i dont think so, she said, entirely sincere. Laudna was truly unlike anyone she had ever met before, in a way Imogen didn't have the words for. She could say the woman was kind - but Orym was kind, so that wasn't what set her apart. She could say the woman was clever and beautiful - but Fearne was those things as well, and Imogen didn't feel this way about Fearne. Imogen thought that the truth might be very simple - whatever was different about Laudna was different in Imogen as well. Some lonely part of her mind that she had ignored forever was suddenly loud - and she liked it. She liked what it said, how it talked. She liked being able to hear her own thoughts after a lifetime being bombarded with everyone else's. So no, it wasn't a date. Not the way Fearne was suggesting. It was just that Laudna - Doctor Bradbury - was kind and clever and beautiful and she listened to Imogen so intently that Imogen could finally hear herself and someone like that deserved flowers.

She didn't tell Fearne that, of course.

are you at her place yet?

not yet. close, maybe five mins? why? gonna dotdash me a bunch?

no silly just look for a garden its free cant be assed to find the meme but just know. itsfreerealestate.meme

i dont think thats a real image format

no it is

ok.

plus!! it's sooo romantic to give a girl just one flower it tells her that she's Singular & beautiful

it tells her that you plucked it out of some random person's yard.

and you did that just for Her c'est tres romantique

so if someone turned up on Your doorstep with one flower they yanked outta someones yard you'd fall head over heels for them

There was a strangely long pause before Fearne replied to Imogen's teasing. When the reply finally came, it was heavy with amusement.

i thought you said it wasn't like that

Imogen scowled down at her phone. She could practically see the coy upturn of Fearne's lip, the mischievous sparkle in her eye like she knew the punchline to the joke life was playing on you and found it funny too.

The screen of her phone went blank and black. In the reflection, she saw her own face - the scowl, the permanent frown creasing between her brows, and somehting new. A hint of colour in her cheeks. It was easier to look into the dull reflection than it had been at Fearne's apartment. Her apartment was so bright. There had been no way to avoid seeing herself, to avoid that pang of discomfort - of irritation. But her phone screen was smudged from handling and the dim light of the train and it was small enough that it couldn't show all her face at once. Imogen tilted it so all she could see was the new spots of colour high on her cheeks.

It wasn't a dinner date. She knew that for sure.

Did she want it to be?

Her phone screen lit up. Despite herself, Imogen smirked down at Fearne's message.

i want a full debrief when u get home ESPECIALLY if u end up "debriefing"

//

It was a short stroll from the train station to Laudna's apartment. The hill was steep but it was worth the climb when Imogen turned back to face the way she'd come, hands on her hips as she tried to catch her breath, and saw the view. The sky was dull and grey, clouds packed tight together like thin sardines. In between, there were tiny streaks of blue but they were disappearing even as Imogen watched. The sea, though. The sea was wild. They probably didn't have long before the wind that was whipping it into a frenzy hit Emon, bringing with it a decent storm front if she had to guess, but Imogen wasn't afraid; it was awe that held her still. For a moment, she wasn't Doctor Imogen Temult, modern-day archaologist - she was Imogen, a woman standing on the cliffs, watching the churning of the waves and seeing a goddess, her fury, in that power. Stampedes of seafoam horses thundered ahead of the blue-black waves that bore them up onto the rocky shoreline. Ships began to hurry back to the port, appearing and disappearing between the climbing, curling waves. It was reassuring, in a way. Imogen hitched a smile, felt a little of her tension fade. No matter how badly the night went, she had her feet planted solidly on the ground.

Imogen turned and kept walking. The wind began to pick up. A fluttering of purple caught her attention - a different colour to her hair - and she turned to see two large grey-green lavender bushes, shivering in the worsening wind. Imogen stepped toward them and from her belt she took her pocket knife and snipped a few of the flowers, the perfect ones. She tucked them carefully beneath her jacket and hurried past the last few remaining houses that kept her from Laudna.

The gate creaked.

A little ache throbbed behind her eye. This was stupid. The flowers. She shouldn't have taken them.

Imogen dragged in a deep breath. Planted her feet. And knocked on Laudna's door.

[bulbabutt]

Wait but can you do a little vibe check explanation for cyberverse and earthspark? Im curious about them but ive been burned by tf shows so much

AH OKAY!!!

well cyberverse is a great mix of lore, it doesnt REQUIRE you to know much about transformers, but i think it helps. like you wont care who skybyte is, but he shows up to do haikus, its a reference but it doesnt mean you NEED to watch RID 2001 to get it. its very fun, it tells its story out of order at first, as its windblade helping bumblebee recover his memories after a streak of amnesia after being stranded on earth. due to the nature of its storytelling, you get this grand picture of the story of the war, where it came from how it started, how the characters feel about it. it takes things that didnt work in other iterations and blends them well here. its really great at mixing the silly stuff and the dark stuff, it strikes a happy balance and by the time it ends you really will feel like youve seen an entire history and feel satisfied with how it ends. it can be goofy, it can be dark. its always good. also BEAUUUUUTIFUL show.

earthspark is still ongoing, but i think that show really lends itself well to being something thats saying "yes" to every show thats come before it and saying "and now what?" so if cyberverse was the show that ended the war, the show that said "okay heres how you end the war realistically", earthspark says "now that the war is over, whats next?". its about a new generation of transformers, who are born on earth! theyre part organic, theyre from a mixed family. the show blends metaphorical representation with real representation. the father of their family is an immigrant (or child of immigrants) and transformers are too! theres queercoding when talking about 'hey, maybe your alt mode isnt meant to be like your siblings' and then queer rep with actual non binary characters! its full of so much love and acceptance its so beautiful. its not about autobots and decepticons, its about the maltobots! and how they relate TO the autobots and decepticons. its still ongoing so we dont know how it will end, but WOW is it ever breathtaking and full of more heart than anything else has been. theres a bit of a jump between s1 and s2a where they changed animation studios and people are having a hard time, but honestly its STILL really good to look at. its just that s1 was like.... TOOO good so everyones a lil dissapointed. but it was so good they COULDNT keep making it. if that makes sense.

i hope that helps. i would rec watching cyberverse THEN earthspark, and like having some base lore knowledge before that (but it sounds like you do) whether its from g1 or animated or something like that. just so you know who the guys theyre talking about are in cyberverse but its not really required.

but yeah!! i cant rec those two shows enough theyre so heartfelt. if youre a rottmnt fan like me youll like the tone of both.

[harry-hollands]

my boyfriend’s boyfriends

(a potential au stemming from ‘who does it better?’)

a part two to ‘who does it better’ but can be read as a stand alone.

part 1

alex turcotte x fem!hockey player reader

*PICTURES ARE FROM TWITTER, INSTAGRAM, AND MY OWN PERSONAL ONES I TOOK (10-28-2023)*

(inspired by faithlynn’s @babydollmarauders series media management and kaylin’s @starsandhughes series penalty box. if you haven’t checked them out, PLEASE DO THEYRE AMAZING)

yourusername

liked by quintonbyfield, _alexturcotte, and 42,752 others

yourusername: on today’s episode of “i had a day off at work and my boyfriend and best friend and son had team bonding today so i was left alone because my other roommates had a game tonight”, i decided that i, was going to support my boyfriend’s boyfriends—i mean roommates!

how generous of me right? i was in the upper bowl to watch the game so no one saw me but as is my job to be a professional nuisance to centers and defenders to keep the lethal flying piece of rubber out of my pretty net, i had to humble them somehow during warm ups.

for those wondering why i’m wearing my boyfriend’s boyfriend #2’s jersey, i lost a bet with him. for those also wondering what the bet was, it was on my boyfriend. i THOUGHT my boyfriend was a sweet person but apparently he took a page out of the enemy of silence’s book (@/trevorzegras) and got TWO penalties last game.

turcs was not impressed as you can imagine, and neither was homewrecker (@/jordanjs224) because apparently “homewreckers need to stick together and that comes with wearing my jersey” idk man im just their roommate that willingly has pieces of rubber shot at me at lethal speeds

despite my works of art, i also included other works of art from the professionals. (im legally obligated to make them look good like 3.8% of the time)

as much as i’d love to say that the boyfriends came out victorious, they did not 🥲

my boys played v*gas and lost in shootout but at least we got a point!

my cutie patootie laffy @/alaf14 (kings’s version, not to be confused with the rags’) SCORED HIS SECOND GOAL OF THE SEASON ON HIS TAYLOR SWIFT BIRTHDAY! you made me so proud 🫶🏼

next up, the infuriating maple leafs; auston matthews, I HAVE BEEF WITH YOU (i will be watching from home because it’s where my job is)

buckle up babes, turcs baby (@/_alexturcotte), my son (@/brandtclarke55), and my best friend (@/francesco.pinelli71) play tomorrow against the baby canucks and i don’t know if i’ll have the right mental state to watch them (i have to im their emergency goalie 🤠)

(ps m*rk st*ne, nicolas hague, brayden mcnabb, and ivan barbashev i hope you all suffer a 10 game losing streak you fucking bitch babies. DONT GO AFTER MY CUTIE PATOOTIE!!!)

tagged quintonbyfield, jordanjs224, lakings, anzekopitar, kevinfiala22, duber18, alaf14

view comments

quintonbyfield: WHY DO YOU HAVE THAT PICTURE OF ME?? HOW—?!

yourusername: @/quintonbyfield oh q baby, it’s all over twitter

quintonbyfield: @/yourusername oh, so you got it from twitter, got it

yourusername: @/quintonbyfield how do you think twitter got it? 🤭🫡

quintonbyfield: @/yourusername YOU LITTLE BI—

jordanjs224: oh my god. i look ATROCIOUS

quintonbyfield: @/jordanjs224 good. suffer.

jordanjs224: @/quintonbyfield alright listen here you little asshole—

_alexturcotte: @/jordanjs224 @/quintonbyfield babes, there’s no need to fight! cant we all just get along?

jordanjs224: @/_alexturcotte shut up, this ain’t about you

_alexturcotte: @/jordanjs224 🥲

quintonbyfield: @/_alexturcotte i would never treat you this way

yourusername: @/_quintonbyfield @/jordanjs224 if y’all are gonna fight, at least do it when y’all get home please? i need some entertainment in my life

francesco.pinelli71: @/yourusername am i not enough for you? 🤨

yourusername: @/francesco.pinelli71 YOU’RE LITERALLY LEAVING FOR COLORADO MONDAY 🤠

fan23: she’s feeding the jordan girlies 🤭

fan55: oh my god?? q?? holy fuck y/n KNOWS what she’s doing taking these photos

alaf14: y/n you didn’t need to threaten them, im okay 😭

yourusername: @/alaf14 you were practically thrown to the ice like a ragdoll and then you got HIGH STICKED and were BLEEDING and you’re telling me you’re “okay”??? dude…

alaf14: @/yourusername it’s hockey it happens. besides, YOU WILLINGLY HAVE PUCKS FLYING AT LETHAL SPEEDS AT YOUR FACE AND YOU STOP THEM WITH YOUR BODY

yourusername: @/alaf14 why are you YELLING?? im making sure everyone knows that if they hurt you that they are on my hit list. i will do what flower did to bedsy and trip them up

alaf14: @/yourusername that’s a sure way you don’t make it in the nhl

yourusername: @/alaf14 i will trip you up if you don’t shut the fuck up

alaf14: @/yourusername YOU’RE DOING GREAT SWEETIE KEEP DOING YOU 🫡

yourusername: @/alaf14 that’s what i thought <33

fan15: wait y/n is their emergency goalie?? how did i not know this information?

yourusername: @/fan15 it’s not widely advertised but im tryna be a big girl in the big leagues 🫶🏼

fan15: @/yourusername OMG THANK YOU

francesco.pinelli71: thank you for humbling them. clarkey and i have been dying of laughter for five minutes and turcs is looking at us like a disappointed father

yourusername: @/francesco.pinelli71 i live to serve, but i think it’s been established that turcs is disappointed father and im eccentric mother

francesco.pinelli71: @/yourusername YOU’RE SO RIGHT

_alexturcotte: @/yourusername @/francesco.pinelli71 i regret introducing the two of you

francesco.pinelli71: @/_alexturcotte i dont !

yourusername: @/_alexturcotte @/francesco.pinelli71 i don’t either!

fan12: y/n’s friendships with alex’s best friends >>>

brandtclarke55: MOM I WANNA BE LIKE YOU WHEN I GROW UP

liked by yourusername, francesco.pinelli71 and _alexturcotte

_alexturcotte: thank you for humbling my boyfriends. they’re not allowed to have their egos inflated.

yourusername: @/_alexturcotte of course, my love! expect nothing less!

quintonbyfield: @/_alexturcotte @/yourusername FUCKING OFFENDED???

jordanjs224: @/quintonbyfield @/_alexturcotte is this what betrayal feels like?

quintonbyfield: @/jordanjs224 fuck you.

jordanjs224: @/quintonbyfield time and place

_alexturcotte: @/quintonbyfield @/jordanjs224 without me?

quintonbyfield: @/_alexturcotte @/jordanjs224 never babygorl

yourusername: @/quintonbyfield @/jordanjs224 @/_alexturcotte 💀

_alexturcotte: i love you, my darling <33

yourusername: @/_alexturcotte i love you more, my love <33

~

a/n: i hope you enjoyed this little installment! i have a halloween one planned and am working on a blurb about worlds!! there will also be hopefully a blurb on turcs introducing her to the boys. I LOVE YOU ALL AND THANK YOU FOR SUPPORTING

as always, reblogs, likes, and comments are always appreciated 🫶🏼

~soph <33

[cowboydisaster]

The Fire In Your Eyes

part III: blackwater ii

originally posted on 1 march 2023

pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

word count: 10k

summary: disaster strikes while you're working a real estate scam with Arthur and Hosea. A job gone wrong leaves you with two options: flee or die.

a/n: chapter three!!! This is a big chapter, and a very important one! This is our last chapter in blackwater. Reader discretion is advised while reading this. Please look at the warnings and decide for yourself whether or not you want to read. As always, thank you to my beta reader @margowritesthings

warnings: gore, death, animal death, wounds, trauma, mentions of post traumatic stress, reader discretion highly advised.

SERIES MASTERPOST

The camp is quiet tonight, well this morning to be exact. Mostly everyone has gone to bed already. With the ferry job in Blackwater coming up, the gang has been working extra hard, counting for early mornings and earlier nights. The dark blue sky is littered with stars and constellations, and you lean back against the log on the ground to look up at them. They freckle the sky, and you gaze up at them in wonder. You’ve always been amazed by the stars. Your momma used to teach you about the constellations. She would lie on the grass with you, not unlike you are right now, hand intertwined with your own while the other pointed up at the stars. Sometimes your Pa would come out too, sit on the other side of you, sandwiching you between your parents when you were just a girl. Your favorite has always been Lupus, ever since childhood the constellation has stuck with you, watching over you like a guardian angel. The stars string together, making the perfect form of a howling wolf. It takes you a little bit, but after some familiar searching you finally find the collection of stars.

The warm campfire heats you despite the chill of the night, warming your bones and keeping you content even as wind rolls across the plains tousling your hair. You could lay here forever, watching the stars. It's quiet, peaceful. You crave time like this, time to get back to your roots and feel free. As you watch the constellation, you wish that you could throw back your head and howl with it. Your momma always called you her little star, and shit, it's no mystery as to why. You’re aflame, fiery and burning brighter than the sun, your personality shines, you’re bold and beautiful. A silent tear drips down your cheek, and you hastily wipe it away, watching as a white streak shoots across the dark night. A shooting star.

"Hey, momma…" You whisper up at the sky, laughing despite the tears in your eyes. You close them, thinking of a wish to ask  of the star. What do you want? Of anything you could have, what should you wish for?

A throat clears beside you, and you startle, instinctually reaching for the wooden handle of your knife and unsheathing it half way.

"Hold your horses there, dont go pokin' holes in me just yet, I brought you a beer for chrissakes." Arthur chuckles, resting down beside you against the log. You slip your knife back into its sheath, muttering a small apology as you gratefully accept the glass bottle from his extended hand. He's already popped the cap for you, and you press the rim to your lips, savoring the unfortunately warm alcohol. 

"So… ya settling in alright?" Arthur asks, bringing one knee up to rest his elbow on. The firelight dances in his soft eyes, matching the fire in your own as he looks to you under the brim of his hat. He’s wearing a black stand collar shirt tucked into a pair of blue jeans, and he must have just taken a bath in town. You notice the sweet smell of lavender on him, and his freshly trimmed beard. It makes you release a laugh under your breath, the thought of him using oils in a bath. 

"Yeah.. I think so." You answer honestly, watching the burning logs in front of you. 

"What’s your plan then? Should be well enough on your feet… you- you leavin'? Or-" Arthur looks down to his lap as he asks, not wanting to look into your eyes for fear of seeing your response. You sigh, thinking over what you should do and what you want to do. You don't want to go, not in the slightest, but you should. 

"I don't know… Maybe I'll just stay a little longer. Not like I have anywhere else to go, or any family to go back to." You whisper, setting your beer on the dirt and pulling a few pieces of grass out from the ground to distract yourself from thinking. Arthur nods, bringing the neck of his bottle to his lips and swigging back some while contemplating your words.

Arthur doesn't want you to go, he can't place why- he doesn't want to label why, but he wants you to stay. Arthur knows what staying means, staying means risking your life every day, being on the run every day. It's no life you asked for, it's no life you deserve. He wants you to get away, to live a life with a husband and a family. Not to turn out like him. And at the same time he's so driven to be around you, to talk to you, be with you. It's a dilemma that frequents the pages of his journal. 

"If you're leavin', you'll wanna be long gone before this ferry job comes round." Arthur whispers darkly. 

You know he's right. If you're mixed up with the Van der Linde gang during the ferry robbery you'll never get the price off your head, not alive anyway. 

"Yeah…" You mumble, biting your lip and pulling at the grass. 

Arthur notices the shift in your mood, the uncomfortable feeling that's come over you from thinking about the situation. He wants to comfort you, tell you it'll be okay. But you both know he can't promise that. 

"Ain't no need to rush a decision. Ferry job's a ways out yet. Just think on it." He says, resting his hand on your leg in a show of comfort. Immediately your eyes shoot to his hand, it rests a little above your knee, warm and comforting, a show of support. It's been a long time since someone has cared for you in the way Arthur has. And shit, you barely know him.

"Okay." You smile.

Arthur squeezes your knee gently before placing his hands on the dirt and standing up. He brushes some dirt and grass off his jeans before placing his hands on his belt and looking to you one last time. 

“Think I’m gonna turn in for the night, you?” He asks, grabbing his bottle from the ground.

You could go to bed now, but the stars are so beautiful, and you have a lot to think about. You need to make a decision before the robbery, which is approaching all too quickly. 

“Reckon I’ll stay out just a bit longer…” You whisper, laying down against the log again to look up at the sky. Arthur nods, tipping his hat to you lightly.

“G’night, miss.” He whispers, taking a few steps back before turning and heading towards his tent. He glances back at you a few times before he makes it there, watching as your eyes sparkle, just like the stars you’re watching.

You have nowhere to go, and no means of making money besides whoring. And you will not sell yourself to the sleazy rats that occupy the town. You have no quarrel with the women who choose that path, you understand their limited options in the workforce, but you can’t. And if you do go, you’ll have no one. Your Momma and Pa are gone, you’ve left your hometown on account of lawmen tracking you down, and you’ve lost your damn horse. The only people you have now are those who have welcomed you into the gang: Arthur, Hosea, Abigail, the girls and Jack. 

So you’ll stay.

— — —

You snatch an apple off of Pearson’s table, crunching into it as you make your way over to the table. The fruit is sweet, a perfect breakfast that wakes you up and satisfies your early morning sweet tooth. Well, fairly early. You slept in a bit later than usual, until about 9am, and by the time you'd thrown on your outfit for the day , a white shirt and black pants, it’s about a quarter after. So far no one’s given you trouble for your little slip up, but you expect some hassle from Grimshaw later. 

“Come sit, there's still some room, we saved you a seat so we didn’t have to sit by Uncle!” Jenny hollers from the table across camp. Seated at the little round table are Jenny, Abigail and Marybeth. With a small smile you head over, chuckling as Uncle yells something from his spot on the ground in front of the fire. 

“Mornin’ ladies.” You offer, sitting down at the wooden table and resting your elbows on the top. Marybeth is invested in a book, with a cup of coffee that's sitting on the table. Jenny sits with her boots resting up on the tabletop, sharpening her knife, and you and Abigail share an amused glance at her behavior. 

“We was just talkin’ about how Jenny’s getting pretty serious with Mr. Summers.” Abigail prods, raising her eyebrows a little and nudging you with her elbow. Jenny rolls her eyes, jokingly glaring at Abigail for a second before returning to sharpening her knife.

“And so what if we are? You gonna offer me some advice or somethin, with you bein’ married and all?” Jenny asks, looking across the center of camp to where John is talking with Arthur, Dutch and Hosea. Your eyes linger on the four men for a moment, as their conversation looks heated. Hopefully everythings alright. You’ve noticed the stress levels have been especially high in camp with the ferry coming soon. It's only a few nights away. 

“We ain't married. Well not really anyways, not officially.” Abigail looks downtrodden by the fact, and you try to quickly change the subject to ease her heartache. You’ve seen the tension in their relationship, and heard her quiet cries at night when John sleeps by the fire instead of in their tent. 

“You’re askin’ for marriage advice? Are you two tyin’ the knot?” You ask, to which Jenny quickly shushes you, clamping her hand over your mouth with wide eyes. Marybeth has shifted interest from her book to your conversation, fully leaning in with a big smile. 

“Have you talked about it? My lord- marriage, what a dream!” Marybeth beams, leaning in towards the table with hopeful eyes. 

“We did,” Jenny releases her hand from your mouth with a chuckle. She's blushing and you couldn’t be happier for her. “After this ferry robbery we’re heading down to Tumbleweed. There’s a minister down there who agreed to do it, he’s a rather progressive fella, doesn’t know about our career choice, of course. God, we’re gonna be married.” 

Marybeth squeals at Jenny's admission, jumping out of her seat to engulf the blonde girl in a hug. You and Abigail share a glance, giggling at the girls. Jenny deserves marriage. It’s not something you’d imagined that she would see value in, but you can see the joy in her eyes. The way she looks at him, like he’s her whole world. Love isn’t something you’ve thought much about. You’ve always figured that if it happened, it happened. You’ve never sought it out, you’ve always been too busy surviving to worry about it. But what Jenny and Lenny have, you admire. 

Amidst the quiet celebrations, a throat clears itself. You’d missed the approaching footsteps of Arthur, but you now turn to find him standing by your chair. 

“Ladies,” Arthur greets, dipping his head lightly before turning his attention to you. The girls’ chatter quiets down to hushed whispers and giggles as Arthur buckles his gun belt over his waist while addressing you. 

“Ride wit’ me?” He asks, a hair falling down into his face as he clasps the golden buckle.  Arthur hasn’t asked you on a job with him since you’ve arrived. In fact, you haven’t left except to run errands since he’d brought you back just a few days ago. Your brows knit together as you sip at your coffee, setting it down on the table before standing up. 

“Uh, sure, what’re we doin’?” You ask. 

Arthur begins walking towards the hitching posts of camp, rolling his sleeves up in the warm sun. You follow after him, grabbing your hat from its nail in your tent on the way out and following him to the horses. As you approach the hitching posts, you watch as Arthur runs a brush over his mare, getting her coat in pristine condition and offering her little treats as he talks.

“Hosea and I’ve been cookin’ up this little real estate scam. Could use another person, and I dont trust many of these fools.” Arthur glances around the camp, eyeing Micah and Bill in particular, both have purple bruises blossoming along their cheeks from your fists, and Arthur chuckles for it.

“Just gotta keep this feller tied up for a while so Hosea can work his magic, I’ll explain on the way, c’mon.” 

Arthur pulls two cigarettes out of his satchel, offering one out to you, which you gratefully take. As you grab the premium roll, your hand brushes lightly against his own, and you blush, noticing the warmth, and the sheen of sweat to his forearms, 

“...Sorry.” You mumble, not understanding your flustered state. Arthur only chuckles at your blush, leaning down to strike a match against the bottom of his boot. 

“Here.” He whispers, and you place the cigarette between your lips, leaning in towards his match. The end of your smoke catches and you inhale the tobacco, relishing in the subtle ease of your anxieties. 

“Thanks.” 

Arthur tosses the spent match onto the ground, stepping onto it for good measure before grabbing the saddle horn and hoisting himself onto Boadicea. Following his lead, you pat your unnamed buckskin before climbing up onto him. You miss your horse, the bond you shared, and you notice the way Arthur adjusts himself in his seat, taking any extra tension off the mare’s back. He keeps his reins loose, and his hands steady, giving the mare her head in a show of trust. As you both pick up a trot heading away from camp and towards Blackwater, you listen to the quiet affirmations that he whispers to Boadicea, the flies that he swats away from her ears and neck. He really loves his horse. Your heart warms at the sight. 

“So this job…” You start, hoping to gain some insight on what the plan is. Arthur had mentioned real estate. You had seen in the paper that there’s a run down shack for sale with a decent bit of land, but you can’t imagine that this scam has anything to do with it. It’s called Beecher’s…. Something. But it’s run down and the ground is full of rocks. Only an idiot would ever use it for farmland, assuming that's what this is about. Arthur turns his head a little to the side in order to yell to you as you canter from Tall Trees towards the town. 

“Yeah, there's a piece of land for sale round here called Beecher’s hope,” ah, Beecher’s Hope, that's it, “It’s goin’ up for auction. There's an oil man nearby who wants the rights to the land for a rig, but he don’t wanna pay full price for it. His names’ Cornwall. Now we ain’t actually met him, he just sends his errand boys out, but the money is good.” Arthur yells over the sound of pounding hooves. 

“Okay, what’s that got to do with us? Could you explain this a little more before you drag me into town without a goddamn plan?!” You yell, pushing the buckskin faster to catch up with Boadicea. 

“Calm yourself, woman. I got a plan. There’s another feller that wants the land just as bad as Cornwall, apparently he's in town just waitin’ to bid on this place. He’s Gavin Clifton, never heard of him, but Hosea says he’s big business out west, a direct competitor to Cornwall.”

“Okay? I'm still waitin’ to hear our part in this...” You say, more confused than you were two minutes ago. 

“Cornwalls payin’ us to find Mr. Clifton and keep him from getting to this auction. It’s a win-win. We get paid, Cornwall gets his land and everyone goes home happy.”

“Except for Gavin Clifton.” You joke. 

“Yeah, well at least he’ll be alive. He’s holed up in the saloon, been spending the night there while in town. We go in with masks, just hold him in his room till it's over, in and out.”

“Okay, can do.” You quip, slowing the buckskin to a trot as you head into town. They’ve fixed Blackwater up in the past few years, replacing dirt roads with pavers, and started putting up a town hall. Although the fresh coats of paint and hooves clicking against the road is nice, you miss the simplicity of how it used to be. They’ve brought electricity to Blackwater, and it's becoming far too ‘city-like’ for your tastes.

“Saloons’ right up here. Have your mask ready. We don’t wanna alarm anyone so we slip them up right before we get to his door.” 

You mentally smack yourself for not realizing it until now, but you pat your satchel and remember that your best robbing neckerchief is tucked away right on your bedside table in camp. You curse under your breath as Arthur pulls Boadicea up to one of the iron hitching posts and tosses her reins over the keeper. 

“Arthur-” You somewhat whisper, jumping down from the buckskin, not even hitching it and jogging after the outlaw. You grip his bicep in order to get him to face you. It’s not exactly a conversation you wanna yell out for everyone to hear. When he turns around, his eyes scan over you, as if he’s expecting an injury.

“I don’t have anythin’ to cover my face with.” You whisper, letting go of his arm, and letting your own fall to rest on your belt buckle. 

“And here I thought you was a bigshot outlaw, miss?” Arthur jokes, immediately placating you when your face falls into a scowl. You can’t hold your frown for long, as Arthur’s smile causes your own to slip free, but you still swat him on the chest for the blow. 

“I ain’t nothin’ of the sort, now give me somethin’, please.” 

He flips up the leather flap to his satchel, reaching in and pulling out a plain black neck slip. You’re about to take it from his hand, but instead he lifts it up, carefully removing your hat. His finger brushes against your cheek as he brushes a stray hair behind your ear, before he carefully slides the neckerchief mask down over your head. He straightens the cloth so that it rests between your collarbones before he gently places your hat back on your head. You blush, unsure of why it felt so intimate.

“W-what was that?” You ask, readjusting your hat a little as Arthur rests another cigarette between his lips. 

“Nothin, just gettin ya fixed up is all.” Arthur says, striking a match against the brick wall of the saloon before lighting his smoke. His relaxed eyebrows and inattentiveness to your shock prove that to him, that move was normal. You’re not used to being around gentlemen, let alone gentlemen that are also masked killers. It throws you for a loop, and you’re left reeling as he pushes the door open to the saloon. The glass swings back shut in your face. What in the hell has gotten into him? You settle your nerves for a few seconds before pushing the door open and stepping inside.

 The Blackwater Saloon, much like the rest of the town, resembles a wannabe city. The walls facing the road are made of glass, with gold printed words advertising the place, and the inside is fashioned with nice, sit-down tables and a room length bar. A few patrons sit around, some drunkards who are using the afternoon as an opportunity to get wasted, others who have stopped by for a decent meal. The poker table sits unused, chips lying around with no one to bet them, a shame, you think. You could make good use of those chips, outplaying every man in the bar, you’re sure. 

You find Arthur, once again, leaning on the bar, just like in Tumbleweed just a week or so ago. This time he has no drink in hand, instead he’s chatting with the bartender, discussing the rental of a room. You step around the round tables, spurs clicking against the wooden floor as you make your way next to him at the bar. 

“You got any real nice rooms? Big ones that someone might rent out for a week or so?” Arthur asks, subtly inquiring about Gavin Clifton’s whereabouts. Arthur doesn’t want to barge in on the wrong room, he needs to know exactly where Clifton is, and he’d be staying in a suite of course. Nothing but the best for a big oil man. 

The bartender, a tall, skinny feller with light blonde hair and a mustache the size of Texas, puts down a few glasses that he had been wiping down. The glass clinks against the freshly waxed wooden bar as he  puts them down, focusing on Arthur.

“Yeah, we got one. Real nice room, I’m afraid it's taken for the time being.” The bartender squints, eyeing Arthur up and down, focusing on the revolvers that hang from Arthur’s hips. Arthur is well dressed, and it's clear to anyone that he doesn’t work an honest job. The bartender gestures his hand at Arthur before picking up another wet glass and drying it down with his pearly white towel. 

“Well whatchu need it for? If you’re lookin’ to pay for a woman there’s other rooms. There’s a girl works here often, and damn she's got a fine way of-” ‘

The bartender’s nasty grin is cut off as you reach across the bar, grabbing the man by the collar and pushing his head down against the bar with a slam.

“Just shut the hell up and tell us which room it is.” You growl into the ear that's not smashed against the wood. The bartender raises his hands as much as he can in the position, whimpering for release from your small, yet mighty fists.

“Room two-B, now please, Miss!” The bartender cries, and immediately you release your grip. He springs back up with wide eyes, glancing between you and Arthur as he rubs at the new ache in his neck. He points a finger at Arthur, looking shocked and afraid. 

“Y-You better learn to control your wife mister!” The bartender yells. 

You’re surprised to watch as Arthur’s smirk falls into a deadly glare. It’s threatening, scary if you didn’t know him. He takes a step towards the bar, and the tender steps back. 

“You best watch your tongue, boy. I hear you talkin’ about any woman like that again I’ll put you in the ground.” Arthur growls. Even you are thrown off at this point. The bartender has the fear of god in his eyes as he nods coyly at Arthur. Gone is his earlier confidence and nonchalance, replaced by pure terror at Arthur’s threatening stance. 

Without another word, Arthur heads in the direction of the stairs. You’re once again left reeling and catching up to him.

“Hey, you okay?” You whisper, jogging up the steps behind him. 

“Yeah, just can’t stand fellers like that one. Goddamn fool.” He says, passing a few women for hire as he climbs the staircase with you. Trying to make light of the situation, you nudge Arthur with your elbow, chastising him lightly. 

“All these women here, I’m surprised you didn’t take his offer.” 

Arthur apparently doesn’t find your joke funny. He’s in such a sour mood today, and everything feels off as he turns a little to address you. 

“Just cause I run with a bunch of degenerates don’t mean I’m one too. I ain’t never bought a woman, never seen a woman as something to be bought.” Arthur hisses, irritated as he walks up the rest of the stairs without you. You sigh, shaking your head a little as you follow after him, leaving some distance between the two of you. 

As you reach the top, sliding your hand along the wooden railing that overlooks the bar down below, you pull your mask over your nose in time with Arthur. He approaches the door, labeled “2B” in fancy gold lettering.

“Mr. Clifton?” Arthur hollers, lightly knocking on the door. His other hand rests on the grip of his revolver, just in case. 

“Uh, yes? Is this about the mouse? Please I told them I’d pay extra if you’d get this vermin out of my room. I paid good money for this place and I will not tolerate rodents.” The accent that reaches your ears through the doors is one of European descent. A British man, you assume, come to make his fortune in the West. Well, it worked. He struck oil, as they say. Arthur turns and glances to you with a hilarious look on his face of confusion, on account of the mouse dilemma, you assume.

“Yeah, we’re here about the goddamn mouse, now open up.” Arthur says, patience clearly growing thin with the man. 

You can hear the room’s lock click before the door slowly opens, just a crack. Arthur pushes his hand against the wood, forcing the door open with a slam. 

“Gavin! Good to meet you. Now me, you and the lady, we’re just gonna have a little chat the rest of the evening. Just until about..” Arthur stops, pulling out his golden pocket watch, not the platinum that rests on your nightstand from Tumbleweed, “what do you say? Eight o clock? That sound good, mister?”

Arthur’s acting is on point, threatening the man without ever speaking a word of violence. From an outside perspective it sounds like he’s just talking to an old friend. It’s played up and sarcastic, but hell, it's effective. The room is big, with a large red comforted bed in the middle of the room. Opposite of the bed is a set of glass doors, now covered with curtains, but if pulled back there’s a balcony overlooking the docks. The room has a small counter with various expensive liquors and a yellow sofa with an ottoman.

Clifton is a short, chubby man with little glasses resting over his beady eyes. His outfit is expensive, and his hair, what's left of it, is neatly combed to the side. He stumbles back, completely flustered, confused and afraid. The backs of his knees hit the king sized bed that rests in the center of the room, and he sits in exasperation on the mattress. 

“I- I have someplace to be! I have to be at an auction in just thirty minutes! Listen, whatever you yokels want I can get you, but if you kill me, you’ll never escape the bounty hunters.”

Arthur chuckles at this, pulling his lasso out of his satchel and stretching the rope a little to check its tightness. You watch as he moves to the bed, tying Cliftons hands behind his back. 

“Well y’know, I’ve been running from bounty hunters my whole life and they ain’t got me yet. But don’t you worry, I ain’t gonna kill ya. Unless I have to… am I gonna have to? Mr. Clifton? Arthur asks, once again playing up his charisma for the benefit of the job. Clifton shakes his head rapidly, sweating in fear as he looks between you and Arthur. 

“No! No, you’re not going to-” 

Clifton thumps against the bed as Arthur knocks him out with the butt of his pistol. His arm is so fast, you barely noticed it until Clifton was knocked out cold. Arthur holsters his gun, and you can see as his charismatic facade falls away. Gone is the witty, threatening, sarcastic outlaw, and returned to you is Arthur. He turns to you slowly, pulling his mask down around his neck. 

“He ain’t wakin’ up for a bit. We can just wait here until Hosea gives us the go ahead. He’s gonna ride by when the auctions done, whistle up to the deck,” Arthur nods in the direction of the glass doors before walking over to it and opening it.. “I’ll leave one open so we can hear when he comes by, should be over just after dark. Once Cornwall has that property he’s gonna send us the money in the mail.”

You nod, glancing at Clifton’s unconscious body once more before sliding down the wall to rest on the wooden floor. After Arthur fixes the door, he comes over to your spot. He sits down against the wall beside you, careful not to poke you with his spurs as he does so. 

“Here.” 

Arthur pulls a little burlap sack out of his satchel and hands it out to you. Curiously, you peek inside of it. To your surprise, it's almonds, and you reach down into the sack to pull a few of the sweet nuts out. Arthur does the same, and for a few minutes you sit in silence, chewing on your snack and watching the waves on the lake through the open door. Watching the water piques your interest, and the question bubbles up before you’ve even thought about it. 

“When’s the ferry supposed to come anyways?” You say somewhat quietly, as if your voice could break the serenity of the afternoon. The sun is just beginning to dip below the lake, casting the town, and Arthur in a beautiful golden halo. You find yourself staring, wondering if it’s the golden light that is making Arthur look so handsome right now, or if it’s just him. With a blush, you shake the thought out of your head. Arthur brings his fist to his mouth, dropping a few almonds into it before answering your question. 

“About three days, I think. But ferries can be unpredictable. We’ve got one of our men, Javier, set up in a camp nearby watching for it. If he sees it, he comes and gets the rest.” Your eyebrows pull together as you try to recall Javier from camp, and you deduce that you haven’t met this particular man yet. Arthur’s demeanor shifts,  you see the slouch in his shoulders, and the downcast look of his face. Slowly, he brings his eyes up to yours. 

“You leavin’ before then?” Arthur asks almost sheepishly, as if he’s afraid of your answer. 

You look down at your feet, watching the golden light reflect on your spurs.You don't even have to think about it. Earlier, you’d already decided to stay, but you can feel your reasoning change. Leaving the gang would not only leave you on the streets, it would leave you without family, and as you look up to meet Arthur’s gaze, you realize that you can't lose them- you can't lose him.

You’re terrified by what it means, and you shove the emotion deep down to answer his question. 

“No… where would I go? You lot are all I have now. Jenny, Lenny, Abigail and the girls, John, Jack, you.”

Arthur brings his right knee up, digging his heel into the wood floor as he rests the back of his head against the wall. 

"You know what you're gettin' yourself into then…?" Arthur whispers. You chuckle a bit, thinking of the gang. So far from who you've met, they're some of the kindest folks you've ever known. 

"Arthur, I was a wanted woman long before I met you." You remind him. 

"I know, but it's- it's different. We're a target. And sometimes we gotta do things that-" Arthur pauses, thinking over his words for a moment, "I just don't want you gettin' mixed up with us and then regrettin' it." 

"Arthur, I won't regret it. Now if I went off on my own, gettin' taken advantage of and selling myself, instead of staying here with you lot? I'd regret that for the rest of my days."  You counter, watching the gentle lapping of water at the bank of the river, and the kids that are kicking a ball around the deck. It's not that Arthur wants you to leave, he wants you to stay but he knows this life. He knows the pain of loss and fear and grief that running with them will grant you. If you stay and plan on running with the men, you'll have to kill. There will come a time when it's someone else's life or yours and by god he can't have you out if you're not ready to make that decision. 

"The man you killed- why you're wanted. Tell me what happened." Arthur asks. At the mention you look down to your hands. 

"Well my momma was real sick, she died when I was about fifteen. And then it was just me and Pa." You chuckle lightly, "and my daddy, well he didn't know anything about teenage girls." 

Arthur laughs at the thought, surely you were a handful as a teenager. 

"And he tried, he tried so hard to raise me good, but after momma he just couldn't. He drank. God- Arthur he drank so much that if he weren't killed he would surely be dead by now." A few tears fall down your cheeks and you hastily wipe them away, not wanting to be seen crying. 

"And he spent all our money on liquor. Brandy was his preferred poison, but once he ran out of money he drank anything he could get his hands on. He was different. He was meaner and nasty, but deep down inside I knew he was just my daddy, and he was hurtin' just as much as I was." 

Arthur watches the few tears that drip down your nose, and his heart breaks for you. He knows the feeling all too well, unfortunately. 

"He started takin' out loans, and after the bank wouldn't give him any more he started goin' to loan sharks. Nasty men came by the house all the time, givin' and takin' money. They took all mommas jewelry, they took my things…" 

Arthur's full attention is on you as you toy with a wrinkle on your jeans, distracting your body from the turmoil in your mind. 

"And one day we had nothin' left to give. He gave it all away. And so this man came in, busted the door down and beat my Pa, right in front of me Arthur, like I wasn't even there to see. He wasn't movin' and I tried to get him up, I tried so hard, but he was gone." 

The tears flow freely down your cheeks, and you don't try to stop them this time, letting them silently trail down your face as you recall the nightmare of a time. 

"I knew how to track, and I took my daddy's gun that he had hidden away. I followed the man's horse, till I came up on a little camp that he must have just set up for one or two nights… and I- I killed him." 

Arthur doesn't move a muscle, fixating on the pain on your face and wishing that he could take it from you. But the hurt runs deep, it won't go away, not ever, and he knows from experience. 

"After it was done I found a note in his pocket… My daddy's debt was fifteen dollars. Just fifteen goddamn dollars for his life. I would have done anything to have had that money." 

Arthur leans over, and much to your surprise, he envelops you in a hug. You tense up for a second, unsure, but instinct takes over and you melt into his touch. His arms are strong around you, respectful of course, as Arthur is nothing short of a gentleman. And as you shed quiet tears into his shirt you let out a held in breath. You needed this. It's been far too long since you've been embraced by another. You wrap your arms around Arthur's torso, sniffling lightly. You feel so small in his arms, wholly covered and protected by him. You’ve been watching out for yourself for so long, it feels nice to have someone to watch your back.

"I'm real sorry, I know how this-"

Arthur stops and tenses at the sound of whistles. Carefully he lets you go, and rushes towards the open door, placing his back against the wall so that he can peek outside without being seen. You follow his lead, glancing out and gasping at the sight. A large ferry is pulling alongside the docks, huge and white with shimmering gold rails in the streetlights. You can make out a few silhouettes of people along the docks, and you wonder if Javier has already alerted the gang of its arrival. 

“Ferry’s here folks!” You hear a man call out from the dock, to which some claps and cheers sound out. The ferry is full of rich passengers, who’s pockets will soon be left empty thanks to the Van Der Linde Gang. 

“Arthur, what do we do? Are they down there?” You ask, anxiety causing your heart to beat quickly as you scan the dock in search of familiar faces. He is doing the same, and you glance over, not missing the worry on his face. When he feels your eyes on him he attempts to comfort you with a small smile.

“It’ll be just fine. They’ve got this.” He whispers, but you can see that it’s a facade, you know he’s worried.

You both watch out the door for a while, a few passengers have started to straggle off the boat, and then you hear the first gunshot. Gasps and shrieks of fear from the boat cause your stomach to turn, and your knuckles turn white from the tension. You need to do something. Your friends are down there and you have a bad feeling about the whole situation. A few moments after the warning shot is fired, lawmen’s whistles begin to go off, and you watch as men with shiny gold deputy stars on their chests run onto the docks. 

“Arthur I gotta go do something, we can’t just stay up here.” You plead, and he purses his lips as if greatly thinking over his options. 

Arthur kneels down against the door, staying out of the way of any wandering eyes from the street and dock down below. 

“Okay someone’s gotta warn Hosea. You know where the property is. Take Bo, she's faster than your buckskin. I'm gonna head back to camp and warn the others. They gotta start packin’, if this goes south we gotta get outta here fast.” He says, glancing to where Clifton is still knocked out on the bed. 

“And him?” You ask, gesturing to the oil man. 

“We leave him here, ropes ain’t tight he can get himself free when he wakes up. We got bigger 

problems right now. Let’s go.” 

With that he stands up, and moves to the door. You both rush down the steps, attempting not to look suspicious despite the rushed walk. The bar holds more patrons than it did earlier, and you can slip out easily enough by walking between the crowd of people. Arthur pushes the saloon door open ahead of you, holding it until you’re out before running to the hitching posts. 

“Keep your head down, ride fast, and be careful. Don’t get hurt, alright?” Arthur asks before jumping onto the Buckskin and spurring him towards camp. You watch the dust that the horse kicks up before moving your attention to the docks. There’s a few lawmen on the docks, guns aimed at the ferry. They haven't shot yet, not wanting to miss and kill the passengers who are being robbed inside.

You’re frozen in a state of shock, as a shot goes off from inside the boat, and the front half of the ferry explodes into a fury of flames. You gasp, stepping backwards towards Boadicea, who you should be on and far away with right now, but you can’t force your muscles to move. There's so much yelling coming from the boat, and fiery pieces of  debris fall down into the water, sizzling and steaming. Flames erupt over the front of the boat, along with fearful screams. The noise and sight of the explosion has spooked all of the horses nearby, and you watch as a few of the gang members' horses that were hitched on the dock run away. 

“Shit, Shit, Shit.” You curse, knowing that you have to help them. Hosea is safe where he is, but who knows how bad the explosion was? You glance to Boadicea, petting her neck lightly. 

“I'll be right back girl.” You promise before running towards the ferry. Your heart pounds in your ears as adrenaline pumps through your veins. There’s a handful of lawmen on the deck, and you sneak behind stacked crates to avoid them, pulling your revolver out of its holster just in case. In the windows of the ferry you see Dutch and Micah approaching the door, along with a man you presume to be Javier. 

“They’re coming out, shoot to kill! The detectives should be here soon!” One of the lawmen, presumably the sheriff yells, and you stumble backwards at his statement, head going dizzy from all of it. 

The detectives? 

Dutch bursts the ferry door open, guns raised as he fires. There's a saddle bag hanging off of his shoulders, stuffed to the brim with cash and gold. Your eyes boggle at the thought of how much must be in it. Three lawmen go down from his shots, giving you the opportunity to run to the boat. You break for it, ducking from the haze of bullets and heading straight for the edge of the dock. 

“We are getting out of here!” Dutch yells out, silencing a few more yelling lawmen with his guns. 

You run past Dutch, through the door of the ferry and gasp at the sight. Many of the passengers are dead, both from the explosion and the guns of the Van Der Lindes. Your jaw falls slack and you look up in disgust at a chuckling Micah. He also has a full saddlebag over his shoulder, and a sickening grin on his face. 

“Oh we’re just gettin’ started missy.” He chuckles, and you recoil at the sound. There’s a small group of passengers still in their seats, trembling in fear and ducking down. It makes you sick to see what they’ve done and for a moment you deeply regret coming back to help.

Javier follows Micah out of the door silently, and then you see Charles and Jenny, struggling with a body. Charles is groaning with pain, and you notice the bloody burn that covers his hand before you recognize the body he’s helping to carry.

“Oh my god.” You whisper, hands clasped over your mouth as they struggle to carry Davey out of the boat. 

“We need to get out of here, right now Dutch!” Charles growls, angry, challenging Dutch’s decisions. 

“Clearly!” Dutch yells, shooting down the last of the lawmen before making a run for the horses. You do the same, running to the saloon’s hitching post and grabbing Boadicea’s reins before jumping into the saddle. You grimace at the sound of Charles throwing Davey onto Micah’s horse. 

“Where’s Sean? Mac?” Javier calls out, jumping onto Boaz. 

“I don’t know, son, but we will come back for them.” Dutch hollers out. 

Just as you’re about to spur Arthur’s mare, you hear the sound of pounding hooves. It's like a war chant, the rumbling of hooves slamming down the roads towards town. The ground shakes with their power and you canter towards the other gang members, terrified. 

“They got the goddamn Pinkertons on us! Bastards!” Dutch practically screams, looking feral and as if any form of rationality has left him. You don’t even recognize him, and you try to ignore the blood that is staining his hands and once white shirt. You don’t know what happened on that ferry before you made it down, but it was something awful.

Everyone, including you, pulls out their weapons and starts firing. You watch a swarm of men in black suits gallop down the slope from the plains, brandishing carbines. 

“Look at me, we’ll be okay honey. You stick with me, alright?” Jenny calls to you, and you nod your head, leaning off of Bo for a moment to squeeze Jenny’s hand. When she releases, you pull your revolvers out and start firing at the swarm. 

Pinkertons fall, alongside their horses. Your stomach aches, your head is pounding from the adrenaline and the trauma. As everyone shoots, a hole opens up and you all spur your horses to break for camp. 

“Everyone get goin’ now! Leave none of them breathing!” Dutch screams over the shots. 

Shots continue to ring out as you push Boadicea past the church and towards home. You try not to think, kissing and begging the mare to keep running as you turn to take down as many Pinkertons as you can. You aim, taking down three men quickly. Their horses continue running, as if oblivious to their riders' deaths. 

Jenny is galloping her horse beside you, and she curses as she fires the last round from her revolver. 

“Goddamnit!” She yells, and you try to hold off the detectives as much as you can while she reloads. 

Another shot rings out, just like the hundreds that are being thrown across the plains, but this one doesn’t miss. Warm, crimson blood splatters across your face and you gasp, watching as Jenny’s limp body slides down to the ground off of her horse, 

“NO!” You shriek, sliding Boadicea into a stop and leaping down from her. 

“Jenny- no, no, no… you’re okay, you’re alright.” You coo, pushing your hands over the wound in her chest. Tears fall from your eyes, landing on her body that is growing colder by the second. She weakly grabs your hand, looking up to you with teary eyes while shaking her head in protest. Bullets are whizzing above your head as you lean over your friend, begging a higher power to stop this nightmare.

“Get back please- don’t… don’t stay out here. Please get back, please tell,” Jenny chokes on a sob, red coughing up from her lips, “Please tell Lenny how much I love him.”

You nod, tears dripping from your eyes as the shots quiet. The Pinkertons have all been killed, and the gang stands around on sweating, steaming horses in shock. Everyone’s eyes are on you and Jenny in horror. Jenny’s grip on your hand grows weaker by the second, until it slips away from your own entirely. Your breath hitches as you look up to find her eyes glassy and unmoving, her chest has stopped rising. Everything is still, and you sob, shaking her shoulders and begging her to get back up. Her long blonde hair falls around her head, turning crimson from the blood that is soaked onto your hands. It’s everywhere, everything, all you see is red.

“No… no, Jenny p-please, we have to go please get up. No- no, no!” You scream into the wretched night, leaning your forehead against her arm and crying. You don’t even care that the gang is watching, your only concern is your friend. The once giggling girl who’s carefree, bubbly attitude shone around her like a halo. She was good, and now she's gone.

“Oh not sweet Jenny too… Goddamnit! Put her on your horse, we have to go right now!” Dutch yells, and you look at him with pure hatred. This is his fault, and you hate him with a burning passion at the moment, but you know he’s right, you have to go.

“I can’t- I’m not-” You cry, and Javier notices, jumping down from Boaz. He picks up Jenny carefully, and your eyes follow after him as he puts her body on the back of his horse, like she's a bounty, or a damn hunted animal. Everyone begins galloping back, save for you and Charles. He’s noticed that you’re frozen in shock in the dirt, and he won’t leave you here. You’ve not seen much of him, but if Arthur trusts him, then so do you. You’re frozen on your knees, and Charles slides down from Taima, beckoning you to leave with him from a few feet away. Boadicea is still standing at your back, seemingly uneasy and afraid.  Her tail swishes, and her ears are pinned from fear and frustration, as if she wants to help you, wants to get you out of here.

“Hey, I know this is hard, but we need to get out of here, c’mon.” Charles insists, voice calm even in the chaos. You nod quietly, finally standing up and moving towards Boadicea. You pet her neck, wiping your tears before gripping onto the saddle horn. 

“O-okay” you whisper, numbly. 

A shot rips through the once quiet night, landing at your feet and you whip around to see one last Pinkerton hiding behind a lonely oak tree on the plain. 

“Shit!” You curse, pulling out your revolver and taking aim. He’s in a spot that’s hard to aim at. His position behind the tree is perfect for him to pop in and out, firing shots without taking any.

You squeeze the trigger and the bullet whizzes past his head. The finely dressed man pops out from the tree, quickly shooting his weapon. 

You gasp as a searing, burning pain shoots through your thigh. The force causes you to stumble backwards and fall onto your butt, and you grip at the shooting pain. Boadicea steps forward, putting her nose to the ground to nudge at you, as if checking if you’re alright. You cry out, pushing down on the wound to stop the blood that is gushing from it. Unbeknownst to you, the Pinkerton still has his sights on your head. Charles aims, shoots, and kills the Pinkerton…but he is a split second too late. 

A squeal reaches your ears, and a loud boom as Boadicea rears, and then falls to the ground at your side. 

“NO, no no. Please, not you too. No-” You sob, crawling over to her and ignoring the scorching, shredding pain in your thigh as you lean over the mare’s neck. 

You pet her, watching her eyes grow weary and her breaths get weaker. Her legs kick out lightly, of course she’s still putting up a fight, even in death. Her chestnut coat is turning dark with blood, seeping from her neck and pooling on the ground. Your hands are the same shade of crimson, alongside your shirt and pants. Whether it’s your own, Jenny’s or Bo’s, you’re not sure. You stroke her neck, pulling the bit out of her mouth and sliding her bridle off amidst broken, strangled sobs. You’ve lost too much today. Not her too. Charles steps over, revolver in hand with one last bullet in the gun’s barrel. You know what has to be done, but god, you can’t watch, and you're not strong enough to do it yourself.

Charles' hand rests on your shoulder, and you whimper, turning your head around and covering your ears to soften the shot that will surely ring out in a moment. You squint your eyes shut, anticipation running through your body and causing your hands to tremble and shake over your ears.

The last gun that is fired tonight doesn’t end the life of a lawman, or a pinkerton. No, the last shot that pierces the silent night ends the quiet suffering of Arthur’s beloved Boadicea. When you open your eyes, she’s gone, put out of her misery by Charles’ smoking gun. Tears fall down your cheeks silently, as Charles helps you to your feet. You cry out, grasping at your thigh. It's bleeding heavily and you put pressure on it as you walk. 

“Cmon, I'll put you on the back of Taima.” Charles whispers, calling the appaloosa over before picking you up by your waist and helping you onto the back of his horse. The  outlaw mutters apologies as you grimace in pain. 

The ride is silent, save for Taima’s hooves and your groans of pain as the galloping pulls at your gunshot wound uncomfortably. The reality of what’s just happened settles, but you can’t seem to rid yourself of the shock. In a way you’re grateful for it. The adrenaline makes the shot through your leg bearable, and keeps all the emotions you’re going to deal with at bay for now. You glance down to your left thigh, scowling as you get a good look at it for the first time. The wound is big and messy, the bastard shot you with a goddamn rifle. 

You don’t even realize you’ve made it back to camp, mind still reeling with horrendous memories from the night. Some of the adrenaline has worn off and your thigh throbs in pain. It has bled down your leg, soaking your sock and boot in the sticky red liquid, along with Taima’s back leg. It hits you that you’re back when Charles dismounts. A flurry of people are rushing around camp, tearing apart what used to be your home. Tents are packed into wagons, but crates and pelts and belongings lie abandoned in the dirt. Your eyes follow the things that are being left behind. Jack's books, people’s pictures, clothes, your watch from Arthur in Tumbleweed, they all remain abandoned as everyone files into wagons and onto horses. Charles helps you down off of Taima, and you cry in pain when your feet hit the ground, sending a white hot stab of pain through your leg.

“Charles?!” A voice calls out- a familiar one. You see Arthur, dismounting your buckskin a few feet away. He looks panicked, probably on account of the blood that has soaked through all of your clothes. Unbeknownst to him, most of it isn’t yours. 

“What happened?! Shit- are you alright?” Arthur runs over, gently placing his hands on your arms and scanning over your body.  You can’t bring yourself to nod, to lie. 

“No…” You choke on a cry as Arthur envelops you in the tightest hug you’ve ever been held in. Just for a moment, when his arms are wrapped around you, everything is okay. It’s over far too quickly, as someone across camp calls out to him for help. 

“Hosea, I-” You whisper, remembering your original task. It hits you like a wall of bricks, you were supposed to warn him and you failed. Arthur nods, glancing down to your thigh. 

“Don’t worry, I know. We got him. When you weren’t back I sent Uncle after him, he’s good for somethin’ at least.” Arthur says, glancing back to Grimshaw who is yelling after him. 

“Now, look at me. We gotta go right now. You’re strong, I know you are. I need you to hold on to that strength just a little longer for me, okay?” you nod, bloodshot, teary eyes glancing up to lock onto Arthurs, “I'm gonna put you up in the wagon with the girls. They’ll get your leg fixed up in no time, here.” Arthur pulls his dark neckerchief from earlier over his head, and kneels into the mud. 

“This is gonna hurt, I'm sorry but I gotta make it tight.” He says, wrapping the cloth around your thigh, careful not to touch you other than where he needs to. He ties the cloth just above your wound, pulling the neckerchief tight. You grip onto his strong shoulder, digging your nails into his shirt as the tight knot pulls uncomfortably at the wound. You groan at the pain, trying to push it away. 

Once Arthur deems the makeshift tourniquet tight enough, he stands back up, ushering you towards the wagon. The girls are already inside. All but one… Abigail, Tilly, Marybeth and Karen are all huddling together, whispering to Jack who is crying into his little fists. His cheeks are red and raw from the salty tears that have traced down his puffy cheeks. 

“Johns gone to scout ahead and clear the roads, took Micah with him” Abigail explains.

There’s no time for further explanation as Arthur’s hands grip onto your waist, carefully hoisting you up into the wooden wagon. He apologizes as you wince, settling you down before glancing behind him, as if looking for something. 

Oh…

“Where…where’s Boadicea?” Arthur asks, looking to you like he already knows the answer but is just hoping for a different one. 

Your face crumples into tears yet again, and you wipe them away while trying to look Arthur in the eyes. 

“She didn’t-” you shake your head, “She didn’t make it. Arthur, I'm so sorry.” You hiccup. 

A pain, old and deep, flashes across Arthur’s face for a moment as he bows his head, jaw clenched in pain as he hides the emotion behind his hat. He nods, fighting back something deep within himself before growling a bit, deep in his chest. 

“Did she-” Arthur gestures towards Blackwater with his hand, and you don’t miss the tears that have welled in his eyes, although he refuses to let them fall, “She suffer?” He asks, looking up at you with an emotion so raw, that it has you crying. You shake your head, knowing that she didn’t. Charles stopped that from happening and you’re grateful that he was there.

Arthur nods, pushing down the emotion like he always does. He attempts to comfort you with a small smile, but it is broken and painful. 

“You need anything’, anythin’ at all, have someone come and get me, okay?” Arthur whispers, before turning to head back towards Charles. 

You scooch yourself back against the wood grain of the wagon, wishing that you could fall into the earth and be swallowed whole. Your typical hellfire attitude has been broken today, beaten down by the traumas that you’ve been handed. It will come back, and you’ll be okay. But now? You’re not. 

Abigail leans over towards you, letting go of Jack with one arm to wrap it around you. You lean into her touch, closing your eyes as Tilly and Mrs. Grimshaw gather around you with Strauss’ medical kit. 

They pull and prod at your leg, forcing the bullet out and sewing the flesh back together. When they dig the bullet out with sharp metal tongs, ripping and tearing through your skin, you cry out, screaming for all of the Van Der Linde gang to hear as they start the journey north. But no one complains. It’s preferable to the deafening silence.

The pain you feel is nothing compared to the constant ache of loss as you numbly stare at Jenny’s body that had been stacked on top of Davey’s in front of you for the trip north. They’ve been covered with a white sheet, but the all too familiar crimson has soaked through the material, staining it and forever ruining its purity.

It’s much like the blood that has soaked into your clothes, splattered across your skin. You could scrub it away for hours on end, but it will never really be gone. Not in the way you want it to. The memories from today are burned into your mind, like a sickening brand that you’ll carry with you for years.  

Now, sitting in the back of the rocking wagon, stained with blood and tears, surrounded by the soft cries of your friends, the bodies of friends, you know why you’ve put up your walls. When Arthur rides past to check up on you, and the horse under him is a spotted appaloosa instead of the familiar, warm chestnut mare, you know why you haven’t allowed yourself the comfort of a family… because good people die.

[luv4kyle]

Alpha wolf!fem!reader x beta!kenny mccormick [pt.4]

notes ; join the discord server above to get more W stuf from heidi! snippets, be able to get into the tag list, early updates, see even more of her work that isnt just writing, make more friends, and TALK WITH HEIDI !?!?!? 😱😱😱 yea u get to talk with ur super sigma idol writer (/j) for real by just joining the server!!! so join it its super duper sigma fun 🤑 anyways you can keep reading now ⬇️

Tag list 🐺

@marshslovedone

@itzjustcami

@bertzstarr

@silliysblog

" please sigma, give me a chance, i skibidi promise, no cap, on skibidi toilet and on caseoh, ill be your best gyatt ever... i know im not very sigma enough for you, but ill griddy for you, glaze you, rizz you up, goon and looksmaxx with you, eat skibidi slicers with you, ill even watch CaseOh with you , ill do all that for you alpha y/n " kenny pleaded, practically begging to be with the alpha... he just couldnt live without her, she needed to be his

" kenny... what the sigma... i dont know what to say , i think you jelqed it too hard... " y/n stared at kenny surprised at his words, she knew that he would yap to her all the time or come to her cave just to see her rizzy face, it was obvious that kenny liked her, but she always was taught to yap and rizz with an alpha, not a beta or an omega... when kenny heard that y/n could never be with a lower class like him, he was devastated. He felt skibidied...

" no, i didn't jelq it too hard my gyatt, im yapping the truth rizzler, i swear i am... i want to be your W level 9 gyatt, i might not have a level 10 but i have W rizz, max aura, i looksmaxx every day, edge everyday and my jawline is perfect from my daily mewing... ive never lost a streak alpha. i could be anything for you y/n, please just give me a chance sigma... " the blondes hand tightened on y/ns, rubbing her knuckles with his thumb as he examines her face, trying to get some type of positive response from her somehow, anything as long as it was a yes...

Y/n hesitating, never hearing something like that ever in her life, especially from someone like kenny, she couldnt believe that kenny actually would do anything for her just for them to be together... i mean she couldnt really deny it, how could she? plus, y/n sort of liked kenny back as well...the alpha cleared her throat before responding to kennys confession,

" alright beta, how would you like it if i also wanted you to be my glazing level 9 gyat? " y/n questioned, her big (e/c) orbs looking right into kennys, waiting for a response from him to her question, either way she was definitely sure that kenny would immediately accept it, it would be his dream.

Kenny was shocked, flabbergasted, he thought he was dreaming.. "no way in skibidi toilet she just said that, did she really...? " he thought, not believing that this moment was real, he was feeling so sigma, the fact that y/n actually wanted him by her side and be her W level 9 gyatt glazer made him so happy

" wait... i.. really sigma? "

[keirawantstocry]

OKAY HI IT ME 💋NON IVE BEEN HAVING THOUGHTS. sorry if this is kinda, incomprehensible, i just had Thoughts and they Had to Come Out

okay so, this has been brewing for a while but, you wrote the thing about them taking his heart and i Could Not hold it back anymore. So. Affectionate canibalism. Technically its when someone eats part of a loved ones dead body. BUT this came into fruition before tubbo died. The original thought was more like, Tubbo insecure, fitpac dont really have any idea how to help this until Pac goes "well, you could always eat part of us. We respawn so itd be fine" and like. The trust of letting someone else Consume part of you (that feels like something Pac would suggest because, yanno). While I am p attached to the all consuming trust of "have part of me", with all thats happened lore wise recently, go wild.

hope youre having a good day :>

saw cannibalism. blacked out. read the rest of it. blacked out. hnggghhh 

soft kisses arent enough for this. violently making out with you now 

TW for cannibalism and gore

"People lie," Tubbo's voice cracked on the last word as tears threatened to spill out. "Words don't mean anything. You can say time and time again that you won't leave me but it doesn't, God, it doesn't fucking mean anything." 

Fit and Pac were both silent. 

"You need action," Pac said slowly and despite the tension and vulnerability Tubbo laughed, tinged with dark humor. 

"Not sure now is the time to try and get in my pants." 

"Not that kind of action," Fit snapped, with no bite in his voice. 

Tubbo sniffed, trying to ignore the tears rolling down his surely bright red cheeks. "What then?" 

"You could eat us," Pac said quietly. 

Tubbo laughed, drily and a little bit wild. "Thought you didn't mean that kind of action." 

"I didn’t." Pac said, looking up to make eye contact. "Let me prove how I will never leave you. Eat some of me, yeah? Cellbit can certainly vouch that I'm delicious." 

Tubbo's eyes dropped to Pac's thighs without thinking. He was wearing pants that fell to his ankles so he couldn’t see anything but in his mind he could. The pale flesh lined with veins and curved with muscle. 

Tubbo felt dizzy. 

"Okay," he said very clearly, hearing his own voice as if he was outside of his body, just a surveyor. 

Pac perked up. "I can have everything prepared by tonight, sounds good?" 

Tubbo was nodding. "Yeah." 

"Perfect." 

-

The knife shone with Pac's blood, the man's face twisted up as he panted. Fit was holding him, holding his hands as Tubbo kneeled between his legs with the knife in his hands. The blood was trailing down his thigh in thick streaks and Tubbo was fascinated by it. He felt like a businessman at a steakhouse being presented with the house's finest meal. 

He stabbed the flesh through, lifting it off leaving a bloody mess behind. Almost hesitantly he raised the slice of flesh to his mouth and took a bite while making direct eye contact with Pac. 

Pac looked a mess and not just from the cut on his thigh. Part of him really wanted to make a joke about how Pac seemed to almost be getting off on it but it felt too sensitive, too personal so he shoved it down. 

The flesh was strange tasting but not bad. But it was more than that. More than just flesh sliding down his throat. It was the fact that it was Pac's flesh, Pac's eyes on him as he swallowed. Fit's eyes on him as well, watching the bop of his throat with dark eyes. 

Fit wasn't doing a damn thing. Just letting Tubbo chew on the flesh and swallow it down piece by piece. The trust was addictive. The trust felt like love. The trust felt like nothing he had ever tasted before like the blood on his lips. The trust tasted like the action that finally tipped the scales that dropped his right in their loving arms. 

They would never leave.