#orginal female character

[stardustarchivess]

Invite of a lifetime

warnings: none, just don’t do what cosette did and leave with a random man. please.

word count: 516

Cosette laughed quietly as her friends joked around. She swirled the straw in her milkshake and looked out the window of the diner. It was a hot day in Germany, and most girls were dressed in a shorts and a matching top, including her friends.

Cosette, personally, had decided on a sundress and a simple pair of heels, not wanting to draw unnecessary attention while making an effort to blend in with the crowd. Her dress was plain and her heels even plainer.

“Sette! Are you listening?” She quickly looks away from the window and turns to her friend, Linda. She nods quickly and her cheeks burn a slight pink.

“Of course. Just thinkin about how hot it is.” She waves them off and attempts to turn the attention away from her. It proves to be successful, as Elvis Presley’s ‘Jailhouse Rock’ starts to fill the air.

“Oh I love this song!” Mary flashes a wide smile and leans on the table, her hands planted on it

The conversation takes a turn to the rising rock and roll star, leaving Cosette to simply listen to both her friends and the music. Not that she minded, she would rather listen than talk.

“Did you guys hear? He’s in Germany! Got drafted into the army.” Olivia quickly piped in, to which everyone at the table turns to look at her.

“Is he really?” Cosette’s voice is quiet as she speaks, and sits further up in her spot. Olivia nods and smiles widely.

Before anyone can continue the conversation, a man approaches the table, and the girls fall quiet. He was dressed in uniform, while his hat was pressing against his chest, due to his hand holding it there.

“My name is Charles William, and I don’t mean to intrude but I couldn’t help but hear you girls talking about Elvis, I’m a good friends of his. Me and my wife go to his house quite often. Would you girls like to join one evening?”

Cosette look to her friends, noticing the suspicion in their eyes. She nibbles on her bottom lip as she looks back to Charles. She looks him over and decides he wasn’t threatening.

“My name is Cosette Allen. I would have to talk to my folks about going, they’ll probably wanna meet you.” She kept her voice quiet and occasionally broke eye contact.

“I understand that. And what about you girls?” Cosette looked to her friends, hoping they would at least attempt to ask. Her hope was quickly shattered as they all politely declined, due to not knowing and not believing him.

Charles nodded and smiled. “Well, Cosette, I would be pleased to talk to your folks. Maybe I could drive you home, meet your daddy and talk with him?” She looks to her friends, who are silently telling her to say no. Cosette looks back at Charles and slowly nods.

“I ‘pose that’s alright. But my parents are expecting me, so don’t do anything weird.” Cosette waves goodbye to her friends, sets the money for her milkshake on the table, and leaves with Charles.

[falloutschpallout]

Good morning Staff and Students reminder we have an assembly in the gymnasium at 10 welcoming our new counselor Ms. Shultz. Please come give her a big bandit welcome!”

He had been watching her for weeks. For the last month of summer she would come in almost every day and spend a few odd hours decorating her room, printing sheets and getting coffee with the other staff members. It was no secret to any of them that she was attractive. He had seen some of them giving her backside glances. Mr. South even made a few comments to the Principal about her full figure. ‘Such a brute’ Mr. Martin thought. He fantasized about an alternate world where it was 1958 again and he could take her to a Diner, maybe fix his hair a certain way- “Hey uh Mr. M…” It was Wally catching him in his trance “Are you gonna eye fuck that blonde all day or are we gonna start?” Rhonda crossed her arms and looked annoyed “Rhonda! We don’t use those words in our meetings.!” He snapped.

Wally hid his giggle behind his hand “I think he likes her.” He rolled his eyes “What a ridiculous thought, shes alive and besides,much too younger for me OR you Wally.” Everett always has opinions about the subjects getting distracted by the living, he couldn’t be caught watching Ms. Shultz again. After their usual exchanges about their haunts her could be left alone in Ms. Shultz office, sometimes he would watch her in the bathroom, but only on days he is desperate to see her.

He followed her to her chair and he sat across from her to observe her as usual.

He pondered about her love life. Wondering if her mind and body got appreciated by anyo- “I can see you Mr. Martin.” He was stunned, how could this be? Was this really happenin- “I know all about you.” She looked up from her paperwork and lock her blue eyes with his dark ones.

“I’m sorry…” was all he could muster out. He wondered if she could have seen him this whole time. He recalled in his head a particularly embarrassing moment when she wore tight jeans that slid down her back side, for a whole afternoon her smooth crack could be seen as she hunched over in her chair, he couldn’t help himself at the sight of it and slowly silentest his arousal by palming over his member in his pants. “Sorry for masturbating to me checking my emails?” There was a slyness about her that he couldn’t place. “You haven’t felt the touch of a women in over 60 years, I can’t blame you sir.” Mid sentence she began packing her bag and preparing to leave. “Wait, Ms. Shultz allow me to explain!” He would have said anything to get his dignity back. “I will be back tonight to discuss boundaries with you and the others” She slammed the wooden door behind her.

He was lost in his thoughts scrambling to fix this. He had failed his own doctrine now his whole experiment is compromised.

He got on the intercom and commended all that had attended the meetings meet him im the gymnasium. Once there he sat everyone down and stood up, “let me be a lesson to you all, let me be an example. I didn’t follow my own teaches and now Im in a bit of a pickle.” He rubbed sweat off of his forehead and noticed the kids on the edge of their seats, Rhonda actually made a facial expression for once. “As it turns out that new Counselor can see us, all of us.” He heard murmurs and muffled ‘what?’s “She spoke to me directly and said we would all have a chat about boundaries, she noticed me getting a little attached…” before he could finish Rhonda interrupted “SO YOU DO LIKE HER?” She stood and so did the others

“I cant believe this! I let you convince me to not check anyone out and focus on me, this whole time you have been thirsty for some random counselor!” Wally sounded hurt, He had a crush the year he died, she was a senior and the few months that she remained at the school Mr. Martin and banned all contact with her, watching listening or otherwise. He felt immense guilt for not being able to control his own urges with another women whom he had no connection to in life.

“Wally I understand you are upset but I made a mistake I should have controlled myself and avoided her…”

“Fuck you man!” Wally threw a chair and left the gym in a hurry. The rest of this kids were soon to follow.

He retired to the fallout shelter and recorded the day events in his notebooks. After which he sat and deadpanned at the wall suddenly the door swung open by a phantom wind. He arose and investigated “Hello?” He called out into the dark basement, a shadowy figure approached him, it was Ms. Shultz in a transparent silky garment. Her breast barely covered and her hair was down and her glasses were off. She gave him a sultry glance “Mr. Martin… I thought this is what you wanted…” She stepped closer ans he took a step back and he lost his footing and fell on the cot “What are you doing here? in that?” then unexpectedly she grabbed him by the shoulder. “How are you-“ He was cut off by a warm and passionate kids that left him weak. “Its called astral projection. My body is at home asleep.” She ran her finger up his arm giving him shivers. “What do you want from me?“ She placed her finger to his mouth “Im not seducing you for information, is it so hard to believe that I just want you?” She had him pinned,

“Yes actually, I have never received this kind of attention before, living or not” Everett adjusted his glasses in a polite attempt to distance himself so he could think straight .

[tarantinolovesmyfeet]

Devotion and Desire

Summary: Nymeria targaryen is an outsider born in Dorne making her way back into the house of the dragon. Will she survive this world, or will she burn ?

Chapter 2

Nymeira was not a bastard, but she knew her mother's history with the Targaryen house and how she was shamed. Nymeira didn't mean it honestly, but the sliver blonde hair against her golden skin was a stark reminder she didn't fit in with her Dornish family, and she was annoyed at the stares from people. She wasn't a Targaryen; she didn't even claim the name even though her mother wished she could. It was her last dying wish for her daughter to be a Targaryen, she prayed so many times, but Nymeria knew it was a worthless prayer.

“You know your mother would wish you to make a name for yourself.”

Nymeria rolled her violet eyes with her back still turned to her brother as she watched her entertainer dance for her.

"I don't know why you hate it so much."

“Hate what brother?”

“Your targaryen blood, you're right to be within that family.”

He said lingering behind her, she peered at her with a curious look to his eye.

“They say Targaryen is more god than men.” There was a spiteful laugh accompanied by the expression.

“And you think they are gods?”

He huffed some air, almost a resemblance of a laugh.

“Don’t be a fool, Nymeria.”

“What of it Davos? Why do you see me off to the Targaryens then? If you hate them so much why push your only sister to them?”

"Because it's your birthright, and it's a better alliance to have them on our side since the Targaryen are trying to conquer our lands. You can hold them off from us if you're there as a family."

Nymeria nodded her head over to him now understanding his sudden push for this alliance. She understood him completely, she knew his ambition to be the hand to the king, his love for his people, and his move passive nature, he was a lover rather than a fighter. It all made sense for this sudden push but it does not sound like a Davos plan. She looked over at her brother with wonderment, and a bit wary.

“The king thought of this no?”

“No.” his feathers were ruffled, offended over the thought of the King even thinking of this plan. He scoffed now looking at his sister with anger, and she watched his dark eyes even darker.

“Do you think I am an idiot? A fool in this game.”

“I had no thoughts of such cruelty to you, my brother.” Her words were soft as she moved over to him now, pressing her hand on his cheek and allowing him to close his eyes. Trying to recollect his emotions.

“No insults dare leave my lips about you.” He breathed in deeply, as he exhaled he looked at her. The contrast to her purple pulips to his darker, almost as black as coal eyes. She smiled over to him, as he let out a ghost of a smile.

“I feel war brewing, and we always get hit in the crossfire, I know with you there as a Targaryen, our lands, our people will be left alone. You will be their voice, you will uphold their honor.”

“To them up north, we have no honor, which is a pity seeing how they will kill a bastard they see as if there is no royal in their blood.” The girl spat out in disgust.

“I am no Targaryen, I know none of their customs, their culture.”

“Lies, you speak the old ways.”

“I have no dragon.”

“Not all Taragryens do.” He said now looking at her with his mind made up, he was just hoping she would go for the ride.

She sighed deeply as she let her hands fall from him, and he allowed it. She knew it would be a mistake to walk into their royal court, say she was their family, and say she had a dragon in her blood, even if it was true. The white hair, the violet eyes, even with no customs to her name, it would be hard press to not accept her. Not welcome her into her own court, and she knew she was losing an uphill battle with her brother. And there were more significant wars to be dealt with.

“If we do this, if I die please do not start a war. We cannot keep winning against dragons.” She said looked at her brother with a lip pouted and he smiled over to her.

“I Promise.” His words were spoken with true intention with true passion, and she knew deep down he wouldn’t break her promise to her. Honorable as her brother is, which she adores deep down she knew he wasn’t her protector. She watched as he walked crossed the room, going back to his books. She sighed deeply before turning on her heel, their paths will be separated with no doubt she was the most dangerous one.

“When do we leave?” She asked with her back to him, as the younger sibling grunted.

“A moon from now, right before the Princess's wedding.” Nymeria's eyes widen at the thought, she shook her head as she pushed out of the door. A mistake it would be. And she knew she would have to pay.

Nymeria wasn’t used to being on a boat, nor was her horse star-fyre, but they would have to get used to it until they were on land. Her brother made the arrangements with the king, proposing such a grand idea, and the king thought it would be humorous to have her arrive without announcement. Nymeria did not know it was a wise move; it was bold but not wise. Davos did not think poorly of it, but even if he did, he wouldn’t dare speak of his doubts, his disagreements with the royal choice. Nymeria looked over to the grey sea, letting her hair whip in the breeze. She closed her eyes, immersing herself in the mist, hitting her face. She wanted peace before diving headfirst into the chaos. Losing herself in the sea and her thoughts, she did not hear her heavy-footed brother come behind her.

“Sister.”

“Yes, Davos.” Her head skipped a beat, but her calm demeanor didn’t expose he had frightened her.

“Do you know who you would ally yourself with within Kingslanding?” He asked now as she screwed her eyes shut even more.

“I would say the Princess no?” She said back to him as it was plain to see as he let out a low hum.

“I would cling to Viserys the king no less, he will be your passage within everyone”

“Brother that would be impossible, he is a king and me a mere girl.” She said back to him letting her hands grip onto the ship.

“Also he has his hand, and from what we hear about the Hightower we would not be liked by them.”

“Yes, but you could always talk to the king yourself.” He said with hope, and honestly a little naive. She peered over at him, as he stand by her side, head held high but there was a cloud of doubt. She knew he needed this to work to make himself confident in himself. Her brother may be younger than her, but she would do anything for him for his life to be easy. She would protect him from anyone and anything, and she needed to be strong for him.

“Yes, but the Princess seems the best choice, I am a woman after all.”

“I did not know 8 and ten was a woman.” Davos teased as Nymeria rolled her eyes at her dark-haired brother.

“Is it not? Is that not the reason I am being whisked away from my home to be seen as the blood of a dragon.”

Davos stared over at his sister and she could feel his thoughts pouring out of his head, as she shook her head, letting her sliver hair curl around her. She sighed deeply letting go of her grip of the ship before turning to look at him.

“I am to marry someone from this family?”

“Don’t believe anyone is there to marry.” He smiled over at her. “Unless you find a lord there waiting for you.”

“Hm.” She pursed her lips over to him. “I will rest now, being on this ship has caused me to grow deeply unrested.”

“Indeed.” He said looking over at his petite sister, as she sighed walking away, now looking at her lady maid to follow her. The girl nodded her head, as she quickly walked beside Nymeria.

She felt her brother's eyes on her back as they both walked toward her room. Nymeria knew this trip was rather long, and she had packed, or well Cedra her lady maid packed for her many outfits.

“I don’t think I have one charming dress for these people,” Nymeria said looking over to Cedra. The girl smiled over at her, she was rather small, with long dark hair and dark eyes. Her skin was darker than Nymeria, causing the Taygaren to be envious. She longed to be more Dornish than anything and yet here she was on this dangerous trip to proclaim her birthright.

“My lady, I think all your dresses are wonderful.”

“Yes for Dorne but we are different from them aren’t we?” Cedra smiled over at her causing the sliver hair woman to narrow her eyes.

"But that's what makes you stick out." She said with a soft smile.

“And you will cause the eyes to look at you in wonder.”

“Or they will think me a whore.”

“My lady please don’t speak of it.” She said back to Nymeria as she pouted rolling her eyes now lying on her stomach on the bed in her room.

“Remember you have the blood of a dragon in you; you will always be special.”

The sliver hair girl looked over at her with big eyes, almost making her childlike. Nymeria dismissed her as she had to let her words replay in her mind. Her? Special? She can’t.

Note: obviously I’m blowing up cannon like beyond belief. Also there will be a lot of paring usually that isn’t my bag but as the story progresses you will understand why. Obviously comments or shares would be nice but this story has stuck on my mind unlike the other stuff I have written so…I’ll keep posting. I also had to change the horse name LOL but whatevs. Also yes no Harwin in this chapter but he is to come, he’s in the second chapter but he will make a bigger appearance in the third chapter.

I have an account with archive if y’all wanna see me there but 🤷🏽‍♀️ * also…there is a part two? This is a story so there is going to be other chapers.

[deliciouslystrangefics]

The Nightsky is Burning

The year is 2056 and there are no flying cars, no one is living on the moon, we are a decaying planet held in a high tech war that is being waged between kindred and lycans. They use technology well beyond our own. There is nothing we could do but watch in horror, we couldn’t defend ourselves against the sheer force of their numbers…we never even knew they were thriving just under our feet. We couldn’t do anything…

~Amanda Darling July 4th 2056 This never got finished either but maybe one day. Written around: 2012-07-14

The year is 2056 and there are no flying cars, no one is living on the moon, we are a decaying planet held in a high tech war that is being waged between kindred and lycans. They use technology well beyond our own.  There is nothing we could do but watch in horror, we couldn’t defend ourselves against the sheer force of their numbers…we never even knew they were thriving just under our feet. We couldn’t do anything…

~Amanda Darling July 4th 2056

The year now is 3012 and the world is still in decay, there are no improvements on the flying cars, it was such a joke. They had nothing to show for the centuries of knowledge that had in dealing with chemicals, electrons, and all that other bullshit that was suppose to get the world somewhere. No, all there is now is an unsteady truce between humans and supernatural beings. The creation of God now was divided into two governments, those of natural blood and those who desired it.

The countries across the globe were split up, between the two governments; there were entire cities that strictly held vampires, lycans, and humans. Every race between the three is strictly separated until they could live in relative peace. So far there was no such luck and rogues still attack the opposing cities…so far all who have did such have been brutally executed. 

“Fucking joke.” Mikey way shook his head, tossing the old journal down, as he walked through the crime scene. It was still unsure whether or not this was a mass suicide or simply another terrorist attack against the kindred. It would take until tomorrow night to really know, but a lot of the older families had taken to ending their existence together. The old detective wouldn’t have been surprised either way and part of him knew he was too old even still care much; he was just doing his job.  The older officers wondered through the house collecting whatever evidence there was to be had. It didn't matter much though, the smell of old blood was making some of the newer fledglings twitch a bit, every so often you'd hear someone being smacked up side the head and forced back into focus. The laws weren't very strict on becoming a vampire,  they didn't need to be it was nearly impossible for vampires and humans to meet. Some humans of the prestiges families were allowed into the city and vampire clubs by very few of them were offered the sacred kiss and even fewer even accepted the offer.

The elder detective looked across the bedroom the journal had been in, Amanda and her family were probably some of the first families that were turned when the far spilled out into the human world. The day it happened was a regular day, a perfect day, with perfect weather, early afternoon shortly after lunch...at first it was just commotion in the alley ways, the lyans were trying to drive the vampires out into the sunlight, it was a stupid mistake. By then vampires had composed a sunscreen that was strong enough to protect them and fend off from turning to ash. It was then that the fight took to the street, when the police tried to bring peace to the situation most of them were slaughtered, those who didn't parish from the attacks were turned and left behind to their confusion to what was taking place. As the shit went down the pipe, nothing could stop it, not even when the militaries of the civil world joined forces, the governments across the world crumbled under the pressure. For a time there was anarchy and chaos, several million natural born were killed. It wasn't until the humans population became dangerously low that the hand of order was forced.

Mikey wasn't born until 3040 and it was turned along with his brother Gerard about 3065. He rubbed his face and turned away, heading toward the master bedroom where the five bodies were, two laying vertically on the bed, one laying across at the end, and two at the of the bed. It looked as though they had been drained of blood, either someone gorged themselves on the family or they did it to each other. They would have to leave the bodies were they were until the coroner arrived. The examination would have to be done there otherwise they would simply turn to ash once they were moved.  He wished that some of the myths about kindred were untrue...turning to ash after death was true, crosses were untrue, sleeping in a coffin, untrue and overrated. The thought amused him though, when him and his brother were turned they thought they were so cool, both had bought coffins and slept in them for a week before giving up the ghost. Unless you bought an extra wide one, they were uncomfortable to sleep in and you couldn't hardly move or roll over...sex in a coffin was also quite impractical, more so if the lid was closed.

“There isn't much else here for you to do here Detective, the rest is simply gathering any finger prints, and we'll be going over the security tapes tomorrow. We'll have our answer soon but I'm betting its a mass suicide...its happening a lot among the first families.” Mikey shifted a bit as he looked over his shoulder, meeting the blue eyes of a soft mouse like woman named Luna. She was an odd one, strange, soft, and deadly...His felt his mind sharpen to a point and he nodded a bit, “I suppose there isn't much point sticking around then, there isn't much to see any way.” There was no sense in small talk since he wasn't really that interested in holding a conversation, she made his skin crawl in a way that was more annoying than anything else.

The evening was wearing thin as the sun settled, allowing the darkness to devour the city, bringing out the  whores and the sinners. He shook his head and lit up a cigarette as he walked toward the nearest jazz bar, he never troubled himself with the crowded places because he knew he'd end up arresting someone for pissing him off. Whether he liked it or not, he'd always be a cop at heart and he would always act like one...he had been doing this job for too many years, he glanced back at the house, inhaling the smoke into his dead lungs. He wondered how many more family would end themselves, what people didn't realize about immortality is that it was forever, you didn't grow any older, you grew wiser though but wisdom easily became a burden. Watching people you love whither away and die, doing everything you can to stay entertained, but there are only so many things one can do to keep from getting jaded...only when mountains crumble will you truly know

The sky above rumbled and vibrated, signaling that a storm was well on its way. It would be good to see a little rain he supposed. He continued to breath in fire and smoke, his footsteps echoing off the walls in the empty streets. The jazz club was close and also in a part of town that wasn't frequented by too many, it was considered a seedy part of town, it was funny that only two blocks away were some of the best and safest neighborhoods in the city...strange how that works. He shook his head and walked into the club to his usual table and ordered a bloody mary, made with real blood. The next performer was about to start but he didn't really care just as long as it was real jazz and not the poser shit you see in most movies.

“Long day at the office bro?”

Gerard owned the club and pulled up a chair so he could enjoy the show too, he was always surprised that his brother had picked up the detective gig but he had a real knack for solving crimes. He sipped pure blood and glanced toward the stage, the woman about to sing was new to the city but apparently wasn't knew to the vampire scene. Who knew what she was running from but it wasn't his or anyone else's place in the club to ask...here vampires came here to forget what they were and how long they had lived or if they were running.

“Yea, another family is dead today, hard to say if its murder or just the usual.”

Gerard was a little alarmed that three of the first families were now dead within a week but then again it wasn't that surprising. That aside he just couldn't bring himself to give two shits about it, so they were offing themselves, didn't really affect anything or anyone. People assumed that vampires didn't have any emotions because they were 'dead' but most kindred retained as much their personalities after the turning. The fact of the matter was, dead was simply more accepted among them. After all the older vampires became, the more jaded most of them came, it wasn't uncommon for an elder to go completely insane and have to be put down. The burden of knowing was too much for many but the younger generations were a lot more prepared for the aging than the elders were. He assumed that Mikey and himself were on the beyond the desire for death.

“There are still a dozen of the first families left and of course the second generations can fill the governing spots.”

The way the government worked among the vampires was similar to how Parliament and the United States worked only a little less complicated. Instead of houses there were literally families that served in those positions, the level of importance in each house was based on knowledge of the vampire history and of course the current political situation of things. Age usually did not play a role in who acquired what position in the house hold. That aside, children were still treated as children when they were alone with their parents, depending on their age. Most vampires are considered young until they reach a century but that aside, the elders from before the first war were still around it was rumored, pulling strings from behind the scenes, remaining unseen and still living in the darkness underneath the ground.

“I don't think anyone really gives a fuck as long as there isn't an economical crises, as long as the blood is flowing, no one pays any mind to anything...no tears will be shed in grief.” Mikey held a slightly bitter tone in the statement because he knew it was true, no one really cared that an entire family died today. Vampires were too consumed with their own problems, their own lives...but he knew that humans were the same way.

The only community that held any sort of feelings were their peers were the lycans, they were a tight knit group, in the cities of lycans...everyone knew everyone, there were no degrees of separations in each city. It was only when you started traveling to other lycan communities that you found any separation, the most was 5 degrees, very rarely did it go above six degrees. They way they governed themselves had not changed, small packs had an alfa and there was a military pack with its own alfa that kept the city in check and at peace. Mikey wished that the vampires could at least care about each others well being, but he couldn't say much, he was rather dead inside, the only spark of emotion he had was for his brother...anything else was too much of a stretch. He just couldn't bring himself to feel anything for anyone else.

“I know bro, I know...there's no reason to give to much thought, won't change will it? Just enjoy your next couple of days ok? Maybe we'll hit the mountains and go hiking or something, get away from the fuckers for awhile and take a break.”

It was amazing how much energy Gerard still had, he didn't seem to be jaded by the years, and still wanted to go do things with Mikey. He didn't seem to give much care about living forever, but he really didn't think about the years ahead, he thought about today and tomorrow. No real reason to think about what might happen later when all he had was now. He hoped one day his little brother would come to understand that and maybe quit the force and find a job that made him happier...all that death and seeing the ugly side of the world all the time couldn't have been good for an immortal.

“...Yea sure, sounds like a plan Gerard.”

[velvetti]

A mole was found

Warning: Non-con, double penetration, rape, bondage, threesome, implied no aftercare, gender neutral but made with male reader in mind, rushed, not proofread, this is more like a oneshot.

If accidentally getting affiliated with the mafia is unlucky, then you would be the god of bad luck. And unfortunately for you, after being assigned to spy on the mafia for over a year, they had managed to find documents detailing their exploits, which gave them enough evidence to drag you to the torture interrogation room.

Like any normal person, you tried to resist but let's be honest, could you really fight against trained mafia members dragging you by both of your arms? Not to mention when they've been annoyed by your constant resistance, they knocked you out by smashing your head against the wall, hard enough to make you unconscious but not hard enough to kill you.

By the time that you have woken up, you were set on your knees on the floor, hands tied behind your back with a blindfold over your eyes. The position...confused you? Usually traitors would be set on a wooden chair, fully tied down with a gag in their mouth, not whatever position you are in.

You could slightly make out the layout of the room based on how the light is shining down on you, seemed like the mafia members didn't bother to give you a thicker blindfold. There is a single lightbulb over your head, otherwise most of the room is dark and quiet. In the mist of confusion, you decided to risk something, tapping your finger on the floor and pretending to be impatient in order to try to use the echos to imagine the room's layout.

The plan worked, but things didn't seem to be in your favour as the room turned out to be quite large. How could you even escape in these circumstances???

Right at that moment, you heard footsteps echoing from a direction, cutting your line of thought almost immediately. The sound is somewhat scattered, you could make out that two people are heading towards you. You feel the light shining on your blindfold getting slightly darker, someone is standing right in front of you.

You heard murmurs and whispers, a cold sweat fell down your forehead while your hands fiddled together. You figured it's the best decision to stay silent and not say anything unless you're talked to, after all there isn't any reason to give away any information about yourself.

You felt a pair of hand grips your chin, the fingers digging into your cheeks and tilting it to different angles. You assumed it was to judge your appearance, which seemed to be at least attractive since you heard an amused hum from whoever was checking you out.

You felt your waits being held, turned over to your back before your head is placed on a lap of one of the two people, your knees being held up to your shoulders. The only thing you could hear is the sound of belts buckling and your voice protesting whatever the two are trying to do to you.

You froze the moment you felt the heat of something hot right over your face, as well as the feeling of your clothes being unbuttoned. Without any warning, the warm length shoves into your mouth, causing you to gag almost instantly, tears building in your eyes.

Meanwhile underneath, two fingers were knuckles deep in your hole, stretching it open and revealing your insides to the cold air. The fingers didn't stop rearranging your insides while the length moves in your mouth, ignoring all your gags and pathetic noises.

The second length eventually enters your under hole, a pair of hands grips your hips to move you more steadily. The cock in your mouth muffles your noises, shoving deeper down your throat when the length underneath pulls out to its tip, just to ram inside you again, giving you a bulge on your lower stomach.

You were biting your underlip, trying your best to not make any noises but they kept going out of your throat without any sign of stopping. You felt so violated yet it felt so good getting your insides ruined by people you don't even know the face off, unable to fight back and vulnerable like some kind of onahole.

The cock in your mouth was pulled out, a small strand of saliva connected its tip to your lips and left a quiet pop sound. The person holding your waist suddenly held you up straight, burying the length inside you deeper and grinding it against your spot. Before you could make sense of anything, the cock positions its tip against your entrance. You tried to protest and push the first person off, it was only met by a spank on your ass and the person shoving their cock into you.

The two started going by a faster pace, each taking turns to hit your deepest spot as the person behind you pulled your head back by your hair, the person in front of you shoved two fingers into your mouth to muffle your moans and play with your tongue.

After half an excruciating hour, they finally finished inside you with a grunt. At this point, your mind was already blanked, your body sweating and twitching from the intense workout, your hole gaping even when they pulled out and tears falling down from your eyes, staining the blind fold.

You heard a few small sentences before you pass out.

"What should we do with them, boss?"

"Keep them, they're good as a stress reliever."

At least now you know that you're good in bed <3

Author note: This will get a remake due to the unsatisfactory of the plot.

[lilacxquartz]

your body is my temple (and i will worship you);

incubus male oc x human fem!reader

w.c: 2.1k

summary: you and midnight take it to the next level and satisfy a mutual curiosity.

themes: smut, demon x human, porn with plot, size difference, one shot, reader insert, oc/ original character, biting, first person pov

~~~

Slowly but surely, it has been getting easier with having Midnight around. I became used to his presence over time, no matter how unsettling he seemed to be.

As it turned out, demons weren’t too different from humans after all.

At least not by that much.

For the most part, he tried to approach me in a way that he thought to be human in nature. That was my interpretation at least. He tried minimise my fear by getting to know me personally, taking interest in what I like as a means to find a common ground so that we could both get along.

This was going well. Or as well as it possibly could have been given the circumstances because who truly expects an incubus to show up in their life, just like that? Still, just for him alone, I fitted my apartment with blackout curtains so that he could move around comfortably as he pleased.

Slowly, I became used to his presence and before long, we were finally comfortable with one another.

Which led Midnight to want more than what we already had.

(Considering that he was an incubus, I was mostly just surprised that he didn’t bring it up sooner.)

Just as I finished up on my dinner, he followed me back to the bedroom with a certain sort of glint in his eye.

Personally, I wanted to get some more reading done but I could already tell that Midnight had more than just relaxation in mind.

“How interesting,” he observed as his pointed fingers trailed along my flesh, “I don’t have to kiss you for you to stop feeling afraid anymore.”

I nodded, thinking that he had a point. Usually, I would shudder at his touch because Midnight, regardless of how gentle he acted, was still a demon—a monster—there was nothing calming about him at all.

With a featherlight touch, he brushed his fingers down to my chin, pointing my jaw up at him, murmuring on and off in a slur, “You are so… intoxicating… when you’re not afraid.”

Midnight then leaned over me, making my back land flat against my mattress. His body hovered over mine as he dipped his face down with breath like ashen fire, smoking against my skin; daring me to reciprocate.

“I can’t resist, at least not forever,” he admitted, pressing his body right up against mine. The shadows that enveloped his body in void-like fire didn’t do much to his excitement as I could feel it, pushing up right against me with want and even need.

Sinking somehow even further into the mattress, I retracted myself with a cautious tone behind my words, “But, you’re not a forceful incubus …are you?”

Midnight froze in his pursuit, retracting ever so slightly as he lifted his lips off of mine. His blank eyes screwing shut as though he pushed any dark thought back into the murky depths of his mind.

(The part that he didn’t dare let surface, for your own sake.)

“I’m not,” he soothed.

I exhaled a deep breath and tried to get up from bed, but he still kept me locked in; caging my frame with his arms as his palms sank into the mattress.

“But it’s just… certain things,” he began, his voice almost growling as he spoke, “from the way that you breathe to the way your skin goosebumps when it brushes against mine, I’m starting to understand fate a little better, is all,” he paused before continuing, “don’t you feel at least… a little bit similar?”

Admittedly, I did feel something. I just wasn’t sure what. I harboured some sort of curiosity given that he was an incubus and at times, my mind explored such a possibility. To experience something more intense, perhaps even dangerous; the very thing that his kind was known for.

As my mind internally conflicted with itself, he tried to comfort me even if he didn’t let me go, “It’s not your fault, I know. It’s not even personal; humans were designed to fear the unknown.”

“It’s just…” I trailed off as I truly began to consider it. I wasn’t against it, that wasn’t the issue. It was the logistical side of things that threw me off; his height and therefore his potential size was an issue.

He tilted his head off to the side, giving me a moment to think.

“It’s just,” I continued from where I left off, “wouldn’t it hurt if we were to…?”

Midnight eased into a slowly relaxing smile, the glimpse of sharp teeth playing into his expression. Slowly, his body relaxed as he began to understand exactly why I felt so on the fence about things, “I’d work you into it, of course, but also, incubi and even succubi have evolved with human anatomy in mind. It can hurt, but it won’t kill you.”

My eyes flickered off to the ceiling, avoiding his gaze. Despite him lacking irises, I somehow always knew when he was making eye contact with me.

“Let me help you ease into it,” he offered, sweeping his hands around my body; his touch so rough yet so gentle at the same time as worshipping my very own skin.

His hands then moved down as he worked me into it, my eyes widening as his protruding claws grazed against my inner thigh. Black pointed nails spearing from his greyed fingertips.

Pausing, Midnight retracted his hand and balled it into a fist to reel in the claws and assume the length of normal fingernails.

“…My mistake,” he murmured, almost seeming embarrassed.

“W-weird…” I whispered in response, my voice dripping with fascination.

He didn’t reply however, choosing to push the with the task in mind instead. Peeling my sweat shorts down, he dipped his index finger into my sex before retracting it ever so slightly.

“I’ll work you into it,” he promised as he continued to stare at me, as though searching for a certain type of reaction, “I won’t hurt you… too much.”

My thighs squeezed involuntarily as he slid his digit back and forth while his thumb rubbed circles over my clit, lulling me into a gradually relaxed state. It took a couple of minutes at best, but soon enough I was flushed, my cheeks burning with anticipation as he leaned in over me.

Pulling his hand away from me, he moved ever so slightly back to rest both hands against my hips before brushing down to meet parallel with my knees. Curiously, he tented up my legs with a steady grip, hovering his body over mine, positioning the tip of his cock right against my entrance.

Noticing my unease, Midnight continued to take things slowly with as much reassurance as possible, “Relax with me.”

I tried to nod, feeling him ease slowly into my core, wincing as he gradually filled me out completely. I writhed just a little bit underneath his slowly flattening body, his length completely enveloped by my walls in all directions as he finally moved in as far deep as he could possibly go.

Midnight released a low guttural moan in a satisfied tone, seeming pleased as he took a hot minute to fully appreciate the sensation.

“Feeling okay?” he asked as he checked in.

“K-kinda,” I replied in a slightly strained tone.

With a tight nod, he pushed himself back ever so slightly to take the pressure off of you just a little bit, “We’ll go as slow as we need to, then.”

“O-okay,” I murmured in response, feeling him slowly retract his hips and then steadily push back inside.

His movements felt almost calculated as he rolled his hips against mine. With each thrust, no matter how gentle; my breath fluttered upon his impact, my eyes close to watering from the building intensity.

My whines turned into cries as I adjusted to his size, my legs widening as I struggled to take him in. My back arching as a means to accommodate him. As a means of seeking comfort, my fingers desperately clawed at the sheets, grabbing heaped bunches of linen as my toes curled on queue.

It was gradual, but he picked up the pace over time as it became easier for him to both move inside of me as well as my body finally starting to relax, somehow. In a way, I was actually extremely turned on and my heat, so slick and glistening wet, gave away just how I truly felt. My body softened at his touch, allowing him to adopt a quicker pace.

I gasped again as he positioned himself closer over me, continuing to keep me confined within his arms. His arms relaxed over the bed, keeping himself comfortably propped up against his elbows while his head dipped over mine, his lips so desperate to connect with my own.

Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around his neck in an attempt to pull him closer, seeking comfort within his touch which he then leaned into, taking up the pace a notch in response; so feverishly keen.

Midnight grunted as he now pounded into me, rutting his hips at an almost feral pace as I whined in slight protest. To counter my complaints, he finally kissed me to ease the discomfort, spilling whatever magic he held onto inside, slowly tranquilising—numbing the soreness, soothing the unrelenting pain inflicted by his touch.

“Still doing good?” he whispered into my lips, despite not slowing down at all.

“I-I’m good,” I confirmed, just barely hearing him over the heavy breathing and the sound of slapping skin, “I’m good, I’m good…”

Midnight smiled as he revealed his razor sharp teeth that reflected in the spilling moonlight, planting his lips right against my own as his tongue couldn’t help but invade and explore, taking the lead within my mouth as I just barely wrestled it back. Getting too ahead of himself, he couldn’t help but pluck a taste either, sinking his teeth into my lips.

However, upon feeling my body protest to such a sudden and sharp pain, he reeled himself back ever so slightly, offering only a half apologetic whisper, “Sorry ‘bout that.”

His breathing grew gradually heavier as he struggled to retain his composure; his body shaking as I struggled to maintain a secure hold around him. His hips almost trembled—quaked rather as his pace became rougher, his groans morphed into growls as he truly lost himself in my body. I could feel as he subtly accelerated and as his teeth grazed on occasion over my shoulder, grazing against such soft tissue in comparison to his hardened skin. He wasn’t truly apologetic, but he did mutter out hasty apologies whenever I squirmed in heated protest.

I held on either way, feeling as his claws spilled from his fingertips—piercing the bed in a lapse of dwindling control. His body almost vibrated as he purred in deep satisfaction, continuing to slam his monstrous length into my cunt.

“Almost,” he promised as he fucked himself into me, “almost, almost—!”

With a steady push that followed after his words, I could feel as his cock throbbed and twitched inside of me, releasing a surge of warmth within my walls in an almost demanding release. I gasped as he slammed himself inside a final time, painfully emptying himself into me with such pressure and overflowing passion that it couldn’t help but spill onto the bedding as he slowly pulled himself out of my spent body.

I shook ever so slightly as my legs quivered, feeling as Midnight soothed me with another kiss before completely rolling off of me, “To numb the pain.”

I nodded as I did my best to recover, panting as I did so, recollecting my breath while my body glistened with sweat. It took a while, but slowly my body relaxed a second time; my legs squeezing shut once more as my hips wound down.

“Don’t worry about the mess,” Midnight said, “I’ll be your bed for tonight.”

I didn’t protest too much, if at all as I felt him pull my body over his own. He was surprisingly comfortable and perfectly warm; the shadows that wisped from his body tickled against my skin in a gentle warmth, providing a soothing effect to lessen the remaining tension that I still held onto.

Feeling my eyelids droop shut, I couldn’t stay awake for a second longer anymore and drifted off to what seemed to be a much needed sleep.

All the while thinking that perhaps that giving into Midnight was the light I needed, because maybe, just maybe, fate wasn’t wrong in bonding me with him after all.

~~~

more original works • and if fanfics are your thing 🖤

[heartofmortis]

✶ Lionheart

Robb Stark x (Baratheon/Lannister!) Reader

TAGS: friends to enemies to lovers, slow burn, one bed, childhood friends, arranged marriage, female rage, eventual smut, hurt/comfort, canon compliant (boooo!), major character death

NOTE: so this is also an oc fic on wp, but i wanted to try out something new! in rewriting to second person, some edits have been made. there will be no y/n, and there are other ocs in this fic (since that’s what i usually write) and reader does have some physical descriptions.

i’m in suchhhhh a robb stark brainrot atm, this is how i’m coping 🫶

TIMELINE: season / book one onwards. a mix of show & book canon!

SUMMARY: A soft heart is no curse.

You are nothing like your parents. Your mother’s first-born, most deeply adored. Born in the ashes of a victorious rebellion, you are the brightest spring child in King’s Landing. Free as the breeze whistling through the trees, love burns in your veins like sun rays. (You’re too good for this world, your mother whispers as she holds her daughter close. No one will hurt you. You’re safe here with me.)

The Pearl of King’s Landing, they called you. Sun-bright and untouchable. To be beloved by the Smallfolk is a rare gift, and you bear it proudly. A little doe beside your father, a great stag, and your mother-lion.

A soft heart is no curse. You believe it until you spend a month travelling north with your family, a trip that spins your world on its axis, and won’t let you come home. When you are left alone in a vast castle with no true company, your pretty heart can only be a curse. No one trusts a naive girl raised in the lion’s den — not even when steel cuts across your palms, blood soaking your fingers as you try to protect a boy you hardly know. Your mother was the only one who allowed you to be yourself. (The North does not find courage in the kindness of princesses.)

Your soft heart is a curse until the day Robb Stark takes it in his hands and promises to keep it safe.

Against a thousand odds, in a moment of peace within a storm of chaos, he finally accepts you. And you feel like you belong for the first time since you left the safety of the Red Keep. (No one will hurt you here with me. I’ll protect you.)

A soft heart is a beauty on a battleground. A light in the dark, an anchor. Undying, and calling for your love to come home safe. Alive. But a soft heart is only pretty until it bleeds. Until it rains. Until it screams. Until you want to claw it from your chest and throw it to the lions who claim to love you.

(Your soft heart, devoured by the Young Wolf, rots beside him.)

wattpad / playlist

━━ ACT ONE; northern attitude

prologue / posted 11.10.24

chapter one / posted 21.10.24

& more coming soon!

[pistachiozombie]

[Fallout 3 - 4] Your old 'pals' Kaite and Lennie 14 years later. How are they still alive?

[doumadono]

Guys!! I'm shedding tears, kicking back in sheer delight, and zipping around with excitement because this mind-blowing sketch unveils Witcher!Bakugo and his enchanting dragon!oc companion Ayame from my little Witcher MHA AU. Major kudos to insanely talented @explosion-island for conjuring this masterpiece 💜 If you haven't already, do yourself a favor and dive into their phenomenal work. Trust me, their skills are on a whole other level! 💜💜💜 (click on the pic for better quality)

[hisonlyreid-er]

School Girl Crush Pt 1

Part 1| Part 2| Part 3| Part 4| Part 5| A new BAU member appears and Spencer sees her as a little threat to his status of boy genius. Being unable to get comfortable with each other causes some issues within the team. Will they be able to move past it and work together?

Spencer Reid x FemBau!OC

Moving to the US was daunting. Coming from a smaller English town hadn't prepared me for the move. At only 23, I was joining the FBI. It was a dream of mine to catch murderers and profile serial killers so when I was put forward, I couldn't contain my excitement.

I first arrived at the start of the month and now, 2 weeks later, I was entering the FBI office in Quantico, Virginia. This morning, I had a big panic about what to wear. I settled on black trousers and a white button up blouse. My satchel held everything I would need. My hands held the strap tightly as I stood in the lift, making my way up to my dream job. I watched the numbers go up as I got closer and closer to my floor. My nerves were in full force as I chewed my lip out of habit.

The lift dinged, signaling my arrival. Taking a deep breath, I stepped into the corridor. People bustled around me as I just stood there. The clack of heels echoed around me as I became conscious of my heavy combat boots, hidden mostly by my long trousers. The glow of florescent lights added to the intimidating feeling. Long, white hallways with many doors and framed photos of Agents killed in action. My British upbringing became very obvious as I became aware of how many guns were around me. Almost every single person had one on them. I had my own gun tucked in the holster as my side. Learning to shoot hadn't been very difficult and I gained my license to carry within a few weeks of accepting the position. It wasn't like I had no experience, I had worked with the NCA for years and knew a lot about chasing down dangerous criminals.

While preparing for the role, I had been in frequent contact with SSA Hotchner. He was my new boss so it was him I was meant to find first. A little intimidated by the agents around me, I kept my head down, letting my hair hide my face. In the center of the floor was a bullpen with a number of desks. Agent Hotchner was in charge so he would most likely have an office, with this in mind I walked towards the small set of stairs. I didn't want to ask for directions, my stubbornness was to blame for that. I felt some eyes on me as I ascended the stairs. Not wanting to be stared at, I quickly scanned the doors and spotted the one labelled SSA Aaron Hotchner. With one hand I knocked against the door and with the other I straightened my blouse. "Come in." Breathe.

I push the door open. Inside the office was larger than I expected. A large wooden desk was the main focus of the room. My eyes found Agent Hotchner sat behind the desk, stacks of paperwork surrounding him. He was a serious man, his hair was dark and his suit was neat. I felt the need to impress him, to make him proud of me. He looked up at me, placing his pen down and turning all his attention to me. "Agent Hotchner?" Why do I ask stupid questions? This man was sat in the office labelled with that name, sat at a desk with a plaque and I was asking if it was him. Sometimes I don't feel as smart as I should. "Yes. Agent Colesta I assume." As I nodded my head he rose from his seat, walking towards me. His hand extended. With as much confidence as I could muster, I shook his hand firmly.

Agent Hotchner wanted to ask me some questions and update me on everything I needed to know. We sat across the desk from each other. My leg bounced as I realised how important this was. He needed to believe in my abilities. "How are you settling in?" He didn't look up at me as he searched through one of his drawers. "Its definitely a change but I'm doing pretty well." A small hum was the only response I got as he lay a folder on the wood. My folder. I could see my name printed on the front. Lyn Colesta. I tensed as he opened it, revealing everything about me compressed onto a mere few pieces of paper.

Over the next hour, Agent Hotchner asked me questions and allowed me to ask some back. In that time, I became less nervous of his stoic demeanor. "That is all of my questions. Do you have anything else you would like to know?" I thought for a moment, running a mental check. "I don't think so. Thank you Agent Hotchner." I gave a small smile to the older man. "Most members of the team call me Hotch. It is up to you but that's the norm here." Nodding, I knew it would take a while for me to get comfortable using a nickname.

Agent Hotchner stood from his desk, leading me to do the same. Without saying a word, we exited his office and walked down the stairs to the bullpen. I became very conscious of the small group of agents at one of the desks, staring at the two of us. Unfortunately for me, Agent Hotchner led us towards them. The members of the BAU. My need for a good impression wiped my nervous fidgeting from my body and replaced it with a confident expression. As we neared the group their conversation slowed to a halt, showing they were probably discussing the strange girl who had been with their boss for some time.

Hotchner made some conversation with a blonde woman. I took this time to examine each of them. Closest to me was a tall, dark skinned man. He was perched on the side of the desk, mug in hand. He was quite muscular and by him demeanor, I could tell he was confident in his physical capabilities. There was an uncertain look in his eye as he looked at me which showed he wasn't easily accepting of new people. I would have to earn his trust. I love a challenge. The desk clearly belonged to the dark haired woman sat on the chair. She held herself with propriety, more than most, which showed she had an important role at some point. I had a feeling I would get along well with her as there was a hint of mischief on her face as she smirked. Then there was the woman talking to Agent Hotchner. It was clear she had a fairly important place around her because of the way Hotchner was listening intently to every word she said. She seemed like a kind hearted woman but also someone that I shouldn't cross. I made a mental note of all my observations.

"This is Agent Colesta. She will be joining the unit." Agent Hotchner gestured to me, bringing all sets of eyes to me. Resisting the urge to shrink under their gazes, I gave a friendly smile and a small wave. Thankfully, each of them returned my smile, settling my nerves a little more. "Its nice to meet you. I'm Lyn." My meek attitude creeping out as I greeted them. "Derek Morgan." The man gave me a sly smirk as he reached out to shake my hand. I gladly shook his hand. I turned to the dark haired woman. "Emily Prentiss." She didn't make a move to shake my hand, opting for a small nod. " Jennifer Jareau. But you can call me JJ." Now, JJ did go for an handshake. Normally I wasn't a huge fan of shaking hands, especially with strangers but I knew I needed to make a good first impression.

Agent Hotchners cell phone began to ring in his pocket, causing a groan to erupt from Agent Prentiss. "Hotchner." He answered instantly, opting to walk away from the small group to take the call in private. I was left with my new colleagues. Suck it up Lyn. Time to schmooze them off their feet. "I was under the impression that there was more of you." I feigned a puzzled expression as I spoke to them. Agent Morgan chuckled slightly. "Yeah, there is. Rossi's somewhere around here and Reid will be here in about 10 minutes." I nodded, remembering those new names for later.

Agents Jareau and Morgan excused themselves, walking over to their respective desks. I was a little unsure what to do. I didn't know where my desk was and hadn't been given any orders so I just stood by Agent Prentiss's desk. "You know, you could go meet Garcia. I'm sure she'd love to meet you and would really appreciate you going to her." Clearly I looked confused at the new person added to the mix. "Derek forgot to mention her before. She's our tech analyst. Her office is up there, right at the end of the hall." My eyes followed where Agent Prentiss had pointed. "Thanks for the advice." I was truly grateful. I needed all the friends I could get. Bidding her goodbye, I walked in the direction she said.

The hallway was fairly long and a little darker than the rest of the floor. I almost gave up when I finally spotted the last door. I had no clue how this Garcia would be. She could be completely horrible. Despite my hesitations, I knocked on the door. Some frantic shuffling could be heard on the other side as I waited patiently. After a few long seconds the door is pulled open. This woman was dressed in a bright pink cardigan, and white pencil skirt. Her blonde hair was in pigtails and on her face was a pair of statement glasses. Her eyes widened as she saw me. "Hello, are you Garcia?" She continued to stare at me before nodding aggressively. Still, she didn't say a word. "I'm Lyn. I just joined the unit." I gave an uncertain smile. Somehow, her eyes widened even more. A wide smile broke out on her face as she pulled the door wider and let me in. The office reflected her perfectly. There were little toys and knickknacks scattered about. Fuzzy topped pencils sat in a bedazzled pencil pot on the desk.

"You're Agent Colesta?" I hadn't told her my last name, but I nodded. Before it can register, Garcia pulls me into a hug which I halfheartedly reciprocate. "I'm Penelope." Penelope. I knew she wasn't an agent, she didn't carry herself like one and was much too positive to be one. "It's good to meet you, Penelope." I had a feeling we could be friends. "And you're British." Her excited squeal seemed strange to me. What's so exciting about being British?

Penelope and I spent sometime chatting. More like her talking and me nodding or giving a short response. She gave me a brief run down of everything going on around her. It was actually very helpful. Apparently her and Agent Morgan were the flirty two in the unit. She only mentioned it to reassure me if I heard any of their conversations which can get quite 'graphic' according to her. Agent Rossi was a famous author. I knew I recognised that name, I'd read his books on serial killers and the psychology behind their actions. Dr Reid was the genius of the team with an eidetic memory and an IQ of 187. That was actually quite impressive. Garcia told me that he didn't like physical contact and loved to spurt random facts at any given time. Dr Reid was only 8 months older than me according to Garcia. Hold on. I never told her my birthday. "How do you know that?" I was getting a little suspicious of this bubbly woman. Her demeanor turned sheepish. "I looked through your file." My mouth fell open as she spoke. "I'm sorry but I just got curious."

This, of course, led to me asking questions about what she can access. I was then shown through Garcia's set up. It was extremely impressive, she could access almost anything from her little office. I think I might have fallen in love with her when she pulled up the cameras from the bullpen and showed me a clip from a few weeks ago. The clip was from a late night in the office and showed Agent Prentiss tripping over a bin and then she just didn't move for a few minutes. It was pretty funny. I was glad Agent Prentiss had advised me to introduce myself to Garcia. Talking with her had relaxed me and I felt prepared to start my new job simply because of her being there.

A ping came from Garcia's system and she immediately spun in her chair to see what it was. "We have a case. To the roundtable we go." Her wording amused me. I stood by the door, watching Garcia rush around, grabbing files and other various things from around her office. Deciding she didn't have enough arms, Garcia handed me a few things off her pile and started out of the office and down the hallway. I froze for a second but quickly rushed after her. She walked quickly. The clicking of her kitten heels filled the silence of the empty space. It took a bit of effort to keep walking beside her.

The roundtable, as Garcia called it, was on the same level as Agent Hotchners office. It seemed like most of the unit was already there. From a distance I could count 5 heads and could see Agent Jareau stood at the front of the room. Agent Morgan and Agent Prentiss were easy to recognise. Agent Hotchners dark hair caught my eye as he sat closest to where Agent Jareau stood. The 2 remaining people had to be Agent Rossi and Dr Reid. Smile. Make a good impression.

As we entered the room, Garcia greeted the group, recieving a few greetings in return. "Good morning baby girl." So that's what she meant. Noted. I was directed to the seat between Agent Prentiss and Garcia. "Before we get started, this is Agent Lyn Colesta. She is now a member of the team." My head shot up at the sound of my name. "Agent Colesta, this is Agent David Rossi." I smile to the man Agent Hotchner gestured to. "Nice to meet you." He seemed nice enough. I felt like a fangirl but kept it to myself, figuring he was fed up of people telling him they love his books. "And this, is Dr Spencer Reid." My eyes moved to the last person at the table. He was clearly my age, had longish brown hair and wore a cardigan. He intrigued me. Dr Reid gave me a small wave, which I copied.

Agent Jareau started her presentation about the case. I focused all my attention on the manila folder in front of me. This was the start of my dream. Everything was falling into place for me and I couldn't contain my excitement. Profiling wasn't new to me but the BAU, they were legends in the psychology world and getting to work with them was what I wanted to do with my life. Nothing would get in the way of my work now. My sole focus would now be on this job.

[stardustarchivess]

Meet Cosette Nancy Allen

Birthday: June 19th 1945

Age: 14 (as of 1959)

Face claim: Lana Turner

personality: soft spoken and only speaks when needed. very shy and tends to stick with people she knows and avoids big crowds the best she can

family: she lives with her mother, who is a housewife, and her dad who is an army commander. she has two older sisters and one younger sister

childhood: most of her childhood was spent moving from different states where he father was stationed. the longest place she stayed was south carolina. she was born in Austin, Texas and he father was often stationed there

warning: her meeting elvis/her childhood is heavily (heavily.) influenced by priscilla and her life and meeting elvis

aesthetic:

[the-heartlines]

the claiming

cregaemma | dd:dne | 2.1k w.

{cregan x aemma velaryon (jace’s twin oc) for @lambsblood}

Aemma felt the wolf's hot breath filter across her face, his sharp claws digging into her throat harshly and she couldn’t breathe, feeling all his weight, his fur against her feverish skin. His gigantic size seized her frozen with fear and she trembled against him, knowing he would be stronger, quicker, meaner. “You will never be able to leave me, Aemma. Never.” Cregan said low, loud in her head, his voice luring her into a deep dark pool of desire that made her belly lurch, knotting into tense ropes that would only worsen with each passing anxious moment. “Your brother will never take you from me, you belong to me and only me.” He growled possessively, ripe and palpable like the iron scent of the dark scarlet dripping from her neck now, like crimson pulp from a pomegranate. 

[moeitsu]

The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Ch 14 - A Hundred Months ‘Twas Flowery May

Summary: As Kate navigates Arthur’s recovery, she discovers that true strength lies within her trusted companions, finding relief in their unwavering support during the trials of his healing journey.

Ao3  Wattpad Masterlist - All Chapters Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

A/N: ~10.6k words. Sorry this chapter took longer than I anticipated. It's more of a filler than anything, but lots of fluff/comfort nonetheless :') (trying out a new layout!)

Tag List: @photo1030 @ariacherie @thatweirdcatlady @ultraporcelainpig @marygillisapologist 

**please let me know if you would like to be tagged in future chapters!

Story Tags: Widowed, Original Character(s), High-Honor!Arthur Morgan, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Chubby!Arthur Morgan, Canon Divergence, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Eventual Smut, Eventual Sex, Eventual Romance, Emotional Sex, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort,Touch-Starved, Sexual Tension, Friends to Lovers, Child Loss, Infant Death, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Torture, Blood and Violence, Survivor Guilt, Aftermath of Torture, Caretaking, Injury Recovery, Period-Typical Racism, Anxiety, Self-Hatred, Night Terrors, Emotional Constipation, Self-Doubt, Men Crying, Bathing/Washing, Sweet/Hot, Romantic Angst, Romantic Fluff

Nearly three months had slipped by since Kate and Arthur's lives intersected on that fateful day at Emerald Ranch, though to Kate, it felt like an eternity. The days following Arthur's return with her had stretched out endlessly, each moment laden with uncertainty and worry. It seemed as if a hundred months could have passed in that single week alone, as Kate grappled with the ever-present fear that each day could be Arthur's last. Despite the relentless onslaught of challenges and worries, Kate found herself adapting to the rhythm of each new day.

Determined to provide Arthur with the best possible care during his recovery, Kate took to heart the doctor's instructions. She made it her mission to ensure Arthur's comfort, meticulously tending to his wounds and faithfully administering his medication. She gave him the penicillin each day, crushed and mixed with a spoonful of honey. And yet, every day brought its own set of trials, but Kate faced each one with unwavering resolve.

As Arthur battled against the fever that ravaged his body, Kate remained steadfast in her optimism. Though his skin burned hot to the touch and his body trembled with chills, Kate saw the fever not only as a sign of infection but also as a testament to Arthur's fighting spirit. With each passing hour, she held onto the hope that Arthur would prevail in the battle against the illness that threatened to consume him. Only time would reveal the outcome of their struggle—where victory hung in the balance between sickness and survival.

Kate tended to Arthur's needs with resolute care and devotion. She recognized the subtle cues indicating his thirst, gently offering him water-soaked cloths to moisten his parched lips, ensuring he stayed hydrated despite the challenges. When his stomach rebelled, she was quick to react, keeping a bucket nearby and assisting him to sit up, determined to prevent any mishaps like before.

The day following the doctor's departure, Kate took on the task of bathing Arthur herself. Knowing he would be more comfortable in clean skin. With a bucket of warm water and fresh cloths in hand, she ventured into his makeshift room, drawing the canvas flaps closed to provide them with privacy. As she worked, memories flooded her mind—recollections of the night Arthur had confided in her about his body, merely days before he would be tortured. He didn’t have to say it, but she knew he felt ashamed of the way he looked. Though the reasons why were beyond her, his body was perfect in her eyes. 

And yet, on that haunting night when she found him again, she had seen beyond his physical scars. His whole body laid before her, his most vulnerable secrets exposed from the cruel hands of fate. Scars carved so deep she knew they would reach his soul. Kate knew how violating it felt, and she vowed to respect every part of his body with tenderness and acceptance.

Regret weighed heavily on Kate's heart as she took in the sight of him, wishing she had expressed the admiration she felt for him during their intimate encounter. To her, Arthur's form was a testament to his strength, he was a strong man built to withstand the storm. But he was also gentle and soft. It was a canvas of stories waiting to be discovered. His body carried with it the song of his past, and Kate longed to hear it. 

Lost in her thoughts, she entertained fleeting fantasies of exploring his body with affection and adoration. Lips gently brushing over every insecurity. Warm hands wandering over every inch. 

Kate shook her head at the thought, jolting herself back to reality with the pressing tasks at hand. Blushing at her own thoughts, she refocused her attention on caring for Arthur, knowing that there were more immediate concerns demanding her attention. 

Deep down, she cherished the secret longing that stirred within her—a silent promise to honor every aspect of Arthur, body and soul.

Starting with his face, Kate delicately wiped away the layers of sweat and grime, unveiling the sun-kissed skin beneath adorned with a constellation of freckles. As her fingers trailed across his beard, she marveled at its softness, each stroke a tender caress. With gentle, wet fingers, she combed through his hair, untangling knots and brushing away dirt and dried blood, restoring its natural silky luster.

Moving down to his arms and abdomen, she carefully pulled back the sheet to reveal his stomach, noting the dampness of the blanket beneath him from sweat. Making a mental note to replace it, she reached for more cloth. The water, now cold, offered a refreshing contrast against Arthur's fever warm skin. Despite the chill, each touch was infused with tenderness.

Kate hummed a quiet melody, her touch gentle as she traced the cool cloth over Arthur's skin. His face twitched, rousing him from his slumber. Blinking wearily, he uttered her name, his voice a whisper in the dim light.

"I'm right here, honey. Need to sit up?" Kate's voice was soft, friendly. As if they were discussing the simplest of tasks.

Their eyes met, Arthur's still bloodshot but slowly regaining their vibrant blue hue. He shook his head, a silent response to her question.

"Did I wake you?" Kate inquired, her head tilted with concern. Arthur nodded, his weariness evident even in this small gesture. "I'm sorry, hon," Kate offered with a jaded smile.

"S’alright," Arthur breathed, his eyes closing again, reassured by her presence. "Feels good. M'really hot," he mumbled, words heavy with fatigue.

Kate hummed softly, dipping the cloth back into the cold water, letting its refreshing droplets cascade over his overheated skin. Arthur sighed in relief, savoring the cool sensation. "Feels good," he repeated, his voice muffled by exhaustion. "You washin' me?" he asked, words tinged with a hint of vulnerability.

"Yes," Kate replied honestly, her touch tender as she continued her ministrations. "Is that alright?" She was prepared to stop if he was uncomfortable.  

Arthur nodded once more, "S'rotten work, Kate," he murmured, the echoes of past torment still haunting his thoughts. His expression a mixture of gratitude and self-deprecation.

Kate paused, her hand resting on his now-clean cheek, he opened his blue eyes meeting her gaze with unwavering sincerity. "Not to me," she whispered, her words carrying a depth of emotion. "Not if it's you."

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As the days passed, life in the camp gradually resumed its familiar rhythm. Kate, Lenny, and Sadie took turns tending to Arthur, but Kate remained a constant presence by his side, especially during the long, dark hours of night. Only swapping shifts with her trusted companions when she needed to eat or bathe. 

Arthur spent most of his time asleep, rousing only when he needed something. Kate felt immense gratitude for the assistance of Charles and Hosea, especially during the more intimate moments of caregiving. Their help spared Arthur any unnecessary embarrassment, allowing him to retain some semblance of dignity amidst his recovery.

Despite her body's protests, Kate stubbornly refused to leave Arthur's side for a proper rest. Nights were particularly challenging for him, the fever raging through his body like a wildfire, casting his veins in searing, white-hot flames. With just a week's supply of antibiotics remaining, Kate found herself praying fervently for them to be effective, desperately hoping they would be enough to quell the relentless onslaught of infection.

Arthur's evenings were plagued by haunting night terrors and feverish delirium, his mind a battleground of fear and confusion. He would often awaken in a state of panic, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he grappled with the phantoms that tormented his dreams. 

In the quiet of the night, amidst the shadows that danced around them, Kate would find herself stirred awake by the sounds of Arthur's restless slumber. His cries, soft yet troubled, echoed through the stillness of the camp, tugging at her heartstrings like a grim melody. With each silent hiccup, his face contorted in pain, resembling that of a child lost in the throes of a nightmare. It was a sight that weighed heavily upon her, casting a veil of sorrow over her weary soul.

Drawing closer to him, Kate would perch on the edge of his cot, her presence a beacon of relief in the darkness. With tender care, she enveloped his uninjured hand in her own, the warmth of their touch a fragile lifeline amidst the turmoil of his dreams. Her fingers traced soothing patterns through his tousled hair, a gentle caress to ease his troubled mind. In whispered words, she offered him a remedy, weaving a tapestry of reassurance around him like a protective cloak.

In those moments, as she sat vigil beside him, Kate found herself transported back to a distant memory, a bittersweet recollection of her infant daughter Lorena. The late-night awakenings, the cries for comfort that echoed through the still darkness—each moment a testament to the unbreakable bond between a mother and her child. Kate offered him the same unwavering love and protection that had once been bestowed upon her own flesh and blood.

Reflecting on those tender moments of bonding with her newborn daughter, Kate's heart swelled with a mixture of nostalgia and longing. The sleepless nights, the endless feedings, all intertwined with an indescribable sense of purpose and fulfillment. It was a journey marked by both exhaustion and euphoria, a testament to the depths of a mother's love and devotion.

As she gazed upon Arthur's sleeping form, a soft smile graced Kate's lips, her heart swelling with a bittersweet tenderness. The trail of tears that had once stained his cheeks had now dried, replaced by the tranquility of peaceful slumber. With a soft kiss pressed against his forehead, she allowed herself to be enveloped by the comforting embrace of sleep, where memories of her daughter awaited her in the quiet space of her dreams.

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As Arthur’s first week of recovery drew to a close, the camp adjusted to his absence, each member picking up his slack with newfound determination. No longer the camp's handyman, Arthur's absence was palpable, highlighting the countless tasks he once effortlessly juggled. Even before his injury, he never knew a moment's rest, always putting the gang's needs above his own.

The afternoon sun bore down on the camp, its intensity softened by rare clouds that offered brief reprieves from the oppressive heat of a July day in Lemoyne. Despite the welcome shade and gentle breeze, the air remained thick with humidity. In Arthur’s tent, Kate sat perched, using a folded newspaper as a makeshift fan to combat the stifling heat. Exhaustion threatened to overtake her, her eyelids growing heavy as she battled to stay awake, the weight of fatigue pressing against her.

Kate sat upright, shifting uncomfortably on the hard wooden chair, as the sound of John's urgent call echoed through the camp, accompanied by the quick patter of footsteps. "Jack! Get over here!" John's voice rang out, his own footsteps hastening toward the tent.

Suddenly, Jack's eager face appeared at the tent entrance, his eyes alight with excitement. "Uncle Arthur!" he exclaimed with a wide grin, poised to step inside before he was swiftly scooped up by someone outside, his protests muffled by the canvas flaps.

In Jack's place, John's weary face appeared, offering an apologetic smile. "Sorry 'bout that," he said, his arms occupied by the squirming boy. Jack wriggled against his father's hip, clutching a book in his small hands. "Put me down! Why can't I see Uncle Arthur?" he demanded with a hint of frustration.

Kate rose from her seat, bridging the distance between them with a reassuring smile. "It's alright. I can keep an eye on him for a bit, John," she offered warmly, her words soft and comforting.

John hesitated, lowering Jack to the ground. Uncertainty etched in the lines of his face as he glanced at Arthur's slumbering form. "Y’sure? I don't want to..." he trailed off, his grip tightening on Jack's hand, “trouble you.” He silently noted the tiredness in her eyes.

With a gentle smile, Kate reassured him, "It's no trouble at all." She crouched down to Jack's level, her eyes sparkling with kindness. "Did you bring Arthur a book?" she asked with genuine interest.

John sighed ponderously, ruffling Jack's hair affectionately before departing. Kate watched him go, a soft smile playing on her lips as she noticed John's growing presence in Jack's life.

"Papa Hosea taught me a lot of new words. I wanted to show Uncle Arthur," Jack piped up excitedly, his eyes shining with enthusiasm.

Kate's smile widened. "That's a wonderful idea, Jack! Why don't you come sit on my lap, and we can read to him together?" she suggested, voice warm with invitation.

Jack nodded eagerly, allowing Kate to lift him into her arms as she settled back into the familiar wooden chair. His gaze shifted to Arthur, a puzzled expression on his face. "How long is he gonna sleep for, Auntie Kate?" he asked with innocent curiosity. 

"I'm not so sure. He'll sleep as long as he needs to, I suppose," Kate replied honestly, gentle yet tinged with uncertainty.

Jack turned his gaze back to Kate with a worried frown. "Is he gonna sleep forever?" His voice trembled with a hint of fear, his young mind grappling with the concept of mortality.

Kate could sense the weight of Jack's question, knowing that he had been exposed to the harsh realities of life at a tender age. She struggled to find the right words to comfort him, to shield him from the harsh truth that lingered in the air.

"Arthur will wake up when his body is ready, Jack," she reassured him, offering a comforting squeeze. "Right now, he just needs all the rest he can get so he can keep up with you once he's feeling better." She playfully tickled his sides, coaxing a bright giggle from the boy as he squirmed in her lap.

After a moment, Jack's expression softened as he revealed his longing. "I miss him," he admitted softly, voice tinged with sadness.

Kate's heart swelled with empathy as she felt the depth of Jack's affection for his uncle. She fondly remembered Arthur's dedication to the boy. Abigail had told her how he stepped into the role of a father figure during John's absence from the gang. The thought of their bond being severed filled her with a profound sense of sorrow.

"I miss him too, Jack," she whispered softly, pressing a kiss atop the boy's head, her touch warm and comforting like that of a mother's embrace. "But I know Arthur would love to hear those big words you've learned." Her smile radiated reassurance, instilling confidence in the young boy.

Jack beamed back at her, his grin revealing a gap where his tooth had recently fallen out. With newfound enthusiasm, he eagerly opened the book, its size seeming comically large in his tiny hands.

"The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn," he announced proudly, each word spoken with growing confidence.

As Jack read in her lap, Kate marveled at his proficiency, surprised by his advanced reading skills at such a tender age. Since the day she joined the gang, her mind recalled memories of Hosea's patient efforts in teaching Jack, a heartwarming display of mentorship and care that would surely be treasured by the boy for years to come. 

Kate entertained the idea that Hosea must have been the one to teach Arthur to read. She pondered this as her gaze drifted to Arthur's journal, a testament to his inner thoughts and reflections. Despite his reserved nature, Arthur was diligent in recording his thoughts, a habit that intrigued Kate endlessly. What tales did he document within those pages? Did he share his dreams or pour out his frustrations? And amidst it all, did he ever write about her? The questions swirled in her mind, a curious blend of wonder and anticipation.

Although Arthur's journal sat tantalizingly close on his bedside table, Kate resisted the urge to pry into his private musings. Instead, she harbored a hope that one day he would willingly share his thoughts with her, trusting her enough to confide in her the words he committed to paper.

Jack nestled comfortably in Kate's lap, his small frame relaxed against her chest, his feet swaying gently. The rhythm of his soft voice, intertwined with the gentle cadence of his breaths, lulled Kate into a serene half-slumber, the cares of the world momentarily forgotten.

Minutes later, her peaceful reverie was shattered by Jack's urgent grip on her arm, Kate jolted awake, her eyes snapping open in alarm. Startled, she sat up abruptly, her heart racing as she followed Jack's pointed finger to Arthur's cot. 

Kate's gaze shifted to Arthur, his discomfort palpable as he shifted restlessly, his brow glistening with sweat, signaling the onset of nausea. With a weary sigh, Kate sprang into action, moving him from her lap. She swiftly lifted Arthur's body while shielding Jack from the distressing scene unfolding before them. With practiced efficiency, she reached for the bucket, ready to offer relief to her ailing friend.

As Arthur lay back on his cot, Kate's gaze shifted to Jack, her heart twisting at the sight before her. Jack stood by the entrance, his book clutched tightly to his chest, his lips pursed and cheeks stained with tears. His big, sad brown eyes met hers, his voice barely a whisper as he choked out his question, "Is... is he going to die?" The words hung heavy in the air, trembling on his tongue.

"Oh, Jack," Kate murmured softly, lowering herself to her knees to meet his gaze at eye level. "Arthur's fighting with all his might. He just needs some time, sweetheart," she reassured him, reaching out to grasp his small hand in hers, her touch warm and steady, enveloping him in comfort. "And a whole lot of love," she added, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

Jack nodded somberly, wiping away his tears with a sniffle before darting off without another word. As the tent flaps billowed in his wake, Kate sighed, understanding his fear but determined not to let him dwell too deeply on Arthur's condition.

Kate eased back into her chair, a low groan escaping her lips as she massaged the soreness from her back, her fingers kneading the tension from her shoulders as she rolled her neck. Suddenly, a groggy voice broke the silence, startling her from her trance. "Did I scare the kid?"

Arthur's tired pink eyes met hers, a hint of blue returning with each passing day. Kate offered him a solemn smile. "He'll be alright. You need somethin’?" she asked gently, weariness lacing her words.

Arthur let out a deep sigh, his good hand dragging down his face in a gesture of fatigue. "I feel like I'm losing my mind, Kate," he confessed, his voice raw with honesty. "I don't feel like I'm in control."

Kate's expression softened with understanding as she realized he was speaking about his night terrors. Tainting his once quiet evenings with haunting shadows. "It's just the fever, Arthur. The dreams will fade with time," she reassured him, placing a comforting hand on his arm.

Arthur glanced up at her, his eyes tinged with sadness, and she sensed the weight of his torment mirrored in his gaze. "Seems all I’m good for is makin’ people suffer, and it’s finally caught up to me."

“I don’t think that’s the case Arthur,” she added soothingly, leaning closer to him. “You’re suffering is not a punishment, it’s a second chance.” Her thumb traced gentle patterns against his warm skin. Lulling him back into a blissful slumber. Her sweet words like a sugar cube, disappearing into the heat of a dark cup of tea. 

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As the sun dipped below the horizon, the evening air took on a refreshing chill, carrying the aroma of Pearson’s savory beef stew. Kate’s stomach, stirred by the tantalizing scent, demanded attention, and she finally complied, settling into her chair beside Arthur’s slumbering figure with a steaming bowl cradled in her lap. With each spoonful, the warmth of the hearty stew spread through her body, offering relief amidst the trials of the day.

With dusk settling in, Kate made the decision to open the tent flaps of Arthur’s makeshift shelter, inviting in the cool embrace of the summer night. The once stuffy confines now filled with a gentle breeze, carrying with it the symphony of the wilderness awakening with the ascent of the moon. The chorus of crickets, the rhythmic chirping of cicadas, the haunting calls of owls, and the resonant croaks of bullfrogs formed a comforting backdrop to the solitude of the evening.

Amidst the serene ambiance, Kate discerned the approach of two sets of footsteps, drawing closer to Arthur’s tent with purposeful intent.

"Hey Kate," Bill's familiar, slurred voice cut through the evening calm, accompanied by the shuffling footsteps of Micah behind him. Kate let out a weary sigh, her hopes of enjoying a peaceful meal dashed by their unwelcome intrusion.

"Seems Arthur’s gone and turned himself into a real crybaby," Bill jeered with a drunken swagger, casting a mocking glance at Micah. "Think when she’s done playin’ nursemaid, she’ll wipe my ass if I get shot?" His words dripped with alcohol-infused arrogance, punctuated by a bitter laugh that grated on Kate's nerves.

Kate leaned back in her chair with casual indifference, reaching an idle hand for her pistol that rested on Arthur’s table, “you wanna find out?” She retorted, her voice cool and composed, tinged with a hint of warning.

Micah chuckled at her bold response, while Bill's face flushed with embarrassment, his drunken bravado deflated. "Relax, princess," he muttered gruffly, “was just pokin’ fun.” He retreated back to his seat by the campfire. Micah lingered near the tent, his hands resting casually on his gun belt.

Kate stifled a deep yawn, rubbing her face wearily. Feeling the weight of exhaustion pressing down on her like a heavy blanket. Each movement was a struggle against the fatigue that threatened to overwhelm her. Micah's chuckle grated on her nerves as he closed the distance, casually leaning against the makeshift table that served as one of the walls of Arthur’s tent. He lingered like a pesky mosquito, buzzing around her head. 

"Poor little cowpoke is tired," he remarked with feigned amusement.

Rolling her eyes, Kate brushed off his comment with a sharp retort, "Spare me, Micah. I’m not in the mood for this."

Micah raised his hands in a mock surrender, his smirk still evident. "Just making an observation," he quipped. "Why don’t I take over for a bit? Me and Arthur got some catching up to do anyway."

Kate's response was swift and sharp, her tone laced with defiance, "Over my dead body."

Micah sighed, a moment of uncomfortable silence passed between them as he eyed her with suspicion. "How were you able to find him, anyway?" he asked, curiosity and skepticism coloring his words.

Kate's patience wore thin, her fatigue adding to her irritation. "Dumb luck," she snapped curtly.

Micah huffed, his disdain evident in the tilt of his head. “Sure don’t seem like he got too lucky.”

Kate's gaze turned steely, her eyes flashing with spite. "If only someone had spoken up sooner when he didn't show up after the parley."

Micah shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t call the shots ‘round here, sweetheart,” he replied dismissively, showing no hint of remorse for Arthur’s condition.

“Oh, really?” Kate shifted in her chair, facing Micah directly. “Because it seems to me Dutch has quite the worm in his ear.”

Micah's grin was wolfish, his amusement unsettling. “Care to explain that?” he challenged.

“I don’t buy into your games, Micah,” Kate spat, dripping with contempt. “And Arthur doesn’t either,” she added, gesturing toward the sleeping figure beside them.

Leaning in, Micah loomed over her, his presence imposing. “There’s no game, Kate. Arthur is nothing more than an old dog at Dutch’s heel, just begging for scraps,” he growled. “He’ll do whatever that man asks him to do. You’ll see that soon enough.” With a final tip of his hat, he vanished into the darkness without another word, leaving Kate alone with her thoughts and the quiet of the night.

Kate sighed, feeling burnt out as the weight of exhaustion settled on her shoulders while she observed Arthur's slumbering figure. "Quite the friends you got here," she murmured to him, words tinged with weariness. Yet, her moment of respite was short-lived as the sound of approaching footsteps reached her ears once more. With a groan, she buried her face in her hands, bracing herself for whatever interruption was to come.

Turning her gaze towards the source of the noise, Kate spotted Jack hurrying towards the tent, dragging something bulky and hollow-sounding behind him. Javier trailed close behind, calling after the energetic boy. "Más despacio, hermano!" he urged, his voice filled with a mix of amusement and exasperation.

Furrowing her brow, Kate strained to make out what Jack was hauling in the fading light of dusk. As he reached the entrance, panting heavily, it became clear—he was bringing her Javier's guitar. "Auntie Kate!" Jack called out eagerly, his small frame vibrating with urgency. Kate's heart softened at the sight, touched by the earnestness in the boy's actions. "You have to sing to Uncle Arthur!" he insisted, presenting the heavy wooden instrument to her with small mighty hands gripping its neck.

Kate's chuckle resonated softly in the tent as she cradled the guitar in her lap, its weight a comforting presence against her. Her gaze lifted to Javier, who had followed Jack inside. "Sorry for his antics," she murmured. Apologizing on Jack’s behalf for his uncanny thieving. Her tone tinged with a hint of amusement, "do you mind if I borrow this for a while?"

Javier brushed off her apology with a warm smile, his demeanor relaxed and jovial. "Little hombre insists your voice is the best medicine," he remarked. “How could I argue with that?” A fondness was evident in his tone. Stepping closer, he regarded Kate with a hint of concern, his brows knitting together in a silent question.

Kate's surprise flickered briefly across her features as Javier's hand gently guided her chin upwards. His touch was tender, filled with a quiet concern that spoke volumes. "Ay, cariño," he murmured softly. "Have you been getting any rest?" His eyes searched hers, Kate’s dark circles and tired hollowness not escaping his notice.

A reflexive instinct prompted Kate to pull away slightly, a feeble attempt to shield her exhaustion from Javier's perceptive gaze. "M’fine," she replied, her voice carrying a weary resolve. "Just a little tired, s’nothing I can't handle." Her reassurance was touched with the gravity of her fatigue.

Javier's worried expression softened into one of understanding, a silent acknowledgment of the burdens she bore. With a nod of farewell and a gentle squeeze of her shoulder, he left Kate with her little companion.

Jack had nestled himself into Arthur’s cot, finding security in the space beneath his uncle's uninjured arm. Curled up like a beloved house cat, he nestled snugly against Arthur's side, seeking comfort in his embrace.

Kate's heart swelled at the sight, her lips curving into a tender smile. Jack's innocent affection for his uncle made her feel like she could endure every sleepless night if it meant they would be reunited again.

As she adjusted the guitar strings to her liking, Kate's voice softened to a gentle murmur. "Jack, sweetheart," she began, warm with affection, "where did you get the idea to sing to Arthur?"

A warm virtue radiated from Jack's heartfelt gaze. “Mama told me Uncle Arthur was having nightmares,” he said honestly, “you have to sing him a lullaby so he knows he’s safe.” His wide eyes reflected honey-brown in the low lamp light. Radiating a genuine sincerity. Kate adored how big his young heart was, and she prayed he would retain that kindness long into his adult years.

Her mind wandered to a cherished memory—the night Arthur had kissed her. The warmth of his touch, the tenderness in his eyes. Kate was lost in her emotions as she sang Jack to sleep, and Arthur’s presence was like warm sunshine after rain. Shrouding her in comfort and protection amidst the storming clouds of her loss. She began to notice that Arthur always brought out a tender side in her, one she had long thought vanished with the woes of her past. 

A soft chuckle escaped Kate's lips at Jack's earnestness, her affection for him overflowing. "Arthur is lucky to have you, Jack," she murmured, her voice filled with admiration.

With a quiet hum, Kate's fingers began to dance across the guitar strings, weaving a melody that echoed through the tranquil night air. Each note resonated with the quiet beauty of their makeshift home in Clemens Point, a sanctuary amidst the chaos of their nomadic existence. As she sang, the words flowed effortlessly from her lips, a heartfelt lullaby born from the depths of her soul.

I don't know what steps to take, I do the easy ones until it helps.

Little acts of conversation, I don’t think I really like myself. 

Am I comfortable in this silence, or is it eating me alive? 

Nothin’s ever really quiet when you need distraction to survive. 

It’s part of me, wouldn’t you believe it’s nothing? 

I’m already going under, nothing I can do but sit and wait. 

Are you really having fun, or do you like becoming what you hate?

Am I comfortable in this silence, or am I waiting till it ends?

You were just too stubborn to pretend. 

It’s all you need, to keep the rain from coming. 

I’m good at letting you go, I’m good at letting it get to me. 

I’m good at letting you go. No, you were never the enemy. 

Kate's fingers danced over the guitar strings, the soft melody lingering in the air even after she had stopped playing. Her eyes were fixed on the tender sight before her: Arthur and Jack, their bond unbreakable in the way Arthur's arm had moved to enveloped the small boy, a gesture of pure love and affection. Defying the trials of his torment. 

A heavy sorrow settled over Kate, like a thick fog descending upon her weary soul. The burden of her exhaustion pressed down on her being. Her eyes felt raw and heavy, strained by the lack of rest. It was a relentless force that threatened to overwhelm her at any moment. In the quiet of the tent, emotions swirled within her, a tempest of longing and love that stirred her heart. She fought the urge to surrender her resolve. 

Kate watched Arthur and Jack, a lump forming in her throat as she struggled to contain the torrent of emotions threatening to spill forth. It wasn't just concern for Arthur's well-being that kept her rooted to his side, but a deep-seated devotion that bound her to him in ways she couldn't fully comprehend.

As she looked upon Arthur's sleeping form, a pang of fear gripped her heart. The shadows of her past loomed large in her mind, casting a dark shadow over her hopes for the future. Like some divine conspiracy was once again taking a man of her heart from her grasp. But she had vowed to do better, to not let Arthur meet the same fate. 

Though exhaustion threatened to drag her into the depths of sleep, Kate remained vigilant, her eyes fixed on Arthur's face, her heart remaining unshaken to see him through the storm.

As her emotions threatened to spill from her tired eyes, she sighed and put the guitar down. In a moment of spontaneity, she reached for Arthur’s journal. Flipping to a blank page, she grasped his worn dull pencil and spewed her plaguing thoughts onto its pages: 

Dearest Arthur, 

As I write these words by the light of the moon Jack has curled up by your side, sleeping peacefully. He insisted that I must sing to you, to chase away those bad men that haunt your dreams. How could I refuse? His heart is as vast as the sky above, and he holds you in the highest regard. Oh Arthur, one of life’s greatest tragedies, is that you will always be loved more than you’ll ever know. 

In these quiet moments, I’ve had a lot of time to reflect on my life. I've come to understand the depth of my feelings for you. They have come on gradually from the day we first met and I have been ever so sweet on you since. 

Arthur, there are no words sufficient to convey what you mean to me. And yet, some part of me fears that you will never hear these words from my lips, so I commit them to these pages in the hopes that they'll reach you when you return to this journal.

I yearn to live an honest life, and never be cruel. A quiet life, where I can be good to you. A life filled with family and friends, where we soar like birds in the endless sky. But I fear we may never change, that we may never learn from our past. 

In my fleeting moments of slumber, I dream of a wooden house. Filled with our laughter and love. Where we can sit upon a porch swing, admiring the sunset. As we whisper to each other and say, “it was hard, but we made it.”

As challenging as it has been, to sit by your side in these dark times. My heart aches to see you back in the saddle, riding free across the open plains. To witness once again the spark in your eyes and the warmth of your smile, the very essence of the man I hold so dear.

You are a beautiful soul, Arthur Morgan, and I am blessed beyond measure to have crossed your path. If you'll have me, I will give you the beautiful life you deserve.

With all my love, Kate 

p.s. On my honor, your words contained within have not graced my eyes. They belong to you, and to you alone.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

With a weary sigh, Kate closed the heavy leather journal, the weight of its contents lingering in her thoughts. As she rose from her seat, she stretched her arms wide, her tired muscles protesting the day's strain. "C'mere, little love bug," she whispered softly, lifting Jack's sleeping form and cradling him in her arms.

Like a mouse with gentle steps, she navigated through the camp, the darkness enveloping her like a comforting shroud. Intending to settle Jack into his own bed. She returned to Arthur's tent, only to find Hosea occupying her usual spot.

"Evening, Hosea," Kate greeted, her voice soft with fatigue, though her smile held a flicker of warmth.

Hosea nodded in response, his gaze distant, lost in the recesses of his thoughts. "A fine evening it is," he murmured quietly, his tone tinged with a hint of melancholy.

Leaning against the post of Arthur's tent, Kate studied Hosea's weary demeanor, a pang of concern tugging at her heart. "Something troubling you?" she inquired, her voice laced with genuine curiosity despite her exhaustion.

“I can't shake this feeling that I should have done things differently,” Hosea confessed, his voice tinged with regret. “I raised him to be the way that he is. I’ve come to realize that my teachings were a death sentence.”

Kate took a moment to absorb Hosea's words before responding. “Hosea,” she began softly, “you've been a father to Arthur in ways that go beyond his actions. You gave him guidance when he needed it, and stood by his side. You gave him a home and the tools to navigate an unforgiving world.”

Hosea let out a rueful chuckle, tinged with bitterness. “Taught him how to kill and steal, and look where that got him.” He gestured to Arthur’s sleeping form. 

“Arthur was taken by Colm,” Kate gently reminded him, “protecting what he holds dear. Because he was taught to fight for his family.”

With a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of years, Hosea leaned back into the chair, his eyes fixed on his son's still form. The lines etched on his weathered face told stories of countless battles fought, both on the frontier and within himself. After a moment of silence that hung heavy in the air, he spoke up again, his voice tinged with a vulnerability that seldom surfaced.

“Do you mind if I stay with him tonight?” His request was simple, yet carried a profound sincerity that resonated with Kate.

She smiled softly, a tender expression that spoke volumes of her trust and respect for the older man. She would have hesitated to leave Arthur with anyone else, but she knew he was in loving hands with Hosea by his side. With a nod of understanding, she gathered her belongings, preparing to take her leave. But before she could step away, Hosea called out to her once more.

“By the way,” his voice carried across the dimly lit tent, “Abigail is looking for you. I believe she’s over by the chuck wagon.”

As she stepped out into the cool night air, the stars above seemed to twinkle with secrets, whispering tales of uncertainty. What could Abigail possibly need her for at this hour? Perhaps she doesn’t want Jack to be around Arthur too much, or maybe she wants Jack to visit him more to give herself a break. With each step Kate felt the world bearing down on her shoulders, her muscles aching with the weight of her own body. As much as she loved the little filly, she was growing increasingly more drained with each encounter. Kate's heart ached with the weight of her responsibilities, the constant juggling act of tending to Arthur's needs while fulfilling the demands of their community.

As she neared the back of the chuck wagon, the soft murmur of familiar voices reached her ears, weaving a tapestry of comfort and familiarity. With a mixture of trepidation and curiosity, she rounded the corner, her eyes alighting on the gathered group before her.

"What's all this?" Kate exclaimed breathlessly, her eyes widening in astonishment. There, amidst the soft glow of lanterns and the gentle summer breeze, stood Abigail, flanked by Sadie, Mary-Beth, Tilly, and even Karen, gathered together in a tight-knit circle. They had fashioned a cozy enclave behind the bustling chuck wagon, cocooned by canvas blankets that offered a sense of sanctuary from the outside world. The space was dimly lit by flickering candles and oil lamps, casting warm shadows that danced across the makeshift walls.

In the center of the little haven sat a large wooden wash barrel, steam rising from its depths like wisps of magic. Nearby, a small table was adorned with a bounty of provisions: fresh fruit, savory meats, and an assortment of cheeses, a feast fit for royalty.

Overwhelmed by the gesture, Kate felt her eyes welling with tears, her heart swelling with gratitude. "I... I don’t—" she stammered, unable to find the words to express her emotions.

Abigail approached her with a gentle smile, her eyes shimmering with warmth and compassion. Taking Kate's trembling hands in hers, she guided her into the cozy sanctuary. "You've been working so hard, Kate," she murmured softly, her voice like a soothing lullaby. "We thought you deserved a proper rest."

As Kate stepped inside, she was enveloped in a hug by Mary-Beth, who stood by her side with a reassuring presence. "We turned the storage wagon into a room for you," Mary-Beth whispered, her voice filled with tenderness. "You can use it for as long as you need."

With a heartfelt smile, Kate allowed herself to be led into the haven of peace and comfort. The weight of the week’s burdens seemed to lift from her shoulders as she stepped into the warm embrace of the steaming bath. Had it not been for the supportive presence of the girls, she feared she might have collapsed to her knees from the overwhelming gesture of kindness.

With tender care, they helped her undress, their movements gentle yet purposeful. They said nothing about her scars, silently embracing every aspect of her being with no questions asked. 

Mary-Beth meticulously washed away the grime of the day from her arms and body, while Tilly worked her nimble fingers through the tangled knots of her hair. Karen, ever the nurturing soul, offered her bits of succulent fruit and creamy cheese, providing nourishment for both body and soul. Meanwhile, Sadie tended to the bath, ensuring that the water remained at the perfect temperature, adding more as it threatened to spill over the sides. Eventually bringing her a fresh clean pair of clothing to change into.

By her side, Abigail sat with a comforting presence, her skilled hands kneading away the tension from Kate's shoulders and palms. The warmth of their collective care enveloped Kate, soothing her weary soul in ways she had never imagined.

As she surrendered to the comforting embrace of the bath and the love of her companions, Kate felt a swell of emotion rising within her. Overwhelmed by a mixture of love and exhaustion, she could no longer contain the flood of tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. Hot droplets mingled with the bathwater, forming a poignant symphony of release. Her sniffling hiccups echoing into the night.

They held her close, offering silent comfort and understanding as she allowed herself to be vulnerable in their presence. Their actions showed no judgment for the state she was in. 

Abigail tenderly tucked Kate's head against her chest, her fingers tracing soothing circles on her cheek as if she were comforting a crying child. "It's okay, Kate. We're all here for you," she whispered softly, the warmth of her embrace a comforting balm to her shattered spirit.

Kate sniffled, her voice quivering with emotion as she struggled to articulate her overwhelming grief. "Christ," she choked out between sobs, "I've barely graced his life. I just–I can't–I thought I had more time with him." Her heartache was palpable, the ache of longing for the man she had grown to cherish threatening to consume her.

Karen's voice broke through the heavy tension, her words carrying a mixture of tenderness and determination. "Arthur won't go down without a fight, sweetpea," she reassured Kate, "but you need to look out for yourself too."

From behind her, Tilly's gentle voice joined the chorus of support, her hands working magic as she massaged Kate's scalp with a tender touch. "You can't take on all these burdens by yourself, Kate," she urged softly.

Abigail echoed their sentiments, her voice filled with unwavering solidarity. "Anything you need, you've got us girls. Just say the word, and we'll be there," she promised.

As Kate nodded in silent acknowledgment, a kaleidoscope of emotions swirled within her soul, painting the canvas of her heart with hues of gratitude and awe. In that moment, she realized she was not just an individual navigating the tumultuous seas of life, but a cherished member of a sisterhood, bound together by threads of resilience and unwavering love. 

Each tear that traced its path down her cheek was a testament to the profound impact these women had made on her life, transforming her solitary journey into a tapestry of shared experiences and dreams. With them, she found solace in the embrace of kindred spirits, a sanctuary where her fears were met with understanding and her joys amplified by celebration. They were the pillars of strength that held her aloft, the guiding stars that illuminated her path through the darkest of nights. And in their warm embrace, Kate discovered a sense of belonging, a home within the hearts of her newfound sisters, where she was cherished, accepted, and loved.

Kate had found family once again, and they had become her fortress. 

As Kate whispered amidst the tide of tears, her voice trembled like the flickering candlelight around them. Each word carried the weight of a soul laid bare, grappling with emotions too vast to contain. "Thank you," she confessed softly, her words barely audible above the rustle of water and fabric, "I don't know how to say it. Arthur he– I just... I..." Her voice trailed off into the night, lost in the labyrinth of her thoughts as exhaustion cloaked her in its tender embrace. With each passing moment, she felt herself surrendering to the warmth of their love and care, a sanctuary amidst the chaos of her mind.

Mary-Beth's voice, filled with gentle understanding, saw the depth of her heart. "You love him, Kate," she murmured, her words laden with shared experiences and whispered confidences. Kate's nod was accompanied by a choked sob, her cheeks flushed with the heat of her emotions. Once more, the girls gathered around her, their arms forming a protective cocoon against the harsh realities of their existence. 

"But what kind of woman loves a man she barely knows? I may never know if he even feels the same," Kate lamented, tinged with doubt and longing.

In that moment, the air seemed to shimmer with unspoken truths as the girls exchanged knowing glances. They had witnessed the subtle nuances of Arthur's heart, the tender gestures and lingering gazes that spoke volumes of his affection for Kate. Though shrouded in the shadows of their unfavorable situation, his feelings were as undeniable as the stars that adorned the night sky. All he needed was time, and perhaps a gentle nudge, to unveil the depths of his love for the woman who had captured his heart.

Tilly's soft giggle cut through the heavy air, a beacon of light in the midst of Kate's swirling doubts. "You and Arthur, my oh my. You two are like a match made in heaven," she chimed, her voice dancing with warmth. Drawn from her reverie, she could hear the smile in Tilly's words.

"Really?" Kate's voice trembled with uncertainty, her heart hanging on the edge of Tilly's response. The other girls exchanged cheeky grins, their eyes sparkling with mischief as if they were engaged in the usual camp gossip that takes place during their shared chores.

"If I were none the wiser I’d say your souls were meant to find each other," Karen interjected, her fingers delicately plucking a piece of fruit from the tray Kate had abandoned. 

Abigail, ever the beacon of reassurance, enveloped Kate's shoulders in a comforting embrace. "Love waits for no one, Kate. It has no rhyme or reason, it comes when it comes," she whispered.

As Kate nodded, her vision blurred by tears she couldn't contain, Sadie's strong hands enveloped hers with a tenderness that belied her fierce exterior. Kneeling before her with unwavering sincerity, Sadie met Kate's gaze with an unspoken understanding born of shared loss and unwavering resilience.

"I understand what it's like to lose a husband, Kate," she began softly, her words drawing from the depths of sorrow. "That fear of losing someone you love, it can weigh heavy on your heart for a long time." A silent understanding passing between them. "But you can't let that fear chain you down," she continued, her tone urging Kate to consider her own well-being. "You've got to rise above the waves, put yourself first to stay afloat. Or else you’ll drown in that fear."

As Kate felt the weight of Sadie's words sink in, she was overcome with a sense of gratitude for the support surrounding her. Abigail stepped forward, eyes brimming with admiration. "You're the strongest woman we know, Kate," she said with a warm smile. "But even the strongest need time to rest."

With gentle hands and loving care, the girls helped Kate dress in fresh clothes, their actions speaking volumes. As she settled into the cozy embrace of the transformed wagon, now a sanctuary of comfort, Kate felt a wave of tranquility wash over her.

With a whispered "thank you" to her companions, Kate allowed herself to surrender to the embrace of sleep. In the warmth of their support and the quiet comfort of the unlikely bedroom, she found peace, knowing that she was not alone in her journey. And as she drifted into slumber, she silently hoped that Arthur also felt the love and support of his makeshift family. 

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Kate slept through two moons, rising with the dawn of the third day. She felt like a new woman, rejuvenated and ready to tackle the challenges ahead. The girl's kind gesture had filled her with an undeniable surge of gratitude and strength. She knew Arthur was in good hands, and together, they would see him through his recovery.

Rising from her cozy makeshift bedroom in the back of the storage wagon, Kate stretched her limbs with a satisfied groan, feeling every muscle come alive. She stepped out into the fresh morning air, the camp bustling with the start of a new day. The sun cast a golden hue over Clemens Point, and the familiar sounds of morning chatter and clinking pots filled the air.

Making her way to the chuck wagon, she was greeted warmly by Mr. Pearson, who looked up from his preparations and smiled. "Well, look who's finally up and about! You look refreshed, Kate. Like your usual self."

Kate returned the smile, her heart lightened by his words. "Thanks, Pearson. I feel much better."

Pearson wiped his hands on a rag and approached her. "I was thinking of heading into Rhodes later to get some ingredients for a soup. It would be easier on Arthur’s stomach and help him keep down food so he can recover his strength."

Kate nodded appreciatively, touched by his thoughtfulness. "That's a great idea. Thank you. It's good to know everyone cares about his well-being."

As she savored a hearty breakfast, Kate realized it wasn't just the girls who were looking out for Arthur. The entire camp shared the burden of his recovery. Pearson's gesture struck a chord in her, reminding her of the importance of community and the support that surrounded them.

With newfound energy, she decided to make some house calls to the other members, expressing her gratitude and checking in on their needs. She was determined to give back to those who had shown her such kindness.

While the women normally took care of the chores, Kate knew the rest of the gang had stepped up in Arthur’s absence. She finished her meal with a sense of purpose, ready to contribute in any way she could. Rising from her seat at the table, she made her way to greet her mare, Lorena. She had been neglecting her faithful companion, only tending to her in fleeting moments when she could steal away from her duties.

As she neared the hitching station, a tender sight met her eyes. Lorena’s familiar black coat lay next to another horse, Belle, whose brilliant white contrasted sharply with Lorena's midnight sheen. The two horses were comfortably sprawled in the grass together, nuzzling their heads in a display of equine affection. The scene warmed Kate’s heart, momentarily lifting the weight of her worries.

Approaching them, she was suddenly interrupted by a wavering voice calling from beyond the treeline. "I-I wouldn’t get too close to them!" A moment later, Kieran stepped into view, visibly relaxing when he saw her. "Oh, it’s just you."

Kate smiled warmly, appreciating the sight of the skittish young man. "Morning, Kieran," she greeted. Raising a curious eyebrow, she asked, "Is something the matter with them?" referring to his earlier warning.

"N-no! Nothin’s wrong," Kieran stammered, scratching his neck nervously. "It’s just, um—your mare, Lorena. She don’t really like when anyone gets too close to Belle," he explained, his voice trailing off. "She’s become real protective of her since, um, you know." Kieran looked away, a guilty expression crossing his face.

Kate’s eyes softened as she regarded the two horses. Lorena’s protectiveness over Belle mirrored her own feelings toward Arthur.

Kate recalled how Kieran had come to join the gang, once a reluctant member of Colm’s crew. His past affiliation with the O'Driscolls had initially cast a shadow of doubt over him, but over time, he had proved himself loyal and trustworthy. Nodding in understanding, she approached the horses cautiously. Lorena, recognizing her rider, whinnied in excitement, while Belle's ears perked up with curiosity.

“I’ve missed you girls,” Kate cooed, bending down to scratch their snouts affectionately. As she ran her hands over Belle, she noticed the horse's wounds had been carefully stitched and tended to. “You did this?” she asked, turning to look at Kieran, who stood awkwardly nearby.

He nodded, shuffling his feet. “I did the best I could. She’s still a little skittish about getting the saddle on, but she should recover fine.”

Kate beamed at him, her heart swelling with gratitude. Arthur would be immensely thankful for Kieran’s care, she was sure of it. “Thank you, Kieran. Really, you’ve been a huge help. I don’t know how I can repay your kindness.”

Kieran shrugged modestly, brushing off her gratitude as a faint blush colored his cheeks. “No need for that, Kate. Just glad I could do something useful.”

“I’m serious, I would be lost without my girl. Arthur too. I’m really grateful for your help.” Kate urged. 

A wide smile tugged at Kieran's lips as he looked down bashfully. "Oh, s’nothing. I just really love horses. I’d do it for any of ’em," he said, gesturing to where the other horses were idly grazing.

Feeling a new sense of confidence, he joined Kate on the grass, running his hand along Lorena’s strong neck. "You know, I tried singing to her."

Kate chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? How’d that go?" she asked, her grin cheeky.

Kieran raised his brows in amusement. "Oh, she loved it so much she nearly bit my ear off!" He laughed, the sound rich and genuine. Kate couldn't help but join him, their laughter mingling with the gentle rustle of the trees.

As their laughter subsided, Kate found herself reflecting on Kieran's presence in the camp. She had never had much of an opportunity to get to know him, but she was finding him to be quite pleasant. A pang of guilt struck her heart as she recalled how some of the other members, especially the guys, had treated him with suspicion and disdain.

"I took the hint after that," Kieran added, shaking his head with a chuckle.

Kate's smile softened. "Well, sounds like you've done a great job with them, Kieran. They look happy and healthy. Arthur’s gonna be real happy  when he sees how well you’ve taken care of Belle."

Kieran's eyes lit up at her praise. "Thanks, Kate. That means a lot. I just want to be useful, y’know?"

Kate nodded, understanding all too well the desire to prove oneself. "You are useful, Kieran. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. We all have our roles to play, and you’ve found yours."

A moment of comfortable silence passed between them as they groomed the horses. The simple act of brushing the horses' coats brought a sense of normalcy and peace to Kate's heart. The rhythmic motions, the gentle rustling of the leaves, and the occasional snort from Lorena and Belle created a tranquil atmosphere.

Kieran suddenly faced her with a hesitant expression. “Kate, I-I’m sorry for what happened to Arthur,” he squeaked, his voice shaky despite his earnest apology.

Kate’s expression softened as she looked at him. “S’not your fault, Kieran. You got nothing to apologize for.”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know, s’just… Colm, he’s a nasty man. Scares the piss outta me for sure. I’m terrified he’s gonna find me one day, and Arthur he’s—” Kieran hesitated, searching for the right words. “He’s lucky to be alive. I’m honestly shocked Colm let him live.”

The gravity of his words sank into Kate, a cold shiver running down her spine. She had never met Colm, but after what he did to Arthur, their feud had become personal to her as well. They had tried to take someone from her, and she had vowed long ago to never let anyone make her feel so powerless again.

“I’m sure Colm will get what's coming to him,” she said gravely, her gaze distant and hard.

Kieran scoffed, shaking his head. “That man is like a cockroach. Every time you think he’s dead, he ain’t. And somehow he always comes back with more men. And he will come back.”

A heavy silence enveloped them, broken only by the soft rustle of leaves and the breathy whine of the horses. Kieran kept his focus trained on the horses, his hands moving methodically through their manes. After a moment, he spoke again, his tone serious and low. “Colm don’t care what Arthur means to you, Kate. If you were wise, you’d keep your head down and out of the crossfire. 'Cause he’ll kill you too and won’t think twice about it.”

Kate swallowed hard, the weight of his warning pressing on her. She understood the danger, but the thought of hiding away while others fought for their lives felt unbearable. Micah’s words hung heavy in her heart ‘Arthur will do whatever Dutch asks of him’. As much as she despised the greasy blue-eyed snake, she couldn’t help but feel his words held some truth. She glanced at Kieran, his face etched with genuine concern, and gave a resolute nod.

“I hear you, Kieran,” she said softly.

Kate bid Kieran farewell with a gentle smile and a grateful nod. She watched him for a moment as he continued to tend to the horses, his quiet dedication a testament to his loyalty. With a sigh, she turned and made her way across the camp towards Dutch’s tent. Each step felt heavy, laden with the weight of the confrontation she knew was coming.

Dutch's tent stood at the heart of the camp, its presence grand and imposing. As she approached, she felt a mixture of determination and apprehension. Dutch had always been a commanding figure, his charisma and vision drawing people to him like moths to a flame. But beneath his charm, Kate sensed a deep responsibility that he sometimes seemed to neglect. She felt that Dutch bore some responsibility for Arthur’s condition, and he had not even so much as glanced in his direction nor asked about his recovery. It made Kate’s blood boil, the facade of brotherhood and family that he so often preached about. But was never a man of his words. 

She stopped outside the entrance, taking a deep breath to steady herself. The flap of the tent was slightly ajar, and she could hear Dutch inside, muttering to himself as he pored over maps and plans. Steeling her nerves, Kate stepped inside. Slightly surprised to see he was sitting alone, Molly must be occupied elsewhere.

“Dutch,” she called softly, her voice firm but respectful. 

Dutch looked up, surprise flickering across his features before he masked it with a charming smile. “Kate, my dear. What brings you here?”

She met his gaze steadily, refusing to be swayed by his easy charm. “I need to talk to you about Arthur.” As frustrated as she was, she dared not to challenge his command.

Dutch’s expression shifted slightly, the charm dimming as he registered the seriousness in her voice. “Arthur? Worry not. I’ve already got a plan to get back at Colm. We’ll show the O’Driscoll’s who’s in charge ‘round here.”

Kate shook her head, frustration bubbling beneath her calm exterior. “You know that’s not what I mean Dutch. He needs to see you, now.” Her words came out with a sharp bite. 

Dutch leaned back in his chair, a hint of irritation creeping into his voice. “Kate, you have to understand. Everything I do, I do for the gang. Arthur knows that. He understands the bigger picture.”

Her patience waning, Kate took a step closer, her eyes flashing with determination. “I don’t care about the bigger picture. Arthur is fighting for his life. He needs you by his side. Not plans, not strategies. He needs you.” Kate emphasized her words, straining to get her point across without insulting him. 

A heavy silence filled the tent as Dutch stared at her, the weight of her words sinking in. He looked away, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he struggled to maintain his composure.

“Kate, you have to trust that I’m doing what’s best for all of us,” he said, his voice softer but still laced with stubbornness. “I had a plan to get Arthur back–” 

“Enough about the plans!” Kate shouted, her voice echoing through the tent. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. Dutch's eyes widened in surprise, but his hard gaze never left hers. At that moment, Kate realized it wasn’t about the money, nor the family Dutch claimed to have created. It was about control.

Dutch always had to be the one in control, dishing out orders, calling all the shots. Kate knew, deep down, there was a part of Dutch that truly cared for Arthur. But his disappearance meant little to nothing to him; he had bigger plans, different goals on his agenda. Now that Arthur was back, Dutch seemed confident he had regained his throne, as if Arthur's torture were nothing but a minor setback in his grand scheme.

The realization made Kate seethe. Dutch treated Arthur like a soldier, cannon fodder in his relentless pursuit of power and influence. His indifference to Arthur’s suffering was a betrayal of the brotherhood he so often preached about.

“Don’t you get it?” Kate's voice was raw with emotion. “You talk about family and loyalty, but where is that now? You say you make all these grand sacrifices for the gang, but where is your sympathy for the sacrifice Arthur made?” Her voice boomed, and though she knew she was losing composure, she couldn't hold back.

Dutch's eyes softened slightly, a flicker of guilt crossing his features. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Kate, it was a miscalculation. I had no idea that—”

Kate cut him off, stepping closer with an accusatory finger, like a mother scolding a child. “You should count yourself lucky it didn’t cost him his life. He may never use his arm again, did you know that? His ankle was nearly shattered. It’ll be a miracle if he can even ride.”

Her worries and fears bubbled to the surface, and she poured every ounce of frustration onto Dutch, heedless of the consequences. “He ain’t gonna be the same, Dutch. And I’m real worried because you haven't shown a care in the world. Like he’s just some retired workhorse.”

Dutch's gaze hardened again, but he rose from his seat, his posture stiff. “No, no, of course not,” he murmured, shaking his head. “Arthur is... Arthur is more than that.”

Kate's eyes glistened with unshed tears as she continued, her voice softening but losing none of its intensity. “Arthur thinks highly of you, Dutch. He looks up to you, always has. And now he needs you more than ever. He’s lying in that bed, fighting for his life, and he needs to know you’re there for him.”

Dutch swallowed thickly, his expression grave as he nodded silently. “Alright, I'll go to him,” he said, his voice carrying a weight of solemn determination. With a final, meaningful glance at Kate, he bid her farewell, his footsteps heavy as he left the tent.

As Dutch's departure left Kate alone with her frustrations, she couldn't help but feel a weight being lifted from her shoulders. Though uncertainty lingered, she found solace in the knowledge that her words had struck a chord with Dutch. For the first time, she dared to hope that perhaps things could change between them. That Arthur can be the kind of man he wanted to be, despite the changes in himself that lie ahead.

~~~

A/N: My lord, I wrote way too much. That last section with Kieran and Dutch was added last minute because I forgot about the horses and then that reminded me of Dutch and I was like AHH! So much tooth rotting fluff coming up next. Also lots of healing and tender moments. Things between Kate and Arthur are finally beginning to pick up pace. I’m sorry for making y’all wait so long…sometimes I have to remind myself this is a slow burn.

[deliciouslystrangefics]

The Girl Who Loved Tom

Sometimes all someone is looking for is a helping hand and a kind smile or a shoulder to cry on, a light in the darkness, something to carry them. Not everyone is able to find something tangible to hold onto. Sometimes they can only bury themselves into a lie…an obsession to chase away the shadows they are running from. Note: This is a very short and depressing fic that I’ve wanted to write for a few days. I don’t know why…but I had to. It’s HORRIDLY depressing. Wrote this about 2012-07-28

Sometimes all someone is looking for is a helping hand and a kind smile or a shoulder to cry on, a light in the darkness, something to carry them. Not everyone is able to find something tangible to hold onto. Sometimes they can only bury themselves into a lie…an obsession to chase away the shadows they are running from.

One such girl existed, buried herself into the fandom, the madness that was known as Loki, As Tom, as Hal. She threw herself into it…tried so hard to lose herself in the smile and those sharp eyes. Everything about him was so full of hope and promise. She too wanted to fill herself full of hope and promise, to be like him…to put one foot in front of the other until she climbed a mountain.

No matter how hard she tried though, she couldn’t stay lost in it. The hours spent clawing at shadows, following his twitter and everything he did. Always silently begging that he would notice her post and sent her a reply or something…anything. She was never that lucky, she was the fan who probably wasn’t interesting enough to catch his eye. At some point she stopped trying to catch his attention. She had nothing of interest to share with him and she knew she was nothing of interest.

She wasn’t the kind of girl who had the money to go to the places he did and to be apart of the fangirl madness. She wanted to though; she wanted to be like everyone else. The darkness always caught up with her, she was never able to out run it for long and the light in Tom’s eyes, the hope that was there wasn’t enough to keep her from sinking.

She tried other ways to lose herself, to escape the horror that lay inside of her mind. Tried everything from self-harm to giving herself with activities she use to enjoy. Nothing worked for long; there was nothing that pushed away the all-consuming harshness of those deadly thoughts.

Tom with his smile, his shining personality, and he was so sweet…so full of hope. Full of the light that she lacked so much of, part of her had hoped that somehow it was save her from herself. Lead her out of the nightmare in which she couldn’t ever awaken from, she had read so many people say that his grin alone was enough to make them smile...She really tried to believe that and lead herself to believe it did. His eyes and laugh were enough to stop someone from being depressed and to ease their crying. She tried…she really tried to lie to herself until she believed it and for a while she did.

However she could only lie to herself for so long, it gave her some sense of sanity…for a time. When she could no longer lie to herself, no longer find a place to run. She had to admit to herself that it was time to let go; she had convinced herself that there was nothing more left.

With one more glance around, the room was in order, she walked into her bathroom and took an object that would carve the path to her final release. Tom in all of his hope and light couldn’t save her. A fan had slipped through his fingers and he would never know.

On her computer desk was a picture of him, with the words written in red, “I’m sorry Tom…I tried.”

[melody-wings]

JULY-FREE RIDERS

Ember participating in free riders and she won't hesitate to show of her skills to the other racers

Challenge is for members of ADUN only please do not steal art!

[jackiequick]

The sounds of somebody take me home~ X-Men 🎵

Full Name: Evangeline Villanueva—Armas

Nicknames:

- Vani: A playful and affectionate nickname, adding a touch of spunk and personality to her character.

- Eva: Classic and elegant, providing a sense of familiarity and warmth.

- Other nicknames include Lina, Angel, Sol and Genie

Other Identity: Vani Armas

~~

Age: 23–28

Birthday: May 21st

Height: 5'3" (or 5'5" in heels)

~~~

Appearance:

— Evangeline possesses a fine beauty with delicate features and a graceful presence. She has dark, flowing hair that cascades around her shoulders, framing her soft complexion and piercing eyes. Her gentle beauty captivates with an air of intrigue, drawing others in with her enigmatic presence and hinting at the unique qualities she possesses.

Personality:

— Often quiet but has a kind smile. Gentle, yet outspoken and sometimes sarcastic, with a sharp wit. Alongside her sarcasm, she has a bit of a playful sense of humor, enjoying lighthearted banter. Fiercely independent and unafraid to speak her mind. Compassionate and loyal to those she cares about. Not only compassionate but also an attentive listener, offering support to others. She demonstrates resilience, willing to eventually bounce back from setbacks with determination and grace.

Languages:

Fluent in Spanish and English.

Occasionally struggles with language barriers and forgets certain words or phrases. This can lead to moments of frustration or embarrassment, especially when she is unable to effectively communicate her thoughts or needs. However, she compensates for this by using creative methods to convey her meaning, such as describing objects or looking up translations on her phone.

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Background:

Born and raised in Mar Azul, (later on become Genosha), a coastal town known for its pristine beaches and azure waters, situated on the southern coast of a fictional country.

Her mixed heritage includes roots from Argentina and the Dominican Republic and Cuba, contributing to her vibrant cultural background.

Immersed in the vibrant sights and sounds of her Latin American culture, surrounded by myths and legends of sirenas (mermaids) and sea creatures.

Powers and Abilities:

Canary Cry (Siren's Call): Evangeline's primary ability remains her powerful sonic scream, known as the Canary Cry, which functions as her Siren's call. This ability allows her to emit powerful sonic waves capable of disorienting opponents, shattering objects, and creating a mesmerizing effect on those who hear it, potentially influencing their thoughts or actions.

Aquatic Affinity: Evangeline possesses an innate affinity for water, granting her enhanced abilities when submerged or surrounded by aquatic environments. She can hold her breath for extended periods, allowing her to stay submerged for longer durations than a normal human. However, she still requires air to breathe, so prolonged periods underwater can leave her gasping for breath when she resurfaces.

Hydrokinesis: Evangeline can manipulate water to some extent, particularly when submerged or in close proximity to bodies of water. She can telekinetically control water molecules, shaping them into various forms or manipulating currents to her advantage. This ability allows her to create whirlpools, tidal waves, or even manipulate water pressure to repel or immobilize adversaries.

Challenges and Struggles:

Navigates language barriers and occasional forgetfulness with creative methods of communication.

Grapples with the complexities of her identity as a mutant with mixed heritage, confronting issues of prejudice and discrimination. Struggles with mastering her powers and coming to terms with her name given to her by a friend as "La Sirena de la Canción." Which means “The Siren of Song” in English.

~~~

—Expanding on Evangeline's immediate family dynamics

Parents:

— Diana Villanueva (née Ramirez): Evangeline's mother, originally from the Dominican Republic, is a warm and nurturing presence in her life. Diana is known for her kindness, patience, and unwavering love for her children. Despite her initial reluctance to enter a relationship, she fell deeply in love with German and embraced their life together in Mar Azul. Diana instilled in Evangeline a strong sense of compassion and empathy, encouraging her to always lend a helping hand to those in need.

— German Villanueva: Evangeline's father, hailing from a mixed heritage of Argentinean and Cuban descent, is a charismatic and passionate individual. German's romantic nature and adventurous spirit endeared him to Diana, and their chance encounter at a beach party in Mar Azul sparked a lifelong love story. While German can be strict at times, especially when it comes to matters of responsibility and discipline, he is also playful, silly, and deeply devoted to his family. He encourages Evangeline to pursue her dreams and aspirations, instilling in her a sense of determination and resilience.

~~

Siblings:

— Mateo “Matt” Villanueva: Evangeline's older brother, Mateo, is her steadfast protector and confidant. He inherited their father's adventurous spirit and their mother's compassionate nature, making him a source of support and guidance for Evangeline throughout her life. However he somehow managed to inherit a competitive spirt, as he tends to challenge himself and his siblings for daily tasks around the house. Other than that, Mateo shares a close bond with his sister, often teasing her affectionately but always standing by her side when she needs him most.

— Isabella "Isa" Villanueva: Evangeline's younger sister, Isa, is a lively and spirited presence in the family. She inherited their father's charisma and their mother's charm, making her a natural social butterfly with a knack for making friends wherever she goes. Isa looks up to Evangeline as a role model and often seeks her advice and guidance, strengthening their sisterly bond. Despite her repeated efforts to wanting to be alone and independent in her own life.

Extended Family:

— Evangeline's extended family includes a colorful cast of characters from both her Argentinean-Cuban and Dominican heritage. From doting grandparents to fun-loving aunts, uncles, and cousins, her family gatherings are always filled with laughter, love, and lively conversation. Despite the cultural differences between her parents' backgrounds, Evangeline cherishes the unique blend of traditions and customs that make up her diverse family tree.

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—Evangeline's likes and dislikes

Likes:

1. Disney Movies: Films such as “Moana” and “The Little Mermaid” bring a level of vibrant visuals, storytelling and memorable soundtracks (she enjoys different types of movies & series as well)

2. Dogs: She enjoys the loyalty and joy animals can bring into someones life

3. Family & Friendships: She cherishes the close bonds she shares with her parents, siblings, and extended relatives. She also values the friendships she has cultivated over the years, finding strength, support, and laughter in others.

4. Music: Evangeline has a diverse taste in music, but she has a special fondness for Latin music artists like Natti Natasha and others who celebrate the rhythms and melodies of her cultural heritage.

5. Photography: Evangeline has a keen eye for capturing moments of beauty and wonder through photography. Whether she's exploring new landscapes, documenting cultural events, or simply capturing everyday moments with her loved ones

6. Creative Expression: Whether it's through dance, art, music, or photography, Evangeline finds joy and fulfillment in creative expression.

Dislikes:

1. Horror Movies: While Evangeline appreciates a good story, she prefers to avoid horror movies altogether. The suspense, jump scares, and graphic content unsettle her, leaving her feeling anxious and on edge rather than entertained.

2. Messy Environments: Evangeline thrives in clean and organized spaces, so she dislikes clutter, chaos, and disarray. A messy apartment or workspace can make her feel stressed and overwhelmed, prompting her to tidy up and restore order as soon as possible.

3. Big Crowds: Despite her personality, Evangeline feels uncomfortable in large crowds or crowded spaces. The noise, congestion, and lack of personal space can be overwhelming for her, making her prefer smaller gatherings or more intimate settings.

4. Heavy Snow: Growing up in a coastal town with temperate weather, Evangeline is not a fan of heavy snowfall or extremely cold winters. She finds the cold temperatures and slippery conditions inconvenient and uncomfortable, longing for warmer climates and sunny skies instead.

5. Cold Coffee: As a coffee lover, Evangeline enjoys her daily dose of caffeine, but she can't stand the taste of cold or lukewarm coffee. She prefers her coffee piping hot and freshly brewed, savoring the rich aroma and bold flavor with each sip.

6. Loud Chewers: Evangeline is sensitive to sounds, especially loud or repetitive noises like chewing. She finds the sound of loud chewers distracting and irritating, preferring a quiet and peaceful environment when enjoying meals or snacks.

7. Injustice: Evangeline has a strong sense of justice and fairness, so she dislikes witnessing or experiencing injustice in any form. Whether it's discrimination, inequality, or acts of cruelty, she feels compelled to speak out and advocate for positive change.

8. Wasting Food: Having grown up in a close-knit community where resources were valued and shared, Evangeline dislikes wasting food. She believes in mindful consumption, minimizing food waste, and appreciating the abundance of nourishing food available to her.

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—Her small story

At 15 years old, Evangeline Villanueva experienced a life-altering event that set her on a path of curiosity and self awareness.

Living in the United States at the time, she found herself amidst a heated argument at a friend's house just a week after her birthday. As tempers flared and voices rose, the chaos peaked with an overwhelming surge of emotion from Evangeline.

Unleashing a primal scream, she shattered the silence and a nearby window, sending glass shards flying and leaving everyone in shock, including herself.

Her parents, Diana and German, rushed to the scene, struggling to comprehend the magnitude of their daughter's newfound abilities. They were deeply loving and supportive but chose to handle the situation on their own, without seeking outside help. Her brother on the other hand decided to take a step towards trying to help his young sister however never found a true answer, despite all of the love he had for her.

It just wasn’t in his favor, in none of there favors it seemed.

Their efforts to normalize Evangeline's life worked for a while, but as months passed, their confidence waned, and Evangeline felt increasingly isolated.

Seeking refuge from her turbulent emotions, Evangeline often visited the beach, where the rhythmic waves provided a soothing backdrop. It was in this tranquil setting that she began to explore the extent of her abilities, start testing her control and finding moments of peace.

However, fear and confusion about her powers eventually led her to stop experimenting and focus instead on simply enjoying the calming presence of the ocean.

At 19, overwhelmed by uncertainty and the burden of her powers, Evangeline made the difficult decision to leave home. Adopting the alias Vani Armas, her great grandmother’s surname, she embarked on a journey across the world, seeking a sense of normalcy and belonging.

Despite her parents' wishes, she traveled through various towns and cities, ultimately finding a semblance of peace in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, at the age of 23.

In Rio, Evangeline found a job at a small shop that sold trinkets and also served as a café and restaurant. She enjoyed the vibrant culture, the beaches, and the music, which reminded her of home.

Here, she rarely used her powers, preferring to keep them hidden.

Occasionally, she would use a small whistle to catch a dog’s attention or subtly manipulate water in a glass, but she avoided drawing attention to herself.

One evening, Evangeline was invited to a house party by a co-worker, Lorena, near the De Costa side of the city. The party was lively until a gang of thieves broke in, seeking to steal valuables and take hostages.

As chaos erupted and Lorena was about to be assaulted, Evangeline’s fear and anxiety culminated in a piercing scream that shattered glasses and forced the thieves to retreat in pain.

Her scream, mixed with fear and a desperate plea for help, temporarily incapacitated the thieves. Some fled, while others attempted to gather what they could. The police arrived soon after, arresting the thieves and questioning Lorena’s younger brother, Hector, who seemed to be the cause of the intrusion.

The incident left Evangeline physically and emotionally drained, her throat sore from the powerful scream. She stayed home for a few days, drinking warm beverages to soothe her voice and avoiding work.

On the third night, a knock on her door brought an unexpected visitor: a tall woman with long grey-white curly hair, rich dark skin, and warm brown eyes, dressed in a fine yet casual outfit.

The woman introduced herself as Ororo, known to many as Storm.

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That’s all folks (for now)! Please let me know what you think about her and any thoughts you have

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