#if we're being ~deep and dramatic~ in the tags

[paperlovesadness]

No, because I'm not over processing "Now & Then" and freaking out about what a perfect epilogue it is for the Beatles, but also what a perfect homage it is to John & Paul's friendship. And how much it feels like destiny.

The words "Now & Then" have so many strange ties to these boys. Because:

-> John's last words to Paul (during a meeting that no one could expect was their last) were: "think about me every now & then old friend".

-> John was murdered in December 1980. In February of 1981 a friend of Paul's - fellow musician Carl Perkins spent a week with him, participating in a recording of a song for his album. To thank him and Linda for their hospitality during the time, the night before he was meant to leave, Carl sat down and spontaneously wrote them a song titled "My Old Friend". He played it to them the next morning and Paul started crying and had to leave to gather himself. Linda McCartney then assured Carl it was okay and thanked him for helping Paul, because he had problems facing his emotions about the attack before that. And then she stopped and asked him "but how did you know?" and Carl had no idea what she meant. She explained that the only people who knew what John's last words to Paul were was her and Paul himself. And then she revealed what those words were. Carl had no idea, but he ended up accidentally including them in that song.

The chorus of that song went as follows:

My old friend, Thanks for inviting me in My old friend, May this goodbye never mean the end And if we never meet again this side of life In a little while, over yonder, Where it’s peace and quiet My old friend, Won’t you think about me every now and then

Paul then insisted on recording that song with Carl Perkins, which they did - and recalling that story later Carl said that Paul felt like that song was sent to him by John through Carl.

-> By now we all know the story of how this "new" Beatles song came to be - After John's death, Yoko found a demo tape of songs he never completed, that she then handed over to Paul so that him, George & Ringo could record the last new Beatles songs in 1995 as part of an anthology that was being released. (they wanted to record new material, but had promised never to do so without all the members included. So using these demos was the only way).

There's lots of places that claim the tape with the demos had "For Paul" written on it by John - but admittedly, I haven't actually seen a source quoted. Still - the fact that one of the songs on that last demo of new material they ever got from John was titled with some of the last words he ever said to his best friend? The lyrics of that song being what they are? Come on.

(It very much also just felt like a song for Paul to me. With how complex that relationship was - how intense all the emotions were - through love and diss tracks to still calling each other best friends while they weren't on good terms. Missing each other).

Then - destiny working the way it did, not allowing them to record that one track in 1995 because of the awful quality. Making it so that it was their actual last song in 2023. Because only now did the technology allow for seperating those vocals and fixing them up so that they can actually be used.

Like are you kidding me??? It was that one. The one that felt most special.

-> Bonus fact. The back of the record sleeve has a photo of a special art piece on it - from George Harrison's collection. One that provides another serendipitous moment in connection to these words:

Image source: [x]

And I'm just supposed to be alright with all of this?????????

[monamipencil]

— baby fever | c.sc

tw; talks of pregnancy and mentions of seahorses, slight suggestive.

“baby, i can only know what's wrong if you tell me.” seungcheol is kneeled in front of you, softly caressing your knees with his calloused hands.

worry laces his warm, brown eyes as he stares at you. you stay silent, but the pout on your lips speaks a thousand words. he rakes a hand through his hair, mentally rewinding all the things he did and didn't.

but it's the same conclusion as before, he cannot remember what could've upset you. he sighs but doesn't lose his cool. you observe him, quietly. guilt wraps around your heart but you cannot bring yourself to say why you're upset.

“baby,” you whisper, voice barely audible.

“hmm?”

“baby.”

“yes?”

“no. baby,” you make a gesture with your hands, as if you're holding a baby.

worry fades into horror beneath his irises and you see his face morph into multiple emotions. he rubs his face, and looks at you, wide-eyed. you cut him off before he could say anything.

“i'm not pregnant.”

“i.. baby.”

seungcheol doesn't need any more words to comprehend your thoughts. he breaks out into a big smile and gets off the floor to take you into his arms.

you snuggle into his neck, enjoying the silent understanding between you two. he chuckles when he feels you pout against his skin and whine. his gentle hand cards through your locks, and the other pats your lower back.

“not now, honey.” his big hand caresses your tummy and he sneaks a kiss to your neck.

“i have to work hard, then build a home and get married with you. then, we can have as many kids as you want.” he finishes with a smile.

“as many as i want?” you raise your eyebrow, a habit you picked up from him.

“mhm.”

“ok, i want thirteen kids.” you chuckle as he tries not to show his surprise and visibly tenses. he goes into deep thought while you admire him, tracing his features with your finger.

“thirteen .. is a lot. but we can do it.” it's your turn to be flabbergasted and you pull away from his embrace.

“i can't birth thirteen babies,” you wince, clutching your stomach. he laughs at you with a look that says 'you asked for it.'

“well, don't you think we should practice? practice mak—” you cut him off by flinging a pillow to his face and jet off. you giggle, seeing his face but it's short-lived when he runs after you.

you try to outrun him but it's in vain as he back hugs you and brings you back to the bed. and it seems that the sudden adrenaline rush has you thinking the same.

“maybe, we should.” you're breathless underneath him, hair tousled and eyes holding a new hunger. he groans, begging you not to egg him on.

seungcheol holds you close, whining into your neck. he complains with a pout about how you bewitched him and that he has a baby fever now as well.

“i've decided. i'm gonna work really hard to provide for our 15-member family.”

you laugh but he insists that he's being serious despite the lovesick smile on his face. he switches positions with you, now holding you between his arms.

“we can. in another life time, when we're both reincarnated as seahorses.” you hug him, enjoying the warmth radiating off him.

“i wish we were seahorses.” he sighs, dramatically and shakes his head. you giggle, hitting his chest.

“do you think i'd look good pregnant?” he asks, deep in his thoughts.

“seungcheol!”

tags; @seungkwanschicken @aaa-sia @dokyeomkyeom @bangantokchy

@asyre @armycarat2612 @bewoyewo @gyuguys @embrace-themagic

@aaniag @nurihihi (send an ask to be on the taglist!)

[wholoveseggs]

Hey girly, my favorite fic of yours is “Madness” I absolutely adore jealous Elijah(and all my boys for that matter) I would like to request something smutty were reader is making Elijah jealous and than he demands to be shown some respect *wink* *wink*. I know you wrote a few fics like this but I L O V E that trope and I would like to see more if you have any ideas.

thankssss in advance, sending lots of hugs to you 🫶🏻

Chaos

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Elijah Mikaelson x f!Reader} A punk-themed night out with the Mikaelsons reveals a side of Elijah you’ve never seen before... and a chance to push boundaries neither of you ever expected.

♡♡ Hello darling @hiddledede-heddlededo!! I adore exploring Elijah's wild, dominant side… so why not throw him into a setting that lets him fully unleash it?? ~ ♡♡

7.8k words - Warnings: smutt, Kol being a flirt, Klaus rocking a mohawk, Rebekah is only going so she can snack on a punk rocker, Elijah taking what he wants, mosh-pits, dom!Elijah, oral sex (f!receiving), little but of butt stuff (also f!receiving), a dash of sir kink, riding, blood drinking, commanding Elijah && lots of punk / metal vibes ...

I'll be tagging ya'll in the comments from now on... because tumblr is not built for tagging lots of users... if you want off the tag list just shoot me a DM!!! (I won't be offended ~xo)

The compound was alive with chaos. Heavy guitar riffs and screaming vocals blasted through the speakers, shaking the walls as you carefully applied your eyeliner at Rebekah's vanity. The faint scent of whiskey lingered in the air, mingling with the sharp tang of nail polish and the distinct musk of leather jackets piled in the corner.

Rebekah was rifling through her closet, tossing clothes haphazardly over her shoulder in search of something remotely punk or goth. A pair of fishnets flew through the air and landed on the bed.

"Rebekah, what are you doing?" you asked, pausing to set the eyeliner down and stand up.

"I can't find anything!" she wailed, slamming the closet doors shut with an air of theatrical defeat.

"Don't worry," you said, picking up the fishnets and smoothing them out with a small laugh. "I have a dress for you that matches the theme perfectly. But you should definitely wear these. They're sexy."

Rebekah snatched them up with a dramatic sigh of relief. "Thank you, darling. You're a lifesaver."

"Of course," you replied, flashing her a quick smile before turning back to the vanity. You picked through her cluttered makeup stash. "Do you have any dark lipstick? Deep red or black would be perfect."

Rebekah nodded, rummaging through a pile of scattered tubes as Kol came bursting through the door. He was a sight to behold. Decked out in all black, with ripped jeans, spiked bracelets glinting on his wrists, and combat boots that looked like they could survive a war. In one hand, he balanced a bottle of bourbon, while the other clutched a portable speaker blaring screeching guitar riffs.

"Are you ready?" he asked, grinning like a kid on Christmas morning.

"Almost. We're still deciding on outfits," you replied, laughing as he flung himself onto Rebekah's bed like a rockstar who'd just survived a long set.

Kol took a swig from the bourbon before offering it to you. "Liquid courage, darling?"

You hesitated for only a second before taking the bottle, pretending his playful charm wasn’t contagious. "Thanks, Kol," you said, the burn of the whiskey warming your throat.

He leaned back, plucking the eyeliner pencil you’d left on the vanity and spinning it between his fingers. "I remember when ladies used to color their eyes with coal and berries. Fashion has certainly changed," he mused, his tone light but teasing.

"Want to try it?" you asked.

"Why not?" Kol grinned mischievously.

You stepped closer, grabbing his chin gently. As you leaned in to line his eyes, you couldn’t help but laugh at the boyish excitement glinting in his dark irises. You tried to push thoughts of someone else’s dark, brooding gaze out of your mind.

As you finished lining Kol’s eyes, you smudged the edges just enough to give him a grungy, rebellious look. He turned to the mirror, tilting his head this way and that before flashing you a devilish grin.

"I must say, you’ve outdone yourself, darling," he said, striking a dramatic pose. "Do I look devastatingly handsome? Or perhaps... devastatingly misunderstood?"

"You look ridiculous," you said, laughing as you swatted his arm. "But it’s perfect for tonight."

Kol leaned back on the bed, his grin turning wicked. "Speaking of tonight, are you hoping to catch anyone’s eye? Or just hoping a certain someone finally notices how ravishing you look?"

You froze, your heart skipping a beat. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, don’t play coy with me," Kol said, wagging a finger. "You know exactly who I mean. A certain noble brother of mine who prefers brooding in corners over having any fun."

Your cheeks burned, and you turned back to the vanity, pretending to busy yourself with your makeup. "I have no idea what you’re talking about."

Kol let out a bark of laughter, swinging his legs off the bed and walking over to lean against the vanity beside you. "Come now, love. I see the way you look at Elijah… Like he hung the stars themselves. It’s positively nauseating."

You shot him a glare through the mirror. "Kol, drop it."  

"Why should I?" he asked with a wicked grin. "It’s not like you’re being subtle about it. Though, I’ll admit, my dear brother could use someone to rattle that insufferable composure of his."  

Rebekah breezed into the room, holding up a slinky black silk dress. "This the one you were talking about?"

You nodded, relieved for the distraction. "Yep. That one will look killer."

"Fantastic." She smiled, grabbing the bourbon from Kol and taking a swig.

You grabbed the black fishnet top and red leather mini skirt from the bed and held them up. "Kol, if you’re going to hang around, at least turn around while I change."

He smirked, raising his hands in mock surrender. "As you wish, my modest little dove," He spun on his heel, facing the wall.  

You rolled your eyes and disappeared into the walk-in closet. Once you were safely inside, you pressed your forehead against the wall, a groan escaping your lips. Of all the people to notice your attraction to Elijah, why did it have to be Kol?

You slipped off your shirt, replacing it with the fishnet top. The sheer fabric clung to your skin, and the bra underneath added just the right amount of daring to the look. As you wiggled into the red leather mini skirt, Kol’s voice broke through your focus.  

"Elijah, though," he mused aloud, clearly unable to keep quiet. "He’d probably combust at the sight of you in a skirt like that. All that decorum? Poof. Gone."  

You rolled your eyes, listening to Rebekah giggle as you tugged your skirt into place, the material hugging your hips snugly. "Kol, do you ever shut up?"  

"Not when there’s fun to be had," he quipped. "Though, if I’m being honest, I might have to lend Elijah a hand tonight. He could use the push."  

You groaned, reaching for your knee-high black boots. "Kol, whatever you’re scheming, just stop. Please."  

"Darling, I would never scheme," he said, the exaggerated indignation in his voice making it clear he was lying.  

After zipping up the boots and smoothing down your skirt, you turned toward him. "Alright, you can look now."

Kol spun around, and his eyes swept over you with a dramatic flourish. He let out a low whistle, his grin widening. "Well, well. Someone looks ravishing. Don't you think, sister?"

"Oh, yes." Rebekah laughed. "That outfit is positively sinful."

"I don't know," you said, biting back a smirk. "Do you think it's too much?"

Kol’s grin softened into something almost mischievously kind. "Darling, let me give you some advice: Elijah may act like he’s above all this chaos, but trust me, he notices. And he cares more than you think."

You frowned, checking yourself out one last time in the mirror, fiddling with a tube of lipstick. "He doesn’t even like this kind of thing. We have nothing in common, Kol. Why would he ever-"

"Please," Kol interrupted, rolling his eyes dramatically. "Elijah is the king of pretending not to care while secretly caring far too much. The trick is pulling him out of his little bubble. Tonight, my dear, you’ve got the perfect opportunity."

Your heart fluttered at the thought, but you quickly shoved it down. "Kol, you’re ridiculous."

"And you’re in denial," he shot back, winking as he plucked the lipstick from your hands and held it up. "Now, are we going with the deep red or black? Because trust me, Elijah won’t be able to take his eyes off you either way."

You snatched the lipstick back with a huff, trying to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. "You’re impossible."

"And you’re smitten," Kol said, his grin widening. "Now hurry up, or we’ll be late for the party. I have a reputation to uphold, after all."

As he sauntered out of the room, the sound of his laughter trailing behind him, you let out a shaky breath. Maybe Kol was right. Maybe tonight wasn’t just about wild music and dancing. Maybe it was your chance to show Elijah a side of yourself he’d never noticed before.

The thought sent a thrill through you, and you turned back to the mirror with renewed determination.

"Deep red it is," you murmured to yourself, a small smile playing on your lips.

You and Rebekah sat on the plush couch in the living room, passing a half-empty bottle of whiskey back and forth as the pounding music from Kol’s speaker vibrated through the walls. The anticipation of the night buzzed in the air, matching the light, happy buzz from the alcohol warming your veins.

"I cannot wait for tonight," Rebekah said, leaning back against the couch, her fishnet-clad legs stretched out in front of her. "It’s been ages since we’ve gone out like this."

You nodded, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "I can't remember the last time I went to a real party," you admitted.

The heavy thud of boots descending the stairs announced the arrival of Kol and Klaus. They entered the room like they were walking onto a stage, heads held high and swaggering grins on their faces. Klaus had his hair gelled up into a perfect mohawk. He was dressed in ripped jeans, chains, and a leather jacket adorned with pins. "How do I look?" he asked, spreading his arms wide.

"Ridiculous," Kol replied, but the pride shining in his eyes was undeniable.

Rebekah laughed, rising to her feet and twirling in a circle. Her black dress clung to her body, leaving little to the imagination, and the fishnets underneath made her legs look a mile long. "Well, what about me?"

"These headbangers will eat you alive," Klaus said, winking as he tossed her a leather jacket.

She caught it with ease, slipping it on and grinning at her brothers. "I plan on eating them, actually," she purred.

Kol flopped onto the couch beside you, throwing an arm over your shoulders. "What’s this? Are you two already tipsy? We haven’t even left yet!"

"Don’t worry about us," Rebekah said with a smirk. "We can handle ourselves better than you."

Kol opened his mouth to retort, but the conversation was cut short by the sound of Elijah clearing his throat from the doorway. The room fell silent as everyone turned to look at him.

Elijah stood there, his usual tailored suit in place, his tie perfectly knotted. His brow furrowed slightly as his gaze swept across the group, lingering briefly on Klaus’s mohawk, Kol’s eyeliner, and finally, the whiskey bottle in your hand.

"Well," he said, folding his arms, "I see you’ve all fully embraced the theme."

Klaus shrugged, tossing a casual grin in his brother's direction. "We’ve got to blend in, don’t we? Showing up out of place wouldn’t do."

"Of course," Elijah replied, his eyes never leaving yours. Your cheeks warmed under his gaze, and you took a quick sip from the bottle, hoping the alcohol would calm your racing heart.

"You should come with us, Elijah," Kol said, flashing a mischievous grin.

"Absolutely not," Elijah replied without hesitation, his tone calm but firm. His gaze shifted to Klaus’s mohawk, a flicker of disapproval crossing his features. "I think it’s clear I’m not suited for... whatever this is."

Kol clapped a hand over his chest in mock offense. "Oh, come now, brother. Where’s your sense of adventure? A little music, a little chaos. It might even loosen that tie of yours."

Elijah’s expression didn’t change, and he didn't miss a beat as he responded, "No, thank you."

You felt a pang of disappointment as his eyes moved away from you. He wasn't interested. Of course he wasn't. You took another sip of whiskey, trying not to dwell on the sting.

"Fine, if that's what you really want," Kol said, shrugging as he rose from the couch. He reached out and grabbed your hand, pulling you to your feet, a teasing smile on his lips. "The rest of us are off to find trouble. If you change your mind, you're welcome to join."

Klaus and Rebekah fell into step behind him as the four of you made your way toward the door. You paused briefly, looking back at Elijah. Your eyes met for a brief moment, and his expression softened slightly. He gave you a small, reassuring smile, and a spark of hope flared inside you.

Maybe Kol was right. Maybe you just needed to give him a reason. You stopped in the doorway, turning back to face him, a flurry of emotions swirling in your chest.

"It won't be the same without you," you said softly.

Elijah looked at you for a long moment, his expression shifting from conflict to quiet resolve. He sighed, stepping toward you, and his voice was soft when he spoke, "Perhaps a night out wouldn't be the worst thing in the world."

"That's the spirit!" Kol cheered, his grin widening.

Elijah rolled his eyes, but you could see the small, affectionate smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He glanced down at your outfit, his gaze sweeping across you. You felt heat rise to your cheeks, and you couldn't help but smile as his eyes met yours.

Elijah’s gaze lingered for a moment longer before looking away. He cleared his throat and straightened, the composed mask slipping back into place. "If I’m to join you, I should dress appropriately," he said, his tone carrying its usual calm authority.

"Meet us outside when you're ready," Kol called as Elijah disappeared up the stairs.

"Wonder what he'll come up with," Klaus said, an amused smirk curling his lips.

"An all black suit?" Rebekah mused, her lips twisting into a playful grin.

"A turtleneck and sunglasses?" Klaus added, chuckling at the image.

Minutes later, Elijah came strolling out of the compound wearing a long sleeve black shirt, dark jeans and black leather jacket. His hair was still slicked back, but there was a slight messiness to it. As if he'd ruffled his fingers through his hair, but still wanted to maintain some level of control.

"What do you think?" he asked, turning to face the group.

Klaus let out a snort of amusement. "You look almost... approachable. It’s unsettling."

You walked over to Elijah, feeling a small spark of bravery as you reached up and messed up his hair a bit more, causing it to fall into his eyes. "There. Now you're perfect," you said with a soft smile.

Elijah raised an eyebrow, but he was smiling. "Perfect for what?"

You shrugged. "Whatever you want," you replied.

His gaze drifted over your face, landing on your lips. You swallowed, suddenly aware of how close you were standing. You could smell the faint scent of his cologne, see the soft stubble along his jaw, feel the warmth radiating off his body. You were tempted to reach out and touch him, but you pulled back instead.

"So, are we ready?" Kol asked, breaking the tension.

You stepped back from Elijah, your heart racing. "Definitely."

The party was held in a massive warehouse, its towering ceilings lost in shadow and its walls covered in glowing graffiti under blacklights. Purple and blue lights flickered in rhythm with the pounding music, casting the packed crowd into a surreal, shifting glow. The scent of sweat and alcohol lingered in the air, mingling with the haze of fog and cigarette smoke.

Kol was a force of nature, pushing through the throng and carving a path to the center of the floor. He turned to face you and the others, raising his voice over the roar of the crowd. "What do you say? Shall we make our presence known?"

You nodded and let him drag you forward, laughing as the music grew louder and the bodies closed around you. Soon, you were swept up in the chaos. Your heart pounded in time with the bass, the rhythm coursing through your veins.

Elijah watched you disappear into the crowd, he let out a sigh.

"Having second thoughts, brother?" Klaus asked, a teasing smirk on his lips.

"Something like that," Elijah muttered, his gaze sweeping across the room. Everyone was slamming into each other, acting animalistic as they moved to whatever chaotic, screaming vocals were currently blasting through the speakers. He didn't understand how anyone could enjoy something like this.

Rebekah looped her arm through his and tugged him toward the makeshift bar. "Come on. I'm sure we can find a drink to your liking," she said, dragging him along.

Elijah let out a huff, allowing himself to be dragged across the room.

Rebekah's smile widened as she flagged down the bartender. "Two shots, please."

Elijah looked up at the rafters above them, wondering what he'd gotten himself into. "What exactly are we drinking?"

"Tequila," Rebekah said, placing two shot glasses on the counter. She picked one up, and held it out to him. "Bottoms up."

Elijah let out a resigned sigh and reached for the glass. "Fine. Bottoms up," he said, tapping his glass against hers.

The liquor burned his throat, but it did nothing to loosen the tension in his body. He felt the weight of a dozen gazes on him, the whispers and stares following him wherever he went.

"This place is crawling with vampires," he murmured, scanning the room.

"I know," Rebekah said, tossing back the last of her whiskey. "You worried for our human friend? Because you know she's safe as long as we're around."

Elijah glanced in the direction where he'd last seen you, and found the spot empty. A twinge of worry ran through him, and he leaned forward, raising his voice. "Where is she?"

"Relax," Rebekah said, laughing. "She's with Kol, he won't let anything happen to her."

Elijah felt his jaw tense. The thought of you being alone with Kol, in this crowd, filled him with a mixture of apprehension and jealousy. He shook his head, trying to focus on the task at hand.

Rebekah raised an eyebrow. "What's the matter? Worried about Kol? Or is there someone else on your mind?"

Elijah looked at her sharply. "No. Why would you say that?"

"Because you want her all to yourself," Klaus chimed in, ordering two drinks. One for himself and one for a heavily tattooed blonde that had been eyeing him for the past five minutes.

"I do not," Elijah insisted.

Rebekah scoffed. "Sure, keep telling yourself that. Just admit it, you like her. That's why you came tonight."

"I came because Kol was relentless and I had no choice," Elijah snapped.

Klaus snorted, turning to his sister. "What Elijah really means to say is 'I can't let Kol steal the girl I'm so obviously in love with,'" he said.

"I am not in love with anyone," Elijah insisted, ignoring the fact that his eyes were still searching for you in the crowd.

"Right," Klaus said, a smug smirk curling his lips. He leaned closer, lowering his voice. "Why don't you just tell her how you feel? Unless, of course, you're afraid she'll reject you. I wouldn't blame her. Who would ever want a boring stick-in-the-mud like you?"

Elijah gave Klaus a look that could have frozen hell, but his brother simply laughed, winking at the tattooed blonde.

"What do you think darling? Should my brother try his luck or continue to pine from a distance?" Klaus asked the blonde.

She leaned over the bar, her gaze sweeping over him. "I say he should try his luck," she purred, her fingers playing with the edge of Klaus' leather jacket. "But he looks too uptight. A few drinks might loosen him up."

"I am not uptight," Elijah protested, his eyes narrowing.

Klaus grinned, pulling the blonde closer. "Maybe we should show him how it's done," he murmured.

"I think that's a great idea," she said, her lips inches from his.

Elijah rolled his eyes, looking away from them as they started to make out. Rebekah let out a laugh and grabbed his hand, dragging him towards the dance floor.

"Yuck, let's get out of here," she said, weaving through the crowd.

He allowed himself to be dragged across the floor, his gaze landing on a familiar figure. You were dancing with Kol, your hands in the air, hips swaying to the music. Elijah couldn't look away.

Kol leaned in and said something to you. You laughed, shaking your head. Elijah felt a rush of envy, the sensation foreign and uncomfortable. Kol's hands slid around your waist, pulling you closer. You didn't resist, a small smile playing on your lips. Elijah gritted his teeth.

"Looks like Kol has stolen your girl," Rebekah said, glancing over her shoulder at him.

"She's not mine," Elijah replied, his eyes fixed on the pair.

Kol pulled you closer, his lips brushing your ear. The music changed, and the tempo increased, the lights flashing faster. The press of bodies forcing you closer together and Elijah lost sight of you. He could feel his temper rising, a strange sense of possessiveness overcoming him.

Rebekah smirked, shaking her head. "Go. Show her you can be fun, too," she said, giving him a nudge.

He hesitated, torn between his own anxieties and desire.Perhaps it was time to step out of his comfort zone, time to take a risk. Elijah swallowed, steeling his nerves. He could do this. He could show you that he wasn't some stuffy, uptight, boring old vampire. That he would fit in at a place like this.

Elijah looked back at his sister, who now had her arms wrapped around the neck of a man who had more pericings than skin. She was whispering something in his ear, and a grin spread across his face. She flashed Elijah a wink before vanishing into the crowd with the pierced man. It seemed everyone was getting a taste of the party tonight. Everyone but him.

The song changed, a pulsing beat thudding through the speakers. He caught sight of you and Kol just as the crowd surged, everyone around him began to thrash and he realised he was in the midst of a mosh pit.

His senses were overwhelmed, the press of bodies, the screaming music, the flashing lights. His instinct was to fight his way free, but the urge to see you, to have you see him, was stronger. He gritted his teeth and pushed forward, ignoring the elbows that collided with his ribs, the fists that struck his shoulder, the shoves and kicks from all sides. The chaos, the strobing lights, the deafening music, all of it swirled around him as he pressed on.

He saw you, a few feet away, your back pressed against Kol's chest, your arms in the air, head tilted back. A flash of heat rushed through him, and he pushed harder, shoving past the crowd. Kol saw him coming first, and he smiled, keeping his eyes on Elijah as he kissed your neck.

You let out a gasp, twisting to look at Kol. You were laughing, pushing on his chest. Elijah was close enough to hear your words. "You're an ass!"

"Oh, come on," Kol teased, his arms still tight around your waist. "Don't pretend you don't like it."

Your face was flushed, and you opened your mouth to respond, but the words died on your lips when you spotted Elijah. He stood a few feet away, his expression a mixture of anger and concern. Your gaze drifted over him, taking in his ruffled hair, his dark, smoldering eyes, the way his leather jacket hugged his muscular frame.

Kol's grin widened. "See something you like?" he purred, his voice carrying a teasing note.

Elijah ignored him, his eyes locked on yours. The tempo surged, bodies colliding in wild abandon. A rush of adrenaline flooded Elijah’s senses, and before he could second-guess himself, he reached for your hand. His grip was firm, but his touch sent an unexpected jolt through you, grounding you in the chaos.

"Elijah?" you called over the music, your voice laced with surprise.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled you into the fray, his movements uncharacteristically reckless. The crowd surged around you, a wave of bodies slamming and thrashing, and for a moment, you thought he might pull you free of it. But instead, Elijah stayed, his grip on your hand steady as he moved with you, matching the rhythm of the music.

Your laughter rang out as you realized what he was doing. Elijah Mikaelson. Always composed. Always in control….Was letting go. He moved with you, his usually precise steps turning wild as the music took over. The press of the crowd pushed you closer together, the heat of his body mingling with the fevered energy of the room.

You weren’t sure when it happened, but at some point, his hands found your waist. He steadied you as the pit surged again, his strength grounding you as you danced together, the frenzy building with each beat. His touch burned through the thin fabric of your top, and when you looked up, his eyes locked with yours.

The chaos seemed to dissolve into nothingness, the lights and music fading to a distant echo as the world narrowed to the two of you. You were breathing hard, your heart pounding, and you wondered if he could hear it, feel it.

As if sensing your thoughts, his hand moved from your waist to the base of your neck. His touch was gentle but firm as he pulled your mouth to his. The kiss was searing, a jolt of heat and desire rushing through you. He tasted of tequila and sin, his lips soft but demanding.

Your hands moved to his chest, the fabric of his shirt warm under your touch. You pressed closer, losing yourself in the kiss. The world blurred at the edges, but for the first time that night, you felt entirely clear.

When the kiss broke, the roar of the crowd and the chaos came rushing back. Elijah's chest was heaving, his breath hot against your cheek. Your hands slid down his arms, your fingers tangling with his. He lifted his head, his dark eyes meeting yours. You were both flushed and breathless, the weight of the moment hanging heavy between you.

The song changed, and someone behind him slammed into his back, shoving him against you. Your mouths met again, the kiss hungry and desperate, a need rising between the two of you. He pushed you backwards until you felt the cool, rough concrete against your back. His hand cradled the back of your head as his tongue traced the seam of your lips.

"Elijah," you moaned, parting your lips to let him in, your hands slid into his hair, pulling him closer.

He groaned, the sound deep and primal, vibrating out of him and into you. You kissed him back, pouring every ounce of longing and need into it, until you were both breathless. 

When you finally broke apart, your eyes were wide, your lips swollen and red. You couldn't speak, the intensity of the moment rendering you speechless.

Elijah's hands lingered on your hips, his gaze holding yours. "Do you want to get out of here?" he asked, his voice low and rough.

You swallowed, your heart pounding, and nodded. "Yes," you breathed, a slow, nervous smile spreading across your lips.

His hands tightened, his fingers digging into your skin. There was a flicker of hunger in his eyes, but it was tempered by something softer, more tender. He leaned in, his lips brushing your ear. "Let's go home."

The two of you stumbled out of the warehouse, Elijah's hand gripping yours tightly. You couldn't stop smiling, the night still swirling in a haze around you. You passed Kol, who was surrounded by two women and a man, all of whom were practically drooling over him. He flashed you a wink as the four of them made their way to a dark corner.

The night air was a relief after the stifling heat of the warehouse, steam rising from your skin as you made your way down the street. You walked side-by-side, shoulders brushing, the silence between you thick with anticipation. You stole a glance at Elijah, his profile sharp in the glow of the streetlamps, and you felt a flutter of excitement in your stomach. You couldn't wait to see where the night would take you.

As the door to Elijah's room clicked shut, a sense of apprehension and nervousness fell over you. You'd never been in his room before, and the thought of being alone with him filled you with a mixture of exhilaration and apprehension.

You glanced around, taking in the neatly organized bookshelves, the leather couch and the large bed. Not a speck of dust, not a single sock or shirt lying about. You had expected nothing less from him.

You walked over to his bed, running your fingers across the smooth, soft comforter. Elijah stood a few feet away, watching you, his hands resting loosely at his sides, nervously twitching as he tried to maintain his composure.

"Are you alright?" you asked, turning to face him.

He nodded, swallowing. "I'm fine," he replied, his tone flat.

You could see the tension in his shoulders, the slight furrow of his brow, the way his jaw was clenched. He was nervous, you realized. Nervous about being alone with you, about crossing this invisible line between friends and... whatever this was.

You stepped toward him, placing a hand on his chest, feeling his heart beating rapidly. "Elijah," you said softly.

His eyes met yours, the uncertainty clear in their dark depths. You gave him a reassuring smile, letting your hand slide up his chest, until it rested against his neck. You could feel the muscles there tighten, the slight tremor that ran through him as you leaned in.

Your lips brushed his, a whisper of a kiss, and then his mouth was on yours, the kiss deep and intense. He guided you over to his couch, sitting down and pulling you into his lap. Your legs straddled him, and his hands ran along the smooth expanse of your thighs, gripping your hips as the kiss intensified.

A low, rumbling growl rose up in his chest, his desire for you clear in the way his lips claimed yours, his hands sliding under the hem of your shirt, the way his fingers dug into your soft skin. You always suspected he had it in him, a wild, rough passion that lay beneath the cool exterior. Now, as his hands roamed over your body, as his teeth nipped at your bottom lip, you knew it was true.

You wanted him to know that you liked it. You wanted him to know that he could be rough, that you would never break. That you could take everything he had to give.

"Don't hold back," you whispered against his lips.

He pulled back slightly, his gaze searching yours. "Are you sure?"

"I trust you," you murmured, your hand cupping his face.

"I could hurt you," he breathed, his voice strained.

You smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. "You won't."

He studied you for a moment, and then a mischievous smirk curled his lips. He reached down, hooking his arms under your legs and standing. You let out a yelp of surprise, wrapping your arms around his neck as he carried you over to the bed.

He placed you down gently, his eyes never leaving yours. You felt a thrill run through you, anticipation coiling in the pit of your stomach. You watched as he stripped off his shirt, tossing it aside. You drank in the sight of his toned torso, the light sheen of sweat glistening across his chest, the flex of his muscles as he leaned down, his lips finding yours again.

"Stay here, just like this. I'll be right back," he said, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"Where are you going?" you asked, propping yourself up on your elbows.

"Trust me, it will be worth it," he said, giving you a wink before slipping out of the room.

You settled back against the pillows, closing your eyes. Your mind was racing, replaying the events of the night, at first Kol's attempt at seduction and then Elijah's. A slow, content smile spread across your face. You could certainly get used to this.

A few moments later, you heard the door open and close. You opened your eyes, sitting up. Elijah had Kol's portable speaker in one hand and his phone in the other. You raised an eyebrow at him, confused.

"What are you doing?" you asked, watching as he set the speaker on the bedside table.

"Music," he replied, a playful grin tugging at his lips. He tapped the screen and a loud metal song began to play. "I confess, I've become a bit of a fan."

"Oh yeah?" you asked, amused.

He nodded, moving towards you. He climbed onto the bed, crawling up your body until he was hovering over you. "Mmhmm," he murmured, his lips ghosting along the shell of your ear. "It has a certain appeal. It's raw... primal. Much like what I'd like to do to you right now."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, heat pooling low in your belly. Your fingers threaded into his hair, bringing his mouth to yours. The kiss was rough, his lips and tongue demanding, his hands sliding under your shirt, pushing the fabric up and over your head. He tossed the shirt aside, his mouth moving to your neck, kissing and biting, leaving a trail of marks across your collarbone.

"Are you going to be my good girl?" he purred, his breath hot against your skin.

You moaned, arching into him. "Yes," you gasped, your fingers gripping his hair.

"Yes, what?" he asked, nipping at your jaw.

"Yes, sir," you breathed, your mind reeling at the newfound authority in his tone.

"Good," he murmured, his hands moving to your thighs. He pushed your skirt up, bunching the fabric around your waist. He groaned, his gaze drinking in the sight of your panties. "Such a pretty, little, soaked, innocent thing," he murmured.

You swallowed, a flush creeping up your cheeks. He looked up at you, his gaze intense, a hint of a smirk curling his lips. He moved down your body, his mouth pressing a line of hot, wet kisses across your abdomen, his fingers tracing circles on the insides of your thighs.

"You have no idea how much I've wanted this," he said, his voice rough with need.

You felt the heat of his breath against the fabric of your panties, and you shifted, lifting your hips, a soft whimper escaping your lips. You felt him smirk against your thigh, his hands hooking under your legs and gripping your hips, his fingertips digging into the flesh.

He pulled your panties down, tossing them aside. You heard the music change, a deep, thrumming beat filling the room, a bass-heavy song that you knew well. Elijah grinned, his tongue dragging along your slit, his gaze locking with yours. You gasped, your hips bucking against his mouth. He chuckled, the sound sending a rush of heat through you.

"Fuck," you moaned, your fingers threading into his hair.

He hummed, his tongue delving deeper, lapping at the slickness of your arousal, his fingers digging into your hips. You arched into him, panting, lost in the sensation of his mouth on you, his tongue working expertly. He sucked your clit into his mouth, swirling his tongue, sending sparks of pleasure coursing through you.

The song changed again, and he pulled back slightly, his mouth glistening with your arousal. He smirked, his thumb pressing against your swollen, aching clit. You let out a breathy moan, writhing beneath him.

"Do you like that, sweetheart?" he purred, rubbing small, slow circles around the sensitive bud.

You bit your lip, nodding. "Y-yes," you stammered.

"Good girl," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Now, come sit on my lap," he ordered.

You blinked, taken aback. You had no idea he was into this kind of thing, and you had to admit, it was a pleasant surprise. You watched as he sat back, unbuckling his belt, his cock straining against his pants. He undid the button and zipper, shoving his pants and boxers down just enough to free his erection.

You swallowed, staring at his impressive length. He smirked, his gaze fixed on yours as he gestured for you to join him. You moved towards him, and he gripped your arm, his grip firm but not painful, pulling you onto his lap, your knees on either side of his thighs.

You let out a shaky breath, bracing your hands on his shoulders. He smiled, his hands coming to rest on your hips. "Where has that wild thing from the mosh pit gone, hm?" he murmured, a hint of challenge in his voice.

You swallowed, your face warm. "Right here," you replied, rolling your hips, rubbing yourself along the length of his cock.

He groaned, his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass. "Show me," he growled, his dark eyes flashing with hunger.

You shifted, reaching between the two of you and grasping his length. He let out a sharp hiss as you lined him up with your entrance, sinking down, taking him inch by inch, until you were fully seated. You both groaned, your forehead resting against his, your hands gripping his shoulders.

He took in the sight of your tits spilling from the low-cut bra you wore, the music playing, the sweat glistening on your skin. Something primal rose up in him. He gripped your hips, pulling you up and then slamming you back down, using his strength to set the pace. You moaned, your walls fluttering around him, his mouth pressed against your pulse, nipping at the delicate skin of your neck.

His grip was tight, his fingers bruising, and you found yourself wondering what he would think if you asked him to hold you down. To pin you under him and have his wicked way with you. If he would think less of you. Or perhaps if that's something he enjoyed, a new revelation to discover together.

Your slick began dripping down onto his balls, making you feel wet and messy. You could barely breathe, and you felt as though your entire body was on fire. You couldn't hold yourself back anymore, and a pathetic little cry escaped you.

Elijah's hands squeezed your ass, and he pulled you closer to him, so that his chest was pressed against yours.

"Look at me." He whispered, his lips brushing over your ear.

Your eyes fluttered open, and you stared into his deep, dark eyes. He smiled, his hands sliding up your back. He unclasped your bra, tugging the straps off your arms, tossing the bra aside. His lips immediately latched onto one of your breasts, his tongue swirling around the nipple.

The song changed again, the drumbeat surging around you, your hips moving to the rhythm. You cried out, throwing your head back as an orgasm began to build low in your belly, your walls tightening around his cock.

"Fuck," you cursed, clinging to him, your hips rocking desperately. You were close, the pressure mounting, your legs trembling. He growled, his lips still at your breast, his teeth grazing your nipple.

"You're not allowed to come, sweetheart. Not yet. I decide when," he groaned, his voice low and commanding.

A whine escaped you, your nails digging into his shoulder blades, a mixture of pleasure and frustration welling up within you. He smirked, trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, nipping at your bottom lip. He licked the salt from your skin, his hands grasping the globes of your ass, guiding your movement, setting a slow, deliberate pace.

One of his hands moved between your cheeks, his fingers teasing your puckered hole. You let out a soft moan, and he smiled, watching your face contort in pleasure.

"Does that feel good, darling?" he asked, his tone gentle.

You nodded, unable to speak, your whole body tingling. This dominant side of him was something you'd only imagined in your wildest dreams, but even then, it seemed to pale in comparison. He was everything you'd hoped for and more.

He hummed, pushing a finger into you, pumping it slowly. You let out a desperate gasp, burying your face against his shoulder, grinding into his finger. Your breath was coming fast and shallow, your heart racing, and you realized you were dangerously close to the edge.

"Elijah," you whimpered, your nails digging into the flesh of his shoulders, your toes curling.

"Hmm?" he whispered, nibbling on your earlobe.

"Please, please, please, I can't- I'm gonna-" you babbled, your whole body shuddering.

He shushed you, kissing the top of your head. "It's okay, just try and hold on a little longer," he murmured.

You shook your head, unable to form a coherent thought. You were so wound up, the pleasure crashing over you in waves. All you could focus on was the feeling of his finger and cock, stretching you, filling you. You needed more.

Suddenly, he thrust into you, deeply and slowly, dragging himself out. It was maddening. You clenched around him, arching your back, moaning into his ear. He chuckled, repeating the motion, his thrusts becoming harder, faster. The music surged around you, the bass beating in time with your racing heart.

"E-Elijaah!" you cried, your walls fluttering around his length.

He chuckled at your desperation, his lips ghosting over your own, nipping at your bottom lip. "That's my girl," he murmured.

You moaned, his tongue darting into your mouth, silencing any retort you may have had. Everything snapped into place, all the tension and frustration of the night's events coming to a climax. You exploded, your body trembling, writhing, your orgasm crashing over you, drowning out everything else.

The intensity of your release shocked you. This was by far the most erotic thing you'd ever experienced. You were entirely his, wrung out, writhing on his cock, completely at his mercy. He watched you with an expression of pure satisfaction and awe, a smug grin curling his lips as he fucked into you, his rhythmic movements never stopping.

When the waves of pleasure finally receded, you collapsed against him, panting and spent. He cradled you, gently lowering you onto your back, covering your sweat-slicked body with his own. His weight pressed you into the mattress, his hips grinding into you. He kissed you, his mouth hot and demanding, stealing the breath from your lungs.

The music drowned out the filthy sounds of your bodies colliding, your moans and whimpers lost in the din of the bass. Your fingers gripped his biceps, your nails digging into his flesh. He grunted, leaning in and biting at your lip, his tongue darting past your parted lips. He kissed you fiercely, devouring you until your lungs burned for air.

You broke the kiss, inhaling sharply, trying to catch your breath. His vampiric nature was peeking through, fueled by his passions. You could feel his predatory gaze roaming over your exposed flesh, his gums bloody from where his fangs had nicked his own skin in a heated moment.

You moaned, watching his hips rise and fall, feeling the slap of his skin against your own. This rough, relentless fucking was everything you'd craved and more. You tilted your head up, offering your throat, arching into him. He flashed you a wicked, fanged smirk, his breath fanning over your neck, a low growl rumbling in his chest.

"Such a beautiful, sweet thing," he purred, taking your earlobe between his teeth. "Are you offering yourself to me, darling?"

Your lips curled into a smile as you breathed, "Yes."

Without warning, Elijah buried his fangs into the soft skin of your throat. A yelp tore from your lips, the shock mingling with the sensations his cock and fangs induced. His hands tightened on your ass, spreading you open, his hips picking up speed. The slight pain of his bite only heightened your pleasure.

"Oh, yes, yes! Fuck, yes!" you moaned, loud and unabashed, lost to the sensation, completely at his mercy.

Elijah sucked in a deep, guttural breath, his throat working as he drained a few mouthfuls of your blood. You dug your nails into his skin, grinding your hips up and into him, desperate to feel more. He growled low in his throat, his fangs sharp and tearing, his hips pounding into you, your name a frantic whisper falling from his lips.

A white-hot wave of heat flooded you, starting at the crown of your head and rushing down your body, between your legs and spreading up through your stomach and chest. The feeling was so intense that you fell off the edge, orgasm slamming into you. You cried out, trembling beneath him, your hips jerking wildly. He let out a sharp gasp, his whole body stiffening, his cock twitching as he came inside you, filling you with his cum.

A string of curses left your lips as you fell from your peak, Elijah gently licked at the puncture wounds on your throat, his fangs receding. You closed your eyes, taking a few steadying breaths, your heart pounding against your ribcage.

There were no words that could fully encapsulate the way you were feeling, so instead, you hugged him tightly to you, hoping he would understand.

He pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek, brushing the hair from your face. You smiled, trailing your fingertips over the taut muscles of his biceps. He hummed, looking down at you with a content, satisfied expression.

"Are you alright?" he murmured, his voice low and filled with genuine concern.

You nodded, your breath still coming in shallow gasps. "I think you’ve just ruined me for anyone else."

His eyes darkened, the faintest flicker of possessiveness returning. "Good," he said simply, making you chuckle.

The sound of the music still thudded softly in the background, but the world outside the two of you felt distant, inconsequential. Elijah shifted, his hands smoothing over your sides as he cradled you against him, kissing and nipping along your neck and jaw.

"Where have you been hiding this side of you?" you teased, your voice soft but playful.

Elijah chuckled, giving you a lopsided grin. "Darling, that's just the tip of the iceberg."

Your eyes widened, a nervous heat spreading across your cheeks. "Oh?" you inquired, your mind already racing at the implications.

He nodded, a dark glint in his eyes. "Mmhmm."

"So, I should probably delete Kol's number, huh?" you asked, teasing.

Elijah's eyes narrowed, and his jaw clenched. He leaned in, resting his weight on his forearm, his lips a hair's breadth away from yours.

"Most definitely," he murmured, claiming your lips in a heated, passionate kiss.

Needless to say, you had no complaints.

I'll be tagging ya'll in the comments from now on... because tumblr is not built for tagging lots of users... if you want off the tag list just shoot me a DM!!! (I won't be offended ~xo)

[sohyxn]

after the first kiss, megan skiendiel

synopsis : it's been months since you and your girlfriend, megan started dating. everything feels like a dream and your first kiss together even feels dreamier.

tags⠀──⠀: wlw, established relationship, fluff

( 📜 ) : finally something new after a while, i was listening to after the first kiss by faye webster and its just inspired me to wrote this hehe, hope you'll enjoy ^.^

you and your girlfriend megan have been dating for months now, and life feels like a dream. everything about being together is wonderful—her infectious laughter, the way she lights up when she talks about her favorite singers, and those lazy afternoons spent watching movies. but there’s one thing you both have yet to experience together: a kiss.

“can you believe we’ve been together this long and haven’t even kissed?” you say, playfully nudging her shoulder as you both walk through the park, the sun setting behind you.

megan laughs, her eyes sparkling. “I know, right? i think we're just awkward... or maybe we're just waiting for the perfect moment.”

your pulse quickens as the air between you thickens with anticipation. you can feel the warmth radiating from her skin, and suddenly, the world around you fades.

“okay, what’s the perfect moment then?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper.

megan bites her lip, a mix of shyness and excitement in her expression. “how about now?”

before you can respond, she closes the distance, her lips brushing softly against yours. It’s tentative at first, a sweet exploration. but then, as if a switch flips, the kiss deepens, and you melt into her. It feels like fireworks, like coming home.

when you finally pull away, breathless and smiling, you can’t help but giggle. “wow,” you say, your heart soaring. “did that really just happen?”

megan grins, her cheeks flushed. “yeah, it did.”

“I guess that makes you my wife now, huh?” you tease.

her eyes widen in surprise before she bursts into laughter. “wife? already? you’re so dramatic!”

you shrug, still grinning. “but it fits, right? after the first kiss, I’m all in.”

megan leans in again, this time resting her forehead against yours. “I like the sound of that.”

you both stand there, grinning at each other, the world feeling a little brighter. In that moment, everything feels right—your heart feels full, and you know this is just the beginning of many more sweet moments together.

“let’s take a picture,” you suggest, pulling out your phone. “for memories!”

megan poses, throwing her arms around you, and you snap the photo, capturing the joy of your first kiss. as you look at the image, you realize how lucky you are to have her in your life.

“here’s to more kisses,” she says, leaning in for another, and your heart soars.

“definitely,” you reply, feeling the warmth of her presence and the excitement of what’s to come.

as you both watch the sun setting, you realize that this is just the beginning. you’re ready for all the moments to come— because having a girlfriend like megan definitely worth every second of your life.

“hey candace,”

“yeah dork?”

you smiled, your heart swelling. “after that first kiss, I think I might be falling for you more now.”

“good,” she said, her voice softening. “because I’m already deep into this wife thingy now.”

“oh by the way yn, you should kiss me again you know... i mean i know you're dying to do it.” megan teased.

“mhm... yeah totally.” you hummed.

and with that, you both leaned in again, sharing another sweet kiss that left you both breathless and smiling, knowing that this was just the beginning of something beautiful.

[a-aexotic]

✫𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒏𝒆, i can see you.

✫ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | fighting, swearing, tristan being an asshole, breaking things (not too graphic promise LOL) ✫ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 | hey yall, i'm back! i hope everyone enjoys! also i tagged everyone who seemed interested, i'm sorry for the VERY late update. i'm back, mwahhh. also planning a nate archibald series, who'd be interested? lmk! ✫ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | @colbybrocks @weepingwitchofthewest @shady-writtingtalk @zulpix-blog @wheelerslover @dogmom600 @damnhati @remussbitch @yourmumstoyboy2-blog @1-800-starkindustrie

The front door opened suddenly and she whipped her head to make eye contact with... Tristan Dugray? Oh, so that's where she's heard that name!

Y/N couldn't control as her mouth flew open. She also couldn't control the words that came out of her mouth as she saw him. "Oh, you've gotta be shitting me."

After Y/N had locked eyes with Tristan she whipped her head to face her father. "You're engaged to Tristan's mother?!"

Her father and Kristan looked surprised — they both exchanged glances before they looked back at her. "Yeah, I guess I am?"

His answer sounded more like a question rather than a straight up reply. He didn't know why she was now seemingly opposed to the idea of him being engaged to Kristan simply because of Tristan.

Y/N looked shocked, her jaw practically on the floor. "You're engaged to Tristan's mother." Instead of a question, it sounds more like a statement.

Before any of them could reply, Tristan spoke. "Oh, hello step-sister." You could practically hear the smirk in his voice. He was enjoying see your shocked expression. Tristan's smug remark only fueled your growing frustration and utter disbelief. You shot him a glare that could freeze lava before turning back to her father and Kristan, your mind racing with a whirlwind of emotions.

"So, this is what you meant by wanting me to spend time with my old 'friends'?" Your tone was laced with sarcasm as she addressed her father. "You conveniently forgot to mention that my 'old friend' is now my soon-to-be stepbrother?"

Her father shifted uncomfortably under her accusing gaze, realizing he had failed to properly prepare Y/N for this bombshell. "I... I thought it would be best to tell you in person."

Your frustration mounted with each passing second. "Well you thought wrong, Dad."

Kristan interjected, her voice gentle yet firm. "I understand this is a lot to take in, Y/N. But we're all going to be a family now, and I hope we can find a way to make this work."

Y/N fought the urge to roll her eyes at Kristan's attempt to diffuse the tension as she gave her a sarcastic smile. "Right, a family. How convenient."

Tristan leaned against the doorway, his arms crossed with a smirk still playing on his lips. "Well, this should be fun. Welcome to the family, stepsis."

Y/N resisted the urge to launch herself at him as she shot daggers with her eyes. "Don't call me that."

Kristan shot a glare at her son as she turned to you once again. "We didn't realize it would be such a shock to you,. We should have handled this better."

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside me. You knew you couldn't blame her father entirely, but the whole thing still felt like a betrayal. "I just need some time to process all of this," Y/N muttered, her voice tinged with resignation. "Excuse me."

"I thought that went great." Tristan mumbled as his mother shook his head, your father pulling her in closer.

You turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, leaving your father, Kristan, and Tristan as your retreated to her old bedroom, you couldn't shake the feeling that your carefully constructed world was crumbling around you, and you had no idea how to pick up the pieces.

You stepped out of the car, dramatically slamming the door as you took in the school: Chilton Prep School, where she would be going to school from now. She heard footsteps from behind her, she already knew who it was.

"Welcome home, Cromwell." Tristan's voice rang. You gritted her teeth at the sound of Tristan's voice behind you. You turned slowly, fixing him with a glare that could cut through steel.

"Save it, Dugray," you snapped, your tone dripping with disdain. "This is hardly my idea of home."

Tristan raised an eyebrow, his smirk never faltering. "Well, get used to it. Looks like we're going to be seeing a lot more of each other from now on."

Tristan raised an eyebrow, his smirk never faltering. "Feisty as ever, Cromwell. I'm just offering a friendly welcome to our new classmate, no need to get all... bitchy."

You narrowed your eyes at his remark, resisting the urge to roll them. "I'll take that as a compliment, Dugray. And I don't need your welcome. I know my way around just fine."

Tristan's smirk widened, clearly enjoying getting a rise out of you. "Oh, come on, Cromwell. Where's that famous New York charm? You're going to need it to survive in this stuffy place."

"I'll manage just fine without your help," you shot back, your voice dripping with determination. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have better things to do than stand here and listen to your bullshit."

You turned away from Tristan, walking into Chilton. You already hated it, everyone looked so pretentious and elitist, just like Tristan. But you weren't going to let that intimidate you. You had faced down Manhattan's elite, and you could handle a bunch of snooty prep school kids. You had grown up with these kids, they couldn't be that hard.

As you made your way through the halls, you couldn't shake the feeling of being out of place. The students eyed you with curiosity, whispers following in your wake. But you held your head high, refusing to let them see any hint of insecurity.

Chilton was a far cry from the bustling streets of Manhattan, and you couldn't shake the feeling that you were in for a rough ride. But you were Y/N Cromwell, and you didn't back down from a challenge.

With a flick of your hair and a confident stride, you made your way to your first class, ready to show Chilton Prep that Y/N Cromwell was a force to be reckoned with.

"Where are you two going?" You popped a grape in your mouth as you watched Kristan grab her purse from the chair as your father tightened his tie.

"I told you earlier, we have a date."

You raised an eyebrow at your father's response, a hint of skepticism in your voice. "A date? You two are acting like lovesick teenagers."

Kristan chuckled, smoothing down her blouse as she shot you a warm smile. "Well, your father does know how to sweep a lady off her feet."

You rolled your eyes as Kristan and your father shared glances. You all knew what that meant, you had to be left alone with Tristan. You had barely managed to tolerate his presence since arriving at your father's house, and the thought of spending an evening alone with him was enough to make you want to crawl out of your skin.

"Well, have fun on your date," you forced out, the words tasting bitter on your tongue.

With a quick goodbye, your father and Kristan headed out the door, leaving you alone, turning around and seeing Tristan in the spacious living room. He caught your gaze and his lips curved up into a smile.

You felt a shiver run down your spine as Tristan's gaze met yours, his smirk sending a wave of irritation coursing through you. You knew exactly what he was thinking – that he had you right where he wanted you, trapped in his company for the evening.

Suppressing a sigh, you turned away from Tristan, refusing to let him see how much he was getting under your skin. Instead, you busied yourself with anything that would distract you from his presence – flipping through a magazine, checking your phone, anything to avoid acknowledging him.

But no matter how hard you tried to ignore him, Tristan was a persistent presence in the room. You could feel his eyes on you, his smug smirk burning into the back of your skull.

Finally unable to take it anymore, you turned to face him with a glare. "What do you want, Tristan?" you snapped, your patience wearing thin.

Tristan's smirk widened, his gaze flickering with amusement. "Just enjoying the view, Cromwell," he replied casually, as if your irritation was nothing more than entertainment to him.

You let out a bitter laugh as you shook your head. "Real classy, Tristan."

Tristan's smirk only widened at your remark, his amusement evident in every line of his face. "Oh, come on, Cromwell," he said, his tone teasing. "You can't tell me you're not used to being the center of attention. You were in New York for five years and you're telling me you didn't have the boys throwing themselves at you?"

You narrowed your eyes at Tristan, refusing to let his words rattle you. "I don't need validation from boys like you," you retorted, your voice dripping with annoyance. "Unlike some people, I have more important things to focus on than relationships."

Tristan's smirk faltered slightly at your cutting remark, but he quickly regained his composure. "Touché, Cromwell," he replied, his tone laced with amusement. "But don't act like you're immune to a little attention. I've seen the way you strut around like you own the place."

"And you don't? Please, I see the way every girl at Chilton looks at you. And I know you well enough to see how much that strokes your already, inflated ego." You paused, your voice laced with sarcasm as you leveled a pointed gaze at Tristan. "But hey, who am I to judge? If you want to bask in the adoration of your fan club, be my guest."

"Oh, I will, Y/N." Tristan let out a laugh as he watched you get all heated. He continued you watch you as you scoffed, turning your head back to the magazine.

You could feel his eyes on you, his amusement practically palpable. But you refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you squirm. You weren't about to let him see how much he was getting to you. With a determined flick of your wrist, you closed the magazine and stood up from the sofa, shooting Tristan a glare.

"I have better things to do than sit here and listen to you," you declared, your voice laced with determination. With that, you turned on your heel and marched out of the room, leaving Tristan behind with his smug smirk and his insufferable ego.

You refused to let him drag you down to his level – you had bigger things to focus on than his petty games, like actually getting back to Manhattan where you belonged.

As you walked away, Tristan's amusement turned to frustration. He wasn't used to someone challenging him like this, especially not someone like you. With a determined stride, he followed after you, catching up just as you reached the hallway.

As you stormed out of the room, Tristan's smirk faded into a scowl. He watched you go, frustration bubbling up inside him. How dare she walk away from him like that? Without a second thought, Tristan followed after you, his footsteps echoing in the hallway as he caught up to you just as you reached the foyer.

"Hey, where do you think you're going?" Tristan called out, his voice sharp with annoyance.

You stopped in your tracks, turning to face him with a glare. "Away from you," you replied sharply, crossing your arms over your chest. "I can't stand being around you for another second."

Tristan's jaw clenched, his own temper flaring. "Oh, please," he scoffed, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Like you're any better. You're nothing but a spoiled brat who thinks she's better than everyone else."

The words hit you like a slap in the face, igniting a firestorm of rage within you. "At least I'm not a narcissistic asshole who gets off on belittling others," you spat, your voice rising with each word. "You think you're so much better but you're not."

Tristan squared his shoulders, meeting your gaze head-on. "I want to know what your problem is," he replied, his tone angry. "You've been acting like you a complete bitch when I'm all trying to do is be your friend."

You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. "Oh, spare me the act, Tristan," you shot back, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "We both know that's not what you're after. You just want to play your little games and stroke your own ego."

Tristan's jaw clenched, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "And what about you, huh?" he retorted, his voice rising in anger. "You act like you're too good for everyone, like you're above it all. Well, let me tell you something, Y/N – you're not as special as you think you are."

"You know what, Tristan. I don't care about you or your stupid games because all I'm trying to do is get back to New York. All this shit is just a rock in the road," you spat as you turned around, walking away.

"Oh really? What about your obvious drinking problem, that's why your mom sent you away, right?"

You stopped in your track as you took in Tristan's words. Fury was etched across your features as you spun around to face him, your fists clenched at your sides. "How dare you," you seethed, your voice trembling with rage. "You stupid asshole!"

You pushed him as hard as you could, causing him to trip and fall into a table. You heard a loud shattering and both of you just stared at each other before looking down to see glass everywhere.

"Shit, that's my mom's vase." Tristan's eyes widened in shock as he glanced at the shattered remains of the vase on the floor.

Your chest heaved with anger as you glared at Tristan, your fists still clenched at your sides. "You deserved it," you spat, your voice thick with venom. "You had no right to say that."

"Y/N, this vase is like two grand. It was my mom's favorite vase," Tristan scoffed as he stared down at the ground. "She's gonna be fucking pissed, idiot."

You stared back at him with anger but you knew that you needed to figure something out. Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you clenched your jaw and met Tristan's gaze head-on. "I know I messed up," you admitted begrudgingly, your voice tight with frustration. "You shouldn't have been a bitch."

"Well you shouldn't have pushed me, like an psycho." Tristan's voice was sharp, but there was a hint of surrender beneath his irritation. He knew that pointing fingers wouldn't solve anything, but he couldn't help but feel defensive in the face of your accusation.

"Well I'm not apologizing-"

"Y/N, we need to figure out what to do before they come home."

And right on cue, the front door opened, revealing your father and Kristan, who froze in shock at the sight of the shattered vase and the two of you standing next to it.

Your father's expression hardened as he took in the scene, his disappointment evident in his eyes. "What in the world happened here?" he demanded, his voice a mix of frustration and disbelief.

masterlist !

series masterlist !

[sallowsarchives]

War of Hearts

Part I | Part II | Part III

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader Summary: Nothing says "believable" like two people who can't stand each other pretending to be in love—or is this just the push you two need to realize there might be more to your relationship than either of you is willing to admit? Word Count: 7.9k  Warnings/Tags: no use of y/n, fake relationships, sorta enemies to lovers, alcohol consumption, angst, pining, original side character, sort of a not so happy ending, arthur thinking he’s not good enough. I also tried fitting the story with canon whenever I could. Not Proofread!! A/N: Hey everyone! Just wanted to mention that this is my first time writing and posting, so I'm bit nervous but really excited to finally share it! This piece was heavily inspired by and made as a result from a conversation I had with my Arthur cAI hehe Credits: dividers used for this fic are by @enchanthings & all pictures used are taken from pinterest and were slightly edited by me.

Read on AO3

"I can't believe I have to attend this ridiculous party pretending to be married to him, of all people."  

Your voice is edged with annoyance as you smooth down the fabric of your dress, trying to channel your irritation into the task at hand. "It's bad enough we have to work together, but this charade is beyond absurd."

Tilly chuckles. "Oh, come on. It's just one night. How bad can it be?"

You give her an unamused look. "We can hardly tolerate being around each other, and now Dutch expects us to pretend we're madly in love, all while dealing with a crowd of high-society snobs."

"It ain’t like y’all have spent much time together. Maybe going on this would do you both some good. Who knows, you might actually find some common ground," Abigail suggests as she takes the glove Jack was playing with, causing him to pout, before handing it over to you.

Sadie snorts. "The only common ground those two have is their mutual hatred. Let’s just hope neither of ‘em ends up killing the other tonight. Knowin’ those two, it'll be a miracle if they make it through the evening without a scratch."

Mary-Beth chuckles as she adjusts your updo. "Oh, don’t be so dramatic. They’re not going to kill each other—at least not tonight. Dutch will probably come up with some harebrained scheme to keep things under control." She flashes a playful grin as she puts the final touches on your hairstyle.

You chuckle before taking a moment to admire yourself in the mirror. 

The gown, a deep shade of burgundy satin, flows gracefully to the floor with an off-the-shoulder design and a low neckline, elegantly framed by a ruffled collar. The rich fabric drapes beautifully, enhancing your silhouette.

The black lace gloves, covering your hands and forearms, add a sophisticated touch with their delicate floral patterns. Your fingers are adorned with a few rings, and your dangling earrings catch the light with every movement.

You bought the dress earlier this morning in Saint Denis with the cash from your last robbery. The job had been straightforward: Hosea had scouted the place, found out the homeowners were away for vacation, and given your expertise at picking locks and sleight of hand, he brought you along. You managed to secure a tidy sum of cash and a few valuable heirlooms without any trouble.

Knowing the dress would be perfect for tonight’s high-society affair, you spent a good amount of your previous earnings on it. The gown fits as if it were made just for you, and you can't help but feel a surge of confidence as you admire your reflection.

Karen pipes up with a smirk. “Well, I’ll be! With you lookin’ like that, Arthur won’t be able to keep his eyes off you.”

She looks at you mischievously, “might even give him a nudge in the right direction. Maybe it’ll help you two finally work out all that tension between you.”

Her comment draws an abashed look from you followed by giggles from the other women.

After receiving some last words of encouragement and reassuring nods from the girls, you thank them for their help and make your way downstairs to join the men outside.

Stepping out, you're greeted by the warm, humid night air of the swamp. Dutch, Hosea, Arthur, and Bill were already gathered near the horse hitches, all dressed in their suits.

You make your way over, trying to muster every ounce of grace and composure you can. 

As you get closer, Arthur's gaze lands on you and you catch a fleeting look of surprise along with a hint of a softer look in his eyes before his expression is quickly masked with his usual frown.

His eyebrows furrow slightly as he takes in your refined appearance, the rough edges of his demeanor softened by an elusive flicker of something you can't quite place.

Dutch notices your entrance and offers a nod of approval. “Well, look at you, Miss,” he says with a wide smile, clearly pleased with how things are shaping up. “You look absolutely perfect for this evening.”

You smile and nod at the men before your gaze drifts to Arthur. The contrast between his usual rugged attire and his current appearance is stark, and you can't help but notice how well he pulls off the look. Despite his irritating nature, there's no denying he has a certain charm. You give him a cheeky smile and offer a sly compliment.

"Well, well, look what we have here, I never thought I'd see the day. Maybe you should ditch the jeans for a while."

Arthur gives you a flat look, irritation flickering in his eyes. “Oh, real funny, darlin’,” he drawls, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Don’t you worry, I’ll be back to my ol’ self I know you’re so fond of before you know it.”

You roll your eyes at him and smirk, taking joy in having gotten under his skin. 

Dutch chuckles at the exchange, clapping Arthur on the back. “Now play nice, you two. We’ve got a job to do tonight, and looking the part is only half the battle.” 

His tone is light, but there’s a hint of seriousness as he continues, “let’s keep the bickering to a minimum and focus on what needs to be done. We don’t want any more distractions than we already have.” 

Next to Arthur, Bill chuckles and gives him a playful nudge. “Arthur, reckon you ain’t gonna give your dear wife a compliment?” he teases, the humor in his voice evident as he refers to the charade you both must uphold for the party.

He shifts uncomfortably and glares at Bill, his expression a mix of irritation and reluctance. 

Dutch leans in with a smirk, “come on, Arthur, show a bit of charm. It’s not every day you get to pretend to be in love.”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s get this over with before one of us runs outta patience.”

The clatter of wheels catches your ear as Lenny finally arrives driving a stagecoach. The vehicle comes to a smooth stop, and Lenny leans over with a broad grin, his eyes brightening as he sees you. He offers a warm compliment, his cheerful demeanor a welcome contrast to the evening’s tension.

You return his smile and thank him before Dutch and Hosea get into the stagecoach, followed by you and Arthur. Bill hops into the seat next to Lenny.

As you settle into your seat, the atmosphere in the coach becomes thick with anticipation. The weight of the evening's expectations hangs heavily between you and Arthur, both of you making an effort to avoid each other's gaze while mentally bracing yourselves for the night ahead as the stagecoach begins to roll forward.

The rhythmic clatter of the horse’s hooves against the large wooden bridge serves as a reminder of your close arrival in Saint Denis, the city’s lights blurring past as you mentally prepare for the evening’s masquerade.

Inside the stagecoach, the atmosphere had gradually lightened earlier on during the ride. The gang cracked jokes and shared stories as Dutch opened a bottle of champagne for everyone, the laughter providing a welcome distraction from the evening’s tension.

Everyone reminisced about their past escapades, with most admitting they had never been to a ball before. Hosea, however, regaled everyone with tales of his numerous experiences at such events—not for the socializing, but for the chance to lift a few purses from oblivious rich folks. His anecdotes were met with a mixture of awe and amusement, shifting the mood to one of camaraderie.

Soon, the coach slowed to a stop right in front of a mansion and the group peers out the window, taking in the grandeur of the estate. 

Dutch let out a low whistle. “Well, if that ain’t something. Remember, folks, we’re here to blend in. Keep your eyes sharp and your wits sharper.”

Hosea, always the calm voice of reason, looks between you and Arthur. “Now let’s keep this simple. We’re here to make a good impression, Bronte may already know of our reputation but we should keep the high society folks none the wiser. Let's keep our cool, play our parts, and try to score some valuable intel.”

You and Arthur exchange looks, eyes meeting one another with a sharp, challenging edge before he turns his gaze away. You take a steadying breath, silently hoping the night unfolds smoothly and without incident. 

Lenny steps down and opens the coach door which was followed by the men exiting one by one, with you last. 

As Arthur starts to walk ahead, Hosea nudges him and gestures toward you, earning an exasperated sigh from Arthur.

Reluctantly, Arthur falls into step beside you and extends his arm. Despite the lingering tension, you accept it, slipping your arm through his.

He glances at you, his expression of slight irritation. “This should be a real treat.” 

You raise an eyebrow, barely masking your annoyance. “It’s not like I’m thrilled about it either. But here we are.”

He gives you a smug look. “Just remember, we’re supposed to be playin’ nice. Don’t go makin’ it harder than it needs to be. I’d hate for you to accidentally blow our cover.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll manage to keep things under control. After all, you’re the expert at charm, aren’t you?”

“Well, if you’d quit making things so damn difficult, I might actually get a chance to show it. But I reckon you’re used to makin’ everything more complicated.”

You step closer, your voice low and biting. “And I suppose you’re used to being an insufferable brute. Maybe if you stopped acting like a complete pain in the ass, we’d both get through things a little easier.”

Arthur’s smile fades, his expression turning serious. “Now I’m just tryin’ to do my part tonight. If you could manage to do the same without stirrin’ up trouble, that’d be mighty appreciated.”

The two of you share a final, heated look, the air between you crackling with palpable tension, as you both brace for the evening’s inevitable strain.

Dutch, who had walked ahead to present the invitation to the guards, cast a sharp glance at you and Arthur, not having missed your whispered barbs, making you shift away from each other.

Turning back to the guards, they direct everyone to surrender their firearms with the men reluctantly handing over their pistols.

Once that was settled, an escort named Luca stepped forward to guide you inside.

The doors opened with a soft creak, revealing the splendor of the grand staircase beyond. As you made your way through the space, Luca engaged the group in light conversation, primarily highlighting Bronte’s reputation before you are all guided to the left through an archway.

“Hosea, Bill, you join the party. We’ll meet you out back after we pay our respects to Signor Bronte.” Dutch instructs before signaling you and Arthur to follow as Hosea and Bill part ways from you.

The three of you were led upstairs and directed to a door on the left that opens onto a balcony. 

The balcony was expansive, overlooking the lush garden below. A group of men stood gathered around the railing, laughing at a recently shared joke. The space featured a few armchairs and you noted the few guards stationed nearby, armed with rifles.

An accented voice cut through the laughter. “Ah, the angry cowboys, you’ve arrived… And you’ve washed!” 

From the way the man held himself, you could only assume that this was Angelo Bronte. 

Bronte made a remark, presumably in Italian, to the men beside him. They glanced at Arthur and Dutch before laughing slyly, and you couldn’t shake the suspicion that his comment was a crude jibe about the cowboys.

You had to struggle to maintain a friendly expression when Bronte's gaze landed on you.

The smirk on his face grew as his eyes swept over you, lingering with an unsettling leer. “And who might this be?” he drawled, his voice thick with barely concealed appraisal. “Aren’t you quite the sight. I didn’t realize these men kept such delightful company as you. It seems they have more refined tastes than I imagined.”

His gaze was invasive, making you feel as though he was sizing you up with an unnerving familiarity. The overt sexual undertone in his words was palpable, and it took every ounce of your composure to not react. The air around him felt thick with condescension and unwanted attention, making it clear that this meeting was going to be far more uncomfortable than you had anticipated.

“A pleasure to meet you, Mister Bronte,” you replied evenly. “Thank you for the invitation. I’m here simply to accompany my husband.” You cast a steady glance at Arthur as you spoke.

Bronte’s eyes flicker to Arthur, a look of surprise momentarily crossing his face before he returns his attention to you. He takes your hand, pressing it to his lips and holding it just a moment too long, his gaze never waver. “Ah, I see,” he says, his tone smooth and almost mocking. “Pleased to meet your acquaintance. I must say, it’s quite surprising to see such a charming companion alongside your husband. A fortunate man, indeed.”

Arthur’s expression hardens momentarily before he quickly masks it, stepping forward. “Seems I’m full of surprises tonight,” he says, his tone unexpectedly calm. “Just as I’m sure this evening will be.” He holds a steady, unwavering gaze at Bronte.

Bronte’s lips curl into a knowing smile as he studies Arthur’s unyielding gaze. “Ah, such a spirited response,” he says with a playful glint in his eye. “I do appreciate a bit of unpredictability. It seems we’re in for an interesting evening indeed.” He gestured grandly towards the gathering, his tone dripping with feigned charm.

Arthur nods curtly before stepping back, positioning himself in a way that subtly yet clearly marks him as your protector, despite the dynamic between you. Bronte’s gaze lingers on Arthur for a moment longer, his amusement giving way to a more calculating expression.

Dutch stepped in, resuming his conversation with Bronte in an effort to ease the tension while you and Arthur stood off to the side. 

The men were offered cigars, and Arthur quickly placed one in his mouth. Before he was even offered a cutter, he bit down and tore the end off with his teeth, spitting the excess over the balcony in a manner that left your jaw hanging open in disbelief.

He smirks at you, clearly enjoying the reaction he’s provoked. You roll your eyes at his display, a mix of irritation and slight amusement etched across your face.

“You know,” you whisper to him with a hint of exasperation, “you could at least pretend to have some manners.”

Arthur’s smirk widened into a cocky grin. “Right, forgot we’re here to put on a show,” he shot back, his voice dripping with playful insolence, making you roll your eyes.

When the attendant extended a match towards Dutch but pulled back before reaching Arthur, the gunslinger seized the attendant’s arm and held it in place, lowering his cigar to the flame. The boldness of his actions flustered you, leaving you a mix of irritation and an unexpected flurry of emotions that left you feeling perplexed.

Arthur dismissed the attendant with a nonchalant nod, his eyes fixed on you the entire time. The attendant, evidently accustomed to such brusque behavior, retreated without protest.

You found yourself both exasperated and oddly captivated by the ease with which Arthur commanded the attention. His effortless defiance was infuriating, yet there was something compelling about his blatant refusal to conform to expectations, making it hard to ignore the allure behind his brazen demeanor. 

You quickly push those thoughts aside, refocusing on the conversation between Dutch and Bronte, doing your best to ignore the flush in your cheeks and the rapid beating of your heart.

After several exchanges between Dutch and Bronte, including another jibe from Bronte about cowboy lifestyle, which had elicited subtle pointed looks from you and the men you were with. 

“Those sure were the days,” Dutch simpered, his gaze on Bronte now more intense and focused. “Good day, gentlemen.”

Just as you were about to leave, Bronte turned to you, offering a slight bow.  “And you, Miss,” he said with a smirk, “do return if you the crowd down there becomes too dull.” His gaze shifted to Arthur. “‘Course you could bring your husband along, but I wouldn’t mind if you came alone.”

He held his gaze on you, lingering with a glint of amusement. You gave him a polite nod despite the discomfort you felt and turned to follow Dutch and Arthur. Even as you walked away, you could feel Bronte’s eyes on your back. 

The encounter left you with a sharp sense of irritation and a strong resolve to avoid any further interactions with him.

You glanced at Arthur, who had been waiting with Dutch by the door. Though his face showed no sign of emotion, you couldn’t miss the subtle clench of his jaw. You felt his hand gently place on your lower back, guiding you away.

The unexpected touch had caught you off guard, making you stiffen slightly as you struggled to process the unfamiliar gesture. It felt protective and oddly comforting, coming from someone who had been nothing but a source of irritation and friction.

You chanced another glance at Arthur, but his face remained expressionless. His hand lingered on your back for a moment before he withdrew it as quickly as he had placed it, his demeanor swiftly reverting to its usual hardness. 

The fleeting moment of unexpected closeness left you feeling unsettled, a mix of confusion and reluctant curiosity stirring within you.

You quickly reminded yourself that you were both still maintaining a façade, and this brief intimacy was likely just another part of the act. You focused on the task at hand, trying to push away the feelings and maintain the necessary distance between you.

Luca led the three of you back downstairs to rejoin the party, bidding you farewell before you head off with Dutch to meet Bill and Hosea outside.

“Gentlemen… and lady, let’s go ingratiate ourselves,” Dutch began before outlining the plan and giving everyone the freedom to mingle. “And steal nothing… unless it’s information,” Dutch added with a final nod before everyone dispersed.

With that, you follow closely behind Arthur as you both make your way down into the crowd, the murmur of conversations and clinking glasses filling the air. The curious glances of other partygoers followed you both, their eyes lingering with a mix of intrigue and scrutiny. 

He noticed a few men’s eyes drifting from him to you, their stares lingering with evident interest.

Arthur made a conscious effort to ignore the unwanted attention, though his irritation was palpable. 

Pushing down an unfamiliar urge stirring within him, Arthur quickly reminded himself to keep up with the act you two must play tonight.

He shifted to stand beside you, offering his arm with a practiced ease, his expression carefully neutral as he guided you through the crowd.

The absurdity of it all made him grumble under his breath about the ridiculous situation. With a sigh, he steered you toward a less crowded corner of the garden, seeking a quieter spot away from the throng of guests.

As you settled into a less conspicuous spot, you could feel the weight of Arthur’s tension. “I suppose this is where we’re supposed to make our mark,” you said, trying to break the silence. 

You watched as Arthur scanned the crowd, his eyes darting from one group to another, searching for anything useful.

His gaze met yours for a brief moment before he spoke, “Keep your eyes open for now,” he said quietly, his voice low and focused. “I’ll try to track down the mayor and speak with him. See if you can strike up a conversation with some of these folks and gather any useful information about where they’re stashin’ all their riches.”

"Alright, I’ll work the room while you schmooze with the mayor. Just don’t take too long—this place is already starting to wear me thin after that meeting with Bronte. I'm not keen on diving into more talk about the latest fashions and whatnot."

Arthur’s lips twitched in what might have been a small smirk. He inclined his head slightly before turning away and heading off.

You spent the better part of an hour making conversation with various guests, each interaction aimed at uncovering valuable intel on potential robbery targets. 

Maneuvering through the crowd, you engaged in light, seemingly innocuous chit-chat while discreetly probing for any mentions of high-value items or vulnerable security.

Despite your best efforts, luck seemed to evade you. Although, you did manage to uncover information about a stagecoach arriving next month, supposedly laden with valuable jewels. That was at least something.

You took a small sip from the glass of champagne you've snatched earlier in the evening, surveying the crowd. The sound of giggles and lively chatter drew your gaze, and you looked over to see Arthur deep in conversation with a group of women. You couldn't help but feel a wry amusement at the sight.

One of the women, with a clearly flirtatious gesture, placed her hand on Arthur’s arm and leaned in, her laughter echoing. The simple touch and her proximity sparked an uncomfortable feeling within you. 

You observed how Arthur subtly stepped back, skillfully deflecting her advances. Despite his efforts, the woman seemed oblivious to the fact that her attentions were being rebuffed. It was a masterful display of charm and diplomacy, leaving you with a mix of admiration and lingering discomfort. You took another sip of your drink, trying to shake off the unexpected unease.

At that moment, Arthur glanced up and locked eyes with you. He gave you a wink, likely meant to provoke or tease, but instead, his gesture caused a reaction you hadn't anticipated. Your heart skipped a beat, and a sudden rush of warmth flooded your cheeks. The playful glint in his eyes seemed to pierce through the crowd, stirring something deep inside you.

Muttering a curse under your breath, you narrowed your eyes at him and quickly turned away, trying to conceal the flush that had crept up on you.

You dashed to the nearest table, grabbing a bottle of champagne and quickly pouring yourself another glass. You downed it in one swift motion, hoping the crisp bubbles would offer a fleeting distraction from the swirl of emotions inside you.

As you pour yourself another glass, you hear someone speak up beside you, her voice tinged with curiosity. 

"Well, I must say, I’ve seen many ways to cope with a dull party, but this might be the most... efficient.”

You glanced at the voice and saw a woman smirking at you. She appeared slightly older than you and was dressed in a lavish blue gown that sparkled with every movement, her necklace glinting from the lamps. Her expression conveyed amusement. 

Feeling embarrassed to have been caught in your moment of inner turmoil, you attempted to regain your composure and replied with a hint of forced levity. “It’s quite the dull affair, isn’t it?”

The woman laughed softly, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Thank goodness, someone who gets it.”

“You seem to be surviving it better than most. I imagine you’ve been through a few parties like these before?”

She nodded, her gaze shifting to a distant corner of the room where a group of guests were deeply engrossed in animated conversation. “Too many, I’m afraid. After a while, it all becomes a blur of extravagant gowns and polite small talk. One learns to navigate these events with a certain... detachment.”

You chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “Sounds like you’ve mastered the art of it. I could use a guide through this maze of high society myself. Any tips on surviving the evening without losing one’s sanity—or dignity?”

She grinned, leaning in conspiratorially. “Well, first off, always have a backup plan for when the conversation turns to the latest trends in hat feathers or the merits of various imported cheeses. For instance, I’ve found that nodding vigorously while muttering phrases like ‘absolutely fascinating’ works wonders.

You laughed, shaking your head. “I’ll keep that in mind. Though I suspect I might still need a crash course in how to look like I’m genuinely interested in ‘the most enchanting new fabric designs’.”

She chuckled. “Well, when in doubt, fake it till you make it. Nothing says ‘I’m absolutely fine’ like a perfectly practiced smile and a glass of champagne held just so.”

You chuckle and raise your glass at her before taking a sip. A brief silence follows as you both sip from your glasses. The woman then speaks up, her tone warm and friendly, “I’m Eloise, by the way. It’s rare to find someone who sees through the façade of these high-society gatherings.”

You smile, offering her your name. “It seems we’re both on the same wavelength when it comes to these affairs.”

“So what brought you here tonight?”

“Oh, um… I’m just here to accompany my husband, he’s the one with the business connections, so I’m playing the dutiful spouse for the evening.”

Eloise raises an eyebrow, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “Ah, the classic role of the ‘plus one.’ Now which one of these overdressed peacocks is your husband?” 

She sweeps her gaze across the crowd with exaggerated curiosity. “Is he the one with the ridiculous bow tie or the chap with the hat that looks like it’s been borrowed from a magic act?”

You raise your brows in amusement as you glance at the men she’s mentioned, finding the whole scene of tonight’s event even more absurd. Your gaze sweeps over the crowd until you spot Arthur. 

“Actually, that would be him right there.”

Eloise’s eyes follow your pointing finger and widen in genuine surprise. 

“Well, I’ll be!” she exclaims, clearly taken aback. “I must say, he’s certainly not what I was expecting. Doesn't look like he belongs here, in a good way of course. He’s quite the rugged type—like one of those big, tough cowboys you’d see in a wild frontier town. You know the sort: strong, stocky, with a weathered charm that comes from living hard and facing rough challenges.”

The irony of her words makes you laugh. “That’s one way to put it.”

“I must say, you two make quite a handsome pair.” 

You flush at her words, a mix of embarrassment and awkwardness coloring your cheeks. Instead, you offer a polite smile and nod, playing along with the pretense. “Thank you,” you say in a steady voice, unsure of what else to say.

Arthur, briefly looking away from another person he was speaking to, catches your eye for the second time tonight. There’s a fleeting moment of connection—his gaze is intense, and the faintest smile plays at his lips—before he turns back to his conversation partner.

“I must admit,” she says, her tone light and teasing, “there’s more than just a bit of magic in the air between you two. It’s not every day you see such a striking balance. I do believe there’s a certain... chemistry here that’s hard to ignore. How delightful!”

You raise an eyebrow, giving her a confused smile. “What do you mean?”

Eloise’s eyes twinkle with a knowing glint as she glances over at Arthur. “Oh, it’s really quite charming, the way he looks at you. There’s just something in his gaze as if he’s captivated by you in a way that could be missed. It’s rare to see someone look at their partner with such intensity and warmth these days.”

For a moment, you almost correct her, eager to clarify that you and Arthur aren’t actually together. But then you remember the need to maintain the ruse. You glance awkwardly at Arthur, trying to downplay the connection Eloise is suggesting.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” you say clearly flustered, trying to sound casual but failing to hide your unease. “I mean, Arthur and I aren’t exactly... well, he’s just got this intense look, which I’m sure it’s nothing more than... you know, his way of being attentive. It’s just a bit of his nature.”

Her smile softens, eyes warm and genuine. “Oh, it’s clear to see if you look hard enough. Even in a crowded room, he seems to be drawn to you. It’s quite endearing.”

The sound of cracks echoed before you could think of a response, and the woman beside you lit up with genuine excitement.

“Finally, something exciting! It's been lovely chatting with you. I do hope we cross paths again. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Eloise sends you a warm smile before hurrying off.

You send her a genuine smile before you turn your gaze upward to the sky, where faint glimmers of fireworks begin to light up the night. The display added a splash of color to the darkened sky, creating a stark contrast to the opulence of the garden below. 

As you watched the vibrant bursts, your thoughts drifted back to the conversation you had with Eloise, trying to process her comments. Her words lingered in your mind, stirring a mix of curiosity and confusion. 

The idea that whatever is between you and Arthur might actually convey something deeper, something affectionate, felt almost surreal given the dynamics between you two and your perspective on your relationship with him.

Perhaps Abigail was right; the more you spent time with Arthur, the more you learned about him and saw him in a new light. What had once seemed like mere pretense or forced partnership now hinted at a connection that transcended your initial expectations. 

The way he moved, the way he spoke, the moments of unguarded sincerity—it all started to paint a different picture. The possibility that these moments could be more than just part of the act began to take root, stirring a blend of curiosity and apprehension within you.

You quickly down your drink before setting the empty glass on the table.

Suddenly, a rough hand wrapping around your wrist jolts you out of your thoughts and you turn to see Arthur who all but tugged you along behind him. 

You let out a scowl. “Hey! What the-”

Arthur glanced over his shoulder, a mix of amusement and determination on his face. “Come on, we just caught wind that the Mayor’s gotten somethin’ from Cornwall. Dutch reckons we oughta figure out what it is, make sure we ain’t missin’ nothin’ crucial.”

“And you need me because?” You asked with slight irritation as he continued to pull you along.

Arthur's eyes narrowed slightly, his voice taking on a low, firm tone. “I need you to keep watch, and your lock-pickin’ skills could come in handy… ‘sides, you’re my wife don’t forget.” He added with a teasing smirk. 

“Can’t have you wanderin’ off by yourself lookin’ like I’ve neglected you. That wouldn’t reflect too well on me now, would it?”

You shot him a glare, yanking your wrist free from his grip. “Could’ve just asked me”

Arthur’s lips twitched with a hint of a smirk. “You looked so wrapped up in the fireworks, darlin’, I didn’t want to interrupt you.”

You bit back a retort, your frustration mingling with a begrudging understanding of his point.  “Don’t call me that,” you said, a hint of irritation in your voice at the use of the nickname. 

Arthur raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening slightly. “Alright, sweetheart. Try to keep up now.”

Trailing closely behind Arthur as you followed the servant, you effortlessly weaved through the spectators, who were too engrossed in watching the fireworks to notice you. 

The servant circled around to the side of the house and ascended a small set of steps leading out of the garden. He paused briefly to engage in a conversation with someone before slipping inside through a side door.

The both of you followed cautiously, making sure to stay out of sight. Inside, you overheard the man berating a maid before he made his way up the stairs, retracing your steps to the upper levels where you had previously been.

Just before reaching the landing, Arthur raises his hand, halting you in your tracks. He peers over the edge of the wall, watching as the servant enters the locked room, heads to a desk, and inserts a key into a drawer to place the letter inside. The servant then disappears further into the room, the sound of a door closing signaling that it is time for you and Arthur to make your move.

Arthur moves first, effortlessly slipping inside through the wide-open door left by the servant. You quickly scan the area to ensure it's clear before following him.

He makes his way over to the desk and tugs at the drawer, only to find it locked. Grabbing a letter opener from the table, he attempts to pry it open. You watch with amusement as he grunts in frustration, struggling to get it to budge.

“Honestly, watching you fumble with that is almost painful,” you remarked, making Arthur roll his eyes and throw up his hands in a gesture that clearly invited you to take over. With a sigh, you stepped in, gently nudging him aside before kneeling down to get eye-level with the lock.

Pulling a pin from your updo, your hair falls loosely over your back, leaving your style in a half-up, half-down look. You insert the pin into the lock, and after a few moments of fumbling, a triumphant smile spreads across your face at the satisfying click of the lock opening.

You stand back up and look over at Arthur, giving him a smug smile when you catch him staring. You raise an eyebrow, and he quickly clears his throat, shifting his gaze away as if caught in the act of something he wasn’t supposed to be doing.

"I, uh, never seen you with your hair down before," he comments before he can think twice, his voice trailing off as he leans over the drawer, a hint of color creeping into his cheeks. 

"Nice work," he adds, his eyes momentarily meeting yours before darting away.

You raise an eyebrow at his flustered demeanor, the corner of your mouth twitching in amusement, “I’m glad you approve.” 

You watch as he sifts through the drawer's contents until his hands close around a book with a piece of paper inside. He briefly reads the paper, nods, and then tears it in half, slipping the pieces into his suit pocket.

“You got it?” 

“Yeah, let’s get outta here,” he replies, glancing around making sure no one is watching before heading out the door with you following closely behind

Just as you were about to move down the stairs, the creaking sound of someone coming up halted both of your tracks. Without warning, Arthur grabbed you, pushing you gently but firmly against the wall beside the staircase, his body pressing close to yours. His arms caged around the sides of your head, creating a tight, protective barrier.

The sudden proximity left you acutely aware of his body against yours, his chest nearly brushing yours as his arms trapped you in place.

His gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that made your pulse race even faster. His brow furrowed slightly as if he were struggling to control a rush of emotions.

The closeness had clearly caught both of you off guard, the charged atmosphere between you almost palpable. His breath came in short, controlled bursts, and you could see the way his jaw tightened as he struggled to maintain his composure.

As he held you there, his expression softened just a fraction, revealing a flicker of vulnerability beneath his usually guarded demeanor. His voice, though still firm, carried a hint of concern as he leaned close to whisper, "Just stay still and quiet.”

The proximity of his breath against your ear made the moment feel even more intimate, amplifying the unexpected connection between you. The closeness, once marked by animosity, now seemed charged with a different kind of tension—one that was both electrifying and confusing.

As you stood there, the boundaries between duty and emotion blurred, and the shared space between you felt charged with unspoken understanding and vulnerability.

His eyes, usually hard with resolve or irritation, softened as they locked with yours. There was a softness in his gaze, a flicker of something raw and unguarded.

The emotion he held in his eyes made you reconsider the hostility that had defined your interactions. In that moment, the anger and resentment seemed to fade, replaced by a deeper, more complex understanding of the man standing so close to you.

The sound of footsteps drawing nearer to the top of the stairs heightened the urgency of the moment and Arthur’s gaze shifted to you once more.

One of his arms lowered from the wall behind you, and he placed his hand softly at the back of your neck. His touch lingered without applying too much pressure. You felt a shiver at the contact of his hand on your neck, the warmth of his touch sending an unexpected jolt of emotion through you, bringing a surge of feelings you had been trying to suppress all night.

The gentle warmth of his hand contrasted sharply with the intensity of his gaze, creating a palpable connection that seemed to heighten the gravity of your precarious situation.

Your heart pounded as you met his intense gaze, which held a rare blend of sincerity and vulnerability that was almost disarming.

“You trust me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper but filled with a sincerity that cut through the tension of the moment.

You hesitated, the weight of his question hanging between you. The proximity of his body and the depth of his gaze left you momentarily breathless. “Why should I?” you whispered back, your voice betraying a mix of defiance and vulnerability.

Arthur’s eyes never left yours as he leaned in closer. “Because right now, it’s the only way we’re getting out of this,” he replied, his tone resolute but gentle.

In that charged silence, the dynamics of your relationship were shifting. You felt the usual barriers between you—formed by past conflicts and mutual distrust—began to dissolve, replaced by an unspoken understanding that was both electrifying and comforting. The anger and rivalry giving way to a fragile trust and an unexpected tenderness. 

With the footsteps slowly growing nearer, you saw a flicker of sincerity in his eyes that made you question your own doubts. You nodded slightly, trying to steady your breath. “Alright,” you whispered.

Arthur's lips curved into a faint smile, a mixture of relief and determination. “You gotta say it, sweetheart,” he urged softly.

Your mouth curled into a slight smirk as you looked up at him, your heart racing with a blend of anxiety and anticipation. “I trust you,” you said, the words feeling like a pact forged in the heat of the moment.

In a quick, decisive motion, he leans in and presses a firm, purposeful kiss to your lips, filled with urgency. The initial touch is electrifying, but as the kiss deepens, it becomes a release of suppressed feelings, a flood of emotions long held in check.

The kiss is fervent and consuming, each moment stretching out as if to make up for lost time. His lips are warm and insistent against yours, and there’s a raw, desperate quality to the way he kisses you. It feels as though every emotion he’s been holding back is being poured into this single, intense connection.

Your own lips respond with equal fervor, the kiss becoming a mutual surrender to the feelings that have been building between you. The world around you fades into the background, the only reality being the overwhelming sensation of his kiss. 

Arthur’s hand that had been pressed firmly against the wall, now frame your face with a gentleness that contrasts with the intensity of the kiss. His grip is both tender and possessive, as if he’s anchoring you to him, unwilling to let go.

The sound of someone clearing their throat suddenly jolts you back to reality. 

A servant, caught off guard by the intimate display before him, stood at the top of the stairs. His eyes widened in surprise, clearly unprepared for the passionate exchange unfolding before him.

You and Arthur break the kiss, though the intensity of the moment lingers in the charged air between you. With a quick, shared glance, you and Arthur both adjust your demeanor, the brief intimacy giving way to the reality of the mission.

The man, realizing he has intruded on a private and critical moment, clears his throat, clearly flustered at having walked in on the intimate scene before him, face flushing with embarrassment. "I-I’m sorry to interrupt, but this area is restricted to guests unless otherwise accompanied,” he stammers.

Arthur’s eyes narrow slightly, but his expression quickly returns to a more controlled demeanor. He gives the servant a nod of acknowledgment. “Sorry ‘bout that, partner. Seems my wife and I took a wrong turn and found ourselves in the wrong spot. We were just about to head on out.”

You, still caught in the afterglow of the kiss, straighten yourself and try to regain your composure. The abrupt interruption leaves you with a swirl of mixed emotions—embarrassment, irritation, and a lingering sense of affection. You cast a quick glance at Arthur, who responds with a subtle nod, signaling that it's time to move on.

Still visibly flustered, the servant offers a hurried apology, stepping aside with a rigid posture and a face flushed a deep shade of red. He tries to give you both space as you and Arthur hurry down the stairs, the charged atmosphere from the kiss still lingering between you. The abrupt return to reality sharpens your sense of urgency.

Arthur takes a deep breath, stepping back as his gaze meets yours for a moment longer. He opens his mouth to say something but hesitates before speaking again. “We should get a move on and find Dutch and the rest ‘em.”

You noticed his hesitation but decided to brush it off, nodding in agreement. “Sure, let’s see what’s next. The sooner we get this done, the better.”

You find Dutch, Hosea, and Bill on the first-floor balcony. 

“Ah, there you are!” Dutch exclaims, a smile on his face. He then turns to Arthur. “Find anything?”

Arthur gives a nod and taps his chest where he’s tucked the letter. “I think so.”

“Great. I think we’re done here.”

The four of you move to follow Dutch, briefly exchanging information with Hosea and Bill. Hosea mentions a potential robbery job targeting a big city bank, outlining the possible opportunities involved. You share what you’ve gathered earlier about a stagecoach expected to pass through Lemoyne in the next few weeks and the valuable jewels and cash it carries.

Dutch, Hosea, and Bill push past the front entrance, walking ahead. Just before you can follow, Arthur calls your name and gently grabs your arm, pulling you aside.

In the quiet corridor, away from the others, you face him. His eyes are a mixture of resolve and something else you can’t quite place. “Listen, I, uh…,” he trails off, his voice low, seeming to wrestle with his words for a moment before finally meeting your gaze. 

Your heart races, expecting him to address what happened between you earlier and the emotions that followed. 

Instead, Arthur’s tone is hesitant and detached. “‘Bout what happened earlier… I don’t want you thinkin’ it meant more than it did. We can’t afford to get all wrapped up in nothin’ personal.”

His dismissal hits you like a cold wave.

You had hoped for some acknowledgment of the shared moment, perhaps a sign that it meant something to him. Instead, his words feel like a sharp rebuff, making you question everything you thought you understood about what happened tonight.

“What are you talking about?” you demand, trying to mask the hurt in your voice. Your frustration and anger boil over. 

Arthur’s gaze falters for a moment before he regains his composure. He runs a hand over his face, clearly struggling to find the right words. “I just don’t think—” he begins, but his voice trails off as he lets out a frustrated sigh. 

He steps back, clearly distancing himself. “Look–I can’t offer you anything more than what we have. Let’s just focus on ending this job and not let personal feelings complicate things.”

You scoff, feeling the sting of his words. Personal feelings? 

“Right, so all that back there was just for show, was it? Just keeping up appearances?”

Arthur’s expression falters, and he hesitates. He opens his mouth to respond but closes it again, his frustration evident as he struggles to find the right thing to say. 

He turns to you, his expression now seeming emotionless and cold. “I didn’t mean to make it seem like nothin’ mattered. It’s just… I’m not tryin’ to make things too complicated. It’s best to keep things straightforward right now.”

The words and his tone cuts through you like a knife, the brief connection you shared now feels like a cruel tease, an illusion of intimacy shattered by the harsh reality.

His coldness is a stark contrast to the warmth you felt moments before, leaving you grappling with a mix of hurt and frustration. 

What started as mutual disdain had evolved into something more complex, yet now it feels like it's spiraling back into that familiar animosity.

You’d hoped that beneath the hostility and barbed comments, the genuine connection hinted at earlier tonight might bridge the gap between your conflicting dynamic. But now, it feels as if his rejection is pulling you back to square one—a place locked in an endless cycle of arguments and misunderstandings.

The idea that the warmth of those moments might have been nothing more than a strategic move or a fleeting distraction makes you question if there was ever truly a chance for something different between you two.

God, how naive you were to think there could be a sliver of something more between you and Arthur.

You take a deep breath, reminding yourself to focus on the task ahead. You push aside the personal turmoil, resolving to keep your interactions with Arthur as they were before—distant and guarded. 

With a blank expression masking the tumultuous emotions roiling beneath, you reply, “Fine. Let’s just get this night over with and move on. I’ll keep any ‘personal feelings’ out of the way if that makes it better for you.”

You turn away, forcing yourself not to say anything further that might reveal your feelings. As you do, you didn't miss the brief flash of hurt and sadness in Arthur’s expression before he quickly masks it with his usual stoic demeanor.

Finally rejoining the others, you enter the stagecoach and take your seat from before. Arthur takes his place beside you, the space between you charged with unspoken words and lingering hurt. 

The rift between the two of you feels even more pronounced, a painful reminder of what might have been overshadowed by the harsh reality of your circumstances.

Hosea and Dutch, seated across from you, seem to be blissfully unaware of the personal turmoil that has unfolded between you and Arthur, their conversation flowing naturally as they discuss the next steps of the gang’s plans.

The stagecoach rolls forward, and you turn to look out the window, drowning yourself in the passing scenery. The kiss and its aftermath now feel like an unspoken wound, deepening the complexity of your already fraught relationship and leaving you to grapple with the emotional fallout alone.

A/N: Okay so that ending was definitely not a happy one. After exploring where the story might go and experimenting more with the writing, I've decided that I mighttttt just make a Part 2, which might or might not include some smut hehe... So please stay tuned!

Thanks again for reading!

Read Part Two Here

[heizlut]

Breaking Point

cw: slight degredagtion (f!receiving)

tags: sub fem!reader, dom!alhaitham, mostly proofread

nsfw under the cut

check out my masterlist here!

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You were spending the day with your boyfriend, curled up on the couch and reading together. You and Alhaitham always had your heads buried in a book no matter where you were. Being together was peaceful for the both you (except for when Kaveh came home). Without turning your head from your book, you look to Alhaitham from the corner of your eyes. Did he realize how sexy he looked with such a focused expression as his eyes quickly trailed through the words on his pages?

You turn your page extra loud and let out the most dramatic sigh you possibly could. Alhaitham doesn't pay it any mind, so you let out another dramatic sigh and glance at him again. This time he side-eyes you, with an unamused expression, "Are you done? I'm trying to focus." Your lips form a pout and you look back to your book. You didn't want him to be buried in his book anymore, you wanted him buried between your legs.

You shift your position, squeezing your thighs in an attempt to quell the ache in your core. Minutes pass that seem like hours and you squirm again. Alhaitham's hand goes to your thigh, squeezing it, all without looking away from the pages of his book, "Keep squirming and we're going to have a problem." You clench your jaw as he removes his hand from your thigh to hold his book again. Now you were even more determined to break his intense focus and get what what you wanted.

You practically slam your book shut and place it on the table in front of the couch as you get up from your spot. Alhaitham glances at you from over the top of his book with a quirked brow, "Where are you going?" His voice deep and monotone as usual. You don't even look over your shoulder at him when you walk past, "To bathe." He hums in acknowledgment and returns to reading.

Before you went into the bathroom, you took a peek into Kaveh's room to ensure he wasn't home. You smile to yourself you find that he isn't there, satisfied that you'll be able to enact your plan. After bathing, you rise from the water and leave the tub. But, oh no! You oh so conveniently forgot a towel! You smirk to yourself and exit the bathroom, padding to where Alhaitham still sat immersed in his book.

The water drips down your body and onto the floor as you stand in front of him. He doesn't even bother to look up, so you lean your head over and a droplet of water drips onto his page. Alhaitham's turquoise eyes shoot up at you, a dissatisfied frown on his lips. His expression changes to one of subtle shock as he sees you naked and wet, "What the hell are you doing?" His tone acerbic as he speaks. You put on an innocent face, "Well I forgot a towel and didn't want to yell for you..."

Alhaitham runs his tongue over his teeth, "So you came all the way out here, naked and getting water all over the floors, and didn't think to grab a towel yourself?" Your expression drops to annoyance and you practically stomp away to your shared room. Alhaitham rolls his eyes and returns to reading. A few moments later, you emerge from the bedroom wearing nothing but one of his shirts; the buttons halfway undone and the hem only reaching the middle of your thighs.

Switching up your previous attitude, but still determined to break him, you pad into the main room, "Baby, do you want me to make you some coffee?" Alhaitham glances at you from over his book again just in time to see you bent over as you rummaged through the lower cabinets. Your round ass looking so perfect as his shirt rode up on your body. Did you know what you were doing to him right now? Fuck, you were so frustrating when you got like this...

Not hearing an answer from him, you make the choice for him and reach up to the upper cabinets to grab a mug, "I'll make you some any-" Your words are cut off when you feel Alhaitham's large, muscular body pressed up against yours. He leans down, growling in your ear, "You're such a fucking brat, you know that?" You shudder and he grinds his bulge against your ass, "You've been so insufferable... Are you really such a needy slut that you can't wait a few hours for me to finish my book? tch..."

Alhaitham's words and the way he grinding into you has your arousal at an all time high. Your soft lips part as a breathy moan escapes you, leaning your head back against his broad chest. His hands move up from your hips to your breasts, squeezing and massaging them in his large hands over his shirt that you wore. The material rubbing against your nipples made them feel even more sensitive as you being to pant. A dark chuckle comes from Alhaitham and he slowly begins to undo the rest of the buttons on the shirt.

He was deliberately teasing you as punishment. Once the shirt was fully undone, he slides it carefully off your shoulders, letting the linen material fall to the floor. Alhaitham wraps one strong arm around around your chest, his hand squeezing your breast while his other hand pushed your thighs apart. His breathing was heavy as he runs two fingers through your slick, "My little brat is so wet, huh~ So desperate for me..." You bite at your bottom lip as you rock against his fingers. He nips at your ear, "Tell me how badly you want it."

"I need you inside me... Been needing you all day...", your voice comes out more as a needy whimper. "Aww is that so?~", Alhaitham gives your pussy a light slap, making you gasp. "Please give me your cock, Haitham... I promise I won't tease you again!", you plead desperately with him. He rolls his eyes at your promise, he's heard you make that same promise over and over, yet here you both were for the millionth time. You push back against Alhaitham's bulge, making him hiss out a breath. That was enough.

He moves quickly, freeing his swollen cock from it's confines. Giving it a couple pumps, he presses his hand on your back, forcing you to arch for him. He rubs the tip through your folds, gathering the slick as you wiggled your hips. Alhaitham slaps your ass, "Be still." You still your hips, and he speaks in a hushed and lustful tone, "Good girl." With those words, he pushes in and grits his teeth, letting out a husky groan. He barely gives you a moment to adjust to his thickness and begins thrusting into you, hitting that soft spot inside of you that had you instantly seeing stars.

Alhaitham wraps your hair around his hand and tugs your head up, making you cry out in pain and pleasure and he keeps his relentless pace, "That's right... Fucking take it." His lips meet your neck, leaving bite marks and hickies in his wake. The feeling of his cock buried so deep inside of you has your eyes rolling back and unable to stop the filthy noises and ramblings that fell from your lips, "Ngh~ yes... please... fuck me harder~!" Alhaitham's cock begins to swell and throb wildly at the feeling of your perfect cunt tightening around him over and over as you orgasm.

He brings his lips to your ear again with a growl, "You're going to take all my cum. Don't let a single fucking drop spill." With that, Alhaitham lets out a raspy moan as he releases inside of your tight walls. Thick ropes of cum fill your pussy; his cock pulsating within you as he stuffed you full. He lets go of your hair and holds himself up with both hands on the counter, caging your tired body in with his large one. The sounds of heavy panting are the only thing that can be heard within the home. Alhaitham gently pulls his cock from your pussy, making you give a tired whine of overstimulation. You turn to face him, still caged in by his body.

He looks down at you, sweat rolling down his forehead and chest. He takes a moment, losing himself in your adoring gaze. He presses his forehead against yours and kisses your nose, "Tease me like that again and I won't be so nice next time." Your lips curl up, both of you well aware that this would happen again.

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a/n: take a shot for every time i said the word “book” 🫥

[ppumeonae-bigvibe]

the space between us

↖ navigation: enhypen masterlist || main masterlist

pairing: delinquent! jake x bookworm, gn! reader

↬ tags: slice of life with opposite attracts, can be considered as platonic or romantic relationship!, imo it's a good read (with no ending boohoo), finally finished watching love next door and its always friends to lovers that get me

summary: jake and you share a relationship so effortless that it’s hard to tell if it's deep friendship or something more

word count: 1.09k

prologue:

jake fell for you so naturally.

like the sun rising in the day and the moon chasing after it at night. like the seasons flowing and ebbing from one to another.

jake loves you like it's breathing. it wasn't difficult; it was practically second nature to him to seek you out wherever he went, second nature to have you with him.

though his pride and ego wasn't going to let him confess anytime soon, he revels deeply in the fact that you were always by his side, that you were always going to be giving him your fullest attention no mater what.

jake would choose you a hundred times over, in any lifetime.

----

"give me your physics worksheet."

like clockwork, you wordlessly slide your file folder over to jake, who sat down noisily at his seat. "you look worse for wear." you lightly commented, not bothering to give him your fullest attention as he languidly takes out his stationery and workbook.

outside, the sun had just started to make its appearance; the warmth from the rays outside indicating the start of a school day.

"yesterday, i stayed out a little longer to play online games with another group of friends; you know them. i wish you were there with me, but you're always studying. anyways, it's kinda surprising my parents hadn't said anything when i got home." even though you hadn't asked, jake provided context, just as he always did.

you never did minded his restless ramblings, and often times you knew he just sought a space to talk.

you hummed in response, preparing your desk for the first class, "yeah, that's because i told your parents that you were revising at mine." that lie you spun to his parents was one well prepared and rehearsed. not to forget, used very often.

"you're a lifesaver. did your parents question anything?" jake glanced sideways at you while flipping to the next page, no doubt to transcribe over whatever you calculated last night.

you shook your head, "they weren't home yesterday. i can't be covering for you all the time, you know?" wagging your fingers at him, jake appeared like a little puppy in front of you and you silently laughed at that image in your head.

"i know. too bad, i guess." jake shoots you a grin, earning him a hard smack from you.

----

"there you are. i've been finding you everywhere, literally all over the school." jake dramatically huffs and puffs at the door of the clubroom, not caring about the other pairs of eyes staring at back him momentarily. you felt heat seep from the center of your body towards the back of your neck and held back a groan at his sudden intrusion.

"jake, i'm in the middle of club activities..." you sighed. your club members were used to jake's antics, not batting an eyelid as they resumed with the issue at hand. he leaned his weight against the door frame, waiting for you to reply to him. you rolled your eyes at the way his face scrunched up in disgust, getting up from your seat to shoo him away.

"what are you doing here?!" you shoved him, no remorse in the way jake hunched over from your push, "hey! i was just reminding you that i'll be waiting for you after your activity-thingy ends. i'm bored playing games with the same people that aren't you."

you rolled your eyes at the way his face scrunched up in disgust, "yeah. i know." you hurriedly nudged him away, "go, go. we're trying to do something here." you tried and failed to hide the smile on your face and he mirrors your action.

"clearly someone appreciates me being here more than they let on. don't be late!" jake goofily salutes you, spinning on his heel and leaving. as soon as he left, everyone cast their gaze (full of mirth and surely humor) over to you as you re-entered the room and you bowed your head in apology, "sorry for the disruption everyone. we can get back to the discussion."

----

"gah...it's so hot!" jake slumps over at his desk, fanning himself with a worn out textbook, the bent shape definitely due to the number of times he's thrown it into his bag pack carelessly. he lightly tugs your forearm, "let's skip self-revision session and go for some ice cream. please?"

"i'm tryna do something here jakey. in a minute, yeah?" you gently pried his sweaty palm off you, totally focused on completing your assignment. you don't catch the way his ears tinge red at the tone of your voice. "okay. in a minute." he repeats your words, crossing and uncrossing his legs beside you.

the classroom was left with a few students revising for the upcoming test and of course, where you were, jake had to be there too.

he leans in close to you, warm breath tickling your ears, "are you done yet?" you flicked his forehead, "i will be if you stop bothering me." jake mimics a zipper over his mouth and puts his head back down on the table. a few times, you caught him fidgeting aimlessly beside you and with the same gentleness, you coaxed him to doing some sort of revision, though you were pretty sure he didn't want to.

he waits and waits: the moment your book flips close, jake perks up, "let's go!" he drags you up and out of your desk against your consent and you laughed at his antics, "yeah, yeah let's get going."

----

epilogue:

"hey, are you and jake a thing or...?"

you jerked up right at your friends question with an eyebrow raised sky high, "does it look like that to you?"

your friend shrugs, "y'all banter like lovers, yet somehow act like siblings. you two are always joined at the hip, even if it's going to the toilet together. he's stood up for you many times, and you have covered for him just the same."

your friend stares daggers into your soul, before leaning back against the creaky school chairs, "you're hiding something, aren't you?"

your silence goes noticed by your friend and almost immediately, "WAIT. do you like sim jaeyun, yes or no?!"

"i...we never put a label on our friendship. we do almost everything together, it would be weird to do it with someone else! i just...i just wanna be with him, you know?" you attempted to clarify, but with the way you were turning pink, your credibility went down as your friend cackled loudly beside you, "someone's in love~!"

@ppumeonae-bigvibe 's work ; likes and reblogs are appreciated <3

[tomssexdoll]

can you do 2010tom x reader fic where they’re having twins<3

yess!

Mini me's

PAIRINGS: Tom 2010 x Female reader CONTENT: FLUFF SYPNOSIS: Y/N and Tom are having twins, it's time for her to give birth and she delivers 2 healthy babies, one boy and one girl. Tom is brought to tears seeing your beautiful babies. A/N: i cried while making this WARNINGS: details of giving birth

The day had finally come, 9 dreadfull months of being pregnant. I am being quite dramatic, being pregnant was so fun until the third trimester. The twins were so active when I was nearing my due date, kicking around and making me so nauseous.

I sat in the hospital bed, my water broke 10 hours ago and I was waiting to be fully dialated to give birth. Tom rushed in the doors, chest heaving up and down as he ran to my side, holding my hand.

"Sorry I was late baby..I had to get everything from the house that you needed" I chuckled "you were only 5 minutes late baby don't stress, I haven't even started pushing" he sighed and sat in the hospital chair next to the bed, relieved he didn't miss the birth of his children.

"I can't believe we're having kids at 21, I thought we'd be saving it until we were 30" I sighed, rubbing my huge belly. "Well we both love kids and couldn't wait I guess" he chuckled, rubbing my hand with his thumb softly.

Suddenly I started to feel more contractions and knew I was probably going to give birth any second now, "fuck! Tom get the nurse!" I winced, holding my belly and closing my eyes shut, taking deep breaths to try distract myself from the pain.

Tom shot up instantly and called out for a nurse, 3 of them came in and calmed me down, preparing me for the birth. Tom rushed by my side again and held my hand, whispering sweet nothings into me ear, "it's ok baby..you're doing great" he smiled, kissing my sweat drenched forehead.

I started to push, the pain stabbing into my lower abdomen. "Ahh!" I screamed, tears streaming down my cheeks as I did another big push, "good girl schatz, keep going" Tom called out, I cried out, a few more big pushes made one of the babies heads pop out.

"So close honey! Keep pushing!" the nurse said, grabbing onto the babies head and pulling it out softly. The first baby came out and I was so tired, not being able to open my eyes properly. They took her to wash and treat her, check if she had any abnormalities.

The second babies head popped out a few minutes later, I started pushing again, my body weak and tired. "Cmon, just one more big push honey!" the nurse reassured me, pulling the baby out and cleaning him as well.

I layed back and panted, trying to catch my breath. Tom kissed the top of my head gently, "you did so well, I'm so proud" the nurse came around with the babies and pulled my nightgown down, revealing my chest and placing them on top.

I smiled down at them, tears streaming down my cheeks, "they are beautiful..oh my god" Tom choked out a sob, tears falling down his cheeks too.

Once the babies settled and finished crying I breastfed them, giggling at how tired they looked. "They are so adorable, they have your eyes" he smiled, pulling out clothes we had packed for them.

We got them changed and into the carriers, Tom softly rocking them so I could sleep. I fell asleep for a few hours, needing to rest desperately after everything that happened.

tags: @itsmealaiah @tomscumdump @tomscumdoll @tomkaulitzloverr @ge-billsgf @syylss @bkaulitzlover @estxkios @ballhair @charliesgoodboy

[inafieldofdaisies]

Siblings Q&A | The Donovan sisters (feat. John bcs he's a funny lil guy with things to say) | Tagged by @raresbaby

Note from OP: It can be used for any family member/friends who's close to your OC! / Questions from this post

1. Who looks the most like dad?

"Oh, I know that one!", Savannah grinned proudly, "Rin-Rin, looks just like her dad. Even got his hair."

2. Who looks the most like mom?

"This one here is mom's mini-me.", Sabrina nudged Savannah's shoulder before adding, "And with double the charm."

3. Who eats the most?

"I do?", Savannah nodded to herself, "Yes. You know, so I can grow up and be taller than John." John's gaze narrowed playfully, "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that, Savi."

4. Who has been on the weirdest situations?

"How weird do you mean?" "Definitely me.", Sabrina's mumbled quickly after her sister, "For obvious reasons." "Yes, Deputy. I can vouch for that." Savannah let out a laugh at John's remark, "He always says 'yes' so funny, doesn't he?"

5. Who sleeps the most?

"Rin-Rin loves to wake up early and I LOVE my beauty sleep.", Savannah framed her face with her hands, "Mom says it's very important."

6. Mom and dad's favorite?

"Sav, of course. How can she not be?"

7. Most stable romantic life?

8. Worst habit of each one?

"I can be quite restless." Savannah appeared deep in thought, "I have a sweet tooth? Does that count?"

9. Who's the most dramatic?

"Uncle Cal?", Savannah giggled. "They mean between us two, pumpkin." "Still uncle Cal. Or that blond boy that follows him around, remember how he freaked out about getting his shoes dirty?" A smile emerged on Sabrina's face at the memory, "Seb stole them from John. Said they were Prada." "They were, Deputy. Past tense, indeed.", John frowned, "And I haven't forgiven that Sinner for it."

10. Who had a weird phase?

11. Best cook of the family?

"Rin-Rin! For sure."

12. Best memory together?

"Crater Lake.", the sisters said in unison.

13. Worst memory together?

Sabrina shook her head, "No such thing when we're together. We make the best out of every situation."

14. Dream trip together

"Paris. Uncle Cal promised to teach me some French."

15. Would you rather not being able to shower for a month or have the same clothes for a month?

"Um... same clothes." "Same clothes.", Savannah repeated her sister's pick, "But can I choose which? I have a favorite outfit."

16. Who's the older one?

"Why, of course, Rin-Rin."

17. Describe each other in three words

"Joyful, funny, and creative." "Best sister ever?", Savannah beamed, "That's three words."

18. Role model?

"My father.", Sabrina replied without missing a beat. "Rin-Rin, mommy buut for some things, Uncle Les, Ollie, Max, Mary May...", Savannah bit back a grin at John's expression as she continued to list off names, "And John, of course. You promised to teach me how to fly, remember?"

19. Who usually has the worst ideas?

"That Deputy Hartley... since we're naming him.", John spoke up before either of them could.

20. A GIANT insect is on the wall, who's taking care of it?

"I got that one covered." "And we would set it free outside, right, Rin-Rin?" "You bet."

Tagging, @socially-awkward-skeleton @strangefable @rhettsabbott @shellibisshe @wrathfulrook

@purplehairsecretlair @aceghosts @icecutioner @josephslittledeputy @josephseedismyfather

@harmonyowl @imogenkol @trench-rot @cassietrn @voidika

@finding-comfort-in-rain @la-grosse-patate @direwombat @carlosoliveiraa @simonxriley

@simplegenius042 @g0dspeeed @thesingularityseries @theelderhazelnut @cloudofbutterflies92

@killyourrdarlingss @captastra @justasmolbard

@dumbassdep @jackiesarch @derelictheretic and anyone that would like to do the Q&A <3

[mist-touchedxiv]

Chapter 1

A warm wind blew across the plain, a welcome touch in the desert of Thanalan. However, it didn't provide any relief to the Hyur man who was being harassed by a group of bandits.

A solid kick to his stomach caused him to gasp as the wind was driven from his lungs.

"Ye gotta lotta nerve taking a drink from OUR well, scum," purred the cruel Mi'qote woman perched on the stone lip of the well in question. The rag tag group of intimidating men and women growled in agreement. A couple of bandits roughly picked up the man by each arm, one forcefully raised his chin so he could look the leader in the eyes.

"P-please..." the man wheezed weakly as the hot dry air began to fill his lungs again. "Th-this... well is the closest.... water source.... f-for my village... We don't have much-"

One of the bandits started to dramatically boo-hoo, a poor mummer's farce of the man's dilemma.

"Oy! I keep telling ye, ye need to do comedy," squawked another bandits delightedly, the others roared with laughter in agreement.

The bandit leader lazily stretched and crossed her legs on her perch. "Just consider us members of the community who are guarding the well. We have to make our vittles too. How about... 10,000 gil a moon? We'll also take other goods and sundries if you can't afford the coin."

"Th-that's impossible," sputtered the Hyur man. "We're only a small mining town! W-we can't meet that deman-" Stars exploded across the man's vision as the Mi'qote leader slapped him across the face.

As the pain and stars receded, the Hyur numbly noticed something strange behind the bandits. The sound of a loud slurp startled the leader who hopped with incredible alacrity off the well wall with a hiss. Somehow a tall man dressed in blue Doman clothing in a large straw hat had managed to approach the group unseen in the open wasteland. The assembled group couldn't help but stare nonplussed as the stranger took another deep slurp of the cool water from the well. Next to him, a thin long package wrapped in canvas rested against the well.

For a moment, a stunned silence filled the air, punctuated only by the breeze and the squeaking of the windmill that drew the life-giving water in the well. And the stranger's noisy drinking.

"O-oy! Who the hells is this git," barked the wannabe mummer, breaking the silence after a long beat. The gang's attention was now on the newcomer and they were feeling very tense.

The stranger wiped ran his thumb along his stubbly beard as he let out a satisfied sigh. He nudged up the hat and considered them with bright blue eyes. "Just thirsty," came the reply, his voice pleasant with an accent unfamiliar in Eorzea.

"You gotta pay a toll to use OUR well," growled a scarred Elezen. "Ye would do well not to end up like this unfortunate scum." He lashed out with his foot at the man they'd been bullying but found naught but air as he had crawled away during the silence.

The stranger in blue paid them no heed as he filled up a water skin calmly. A particularly rough looking Hrothgar stomped over to him. "Ye got dust in your ears," he roared as he reached a huge hand over to grab the stranger's hat. "I'll fi-" There was a sharp crack as the stranger suddenly lashed out with inhuman speed and drove the end of the wrapped package into the throat of the Hrothgar who let out a coughing mew as he fell over, his hand taking the hat with him to reveal a mane of black hair with azure streaks and two long leoprine ears. The wrapping fell from the package to reveal what appeared to be a Garlean gunblade sheathed, but the blade was slightly shorter and appeared to be missing the barrel.

"Hells... it's a Viera male..." breathed the gang leader as the rarity of such a pretty creature registered with her. He had to be worth something. A lot of somethings. Possibly more than their water scheme. To their credit, the rest of the gang seemed to have already come to the same realization and drew their weapons and began to surround the blue stranger.

The Viera put his hand on the hilt of his blade, readying himself. "Trust me... it's not worth it," he said quietly, sensing their intentions. "Walk away." The leader let out a harsh cackle as she nocked an arrow on her bow.

"Got ye dead to rights, now be a good pretty bunny and come with us," she purred, aiming to pin his foot. Didn't want to damage the goods too much.

The wind blew.

The wind mill creaked.

The villains brandished their weapons with unspoken threats of violence.

Crystalline blue eyes regarded their surroundings.

Suddenly, the wind died and the Mi'qote let the arrow loose.

Her aim was true, but the target was gone. In a flash of steel, the man had seemed to dance his way through the ring of bandits with the grace and power of a surging river. The Mi'qote blinked surprised, suddenly spinning around to find the Viera behind her.

She snarled "I got ye no-" She suddenly realized that her bow was no longer stringed, having been cut during the mad dance of the swordsman. With a definitive click as he fully sheathed his blade again, the ground shook slightly as the whole gang crumpled to the dirt. They were still breathing but were not having a good time.

Time seemed to standstill for eternity. Then the wind blew again and brought them back to the present.

".... Go," ordered the Viera and the gang complied, disappearing in a cloud of dust.

[deejadabbles]

hiii friend <3 for the Halloween drabbles:

🏚️ haunted house + "Don't be scared, I'll hold your hand" withhhh Echo!

Excellent combo, my friend! And with Echo no less, I was very excited to write this so thank you for sending it in! Also, I just realized IDK if people assumed this prompt was for a haunted attraction or a supernatural haunted house sooooo because several peeps asked for the prompt, I'll do both! This time around we're going with supernatural, I hope that's okay <3

The Hidden Room (Echo x GN Reader)

Summary: You and Echo get sent to a place that's totally, definitely not haunted....probably. Rating: G (but minors DNI) Word Count: 1.821 (what is self control at this point?) Warnings: Creepy atmosphere and dangerous situations, reader is not having a good time but at least Echo is there to comfort you. Masterlist /// Tag List Sign Up  /// AO3

“We’re going to die.”

The outlandish words earned you one of Echo’s infamous side-eyes, but the flat tone of finality earned the smallest of smirks. “Don’t be dramatic.”

“Dramatic?!” you shouted in a distinctly dramatic tone, the word ringing in the vast forest surrounding the two of you. “Echo, we’re out in the middle of nowhere, about to go into a mansion that looks like the inspiration for the Haunting of Hill House!”

“And Cid’s cutting us a decent check to do it,” was Echo’s bland reply, though, even he was looking at the abandoned home with a scrunched up nose.

Could anyone really blame you for getting the creeps from the situation? You had driven nearly an hour away from the city to this random ass plot of land with nothing but trees for neighbors, only to find a house that loomed up into the night sky like a decrepit specter. Seriously, even setting aside the gothic ambiance, just the rotting state of the house alone should be cause for concern, one good breeze might knock the thing down with the two of you inside.

Unfortunately, Echo knew you too well and, with a shrug, he started for the front door of the murder house. Kriff, he knew you wouldn’t stand out here by the speeder bike alone, in the dark, or let him brave the spooky manor by himself. With a muttered curse under your breath, you followed after Echo. The supposed forgotten family riches Cid mentioned better be worth all this!

Inside, Manor McCreep was even worse. Thick layers of dust and forgotten belongings were to be expected, but the white sheets over furniture, the broken grand piano, the grand staircase with a shadowy upper landing- yeah, Echo owed you big time for agreeing to be his partner for this one.

“We’ll split up, but keep our comms open the whole time in case one of us gets hurt,” Echo suggested, shining his flashlight slowly over every creeping shadow.

A part of you wanted to tell him how ridiculous it was to even say the phrase “split up”, but another part wanted this to be over with as soon as possible, and covering more ground meant faster results. “Fine, but we stay on the same floor and in the same wing.”

“Agreed,” he hummed, narrowing his eyes at a corner where a torn painting hung ominously on the wall.

And so, like the leads of any horror vid, you two parted ways through the dark. 

Echo could tease you for being dramatic all he wanted, but you took full advantage of the open comms and gave him a running commentary of every room you went through. “Oh, the kitchen, complete with rusted knives that’s probably dried blood, perfect!” “A conservatory filled with weeds that’ll come to life and kill me any minute, nice.” “Ah, the library, filled with ancient tomes of unspeakable curses, I’m having the time of my life!”

Your partner must have appreciated the antics that filled the silence, because his deep voice crackled over the channel, meeting your sass blow for blow. “Make sure to dodge the blades when they start levitating.” “I knew we should have brought that paranormal weedkiller.” “If there’s a curse to make Tech’s goggles fog up when he’s being a smart ass, make sure to grab it.”

You smiled every time he quipped back, comforted by the reassurance that he was still there, close by. It was almost possible to forget where you were as you rummaged through the rooms for this rumored treasure. For the most part, all you found were yellowed flimsi documents, broken furniture, and more signs that one wrong step would send you falling through the rotted floor.

Of course, the true potential for horror came flooding back to you when you opened a door to a study and found nothing but a porcelain doll sitting in the middle of the room.

“Absolutely kriffing not.”

Slamming the door shut was the only solution to that room.

Fortunately, by the time you had found that little horror, Echo was done searching his half of the first floor and the two of you reunited in the entry hall. Unfortunately, he had not found this treasure trove either, which meant it was time to climb that eerie looking staircase to the even creepier second floor. At least your lights lit up that shadowy landing.

Said landing was a wide, open space, with dust covered bookcases and broken end tables lining the wall between two dark hallways on either side. To add to the spook factor, a howling wind roared from outside.

“So,” Echo hummed, the light on his chest plate shining to the right, “do you want eerie corridor number one?” He turned it to the left, “Or eerie corridor number two?”

You opened your mouth to quip back at him- only to pause when you shivered at the breeze that should have been outside. You turned in the direction of the wind, narrowing your eyes at the solid wall that certainly shouldn’t have had that much air coming through an old crack or two.

“Do you feel that?” you whispered to Echo, raking your own light over the bookshelves.

His eyebrow lifted as he followed your gaze, of course, being covered in his armor and body glove under that, he probably hadn’t felt it unless it hit his exposed face. He did notice something, though, and walked over the bookcases. That skilled hand of his ran along the bottoms of the old wooden shelves, then he gripped one and pulled.

The bookshelf swung open as if on a hinge, and revealed a dark doorway.

“Of course! Why wouldn’t there be a sketchy secret passageway?” you sighed.

Echo huffed a laugh, “Well, what better place to hide the family fortune than in here?”

“I acknowledge that you are completely right but- Echo, have you not read any of the horror novels I’ve recommended to you? Secret passageways are never a good thing! We’re bound to find some madman’s journal detailing unspeakable monsters of the H.P.Starcraft variety!”

All he did was give you that look, then walk into the secret room. “Come on, sooner we find it, sooner we get out of here.”

With a heavy sigh you followed him again, running your flashlight over every nook and cranny so you could set your mind at ease that there wasn’t anything lurking. In the shadows. To your relief, there was no long passageway of certain death, but instead it immediately opened into a small room. There wasn’t much in it, just an old desk with a matching chair, and more bookcases that mostly looked empty. Above the desk was the source of the wind: a window that had three of its four panes broken.

Wordlessly, you two got to work searching, you taking the desk, Echo the bookcases. Of course the desk drawers were locked, and you had to dig out the multitool from your belt to open them.

In fact, you were so preoccupied with trying to jam the drawer open, that you didn’t think much when you felt someone step up behind you.

You didn’t know why Echo was standing over your crouched form, but you went on with your work, letting out a satisfied noise when the desk popped open.

“Nothing in here but old tax documents and…a first draft of a romance novel?” You said as you flipped through the pages.

 Echo chuckled, “Wonder how bad the smut is that they felt the need to write it in here.”

“Maybe they just liked the privacy…” 

...Wait, Echo’s voice hadn’t come from above you. A glance to your right told you he was still rifling through the shelves. Despite the fact that there was something creaking the floorboards directly behind you.

Every hair on your body stood on end as you wheeled around- and your light illuminated a gaunt, bloodless face with sunken sockets for eyes.

A scream ripped from your throat as you fell back against the desk, dropping your light in your fumbling attempt to reach the blaster at your hip. Another cold breeze whipped painfully across your face, just as Echo called your name.

He was beside you in an instant, a hand on your shoulder, “What is it? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

Wha- how the kriff had Echo not seen the person looming over you?! Blaster in one hand you quickly grabbed your fallen flashlight and shone it over the spot they had been. 

But of course, there was nothing there.

“B-behind me,” you inwardly cursed the stutter in your voice and swallowed hard as you continued to scan the area with your light, “There was someone behind me- Echo I swear I saw someone!”

Echo’s hand gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze, “Hey, it’s alright, I believe you,” he threw an cautious look around the room, then slid his hand down your arm to lock with your own. “Don’t be scared,” he murmured, that steady baritone almost managing to calm your thundering heart. Then Echo slowly started to rise, pulling you with him as he kept his eyes out for danger, “I’ll hold your hand while we-”

He was cut off when the desk chair threw itself across the room and shattered in a burst of splinters against the wall.

“Run!”

Your man did not need to tell you twice. With more grace than you thought you could manage, you sprang to your feet and ran for the hidden door, Echo holding your hand tight as you did. Just as you both cleared the doorway one of the bookcases fell over, blocking the secret room from visitors once again.

The carnage didn’t stop there. As Echo pulled you down the stairs, an end table grazed your cheek as it flew through the air, certainly aimed at your head. Paintings fell off the walls and floorboard ripped themselves up as you both thundered through the entry hall. The moment you two practically jumped past the front door something else smashed against the wall, narrowly missing one of you.

Unfortunately, holding on to each other caused one, then the other, to lose balance and both of you tumbled down the porch steps. As if on instinct, Echo’s arm went around you protectively, holding you as your bodies rolled across the ground in front of the haunted manor.

The moment you came to a stop, both of you looked up at the house. The wind gave one last mournful wail as the front door slammed shut, sending quite a clear message.

You and Echo both seemed to hold your breaths for a moment, waiting until, all at once, the horrible wind and sounds from inside died, as if they had never been there to begin with.

There was a heartbeat of dead silence, then, “Echo?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to kill Cid when we get back.”

“Agreed.”

EDIT: click here for an extended ending in my reply reblog lol

Tag List: @sev-on-kamino @anxiouspineapple99 @starrylothcat @sinfulsalutations @commander-sunshine @dystopicjumpsuit @wolffegirlsunite @sunshinesdaydream @arcsimper5 @littlemissmanga @wings-and-beskar @clonemedickix @freesia-writes @idontgetanysleep @523rdrebel @moonlightwarriorqueen @briefartnaturewolf @kimiheartblade @littlemissbshine @funeralreunion @chubbyhedgehog @ladytano420 @trixie2023 @mssbridgerton @wizardofrozz @vithepotato @mythical-illustrator

[tearfallpixie]

Make Mama Happy - Chapter 4.5

Tags: @nerdraging4point0 @thesazzb @synthetic-wasp-570 @circle-with-me @beaker1636 @itsjustemily @witchyweeb34 @agravemisstake @cookiesupplier @cncohshit @faceless-mirror @nonamessblog @yournecessaryevil @black-damask1999

@lyschko666 @vinyardmauro @skulliecadaver-blog @some-daniela @latenightmusiclover @rye14-blog1

“I don't want you to go.” Heather whined. Ricky, her and I were at Vinny's place because we were going to take the boys to the warehouse to load up on the bus. Ricky didn't want to leave his car for almost a month in the parking lot so Heather volunteered us to give him a ride.

“I know. But its only for three weeks. I’ll call you every day.” Ricky promised, making me roll my eyes. Vinny was on the corner of his couch with his nose buried in his phone, actively avoiding looking at me.

“I hope you don't expect me to fawn over missing you.” I scoffed in his direction making him let out a snort.

“Awe but baby. I'll miss you so much.” He fake sobbed. I felt myself being pulled into his arms and a mop of curls burying itself in my neck. “I can't possibly be away from you that long.” A laugh bubbled past my lips at his ridiculousness and I turned to face him.

“I'm so sorry boo bear. I didn't realize how much you loved me. I'll try to reign in my emotions to make it easier on you to leave.” I crossed two fingers over my heart and heard him let out another snort.

“Such a sacrifice. What would I do without you.” I flopped dramatically onto his chest. We had gotten more comfortable with showing affection since we still had to pretend for a couple more months but it didn't mean we liked each other.

“We have to leave soon.” Rick murmured sadly, squeezing Heather a bit tighter. Standing to our feet we all grabbed the bags and headed out to Heather's car. As we loaded the bags into the trunk even I felt a little melancholy. The drive was quiet, no one daring to break the silence for fear any of us might burst out crying.

“Don't cause too much trouble while you're gone.” I mumbled to Vinny. He glanced over at me before giving me a small smile.

“Promise. I have to save all my trouble for you anyway.” I gave him a half smile and felt myself being pulled into a hug. “Hey, would you mind stopping by my place a few times while we're gone? Since Emil is coming with us I don't want my house abandoned for a month.”

“Me? Why?” I sputtered.

“Well you are my girlfriend for all intents and purposes. It would be normal for you to be seen at my place.” I thought about it and nodded.

“Fine. I guess.” He kissed my cheek and pulled out a spare set of keys.

“Thank you baby.” He grinned and hugged me. I rolled my eyes but hugged back, finding that he gave amazing hugs.

“We better get going. Come on Vin.” Rick called stepping over to us. He nodded to me and we both moved forward to hug but both of us were awkward about it and grimaced. He rubbed the back of his neck and shoved his hand towards me. “Take care of Heather for me.”

“Between the house and Heather I should start getting paid to babysit.” I joked. “Have fun Richard.”

“Right back at you brat.” He huffed. If I wasn't mistaken I was pretty sure there was a bit of amusement laced in his words. He took his bag from the trunk and Vinny followed suit, both of them stepping back and heading into the airport.

“You ok?” I asked Heather. I saw her wipe stray tears from her eyes and shake her head. “Give me the keys. I’ll drive us home.” She passed over the keys and curled into a ball in the passenger seat.

“Don't wreak Ricky's car. He’ll kill me.” She sniffled. I felt bad that she was taking this so hard and deep inside of my chest there was a tug of sadness that Vinny was leaving too. We weren’t friends by any means but I did enjoy his chaos sometimes.

“I promise.” I mumbled. “Do you want to spend the night? I don't want to be alone.”

“Please. God yes.”

[darethshirl]

Writing Pattern Tag Game

super late with this but better late than never! thank you for the tags @fadedsweater, @anneapocalypse, and @dragon--sage 🥰🥰 tagging back @roguelioness, @sarsaparillia, @korcariiwitch, @queenaeducan, @rosella-writes, @dreadfutures, @melisusthewee, @mel-0n-earth and anyone who sees this and wants to do it tbh!

Rules: list the first line of your last 10 fics and see if there's a pattern!

Goblins were disgusting, wretched little creatures, but even Astarion had to admit they knew how to throw a party.

from i'm not beaten by this yet (you can't tell me to regret) (bloodweave, explicit, 3k words)

It was only after Astarion had finished the kill—after the gut-deep slash, the satisfying spurt of blood—that he realized he was being watched.

from tear it through my heart (again, again, again) (tavstarion, mature, 4k words)

The cemetery was a quiet, unassuming little place, hidden between a shabby building and a formerly-tall church wall that was swiftly falling into ruin.

from cradle me with grace (tavstarion, explicit, 3k words)

Baldur’s Gate buzzed with all the activity of a healthy city, lively and unchanging throughout the ages.

from so long to this wretched form (tavstarion, teen, 4k words)

The tower at Moonrise was both more imposing and more cramped than Astarion had imagined.

from take me under, take me home (tavstarion, teen, 6k words)

The moon shone high overhead, and Ketheric Thorm’s world was crumbling all around him.

from deus proditus (Ketheric study, general, 1k words)

The thing was, Astarion really had wanted her from the moment he’d first laid eyes on her.

from let me wrap my teeth around the world (tavstarion, explicit, 5k words)

In retrospect, John should have waited before bringing his friends back to life.

from like prometheus we are bound, our godforsaken lot (John/Mercy/Augustine, The Locked Tomb, general, 2k words)

It starts so abruptly that Cliff doesn’t even realize what’s happening.

from you know how to make me crawl (Cliff/David, Black Mirror, explicit, 1k words)

Despite everything, and despite what her future memories will tell her, Erica grew up relatively happy in the House of Slaughter.

from ain’t it a gentle sound, the rolling in the graves (Erica study, Something Is Killing The Children, teen, 2k words)

so!! first of all I'm surprised I had to go deep enough that I ran out of bg3 fics lmao. I'd almost forgotten I'd written that black mirror fic!! and yet I didnt go far enough to reach a dragon age one 🥲 I really have left this fandom huh (for now! 😤🐺)

second of all, I'm surprised by how short some of these are! I definitely think of myself as more wordy, and I prefer my longer sentences when I look at this. I think the weakest are the bg3 ones in the middle where I have to establish which act we're in (and let me tell you I STRUGGLED with that Baldur's Gate city description, it was literally the last part I wrote in the fic and you can kinda tell i wanted to get things over with aksdh)

I do prefer the ones that are more character-centric (poor Ketheric, so dramatic lmao). I think if you're going in fandom-blind John's line is the most striking (he can bring people back from the dead???) even tho if you have the context it's not that impressive an opening 😂 And I super enjoyed writing astarion being a dick about goblins!

but I gotta say my favourite line is the "it was only after Astarion had finished the kill" etc etc from tear it through my heart 🥰🥰 in fact I liked that line so much I made it the summary! these are the kind of vibes I want to always achieve 👀 also, honestly, I should start in action/medias res more often! it seems like a fun style I've tragically underused so far

[whoregaylorenzo]

do we have any idea what happened between mavio? oh fellow mavio lover please tell me you have an idea 🥺

oh bestie....*pats seat next to me* we're really in it now aren't we..😭😭

okay there's definitely better ppl to ask this since I've only been here for a few months but I'll tell you what I think I know

disclaimer: a lot of the gaps of my knowledge (so a lot) are filled in with dramatic exaggerations and my own headcanons so don't take it too seriously

1. maverick comes into motogp with one championship under his belt (moto3) and a third place in moto2, from what I've gathered he'd been seen as one of the real next talents, I'm not 100% sure of the timeline but I know I've heard vale mention him as well as marc as someone who could be quick/has a lot of talent

2. he starts off at suzuki (with aleix), gets some good results even a win and a couple podiums and after two years moves to yamaha in 2017 after coming 4th in the championship im 2016

3. he fucking wins his first two races with yamaha, talk about an entry to a team. oh and his teammate was valentino rossi. enough said.

4. mav having a grand time at yamaha, finishing 3rd and 4th and 3rd again (2017,18,19) in the championship. then shit starts going downwards.

5. in 2019, fabio arrives on the motogp stage with the petronas yamaha. he has an amazing first season, getting like 7 podiums and finishing 5th overall.

6. 2020 (ooh getting spicy) so there's a lot of very friendly interactions between mav and fabio from this time, it really seems like they were good buddies, n then preparing to be teammates in 2021, being excited about it!! looking at results tho - even though fabio only finished 8th that year, he won three races, meanwhile mav got one win plus two second places - both behind fabio...

7. so going into 2021 the situation is basically - fabio, boy wonder replacing motogp legend and maverick - not quite being able to fulfill the potential ppl said he had, getting this new teammate, a fast young guy - [threatening music starts playing]

7. and then the season starts off not too bad for mav with a win but after that - forget it. mav getting worse, fab winning and winning and winning. mav starts thinking yamaha have clearly moved on from him and are backing fabio, casting him aside a bit (in his perception, I can't really speak on what really happened I simply wasn't present in the fandom and I've not dove that deep yet), and then ofc it culminates in the whole debacle with mav just having enough of the frustration and doing sth rash, leading to the yamaha fallout and him leaving the team - well being fired really - and going to aprilia

8. as far as I know, it wasn't this alone that broke mavio? I think fabio said sth to the effect of he doesn't really care about mav leaving the team, and then there's a mav quote I think of him saying he's surprised to hear that from fabio

9. and then ofc there's fabio on that podcast this year answering the question "who's the rider you have the worst relationship with" with maverick.

IN CONCLUSION I think a culmination of fabio riding high on success, mav spiraling and lashing out, all that lead to the sorta icy relationship they have now....*sob*

anyway at the bottom of this I gotta add these tags from vic @distinguishedfifty to lighten the mood bc I simply love them uwkfjfkd

if any motogp mutuals have more to add here or maybe wanna correct me on things pls feel free!!

[mysticstarlightduck]

Writemas Day 11!

I wasn't able to post during the past few days cause my health got in the way, but now I'm catching up full force on this 11th day lol.

Let's go with a flashback from Crash Stardom!, where Fabian and Arden get into an argument about Arden's blood thirsty recklessness for this one (:

Prompt Chosen: "Everytime I see that look on your face, it hurts."

"...You're out killing mobsters again, aren't you?" Fabian droned out, pinching the bridge of his nose. His brows furrowed as he looked up from the couch, turning off the TV and tracking Arden's entrance into the apartment with weary eyes.

He already knew the answer to that question - it was written all over the look on his cousin's face, and it hurt to see. But a part of Fabian hoped he was wrong. He really hoped.

Though he knew he wasn't.

Arden sighed, throwing the gun in their hand onto the kitchen table and pulling off the bloodied hoodie from their shoulders, a vengeful ghost of a grin coiling in his lips,"That figlio di puttana and his buddies got way too fucking close to finding us, Fabes. I had to send a message if you know what I'm sayin." His cousin shrugged, reaching for an energy drink in the fridge, voice as nonchalant as if he were discussing the grocery list, "I ain't takin' any chances."

At that, Fabian snapped up from the couch with a speed he didn't know where it came from, pulling at his own hair with a frantic grip. When he spoke, his voice was louder than he'd originally intended, but at this point, he didn't care, "I'm not talking about those assholes, Arden! I'm talking about you. Look at you!" He gestured to the deep, crimson stain on the side of Arden's shirt, "Look at that! You're bleeding, you could've died."

Arden looked down at the cut as it was just a second thought, less than a scratch instead of a stab-wound, "It's nothing, kid." They hummed, shrugging again and moving towards the couch with their energy drink. The lack of a single worry in their voice was enough to send a shiver down Fabian's spine, while simultaneously making his blood boil as Arden continued, "Just one of of those fuckers got a bit lucky with a boxcutter. He has no bowels now, we're even."

"Got a bit lucky, huh?" Fabian let out a chuckle, though it was dry, completely void of any emotion other than bitterness, tone growing sharp, accusatory, "And what happens when one of those jerks gets really lucky. What then?" The 16-year-old's voice faltered, cracking under the whirlwind of fear, rage and concern he'd just given up trying to hold back, "You'll get jumped, end up killed, and I'll...I'll have no fucking idea what happened to you, I'll be alone worried to hell and back while you rot in a dirty old basement because you wouldn't fucking listen!"

Tears pricked at his eyes, but he blinked his eyes fiercely, pushing them back, angrily refusing to back down now. His cousin's life - and honestly his own, since the goddamn mob was involved - was on the line, after all.

Instead of pausing, instead of realizing the danger they're in, Arden groaned, rolling their eyes in a bone-deep annoyance, "Ugh, you're being dramatic, Fabian. It won't even get to that, I promise. Its like hunting a buncha sitting ducks, they're dumb. Chill."

That was it. The last threads of Fabian's patience snapped, like cheap string pulled too suddenly, just like that. He couldn't hold back the words that came next even if he tried.

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