#jus. yeh.

[just-jammin]

um.

first day of college was.

something.

[solargeist]

first time i watched this i thought “yeah this is exactly what its like growing up a mentally ill/nd girl”

[dancewithlou]

I’m just thinking about All of Those Voices and the way there was no documentation for 2017/2018 or even really any talk of those years is… interesting like I get not having footage, Charlie didn’t show up until 2019 and not tons was going on in terms of his career unless you count a couple of singles, (however a part of me would’ve loved to have heard him talk about that process where he struggled finding his sound and what he wanted to do with music) and the x-factor judge (which he didn’t really benefit from all that much) but yeh not even like a mention of those years, interesting but also I kind of get it. Must be so much he can never talk abt legally, not to mention his career has suffered enough he doesn’t need to be calling people out or bringing up things that will do him more harm than good to raise, theres a lot we’ll never know or understand probably and I’m both grateful and irritated by that cause I’m nosey little shit and want a tell all.

[gurorori]

enstars lolita substyle tier list <- delivered by a guy whos been So normal abt lolita for the past 7 yrs

[surielbonecarver]

I really liked the acotar series until I finished reading it. Like after I sat with it for a while and let it all sink in... and then I found soooo many things not to like about it

[oscarisaacsspit]

the insurmountable level of joy i receive whenever i get a notification about someone liking or reblogging a post i made that isn’t oscar or pedro related 🥺🥹

[dravvingtreasurexmaps]

COME. AT. ME. BRO.

[missriddle03]

Title: Even in sickness

Parings: daryl dixon x fem! reader (mentions of y/n)

Small synopsis: daryl is ill and you look after him, turns out he cares about you more than you realise

Time to read: just over 14mins

Word count: 3,022

Warnings: none but formatting may be off as it took me half an hour to fix it 😭

(GIF isn't mine, found on pinterest)

The cold air blew past you and Daryl as you both were trying to hunt some deer; or anything to eat. Daryl had been in the woods for a few months with you by his side trying to find any hints about Rick’s whereabouts.

A few years had passed without anything new but neither of you wanted to give up. Daryl had his crossbow swung on his shoulder whilst dog was running getting his exercise. “How are you feeling?” you asked him. Your eyes darted to Daryl seeing he was already looking at you. 

A slight smile formed on your face. He was wearing a green poncho and you were wearing a shirt and jeans. “Yeh, I’m good. You?”

“Mhm, I’m okay”

In fact, you were okay even though it wasn’t what you had planned for the day you were still happy to be in his company and he was happy you were with him. “You know I could have done this by myself,” he stated. 

Daryl was a capable man who knew what to do in any situation thrown his way. You knew he would be fine by himself but you didn’t want to leave him alone. 

“Of course you could have done this by yourself but then you’d be bored without me” 

Standing near him you grabbed a little knife seeing the dog bark continuously. You both began running over to him and saw a little snake going through the grass. 

Daryl got his crossbow and shot it before picking it up and wrapping it around his neck. “Dinner is served,” you whispered more to yourself than to him because he still heard it.

“If I see anything else we’ll eat that,” Daryl said. You and Daryl were close as ever and your friendship blossomed more once you reunited in Alexandria shortly after the fall of negan. Seeing him gone broke your heart and you wanted to be there for him and he felt the same. A relationship was never in the cards for Daryl but it seemed like an option once you came into his life.

Daryl noticed your little mannerisms so when he saw you run your hand through your hair he let a little frown out. “What’s on your mind?” 

You looked at Daryl whilst trying not to trip over the knotted grass below. “Nothing..why?” 

“Somethings wrong I can tell”

You both passed through some trees(still following the dog) slowly heading back to camp. “I just think about the time we’ve wasted and the fact that we don’t even see anyone anymore. I mean when was the last time we saw Carol?”

He started counting on his fingers the amount of months it had been but he suddenly lost track. “We’ve all been so busy with our lives but I just feel that every single one of us have lost touch”

Since you and Daryl had been cooped up in the woods your hair has grown longer and you have gotten stronger. Daryl became more tough and his hair had gotten longer too. 

“That maybe true, but we jus’ gotta focus on ourselves” 

“Yeah..I get that still feel bad though”

Daryl nodded in agreement before paying full attention to his dog who had seemed to be way ahead of both of you. “Dog! Come here boy,”

Both of you began running to catch up to him but suddenly you couldn’t see him anymore. “Daryl, what are you-”

“I’m over here,” he called out. Daryl was nowhere to be seen standing up but then you looked to your left and saw him in a lake doused with water. 

You let out a laugh before seeing Dog running into the lake and splashing about giving Daryl licks. “Atleast dog came back”

Daryl threw his crossbow onto the dry path before walking through the water. You went over to him grabbing his hand and lifting him up. “How did you manage to fall in a massive lake?”

Dog leaped out of the lake and shook the water from his fur all over Daryl and you. “I was running and didn’t see the dip which I fell into and then the lake appeared”

You still had the crossbow slung onto your shoulders, “the crossbow suits you,” he said. “Thanks,”

Daryl was drenched head to toe in water and the temperatures were dropping as the night went on. “Still got the snake?” you asked him and he nodded his head. 

Darkness surrounded the sky and worry filled your head. “Hey..I think it’s gonna rain,” 

You both were not far from where you were staying so you were hoping that it wouldn’t rain until you got shelter. “Heads up,” Daryl stated pointing to the walker that was coming your way. 

A knife and a crossbow was what you had on you and you weren't 100% sure about using the crossbow so you walked over and used the knife stabbing the walking in its head. Dog was staying between you both, not leaving your sides. “Once we get back you might wanna get into a fresh pair of clothes so you don’t catch a cold” 

“I’ll be fine,” 

You tutted at him. “Just because you’re a big tough guy you can still catch a cold,”

He shrugged his shoulders and was ringing out the water from his poncho. Almost simultaneously the clouds began getting dark and little drops of rain were falling from the sky. 

You liked the rain, the smell of the rain was a comforting scent and it was the perfect mood to light a candle and read a book..but this was the apocalypse so you hardly had time to do the things you used to do. “Maybe it will just be a little shower,” he said.

Then it started lashing it down.

“Okay..maybe not,” 

All three of you started running faster trying to get to your accommodation but it felt like it was taking forever. Once dog began barking you could tell you were itching nearer to where you needed to be.

You opened the tent and let him in as you shortly followed after. “Take your clothes off,” you instructed him as his eyes widened. “You know what I meant”

Turning around, you grabbed the clothes you needed from the pile you had put on a box you found. You changed your clothes and once he did you took them and rung them out from excess water. 

“Have to do for now until the rain stops,”

Daryl took the snake and put it on the side clearly fed up with the weather. Dog ran inside and jumped on Daryl wanting attention. “You’re a good boy..aint ya, yes you are” Daryl spoke.

He turned to look at you, seeing your face in a smile. “What?”

“Nothing..just I like seeing this side of you”

Daryl slightly smiled and looked outside to see if the rain had stopped… it hadn’t.

You had woken up a few hours before Daryl and you were already sharpening some knives you had that had gone blunt. The dog was awake so it was just you and him but you could hear him whimpering.

“Is your daddy not awake yet?”

Giving him attention you dropped your items on the floor deciding to check on him. It had been a few days since you both got caught in the rain but Daryl had been looking different a bit each day.

The first night after he looked a bit more red in the face, the second night he felt cold, the third night he was snivilling and you weren’t sure what he’d be today. You heard a small cough coming from inside, you saw Daryl sat but was trying to stop himself from coughing further. “Hey, you okay?” you asked him.

“M’alright. No need to worry”

He started coughing again, “Daryl I am worried about you, I think you’re getting ill” 

His cheeks looked flushed but as you went over to him you placed your hand on his forehead and he felt cold. “You might have the flu,” you said.

Daryl shook his head not giving you an answer; instead he took his crossbow and walked out. You trailed after him taking the crossbow off him. “Hey!”

You crossed your arms whilst the crossbow was still in your hand. “You are ill Daryl. I’m not letting you go out till you get better”

“But I-”

“No, I need you to get better. How about I go to Alexandria and get some medication from Siiddiq?” Daryl hesitated to say anything but he placed his hand in his pockets until he sneezed. You still stayed looking at him awaiting an answer.

“I’m okay I’ll just deal with it” 

He looked around but stopped once the sun glared at him in his eyes. “You can’t even look near the sun! I’m getting those medication for you”

Daryl widened his eyes not realising that you were being serious. You put your hair in a ponytail and attached your belt with what you need incase you encounter a walker. “Wait here till I get back,”

You handed him his crossbow back and started walking away. “Y/n,”

“Yeah?” you called out. “Be safe”

Smiling, you left and started heading to Alexandria. You hadn’t been there for a while but you knew you needed to bite back your thoughts and continued on your journey.

A few days passed but you finally reached your destination.

“Who is it?” someone asked. It was a guard.

“Y/n..friend of Michonne’s” the guard looked down and pointed to you before walking down the steps.

Truth be told you were a friend of Michonne’s but you hadn’t actually seen her for a good while. The gate opened and some familiar faces stood behind it. First to welcome you was Rosita.

She pulled you into a hug exchanging quick hello’s but shortly some other people came out to greet you. A young girl with a cowboy hat had a big smile on her face, “Hey Judith, how have you been?” you said. “I’m good, is uncle Daryl here?” 

You shook your head. “He isn’t very well, I was wondering if I could see Michonne?” It was Judith’s turn to nod her head as she went to get Michonne. Once she came into view you gave her a hug. “Oh, how I’ve missed being here,”

“We’ve missed you, Judith informed me that Daryl isn’t well?”

Everyone was really busy with jobs keeping themselves occupied and earning their keep. You knew how hard it was for Michonne to get to where she was today. “Yes he caught the flu, I was wondering could I borrow some medication from your infirmary?” 

You knew how blunt it was to ask but Michonne knew that you wouldn’t come here if he was just a bit ill. “Of course you can, any chance you can stay a bit longer?”

Michonne asked Siddiq to grab some medication whilst you pondered your thoughts. “I..look sorry but I’m on a tight schedule today” you saw her eyes dart down. “..but I can try and see if I can come another day this week and maybe I can bring Daryl” 

Judith suddenly had a bigger smile on her face, “I miss uncle Daryl,” she stated.

“We would love to have you both here whenever you can” Michonne replied. You hugged them both and saw siddiq arrive with the medication. 

“Here it is, take two of these twice a day and there should be enough for atleast a weeks worth. I hope he gets better”

You thanked siddiq and gave him a hug before placing it into your satchel. “So..are you and Daryl a thing?” a voice said.

You turned your head to see Eugene standing next to Rosita who was now smiling and almost laughing. “What do you mean?” 

“Well..you are of the female anatomy and he is of the male anatomy so theory indicates the longer you spend with a person the more the physical attraction begins and corresponding with that is a relationship” Eugene explained.

Your eyes widened as he talked. “Okay first off, that could have been a much shorter explanation and secondly no we aren’t in a relationship,”

Rosita put her hair in a bobble and chuckled. “Really? So you’re saying you and Daryl who have been alone together haven’t even kissed?”

You shook your head at her question. “Have you slept-”

“No! Stop asking”

You’d be kidding yourself if you didn’t admit you like him but he never showed any interest romantically or maybe he did in his own way. “Look I don’t know okay, we just never decided to date and it isn’t exactly the right time”

“Yes but when is the right time?” Rosita asked. Your silence filled the air and you began tapping the strap of your satchel. “Okay but don’t blame me if he doesn’t feel the same”

At this point you were itching to get back and hoping Daryl didn’t get worse. “Wait, so you do like him?”

“No-just…forget it I need to get back. I promise I’ll come visit again soon” Rosita slowly nodded her head and you all gave each of them a hug before parting ways and continued on with your journey to get back to Daryl. They had given you a bicycle to use so you would get back a bit quicker and it gave you a break from walking; you also was given a tin of soup.

It had been a few hours since you set off and finally you were back where you needed to be. Placing your bike down, you walked through the trees to see Dog sitting in front of the tent. “Is Daryl okay?” almost in response a whine left his mouth. You opened your satchel to take out the medication and opened the tent. Daryl was wide awake just staring at the roof of the tent. “Hey..” you said. His eyes looked at you and a smile was present on his face. Your heart warmed at the sight of him, you took a few steps to him and handed him the medication.

“Siddq gave these to me for you, gotta take two a day” you handed him a bottle of water. Daryl took it and grabbed one pill and swallowed it. “Thank you”

You both looked at each other the silence taking over, neither one of you looked away. Daryl grabbed a blanket and pulled it closer to him still looking at you but he mumbeled something that you couldn’t quite catch. “You hungry?” you said. 

Daryl nodded his head at you, “Yeah but, don’t go out ya way to hunt somethin”

You bit your lip slightly thinking what to do, suddenly you had an idea. You remembered the can of soup in your bag. The only thing you needed to do was heat it up. Emptying the can, you poured it into a mug. Some sticks were laying around so you picked them up and started a fire to put the soup on to heat up.

Once it was ready you picked it up and gave it to Daryl. “Are you not havin’ anythin’?” he asked you. “No, I’m alright”

Truth be told you couldn’t care about food you just wanted to make sure he was okay and besides if you were really hungry you would go hunting. Daryl began eating the soup and eventually he finished it. Smiling, you took the mug and checked his temperature. “You’re still a bit hot but hopefully the fever settles, need anything else let me know”

Daryl started frowning which took you aback. “Ya don’t need to look after me, I’m fine”

“Daryl, you have a fever..you’re coughing and you can barely get up without your head hurting” 

He only looked down avoiding your eyes. “Still I don’t want you to force yourself to look after me m’fine”

Now it was your turn to frown. You walked over to him sitting down besides him taking in his appearance from his brown curls, all the way down to the faint mud stains on his fingers. You couldn’t remember the last time you saw him like this, “I’m looking after you because I want to, not because I’m forced to. Daryl I’ve known you since this damned world ended but I’ve never been forced into making sure you’re okay”

He stayed silent not knowing whether to talk or let you continue on. “I care for you Daryl and probably a lot more than you realise”

Daryl’s eyes stayed between yours, you guided your hand to put it on his cheek. “Don’t ever think that I’m only looking after you cause I have to..I want to and-”

“Can I kiss ya?” he interrupted.

You swallowed hard forgetting the rest of your sentence, your eyes never left his and he never left yours. It felt like you had butterflies in your stomach and an ache in your chest. “I-um, sure if you want to,”

Daryl put his hand on top of yours and kissed you. It was as if the world stopped for a moment..like the life left stayed silent and disappeared just so you could have your moment. You pulled away resting your head against his, “How are you feeling?”

“Much better,”

You didn’t care if you were to get ill now you just wanted to appreciate and savour the moment. “Why did you want to kiss me?” you asked him. 

He looked at you again (his hand still in yours) “Because I’ve been wantin’ to for a while, why did you let me?”

“Because as it turns out I’ve been wanting to for a while as well,” You put a strand of his hair behind his ear, “..and once you’re better I promised Judith we would go see her, I know you miss her”

“I would like that”

Eventually you both ended up falling asleep in his arms with dog sitting in between. After all, things have a way of working out if not in the way nature intended. 

Thank you for reading..the ending wasn't what i exactly planned so i hope u like it.

Also check out my young!daryl fic which is apart of my two hearts au pre apocolpyse. Here is masterlist

tags for this fic: @ang3l0fthursday @ihyperfixateoncharacters @baldeagle21

[icarusredwings]

This post is dedicated to my wife. I see you, my love. And I can't be more than proud of you, my darling honeybee.

_________

Thinking about how Wade has to eat while doing something or else he just... can't.

Logan first noticed it about 4 days into moving in. That Wade will watch stuff on his phone or eat in the living room in front of the tv. There's no in-between.

One day, he makes dinner and sets the table, him and Al, sitting there, ready to eat, but Wade is hesitant. He sat down just fine but when it came to actually eating he just... stares.

He starts talking, rambling, ranting about anything. He even asks Logan to tell him a story about something, any war, anyone. "You ever meet anyone really cool? Like Elvis or something?"

"Not particularly." He mutters after swallowing.

He starts picking at his fingers in his lap. His foot is tapping, and he feels so guilty. He watches as Al finishes her plate, talking about how delicious it was and thanks him.

And Wade thinks so. The food is simple. It doesn't smell bad either. So why can't he just eat it? It's not like it was bad. Logan wouldn't feed him expired food or make him bad stuff on purpose.

'It's just pasta. Come on, you love pasta' he tries to tell himself but cant seem to actually put any food in his mouth.

Every time he tries, he ends up just putting it back down.

Eventually, there are tears in his eyes.

"Wade..? What's wrong?"

He shakes his head, smiling that bullshit grin he gives when he doesn't know how to explain the fact that his brain was screaming at him that he didnt deserve the food, trying to conviece him that it was rotten, convience him that he was being poisoned or that if he ate this something bad would happen.

But now he's between a rock and a hard place because if he doesn't eat Logan will think he hates his cooking and will leave. He'll move out.

And what if he takes puppins with him? What if he thinks hes a bad dog dad because obviously if he cant feed himself how will he take care of puppins? What if he-

"Wade!"

He jumps a bit, looking at him with big watery eyes.

Something in Logan's concerned face makes him feel worse. ".. y-yeah?"

There's silence.

Logan then sighs, his shoulders falling, scooting over with his plate as he sits next to him.

"... Have I ever told you about the time I accidently blew myself up and Rodgers laughed at me?"

He shakes his head, staring at him. "S-stevie laughed at you?"

Logan nods, beginning to tell the story.

And just like that?

Wade's fork finally reaches his mouth, sometimes glancing down at his plate, but mainly keeping his attention on Logan, smiling and interjecting at times.

He needed distraction.

From the meanies in his head that much preferred the words of a story or tv show then to be alone in the quiet.

"Wait wait wait-" he says, his plate already half cleared, about to shove some more in his mouth. "You sniffed it out and STILL stepped on it??"

"Heh.. yeh.. well. That's what happens when your stuck in a trench."

"Did it stink in there?" Another bite.

"It was terrible. That's why I couldn't smell the mines." He jokes, smirking as Wade laughs, covering his mouth.

Going to stab another piece he realizes that its gone. With another guilty look, he glances to the plate then to the stove, and Logan last.

"Is... is there more?"

Logan knew better then to question him. He had to do something similar with Kurt, talking him through his first few full meals. He didnt believed someone like him deserved fancy mansion food.. well.... Logan didn't either that first week. But Chuck was there.

And now Logan was there for Wade.

Funny how that came full circle..

"Yeah." He gets up, bringing him the entire pot, pouring another helping onto his plate, Watching as Wade shoveled some more in his mouth with a grin.

"So- Mmh- Pars uh yu jus' wen evrwhre??"

Logan smiles, now its his turn to laugh. "Not quite. But sure as hell felt like it."

_______

And this is for any of my fellow people whos brains are mean to them. You are loved. There is nothing wrong with you. I want you fed. I dont care what it is, Fed is better than nothing. So if that means you will survive off of nuggets and a show about lego monkeys? Then so be it. Im so proud of all of you. And I will never ever judge you for your process. Do you know why?

Because you have survived evert hard day that life has ever thrown at you.

WOOWW!! Look at you!! You bad ass! God damn you are so strong!! Look at you go! I love you.

And keep pushing my little ducklings. Keep swimming.

[ak319]

Dark A.M x fem!reader

-- ★ The Word of Claim ┃ ─���𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑─

Warnings/MDNI: forced marriage, manhandling, drinking, violence, abuse // I don't condone/romanticize such behaviour irl! +++ Jus' a reminder that Arthur is 27 (yeh, not 30's) in this and reader is 22. ✰ 8.3K

★ Prev I concept m.list

The maid, busy fussing with your hair, cast a wary glance at Doreen, who stood silently to the side. Her expression seemed to plead, "Help me out here," prompting the older woman to step forward and place a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

"(Y/N)... relax. You're going to claw that necklace off before the wedding," Doreen said, her gentle jab snapping you out of your spiraling thoughts.

You blinked, shaking off the anxiety that had gripped you. "Yeah, sorry. First time getting married, so..."

The two women chuckled with you, their laughter lightening the mood. Together, they helped you descend the grand staircase to the drawing room, where your parents waited. The wedding itself was to take place in the backyard, a picturesque setting that had been painstakingly prepared for the occasion.

As you entered, you were immediately enveloped in tearful hugs from both your mother and father, happy tears that warmed your heart despite your nerves.

Once the initial greetings were exchanged, you found yourself seated in a secluded room alongside your parents and brother. The air was filled with polite conversation and gentle pleasantries as you all waited for Omar's family to arrive.

"Shouldn't his brothers be here by now? They said they would come early," your mother asked, her tone tinged with mild concern.

Your father hummed thoughtfully before responding, "Love, you know how rocky the roads are. Considering they’re probably coming in a carriage, it might take time. I think they’re all coming together now, with Omar, so, when they do, I’ll take them straight to the yard. (Y/N), you stay here until I come to get you back, alright?"

"Okay, okay, I know. You’ve already told me the steps a million times," you replied with a small grin.

He chuckled and pulled you into a warm embrace. "You look pretty calm. I’m so proud of you."

You melted against him with a laugh. "I’m trembling inside, Dad."

"I’m sure you are. But that’s natural. No worries, alright?" Just then Suki jumped into you lap and you immediately hugged her.

"Did you pack Suki’s bag, Mama-"

"Yes, of course." your mother interjected with a fond smile. "Everything’s packed for her too. I feel like I’m sending away two daughters."

The room burst into laughter, the shared warmth easing some of the tension. But then your brother, Rayan, spoke up, his tone a little less cheerful.

"You’re going to visit, right, sis?"

Your heart broke at the sight of his forlorn expression. You reached out, pulling him closer so that he stood right in front of you.

"Of course, I will," you assured him gently. "I am not going that far. And you’re going to visit me too, alright? In fact, I’ll still be working with Dad in the office, so you can always come to meet me there too. Okay?"

He nodded reluctantly before placing a kiss on your cheek, which earned him two from you in return.

The clock ticked steadily, but Omar and his family’s absence was a glaring omission.

Where are they? you wondered, glancing toward the windows, where the hum of conversation and music from the garden seeped into the room. The guests outside seemed unaware of the creeping tension inside.

Your father, who had been deep in conversation with a relative, was suddenly approached by a servant. You caught the subtle shift in his expression concern etched into his features. Rising quickly, you gathered your flowing apparel and approached, frustration evident in your voice.

“What is it?” you demanded.

“There’s-” the servant began, but before he could finish, gunshots shattered the air, echoing from the front yard.

Screams erupted outside, freezing the room into silence for a split second before chaos broke loose. Your mother, standing by the window, gasped sharply and clutched at her chest. “Gunshots? Oh my God! What’s happening?”

“Stay here! Don’t move!” your father ordered, already making his way toward the door.

“(F/N), stop him!” your mother pleaded, panic coloring her voice. “What’s going on out there?”

Your father ignored her, his focus entirely on the source of the disturbance.

But you stepped forward, heart pounding. “I’m coming with you!”

“No, (Y/N), stay here,” your father snapped, his tone firm as he turned to block your path. “It could be dangerous!”

“I need to know what’s happening!” you protested, trying to push past him.

“Stay here with your mother-” You followed him nonetheless , staying behind him. , ignoring everyone's shouts of protest. “(Y/N)! Stop! Come back here!”

The sight in the front veranda that greeted you stole the air from your lungs. The commotion was loud and chaotic: servants whispering in horror, guests craning their necks to catch a glimpse, and there in the center of it all…...

It wasn't your in laws who came. Though Omar...

“OMAR!” Your scream tore through the air before you could stop it.

Omar.

Beaten.

Tied.

On a horse.

Arthur’s horse.

Then he was thrown like a sack in the center in a mocking way as in..

'Here, your fucking groom's here...'

Your Dad immediately held you protectively to stop you from going near the boy, his own eyes betraying the fear and shock. The guards had been shot. “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU ALL DOING?! WHY?! Get the fuck inside (Y/N), (M/N) take her!" But your feet wouldn't move.

“Seems like there’s going to be  a change of plans folks.” Dutch’s voice rang out from behind Arthur, his eyes hidden by his hat. Not only Dutch had come, but Bill and Charles too. After all, according to tradition, a man must bring his friends or brothers to stand by him.

“ARTHUR!? WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!? OMAR! OMAR! WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS!?” You could still see some strength in Omar’ s body as he was writhing, barely recognizable, the suit you had brought together was in such....bloodied and ruined condition that alone made your throat choke.

But Arthur...Arthur didn’t listen and then in one swift motion, standing at the center wasted no more time in doing what he came for. No….he can’t …he can’t be possibly thinking of doing-

"No!...Arthur! DON'T! Please-" Your plea went ignored.

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

"(Y/N)...(L/N)."

“N-no... don't- yo-u animal-" Omar choked out, every fiber of his being fighting to rise up, to somehow break free from the agony , the restraints and face the men who dared to do this to you. On their wedding. He was consumed with the desperate urge to protect you, to stop this madness.

Arthur's cold eyes narrowed, a dangerous smirk curling at the corners of his lips. "Say that again," he taunted, voice low and menacing.

"Let... her go... she's- she doesn't deserve a- pathetic man like you...you sc-um." Omar’s words were strained, each one a battle against the pain and exhaustion coursing through his body.

Without hesitation, Arthur raised his gun and fired three quick shots, striking Omar in the chest. The sound of the bullets ringing through the air was followed by screams, yours, Omar’s, and the terrified gasps of the servants hidden in corners.

"NO! YOU MANIAC!” you growled, fury flooding your veins as you watched your fiancé writhe in pain. Your words made Arthur’s eyes burn with more fury, the mocking smile fading into something darker as he aimed the gun at Omar again, this time his head, ready to finish what he’d started.

What a pathetic sight anyway.

But before he could fire, Dutch stepped in, moving swiftly to grab Arthur’s arm, halting him mid-motion.

“This is your special day,” Dutch said, his voice laced with something almost amused. “Let him live. You won anyway.”

Arthur’s rage flared up, his grip tightening around the gun as he glared at Dutch, not wavering from his stance.

"Don’t make me repeat myself, boy. No further blood. I don't think he's going to survive anyway..."

You couldn’t hold back the shout that escaped you, helplessness clawing at your chest. "HOW CAN YOU!? YOU ANIMALS!"

The sight of the other guests scrambling to flee, their faces twisted with fear and confusion, only made your heart sink further. Your father’s face was pale with horror, and your mother trembled beside him, helpless in the face of all this chaos.

“Someone, go help Omar!” (F/N) shouted, his voice hoarse with panic. His eyes locked onto the servants who were still frozen in place, fear paralyzing them. “Now! Do something!”

Your family huddled together, your mother pulling you close. Your younger brother, clung to your father, his face buried in his chest, sobbing uncontrollably.

Arthur holstered his revolver, his jaw tight, his gaze unwavering as he turned toward you. His eyes softened only slightly, but there was no apology in his demeanor.

Dutch stepped forward, arms outstretched as if to calm the chaos, though his smirk betrayed his amusement. "Well, now, that’s one way to quiet the doubters. Any one else wants to play hero?"

Your father stepped forward, trembling with fury, shielding you and your brother behind him. “You think you can come here, ruin everything, and walk out without consequence? You’ve destroyed her life, her future!”

Dutch chuckled darkly, leaning in close. "Big words for a man who just watched his son-in-law-to-be piss himself. Better watch that temper, old man. I wouldn’t want Arthur to get any more ideas." Dutch continued sauntering a few steps with his hands raised.

"Now, Mister (L/N), I understand this isn’t… ideal. But you know how it is. The world ain’t fair, and sometimes you just have to let things...go. Man to man...years ago, I came to return your girl, didn’t I? Found her lost, scared... vulnerable. And I handed her back with no strings attached. Out of respect. Now, we have come to take her....with respect. And you damn well know that even if the law gets here, they won’t care about this. It’s only a crime on paper… in reality, the sheriffs and marshals? They won’t lift a finger. They don’t give a damn about this"

"HOW CAN YOU DO THIS ARTHUR! ALL OF YOU! I FUCKING TRUSTED YOU!"

"Sweetheart, Arthur’s done the word and by law, well, by our law, that means you are coming with us. However, you wanna go, whether, crying, whining, screaming....but you are gonna go...ain't that right Arthur.”

"Damn right, Dutch."

No...no..wait--this can't be real right? Arthur must be doing some prank.

The pain in your chest was suffocating, and the anger burned so intensely that it almost felt like it would consume you. Your eyes were fixed on Omar's body, alive or lifeless? Being helped and dragged away...

God, let him live.

“No! I won’t go! I fucking won't!” You screamed, the words escaping through a mix of sobs and sheer frustration. “You can’t make me! Yo-u are playing--Dad--I know he's pranking me! I know it! He won't do this--right? You won't do this Arthur, say it!”

“Stay where you are!” your father shouted, positioning himself in front of you protectively. But Arthur barely acknowledged him. His focus was solely on you.

You stumbled back further, the suffocating anger now laced with raw terror. Your parents clung to you, but you wrenched free, the heat of Arthur’s presence pressing too close.

“You’re fucked in the head! THIS IS MY LIFE! I CHOOSE WHAT I WANT! NOBODY ELSE! ESPECIALLY YOU! Son of a bitch-” you spat, the words trembling with rage as you turned and ran inside.

Arthur sighed, the sound of his boots growing louder as he followed. Seriously? He easily pushed your family out of the way preventing your father from following after you and entering the house which he knew the layout of vividly. His movements were confident, almost leisurely, as though he had walked these halls a hundred times before. The absence of the guests only made his pursuit easier.

As he ascended the stairs, his hand trailed along the railing, casually tearing down the garlands and decorations that adorned it. They fell to the ground in shredded heaps, symbols of the celebration that had been shattered, just how this life was being torn apart from pieces your life.

Your dress was hitched in your hands as you sprinted through the house. Your lungs burned, but you didn’t stop, not until you reached the study. Slamming the door shut behind you, you locked it with shaking hands and immediately dove for the desk.

'Be smart, be strong. Be calm.'

This isn’t real. They’re bluffing. They have to be. But the glint of Arthur's revolver, his actions, his words and the cold indifference in Dutch’s eyes told you otherwise. This was no...bluff or a friendly prank...

The pounding of Arthur’s boots echoed in the hall, and his voice followed, taunting and casual. “Darlin’, come on out. You can't fight this, it's already done."

Your trembling hands tore through drawers, scattering papers and trinkets in your frantic search. "Die, die, die...fuck-"you muttered, barely audible over the sound of your ragged breaths. Finally, your fingers brushed against the cold metal.

“YOU BETTER GET OUT OF OUR HOUSE, ARTHUR! YOU ASSHOLE!” you screamed, your voice hoarse with anger and fear. He merely laughed. "Really? Or what , darlin'?" Without thinking, you raised the gun, aimed toward the sound, and fired.

The first shot made Arthur grunt in surprise.

BANG!

Two more shots followed as the door shook violently under your relentless assault.

"....You done, darlin'?" Arthur’s voice rasped, still calm , edged with a dark amusement.

"DON'T FUCKING CALL ME THAT!"

You fired again, the bullet tearing through the wood. Your hands were shaking now, your breathing ragged. The final shot left the chamber, leaving the air heavy with the acrid smell of gunpowder.

You fumbled with the revolver, desperate to reload, but your hands trembled too much to work quickly. The sweat not helping at all.

'Don't let him in, don't let him in, (Y/N).'

The door, already weak, now flew off its hinges as he sauntered in. Finally, your shaking fingers managed to slot two bullets into the chamber. You raised the gun again, aiming with what little steadiness you could muster.

"NO! STAY BACK!,” you hissed, voice cracking.

He didn't listen. Like you expected.

BANG!

The bullet hit him, low in the chest, and Arthur staggered, a sharp intake of breath betraying his pain. His hand flew to the wound, blood seeping between his fingers, but his expression didn’t falter

Arthur lunged at you before you could steady your aim, and your finger squeezed the trigger in panic.

The shot went wild, embedding itself into the ceiling as the force of his body crashed into yours. The revolver slipped from your grasp and clattered to the floor. You screamed, your fists lashing out instinctively, one of them connecting with his jaw.

He grunted, stumbling slightly, but it only seemed to fuel his determination. “You’re a little hellcat, aren’t ya?” he growled, wiping at his mouth where a faint smear of blood appeared.

You scrambled backward, desperate to put distance between you and him, but he caught your wrist and yanked you forward with unsettling ease.

"Let me go! ARE YOU MAD ARTHUR!? WHAT'S GOTTEN INTO YOU! PLEASE!" you shouted with tears, twisting and clawing at his arm.

Arthur didn’t flinch. His grip was iron as he forced you down onto the nearest couch, pinning you beneath him. The weight of him pressed into you, making it difficult to breathe as you thrashed against him.

"Keep fightin’, darlin’, "he murmured, "You’re just makin’ this harder on yourself."

Your knee shot up, aiming for his stomach, but he anticipated the move and shifted, pinning your legs down with his own. His hand grabbed your dress, and for a moment, fear twisted into something colder in your chest.

"STOP! DON'T-"

"Be still."

He tore at the hem of your dress, not with the intent to harm, but to rip free a strip of fabric. His fingers staining your apparel as his other hand pressed against the wound in his side, blood staining his shirt and seeping between his fingers.

He worked quickly, wrapping the torn fabric around his torso with surprising efficiency, his hands steady despite the crimson soaking into the makeshift bandage.

Your breath came in sharp gasps as you glared up at him, anger and fear battling in your chest. "You’re sick in the head. ABSOLUTELY SICK! ONLY A COWARD WOULD DO THIS!" you spat, venom lacing your words.

He seized your jaw with such force that your mouth snapped shut, your eyes narrowing into slits under the pressure. Arthur leaned in, his piercing gaze burning into yours with a chilling intensity. "Call me whatever you like, darlin’. It won’t change a damn thing. You’re coming with me. End of story."

With his free hand, he gripped your fingers, his touch rough and unrelenting as he yanked the ring from your hand. The metallic clink as it hit the ground was filled with disdain, as though the very sight of it repulsed him. Without hesitation, he slid a new ring onto your trembling finger.

"You take this off, and you’ll be missing some fingers."

His tone was calm, almost too calm, as if he thrived on your resistance. His sick, cruel revenge for the rejection. This couldn't be the same fucking man....you wrote to, shared light moments, who you felt safe with. He should have been the last man to make you feel this exposed and vulnerable. He was....totally gone now, almost as if possessed.

"You played enough fucking games, now it's my turn."

❀˖°

Meanwhile, downstairs, your parents and Rayan were huddled in the corner, your mother clutching your brother tightly as though her grip alone could shield him from the madness. Your father stood protectively in front of them, every muscle taut, but even he knew one wrong move could be disastrous.

Dutch, however, looked unfazed, seated casually in the loveseat, a cloud of smoke curling from the cigarette dangling between his fingers. His sharp eyes scanned the room, unbothered by the panic that clung to the air like a suffocating fog.

“Charles,” Dutch said, his voice calm yet commanding, “take the boy and Mrs. (L/N) to gather the girl’s necessities.”

Charles hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering toward the stairs before nodding. He motioned for your mother and Rayan to follow, his expression hardening as he led them toward the hallway. Your mother cast a desperate, tear-filled glance at your father before disappearing with your brother.

As the door shut behind them, Dutch finally stood, flicking ash from his cigarette with deliberate ease. He turned to your father, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"How?” your father spat, his voice trembling with fury. “Why? Is this why you saved her all those years ago? To... to ruin her life now? You fucking filth."

Dutch closed the distance between them, his eyes narrowing. “Oh, absolutely not,” he said, his tone mockingly offended. “Your daughter? She’s a firecracker, no doubt about it. But innocent?” He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous timbre. “Not as innocent as she likes to think.”

Your father’s hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white as he struggled to keep himself from lashing out. “What the hell are you talking about?!” he growled. “She hasn’t done anything to you! Think twice about speaking about her like that! You are the one to say this?!”

Dutch straightened, taking a slow drag of his cigarette. "Didn’t she? Well, must have kept you in the dark then...” he said, exhaling a plume of smoke. “Trapped one of my strongest men in some kind of spell, huh? Poor Arthur, wallowing in misery over a petty little thing. Can’t have that going on with my son, now can I?” His grin widened, cruel and calculated. "Don’t worry, though. She gonna be in safe hands."

“She did no such thing!” your father roared, his voice echoing through the room.

But then the sharp, jarring crack of gunfire rang out from upstairs, six shots in rapid succession.

Your father’s eyes widened in horror. “(Y/N)!” he cried, surging toward the stairs, only to be intercepted by Dutch, who pressed a hand firmly against his chest to hold him back.

“Stay put,” Dutch ordered, his tone brooking no argument. He gestured with his cigarette toward the ceiling, his expression entirely unbothered. “She’s probably fine. A little fight in her, that one, but Arthur can handle it.”

Your father’s chest heaved with restrained rage, his eyes blazing. “If anything happens to her-”

Dutch raised a hand to cut him off, smirking as he took another drag. "Relax. You should be proud. She’s got courage." His grin turned sharper

"Please, for fuck’s sake! I BEG YOU! You can ask for anything else, anything! Just let her go! Please, what do you want? Gold? Money? Just name it!" Your father’s voice cracked, desperation and fear pooling in every syllable.

Dutch chuckled, a low, mocking sound that filled the room. "C’mon, don’t tell me you’re so clueless to this tradition," his voice dripped with condescension. Your daughter’s married now, and look, even better, it’s the occasion.”

Your father’s hands trembled, the weight of helplessness bearing down on him. His lips parted as though to speak again, but no words came. His eyes flickered toward the stairs, where gunfire had just torn through the house, his thoughts scattered, struggling to comprehend everything unfolding.

At that moment, Bill, who had been standing silently in the background, moved behind Dutch and whispered something to him as your father stood broken at the side, his face twisted in silent grief, barely able to hold himself upright.

"Dutch...aren't we going to loot..." Bill's voice was hushed, but still tinged with curiosity and greed.

Dutch silenced him with a glare, one that made Bill pause.

"Now’s not the time. We came here for your brother’s sake, remember?”

Bill seemed to understand, taking a step back and nodding quietly. Dutch, however, didn’t break his smile.

Your father, still trembling, shot a glance toward the stairs, his mind racing with dread. He was standing on the precipice of losing everything, and there was nothing he could do.

"Don’t worry," Dutch continued with mocking reassurance, his hand resting casually on the hilt of his gun. "We’ll take care of her."

The sound of approaching footsteps was unmistakable, growing louder with each passing second. Through the open door, the trio saw Arthur, dragging you by the back of your neck like a ragdoll as he descended and made his way to the front door, your screams filling the hallway.

"DAD! HELP!"

"Well, that was a one hell of a climax. Time for us to go," Dutch stubbed his cigar, mused.

"NO! At least promise me you’ll let her meet us, Dutch! ARTHUR!?" Your father’s voice cracked as he desperately followed them outside, his every step driven by panic.

"I ain't promising nothing," came a flat, unfeeling reply from Arthur.

He continues dragging you to the horses, his grip unyielding, his eyes fixed forward, refusing to meet your tear-streaked face. He ignores your curses, your protests, and even the anguish that radiates from you. He can't bear the sight of your grief-stricken expression, it gnaws at something deep within him, unsettling in a way he won’t admit.

But a custom is a custom. A law is a law. No matter how cruel it may seem. If he can do it, so he will. He deserves this. You made him do it. That’s what he tells himself. That’s what he has to believe.

Right now, there’s no one, nothing, that can change his mind. Not even you.

"You heard the man," Dutch added.

With no further hesitation, he shoved you towards the waiting horse, the sight of it sending a jolt of fear through your chest. “Get on,” he ordered.

Dutch, standing nearby, raised an eyebrow and let out a chuckle. "Wow, Arthur seems like she gave you a run for your money."

But Arthur, not in the mood for jokes, shot him a glare before forcefully pushing you over the side of the horse. The impact jolted you, knocking the wind out of you, but you barely had time to recover before Arthur was behind you. He swung himself up with ease, his arm immediately locking around your waist and arms, not allowing you to smack his face.

"ARTHUR, STOP! PLEASE! WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?!" You screamed, your voice breaking with every word. "DAD! MAMA!!"

“Let her have her moment,” Dutch muttered. “It won’t change a damn thing.”

“Keep quiet,” he murmured, almost soothingly, his breath warm against your neck. “We’re not finished yet, but it’s better this way.”

"I'll NEVER FORGIVE YOU ARTHUR! I TRUSTED YOU! YOU SICK BASTARD."

You couldn't believe that he, Arthur , of all people would pull this sick tradition on you.

Arthur’s jaw ticked, but his face remained unreadable as he nudged the horse forward. “You don’t have to forgive me,” he muttered, his voice low. “But you will understand.”

As the group began to move, the last thing you saw was your father standing alone in the yard, his figure hunched with defeat and sorrow.

From inside, your mother’s muffled cries pierced the stillness, her silhouette visible through the window. She clung to Charles, who whispered words of comfort, his hand resting gently on her shoulder. But it was futile. The anguish etched on her face, the way her fingers clawed at the glass, spoke volumes, she was powerless, just as they all were, as they watched you being taken.

Dragged away from your shell, from the safe haven that had cradled you. Dragged away from the life you knew, the life you were about to begin, toward nothing but hell.

❀˖°

Hosea stood frozen for a moment, the faint crunch of boots on the dirt fading as the reality of what he was seeing set in. His feet moved almost instinctively, drawn toward the commotion in disbelief. He’d been hearing whispers all day, murmurs of a celebration, an event, an important job for Arthur the men went for, but he had dismissed them as the usual camp talk, exaggerations, half-truths, nonsense.

But now, seeing Arthur dismount his horse and drag a trembling girl, still clad in a torn and dirtied wedding dress, toward the tent... it was undeniable. They had really done it.

His gaze darted to Susan, who stood just as stunned. Their earlier conversation flashed in his mind, the discussion about where the men had gone, the unease about the strange orders from Dutch, and the peculiar behavior of the girls tasked with tossing roses on the ground like it was some sort of sick celebration. He’d hoped, prayed even, that it was some kind of twisted joke, a misunderstanding that would blow over.

But this?

This was no misunderstanding.

He couldn’t look away from the girl's figure, her torn dress, her tangled hair, her earring missing, her sandals scuffed and unevenly hanging on her feet, as Arthur pulled her forward, unrelenting, without so much a word.

"What the hell have you done, Arthur?" Though no one was near enough to hear it.

Neither of them could stop watching as Arthur continued forward, the girl stumbling in his grasp.

Your stomach churned every second as your eyes registered the half-hearted trail of roses that lined the dirt path leading to Arthur’s tent.

What a sick fucking joke. Sick people.

The petals were scattered unevenly, their soft pinks and reds a stark, mocking contrast to a camp filled with bloodied hands. Clearly, an instruction to decorate, under Dutch’s twisted idea of humor and celebratory mood for something mentioned as a 'Special night, ladies and gents.' They looked less like a romantic gesture and more like an haunting welcome for a captive bride.

Arthur’s grip on you was ironclad as he dragged you through the camp. Every step felt heavier, the sound of your feet and protests against the ground swallowed by the murmurs around you. The others watched silently from the sidelines, the faces curious, some avoiding your gaze entirely, others too indifferent to hide their stares.

The girls, who had once whispered excitedly about the possibility of Arthur performing the tradition, now stood frozen, their faces pale with realization. They had heard the rumors, the stories of lovers who ran away together taking advantage of this tradition and some had hoped that you, his secret new lover, and Arthur were following that same romantic, rebellious path instead of the other one, which was done out of either malice, ego and all the darker emotions. But as they watched, they saw the truth, this was no act of love, no escape from an overbearing family. This one was performed as the latter option...

"Ladies and gentlemen, c'mon, celebrate. Our boy's married. Your brother Arthur! Javier, hit the tune, boy," Dutch called out, his voice cutting through the murmur of the crowd, forcing attention back onto him. "Tonight’s a night of celebration, in fact, this whole week! A celebration of new beginnings, don’t you all agree?"

He received few cheers and hoots and the music picked up, the strumming of the guitar piercing the otherwise silent night. But for now, the noise was a necessary distraction. The leader was tired of the whole drama and wasn't in the mood to hear you yelling.

"We’ve got ourselves a fine family here, don’t we? Now let’s enjoy this night."

The celebration continued, the laughter getting louder by the second but you....you were stuck with nothing but a monster in a suffocating space.

❀˖°

"WHY?! ARTHUR, WHY?!" Your voice cracked with frustration and disbelief as the words tumbled out, the weight of it all suffocating you.

Arthur’s eyes were cold, his expression unreadable as he loomed over you. His grip tightened on your jaw, his fingers pressing into your skin with cruel force. "Why? Huh? Because I wanted to. And I did it," he replied, his voice low and venomous, as if daring you to challenge him.

You struggled against him, your mind racing, trying to make sense of the madness. "Because I rejected you?! HUH?! You couldn’t fucking handle that?! NOTHING CAN SCREAM COWARDICE MORE THAN THIS!"

Arthur’s face twisted, dark fury flashing in his eyes. Without warning, his hand shot up to your hair, yanking it painfully. You gasped, the sharp sting shooting through your scalp. Your heart raced, and a sick feeling churned in your chest.

"Not so in authority now, hm?" Arthur sneered, his grip on your jaw tightening further, his nails digging into your skin. "Did your precious money help? Your pristine pathetic fiancé? Your daddy? See? At the end of the day, you had nothing," he spat, each word like a dagger to your chest.

You couldn’t breathe, every inch of your body screaming in agony. But even as his fingers threatened to crush your spirit, you refused to let him see your weakness. You glared up at him, despite the pain, despite the fear.

"I HAD EVERYTHING!" The words escaped in a broken, desperate gasp, but they were firm. Your chest heaved with every breath, your body trembling under his hold. Your lower body was already tired due to the ride and all the struggle and now from scraping against the ground, supporting your upper body as he held you without an ounce of softness.

"Yo-u fucker- I still have everything. Will have, always." You spat, rage flooding your veins as the words broke through the pain. "I am not the one who lost dignity, it's you, cowboy. Men lik-e you, lowlifes, so desperate to have anyt-hing, that they have to use some illiterate, pitiable traditions just to get the bare minimum-"

Arthur let out a low chuckle, his grip tightening around your waist as he lifted you up, his gaze cold and calculating. He held you there, suspended against his chest, his eyes boring down into yours as if searching for something to break, something to conquer.

"Nice speech," he mocked, his voice dripping with venom. "I see where Daddy put all his efforts when raising you. But say whatever the fuck you want, sweetheart. Just remember to look around and see where you are before you do."

His words cut through you, each one an anchor pulling you deeper into the hellish reality of your situation. "Yeah, you're back with us, but it ain't the same anymore, darlin'. You are with me now. Your husband." He smirked which made your stomach turn. "And I ain’t gonna be nice anymore."

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "This is what happens when you act all coy and play with someone, someone like me."

Your heart pounded, and you tried to push against him, but he held you firmly, his strength like iron around your body. "You si-cko! You think I wanted this? Wanted you?! Don't forget you were the one begging to be with me! You could have done this with anyone! Any other woman Arthur! ANY! WHY DID YOU HAVE TO RUIN MY LIFE!?"

Arthur’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening, before he roughly shoved you, lifting you up and throwing you onto the cot with force. The impact left you gasping for breath as you struggled to make sense of everything. "Shut your fuckin' mouth," he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

"I think it's clear by now, why you."

You barely had time to react before he seized both of your wrists, pinning them behind you with a brutal grip. His movements were cold and calculated as he reached beneath the cot, pulling out something that made your heart stop. You had no time to process what it was before he was tying your hands to the cot's frame, his fingers quick and efficient, securing you in place.

"NO! STOP!-" you started, panic creeping into your voice, but Arthur cut you off with a chilling command.

"Be thankful I ain't gagging your loud mouth. Now missy, you are gonna sit here all nice," he said, his tone devoid of any emotion, "till I come back."

You struggled, pulling against the tight restraints, but it was no use. Your body was pressed against the rough material of the cot, and the reality of your situation hit you like a punch to the gut.

Arthur stood over you, his eyes under the hat scanning every inch of you with a gaze so cold it made your skin crawl. His eyes lingered on your wedding suit, disheveled from the rough treatment, your face streaked with angry tears, the fury, fear, and pain burning in your gaze.

He took in the scene...really took it in.

You

Now sitting on his cot.

Unable to escape.

Bound and helpless.

Perfect.

"You better hope I don't come back to a mess."

"WAIT! Arthur please, t-think--I am--ready to forgive you if you take me back, I swear I'll forget--I'll forget this night in a flash! And my family too. And I am sorry if I hurt you that day but please….y'know, I don't deserve it...y'know it right?! I DON'T! PLEASE! Be the same Arthur you were before, please…we were friends. Friends...don't do this. C'mon..there's still time. Please. Take me back..." You let yourself sob hoping that he will see some sense...feel your pain.

Friends.

Arthur froze for a moment, his hand gripping the tent's flap, his body tensing as your words rang in the air. The desperation in your voice hit him like a blow, each syllable a plea for mercy, for the man you thought he could be, the man he used to be. But he didn’t turn around, didn’t immediately react. Instead, he stood there, his breath shallow.

His eyes closed briefly, and for a moment, there was something, something that almost looked like hesitation. His jaw clenched tight, his mind warring with itself.

He should walk away. He knew he should. This wasn’t supposed to be about you anymore, wasn’t supposed to be about anything resembling softness or mercy. He had made this choice, gone this far, and there was no going back.

But then, your words sank deeper. He could hear it in the way you begged, the way you crumbled before him, the desperate promise that you’d forget this night, as if erasing it could make everything right again. He wanted to believe it. He wanted to believe that he could take you back and everything would be like before, that his world could go back to the way it was when you and him...met in that cafe and everything felt simple.

No.

He couldn't let himself go there. Not now.

That place was where it all started and unfolded. Where his love was humiliated. It was the same...cafe where Mary had met him a few times. Yeah, that's why he chose it because he wanted a new chapter with you filled with the same sweetness...

With a slow, controlled exhale, he finally turned around, meeting your tear-streaked eyes. There was something in his gaze, something darker and colder than before.

"You think I care about your forgiveness? Your apology?" His voice was low and rough, but there was a strange calm to it now. "Well, sweetheart, you believed in reality right? Different worlds huh? Here it is. My world. Which means it's your world now. One single world now. And you are going to accept it. And all this bullshit about friendship- well, you'd be shocked to know that this is the same me, this is how we can be when we want to be. That's what an outlaw is, darlin'."

He stormed out of the tent and his ears were greeted with music which he totally didn't hear when he was inside, as if his ears had blocked the noise.

The congratulatory nods and claps on the back from the boys barely reached his ears, they too backed of sensing his mood. He kept his eyes ahead, his thoughts spiraling into a fog as he headed toward the wagon to treat the damn wounds.

In his heart he was chuckling though, at your attempts that took place earlier.

Endearing indeed.

He could still hear your voice in his head, desperate, pleading, and it only made the gnawing frustration and anger inside him worse. Your apology, your words of regret, meant nothing now. In his mind, it was too late for that. He had already made his choice, and the consequences were to be damned.

"Ms. Grimshaw, c'mere!" Arthur barked, tossing his jacket onto the wagon and snatching up the medical kit.

Nearby, Grimshaw was fending off Mary and Tilly, who swarmed her with questions like inquisitive hornets after Dutch had spun his tale, taking credit, of course. Arthur found his love because of me.

"Why didn’t you ever tell us she was here before, huh?"

"How rich is she, exactly?"

"Is it really love marriage, though?"

With one sharp scolding, Grimshaw silenced the girls and made her way toward the new groom.

"It’s (Y/N). Remember?"

"Y-yes...I remember-"

"Exactly, now go inside that tent and get some sense into her head. She needs to realize how things work. How they are gonna fuckin' work."

He shot her a look that dared her to question him. Grimshaw hesitated for a moment, her usual strict eyes flicking toward his tent where you were likely still seething with rage and sorrow.

"Now!" Arthur barked, once again.

With a stiff nod, Grimshaw swallowed her uncertainty and turned toward the tent, the weight of his command heavy in her steps. Arthur watched her go, then turned away to tend to his wounds.

❀˖°

Susan entered the tent, her steps hesitant as she tried to piece together how she was supposed to handle this mess. Her sharp eyes took you in, sitting motionless on the cot, trembling, your expression caught somewhere between disbelief and seething rage.

Oh, dear.

The sight pulled at something deep inside her. You weren’t a child anymore, that much was clear, but it was the very fact that you had grown, matured, and still ended up here, in this nightmare, that shattered her heart. All the efforts they had made to shield you from the darkness of the world felt cruelly pointless. The very horrors they had once tried to save you from had found you anyway, only worse, delivered by the very people who had sworn to protect you.

"Girlie..." Susan's voice softened as she moved closer, kneeling down and sitting in front of you. Your eyes remained fixed on the distance, unblinking and hollow.

"I'm so sorry for... what happened. It's me, Susan. Remember? Aunty Susan. I’m with you, okay? Hey, please, look at me." She reached out hesitantly, and suddenly, your head snapped toward her, startling her just enough to make her flinch.

"Su-Susan? Aunty Susan? Listen, you have to help me, right fucking now. Open the rope, just open it, and I swear, I'll reward you. You’ll be taken care of for life. In fact, come with me, and you'll see how much you'll be rewarded. Here, take this necklace! It's worth so much! C’mon, take it! Open the rope woman!" Your voice cracked, a frantic desperation breaking through every word, as your neck nudged the jeweled necklace toward her.

Susan swallowed hard, her gaze lingering on the necklace. It was beautiful an obvious treasure, but it wasn’t the gleam of gold or gems that stilled her. It was what it symbolized, the dreams your parents had woven into this day, the life you were supposed to have, and even her own long-buried memories of what her wedding day had meant to her.

"You have to... understand," she whispered, her voice trembling just enough to betray her own emotions. "I can’t, darling. I can’t do that. It won’t help anyone. Trust me."

You stared at her, your breaths hitching, disbelief written across your face as her words hung heavy in the air. Not knowing what else to do, not knowing how to comfort you, or even how to be firm, Susan leaned forward and wrapped her arms around you.

"H-how did this happen?! Tell me it's a joke..."

"It's not," Susan said softly, her voice steady but laced with sorrow. "It's real. And it’s only going to get worse if I do what you’re asking of me. For you , for me and...even your family. So don’t ask me that. Don’t ask me for what I can’t give you, darling."

"I wanna go back--please--let me go!"

Her hand moved to your head, gently caressing it as she smoothed your messy hair, the gesture tender and maternal. "I’m here with you, okay? I’m here,"

You didn't know how long you sobbed pathetically in her arms being cradled like a child. By now she had wrapped a blanket around you , another way to offer comfort , warmth and to shield you...perhaps momentarily, but still.

Just then, someone cleared their throat outside. Your mind immediately went on high alert, hyperaware of Arthur’s presence or any man’s presence, and you stiffened. Sensing your panic, Susan tightened her grip on you protectively.

"Yes?" she called out sharply.

"I brought the Miss's stuff..."

"Come in," Susan replied.

Charles stepped inside, his eyes downcast as he carried several bags and a chest, placing them carefully in a corner.

"I-uh... also brought your cat," he added, his voice softer, as though he wasn’t sure how to break the news.

"Suki?! Where?! Is she okay?" Her name alone made some scrap of hope return to your eyes.

"She’s in my tent for now... don’t worry, she’s safe," Charles reassured you, glancing at you briefly before looking away.

"Please bring her here-" you started, your desperation palpable, but your words were cut off by the sound of heavy boots entering the tent.

Arthur strode in with a bowl in his hand, his presence oppressive and inescapable. Charles froze, his back straightening as he turned toward Arthur.

"You didn't bring anything extra right? Just the necessary stuff?"

"Nothing extra. Didn't take anything else...just like you said. Only important stuff her mother gave."

"Hm, right."

Charles then immediately exited the tent with a stiff nod.

"You two havin' a little heart-to-heart in here?" His eyes flicked to Susan. "Hope you’re not fillin’ her head with any ideas, Miss Grimshaw. She don’t need no rescuin’. She’s right where she’s meant to be."

He stepped closer, the bowl in his hand almost forgotten. "Now, you gonna make sure she eats, or do I need to stay here and do it myself?"

"I am doing it, Arthur."

Even Susan was pissed internally at the boy, beyond pissed but she couldn't say anything.

Without waiting for a response, he turned sharply and exited the tent, his boots crunching against the dirt outside.

You couldn't take more than one bite due to your misery. Your head pounding with visions of what a fucking nightmare you went through today. Not only you...but your family and...Omar. God, he didn't deserve this, any of this. It's all your fucking fault. ALL OF IT! Why did you have to be friends with a fucking outlaw of all people? How the fuck are you supposed to rest for a second not even knowing if he survived or not. And his family? God, knows what these assholes did to them. You had found a gem of a man, whom you were about to marry and spend a peaceful life...it's all gone...? Just like that?

"Though, for the record, I’m not fond of buying flowers. I prefer them in their roots, not plucked out."

Omar tilted his head, intrigued. "Fair enough," he said with a soft chuckle. "I’ll keep that in mind next time."

You realized how deeply you related to the flowers that were plucked from their roots, uprooted from the soil they called home. Taken not for their own sake, but because someone else wanted them. Wanted to display them, to use their beauty to adorn a corner of their world. In this case, to be nothing more than an accessory in someone else’s life.

❀˖°

Dutch sat at the small table, casually pouring himself a drink, his demeanor annoyingly calm in the face of Hosea’s frustration.

"So this was it, huh?" Hosea snapped, his voice sharp. "Him getting a bigger tent, a new, bigger cot, you ordering to decorate the whole damn camp like it was a festival, all that shit was for this?! Whilst you kept silent and watched him?!"

Dutch took a sip of his drink and leaned back in his chair, unfazed. "Yes, so? Weren't you the one worried about him, Hosea? I just did what was necessary."

"Necessary?!" Hosea practically exploded, throwing his hands in the air. "God give me strength. I said to talk to him, Dutch. Or better yet, to talk sense into him! And what did you do? You sided with him! Egged him on! Didn't even tell me all of this?"

"I didn’t side with him, Hosea. I gave him what he needed. Handled it, reigned him in. Don't wanna lose him now, do we?"

"And you think this was the way to handle it?"

"Hosea, he is his own man, he can make decisions, I just supported him! So stop clutching your pearls and see the bigger picture here-" They paused as Molly stepped into the tent, carrying a bowl of stew.

"Thanks, darling," he said with a warm smile, pressing a kiss to her cheek before watching her saunter back out to the lively sounds of the camp party.

"First of all, sit down."

With a grunt, Hosea obeyed, though it was clear from the slump of his shoulders that he wasn’t entirely willing. He braced himself for whatever convoluted plan Dutch was about to spin, fully expecting it to be something that would leave him exasperated.

Dutch leaned forward, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial tone. "Okay, this, for now, stays between you and me. Got it? Especially not Arthur. The boy’s already on some level of feral, and I’m trying to keep the fire under control. So yeah, I fed him a fish, like you’d toss to a starving lion but this fish, Hosea… this is a special one. Trust me when I say that. You are going to like it too, in fact thank me. And you noticed, right? No dowry taken today. Not a cent from her family. Arthur didn’t want it, too proud, too sentimental, apparently an honourless act for him, which is fine. I get it. But me? I had my reasons too. Always do."

"We are not lootin' em Dutch. Not a leaf or stone."

"Course' pal...Just the girl."

Dutch took a slow sip of his drink, savoring the moment. "Just trust me," he repeated, his voice steady but insistent. "I didn’t bring in some girl. I brought a gem itself. And don’t you start on that 'we saved her years ago' crap, because let me remind you, it wasn’t me who decided to have some kind of romantic rendezvous with her. That was Arthur. And, well, maybe it’s fate. The boy finally made a damn choice."

"So dragging her into this mess is your idea of brilliance? Another one of your so-called masterstrokes?"

Dutch leaned forward, his voice lowering into something just short of a warning. "Trust the process, Hosea. Have some damn faith. Don’t let her tears fool you, she’s no saint in all this. She brought some of this on herself, and you know it."

"Oh, I’m sure she did," Hosea bit back, his voice laced with sarcasm. "But tell me, Dutch, what woman in her right mind would ever want this?"

Dutch leaned back, unruffled, a sly smile creeping upon his face. "Want it? Maybe not. But this is what happens when you get tangled up with us. Choices were made, Hosea, by her and by Arthur. And now? She’s one of us. A Van Der Linde."

─AN: A fic of mine can't be whole without Dutch's plans ofc ¬_¬) To be added or removed , you can always comment , I'd suggest commenting on the first part so you guys aren't scattered everywhere. Peace.

★ tag list: @shackspossum @whalecage @nayykura @m1stea @warmsideofthepillow03 @thatoneraeder @marzintears @nxttaru @cazzacarm @she-is-my-unrequited-love34 @nulixity @poll-u @bajabish @cheesycheddarr @luzzbuzz @dilfsarelife @ninastyless @claire-is-here @raeraypoca @hopingtoclearmedschool @lain3iwakura @bashfulcowgirl87 @catjsashrine @bipolarbitties @lizynownow

[just-jammin]

since I could NOT get the yt link to show up as a vid in response to this post

here’s the vid i made for it:

yeh

[americanwh0rerstory]

drunk before the show [Jimmy Darling]

Drunk!Jimmy x contortionist!reader

summary: jimmy gets drunk before tonight’s show, however instead of rehearsing his performance he decides to drunk-fuck the contortionist whom he knows to have stage fright

content warning: alcohol consumption, mention of death, smut with plot, sex behind a trailer, titty sucking, fingering (f!receiving)

A/N: Big thanks to the person who gave me the idea for this, i appreciate it <3

masterlist

NSFW BELOW THE CUT. MDNI. CONSUMPTION IS DONE AT OWN FAULT

for the first time in however long, people finally came to the freakshow once again. Elsa had you spend all day rehearsing your contortion act whilst she made sure everyone knew what they were doing; it had to be perfect for today after all. however all day jimmy hadn’t been there which only meant one thing: he were getting drunk again

jimmy’s alcoholism had peaked after the unfortunate murder death of his mother, using the bitter liquid as his only form of comfort aside from you. he turned to you a lot, he trusted you to see his vulnerable side therefore you’d often comfort him whenever it was needed. However today was different: there was no jimmy. he was drunk, but where was he drunk?

you hated rehearsals and shows without jimmy, despite knowing your routine you always got stage fright and he would be the one to give you a small confidence boost, so without jimmy here now it was hard for you to accept your routine as ‘perfect’

——————————————————————————

10 minutes before the show started he finally stumbled over to you, drunk as a skunk with a bottle clutched in one of his clawed hands, as usual covered by his leather mits. “Y/N… Y/N,” he calls out when he sees you on your way to the big top, almost falling face first into mud when he tried to make his way over to you. his voice was hoarse and heavily slurred due to the alcohol. “c’mere baby” he said, his floridian accent overridden by the stretch and effects of the strong liqueur he had spent all day drinking to avoid his pain

“jimmy wha-” you begin, however you was promptly cut off when he took you by the waist and slung you over his shoulder. he carried you away to the back of the carnival, putting you down behind a trailer and pressing you against the side of it. the smell of alcohol filled your senses and caused you to scrunch your nose in disgust, however jimmy seemed to take no notice of this and lightly pinned you to the wall.

he downed the last of his alcohol before tossing the bottle off to the side, and beginning to fumble with your blouse buttons, his usual smoothness washed away by the pungent liquid. “jus’ a quick one, yeh?” he murmured to you, beginning to kiss and suck the sweet spot on your neck whilst he attempted to free you of your clothes.

despite the suddenness of the situation, you couldn’t help but go with it, so you decided to help him out by undoing your blouse, letting your bra hit the floor, and expose your breasts to his eager eyes. the cold nighttime air instantly hit your exposed flesh, causing your nipples to pebble before jimmy’s eyes which only furthered his desire

without wasting any time he latched onto your nipple. he began kissing and sucking it whilst also giving it small kitten licks which caused your body to writhe in pleasure beneath him, the cold trailer causing your back to arch up into him and further pressing your nipple into his warm and eager mouth. Using his hand to cup your other breast, he gently squeezed and pinched your nipple between his conjoined fingers, eliciting gentle moans and whines from your slightly parted lips. “like that baby?” he slurs whilst looking up at you with his usual cheeky smirk, holding your nipple between his lips.

he reached his free hand up your skirt, feeling your wetness through your panties and gently beginning to rub your slit with his large fingers. “this all for me?” he drawls in the same drunken slur, pushing your panties to the side and sliding his fingers into your slicked and waiting entrance. he completely filled you with his fingers and slowly began to pump them in and out of your tight cunt, feeling your slick coat his fingers with every thrust

every thrust has you seeing stars, a feeling of pure euphoria taking over your mind every time he hit the spongy tissue inside of you. it hadn’t taken long before your orgasm crashed over your entire body, causing you to tremble and cry out in pleasure. you could barely stand, so jimmy wrapped his free arm around your waist

“that good for ya toots?” he said with a smug grin, helping you stand up and pulling your skirt back down to cover yourself. “thought you’d need some… stress relief, before the show” he drawls, playfully patting your ass before motioning over to the big top. “now let’s go… shows starting”

——————————————————————————-

A/N: this was the best fanfic i had ever written. i had tried a new writing style, new ideas, and then tumblr crashed and i lost it all so i gave up. hopefully this is still good enough that some people like it. might write a part 2 if people like it <3

[swampstew]

One long night

Summary: short, multi-chapter choose your adventure story. not thought out a single bit. you're the main character,this is your rodeo and Captain Kid is your bull ;)

Warnings: Eustass Kid X Female Reader, consent is implied, femdom dynamics forced orgasm, exhibitionism because its at a dark pub in the back. WC: 971

There was little left of the dive bar the Kid Pirates trashed that evening. Some still-standing yet drunk as fuck local islanders scattered around the place, the busted lights cast a hazy, dim glow in the already dark bar.

Not that the Kid Pirates minded, it was how they liked to wind down before the night ended.

You, Kid and the crew had been sharing stories and laughing over jokes for a while and the chatter quieted down as they drank and polished off the food on the tables. They dwindled and eventually left with knowing glances at each other, but you and Kid were drunkenly talking and barely noticed when the table was empty.  The remaining crew drifted to harass the patrons and mingled with whoever was still around.

“I’m gonna grab us some waters,” you headed to the bar to hydrate and throw down extra cash for tips and damages. You always felt a little bad for owners of businesses they fucked up. It was your collateral-damage cash.

The bartender gave you extra-large mugs filled with ice cubes, and in your inebriated state made you a bit clumsy as you walked back to the table without spilling drop or cube. At the table, Kid had kicked aside the chairs, placing his weapons strap and loose items on the empty seats and table..

Setting the glasses gently down, you felt Kid’s fingers ghost across the small of your back, grazing them to your waist as he guided you to sit in his lap. You tried to ignore the hot buzz you felt along your body as he moved you. You shifted to get comfortable while Kid was finishing his liquor when he suddenly coughed and shuddered underneath you.

“You ok, Boss?”

He cleared his throat before answering, “Y-yeh, drink jus’ went down the wrong pipe.”

Kid prompted you to give him his water, and he let out a few coughs before his voice wasn’t as strained. When his breathing felt more regulated, you brought up a topic from earlier in the day you wanted to double back on – just looking for something to talk about and ignore the fact that you were both past the point of sobriety, and you were plainly sitting in his lap.

He listened and leaned forward to set the half-drunk mug down, and when he sat back upright you had to adjust yourself again having slid down his massive thighs.

Sculpted muscles. Muscles so ripped, you could feel the curves and edges of his quadriceps through the fabric of his pants.

You shifted once more and felt Kid freeze underneath you.

Then you felt something else.

Slowly growing underneath your ass, awakened from the repetitive stimulation. You sucked in a breath when you realized it was his dick.

“Ah-s-sorry, didn’t mean to—” you stammered out.

“It’s ok,” he said tensely. “It happens…”

“I can get off—”

“No,” he cut you off, “It’ll pass. His fingers absentmindedly trailed on the hem of your shirt, trying to steel his mind on to something else. Inadvertently trailing his fingers lower until they dipped beneath the hem touching your bare skin.

Your body broke out in goosebumps, you couldn’t help the shudder that went through your body, shifting on his still-growing erection. You could hear Kid’s jaw click from how hard he clenched them.

Truthfully, you always found him attractive and dreamt more than once about it would be like to smudge that line between captain and subordinate. Feeling for once like you were in position of all the power, you allowed your loosely inhibited state persuade you to intentionally rock on him.

You heard strained grunts as he processed your movements.

Hips dipped back and forth, pressing your wettened core against the promise behind his pants. It felt large, thick, and already so impossibly hard.

The low music that hummed around the bar droned out the others from your table. Only you and Kid existed now. In sensual silence.

You braced your elbows to the table, ass flushed backwards so Kid got a nice view as while you rocked against him. His fingers dug into your hips, trying to exert more force with your grinding.

Kid let out short huffs the closer he got to climax, brought to the brink so suddenly with purposefully long slides of your torturous cunt along his length. His cock stuttered, his arm wrapped around your waist as he pulled you tightly to his flushed torso. You felt the twitch of cock as he came with a near-silent, strangled groan.

You chuckled as you fully came to a stop. Spontaneously teasing Kid to completion had exerted you of your energy.

“S’mthing funny, ya asshole?” he muttered with face pressed to the nape of your neck.

“Nothing’s funny, I’m a lil’ proud of myself. I always wanted to do that.”

He said nothing for a minute before the room violently came to life. Kid activated his power and repelled everything in a frenzy inside the bar.

Knives, forks, trays shot out to stab, and weapons slashing and shooting down the bar tender and remaining patrons. Battering them and forcing them out the double wide door before it was barricaded.

“Is that a fact?” he lifted you up with his flesh arm and used his metal arm to clear the table. Kid put force into the way he shoved you belly flat to surface, holding your back down with just one hand.

“Since we’re sharing, this is something I’ve always wanted to do,” his kilt and belt buckles clinked when he pushed his pants down. “You had your fun, now I’ll show you my version of a fun time. Givin’ ya one chance to back out.”

Puffs of excitement prefaced your smirk, “The hell makes you think I’d so something stupid like that?”

[gurorori]

after seeing ur post i want so badly to make ur mobility aid user mika art dream a reality. but before i started i wanted to ask if you had any thinkies abt details i could include... i really wanna include all of them!!

WEEEEEEEEEE WAHOOOOOOOOOO i don't have any strict preferences >< id like it 2 b a manual wheelchair (cuz i can't see myself affordin an electric one anytime soon), ya can add any like mikaesque stuffs 2 it tbh like a lot of parts of a wheelchair r customisable so anythin ya see fit ya can add!! also if ya can pls add wheelchair gloves as well <3 it'd b nice if the clothes were lolitey but it's also okie if ya just do canon clothes or smth gothy!

[wistyivyy]

TW: Praise, some illusions to smut, size kink, degrading

|| G/N terms/names :))

Not Simon just picking you up with every chance he’s got, hauling your body against his, over his shoulder, bridal style, legs wrapped around his waist, anything to just get you in his arms. You just know he loves teasing you for it like?

“c’mere lovie, let me hold you eh? Tiny lil’ thing, love bein’ in my arms don’ yeh? Tha’s a good lovie.” He would say as he picks you up, walking around the house with you on his hip as he does menial tasks like the dishes or laundry. God Simon just loved how you fit against his body, not even in a perverted way, just in a how much he loved you close way. He would not let you do anything for yourself either.. climbing onto the counter to get a glass? Nope he would come behind you and grab it for you, mocking you slightly “so small, can’t even get yeh own glass without my help, jus’ need me all the time don’ yeh bunny?”

God he would degrade you for it too- “so small and dumb aren’ yeh? So pathetic f’ me, have to do everythin’ for ye, dumb whore.” Of course your flushing only makes him smirk and want to do it more?

Him also just opening doors for you, being a gentleman, letting you hog the shower water first when you shower together, letting you sit on his lap during a movie in the cinema because you can’t see over other people’s heads.

[hero-hoe]

For the #1 Captain MacTavish enthusiast @brewed-pangolin after talking about that bubble butt 🥵🥵 I had a brain worm

MDNI 18+ ONLY. Vague smut, marriage kink, body and chest hair worship. PiV. Fem!Reader.

Captain John MacTavish who knows exactly what his body looks like, heavy muscles with a healthy layer of fat and even warmer layer of hair all over his body. The man is damn near furry, and he knows exactly how it makes you feel. You, the bonnie lass he met after retirement who he immediately had to wife up.

You, the sweet little thing he loves waking up to long after sunrise on lazy Sunday mornings Cuddled together in bed with you wearing his shirt, your soft thighs thrown over his thick ones, knees cradling his defined waist. One hand behind his head, tucked up under the pillow for extra comfort while the other guides your rocking hips. Letting your delicate hands grope at his chest, knowing you love his "hairy tits" as you once called them.

"That's it, hen. Doin' so good fer me." He groaned, eyes half lidded yet so full of love as he watched you grind yourself on his shaft so lazily. You'd both been at it all morning, the dark brown hair of his thighs now slicked to his skin with your juices. He loved seeing himself covered in you nearly as much as you loved toying with his hair.

Your deft fingers were carded under the loosely curled hairs on his chest, groping at his pecs for balance with every motion, tugging on the pelt of your warrior.

"Atta girl. Can feel ye gettin' close again." The hand comes out from behind his head, moving to cradle yours instead and push your face into his chest. A low moan left his throat when your teeth bit into his flesh, just hard enough to leave an indentation on the side of his breast. "C'mon, lass, be jus' let go fer me." He insists, moaning as you tug the hair on his chest once again in desperation. "Shh, ah ken is a lot, hen, but ma wife can take it, yeh? Ma perfect girl can give me one more."

He finished after you did, a few lazy bucks of his hips into your wet warmth while you bit and drooled into his chest, making a mess of the hair you had so neatly finger combed earlier that morning. He kept you on his lap once you were both done, reaching onto the nightstand for the water bottle you had left on his nightstand and encouraging you to drink.

A scarred hand smoothed down his frazzled chest hair once you were both adequately hydrated, letting out a disapproving tut. "Look at the mess ye made, love. Ma gorgeous wife had me all groomed and ready, and ye fuffed it up. How about ye fix that, hmm?" He teased, knowing just how much you loved getting his hair in order. Be that his mohawk, now musch longer than it was in his service days, or the hair adorning every inch of his powerful body.

Your fingers worked with expert care, straightening out the tangles you had made, arranging the hair of his chest to point inward and downwards towards his stomach. You smoothed out what you could of his comfort-softened tummy, but his grip on your waist wouldn't let you go far enough to reach below his navel.

"Much better, love. Ah'm lucky to have such a caring wife, no?"